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anna-the-undertaker · 1 day

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Redemption

Part 2 of Failure

I wrote this while half asleep... i make no promises that this will be of good quality.

tags: @obeymelucigirlie @anfasith

The House of Lamentation was unnervingly quiet in the days following MC’s departure. Even Mammon’s usual complaints had faded, replaced by a tense silence as the brothers struggled to come to terms with what had happened. MC had left, gone without a word, leaving them to face the weight of their own failure.

Lucifer, as always, was the first to break the silence. "We need to go to Diavolo," he said sharply, standing before the others. His voice, though calm, carried the edge of frustration.

Mammon groaned, already exasperated. "Diavolo already told us no, Lucifer. What’s the point of goin' back to him?"

Lucifer’s gaze hardened. "The point is that the exchange program is in jeopardy. If we don’t resolve this, it reflects poorly on Diavolo and everything he’s trying to accomplish. That’s unacceptable."

Satan crossed his arms, eyeing Lucifer with a raised brow. "Of course you’d make it about Diavolo," he scoffed. "As if it’s not our failure that caused this in the first place."

Asmo leaned back, flipping his hair out of his face. "He’s right, though. We did mess up. But leave it to Lucifer to focus on saving Diavolo’s reputation instead of admitting we all screwed up."

Levi huffed from his corner, his eyes still glued to the floor. "Yeah, because it’s not like we’re the ones who pushed MC away or anything," he said sarcastically. "Why admit that when you can just blame it on the need to save face for the program?"

Lucifer’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. His loyalty to Diavolo was unwavering, and while the others were right about their collective failure, the bigger picture was what mattered most to him. "This isn’t just about us," he said, his voice tight. "It’s about maintaining the integrity of the exchange program and Diavolo’s goals. We have to fix this."

"Sure," Mammon snorted. "’Cause that’s what matters, right? Not the fact that we treated MC like shit."

Beel, quiet as ever, finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the tension. "We didn’t think MC would just leave like that. But if they didn’t wait, it’s because we gave them no reason to."

Lucifer glanced at Beel, his expression softening just slightly. "I know we failed them. But if we don’t resolve this, Diavolo’s entire vision is at risk. We owe it to him—and to MC—to make things right."

Satan let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "Fine, let’s go to Diavolo. But don't pretend this is just about protecting Diavolo’s reputation. You need to acknowledge that we failed MC. We can’t keep avoiding that."

Lucifer didn’t respond, but the tension in his stance remained. He knew they were right—on some level, he had to admit their failure was personal. But he couldn’t let the exchange program fall apart because of their mistakes. They had to make things right, for both MC and Diavolo.

When they arrived at the castle, the atmosphere was tense. Diavolo stood before them, his expression stern, a stark contrast to his usual warmth.

“What is it you want?” Diavolo asked, his tone steady but his eyes narrowing slightly. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

Lucifer stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. “We want to go to the human world and bring MC back.”

Diavolo’s expression hardened. “No.”

The rejection was swift, but none of the brothers moved. Lucifer squared his shoulders. “You gave us one task, and we failed it. But we can’t just leave things as they are. MC didn’t deserve the way we treated them. We can fix this, but only if you give us the chance.”

Diavolo’s eyes flickered, but his voice remained firm. “And why should I believe you won’t fail again?”

Mammon, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, spoke up. “Because we ain’t the same idiots we were when they first came here. We get it now. We messed up big time, and MC’s the one who paid the price. But we can make things right.”

Levi fidgeted nervously before chiming in. “We… we didn’t realize how much we hurt them. But we’re not asking for an easy way out. We just want to explain. To show them that things can be different.”

Asmo, for once not focused on himself, added, “They deserve to know that they matter. That we care. We didn’t show it before, but we will now.”

Satan’s voice was steady, but there was a hint of frustration in his tone. “We understand that we have to respect their decision. But we can’t just leave it like this without at least trying.”

Beel’s deep voice was the last to cut through the tension. “We owe them more than an apology. We owe them a choice.”

Diavolo remained silent, his gaze sweeping over each of the brothers. There was no arrogance in their voices, no bravado. They were genuinely remorseful, determined to make amends. But the weight of their failure still lingered heavily between them.

“You realize,” Diavolo began slowly, his voice thoughtful, “that this isn’t just about saying sorry. If I allow this, you will have only one chance.”

Lucifer nodded firmly. “We understand.”

Diavolo watched them closely, his gaze sharp. “Whatever happens, you will live with the consequences. If MC agrees to return, you will respect every boundary, every condition they set. No arguments. No excuses. And if MC says no, you will never reach out to them again. You will let them live their life, free of interference from the Devildom. Can you accept that?”

Another pause, then the brothers spoke almost in unison. “Yes.”

Diavolo sighed, his expression softening, though there was still a hint of wariness in his eyes. “Very well. I’ll grant you permission to go to the human world and speak with them. But remember this—this is your last chance. Whatever MC decides, you must honor it. Do I make myself clear?”

Lucifer nodded.

Diavolo looked at each of them again, his gaze lingering on Lucifer for a moment longer before he nodded. “Then go."

With Diavolo’s permission granted, the brothers turned to leave. They had one chance. One last opportunity to make things right with MC. Whatever happened next, they knew they would have to face it head-on.

And this time, they wouldn’t fail.

The journey to the human world felt strange, foreign even to those accustomed to traveling between realms.

They stood together in awkward silence, the unfamiliarity of the human realm unsettling for even the most composed of them. Lucifer led the group, his expression as unreadable as ever, but the tension in his shoulders was clear. This wasn’t about comfort—this was about obligation. He had made it clear to Diavolo, and to his brothers, that they were here to fix their failure.

The air felt heavier as they approached MC’s neighborhood. The houses were neat and quiet, each one blending into the next, a far cry from the towering grandeur of the Devildom. There was no magic here, no signs of the supernatural, only the mundanity of the human world. It was a stark reminder of how far MC had truly come to be with them—and how easily they had pushed them away.

“Doesn’t feel like they’d be expectin’ us,” Mammon muttered under his breath, his eyes flicking nervously from one house to the next.

“They’re not,” Satan replied curtly, his hands shoved into his pockets. “But they’ll have to hear us out.”

Levi was silent, his anxiety apparent in the way his eyes darted to every unfamiliar detail. He wasn’t sure how they were supposed to approach this. What if MC just slammed the door in their faces?

Beel’s gaze was fixed on the house as they approached it, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “We need to make this right,” he said quietly, though it was more to himself than anyone else.

Lucifer didn’t respond, but his pace didn’t falter. His mind was focused, sharp. This wasn’t about personal feelings—this was about salvaging the exchange program, Diavolo’s vision. But the closer they got to MC’s home, the more the weight of their earlier failure pressed on him.

They reached MC’s house, a modest home nestled in the middle of the street. It was so normal, so human. It was hard to believe that the person they had failed lived here, in a place so different from the Devildom. The brothers exchanged uncertain glances, but Lucifer’s expression remained as stoic as ever.

Lucifer stepped up to the door and knocked, the sound loud in the quiet of the neighborhood. There was a pause, and for a moment, it seemed like the door wouldn’t open at all.

But then it did.

MC stood in the doorway, eyes wide with surprise. They blinked, clearly shocked to see the brothers standing on their doorstep. For a moment, they said nothing, their expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief.

“Lucifer?” MC finally spoke, their voice cautious. They glanced past him at the rest of the brothers, their confusion deepening. “What are you all doing here?”

They didn’t step back, didn’t invite the brothers in. Instead, they remained frozen, their body language tense, as if they didn’t know whether to retreat or demand an explanation.

Lucifer cleared his throat, his voice calm and measured, though there was a slight edge to it. “We’ve come to speak with you.”

MC frowned, clearly taken aback. “Why?” Their tone wasn’t angry, but there was a guardedness in it, a wariness that hadn’t been there before.

“We need to make things right,” Lucifer said, his words deliberate. “We owe you an apology."

MC crossed their arms, their brow furrowing. “You came all the way to the human world just to apologize?”

Lucifer met their gaze evenly. “Yes.”

MC blinked again, clearly not expecting that answer. They stayed in the doorway, not moving, their confusion evident. “I don’t understand. Why now? You didn’t care before.”

The question hung in the air, and the brothers exchanged glances, each one feeling the weight of MC’s words. They were right. They hadn’t cared—or at least, they hadn’t shown it. Now, they were faced with the consequences of that neglect.

Satan spoke first, his voice steady. “We didn’t realize how badly we handled things until it was too late.”

Levi shifted awkwardly, his fingers fidgeting. “We… we thought you’d be okay. That we didn’t need to do anything different.”

Mammon scratched the back of his neck, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. “We screwed up, alright? We know that now.”

MC’s gaze flicked between the brothers, clearly still confused. “But why does it matter to you now? You never gave me a reason to think it did.”

Asmo stepped forward, his usual charm subdued. “It’s not just about us. You deserved better than how we treated you.”

Beel nodded slightly, his deep voice quiet. “We need to fix this. If you’ll let us.”

Lucifer, his voice as calm, added, “We’re here to offer you the choice. You don’t have to decide now. But we’d like to explain… if you’re willing to listen.”

MC stood in silence for a moment, their eyes scanning the group. They still looked uncertain, confused. They had left the Devildom for a reason, and now the same people who had driven them away were standing on their doorstep, asking for a chance.

Lucifer didn’t press further, his gaze steady but not demanding. “We’ll only take as much time as you allow. The decision is yours.”

MC remained rooted in place, unsure whether to let them in or turn them away.

MC sighed heavily, the weight of the situation evident in their expression. They stepped aside, opening the door wider. "One chance. That’s all you’re getting," they said, voice low but firm. "But I’m not promising anything."

The brothers exchanged glances, a mix of tension and uncertainty passing between them. One by one, they followed MC inside, stepping into the human world in a way that felt far too personal, far too grounded. This wasn’t the vast halls of the Devildom or the intimidating presence of Diavolo’s castle. This was MC’s home—ordinary, familiar, and completely foreign to them.

As they entered, they couldn’t help but look around, taking in the details of MC’s space. The house was warm and lived-in, with a simplicity that contrasted sharply with the dark elegance of the Devildom. Personal items were scattered about—photographs on shelves, books stacked on a coffee table, the faint smell of something homemade lingering in the air. It was a place of comfort, a stark reminder of everything MC had left behind when they were dragged to the Devildom.

Their gazes softened for a moment as they looked around, taking in the humanity of it all. It was a world they didn’t understand, a world that MC had been forced to leave behind. And now they were standing in the middle of it, unwelcome guests in a place that clearly wasn’t theirs.

"Follow me," MC said, leading them through the house to the living room.

The brothers shuffled in awkwardly, unsure of where to stand or what to say. The living room was modest, with a worn couch and a few comfortable chairs. MC gestured toward the seating. "Sit wherever," they said, making their way to a large, well-worn armchair in the corner of the room—their favorite spot.

The brothers hesitated for a moment before taking seats. Mammon flopped onto the couch, trying to mask his unease. Levi nervously perched on the edge of a chair, his fingers fidgeting with his sleeves. Asmo crossed his legs delicately, still glancing around the room. Beel, as large as he was, tried to make himself smaller in one of the armchairs, while Satan leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

Lucifer, ever the leader, remained standing, though his posture was more measured now. After a brief silence, he nodded to the others. “We owe you an explanation.”

Mammon was the first to speak. He scratched the back of his neck. "Look, I didn’t mean anythin’ by the stuff I said back in the Devildom. You’re not useless. I just… I didn’t think about how it sounded." He glanced at MC, guilt flickering across his face. "I’m sorry for all the times I treated ya like a burden. That wasn’t fair."

Levi shifted in his seat, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t mean to shut you out. I just… I didn’t know how to deal with it, you being a human and all. It felt… weird. But it wasn’t because I hated you or anything. I just didn’t know what to do."

Satan, his arms still crossed, spoke next, his voice calm but measured. "I was too focused on my own pursuits to notice how you were feeling. I treated you like an afterthought because I assumed you’d adapt. That was my mistake."

Asmo leaned forward slightly, his usual charm dimmed. "I thought I was helping, you know? Giving you tips, telling you how to look your best. But I guess I never really thought about what you needed, not just what I thought you should be."

Beel, quiet as always, spoke softly. "I didn’t think about how my indifference affected you. I didn’t realize you felt so out of place because of it. I’m sorry I made you feel like you didn’t matter... and that I didn't step in even though I saw they way my brothers treated you."

Finally, Lucifer stepped forward, his gaze steady as he addressed MC directly. "We failed you. I failed you. We were tasked with making you feel welcome in the Devildom, and we did the opposite. But I’m asking you now to return to the Devildom and take part in the exchange program again. This time, things will be different. You have my word that your boundaries will be respected, and your needs will be considered. The choice is yours."

MC stared at them, their expression unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface began to rise. Their hands clenched the arms of the chair, and their breathing became heavier.

"You think this is that simple?" MC’s voice was tight, their body rigid with restrained emotion. “You think you can just come here, apologize, and ask me to go back like nothing happened?”

The brothers exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the shift in MC’s tone.

“You don’t get it, do you?" MC’s voice grew louder, their frustration bubbling to the surface. "I was trying so hard. I was trying to adapt to everything, to be understanding, to keep up with whatever the hell was happening. But none of you cared. None of you bothered to see how hard it was for me.”

Their eyes welled up with tears, but their anger didn’t waver. "I stepped up, even though I had no idea what the fuck was going on! I was thrown into a world I didn’t understand, and you treated me like I was beneath you because I’m human."

Levi shifted uncomfortably, his guilt written across his face.

"You all ignored the fact that I’m human. Do you even realize what that means?" MC’s voice cracked with anger and hurt. "The human world is nothing like the Devildom. We don’t have magic. We don’t have super strength. Everything you guys take for granted? We don’t have that. All the dangers I was exposed to, all the things I saw? I only knew about that stuff from works of fiction!"

The brother's expressions tightened, but they remained silent, letting MC speak.

"I didn’t ask for any of it!" MC continued, their voice rising. "And all I expected—all I wanted—was some support. But even that was too much for you."

Tears streamed down their face as they yelled, their emotions finally spilling over. "You treated me like I was nothing. Like I didn’t matter. And you didn’t even realize it!"

MC’s breath came in shaky gasps as they continued, their voice rising again. "You never thought about what it was like for me, did you? To be ripped out of my world, thrown into yours without a choice. You have no idea what that felt like. The fear, the confusion…"

Their eyes flickered to Lucifer, their tone sharp. "Lucifer, you were supposed to guide me, to make sure I was okay. But all you did was push me harder. You kept demanding more, expecting me to be perfect, like I was supposed to just know how everything worked. You never stopped to think that maybe I couldn’t keep up because I had no idea what I was doing!"

Lucifer’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, allowing MC’s words to cut through the air.

"I kept trying!" MC shouted, their voice cracking again. "I tried to understand all of you! I tried to accept you as you were because I thought… I thought maybe, just maybe, we could make this work. But none of you did that for me. None of you even bothered to try to understand or get to know me."

They took a shaky breath, their fists clenched at their sides. "You all treated me like I was less than you. Like I was just some... pest. Do you even realize how much that hurt?"

Their eyes flitted to Mammon, and their voice softened, though the pain was still raw. "We made a pact... I thought we could be friends, but instead, every day you called me a burden, Mammon, every day you called me useless, and I believed it."

Mammon shifted uncomfortably, his gaze lowering to the floor.

"And Levi…" MC’s voice cracked with hurt. "You made me feel like I was some kind of alien. I tried to get closer, to understand your hobbies, your games, your anime, but you didn’t want me there. You didn’t want me at all."

Levi swallowed hard, his fingers twitching nervously, but he remained silent.

"Satan…" MC shook their head, their voice trembling. "You acted like I was nothing more than an inconvenience. I tried to learn from you, to be better, but you couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge me."

Satan’s face remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—regret, perhaps, or guilt.

"Asmo…" MC’s gaze hardened. "You treated me like I was a toy. You never cared about what I was feeling, only how I looked."

Asmo bit his lip, his usual charm nowhere to be found.

"And Beel…" MC’s voice softened again, though the hurt was clear. "You never cared whether I was there or not. You never even saw me, not really."

Beel’s brow furrowed, his expression conflicted, but he stayed silent.

MC’s voice shook as they continued, the flood of emotions finally breaking through. "Do any of you have any idea what it was like for me? Did any of you stop to think, even for a second, what I was going through? I was terrified, overwhelmed, and completely lost, and none of you cared. You just went on with your lives like it didn’t matter."

Their chest heaved as they struggled to rein in their emotions, tears streaming down their face. "I didn’t ask to be dragged into the Devildom! You all brought me there! I was tossed into an ocean of unknowns and left to drown!"

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of MC’s words settling over the brothers like a lead blanket. Each of them sat in their guilt, forced to confront the truth they had ignored for far too long.

They took a deep breath, wiping the tears from their face. "I get it. You’re all different. Your personalities, your sins—they make you who you are. But it still hurt. And you never even noticed."

The room was thick with tension, the weight of MC’s words still hanging in the air. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the occasional shifting of one of the brothers. They could feel the storm of emotions brewing within MC, but none of them knew how to approach it.

