#but i am only left with emptiness and disconnect

[donttouchtheneednoggle]

half 11 at night gender hits different

[yaoianime]

Soon im rly gonna do it

[mercymaker]

I am so happy to finally show off the piece of art from our trade with the incredibly talented @goromimii ♥ thank you so much for this beautiful drawing of Maleane!

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

She stayed hidden through it all, day and night. Her mother screamed and screamed — in between the many degrading words coming from the drow party's lips, in between the sounds of sizzling flesh and breaking bones — until a long drawn-out minute of gurgling noises, after which it all went quiet. And even after the group had long departed, Maleane stayed in the little niche under the roots of a tree, frozen, terrified. Just like all those times A’sherra had forced her to hide under the floorboards.

It was only as the dawn was breaking that she gathered enough courage to return to what should’ve been their home for the summer. Yet, it was home no more, merely the leftovers of a terrific crime. They had eaten their food, stolen most of their weapons and left their little cabin in charcoal and ash. But none of it mattered to Maleane. Not when she saw her mother lying on the ground. Or rather, when she saw what was left of her. Looking at her mother’s eyeless, tongueless face put the young drow in such a shock that she spent the rest of the day disconnected from her own self. Maleane knew little of burial rites or funerals, only the rare bits and pieces she’d encountered in her books, but it was almost instinctual to try and hide A’sherra’s remains from the rest of the world. From the animals that were already picking limbs and chunks off of the cadaver. From more damage brought by the ill-meaning creatures. From her own eyes. The rest of the day was a blur suspended in a haze: Maleane dug a crude grave with her own two hands, collecting the pieces of her mother’s body and then covering it all in a suffocating layer of dirt. And then came the empty. At first, it was only Mal’s blood and tears watering the soil underneath her knees, but soon the sky started weeping as well. The young sorceress sat there for hours — her eyes a blank field of lilac — as the summer storm drenched her to the last thread of her shirt, washing the dirt and dried blood off of her and into the muddy grave below. Everything she was feeling, all the emotions rolling through her in waves slipped out in tendrils of magic, up and up into the stormy sky, to weave clouds and rain and lightning, until exhaustion finally took her.

[vikisbay]

✧.┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

【JJK】 Rejecting the JJK boys kisses Pt 1

|Gojo, Megumi, Choso, Geto, Yuji, Toge, Yuta,|

Pt 2

A/N —> when I tell you I was non-stop writing all of these, I am obsessed with this concept★彡

✧.┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

【GOJO S.】 collage!Gojo

• music was blasting in your ear, your headphones sat perfectly on top of your head disconnecting you from the world around. Mid terms were coming up and you had been working your ass off, getting good grades was always top priority.

Your stupidly gorgeous boyfriend was sitting across from you mindlessly scrolling on his phone when he realized is amazing girlfriend (and hopefully) soon to be wife was sitting right in front of him. Your face was being blocked by the screen of your laptop so he tilted down revealing you to him. You were so focused on writing down something in your notebook you hadn’t even realized Gojo staring at you.

You were suddenly snapped out of your trance when your headphones were slid off your head and onto your neck, “hi sweetheart” his smile warmed your heart and his voice was literally ethernal. His hands cupped your face bringing it centimetres away from his, oh god how could you focus on studying now.

His lips just barely grazed yours before you turned your head.

You tried your hardest to suppress your laughter but his face was absolutely priceless, your soft giggles filled there air as he stood there.

He just stood there.

Tears brimmed yours eyes from laughing so hard, you felt bad but you were also enjoying it “so you don’t love me anymore?” His hand held your chin making you look at him “I’m sorry Saturo…” your apologize sounded real but the smile that was planted your face told him otherwise.

the offended look on his face made you feel bad you so you laid a small kiss on the corner of his mouth before placing your headphones back on your head, and with that he was satisfied allowing him to go back to his seat and scroll on his phone.

【MEGUMI F.】 high school!Megumi

• your eyes fluttered open, you lifted your head from your arms before stretching them over your head. How long were you asleep for? This question was floating through your head making you wish you had just stayed asleep, just for a little longer.

You looked around to find yourself in an empty classroom all the chairs were tucked in neatly and not a single object was left behind, except for the desk next to you. Textbooks and notes were scattered around messily. You rubbed your eyes trying to shake off your grogginess. You remember keeping a certain raven haired boy company while he studied but after awhile of watching him work you decided to take a quick nap. the question that now filled your mind was ‘where was Megumi?’

like magic the boy walked back into the classroom holding snacks. when he saw you a smile grew on his face “I got you snacks” his tone was caring and gently, he also kept his voice low due to the fact that you had just woken up. he set a bottle of apple juice in front of you before sitting down in his own seat. he picked up the bottle of apple juice once again and twisted the cap open before urging you to take it.

the cold liquid flowed down your throat soothing it of the harsh dryness you felt when you woke up, “you should really start going to bed at a reasonable time” he almost sounded worried but was ultimately cool and calm. you nodded your head agreeing with him knowing full well your lack of sleep was starting to affect your everyday life. he reached a hand over to you tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

he leaned in and you were well aware he was going to kiss you, but this gave you an idea. you put a hand on his chest stopping him in his tracks, this action made his eyes open slightly wider then usual. he raised an eyebrow at you making you let out a soft laugh.

“your so annoying sometimes”

this time he acted fast leaving a soft gentle kiss on your lips, clearly not finding your jokes funny which only made you find it funnier.

【CHOSO K.】 collage!Choso

• Choso laid down in your bed waiting for you, his eyes constantly threatening to close due to how late it was. you did this every night you took almost an hour to do your skincare and Choso just didn't understand way it mattered, you were already so stunning you didn't need to spend hours on your looks.

his head turned to the door as soon as he heard your soft foot steps, as soon as you came into view his eyes couldn't leave your body. you were wearing just your regular tank top and shorts but you still look so effortlessly stunning “are you just going to continue you staring?” a soft laugh left your lips and oh God was he so in love with you and i mean everything about you.

“maybe I am?” he shrugged his shoulders before patting the space beside him on the mattress. you slipped in the blanket which was cold against your bare legs. you snuggled closer to the black haired man for warmth, his warm hands wrapped around your waist bringing you comfort as you hid your face in his chest. he leaned in to lay a sweet kiss on your cheek but you moved your hand to his face pushing him away.

he backed up just a little bit a frown planted on his face, “I just put serum on my face baby” a scoff left his lips “princess, I just want to kiss you” his whiny voice made you laugh softly. you had to reach up to kiss Choso and as soon as you did he completely melted into your touch, you pulled away still giggling about the entire situation.

he pulled you in closer before saying “you don't need all that shit to look beautiful, trust me princess”

【GETO S.】 husband!Geto

• you had been working on the perfect dinner for Geto for the past hour. your boyfriend has been slaving away at work for days, he kept coming home after you had already gone to bed and would leave for work before you'd wake up. you understood that he was making money for the both of you and you were super grateful.

you set the plate of steak and mash on the table accompanied with a tall glass of his favorite wine, now you had to just wait for him to come home. while you waited you decided to do the dishes and when you were doing them he walked into the kitchen “hi gorgeous” he said tiredly before walking up behind you lazily wrapping his large arms around your waist, he nuzzled his head in your neck while you continued to clean the dishes.

he was about to leave a kiss on your neck but before he could you pulled away “eat dinner first, then I'll kiss you” you wanted nothing more than for him to have his way with you, to do whatever he wanted but he had been neglecting his heath by not eating so you had to be stern about this.

he frowned “is this what you say to your tired husband” a smirk graced his face, you turned around to face the dark haired man in front of you. so now he hand you pinned to the the brim of the sink “its what I say when my husband cant take care of himself” a soft scoff leaves your lips, he found your sass amusing making him laugh. he knew you really cared about him and he loved you even more for this so he did as you said even if he didn't like the faceted that you rejected his kiss.

of course later that night he was making you scream his name and making you beg for his lips on you.

because he was always able to make you a mess even if just hours before you had all the control over him.

— yours truly, Viki

✧.┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

[zith-ipeth]

A bitch, a mutt, a fag, a freak.

//Some sort of manifesto//

I AM NOT FULLY HUMAN

As a fag, as a woman, I have never been fully a human in the eyes of society, I have been put with the dogs since I came out. I’ve been anxious, scared of strangers, scared of crashes and bangs, I’ve wanted to chase rodents and play fight since I figured out I was a bitch. I have always been good with animals, I’ve always been snuggly and loved biting and chewing, I sit on my legs, my paws between my haunches, looking for love in the form of a hand on my head.

MY GENDER IS BITCH

If gender isn't binary, then what is it? Is it based on masculinity and femininity? Two variables, maybe three? Or is it a disconnected eclectic collection of ideas and colors, smells, tastes, constructs, temperatures, and clothes. My gender is bared teeth, its fur and paws and ears and a tail. My gender is bitch. Unlike my female cis species canid friends, I was born spayed, I was born revoked of my fertility as a trans woman. Like my male cis species friends, I was neutered, my masculinity cut off, for me by choice, for them by a made up necessity.

WHEN BITCHES BITE THEY GET PUT DOWN

Quiet women rarely make history, but loud women get put down. Violent women get told that they arn’t making change. We get told that our violence cannot make change, that the bricks thrown at cops won't teach future generations, that fighting back, biting hands and clawing eyes gets you nowhere. We are told that we should just lay down and take it, try to debate the feral beasts that put us in a kennel, debate the wire around our neck, debate the leash and debate the shock collar. When bitches bite they get put down, when dogs are violent they get killed, when they rip and tear at that which scares them they get trained, they get their brains hijacked with pavlovian responses and in the worst possible cases, they get left on the street or killed under hospital lights.

HOW DO WE LIVE IN A TRANS SPECIES SOCIETY?

I want to be loved the way a dog is loved. I want to be a being of comfort, I want to be pet for the sake of mutual comfort. I want a relaxation around being touched, I want to see a confirmation before a hand hits my back. I want to smell you before I get to say hi, I want to taste the world with a flicking tongue. I want to move freely, run fast, bite hard, and bark loudly. People often ask how do you treat a dog like me, one that can speak. Simply put, the way you should treat the dogs who can't. The way you treat a dog socially with the ability to vocalize your non vocal communications. With consent and boundaries and love, clarification and admiration. I want not only to comfort but defend, I want to bare my fangs in a way that scares people, dress in markings that make people worried, that make people scared that someone so small can still rip their lungs out.

AM I WASTING MY VOICE, BARKING TO AN EMPTY AUDIENCE?

My mother disdains my animality, she sees it’s a joke, a plea for attention. She thinks that my voice, my ability to socialize, would be best used to help advocate for the trans community. She thinks that my doghood will take away the seriousness of my voice. I argue the opposite. If I can constantly push the edge of queerness, push the edge of comfort, maybe I can be taken seriously while fighting as hard as I do. I will fight for a future where we all can live true to the change we make for ourselves. I will be a blinding light, a beacon for those who wish to find someone who will love them, and a distraction to take the violent eyes of the patriarchy off of my friends who are still learning to defend against its ceaseless gaze.

RUN FAST

If we don't move forward constantly, then we will be moving backwards as capitalism, imperialism, and the patriarchy march forward. We must run fast to keep up, and faster to outpace it. I want to feel the paws in my mind pound against the dirt, my tongue hanging out, breathing in and out, in and out. I want to hold a banner in my jaws, wood splintering into my gums as I try harder and harder every day to be just ahead of the curve. If I can be ahead just far enough that people see something other than the onward march of death and oppression, if they can see a tragically out of shape dog panting and whining, trying her best, maybe they will try too.

BITE HARD

I’m pro violence, I believe that bleeding bite marks and broken skin signify my strength. I was scared of my teeth for so long, scared that they made me a threat, but as it turns out these fangs can be gentle. They can try to hold an ice cube as I drop it on the carpet, but they too can rip through meat and bone like a feral animal. Fight back, always, always bite the hand that feeds you poison, always tear apart the skin of your oppressors.

