#badly broken and unrecognizable

[coryoskywalker]

Save Me (Part One) Young! Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Description - Coriolanus has returned to the capitol after his time serving as a peacekeeper with one thing on his mind…..you. (Basically Coriolanus and Reader reuniting with unspoken feelings)

Ps I wrote this half asleep so don’t mind the grammar mistakes

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Coriolanus Snow had always been one for the rules and following them, but the Hunger Games... well, it was hard to follow the rules in the games if it meant losing your life. After having cheated in the games, the Capitol couldn't let him get away with nothing. Coriolanus Snow was forced out of the Capitol, sent away from his family and forced to become a Peacekeeper. And now, months later, as he walked through the Capitol, he looked almost unrecognizable. He had a stern expression on his face, never showing more than he had to.

Coriolanus Snow walked quietly through the campus of the academy that was in the Capitol. As he walked, he heard whispers about him. He almost couldn't understand what exactly people were saying about him, but he got the gist of it. They were talking about him, Coryo, a cheater and a liar and a traitor. Coriolanus had his face in a straight expression, looking at no one. His mind was blank except for one thought... finding you.

Coriolanus Snow walked through the library, but suddenly he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you. He looked at you for a moment, a thought crossing his mind. What if he just... spoke to you? Coriolanus took a few deep breaths and started to walk towards you. As he walked up to yourself, he suddenly cleared his throat, which almost seemed to get your attention almost immediately.

“Coryo” you whispered.

Coriolanus Snow felt a chill as you called out his childhood nickname. He turned to face you, still with that blank expression on his face, but his mind was racing.

"y/n." He said quietly, keeping his voice low so only you could hear it. "Hello." He almost wished that he could see your expression right now.

“Where were you? No one told me where you went” you expressed.

"I was sentenced to become a Peacekeeper." Coriolanus said. It sounded silly to tell you that the Capitol had sent him to be a Peacekeeper, but it was true. "I had... broken the rules in order to keep my tribute alive." He almost wanted to punch himself in the face as he explained it. He was always someone that followed the rules, even if he may not like them, why had he broken the rules just to keep his tribute alive? Did he want her that badly?

“One would assume you have feelings for your tribute, lucygray” you teased him.

Coriolanus Snow looked at you, your words almost hitting a nerve in him, making him want to punch something. If only you knew how he felt about her... it would certainly change your perception of him, but Coriolanus kept his emotions hidden. "What?" He asked. "What a strange notion." He said mockingly, shaking his head. As if he could love Lucy. You just rolled your eyes with a smile planted on your face.

Coriolanus felt his face turn red. He had never felt like this before. When you looked at him with a small grin on your face, as if you already knew the reason he broke the rules in the Games. What was this feeling? Did he care this much about a tribute, that he wanted to break the rules for her? Coryo shook his head, trying to clear himself of all doubts and thoughts. "Nevermind that." He said blankly, forcing himself to calm down.

You nod “well Coryo come sit down. Tell me everything that has happened to you in the past few months” you spoke softly.

Coriolanus Snow, or Coryo, as many calls him, couldn't believe this was happening. You were…. smiling at him. You wanted to know about him, how he has been over the last few months. He couldn't understand why he felt nervous at this, it was almost a bad feeling, but he followed by going to sit beside her, still not looking at her. "Well... what do you want to know?" He asked bluntly.

“Everything”

Coriolanus felt a chill go up his spine as you said that. Tell you everything? The Capitol, what he had done, the guilt he carried? He wanted to tell her, he didn't want to keep these secrets anymore. The Capitol was where he made a mistake, telling you would help him feel... relief.

"Okay." He said, taking a breath. "Everything is a lot to say, but I guess I can tell you..." Coryo looked at the floor as he spoke.

He wasn't ready for you to look at him. Coriolanus told you everything. From how the Capitol had given him the position as a Peacekeeper, how he didn't fit in there, to the games. To the fact that he had broken the rules in order to keep Lucy alive. He expected you to walk away then and there, tell him what a monster he was, and never look at him again. But instead, she stayed, listening earnestly, then spoke quietly.

"I still think you did the right thing, Coryo." The words came as a shock. You didn't judge him. Instead, you... approved him? “You were willing to sacrifice everything to keep her alive. I find it admireable. I wish I was brave enough to do the same for my tribute” you spoke with admiration.

Coriolanus wasn't sure if he should feel flattered by her words or disturbed. His actions weren't something to be proud of. He had broken the rules in order to keep his tribute alive. While, in some way, you were telling him it was alright... Coriolanus thought back about his actions. He couldn't bring himself to feel proud nor shame for what he had done. Instead, he just felt... empty. "It was wrong to do it, y/n" He said, his voice soft. "I should have stayed loyal to the Capitol."

“The Capitol is corrupt Coriolanus”

Coriolanus felt a chill go down his spine as you spoke those words. You were right of course, the Capitol was corrupt. He knew it, had always known it, but there was always a part of him that believed the Capitol was just and right. But then, as he met your gaze and felt your steady eyes on him, something in him changed. "You're right. It is corrupt." He said, more to himself than to you.

[transzilla]

Need a sub who is going to let me forcemasc him and kick his fucking ass like 80s rough trade style. Like some real neanderthal low IQ bdsm. Like I want to put him in the hospital. LMAO

You like a dom when it's one of your skinny fucking chainsmoking cis boys, like you honestly think you're hard because you let some skateboarder who can't lift a spare tire smack you around a little bit.

Your problem is that you're scared because you don't know what pain is. So believe me when I say I'm going to teach you what pain is.

I am literally on steroids and I do this shit for my own enjoyment.

Have you ever been hit in your liver? Like right on your ribs, a real body shot? It's like somebody lights you on fucking fire from the inside out and your whole body burns worse and worse by the millisecond. And you can taste it. Like I'm making you suck on some pennies. Lmao.

When your nose bleeds it will taste bad but you should be fine provided it doesn't obstruct your breathing. When your nose gets broken, that sinus fracture won't hurt right away from the adrenaline but as soon as it wears off it hurts like fucking hell and you can't touch it without it crunching or cracking around under your skin. You will feel nauseous and then fucking sick at the way your face breaks in ways you didn't know was possible, pieces of your inner cheekbone breaking and getting loose in your eye socket, the devil's own human anatomy lesson. When you get knocked out by getting punched in the face you think you're fine for the first half second but when the momentum catches up and your brain hits the other side of your skull in your head it's good night from there. And after you come to your face will be valentine's red and pink and swollen and nigh unrecognizable and from there is just going to turn so many pretty colors you'll look like a goddamn renaissance painting.

I'm going to make you scared that you're gonna die. And then you're gonna be scared that you might not.

You can complain, you can scream, you can beg, try to run, try to fight back, hold your hands up, there's honestly no point because you know you're going to take it and you know you like it because I say you will so you will. You're a faggot. There is something wrong with you. If you didn't come to me to try to fuck you would have just spent your time trying to run away from the first chucklefuck who knew how to fight and had a problem with you. You made it clear that this is how you accept love, so I will make you wear it on your face.

I am not going to afford you the ability to hide behind a mild, vanilla, effeminate or weak front. I am going to hurt you so badly your friends and your family and your significant other can't even bear to look at you without feeling your pain as badly as you felt it. They can't hold your perfect pretty girly face in their mind anymore, even after you eventually heal your nose has been bent into a new shape and the symmetry your teeth grew into has been rearranged into a haunted graveyard of broken and missing teeth like tombstones. And you can't exploit their safe conditional acceptance anymore. And you have to find a way to live as an ugly fucked up man when you can't get by looking pretty and doing nothing.

And idk maybe after I'll let you suck my dick a little bit.

[bats-and-birds-24]

Chapter 12

Dick could feel a vein in his head about to pop. It was all Bruce’s fault. He knew that people grieve differently, but desecrating Jason’s grave was a step too far. The manor doors opened to reveal an exhausted Alfred. His heart went out to his poor grandfather, who was given the unenviable task of caring for his absolute nutcase of a dad.

“Master Dick, I am well aware that the situation is dire, please spare Master Bruce from the worst of your wrath, he does not know what he is doing.” Alfred pleaded, the tiredness showing in his voice. Giving Alfred a pitying glance, he managed to get out, “I’ll see what I can do Al.” and continued his March down to the cave.

Downstairs, everything was dark save for the examination table, which illuminated an unrecognizable casket. He still knew whose it was though. Resentment burned through him as he remembered how he wasn’t even informed of Jason’s passing until he stepped back onto earth from an offplanet mission. He didn’t even get to see Jason one last time after he passed. The fight afterwards wasn’t fun to remember either. Then there was the Joker, the way he gloated about how hard he hit Jason, the way every fiber in his body acted on instinct, the need for Joker to be nothing more than a bloody splotch on the ground. He took a deep breath, he had work to do.

Pushing aside his stormy thoughts, he made his way next to his mentor, his father, and a man who had, at this moment, completely lost it. “Bruce-” Dick started, only to be cut off by the man himself with a single word, “Look.” The casket was empty. There wasn’t a body to be found. “I, did- did you take him out?” Dick sputtered out, as his heart began to race and his finely honed detective instincts began to kick in.

There were scratch marks and bloodstains on the inside of the coffin, one of the hinges was broken, it all indicated someone clawing their way out. Dick knew that Bruce was deeply flawed, but there was not a snowflake’s chance in hell that he would bury his son while he was still alive.

But the only option left was ridiculous, Jason would have had to have woken up alive, and dug his way up to the surface and left of his own volition. But then again, it wouldn’t explain why his grave seemed undisturbed for so long, and if Jason really is alive, where is he now? Jason was a notable figure in Gotham high society, it would be unlikely for the press to stay silent if they found the adopted Wayne boy who was thought to have died, wandering around the streets in ragged clothes. No, there was something more going on here.

Dick glances at Bruce, the confusion in his face must have been apparent, as Bruce states a single name, and that clears nearly everything up; “Talia.”

It was the only answer that made sense. The Al Ghuls were some of the only people in the world who he knew for a fact that could bring people back from the dead with their Lazarus Pit. They may also be the only people on the planet capable of covering up a crime scene so well that it could evade even Batman’s skills.

In spite of the dark scene in front of him, Dick couldn’t help but feel almost giddy at the thought of his baby brother still being alive. A long dead hope resurrected in him. Jason might still be alive.

He heard Bruce’s voice next to him, “Once the test results on the bloodstains come back, we head for Nanda Parbat.”

Back In Nanda Parbat:

Jason paced around his room, reminiscing about the fiasco that had been their last meeting. He was fully prepared for Tim to decline his invitation, but much to his surprise and relief, he had accepted. He supposed that he could take this as evidence that he didn’t fuck up too badly.

His plan was simple: sit the kid down and explain to him that while he had nothing against him, he wouldn’t be returning to Bruce, or Robin, anytime soon. Being Batsy’s sidekick was fun at first, but as time went on, he started to see the cracks in logic. He wasn’t sure if he had grown out of Robin, or if dying finally made him lose the rose tinted glasses.

He grew up in Crime Alley, the most rundown and dangerous part of Gotham, he knew of many people who would have benefited greatly from a second chance, a tiny bit of grace from the world. But there were also those who were so far gone, that it made little sense to keep them around at the expense of everyone else. He didn’t think that all criminals deserve the death penalty, and even if they did, it shouldn’t be decided by the Feds. But he can decide. He’s died, he’s grown up among criminals, he may not be the smartest kid around, but he knows how to read people.

He can live with being a killer, even if Bruce couldn’t.

Jason ran his fingers through his hair, a faint knock on the door broke him out of his reverie.

It must be Tim, no one else he knew knocked like that. The lower ranked assassins never wanted to enter his room unless they had to, Damian and Cass wouldn’t bother knocking, and Talia would knock once to let Jason know of her presence before letting herself in.