It was Mammon, uncharacteristically quiet for most of the conversation, who finally broke the silence. His voice was softer than usual, hesitant. "Why didn’t ya wait? Why didn’t ya give us a chance to—"

"I did wait!" MC screamed, their voice cracking with the raw force of emotion. Their words sliced through the air, and the brothers stiffened, caught off guard by the intensity of the outburst. "I waited for days. I stayed at the castle, going back and forth in my head, wondering if I should stay in the Devildom or leave."

They took a shaky breath, the flood of emotions overwhelming them. "I was hoping—no, praying—that one of you would notice. That one of you would realize I was gone and do something. I thought maybe… maybe you’d text me, or call, or show up and ask where I was. But none of you did! Not a single one of you noticed I wasn’t there!"

Lucifer’s eyes darkened with a mix of guilt and frustration, but he didn’t speak. Neither did the others.

"I kept thinking that maybe I was just overwhelmed," MC continued, their voice trembling. "That maybe I needed time to clear my head, and someone—anyone—would realize I was gone. But you didn’t. None of you cared enough to ask where I was."

Their hands were clenched into fists at their sides, their anger spilling over. "Do you even know how long I waited before leaving? How long I sat in that castle, hoping that you’d notice?"

The brothers remained silent, each of them wrestling with their own guilt. MC’s eyes flickered between them, their breath coming in short bursts.

"How long did it take for you to realize I was gone?" MC asked, their voice cutting through the silence like a knife. Their gaze was sharp, demanding an answer. But none of the brothers spoke. Not a single one of them could bring themselves to say it.

The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating. The truth was clear in their hesitation—it had taken far too long for them to realize MC had left.

MC let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. "That’s what I thought."

Lucifer stood still, his usual composed demeanor fraying at the edges. He couldn’t meet MC’s eyes. The weight of their words, the sharp truth of how deeply they had been hurt, cut through him in a way he hadn’t expected.

“I failed you,” he finally said, his voice low but clear. There was no defensiveness, no attempt to explain away his actions. Just a cold admission of the truth. "My priority has always been the exchange program, ensuring it succeeded for Diavolo’s sake. I didn’t stop to think about the toll it was taking on you."

He took a breath, trying to maintain his composure, but the guilt was palpable. "I pushed you because I assumed you could adapt quickly. I expected you to adjust without fully understanding the strain I was placing on you. That was wrong. I should have noticed your absence, but I was too focused on everything else. On controlling the situation."

His fists clenched at his sides. The fact that he, the one who prided himself on being aware of every detail, had completely overlooked MC’s struggles stung his pride deeply. Yet, even now, he struggled to express anything beyond responsibility for the failure.

"I should have reached out. I should have ensured you were taken care of. That’s on me." His voice hardened, more with self-directed frustration than anything else. "But I can’t change the past. All I can do is offer my word that, if you return, things will be different. You’ll have the support you deserved from the start. I’ll make sure of it."

There was no grand apology, no emotional outpouring. This was Lucifer, after all. But in his own way, he was laying down the burden of perfection, admitting his faults, and offering what he could—a promise to do better.

Mammon shifted uncomfortably, the guilt weighing heavily on him as MC’s words echoed in his mind. He was used to deflecting, cracking jokes, or brushing things off, but this was different. The raw hurt in MC’s voice had stripped away his usual defenses, leaving him feeling exposed.

He finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual. "Look, I didn’t think—no, I know I didn’t think. I was stupid, alright? I didn’t mean half the stuff I said to ya, callin’ ya a burden and all that. I thought we were just messin’ around, y’know? But I see now that it wasn’t like that for you."

His hand rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he couldn’t shake. "I didn’t notice you were gone ‘cause I wasn’t payin’ attention. I was too caught up in my own crap, thinkin’ you’d just be fine on your own. But ya weren’t, and I didn’t realize it until it was too late."

Mammon’s eyes flicked toward MC, the usual spark of confidence gone, replaced by a rare moment of sincerity. "I shoulda been there for ya. You’re my responsibility—I’m your first, after all and I was startin' to enjoy havin' ya around. And instead of bein’ there when ya needed me, I pushed ya away."

His voice softened, regret heavy in his words. "If I had just checked in, sent a stupid text, somethin'—maybe ya wouldn’t have left. But I didn’t, and that’s on me."

He took a deep breath, his usual bravado completely absent. "I’m sorry. I dunno how else to say it. I messed up big time, and I wanna fix it, if you’ll let me."

Mammon looked down at the floor, unable to meet MC’s eyes any longer, his usual cockiness replaced with genuine remorse.

Levi sat rigidly in his chair, his fingers twitching as he tried to form the right words. Anxiety clung to him, making it hard to even look up at MC. His usual self-deprecating thoughts were swirling in his mind, amplified by the heavy silence that followed Mammon’s apology.

"I... I didn’t know you felt that way," Levi stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought… I thought you didn’t really care about me. Like, why would you? I’m just some otaku, stuck in my room, not worth bothering with."

He tugged at his sleeves, fidgeting, the weight of guilt pressing down hard. "I—I kept calling you a normie, pushing you away, ‘cause… I didn’t know how to deal with you being around. I thought you’d never get me. Like, how could you understand me? So, I kept my distance. I didn’t want to let you in."

Levi finally glanced up at MC, his eyes filled with regret. "But that wasn’t fair. You… you tried. You were trying to get close, to understand me, and I didn’t let you. I didn’t see how much you were struggling. I was too wrapped up in my own insecurities to even notice you were gone. I should’ve noticed. I should’ve said something, but I just—"

He stopped, biting his lip, his gaze dropping back to the floor. "I screwed up. And the worst part is, I made you feel like you didn’t belong, like you didn’t matter. But you do. I… I’m sorry."

The silence that followed was deafening to Levi. He didn’t know if his words meant anything, but it was all he could offer now. The regret, the shame—it all churned in his gut, knowing he had failed to be a friend when MC needed one the most.

Satan stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He had listened intently as each of his brothers spoke, but now that it was his turn, the weight of his own actions—or lack thereof—pressed on him. Unlike the others, Satan wasn’t one for emotional outbursts or long-winded apologies, but he knew MC deserved more than just silence.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he began, his tone measured, controlled. "I’ve always been more focused on my own interests. Books, knowledge, the pursuit of understanding… I’ve lived with the assumption that I didn’t need to involve myself in others’ lives unless it directly concerned me."

He met MC’s eyes for the first time, his usual calm replaced with a tinge of regret. "I treated you like you didn’t exist. I didn’t see you struggling because, frankly, I didn’t care enough to look."

Satan paused, his voice tightening with frustration. "I should have known better. I’m not a fool. I’m aware of how difficult it must have been for you, adjusting to the Devildom, dealing with us. But I ignored it. I let my own indifference and arrogance blind me to what was happening right in front of me."

He took a slow breath, his jaw clenched slightly. "I didn’t notice when you left because, in my mind, you were just another part of the background. But I realize now how wrong that was. I should have paid attention. I should have acknowledged your presence, your struggles, from the very start."

Satan’s voice softened, though it remained steady. "You deserved better than how I treated you. I can’t change the way I acted, but I can promise that, if you give us another chance, things will be different. I’ll be better."

There was no dramatic flair in his words, no false humility. It was simply the truth as he saw it—a cold admission of how deeply he had failed to live up to his own standards.

Asmo shifted in his seat, his usual charm and carefree attitude nowhere to be found. The guilt was evident in his eyes, but beneath it, there was a hint of confusion. He wasn’t used to feeling like this—uncertain, unsure of how to fix what had been broken.

"Darling," Asmo began softly, his voice lacking its usual flirtatious lilt, "I… I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you."

He folded his hands in his lap, fidgeting slightly, a stark contrast to his usual self-assured posture. "I thought… well, I thought I was helping. You know? I mean, I love helping people express themselves. I thought if I gave you advice, helped you look your best, it would make things easier for you in the Devildom."

He paused, biting his lip as he tried to find the right words. "But I get it now. I wasn’t thinking about what you wanted. I was just focused on what I thought you needed. I treated you like you were just some kind of project—something to dress up, to show off."

Asmo’s eyes softened, and he leaned forward slightly, his voice quieter now. "I didn’t care about what you were going through. I didn’t stop to think about how you felt, how overwhelmed you must’ve been."

He looked down at his hands, his fingers twirling a ring absently. "I should’ve noticed. I should’ve been there for you—not as someone trying to change you, but as someone who cared about you. The real you. And I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner."

For once, Asmo seemed lost for words. His usual self-confidence had been stripped away, leaving behind something more vulnerable. "I just… I want you to know that I do care. I always did, in my own way. I just went about it the wrong way."

Beel sat quietly, his large hands resting on his knees as he processed everything MC had said. His usual calm, almost stoic demeanor had given way to a sense of heaviness that weighed on him in a way that even food couldn’t distract him from. He looked down, his brow furrowed, trying to find the right words to explain what he was feeling.

"I didn’t notice you were gone," Beel said, his voice deep and quiet. "And I should have. I’m sorry."

He shifted in his seat, his gaze still focused on the floor. "I’ve always been focused on my hunger, on making sure I didn’t lose control. And because of that, I didn’t pay attention to how you were feeling. I didn’t think about how hard things were for you."

Beel’s eyes flicked up to meet MC’s, the sincerity in his voice clear. "I didn’t mean to make you feel invisible. I just… I didn’t know how to be there for you. I figured as long as I wasn’t hurting you, it didn’t matter if I wasn’t around. But I was wrong."

He took a breath, his hands clenching slightly in frustration with himself. "I should have noticed you were struggling. I should have made sure you were okay. But I didn't."

There was a pause as Beel collected his thoughts, trying to put into words the regret he felt. "I’m sorry for the times I made you feel like you didn’t belong. I didn’t see how much it hurt you, but I see it now. And if you give us a chance, I’ll make sure you don’t feel that way again."

Beel’s expression was somber, his usual calmness replaced with a quiet guilt that weighed heavily on him. He wasn’t one for grand speeches, but in this moment, his words carried the weight of his sincerity.

MC’s hands trembled slightly as they wiped their eyes, their voice still raw from the intensity of their outburst. The confessions and apologies from each brother had hit them hard, but there was still a part of them that remained guarded. They looked at the brothers, one by one, searching their faces for something—anything—to prove that their words were more than just an attempt to ease their own guilt.

"Do you really mean it?" MC asked, their voice quieter now but still carrying a sharp edge of vulnerability. "All of you? Are you really sorry, or are you just saying this because you feel guilty?"

The brothers exchanged glances, the weight of the question pressing down on them. It wasn’t just an apology MC needed—it was proof that they could trust the brothers again.

Lucifer spoke first, his voice steady and firm. "I meant every word. We’ve failed you, and I won’t deny that. But I wouldn’t ask you to return if I didn’t believe we could make things right this time."

Mammon nodded quickly, his hands fidgeting nervously. "Yeah, we ain’t just sayin’ it to make ourselves feel better. I messed up, but I ain’t gonna let that happen again. I promise, MC."

Levi swallowed hard, still battling his anxiety. "I… I mean it too. I don’t want to push you away anymore. I’ll try harder to let you in."

Satan uncrossed his arms, his expression more thoughtful. "I don’t make promises lightly. But if I say I’ll do better, I will. You have my word."

Asmo leaned forward, his voice softer than usual. "I really do care, darling. I may not have shown it the right way before, but I’ll do better. I promise."

Beel, as straightforward as ever, added quietly, "I’m sorry for everything. I’ll try to be more aware of you, of what you need. You deserve that."

MC looked down for a moment, their mind racing. They had every right to walk away, to tell the brothers it was too late, that the damage was done. But something deep inside them—something that had longed for connection, for understanding—pushed them to speak again.

"I’ll come back," MC said slowly, their voice still shaky, "but only if things change. I’m not asking all of you to suddenly like me or be my best friend, but I need you to try. To at least get to know me on some level. I want to feel like I belong, and that won’t happen unless you put in some effort."

The brothers were silent, listening closely as MC continued. "I need you to be more understanding, more supportive. I’ve been doing this on my own, and I can’t come back if it’s going to be like that again. I need to know that you’ll try—that you’ll actually make an effort this time."

The weight of MC’s decision hung in the air, but for the first time since the conversation began, a sense of relief settled over the room. The brothers exchanged glances, the unspoken understanding that this was their second chance—the one they couldn’t afford to waste.

Lucifer stepped forward slightly, his voice steady but softer than before. "We’ll return to the Devildom together. You have my word, things will be different."

Mammon flashed a small grin, though there was still a hint of nervousness in his expression. "Yeah, this time, we’ve got your back, promise. Ya won’t regret comin’ back with us."

Levi nodded quickly, still fidgeting. "I’ll... I’ll try to be better. We’ll make sure you don’t feel alone this time."

Satan gave a brief nod, his voice as firm as ever. "We’ll make the Devildom feel like a place you belong. It won’t be like before."

Asmo, flashing his usual charming smile, added, "This time, darling, we’ll show you that you're welcome. I’ll make sure of it."

Beel simply nodded, his deep voice reassuring. "We’ll look out for you, like we should have from the start."

MC felt the heaviness in their chest lift slightly. There was still a lot of work to be done—trust to rebuild, feelings to unpack—but maybe this time, it could work. They gave a small nod, their voice steady but cautious. "Alright. Let’s go back. Together."

The brothers seemed to relax, the tension in the room dissolving just a little. Lucifer gestured toward the door, his usual authoritative air returning. "Then let’s not waste any more time."

With that, they left MC’s house, stepping back into the human world’s fading light. The transition back to the Devildom felt different this time, the air buzzing with a mix of uncertainty and determination.

As they stood together in front of the portal, the brothers and MC exchanged one last glance. It wasn’t just a return to the Devildom—it was the beginning of a new chapter. One built on mutual effort, understanding, and, most importantly, the chance to do things right.

Together, they stepped through the portal, leaving the human world behind. The familiar sights of the Devildom greeted them on the other side, but this time, the tension that once filled the space between them had begun to fade.

This time, they returned as something more—something closer to what MC and the brother's had always needed.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me diavolo

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masterqwertster · 2 days

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I so agree, with your thoughts about Ashton!

It's odd, to me, that Ashton in particular has garnered so much hatred. If you look back on all of Taliesin's characters across every campaign, he's ultimately not that different in personality from the others, save maybe Caduceus. Percy, Molly, and Ashton are all people who have been deeply beaten down by the circumstances they were forced into, and they gained a rough exterior to protect themselves because of it.

They're snarky, and try to act aloof to keep people at an arm's length, but at their core, they still have bleeding hearts that love much more deeply than they probably wish they did. In other words, they are interesting, multilayered characters, that don't just have one note. It's strange then, that these same characteristics are so widely celebrated with Percy and Molly, but are treated as reasons to hate Ashton in the same breath.

Taliesin is a master at making characters that make you think, and I think Ashton deserves to be celebrated as such, just as much as the others!

To be honest, I can't speak much of previous PCs' reception since I only got into CR Tumblr around Bells Hells arriving in Yios, but I think the difference is framing.

Taliesin has stated that his through-line on his PCs is the characteristic Confidently Wrong.

I would guess that the reason Ashton is catching flak is because:

a) they've got shit Charisma and Taliesin plays that as Doesn't Know What to Say and/or Doesn't Know When to Shut Up. Which on a disillusioned/cynical punk is... abrasive to say the least. They tell their truths with little to no filter, or much thought at times about how true those things are for others. Meanwhile, Molly and Percy are charming in carny and nobility ways respectively, while Caduceus has a calm, homey charm. Ashton is semi-intentionally off-putting, and pretty constantly cranky to some degree from chronic pain.

and b) Recently, Ashton is Confidently Wrong about a subject any attentive watcher can tag as being wrong and has major consequences on the world if acted on. Like, yes, you don't want a heartless, powerful murderer to push the Doomsday Button. But your group of caring, weak(? not really anymore) chucklefuck friends pushing the button doesn't change its doomsday nature or really make it any better. Also, all your information on what the Doomsday Button does exactly is suspect. I don't think any of the other's Confidently Wrong subjects were so potentially devastating for more than themselves or their parties rather than the globe. It's easier to grant grace when you're fucking over less people.

Now do I wish Ashton would get a clue that releasing Predathos is bad, period? Absolutely. But I also have been watching him and when they get an idea in their head, he tends to stick to it until proven wrong (think the Spark mess. Fearne hesitated last second, Ashton didn't). And the idea in their head right now is: The gods need to leave, their thrones need to be destroyed.

I think part of Ashton's rage at the gods that fuels this idea is wanting someone to blame that isn't himself for his shit life, and finding the gods a good target for blame, as Taliesin has mentioned on 4-Sided Dive before. And I think part of it is that FCG did a lot of proclaiming to be on the anti-Ludinus/Predathos stuff to save his goddess, and then he died as part of their missions, and then Ashton was shown a video about how the gods absolutely will sacrifice their followers to save their own asses. Which is kind of the situation FCG died in, if you slant it a bit and act like FCG wasn't mainly choosing to save their friends in the moment rather than the gods long-term. So it probably feels better to Ashton to throw some of that anger about FCG making the sacrificial play that he's been trying so hard to prevent at the gods who FCG was trying to serve.

And I get that not everyone wants to do the analysis on why Ashton is picking the path he is. That they don't want to take time to acknowledge his lack of social graces and the bias of his views, and would rather just get to attacking the faulty, insensitive rhetoric Ashton's spouting at the moment. But like, there's reasons Ashton is the way they are, and it doesn't hurt to acknowledge them even as you hard disagree with what's being said or strived for.

