#but she keeps tripping over and she sleeps all day and eats maybe once a day and shes got so thin and she keeps having toilet accidents

[frosnpls]

h

[roosterforme]

How Do You Feel About the Parking Lot? (Rooster x Reader)

Part of The What If Collection of blurbs for Roo and Baby Girl. My masterlist. Banner by @mak-32

Warnings: language, drinking, angst, fluff

You were excited at first. Very excited. You showed off your ring to everyone and gushed over the fact that you were engaged. And while you were still wearing his mom's engagement ring, it was becoming obvious to Bradley that things were not quite as they should be.

"Hey," he said softly as he walked into the kitchen. It was exactly nine weeks ago that he'd proposed in the dining room and you'd happily accepted that ring that glittered on your finger right now. But tonight you just mumbled something at him without looking up from your computer where you sat at the island. It was nearly midnight on Friday, and he would have given anything for you to start planning this wedding with him. "Are you coming to bed soon? I thought we could talk about potential wedding dates."

"Oh," you replied without looking up at him. "I'm still putting this presentation together."

Bradley sighed. "Baby Girl, you've been working nonstop for weeks. I just want... a little bit of your time." He wanted a lot of things, actually. Like a long snuggle on the couch while you and he watched a movie, or a soak in the tub together. He'd love a blowjob or pinning your hands above your head while he slammed you into the bed. But mostly he'd love to plan his wedding to you, because more than anything, he wanted to get married this year. And it was already late September. 

You glanced up at him and adjusted your glasses. "How about tomorrow? I really need to get this done before my work trip."

"Sure," he whispered before pecking you on the cheek and heading off to climb into bed alone. 

But it only got worse from there. You worked all weekend. On Monday, you didn't come home until seven o'clock. Tuesday was eight o'clock. By Wednesday, he wasn't sure if you were even eating or sleeping any longer. And worse yet, you were leaving for Annapolis in a few days. Bradley wouldn't even see you for a week. Not that he really saw you now, he supposed. 

He ate a bowl of cereal for dinner before sinking down onto the couch with Tramp and a bottle of scotch. He turned on Real Housewives, but he wasn't really watching it. He took a sip, and it burned. But the next one didn't. And neither did the one after that. He started to feel better. But he'd stop when you got home. 

Another episode started, but it still wasn't holding his attention the way you would have, and that's when he realized it was once again seven o'clock, and you still weren't home. When his phone rang, he sloshed some of the alcohol onto his tee shirt reaching for it, and he was praying it was you calling to tell him you were on your way home. 

He pressed his lips together and then took a deep breath before he answered. "Hi, mom."

"Bradley! I haven't heard from the two of you in days! How's your lovely fiancée? And Tramp?"

The dog must have heard her voice through the phone, because he perked right up. But Bradley couldn't answer with anything other than a raspy, "Fine." 

The line went silent. "Are you sick? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, mom," he lied. "How are you? How's dad?"

"Well, I went to lunch with Brenda, and I got the scoop on all of her kids. And your dad needs hearing aids, but he keeps arguing with me about it. Maybe you can talk some sense into him, if he can even hear you."

"Okay," he replied, realizing the room had started spinning when he leaned back against the couch.

"Bradley, are you drunk?"

How could she possibly tell? His own wife-to-be couldn't seem to see what was going on, but Carole could tell by his voice from almost three thousand miles away. "I'm... fine, mom. I need to take Tramp for a walk. I love you and dad. Bye."

Then he ended the call, because he could feel tears in his eyes. And when you got home at nine, he was already asleep. 

-------------------------

You needed to go to happy hour with your boss and coworkers on Friday, but you really didn't want to. You'd been pulling twelve hour days, and you were so exhausted, you just wanted to climb into bed with Bradley and sleep until you left for Maryland on a Saturday night red eye flight. You also really needed to tell him that he had to lay off the wedding planning until you finished this work project. It was just a few months of all these extra hours, and you desperately wanted to be promoted. 