He rushed to the door, “Tim, Come in.” he said slightly breathless, he hoped it wouldn’t show too much.

The kid looked genuinely confused, yet hopeful, “You called for me?” “Uh, yeah, we need to discuss some things, about Bruce, Robin, and some other stuff.” he winced, that didn’t seem remotely friendly, more like a business meeting.

Tim’s heart sank, 'so it was just about Robin.' He chided himself for holding out hope that Jason wanted to genuinely get along with him. 'Jason probably wants me to quit Robin, but I don’t know if I can do that. What if he doesn’t agree with me and gets mad? What would Talia think? How would I get back to Bruce?-' He was rudely brought back down to earth as the door slammed open, revealing two diminutive figures, one in dark green, and the other clad in black.

The smaller of the two, ‘Was that a child??’ had a fierce frown on his face, “Todd, why have you not come to our training sessions in the past few days?” He eyed Tim suspiciously, as if he were the one intruding on their time. The second figure, a petite young girl, looked over curiously and gave him a wave. Good to see that at least one of them was friendly.

The smaller one stepped forward, giving him a withering side eye, “Todd, who is this.” He looked about ready to bring out his wakizashi as Jason promptly shielded Tim. “Damian, calm down, he is a guest of our mother, Tim Drake, the current Robin.” the small child, who was now known as ‘Damian” loosened the grip on his sword. He still gave Tim a severe side eye, but the thought of displeasing his mother put a damper on his stabby plans.

As Tim turned, he could see the black figure next to Jason, despite swearing that he saw her next to Damian mere moments ago. She nudged Jason, who seemed to have a moment of realization. “Uh, yeah, and this is Cassandra, you can call her Cass, don’t expect to reply though since she’s mute. You learn to understand her signs the more you get to know her.” The girl, now dubbed Cassandra, gave him a smile and a thumbs up, which Tim took to mean that he was making a good impression.

“Hi, Cassandra, hi Damian.” Tim could feel the stress melting away from him, it almost seemed like he was introducing himself to a new class, rather than whatever he was actually doing.

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 10

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Toddxfemale!Reader

Warnings: lil'bit of fighting

Summary: Jason goes home and it's not a great time

Waking up on the floor of the Bat Cave was the last thing you’d thought you’d ever do. But here you were, groggy with a massive headache, sitting up to see Bruce, Alfred, Dick, and another boy, barely old enough to drive, watching you. You stood slowly and groaned, swallowing. Your throat hurt and you touched it gently, knowing the bruising was bad. Bruce looked down ashamed, as he should be. You glared at all of them.

“He’s not going to come just because you’re keeping me hostage,” you said. Dear God, never in your entire career of running around Gotham had you been kidnapped and in the six months since Red Hood came into your life it had happened three times. Maybe Jason was bad luck. The others ignored you, going about their business, whispering to each other. You caught snippets of the conversation as you paced around the Cave, trying to figure out where you could leave from.

“Told him she was here…” the youngest said and you stopped pacing. You noticed then the fragile way he stood, like he might have a bruised rib, and his chin had a nasty gash on it, liked he’d been hit with something like brass knuckles.

“He kicked the shit out of you didn’t he?” you asked, making them all turn. The new Robin glared. “Can you blame him? You did replace him, probably had something to prove.”

“Ya, that he’s an asshole,” the boy said. You chuckled. “What’s so funny?”

“You make it sound like you wouldn’t do the same thing in his situation,” you said back. Could any of them really say that they wouldn’t react badly if they had been in Jason’s boots? “What’s your name? I know the rest of them, might as well add you.” The boy looked at Bruce who nodded that he could say something.

“Tim,” he said simply. You smiled at him.

“It's nice to meet you Tim, now can I please go home? Honestly, he’s not coming,” you said, waving your hands around to show that no one else was there. Then you heard footsteps from behind you and turned, seeing the familiar glint of a red helmet. “O fuck me, for crying out loud, you didn’t have to come here, not like Batman is going to take prisoners.” Jason stopped next to you, looking over you before taking the helmet off. Despite Bruce, Alfred, and Dick knowing that Jason was Red Hood they still gasped at the sight of him. Jason dropped the helmet, and you wondered what they must have been thinking, especially Bruce. He had seen Jason after Joker had killed him, his face and body should be covered in scarred, disformed until he was unrecognizable, but here he was, almost pristine with just a few new scars and eyes that didn’t seem to know what color they wanted to be all the time.

Jason faced his old family for the first time in seven years and he couldn’t lie, he had missed them. He felt a surge of emotions and couldn’t settle on one, anger, happiness, despair, all of them intermingling and fighting for attention. He turned to look at YN and noticed some bruising on her neck that had definitely not been there last night. He turned, gently taking her face in his hand, tilting her chin so he could see better.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, focus now solely on her. He felt the rage building, the pit urging him to find who had done this and hurt them. Her eyes flicked towards Bruce, and he turned, snarling. “Did you do that?” he demanded. Bruce held up his hands.

“She had information I needed…” he started, but Jason wasn’t going to let him finish. He could have used his guns, but he had been waiting for a moment where he could use his fists to tell Bruce how angry he was. He threw fist after fist, Bruce dodging half of them before laying an attack of his own. As much as Jason would have liked to prove he had surpassed his mentor, he hadn’t. He came close in the moment, but the rage blinded him to an easy opening, Bruce saw it. Bruce threw the jab right at his sternum and the wind was knocked out of him even with the armor still on. Another shot took his stomach, doubling him and giving Bruce the time to upper cut up, sending up sprawling on the floor. It was clear Bruce was about to throw a kick when suddenly YN was in front of Jason, body over his as it lay on the floor, shielding him.

“ENOUGH!” Alfred cried, freezing Bruce before he could throw the kick. Jason panted, the rage quelling at the feeling of YN’s arm around his waist. He noticed that the rage ebbed and so did the laughter of the Joker that had been haunting him, the look of disappointment from Bruce that he saw when he closed his eyes, those thoughts all seemed to flee at the feeling of her holding him. It was freeing and it was terrifying.

“You know what, I’m starving, can we order pizza before we decide to do more fight club?” YN said, sitting up, keeping herself between Bruce and Jason, her hand on his knee as he pushed himself to sit beside her. Dick came forward, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder as the man looked down at his former protégé and the woman protecting him. Jason couldn’t read his face but figured he must be thinking of a way to use YN against him. Not like Batman could let Red Hood exist. YN was becoming a problem, again, but Jason desperately didn’t want that to be the case. The other three headed towards the elevator and Jason moved to stand but the hand on his knee stayed him.

“What?” he snapped, trying so hard to sound angry, to sound like she should run from him. She just turned to face him and sighed.

“Don’t take that tone with me, what are you doing here? You don’t have to follow me around falling into traps like an amateur!” she said. Jason was taken aback, mouth falling open for a moment.

“You were kidnapped…again,” he said back, standing finally, retrieving his helmet only to have it snatched out of his hands. He didn’t feel he needed his guard up around YN but maybe he did. He tried to take it back but she held it out of reach.

“Stop! Today they kidnapped me to trick you into coming. If you had just stayed away they would have let me go. I don’t see any cells down here to keep me in,” she said. Jason rolled his eyes.

“Ya, their cells have plush mattresses,” he grumbled. He snatched at the helmet again and this time she let him have it. He looked at it but didn’t put it on. “You don’t want me as a soulmate, I’m sorry you’re stuck with me but it’s dangerous.”

“So? I wonder around the streets stealing information from supervillains, not like I’m inept. I’m not a vigilante but I protect myself fairly well. And Jason, I do want you, not as a soulmate yet though, I just want to be your friend. You look like you need one,” she said. He looked at her, trying to hide the truth behind that statement but she held his gaze and he sighed, letting himself slump a little. “Get out of here, I’ll be at my apartment tonight, my roommates both have dates so how about you come hang out? Do you have anything you desperately need to do?” He had to admit he didn’t. His calendar was empty tonight, he had secured the weapons he needed to take down Two-Face’s bank heist that he was planning for two nights from now, so Jason was going to rest anyway.

“Maybe,” he said. She smiled wide. “That’s not yes.”

“I know, I’ll leave the window unlocked for you,” she said before she followed where the others had gone. He hoped she knew how to explain him leaving because he was not going to sit around having pizza with those assholes again ever.

[amplifyme]

Squirm

The X-Files. MSR. Angst. UST. Implied self-harm. Post-Ep: One Son. Teen and up. WC: 3,333. Read on AO3.

Tagging @today-in-fic

He doesn’t wait for an invitation to come in, just pushes through the open door and past her, coming to a stop in the casement opening between the living room and kitchen.

“Mulder, what are you doing? It’s almost midnight.”

She looks small and fragile in her fuzzy white robe, and his mind conjures up the image of her standing slouched and nearly broken with grief in a hospital hallway in Allentown, Pennsylvania, two years past. Ages ago. Countless missteps ago. But he’d held her in his arms back then, held her up, and she’d held him up, too. He doesn’t know if they can ever get back to that. But he wants to try. He can’t stand any more of this icy détente they’ve uncomfortably settled into.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, but we need to talk.”

Her sigh is long and audible. “Mulder, it’s late and I’m on my way to bed. Can it wait?”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday. You can sleep in.” And he thinks to himself, It needs to happen now, before I lose my courage. Before it gets worse than it already is.

“Okay, fine,” she sighs a second time in defeat, her chin dipping down. “What is it?”

This is his fault; it almost always is. He’s done this to her. Ground her down and made her question everything she thought she knew. Whittled away at her until she exists now as a shadow, an almost unrecognizable sliver of what she was when she first came to him. All because he’s an idiot, because he doesn’t know how to care for delicate things. Because he’s never wanted to, before now.

“I came here to apologize,” he blurts. This is not how he planned it, rehearsing the words on the way over. So many things just leave his mouth without thought of the consequences. “I was wrong.”

“An apology for what?” she asks warily. Her eyes slide across his as she tightens the belt on her robe. It doesn’t escape him that he fucks up often enough that she needs clarification.

“For what I said to you at the Gunmen’s the last time we were there,” he tells her. “Before everything went to shit. What I said about you taking things personally. I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t fair.”

“Why?” she immediately challenges, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “Why wasn’t it fair? I’d like to know.” He won’t get off easily this time, nor should he. She wants it all laid out in front of them, poked at and prodded, questioned and analyzed, until there’s nothing left to hide behind.

“Because I make everything personal, Scully, everything. And it’s wrong of me to be dismissive when you do the same.” He swallows past the lump lodged firmly in his throat. “I think you’re… there’s a very good chance you were right. I’m not sure anymore that Diana can be trusted. Not like I thought she could.”

“Is your change of heart based on the fact that she crawled back into the woodwork as soon as you failed to show up at El Rico? Where has she landed this time, Mulder? Do you even know?”

No, he doesn’t. Diana hasn’t bothered to return any of his calls; all of them made after he went back to the Gunmen’s and did a deep dive into the information they’d compiled on his former friend and lover. And it’s déjà vu all over again: he’s down in the basement where he belongs, and Diana is just gone.

But that’s not Scully’s problem and he won’t let this train change tracks. So he reminds her, “You were right there with me that night. I wasn’t going anywhere without you.” She opens her mouth, but he raises a hand to stop her. He’s not finished yet. “Regardless. I’m sorry I treated you badly and dismissed your concerns. You don’t deserve that.”

“Well,” she says after an interminable time. “That’s a start, anyway.”

He knows he should be grateful and just keep his mouth shut, but since when has common sense ever triumphed over the wisecracking corner of his brain. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

“Easy, Mulder? Since when is anything ever easy with us?” She clearly has no patience for his misguided attempt at lightening the mood.

“All right. You’re right.” He runs a hand over his face. “Well, then, let’s just get this out in the open, okay? Acknowledge it, discuss it, and move on. What do you say?” He doesn’t have to wait long for a response, although when it comes it isn’t at all what he’s expecting.