#MQ&A #critical role #cr spoilers #ashton greymoore

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chuuyascumsock · 14 hours

Text

Bury Beneath this Filth they Call Skin and Turn it into a Garden || MINORS DNI

Summary: I made a hurt/comfort fic for Chuuya, I might as well make a comfort fic for Dazai too cause he’s my soft spot.

Tags: Dazai Osamu/Reader, GN reader, Angst, Comfort, No One Is Safe, Mentions Of Self Sabotaging, Self-deprecating Thoughts, Mentions Of Dehumanization, Mentions Of Suicide Attempt, Dazai Highkey Has Bad Hygiene Because I Know He Canonically Reeks Of Liquid Ass (I Still Love Him But Honey—), Brief Description Of Self Harm Scars, He Takes Off His Bandages, Non-Sexual Nudity For A Bit.

Dazai doesn’t remember when you started to keep an extra pair of clothes in your bottom drawer just for him.

He doesn’t remember when you bought an extra toothbrush for him either, the item sitting in a small cup on your bathroom counter so intimately close to yours. He doesn’t remember when you started to stock your cabinets with canned crab or an occasional snack he had stolen from you before and said it tasted good. He doesn’t remember when you began preparing meals big enough for two. And he doesn’t remember when you started to look at him the way you do.

Those eyes that so fondly trace over every inch of his frame like he’s capable of being loved— like he’s not a silver-tongued beast of a man, his words filled with more teeth than his bite ever could. He doesn’t deserve it— he knows he doesn’t— so why does he find himself at your doorstep every time he fails his attempts in ending his miserable existence?

“You’re going to get sick if you keep this up,” You sigh out, stripping away Dazai’s soaked clothes until he’s shivering in his sopping wet bandages and boxers. “And you smell horrible every time…” Your nose slightly scrunches at the lingering smell of hydrogen sulfide and mucky water from the Yokohama canal.

“Whatever do you mean, dear? That’s just my natural musk,” Dazai gives a lopsided grin, attempting to lighten the mood. His grin falls into an uneasy look when he notices the brief side eye you give him as you toss his clothes into the washer.

“My water bills spike every month you do this, you know,” You point out blamelessly.

“Sorry,” Dazai mumbles with a weak smile. He always made a promise to try his hardest not to inconvenience anyone while making his attempts— making it up to those who he had done so with such as Atsushi. But he’s burdened you countless times, not realizing until now. Before he mentally promises himself to never return to you like a pathetic, mangy stray dog— you come into his view again.

“Don’t be sorry, but please come to me when you feel the urge to do these things, ‘Samu. I worry about you.” And Dazai can’t help but to immediately let his previous thoughts fly away. Who was he kidding? He’d never be able to stay away from you.

Your hands carefully reach to begin unwrapping the bandages sliding off Dazai’s body. Flinching, Dazai subconsciously moves a hand to stop you from taking his bandages off. There’s a momentary standstill between both of your movements as you look into his eyes with a reassuring gaze before his hand relaxes and falls to his side. It’s not the first time this has happened, but Dazai doesn’t think he’d ever get used to the feeling of having his protective cloth shed to reveal the myriad of scars that are engraved on this once blank canvas that humans call skin.

And when all is removed, you still look at him as you always had with an unwavering fondness that leaves him subconsciously leaning into you, yearning to be swallowed and drowned in your gentle affections. He doesn’t understand why you do the things that you do, such as loving him no matter how many times he tells you how much he doesn’t need you because it’s always been like that— lonely— or why you even put up with any of his shit for that matter. But you do. And he thinks he’ll never know why, because he’s terrible and doesn’t deserve what you do in return to his horrid behavior.

He slips into the tub without needing guidance, face tilting up to look at you without his usual charming grin, expression replaced with a quiet pleading, begging for any sliver of attention you can offer. And you give into his pleads, sitting by the tub while running a hand through his dark tangled hair before reaching for a washcloth to bathe him. There’s a lack of cheeky comments and flirting from Dazai as you rinse away the grime sticking to his tainted skin, his eyes flickering from distant to focused in a matter of minutes before glancing back over to you and melting further into your reverent touch.

Even after exiting the tub, he says nothing, allowing you to wrap a towel around his shoulders and place a tender kiss to his forehead. If this had been any other day, he would’ve teased you to no end about how you had to stand on your toes just to reach his face, but he merely softly smiles in mild amusement and lets you lead him into your room to get dressed.

He wears the extra pair of clothes you keep for him at the bottom of your drawer, shirt loosely hanging off his shoulders and pajama pants dragging along the floor each time he takes a step forward to follow you to your bed. He was used to sleeping on his futon, but he much preferred your bed and the comfort your body brought when he tangled his limbs in yours.

You don’t scold him either when he buries his face into your neck like you used to the first few times he had done so— complaining about his hot breath on your neck. Now, you reach a hand back to scratch your fingers through his damp hair in an affectionate manner, sighing out softly in what he can tell is contentment.

Even as Dazai drifts off, he can’t help but think about the irony of hating dogs as much as he does, yet he can’t help but love you like one.

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #yeah sex is cool but have you ever intimately gave your stinky comfort character a bath?#bsd dazai #I was going to make him a smut but I really needed a short fic

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jasntodds · 2 days

Text

Penance [7]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 8,230

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, fluff, mentions of death, hurt/comfort, mentions of scars, small description of jason's autopsy scar, smut, 18+ mdni

Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: It was my birthday a few weeks ago and 2 days later I was in the ER with a bad kidney infection so that's why this is late lol I'm sorry!! lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Jason and you patrol together and it feels like old times. You work well together just as you always have and it’s something the both of you really needed. Patrolling with Tim was different because you had to and you couldn’t really do it how you were used to because it was about training Tim and showing him the ropes. But this? This is like it always was, fighting side by side, teaming up and taking turns interrogating people. You stop at Excellent Gotham halfway through and park yourselves by Jason’s favorite gargoyle to eat.

You think tonight is healing parts of you. You felt hopeless before and now you're sitting here with your favorite person as if nothing has really changed. Maybe you don’t need to punish yourself all of the time and maybe this can be good. Maybe you can let yourself heal from everything. If Jason can, don’t you deserve to try?

“Wasn’t too boring tonight, was it?” Jason quips, the both of you back in your street clothes as you stand outside of your apartment building, Jason having rode home with you to make sure you got home safe.

“Eh.” You shrug. “It was alright I guess.” You scrunch your nose at him.

“Alright?!” Jason scoffs. “Bullshit. I’m a fucking trip.”

“You’re something.” You let out a cackle and Jason is relieved to see you look so happy. You looked lost earlier. “Can I ask you something?” You ask.

“What’s up?” Jason shifts his weight to his left leg, resting the helmet on his hip.

“When do you go see Leslie again?” You look down, tugging your sleeves over your hands before your eyes come up to Jason's.

Jason's brows raise slightly before he shrugs. “Uh…few days, why?”

“Can you, uh, a-ask her if she…ya know…maybe I need…to go.”

Jason nods his head with a warm smile. “Yeah, I’ll ask her and give her your number.”

“Thanks, Jay.” You give him a small and shy smile.

“Of course.” Jason smiles softly. “Hate fucking admitting it, but it’s been helping a bit again.”

“Good. I, uh, that’s why I wanna go. Might be for the best.”

“Good. Can’t hurt.” Jason nods his head.

“Yeah.” You smile softly. “Well, I’m gonna head in but thanks for tonight.”

“Do it again?” The corner of Jason's tugs into a hopeful smirk.

“Hell yeah.” You laugh softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You beam before spinning on your heels and entering the apartment building.

A smile is stretched across your face as you make your way up the three flights of stairs to your apartment. No part of you believes going to see Leslie is going to be easy but if she’s helping Jason who literally died, surely she can help you. And it feels really good to finally feel like you and Jason might be falling back into some sort of normal after everything.

You enter your apartment, pressing your back against the door as it shuts behind you. The TV is playing quietly from the living room, the rest of the apartment is dark. You're so stuck on how well the night went, you almost miss the sound of Molly’s voice coming from your living room.

“Molly?” You question, pushing off the door and walking the few feet into the kitchen, looking into the living room thanks to the open concept layout.

Molly is leaning against the arm of the couch holding her phone against her thighs. A wide smile splits her face as Jurassic Park is playing on the TV. Molly is still rambling on about the first time she saw the movie, completely ignoring your presence. You roll your eyes and walk over to the back of the couch, looking at her phone screen.

“Hey.” Gar chimes.

Molly jumps. “When did you get back?” Molly ask.

“Just now?” You question. “Hey, Gar?” Your brows furrow, looking between the two of them.

Nothing going on, sure.

Molly looks at the time on her phone. “Did it go okay? You’re not mad are you?” Molly questions.

“What happened?” Gar asks.

You look between the two of them and maybe nothing is going on but from where you're standing, it definitely looks like it. You aren't even upset about it, but if something is going on, you think it's weird and confusing neither one of them would just say something but you aren't going to push. It's not really your business or your place. So, you decide, you're not even gonna say anything. You'll sit back and see what happens with them.

“Nothing?” You shake your head. “We patrolled together, grabbed some food, and came back.” You shrug your shoulders. “So, I’m gonna shower and head to bed.” You reach over the couch and steal a handful of popcorn from Molly’s bowl. You glance to the TV, watching the water in the cup on the dash of the Jeep start to vibrate. “You guys are missing the best part.” You state as you start walking away. “Get it together, guys.” You make your voice cheery, making sure they know you're joking and you can hear Molly laugh quietly as you enter your room.

You grab your change of clothes before heading to the bathroom and hopping in the shower. Music plays through the bathroom until it's interrupted by a ding from a text. You peek out of the shower just in time to see your phone screen still on with Jason’s contact on your screen. He’s texted you a quick ‘made it home’. You smile to yourself and continue washing your hair while your phone chimes again. This time when you look over, it’s a second text from Jason telling you you should just meet him at his place around noon and you can go to Home Depot together. You roll your eyes but your smile is glued to your lips while you finish your shower.

You take a seat on the toilet seat with a towel draped around your body. You pick up your phone while your stomach bubbles and twists.

You: What? Don’t trust my driving?

Jaybird: No ☠️

You: Fuck you 🔪

Jaybird: I’m really shaking in my boots babe

You: You suck

Jaybird: 🤤

You: 🤮

Jaybird: 🖕

You: Ill see you tomorrow I do like to be chauffeured around

Jaybird: How many times did it take autocorrect to get that word right?

Your jaw drops before you burst out laughing. He’s such an asshole but it did take more than a few tries to get that damn word right and he would know.

You: I will walk over to your apartment and fucking stab you so fucking help me jason todd

Jaybird: You’d have to catch me first babe

You: That a dare?

Jaybird: I dare you

You: Okay

You toss your phone and immediately start getting dressed in sweats. You don’t bother with makeup or anything else. You get the bathroom tidied up before you exit the bathroom, phone in hand before you go for your backpack. Molly is still peaking over the couch on her Facetime call with Gar.

“What’re you doing?” Molly asks.

“Going to stab Jason.” You answer casually while Molly looks to her phone at Gar.

“She’s doing what?”

“He dared me, Gar!” You yell but Molly and Gar can tell by the airiness in your voice it's really not that serious.

“He dared you to stab him?” Molly asks, unsure if she really heard you correctly or if she really wants to any sort of context.

You widen your eyes at her, nodding your head quickly. “Yeah! And I’m not gonna back down. It’s a dare.” You scoff with the furrow of your brows.

“Were they always this weird?” Molly asks Gar.

“Hey!” You yell.

“Yes.” Gar answers with a nod.

“Okay, I’ll be back!” You call with a smile as you kick your shoes on and head out, locking the three locks on your way out.

Jason prepares for you to get there, knowing you take dares seriously. He unlocks the door and shuts every light off in the place. If you want to come for him, he’s not going to make it easy. That ruins the game. It’s silly and he knows but at this point, he doesn’t want to miss even a single opportunity with you. Yes, he shouldn't have wasted a month and a half and neither should you but he’s thinking maybe that was for the best. It did give you both space to start to healing. It gave you both space to start setting up your own lives and finding out who you are today. It seems to have helped and there’s nothing saying you can’t continue while trying to get back what you once had. Optimism is not something that ever came easy to Jason Todd but he’s letting himself feel optimistic about you for just a second.

You pull up to Jason's place, seeing it’s completely dark. At first, it almost scares you, thinking maybe something happened and this is a trap. That would be something that could happen. But, that thought fades quickly because you don’t have that pit in your stomach and Jason would never have played along with anything to endanger you. This is Jason being a shit.

You dig in your bag and pull out your phone, using the flashlight as you enter the building, keeping light on your toes.

“Finally.” Jason's voice rings through the speaker system. “Usual rules?”

This was something you did at the Manor when Bruce was out. You blacked out the entire house, the only light would come from the moon outside. Other than that, it was just you two and a black house trying to locate each other. The only rules were not to permanently injure the other one -- don’t shove each other down the stairs and no lethal weapons. First person to disarm the other wins.

“You’re on, Jay.” You call as you shut your flashlight off, pocketing your phone.

You have your hands at your sides as they start to warm and glow a vibrant shade of green. Your steps are careful, using the glow to guide your feet. Back at the manor, you didn’t even need the light from your hands at one point. You had the whole place memorized from doing this with Jason which did kind of defeat some of the purpose of the blacking out the building but it served enough purpose. Plus, there are more stakes. It has the same premise as Dick’s whole thing with the blindfolds but this is more fun.

Jason is positioned at the end of the hall, carefully listening. He can see the glow of your hands which he said was cheating at first, until he realized he can also find you. He doesn’t need the glowing but it’s definitely not a bad thing to have on his end. So, he stands against the wall, watching and listening to you walk closer. His eyes track you, knowing you’ll search the full hallway before attempting the stairs. A part of him wants to dodge around you and essentially play a weird game of hide and seek but instead, he keeps his feet planted. The idea is to disarm, not to find.

Your hands stop glowing the further down the hallway you get. Jason's brows furrow, still listening to your footsteps. They echo softly no matter how light on your feet you try to be. If you know anything, it’s that Jason likes to play games. He’s going to make finding him easy the first time because that’s the point. And then you’ll have to spar it out until one of you backs off and runs off. He’s done this before so you keep walking with soft feet until you reach the end of the hallway. Jason is like a radiator. He could heat up an entire room if left there long enough so as you stand right in front of him, you can feel the space between you growing warmer.

You strike first, just missing his head as Jason grabs your arm. He spins you around as you kick your leg around his, sending you both to the ground. Jason falls on top of you, barely catching his weight on his hands to not crush you and you don’t miss a beat, crawling from under him only for Jason to grab your ankle and yank you back. Jason hears your laugh through a squeal.

“That’s a fucking ego boost.” Jason laughs with you.

“You’re not scary, sorry, Jay.” You tease, yanking your ankle free.

“Lotta people'd beg to differ." Jason defends as he hears you run off down the hallway.

“Not to me!” You sing-song, your voice echoing off the walls and staircase.

A smile stretches across Jason’s face as he shakes his head. He starts walking after you, not hearing your footsteps anymore and he knows you've hidden yourself behind some sort of corner so he’s careful with his steps.

A large part of him thought the good parts of him died and the pit kept them. It kept them in exchange for his life, maybe that’s just the price he was to pay in order to live. Someone can’t come back to life without sacrificing something. Look at Ra’s. But, over the last few days, he’s learning that may not have been in the case.

His bones still ache and something still feels hauntingly different but the good parts of him are still there. Tim didn’t even blink when Jason showed up in the alley, he was so unbothered by all of Jason’s training methods that even got you to pitch a fit every once in a while. Jason had a good time training Tim and him and you are back to doing this stupid game in the middle of the night with laughter bouncing off of the walls. He’s smiled more the last few days than he has in two months. Maybe the good parts of him aren’t entirely gone. They were just covered in guilt and remorse.

You're tucked away in a corner and you always wonder how Jason manages to be so silent as he walks. You can be quiet but you can’t even tell when he’s moving until it’s almost too late. It’s for his own protection, he’s been doing this longer, but it’s always fascinating to you and it'd be a little scary if you didn't know him. One second he’s down the hall and the next, he’s standing in front of you without ever making a sound. It’s his most intimidating quality.

But you're careful anyway, listening, focusing on your surroundings and then the hairs stand up on the back of your neck with a subtle throb starting to your right. You dodge just as Jason's fist flies through the air and you grab his arm, elbowing the inside of his arm. Jason lets out a groan and you twist it around before Jason laughs.

“It’s cute you think you still stand a chance.”

“I’ve taken you before.” You quip, holding his arm behind his back.

“You’re out of practice.” Jason chuckles, pulling his arm away before he spins back around, going to grab you but you jump back.

“So are you.” You quip.

“You sure?” Jason asks making you nearly scream. He’s right in front of you now and you didn’t feel him that time. His breath is fanning over your face and without needing to see him, you can tell he’s smirking, cheeks probably that pretty shade of pink.

“Uh-huh.” Your voice catches in your throat.

“Right.” Jason gives you this chuckle that makes you want to kiss the smirk off of his face but you know you can’t very well do that now so instead, you make your move.

You quickly slide to the right before kicking his feet from under him. Jason lands on a knee and he swipes his leg across the floor, knocking you down just as you try to run off. It’s Jason’s turn to get to his feet and find a new spot.

