#and suddenly understanding his every action prior

[harbingerofsoup]

what really gets to me about the lawsuit arc is that no one really says the wrong thing when trying to reassure buck about everything in a general sense, they say what pretty much what you’d expect for the situation. so, on the first watch you’re sympathetic for buck but you still wonder why he’s reacting so strongly like damn guess this guy really likes his job.

then you watch buck begins. it literally recontexualizes everything especially the lawsuit cause while normally what was said to him would work, buck’s hyperspecific blend of trauma makes their attempts the worst thing they could possibly do to help, but none of them know that! so from their perspective buck comes across as unreasonable while in hindsight it’s actually a very clear trauma response

maybe one day i’ll do a rewatch so i can add specifics that show this instead of just vague incoherent ramblings

[yeowangies]

mutual understanding

Chapter I | Chapter II: Time for a little truth | III | IV | V

PAIRING: Kenpachi/AFAB!Reader CONTENTS: AU - Fantasy, Medieval, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Pining, Explicit Sexual Content in later chapters. WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: Mentions of mild blood and minor violence. WORDCOUNT: 3404

Summary:

Despite your first hand experience, it was getting difficult to admit to yourself that Kenpachi wasn’t actually as bad as he initially seemed. He was violent and obsessed with fighting, that was obvious and even more so when you started living there, but he had never treated you roughly. Not even a single word out of place towards you, less alone one threatening action. 

Notes:

I struggle writing this chapter a bit, confrontations are hard lmao but they are always necessary and i'm glad we can move on to sexier parts now!

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!

header by me, divider by @/saradika

taglist: @actuallysaiyan @lol-ktr @vrgelivvvv

The night was beautiful. It had been raining days prior, and you couldn’t wait to go for a walk in the garden that night. It was the only alone time you had, with no maids trailing behind your every move, not when they didn’t notice you sneaking off.

You rarely went past the trees signaling the limit of the palace. The forest was on the other side, and people rarely went too deep into it, knowing what kind of magical creatures existed was enough to ward anyone off. 

You only wanted to explore a little, not enter the woods completely, but as soon as you took two steps into it, something felt off. 

The first thing you heard was a distant howl, before a gust of air threw you down onto the ground. Your vision got blurry, heat covering your body as claws tightly held onto your arm, digging into your flesh. You couldn’t even scream, completely confused as to what was even happening, and who or what was even attacking you. Blood trickled down your arm, and that was when you could finally let out a shaky cry. 

Whatever was holding you suddenly dropped you, and you fell with your back against the dirt, breathing heavily as the world stopped spinning rapidly enough so you could open your eyes and focus. 

You gasped loudly at the sight above you; an enormous man with an eyepatch and a scar across his face standing in front of you, holding a sword. Half his face covered in blood, making your body shiver in fear.

You barely crawled away before feeling too weak to keep moving, heart beating fast inside your ribcage, and you kept your eyes on the man in front of you, holding onto what was left of your consciousness as you heard far away voices resonating around you.

“Captain Zaraki just saved a girl!”

“Was that a werewolf?!”

“That’s the princess!”

“We need to get her back to the castle!”

You woke up, feeling hot and sweaty under the blankets, gasping for air at the flashback you had for a dream. 

That was the day Kenpachi saved you, the day you met him for the first time. It was embarrassing to even remember, as you had been more afraid of him than you had been of the actual creature that had harmed you. Albeit you hadn’t actually seen the werewolf. You only found that Kenpachi had sliced him in two once you woke up a few days later and one of the maids informed you about it.

You still didn’t know what to think of that experience, only that it made your blood run cold at times.

It has been a couple of weeks since you had moved to the castle, and the days passed by easily. You didn’t feel as tense as the first few days, when you were still testing the waters of the place.

Yachiru was actually a good company, despite her short age. She was vivacious and gave you strength and hope with her every move. You even met Ikkaku and Yumichika one night while you took a walk through the gardens, and even though they weren’t as strong as Kenpachi (not that you cared, but they let you know the fact nonetheless), they were much easier to talk to than your husband was. 

Once Kenpachi had given you permission to reorganize the garden (his exact words were ‘do whatever you want’), you focused solely on that, and as the early weeks of fall began, the weeds and overgrown grass had been removed completely. You knew it was a bad time to start planting seeds; if the cold in the first few days didn’t kill the plants, the snow might do that job once winter arrived. But you couldn’t wait; it was the only thing that kept you occupied. 

As soon as you became more familiar with the castle, you realized there wasn’t a library or a banquet hall. Why would there be any of those rooms if Kenpachi did not seem like the type to enjoy those things? Nevertheless, you wanted to fix that, but in order to do that, you had to ask your husband about it, and you felt like you might be overstepping with such an expensive and ambitious project. The garden will have to be done for now, and once that part was done, you could move on to something bigger.

Yachiru was helping you a lot in her own way, spreading the seeds across the soil of the garden (and though you specifically told her not to mix them you knew she was doing it), and once you were done for the day, you headed back into the castle. 

“Are we gonna do that again tomorrow?” She asked cheerfully, running across the entrance. 

“Tomorrow we have another task for the garden, we have to water the soil, remember?” You said, looking at her with a smile. “We have to do that everyday, and hopefully flowers will bloom by spring!”

“We’ll have flowers by spring?” Yumichika asked, walking through the entrance along with Ikkaku. 

“I am planning for that, however it does depend on the weather, and how crude these colder months are.” You replied with a soft smile. “I have faith that they will bloom!”

“Flowers never really grew in that place,” Ikkaku commented, looking at the still brand new garden through the window. “It was always full of weed, nobody really cared for it.”

“My mission is to make this place nicer! Once the garden is done, I wish to create a ballroom!”

“You want a ballroom?” Kenpachi's deep voice resonated from behind you, making you jump. “Why?”

“Well… So people can come over…” You replied quietly, turning around to face him with unsure eyes. 

“Come over for what?” His frown got deeper and it only made you more nervous.

“For socializing! Dancing and eating, mostly.” You replied, confused and slightly irritated. “Is that not to your taste?”

“We never had dances!” Yachiru replied, loud and joyful. “I bet it’s super fun!”

It was your turn to frown when you heard him sigh like he was annoyed before he spoke. 

“I will never understand women.”

An uncomfortable feeling raised inside you, more rapidly than you expected when you noticed from the corner of your eye that Ikkaku was looking at the both of you with eyes wide open, and Yumichika had covered his face with his palm. 

Embarrassed and frustrated, you couldn’t contain it even if you tried. 

“And I do not understand you.” You spat, looking up at Kenpachi as if he wasn’t twice your size. “Are you going to deny this to me? It is your right to do so, but this would not even be an issue if we were not married. You could have vehemently said no to this union, even escape from it! So I might as well enquire why exactly did you accept it? I was the one who had no choice!”

You kept your eyes on his for a moment as he stared at you, wide eyed, as if you had sprouted another head.

Not interested in listening to whatever that could have been said, you ran out of the castle towards the garden.

*

Kenpachi stood there looking at you as you got smaller the further you ran, and was only brought back to the present time by Yachiru’s voice.

“Dumb Kenny.” Yachiru commented, way too loud for Kenpachi’s taste, but he only turned to look at her, confused and annoyed. She paid him no mind and only ran up down the hall towards the kitchen. 

“What in the hell…” He grunted, unsure of what to do. Under any circumstances, he would start a fight, but even he knew that was a terrible idea. 

“Captain,” Yumichika called for him, making Kenpachi turn to him. “With all due respect, you are an idiot.”

“What?” Kenpachi practically growled, but Yumichika went on despite the threatening tone. 

“This girl is alone here, with no friends, no one she can confide in, and you just made her feel more alienated than ever. She had no choice in coming here, and she cannot leave at her own free will either. I suggest you actually tell her the truth.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You have affection for her, don’t you?” Yumichika asked softly, not really expecting an answer. “Go talk to her and tell her the truth. She will say she doesn’t want to talk, but pay it no mind. She’ll want to know.”

“How do you even know that?” Ikkaku asked, arching an eyebrow. 

“I actually have the emotional range of a human being.” Yumichika rolled his eyes. 

“Shut up.” Kenpachi grumbled, pondering on the idea of actually telling you how he was feeling for a while before deciding it was the right thing to do. “Fine, whatever.”

Walking out the entrance and towards the garden, he tried to organize his thoughts. It wasn’t like he was a complete prick; he knew what could be insulting to say, he simply didn’t care for those things. But apparently you had been uncomfortable since the moment you’ve been declared husband and wife. 

Kenpachi hadn’t actually thought about anything regarding your life and feelings, simply because he hadn’t paid too much attention to details beyond what you had shown him. He had even let you have the bedroom all for yourself because he assumed you were terrified of him; the way you looked at him the first time you met spoke volumes. And even occasionally you seemed petrified whenever he was around, even after you’ve been in the castle for weeks. 

It had pissed him off to hear you talk about him behind his back the way you had, though it probably came from a place of fear rather than arrogance, no matter that you moved around like the princess you were. That lovely bit of confidence he saw in you when you still lived in the palace diminished terribly when you moved to his castle, or at least around him it did, and he wasn’t going to keep contributing to it. 

Out in the garden, Kenpachi spotted you underneath a tree, sitting on the ground with your knees to your chest. 

It was time for a little truth. 

“I do not wish to speak to you.” You said, voice shaky, as soon as you noticed he was nearby. 

Kenpachi didn’t get any closer, but he spoke, regardless of what you said. 

“Just shut up and listen.” He sentenced, making you turn your head slightly to the side, enough so he could see your glossy eyes. Trying to pay it no mind, he went on. “I know marrying me wasn’t your choice. I was greedy. I didn’t want to refuse that opportunity so I didn’t really put up a fight when your father told me to marry you, even when you made it clear that you think I’m a barbarian. I didn’t care.”

Your frown and sniffle distracted him momentarily, especially when your eyes kept avoiding his. You had turned to face him, but you weren’t actually looking at him at all. 

“I hate how you keep looking at me, like I’m going to kill you at any given chance.” Kenpachi admitted through gritted teeth. “I didn’t really think about how this marriage would affect you so if you wish to leave and go back to the palace, I’ll make it happen.”

He spared you one last glance at you before turning away, when it was clear you wouldn’t respond to his words. You seemed even smaller, and the way you briefly looked at him before he left made you look powerless. 

*

You stared at Kenpachi as he walked away, surprised and confused, trying to focus on one of the things that he said at a time. 

He was being greedy? About what, exactly? It wasn’t like was using the dowry money to expand his fief. He didn’t even want you to expand the castle at all. His greediness did not involve money, so why did he say that?

You didn’t think it was so noticeable how afraid of him you were, even if it was a fleeting feeling at times. You couldn’t help it; he was imposing and his constant aggressive expression made it impossible for you to see him differently. It had a lot to do with that night when you first met, when he saved you. He hasn’t been the one who hurt you, but your mind just couldn’t fully dissociate what actually happened with the bloodlust he had in his eyes when he looked at you. On top of it all, he heard you calling him a ‘barbarian’ when you were trying to talk your father out of this marriage. 

However, despite your first hand experience, it was getting difficult to admit to yourself that Kenpachi wasn’t actually as bad as he initially seemed. He was violent and obsessed with fighting, that was obvious and even more so when you started living there, but he had never treated you roughly. Not even a single word out of place towards you, less alone one threatening action. 

Not to mention the fact that he adopted a small girl he found in the woods, and the undying loyalty of his men revealed a lot about what kind of person he was. And he had even let you sleep by yourself every night since you got there, knowing your discomfort. 

Maybe it was time to make amends. 

Waiting for Kenpachi that night, you paced around in your nightgown, hoping he’d come to the room after dinner. He usually did even if he didn’t spend the night, so you were ready to talk to him once he got there. 

When the door opened, you looked at him, feeling slightly intimidated. He had the same hard expression he usually wears, but it was starting to feel natural to see him that way, so you immediately relaxed. 

“I do not wish to go back to the palace.” You started promptly once the door was closed. Kenpachi remained impassive, only keeping his eyes on you once he removed the eyepatch. You gulped before going on. “I’m very comfortable here. I have to confess, you’ve treated me more like a person than anyone else might have done before, and I’m very thankful for that. And I’m… sorry, too.”

It was hard to read him at all, he only stared at you without moving a single muscle on his face, but somehow that was helpful enough to keep you talking.

“You saved my life, and I judged you horribly, without even attempting to know you. I insulted you and hurt your pride, so I must ask for your forgiveness.” 

Looking down, you bowed at a ninety degree angle, staying still for a moment before returning to an upright position. You kept your eyes on the floor, waiting for him to say something, hopefully words of encouragement that would mean he accepted your apology, and that you could stay.

“You hurt my pride, huh?” Kenpachi’s gruff voice brought your eyes back up to meet his as he made his way towards you; it surprised you that he was smirking. “Is that what you think you did?”

“I think so… Weren’t my words insulting?”

“For reasons you’re not seeing.” He paused, eying you up and down quickly as his smirk faded. “I didn’t care that I was probably offending you when I accepted your hand. Your father threatened me with my past, saying he would hand me over to another kingdom for the nobles I’ve killed when I was a mercenary.”

Your eyes opened wide at his words. You knew your father was a politician and a strategist before even being a father, but you couldn’t believe your ears. It was startling, but not unrealistic, that he had basically sold you to a murderer. 

“But I couldn’t care less about that, he could have done it and I would have managed to get away anyway.” Kenpachi went on nonchalantly, looking to the side as if he hadn’t given any of the things he was saying a lot of thought. “The reason I ended up accepting your hand, the reason I was greedy, was you.”

“I don’t understand.” 

“Your father offered you to me on a silver plate in exchange for my loyalty, and I accepted, just because I wanted to have you.”

You stared at him, bewildered. 

Kenpachi wanted you? You had seen him for the first time that night you had been attacked in the woods, and you weren’t so vain as to think of yourself so charming that one look would suffice to capture a man’s heart, especially a man like Kenpachi, who seemed so ruthless and aggressive to even care about those kind of things. Even more so when you looked terrified at that moment.

If anything, you were sure that you couldn’t actually judge him based on his expressions if he was telling you he wanted you with such a stoic look. 

His eyes were on you for a while, obviously awaiting a reaction, but as moments passed by in silence, he turned to leave, at which point you decided to speak.

“Wait!” You called for him, and Kenpachi turned to look at you. “Please stay. We’re husband and wife, we should sleep in the same bed, yes?”

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” 

“I’m not-” Kenpachi snorted in disbelief, making you jolt in surprise. You slapped yourself mentally for the slip but went on. “I mean, I was, I won’t deny it! Nevertheless, you’ve been nothing but nice and considerate since I got here.”

His eyes stayed on you to the point where you started to feel self conscious, until he finally sighed and took long steps to approach you. 

Everything about Kenpachi was intimidating; it was inevitable due to his size and expression. But after everything he had told you that day, nothing inside you made you anxious about him. If anything, you could see features that you might consider attractive (not that you didn’t notice them before, but fear and trepidation always won those battles). There was a rugged charm about him. 

“You’re asking me to share a bed with you after everything I told you?” Kenpachi asked with a smirk. “Are you doing it on purpose?”

“You can do whatever you want with me, nothing I say could stop you,” You said, staring back at him, straining your neck in the process. “But you've been attentive enough to make me trust you.”

When his hand slid up your shoulder and into the hair in the back of your neck, it surprised you but not enough to make you react. You were curious about his intentions since he made it clear he desired you for a while. 

“You have a lot of confidence for a tiny woman,” Kenpachi’s grin only grew, making you smile in return. 

“It comes with the royalty title.” You shrugged. “It won’t change anytime soon.”

“I don’t want you to change.”

With a firm grip on your hair, Kenpachi leaned down and kissed you. You made a noise in surprise; he had practically pressed his face against yours, bumping your noses and roughly crashing your lips together. You held onto him, gripping the front of his shirt tightly, when he slid his tongue past your lips and into your mouth. 

You could barely keep your legs from collapsing as he tasted every corner and every inch of your cavity. His desperation for you was palpable, and it made you all the more dizzy. It was difficult to even keep up with him, you were reduced to trembling legs and occasional gasps that left your mouth as you ran out of air. 