Your plan was to stop home quickly and change out of your uniform before heading back out with everyone to celebrate that fact that you were going to present your research at the Naval Academy. When you pulled into the driveway in your shitty, little red car, the Bronco was already there. But when you looked around the house for Bradley, you didn't immediately see him. But then you heard his voice through the open sliding glass door. He was sitting on the back patio in just his gym shorts with his back to the door and a half empty bottle of scotch set on his knee. 

His voice sounded miserable as he said, "I tried, mom. She just... doesn't seem to want to. I don't know what I did wrong." 

You froze in place. He had to be talking about you. Embarrassment and sadness filled you as you listened to what he said next. 

"I really wanted to get married this year."

You ran down the hallway to the bedroom as you fought off your tears. You had to get changed and go right now while you still could. In another week, you'd have a little more time to talk to him about the fact that you couldn't plan a wedding and get married in the next three months with your current schedule. 

You left the house again without talking to him, but he was still sitting on the patio on the phone. And when he dropped you off at the airport the following evening, he didn't seem to want to let you go as he whispered, "I love you, Sweetheart," and ran his thumb along your ring. 

"I love you too, Roo. I'll be home in a week, and then we can talk about maybe planning a wedding for next year?"

He swallowed hard and nodded. "If that's what you want."

---------------------------

When you landed in Maryland on Sunday morning, you were still exhausted and looking forward to crashing until your presentation on Monday. But Carole called you when you were at the baggage claim, and you knew you had to answer. A guilty feeling was about to eat you alive as you put on a bubbly voice and said, "Hi!"

"Have you arrived in Annapolis?" she asked straightaway, and you sighed because at least she didn't sound angry with you. 

"I did," you told her softly. "Still at the airport."

"Perfect," she replied. "I'll leave now, and I'll be there in less than fours hours, and we can go get lunch."

You were so stunned, you watched your bag go past without realizing you needed to pick it up. "You're going to drive up from Virginia?" you asked her slowly.

"Yes. I'm grabbing my keys right now. Bye, Goose! I'll be back later!" You listened to her call out to her husband, and then a few seconds later, you heard a door close and a car start. She was actually going to drive up here.

"Oh, okay," you muttered, pressing your lips together, embarrassed about where you'd left things with her son. "I'll... see you in a few hours."

You managed to take a short, restless nap while you waited for Carole to arrive. You changed into a simple dress and put on some makeup, but you didn't really feel any better until you met her at a restaurant in the city. She rushed down the sidewalk toward you with a bright smile on her face. "My sweet girl!" she called out, wrapping you up in a hug next to a few tables full of people enjoying their lunch outside. "It's been too long." She kissed your cheek and started to lead you inside. 

"Thanks for driving all the way up here," you told her, not bothering to fight the smile tugging your lips. She was absolute sunshine, and it was pointless to try to resist it. "You didn't have to do this."

"Nonsense," she said as the two of you made your way to a booth. "I wanted to see my future daughter-in-law."

You nodded and enjoyed some pleasant conversation. She told you all about Goose's appointment with an audiologist and about Brenda's kids. And after you finished your avocado toast and bowl of soup, she said, "Now, I think we should talk about what's really important."

Her voice wasn't unkind, and she was still smiling softly, but you knew what was coming as you whispered, "Okay."

Carole reached across the table and took your hand gently in hers. "I know you're smart and independent. And I also know that's part of why Bradley loves you so much. You don't need him. He's not offering you anything you can't get on your own or with someone else. You chose him, because you want him." Tears started to fill your eyes, and you had to swallow against the lump in your throat. "And he just wants you to be happy, so he would never tell you to your face that you're hurting him."

You tried to speak, but you just made a pathetic sound and started to sob. "I don't want to hurt him."

"I know you don't," she replied softly, squeezing your hand. "I know you're not trying to. But I think you need to tell him once and for all that you don't want to get married this year so he can finally get used to the idea of waiting a bit."

You buried your face in your free hand. Why were you trying to push it off anyway? It's not like you really cared where you got married or what the two of you were wearing. Planning some sort of huge celebration was not something you wanted to spend your time doing. You wanted to be with Bradley exactly as you were right now, just with two more rings and a certificate involved. 

When you looked up at Carole, you whispered, "I don't really think I actually want to wait. And I don't want you to hate me either."