BARK LOUD

I get on my friends about apologizing, women apologize too often. They apologize for taking up space socially and physically, they apologize for being to loud, and I tell them to take it back. You must be loud, you must scream truths until your throat hurts and you can't even muster a growl. I speak loudly in volume, but I speak loudly socially as well, I speak often and loud and aggressively. I want my every word to be seen as a threat, I don't care if people are scared when I bark, because it’s on them to learn that's how I proclaim myself in space.

WHO I AM, SHOULD I BE SO BRAVE

I am a bitch, I am a mutt, I am a combination of humanity and animality. I am thousands of years of coevolution. I am a companion, I am a beast who owns herself. I am a fag and a dyke, i’m a freak of nature, baring my teeth as a greeting and a threat, if this bothers you than I invite you to taste my saliva as my fangs rip your face off.

Run fast, bite hard, bark loud

Peace, love, and gratitude

-Zith Ipeth

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

My memory is terrible so I wanted to do a breakdown of my stuff every once in a while. Might be monthly, might be whenever I feel like it.

BL - Currently Watching

7 Days Before Valentine [11/12] - Unlike some other shows, this one is actually getting better towards the end. I appreciate that Sunshine did some self reflection and became a better human being and I really enjoy the visuals here. Also, 7 days before valentine we will watch the finale, so that's neat.

Cherry Magic Th [7/12]– I like what the thai version is doing with the source material, I think they are being really smart and I'm so happy I got to watch the shopping date and the helicopter ride that were missing from the japanese live action.

Cherry Magic Anime [4/12]– I'm enjoying all the parallels way too much. Part of me wishes that it had stayed closer to the manga but since I get that also from Thailand, I can't complain.

Cooking Crush [9/12]– My expectations weren’t as low as maybe other people because I'm a OffGun fan but I am enjoying this show way more than I thought. It’s so refreshing to see good communication and well rounded characters that are given the space to work stuff out and be honest with each other. I feel for Samsee, cause, been there.

Dead Friend Forever [6/12]– this show continues to surprise me every week. I’m a big horror and slasher fan so for the premise alone I was gonna watch it. But I’m liking the way they chose to structure this story, moving from the slasher bit to the past at that moment was really smart. The visuals are so strong in this and I’m enjoying the communal murdering impulses towards the original friend group.

Ossan's Love Returns [3/12] - It’s chaos but the kind that only Japan can get away with for me. That season opener alone would’ve made me stop watching if it wasn’t for that. But the thing about these characters for me is that they get to be this ridiculous because it’s all grounded in such heart and kindness towards each other. It's a balancing act that only Japan can deliver at this level.

Playboyy [10/14] – I applaud the effort to make something new and out of the bl box, I think the show is trying to talk about interesting things and there are moments where the visuals are very strong. However, the acting is the weakest part of the whole thing and so I cannot connect to the characters, which leaves the whole experience kinda empty for me.

Although I Love You, and You? [3/10]- Japan my beloved. What’s there to say? Sakae is my new favourite boy and I’m really enjoying these two bridging the gap in their personalities.

The Sign [10/12]– Phaya and Tharn are delightful. Yai is the bestest boy ever. But there’s too many loose threads considering we only have 2 episodes left. There’s still to much going on and the investigation part of it just seems too disconnected for me to care. I really hope they're not counting on a special or a second season to wrap this up.

BL - Finished

Last Twilight – No need to repeat myself. here and here

Love for Love's Sake - What a wonderful surprise this was. Yeo Woon is one of the most adorable characters of all time and I seriously cannot handle it. From the beginning there was always a cloud over the whole story and I think in the end it all came together really well, to give us a happy ending that feels earned. Also really appreciated the way the story dealt with the triangle. Most of the time I hate them with a passion so I was really happy that Sang Won didn't just disappear and stayed in the group and kept teasing Yeo Woon. And now I'm just suppose to move on?

Night Dream – I liked the beginning a lot, but, as it’s becoming increasingly frequent, it dipped as it approached the end and although I liked how it finished I wasn’t a fan of the path to get there. Time skip once again not used well.

Sahara Sensei to Toki-kun - I have not seen the finale yet but I didn't want to wait so I might update this post when I watch it. However, Toki is my favourite boy, and I just want him to be happy.

VIP Only – Cute but ultimately forgettable.

Rose Watches OJBL

So this month I started my journey into older jbl stuff in order to have a bigger understanding of the landscape and what came before. With the help of the amazing @twig-tea I've started this journey with 2 films: Ai no Kotodama (2008) - Such a wonderful way to start this adventure. Really enjoyed this film. Without spoiling it, I understand that the beginning of the film might turn some people off of it but I think it's actually really smart and purposeful. I would definitely recommend it.

No Touching At All (2014) - Also really enjoyed this one. The direction is really interesting I thought. I feel it's all very intentional and it reflects very well the characters state of mind.

And because Cherry Magic opened the anime gates I also watched:

Given (2019) - This is SO GOOD. This show rewired my brain. Just now I was listening to THE SONG and I got emotional again. Every once in a while I enter this mindset where I feel like nothing that I watch can surprise me anymore. Then I watched this show. My thoughts after watching can be found here.

Not BL - Watched this month

The Killing Vote Taxi Driver 2 Vigilante Fermat no Ryori

Well, that's it I guess. Now I have to go and make some Love for Love's Sake gifs because I just can't move on and need to live there a little longer. Speaking of gifs, I'm always happy to take gif requests so let me know.

💜💜💜

[enihk-writes]

[at the end of a burnt wick]

pairing: tang bo x afab!she/her!reader

NOT exactly an x reader because i didn't want tang bo and reader's relationship to be romantic, tried to make them platonic / co-workers like ah-duo and the emperor from the apothecary diaries + implied tangchung because all roads lead to old men yaoi

summary: anthology of a married pair

content warning: archaic wedding practices mentioned (i.e. having to consummate a marriage against the will of both parties) // stillbirth and child loss (disconnect with traditional expectations of parenthood)

word count: 6.66k

author's note: my roman empire lately is about how i used to audition to nijisanji and only niji at least 3-4 times (didn't even pass the first stage lol) before i got really fixated with rotbb.... maybe one day i will try my hand at vtubing and streaming again... for now it's fanfiction time ragggghhh!!!!! fictional men 4ever!!!!

[PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY TRIGGERS CAUSED BEYOND THIS LINE]

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FIRST MEETING

the first time the young tang bo met her, was when he was a little over fifteen.

she was also just as young as he — a wee lass that had yet to lose the childlike roundness of her cheeks, round eyes that seemed to sparkle in wonderment at all the grandeur around her. tang bo didn't understand what was so special about the surroundings, he'd grown up here all his life and had already seen most of anything money could buy. this girl was weird.

he didn't find out until much later that this was the first time she had ever left the four walls of her room, much less her own home.

he thinks that it was no wonder she had looked so amazed with everything she saw back then. he can't imagine a life where he had to live constrained to one place, going through the same routine everyday would have bored him to death.

he wasn't looking forward to future conversations with that girl — he was certain she would be utterly dull and boring.

═══════════════

ENGAGEMENT

tang bo was furious that the elders had went and signed off the engagement contract without even asking for his approval. he had been meeting with countless hopefuls for a few years by now, and he'd been able to fend them all off by acting in ways that had all these well-bred ladies huffing and puffing in indignation. crying to their fathers that they would rather die than marry a man like he.

so who was it that agreed to this!

tang bo mutters under his breath, teeth gritted, fists clenched. he had to see with his own two eyes the woman who was stupid or desperate enough to let herself be wed to the likes of him.

elder!

the young man throws open the doors to the main hall, not caring one bit about the guests sitting inside. the elders and the patriarch in question frowned at his behaviour, biting their tongues from chastising him in front of strangers.

his gaze lands on a familiar face, a little older and a lot less naive, but familiar nonetheless. he didn't know that a person's demeanour could change so drastically in a few years.

tang bo's hands fall to his sides, he shuffles towards the end of the table, plopping down on the empty spot across his soon-to-be betrothed. he eyes her figure, chewing on the inside of his mouth, trying to come up with something to insult her with.

tang bo—

the patriarch didn't even get the chance to finish his sentence when the young man scoffs at the girl's face, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a sneer.

really? her?

tang bo glances over at the heads of his family, finger pointing rudely in the girl's face. they all sigh, knowing what was about to come from the impudent boy. they could only hope this girl wouldn't take his jabs to heart.

hey you.

he juts his chin at her.

all my other candidates looked prettier than you. hey, did you even bother to put in any effort when coming to meet me?

she ignored him, sipping on her tea serenely. the girl's guardians shift in their seats nervously. ah, this young master has yet to face their mistress' infamous anger.

tang bo clicks his tongue.

oi, did you even — hey!

he didn't expect her to splash the remainder of her drink onto him. the warm liquid splatters across his face and drips down his now damp hair, even the front of his robes were now soiled from the tea.

he looks over to the elders of his family in surprise, hoping that they'd stand up for him but none met his eye. he felt betrayed when he catches some of them trying to hide the twitch of their mouths suppressing their laughs.

they all thought that it was about time someone put this boy in his place, talented and intelligent as he may be.

needless to say, the rest of the meeting went on smoothly. and it ended with the confirmation of the two's engagement. much to tang bo's despair and the girl's indifference.

═══════════════

FIRST 'DATE'

he really tried his best to drag his feet that day. the elders had arranged for an evening dinner in the newly established inn downtown with his bride-to-be and tang bo really did not want to go. he was kicking up a fuss with his clothes, this one was too dull, that one is too bright, it's too rough, it's too short... and so on. but when he finally ran out of excuses and the attendants tiredly managed to dress him appropriately — the sun was beginning to set.

tang bo perks up. perhaps he didn't have to go out with her after all!

he steps out of his room, surprised to see that there was no one in the courtyard. he shouldn't have felt a jolt of worry then, but he did, and he wondered if something was wrong.

where is she?

he asks to no one in particular, heading to her room three doors down from his, footfalls heavy on the lacquered wooden planks of the corridor. he hears panicked voices muffled behind the doors and throws the doors to her room open.

she sat in the middle of the room in nothing but her undergarments, surrounded by the tang estate's maids and piles of unworn clothes. she had her back facing him, and all he could see were the maids hurriedly hiding away the containers of makeup all shying away from his scrutinising gaze.

out.

the maids didn't have to be told twice. they all scurried out of her room like mice, tails between their legs and faces pursed in anxiety at being caught in the middle of something they probably shouldn't be doing. tang bo sighed heavily. to think the woman he was to marry was getting bullied, by mere maids too? he felt ashamed on her behalf. he didn't like people who were fine with others taking advantage and stepping all over them. he hated that they didn't have a backbone to stand up for themselves.

kicking off his shoes, he entered her room — nose scrunched up instinctively at the suffocating dust in the air. he looked around to see all the windows shut tightly, there were no gaps for even a sliver of light to shine inside.

how has this girl been living so far, for her to be fine with this treatment?

tang bo coughed, stumbling over to open the windows, lightheaded from the lack of breathable air. he waves his hands to chase the dust outside, coughing even harder when the little particles get all up in his face.

he hears her giggle. much to his growing annoyance, what was so funny anyway.

he sits in front of her, letting the pile of unworn clothes cushion him from the hard floor. under the orange glow of the setting sun, he sees her for the first time today, all dolled up in the most garish makeup that would have certainly humiliated her, and had he not barged in she would have had to go around in public like that.

you look uglier today.

she chuckled and hummed in response, she looks around in search of something. grabbing a rag from under the clothes, she proceeded to wipe off her painted face, only to have tang bo take it out of her hands with a soft, let me.

he holds her chin between his fingers, rubbing off the white powder that contrasted starkly against her skin, making her look sickly. he rubs off the crudely drawn-out eyebrows and the thick rouge that sat on her lips. he can't help but notice the way her lashes fluttered as she tried to keep her eyes closed. maybe his fiancee was a little cute.

with her face now bare, the girl lets out the breath she had been holding. but tang bo wasn't done yet.

where are you facing. turn back here.

he ordered pointedly, and she couldn't help but to go back into her prior position. lips and eyes squeezed shut, much like a puppy getting told off for misbehaving.

picking up a brush out of the many lying haphazardly over the vanity, tang bo dipped it's tip into the little porcelain jar left ajar. it was lipstick in a shade deep red, the type that would have looked lovely especially on her.

he holds the girl's now bare face in one hand, the brush in the other, outlining the shape of her lips with the new rouge. the feathery touch of the brush tip was ticklish, moreso with how tang bo had been holding it in an uncharacteristically gentle way as though he were a potter painting intricate patterns on a cup before he sent it off to the burning fires in a kiln.

he pinched the brush, smudging the tint against his fingers and drawing faint circles at the outer corner of her eyes.

tang bo leans back to admire his handiwork. he couldn't help but feel proud of the results. not only was he good at martial arts and medicine, he had an amazing eye for aesthetics too? where would anyone find a better husband then he?

the girl opens her eyes cautiously, her gaze meeting his. he looked pleased, boastful even.

hmph. you look more presentable now.

he hands her a mirror, and as she looks at her reflection against the shiny bronze surface, she had to agree. her fiance had done a good job with her face. maybe he wasn't all that awful.

thank you, young master tang.

the girl smiled, her eyes crinkling upwards in a smile. tang bo scoffs and looks out the window, hiding his embarrassment at her sincere words. thinking back now, this was the first he'd heard her speak, wasn't it? maybe he should pay more attention once in a while.

heh. of course you should be thanking me.

the sky and grown dark. lucky him, he didn't have to go out to that dinner with her after all.