If it wasn’t for the arm Kenpachi had slid around your waist, you would have fallen down once he pulled away. The lack of air had made you lightheaded, and your face felt impossibly hot. 

Were kisses supposed to feel that good?

“Another.” You demanded once you’ve caught your breath, gazing at him with pleading eyes as you ran your hands up his tunic to bring him down again. “I demand another.”

With his usual cocky smirk, Kenpachi leaned down to kiss your lips once more. This time a little slower and gentler, but still just as eager. 

[justauthoring]

orphic.

*orphic: mysterious and entrancing; beyond ordinary understanding

a/n: listen i just cannot stop imagining different scenarios with these two men... and vampire aus make me weak :) i promise next post will be naturally!

warnings: dubious content, drugs, alcohol, ...sucking blood?

It’s bright. 

A mixture of blues and pinks and purples that warp your vision, blending together to create a sense of euphoria that makes your heart feel like it’s singing.

You’d lost your friend in the crowd of dancing, drunk, high people long ago—if you were being truthful, she wasn’t on your mind anymore than anything else was. You felt completely blissful, head thrown back as the sweat pours down the skin of your neck in waves, head lost in beat of the music that radiates through your entire being right to the center of your soul.

The hands that drift across your waist feel like heaven.

The lips against your neck feel orgasmic.

“I’ve not seen your face here before.”

Geto’s voice is husky, low but heard clearly above the base that swallows the room completely. You can’t hear the sounds of those around you, everyone else is completely drowned out except for him.

“It’s my first time,” you whisper as you spin, moving so you can run your hands along his chest, gripping at the silk material acting as a barrier from his skin. Your hips continue to sway beneath his grasp, feet shuffling in rhythm with his own as you press your face to the crook of his neck, taking all of him in. 

As you pull back, dipping your head back as your eyes fall shut, you let out a giggle; “my friend had to beg me.”

“Oh?” He questions, pinching at your waist. “Why’s that?”

You let your eyes flutter open, meeting his eyes as you grin; “would you believe me if I said I wasn’t much of a party person?”

His eyes narrow, darkening as he smirks down at you, leaning forward. His long dark hair falls around him like a curtain, making you feel like it’s just the two of you in that room and not a single other person.

“Not really,” he shrugs teasingly. “Can read it on your face, darling.”

You pout, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you slur, clearly inebriated. “Am I that obvious?”

“A little,” he admits, responding to your touch, letting his forehead fall against your own. The tips of your noses press against each other as lets his fingers run small patterns across your skin, just ever-so-slightly dipping beneath the edge of your blouse. “But see… that’s what I chose you.”

The edges of your lips turn up at his words, letting your eyes fall shut as he presses a kiss to your cheek. “Mmm…”

“You’re perfect,” he whispers and his voice goes straight to your core, feeling suddenly a lot warmer than you had seconds prior. 

You press your lips against his own, your desperation overruling the commonsense you normally had when sober. All the red flags you would’ve noticed by now and would’ve run away from drive your every action that night, feeling desperate and warm and craving something sinful even if in the back of your mind you know you’ll come to regret it tomorrow morning. Truthfully, none of that matters to you in that moment as you press your lips against his own, the sway of your hips slowing to instead press your chest against his chest, fingers brushing against the ends of his hair.

His hands splay against your back, large and comforting as he responds to the kiss, guiding you every moment.

And then, just as you press for more, he’s pulling away. You whine at the loss, eyes fluttering open to question him, until you meet his eyes already staring down at you, smirking.

“Come with me,” he orders, stepping back to instead extend his hand out to you—his palm is held up, inviting you and it only takes a single glance before you’re following his lead blindly. “I have a surprise for you,” he promises, pushing his way through the crowd.

You can barely see anything in between the mass of bodies and behind his broad shoulders, putting all your faith in him completely as he weaves you around, grip tight on your hand. He’s reassuring, thumb stroking your hand, easing any worries you might’ve had but truthfully, there isn’t a single ounce of worry in your mind in that moment (whether that be from the alcohol, the drugs you and your friend had taken earlier or simply, him).

He leads you up a set of stairs, the noise of the party drowning as the lights become yellow and fluorescent. You feel less claustrophobic as you stare at the long, dark hallway in front of you, only briefly meeting his eyes before stepping just a second behind him.

He stops in front of a dark, wooden door with the number sixty-nine on it.

You have to crane your head up to meet his gaze, and you watch, puzzled, as he offers one more glance down at you, before pushing open the door, a familiar creak swallowing up the silence. His hand slips from your own and you have to hold back the whine that threatens to fall from your lips at the loss of his touch, instead opting to follow him inside. You take in the room, dark, plain, eyes drifting across another door (you assume it’s the bathroom), a desk, before settling on the bed right in front of you.

On it lays another man, shirtless, with white hair, the edges of it a hue of purple, and the brightest, most striking pair of blue eyes you’ve ever seen.

Your eyes fall back on Geto, baffled but he’s already crossing the room, back turned to you, not paying attention.

The white-haired man stands then, crosses the short distance over to you, and grins—it’s wide, too wide and his eyes look manic, but you barely notice.

“Hello there, pretty,” he greets, fingers brushing back a strand of loose hair. “You’re late.”

It takes you a second to realize his last words aren’t directed at you.

“Took a minute to get rid of her friend,” Geto calls over his shoulder, fiddling with something. “Suck it up.”

The white-haired man laughs, loud. As his eyes focus back on you, you find yourself suddenly breathless. “My name's Gojo Satoru, baby. But we can skip the pleasantries and you can call me Satoru. I think we’re beyond that.”

You want to say something, lips parting, but no words leave your mouth.

Gojo frowns down at you, but it’s almost mocking the way he offers you pity. His fingers dance across your cheek, touch soft and gentle, but there’s no sincerity in his gaze as he frowns down at you. “You know your name, baby?”

Slowly, you nod; “Y-Y/N…”

“That’s a good girl,” he eases, nodding. “Tell me, Y/N, do you know where you are? How did you get here?”

Another nod. “My… my friend—it was her friend's party and she-she dragged me here. But… but I don’t know where—!”

“Sh. sh.” He cuts off, sharp but gentle as he shakes his head, moving to cup both of your cheeks. “Your friend’s fine, pretty, okay? So I don’t want you worrying about her anymore.”

And oddly enough, even though you shouldn’t, you nod again.

“What’s his name?” He sticks a thumb over his shoulder in Geto’s direction.

“Ge–Suguru…”

He smiles, bright and genuine when you listen to his look and call the man you’ve only known for an hour by his first name. His smile is pretty when he means it, beautiful really. It makes his eyes light up and his face look softer, friendlier. 

“Suguru made you feel good, didn’t he?” Gojo asks just as said man comes up beside him, a glass in hand. Your eyes flicker from Gojo to Geto’s, numbly taking the glass from his hands when he offers it to you. 

“Yeah,” you mumble, taking a sip. “He did. Really good.”

Geto grins. 

“We wanna make you feel like that all night, pretty,” Gojo explains and your eyes snap to his at that. Your mind is still hazy and your mouth feels heavy, tongue dry and gross, but you’re positive you’re hearing what they’re saying correctly. And honestly, none of what they’re saying scares you either. You’re a little confused, a little numb, but… but Geto has made you feel good—more than that—and Gojo’s voice is so… delicious to listen to.

You want more.

“We want you to be ours,” Geto whispers in that soft, husky voice that had made you feel wet before, sending shivers down your body as you jerk in response. He notices and smiles. He reaches forward, hand falling on your shoulder before drifting down the bare skin of your arm. “All night. We’ll make you feel things you’ve never felt before. Show you things you’ve never seen before.”

Gojo grasps your chin, tugging your gaze back on him. “Would you like that?”

Lips parting, you nod, slowly.

“We need it in words, baby,” Geto calls, voice demanding. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Y-Yes,” you utter, voice shaky, barely audible. Blinking, you swallow the lump in the back of your throat and nod, more eager; “yes.”

They both grin and then, suddenly, they’re on you.

Hot, sweaty, hands dance across your entire body, pulling, tugging, never relenting and never stopping. Your world spins, everything a haze of pleasure and bliss as you let yourself fall, relishing in their attention both completely on you.

But then you’re on your back, naked, on their bed, both of them over you, hovering, and there’s a sharp, excruciating pain in your neck and your arm, pulling a scream from your lips. Your hands fight against them, bewildered, suddenly scared as you try to push them away.

Surprisingly, they let you.

You blink, once, twice, trying to see through the fog of everything, until it registers in your mind that there are fangs poking out of the teeth, sharp and long, and there’s blood—your blood—dripping from the corner of their lips. Their chests are rising and falling, rapidly, heavily, and their eyes are on you, only you, focused solely on you, naked, the perfect prey beneath them as you stare up, feeling like you’re imagining things…

It’s fangs, real fangs, in their mouths… fangs that have bitten into you, hurt you, and it's your blood dripping from their mouths right now.

“I told you we’d show you something you’ve never seen before,” Geto calls out, voice low, as he leans closer, braving the distance you’d created before them. You jump, at first, instincts telling you to run, but all you do is shift and then stop, eyes dancing between him and Gojo, the latter who continues to smirk at you, licking at his lips. Geto closes the distance, face before your own, eyes wild as his fangs poke out threateningly. “Didn’t I?”

“What… what are you?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” Gojo calls, arching a brow as if your question is the stupidest thing you could’ve asked. Then, as you stare at him, blankly, he laughs, leaning towards you. “Vampires.” 

“That can’t…” be real, is what you want to say. But you can’t. Not when the evidence is staring you in the face, arguing against every bit of common sense you thought you had. Not when you reach to your neck and feel two holes where Geto’s mouth had been and see the same thing on your arm, where Gojo had been.

Not when they sit before you.

“It hurts at first,” Geto whispers honestly. “But it’ll feel good, too.”

“Trust us,” Gojo adds, without missing a single beat. “Let us show you.”

You should say no. You should be screaming and crying and running because they’d hurt you… because they were vampires.

But, if that was the case, you never should’ve followed Geto up here. You never should’ve let him take you down a dark, isolated hallway. You never should’ve let him lead you into a room where another man was already waiting.

You never should’ve gone to this party in the first place.

“Come on,” your friend's voice echoes in your mind. “Have some fun for once, please?”

It’s too late now.

And, once again, you nod.

-

The sun blares into your face, a groan falling from your lips as you slowly blink yourself awake, body aching as you shift, moving a hand to fall across your face.

But, you can’t.

Your eyes snap open, the memories of the night before flooding through you as you try to sit up only to be stopped similarly to your arm. A glance to your left and right gives you the reason why, seeing both Geto and Gojo sprawled on either side of you. Gojo’s leg is over your own, while Geto’s arm is wrapped around your waist, equally holding you against the both of them.

And then, it isn’t just the sex that comes to mind but the—fangs…

“Mmm,” Gojo groans, shifting slowly, head turning to face you as his eyes glance up at you lazily. “Mornin’.” He smiles.

“Morning, indeed,” Geto calls out from beside you, clearly having already been awake as he smiles brightly up at you the second your eyes snap to him.

“But… but—” Your attention falls on the window and the sun blaring through it—if dracula had taught you anything it was that the sun killed vampires. “The sun—”

“A myth, pretty,” Gojo mumbles out, voice still thick with sleep. “It’s a tad uncomfortable but won’t kill.”

Your eyes squint, shaking your head. That was… this was all just—

“We’re not lying, we are actually vampires” Geto calls out as if having read your thoughts. (Was that a power he had?!) “And now, I can’t read your mind,” he snorts, “like I said last night, your face says it all.”

You just stare at him, wide-eyed.

“I thought you’d be a little more worried about… well…” His voice trails, eyes drifting below your face and rather on your body. 

Panicked, your glance down at yourself, still very much naked as you hold your arms out before you, seeing the bite marks across your arms, bewildered.

“We made sure not to take too much,” Geto assures, sending the worry flooding through your entire body. “Just small bites and not very much blood, but, well, it’s just…—”

Gojo pops up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling a squeal from your lips as he pulls you into his lap. “Your blood is addictive,” he whispers against your ear, causing you to jump in response. His grip is tight though and he keeps you firmly pressed against his bare chest. Oddly, he’s warm. “Just like I thought it’d be.”

Geto rolled his eyes, “I’m the one who had to do all the work about getting her.”

“Yes,” Gojo huffs, “but I’m the one who found her.”

You’re absolutely baffled.

“I… what…”

Both Geto and Gojo glance at each other, before the former speaks up; “sorry, darling. We forgot to tell you last night. We were, well, just so excited to finally have you in our arms we got a little caught up in all of it.”

You blink; “tell me what?”

“You’re ours.” Gojo whispers possessively, squeezing you as your lips part.

Your now very much sober mind is screaming all the red flags you’d decidedly chose to ignore last night and dear god, just what had you gotten yourself wrapped up in?

“Satoru,” Geto hisses, “you’re scaring her.”

Frowning, you turn to Geto, body rigid.

He smiles gently. “What Satoru meant is… we’ve been watching you for a while and you’re the one.”

You shake your head; “the one?”

“The one for us,” he explains. “Our soulmate, if you will. Your blood is the sweetest we’ve ever tasted and you make me feel…”

“Euphoric,” Gojo whispers in your ear, smirking.

You tense in his grasp.Geto smiles, reaching forward to take your hand in his own. “You’re the one we’ve been looking for,” he adds, “the one we’ve been searching for years.”

[sharpestasp]

Learning from Boots

I mentioned that we acquired a kitten back in ... June? Late May? What is time.

I don't know if I remembered to mention here that Boots, our very baby boy, is deaf. Not just hard of hearing, but truly deaf. Demonstrated to the vet who, the week prior had said 'his ear drums look fine' by her being present when the carrier fell down with a loud bang... and Boots didn't notice because he hadn't been looking that way.

I've had cats who went HoH or functionally deaf. Because his ear structure is fully intact, it appears that Boots was born deaf. He's never known sound, and it is an experience for me to adapt to his needs.

First thing we did was learn what was encouraged. Walk heavier, drum fingers on couches to get attention, basically use vibrations to keep from startling him.

He does not notice these tactics. But for all he can sometimes be startled, for the most part? He's chill about us, or Mischa, or even Hissy Miss Evie, being suddenly in his space.

He prefers a light touch to wake him. He wakes into full purr mode. His meows range from practically silent beeps (when he has your eyes in his sight) to the loudest foghorn meows of pitiful woe is me if he cannot see a person.

He is extremely tactile. As in MUST be touching you to fully allow himself sleep in the open. Otherwise? He finds small spaces to sleep, or he sleeps in a position that is reminiscent of a Sphinx or Resting Anubis pose.

He makes a POINT of making eye contact when he wants something, be it food or attention.

He MUST help with cleaning the litter box (I don't think we can pin this on his lack of hearing, but it is the strangest litter box behavior in any of my cats ever) by inspecting each scoop lifted.

He wants to snuggle Mischa, but Mischa was not cat-socialized as a kitten, and mistakes it, so it turns to wrestling every time. However, I have found them sleeping in be-beside pose, so it's fine. And Mischa will purposefully twitch his tale for bait.

He doesn't understand Evie's hisses/growls. We have yet to hear him growl at all, but he figured out hissing -- and thinks it is the face/sound that goes with 'play'. This has not endeared him to Evie. And his own attempt at it can only be described as the sound a spray can makes before the product actually comes out.

All cats talk with their body. His body language is a tiny bit different from most cats, and I can't describe it more than... silent actor emphasis?

We still talk to him, then laugh at ourselves a bit. However, I have gotten him to understand a firmly pointed index finger is the equivalent of 'no, bad'. And if he plays too sharply, a very gentle tap on his nose will see claws and teeth gentled. (I'm talking barely touching his nose, but quickly after the offending action)

In short? I am DAMNED glad we took THIS kitten from the litter. I don't know how the others turned out, if they can hear, or anything. But this little fella has taught us to adapt to him, while learning how to be clear to us.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Reunited

Part 16

Illumi x Reader x ??????

Part 15

Part 17

taglist: @tsukilover11 @mercyboluthecrazychicken

if you want to be added to the taglist, comment a red heart❤️! Make sure your blog is searchable, or else I won’t be able to tag you!!

Warning: very short and vague mention of torture/violence.