"No," she gasped, standing and coming to sit next to your on your side of the booth. She kissed your tear streaked cheek and whispered, "I could never, my sweet darling girl. I think you just need to talk to Bradley, okay? Can you promise me you'll give him a few hours of your full attention? And maybe let him know how much he still means to you?"

"Yes," you croaked, and you let her hold you as you cried.

---------------------------

The week without you was kind of miserable. Bradley managed to dump the rest of the bottle of scotch at Carole's urging over the phone. And he did notice that she and Goose started calling with a bit more frequency which he didn't really mind. But the best part was that fact that you called him every night before you went to bed. 

Every time he answered your calls, his heart thundered in his chest. And as soon as he called you Sweetheart, he could practically hear you smiling through the phone. "I can't wait to pick you up on Friday," he said over and over. If he just felt like he mattered to you again, then he could wait until next year to get married. That was no big deal in the grand scheme of things.

But when he met you in baggage claim at San Diego International late on Friday night, he was so surprised, he could barely speak. You ran for him with a garment bag in your arms, but you let it fall to the floor when you reached him. "Roo," you moaned as soon as you were in his grasp. "I missed you so much." You kissed him deeply. "I just got off the phone with your mom again. And I didn't tell you before, but I went to see my friend Caleb a few days ago," you said as you smirked.

"The tattoo artist?" he asked as he kissed your cheek fifteen times. When you nodded he asked, "What's in the garment bag?"

"My wedding dress."

"Holy shit." He scooped it up off the floor and held it tight. "You bought a dress?" he asked, trying to hold you and the garment bag both to his chest at the same time.

"Yes," you told him matter-of-factly as you tugged him toward the exit while you kissed his lips. "How do you feel about getting married in the parking lot in two months?"

------------------------

[sodamnradd]

“Heya, mate. Is Hermione Granger around?”

Draco leaned over the counter, giving the pathetic, gap-toothed wanker sporting a Flourish & Blotts t-shirt a bored look. “Hermione Granger?” he intoned as if he had never heard that name before.

Gap-Tooth shuffled uneasily. “Yeah. She works here. Doesn’t she?”

“Does she?” Draco inspected his nails.

Gap-Tooth wandered off awkwardly, pretending to scan the shelves.

Draco’s eyes narrowed when he paused at the Love Potions, kept under strict lock and key.

Gap-Tooth asked, “Erm are you able to—?”

“No,” said Draco, point-blank.

Something about Draco’s expression made him pale, and he was out the door less than ten seconds later.

When Gap-Tooth was gone, Draco glanced down and said, “You’re all clear.”

Dusting off her trousers, Granger rose to her feet and picked up the inventory scroll again. “I’ve told him I’m not interested,” she said, purposely avoiding Draco’s eye.

“You didn’t drive the point. He probably thinks he’s being cute stalking you everywhere.”

“It’s fine.”

“You don’t even visit Flourish and Blotts anymore.”

“Ordering books in the mail is more efficient.”

He might have believed her if it weren’t for the countless times she’d returned late from her lunch break, carrying teetering piles of new books. But ever since Gap-Tooth started working there, lunchtimes were reduced to eating soggy sandwiches in the lab.

Gap-Tooth returned two days later.

Granger didn’t see him coming through the shopfront window and he caught her unaware, shelving cloud-shaped vials of Dreamless Sleep. His voice made her jump, a couple of bottles flying out of her hands and shattering.

Draco groaned, enchanting the mop and pail to clean up the mess but keeping his distance while Granger attempted to dodge Gap-Tooth’s advances.

Gap-Tooth: Something, something “…thought you worked here but…” gesturing to Draco.

Granger, giggling awkwardly: “Did he? Draco’s such a…” Something.

Draco raised a brow, wondering what she’d called him because it almost sounded affectionate.

Gap-Tooth: Mumble, mumble “…go out sometime?”

Granger more awkward giggling, cheeks pink: “…so busy… not really dating… you’re nice but…”

Gap-Tooth, realising he was losing his chance: “…just one date… promise I…” Stepping closer.

Granger, nearly tripping over the oscillating mop in her retreat: “…it’s just that I’m not… I don’t…”

Gap-Tooth, even closer, grinning impishly, hideous teeth on full display: Something, something “…casual? You look like you could use some fun.”