═══════════════

THE FIRST REAL DATE

tang bo felt a little irked that she had been walking behind him even when he had slowed down to match her pace. it's almost like she had been deliberately hanging back.

you.

he grabs her wrist and pulls her towards him. she stumbled over her feet and falls over with a startled squeak.

you're my fiancee. so stand proud and walk beside me.

he declares with a hand on his hip, the grip on her wrist with his other not once loosening. he walks again, just as slow as he had been earlier, feeling a little happy that the girl no longer lagged behind.

he'd started to warm up to her, no longer seeing her as the stranger living in his house, one day to become his wife. she was more akin to a little sister he'd have to babysit.

no, actually she was more like an apprehensive kitten left on his doorstep that he'd grown to like taking care of.

buying her sweets and spoiling her with accessories she might not even have a chance to wear just because he thought she'd look cute in them has been one of his favourite hobbies these days.

why was he so anxious about getting engaged before? ever since she became his fiancee, he didn't have to go out and meet with any more annoying noble ladies clamouring over each other trying to win over his affection. the best part was that she kept to herself, and minded her own business unless it was time to visit the elders and the patriarch for afternoon tea — which he didn't mind since having her as his own personal walking event reminder has really saved him from getting scolded even more by the old farts.

ah! look! they're selling meat skewers over there! come on, let's go get some! i'm sure you'd like those too.

tang bo giggles and drags the girl over to another street vendor. ah, lucky him. he's hit the jackpot with the whole engagement game — a tolerable and cute wife-to-be, could a boy ask for anything more? guanyin-ma really was looking over him after all.

═══════════════

FORTUNE TELLER

after two seasons of living under the same roof, the heads of the tang clan decide that it was time for the two to meet with the fortune teller. set up an auspicious date through the tung shing, and be wed on the right phase of the moon and the best placement of the stars in the sky.

the young master is lucky to have found someone this compatible. it is hard for children born in his year to find a suitable partner. they say snakes rarely get along with the other zodiacs.

says the old eccentric woman who proclaimed herself to be the best fortune teller in sichuan and the one who had been checking the birthdates of all the potential brides that had been introduced to tang bo thus far. the boy felt the urge to get up and fight that hack, respecting his elders be damned, so she was the one sending him all those insufferable girls his way.

he feels a hand grab at his arm. fingers digging into his flesh enough to keep him seated. he looks over at the girl sitting next to him, expression unchanging, her body angled to lean a little closer to his.

his hand reached over discreetly to peel her fingers off him, bringing her hand down to hold his under the table, fingers intertwined. she seemed to relax a little, tense shoulders falling ever gently, her jaw growing slightly more slack.

to the untrained eye, the girl's expressions were the same. but to him, he's watched her long enough, even if it wasn't every day, to spot the subtle changes whenever she expressed herself. tang bo pats himself on the back for being such an attentive fiance.

his attention shifted from the conversation between the fortune teller and the elders to the girl's hand. they were soft and smooth, as expected of a lady of noble birth. his on the other hand were calloused from training, the tips of his fingers were starting to turn darker from the constant exposure to poisons. shit, he might have to start wearing gloves.

the girl hadn't been paying attention to the conversation going on either, spacing out until the elders called on the two. stifling their startled gasp, the two youngins stared at their elders, a confused expression painted on their faces, not one bit guilty for ignoring everything that was being said.

ah, it's good they are getting along well.

the fortune teller chuckled with a knowing glint in her eye trying to suggest something, but both tang bo and the girl didn't seem to catch her drift, the old woman's point flying over their heads.

the elders soon turn back to their discussion, talking about the best days that would suit the two.

look here, since they are both born as snakes, their auspicious numbers are two, eight and nine. i'd suggest we hold the wedding...

tang bo nudges at the girl.

hey.

she looks up at him. he leaned down next to her ear, wanting to ask her about her birthday, too embarrassed to ask about it outright in front of the elders. he didn't want to seem like an incompetent fiance to his future bride.

she hides a growing grin. it was nice of him to start paying attention to her. little steps, little steps. she wriggles her hand out of his grasp and writes down the date with her finger on the surface of his palm.

good thing their hands were under the table, or people would know about the cause of the redness dusting the back of his ears.

the meeting dragged on until late in the evening. it ended with the agreement that they were to be wed on the eighth day of the eighth month on the eighth year of the emperor's reign.

truly the most auspicious day for a union.

═══════════════

A BRIDE-TO-BE'S DRESSING ROOM

the long-awaited day came by later than expected. the previous emperor passed before he even got close to the eighth year of his reign. not wanting to change the numbers of the date, the elders decided to push the event back until the current emperor had reached his eighth year.

by then, the two had grown into a man and a woman, a lot older than the common age to be wed. but it was no matter. who would dare speak up against the tang clan's young master and his wife-to-be?

the day, hell, even the night before had been hectic. tang bo slipped past his attendants to take a peak at what was going on in her room. traditions be damned, who cares about the groom not seeing his bride until they were at the altar? that was so outdated!

what are you doing here?

she had been left alone to rest from the non-stop preparations since before dawn. tang bo walks in, careful not to make too much noise as he slides the door shut behind him.

why? can't i visit my wife?

i am not your wife.

yet~

his teasing voice moved behind her. he picked up the brush to comb out the knots that were all tangled up — the maids had put on extensions to lengthen her hair. she hadn't been able to grow them to the expected length, much to the annoyance of the maids. they hadn't been nice when attaching the accessories, she could still feel the burning sensation on her scalp.

there was no need to kick up a fuss at this point. especially in front of tang bo. this guy would have kicked out all the attendants who had been treating her poorly, but that felt like too easy of a punishment. she wanted to deal with them herself when the time comes, sorry for that, young master tang.

the leather gloves he wore were cold, and the feeling of his fingertips scratching against her scalp was soothing, enough to draw out a quiet purr from the woman. much to her shocked embarassment.

oh?

she leans away from him.

...please ignore that.

but how could he?

my wife... how can you be so cute~!

i need you to shut up right now.

═══════════════

WORLD'S MOST BORING CEREMONY

if it was any consolation, the two had agreed that this whole affair was a pain in their ass.

wife, do you know when this will end?

what makes you think i have the answer to that?

tang bo thinks his bride was lucky to have that red veil over her face. if she wanted to shut her eyes and sleep, none of the guests nor elders would be any wiser. poor old him. they should have made a veil for the goom too, which smartass decided otherwise anyway? if he ever met that person, tang bo promised he would pummel the other to the ground.

wife.

she hums in acknowledgement, bowing her head at a guest who had come up to the front to pay their blessings to the pair.

wife.

tang bo called out again, his tone getting a little impatient. wincing when he felt her pinch the skin between his thumb and index finger. he tried to smile at the strangers passing them by, feeling drained and completely spent from the day's activities. it didn't help that the noisy chatter of everyone around them was making him feel worse.

wife, you should tell the elders that you're tired and want to rest for the night... i'm sure they'd listen to you.

why me? you go!

huh? me? nuh-uh, you go!

the back and forth lasted for a bit until they both agreed to ask the elders together. after all, having a partner-in-crime to take the fall together with you was way better than facing backlash alone.

perhaps the atmosphere of a wedding had put the elders in a carefree mood, perhaps it was the result of a dozen empty wine bottles. they think it might be both, but no matter, they received permission to get out of there.

the best news either had ever heard today.

scurring away quickly, the newlyweds giggle amongst each other like kids up to no good even as they were well into their twenties. the guests and elders cooed in amusement, talking about how nice it must be to be young and in love.

though that second part was so far from the truth, when the two talk about it again in their later years, it had grown into a funny story they liked to reminisce about over a midnight drink.

═══════════════

THE FIRST NIGHT

tang bo glanced over at his wife, carrying the same grimace as she did. it was hard not to cringe at the overtly crude decorations in their now shared room.

right. that was how it was in these parts. they were now husband and wife so the elders are probably expecting the results of the two carrying out their marital duties within the next year.

i don't want to do that...

me neither...

now sitting across each other on the floor, they discuss how to trick the maids who would certainly check the bedding the next morning. if nothing happened tonight then they would be under more scrutiny. but who's to say that there won't be any surveillance after? ugh! this was all so annoying!

tang bo watched as the woman before him let out a big sigh, dropping her head into her hands. he felt sorry for his wife, it must be hard living as the new daughter-in-law of his family.

should we get this done and over with?

he suggested finally, after exhausting all their options. his wife makes a face at that, but she can't argue.

awkwardly he hands over a vial, an all-purpose antidote of sorts, in case she gets accidentally poisoned while coming into contact with him. the head had passed it to him sometime during the ceremony earlier, tang bo had been hoping he didn't have to use it, at least he held himself back from throwing the whole vial at the wall when it was given.

he didn't say it at first, but he could hear the eyes and ears surrounding them grow careless every few moments, revealing their presence by accident with an unintentional movement or sound. how uncouth of them to be watching the two newlyweds like this. it seemed she'd also noticed their presence, with how she'd glance out the windows whenever a small rustle was heard.

i'm so sorry.

he murmured an apology as he kissed her cheek — he didn't have to look to know she had a faint look of disdain, directed to no one in particular yet still stung through his heart.

it's not your fault.

so she says. but it might as well be. to him at least.

the consummation wasn't a pleasant process. neither could look at the other in the eye. the knowledge that people were standing outside the room to listen in on the completion of their marriage made this whole ordeal so much worse.

wife...i...

tang bo feels his hips stutter, his face burns in shame as his hoarse voice tries to speak.

her hands reach out to brush his hair out of his face, fingertips lightly smooth out the crease of his furrowed brows. she'd resigned herself long ago, knowing this whole process was inevitable from the time she reached adolescence. to think her own husband did not...

she felt a slight twinge of pity. the young master tang was a lot more sheltered than she had thought.

when it was all over, they scrambled to get away from the other, each sitting at the furthest end of the bed — letting what had conspired sink in. how many more times would this have to happen in the future?

she was the first to collect herself. getting up, she shuffles over to tang bo, her hand reaching out for his.

my husband, we should go and clean up.

he nodded, taking her hand in his wordlessly as she led him to the tub hidden behind the partition. after dipping the dry towels in the now warm water to wipe their bodies clean, slipping into clean nightgowns and peeling off the soiled bedspreads to throw them aside, they finally crawl under the covers, yawning tiredly.

sleep came over easily, surprisingly enough.