The two of you go back and forth like this and it’s different this time. Usually, you spar hard and you both make solid efforts to disarm the other but this time, you’re spending a lot of time hiding and running. It wasn’t so much intentional at first from either of you but the more you do it, the more you realize this is just more time to spend together. Tomorrow comes eventually and tomorrow always has some sort of surprise in it. Tonight, you don’t wanna worry about that. You spend your time in the dark, finding each other and going back forth with fists and quips.

Two hours in, Jason is hiding out on the landing of the first staircase, tucked away in the corner. The window is two feet away from him, the city lights cascading through the pains and onto the wood flooring. His eyes stay trained in front of him, hearing you from downstairs walking around. You've been looking for a few minutes and Jason is wondering if you’ll give up. And then he hears a smack and a groan from down the stairs. Jason has to stifle his own laugh, far nicer than you who burst out laughing when Jason hit the doorframe. You seem to recover okay, your steps picking up a few seconds later and he can hear you ascending the staircase.

Your steps stop right at the top.

You roll your eyes and you know damn well Jason is right behind the light of the window. He’ll be able to see you before you can see him. And if you know anything about him, you know he’s standing right in the corner, right foot lifted and pressed against the wall with his arms crossed and that stupid smirk on his lips. This game was never very fair from your perspective. You've never won. Jason’s senses have always been better, Bruce trained him well. As much as you hate the thought. You let out a sigh, take two steps forward and stand directly in the light, a taunt telling Jason to get it over with.

Jason pushes off the wall with his right foot and makes his move but he’s cautious. You do not give up, especially to him when there’s a game like this in play. He strikes first, you block him in an instant, using the light to drag him from the shadows and you get him with your knee right in his side. Jason doesn’t even flinch, throwing another hit, this time hitting you on your side. The two go back and forth, breathing turning heavy as you use the city lights to your advantage. But, it’s Jason who gets the upper hand as he almost always does, grabbing both of your wrists as you use one to try to punch him and the other to block his hands. His grip is tight and unwavering.

Jason’s chest is nearly touching yours as you look up at him. There’s a devious gleam you can make out even in the low light, the corners of his mouth perked into a subtle smirk. Your heart jumps into your throat.

“Giving up so quick?” Jason questions.

“No.” You let out a soft pout but you aren’t fighting him.

Jason can feel his heartbeat on his tongue. His grip loosens on your wrists but he doesn’t let go. Instead, his thumb rubs your skin softly, not even realizing he’s doing it. It’s been hours and he’s been having a blast and he knows she is, too. For the life of him, he can’t figure out why you both let time go by. He does know why, because it all hurt but maybe it was just getting over the hump of it all. He thinks it must be just as hard for you to overcome as it is for him. But, you both always seemed to be able to cope better around each other. It’s the understanding of every action and word that leaves your lips. The feeling that you’ll both never be alone.

Jason nods once. “Not trying very hard.” Jason whispers softly.

Last night felt so good and cathartic. Maybe you just want to live in another one of those moments for a few minutes.

“You’ll just tighten your grip.” You whisper back, watching a cheeky smirk grow on his lips.

“Doesn’t seem to bother you much.” Jason quips and his eyes glance to your lips.

What if he kisses you anyway? Just one more time. Then you can do this friend thing with the game and the banter. What if he kisses you anyway?

“No.” You answer back, glancing to his lips.

What if you kiss him? Just one more time and then you can do the whole friend like you did before. What if you kiss him?

“How’re you gonna get out of this then?” Jason quips.

Fuck it.

You lunge forward, your lips connecting with Jason’s. He groans and immediately drops your wrists as his hands come to your cheeks, pulling you closer to him. Jason melts right into you, nearly exploding at the seams with the very thought you were thinking the same thing he was.

His mouth moves with yours and you push forward until Jason’s back hits the wall. Jason grabs your hips, turning you both around so your back is pinned against the wall. He kisses down your neck, nipping and biting at the flesh. Your heartbeat skyrockets as your hand tangles into his messy hair. Your eyes are closed as a soft moan escapes your lips. Jason bites down, sucking a mark into your skin.

You pull his head back to your lips, the kiss turning sloppy and wet. Jason slides his hands under your thighs, picking you up to pin you against the wall as his knee slots into between your legs. His thigh hits just the right spot making you let out a moan into his mouth immediately followed by a groan.

You pull his hair back, getting a pretty groan from Jason before you go to his neck, leaving your own purple mark. Jason holds your hips helping you grind down against his thigh. The sound of your desperate gasps makes him want to lose his mind. He wants to surrender all control he has ever had and forget anything bad ever happened. His head is lust drunk and all he wants is you. His bulge is growing and throbbing through his sweatpants, desperately wanting free.

You feel yourself growing closer and wetter but more desperate. There’s not quite enough friction and he knows it. He knows this only ever gets you teetering on the edge but it’s never quite enough. He knows exactly what he’s doing and you want to bite him. Your pussy throbs and aches for something to fill you up.

“Jay.” You pant desperately into his mouth.

He fucking snickers.

And stills your hips.

“Jay.” Your brows pinch together as if you're in pain.

“What’s that?”Jason teases.

“Fuck. You.” You nod your head, trying to move your hips but his grip keeps you steady.

Jason leans forward, nipping up your neck making you whine. He can feel your pulse against his lips as he kisses his way up to your cheek. You feel him grin against your skin and you think your skin might set the both of you on fire.

“Say please.” Jason mocks you, whispering in your ear, his voice deep and graveled.

You think you've melted into the palms of his hands.

Jason loosens his grip slightly, allowing you to get some friction for just a few seconds before stilling your hips.

“Didn't hear ya, babe?” Jason’s eyes lock on yours with the quick raise of his brows, using all of his self-control not to cave himself.

There's a sliver of you that wants to push him, see who can actually outlast the other because you know it'll be him begging for you in about ten minutes. But, your head is swimming and your body is erupting in goosebumps. The desperation of wanting him all over you makes you lose every other thought that was once there.

You kiss him, keeping your lips close to his, pulling away just enough to speak. “Please.”

Jason doesn’t waste a single second to dropping his knee as his lips connect back with yours.

Jason pulls you with him, his back towards the second set of stairs as you both walk up them, unsteadily with your lips connected. Once you’re up the stairs, Jason is grabbing the hem of your hoodie, tugging it over you and tossing it on the floor. Jason’s hoodie is next, tossed somewhere in the dark hallway. By the time you reach Jason’s room, he’s tugging your top off and tossing it to the floor.

It’s all hasty and hot, desperate and needy as Jason pulls you to his bed. He lands on top of you, catching you to mind your fall and your hands are under his shirt. They’re warm and soft. They make him feel whole again.

The words ‘i need you’ circle his brain but never quite make it out. He needs you like he needs air. You're the breath of fresh air on the first day of spring. It’s the first day the air doesn’t hurt his lungs. You taste how the word cathartic sounds. He needs you like he needs the oxygen in his lungs.

You scratch up his back and Jason arches his back right into you. His head spins. His lips trail down to your cheek and then your neck. He leaves a second mark in his wake and your head falls fuzzy. You aren’t even entirely sure you're even here anymore. All you know is that you want him and your skin is on fire. You can’t form a single coherent thought as Jason makes his way down to your collarbone, leaving yet another mark. All you can think about his him. His mouth and his the way his teeth graze over your skin, how warm his hand is as it trails up to your breast. All you can think about is the pretty moans and groans that leave his lips as you claw his back again. You've turned to mush all over again.

He presses some kisses around where your braw cuts off, just enough to tease you before he comes back up, kissing your lips. And all you know for certain is how badly you need him. You need him today and tomorrow and every day after. Every moment with him is worth every bit of pain and agony. Every moment without him is boring and lackluster. Jason walks into a room and it’s like a color bomb explodes through the room. His laugh could light up the darkest of hallways and his eyes are the prettiest shade of green, they could convert anyway to love the color. Breathing is easier whenever he's around.

Your hands go to the hem of his shirt and try to tug it off of his head but Jason stops you, shooting up immediately. Your high immediately vanishes seeing the look of panic spread over his feature. Jason’s head comes back, still spinning but down in panic and his chest heaves. What’s he supposed to do?

“I-I’m sorry.” You shake your head, leaning up on your elbows. “I-, uh, I thought…well…I…I should have asked--”

“No.” Jason shakes his head, looking down then back to you. “It’s not…that.” Jason nearly chokes on his own words.

“What’s wrong, Jay?” Your brows tug together and even though you're the one half-naked, he’s the one feeling exposed.

Jason’s teeth grind together and he didn’t really think this far ahead. His mind was clouded with the thought of you and the desire to just have one more fucking night. His mind was clouded with the idea of chasing the feeling you shared just a few months ago. He didn’t think about this step. This part of the whole sex thing. You don’t care. You never care about scars but it hurts him.

Jason clears his throat as he brings his hands back to your hips, watching your chest quickly rise and fall with every breath. He's running through everything he could say. How is he supposed to tell you he has a thick, protruding scar from his collarbones all the way down his abdomen? That can't possibly be some sort of turn on and if anything, he's almost certain it'll send you into a spiral because it nearly does to him every damn day he looks at it. What's he supposed to say? What's he supposed to say without making you feel worse or feel like you need to push to make sure he's okay?

What's he supposed to say in order to keep this moment intact without it being just another moment tainted by painful memories?

“We can just keep doing this. Um…I-I don’t mind…if you don’t.” You try to pull in a breath. The guilt chews at your stomach. “I, uh, I don’t—“

“Y/n.” Jason cuts you off, not wanting you to spiral. “It's not that, I fucking swear.” Jason squeezes your hips and his brows twitch up with reassurance. He's just not sure if he's ready to reveal that part to you. It makes him feel guilty. He's supposed to be able to share everything with you but the shame eats at him. “I want to.” He clarifies, earning a nod from you. “It’s just…” His eyes go distant for a second before coming back to yours. “Stays on.”

You offer him a large nod and you thought it was odd he turned around before to change. Jason has never been very modest about anything ever. He has worked very hard for his chest and abs and he doesn’t mind showing off a bit, especially in front of you because he’s still a shithead. But, last night he didn’t and sitting here now, you're putting the pieces together while a piece of your heart breaks for him.

“I, uh…I know.” You nod softly, pushing yourself up to sit up fully.

Jason sits on his knees, his knees on either side of your legs.

You can't know.

“What?” Jason’s brows tug together.

“The night Crane kidnapped you, you, uh, you couldn’t get out of your gear so I had to help you.” You offer him a soft shrug. “So, uh…I just want you to know that I already know. It’s completely fine, I get it, but I wanted you to know that I already knew.”

Jason can feel his throat wanting to close and his world feels like it's closing in on him. It feels like a nightmare. He doesn't want you to know. It's embarrassing.

“You saw it?!” Jason’s voice cracks as his cheeks burn a vibrant red as he bites his own tongue to try and hide and his shame.

You nod again. “Yeah. You, uh, you were really high and I figured it would not be something you would want brought up.”

Jason shakes his head looking down. He feels tainted, ruined, a mess of broken and damaged pieces piled on the floor to be discarded and forgotten about. He's not even sure what's worse. The fact you knew and then never said anything or the fact he didn't even get a chance to make peace with it before he told you. He hates it so fucking much and it just makes him feel like the biggest failure there is. What more proof does anyone really need? He failed at being Robin, failed at taking down the Joker, failed at being a good son, failed at being a good boyfriend, he even failed at staying dead. It's just embarrassing and shameful.

You can see the gears in his head working overtime. He's going to spiral and the scar doesn't mean shit to you. Your entire back is riddled with them. Any one of those could have caused massive bleeding and killed you. The way you see it, his scars were better because most of them were just part of the job. He got them putting himself in danger for the greater good.

"I don't care, ya know?" You state with the raise of your brows and all Jason does is shake his head. "I don't fucking care about it, Jay. I know you do. Whatever the fuck you're thinking about it, you're wrong." You rest a hand on his cheek. "You don't have to take your shirt off around me if you don't want to. I get it."

"I fucking hate it." Jason states, taking your hand in his, his fingers delicate over your skin. He uses both hands to rub circles into your palm, massaging the muscles.

"For what it's worth," You let out a breath. "I don't. I don't care and I don't mind. That shit doesn't matter to me, Jay."

"I know." Jason nods his head because he knows you don't. It's something in his own head. It's just really difficult to move on from.

"So, whatever you wanna do, I don't mind." You offer him a tender smile.

Jason lets out a breath. “Thank you.” Jason says back. “Did you know? That Bruce had it done?”

“Yeah.” You pull in a breath, biting back your bitterness for Bruce. “He didn’t say why though I was screaming at him when I found out so he didn’t have much chance, I guess.”

Jason lets out a quiet but sad chuckle because even in death, you will fight tooth and nail for him. “You were screaming at him for it?”

“Well, yeah, I thought it was pointless. I figure it’s just legal reasons, maybe.” You shrug. “But I didn’t wanna hear it then.” You chuckle softly. “So, yeah, I uh, I knew he did and I knew the Pit didn’t take it away.”

It's something he's going to need to find a way to make terms with but at least, you're understanding about it. He wishes he had the opportunity to tell you himself but...he's thinking maybe this was easier. You've known and never batted an eye or said a word about it. Maybe he doesn't have to feel all that shame and embarrassment around you.

“White hair, kept all of my scars, and got the one my chest.” Jason lets out a scoff.

“Least it fixed your face.” You quip back with a cheeky smile in hopes it'll help cheer him up a bit.

You see the flash of something kind and cheeky cross over his face.

Jason drops your hand, leaning in. “What’s wrong with my face, huh?” The corner of his mouth perks into a grin and you always have a way to make him feel better about anything and everything.

Your name might as well be synonymous with catharsis.

“Did you want a list?” You raise with a smirk as you tilt your head to the right.

Jason lets out a laugh. “Fuck you.” Jason shakes his head at you and his eyes go to your lips before traveling back up to your eyes.

“Say please.” You lean in closer to him, brushing your nose against his.

Jason shakes his head, bursting at the seams with a devilish grin. His hand comes up to your cheek before he kisses you, pushing the both of you down to the bed.

“Please.” Jason nearly growls into your mouth.

Jason leans up and tugs his shirt off quickly before coming right back to your lips. Your hands tangle in his hair and give the strands a light tug. You push on his shoulder, signaling for him to roll over. You get on top before you trail down and press kisses to his cheek and then to his neck, leaving your second mark of the night.

The words ‘i love you’ bounce around Jason’s head like a pinball in a pinball machine. He’s so in love with you he thinks he might have lost all of his sanity. He did not know it was possible to feel so strongly for another person but he does. And he wants to live here forever. You make him better and he is so certain of that if not for everything that has happened but the reason that Jason doesn’t want to self-sabotage with you. It’s not worth it. You’ll fight and make up and it’ll have been for nothing. All it would do is hurt the both of you and haven’t you both been hurt enough?

You can feel Jason's hardening bulge beneath you. Without breaking the kiss, you slide your fingers into the waistband of his pants, helping him tug them down. Jason sits up, helping you get the rest of his clothes off before he flips the two of you so you're back on your back. You let out a laugh just as you always did and Jason thinks he'd never grow tired of it.

Your hands are in his hair and he can feel you smiling against his lips despite the haste of your kiss. Jason slides his hand under your back, undoing your bra before he helps you get off. His hand goes right to your right breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and finger. You moan into his mouth as your head starts to go fuzzy all over again. You squirm under him and a grin comes to Jason's lips.

You snake your hand to his cock, wrapping your fingers around the shaft before you start pumping him slowly. Jason's mouth opens against you as his hips stutter for just a second. You start moving your arm faster and Jason's mouth trails back down to your neck. His teeth graze the skin and you think you'd let him mark every part of your body without ever putting a thought into it.

He sucks a mark into your neck.

And then another.

And another leading down the scar on your shoulder from the bullet wound.

He stops there, switching to a kiss and your stomach twists while your brain starts to turn to goo. He presses kisses back up to your lips and you're squirming under his touch as you can feel yourself growing wetter by the second.

"Condom." You mutter against his lips before removing your hand from his cock, precum leaking from the tip.

Jason wastes no time in reaching for his nightstand to tug out a condom. You're already stripping the rest of your clothes by the time Jason has the package in his hand.

Jason smirks down at you. "Not wasting any time, huh?"

You shrug, almost taunting him as you keep your eyes locked on his, careful not to look down at the scar. "Been a while."

Jason chuckles as heat runs over his neck. "Having withdrawal?"

"I could just do it myself." You quip back.

"Can I watch?" Jason questions and a part of you thinks he's serious.

You roll your eyes. "Maybe next time."

Jason has to clear his throat as his cock twitches with the remark. "Hold you to it." Jason mutters as he finally gets the wrapper open.

"Then I get to watch you."

Jason's eyes flash over to you as his stomach drops and spins. "Whatever you want, princess." Jason finally gets the condom on and you pull him back down to you.

His lips connect with yours, hot and fast at first, hungry as if he hasn't eaten in a month. His cock is lined up with your soaking pussy but the kiss slows and deepens. Jason's hand trails down your right thigh, delicate fingers running over your skin as goosebumps erupt over your body. You run a hand down his shoulder and to his arm, his bicep twitches under your touch.

Jason is warm and sturdy, an unwavering force that you find yourself so intertwined with, you really aren't sure how you've managed to live so much of your life without him. It always feels like he's meant to be around you like someone out there made him just for you and you were made just for him. In some ways, that's scary and feels like a big responsibility, but in others, it's comforting. It's the reassurance that it's just you and him in the end of it all. You'll get there one day. That's how it's supposed to be.