Draco bristled. The audacity of this wanker.

Having had enough, he rounded the counter and stepped in between Gap-Tooth and Granger. “Did you ask her out?”

Gap-Tooth frowned, looking a little afraid. “Yeah, so?”

“Did she say yes?”

“She was just about to—”

Draco turned to Granger. “Were you about to say yes?”

“No,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze. She was too bloody nice for her own good.

Lucky for her, Draco wasn’t.

“There’s your answer,” said Draco, shooing Gap-Tooth towards the door. “Stop harassing her.”

Gap-Tooth looked at Granger, but she refused to look back. Disheartened, he made his way to the door.

Draco called out, “Oh, and if you bother her at Flourish and Blotts again, I’ll turn you into a rat and dump you in our lab cage.”

“Malfoy!” Hermione swatted Draco’s arm once Gap-Tooth was gone, but her eyes were bright with laughter. “That was so unkind.”

“Yes. And?” He waited.

She sighed as if it physically pained her to say, “Thank you.”

He grinned, pleased. Then tugged at a curl that had come loose from her clip. “And?”

She stepped closer, looking up at him with large brown eyes. “And you were right.”

“And?” Draco’s stomach fluttered. He was usually so composed, but nothing about Granger made him feel ordinary.

“And…” She rose to her tiptoes and locked her hands behind his neck, parting her lips in anticipation as they met halfway. “…maybe we should start telling people about us.”

(638 words, prompt: Yes. And? from Twitter)

[lokigonnakmsforbucky]

Dating Dean Winchester Headcanons <3

No one asked for this, but I am going to write about it anyway because I am THIRSTY for some Dean Winchester...feel free to send me requests for dean or any spn character. I will take a look at those asap. Also, this goes without saying but, minors dni, NSFW WILL be mentioned under. You have been warned :)

Long road trips in the impala, classic rock 24/7. You both would be singing to every single song. While Sam does anything possible to get you both to shut up.

Constant jokes, pranks, and teasing.

You guys would often make bets on what monster you would be hunting, but jokes on you both. Sam was always right.

Dean was a man that loved physical touch, as soon as you give him the A-okay. His hands never leave you... and I mean that.

Forehead kisses, cheek kisses, hand kisses... you get them ALL.

This man loves to hug you, wrapping his arms around your waist and putting his head on your shoulder no matter what you are doing or where you at. He will find a way to hug you somehow.

He loved to show his love for you in any way he could, cooking, rubbing your back, and maybe something else ;) He wanted to let you know how much you mean to him.

Baking pies together <3

Dean was an ASS man, his hand would never leave your ass in public. He would always have his hand on top of it, so everyone in the vicinity would know you were his. Don't worry he would slap it too if anyone was looking.

oh, man if anyone was looking... you were in for a treat.

"He thinks it's okay to keep eyeing you...I'm gonna prove to him your mine."

He would get jealous quick... even over something so small.

Dean is also very protective of you...he would fight, lie or even die for you, and when ANYONE made googly eyes at you. He was ready to show everyone you're his girl.

"What do you say, sweetheart, let's show this fool your mine."

"Please..."

Dean could quickly become a Dom or Sub depending on your mood, his, or the situation.

But, fucking him was a perfect combo of filthy and sweet.

This man would have his head between your legs and his fingers inside, keeping eye contact and making you watch while he fingers you.

"C'mon sweetheart, moan for me... let them all hear how good I make you feel just with my fingers... we haven't even got to the good part yet."

"Please...fuck me, Dean... stop teasing"

"Yes, ma'am"

He could spend the rest of his life making you moan for him.

But, remember when I said he was an ass man? He loves taking you from behind... holding your head back. One hand around your neck, while whispering dirty things into your ears.

"Just like that...moan out loud for me"

He also went crazy when you rode him, thrusting up into you when you went too slow or just watching your face take him.

you + him +impala = dean's in heaven, mainly when you were on top of him.

"Ride me just like that, you're doing so well baby"

He would also ensure that everyone knows that he did it if you can't walk well the next day. Was because of him

He absolutely loves aftercare too.