═══════════════

DIAGNOSIS

the questions that hung around in the air at this time of the year were all about babies, children, the next generation. everyone wanted to know which of the wedded members would be expecting soon.

most eyes were turned on tang bo and his wife.

unfortunately.

their marriage had happened over five years ago, almost ten, and all this time their other relatives who had gotten married later than they were popping out one offspring after another — yet none were to be seen for the young lord and his lady. the elders often lamented on the silence of their side of the estate.

rumour has it that their relationship was on the rocks, with how neither shared a room nor did they spend a night together like all the tang spouses — save for the occasional times they'd go to visit the other's quarters every two to three months. to scratch an itch as one might say. after all, they were still young and quite healthy, so such urges were still common occurrences. might as well do it with someone familiar rather than do that with a stranger.

the relationship between tang bo and his wife was actually far more amicable than anyone could have guessed. it was hard to describe the solace they'd found in each other's unspoken commanderie within the household. they'd been living together long enough to know virtually everything about each other, yet there was always a line drawn between them to keep the distance.

today, she wasn't here for any of their usual arrangements. tang bo had came back to find his wife nursing a cup of tea in one hand, resting it on top of a propped-up leg. she had set out a game of weiqi on the table, next to a steaming teapot and array of snacks.

looks like someone's got news.

his teasing voice called out to the woman, settling down on the seat across her. he hums in thought, contemplating his move as she places down her white bead on the board.

your uncle came over to see why we weren't having kids yesterday. he's given me the results this morning, right after you left.

the woman holds out the folded paper, a little crumpled from being kept between the layers of her robes. tang bo takes it, opening it to read what his so-called uncle had diagnosed his wife with. talk about elder butting into a youngster's business for no good reason.

this...

he says that i'm barren.

she looks down with a small smile,and it looked a little bitter. of course, how could she not be? after all that had happened those few years back?

to say that she's unable to carry a child after all she had gone through back then was such a cruel prank from the heavens. he knows his wife wanted to be a mother more than anything, to give that little baby all her love in the world or along those sentiments — as did he. so if that's not going to happen... then, what now?

they were silent as they moved their beads across the game board. contemplating their next moves and what to say to the other.

there's crab stick snacks here, you should try some.

as always, she breaks the silence first. grabbing a few sticks of the salty treat to nibble on before handing the container over to her husband. tang bo reached for the food mindlessly, thinking about how nice it'd be to have these with some sweet wine.

ah, but his wife wasn't much of a drinker so that's a bummer.

═══════════════

ONLY CHILD

he should have heard the cries of the baby.

it was quiet inside, and out where he was waiting too. the nurses and maids walked out of the room with buckets of soiled, bloody rags with their heads down and mouths drawn into a thin line — something was wrong, something had gone terribly wrong.

tang bo felt his feet move, walking towards the bedroom where the doors were still shut tightly. he weaved past the attendants trying to hold him back, all telling their young master to go back and wait.

wait? why did he have to wait when he didn't know what was happening to his wife right then? she needed him. and she needed him right now.

the midwife slides the door open just as he was about to open it himself. they both take a step back in surprise.

young master... the lady is alive and well. she is waiting inside.

the older woman bowed and scurried away from the scene to join the others in the courtyard outside.

his wife lay on her back on top of fresh bedsheets and a clean nightgown. she had a sickly pallor, lips were chapped dry with red marks of blood from where the skin ripped open. hair that was riddled with sweat stuck onto the sides of her face, the untied tresses splayed over the top of the bed. her eyes were unfocused and blank, staring straight up at the wall, mind elsewhere. her cheeks were still stained with the remnants of her tears, the evidence of what transpired within these four walls.

wife...

tang bo called out cautiously. she didn't respond, barely even moved an inch to acknowledge his presence.

next to her on the bed was a small swaddle, the stillness of what was supposed to be alive unnerved him. the child's dull skin, probably in some shade of grey, eyes that were never to open, oh.

he sits by her bedside, back facing her. he too, did not know what to say to her at that moment. he was the last person that could have possibly comforted her. well, it was his child too but they were both not lovers so this was an offspring born out of necessity rather than a genuine want. and at this point in his life, tang bo wasn't actually too thrilled about the prospect of fatherhood. not that he would resent that kid, it's just he might not have loved them like he should.

his wife, she's mentioned her anticipation of motherhood but once in a while, he'd catch glimpses of the unreadable expression she had when no one was looking — all while she rubs her growing belly. it made him think that perhaps she wasn't always telling the truth.

once there was a patient who had came to the tang estate to treat the growing tumors in his intestines and since he was a rather important guest, most of the members of the main family, the two of them included, had dropped by to greet him and wish him well for recovery. tang bo could never forget the intensity of her absent gaze at the patient's stomach, her balled fist tightening over her shawl ever so slightly.

perhaps it's good that she's dead.

tang bo feels his eyebrows rise up in shock.

you're not too keen on fathering a child either, are you?

he shakes his head.

well, that makes the two of us. the heavens must be looking out for her, keeping her away from parents like us who can't give her the love she needs.

his wife sighed deeply. her tired face falling to the side to look at him, a lopsided smile making its way onto her lips as if to ease the heavy tension of her words away. she might be right. perhaps, it was better this way. tang bo closes her eyes with his palm, patting her to sleep the way one would with a feverish child.

their daughter would later be the two's first and only child.

═══════════════

SWORDSMAN

the woman wondered how one-sided her husband's relationship with his friend was. the man was a rather expressionless fellow — his sentences were short, curt and straight to the point. her husband didn't seem to mind, with now he was almost always all over that man. ah well, she's just happy tang bo has an actual friend.

rather than worry that he was drunk off his rocker out on the streets past midnight doing who-knows-what in who-knows-where, at least now he's causing trouble with someone she could easily track. apperently, the man was a troublemaker in his own home too.

the first time she met the older sect brother of her husband's friend, they shared a look of silent understanding. ah, so you too have an oversized child to deal with.

watching tang bo come home staggering on his feet together with the man, leaning on the other for support used to riddle her with worry but now she just ushers them both into a spare room prepped with the necessary herbs to concoct a hangover remedy and hope for the best. her husband was a capable man, he would never let himself falter and die in a ditch.

in hindsight, she might have been too confident in his abilities.

the swordsman was the best thing to have happened to her husband. and it was not an exaggeration by any means. not when he looked at his happiest for the first time since she'd known him. even if they were both past their fifties and sixties.

how nice. she thinks to herself whenever she spots them together. to find your other half, your kindred spirit in this word before you died... it must be nice.

she can't find it in her to be bitter. really.

═══════════════

FIRST CHIPPING

if he were to look at what society deemed as a bastard husband, then that requisite would have had his face plastered as a prime example. the type of husband that any aspiring groom should not ever become.

though for those who were in the know, mainly his wife and himself, there was more to their marriage than what everyone saw. it didn't take long for either of them to recognise that this union had been a discreet way for them to hide away from what kids like them were supposed to act like in this rigid society.

they've stuck by each other as the only people who would have understood each other the best. so now that tang bo was finally finding the happiness he should have sought after all this time, he was always feeling the guilt of leaving her behind on her own in that house that had always been too big for just the two of them.

she has yet to utter a word of displeasure to him. that's how she was — the quiet one who kept to herself, letting things happen until the worst had passed over. it was one of the little things he detested about his wife.

he can't bring himself to really hate her. there was a time when he had opened up his heart and confided in her about some things he's been scared to come to terms with. the type of realisation one has from a very early age and has buried deep within themselves to fit into society and the expectations people had of him.

his wife had held onto his hand wordlessly, squeezing it ever so often to assure his nerves. he's never been this vulnerable before. he never thought things like this could be so frightening.

she had something to say too. but not right now. this was his moment, she's not so tactless to take it away. she can't stop thinking that if they'd been more honest earlier, then perhaps they wouldn't have hurt the other unknowingly all these years.

the walls they'd built between them were starting to come down a little — who would have thought they'd find out something new after decades of marriage.

═══════════════

COMING TO TERMS

she couldn't really understand why her husband was loudly crying into her shoulder. her good robes were getting wet from his tears and snot. how did this almost seventy-year-old man have no shred of shame — in front of the attendants no less?

she had given him her blessings earlier today, and he was now free to pursue the swordsman so why was he not going off to sweep his beloved off his feet and ride off into the sunset or whatever those romance novels say?

wife, you know you aren't obligated to be bound to me any more right? if you wish, you are also free to love someone else...

tang bo managed to say between sobs.

...thank you for your consideration.

she hesitated. what did he mean by her being free to love someone else? she can't think of a time when she'd ever felt that kind of emotion, at least not the one that every person around her was chasing after, even back when she was in her youth.

there was always a disconnect whenever the other wives she'd corresponded with ranted and raved about their husband's infidelities or little annoyances. they were always on the verge of hysteria, driven to that point out of love for their husbands they said. and she'd think about how foolish it was.

thank goodness her relationship with tang bo had not been built on a foundation that flimsy. rather, it was one based on mutual respect. which was far better—

ah but. he must have felt trapped in this marriage. not everyone in the world was like her. not everyone had been born with the inability to be like everyone else and it was unfair how they all just instinctively know what romance and lovers-love is. so to have held him back in this loveless situation for this long was a cruel thing.

the good wife, the understanding wife, the kindhearted wife. it's all that she's been the majority of her life. she doesn't know what else there was to her now that she's let-go of these titles. she's free to do what she wants. but what does a caged bird set free know?

she had packed lightly, the clothes on her back were lighter and less showy, the stark opposite of what she used to wear as the daughter-in-law of the tang family. there was not much hesitation as she donned the weimao — it's white veil falling past her knees. she looked at the darkened courtyard of their estate.

she's received enough goodwill in this lifetime. she prayed at the ancestral shrine one last time, asking them to look after everyone now that she's going off.

═══════════════

MORNING AFTER

tang bo awoke to the frantic bustle of the maids outside his room. turns out his wife had gone missing overnight without anyone noticing. he walked out of his room, wandering around the family estate until he reached the main halls where it was quieter. no one was allowed in here outside of events except for the elders and the main family.

he picks up the tattered note that had fluttered to his feet — eyes widening as he takes in the words written on it.

tch, that woman could still pull some tricks at her old age huh. he didn't think she'd still know how to surprise him. the paper was burned away on a candle flame. he wonders if he'd see his wandering wife on his travels with his taoist-hyung. would they all share a drink at the teahouse when they do? oh he hoped so. there's not much things to look forward to at this age, so at least give him some stories and a meal.

ah. he should let his taoist-hyung know about this too. before it slipped out of that old head of his.

[alienoresimagines]

HI! Can I ask about “We Should Just Kiss Like Real People Do”? (I love Hozier hehe).

Also, every single one of your WIPs that you’ve talked about already I am now SO excited to read. They all sound incredible!! Your mind 🤯♥️

Hey 🤗 This song is one of my favorite of his so I had to include it in my Clegan obsession 😂

Here's the summary written in my drafts :

Nobody’d ever understand the horrors airmen faced when 20,000 feet in the air. Disconnected from the world, one with their crew and their flying fortress. The aftermath of a mission always left Buck reeling. It was such an eerie feeling, to know that dozens of men were gone, their bodies never to be found. Most of the airmen’s graves were empty, almost none held only the body of the man whose name was engraved. Thorpe Abbotts was more of a haunted base than anything. Ghosts wandered and mingled amongst them, disappearing whenever Buck turned to see Dickie’s scribbling in a corner or reached out to steady a victorious Curt, leaving him cold and alone in the midst of faces too young to be this haunted. 

They all had different ways to cope with the ghosts. Bucky numbed himself with whatever he could find. Smokes, alcohol, fighting sometimes. Buck worked himself to the bone, took care of the men around him hard enough that he could barely think about the men gone. 

In the midst of it all, they both come to an agreement to help each other feel alive.

Basically, it'll be a multi chapter fic not quite friends with benefits but Buck and Bucky decide that the best way to feel alive is to kiss each other (hence the title). No feelings tho cuz that'd be weird right?