It was beginning to frustrate Kalluto, her innate ability.

He’d only just introduced her to Ten, and she was already mastering it. There was no way she didn’t have prior knowledge of nen, but he could tell she wasn’t lying.

“You’re doing well.”

(Name) glanced at the boy. “You seem upset, Kalluto. Is something wrong?”

Concern flickered in her eyes. He didn’t have it in his heart to tell the kind girl he was slightly jealous of her skill, instead shaking his head.

“Nothing is wrong. Just continue practicing Ten and we’ll move onto Zetsu after lunch.”

—————

Lunch was delivered to them by yet another butler, who served them ham sandwiches, with vegetables and fruit.

“Ooo, strawberries!”

(Name) happily stole a strawberry from Kalluto’s plate, popping it into her mouth. Kalluto frowned. “You have your own strawberries, (Name).”

She shrugged. “A friend of mine said stolen strawberries taste sweeter, though in my opinion…”

She took a strawberry from her plate and placed it on Kalluto’s. “I think they taste the best when they’re shared with a friend.”

Kalluto stared at the strawberry in confusion, his mind racing. Why was she saying these things? Sharing, friendship, that was something that wasn’t allowed in Kalluto’s world. He was meant to kill, and not ask questions. Kalluto wasn’t meant to want anymore than that.

But when she smiled at him, biting into her sandwich he couldn’t help but want to be her friend.

“Friend… I guess I wouldn’t mind being your friend.”

(Name) saw right through him. She’d had her fair share of friends that couldn’t quite understand their feelings. Kalluto reminded her a lot of her childhood friend.

“That’s good, I would’ve been pretty sad if you didn’t want to.”

He huffed, smoothing out the skirt of his kimono. “Women’s feelings are hurt over such strange things.”

(Name) laughs. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, earlier you looked sad when big brother said to not meddle in our family’s business. I don’t understand why that would upset you.”

She quieted suddenly, the air becoming tense. He wished he hadn’t said that.

“… it wasn’t necessarily his words that hurt, more his tone of voice. I haven’t know him long, but he’s never sounded so… harsh.”

She sighed, pulling her knees to her chest. Kalluto tilted his head. “I’ve never seen him act the way he does around you before. He’s almost always harsh.” He admitted.

(Name) raised an eyebrow. “That’s strange…”

“Yeah.”

The two ate in silence, Kalluto stealing glances at the girl every few minutes. Her expression had changed, before it had been cheerful and light, but now there was an emptiness to it, almost as if her energy had been drained.

It hadn’t though, he could see her aura was normal and controlled. Why did she look so… sad then?

“I hope Illumi is alright. Do his jobs usually go well?”

Her words were soft, almost inaudible. Kalluto didn’t know what is was about this woman that made him, someone that had never knew comfort, want to comfort her but he couldn’t help but have the urge to.

He remembered Illumi placing a hand on hers to reassure her, so he copied that action, leaning forward.

“He is always successful and is almost never injured during battle. You have nothing to worry about.”

This seemed to calm her down ever so slightly, the shake in her voice subsiding. “Ah… that’s good.”

(Name) squeezed the boys hand, noticing although it was neat and tidy, his palms were calloused, much more calloused than was normal for a ten year old boy. She didn’t mention it, holding his hand for a moment longer before letting go.

He reminded her of her own siblings, but she couldn’t imagine her siblings having such calloused hands. (Name) was determined to work as hard as she possible could so her family could live a trouble free life, in luxury.

“Now that we finished eating, how about you teach me about Hatsu?”

—————

(Name) trained until an hour before dinner before a butler took her away for another bath and some medical attention. They had a doctor on standby to check on her injuries and make sure she was healing correctly.

After a quick bath, she joined the family in the dining room, this time wearing a simple (fav color) sundress with black Mary-Janes and frilly white socks. Everyone was there but Illumi, her landline of comfort gone, leaving Kalluto in his stead.

Kalluto wasn’t as strong or confident as Illumi, not able to give her the same reassurance as his older brother did, but she appreciated his effort nonetheless.

“Kalluto told me you have already mastered Ten and are on your way to mastering Hatsu!” Kikyo exclaimed, clapping her hands together. (Name) nodded, giving her an uneasy smile.

“Yes, I’m happy my training is going by quickly. I hope to be out of your hair as soon as possible.”

This caused the mother of the Zoldyck children to frown deeply, her nails tapping away at the table again. “Oh, (Name) dear, you are no trouble at all I assure you. It isn’t often we have a guest with such…”

She licked her lips, leaning a hand against her cheek.

“Potential.”

The air was tense and almost electrifying.

Zeno cleared his throat. “(Name), if you don’t mind I’d like to observe your training before my job tomorrow.”

This caused the rest of the family to look to him in shock, Silva dropping his fork. Their eyes turned to (Name), all taking in her form with clearer, more observant eyes.

“Mister Zeno, it would be an honor.” She bowed her head slightly.

‘This girl even has grandfather’s attention. What an interesting turn of events.’ Kikyo thought, her visor never leaving (Name)’s form.

Once she had finished dinner, (Name) scurried away with a quick goodbye, saying she was turning in early so she’d have more energy to train in the morning. This was mostly the truth, she had already planned to retire before 10 pm, but she also wanted to escape all the eyes that followed her every move.

As (Name) walked down the hallway to her room, she ran her fingers along the wall, sighing. She stopped when the wall came to an end, spotting a butler talking over the phone.

“HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY KNOW THAT?! PUT KILLUA ON THE PHONE!”

(Name) jumped in surprise, quickly concealing herself behind a corner.

‘That was Gon’s voice!’

“I believe you said that you were Gon?” The butler asked. (Name)’s eyes widened. She was right!

She couldn’t hear Gon’s response this time, but assumed he said something along the lines of ‘yes’.

“Let us pretend that Master Killua happens to have a friend named Gon. There is no proof you are Gon.”

“If you put Killua on the phone, he’ll recognize me!”

(Name) could hear him that time, trying not to giggle at his simple way of thinking. Hearing his voice was making her miss her friends. It had been nearly 4 days since she’d seen them!

“By your voice? That isn’t a reliable test.”

The butler held up a device that played Gon’s words back to him.

“That’s was a simple recording. And there are many other ways to mimic a person’s voice.”

(Name) peeked behind the corner to see the butler flipping a coin in one hand, barely illuminated by the candlelight provided by the candleholder on the wall.

“Next you’ll claim that he’d recognize you by sight. There are only a few methods by which you could perfectly mimic someone’s appearance. But it still isn’t impossible.”

“Additionally, it’s possible that someone forced you to approach Master Killua for sinister purposes. As long as that threat exists, I cannot let you meet with Master Killua. The Zoldyck family practices the trade of assassination. Naturally, it has made them enemies. As butlers, our duty is to guard our masters from their enemies. I apologize, but please leave.”

The butler hung up, and (Name) could feel Gon’s frustration bubbling up inside her. She watched as the butler placed the coin on his pocket and disappeared.

‘Huh? Where did he-‘

“Hello, Miss (Name). Do you need someone to escort you to your room?”

(Name) froze in her spot. His voice was coming from behind her now, and she hesitantly turned her head ever so slightly to see his neutral face glaring down at her.

“The person you talked to on the phone… I know him.”

The butler raised an eyebrow. “It isn’t becoming of a lady to listen in on conversations. I’ll inform Mistress Kikyo that you need etiquette lessons.”

(Name) frowned and crossed her arms, now fully facing him. “I want to see my friends.”

He regarded her with a quizzical eye. “Miss (Name), I assume you heard my speech about their voice not being a reliable source of information.”

She rolled her eyes, glaring up at him defiantly. “I know my friends, and I could feel Gon’s aura through the phone. Tell me how someone can mimic that.”

The two had a stand off, (Name) giving him her meanest look(which most would think was cute). He sighed, walking away.

“I won’t take you to them, but if you can find them yourself, you may speak with them.”

——————

(Name) ran to her room, throwing off her clothes and pulling on a tshirt and shorts. She stepped into a pair of running shoes then bolted down the stairs. The girl took two at a time, not caring that several butlers followed her with their eyes as she went.

The night sky was dark, with the stars out and shining down onto the estate. (Name) didn’t stop to take in the beauty of the countryside, instead sprinting towards the path down the mountain.

Waiting for her in the middle of the path was a girl around Gon and Killua’s age, her skin dark and wearing the butler uniform. (Name) stopped, giving herself a moment to catch her breath before calling out to the girl.

“Why are you blocking the path?”

The girl didn’t move, just stared at her. “Hello Miss (Name), my name is Canary. I am here to make sure you don’t injure yourself while walking down the path.”

(Name) tilted her head, standing up fully. “Were you ordered to do this?”

Canary shook her head. “I wasn’t ordered to do this exactly, but Master Illumi asked me to personally watch over you. I can take you down to the guard’s quarters and wait for you in the dark, but you are not allowed to leave Kukuroo Mountain.”

(Name) regarded her with a suspicious look, but followed her down the path anyways.

——————

Canary led her through the forested path, occasionally taking (Name)’s hand when it became too dark for her to see. Canary seemed to know the path like the back of her hand, expertly dodging roots and potholes as they walked.

“The servants quarters are just a minute’s walk that way. The rest of the path is clear, so you’ll be okay alone.”

Canary pointed to the right. “Meet me back here once you’ve finished speaking with your friends. I’ll be waiting.”

“By yourself? Will you be alright?”

Canary’s eyes widened before she collected herself. “Miss (Name) do not worry, I am perfectly fine with being alone in the dark.”

Canary watched (Name) wander off, smiling to herself.

—————

(Name) approached the servant’s quarters, the door sliding open once she got close enough. An old man looked around before spotting her and waving her inside.

“Miss (Name), what a pleasant surprise! When Canary informed me of your visit I made sure to wait for your arrival. My name is Zebro.”

(Name) took her shoes off at the door, smiling up at him. “Are my friends here?”

He nodded, leading her into the living room.

The three boys sat on a couch, Gon’s foot excitedly thumping against the ground.

“Guys!”

(Name) jumped over the couch, pulling them all into a tight hug.

“(Name), you’re alright!” Kurapika exclaimed, a smile stretching out across his face. Leorio patted her head as Gon hugged her right, laughing.

“We’ve been worried about you. How have things been?”

(Name) informed them about her last few days, leaving out the part about nen training. Illumi had warned her not to tell anyone about nen, as it is better for people to be informed by a teacher.

Kurapika frowned when she mentioned Illumi’s tendancy to be… clingy.

“That man has a strange fascination with you. I’m afraid for your safety.” The blond remarked with a frown. Leorio nodded in agreement.

“He’s a creep, I don’t think you should let your guard down around him.”

(Name) sighed. “I mean you aren’t wrong, but he hasn’t hurt me or treated me too unkindly, so until he gives me a reason to run, I’ll stay to return the favor I owe.”

Gon laid his head on her lap, looking up to catch her eye.

“(Name), have you seen Killua?”

She thought back to Illumi’s words that morning.

‘He is on punishment.’

“… illumi said he’s being punished right now. He wouldn’t tell me what kind of punishment it was, but I’m not allowed to see him.”

She glanced at her friends, and nearly flinched from the anger apparent on their faces. Kurapika gripped his weapon as Leorio scowled.

“Can you do me a favor, (Name)?”

She looked down at Gon, who’s expression was unreadable. “Of course, Gon. What do you need?”

“Please find Killua. Tell him I’m here, and that we’re coming to get him.”

(Name) sighed, absentmindedly petting the boys head. “I’ll try my best.”

(Name) left after chatting for a bit and was escorted back to her room by Canary, where she collapsed into bed immediately.

————

The light of the sun poking through her curtains woke (Name) up. It was just after sunrise, so around 7 am. She threw on some more sweatpants and another tshirt before strolling downstairs.

She met Kalluto halfway down, who was heading to her room to wake her up. The boy seemed surprised to see (Name) up so early.

“Illumi told me to come and accompany you to breakfast in the mornings. Although today, we’ll be eating breakfast with grandfather.”

(Name) nodded. ‘Illumi thought of everything to make my stay here more comfortable… I’ll have to thank him later.’

The two walked into the dining hall, Zeno already sat at the table eating his breakfast. The old man looked up and grunted out a greeting before continuing his meal.

“Good morning!” (Name) called, taking the seat opposite of Zeno. She ate her food quickly, standing once she was done.

“My, I haven’t seen someone finish their food that quickly since the last time I witnessed Mike deal with trespassers.”

Zeno watched her with a wry smile on his lips. She blushed lightly.

“Sorry, I’m just excited to get back in the training hall.”

He waved his hand. “Yes, yes. Go ahead and get warmed up, I’ll be there to watch after I finish some business.”

—————

(Name) regretted eating her meal so hastily after running a mile, her stomach heaving when Kalluto instructed her to start her push-ups.

“Next time, eat slower. There’s no rush, the training hall won’t just disappear you know.”

(Name) wanted to whine and complain about her tummy hurting and how cold Kalluto was being, but this was her own fault. She’d rushed to be there, she had to deal with the consequences.

It took her longer than usual to finish her warm up, sweat beading at her forehead. She’d managed not to lose her breakfast, and that was enough for her.

“Alright, back to practicing Zetsu.”

It didn’t take long for (Name) to get that down, Kalluto quickly moving on to Ren.

“Ren focuses on outputting a larger amount of aura then Ten, projecting it outwards explosively. If Ten is defensive, Ren is offensive.” Kalluto explained, waving his hand. (Name) nodded, ushering him to continue.

“It amplifies a nen user’s physical strength and durability and provides a large pool of aura for any advanced techniques or individual you decide to use, albeit at the expense of expending said aura.”

“Advanced techniques?” (Name) questioned, a little excited. Kalluto smacked her on the back of her head with his fan. “Ow!”

“Don’t even think about trying anything advanced yet. Your only task for today is to practice Ren. People say it takes at least a month to be able to prolong one’s Ren outside of battle for 10 minutes. That is your task.”

(Name) rubbed the back of her head, huffing. “Do I just need to try outputting a bunch of my aura?”

He nodded. “Go ahead, try it.”

(Name) did as he asked, letting her aura pool around her. She was only able to do this successfully for 15 seconds before she slid down to her knees in exhaustion.

“Oh god, that feels awful!” She cried. Kalluto helped her back up, the girl nearly falling back over immediately.

“Keep trying. Once you’re able to hold Ren for 30 seconds we’ll break for lunch.”

——————

Kalluto sipped on his soup slowly, watching as (Name)’s forehead beaded with sweat from the effort of maintaining Ren. It had been 3 hours, and she could only successfully hold Ren for 26 seconds before collapsing.

He’d allowed her to take 5 minute breaks between tries, being much easier on her than his older brother had been on him.

“Come on, (Name). You’ve almost got it, try again.”

Kalluto was slowly beginning to realize that (Name) wasn’t like his family. Although she had some innate talent, her body was weak. She would never have the same strength him or his brothers had, but the strength of her will was something he admired.

Each time she fell down, tears threatening to leak from her (e/c) eyes, she pushed herself back up and tried again. The strength it took for a normal person to be able to take so much punishment and come back for more wasn’t something to sneeze at.

“26, 27, 28, 29, 30. Okay (name), you can stop now.”

She didn’t, however, and kept holding Ren. 30 seconds turned into a minute before Kalluto decided to speak up.

“(Name), if you push too hard it will only hurt your progress.”

(Name) wasn’t listening, however, and her Ren was still being maintained. He begun to step forward to shake her out of her concentration, but a hand on his shoulder made him pause.

“Leave her be, Kalluto. If you try and stop her now, you’ll only get yourself hurt.”

Kalluto hadn’t noticed that his grandfather had been watching them until he reached out.

After a total of one minute and thirty seconds, her Ren was finally broken, and she fell onto the floor. Her breath was ragged, sweat dropping onto the cool floor.

“I feel… like someone just threw me in a washing machine and set it to heavy wash.”

“That’s an… interesting way to describe the affects of Ren.” Zeno replied, Kalluto barely holding back a snicker.

(Name) lied on the floor for a good 5 minutes before she was able to talk again.

“So, what’s for lunch?”