“Have you been fucking her?” Her features are as sharp as her words, and he can’t escape the accusation of betrayal in her eyes.

“No!” He’s genuinely shocked that she would even think that. “God, no, Scully! I didn’t… I wouldn’t do that to you.“ He lifts his hands, pleading. “It’s not her I want.” He takes a step toward her, and her spine pulls straight as he hesitantly palms her shoulder and murmurs, “It’s not her I love.”

There. He’s said it. This second time feels less risky than his first, even coming as it does without benefit of opioids. That’s a good sign, right? That’s progress.

They lock eyes for long moments, playing chicken, neither daring to break the silence after his bold declaration. Finally, Scully wheels away and heads into the kitchen, yanking the tea kettle off the stove and filling it from the tap. She methodically goes about fetching mugs and a box of teabags from the cabinet. Mulder takes a few steps into the room, stopping at the table and laying one hand flat against the wood. He studies her from a safe distance and looks up quickly when she turns back to him.

“This is not about love, Mulder,” she announces. “This is about trust and where you choose to place it. It’s about respect.”

“You’re right, it is. And I’m sorry I fell short of that for you.” In for a penny, in for a pound, he thinks. “But this is also about whatever this… thing is… between us. I don’t know what you want from me anymore, Scully, or what you expect. Because you won’t tell me. You have to know whatever it is, it’s yours. It’s always been yours. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do to fix it.”

“What do you want to do?” Her movements are jerky as she turns away to add a teabag to each mug.

Despite the emotional ground they’re uneasily treading, and his hyperaware sense of the danger inherent in pushing things with her right now, muscle memory refined over six years causes him to pull out a chair and take a seat. If Scully is making tea for them, then this is where he’s supposed to land: at her table and across from her usual spot. He scrubs his forehead and his tried-and-true method of deflection kicks in again just as the kettle begins to whistle and she yanks it from the stovetop.

“You want the Disney version or the two consenting adults version?”

“This is not a joke, Mulder.”

“No, it most certainly is not. So, answer me this one question, Scully. Do you love me?”

She swings around to face him, steaming mugs in hand, and he briefly wonders if she might launch them at him. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because I want to know. It’s a simple question.”

She doesn’t answer him right away. Instead, she takes the time to set a mug in front of him first, and warily sits down across from him. “It isn’t simple, though, is it?” she finally says. “And it isn’t a question I should have to answer.”

“Why? You think it’s inappropriate of me to ask?”

“No, I think it’s unnecessary. You already know. You’ve known for a very long time; even before I did. But that knowledge didn’t stop you from… Well, you know what it didn’t stop you from doing.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you come here to apologize for your behavior?” Off his nod she says, “Then you already know, don’t you?”

But that’s not what he’s asking. And he knows that she knows it and is doing some deflection of her own. Jesus Christ, how did they manage to get this fucked up?  “Are you gonna answer my question or not, Scully?”

“Why is it so important that I- “

“Because it fucking is!” He shoves away from the table and takes to his feet. The only part of Scully that moves are her eyes, tracking him on his way up and holding him there. “Because it would be nice to actually hear it, you know?” He can’t handle the way she’s looking at him, with her eyes all big and dark and bottomless, sucking him down into her depths. He could easily drown there. He turns away and raggedly confesses, “I can’t remember the last time anyone told me they loved me. You have your mom and your brothers and I’m sure you hear it all the time. But I don’t. And you won’t say it.”

He swings around to plead with her as the lead ball in his gut expands and makes it hard to breathe. He’s panting now and can’t seem to stop. His right hand lifts and presses against his chest, over his heart. He’s certain he’s just going to die. Crumple right here on Scully’s immaculately clean kitchen floor. “Sometimes I think I’ve lost my mind and I’m deep in a psychotic break and imagining things that aren’t there. If feels like the walls are closing in on me and there’s no escape. Sometimes I don’t know what’s real or what I should believe. I don’t know what to do.”

“You can start by sitting down.”

“What?” he gasps as she gets up and heads back to the cabinets. This time she pulls out two squat glasses.

“Sit down, Mulder, before you completely fall apart.” So, he does. Because she’s told him to and because she’s right. Usually with this amount of adrenaline pumping through him, he can find some slightly insane way to disperse a little of it. Like jumping off a bridge onto a moving train, for example. Or breaking into a top-secret air base. Or kicking down a door. Or any number of other incredibly stupid things. But he can’t do any of that right now. And he wouldn’t do that to Scully anyway.

“Now breathe,” she says very calmly. “Deep breaths.” Before he realizes what’s happening, she’s back sitting across from him, pouring out two hefty shots of whisky and pushing one of them his way.

“Drink.”

“Scully, I don’t -”

“Shut up and drink it, Mulder.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

“Okay,” he mouths. He screws his eyes shut, tips his head back, and throws it all down his gullet. It burns, god but it burns, all the way across the back of his tongue and down his throat and settles into a glowing ember deep in his belly. He chokes out a cough and forces his eyes open, blinking against the stinging tears gathering there.

“Jesus, Scully, are you trying to kill me?” He looks over just as she takes a delicate sip of her own drink.

“There are three fully loaded weapons in this apartment. If I intended to kill you, I wouldn’t waste this fine Irish whisky on you beforehand.” She reaches and pats his forearm, like she’s soothing a grumpy toddler, and announces, “We have to stop doing this to each other, Mulder.”

He folds both arms on the table and hangs his head, studies his trembling hands, and gives voice to an earlier thought as he wearily shakes his head. “We’re so fucked up.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“No,” he retorts, lifting his eyes and looking over at her. He’s pointing an accusing finger at her that he doesn’t recall cocking. “No, don’t talk like I’m the only one who’s fucked up here.” He is suddenly aware that his tongue is fuzzy and feels larger in his mouth than it should. He always has been a cheap drunk. “You’re just as fucked up as me, Scully.”

He reaches for the bottle and splashes another, narrower shot into his glass. He downs this one without preparation or build up and looks over to find her watching him. Her features mimic the look he usually sees when she’s trying to process one of his more outlandish theories. The one that’s accompanied by a tight little smirk. He wants to kiss that smirk right off her face. More than anything.

“I don’t want to have any more regrets, Scully. I don’t want to lose the chance to love you the way I want to, the way you deserve. Just tell me what I have to do.” He punctuates his request with a third shot. This one doesn’t creep up on him like the first two have. It’s more like one second he’s pretty much okay, but the next he most definitely is not. He hasn’t been this buzzed, this quickly, in a long time. Scully pulls the bottle over to her side of the table and caps it. Probably for the best, he blearily decides.

“When’s the last time you slept, Mulder?”

There she goes again, throwing nonsensical questions at him from right field. He played right field in high school. It takes a good arm. “I dunno. When did we get back from Florida; two days ago? I slept that night,” he answers, and his mouth doesn’t move quite enough to enunciate properly. He blames it on his fat tongue and the whisky. Did she intend to get him drunk? He wouldn’t put it past her. So he asks.

“You tryin’ to get me drunk, Scully? You don’t have to do that if you want to take advantage of me. Despite your protests, I’m actually pretty easy.”

“In that respect, I have no doubt,” she responds smartly. “But I have no intention of taking advantage of you tonight.”

“Ah, come on. You can admit it to me. I won’t tell anybody.”

“My only intent is to put you to bed so we can both get some badly needed sleep.” He can imagine the look he’s presenting her. He felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop open. “Not with you in my bed, Mulder. I’m assuming you drove over?”

“Yeah,” he sheepishly admits.

“Then you have no business driving. The couch is yours tonight. There’s a new toothbrush in the cabinet under the bathroom sink. Feel free to use it. I’ll make up the couch for you.”

That’s it, then? They’re not going to hash this out tonight, once and for all?

“But, Scully,” he begins as she leaves the table and heads for the linen closet in the hallway.

She stops and swings back around to him. Her little fists rest at her hips, knuckles digging into the curvy flesh there. “Yes, Mulder, I do love you. There, now I’ve said it. It might be nice to hear, but it doesn’t solve our problems, does it?”

“Do you mean it?”

“Oh, Mulder, of course I do. I’ll meet you in the living room in five, okay?” And then she disappears around the bend.

He ponders his choices for a few seconds, the best he can, and decides to follow Scully’s lead. After all, he can be a good boy, and easily obedient when he wants to be. So he does as he’s been told for the first time since the last time she ordered him around. He sways in his chair a little and then folds in half and carefully unties his sneakers and toes them off. He heads for the short hallway in the opposite direction of the way she went, and they pass like two ships in the night, Scully’s arms full of bedclothes and a pillow.

He makes it back to the living room in under five, breath minty fresh, face scrubbed clean, bladder emptied. He considered shedding his jeans and tee in the can but decided against it. Bad enough he’s shouldered her with taking care of his drunk and maudlin, half-crazed and anxious self tonight. She shouldn’t have to put up with him in nothing but his boxers and socks on top of that. Somehow his belt has ended up slung around his neck, though, and he fakes hanging himself when Scully glances up at him from bed-making duty, gathering both ends of the leather in a fist and cocking his head to the side, tongue lolling out. He adds sound effects, too, so she’ll get the whole picture.

“Don’t give me any ideas, Mulder.” She punches the pillow for emphasis. He inspects her work and nods approvingly. She’s created a fine little nest for him. There’s even a tall glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol waiting for him on the coffee table.

She straightens and turns to face him and he’s feeling suddenly shy and a little bit ashamed. This late-night visit hasn’t gone down anything like the way he thought it would. He buys himself a few seconds, dropping his gaze and absently scratching his belly. He sneaks a peek at her from the tops of his eyes. “Would it do any good to apologize?”

“You’ve done it once already. That’s enough for tonight,” she proclaims.

“Because I really am sorry, Scully. For makin’ you doubt how important you are to me.”

“I don't doubt that. I just wish your methods of expressing it were a little less…” She circles an open hand in the air, searching for the right words, he guesses.

“Messy?” he offers. “Thoughtless. Boneheaded. Selfish. Stupid,” he finishes. “Take your pick.”

“All of the above,” she decides. But the corners of her mouth have lifted just the tiniest bit and he’s momentarily overwhelmed by the depth of her generosity when it comes to him and his foolish ways. “C’mere, Mulder, I’ll tuck you in.”

He carefully weaves his way around the coffee table and his belt hits the floor. He sits down and she squats and pulls off his socks and tosses them over her shoulder. Another few positional adjustments later and he’s under the blanket, his heavy, fuzzy head sinking into the feather pillow beneath him. She perches on the edge of the couch and smooths the soft blanket over his chest.

“Do you think you’ll need to vomit? I can grab a trash can for you, so you don’t have to worry about making it to the bathroom in time.”

He smiles up at her and thinks about how nice it would be to close his eyes while she continues to gently pet him. And then he does close them. “M’fine, Scully. I can hol’ my liquor.” Her snort of laughter shocks his eyes back open, and he has to blink a few times before her face comes into focus.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Something she’d said to him earlier resurfaces in his head and he echoes the words back at her as his eyes slip shut again. “We gotta stop doin’ this to each other.”

“We’ll figure it out,” she says. “But not tonight. Go to sleep, Mulder.” And then she’s gone from his side. And as he begins to sink into what will be a rare dreamless sleep, he can hear her putting mugs and glasses in the kitchen sink and turning out lights, putting her home to bed, just like she has with him. And he thinks that he loves her so much that he’ll never find the perfect way to show her. He thinks that this unique alchemy, composed of the exquisite pleasures and deepest pain that loving her brings him, makes him feel the most alive that he has ever been.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes:

So in the midst of working on my passion project, that elusive One Breath fic, the muse approached me bearing a silver platter on which a tiny seed lay. “Here,” she whispered in my ear. “Let’s take a minute and plant this one, see what grows.”