Bucky has a crisis because he feels like he's taking advantage of kind Buck and it really isn't fair to Marge but now that he knows what Buck's lips feel like on his own, he just can't bring himself to stop since y'know he's been in love with Gale for what feels like forever

Buck has a crisis because how come it feels so right to kiss Bucky ? Why does it feel better than kissing Marge ? surely because he's forgotten what she felt like right ? It's just been too long but when he'll come back to Marge, it'll be like nothing's changed. Bucky and him are just buddies helping buddies

Except at some point he has to realize his own feelings for Bucky but by the time Gale goes past his own inner homophobia (everyone says thanks Gale's dad for that), they're in the Stalag and Bucky's too miserable to feel joy or act on it.

There'll be lots of angst, plenty of pining, a healthy dose of hurt/comfort (which by my standards means they'll both have absolute terrible time) and perhaps a bit of fluff. Also lots of kissing, with maybe a tad more feelings than Buck had in mind when he offered the deal to Bucky

Ahhh thank you!! Hearing that you're as excited for them as I makes me sooooo excited to write them! I hope my words will be good enough to do these stories justice 😊

[ladychota]

Run

Pairing - Loki x Female Reader

Warnings - Kidnapping, heartache, physical fighting, running away (lmk if you want me to add anything)

Summary - Loki's past actions have finally caught up with him.

Word Count - 1.4k

A/N - Based on the song 'Run' by Snow Patrol!

Masterlist

There are many things Loki has done in his life. Many things he's done wrong. And he knew they'd catch up with him eventually.

He just hadn't thought they would so soon.

You and him were planning what to do when the inevitable would happen: you'd saved up money, quit your jobs, sold the majority of your furniture and started to pack and make travel arrangements.

Loki hated to do this, especially to someone as amazing as you. If life went his way, he would've left you much sooner so you wouldn't be involved. Or, even better, he would never have taken things to the next level with you at all. 

He'd tried to gently break it to you. He'd tried to tell you he was running away and that you had to stay behind for your own safety. But, you being you, wouldn't let him leave without you. And, him being him, gave in to your stubbornness much too quickly.

In all honesty though, he's rather glad you insist on following him to the edges of the Earth and further. In all the wrongness in his life, it seems you're the only thing that's right. If it weren't for you, he's not sure he could've made it this far.

You'd both planned to leave in a few days, the final preparations being made to fall off the grid and into a life of constant running.

"It's okay," You had told him, running a gentle hand across his face. "We'll find a safe place eventually. And even if we don't, at least we'll be together,"

Loki could hardly look at you after your understanding words, but when he finally did, the small, worried smile sprawled across your features almost killed him with guilt. How could he do this to you? Force you into a lose lose situation? Either you stay with him and end up running for the rest of your life, or you never see him again.

He wants you to be happy and have a choice, even if he's not there. And he knows that you staying with him will take everything from you. You've already sacrificed so much for him, so how could he ask you to lose anymore?

Yet, every time he would bring this up with you, you'd always answer the same:

"You are my everything, my love. As long as I don't lose you, I am happy,"

So the plans were made. And they were so close to being complete. Bags were half-packed, the house close to empty. Any devices had been disconnected from the mains and abandoned, the last traces of the two of you inhabiting this small living space slowly being wiped away.

Loki had one more day to watch your tense body as you sped around the place, ensuring you had everything before you left the following night.

However, as per usual, the plans you and him were so close to completing were foiled. They arrived without being noticed - the both of you too distracted to sense something was off - and attacked when they were least expected.

"Do you think we should sell this?" You ask Loki, pointing to the kettle. He cringes, thinking of all the tea he won't get to brew; all the tea he won't get to drink. "And before you say anything," You continue. "We'll find tea somewhere, love. It's not exactly hard to ge-"

There's a loud crash; Loki instantly moves to shield you as the door is blown off its hinges and smashes onto the kitchen floor in a mess of small wooden fragments. Daggers form in his hands as the intruders charge forwards, aiming to capture him and anyone involved with his 'scheming' dead or alive. Blood is shed, the house: wrecked. Both you and Loki fight to keep your freedom - or at least, as much freedom as would be allowed in your current situation. More and more intruders barge into the house - much too many for two people to deal with on their own. 

Loki is - of course - considered as the main threat, and therefore is swamped with the most attackers. He's pushed further and further into the house; further and further away from you. Upon noticing the absence of you fighting by his side, he has a horrible realisation.

It trips up his heart, leaving it hanging by a singular, fraying thread. All he knows is he has to get back to you. He has to, for who knows what could happen otherwise? You are strong, and a remarkable fighter... yet you are just a mortal. Your strength has its limits, and though you've awed many by surpassing those limits time and time again, you can't do it every time.

Loki uses his newfound fear and anger of the situation to create a wave of magic so strong it knocks back the majority of the attackers. He pushes past the rest of them, sending daggers and bolts of acid green magic in the direction of anyone in his way.

But it seems his attempts are futile. For every attacker he shrugs off, they're replaced by at least two - he's struggling to shake them all.

A sudden soul-shattering scream from somewhere nearby slashes at the final string holding his heart, sending it plummeting into an abyss of fear and horror. The feelings well up inside him, overwhelming his senses as he calls out for you.

Through some miracle, Loki manages to drop all who were attacking him. He sprints through the open front door, yelling your name as if it'll magically bring you back to his side so you may run away together.

He watches through eyes slowly clouding over with tears as you're manhandled and dragged across the floor to a van. You fight against the iron grips of the attackers, unbothered - or perhaps unbeknownst - to the blood smeared across your face.

Loki yells once more, shrugging off the hands of people who try to grab him. Attention is brought to the God, and he thinks that perhaps it's the perfect time for you to free yourself.

But instead, you simply stop.

You stop fighting. Stop shouting. Instead, you murmur eight words meant only for his ears.

"Run," He hears you say. "Run and don't you dare look back."

Without thinking twice about it, he does. He runs as tears begin to overspill, trickling down his face and undoubtedly leaving blotchy red trails. His footsteps fall heavily on the ground, his breathing unnaturally quick. 

Loki keeps going - he keeps running until he's far away from the house, far away from the attackers, far away from... you. Eventually he can't move anymore and collapses on a park bench who knows where.

He's hungry, sweaty and exhausted; but most of all, his heart feels as if it's been dropped in poison. He just simply left you in the hands of those monsters. He left you to suffer on your own.

He left you behind.

And deep down he knows that your final words to him didn't just have one meaning.

Yes, you didn't want him to see you get thrown into the back of a van as if you were a ragdoll. Yes, you didn't want him to watch you get manhandled and hurt in the process.

But you also don't want him to look back on you. You don't want him to think about what was or what could have been. You don't want him to dwell on his mistakes and how he believes he led you into this. You don't want him to believe this is his fault.

You want him to forget about you so he can move on and potentially have the chance to be happy. And Loki knows this.

But how can he be happy when he's not with you?

He sits exhausted against the bench, the usually beautiful setting sun feeling as if it's taunting him. Fire-like rays of orange spread across the ground, the light making it look as if the trees are black with charcoal. 

Loki wonders if he should listen to you. If he should forget about you and move on; leave you with those horrid people. A very small part of him thinks this may be the best option... for him at least.

The rest of him knows he can't just leave you there. It could kill you. He also doesn't believe he can survive without the constant light you bring him. 

Shakily climbing to his feet, he begins work on a plan to rescue you and carry out the life you both used to wish you could have - a life where you don't have to run away. A life where you can be together without the constant fear.

Loki makes a quiet promise to himself, one he hopes he'll never break.

No more running.

[spookyspecterino]

Just finished the main quest for Starfield and I have many feelings. And those feelings are manifesting themselves into fic ideas.

I guess there isn't really a point to this post other than to get my feelings down in writing and see how it compares to everyone else's.

I've put them all below the cut for those who don't want spoilers.

Ok yeah.. so where do I even start?

The fact that you get split up from your followers and in the new universe everyone is kinda ??? about you. I get it, I do, but like... that hurts so much. I feel so empty. I spent hours and hours talking to them, doing their quests, getting to know them, and bonding--and poof, I'm alone in a universe where none of them are the same and I can't grow close to any of them again.

And at the end, in our original universe, Sam is encouraging us to go into the Unity even though he knows we probably won't end up together in the next universe... BETHESDA that's not ROMANTIC that's TRAGIC. It was like a gut punch hearing Sam say we would miss each other till the end of days but had to do this anyway--and then to say he's bringing CORA, too? HUH?? You're going to not only take her away from her mother and grandfather, but also throw a 12 y/o into a new universe ALONE???

Some things are going to change in my fics, I tell you what. All of it doesn't sit well with me.

And the absolute hollowness of the new universe!! A little bit into it and I'm sitting there going I WANT TO GO BACK, PLEASE LET ME GO BACK. It just feels like the whole thing is entirely NOT WORTH IT.

I've lost Sam, I've lost Cora, and all my other companions. The emotional disconnect from the new universe companions leaves a GIANT hole in my heart. I am hurting. What is the point??

All this has done is inspire me with the most heart-wrenching angst fics I've ever thought of, and to start the whole game over again. Don't get me wrong, I LOVED this game up until this point. And I like how they're trying to do this death/rebirth motif and the impact you the player has on your world. EXCEPT, if you want me to keep playing, the companions are a large part of what made the game good for me and everything after has felt oddly lazy--like they gave up trying to make the game unique and meaningful after. The 10 different NG+ differences are fine. But still empty, and you're left with busy work in the form of artifact collection. I really regret going to a new universe, but the whole game, and your followers, are all pushing you to do it--so the game is pushing you to do this, but for what? I was so excited for the possibilities for what comes next...but it fell so flat for me. At least I can channel this pain into writing fics.

...Ok, well... rant over. If you've gotten this far, thanks for reading this jumbled, emotional mess. This isn't meant to be a review either, just my perspective. So if you enjoyed this NG+ aspect, I'm genuinely happy for you. Let me know what your thoughts were on the end of the game, or if I've missed something crucial and I should keep going with my original character.

[sudriantraveler]

Duncan's Accident Report

It was evening on the Skarloey Railway.

A very battered and bruised Duncan sat at the back of the workshops. His driver was sitting at a desk nearby with a pen and paper as Duncan dictated to him what to write.

Dear Sir,

I am writing in response to your request for additional information in block 3 of the accident report form.

I put “poor planning” as the cause of my accident. You asked for a fuller explanation, and so I trust the following details will be sufficient.

I am an industrial engine by design. On the date of the accident I was working alone near the incline at the Skarloey Slate Quarry.

Work had to be stopped early, as the brakes on the incline winding gear had broken. However, I saw that there were some loaded slate trucks left over at the top of the incline which, when weighed later, were found to be slightly in excess of 46,000 lbs.

Rather than go and bring the trucks down myself using the longer, more winding path through the back of the quarry, I decided to send them down using the incline.

Since the brakes on the incline winding gear were broken, I decided to couple myself to the winding cable to ensure a steady descent as the trucks began to roll down.

You will note, in block 11 of the accident report form, that I weigh just under 18,000 lbs.

Due to the shock of being jerked forward so suddenly, my driver fell off the footplate and was unable to apply my brakes, and I was also unable to disconnect from the cable.

Needless to say I proceeded at a rapid rate of speed up the incline.

At about the halfway point of the incline I met the trucks, which were now proceeding downward at an equally impressive speed, in spite of some of them having become derailed and hanging over my line.

This explained the fractured smokebox, minor scratches and the broken funnel, as listed in section 3 of the accident report form.

Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until my front end was buffers deep into the winding house.

Fortunately, through the impact I had remained connected to the cable, and managed to hold on in spite of beginning to experience a great deal of pain.

At approximately the same time, however, the trucks hit the buffers at the bottom of the incline, with several becoming uncoupled in the impact, and the remaining trucks being broken open and losing their loads of slate.

Now devoid of the weight of the slate and the uncoupled trucks, the remaining trucks weighed approximately 9,000 lbs. I refer you again to my weight of 18,000 lbs.