———————

The rest of the day was spent slowly progressing her Ren, (Name) able to hold it for 2 minutes before she passed out. Kalluto had to remind her not to go overboard several times before he got it through to her.

“For the next few days you are not to go over 2 minutes practicing Ren at a time, do you understand? I get you want to get your training done, but rushing will do you no good.”

That was the last thing he said to her before she was dismissed.

After another bath, (Name) ate dinner with Kalluto and Zeno. The rest of the family was too busy to join them that night, much to (Name)‘a relief.

“I’m headed to bed, see you tomorrow Kalluto!”

He couldn’t process her pulling him into a hug, giving him a light squeeze before strolling upstairs. The young boy could only watch her go, trying to understand why she gave him affection so freely.

(Name) closed the door to her room, quickly changing into pajamas and falling onto her bed. She reached for her phone, seeing new messages.

Pretty Boy🫶: How was training today? We’ve been working hard to be able to open the testing gate. Make sure you get your rest and eat enough!

Silly<3 sent a picture

Leorio had sent her a picture of him, Kurapika, and Gon sitting in the servants quarters, wearing black vests. They were playing a card game and laughing, Gon looking devastated to have the losing suit.

Strawberries: Training was okay, but please go easy on Gon!! His arm is still broken :(

She saved the picture, giggling to herself. The girl scrolled through her other messages, seeing illumi had texted her as well.

Illumi: I will be home tomorrow morning. Call me when you’ve finished dinner.

Illumi had set his own contact name in her phone, not allowing her to give him his own silly name. She scrolled down to see her another message.

Grumpy Pants: Just finished job. Send you picture of scenery tomorrow.

Her grumpy friend rarely sent pictures of himself, opting to send her pictures of all the places he went to instead. As a person who never traveled because of her empty wallet, she appreciated it greatly.

She sent him a selfie of herself, giving a peace sign.

Strawberries: Headed to bed, be safe!!<3

He answered back quickly.

Grumpy Pants: It’s cold, don’t wear tank top to bed.

She rolled her eyes, but changed anyways. He was usually right about these things, but his worry always felt like him ordering her around.

“Now to call Illumi.”

————

Illumi relaxed against the back of the car seat, tapping his nails against the armrest. He knew his family’s schedule by heart, dinner had been over for at least an hour and she still hadn’t called him.

There was no real reason he asked her to, he just wanted to hear her voice. He’d been away from her for years without batting an eye, but now that he had her back, going without her for more than a day was agony.

The ringing of his cellphone shook him from his thoughts. He opened his phone to see (Name)’s contact, who’d set as “Darling” flashing on the screen. He quickly answered the call, an excited buzz in the air.

“Hello, (Name).”

The line was quiet for a moment, Illumi waiting for her reply patiently. He heard her sigh on the other end, holding his breath. Even her sigh made his heart race, doing backflips in his chest.

“Did your job go well? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

Illumi bit his lip. Her voice was dripping with worry. He could almost imagine her gripping the fabric of her shirt, looking down at her lap as she clutched her phone to her ear.

“Yes, it went well. I am in perfect health. How has your training been going?”

“Mm, okay I guess. Your mom scares me a bit, though.”

He held back a chuckle, instead clicking his tongue. “Don’t say that. Shes just excited to see a… woman in my life.”

(Name)’s silence hung in the air, Illumi regretting his wording immediately.

“What does that mean? She doesn’t think we’re… together… does she?”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know how parents are. Haven’t you ever had a male friend come around and your parents assume you’re dating?”

“No, I didn’t really have many friends growing up. Well, besides the boy in the photo.”

He pictured her smiling, remembering their time together. Illumi only wished that she could connect the dots and realize that she WAS her childhood friend, but something inside him wouldn’t allow him to just tell her.

Did he want her to chase him? To figure it out and jump into his arms? He didn’t know. It just didn’t feel right to tell her now.

“Well, that’s how it is. Just parents being parents.”

He didn’t believe his own words. Dense as he was, he knew that part of him wanted his parents to push for their marriage. Illumi wouldn’t mind, if it was her. Why didn’t he mind? His confusion on the subject irritated him to no end.

“Ah, alright. You’ll be home in time for breakfast, right?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

She didn’t answer immediately, but he could hear her huff on the other side of the line.

“I… I like being around you. It makes me feel more at ease. This house is strange, but having you here makes thing less scary.”

Illumi didn’t think his heart could beat any faster, but now it felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. Did she realize what she was saying? Was her intent to give him a heart attack?

“I see. I thought you hated me, (Name). You even said so just a few days ago.”

Illumi hated this part of himself, the side of him that wanted to lash out at her because he couldn’t handle his own feelings. He wanted to tease and taunt her into either submitting or running away, but also wanted her to stay and see through his little lies and petty words.

“I’m still mad at you for what you said to killua, but I don’t hate you.”

He frowned. “I said nothing but the truth.”

“You said he was nothing but a killer, Illumi. That’s awful. Are you just an emotionless monster that only finds satisfaction in ending another person’s life?”

“And what if I am?”

The silence that took over was cold, almost causing Illumi to shiver. Once again he pictured her eyebrows furrowing, a scowl taking over her pretty face.

“Then I won’t ever consider you a friend of mine.”

“Who said I wanted to be your friend, (Name)?”

Illumi could tell he had said the wrong thing. He heard her breath hitch in her throat, a shake entering her voice.

“Goodnight Illumi.”

Click.

He stared at his phone for 5 minutes, a million thoughts running through his mind. Illumi ran a hand through his hair, looking out the window into the night sky.

If younger Illumi could see him now, he’d be furious. He never wanted to be the reason for her tears, but his twisted mind wouldn’t allow him to fully surrender his heart to her. He couldn’t even agree to be friends, how would he win her love?

——————

(Name) scrolled through her contacts, clicking on one of her friends names then pressing the call button.

The line rang for 30 seconds before he answered.

“(Name), why you call? It’s nearly midnight for you.”

The man on the other end threw one of his dirtied yellow gloves into the trash along with the bloody pliers he had been using. He waited for her response before talking again.

“What happened?”

He could hear her sniffle on the other end, his eyes widening. “You cry? Why?”

“I just… I just wanna talk to you for a bit. Don’t wanna talk about what happened.”

He leaned against the kitchen counter, sighing. “Alright. But if someone make you cry, I’ll kill them.”

The two chatted for a bit, the man mostly listening to (Name) blubber about her day and how tired she was. She tried her best to hold back her tears, but he could tell just by her voice that she had been crying before she’d called him.

“I always will come get you. Don’t care where, or when.”

He was usually cold and calloused, even to her, but when it came to her safety or emotional well-being he was a lot kinder. (Name) wiped away a stray tear.

“No, it’s fine, thanks for talking with me. I should probably get to sleep. Illumi comes home in the morning, so I’m gonna get up early to avoid him.”

“Avoid him? Why?”

It’s not like he wanted her to be around him, but for her to want to avoid him meant the man had done something to earn her scorn.

“… no reason. Goodnight, sleep tight!”

“… goodnight.”

They hung up at the same time, the man setting his phone down on the counter before breathing in and out to calm himself.

“One more thing happen, I go to get her. Don’t care what she says.”

He looked over to the kitchen table where his latest victim was strapped onto it. The man struggled against his bonds, tears streaking down his bearded face.

“Now, tell me the password to the safe before I have to actually hurt you.”

[yourthirdparent]

guy who is normal about the endless cycle voice Hey have you guys heard of the endless cycle

also on ao3

“You're going to do what?!”

Liu Kang looked away like he was upset, as though his actions hurt him, as though a god could ever care for a mortal enough to see the harm in this.

“I am going to make Raiden a god,” he repeated, louder this time, but voice wavering more than it had before.

“Lord Liu Kang, with all due respect, that's insane,” Johnny said.

“Why Raiden?” Kung Lao stressed. “You already made him champion, now this?”

Liu Kang's shoulders raised, but he didn't answer. It made sense that he would have nothing to say, no rebuttal to speak of.

“It is fine, Kung Lao,” Raiden spoke for the first time since Liu Kang had shared his plans. “If this is my task, then it is one I accept.”

Liu Kang smiled at him, but his fist clenched at his side. “Thank you, Raiden. I do apologise for thrusting this upon you so suddenly, but I fear it is the only chance we have.”

“I understand.”

“How the hell would making Raiden a god help things?!” Kung Lao shouted. “If you couldn't fix this, how could he?” Raiden's hand came to his shoulder, but was quickly thrown off by Kung Lao's wild gestures, like a rider bucked off a bull. “It doesn't make any sense!”

“It sounds illogical, I'm aware, but I do assure you that it raises our chances significantly. How exactly it does that is for Raiden to share with you when he learns of the reason, if he so desires.

“For now, trust it is our only hope, and trust that I would not lead you astray.”

Kung Lao's face was still twisted in a snarl, but he shut his mouth with an audible click and didn't talk back, instead remaining silent with crossed arms. Whether he was upset on Raiden's behalf or out of jealousy was a mystery.

Liu Kang attempted to smile at him as well, but his eyes couldn't make it to Kung Lao's and he instead stared at his tensed jaw with furrowed eyebrows. Then he turned away, only offering the group a short, “Forgive me, I must return to the temple,” and Raiden a quick, “Come to me when you're ready and we can discuss this,” before he walked off.

***

As soon as he was away from prying eyes, Liu Kang fell against a pillar in the temple and sank to the floor.

“I kid you not, Liu Kang. Raiden's power makes you a fire god.”

“Of course it does.”

Liu Kang hit Kung Lao lightly.

He knew it was not fair to make Raiden a god, to force upon him the same fate that had befallen Liu Kang eons ago, but there was no other option.

“I am not sure that I am ready, Lord Raiden.”

“I will guide you when the time comes.”

It was his fault, truly, for making Raiden the way he had. For creating Raiden so closely in his own image. For repeating the prior Raiden's mistakes so closely. Lord Raiden had asked to be made mortal in Liu Kang's New Era, but it didn't have to be like this.

He didn't have to reflect Liu Kang's soul like a mirror.

“There is a reason Kronika turns you and Raiden against each other in every timeline. Together, you pose too great a threat to her vision.”

“Why? What is so powerful about me and Lord Raiden?”

Fujin was silent.

But what excuse was there for thrusting godhood upon a frightened young mortal? Had Liu Kang not already gone far enough when he'd forced the young Raiden to fight in the tournament? Had he not already crossed the line when he'd asked Madame Bo to train Raiden and Kung Lao? Had he not already done too much when he'd crafted the circumstances of Raiden's birth and life to allow him to be shaped into his reflection of the man Liu Kang was?

Had he not learned what a curse it is to be the Chosen One? What a curse it is to be a god?

“Your souls have always been intertwined.”

Is that why Liu Kang was forced to repeat the past? Is that why Liu Kang was faced with an opponent only he and Raiden's shared power could defeat? Is that why he was forced to repeat this cursed cycle? Is that why—

There was a knock on wood. Then a voice.

“Lord Liu Kang?”

Liu Kang straightened himself up, standing and wiping the tears from his eyes (He had not even noticed they had begun to fall) before he stepped into view.

“Greetings, Raiden,” he said, and Raiden bowed to him, ever respectful even after learning what Liu Kang planned for him. Liu Kang gestured to a bench by the central fire. “Come, sit. I have much to explain.”

***

“I apologise if it is difficult to understand,” Liu Kang finished.

“No, it is fine, Lord Liu Kang. It is just…” Raiden paused. Liu Kang tipped his head towards him as he awaited his next words. “I will trust in your decision, and I will do as I'm asked, but I must agree with Kung Lao. How will I turn the tide, even as a god, when you could not do it yourself?”

Liu Kang leaned forward, propping himself up with his forearms on his thighs. “I may have been unclear in my wording," he said. "I am not merely granting you godhood and sending you off alone; I am combining our souls. You will retain your own power, as well as all of mine.” He risked a glance at Raiden to see his wide eyes and raised shoulders.

“Combining our souls?”

Liu Kang took a deep breath before speaking. “In every timeline, the souls of Raidens and Liu Kangs are intertwined. Every Liu Kang is incomplete without a Raiden, and every Raiden without a Liu Kang.”

He conjured an image from the previous timeline out of sand, himself and Lord Raiden standing against each other on the rooftop, Shao Kahn behind them. “The previous Keeper of Time, Kronika, understood this connection, and she had designed history so we would turn against each other. Either we would fight on opposite sides of good and evil, or”—the image changed, now showing the moment of Liu Kang's death—”one of us would die.”

The image dissipated, falling as golden dust atop their thighs before vanishing entirely. “All of this in an attempt to achieve a golden balance between light and dark. With both of us on one side, completed, we shifted the scales too far, too powerful as a unit, so she ensured we would never remain on one side, never pose the threat to her balance that she so feared.

“But now I control the hourglass, and I can stop the events that led to our separation and conflict, and I can ensure we remain allies and not enemies, and, together, we can defeat whatever enemies stand in our way.”

He looked to Raiden once more.

“I apologise if this is a lot to process. I felt it was important that you understand the full picture before the merge rather than after. You would find out regardless, as the merge not only combines our souls but our minds and bodies as well, but it was best that you understand what you would be getting into before it happened.

“I am sorry that, despite all I've told you, I cannot give you a choice in this matter.”

“I am sorry, but I do not have a choice in this matter.”

Raiden was silent. They sat side by side for a moment, two, three, maybe several minutes, maybe hours, but they said nothing.

Then, finally, “I accept my task, Lord Liu Kang.”

And finally, “I accept my task, Lord Raiden.”

[dxxtruction]

TBH? Or maybe this is obvious? It seems probable to me that Armand takes up this ‘role play’ agreement with Louis only more for the fact it had the possibility to answer for the the question he had previously. A question which at its core boils down to:

“Am I made capable of doing these bad things only for the role I have to play in the circumstances I’ve been given, or am I on my own the one capable acting out such things?” 

Of which he already does understand it’s both, he admits he's evil, he just wants to be able to know better the extent to which he is actually evil/bad. He wants to be able to know who he’d be without circumstances of a role he’s been forced into. He’s curious, foremost. Curious to which extent, beyond evil, he is potentially good/innocent. Armand has a desire to understand who he really is. So it’s not actually as regressive as one might think?

There’s not been a point in his life, but very short-lived periods, where he is not in obligation to circumstances he doesn't want in order to survive. This is set up in a lot of ways meant to progress, just also without throwing him to the wolves of suddenly being without everything he’s always found secure. Where it's regressive is in how it protects too much of what he really needs to let go of (the co-dependacy). It doesn't force him to fully let go of it. (Not Louis' fault there, Armand needed to be the one to do this.)

It's far more for him an opportunistic search to know who he is within, and hopefully to some point without, his unwanted circumstances than anything else. Who am I in a circumstance I want? In wanting this other circumstance there are aspects he gains benefit from outside this curiosity, and I believe he does genuinely agree Louis happiness is mutually better for them. So as well, he in some ways had to want Louis outside the imposing circumstances, because they both know they can’t actually go on having both as they were. This selfish pursuit of self discovery is just what most primarily rules his actions within the dynamic.

But as a result he doesn’t take Louis side of what he’s getting out of it as what’s most serious, when that is whats more serious. For the very reason he commits so wholly to this curiosity, and also holds that he already was capable of this prior, and would be able to shield him without it. To him, he cares about Louis protection already, and this is just how Louis would want to be protected. It ends up a preferable protection to them both for its mutual benefits of happiness with it. And then it's also sexually gratifying, and this is where it's an exploration for them both.

For the matter of protection I think Armand’s genuinely like: "I’m already doing that, but okay my love. Your way’s better. Your way does far more for both of us than if I were to do nothing, continue on as the one in tyrannical control of a role I don’t even want and can feel slipping from me as a result, or doing the very extreme act of maybe burning every single one of them up which is opposed to who I'm trying to be anymore. Your way makes us both happier which is really what this is about. Getting a life we can both be happy with." (Except Armand fails miserably to understand how that's actually achieved by respecting autonomy and your partners actual agreements with you. Also notice how it's all about him.)

The most obvious example of this divide I think it Madeleine. Why he goes in to see Madeleine is likely precisely to see if it’s a line of evil he has despite all circumstances, including for one he really wants. I think he’s able to see that she's a fierce contender for someone suitable to this life, and that it would be favorable to give Claudia a way to leave. But, he ultimately gets a part of his answer, with a bit of satisfaction that he didn’t go through with it even so. 