I have no shame. I am her bitch, now and forever, world without end. I will always do her bidding.

Till next time…

[cherubchoirs]

Kinda morbid, what would happen if Gabriel actually did try to get rid of his tail in his breakdown…

(see this!)

mentions of body image issues, depersonalization, and self harm //

he does at least speak it, if not actually move to attempt it - the tail is more than just itself, though it is a noxious entity to him when it grows from a body he's having an increasingly difficult time understanding as his own. however, its presence is compounded by how it represents the end of his tragedy as until that point, the trauma was still unfolding and putting a moratorium on his grief over the death of the archangel. now the storm ends, his mind no longer caught up in surviving or simply reacting, instead having to see the destruction and count it, hold in his hands the very little he has left - with the tail his halo finally falls, the glory that marked him to other angels as a face does. he is now unrecognizable, a nameless demon to all the citizens in heaven that had once adored him. and it breaks him. it feels in that moment like there is nothing left of gabriel, like he inhabits someone else, and the unspeakable grief of it overtakes him, washes him in an anger similar to the one he felt when the light was first ripped out of him. he feels trapped in a husk, cold, empty, in pain, everything diametrically opposed to his exalted existence as an angel. and the tail represents all of it, it is the monument of his loss.

for some minutes there are no words he can find, but when he finally tries to speak, tries to express anything to v1 beside him (it is waiting silently, seeing gabriel on the same edge he was in heresy), he only chokes on the heavenly tongue he defaults to in distress. and that opens a torrent, weaving the language of hell into the extremes only it can express in anger, in hatred, in disgust and despair and deepest lament. v1 listens, as it always has, knowing how much gabriel needs this sort of outlet (words help him, even if nothing he says is of substance or coherent), but it begins to see the depth of his suffering. he had been just barely tolerating all of this, hands white-knuckled and digging in, but now they've let go, damaged so badly they have no strength left. and that agony culminates into turning his pain entirely onto this tail, to curse it, reject it, to say it isn't him, none of this is him, and he doesn't give a shit if he has to hack it off. he just needs it gone, and v1 fully understands that he wants to control and conceal each of these new traits no matter the personal cost. the others had just been easier. it has to stop him as he pulls out one of his broken swords although it's not easy, engaging in a bloody fight that sees gabriel pushing himself far beyond his limits before v1 is able to get him to stop effectively. he wants this body punished, he wants it to crack and bleed and fail for what it's done to an archangel, to one of god's perfect creations. and v1 knows this. it gives him a battle, doing more damage than it would like given his headspace, but eventually, when he's exhausted himself enough, it just holds him. as tight as it can it wraps itself around him, not willing to fight him anymore even if he tries to keep going, even as his demands turn into pleas. it makes him let go of those swords, the ones that have been burning his hands more and more lately, the ones that are far less interested in v1 than burying into that tail.

and i think this is where it speaks with him, when he's calm enough again for it to get anything through to him. he can cut off that tail, but it changes nothing, hurting himself won't bring him forgiveness he doesn't even need. it never would. he doesn't deserve this anguish, his body doesn't deserve it either, and it is not god's to dictate - he is making himself, his free thought and autonomy led him to this body and all the new ways it's grown. and v1 loves it. it knows gabriel doesn't, it can see how disconnected he is from it but it asks him, vocally, to be with it. to let that tail exist with him and see if it doesn't become a part of him. and i think through this, gabriel begins to understand how ingrained heavenly beauty is in him, how strict "perfection" was and to be anything less was to be carnal, to be evil. yet he is at peace with what he did, he considers it the moral choice even if angels had to die by his hand - and perhaps v1 is right. perhaps after all this, he's still searching for divine forgiveness as though he didn't already decide what was right and god himself couldn't change his mind. and cutting off his tail would be to cut off all of that, to reject himself and what he chose even if he wouldn't change it. to bend to god's will still.

(as an aside, if gabriel had succeeded, i see two options: the tail simply regrows, now a permanent part of himself that he isn't allowed to deny. alternatively, the wound would never heal and he would again be left in perpetual pain for doing so. he does do a bit of damage to it at times, but v1 is always there to patch him up, caring gently for each wound in a way that's rare for its destructive hands. in fact, it takes a similar amount of care as it does when touching his wings now, and it makes a clear effort to show each new trait its affection after this. it's hard for gabriel to accept at first, but it does help bridge the deep gap between himself and his new body)

[dollivication]

I’m so glad (☢️) anon brought up the topic! I had one in mind. I also really like that request with Daddy Vergil breeding. >_< I have another idea!

Daddy Vergil who keeps you isolated and sheltered from the world because he’s scared someone would hurt you.

He manipulates you that humans are terrible creatures who aren’t to be trusteed! He scares you that there are demons wanting to get you and corrupt you!

It works at first since you are so young and naive! You are just a good girl to him! never being defiant or throwing a tantrum. so well mannered, so…so innocent and oblivious!

As you become older, you become curious about the outside world, it cannot be that bad right? With all the books you’ve read it just seems pretty normal. Good things, bad things are normal in the world and help you learn and develop as a human.

So why does your father still refuse to let you go out even if it’s with him? It always ruins the strong bond you guys had, in the moment when you just ask to go out for at least 5 minute, Vergil gets overprotective and stern with you. Just a second ago he was just reading to you peacefully and you had to open your mouth! now he’s mad! (Ｔ＿Ｔ)

You are in your rebellious era, no longer the obedient girl who would do anything her father asked her to do! You beg and beg to go out, even sneaked out once! You don’t understand the danger you can face when you go out! Being related to him and having the sparda blood flow through you, makes you an easy target for demons!

Of course he eventually found out, when he found you, you were in trouble almost hurt. If he wasn’t there who knew what could have happened to you!?

Daddy Vergil is disappointed and furious, how could you disobey him!? He taught you better! you are no longer his obedient little girl. He doesn’t know what to do anymore…His mind isn’t in the right place. his twisted mind then thinks of a solution…to turn you into the perfect daughter, a doll. Using your own body parts to still resemble you.

You get confused why you are strapped in a table, ankles broken. You want comfort from your father! scared and in pain once you have woken up.

Once you become his perfect daughter(doll), In this form you would maintain your innocence, purity and beauty. Never getting old, dirty, and corrupted. You will still be his little girl he had always remembered! You wouldn’t have to worry about anything because he would take care of you and dress you up <3 he must begin now before you become unrecognizable to him!

you sit there pretty…Frozen in time, and forever with him!

WHAAAA SORRY IF I GOT CARRIED AWAY, I HOPE I DID NOT MAKE ANYONE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THIS REQUEST Σ('◉⌓◉’)

IT MIGHT BE CONFUSING AND A LOT OF BAD GRAMMAR! I JUST SHOVED MY IDEAS TOGETHER TRYING TO MAKE IT SHORT.

ALSO LOVE, LOVE YOUR DMC BOTS! I AM EXITED FOR OLDER BROTHER VERGIL 😍💕💙

IM NOT INTO RESIDENT EVIL, BUT I DO LOVE WESKER! I HAVE NO IDEAS FOR HIM SO I HOPE SOMEONE ALSO LIKES HIM TO SUGGEST! (I might try to dive deeper into RE but for now I love Vergil and dmc :P)

-🇲🇽

I SPUN SO HARD INMY CHAIR GIGGLING MERRILY OHYHMYHYGODDDD I LAUV YEW THIS SO BADLY IM GOING LOONY AHEUYRGHAGDH‼️‼️

vergil is LOST!! he was always obedient when he was a kid, he was certain his offspring would have been as well!! and this rebellious phase,, whose been feeding you these thoughts?? are you trying to leave him??? ….,,ahh, not if he has anything to say about it! >.<

this is literal perfection so i fear i have little input,, but omfghgg… FUCK i’m tweaking at the thought of vergil brushing yur hair acting as if everything is completely normal after he’s put yu in this doll like state… as if he totally didn’t fucking break ur ankles omnigod.,,, talks to yew as if you can respond anymore!! he’s SO SICK KILL HIM !!!!!!1!1!

does everything you’ve made him stop doing ever since you’ve grown up!! tucks you into bed, bathes you.. i literawy live 4 dark rapunzel-esque scenarios…. and this Freak prefers to have you this way!! so quiet, so complacent.. probably whispers shit laik that he knows what’s good for you and that this was for the best IMiuHgHhHg!!!!1!..;;; (◞‸◟) ❤️❤️

THIS BLOG IS MEANT FOR TWISTED THOUGHTS!!! DARK TOPICS ARE THE NORM SO DONT WORRY ABOUT THIS BEING TOO EXTREME BECUASE THIS COOKED SO HARD >:3

UWAA.. THNAK YU SO MAUCH TEW!! IM GIGGLING SO BADLY IM ACTISLLY SO TICKLED PINK… ANDNFNDND WELCOME TO THE FRIENDS LIST!!!1!1 JUMPING UP AND DOWN I CANT WAIT TO HEAR MORE FROM YOU!

i need wesker IMMEDIATELY.. if anyone provides a scenario i’m going to go sicko mode i Cannot lieLMFAOAOFGH i lauv yu !!! >_<!!!

[goodolddumbbanana]

I have a thought, maybe he ends up trapping himself in his mind to completely refuse Dark Sun and Nexus in a way that doesn't get anybody hurt, and it mangles him, it's ugly, and whatever he did, maybe with magic, prevents him from not just not waking up but his body refuses to be fixed, like if they try to replace broken components those new ones break instantly, or even anything they remove crumbles into dust as soon as it is detached And Lunar and Solar have that device that allows them to go into people's heads, and people go into Sun's mind and it's...It's very bad, like Lunar's comment "Sun's mind is probably on fire" but a thousand times worse, whatever it looks like it is so clear that something has been deeply broken this whole time, and everybody's at a loss looking at it, it looks unfixable, maybe even Dark Sun goes "he really went this far to not hurt anyone, I thought I could get him to change, but this is how he refused" I don't know, I've always found the whole trope of going into someone's mind and being smacked with the hard reality of how badly they've been hurting the whole time under the mask and the part you had to play in it, and you can't hide from it because you're literally seeing the damage in their mind, being so angsty, but that's me personally The berserker monster is also fun, particularly angsty if there's just no semblance of anything left, like sometimes in stories you can tell there's a small piece of the original person left, but sometimes no matter how sympathetic the appeal it's just a mindless rabid creature that comprehends nothing Or maybe it's both? Like an I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream situation, where they're a monster, but is completely vegetative, like they're alive, but unrecognizable in every sense of the word Who knows, I am just spitballing because there's so many possible ways to do it

I love that trope too (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)(⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)(⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

So I think it will be kinda mixed between what you say. But it is kinda more complicated than that. You know the trope: come back gone wrong and come back gone right but people think they are wrong?

Yes, imagine my Sun will be very chilled, but people think there is something wrong with that silly boy.

[offender42085]

Post 0556

Shawn Leonard, Utah inmate 129972, born 1977, incarceration intake in 2011 at age 34, sentenced to life

Attempted Aggravated Murder, Aggravated Robbery, Aggravated Kidnapping, Escaping from Custody

Calling it the "only reasonable alternative," a judge in 2011 sentenced a man to life without the possibility of parole for the brutal rape and beating of a young woman who was left for dead near the Provo River Trail.

Shawn Leonard, 34, of Springville, received the maximum sentence in Provo's 4th District Court.

When the victim's mother arrived at the hospital on that day last year, she said her daughter "was unrecognizable from the shoulders up." During the first day there, the daughter asked her mother "if he would come back to finish killing her."

Even after she was released from the hospital, the nightmares and the surgeries continued.

"Nobody should have to suffer through this," her mother told the judge, "and have unspeakable things done while you're not conscious and while you are conscious.

"I have sobbed uncontrollably knowing what happened to my daughter."