He would make a bath for the both of you, cook you anything you wanted, and cuddle until you both fell asleep watching any show that made you happy.

When he went out for hunts, he would always think about you. Are you eating enough, are you sleeping well, are you okay? His questions would spin in his head the entire time. For once he wishes monsters didn't exist or took a break so he could spend time with you.

He would call you at LEAST twice a day to check-in on how you were doing.

Dean was absolutely in love with you, to the point that he would rant to Sam on how much he did love you and that he was afraid you would leave one day or that he would not be there to save you.

"But what happens if I can't make it in time or if she leaves?"

"Dean, she can handle herself. Plus, she loves you and if you can't see that you an idiot."

This man was head over heels for you, he would do anything for you and I mean anything for you. He even thought of retiring from the family business and start a life with you.

Maybe some day, he will make that a reality.

[sunny44]

Marriage (Part 8)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex fiancée!reader Mason Mount x Fiancée!reader

Warnings: fights and that’s it

Summary: Max leaves his fiancée y/n at the altar on their wedding day but after years of regretting what he did, by a miracle of fate (or Lando) she appears in his life again.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

I didn't have the courage to take the test.

It had been two days since the event, and I sat on the bed, staring at a pregnancy test kit, trying to gather the courage to use it.

Mason was at training, and despite being invited by Red Bull and wanting to avoid Max, Mason's media team insisted that attending the Monaco GP would be good for his image.

That was the reason for our trip.

I used the opportunity when I needed to pee and took the test. Once done, I put it back in the box and tossed it into my bedside table.

I spent the day working to distract myself. I only realized it was evening when I felt a kiss on my forehead.

"Been here all day?" he asked.

"Yeah, had a lot of work," I replied.

"Have you eaten?"

"I only noticed the time because you arrived," I said. He chuckled and kissed my forehead again.

"Well, then I'll get something for us to eat, and you stay right there."

I continued working until he left, only stopping when he returned and we had dinner.

After we finished, we went to the bedroom. I took a shower while he got ready to sleep.

"Love, can I borrow your charger? Can't find mine." he asked.

"Sure, it's in my bedside table, first drawer." I shouted back.

After drying my hair, doing my skincare and getting dressed, I went to the room. Mason was sitting on the bed with a paper in hand and a displeased expression.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Mind explaining what this is?" He stood up and practically threw the paper at me.

It was the letter.

I took a deep breath, realizing Mason had found the letter. The atmosphere in the room shifted, filled with unspoken tension.

"Mason, I..." I began, but he interrupted.

"Just explain what the hell this is." he insisted, eyes fixed on the letter.

I walked over, took the paper, and glanced at the content. I hadn't read it since he handed it to me. It probably contained words and apologies Max wanted me to know, and my heart raced.

"It's a letter." I stated the obvious, trying to buy time to gather my thoughts.

"I can see that." he replied with a touch of frustration. "But it's a letter apologizing and also a letter saying he still loves you."

Taking another deep breath, I decided to be honest.

"Max wrote this letter to me some time ago."

"How long ago?"

"Do you remember when I told you I became friends with Lando?" He nodded. "We hung out that time because he insisted on introducing me to his best friends that ended up being Max and Daniel."

"What does that have to do with the letter?" He asked, frustrated.

"After the party that he introduced us he talked to Lando about what happened. He made him help him meet me to apologize. So, he said he wrote this letter and handed it to me, but I didn't have the courage to open it."

"And why did you keep it?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe one day I'd have the courage to read it and that’s why I kept it. Perhaps I felt I needed a reminder of how things were before."

His expression changed from frustration to anger.

"You kept a letter from your ex in our house? Are you serious?"

"I was unsure what to do with it and couldn't bring myself to throw it away, so I kept it. It's a piece of the past I kept hidden."

"Why hide it, then? Why keep secrets from me?" Mason's frustration grew. "You lied again about this. Not long ago, you argued with me for defending you and then you do this, keeping his things."

"I thought I could handle it on my own. I didn't want to burden you with my past." I explained.

He sighed, clearly upset.

"Y/n, we promised transparency. Keeping something like this from me... hurts."