While for Louis this was always fundamentally a way to protect himself, Claudia, and Armand, and him committing more to his curiosity betrays that. As Madeleine was a way to give Claudia a means of having the life she wants, which would protect both their own peace of mind. Therefore should protect Armand's.

Armand's boundary is fine, but he misled for his own selfish curiosity. Louis is also still going to go through with it, which he's opposed to because he only sees it as a net negative for Louis' happiness (+ lots of preconceptions). That such peace of mind is cancelled out or worsened by doing this. He finds Claudia’s happiness is not worth any such sacrifice. To him Claudia ruins Louis' happiness, and with this ruins it for eternity through the bond. (Which would explain why he finds her manipulative).

After the initial set up on the bench what goes on because protection is not the primary concern is sort of a play back and forth between what circumstances he’s obligated towards. Between circumstances he wants and would obtain a greater understanding of himself in [Louis] and circumstances he’s obligated to regardless of getting anything out of it and trap him in uncertainty [the Coven]. Though with ceding himself over to Louis' advisory, the latter becomes more clearly certain for him.

What ends up happening with Madeleine’s changing is a double hit to Armand’s desires with all of this. Louis doesn’t push him towards accepting to be a part of this thing he finds evil (again not at fault for it). Doesn’t utilize his role to make him do something he doesn’t quite want, but would agree to if Louis said he had to. And instead enforces that he go deal with the circumstances he more absolutely doesn’t want.

Armand’s to actually over committed to this bit he doesn’t just communicate this straight that he’ll go if Louis needs him to be, he’ll probably even go if Louis only wants him to be. Because he can at least accept to be a part of an evil he draws a line on, so long as he’s not the one committing it (foreshadowing). He just also needs Louis to show his commitment.

And so... when doing as Louis put on him instead, he is confronted with a major circumstance of the same sort. Realizing that while he’d been around and in love doing what Louis wanted the coven has up and designed this extremely vile and evil thing to push on him. 

He’s faced at such point with a question: Which of these two circumstances can I trust to pan out more for my own survival? - And moreover - Which of them had actually shown me they require I be a part of it, and therefore showing me as secure in their lives? And therefore which one gave me most certainty of who I’m meant to be?

Obviously, he ends up falling into the circumstances he doesn’t want, because it fulfills the necessity he has to survive far more securely and certainly. This is regressive. And It does in a way also answer his question, but it’s the answer he didn’t want: Who he is, is to fundamentally serve his circumstances, and that any self to be had is regretfully unattainable given this. So... he does nothing to prevent it.

But in so doing he has to accept himself as fundamentally also the level of evil of said circumstances. Which I believe he ends up deciding he can't be fundamentally that when choosing to let Louis out. (Speculatively he was always a part, or came to be apart, of the plan to save Louis too if we are to go with TVL's narrative).

Armand knows he’s a coward and to be ashamed of it as well. There was always, always, a third option - to take extreme measures for the sole benefit of Louis that could very well gain nothing for himself long term, but he doesn’t do it. Armand didn't see himself as capable of doing exactly what he could’ve always been capable of, but he probably would if not for his conditioning to accept this kind of unwanted position, his self serving way of obtaining survival, and his lack of total regard for Claudia. 

And that last one is really his biggest downfall as if he gave two shits about her he’d have at least freely gone with Louis to begin with, no question, and wanted what was best for her. Thus avoiding the whole shit show that followed. Truly, if Armand had shown he could ever have given a shit about Claudia I think Louis would’ve been with him legitimately forever. 

[mrs-gauche]

...and also the only time that Solas of all people, is completely speechless, for once at a loss for words in response to an irrefutable argument.

Throughout the whole game (with a few exceptions in which he actually admits to having misjudged), whenever you get the chance to debate him on something you do not agree on, Solas, Mr “I’m a trillion years old, you know nothing, so listen carefully” will practically verbally jiu-jitsu you for every possible argument you might have, like, he’s an absolute master at playing Ace Attorney refuting any of your points, much like playing mind chess with Iron Bull, there is no chance to win an argument with Solas if he’s determined to have you recognize the flaw in your logic or at least understand his perspective, making you feel like this gif at the end of every debate.

But when Lavellan says “I would have had you trust me”, finally, there is no counter argument, no clever comeback, no objection... He has nothing. Because Lavellan is right and he knows. There’s just silence until he turns around and continues with the rest of the dialogue. And I think it’s interesting how this is kinda the culmination of all the little hints throughout the whole game at his ingrained distrust, leading up to this moment.

“An enemy can attack you, but only an ally can betray you. Betrayal is always worse.”

"The next time you have to mourn, you don't need to be alone." “It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”

“That’s when you should lean on your friends.” “Apologies, Inquisitor. I have learned not to do that.”

“I’ll rely on those I trust.” "You think to share your power, to avoid the temptation to misuse it. A noble sentiment... but, ultimately, a mistake." (...) "Because while one selfless man may walk away from the lure of power's corruption... no group has ever done so."

“You created a powerful organization, and now it suffers the inevitable fate of such. Betrayal and corruption.”

"I trust my friends." "I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory."

“She was betrayed as I was betrayed. As the world was betrayed!” - Flemeth about Mythal

You get the sense that him witnessing Mythal being betrayed and murdered by the Evanuris was probably the catalyst for his immense trust issues, so much so that it still has that big of an impact on him centuries later. And of course it has, when 1) it was this batrayal and power corruption that set everything in motion, it almost lead to the end of the entire world, which in turn lead to the creation of the Veil and finally the loss of his world and his people, 2) he has spent the last 1000 years walking the Fade, having to look at the ever present Black City in its center - their prison - as a constant reminder of what happened. (I know it’s not confirmed yet, but come on! 😂)

And then there is Lavellan (or any high approval Inquisitor for that matter) at the end of all this. Who proved him wrong with every action throughout DAI. Who has shown wisdom in their decisions and that the power they were given mustn’t corrupt them. That there is no reason for him not to trust them. And yet, he simply can’t, because the past still haunts him and centuries of history have taught him otherwise (and like a bunch of other reasons for him to not tell Lavellan the truth in that moment in Crestwood, but that’s beside the point here lol). 

And then at the end of Trespasser, Lavellan finally throws it straight to his face, and while he could pull any of the excuses listed above, he simply can’t refute them anymore. Look at his expression as he just looks at them in response, at first still frowning for a second, as if he’s still about to argue them again, but then suddenly shifting into sorrow, slightly shaking his head in defeat. “I got nothing.” Solas, who easily managed to own you in any debate prior to this, is all out of arguments. It’s the final argument and the Inquisitor won.

(Well, technically, it even happens twice in this final conversation, if we’re counting Solas’ internal debate with himself. lol)

"We aren't even people to you." "Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong."

But going back to his distrust, it surely can’t be a coincidence that this whole issue was also topic in a recent interview with DA4′s Creative Director, talking about what defines a hero.

I’ve talked about this numerous times now, like here, here or here, but what it all comes down to is basically just one more penny for the “Solas needs to learn how to trust again in order to be saved from himself” jar. lol

“We will save our friend from himself… if we can.”

Like. It’s literally his name. Pride. Saving Solas from himself does quite literally mean to strip him off his name and the belief that, to quote John Epler again, “only he has the answers, that he is the only one who can solve this” and to accept the help of others. Which is why he has to get a new name by the end of all this. I’m dying on that hill. 😂

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Secret of the Primacy: Emotional Exploration

With his secret out in the open, Optimus is left to flounder with the way the team are treating him. He's not used to it in any capacity, but he can't help but want to explore now that he isn't being suffocated by lies.

@wildlygay as per your request, here is more of this Au :)

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

With his secret out in the open, Optimus was ready to bolt at any moment. He had been warned countless times by the priests and by Alpha Trion that if anyone discovered what he was, he was doomed. He knew the various methods of gruesome execution common amidst Autobots and Decepticons for severe crimes. He had no desire to die deep beneath that duty that blanketed his every thought and action.

He fully expected to be treated poorly, abused perhaps, tortured if the team were angry enough despite the care Ratchet showed him. He was mentally preparing himself to be beaten half to death when he finally woke from his breakdown induced recharge cycle and met the optics of the team one by one. However against all the odds he predicted, the team did not even frown at him with malicious or angry emotional wavelengths in their fields. If anything, they were sorrowful. He didn't understand, but he quickly came to be confused above all else when the team adjusted the way they treated him.

Over the course of the next few weeks, he was treated gently, so much so that he started to both fear, love, and despise it. Ratchet's care was the most blatant and welcome for Optimus. The medic took every opportunity to shower Optimus with affection in his own gruff way. Optimus could be doing anything and suddenly Ratchet would be by his side, gently touching his arm and praising him for whatever he was trying to accomplish. Other times he could be quietly working on Iacon database files and Ratchet would slide over an energon cube, usually with a treat as well. Optimus had never been one for sweets usually, but they came from Ratchet and his foster Sire seemed to know how to make them in such a manner that they were only so sweet as to be enjoyable.

Ratchet stopped yelling as much too. When normally he would grumble and make a fuss, he quieted and kept his complaints to himself. It worried Optimus a great deal at first, that was until Ratchet made it clear that he refused to act like a sparkling when Optimus was in need of care. That part agitated the Prime to a degree considering all he'd gone through, but he couldn't deny that it was nice being able to try his best and actually be praised for his efforts instead of being regarded with grim appreciation.

Ratchet also took to establishing and actual routine for Optimus to follow, one that he both enjoyed and hated. The medic no longer tolerated his self destructive habits and instead made it law that he was to recharge for at least a groon per cycle. Cybertronians don't need to recharge often, in fact it is only required once a human month or so. Only sparklings required frequent recharge, and so the fact that Ratchet made a point to drag Optimus to his berth every night for recharge was both a welcome relief and a prod at his pride. He was mostly grown. Not even Bumblebee was subjected to such frequent recharge standards. Even still, Optimus obeyed his foster Sire. He quietly adored how Ratchet would guide him to his quarters, and without commenting then proceed to tuck him in, ensuring Optimus got at least one hug before he was left to rest.

Sometimes on bad days when Optimus fell back in on himself, trying to maintain the persona he crafted prior to the reveal, Ratchet would stay with him as he recharged. It was a comfort to know that his foster Sire was beside him, reading a datapad or filing a report of some sort even if a small part of Optimus was bitter over being handled in such a manner.

Compared to Ratchet's sudden shift in behavior, Bumblebee and Bulkhead were comparatively rather unchanged. The biggest differences in how they acted were merely in regards to how much work they left to Optimus. Where before Optimus would gladly take on mountains of work so that Bumblebee would have the chance to play and so that Bulkhead could spend time with Miko, his efforts were no longer allowed to fly. Bulkhead and Bee took their patrols far more seriously and went on them more frequently. Their reports came in on time and were detailed, with no need for Optimus to fill in blank spots or otherwise adjust their work. Not to mention the duo suddenly cared a great deal about actually fulfilling their chores at base. Before they would try and brush them off when possible, but seemingly overnight, both could be found doing any and all chores that normally fell to Ratchet and Optimus.

The Prime was thankful for the newfound dutifulness of his sparkling and brother in arms, but there were more than a few accidents due to Bulkhead attempting to mop and Bee trying and largely failing to dust with grace. In the end both were kindly asked to stop and focus their efforts more on the mission, to which there were quite a few sighs of relief. Despite that, both were quick to take up other work that Optimus normally handled. Bulkhead swiftly became Optimus's greatest obstacle when it came to his usual habit of working late at night. If Optimus tried to sneak out of his room after his appointed recharge time, Bulkhead would lay a servo on his shoulder, give him a look, and guide him back to his berth. It was bothersome and made Optimus feel small, but in the end the extra recharge time made him happier and more productive overall so he didn't fight the effort.

Bumblebee for his part simply became more affectionate. He regarded Optimus as his Sire without care for the truth of the matter. However, as he was now well aware of the delicate state of his Sire's mind, he went out of his way to show his appreciation when he could. Optimus was never particularly touchy in his raising of Bee, but he had a few habits that he kept, such as checking in on Bee when he did lay down to recharge roughly once a week. Bumblebee took that normal habit and used it to convince Optimus to rest alongside him. He would hug the Prime and ask for a song as if he were younger than he really were. And Optimus, wanting to feel needed and appreciated, never ceased to offer whatever affection Bee wanted. If Bee came to him asking for a hug, Optimus would give it. His sparkling almost never asked for such things, so the Prime gave them with glee. He very nearly cried whenever Bee would thank him of tell him he loved him. Deep down he was acutely aware of the fact that Bee was likely trying to tend to him like the rest of the team, but the desire to be needed overrode most of the dark concerns that lingered.

Compared to Ratchet's almost complete 180 regarding how he treated Optimus and Bee and Bulkhead's relative static nature, Arcee sat somewhere in the middle. She did not coddle Optimus like Ratchet did. She would still utter her grievances and treat Optimus as a proper warrior, offering him respect as her commander and trusting him to take care of himself in battle. But unlike Bumblebee and Bulkhead, she was more willing to show her normally hidden maternal nature. Ratchet couldn't be on watch all the time, and so when he was otherwise occupied, Arcee stepped up to the plate and took to getting Optimus into healthier habits. Her main mission was to get Optimus to deal with some of his mental issues. Ratchet tended to his health with far more dutifulness than Arcee could ever hope to replicate. And while she was no paragon of mental stability, she knew a few ways to get a mech to at least begin dealing with their issues.

She made it a point to try and get Optimus to do something aside from work or tend to others during his waking hours. Her efforts largely amounted to getting Optimus to assist her in certain recreational activities under the guise of needing assistance. It was not hard to get the Prime to sit down with her and try to sketch out things she required aid 'identifying'. It quickly became clear to her that Optimus actually enjoyed drawing after she attempted other activities with him. Thus she quietly spoke to Ratchet, and from there, Optimus developed a new habit that he kept from everyone.

He had no clue that Arcee's requests for him to help were underhanded. He simply enjoyed being needed and was pleased to sit down and assist her in drawing things she needed help figuring out. But from those drawings, he found a bit of a passion for the activity. Too many vorns of being denied any and all ability to act his age ensured he told no one of his interest, especially as he tried to improve and observed far more skilled artworks done by humans and Cybertronians alike. Often his inner voice demanded he quit his newfound recreational activity, but once he started, he was unable to stop.

Optimus told no one when he started taking sheets of scrap metal and engraving tools and hiding them away in his room. He told no one when after Ratchet tucked him in for the night, he proceeded to use said materials and carefully engrave things that he saw and envisioned. Over the course of weeks, his room was quickly filled with sheets of metal engraved with various depictions of things he enjoyed. These works he hid under his berth when he was finished with them due to his insecurity, but late at night he would look over them with a degree of joy. He loved engraving, especially engraving stories depicting his life, or rather Orion Pax's life. He loved drawing Orion, Ratchet, his team, the human children, and all others he knew well. It was his secret pleasure. He was a Prime, and thus he was not afforded the luxury of enjoying recreational things. As such he kept it close to his spark, telling no one up until one late night-

-When Ratchet walked in on him engraving.

His first response was sheer panic. He froze up like a deer in the headlights, his engraving tool dropping to the ground as he sat still as stone amidst his sea of artworks. Ratchet stood still for a long moment too, both of them locked in an odd dance of will until Ratchet took a step forward. Optimus in turn all but began to throw his engravings back into their hiding place up until Ratchet grabbed his arm to stop him. The Prime froze up again, expecting a reprimand or hit to come from his actions. Instead, Ratchet sat down beside him slowly and very tenderly began to look over Optimus's various works.

The Prime was two kliks from passing out in sheer terror when Ratchet oh so softly ran his digits along an engraving Optimus did of Orion working in the archives. Along the bottom he carved his Sire's name and a tender line. Ratchet looked to be near ready to cry as he read, and at that, Optimus feared the worst. And yet against all his fears, Ratchet did something he did not expect.

Ratchet: These are gorgeous Optimus.

Optimus: They are merely scribbles. I could be performing more vital tasks instead of dabbling in this craft-

Ratchet: No, you honor him with your work... He would be proud.