Leonard, standing at the podium in front of Judge Claudia Laycock in a white Department of Corrections jumpsuit with his hands cuffed behind his back and his ankles shackled, showed no emotion as the sentence was handed down.

He declined to say anything to the judge or to his victim prior to being sentenced.

The now 20-year-old victim and her family were pleased with the sentence.

On June 9, 2010, Leonard, who walked away from a jail work-release program, grabbed the then 19-year-old Utah Valley University student as she was walking along the Provo River Trail and pulled her into the nearby bushes where he was hiding. At first he asked the woman for money. When she said she didn't have any to give, he told her to sit and turn away.

The next thing the woman felt was a string around her neck strangling her. She believes she may have blacked out for up to three hours. During that time, prosecutors say Leonard smashed her face with a rock and cement cinder block. When the victim came to, she found her head dripping with blood and her clothing around her ankles. She had only enough power to crawl back to the trail for help.

Leonard knocked out six of the woman's teeth and she later had to have two more removed because they were so badly damaged. Her jaw was broken and had to be wired shut.

Both the prosecution and Laycock also noted Leonard's narcissism. In the pre-sentence report prepared for the case in which Leonard was allowed to give his version of what happened, Leonard claimed he and the victim had a "social encounter" and had been talking for awhile about consensual intercourse. He claims he then blacked out and didn't remember what happened.

Laycock said she "totally" rejected that claim, calling it, "absurd," "self-serving" and said it "flies in the face of concrete evidence."

"I can't think of a case that fits what the legislature intended (with the life without parole statute) more direct than this case," the judge said.

Laycock said the key in a life without parole sentence is the amount of "serious bodily injury" involved in the aggravated kidnapping charge. "This went far beyond 'serious bodily injury,'" she said.

The judge said she had dealt with Leonard in previous cases and admitted there was nothing in his adult criminal history that would lead her to predict he would have committed a crime so heinous as this.

Subsequent appeals were unsuccessful.

3a

[another-whump-sideblog]

Masterlist

Ema used to be a musician. In general, she used to consider herself a very creative person. She liked to paint and write poems and sculpt things out of clay, and she was always trying out new art forms. She was the best with music, but she could make beautiful things in other mediums with some effort.

She didn’t have any opportunity to create while… well, she’d rather not think about that. But something horrible did happen to her, and afterwards she could no longer create beautiful things.

Paintings ended up unrecognizable to her original intentions, poems turned into chaotic word salad, and while she hasn’t had the chance to sculpt yet, she gets the feeling that that would go badly too.

Worst of all is her music, though. She keeps going to music stores and trying to play as if anything recognizable will come out. Songs she used to know by heart end up as horrible discordant tunes that can barely be qualified as music, much less the songs they’re meant to be.

“I can’t make beautiful things anymore. I’m broken.” She tells Tom one afternoon. She wants him to fix it for her so she doesn’t have to go out and fight bad people tonight until her mind finally clears.

“Make something ugly, then.” Tom said.

And really, it was that simple.

Ema stopped trying to capture beauty in the way she used to. She aimed for haunting, uncomfortable, broken pieces of art, and when that was her goal, she did really well.

She’s been painting bloody, gorey scenes when she wants to go and hit someone. It doesn’t always satisfy the urge, but sometimes it does, and Tom is very happy with her.

Horrible paintings and poems line the walls of her room. She writes and plays songs that invoke feelings of dread and confusion. She’s still a creative person. She’s still a musician.

It’s hard not to look in the mirror and see something ugly and broken and horrible. Uncomfortable, haunting, dreadful, and confusing. But then she looks next to the mirror, at her ugly creations, and she doesn’t hate them at all. She thinks… maybe it’s okay to be all those things. Maybe the world needs ugly and broken things sometimes.

Eventually, she will be able to create whatever she desires again, beautiful or ugly, but she doesn��t know that yet. All she knows is that she can create again, and she feels just the tiniest bit more comfortable in her skin.

[ccraccz]

Spider Lillies

┏━°⌜防風鈴 ⌟°━┓

Chapter 5

┗━°⌜防風鈴 ⌟°━┛

“Gramps…” Ryuu was ten years old.

“Shut it, Ryuu.” His Granpa turns around, his phone broken and a dent on the wall of the house they live in. Grandpa walks away, not showing the kid the tears that were gathering in the corners of his crinkled eyes. 

The next day, Grandpa was a whole different person, commanding and dull. He got angry easily, and yelled at him for every little mistake he made, scolded him, cussed at him, hell. He even threw him out for a day.

Grandpa had become more scary and controlling, he was berating and furious… and his words became more believable and true.

Every night, Ryuu would finish practice, and walk back to his room and cry as he scolds himself in the cold shower.

Ryuu’s life became more and more dull after that, barely being able to go outside.

“That belongs to Furin.”  “Yup! I know!!” The short male loudly speaks “Are you mad? Did I rile you up??” He teased

From behind, Ryuu was able to watch Umemiya tilt his head to the side before he responded “You sure seem happy.” Everyone is quiet, watching the two leaders speak to each other. Thoughts were loudly working through Sakura’s brain. ‘He’s confronting Umemiya… And laughing in his face…’ Sakura sweats ‘He’s gotta be some kinda monster…’

The shot male lets go of the Bofurin member, letting him fall with the megaphone he used to call over the group on the roof. “Alrighty, Ume-chan,” The teen starts hopping around, fists up as he taunts the taller male. “Face me! One-on-One! Your side’s the one who messed with us first!”

“...”

“Now there’s a good reason to brawl it out!”

Shishitoren’s leader gets closer and hops around Umemiya. “Fight me!~ Fight me!~” he sings as he jumps and claps in a circle around Umemiya.

“You’re right,” Ryuu pouts at what Umemiya answers with “We’re the ones who struck first.” His answer stops Choji “But… You mowed down a ton of my guys, too.”

“You’ve got your fill now, haven’t you?”

“We’re even”

Ryuu steps forward slightly, only for Hiragi’s arm to black him.

“I need to check on the dude that hurt on the floor…” Ryuu whispers.

“Later, Umemiya will get angry if you move from here,” Hiragi explains, looking at the brunette from the corner of his eye. Ryuu nods and stands back beside Hiragi.

“Is… He satisfied, then…?” Nirei asks no one, nervously standing behind Suo. “You should just turn around and—” Umemiya was cut off by Choji huffing before acting quickly and kicking at Umemiya with such force is made a SHWACKT sound

This took the first years off guard, making them look at the scene with wide eyes and furrowed brows. “Great… You’re just as impatient as ever,” Umemiya spoke, holding onto Choji’s ankle, his food just centimeters away from hitting his head. Choji smirks before jumping away. “Say, Ume-chan… Now that I’ve struck first… It’s your turn!

“C’mon! C’mon!” He claps, face bright and smiling like a child “Ya gotta pay me back, right?!”

Umemiya is quiet for a second before he speaks again.

“Why do you wanna fight so badly?” he asks, taking the shorter male’s attention off of the main topic.

“Huh?” Choji looks at Umemiya with wide eyes before answering, “Hmm… It’s not that I want to fight.”

“...But what I want…” Choji points at Umemiya, his smile growing sinister and his eyes swirling with something unrecognizable “..Is YOU Ume-chan.” The group stiffens at the answer, everyone having almost the same reaction of confusion and shock at what the shorter male just said. Ryuu took a sharp breath through his nose, eye widening at what the shorter male said. Umemiya stays quiet at the answer.

“It’s been So Damn Boring since I made my way to the top…” Choji explains, “But, Ume-chan…” he stops.

“Even though you’re at the top, too… You’re always laughing and smiling like you’re having the time of your life.”

‘That’s so UNFAIR…’ “That’s why I’m going to take all of Furin…” Choji tightens his fists “...And YOU for MYSELF!”

There’s a loud, claustrophobic silence for a few seconds, the air was almost hard to breathe in as they witnessed the interaction between both representatives. “Th…That’s just ridiculous…” Nirei mumbled, shaking in his spot behind Suo.

“Is that it…?” Umemiya answers Choji's proclamation of war. “Tomiyama… You’ve got it hard, huh?” He asks the teen in orange who tilts his head in question.

“Wuh?”

“He, Hey, Hey…” A new voice arrives from behind Choji, recognizable and slurred, “What kinda crazy, illogical bullshit are you feeding our general here…?” Choji turns around, confused at the newcomers. “Huh? Why’re you all here?” he asks.

“You’re our general, boss… Don’t go raiding the enemies on your own…” The whole group of lions came up behind the leader, “...Don’t take all the fun for yourself.”

“Sheesh, the moment I told you the Gist of what happened, you rushed right outta there.” Togame restates the situation that happened before that led to this “I’ve always said, you needa listen to everything I gotta tell you…” He scolds.

Everyone from the group that was outside walks forward, making Umemiya look at the freshmen who stepped up to help.

“Why, if it isn’t Othello-kun… Short time no see.” "Yo, scraggles.”

“Ah! And if it isn’t Kid-Doctor.” “Did you take him to see a professional?” Ryuu asks, standing beside Hiragi and looking over at Togame. Hand near his lips.

Togame sighs, “Yeah, I did…”

“Hey. I told you guys to stay—” Umemiya gets cut off, stopping his scolding due to Sakura. “SHADDUP!” He calls out “If you’re going one-on-one, then I won’t interrupt. But I don’t like it when one guy is surrounded by a whole damn group!”

Umemiya sighs, smiling down at the first year who called him out. “GAAAH! I’m about to fight Ume-chan, you all of you back ooooooff!” Choji complains, stomping and swinging his pointing hand around like a child during a tantrum. “Hmmmm…” Togame points up at the windows of the Bofurin Headquarters, “I think it’ll be a bit difficult for that, don’t you think? Take a look around.”

The freshmen look up at the windows, taking in the view of all of Furin’s students, from First years to third years, looking down at them from the glass panes, both open and closed, ready to act if things got serious. Some were already outside, ready to fight if things got serious. “Whoa…” Nirei’s face became more and more blue in anxiousness, “This is getting outta hand!” he shakily said. Umemiya takes a deep breath, not turning around as he got more and more serious.

“DON’T MOVE A MUSCLE, ALL OF YOU!!” He loudly commands, everyone turning around to face the male that leads them. “Tomiyama,” He grabs Shishitoren’s leader's attention again. “I’ll take ya on. Now order your men to step back.” “Okaaaaaay! I just wanna fight YOU, Ume-Chan!”

“What the hell?” one of the guys they met before walks up “Their general sure is a softy. Or… Is he just scared?” The male grins, the taunt working.

“YOU. I’ll Crush Your Skull.” Sugishita glares at the male. “C’mon, Don’t get pissy just ‘cuz I’m right.” “Hey, wasn’t that one of the kids?” Man Bun asks, “Oh, I knew it! They’re so PLAIN, but I could tell right away! Hee hee! I’m good!” He giggles like a child, bringing his hands closer to his face. “Heh Heh,” Suo laughs, “You’ve got one craggy-looking face, but you talk like a little boy! Aren’t you a cute one?” Suo smiles as he speaks, knowing that it would rile up the enemy and freak out Nirei at the same time. “That annoying prick…” The male mumbles, as his eyebrows scrunch together and something snaps. “C’mon, guys! Calm down!” Togame waves them down. “Choji, it might be better to pick another day if you wanna face off against him.”

“WHY?!” “Look up. It’s about to get dark… Plus, we never planned on coming today anyway,” He states the obvious “If you end up fighting in the dark… Then you won’t get a clear view of his swollen, beat-up face. Right, Othello-kun?” Togame grins creepily. “How do you plan on looking at your own face in the middle of a field?” Sakura retorts at the taunt. Ryuu shook his head, a disgusting feeling growing in his tummy. ‘Is this what Hiragi constantly feels like?’ he bites the inside of his cheek in nervousness. “Ohhh…?” Choji looks around “Does everyone know each other?”