"I'm sorry, Mason. I should have told you about this and I know this now." I admitted, feeling a pang of guilt.

"But it's always going to be like this, isn't it? You lie to me about him, and it makes me think you still love him even after he left you at the altar like an idiot," he said angrily. "You were supposed to tell me about him years ago and then when I found out on the internet I’ve try to be cool with it because I saw how much it hurts you, even if I was angry that you e lied to me. And now this, im your fiancé and u was supposed to be the one you trust to tell me this things but apparently lying to me it’s easier for you.

“I’m sorry.”

“I honestly don't know if I can still do this."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know if I can marry you." I felt tears fill my eyes. "I don't know if I can marry someone who lies to me."

"Mason, I..."

"I need some time." He left the room, leaving me there alone.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“So much work that I’m starting to get crazy”

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @dudenhaaa27 @christianpulisic10 @gaslysainz @fanboyluvr @urgirlceci @justdreamersdream @aundercoverosh @newlifeforus @depressedriches @topguncultleader @luvrrish @tyna-19 @esposadomd @formulas-bitch

[soraviie]

subject: write to me.oneshot

━ type: Jungkook x gn! reader              ━ masterlist ━ word count: 6k

━ summary: Jungkook is certain of it — you have disabled your work email and as such what's the harm in finally spilling everything that he's ever felt for you? You certainly won't read them...right?

━  connected to: "you think it's unrequited"

━ genre: pining!!! extreme pining!! angst, barely any fluff

━  c/w: Jungkook goes through a depressive episode 

━ leave a comment otherwise I’ll feed you mouldy cheese, don't test me. If you like my work and want to tip, here's my ko-fi. Thank you so much if you do!

Seoul in particular is the kind of city that never sleeps. Jungkook is once again made aware of it when he arrives late at night, kicks open the doors to his apartment and goes to lay down on the bed. Traffic, endless traffic and long strings of people trembling the air with an incessant series of enraged horns. Half-heartedly he greets Bam, plucking the squeaking toy out of the dog's mouth and flinging it to the far side of the room.

Fuck, he thinks, these are outside clothes; I should probably change.

He doesn’t.

Eagerly, Bam noses at his owner's arm, trying to get the man to play with him but at most Jungkook lazily pats his head. Lately, the only sound in his home had been the scratch of Doberman's nails against the glossy tiles. As he gets up Jungkook finds his head slightly spinning.

Eat, you should eat, he reminds himself. He has to do it himself now.

You didn't care for him and left, and he had to do this stupid thing all by himself. Immediately he shakes his head, chasing the resentment away. It wasn't your fault, none of it was your fault. And maybe it wasn't even his. It was just...not meant to be.

For the first time in weeks he actually manages to put forth some effort. Brushing back the hair from his face, the headphones squeeze tightly on his ears, preventing any sort of noise of traffic or ambulatory sirens. He cringes when seeing the biochemical weapon that is a half-finished bowl of ramen sitting next to the sink. There's even an egg there. Some days had gone by good but lately….it all grew to be very bad.

"When did I...? When did I even have this?" he mutters to himself but Jungkook lives alone. There's no one to answer.

The trash that veers dangerously over the side of the bin has to be split into two separate trips. The plastic bag is thin and it rips easily from the strength that Jungkook has to grab it with. Hence, two trips.

The floor needs cleaning, he does so. Laundry...he takes a disgust ridden glance at the array of dirty socks and underwear littered all over the bathroom floor that cannot even be seen from the sheer scale of used clothes piling on top of it. Yeah, laundry definitely needs doing.

As the washing machine goes off in the distance, with no small amount of guilt Jungkook looks at Bam. The dog's eyes are wide and glistening, holding no grudge towards his depressed owner. His tail wags expectantly the longer Jungkook keeps staring.

"Who's a good boy?" his voice though betrays him and cracks, failing to at least simulate the same joy Bam exudes. Jungkook reaches for the snacks — the empty paper crumbles between his fingers. He should go out and buy them. Thank god for Young-mi; had she not volunteered, Bam would have probably not been going out for his much needed walks. He should go out...not just for Bam. The dog has probably seen more sun than Jungkook has, but the mere thought of leaving his house kills a small part within him. It takes all of his strength to even make this empty home of his a somewhat habitable environment.