Optimus: ...

Ratchet: You were not intended, but I knew my friend Optimus. He would have been proud to know you are his creation.

Optimus: That cannot be true. I killed him. My creation led to his death.

Ratchet: He died so that you might live. He did not know that you were made from him, but I imagine that if he were here, he would be happy to know that his descendant is continuing the work he left behind.

Optimus: Leading a war? No, I do not believe he would take joy in knowing what I have done.

Ratchet: Perhaps. But he would know that you have done all you can. He was kind, I do not believe he would begrudge you for your choices. If anything, he would be pleased to see you fighting so hard despite all the obstacles in your way.

Optimus: ... It is just an engraving. It means nothing.

Ratchet: It means you are trying, that you are growing. By doing that, you bring honor to Orion's name.

Optimus: I...

Ratchet: These are wonderful Optimus. Do not doubt that, not ever. Continue this, I can see it brings you joy.

To say those words meant much to Optimus would be an understatement. He was still distraught, but after Ratchet saw and praised his work, he slowly began leaving engravings for the team and the children as gifts. He didn't know how to fully express his thanks, and so he offered that which brought him joy.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐭

[Chapter 3] Home for Dinner

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader x Suguru Getou

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, your husband tells you that he’ll be home tonight for dinner. So you take this opportunity to make the best meal possible for Suguru, so that maybe he’ll decide to be home for often. So that his wife can get the attention she deserves. Although Suguru doesn’t really care for that anymore.

Dinner is ready early, so while you wait, you go upstairs to get yourself ready. Hopefully you’ll get some action tonight after weeks of only using your fingers. It’s in your best interest to look your best for him. Eat a quick dinner– Or, have sex with him before dinner and then after dinner. When the idea pops into your mind, you decide to slip out of your clothes and put on his favorite lingerie set. You put on heels that match, some jewelry and spray some perfume before throwing your silk robe on top.

You walk out of the room with a smile on your face, ready to wait for your husband. You walk down the stairs and go to the living room to take a seat, waiting excitedly for your husband to get home. It feels like time ticks slower while you wait for him. Your excitement is too much, which is probably why. You’re practically kicking your feet as you wait for him, so excited to spend some time with him.

Your ears perk up when you hear the sound of the front door opening, and you rise from your seat. You loosen the robe a bit so your husband can catch a hint. Suguru is great at picking up clues but you want to make it painfully obvious. Your heart drops and your face quickly warms up when your husband isn’t the first person you see.

“Honey– I forgot to tell you about Satoru joining us tonight.” You hear your husband and you look at him with wide-eyes. You can’t move your feet, you don’t understand why you’re suddenly planted to the ground.

“Yeah… You should’ve tried to at least warn me.” You respond, completely embarrassed. You turn around and begin to walk away, while Suguru looks at his friend.

“Sorry about that. I forgot to inform her about you joining us.” Suguru chuckles, a bit flustered. He can’t exactly be mad at you because he’s the one that forgot to tell you. You were just trying to be a sweet wife.

“Oh trust me, I don’t mind.” Satoru replies, chuckling as well. “Nothing I’ve never seen before.”

“Right…” Suguru awkwardly says. Suguru walks to the living room and takes a seat, and Satoru follows behind. Satoru takes a little longer, trying to see if he can get a look upstairs to find you in your little pink robe. He tilts to the side but he doesn’t see anything. Satoru ends up taking a seat across from Suguru.

“Sorry man, didn’t mean to interrupt your night.” Satoru begins to apologize, scratching the back of his neck. Suguru really can’t say anything. He’s not going to admit to his friend that he’s too tired to actually do anything with you. Especially to Satoru of all people.

“It’s fine, we’ll just start it when you leave.” Suguru lies. Satoru is about to stand up and leave because he doesn’t want to hold back his friend’s night. But he remains seated when he hears your footsteps. You appear again, this time wearing a white sundress.

“Satoru, I made some zaru soba with some tempura shrimp. I hope you like that. If I had received a prior warning, I would’ve made something you’d like.” You share before sitting down next to Suguru. You peck his lips before turning your attention to Satoru.

“Didn’t know you were a cook.” Satoru comments. You almost roll your eyes but you manage to contain yourself. Every time you’re together he’s always making snarky comments and you can’t stand it.

“Yeah. When you spend so much time alone at home, you pick up a life skill or two.” You respond. Satoru smirks,

“How about you get a job? It’ll certainly kill your boredom.”

“Alright, you two. I don’t know about you, but I know I’m hungry.” Suguru cuts you two off before the bickering continues on. Suguru came home to be at peace, not to hear his wife and best friend argue. Suguru stands up, and you glare at Satoru before standing up as well. You only like Satoru when you’re flirting or fucking, any other time you can’t stand him. Suguru begins to walk to the kitchen, saying, “I assume you dismissed the staff. Hopefully. I don’t want you walking around with practically nothing around others.”

“Yeah. I dismissed them when you told me you were coming home for dinner.” You inform him. 

“Go sit down, honey. I’ll serve you.” Suguru says. You smile at him before walking to the dining room to take a seat. You take a seat, and immediately Satoru takes a seat across from you. You roll your eyes when he does, and he notices.

“I like your nails.” Satoru comments when he catches a glimpse of your nails when you fix a strand of hair that’s in your face. It’s nothing special, just French tips. You always get French tips. “Last time I saw you the tips were brown.”

“Brown?” You question. Last time you saw Satoru was a month ago. You get your nails done weekly. You’re taken a bit back when you remember, as well when you realize that he did recognize you, he just didn’t say anything. He also flirted with you, knowing who you were. “Really? That’s nice. Since when do you care so much about nails?”

“Does it bother you that I notice little details? Does Suguru not notice little details?” Satoru questions. You’re about to tell him off but Suguru walks into sight, so you decide to bite your tongue.

Dinner will be awkward. That you know when Satoru smirks at you, something that your husband doesn’t seem to notice. Satoru has a secret that can cause big problems in your marriage, although Satoru can get himself in trouble as well so you know he won’t talk.

Two hours after Satoru leaves, you wait for your husband upstairs. Although he was home early, he still had work to do. So he’s in his home office while you lay on your bed. Once again, you just wear your robe, but now you wear absolutely nothing underneath.

You’re about to fall asleep, not because you’re tired but because you’re bored. You feel yourself drifting unintentionally into slumber, which is ironic because when you’re actually trying to fall asleep, you can’t. You’re wide awake when the bedroom’s door opens.

“Honey…” A yawn escapes your lips as you sit up on the bed. He walks over to you and presses a kiss on the top of your forehead. “Are you finally coming to bed?”

“I still have something to finish up. Go to bed honey. I’ll be here in the morning.” He tells you. You don’t feel like arguing with him. You’re wide awake though. He gets what he needs from the bedroom before walking out, and you find yourself alone once again.

You try to fall asleep, but you can’t. This time you can’t, now that you have no hopes of your husband coming to the bedroom. You lay on your side and shut your eyes. Maybe you’re not tired but you have nothing else to do.

You hear this annoying ringing, and you grab your phone to check who it is. You grab it, rolling your eyes before picking up the phone and bringing the phone up to your ear, “What happened? Couldn’t reach Suguru?”

“Yep. That’s exactly why I’m calling.” Satoru’s voice doesn’t exactly help you fall asleep. You shouldn’t have picked up the phone, but it’s definitely too late for that now.

“I’m not going to his office. Solve it yourself.” You’re about to hang up the phone.

“Office? You can’t be serious? He’s working?” Satoru questions and you hum in response, although so many questions pop up in your brain.

“Yes. Why did you call if you didn’t think he was working?” You click your tongue, knowing exactly that Satoru was trying to ruin your night. Joke’s on him though because your night was already ruined.

“Hmmm… are you in bed right now?” Satoru avoids the question you asked and asks a question of his own. You bite your bottom lip before humming in response.

“Yeah…”

“Are you still wearing that cute little lingerie that you were wearing earlier?”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit inappropriate to ask?” You respond, not wanting to indulge into whatever he’s doing. Satoru is trying to give you the attention you lack, but you know better.

“I’m trying to give you some of the action that Suguru isn’t giving you. Trying to help him out so you don’t look for it elsewhere.” Satoru says and you smile. “Just making sure that you get it from a trusted friend and not a complete stranger.”

“You’re so sweet, Satoru.” Your voice is sarcastic. He laughs at your voice. “Why are you actually doing this?”

“Is it that hard to believe that I’m trying to be a helpful friend?” Satoru responds. What a friend he is. “Well since you don’t want my help, I’ll give my services elsewhere.”

“Thank you for being such a helpful friend.” You say, the sarcastic tone remains in your voice. You’re about to hang up the phone but before you do, you get a mischievous idea. “By the way, Satoru… I’m not wearing the lingerie anymore. Just my robe and nothing else.”

You hang up with a satisfied smirk on your face. 

🏷 @violetsaffron5 @uhremmi @13vicey @rumi-rants @somemydayy @lilith412426 @33yaeyaeeee @iam-mia9 @m00dycr4nkybitc @cloudsinthecosmos @armincasa @staromi @hopelhss @desireness @abba-simp @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @corndogwithwings @Konekobby @tojianddabisslut @yeagerfushiguro @mochikage @chanelmalandro @Katykat71114 @ur-mums-side @manidobre @itadore-you @yehet-moi-ohorat @lovemarvel16 @hellva @greenlovers @bluupen @ma-icloggedthe-toilet @vertigoswan @lilithlunas

[sasukeless]

recently (like two months ago) I saw an SS and her moots talk about Sakura's confession "it's been years and people still misunderstand this moment" and also adding that she thinks she should explain the moment in detail some day to people who don't get it lol

sakura’s confession is smth i try to avoid talking because honestly a really big part of the hate it gets is due misogyny and men with r/niceguy complex that are actually more mad that sakura never ended up falling for naruto than anything else. so i try to not get into it.

however i still think acting like the whole confession is just her being a good friend and thus this action should be free of criticism is a very empty take

yeah, sakura believes her confession is for a good reason because she’s trying to protect naruto but it still doesn’t make the whole thing less messed up. she is trying to manipulate and lying to him after all and no matter if it’s for his own good or not that’s still a pretty shitty thing to do to your friend. and it gets even worse when you actually realize what her thinking process was here because her whole confession is just her thinking that since she has “feelings” for him now, naruto will suddenly be okay with his best friend being killed. it’s honestly a very shallow view she has of him and shows how little she understands naruto (ppl often say nrsk is the better ship because they spend so much time together but what’s the point if even after all that time she doesn’t get him at all?). and the whole confession fiasco could’ve ended there but the fact that she hears naruto stating that he STILL wants to save sasuke and she decides to go against his wishes and plans to kill sasuke behind naruto’s back anyway is just. ? people bring up the fact that she did this because she didn’t know about the massacre but naruto prior knowing about the massacre was still begging on his knees for sasuke’s life.

and it’s not the first time sakura tries to use her feelings to manipulate others. her two confessions to sasuke are also about using her feelings for him to get him to abandon his goals. you either accept this is just part of her character or you just don’t really like her canon self and also take away some of the nuance she has in favor of making her a flawless person

but Anyway. the fact that any time the confession gets talked about every incel comes out of the cave to act like it’s a crime that sakura isn’t romantically interested in naruto and that’s why hinata is the superior fc everr makes any possible discussion about this scene annoying

[starlit1daydream]

Gordon Freeman's classpect: and why you're all wrong about it

well forgive me for the hostile-sounding title there, but as it stands i'm yet to see a single other person with this take.

the unanimous agreement for gordon's title seems to be heir of hope - which i will give credence to as making a lot of sense at face value. the heir is the class of the typical 'hero' and hope is the aspect of belief, faith, deficiation, angelic symbolism. on paper, it works perfectly for a man held in such high regard as a saviour and liberator.

but what of gordon's personality? what little of it we see, of course.

the heir of hope argument applies a classpect to gordon not as a person, but as a concept.

gordon freeman the concept is an heir of hope, for sure.

but gordon freeman, the man?

gordon freeman, the scientist who was late to his first day on the job? whose brief glimpses into his personality include blowing up a man's casserole for no clear reason and solving every problem with a crowbar?

the gordon freeman who has been jumping from trauma to trauma for twenty years under the machinations of a sinister interdimensional bureaucrat?

hear me out here.

gordon freeman is a bard of void.

now, i should probably explain my thoughts on the bard class and the void aspect before going any further, since this entire take hinges on my very specific take on both things.

in my eyes, the bard (the passive destroyer) is somebody who initially ghosts adherence to their opposing aspect, until a traumatic incident or dire crisis suddenly pushes them into an influx of their real aspect. they change their tune from passively destroying their aspect in themselves to passively destroying through their aspect. bards are capricious, unpredictable people who are often cowardly, avoidant or lazy in their ways.

the aspect of void, the antithesis of light, deals with the eldritch and the unknown. void is shadow, void is doubt and obsfucation, it is by its very nature unknowable and exists in the dark corners of one's mind. void is narrative irrelevance given (a lack of) form.

so, how does this fit into gordon freeman's narrative?

let's get into his head.

gordon freeman is a man who, prior to the black mesa incident, has lived his life adhering to knowledge and science. he's studied, got a degree, probably quite passionate about science. the statistics, the thirst for knowledge and understanding, all of this paints a picture of light.

light players are the ultimate students, as the extended zodiac says, they are the knowledge-seekers who wish to understand the world around them and comprehend the most fortuitous path better than any other.

the guy shows up late to his first day on the job. a man with more degrees than should be feasible and he can't even show up to work on time. this is the first hint of gordon being a bard, it's an incredibly lazy and capricious action that also hints at his passive destruction of light through his lack of fortune.

and it's that fateful test that changes everything - you all know the one i mean.

the one that suddenly inundates him with void. suddenly, gordon's world is unknowable, incomprehensible, he is a slave to the plot and forced to keep driving forward a narrative to which he ultimately has no say in. it's another example of the traits of a bard, who generally do seem to be reduced to narrative devices. (we see this a lot with gamzee.)

gordon is consumed among the alien and eldritch, and emerges from black mesa's ruins anew. a man whose existence is defined by contradiction, doubt, obfuscation, and everything that void stands for.

we see it again and again throughout the series. his very existence within the combine's rigidly defined, meticulous and mechanical empire defies principle. he is the anticitizen, his presence within their world is a contradiction just by his very being. he is undocumented, an anomaly that shouldn't be. and that scares the shit out of them.

and it should! because, as a bard of void should, gordon destroys their empire through void. his very existence is enough to spark the revolution (which in itself is tied to the aspects of hope and rage) and the destruction he brings about is through his nature as the anticitizen. the contradiction, the hole in their logic. he casts doubt upon the system that they've forced into place and he does so while continually being surrounded by the eldritch and the unknown.

he does so while in servitude to the eldritch, actually. i think that g-man himself is a player of space (to be more specific, i think he is a lord) but i think that there is also a lot of void symbolism within the g-man's character and his 'employers' more specifically.

and you know what really cinches my argument?

gordon freeman, player of void, embodiment of the unknown and the obsfucation, of the silence and emptiness, of the doubt and darkness?

he never utters a single word.

i will revise this entire thing once i wake up tomorrow because it's currently 10pm for me and this is going to look incredibly lazily worded/formatted when i get up in the morning

but for now i suppose you can all take this rambling mess of uncoordinated madness and tell me how wrong i am

[gay-dorito-dust]

How about a jealous reader when George spends more time with Flo and one night he comes home late to a smoky kitchen with reader sleeping on the table with a plate of burnt cookies in front of her because he missed their cooking date night, just something angsty to very fluffly!

“Hey babe, are still up for-“

“Sorry to cut you off sweetheart,” George said as he rushed to shrug on his puffer jacket over his shoulders, “but I’ve got to help Flo out with a few things but I should be back before noon so we can have our date.” He then presses a kiss to your forehead before legging it out of the door faster then you’ve ever seen during the duration of your relationship as the sour feeling within your stomach you’ve had for a while began to feel like corrosive acid. Eating you from the inside out.