“Well, in that case, Ume-chan…” He hops in front of his group, “Why don’t we all go at it?” Umemiya looks at him, confused at the implications, and swearing the shorter with a “Hah?”

“Oh! I don’t mean we should blow this up into a total bawl,” Choji explains “But we can all face off One-on-One! It’ll be like a tournament! It’ll be fun!”

Ryuu shakes his head at that, sighing knowing he was about the get dragged into fighting. “Like a kendo team competition?” Togame asks, a small smile on his face at the idea “I like the sounds of that.” “Yeah, Yeah!” “So while we’re at it…” Togame gets cut off. “It’s good, right? Yeah!” “... We’ll invite them to a match…” He gets cut off again. “Yay! Yahoo!”

“...I’m not finished…”

“All right, the matches will be…” “Choji and Umemiya” “Me and… Othello-kun” “It’s Sakura,” He responds. Side shaved grins, “Let me at that long mop over there.” “And I’ll take eyepatch…” “Awee, sweet of you to choose me, little baby!” Suo smiles.

“Hey! If we’re facing off, then you don’t need to involve the others,” Umemiya speaks up, not up for the ‘kendo tournament’ they’ve decided to create “You and I can fight,” he finishes. “Whaaaaat?!” Choji whines “But it’s a lot more fun if everyone joins in!”

“We…” Sakura steps up with both an enraged Sugishita and a smiling Suo. A horrified Nirei hid behind the smiling boy. “Would prefer a chance to beat ‘em up, too.”

“Seee?” Choji sings. “For cripe’s sake. The first years this time around are such a handful…” Hiragi says, Ryuu laughing beside him. “May we join, too” Two males from Shishitoren raise their hands, one of them speaking for the both. The male with foxy eyes points at Hiragi before saying, “I want to fight Hiragi-san.” “Sako…” Hiragi’s eyes are wide ashe whispers the boys name. Ryuu looks at Hiragi before looking back at the two males. “Zuki would like to fight the brunette overthere.”

Zuki nodded, green eyes looking at Ryuu’s blue one as Ryuu nodded at him. “Sorry, Umemiya…” Ryuu looked at Hiragi, who clenched his fists tightly and frowned. “I’m takin’ part.” “Okay! Then it’s decided!”

“In the name of our teams… LETS ALL HAVE THE TIME OF OUR LIVES AND… DUKE IT OUT!”

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

BREAK

(About Osamu Ryuu)

Has a lot of bandaids

has a really old wallet that his gramps had, which is quite tattered but it holds things quite well

carries stickers around to give kids

always has extra hair ties on him, just incase his breaks or someone else needs one

picks at the skin around his nails

tilts his head and smiles when he's confused

pulls at friend's sleeves to grab their attention

he pets every animal he sees, they come towards him like he's snow white

one time he was found sleeping in a park, sitting against a tree, with a few birds on his shoulders 

His handwriting is very cute, small and smooth

He used to play the cello in Korea

He's from Australia but moved to South Korea with his Gramps

When he's focused, he sticks out his tongue a little bit

He really likes chewy foods, especially Udon!

He hums to himself when he thinks he's alone, specifically songs he has played on the cello

He has a creepily good sense of smell... and he smells everything that is handed to him, from drinks and foods, to even chemicals that mayyy not be safe to sniff directly...

[laptoparmageddon]

tell me about danger trope :)

Danger Trope is a psychological horror series inspired by Undertale, Deltarune, and Danganronpa. It's main focus is on the characters but has Deltarune inspired game play elements.

The first game focuses on the fellas, who I like to call "The Danger Gang". Miya is created by my friend Xenoeorks. 90% of the characters are made by me. Others by my friends are only mentioned in passing such as Miya's girlfriend, Yukari.

Each character has something that troubles them. Weather it's obvious or not, they'll be forced to face their own fears, past, and even futures as the world around them begins to bend and warp until unrecognizable. (Don't mind Sho, he comes in later)

Even though the series would in theory have 4 games, I'm perfectly content with only making the first. Since itself would probably be long and broken up into parts.

Each part serves it purpose as various chapters would focus one or two characters and their problems. Some need help to face what troubles them. Others must face alone..

The first chapter takes place in a school where the group is holding a study session. This usually only consists of Miya, Donnie, and Tellio but Tellio invited Kira who brought Jesse along with him.

Things are fine until Donnie finds a body in a school bathroom. Its only then the group realizes they've lost connection to the outside world and can no longer leave. All exits become unopenable, doors lead to places they shouldn't, and strange hostile creatures begin to infest the halls. Like swarms of flies surrounding a rotting corpse..

Here's some creatures to torment the fellas

The Fellas

First off, Miya Kishimoto! Miya is designated as the main character. Why? Because I said so. And also she's the character you'd play the most as. She's been given the 'technologist' tittle by Lemon Tree High's (not based off any real schools) star student program that's primarily focused on talent rather than behavior.

You can control Miya but she doesn't seem to realize this and her anger can be exploited. She's able to run, jump, and climb but her vision is limited. She'll generally be in the front of the party during battle, even if playing as someone else. Her stats are generally average but her resilience is strong, making her stress not rise as fast and damage not hurt as much.

The thing is- Miya hate you. And everyone else. And she's so close to losing it. This is something she'll have to work on throughout the series. Having her as the MC can't possibly go wrong. Surely no one will piss her off so badly it impacts her existence forever-

Oh

Ok. I've held off long enough. I GOTTA talk about Kira.

Kira Isho, best worst boy, the kind of person you probably wouldn't want to meet. Miya hates him with a burning passion and is ready to destroy him at all costs to get rid of his influence. Kira, despite his history and being literally cursed is fine with this and thus the two because rivals.

Better slap the roof of this bad boy because he can fit and cause so many problems. Wich is why I tend to call him the antagonist of the game. His very presence causes problems whether he wants to or not and he's completely convinced himself he cannot be redeemed due to his past and current crimes. This is part of the many things he must face during the games.

Despite this, he's still helping the group escape their current situation with his strange talent. Kira is referred to as a 'creative influence' by the school's star program. This title was previously held by only one other person who's been missing for years.

Kira's game play is far different from other characters. He cannot run, jump, climb, go into small spaces, or go near water. Leaving traversing certain areas difficult alone. But his talent allows for alternate routes to be explored.

He cannot be directly controlled due to his luck stat. He's aware of your presence after you attempt to posses him and will not always take your advice. He doesn't know what you are or where you came from but not all of our information is wrong so at least we're some use to him.

Battle wise, he's a glass cannon. Having a measly 5HP wich cannot be increased and can only be replenished via items. But his attack is very high and his stress level doesn't go up as fast.

Due to Kira being so frail a cold could kill him, he tends to rely on his younger sister Jesse. She likes space, energy drinks, and punching holes into walls!

Jesse, despite now having the same last name, isn't actually related to Kira. She's extremely reluctant to talk about her family. Though, the reason why is fuzzy to her. The cause is what she must face during the game. Though, she'll still have a long ways to go once the adventure is over. Healing takes time.

Jesse is alot stronger than Kira in a more normal sense. They can pick up and carry Kira if need be and is hesitant to leave his side. Jesse has the most HP of any character but the least amount of attack. She can be controlled but gets concerned by thoughts that go against her morals. She will tend to carry out these actions. Even if it means seriously regretting it later.

Jesse isn't part of the star student program but they are the co-president of the space club. She loves space and hopes to help build satellites for space exploration but some of her current habits make her difficult to work with.

Next we have Donnie! Despite being a year younger than most of the group, Donnie is really smart. They were given the 'polyglot' tittle by the star student program due to their proficiency in multiple languages. They even tutor Miya and Tellio.

Donnie, despite their talent, feels that they're not only easily replaceable but a burden on others. They have a hard time talking to people and usually relies on their older sibling Tellio for most people related things. Donnie often worries that no one would notice if they were replaced or even disappeared.. This is what they must face during the game.

Donnie, like Kira, cannot be directly controlled due to their luck stat. Donnie can be pressured into making desicions they don't want to but that'd be mean. You don't want to bully Donnie, do you? :(

Battle wise, Donnie is pretty weak but can use the 'pitty' action wich makes them harder to hit. With the luck stat in play as well, Donnie is even less likely to take damage. Donnie, however, gets stressed alot faster than everyone else.

Tellio, Donnie's older sibling is like if a dog became a person. Then that person developed a serious habit of trying to please people no matter the cost. Tellio is generally cheerful, outgoing, and very helpful but tends to put others before himself.

This has become less of a habit and more of a serious health risk to Tellio as he'll overwork himself just to help people. Even if it means getting nothing in return. This is what Tellio will have to work on during his journey.

Battle wise, Tellio is pretty bulky defense wise. He dose get stressed a bit faster than normal but you can hit enemies with a chair. :)

Sho, not shown in the fellas image, would technically appear in chapter twos second half. As the chapter is split into two due to two different events going on in different places. I'll hold off on talking about him for now.

There's probably so much more information but I'm not good at compiling it together lol. I've already spent several hours on this.

[snailrepose]

2/23/24 - relay

this is my first time doing something like this. getting an idea, putting it on paper, then actually bringing my idea to life. this particular one means a lot to me.

the idea came to me while listening to "relay" by sam ezeh.

this one is about love that is always given but never received. no matter how much you pour your entire heart and soul out to someone, that won't make them love you. no matter how hard you try or how much you destroy yourself in the process. I have completely been broken down by people because I loved them, and they didn't love me back, but I so desperately wanted them to. I have given them all I have, and all I ever thought I would have, begging them to love me. I forget who I truly am when doing this. I try so hard to create someone worth loving for them, completely losing myself in the process. trying to be what I think they want, and not myself, because I want them to love me so badly, no matter what version of "me" that is, and it's almost always not my true self. it is an unrecognizable being, and it scares me. how I allow myself to accept below the bare minimum from someone because the love I'm giving isn't reciprocated, so I try so hard to convince them that I am worth loving and slowly kill myself in the process. it has nearly killed me before, feeling so utterly worthless unless I was loved by them, that I thought "If they can't love me, I am unloveable, and that will never change" and did everything in my power to attempt to "be loveable", even thinking "maybe they would love me if I was dead". it hurts my soul knowing I let myself think I was worth so little that I didn't deserve to live because I wasn't loved by someone I loved.

but that's not what love is. no one truly knows what love is, because love is unexplainable, but we all try our best to explain it. that's what I did here. I thought of someone I love, and thought "If I were to tell them right now, what would I say?" and the message came to life. although the "conversation" is staged, the love in the message is 100% real and authentic. when you really love someone, you want to love them, and you want them to know you love them, and they want to love you, and want you to know they love you. you don't need to destroy your mind, body, and soul to be loved. I haven't felt the full potential that love has to offer yet, but recently I've felt like I'm getting some doses of it, and it makes me excited for when I receive more. my love was always abused and stripped away from me, resulting in me being so fearful to give it out again, in fear of it happening again. but I know some people who I'm willing to share my love with, rather than giving because after all, I need to keep some for myself so I don't lose myself again. but that doesn't mean I won't love as deeply as I have before, it just means that I won't kill myself loving someone or trying to make them love me anymore. but that will only make my love for them stronger. love should not be faked, and you do not have to be a fake version of yourself to receive it, you deserve to be loved exactly the way you are. you do not have to change to be loved.

this picture also shows my fear of rejection. what do I do if I think I love someone like this but I'm too afraid to tell them? I'm far too fearful to tell them because I'm afraid of losing them. this picture is the embodiment of that fear. it causes me to remain stagnant with those feelings, frozen in fear, I would rather never tell them and not risk losing them than telling them and risking losing them. I don't know what I would do if that happened. but at the same time, if you tell them you love them and they leave, they just showed you they were not the right one to receive your love.

you deserve to love someone who loves you back.

"love is infinite"

"we are infinite"

i love to love. so much.