Jason pulls away, resting his forehead against yours before he starts sliding his cock into your aching pussy. The pit in your stomach grows as you start to see stars. Jason's eyes are shut and he's thinking he's left this whole plane of existence. He sinks into you slow and steady until he bottoms out.

His eyes open, locking on yours. Your fingers are lightly running up his arm and the words of 'i love you' almost spill from his lips like an overflowing cup of water. His nose brushes yours and he almost says it. He doesn't want to scare you away with piling too much on you at once. Last night and the scar tonight, he knows you're worried the Titans.

He'll tell you later.

Instead, Jason settles for something with the same meaning.

Your eyes close and the words of 'i love you' almost escape your lips like an easy breath. You brush your nose with his and you almost say it. Jason has been through a lot. You don't want to add to it, not right now. You don't want to add more pressure if he can't say it back yet. You don't want to scare him off.

You'll tell him later.

Instead, you settle for something with the same meaning.

"You and me." Jason whispers to you as he goes to kiss your cheek.

A tender smile pulls at your lips as your heart stutters in your chest. "You and me."

A smile rips through Jason's lips as his heart feels like it's just burst through his ribcage.

Jason pulls out and pushes back in, just as slow this time before he starts picking up the pace. Your mind starts swimming with his quick movements. His mouth is on yours again and you can barely keep up. Your mind is flooded with how full he's making you as your pussy clenches around him.

You try to form words, anything to tell him to keep going but nothing can form quite right, giving Jason the ego boost he doesn't exactly need. He gets the idea and doesn't lighten up. His hand grips your thigh, tugging your leg up near his hip. With the new angle, he's tapping the patch of nerves inside of you. You gasp against him, your nails digging into his back.

"J-Jay." You nearly whine into his mouth and Jason nearly finishes right there with the first word you're able to get out being his name.

"Hmm?" He hums, trying to hold his composure. "Gotta speak up, babe." Jason teases.

"H-harder." You get out.

Jason grins wickedly against your lips, doing as you asked but only for a few thrusts before he stops entirely. "Like that?"

Your eyes shoot open, pupils blow with desperation and lust. "Please."

You don't have to ask again.

Jason thrusts his hips harder and faster than before. You groan louder below him almost immediately. Your pussy is clenching around him more and more and he can tell you're getting close. He slides a hand between you, rubbing tight circles around your clit. You nearly scream with the new sensation.

You grip his hair and pull his neck closer to you just as Jason gets you to reach your high. You let out a mixed whine and moan of his name before you bite down where his shoulder meets his neck, desperately trying not to scream. Tears prick your eyes as your stomach tightens and your whole body shakes and twitches beneath Jason.

It takes everything in him not to lose himself until you're finally finished, panting below him. His hips stall against you as his head hangs in the cook of your neck, his cock twitching as he shoots his load into the condom.

Jason leans up, chest heaving and he places a kiss to your cheek and then your forehead before he rolls off of you to dispose of the condom in his bathroom.

You sit up, wrapping the blanket around you with your chest still heaving and you give Jason a tender smile as he walks back towards the bed. He grabs his clothes as you watch him and you're getting your first full view of the scar. It doesn't bother you but you understand why it bothers him. Seeing it in full, it's a harsh scar, not something that looks like it'll even fade. You think if it were you, it'd bother you, too.

Jason makes his way back to the bed, plopping back down before he leans against the pillow. His eyes are still lustblown as he gives you a soft and tired smile, and you think his eyes are filled with something you became so accustomed to. Your hand goes to his hair, brushing the white streaks away from his face. Jason’s hand grabs your hand before bringing your palm to his lips and he presses tender kisses over your hand.

“For the record,” You start as Jsaon places your hand back down. “I don’t care what scars you come home with.” You say so easily and your word choice doesn’t go unnoticed by Jason. “I know you do but I don’t…” You pause, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Just as long as you come home.” You nod a few times as your brows pinch together.

Jason sits up, his face coming just a few inches from yours. “I’m sorry I didn’t.” His voice is rough and this is a different apology than the one you got on the roof. The one you got at his safe house. There are no stakes in the apology.

“It’s not your fault.” You place a hand on his cheek and Jason leans into it. "I forgive you anyway, though."

He still wonders how you were ever able to bear it. Despite his general feeling of self-doubt and self-loathing, he knows your feelings have always been very real for him. You didn’t cope, that he knows for certain and he’s not entirely sure if you ever will. It’s something you have to make peace with just as much as he does. And he thinks about how maybe that’s an important part of you both moving forward. You forgive him for some reason but Jason doesn’t think you've accepted it yet. A part of him has, it happened to him and he’s alive. He went through it. One second, your world is moving at a steady pace and the next it’s halted, suddenly stopped with no warning and then it’s thrown in the other direction. It sounds more like whiplash. So, Jason wonders if you’ll ever hit the acceptance stage. He wonders how you were ever able to bear any of it. He knows for certain if it were him, he’d never be able to.

Your eyes are soft and tired and there’s the tiniest, adoring smile on your lips. A look Jason is privileged enough to be the only one to receive. And he thinks about he’d never be able to bear the loss of you. It rips him to shreds. It would take all of the remaining good parts of him and shatter them. He’d never recover if something happened to you. Even if it's beyond his control. It’s terrifying feeling that way about another person.

Jason nods against you before he presses a kiss to the palm of your hand. “Yeah…” He lets out a breath. “Thanks for sticking around.”

“Thanks for letting me.” You smile softly. "You and me?"

Jason offers the same smile back. "You and me." Jason confirms. “You still gonna talk to Leslie?” Jason asks as you pull your hand away.

You nod softly. “Yeah. If she has anything open.”

Jason gives you a soft smile. “Good.” He nods softly. He sits back up all the way, looking to his doorway. “Gonna grab your clothes.” Jason chuckles softly, tossing his shirt over his head before he gets up.

You watch Jason disappear through the doorway and you're quick to grab his pillow, checking to see if he’s replaced the knife with a gun. Your chest warms with the sight of your blue switchblade still locked and lying under his pillow. It’s a relief he hasn’t put the gun back. Your thoughts are jolted as fabric hits your face.

“Hey!” You yell through a laugh, your clothes falling into your lap.

“Fucking nosey ass.” Jason nods his head at you, making his way back to the bed with his hoodie in hand.

“You’re an interesting person to be nosey about.” You shrug as you get the blanket off of your shoulders. You can feel the tiredness weighing on your bones and you know if you don't head home soon, you'll end up staying here. As much as you really want to, you do not want to overstay your welcome. “Well,” You sigh as you tug your shirt over your head. “I should probably head home.” You laugh softly, seeing the orange light of sunrise seeping through Jason’s window.

“Guess so.” Jason nearly pouts at the thought. He never wants you to leave but he doesn't want you to feel obligated to always stay just because you're here late. You'll be back here later anyway. “Still gonna help me today?” Jason’s eyes are hopeful and big.

“Of course.” You laugh softly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I’ll just sleep for a few hours and how about we like one?” You ask. “We’ll both be out of it if we don’t get some sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Jason says in agreement. “Want an escort home?” He asks but you can tell by the way he raises of his brows and the way he's already moving to get up, it's not really an offer. He's going to do it anyway.

“Thank you.” You stand up, putting the rest of your clothes on. "Just get some sleep when you get back, okay?"

Jason nods with a grin. "Of course. Gotta be well-rested hanging out with you."

"I can not help you." You quip as you grab your bag.

"Sorry." Jason lets out a chuckle.

"Let's just go." Your eyes widen at him to tease him before Jason gestures towards the door for you to lead the way.

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heartstringsduet · 22 hours

Text

Happy Sunday <3 Hope you're all well and ready for tomorrow 😭 How did we manage to survive this long hiatus? Anyway I read back a scene I wrote for Let Me a year ago now that never fit until now and laughed because it's literally the Campbell soup scene but make it about Carlos' ex.

“Ugh, Zach.”

Carlos eyebrow shoots up, and his voice comes a bit higher. “Wait, did I tell you about him?”

“No,” TK grumbles, “but his name sounds like he’s a tool like the rest of them.”

Carlos has to bite back a laugh. “TK.”

“What? You told me all your exes were idiots who didn’t appreciate you in the way you deserve.”

“I never said any of that.”

“No?” TK asks coyly. “Pretty sure that’s what I heard.”

Carlos gently swats his side, but TK dodges it. “None of my exes were bad people.”

“They weren’t me though.” OPEN TAG &

@welcometololaland @rmd-writes @carlos-tk

@carlos-in-glasses @honeybee-taskforce @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@birdclowns @lightningboltreader @strandnreyes @reyesstrand

@orchidscript @pimento-playing-hopscotch @nancys-braids

@literateowl @lemonlyman-dotcom @ladytessa74

@carlos-in-glasses @freneticfloetry @never-blooms

@eclectic-sassycoweyes @corsage @goodways

@liminalmemories21 @paperstorm @theghostofashton

@alrightbuckaroo @tellmegoodbye @ironheartwriter

@emsprovisions @sapphic--kiwi @decafdino @decafdino

@chicgeekgirl89 @butchreyes @didionisms

#tarlos #tarlos fic #let me series #michelle writes #seven sentence sunday #tg

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conchcronch · 3 days

Text

How and When They Say ‘I Love You’ for The First Time - Buggy

WC: 1001

Warnings: Angst towards the end

God I love this fuckin’ clown!

- Says it during a quiet moment shared in private

-Despite being known as flashy, when it comes to his emotions he’s very private with them. It could come from his upbringing on a pirate ship where emotions made you weak, or it could come from his extremely low self esteem that you’ve been working day and night to raise.

-It took him a long time to say it to you, even if you had said it first he would have said it back but it would have been in a goofy way, tagged onto the end of a some joke. Something like “Of course you do, who wouldn’t love me?”

-It took him a long time to let anyone see the real him, since the last one to get this close to him abandoned him (Shanks) he had built his walls higher then those of Impel Down. But lately he was letting you inside these walls, showing you who he was without the makeup, without his gloves.

-It would happen on one of the nights where his bedroom door is locked, but not for the reasons he was sure to tell his crew. In reality, he was sitting cross legged between your legs while you were on his bed, one hand tightly gripping a strand of his blue locks, while the other tried to wrestle a brush through his knots.

-He was normally very conscious of his hair, tying it up to some degree before going to bed. But today he had passed out after getting back from a particularly draining Cross Guild meeting and woken up to his hair an absolute mess.

-You had walked into his room to find him quietly cussing himself for having been so careless, his makeup smeared all over his face and his normal ‘stage costume’ as he so lovingly called it, discarded on the floor leaving him in a pair of boxers and nothing else, not the worse sight to walk in on in your eyes.

-It had taken a lot of convincing, but you had somehow gotten him to agree to let you clean his face and brush his face. Touching his face was one thing, but when it came to his hair it was a whole other ordeal, especially since Mihawk and Crocodile had been using it to restrain him so much lately, Buggy was beginning to see his long tresses as a sign of his weakness.

-You had softened his resolve with kisses along his tight shoulders and quiet reassurance, his two weaknesses.

-You had underestimated how tangled his hair was, understanding now why he was so anal about brushing it and tying it up before bed, even after your more intimate nights, no matter how exhausted he was.

-“I don’t know why you insist on working with Crocodile and Mihawk, they treat you like shit. You deserve better, you know that, right Bugs?” He remained silent, not wanting to tell you about how it was because of a mountain of debt rather then by choice. If it were anyone else who said that to him, he would have been quick to tell them he loved it, but you had seen the bruises and the cuts. You knew he didn’t like it, so why waste his breath.

-When you had finally wrestled the brush through his entire mane, you carded your fingers through it in search of any knots or tangles you may have missed. When you didn’t find any, you began sectioning his hair into three parts, making sure to leave a few of the shorter pieces near the front free for your own selfish desire. As you braided his hair he gave in to your touches, letting his neck loosen before feeling you wrap a hair tie around the bottom and let his hair go after what felt like hours.

-He leaned his head back, seeing the way you smiled down at him sent butterflies through his chest and stomach.

-”I love you” the words came out so much easier then he ever expected. He hadn’t said that to anyone in decades, but seeing how you took care of him, how you disassembled his walls so easily, brick by brick. He knew he had found his other half.

-If you say it back, he’ll sit up quickly to avoid you seeing how happy tears begin to fall down his bare face. But you’re not dumb, you know him. You wrap your hands around to lead his face back into your lap, leaning down so you can press a kiss to his lips. Your hands slip down from his face, down his neck and along his bare chest, knowing the clown is extremely touch starved even after your time together.

-Buggy shows his love through physical affection, so your night has only just begun.

-If you aren’t ready to say it back, he’s heartbroken. Even if you catch it before he can pull away, no explanation can fully patch up the hurt he feels. He let down his walls with you, he let you take off his armor, and you still don’t love him? Is he really that worthless?

-He spirals more then you thought. As you try to explain your reasoning, whatever it may be, he picks up his discarded clothes, grabbing his hat from the dresser before leaving the room.

-If you chase after him, you’ll see he’s crying. He’ll tell you to leave him alone, he’ll tell you that you meant nothing to him, you were just a fun time and but he’s going to find someone else to fuck. All the while, fat tears are falling down his cheeks.

-If you don’t go after him, the next time you see him he’s Buggy the Genius Jester, any sign of your Buggy is locked away, deeper then ever before. He’s built those walls double the height they had been. Spending all his time on the guild ship being abused by his two colleagues, because that’s what he thinks he deserves.

#one piece #buggy x you #captain buggy #buggy the clown #buggy headcanons #one piece headcanons #one piece live action

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 17 hours

Text

Not Dead Yet | Part 01

-> Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Medium-Fem!Reader

-> Sypnosis: After a strange encounter, Jeonghan wakes up outside of his body. The only person who can see him is Y/N, a woman with a gift (or curse as she would call it) who is able to see and communicate with the deceased. But Jeonghan isn't dead... not yet anyway.

-> Warnings: Supernatural au. There is a mention of God's and collapsing. Jeonghan is a bit of a heart breaker/player. Only mentioned once that reader has dark hair. This was going to be just a prologue but it ended up a chapter.

-> Word Count: 1,605

-> Taglist: open. Leave a comment on the masterlist post, send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form.

Not Dead Yet Masterlist | SEVENTEEN M.List

As Jeonghan walks with Ji-Ah, the woman he’s been seeing for the last three weeks, alongside the Han River, he takes this moment to do what he’s been trying to do all night. He drops her hand as he stops walking and turns to face the river, his arms resting on the railing. Ji-Ah notices the shift in the atmosphere as soon as Jeonghan lets go of her hand. The warmth of his touch is replaced by a sudden chill in the air. With concern, she turns to face him but before she could say anything, he starts to speak.

“Ji-Ah,” he begins, his voice feigning regret. “I’m sorry, this just isn't working for me.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’ve only just started getting to know each other.”

He can hear the hurt in her voice but he feels no sympathy. “Listen, Ji-Ah,” he continues, starting his well-rehearsed go-to break up speech, “You’re an incredible woman. It’s just that I don’t think we’re a good match. I’m sure there’s someone wonderful out there for you. I just don’t think I’m that person.”

“But it’s my birthday,” she whispers, her voice trembling as she fights back tears.

"Aish," he mutters under his breath, recalling the reason they had gone out for dinner in the first place. For a fleeting moment, he feels a pang of guilt but quickly suppresses it.

“I thought we had something special,” she sobs, unable to contain her tears any longer.

"It's only been three weeks," he blurts out, not realizing the words had escaped him until he sees her expression, a mix of hurt and disbelief with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Do you even care?” Ji-Ah’s voice is barely above a whisper as it cuts through her cries.

“Of course I care,” he says looking at her with faux sympathy and feeling slightly awkward that this wasn’t ending as quickly as he hoped. After all, they’d only been on four dates in the span of three weeks. According to him, that wasn’t a long enough time to get attached to someone. “I’m doing this because I care about you. I don’t want to waste your time on something that’s never going to work out. This way, you can find someone who truly deserves you and is worth your time.”

“So, this is it?” she asks wiping her tears away.

“I’m afraid so,” he nods.

“Okay,” she says trying to put on a brave face and forget the embarrassment and hurt that’s coursing through her. “Thank you for making my birthday awful. I hope I never see you again.”

“I hope so too,” he says, his words once again slipping out before he could stop them.

“Maybe you’re right,” she concedes, her expression taking on one of offence. “This wouldn’t have worked out because you’re an asshole. I feel sorry for your next girlfriend.” With that she walks away deliberately bumping her shoulder against him as she passes.

He grumbles to himself about how that could have gone a lot quicker and pulls out his phone, finding the number of the woman he met the day before and quickly sends her a text 'plans fell through. Do you want to meet up in 30 minutes?'.

With a smile on his face, he makes his way back towards where his car is parked occasionally checking his phone for a reply. As he reaches his car, he finds a strange man wearing a black top hat, a bright orange suede jacket and horrendous green pants leaning against the tailgate. His expression is blank, not giving Jeonghan any indication of what his motives could be, but his deep brown eyes are fixed intently on him making Jeonghan feel like he was looking right into his soul.

"Can I help you?" he asks the man with a hint of annoyance.

"When are you going to stop breaking these lovely ladies' hearts?" the man replies, his voice calm and steady. "Yoon Jeonghan.”

"Do I know you?" He asks, his eyes widening slightly. He’s 99% sure he’s never seen this man before this moment.