You could only watch helplessly as the door shut behind him and you were left to your own devices in mending the fractures of your heart. At first you didn’t think much of it but the more George chose to cut your time together short to help Flo, it only worsened the thoughts within your head that your relationship with the speckled male was coming to an abrupt end and there was nothing you could do about it. You adored Flo, you truly did, and you couldn’t blame her for something that wasn’t any of her fault; You couldn’t blame her for how George seemed to act like a excited puppy dog every time she visited for it wasn’t her doing.

Flo wasn’t responsible for George’s emotions and neither were you and you knew that that you were in no position to tell George what he’s meant to feel purely because you were suffering from the effects of a certain green eyed monster. George was his own responsibility and you were certain he was more then smart enough to understand himself better then anyone for he had to live with himself.

However what you were allowed to do was be human and feel out your emotions as and when they decided to come. You knew it was unhealthy to keep them withheld within yourself, to repress your feelings as it would only prove to be increasingly difficult task to upkeep without suffering the consequences in the form of a breakdown. Yet somewhere deep down inside you seemed to find the appeal of repressing your emotions, feeling as though it were the better route then to be an adult and sit down with George to talk about this in a civil manner.

You knew this course of action would only end up hurting you both even further, to the point where your abilities to trust one another with your most vulnerable selves would cause rifts in your relationship until it capsizes and fall into the abyss. You really don’t want to loose George, you really don’t, he means so much to you and you weren’t about to loose him because you were too scared of the possibility of what would be said in that situation which would only reinvigorate your insecurities, your fears and your nightmares of loosing him; like he was the sand slipping through your fingers.

‘I can’t keep doing this to myself every time he goes to Flo. It’s not healthy! None of this is!’ You thought to yourself as you lifted yourself from the staircase that you’ve blockaded with your body from the moment George left earlier that morning, suddenly thankful of the fact that Lockwood and Lucy had left prior to finding a simple case, leaving the responsibility of holding down the fort to you. One of the many things you’ve noted in your relationship with George was that whilst he has the habit of stress cleaning, you developed an offset habit of stress baking.

You hadn’t noticed that you were doing it until Lucy pointed it out one day and from then on you became more aware of how some of George’s habits had became your own. At the time you found to sweet that you were developing the habits of your loved one but as you placed the baking tray of vanilla and raspberry cookies into the oven, you found yourself hurting even more. It seemed that no matter what you did, George was somewhat apart of your every action and it only made the ache in your heart grow bigger at the fact that he was spending the time he used to spend with you with someone else.

Which was ironic and a tad silly considering the fact that you never felt this way whenever Lucy and George were in the same room. Maybe because you didn’t feel threatened by her in due to the heart eyes Lockwood had been throwing her way, that seemed to be more then reciprocated. If that was the case, then that only made you feel even more worse for ever thinking like that towards Flo, you’d never wish these thoughts on her, never. Yet humans were a weirdly complex species and every emotion ever felt by mankind was some of the times tied to subconscious or conscious thinking.

Whilst you were waiting for the cookies to finish, you sat yourself down in one of the chairs at the table, where you gradually found yourself coming down with a heavy dosage of fatigue and within minutes, your asleep on the thinking cloth.

George cursed under his breath when he checked the time, only to see that he was incredibly late for your date by the time he had gotten back from helping Flo. He knew it was bad to keep stuff from you but he was doing this for a reason, the anniversary of your first date was coming up, and he wanted to do something nice for you for putting up with him after all this time. So as he unlocked the door, he was greeted by a wave of smoke that burned at his eyes along with the ear piercing sound of the smoke alarm blaring all the way from the kitchen.

Worried and concerned of your well-being, George rushed to the kitchen only to see you fast asleep on the table with a plate of burnt cookies in front of you, smoke emerging from the charcoal treats, which he was right to assume must’ve set off the alarms; of which he was quick to grab a tea towel to disperse of the smoke whilst also having a couple of windows open. “Oh sweetheart,” George said in a hush voice, “I’m so sorry for being late.” He then looks over at the burnt cookies and couldn’t be but chuckle.

“An attempt was made but next time let me deal with the baking, the cooking and well…everything,” he then proceeded to sit himself in the chair next to you, rubbing your back gingerly before pulling you to his chest, “because I promised the moment we started dating that I’d treat you like royalty. Yet you refused because you wanted to treat me like royalty also. God your a fucking handful.” George chuckled as he reached a hand to rub up and down your back soothingly, his heart melting when you snuggled deeper into him as though you weren’t close enough for your liking. “Yet your my handful and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I promise my disappearing acts recently will make sense but for now, let me get you to bed before you get a crocked neck.”

Unknown to him, you had awoke the moment you felt his warmth against you, silently hearing him out and suddenly you weren’t jealous anymore. George Karim was truly a godsend and you weren’t about to loose him, not if you could always end up back in his arms as he whispered sweetly into your hair. You’ll have to save that talk you feared for tomorrow as for right now, his arms were all you ever wanted to be within right now.

[annesstardustchords]

I'd Go Through it Again (If I Could Hold You For a Minute) - Part 1 / Simon “Ghost” Riley X Reader

hi babies! im so sorry ive been MIA lately, school is fucking me raw and I haven't been doing mentally well at all. that being said, yall deserve some good, angsty smut. luv u all <3 (smut will be in part 2)

(my mental slump may have slipped into this one a little bit...)

Description: Ghost had passed away; killed in action and DOA a couple months prior. You hadn't been handling it well. He was the love of your life, your rock, your muse; all of it. After one particularly bad day at work, you shuffle home in tears, but what you don't know is that there's a little surprise waiting inside for you...

CW: angst, fluff, sobbbbinnnnggg

TW: Mentions of death, suicide, self-harm (non-graphic)

READ WITH CAUTION!

MINORS DNI! I WILL TELL UR MOM!

Four months ago, you received the letter; he was gone - Fuck it, dead. No need to put it nicely.

The love of your life, torn from the warmth of this earth, from you, in a split second. A bullet the size of a pill had ripped through his chest, surpassing his heart and exiting through the thickened muscle of his back. How can something so small do such damage to someone as strong as him? How can something so small take a life? How could he be gone, just like that? How could he leave you?

Angry, intrusive questions swam around in your mind every second of every day; replaying the moment he was shot, the moment he took his last breath in your brain as if you were there. abut you weren’t. You could see it; his massive frame falling to the ground, suddenly appearing small as his eyes widened, and his breath stopped. It haunted you, knowing he was alone when it happened. Soap hadn't found him until hours after he'd passed. "DOA" the letter had read. Dead on fucking arrival. How long had he been there? You could've saved him, you think. You should've been there. But alas, you were deployed to another field, another team just days before. You couldn't protect him.

"Aye!" your superior calls out from behind you, "Head in the fuckin' game, soldier!"

You snap out of your thoughts, raising your gun to the practice target and firing without thinking. You were a great shot naturally, but not these days; your mind focused solely on Simon, your eyes fogged with his decrepit silhouette inside of his casket. It was open the day of the funeral; not your typical soldier send-off, but you had requested it. You hated what you saw when you looked inside that box. You had lifted the mask to ensure it really was him, and sure enough, it was. His scarred face, and tight-shut eyes. It haunts you everywhere you fucking go.

You hit the white plastic of the target, not even close to the drawn body of the thing. The Sergeant laughs from behind you and you toss your gun to the side, embarrassed and exhausted.

"Thank god this is just target practice, eh? You really did a number on 'em, probably killed em' with that fuckin' shot," he cackles as you walk past him and grab for the door handle, "Ay now, Soldier. Where do you think you're goin'?"

"Home, sir," you bluntly answered, too disappointed and spaced out to give a shit about your current ranking or the fucking novelty of the trade.

"You go home now, Soldier, and you're done," he barks, "You understand?"

"Yes, sir," you respond bluntly, swinging open the door and walking out with a huff.

You weren't one to disobey your orders. You weren't one to leave your post. You weren't one to quit. But, honest to god, if you had been put on the field the next day as planned, you would've thrown your un-armoured body against the first bullet shot.

Anything to see him again.

As you gathered your things from your locker and left the base, you could feel tears burning down your cheeks beneath your mask. You didn't sniffle, you didn't wipe them away. You didn't care. You just needed to be home. Being around this many guns, around a fucking armoury, couldn't be safe for you in this state. The morbid fascination you faced daily following Simon's death was nothing short of constant, but you were scared. What if he got into heaven, and you couldn't?

God, you just needed to go to bed.

You held your keys tight to your hand as you walked to the door of your apartment, the harsh metal breaking skin; not that you noticed, though. You turned the key and walked in, locking the door behind you and chucking your belongings onto the floor along with your shoes. You tore your mask from your face, and walked down the hall. As you made your way towards your bedroom, you noticed the familiar shine of your lamp seeping through the slightly ajar door.

Certain you hadn't left the light on yourself, much too weary of hydro costs, you quickly grabbed the gun from your safe. You hadn't even looked at the gun since that wretched day, untrusting in yourself and your thoughts, but with your job being what it was, you couldn't take any risks. You hold the gun tight to your side, slowly opening the door, and raising it to the dark figure sitting atop your bedsheets.

"Get the fuck out," you harshly whisper, "I don't have fucking time for this."

"Hi, darling," a familiar voice says as the figure turns his head.

Your heart nearly stops then. Your eyes meet the ghastly white of a skull mask, one you were all too accustomed to. You wrap your finger around the trigger, ready to end this sick joke immediately.

"I don't know who the fuck you are, or what the hell this is, but you need to go. Right fucking now," you bark, tightening your grip on the pistol.

"Y/N, please, put the gun down," the soft, British voice pleads.

"You're real fuckin' stupid if you think that's gonna happen."

You take a step inside the room, pressing the gun hard against his forehead as you take an unwavering breath.

"Make a move, and I swear to god, I will put a bullet in your brain," you mutter, "Who are you?"

"It's me, Y/N. I promise it's me," the man says, confident but composed, fully aware of the gun pressed between his eyebrows though seemingly unafraid of it.

"Is this some kind of sick joke? Hm? Putting a fucking widow through this?" you nearly yell as you press the barrel harder into his skull, causing him to wince, "You wanna beat me, interrogate me? Fucking fine, but this... this is sick. He's gone. I saw the body myself."

"Y/N, I-"

"Don't say my name," you snap, "Who fucking sent you, huh?"

"Love, please. Back up, let me take my mask off, yeah?" he asks, carefully lifting his hand to your wrist, tapping it gently in request.

"Don't fucking touch me. You're not him. God, when Price hears about this..." you dryly chuckle, trailing off when you notice a bump under one of his gloved fingers.

"Take your glove off," you demand, motioning your head towards it.

"Wha- I... Okay," he stammers, lifting both of his hands cautiously and removing both of the gloves. You grab his left hand, tugging off the band prominently placed on his ring finger. You raise it to your face, your other hand still firmly holding the gun to his head.

"Y/N L/N, in combat and in devotion," read the inside of the ring, matching the words circling the ring placed on your left hand in similarity.

"Where'd you get this?" you whispered, your once stern demeanour shifting into something much smaller; more pathetic.

"The pastor on our wedding day. Gaz got them made for us," he answers calmly.

You pull the gun off of him, raising your hands to your face and pressing your palms to your eyes as you turn around.

"What the fuck is going on?" you cry, hardly audible.

"Y/N, it's me. I'm so sorry," he whispers, shifting to stand.

"Sit the fuck down," you yell, "Take your mask off."

He nods, turning around to check the curtain is closed before gradually and carefully tucking two fingers under the hem of the mask, lifting it over his chin and nose.

You feel tears brim your lashes, slick to your under eyes as his mouth and nose come into view. It's like a b-roll as the mask is lifted higher and higher off his face; the scar on his right cheek, the dark war paint, his furrowed brows, his fluffy hair. He discards the mask, tossing it next to him and grabbing a makeup wipe from your bedside table to rid himself of the smeared paint around his blue eyes.

"See?" he says, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Your hands shake as they go to cover your mouth, holding in the deep wail threatening to pour from your lips as you sob. The man you loved so much, the man you fucking married, the man you buried just four months prior, was here; alive.

"Si," you whimper, throwing your full body weight onto him after placing the gun down, your thighs on either side of his hips as you wrap your arms so tight around his neck that he nearly chokes.

"Hi, Lovie," he whispers into your neck, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you close to him. You take in everything; his scent, the feel of him so close to you, his scruff against your jaw. All of the things you swore you'd never get to feel again, tucked between your limp arms.

"How could you fucking do this to me?" you croak, your throat raw as you slam your weakened fists against his vest-clad chest.

"I know, I know, darling," he says, pulling away just far enough that he could see your eyes, lifting your chin to look at him before holding your face between his strong hands, "I had no choice. Trust me, I wanted to come back to you the second it happened."

"Then why didn't you? Do you know what I've been through? Do you know what it's like to watch the love of your life get fucking buried?"

"No, I don't," he sighs, "but I do know what it's like being dead to you, literally and metaphorically, and that's nothing I ever wish to relive."

"So why'd you do it then? I can't fucking live without you, I tried to fucking kill myself just to see you again, Simon," you accidentally admit, tears falling off your face and down your neck.

"Oh, my love," he sighs, worry adamant in his gruff features as he gently caresses your hair, "I wish I could've called, sent a letter, fucking anything. I'm so, so sorry I put you through this."

"Tell me what happened, Si. Tell me there was a good reason you faked it all."

"Two of the opposing had intel on you. They must have seen you without your mask, or someone let something slip; I'm not sure. I got cornered by two of their men, and they gave me an ultimatum; Either I take the bullet, or they tell all divisions outside of 141 your identity. Knowing your past with OpFor, I couldn't let that happen - couldn't risk your safety. Soap shot both of them before I could say anything," he explains, never breaking eye contact.

"So, they're both dead. Why did you have to-"

"There's more," he says, taking your hands in his, "There was only one other opposition out there who knew about you, and I couldn't come out of hiding until I was sure he was dead, so I faked my death under Price's orders to give us more time and to keep you safe. As long as this guy knew I was alive, he wouldn't have let it rest until he ruined you. This guy was good - stealthy, and stayed hidden. I knew you were safe as long as I was out of the picture, and that's all that mattered to me."

"Oh my god," you whimper, the tears seeming to be endless, "Please tell me you caught him? I can't risk losing you again."

"He's gone, baby. We caught him. I wouldn't have come back if I knew it could put you in jeopardy," he softly smiles, wiping your tears away with his thumb once more as you slowly smile.

"Si-" you choke out, a look of realization crossing your soft features.

"Yeah, love?" he asks, concerned.

"I'm so sorry, I-" you sob, unable to get the words out, choking on your own tears.

"Baby, baby. Shh," he coos, trying to stop you from hyperventilating, "What on earth are you apologizing for?"

"I was so angry at you. I- I was so mean. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have blamed you," you mutter, letting your forehead fall against his.

"Oh, my love. It's okay. I can't even imagine what you've been through over the last four months. I don't know what I'd ever do if I lost you," he admits, grabbing at the nape of your neck gently as his eyes flutter shut.

"It was hell. I walked out of target practice today. I can't even aim anymore. I don't think Sergeant is gonna let me back," you confess.

"He'll let you back, baby. Price and Soap both know what happened, and we've all got your back, okay?" he says, gently rubbing along the back of your head.

“I don’t even care if he does, I’m just- I only care about you; about you being here,” you softly smile, wrapping your arms tighter around him as you sniffle.

“There’s that pretty smile,” he whispers, “I missed that face of yours so much.”

“You can’t even begin to understand how much I missed you,” you say, gently kissing his soft lips, “I thought I’d never get to do that again.”

“‘M not goin’ anywhere baby. Never again,” he murmurs, kissing you back, “I couldn’t bare knowing how much I’ve hurt you again.”

“I love you, Simon,” you whisper, the words rolling off your tongue like an oath, like a god damn prayer.

“I love you, too.”

You know it’s more than just words; it’s a promise. He’s yours.