When he's done, hours into cleaning, there's almost a sense of accomplishment washing over him but before the pleasant feeling can fully settle into Jungkook's bones, finally turning his life back into somewhat normal form, the realization hits him. You won't know that he deep cleaned his apartment, you won't know that he cut his finger washing the knife and neither will you point out the choice of his band-aid (green sharks) with that distantly curious gleam in the eye because Jungkook himself won't be able to tell you any of this. Because you won't be here. Sometimes it hits him too hard and he cannot find his way back to the surface anymore.

Bam comes up to his leg, poking his wet nose into Jungkook's knee. Numbly he turns to look down.

"Sorry, boy, no walks tonight."

Bam's head droops lower and it isn't long before he waddles sadly away, settling in the corner to disinterestedly chew on his favourite toy. Whatever scraps of seaweed and rice Jungkook can scrounge up from the deserted fridge, he eats quickly and with little interest. The bed and his subsequent need to rot in it is begging for his attention but the glint of his laptop — open and left behind on the coffee table — catches his attention at the very last second.

He won't be able to tell you...in person that is. It's been a week since he last wrote to you. He misses you.

Grabbing the laptop, he digs himself underneath the covers, waiting for the email to load.

How many messages has he written to you? 100? 200? By now he's stopped counting. What's the point?

Clicking on a new message, he gathers himself. Despite knowing that you've certainly deactivated your email by now, knowing that you won't ever read this he still feels some semblance of anxiety ripple through his body. Gasping in a deep breath, he relaxes himself, finding strength in the newfound mantra.

They don't care about you. They won't read any of this. It's like talking to yourself.

Hey, no one said mantras had to be happy, right?

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: btw I did a deep clean :D

Hi!

It's been a week since I last wrote to you. Can't say it's been fun. How are you? Are you fine? Are you still liking life back home? You used to complain that you couldn't get the proper ingredients here in Korea...

"Still" liking the life back home...Jungkook scoffs at the choice of his own words, aggressively bringing his finger of wrath upon the backspace button. "Still"...as if you had liked it here. As if you had liked him! He shakes his head once more. For all the supposed numbness that he felt instead of pain, there was a surprising amount of bitterness breaking ever so often through the flimsy pretense he had constructed ever since you left.

“You need any help?” 

He didn’t even particularly want to help you. It was 2:30 in the morning and only now he could go home. He was drenched in sweat and undoubtedly stinky, the strands of hair clung disquietingly to the back of his neck and he just wanted to go home. But you looked so damn…confused. Frankly, if he wouldn’t help you it most likely would be a violation of the civil law. 

Your tired eyes travelled from the dimly lit phone in your hand to his face and as you scrutinised him from head to toe, he unwittingly shivered. 

There’s no such thing as ghosts, Jungkook told himself, ghosts don’t use phones. 

The blankness of your stare disturbed him and after hearing a quiet, barely audible “no” fall out your lips, he bolted, jumping into an elevator without a single glance backwards.

So much for a meet-cute. 

He blinks out of the frayed memory, taking in the newly reviewed mail

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: btw I did a deep clean (of my house) :D

It's been a week since I last wrote to you. Can't say it's been fun. I hope you like being back home. 

I like you.

He reads it with a heavy sigh but proceeds to send it anyway tossing then his computer aside with an easy flick of the wrist. Not like you’ll ever read it. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com 

subject: where did you go? :0

Hello, _____________. This is Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Of BTS… but I’m sure you probably know that.

I got this email address from one of my managers, well, I may have bullied them a little bit (ヾ;￣▽￣)ヾ but it was for a good cause! 

Anyways I was wondering about next week’s show. You promised me to help with the speech, you know my English is not good╥﹏╥ but I’ve been trying to find you for the whole week and it’s like you disappeared! Even my managers were all incredibly tight lipped about it. Just let me know if you’re still up to helping me. If not, it’s fine. 

I hope you’re not sick, health is important you know!

Whichever it is — whether you’re sick, out of Seoul or just don’t want to see me, please, write to me so I’d know (⌒_⌒;)

Sincerely,

Jeon Jungkook.