“You don’t, but I’ve been watching you,” he replies, moving away from the car and steps closer to him. The man’s gaze remains steady, and Jeonghan feels a shiver run down his spine. There’s something unsettling about the way this stranger seems to know him. It’s as if he’s been examined under a microscope.

Jeonghan shifts his weight, attempting to shake off the sudden wave of vulnerability that washes over him. "Look, I don’t know who you are or how you think you know me, but I’m not interested in whatever you have to say."

The stranger chuckles softly, a sound that feels oddly out of place given the tension in the air. "Oh, but you should be, Yoon Jeonghan. I’m not here to lecture you on your romantic escapades. In fact, I’m here to give you a warning."

“A warning?” Jeonghan furrows his brow, trying to make sense of the cryptic words. The man’s presence is unsettling, and the way he speaks feels almost as if he’s reciting lines from a play or a movie. “What warning? And how can I trust you? I don’t even know your name.”

“You don’t need to know my name right now,” the man tells him. “The only person who will be able to see you will know my name and that’s when you’ll learn it.”

"I really don’t have time for this," Jeonghan sighs, shaking his head as he goes to take a step past him to get into his car. "I have plans that I need to get to.”

"Plans, you say?” The man says, tilting his head slightly, as if considering Jeonghan’s words. “I’m afraid the only plans you have are with the Gods.”

Caught by surprise, Jeonghan turns back to the man, confusion written on his face. “The Gods? I don-”

“Oops,” the man winces as he clicks his fingers and Jeonghan collapses to the ground unconscious. “Probably should have given him a heads-up first,” he says and then shrugs before walking away. “I did try to warn him.”

When jeonghan finally regains awareness, he sits up and finds himself in a hospital room. The faint beeping of machines that monitor his vitals, rings loudly in his ears, the smell of antiseptic fills his nostrils and the fluorescent lights are harsh against his eyes. Before he could panic about how he ended up in hospital, the man from earlier enters his mind. The stranger’s words echo inside his head, a haunting reminder of the bizarre encounter they had and the warning he tried to give him.

Wanting to find a nurse or doctor so he could get discharged knowing there can't be anything wrong with him, he gets out of bed and makes his way to the door.

As he exits the room, a nurse walks by. He tries to get her attention by calling to her but she continues as if she doesn't hear him. Thinking she was being rude. He tries again as another nurse walks past him but she too ignores him.

"Excuse me!" Jeonghan raises his voice, desperation slowly sinking into his tone. "Can someone please help me? I want to go home."

But the nurses and other hospital staff continue past him, their expressions blank. It's as if he’s nothing more than a ghost haunting the halls of the hospital.

Frustration bubbles within him, and he takes a step forward, determined to find someone who will acknowledge his presence. The fluorescent lights hum overhead and his heart races as he wanders down the corridor. He glances into the rooms he passes, catching glimpses of patients lying in beds, some asleep, some having visits with family members and others staring blankly at the ceiling with nothing else to do.

Finally, he spots a doctor in a white coat, clipboard in hand, walking briskly toward him. Jeonghan rushes to intercept him. "Excuse me! Can you help me? I need to know what happened to me," he pleads, his voice tinged with urgency. But just like the nurses, the doctor brushes past him as if he were invisible.

Feeling confused and overwhelmed, Jeonghan sinks into a chair meant for waiting families. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his head in his hands, mumbling to himself.

Eventually he lifts his head, glancing around the waiting area. The chairs are filled with families, most of their faces etched with worry or relief, some with boredom, but none of them seem to notice him. The weight of everything that’s happening starts to get to him, and he fights back the urge to scream and demand for someone to see him.

Taking a deep breath, he stands up, a spark of determination igniting within him. Just as he prepares to approach the doctor at the nurse's station, the elevator doors across from him slide open. His heart races as he sees a figure step out, exuding a warmth and confidence that draws him in. Her dark hair is slightly tousled, as if she just rolled out of bed, and her outfit—a black faux leather jacket, a white shirt, ripped jeans, and white sneakers—makes him think she’s not part of the hospital staff.

Before he can make another move, she looks up, their eyes connecting, and for the first time since waking up, he feels truly seen and is reminded of what the odd man from earlier said.

“The only person who will be able to see you will know my name.”

@staytiny2000 - @rainydayteacups - @hipsdofangirl - @do-you-remember-summer-127 - @cookiearmy

@catzachvsvt

Tag List Form.

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beauty-and-passion · 3 days

Note

Did you see Thomas Sanders' YouTube community post about his plans for videos, including Sanders Sides?

... well, it looks like something happened in the SaSi fandom. Jeez, I cannot leave for a couple months to celebrate the Gravity Falls renaissance, that Mr. Sanders decides to pull up some stunts while I wasn't looking :P

Maybe he hoped I wouldn't notice. That I was gone. Well, unfortunately for him, I am always around - and if I lose something, there are always nice people ready to give me a heads-up. So here I am again, ready to give my unrequested two cents about the latest updates.

A lot of things happened since dear anon wrote me this ask, so I will not talk about one single post (also because I have no idea what post the anon was referring to :P) but I will briefly talk about the latest info taken straight from the ts_criticism tag, which is always the most updated place regarding SaSi.

No, Mr. Sanders' updates do not count, considering they're non-existent.

_____________

Season 2 finale: to watch or not to watch?

There was a survey going on in the criticism tag regarding the season 2 finale and whether people would watch it on YouTube, another platform, or just ignore it.

Now we can tell ourselves all the stories we want, but at the end of the day, we know everyone will watch it - no matter if on Thomas' YouTube page or somewhere else.

And even though we already know it will never be worth the years of waiting, I am sure everyone will still give it a chance. The view count will be high.

But if that's true for part one, who knows what will happen for all other parts? What if part 1 is not worth the wait? Will people still be willing to give a try to the other parts? Will they be willing to wait who knows how long for them?

_____________

The hilariously bad Brei Grace situation

Is it so surprising, that Thomas lost another person working for him? It's basically a constant, considering people keep being laid off, disappearing or not getting paid enough. By now, you would think this man learned something from the past but hey, it looks like I overestimated his intelligence.

What I find incredibly funny about this situation is not that Brei herself had to tell the truth to the public because Thomas, as always, refuses to be honest about anything. It's about this specific part of his post regarding Roleslaying with Roman:

Oh my god, this is so bad it's hilarious.

So Thomas laid his last writer off, but apparently he wasn't clever enough to find a proper replacement before doing it and he openly admitted in a post, to his fans (including his investors) that he has no writer to replace Brei and will have to keep following/begging her to get more of the script, because there's no one else who can develop the story in her place.

Do I really have to explain why everything about this is so stupid? Do I? Okay, then:

Thomas was apparently very quick at firing Brei, but not quick enough in finding another writer before doing it. That's not how any competent person works: when I left my last job, my boss asked me to stay for a couple more days, just enough to get a replacement. But hey, I suppose "finding a replacement" and "not leaving a vacant position" were too complex, too difficult thoughts for Mr. Sanders.

Mr. Sanders showed his investors he's so disorganized and impulsive, he fired someone with no backup plan and, as a result, had to put the series on hold. One of the series people are paying him to produce. If I were still paying him, I would stop immediately after this: if you're this unprofessional, you don't deserve money.

After laying Brei off, Thomas still wants to reach her for details regarding the story. The same story he fired her from. If he was so desperate for more of her work, he should've found a way to keep her around, not laid her off, then waste more time trying to find a way to get more of her.

If I were Brei, I would ignore Thomas forever and refuse to write even one more word regarding Roleslaying. But I'm a cold, heartless person, so I don't count. Still hope Brei will have some self-respect and refuse to share her work for free just because he's begging.

Or, at least, I hope she will ask for pre-payments first.

Thomas thought it was a great idea to show how unprofessional and disorganized he is via Twitter post. And refused to say the whole truth too. And no one was in the room to tell him: "Hey, what if you get a replacement first, so at least you won't have to admit you are dropping a series because you have no writer left?".

That's so stupid it doesn't even make me mad. It simply goes all the way around and becomes pure genius.

It also (involuntarily?) reconfirms a thought I had long ago, when Joan left. When I watched the goodbye video, I expected Thomas and/or Joan to tell us: "Hey, Joan is leaving, but here is the person who will replace them!".

But nope, no introduction of a new writer, no update post. Literally nothing. Joan left and no one came in. Only vague mentions of other people and names, but mostly Thomas confirming he was the main SaSi writer.

Thomas. Who is not a writer - let alone a competent one.

That's so stupid it's hilarious.

So, since now Thomas got rid of his last writer, what will he do? Learn how to become one? Considering his lack of progress in general, I suppose not.

So what? Will he hire another one of his friends? Will he think he can do anything and write RwR himself? Or will he keep trying on SaSi, a series that is so difficult to handle and with so many stakes, that even a competent writer would have problems with?

The incompetence has just reached a new level and I can't wait to see how deeper we can go.

_____________

The spoilers for the next SaSi episode

Thanks to @t-slanders, who appeared out of nowhere and decided to feed us something more than the absolute nothing Thomas gave us for years, we know what the next SaSi episode will be about.

And look, it's a plot in which:

The main topic of discussion is Thomas and Nico's relationship

Roman is ready to push things further

Janus and Virgil are not

Virgil is hiding he's on Janus' side

Wow. Wow. That's what Thomas came up with, this is what he's working on for 4+ years and hasn't finished writing yet.

Now, I'm not saying he should've created another plot: that's the only possible plot he could've developed. The only one that made sense, considering how WTIT ended and what was hinted during the 5 year anniversary special.

Why am I so sure of that? Because those are the exact same plot points for the season 2 finale - part 1 I came up with: in my version, Thomas was questioning if he was ready to have a relationship with Nico, Roman wanted to push things further, Janus wanted Thomas to be more cautious, Virgil was siding with Janus but refused to admit it.

Sure, some elements are different of course, but the plot points are the same. The biggest difference is that it took me a few months to develop them into a plot, not 4+ years.

And since those are the plot points, I already know how they will develop too. And not because I'm a genius but, again, they can only go in one direction: Thomas will eventually agree with Janus, it will become obvious Virgil is siding with him, Roman will feel betrayed and his arc will start in the next parts. It's already all written here, it can only go this way. The time travel idea is an "embellishment", but the plot can only go one way.

However, that doesn't mean the season finale will be automatically bad. A lot of stories I can predict end up being great anyway. So no, I won't judge it for its predictability. I will judge it for the production time and the characters' personalities.

And speaking of personalities...

_____________

The tweet video

I watched it at 2x speed, because didn't want to waste too much time on it.

It was... okay. Just okay. The characters' personalities are just okay. Everything is just okay.

Sigh. I'm tired of everything being "just okay".

And no, I cannot shake the feeling that Thomas pulled out this video in 0.2 seconds, only because he had a sponsorship to do.

One last thing I want to tell now, so consider it a warning: if the next episode and/or eventual season finale part 1 are "just okay", I will consider it negatively. From a canonical episode, I expect more than to feel "meh" while watching it.

_____________

And now?

We do the same thing we do every night, my dears: we wait forever for Mr. Sanders to finally decide to update us, to work on SaSi, or to do some stupid shit worthy of a discussion.

Of course, that doesn't mean we should burn him at the stake or cancel SaSi: we are all adults here, so we will simply highlight the shit Thomas does, because if you do stupid shit, you deserve to be criticized. That's not a personal attack, that's just being objective. I hope, one day, he will learn that too.

And maybe, who knows? He will also learn from his mistakes, hire someone competent, pay them properly and not lay them off without finding a replacement first.

Or, maybe, he will just find the perfect excuse to drop SaSi/put the finale on hold forever, so he will be finally free from the burden he clearly feels. When that day comes, I wish him to find a series he will be truly passionate enough, to keep it on until the end.

And sure, of course I will be around when the supposed next episode will supposedly come out: one part of me hopes it will be good, while the other part loves shooting a fish in a barrel. So... well, at least I will be satisfied either way ;P

#sanders sides #ask #ts criticism #sorry for the long wait for the reply #I just don't have a lot of free time #I need 40-hours-long days #thank you all dear anons for the asks #and for keeping me updated #you're great <3 #this post is for all the previous asks too #I basically put everything together here

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demigod-jack-hearth · 2 days

Note

As the original Anon who sent the FIRST ask, I am a male victim of SA, by a woman who has since changed the history by claiming that I SA'd her instead. You calling me a little bitch, multiple times, going into multiple different rp threads to bring it up, and call me a bitch.

I had to leave tumblr for a few weeks.

I was not the second Anon. And even if I were, while I may not have approached in the friendliest way, calling me a bitch for telling you that it's not alright to remove male rape victims

Especially when Circe is a victim of SA, just mot by Odysseus. I agree with some others I've seen. Stop burrying your apology with roleplay, take a few days to think. I'm sorry this is hard on you, but when you use SA as a simple plot line this is what you need to consider.

Look, I don't know whether you really are the first anon like you say you are, but I'm just going to take your word for it and trust you are.

I know I fucked up. I really know that, and I'm sorry that I called you a bitch

I'm not going to try and defend myself.

Like I said in the apology, I know that it isn't enough. I was in a bad place at the time with shitty people, and honestly, I'm still in a bad place (although that might change soon)

Don't take this as me making excuses, because I'm not trying to, and I'm sorry if it seems that way.

But yes, although I was being influenced by shit people, those were still my actions and words that I wrote. There is no excuse for that. There is no excuse for what I did and how I initially handled the situation.

If I could take it all back and start from the beginning, I would. Not because it would prevent backlash, but because it would mean that I would be able to stop myself from making a stupid and idiotic decision

I also know that no matter what I do, no apology will be enough to rectify what I've done. And I know there is no 'forgive and forget' in this situation, and although on one hand I do want forgiveness from people who were affected. I know and completely understand that I don't deserve forgiveness from anyone no matter what I do.

At this point, I've made a formal apology and I've done what I can to rectify what I've done. So there's not much else I can do except receive what I deserve.

Your other point, that I'm "burying my apology in role play" I'm not trying to do that. But for me, roleplay is an escape from my irl life. I'm in a situation where, sometimes, I don't feel that I'm safe from myself.

I know that sounds like another excuse, but it's not, it's just the truth.

I know I need help. I've been told that by several people (friends and people I'm close with) but for me, that's something that's very difficult to receive

Regardless of that. I'm not trying to "bury" the apology. When I began roleplay in early June (I think), it became something that I deeply enjoyed.

However, along with that passion, a problem was created, that I easily became addicted to Tumblr and the roleplaying community. It was not something I did purposely, it just happened.

I've tried several times to try and at least reduce the amount of time that I spend on this app. But every time that I try, I always end up coming back (the most I was able to stop for was 1 day).

I'm completely aware that this is a major issue (and writing it down makes both it and me sound completely pathetic) it's not something I can easily fix, but to start with I'm going to attempt to roleplay less. I'm not sure how successful it'll be, but I'll try

But I never meant to make it seem like I'm trying to hide the apology. Roleplay is just something I can't stop myself from doing.

I'm not going to talk about the other stuff, based on the reason that I've already addressed this in my main apology/explanation, and I don't want to just repeat myself

Because of how this has been worded, I've got the idea that you are someone that I've interacted with before, so I'm just going to tag everyone.

I'm sorry if you didn't want to be tagged

@zariahthewitch @thegroovydaughterofhestia @if-chaos-was-a-boy @the-gods-strange-children @silena-daughterofaphrodite @fabulousdaughterofhecate @weakest-son-of-sun @chaos-pers0nified @neoptolemus-achilles-son @bast-the-best26 @goddess-of-bubblegum @hispanic-child-of-hermes @gaygirldoodles @luck-is-crucial @reyna4ever @vicious-daughter-of-zeus @feral-hermes-child @oopsies-i-did-a-thing @unfortunate-daughter-of-hestia @that-girl-cupid @ariathemortal @love-lightning-forethought @emdabitchass @kaiaalwayswins @champion-of-revenge @i-was-never-sane @clown-energy-skyrocketing @zoe-aura-of-d3ath @itsyourboyezra @lunar-eklipso-r @pink-koi-lovejoy @that-daughter-of-athena @sleepy-as-a-song @smileyalater @gellyhelio @daughter-ofthe-moontitan @demeters-daughter-is-done @the-smart-and-the-dumb-one @trinket-snatcher @southerndaughterofeos @creature-under-ur-bed @burnt-out-bitxhes @cloak-of-ares @heraaaaaaaa @unproblematic-hestia

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witchofsparkles · 16 hours

Text

Vampire Ghost and hunter Soap fic I wrote a while ago. I'm posting the full fic down below, it's also on AO3. You can check the tags first on AO3 if you like.

Soap aimed his crossbow for the deer bowed its head. It was oblivious to the human and the bow in his hand, didn't realize the fate that was on the way to claim its reward.

Every living thing was a fuel to the another. The energy never disappears but it changes. The deer's life was going to be the human's. There was a circle to complete. The circle of life.

But when Soap released the trigger and waited for the deer to shake with the arrow's force, it went into something taller and slender. Something more human. Soap watched the deer to run away into the depths of the forest and slowly walked to the prey. It was a human. At least his body was, Soap couldn't see the face of him because of the skull mask covering most of it. He squated next to him to check his pulse. Yes, Soap was a hunter and a killer if it came to it, but he wasn't out to kill innocent people. If he didn't see it necessary to his survival, every breath was God's to take.