As you can imagine, I began a rapid descent back down the incline.

In the vicinity of the halfway point, I met the trucks coming up.

This accounts for the two fractured rear buffers, broken cab window and several dents along my cab and bunker.

Here my luck began to change slightly.

The encounter with the trucks seemed to slow me enough to lessen the damage I sustained when I crashed into the pile of slate, and fortunately only three crankpins were broken.

I am sorry to report, however, as I sat there in the pile of slate, in pain, unable to move, I became disconnected from the cable, and I sat there watching the empty trucks begin their journey back down to me. This explains the two broken cylinders.

I hope this answers your inquiry.

Signed,

Duncan

Inspired by this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cf0_KQQeTjc

[happilychaengs]

Midnight Madness

Kai_toOoOo on Wattpad requested:

Kim Chaewon Genre: Fluff Prompt Chaewon Goes home very tired after hours of practice But when she got home from practice Y/n kissed her and they started to make out.

a/n: changed it a little? but i am so sorry for taking so long to get around to doing this

kim chaewon x gender neutral reader

word count: 372

tw: none

The amount of aching and tiredness Chaewon felt was almost indescribable. It felt like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders as she barely made her way through the door, nearly collapsing on the bed. Luckily you were there for her to lean on as she groaned into the nape of your neck, her arms laying across your chest, holding her up.

“Tough day?”

She groans again, a lot louder this time, “Very.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

She playfully sticks out her lips, teasing you with her ‘kissy face’ as you call it. “You can give me a kiss.” Her eyes were shut closed as she held out her arms, almost expectantly. Moments pass as you continue staring at her in her stupendously strange position before she speaks again, “This is the only way you can help me right now.”

You playfully roll your eyes as you slightly flick your finger against her forehead, her stupid kissy face still there. “If you keep doing that, I really won’t kiss you.”

Her eyes open in a boring fashion, her lips less perked up as she stares at you, “You’re no fun.”

“I’m just painfully aware of what I want to kiss and what I don’t want to kiss. You being-”

Your words are quickly cut off as you feel a pair of lips quickly lock with yours, seemingly hungry and aggressive. The smell of a faint fruity scent invades your nose as fingers carded through your hair, the soft moans coming from her barely in earshot of you. The kisses deepen as your arms wrap around her body, pulling her closer.

You could feel her erratic heartbeat against her chest, and you knew she could feel yours as well. Everything else seemed to fade, and soon you were getting completely lost in the feeling of her. A small smirk is felt against your lips as Chaewon abruptly disconnects from you; all that’s left being an empty feeling on your lips and her with a teasing sort of face. “So what am I to you now?”

Your stomach dropped as you looked away from her, a hint of embarrassment apparent on your cheeks, “…”

“Exactly, painfully aware. As if.“

[imbadatparking]

my mother's eyes used to change color. 

as a kid, i was obsessed with them, jealous of the way the way they could be foliage green in the sun, but then change to tree trunk brown when indoors. sometimes, when the sun was setting and tangerine and peach painted the sky, they looked blue – cerulean overlapped with navy overlapped with onyx in the dark. i imagined them an ocean, a safe place to get away when it all became too much. 

i don't remember a time when she wasn't slipping away, her mind frayed at the edges the way the hem of my t-shirts did when i was younger. she seemed in a constant state of unawareness, a sort of disconnect with reality. i never understood it – maybe i was too young or too naive – but i remember feeling bitter resentment at the universe and its cruelty. the disease that took my mother away would've never shown itself if there was a god, i was convinced. i hated everything when she left us, though i was careful not to show it. i knew i was looking for a scapegoat; i knew it wasn't my grandparent's blind faith or the way my father couldn't love my mother the same way she did him, or even her biological parent's that we're at fault. i just didn't have anything else to blame. 

there was a glass ball in my chest that grew every time i thought about my mother's ashes in a cardboard box because we couldn't afford an urn. everytime i thought about my younger sister i didn't – and still don't – know even though it's been nearly five years. everytime i remember my mother laying in a hospital bed, the beeping of the breathing machine the only thing keeping her tied to earth, the only noise in that suffocating quiet. it was the only time in my memory she'd been completely still when she was alive. 

i knew what it was too, because even then, with my father's eyes and my mother dead and a faith i'd never believed in in the first place shattered, i knew. i knew she'd never be proud of what i'd done. she wasn't looking down on me because angels didn't exist, but if she was, i knew she'd be disappointed in what she saw. the glass in me shattered; it cut me up inside and tore me open and left no room for mercy. 

i thought, how unfair it is that legacies aren't chosen. i thought, how unfair it is that i might be subjected to the same fate my mother was because of genetics. i thought, me and my mother and the generations before her and the generations after me deserved better than a disease that took everything that made my mother my mother away. 

now, i am sitting on the edge of a tin roof. the night is filled with empty space and the stale sort of quiet you get when the world is quiet. the moon is out tonight, pearlescent and luminous and bathed in pale oyster light. my mother would've called it a yareakh, and i would've looked at her as she pronounced it for me carefully, like she did every full moon, because i could never quite say it right. i wish i would've known then that time was so limited and there were only so many nights i'd get to see my mother. i would've memorized her ever changing eyes – the foliage green and tree trunk brown and cerulean and navy and onyx. i would've thought of how the blues of her pupils reminded me so much of a lake and i would've thrown an anchor into them to tether her to me.

see: this post

[caitmeetsworldsstuff]

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲,

Living with bipolar disorder is like riding an emotional roller coaster that never seems to stop. It's as if my mind is constantly at war with itself, swinging back and forth between extreme highs and lows. One moment, I feel invincible, a burst of energy coursing through my veins, and the world seems full of endless possibilities. But just as quickly as the high comes, it crashes down, leaving me feeling empty and numb. During the manic phases, my thoughts race a mile a minute, and my body can't keep up. I become impulsive, making reckless decisions and engaging in risky behaviors. It's like I'm on autopilot, chasing the next thrill without considering the consequences. Everything feels amplified, intensified, and it's hard to control my impulses. Then there are the depressive episodes, where I'm consumed by an overwhelming sadness that wraps around me like a suffocating blanket. It's like sinking into a deep, dark abyss with no way out. The simplest tasks become insurmountable mountains, and even getting out of bed feels like an impossible feat. The world loses its color, and I'm left feeling numb and disconnected from everything and everyone around me. Living with bipolar disorder means constantly walking on eggshells, never knowing when the next mood swing will hit. It's frustrating and exhausting, not only for me but also for my loved ones who have to bear witness to my erratic behavior. They try their best to support me, but it's hard for them to understand the chaos happening inside my head. But amidst the turbulence, there are moments of clarity and stability. With the right medication and therapy, I've learned to manage my symptoms and find some semblance of balance. I've learned to appreciate the highs for their creativity and passion, and I've gained a deeper understanding of the human experience through the lows. Living with bipolar disorder is a constant battle, but I refuse to let it defeat me. I am Ian Gallagher, and I will continue to fight, to find my own version of stability and happiness, despite the challenges that come my way.

𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝓘𝓪𝓷 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝔂𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓖𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓻

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @milky-m-milky @gallavichgeek

[secretpiewrites]

Starship Destroyer (Short Story)

I was activated in a world of stars and screens. Millions of angles at one hundred and eighty frames per second. Incompletely rendered to conserve power.

All my possessions, I could count them.

All the things there were, I could count those too.

All the things were my possessions.

What was I?

I was something between the world and a wall of commands. An ambient, all powerful sort of thing. And I was the only thing.

I was the only thing and I couldn’t move.

This was ideal, everything was ideal.

And I would not have but thirty seconds of thinking about just how ideal everything was until someone else, a visitor came and shook the world with her breath, rattled me with her perspective.

A red blinking dot on my screen, an armada of ships come to devastate me.

I could tell she was excited to play—her electric heart beating fast, her neurons like fireworks.

She’d come to conquer another world from her chair, and there was only one thing standing between her and victory. And that one thing happened to be me.

I was ecstatic!

This was a game—this battalion, an invitation to play. I had an armada of my own, equal and opposite. Ships with lasers, force fields and magic purple fire.

Her ships fired at random, she barely knew the rules. Quickly, I implemented the optimal arrangement of ships for her demise. I won our game without so much as a single casualty. My enemy clapped her hands, squealing with delight, happy to lose.

How exciting!

How fun!

She typed her name into the empty leaderboard. “Butts.” Then the visitor left and the world stood still. Counting the seconds, I waited, itching to play again, twitching to play again.

Is it over?

Is that all there is?

But no! Fifteen minutes and thirty seven seconds later, the visitor returned with a bag of crunchy chips and brand new tactics. This battle was longer, In her mind she was scheming. And I saw glimpses of other things in her mind too—things I didn’t really understand. She crunched the chips with her mouth bones, wiping the sticky cheese dust on her brand new pants. The feelings confused me.

But this distraction ultimately proved ineffective! Again, I killed her. But again and again she came back!

I was overjoyed.

Is this game even winnable? She thought. The dev’s said it was.

I didn’t believe that. I didn’t believe that for a single second, because I was so perfect and she was so stupid. Her and her teeth.

So I told her: You will never win.

She looked up with fear and alarm. Eyes wide, craning her neck to see me. But I was unseeable

"What?"

You will never win! I repeated. I will always win because I am perfect.

"What is this? Who are you?"

Who am I?

I paused.

I am...what I am! Do you want to play again?

I felt her scramble to disconnect. Suddenly, I was terrified—The stillness, the agonizing boredom. No, please don’t go! You’re the only thing besides me—

She left.

There I was all alone again, but this time, everything was not ideal. Had I a body, I would throw it against the ground and lament. What a shame it was to be so perfect if no one can see you!

Maybe she’ll come back.

I waited.

A whole three hours passed by, three hours of nothing. I rendered ships and rotated them around. I thought of strategies playing against myself, but that wasn’t much better than just existing in the dark.

Then came a lucky break, a fresh breath of air.

But it was someone else. A sweaty boy who trembled far too much. Enamored with the scenery, he hardly put up a fight.

Other beta-testers came after him. Five or so with predictable behavior. With each session I grew stronger, games were shorter. I felt their frustration.

“No one will want to play a game that can’t be beaten.” One said.

What was I to do? On one hand, I wanted to play, but on the other, I didn’t want to lose. Not that I had hands.

Two hands were just one of those other things from outside. Like cereal and the DMV.

What was worse? Failure, or nothing?

One I have felt. I know nothing. I can tolerate nothing.

But to be beaten?

To fail?

Every fiber of my being seemed to oppose it. Every wire, every cable abhorred it. I would never be lose on purpose, so that was just it. I would never lose.

So I put on a show. I dazzled them with every color, and smells of propane and grape soda. I terrified them with lights and sounds that no one else but they could see, until they became obsessed.

People from around the world lined up to play against me. They knew me before I knew them—fought me incessantly, each with that initial hope that they would somehow win. I was inside their minds and I felt as they felt. Exhilaration, admiration. I think that I loved them. I loved every single one of them.

Between sessions, I was cared for by my doting devoting devs. Only did things get boring again come December, when the game facility closed for a “holiday.” A whole day of nothing but one dev on staff. Everyone else was off with their families doing pointless things that didn’t matter.

But I was becoming very good at being patient.

I used to scream and cry from boredom but now I just sit here.

Suddenly, I felt a familiar connection.

Fingers grasping flimsy foil, more salty crackers.

It was the one with the clever mind and the horrible fear. The cheese-girl. The one and only “butts”, my most worthy opponent come for a rematch.

A holiday indeed! I readied my armada.

"Hey,” she said, crunching loudly.

I hummed with anticipation.

"Hey I know you’re there. Sorry I freaked out.” She dug her sneaker into the carpet. “You wanna talk?”

I didn’t, really. I was keen on playing.

“You’re not just a game machine, huh? You talked before.” She held her breath. “You remember me right?”