[virgo-dream]

✨ dreamling / fluff / acts of service / mature ✨

SUMMARY: It’s been 10 days since Dream of The Endless was rescued from Fawney Rig by one Hob Gadling, who takes it upon himself to see to Dream’s recovery. While with Hob, Dream is provided with something he’d been missing even before his imprisonment: to be cared for. read ch. 03: healing waters (2,9k+ words) here or on AO3 AUTHOR'S NOTE: The way I fully spoiled the name of this chapter on my previous May Dream post (because it was supposed to be chapter two's name before I decided to divide it in two)... Well, here's the much awaited bath! And... something else at the end. :)

Out of the many things Dream had been deprived of during his imprisonment, the ones that hurt the most were those he never admitted to himself were essential to his well being. He'd given up on the concept of caring for his own needs the day he buried his son. Living in the Dreaming, quite literally inside his own head, he was able to shun out anything that didn't serve his self inflicted penitence. Still, it was a prison of his own fashioning. Being bound to the Waking, stripped of his power and divinity, he was brought lower than Orpheus had descended. And still, he was alive and his child was long gone. And now, alive still, Dream was faced to confront the very thing he'd denied his own son: the gentleness of never ending support and devotion. 

Dream had noticed how careful Hob was whenever it was necessary to touch him. Since being brought to Hob's flat, Dream had greeted him with varying levels of consciousness, veering from completely present and grounded to uncalled for rudeness and violence, falling into melancholia, apathy and, finally, guilt for all he was subjecting his greatest (and only, for all he knew) friend. Hob was patient, more than any saint Dream had ever known, and knew exactly how to calm him down, to stoke the quickly spreading fire of despair that lit up with no warning. Dream vaguely remembered an attempt at a bath a couple of days prior, that was met with an outburst of rage turned into a panic attack. He could see why Hob would wait to try again, and even if it didn't seem like it, Dream was feeling better.

"I'm gonna help you up now, duck." It was nice to be told when a touch was coming. It was also nice to notice Hob didn't ask for permission, that he felt confident enough in Dream's capacity to understand there was no threat in his actions. The endearment in his voice was enough to communicate his intentions, and Dream knew he could rely on Hob's honesty. It was also nice to feel relied upon. Dream nodded in acknowledgement, and watched as Hob moved towards him, leaning down.

Hob's arm slipped underneath Dream's with gentle precision, curling around his back and letting his hand find refuge on a frail ribcage, protected by the soft fabric of one of his many worn out cotton t-shirts turned pyjamas. Hob's skin felt warm, even if not in direct contact with Dream's own, but in his current state Dream couldn't help but feel every physical sensation there was, to have every nerve on his body fire up when he was touched. Touched by Hob. Hob who had claimed him, even if unknowingly. Dream's eyes were trained on him, watching the way the muscles on Hob's face expressed all the efforts his body made, how his eyes crinkled at the corners and his cheeks squished his lower eyelids as he helped Dream up to his feet. He was completely caught up in the spell of Hob's humanity, so much that it took him a moment to realise he was being spoken to.

"...walk to the bathroom?"

"Hm?" Dream's eyes blinked a few times, suddenly grounded back in the Waking. 

"Do you think you can walk to the bathroom?" Of course Hob would repeat himself without a hint of judgement in his tone. Of course he was better than Dream in every aspect. Of course.

Dream allowed himself a sly smile, just a gentle curve of his lips, allowing his eyes to find Hob's and stay there. "I would not forfeit my couch privileges so easily, Hob. I understand those are at stake at present." 

"Ah, yes. Yes, of course." Hob chuckled, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. Dream didn't quite understand why humans sometimes looked up when amused by something. Did they believe to be in communion with some higher being, sharing their amusement with said deity? Was it just how their nerves told their bodies to react? So much to ponder in a split second. "Well, ready when you are."

Dream took a moment to assess the situation. He could feel the weakness of his legs, still not entirely used to being stretched fully, nor carrying the full weight of him. He wasn't sure he'd ever needed to rely on the muscles, bones and tendons of his physical form before; even when he visited the Waking, his presence was as ephemeral as his existence. Only now, that his powers were cut off from him did he realise how much he'd neglected himself. His eyes darted back and forth between Hob and the bathroom door, afraid of failing on the first step. He'd been made to fear many things during his imprisonment, and Hob's pity was among the top of his list. 

Still, Hob had already done so much. And Dream had never given anything back to him. His friend. His companion. His Hob. So a step he'd take, literally and figuratively (because in the Waking those were different things, unfortunately). He hoped Hob would be able to read the meaning of it. Of what it meant for Dream to try. And so, he took the first step. 

˜˜˜

Dream's legs only trembled for the beginning of his small walk to the bathroom, which Hob had told him was a very good thing. His muscles had not gone into complete atrophy, which was a testament to his divine nature, and it meant the fatigue would start wearing off the more Dream attempted these short walks. Hob always seemed to be filled with hope, and it was fitting, really. Hope fit Hob so damn nicely, like the suit he'd worn to the White Horse in 1889. This time, Dream would allow himself to see Hob wear it. 

Hob helped Dream sit down on the toilet, then leaning down to check the temperature of the bath water. It was warm enough to fog up the mirror, which Dream was thankful for; he wasn't willing to see his own reflection quite yet. Not ready to face the damage, or maybe be greeted by the same old sorry face he'd lived in for the past couple millenia. Maybe it was worse. So much worse, and it would mean he'd been defeated by Burgess, somehow. Brought lower than grief ever could. Made little, insignificant. Made human–

A warm hand squeezed a bony, cold one.

"Dream, come back to me."

To you, always.

"Would you like help getting undressed?"

A thousand bells seemed to ring inside Dream's head all at once. His brows furrowed, lips parted in a stutter of words he wasn't quite ready to let out. He seemed confused, at first, but it was really the speechlessness the question had left him in.

"It's alright, I can wait outside–"

"No." It was all Dream managed, but it was a beginning. All stories must begin before they have the chance to end. 

"...no to waiting outside or to getting undressed?" Hob's questioning seemed genuine, even more with the gentle smile it was accompanied by. His hand had not left Dream's either, and it made it easier for Dream to find his footing in the situation. Remember he wasn't alone, and that he didn't need to be. Not now. 

"I do not wish to be undressed. I can bathe as I am now." He was calling the shots, Hob had said. He mustn't do anything he wasn't comfortable with. He'd set the pace. 

Hob was silent for a bit, the cogs turning inside his brain almost audible. "...I'm gonna apologise for even asking this, but I just want to understand. Feel free to tell me to bugger off. Do you not want to be naked, or do you not want to be seen naked?" 

It was a valid question, Dream thought. But it was one that required a bigger understanding of his own anxiety than Dream knew to look for, and it made him flustered to not know how to answer. This was way beyond the depths of his knowledge. He knew all, but all meant nothing when presented with a question filled with so much respect and care. 

"It's okay, Dream." Hob squeezed Dream's hand once more, letting his thumb rub circles on the back of Dream's hand. It was soothing, and Dream allowed himself to let his eyes close, taking in a deep breath. "I get it. It's hard to tell these things apart sometimes. And I respect it. You deserve your privacy. I'm just… trying to figure out a way to help you without hurting you more, you know?"

Ah, the kindness of his words. The way they enveloped themselves around Dream's shoulders, caressed his cheek and kissed his forehead. He could almost see bluebirds taking flight around them, and feared that maybe Delirium was eavesdropping on their conversation. Or perhaps this was what daydreaming felt for those who experienced it firsthand. 

"...I have to qualm with being seen by you." Dream couldn't look at Hob while saying that, but he mustered all the strength he found within himself to do so for the rest of what he had to say. "I am not ready to… see."

"Hm." Hob took a moment in silence to ponder. Dream watched him attentively, trying to read what he was thinking from the way the wrinkles on his forehead shifted as he seemed to settle on something. The vapour rising from the bathtub must be really warm too, because Hob seemed flushed too. "Do you trust me?"

He nodded, no hesitation whatsoever. This he was sure of. Hob took another short pause before continuing, seeming a little more confident now. "...then you look at me, and I'll look at you. Your face, I mean. I'll only see what you're comfortable with, and you'll have to look at my ugly mug. Unfortunately you get the low end of the deal this time." 

Dream tilted his head slightly, brows furrowed. "You are nothing short of beautiful, Hob." It made no sense to him for Hob to not see what he saw. Maybe this exercise would prove mutually beneficial; to see the other, to let the other see through the mirror of friendly eyes.

Hob let out a laugh that sounded a bit like a snort, shaking his head and looking away for a moment. "Flatterer. A week and a half on the left side of the couch for that one." Dream thought of protesting, for he was only stating the truth. Hob was quicker, turning back to look at him, eyes locking with Dream's searching ones. 

Out of the many things Dream had been deprived of prior to his imprisonment, the intimacy of touch had been one of the ones that hurt him the most. He'd forgotten to miss it, like he'd forgotten to miss his siblings or the sunshine in the summer. How he'd forgotten to miss music, laughter, the gentle aroma of flower fields in spring. Touch. Hob's fingers curled around the hem of the t-shirt he was wearing, the back of his fingers grazing his skin gently as he pulled the shirt over Dream's head. How Hob's eyes did not wander down, even though it wouldn't be a problem if they did. Then, the ghost of Hob's warmth, as his hands travelled down to the waistband of the sweatpants hanging loosely around Dream's hips. How he pulled them down ever so gently, waiting for Dream to lift his hips up, then pulling each leg off, always careful not to go too fast, too rough. And there they were, those brown eyes. Locked onto Dream's. 

Silence fell between them for what felt like 100 years.

"...you wanna do the boxers?" Unlike Dream, Hob did not look away when he asked a question. He pushed through, always, and his willingness to help was admirable. 

Much like Dream didn't want to walk to the kitchen earlier to not deprive himself of Hob's touch, here too he'd hide his motives. He shook his head, and held Hob's gaze as he'd once done Calliope's. He wished Hob would hold him like a lover, but he'd settle for being undressed by a friend if it was all Destiny would have in store for him. 

"...alright. Um. Lift 'em up."

Now, the warmth was no longer a ghost, and it travelled down his legs for a bit, just enough for Hob to be able to pull his boxer shorts off. Now, Dream was fully undressed, but he didn't feel any more exposed than Hob did. It was a wonder, how Hob never made him feel beneath him, how he was always able to meet Dream wherever he was. 

Hob kept their eyes locked as he helped Dream up once more, and finally into the tub. The water felt warmer than Dream had expected, but it was not so much that it would overwhelm him completely. He sat down, and the water compelled him to stretch out his limbs, allowing himself to take up space. It felt strange, being engulfed by water once more, allowing his muscles to relax under the healing properties of the very source of life. He felt Anuket's embrace, Amphitrite's welcoming gaze and Anahita's gentle touch. He could hear Damona call for assistance, only to be met by Mariamman's kindness and readiness, Iara's gentle song and Oshun's motherly love. Had he known so many of them would come to his aid, maybe Dream would have asked sooner. Still, none were sweeter than Hob's smile, which meant he'd found help exactly where he needed it.

"Wanna lean your head back? I can fold a towel for you, then you won't have to lean against the hard tub."

It was a tempting offer, and Dream couldn't help but to notice the softness in Hob's voice, almost as if he feared he'd disturb somehow. Maybe he'd noticed how Dream seemed to have really relaxed for once, and was attempting to not break him out of the spell the goddesses had put him under. Dream nodded, and Hob reached for the closest towel, rolling it to give volume, placing it behind Dream's head. When he leaned back, his eyes fell closed almost instantly. 

"Need help washing?" Hob asked, voice still soft and low. Dream was glad the water was warm and would be able to disguise the gentle blush on his cheeks. He nodded, eyes still closed. When the bath sponge touched his skin, Dream didn't even flinch. 

There were many forces at work at that moment. That of friendly gods, welcoming Dream back into freedom. That of friendly man, filled with respect and kindness. That of yearning heart, so primal yet unwilling to grow out of its hunger. Dream almost felt like a child, being handled by hands more skilled than his own, allowed to not be in full control. When Hob asked him to sit up so that he could wash Dream's hair, he complied gladly, letting out a satisfied groan when Hob's hands massaged his scalp. Hob, once again, was right; the nourishment he believed his physical form didn't require was more than welcome, and it was able to reach Dream's essence. The bath wasn't only for his skin, as was the healing not limited to flesh wounds. Hob poured water over Dream's head and bubbles of shampoo travelled down the bones of his spine. Dream yawned, and it felt glorious. He felt the care he so diligently placed over his dreamers now gifted back to him. 

All that came after felt like a sleepy blur. He remembered being warped in a towel and being carried back to the bedroom. The gentleness of Hob's touch as he dressed him, the soft scratch of a hairbrush detangling his feathery hair. Hob nudged him gently to ask if he wanted to sleep, and Dream was more sleep than man now, nodding as he made himself comfortable on Hob's bed. 

There was something he did remember quite vividly. 

"...stay, Hob."

"It's alright, really. I'm gonna miss my side of the couch, might as well sleep there tonight."

"...I do not wish to be left alone." Dream reached for Hob's hand, squeezing it with a little more strength than he had the days prior. It made Hob smile, bright as the sun, and Dream was ready to bask in it. Willing, even. "...please." It was the magic word between humans. 

"Alright, you win." 

There was no resignation in Hob's voice. There was just the gentle song of his heart, and when he laid beside Dream, it felt like being home again, wherever home was. Dream didn't let go of Hob's hand, nor did he allow for there to be too much distance between them. He thought he could feel the smile on Hob's lips even with his eyes closed. He hoped to carry it to the Dreaming with him, even if he only visited for a few hours every night.

˜˜˜

Hob's phone buzzed a few times on the bedside table, noisy enough to wake him up. He reached for the cellphone with his free hand, lowering the screen brightness the moment it attacked his eyes. It was 4am. 

You've had him for almost two weeks. Is he ready to talk?  (3:51am)

It took his eyes a moment to adjust and to be able to read the texts and comprehend them. It made his chest tighten, eyes darting between the screen and Dream's sleeping face.

He's in no shape to help. Won't be for a while. Can't expose him to this shit now. (4:02am)

This shit is his fault too. (4:03am)

It's not and you know it. We can talk in the morning. I'm turning my phone off. (4:04am)

Fine. But I can't wait much longer. (4:04am)

Hob sighed and turned his phone off. This was a problem for another day. Hopefully one he could delay indefinitely.

[hriobzagelthewanderer]

An Interrogation from the Victor of a Deadly Conflict with @shatteredwastes:

"...Really? Even now, you deny it? You are so drunk and self-conceited with your own power, your own abilities and magics, that you cannot comprehend or understand that just because you cannot accomplish something, that others are not incapable of such a feat with other methods? That is the height of Vanity in its own right, but if you truly think I am so crass as to offer something I cannot deliver... if you cannot trust my voice, then perhaps my actions will be more effective..."

Shaking his head, the Jailer sighed through grit teeth, calmly and seemingly without heed to the conversation at hand removing the gauntlet and wrappings on his left forearm, baring scarred, calloused pale skin up to the elbow... before grunting with effort as he suddenly punched his arm with a truly earth-shaking amount of force into the solid stone and bark beneath his feet... not only jarring the entire prison cell room around the Jumper, but creating a massive, shattered dent in what had to be incredibly tough stone...

...though as the man pulled his arm back, it became clear that it wasn't- the bones, the flesh, everything beneath the elbow joint had become a bloodied, torn, shattered and twisted mess of visible bone fragments and gore, completely unrecognizable as a human forearm.

Only the further paling of the man's face and the almost rictus-like grit of teeth on his face betrayed the sheer and utter pain he had put himself in, just to prove a point, before he took a deep breath, focused, and exhaled a fine, almost silvery mist upon the remains of his arm... then, with his right hand, formed a mass of prana over and throughout it- a blend of cold azure and verdant emerald, with flecks and sparks of bright amber at times- that slowly, over the course of five minutes, twisted and re-aligned each fragment of oddly opalescent bone, regrew each and every ligament and muscle fiber, retraced each vein, artery, and nerve ending, and eventually restored the arm to its perfect state minutes prior... not through Temporal Magics, but a focused combination of several other schools; 'basic' healing and Life-crafting the majority but not the entirety of the amalgamation thereof.

Glaring at the Caged Vogelin behind the crystalline wall, the 'Necromancer' calmly restored the flooring next with more basic elemental spells, then rewrapped and gauntleted his arm, and quietly turned to leave - glancing over his shoulder only to give a parting comment.

"...I will give you time to re-think your stance on my offer. After all, time is one of those things you know the value of all too well, and that is one of the few things you know you have, even if not in the manner you are accustomed."