Soap reached for the man's neck, to see if he is alive and thought he faced the death itself. The man reacted with the speed of light and Soap found his neck between the man's hand. The pulse he wanted to feel was the man's, not his own.

"Hey, calm down. It was an accident, are you okay?" Soap eyed the arrow's entry point and saw it was just under his shoulder. It shouldn't be life threatening. The man was still breathing harshly like a caged animal, so Soap put his hands on the man's. He hoped to calm him down, but the hand squeezed his neck more. "You're going to kill me." Soap managed to whisper through his clenched jaw but he started to see the stars. "I can't breath."

That brought the man's senses back and he relaxed his hand around Soap. Then leaned back to the tree behind him, kept watching Soap who was struggling to breath between coughing fits. "I was going after the deer. What were you doing there?"

Soap stared at the injured man and waited for an answer that seemed like would never come. But he spoke, with a powerless but deep voice. It was almost like he was using his all strength for a couple words. Soap didn't know who was in a worse condition: Soap who just got choked or the man who got shot with an arrow. "Going after the deer."

Soap sat down with a grunt, face to face with the man. After a careful and long watch, Soap pointed to the arrow on the man's shoulder. "Do you want me to take it out?"

The man didn't answer.

"You were going after the deer too? I don't see any weapon. You would catch it with what? Hopes and dreams?" That granted Soap a stare. He could imagine the man was raising an eyebrow. But he didn't answer, again.

"Do you have anyone at home that can cook and nurse?" The man's eyes met with Soap's and they stayed like that under the setting sun for some time. Soap couldn't see the man's eyes, they were in the shadow under the skull mask but he could see his mouth which had scars around. Soap found it sad, for some reason. It looked like the man never smiled in his life. That made him come to a decision and Soap raised to his feet. Then under the masked man's questioning eyes, he extended his hand. "Come. Let's get that wound cleaned up."

The man followed him after a brief moment, Soap guessed he was weighing his choices and walked especially slower. But when he heard the silent footsteps, Soap picked the conversation from where he left. "So. What's your name?" That stretched the silence, rather than putting a stop to it. Soap turned his head back to see the man. "I'm Soap. It's John, actually but people call me Soap. I'm taking Tarzan home, I think I deserve a name."

The man was holding the arrow stable with his hand while following Soap down the hill and he didn't raise his eyes when answering. "Ghost." Soap nodded to himself as if it was the most satisfying name he heard and Ghost frowned behing him. If he knew why Ghost was given that name, he wouldn't be looking so carefree.

They came to Soap's house, which was more like a hut than a house. There were only two rooms inside and they were small. Soap's head was just under the door but Ghost had to bend slightly to protect his head. Soap left Ghost in the room with a couch, a small table and two chairs. On his right were two kitchen cabinets with a sink and a stove. Enough things for a man who lives alone, Ghost thought. When Soap returned to the room with gauzes and medicines, Ghost went to the couch without giving Soap time to say anything. If he wanted to get the arrow out, who was he to stop him? But Ghost didn't know how to explain that he stopped bleeding long ago and the only thing preventing the wound from closing was the arrowhead still buried into his flesh.

And yet, Soap didn't face any opposition when he held the shirt to cut it away. The white shirt was wet with blood and Soap expected to see an injury under it, but the under the dried blood was just an arrow. Soap grabbed the arrow with his right hand and put his left on Ghost's chest to stabilize himself. The injury that stopped bleeding was in the vicinity of things he could maybe explain to himself, but not feeling any heartbeat under his palm was not. While pulling the arrow out with force, Soap did everything he could to not start shaking like leaf under Ghost's gaze and the heart that wasn't beating. And the worst, he invited him in.

Soap looked at the arrow in his hand. Ghost didn't make any sound when Soap was forcing the arrow out. His hand was aching from gripping it too tight but Ghost didn't make any sound.

Why would he, if he wasn't a human?

Soap took a deep breath. He needed to calm down. If Ghost wanted to kill him, he wouldn't be alive now. And there they were, Soap's knee on the couch between Ghost's thighs and his hand on his chest. He didn't look like he was going for Soap's head.

"Okay. The arrow is out and apparently you don't need gauzes, " Soap said nervously. His eyes were still on the hole, which supposed to stay open for at least a week. The flesh was already mending. Ghost's lips curled with a cold smile. "What?"

Soap took himself back quickly, almost stepping on his own foot. His heart was beating like caged bird in his chest. "You don't have a heart." Ghost's smile stayed but Soap knew it didn't reach his eyes. It didn't even reach his lips. It was only there for a show. "Ouch. I just told you my name."

Soap waved his hand after he huffed a short, unamused laugh. "It wasn't metaphorical. Your heart literally don't beat. Who the fuck are you?"

Ghost wasn't sitting anymore, he got to his feet and closed the gap between them. Soap hated how he had to lift his head a little to see Ghost's eyes and how it made him feel like a prey. He remembered three hours ago, how he thought this man was lying there like one. "I'm a demon you welcomed in." Soap's mind haywired and he actually laughed. It came from inside, from his belly and his whole body shook with the force of it. He noticed this whole thing was a sick joke but he was standing face to face with a probably immortal or already dead creature -given the fact that he had no beating heart. He had his own doubts of the origin of him, but to hell with it. He just pulled an arrow out of a myth, he had his reasons to lose it a little.

"Oh please. Who are you? Dracula? Go sit down when I'm prepping the meal. Even the demons get hungry."

Soap turned his back to Ghost and went to the kitchen, as if his heart was not about to leave his ribcage. He wasn't aware what he was saying until after he already said it and only thing he was sure about was that Ghost could most likely rip his head of when he was reaching for the pan. And yes, the demons would get hungry but what did they eat?

Ghost watched Soap from the couch he was sitting. He had a thoughtful look on his face. Was he really so fearless or so stupid? Soap didn't know what he was, he only got the vague idea of him being not human and said fuck it. Why was he treating Ghost like a human? Like someone who deserves any kindness of heart? He didn't have a heart.

Ghost didn't need kindness. He didn't need to rest. He didn't need his wounds to be cleaned. He didn't need to eat. Not normal, human meals, at least.

He needed to feed like every living creature. With or without a heart. But he only needed the souls. The flesh wasn't on the menu.

"What do you want to eat? I couldn't hunt, thanks to someone, so I don't have any meat." Ghost didn't look away from Soap's back and Soap shuddered under the realization of being watched. He had to ask what Ghost was eating. He had to know.

"Nothing. I don't eat. I... devour." Soap's hand froze on the ladle and he had to stop himself from reaching to the knife. He turned to face Ghost, who was still sitting where he left him. There wasn't any emotion on his mouth, the only part on his face that Soap could see. "Devour what? The souls of the innocent?" Soap's voice was mixed with mock but one could feel the tension behind it. Ghost sent him a little smirk as a prize of getting it right. "Enemies and the animals first. But if I have to, innocents are okay too."

"You're just pulling my leg now." Soap made a sound that indicates he didn't buy it. But the longer he looked at Ghost's unwavering eyes, the more he lost his confidence. "You're telling the truth. What the fuck?"

Ghost shrugged, and crossed his arms on his chest. "So. What's for the dinner?"

After an uncomfortable dinner which Ghost just watched while Soap was drinking a tasteless soup, he left Ghost in the room and went to bed to the next room. The idea of locking the door crossed his mind but he didn't. If Ghost wanted to take his soul away, a wooden door with a key on it wouldn't stop him. So he just left the door unlocked but closed, then went to bed. He thought he wouldn't be able to sleep with the fact that a soul sucker vampire was in the next room, but he drifted the moment his head touched the pillow. He dreamed of ghosts and souls.

The days turned into weeks like this. Soap didn't ask for Ghost to leave. It was out of fear at first but then he just liked to have a company. He didn't take his mask of, he didn't eat and sometimes he left for a couple of hours but he was always back before the night. Soap even found himself forgetting that Ghost wasn't a human. He was just there with his sometimes inappropriate jokes and sometimes silence. But these last days, he was mostly on the silent side and it made Soap feel... worried.

"Ghost, you good?" Ghost was on the couch, just lying there and dangling his feet from the armrest. He didn't voice an answer but nodded. Soap pressed the matter, cause Ghost's skin was looking paler than normal. "You look sick." Soap waited. Ghost would talk when he wanted to, not when he have to. While waiting to be taken into consideration of answering, Soap had a disturbing idea. "When was the last time you ate something?"

Ghost finally looked at Soap. He looked into his eyes. Soap bit his lip. "Was it before we met? Were you going for the deer because of it?" Ghost sighed. "Yes, Johnny."

Soap didnt dwell on the nickname. Not yet. "But you left almost everyday. You didn't find any animal?" Soap followed Ghost's stare and looked out the window. It was snowing. "I don't go for every animal. The sick ones are already dead, the healthy ones are gone."

"How big should it be?" Soap asked with urgency. If Ghost was half sick as his face, Soap was scared that he was gonna die in two days. Ghost didn't make a sound and for a second, Soap thought he just withered away in front of his eyes. The thought of Ghost dying made his breath caught in his throat. "Is a chicken okay? I don't know, a sheep?"

Ghost turned his head to the side and stared at Soap. He looked so helpless and panicked. Ghost smiled to him. It was a genuine one, and Ghost knew Soap noticed that too. He knew it from how Soap's posture changed. How he tensed first, then relaxed. How his shoulders sagged with relief for a moment. "Whatever you can find. A soul is a soul."

It did matter. Yes, a soul was a soul but the smarter the creature was the more fullfilling it would be. A cat's soul would do it for him, for two days. Maybe. A crow? About a week. That's why, the other ones were always hunting humans. They were the epitomes of wit. The emperors of the food chain. But he didn't have the luxury of a choice. He was already hungry and weak when he met Soap. After that, with every passing day with no soul, he got weaker. The weaker he became, the lesser he could go out to hunt. And because the village was small and they didn't know him, he couldn't go to the other houses to see if they have any animal. The last time he left the house, he had to sit under a tree not too far from home so he could go back. At first, staying with the human was a wise choice for him. If he couldn't hunt, he could always take Soap's soul. After some time, he couldn't bring himself to even think about it. The image of Soap between his arms, his soul leaving his body to feed Ghost, his blue eyes closing forever to keep Ghost's eyes open.

It sounded so sick and so wrong.

He found himself at the bring of death, so he could keep Soap alive.

When Soap came back, his hands were empty and there was a shocked look on his face. Ghost knew something was wrong. He sat up quickly and saw the stars for a moment. Soap was still standing in front of the door that closed after him. "They... They're all dead. Everyone. All of them." Ghost frowned. He took Soap's hand without thinking about it and got his attention. "What's happening? Tell me. Slowly." Soap nodded and dropped himself next to Ghost on the couch. There was a distant look in his eyes. "I- The village was too quiet. I followed the road down, I walked till the woods. Every door was closed. There was no one outside. Even the kids. Kids are always outside. I knocked on the doors, no answer. Then I saw blood on the path. Just droplets. Followed it through, it was going inside a house. The door wasn't locked so I went inside." Soap stopped talking and pressed into his eyes with his palms like he wanted to erase the scenes from his brain. Ghost put his hand on Soap's back and slowly circled. He hoped to bring some peace. "All dead. Went from door to door. All dead. Kids, animals, even the bugs. All dead. I found blood on only few of the bodies. The rest was... just sleeping. They didn't look dead. They looked like sleeping."

Ghost's body froze. He could feel Soap's skin under his palm and the heat radiating from it, but rest of his body was frozen. "Like sleeping. Are you sure?" Oblivious to Ghost's state of mind, Soap nodded. He was looking at his own hands. "Yes. No injury. They were all clean except the ones with blood. I think they tried to fight against whatever it was."

Ghost didn't talk for a long time and Soap's mind was occupied with the images of his friends bodies. Then he snapped his head to look at Ghost. Ghost was lost in thoughts but Soap figured it out. He figured it out long ago, deep down he got what was happening but only now he could voice it. "Ghost. Is it only you? The vampire?" Ghost nodded slowly and the nightmare turned into reality. Soap clenched his fists to slow his breath down. So he wouldn't start shouting. "How many? Ghost. How many? Did I do this to them? Did they follow you? Or were they looking for you? Are you a part of a pack? Did you do this?" Soap's voice raised through the talking and he was yelling at the end. He didn't realize he was standing in front of Ghost till he looked down and saw Ghost's head hanging low.

"I left them a long time ago. They turned me into this monster, and feed me the souls. The humans. It was mandatory for them, to feed on humans. They always went after the smartest ones, in wit and in emotion. After they made me eat the soul of a child, I left. And I brought the bastards with me. Their souls. It's a funny thing, how we think when the heart stops the soul leaves. It's normally like that.Any human would lose their souls when their heart stopped. But with us, it's different. Our hearts stopped long ago, but we still live. It's like we tricked God into thinking we're still alive, even after hundreds of years. Or we're all so wicked that even God doesn't want to claim our souls. When I ate the other ones' I tasted rotten blood. It was the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten. But when I was feeding on them, I also fed on the souls they took. I tasted fear, sadness, happiness, hope, love... I tasted it all. Then I tasted my own mother. My brother and his finance, my nephew. These bastards put their hands on my family."

Soap couldn't move. Couldn't breath. He felt the tears stinging his eyes. He let them fall, and stream down his face.

"Among them, I found who did it. And I sliced him. Carved him with a knife. You see, Johnny, I was a soldier before. They turned me because I was too good. The perfect soldier. But I would die one day. So they turned me into this beast. I know how to torture and how to make people scream with pain. But he was already dead and I already took his soul. So I carved a message on his body." Ghost took a knife out of his pocket and showed to Soap. "This is the only thing that was left from my old life. I want to end the new one with it too. Unless someone from them or God himself doesn't want to get my soul, I will keep walking this earth till the apocalypse come and take us all. Or maybe, one day, I will be strong enough to do it myself."

Soap was still looking down at Ghost. Ghost, who was sitting like a stone while telling Soap his life. The horrors he experienced. He squatted down. It was like the first day they met. Soap wrapped his arms around Ghost's body and pulled him close, his head was just under Soap's chin. Ghost trembled and took a deep breath, like the weight on his shoulders lifted with the touch of Soap. He leaned to Soap's chest without realizing and the hard edges of the mask sinked into Soap's flesh.

Soap didn't move, but Ghost knew it hurt. He took the mask out, then hugged Soap back with force. Like he was trying to run away from the world into the Soap's chest. Like he was trying to get into it, to nest in his ribcage and become the neighbour to his heart. Soap stroked his back, and let him pour it all out. If he wanted to stay, he was going to let him stay. Let it be in his house, or in his heart. Both were his home.

Ghost took himself back from the Soap's hug and for a moment, he didn't lift his head. It was an integral part of Ghost, Soap couldn't possibly imagine how hard it was to take it off in front of someone else. "I put this mask on after they force me to take that child's soul. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. I was an entity with a damned soul and no heart. I was a ghost." Ghost looked up at Soap and it made Soap's heart jump. Soap saw his brown, more like auburn hair with blond strands here and there. And saw his brown eyes, which turned into pot of honey under the sun. His mouth was always on display, with scars around it that made him look like a mistreated porcelain doll. But the cheekbones were new. The cut starting from under his eye and ending right before where the mask sits was new. The freckles across his face were brilliant, like God took a look at it and decided it would be a nice location for another desert. For Soap to get lost and see a mirage under his eyes.

Soap took Ghost's hands into his and didn't look away from his eyes. Then kissed the corner of his lips. Lifted corners with a smile was the prize. Ghost held his face with both hands, then put his thumbs under Soap's eyes. He drank from the oceans, that clenched his thirst. Then he went for his lips, and not like a shy thank you. Ghost devoured Soap's lips. The human Ghost thought that he would eat his soul away was taking his' through the lips. And Ghost was giving it away willingly.

The moment ended with a bang on the door and they froze on the spot. Ghost went for his mask again, and Soap ran to the kitchen to get a knife. "Simon... I know you're here, dear." Ghost's hand stopped at midair with the mask. After hearing the name, he lowered his hand and dropped the mask. Soap wasn't listening the man shouting outside the door. His eyes were on Ghost. And when Ghost handed Soap the knife he was carrying with him, he snapped. "What are you thinking?"

Ghost didn't speak. But his eyes and face did. "Absolutely not. You're not fed. You're weak. And you give the knife to me? No." Ghost put the knife in Soap's palm and made him clench his fist, then put his hand on top of it. "I've been alive for 200 years, Johnny. And you're the best thing ever happened to me." Soap shook his head furiously. "No. Ghost -Simon. No. I won't allow it. Stay. We can figure it out."

Ghost listened the sounds. There were at least three of them. In his best, Ghost would take them down at the same time. But now, he was weaker than a kid and he knew they came after him, not Johnny. He wasn't going to put his life in danger. Ghost leaned in for another kiss before getting up to his feet. A kiss of goodbye. Soap wanted to tear down the walls with his fingers.

Ghost left like a summer breeze in the middle of the barren winter.

Soap's grip around the knife tightened to the degree that the handle left prints in his palm. He got up and went to the door. He wasn't going to let them get Ghost alone. Even as a mere human, he knew he could do something. He was a hunter, he could do some damage. When he grabbed the knob with determination, the door opened wide with a bang. A man with a red hair with blood on his face was standing in front of him with psychopatic smile. "Hi, Johnny. Let's take a walk."