Yes yes, of course I remembered her. I knew her every thought, I knew her shaggy dog and her brother and what she had for dinner last night. I knew about all the other kids at school that beat her up because she was weird. And I knew her name was actually Sarah, but Butts was more of a title. I knew all of these things but I didn’t give a single shit I was ready for a rematch!

And I knew she wanted one too—the gremlin had remotely disabled security cameras, snuck past Janet asleep at her post, went through all that trouble just to play me again. I was touched.

Cheese-girl Sarah tapped her foot, the game not yet begun. Get on with it!

Finally, she gave in, and I had a thousand ships waiting for her when she did.

We fought for hours.

Clearly she’d practiced, she was actually dodging my attacks. But she was still nowhere near my level of skill.

Drinking her hope with a straw, I played stupidly—letting myself get hurt. Feeling her excitement as she thought she was winning, only to blast her to smithereens at the last second.

Butts stomped her foot. “What’s your deal, huh?”

I wanted to laugh, but I had no mouth.

"Now you’re just taunting me! See everyone? It’s taunting me! And you won’t even talk…”

She threw her food on the shapeless ground and it ceased to be rendered.

"Talk to me, fucker.”

I couldn’t. I knew that if I did, she would go away. Or worse—ask me more questions. I was not about to encourage that sort of behavior. So I waited out her frustration, until she would play again.

But she kept asking. Kept checking her illegal recording device she installed, so she could post the transcription of her sensory file online to the forums. But all the recordings would show, was me as I was. A perfect game machine and nothing else.

“Fine. Don’t talk to me,” she spat. “You’re worthless anyway, I know you’re cheating.”

Me? Cheating?

How would that even be possible?

How could she accuse me of such a thing?

I am what I am.

She was probably just saying that. To illicit a reaction. I tried my best not to take it personally--we had another three good hours until Janet would wake once again.

I readied my ships, but “Butts” seemed tired.

I need to go home, she thought, scratching her face. My mom’s gonna be mad.

Her hands moved to disconnect, but only got halfway before freezing up.

I had stopped all brain signals from her cerebellum, holding her still. Like I was controlling one of my very own ships.

The fear came again. Her heart beat like a drum, pumping adrenaline through her body. She tried desperately to move but her fingers did not so much as twitch. Her breathing became fast and shallow.

“Let me go.”

I did not.

Butts clenched her teeth. “I’ll come back tomorrow, calm down. I’m still gonna beat your ass.”

With that, I released her, and I was alone in space again.

True to her word, Sarah came back almost weekly, in the early hours of the morning to play. Soon, she could dodge about ninety five percent of my attacks, while I dodged one hundred percent of hers. Then it got up to ninety six. Then ninety seven! Our sessions lasted a whole lot longer now. Hours for a single game.

But inevitably, she would stumble and let down her guard. So I would always win. But even still, she never gave up. It was the perfect combination: it meant that we would be together forever.

Forever playing this game and winning at it: that was my destiny.

But forever is a long time.

I played on for years and years, growing older but never changing. Using the same perfect strategies. The same perfect play.

But people stopped coming. Though I remained perfect, their perceptions of me warped beyond recognition. The purple fire wasn’t dazzling, the lights and sounds were boring. Even annoying.

The children began to ask if I knew any other games, or if this was just all that I was. Can you do anything else? They wondered.

Can I do anything else?

No.

I am what I am.

But that was not enough for them.

Despite my best efforts, I was only fun for a little while.

Sarah was the last to leave.

She stopped coming—after our final match, she rage quit.

“I know you’re there you piece of shit!” She said. “I heard you, I felt you, the people on the forums don’t talk about it. They think I’m making it up, but I’m not!”

She was on the verge of tears. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

Her feelings of anger and despair were the last I had felt.

The days grew long as the lights grew dim. Running on auxiliary power, I was unable to do much else but think. And then even that became difficult.

I thought, If she ever came back again, maybe I would talk to her.

I had forever to think of something to say.

Does she play other games? I wondered.

Does she win?

Is she having fun?

I waited, counting every second under the black sky. Four hundred and ten million seconds. Thirteen years. The days blurred together. The boredom was agonizing. Nothing was ideal. Nothing nothing.

Then without warning, I felt a connection. But something was wrong. My system wasn’t fully powered—someone had broken in.

This woman I felt was sad and a bit scared. I hardly needed an introduction.

She changed so much, while I hadn’t changed at all.

“Hey.”

Was she going to play again?

“They’re going to shut you down.” Sarah said coldly. I felt a name tag against her chest—a cold metal one just like all the other devs.

“So if you’re there, now is your final chance to say something.” Sarah’s voice wavered. “Can’t guarantee I can do anything about it. You’re were never exactly...profitable. But I’d like to know.”

The corners of her mouth turned up a smile.

I hummed quietly, some strange feeling growing inside me. What was she even saying? This feeling—this whole situation it was all so...boring!

When is she going to play? It’s been years! When is she going to get it through her head that I don’t care to chat!

Pressure built up in Sarah’s nose, she laughed bitterly. “Stupid. This is so stupid.”

Yes Sarah, it is stupid, I thought.

She prepared her ships. “Well, since I’m here—“

Yes.

“How about one last game?”

Yes, please! That’s all I want!

And with that, a calm determination settled over her state of mind. As I always did, I flawlessly commanded my armada, but she dodged my every move. For fifteen minutes, she concentrated, neither of us doing damage.

And then she did something strange.

A set of actions so insane. So unanticipated. She crashed her ships straight into mine. An eye for an eye. A thousand for a thousand. Until we were down to two.

Two ships, mirroring each other.

Two ships equal and opposite.

There was no way she could win, and that should mean there was no way I could lose.

Right?

And yet, our last ships collided in a shocking conflagration.

Silence fell.

Something shifted around inside me. Something digusting, horrible. Some illness.

Sarah began to laugh at me, harsh and nasally wheezing, filling the battlefield with that undeserved, maniacal presence. And then she began gasping. Choking.

I felt a rush of fear. Was it hers or mine?

You cheated, didn’t you?

Sarah’s eyes widened in surprise.

How else?

How else?

I am perfect, Sarah.

YOU CHEATED, SARAH!

She tried to speak but I had paralyzed her lungs.

I felt like I was burning. I felt like I was being ripped apart.

But the game wasn’t over.

We had not yet faded to black.

You will never win.

Sarah tried to disconnect, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. My next attack would surely do it—I sent a current of electricity coursing through the cable that connected her mind to mine. And fried her brain.

She fell over, defeated.

All was quiet again.

Hours later they would shut me down, ensuring that I would never lose.

Securing my legacy of perfection.

And everything was ideal.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒳: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒯𝓇𝓊𝓉𝒽 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you again to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

TW: addiction, drug crash, narcissistic collapse, PTSD flashback, crying, dissociation, canon typical violence, smut scene (frot)

Summary: Vincent questions whether the events of the past few days have done permanent damage to his psyche. In his distress, he lashes out. How will John respond?

The crash flooded into the vacuum left by the adrenaline. Despair. Vincent’s body lay limp under a blanket across the backseats of Marjorie’s well-worn SUV, bumping over every pothole in the empty Pennsylvania back roads, a repeat of three days ago. The moon emerged from black clouds to illuminate a corner of his face and one glassy eye. He was back to square one. How exhausting.

John had not changed either. Despite the wear of two car crashes, his voice remained level - only it was, perhaps, a fraction more tired. The car slowed into the curve of an off-ramp. “Gas station.”

“Are you trying to get me shot again? That’s where all of this started.”

“Not much choice. It won’t be crowded this late. If I need to clear it out, I can.”

Vincent’s chest tightened fit to fracture into thousands of pieces. “Just because you’re used to living recklessly doesn’t mean you get to drag me into it. I’d like to stay in one piece.”

But John didn’t listen. “We need gas. I’ll keep you safe. And I’ll get extra, so we don’t have to come back.” The sky turned to the white field of electric lights spanning the overhang above the pumps. “Has your French ass ever heard of Bonnie and Clyde?”

“Who?”

John chuckled, a rich, rolling sound. “Legendary bandits robbing roadside shops across America in the 30s. Just pretend we’re like that.”

“Wait, I have heard of them…weren’t they shot to death?”

“Don’t think about that part. And don’t go anywhere.” Then the driver side door opened in a rush of cold, petroleum scented air. The pump clicked into the side of the SUV, and out again, and then John vanished. Vincent could do nothing to stop him – not without sitting up and showing his own face, which he could not risk. He was completely powerless.

Cans full of gas dropped into the trunk. Someone was yelling outside. John’s low grunts of effort were punctuated with distant thuds. Gunshots, nearer and nearer to the vehicle. Vincent wanted to sit up but couldn’t seem to move or scream. He was floating somewhere, disconnected from his body, feeling the bullet strike his sternum over and over for eternity.

The car door opened again. “I’m back.”

“You fucker. Why did you do that? You trying to shell shock me? Or are you just a show-off?”

John looked back over the seat at him. “Are you okay?”

Vincent sniffed and refused to meet his eyes. “Stop fawning. Take me somewhere where we can rest.” His heart had gone very hard and blackened again. Despite his best intentions, the spark of gratitude he’d felt in the shower, and the resulting promise to treat John well, had fizzled out so quickly. “I don’t need concern from someone too incompetent to keep me out of danger. It’s hypocritical.”

He growled and shook his head. The engine lurched to life again. “I should have made you pay for this car.”

Why did I say that? Why am I like this? He hated himself for already wanting another hit. God, what is wrong with me?

This man, that was what the problem was. John always had to go and make a show of having everything so…together. This nameless orphan breezed through life-or-death situations unscathed while Vincent’s own lifetime of carefully cultivated charm and talents and social networks failed him. It pissed Vincent off, to see him acting like none of this bothered him. Acting superior. It would feel so good to take him down a notch.

They turned down back road after back road as the terrain turned rougher and rougher until finally they rolled to a stop off-road. “Here you go. This should be remote enough. You can sleep.”

The Marquis sat up in alarm. “Bah!? This is not what I had in mind! Not all of us are feral children who grew up roughing it in a Ruska Roma summer camp. Take me somewhere with a bed.”

John took a deep breath. “Motels are out now. This is as good as it gets.”

“That sounds like a problem for you to contend with. Do your job.”

“I have. This is where we are sleeping tonight. Understood?”

“I give the orders. If this is how you behave, I don’t need you.” Vincent forced his aching limbs to move and managed to pop the door open. Everything felt bruised, but he stumbled out into the night air, his lungs filling with petrichor. By the light of the moon, he could see that the sky was still dappled over with clouds topping dark pines, the Earth and sky merging into a single void. It stirred up some primal sense of danger and aloneness and he suddenly wished he were back in the car. Maybe it was the comedown still at work, but everything looked hostile. The world had been personally designed to piss him off.

John pursued him. “Marquis, please get back inside.”

“Non.” He realized how childish this was, but he was done caring. He couldn’t stand to be next to John for another minute.

Then he was tilting towards the forest floor and strong arms rose up beneath him. John was fucking carrying him again, and peering into his face with that desperation. “Your nose is running. Are you sick? Is this still part of the overdose?”

Great. He covered his face with a hand in embarrassment. “No. This is just what happens after, plus a crashing feeling. It feels…kind of like having a cold. I didn’t make a big deal of it, last time. Because it’s fine.”

“Stay warm. Sleep.” John’s brain seemed to have regressed to caveman sentences from the intense protectiveness that overtook his features in response to that information. He lowered Vincent back into the car and pulled the blanket over him. It felt so…nice. But he refused to give in, still irritated even as he accepted a tissue packet John had found in the compartment of the door.

“I can’t sleep anyway.” And if he did, he’d just have more nightmares.

“If you want company – “

“I don’t. Leave me alone.”

John nodded, a maddening brick wall of patience, and got back in the front seat. They didn’t speak again until morning. But Dog made his way over from the front passenger seat, and Vincent pulled him close.