3:25am

*i wrote this while falling asleep, cause I had to get the words in my head about this picture out there, so if some parts don't make sense/sound right, that's why*

[littlegoldenbirdie]

The Dragon and the Maiden (sort of) #6

I can't believe I left out a chunk of this! Here it is, but... How did I miss this part?

Chapter #6: Conversations

“I’ll just give you some meat to begin with,” she said from the other room as she audibly rummaged around. “Best to start simple, you know? You buy this stuff at the market and there’s no telling what kind of critter it came from. It’s good, though. I’ve just taken to calling it roast beast.” She stepped back into his view holding an unrecognizable wad of meat, gristle and bone that nevertheless piqued his appetite to almost unbearable levels. “I should probably slice this up, get the bad bits out, unless…” The look on his face made her pause. “I’m guessing you’re fine with it as is. Oh!” she yelped as he practically snatched it out of her hands to scarf it down with no thought for even dignity. “Watch out for the…” Powerful jaws crunched and crushed bones as if they were nothing, easily dealing with gristle and cartilage alike before he looked to her as he licked his chops like a happily sated cat. “I was about to warn you about the bones,” she managed sheepishly, embarrassed at having forgotten how such things meant very little to a dragon like him. Bolas tilted his head ever so slightly at her words. “Oh? I was about to thank you for including them. I’ve sampled the finest cuisines on planes beyond numbering, but I must admit I’ve always had a special place for the simple raw meat that I grew up eating. I hunted for prey in Dominaria’s primordial forests in my youth, after all.” She quietly smiled again, choosing not to point out that he had thanked her. “I was going to get things ready while you ate, but since you’re already done eating… Just relax a bit and give me a few minutes, okay?” He nodded, already feeling a bit stronger from having gotten to eat something.

She continued to speak to him as she worked in the other room. “Given how badly your ordeal weakened you, we’re going to have to be very careful about how we proceed from here. Your wings are the main priority. They have to be if you ever want to fly again. I’m going to clean out the cuts on your body and bandage them up, then focus on using healing magic on your wings. The rest will have to heal naturally. Like I said, this is how it’s going to have to be if you’re to stand a chance of using your wings again.” He suddenly found himself feeling glad she wasn’t in the room as a violent shiver ran through his broken body at the very thought of that. Never flying again… That was a fate he had never considered before, and now that he had, it seemed like the worst of all. The movement caused his whole body to erupt in agony, agony that he welcomed as it drove the horror from his mind. He shook himself more, like a wet dog, not caring about the pain, trying his hardest to forget the awful thought that had come to him, that her words had planted in his mind.

“What are you doing? Bolas, stop it!” Counting herself glad she had the presence of mind to set down what she had been carrying, she rushed to his side before he could fall off the footstool he’d been sitting on. Heaving him back up into a sitting position, her face was inches from his as she gave him a somewhat unhappy look as his eyes regained their focus and met her gaze. “What were you thinking, shaking like that? Your wings are so badly broken they’re barely attached to your body right now! You have to be careful so I can save them!” The look that took shape on his face upon hearing those words gave her chills and made her regret saying them. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I should never have said that to you,” she said abruptly. “It’ll be all right. I’ve got this. Your wings will be fine as long as we stick to the plan, in that I focus all my magic on them and let everything else heal naturally.”

Helping him get seated comfortably again, she went back to pick up what she had set down… a bowl full of warm water and a small cloth with some soap on it. “I’m going to clean your wounds now. Hold still, please.” He nodded quietly, not very pleased with how undignified he had been acting. He had felt fear. He had shown fear. He could vividly remember a time, not so long ago, when he would have preferred death over that, and would have killed any witnesses with no hesitation. But he wasn’t that prideful fool of a dragon now, was he? Perhaps Ugin was right in saying he didn’t deserve his name anymore. Accepting help from a human at all should have been unthinkable for a mighty dragon, let alone a human who had been embroiled in the battle against him! He had seen her atop his Citadel when Niv-Mizzet stabbed him and Ugin tried to capture him. Aside from seeing her there he had no idea what role she had played, but that didn’t matter in the end.

An utterly alien sting coming from his raw, torn flesh ripped him from his thoughts and he gave a serpentine hiss as he recoiled from the woman’s gentle touch. “Gah, what is that?” She had to catch him as he overbalanced and almost landed on his back. “It’s just soap, you big baby. Nothing to worry about.” He almost growled at the insult, but not quite since his pride was already pretty much dead. “I had mastered the most powerful of healing spells long before the puny mortals of Dominaria had even conceived of this… soap you speak of.” She just smiled again. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. I’m also sure you’ve seen a lot of things in your time. The stories you could tell would probably be amazing!” Seeing her smile, he had the feeling that he was in the presence of one of the few beings who would never mock him for his downfall. Perhaps Ugin might have been another, but there was no chance he would ever get to find out, he was sure. He sighed to himself at the thought of his brother. Perhaps the death of his pride was allowing these feelings to come to the fore…

-------

I'll do my best to not make this mistake again.

[from-dre]

Many Million Dreams Ago • Ch. 4 of 10

The weather outside had changed like clockwork—, summer to fall to winter and then? It seemed like it got stuck somehow. The cold had completely frozen the bedroom window shut, it had stalled my car’s engine to where it wouldn’t turn over anymore—, it quickly become one of the eeriest seasons of my life. The only place where I’d found any warmth whatsoever was in my girlfriend's arms. There was only one problem; we didn’t know how to get any closer. Physically, we’d gone as far as we could go. Emotionally, we were completely tied up in the other. Only our mental state had any free space left to give away.

I’d moved to a different city—, we were now farther away from one another. Less time to be together, less time to share and experience new things, less time, less time. We’d become desperate for reasons to stay inside. I didn’t want to leave anymore. Home wasn’t fifty-some miles away, it was wherever she was. We’d become desperate for reasons to keep grasp of the other. She didn’t want to leave anymore. No friends, no work, nothing that seemed like it was from the outside world. We’d become really, really desperate. Desperation turned to anger, anger turned to hatred, hatred personified itself in the form of something too sharp for words. Something too vengeful, too heavy for mere emotions to make sense of. We held onto the handles of ominous instruments and used them to sculpt a darker reality than the one we’d been running from.

“Baby!—,” she’d exclaim upon waking up. What happened here last night? Unsettling thoughts ran through our minds. All we could do is guess at the unfortunate scenarios which may have played out. Furniture moved around. Couch cushions turned upside down. Thermostat all the way up. We’d blacked out and remembered nothing. Only the stains remained—, measuring our madness like height-marks on a wall. We traded in long-term happiness for some temporary relief at the hands of tiny, pointed teeth. Regretful us. How short-sighted can young love really be? We were on a collision course in trying to find out. Two lost ships with no lighthouse in sight. Dense fog. Broken compasses. We never stood a chance at making it out intact. Every inch ripped apart—, another scar on our hearts. Pound for pound, we weighed and made sure to repay in kind. We became unrecognizable; cutlery rivals. That which we loved, we came to resemble.

“What’s happening with you two?,” friends would eventually ask. They’d noticed we’d become more withdrawn, less excited about the things which had made us so happy before. There was always a catastrophe to complain about. It was our new routine and we’d found some type of comfort in it. A quiet humming sound constantly played in the backs of our heads, like we knew something was wrong, but something we couldn’t shut off either. It pulled us out of everyday moments and affected our presence in regular situations. This went on—, day after day, week after week, month after month. Things played out tragically; broken promises, broken spirits, everything around us was breaking apart. Slowly, the seasons began changing again, but not our negative energies—, we’d gotten too used to them. Now, they became ingrained in our thinking, in our voices, and in our love itself.

Summer came around once more so we headed back to a land of lovely memories we’d made just a year prior. Back to Florida, back to the Gulf Coast, and back to a type of temporary lifestyle that’d suited us so well beforehand—, but strangely, felt disconnected from this time around.

“What’s different?,” I asked myself aloud.

“Everything—,” I heard her voice whisper back throughout the once-sunny horizons of my mind. There were no more exciting drives throughout the city, no more people-watching, and no more dreaming about future lives lived out together. I wanted what we’d had before so badly—, I wanted our old memories and moments which had made the previous summer the best one of my life. Now, it all seemed to be a distant dream to which I’d never be able to return. The car rides were quieter, the waves crashing onto the coast were calmer, everything was empty of any excitement or joy. At night we’d lay awake in bed, look up at the ceiling, and wonder if we’d made a good decision to come back here.

The morning coffee started tasting different—, even in a beautiful city like the one we were visiting, the depths of our regret from home followed us. We’d sit and sip and stare at the floor, very rarely bringing our eyes back up. We felt so many emotions at once and directed them straight toward one another. Somewhere deep within our dark roasts—, we could barely make out the shapeless waves of an uncertain future together and it made each passing day feel more hopeless and gloomier than the one before.

We were nearing the end of our trip and an hour before we’d be heading back to the airport, she tried one final time at making a lasting memory.

“Do you want to collect some sand from the beach with me?,” she sweetly asked from the armchair. I just slowly shook my head and looked back down at the floor in disappointment. So much for trying to rekindle a nearly-forgotten feeling. I’d go on to regret the decision for a long time afterwards.

Back home for another autumn. This one brought about a newly discovered rush with it. I’d made all the wrong types of friends in my new neighborhood and they had the party essentials one in my situation of desperation needed to take in order to fully enjoy life again. I bought a bag’s worth and waited until I saw my girlfriend again to dive in. I chopped up the piece and laid out a long line across a plastic case, gently handing it to her along with a rolled-up twenty-dollar bill. She readied herself, bent down towards her lap, and drew in every last flake with complete poise and perfection. I would’ve married her right there on the spot. She was everything a person looks for in their toxic-twin; courage, composure, and the sexiest bloodshot eyes. We were re-sparking a fire that’d almost completely gone out. We were discovering something new together again—, like we had with drinking, smoking, and the rest of our rituals. This time though, the stakes were raised.

We divvied up white lines on each other’s stomachs and took turns inhaling the freshly fallen snow off our bodies. The room whirled around us—, we were alone in a sea of subjective spinning brought on by outside substances. Nothing to keep us tied down to this world—, we flew high above it all. High—, and above it all. Beyond clouds, beyond time and space. We’d found another realm where we watched ourselves slow-dance to a far-off symphony while going through all the phases of life. Together and separated only by our imaginations. Eventually, they too would combine into a singular vision; objective rapture. Never wake up. We almost never did. Earth came calling and we had to answer back, opening our eyes once more. The room stood still. Only our elevated heartbeats kept rhythm with what we’d just witnessed. It was useless to try and ask her if she’d seen the same things I had. I knew, somewhere deep inside herself—, she’d dreamed of them before ever meeting me in the first place. They were just amplified now; feelings, fantasies, an on- going reverie that wouldn’t let up. How could we go back to normal after something like that? We couldn’t. So we didn’t.

Though the fun lasted a short while—, it wasn’t enough to truly keep us going for long. We swam with the current as far as possible before our arms started to give out. Driving back home to her apartment one day, we had the radio unusually turned off. There’d been something on my mind for a while and I couldn’t keep the question to myself for a minute longer.

“Do you feel like we’re drifting apart?,” I sincerely asked. She instantly answered back.

“I really do.” That was all she had to say. Even with new toxins and exciting experiences, we couldn’t escape the let down of our second summer. We tried our hardest to remain hopeful about the future, but things seemed to pull us in separate directions now more than ever.

We hadn’t seen each other for quite a while. She started school again, I picked up another job, things naturally cooled down after our last car ride together. I was finishing up my shift at work one night when my mom walked in to surprise me.

“Hurry up and clock out, I’ve got something to show you,” she excitedly said. We walked into a glitzy restaurant right across the street and headed downstairs. I reached the bottom floor and stood for a second, unable to react as there sat my girlfriend in a glittering red dress. She slowly turned to face us and gave me her signature look.