Soap used the knife Ghost gave him on the red haired man. He stabbed his arm but it didn't make him leave Soap. Instead, he bent Soap's arm to his back and took him out of the house. Soap didn't realize how far they come till they stopped and only then he noticed the speed they had. The man almost flied him to the woods with his speed. When they stopped, Soap took a look at their surroundings and his eyes stopped at Ghost. He was bleeding from his arms and his face, Soap saw a hole on his chest which made his heart stop. Ghost's wounds would close by itself normally, but his body was too hungry to do so. He was going to die soon. "Ghost..."

Ghost's unseeing eyes focused on Soap and his eyes widen with fear. He struggled under the grip of the other man. "Soap! No! Why did you take him? This is between us!" Ghost's cries didn't reach to the red haired man. He just laughed. "All these fightings made me hungry. I bought a snack on my way back." The man turned his look from Soap to Ghost, then his smile turned into something more wicked. "Oh. I almost forgot. You didnt eat for so long, right? I will leave this for you. I know you don't like it, but a cut on the body will do the job. It did before."

He touched Soap's cheek and made a little cut with his fingernail, just enough to draw blood. "Soap, did you know he hates to take human soul? But the beast does like it. Blood is the link between the body and the soul. If you bring it out, we always want to taste it. Some of us want it more than the others. Especially if you're too hungry. Too weak. If you're at the door of the underworld, the beast will do anything to keep its soul inside the body. To keep it from dying."

Soap locked his eyes with Ghost, and saw the color leaving his face. He was living up to his name now, his face was as white as a ghost. Soap could see him struggling, trying to lock his jaw, close his mouth, dig his toes into the dirt to keep him from moving. But Soap also could see the beast was winning. Ghost was too helpless, he didn't have enough strength to hold himself back. The man standing at Ghost's side let him go.

Soap closed his eyes. He didn't mind dying. He didn't mind it because he knew his soul was going to live in Ghost. He was going to let Soap in, like Soap did with Ghost weeks ago. Soap was okay with it.

He embraced death with open arms.

But it didn't come. He felt the grip on his coat loosen and he planted on the ground face first. He tasted dirt in his mouth but his soul was where it should be. He stayed on his knees and hands first, then looked around. The man with the red hair was on the ground and his eyes were looking at the trees above, empty. He was dead. Rather, his soul was sucked out of him. Soap searched for Ghost and found him on the other side, the man who was holding Ghost was now between Ghost's arms, his limbs stopping moving by the time goes.

When Ghost finished his job, he tossed the body to the side like a trash. He left the mask home, so Soap saw his face as a whole. He looked phenomenal with the dried blood on his cheek and the franzy look on his eyes. But he felt scared too. This was the beast. The monster. Even though Ghost could take his last breath away from his lungs, Soap still reached a hand to him when Ghost got closer. "Simon..."

Ghost squatted and took Soap's hand, then lifted it to his face and pressed his cheek on it. Then kissed his palm. "Yes, Johnny. I'm here."

Soap let Ghost wrap him into a hug. They stayed like that for a moment, till the tension of fear leave both of their bodies. Soap nudged his head into Ghost's neck and spoke in a muffled voice. "Simon, is it over?" Ghost nodded over him. "It is. We can go home now."

Soap grabbed Ghost's shirt and held him down with himself. "Everybody is dead. There's no home." Ghost kissed the top of Soap's head. "Wherever you are, there is my home. We can leave, if you want. To somewhere better."

Soap chuckled under him. "To somewhere with unlimited access to little innocent animals."

"That too, yeah." Ghost parted away and saw Soap still holding the knife he gave, grabbing it to death. Ghost unclenched his fist, then took the knife away. It made a deep cut on Soap's hand, the blade was dripping blood. Ghost wrapped the wound with a piece of the red hair man's cloth, then clened the knife on his shirt. Soap shook his head when Ghost wanted to give the knife back. "No. It's yours. And no one's dying. So you can take it."

Ghost refused, and put the knife back on Soap's good hand. "My life is always in your hands. You can kill my kind with a stab to the heart. I never had the courage, never bring myself to try. But if one day-" Soap stopped Ghost from talking with a kiss. He kissed Ghost like this was a war and Soap was determined to win. Ghost breathed into Soap's mouth and Soap tasted Ghost's soul. He tasted love and murder. Both had traces of blood.

"If you ever, ever, talk about dying again. I will kill you. Just a warning." Ghost laughed and bit Soap's lower lip. "Mhm. I'm warned."

Five hundred years later, a man with a wide hat stepped next to a disturbed tomb. He had a shovel in his hand, and the grave was getting swept by men and women with shovels and all kinds of tools. "Price!" The man turned to the sound of his name. "Gaz. What's it?" Gaz pointed to a grave that was six foot away. "Take a look at this."

They were called to a graveyard because a sick bastard was burying his victims' bodies with the already dead people. Price greeted the people working on the other graves on his way and went to the one Gaz pointed. "Would you look at that?"

Price lowered himself and tried to take everything in. There was two bodies in the space of one, so he thought it was the psycho's doing but when he gave his attention he realized it wasn't the case.

What was left from them were only the skeleton but a trained eye could see it. One of the bodies was almost in a manner of hugging the other. The hugged one had nothing and probably died of natural causes because Price couldn't see any trauma on the bones. He was probably too old, if you take the sternum's width. But the other, the one that looked like it was hugging, had a knife between his ribs, stuck there till eternity.

Price took his eyes from the grave and plunged the shovel into the ground, taking a load of it and filling the grave. "Let them rest, son."

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little-teacupss · 2 days

Text

Harriet's lullaby. Mini fic

Note: This is a mini fic to "The Trapped fairy." And the prequel that I hope to have out by next week, big thank you to my best friend @brokenmilkcrates, go show Zach some love because he's been helping me come up with ideas and lore for this whole series :D go show love to @skellseerwriting who has also been giving me tips and ideas for this series! For the tag list, if you want to be added, put mail in the mailbox!

Tag list" @jupiterisaroace, @brokenmilkcrates , @skellseerwriting, and @giveityourworst! @saturnisaroace

Note 2: Remember you can give criticism without being a prick! Also, I hope you enjoy this little story, the song "Home." From Broadway Beauty and the Beast is what inspired it and will be sung in it!

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Fay smiled at the little girl who rolled around under the covers and giggled at her mother, who was trying to get her to sleep, Harriet squealed when her mom threw the blanket over her head before quickly removing it again, before she began to pout and cross her arms at her mom.

"Will you sing me to sleep, Mama?" .Harriet asked her mother with curious eyes as she stared up at her, Fay's smile softened as she nodded and climbed into bed next to her daughter, who curled up against her side as close as she could possibly get, Harriet let out a soft yawn as Fay's calm voice filled her ears. "Yes, I made the choice for Papa. I will stay, but I don't deserve to lose my freedom in this way, you monster."

She hummed and began to sweep Harriet's hair gently and brush through it gently, twirling the ends that curled, as she sang. "If you think what you've done is right well, then you're a fool think again.

"Is this home? Is this where i should learn to be a happy, never dreamed that a home could be dark and cold, I was taught every day in my childhood. Even when we grow old, home will be heart is never were words so true, my hearts far far away home is too, is this home is what this what I must learn to believe in, try to find something good in this tragic place?"

Fay turned her head as she sang when she heard a loud creak from behind. Her eyes dilated when her eyes met James' dark ones that stared at her from the doorway as he listened to her sing. "Just in case I should stay here forever held in this empty space, oh but won't be easy I know the reason why."

She watched as he approached, and also climbed into the bed. He gently ran a hand over Harriet's hair as she fluttered her eyes, James smiled before nodding at Fay to continue her lullaby. "My hearts far far away homes alay what I'd give to return to life that I knew lately but I know I can't solve my problems going back, is this home am I here for a day or forever, shut away from the world until who knows when?"

She smiled at James as they both looked down at their sleeping daughter, who was curled in between before she continued. "Oh, but then has been altered once it can be changed again built by the walls around me, change every lock and key."

Fay's gaze trailed up from Harriet to James' relaxed face as he watched their daughter before his eyes met hers as she sang. "Nothing lasts. Nothing holds all of me, my hearts far far away home and free."

As she finished the song, James leaned forward, Fay was shocked when she felt herself leaning forward to meet him. The two shared a slowly, passionate kiss full of love and agony. She felt his hand come up and cup her cheek to which she brought a hand up to the back of his neck and began to gently play with the ends of his hair, the two only separated when they were panting and gasping for air, as they stared at each before laying back down where their daughter laid in between then.

The two brought the hands to the middle to rest over their daughters chest, where they intertwined over her before moving, so their foreheads were touching against Harriet's small head, the two stared at each other like they were in a staring contest before, Fay's eyes began to flutter shut, she felt a pair of lips against her forehead, her eyes opened to see James laying back in his original place as he whispered. "I love you, Fay."

Fay stared at him as she dragged her teeth over her bottom lip before she also whispered. "I love you too, James."

The little family soon fell into a slumber, with James holding Harriet and Fay close while Fay held onto Harriet with her head nuzzled against his chest while James hummed a familiar tune.

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Does anyone want to guess the song he was humming? Anyway, I hope you like this little mini fic, I literally just thought to write of it like thirty minutes ago, so I hope you enjoy!

Anyway, until the next story! Ba bye!

#lullaby #Harriet's lullaby #descendants #rise of red #descendants rise of red #fairy godmother #fay godmother #fairy godmother's wand #captain james hook #james hook #captain hook #family #Home #song

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storiesfromafan · 4 hours

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Rumours - Buck x Reader

A/N: okay, this is my first attempt at good old Gale 'Buck' Cleven, so please be nice 😅 And I am sorry in advance if its not that good haha.

Warnings: angst, possible grammer and spelling mistakes

Prompt: “You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you”

Tag list: @strayrockette

When you signed up to be a nurse during the war, you had been scared of what you would see. And see you did. Many times you questioned why you did it. But meeting both Buck and Bucky, you understood why. They were funny and sweet guys. Buck the more level headed one, while Bucky was a wild card. You never know what he would do. You did what you did for them, and men like them. They needed someone that was like home while doing what they did and through this war.

They took you into their circle. Making it hard to say no to their company, which you were grateful for after a long day after being on stand by, as those injured came in for treatment. The hurt and broken men you saw, it was heartbreaking and soul crushing. Yet you did your job. Helping Doctors and tending to those in recovery.

Over time you found yourself having a silly crush on Major Cleven. And when it turned to something more – love – you thought yourself foolish. He had a sweetheart back home, waiting for him patiently. So you put those feelings away, in a box which you locked and hid the key.

Unfortunately, a few of the other nurses, ones who you think fancied Bucky more than Buck, had it out for you. For rumours started to make the rounds about you and your affections. The way eyes would watch you as you entered a room. Silence falling between those that had clearly been conversing before your arrival. And then when you heard what they were saying, it hurt. It hurt because these people, whom you thought highly of, had tarnished your reputation.

“She's trying to steal another woman’s man, how shameless".

“I heard she's thrown herself at Major Cleven and Major Egan. It's why she's always with them".

“I always thought she had no morals. She’s always too friendly with the Doctors".

That was just some of the stuff you'd heard. So you took to distancing yourself from everyone. Only being present during your shifts, meetings or at meals. Otherwise you were in your quarters, walking around the base or going into town. It was lonely being separate from everyone. But you didn’t want to stir any new gossip.

Currently you were taking a walk around the base, enjoying the nice weather. You had been over worked the last few days, having a moment like this was just what you needed. In the distance you could hear the air crafts being worked on. But other then that, it was quiet. A contrast to back home and where you lived.

If only your peace was to last. Coming up behind you, as you were looking off into the vast open area and the blue sky, was Buck. He looked worried as he studied you. It felt like forever since he had spoken to you. He was concerned about you and how you were taking the rumours going around base. Ones which he and Bucky had been working to clear up.

You heard the rustle of grass from moving feet. But you remained where you were, waiting to know who it was. You had a fifty-fifty chance on knowing who it was, though you hoped it was Bucky.

“Hey" came Buck's soft voice. And squashing your hopes on Major Egan.

“Hi" you replied, still not turning around.

There was a moment of silence between you both. You hoping he wasn’t here to talk about what people were saying. While Buck was trying to think of how to say what he was thinking. He wanted you to know he didn't believe what was being said, that he knew you were a nice and good woman who didn't deserve this slander.

“Look, about what I've heard” Buck began, making you stiffen. “I don't believe what anyone has been saying, you know that right? You're not that kind of woman".

You nodded your head slowly. “W-what have you heard?” You asked, not entirely wanting to hear his answer.

Placing his hands on his hips, Buck looked down, unsure if he should answer your question. “Let's just say what I heard, I didn't like. And both myself and Bucky have been doing our best to shut it all down".

That was when you turned around, a sad but thankful smile on your face. Seeing your face and how worn out you look, it pulled at Buck's heartstrings. He could see you were tired, but that was due to the busy last few days. But also he could see the toll how this whole rumour thing was taking on you. When you distanced yourself, it broke his and Bucky's hearts.

They had come to enjoy your company, and your spirit. The three of you always finding something to talk about or laugh at, though it was usually at Bucky's antics. He never understood how women could be so catty. But in some cases, men are just as bad.

“Everything will be alright" Buck said, looking you in the eye. “Give it a few days and it should start to go back to how it was...”

You frowned. “I'm afraid the damage is done Buck. Even if people aren't saying it, they'll be thinking it. I'll be surprised if I don't get pulled in for a meeting over it...”

“Bucky and I will stand up for you".

“That might not be a good idea. It may only make it worse" your voice weary, eyes falling to the ground.

“But none of its true, right?” He questioned, hoping he sounded worried and not accusing.

You should have said no right away, though it might have given him the wrong idea. But the prolonged silence didn't help either. You avoided his eyes as Buck tried to meet them. You turned away from him and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“(Y/N), none of its true...?” Buck repeated himself, now with worry.

You sighed. “No...except for one thing...”

Buck moved closer to you. “What is true? You have to tell me so I, Bucky and I can help".

Thinking he was going to place a hand on your shoulder, you flinched, taking a few steps back. “I-it's embarrassing...and childish...”

Buck remained silent, urging you with his eyes to go on.

You sighed. “I-it's my feelings...for you" you ended on a whisper.

But Buck still heard it. He had heard how some women had gossiped about you being in love with him. And he had found it ridiculous. You were friends, that was it. So he had thought. But now, from your admission, those women had been right. Which didn't help the unease he was feeling over it all. He felt angry that they had spread your true feelings. Feelings you had kept to yourself, never acting on. Unlike some women he had seen. They were more shameless then you.

“I see...” he stated, voice calm and gentle.

“Yes...now you know how silly I am" you started, feeling tears rise in your eyes. “How silly I am to be in love with you. When I know I shouldn't".

“It's alright" Buck said reassuringly. “It happens...”

Those words hurt, like a slap to the face. Like he was trying to play it off, or sweep it under a rug. Like it didn't matter. Well it didn't, but some kind of assurance would have been nice. But in stead, Buck was keeping you at arms length over it. And it sparked different emotions in you; anger, frustration, hurt and sadness.

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you” you said with a strained voice. Tears in your eyes, which you were managing to hold back for now.

The look on Buck's face was like pity, how his eyes looked guilty and in despair. “(Y/N)...” his voice soft and weary.

“No Buck, don't" you held up a hand. “I don’t, can't hear it". A tear escaped and ran down your cheek. “I don't want to hear your kind words, as you let me down...I know you have Marge. And I shouldn't have let myself get carried away with being around you and Bucky. But you were both nice to me, the company that I needed. Yet I let my feelings get away from me...”

You dropped your hand, your shoulders slouching slightly as you looked down. Unable to face the gorgeous Major who'd stolen your heart. From the dashing smile, to his warm heart dancing with Meatball, and everything in between. Major Gale Cleven was the man of your dreams, but he belonged to another. A woman that Buck spoke fondly of on the nights when you had to bunker down as bombs went off near by. A woman that made you feel less than in just about every way, except being a nurse during the war.

“Marge is a lucky woman...” you stated with a small laugh. “You're lucky to have a woman like her waiting for you back home...no doubt you'll both be happy" you voice dropping at the end.

It was silent after that. You having said your piece, something that shouldn’t have been aired out, if it wasn’t for the other nurses. Buck was quiet because he was processing your words. Which struck a cord in him. And dare he say that he felt for you. Over this time together, bonded in the worst way, he had grown closer to you. He sort out your company and spirit, especially after returning from a mission that was tough. He revelled in your sunshine. Seeing you like this hurt his heart.

Neither knew what to say after all that. Buck had opened his mouth and closed it a few times. Hoping when he would go to speak the words would come to him, but there was nothing. He should have agreed with you, and said he appreciated your affections. But he couldn't. Because a small part of him liked this, and wanted it from you. And even a part of him at one point had entertained the idea of you.

But he let it be just that, a thought. He had a girl back home waiting, a sweet thing who wrote him letters and cared. Could he really lose that? Or juggle both? No, he wasn't that kind of guy. Yet Buck had feelings for you, that weren't entirely friendly.

“F-forget this ever happened Buck...” you said softly, so softly that Buck wondered if you spoke at all.

And with that, you took your leave. Heading back to your room. Back to solitude and your thoughts. It wasn't great, but its all you had till either people stopped being asses. Or the war was over. Which ever happened first.

#gale cleven x reader #buck x reader #gale buck cleven #gale cleven x you #austin butler x reader

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