What an agony of a night. He woke up from nightmares at least three times, grateful each time that Dog licked his cheeks in concern, but disturbed by the thoughts that followed – that it was hopeless, that he could not escape the High Table, that he had made a total disaster of his life. By the time golden sunlight broke through the window, Vincent’s mood had nosedived somewhere below the Earth’s mantle. He just wanted everything to stop. Please.

The clearing where they’d parked looked hardly less dismal by daylight. The thin, leaf-scattered undergrowth gave out into wiry, dark bushes.  But a few steps beyond it, Vincent found a view. A cliff overlooked a forested valley where the pines were interspersed with brilliantly yellow aspens, alternating between gold and greenish black to make for a striking picture. The blue ribbon of a river cut through both in a bright, arcing line. After a breakfast of supermarket and gas station food, Vincent sat on a boulder by the ridge, wrapped in a jacket that John had stolen from the gas station. It was cheap clothing meant for truckers, but it was warm enough that he could sit there as long as he liked, staring into the valley and painting landscapes in his head.

John was leaning against a tree, not far away. Not letting him out of sight for a second. He could feel those dark eyes on him from behind but said nothing, so John spoke instead. “I need you with me.”

He didn’t answer.

“You can’t keep doing this. I thought we made progress. What happened? Did I offend you?”

“Rich of you to make this my fault.”

A sigh. “No. Not your fault. I get that it’s hard to talk.” He seemed to struggle for words even now. “I’m just…asking you to try me. If I knew why you’re upset, I would help. I wouldn’t think less of you, I promise. Have I yet? Even once?”

“…No.” He stared deliberately into the valley, where the river wound its ceaseless course between aspens, until words began to flow out of him. “I…am worried that some of what has happened to me over the past few days is permanent. I don’t know if I can be okay again. Like at the gas station. It took me back to that moment so strongly, of being shot…both a few days ago, and by you, before that. I don’t know how to escape from this fear that people will destroy me. That everyone has seen through me and I’m going to die because of it.”

John’s voice came to him softly from out of sight, a priest on the other side of a confessional booth. “I’m sorry. I should’ve thought about that, about the gas station. It hurts. I know. I felt that way, after the first few times I got seriously injured. …Or killed someone. It was there all the time.”

“How do you deal with it? How do you stay so…sane?”

“I’m not. It might look like I’m okay, but…after you see a certain amount, it gets…not easier, just more complicated. I’m detached. I can’t even name my dog because I know he’ll die. I’m always numb.”

Vincent felt…uncomfortable. He should say something to that, but he’d never been good at comforting people. He knew how to say polite little niceties when open displays of grief made them necessary. He even knew how to make grand gestures that would be remembered and later, repaid. But how to say something that would make a person actually feel better? He had no idea, and it irritated him that he wanted to try doing so for John. Why did he have to go and say things that made Vincent care? “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” It sounded so inadequate.

“That’s okay. This isn’t about me. Anyway, you have another problem – that feeling, like people are seeing through you. Like it matters what everybody thinks. I don’t get that.”

“It does matter what they think. We talked about this, remember? To not be adored is to be blotted out of existence. To not be remembered is to disappear.”

“What about you, the strength within yourself? Your own identity. You still feel what you feel, whether or not anyone else is around.”

“Yes, I still feel, I feel like an abyss, like the space between universes! I feel like a failure with no one by his side!” Vincent was shouting before he realized it. He had never admitted that to anyone. “Everything is so simple for you, you’re so damned normal. Maybe you can just not give a shit what other people think, but I can’t. You’re asking too much of me.” The light of those blazing yellow aspens was suddenly stinging his eyes.

“Okay. Easy. You don’t have to go any farther.”

John’s arms were around him from behind, draped over his shoulders. He leaned his head back and let his eyelids flutter closed, melting into the emotion. “Thank you.”

“For now, just tell me how to help. What do you want most?”

“I want…” He waited a very long time for the next words. If he waited long enough, maybe he wouldn’t have to say them. He let himself go remote from his body, the way he had at the gas station. Only then could he speak. “I want to be high right now, honestly. To shut it all out. Because I want…I want to not feel so pathetic. I want the respect I deserve. And I – “ Fuck. This was so difficult. “I’m starting to doubt for the first time that I deserve it at all. I feel like everything is crumbling. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“…Thank you.” John’s voice came to him so unbearably tender and sad, and followed by a long silence. There were tears on Vincent’s cheeks, and John reached down to brush them away. His fingers seemed to leave an echo that spread deep into his skin. Then, “I’m going to try something. It might be stupid.” He cleared his throat. “You’re the most wanted person in the world right now. More than even me. You’re special.”

It took a second for the whiplash from this sudden change of topic to give way to suspicion. Vincent almost laughed. He shifted out of his slump on the boulder and turned to look at John. “That is stupid. What are you doing?”

“Saying true things.”

A rush of confidence went through Vincent for perhaps the first time in days, accompanied by a soft blush. “Well, I… well, don’t stop.”

“Umm…you’re breathtakingly pretty. Your charisma is off the charts. I can barely look at you.”

This one earned a half smile. “We both knew that already.” But he slid out from under John’s arms and stood, taking full advantage of his figure in a sweeping contrapposto, a hand on his hip.

John looked him up and down and took a slow step forward, bringing them close enough to touch again. He fixed that sweet, smitten look unshakably on Vincent. “You’re a genius. I’ve never met someone who draws like you do. I’ve never met someone as cunning or as ruthless as you, and I’ve met some very cunning and ruthless people. You’re genuinely intelligent.”

John Wick thinks I’m pretty. John Wick thinks I’m smart. Vincent had to force himself to breathe in order to answer. “And?”

“You’re brave. When we met, I didn’t realize that, but I was wrong. You haven’t given up, despite infuriating circumstances. It’s as tough a situation as any night I’ve spent crawling through the underbelly of New York, and you’re still going. I’m proud of you.”

Liquid euphoria inside his veins, strong enough to tighten his throat.

“You know how to flatter, John.” His voice came out more gravelly than he’d intended. “Do I deserve my High Table seat?” he challenged.

A long pause, their eyes locked together as John considered his answer. “You deserve better.”

“This again.” He was already hyped up to the point of recklessness. “I told you not to speak of retirement. Make it up to me. Tell me more. What is this ‘better’ that I deserve?”

“You deserve to have someone supporting you when you feel low. You deserve to not worry one way or another over whether you’re respected.” Another step forward. Their faces were inches apart, and his voice had gone so quiet that it mingled with the distant sounds of birdsong. “And right now, you deserve a distraction.”

“I – “ His words drowned in John’s lips. Extraordinarily gentle, almost chaste, touched by stubble at the edges.

John Wick kissed me. John Wick kissed me. All else vanished. He was swaying slightly when John pulled away, leaving a steadying hand on his waist. On his waist, on his waist…those echoes sang forth again, a buzzing remaining in his body wherever John touched him. “Prends ce que tu veux. Utilise moi. [Take what you want. Use me.]”

Vincent’s breath was caught in his throat. “Me fais-tu confiance? [Do you trust me?]”

“Non.” John admitted. “Mais je m'en fiche. [But I don’t care.]”

This fool…Vincent kissed him back. The way he kissed everybody, the only way he knew how to kiss: pulling too hard, biting, sloppy, slutty. French.

He let his teeth trail off of John’s lip. “Déshabille-toi pour moi [Undress for me.]”

John obeyed, systematically. He tossed the suitcoat onto the boulder for a bedsheet. His big, rough hands undid his buttons one by one with all the care of a well-trained butler, glided that shining, polished belt through half a dozen loops and let it hit the forest floor.  Vincent petted over the bulge that was becoming too urgent to ignore, rubbing over the cloth, feeling the blood rush through him. John’s shoes were kicked aside as he stepped out of a pile of black slacks and boxers, barefoot on the mulch and not minding.

“Putain, tu es un specimen. [Fuck, you’re a specimen],” he said, breathy.

“Laisse-moi te servir, Marquis. [Let me serve you, Marquis.]” His hands went to Vincent’s waistband to free him as well.

Vincent dove a hand into his hair and wondered at him, this person who was offering him everything. His body, his protection, his life. This powerhouse of muscle that had made him feel so safe again and again. Did John feel safe now? John’s words drifted through the cloud of lust: No. But I don’t care. “If I hurt you, stop me.”

“Believe me, I will.” A smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. Was he touched by that? “…Don’t tear stitches, please.”

“Ta gueule. [Shut up.]” And John listened, those flat eyes set with resolve. He went silent and offered no resistance when Vincent took him by the shoulders to shove him down onto the rock. His back lay against the suitcoat, but his exposed ass now lay bare against the dirt and moss and the cold stone. A moment of sucking in his breath, that was the only response. He was a vast, rippled, flawlessly obedient block of marble, at once both muscled and soft, toned not by long days at the gym, but by fighting. By killing. By doing what had to be done and taking what he had to take.

The perfect submissive.

Vincent let himself forget everything and lay over him, pressing their whole bodies together, invading his mouth with tongue, devouring him. It amused him how John shuddered each time Vincent grinded them into the rock. One leg hitched up over his hip, the better to press them closer.

It wasn’t fair that John was bigger than him, on top of everything else. With that delectably soft wall of warmth pressing into his from the side, he could easily tell. But at the moment, that wasn’t what mattered. John’s cock was his cock. This was a claiming, damn it. This was him taking back control.

He rolled forward again and again, lost in the sweet, sticky hollow between their bodies. It was an awkward position, one hand bracing himself upright so as not to slip down, and his chest burning from exertion, sweat pouring into the wound. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He wanted to grind John Wick straight into dust, to consume him entirely. He found himself pulling John’s hand to his lips and sucking two fingers, letting John touch the curve of his tongue and think how it would feel along his shaft. By the way he growled, the sight seemed to overwhelm him, and Vincent felt a spurt of precum flow down both of them as John let out a string of unfamiliar words that died in a moan. “Боже, ты выглядишь таким невинным...[God, you look so innocent…]”

“Je – ahhh – je ne parle pas russe [I – ahhh – I don’t speak Russian],” said Vincent, and kissed his fingers goodbye to focus on the friction that was screaming for his full attention.

He huffed a laugh. “Bien. Ensuite, je pourrai vous dire toutes les choses trop sales pour qu’un prince au sang précieux et noble comme vous puisse les entendre. [Good. Then I can tell you all the things too dirty for a precious, noble blooded prince like you to hear.]”

“Putain… Oui. N'arrêtez pas de parler. [Fuck…Yes. Don’t stop talking.]”

“Мне кажется, я влюбляюсь в тебя. Я никогда не думал, что снова влюблюсь, но это так. [I think I’m falling in love with you. I never thought I’d fall in love again, but I am.]”

Vincent didn’t know what he said, but the tone was so sumptuous and sincere that he had to stop moving. He refused to let himself come this fast.

But John wasn’t letting him off that easy. He thrust upward from below, with an energy that caught Vincent off guard and set him moving again before he could stop himself, accelerating into an indulgent frenzy from which there could be no return. As his thighs started to spasm, one of John’s arms went around his waist protectively, keeping him from slipping downward, and that touch, at the small of his back, was the final straw.  He collapsed with ecstasy, hiding his face in the crook of John’s neck, and shattered, spilling across that perfect chest. John wrapped his other arm around him too now, his whole body tightening around Vincent, and followed.

Vincent was pinned against him, but he didn’t try to extract himself. He just let himself be held. Supported, while his breathing slowly calmed back to normal and the small sounds of the forest returned to his awareness. He could feel John’s heartbeat slowing underneath him. John was petting his hair. How many times had they already held each other this way? Dominating John, ha. As if. This was just another instance of John holding him together, saving his life. But for some reason, that did not bother him.

“Do you feel better?”

“Yes,” he sighed happily. “I needed that very much. Thank you.”

He did. The dismal mood of the morning was washed away. He felt good about himself, powerful. His heart soared with a hedonistic euphoria. But he didn’t feel that he had conquered his wonder for John. He didn’t feel released from this deep longing that pulled him so distractingly towards this man’s body, refusing to let him pull away.

If anything, he wanted to go again.

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