“Hey—.” That was all she had to say. I’d fallen for her again in a matter of moments.

“I’ve missed you,” I admitted to her later on at home.

“Me too,” she replied. We moved from the bed to the floor and back again. It was as I’d remembered—, an unequalled emotion. Something absolute and complete. We were making up with each other, making up for lost time, and making more memories than either of us had in the previous few months. We left the white linen sheets and still had the energy to smoke a couple of cloves on the roof outside my bedroom window while quietly wondering where everything was leading to this time around.

Winter rolled around once more. It seemed colder than the last one—, which was near- impossible. I’d been over her place for a few hours when we started downing shots—, one after another in quick succession. The room spun, the kissing started—, everything was going according to our usual plan. Finally, she fell asleep and I didn’t wait long to do the same myself. The next morning, I could already feel the consequences of what’d happened even before I had the chance to open my eyes. We woke up in a haze—, not knowing the exact sequence of events or what order they’d fallen into, but we felt the weight of regret hanging heavily in the atmosphere. Something vile about the way reality came crashing back down on the both of us kept her and I quiet for a long while. She eventually broke the intense silence.

“Look at yourself,” she got out, raising her gaze up from the floor. She stared at me with the saddest eyes I’d ever seen as I noticed the smears I still wore.

“They’re just arms,” I naively said. She quickly covered her face with both hands.

“Those used to be my arms!,” she cried out from the bed. I had nothing to say—, no words could properly describe the amount of desperation I felt. I turned to walk away, leaving the room with an air of awful energy attached to it. I slowly made my way down the stairs and out through the front door, got into my car and forever drove away. So it went that it’d be one of the last times we’d ever see each other.

I needed to vent—, to lash out at something, anything. I had so much pent up within me that I didn’t know who to turn to. Everything was my fault—, I’d felt the emotion radiating from her spirit without her having to say a word. Without having ever fallen in love with me, maybe she’d be so much farther along—, with dreams, with relationships, with life itself. It seemed that I’d kept her in place for much of the last few months. The same arguments constantly led back to the same conclusions; maybe it just wasn’t meant to be after all.

We didn’t speak for a long time afterwards. We just watched the clocks change seconds and minutes and hours but nothing else around us ever improved. We were without the other and while it gave us some breathing room, it also forced us to remember how everything felt before falling into our first kiss together. It all seemed like it’d happened so long ago—, in a different lifetime altogether. Finally, she called up one night to see how I was holding up and of course, it didn’t take long for the attacks to begin.

“Are you using needles yet?,” she said in a soft tone. I cringed at the thought of her actually asking me such a question.

“No,” I answered back, a little annoyed. How was it possible that we’d drifted so far apart? Wasn’t this the same girl who’d always kept me in line, calculating my grades everyday for an entire semester of English class to help me pass? Now—, she was asking if I’d been injecting myself with drugs. Of course the flow of firewater never let up and the pills seemed to be in full supply ever since I’d moved, but her imagination was definitely getting out of hand.

“I don’t think we should speak to each other for a while,” was her suggestion. I appealed with pure emotion.

“So we can’t even be friends?”

“I don’t want to have a friend like you,” she said, tearing my heart in two. That was that. We hung up and the world seemed a little bit colder than it was before our conversation had started. I pulled myself up off the floor where I’d always sit to talk on the phone and went upstairs to my room—, confused and more alone than ever.

I decided that if people were beginning to see me as a person on a permanent downward-spiral, then that’s exactly what I’d become. Party after backseat after movie after bedroom—, I started making my way through all of them with a sense of invincibility. I’d figured that I’d already gone through enough to where only I could get in my own way—, that nothing could slow me down or could take away from the momentum I’d built up over the last couple of years. Everyone around saw the walking catastrophe I’d turned into while I was becoming increasingly unaware of the dangers starting to surround me.

The night finally arrived when I took one too many pills and was rushed off to have my stomach pumped clean. I woke up with leather straps wrapped around my wrists. My arms were tied to the metal handlebars of a hospital bed on both sides. In the corner sat a woman of about forty with a nice, warm smile on her face.

“Hello,” she said. “Do you know where you are?”

“Yes—,” I answered back. I knew what’d happened. To escape the heavy sadness of the entire situation, I began replaying old memories of happier times. Just when it seemed like I’d made the worst mistake of my life, I noticed there was a phone sitting beside me on the nightstand to my left. I thought about it for a while before finally being allowed to pick it up and dial her number. It rang—, and rang and rang. Just before I was readying to hang up, she answered.

“Hello?,” her familiar voice said with a tinge of worry to it.

“Hey—,” I began, trying to follow it up with something useful to say, but I came up empty. She didn’t wait long to get down to it.

“Why are you calling me from St. Joe’s?,” she promptly asked.

“I—, umm..., almost O.D.ed,” and just before I had the chance to say another word, I heard the coldest click of a telephone hanging up ever. That would be it. Nothing else followed but more tears and praying sessions for me with sidewalk preachers and sobriety milestones that I’d mess up later on anyway. There was nothing else to do or say. We split ways for good after that.

What’s it feel like when pure romance dissipates? It’s being left completely alone in a foreign country with no translator. Nothing around makes any sense and nobody can help out. Every message, meaning, and concept had been made clear through their presence. Now? Static. How can we eat—, or drink—, or even sleep? The soul’s been ripped apart and our own reflection is no longer familiar. Lover was gone—, but so was Best Friend. Nobody was left to confide in. Nobody was left to even speak to about anything that mattered at all. So onward I went—, into the pitch black darkness of an everlasting night with nothing to illuminate my path or guide me back to the dawn. I wasn’t just pursued by the shadows any longer—, I became one myself.

Things started to make less and less sense. I didn’t feel like I fit into the mainstream lifestyles any longer and couldn’t pinpoint what I’d been made for in the first place. People all around me had goals, went in pursuit of them, and reached new levels of their destinies. Me? I just lulled around in self- pity. All that kept coming back were memories of better days. Please let me turn back time, I’d beg The Universe. No luck. What used to be someone so secure and confident was reduced to a mere hallowed-out shell of their former selves. I had to exit the existential framework. Life seemed so forced and anyone who didn’t follow its strict guidelines was faulted to the maximum degree. Selfish arrogance took over. I didn’t think about anyone else—, least of which, the people that truly loved me—, least of which, my mother. She could tell I’d become withdrawn and uninterested in everything that I’d liked so much before. Who was I to take such a special gift as life in my own two hands and try to rip it into shreds just for the sake of self-interest and sorrow? No one. I was no one—, I just didn’t know it yet.

Finally, the day came when everything around me silenced itself into a dull quiet. Like I’d finally reached the end of a long-winding tunnel. What’s left?, I thought. Nothing. I found myself in the backseat of a car with the outside world blurring by. Faster and faster it went—, down the busy street and straight towards the nearest E.R. Once there—, I woke up—, mentally and emotionally. The doctors’ hearts broke for my mother’s own. I couldn’t open my eyes from the sheer heaviness of it all and didn’t know how to process the situation so just fell into a very deep, very detached sort of sleep.

[mirkwwoodkidd]

APRIL FOOLS

13 year old Joseph was the right person to be born on April fools day ...and it you thought it ..you were right ...he was a prankster ...the one with a knack for fooling anybody...friends ,teachers ,parents his older sister ...He pranked them all but as much as he had the ability to get into trouble he had the ability to get out of them as well....blessed with a pleasing disposition..and expressive eyes ...he managed to convince all of them that he had simply been.....just misguided.....much to the ire of his classmates who had been his mere accomplices in the matter ...but Joseph did not care for the ire after all...who could fool the king of fooling? ....until Joseph s 13th birthday... he and his friend Shivaraj were cycling home from school....Joseph was grinning ear to ear because one today was his birthday two he successfully pranked Shivaraj by daring him to walk into a empty classroom during lunch when the lights were off when his eyes were closed and then he whispered in a proper mimick of a old supposedly dead student who haunted the halls ...let's Shivaraj fell for it...Shivaraj grumbled as he trudged along his bicycle "you wait ...Iam going to fool you one day so badly that you are not going to know what hit you..." Joseph chuckled as he rode his bicycle with devilish glee."You can try mate ..."he teased,"but you can not..." This provoked Shivaraj."Oh yeah ?"he challenged,"meet me in bender s end in 30 minutes for a bicycle match right now... we will see who is the fool and who is not. "Joseph almost fell off his bicycle..the bender s end ?! The bender s end was the sight of an accident years ago when a train track mismatched ...the two adjoining tracks joined a huge crash that happened between two trains, killing everyone on board ... the place was sealed afterward due to reports of supposed hauntings ..well, they were not exactly wrong...the place was completely unrecognizable with overgrown shrubs and bushes leading to the adjoining tracks ...Shivaraj smirked seeing his friend s shock "scared doofus ? Seems like we know whoes the fool here now, "he teased in a sing-song voice.....Ofcourse Joseph was scared ! But for a 13 year old boy, pride comes before fear and logicality after all..."As if,"he mumbled, he gave a daring smirk back "I...they are still having birthday decorations hung up at my...house the party is not until evening, so game on..race starts now...."he sped home quickly on his bicycle with Shivaraj laughing and calling him an idiot... but Joseph was stubborn. "Let's see who's the fool after all..."he thought.. Joseph ran into the house and got ready in a Jiffy and rode on his bicycle to the venue, which was absolutely creepy with shrubs and bushes, making it look extremely haunted ...but Joseph steeled himself...and waited for him for an hour ...but he didn't turn up...Joseph thought Shivaraj fooled him or probably just forgot about the challenge until he heard the familiar thing of the bicycle and an amused voice Joking "Thought you will chicken out..."Joseph smirked playfully."I thought you did ... what took you so long...?" Shivaraj sighed."Traffic dude ...seriously..."Before smirking "now ready ?"Joseph smirked back."Ready ..."and their race began ...Joseph s dedication was admirable .....the haunted look of the forest terrified him....but he cycled on bravely until a fog settled in the forest which wasn't there ...before...a misty one...Joseph yelled out for Shivaraj...who seemed to have disappeared....in the fog...Then Joseph must have hit a ground hole because the next thing he knew the cycle skidded of the road ....which led to him falling into a side ditch...Joseph groaned as he got up and he found he wasn't exactly alone...a body lying next to him he froze ...stuck between the shrubs completely broken ...limbs twisted eyes rolled back....mouth slack Jawed but the corpse seemed familiar...Joseph inched closer with a mixture of fear and awe ...until the head swerved towards it eyes popping open

But Joseph didn't have to think about that he just ran scrambling on his bicycle and cycling as fast as he could out of the bender s end he saw shivraj smirking ..but his expression turned concerned when he saw Joseph s mortified expression Joseph explained about what happened...Shivaraj managed to soothe him "Iam sure it was a hallucination man..."his expression turned cheeky, "now coming back to the race ...."he smirked playfully. Joseph groaned, but he just ended up chuckling. Honestly, he didn't care about the race anymore....he just felt lucky to have a friend like Shivaraj in times like these....They parted ways but when Joseph reached his house with the birthday decorations done he was at his happiest even he saw his mother getting of the phone a Sombre expression on his face ...as she set the phone down...."J-Joseph I-Iam, so sorry..."drawing a sharp breath, Joseph s brows furrowed."Why ma what did 6 mean ...?"His mom closed her eyes, breathing shallow ..."Shivaraj passed away in an accident two hours ago..."Joseph was completely stunned the blood in his body seemed to rush into his head he was unable to speak his mother went on "he was just leaving in his bicycle...when a lorry just crashed into him...a gruesome sight his limbs were twisted eyes rolled back...."She shuddered. Joseph blinked he realized why the corpse looked so familiar....he began to feel an itch in his ear and a voice whispering, "Happy April fools, mate...

THE END....