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: are you okay?

So uhh…the show is over and I haven’t seen or heard from you. The speech didn’t go so well since I was so worried about you my head was fuzzy but it’s whatever. Life goes on hahaha. I am starting to get a bit worried haha don’t scare me haha. I asked even other members about you but no one knows. The staff is telling me you didn’t have a desk to begin with so it’s not like I could just wait for you there…not that I would do that. I wouldn't….haha. Well, you were our jack—of—all—trades little helper, right? You always helped me with my jewelry and mic, and papers so it makes sense, doesn’t it? That you didn’t have a desk? Idk idk I’m suddenly shy (,,>﹏<,,)

Maybe you’re on vacation? I just thought of that lol it’s probably that. Sorry for bothering you, I hope you rest well! You deserve it, our little fairy! 

Still if you could be so kind as to answer this message when you receive it, I’d be forever in your debt if you would! 

Sincerely, 

Jeon Jungkook. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: 

You’re not on vacation. It’s been a month. HR hasn’t approved of you going away and you’re not on a sick leave. 

Yes! Yes! I went to them! You’re not answering and I’m worried, and angry!

I thought we were friends! If you’re going through something then, please, let me know! How can I help? What can I do so you come back to us?

Sincerely, 

a very pissed Jeon Jungkook.

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: you left

The truth is out. I already said it in the subject but I’ll repeat it again, maybe to make it real. Maybe so that I would believe it. 

You left. Wrote a resignation, packed up your shit and left. Just fucked off without saying why, without saying goodbye. 

That’s what hurts the most. I wasn’t even worth enough to say goodbye to.

I really hate you.

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: i don’t know, something

….hi.

It’s been a month. 

How have you been?

I’m…not too good. I’m still here but…eh, I don’t know. The members say I’m sulking and I am in a way but more than anything I’m missing you. I’m missing the chances I had but didn’t take.

You know it took me a while to even like you. I thought you were so cold, in fact, I thought you despised me, hehe, well, maybe you do but I won’t know now, will I? I can’t exactly ask you, can I? Not to you who would answer as I’m fairly certain this email has been deactivated.

It’s the possibilities that hurt the most, you know. I don’t really know you, do I? I’ve never been at your home, never met your family, friends. I don’t know what type of water you like and I don’t know how soft your blanket is. Whether you use mouthwash or whether you shower in the morning or night. I don’t know these things but…I could have. Why didn’t I just ask? Why didn’t you for that matter? Was I…not the one for you? 

Did you think the same as I did?

I remember when that first thought of you crossed my mind, of us being something…different.  It was in the middle of a concert, remember? After the one we had in Seoul. You were maybe 6 months in, still awkward around everyone. You didn’t speak much I remember that. In those days whenever I asked anyone about you, they would say “real quiet but reliable”. I was sitting on the sofa, trying to catch my breath. It was Jimin’s solo so I could have some few seconds of peace and you were there, right in the centre of the pandemonium, absolutely calm. I remember how I wondered: "How can they be so collected? Do they not care?” but you did care. You were working on Namjoon’s jacket, weren’t you? Wardrobe malfunction. You weren’t even supposed to. Little helper is one thing but you’re not a stylist. Still you stepped in and calmly, diligently you made it whole again.

You probably don't know but you did the same thing to me. Only, of course, you undid me as well.

The decorations on top of that stupid jacket broke, just after we were finished but you didn’t mind. Namjoon showed it to you and you laughed. That was the first time I ever saw you happy. You said that it has fulfilled its duty and there’s no reason to worry anymore — it was all fine. 

You never knew it but as I watched you from the sidelines I thought what if I would join you, offer a joke, make your smile last longer. I really wanted to but…

…but I didn’t. I wasn’t blind — you found it hard to fit and I didn’t want to intrude. You didn’t seem to enjoy my presence and if some people would see me with you, they’d give you a hard time and I didn’t want to burden you. You were just blooming open, my touch no matter how well-intended would just damage your petals so I didn’t. I packed up my things and I walked past you without saying anything. 

What if I had? Would you have stayed then? Or would you have left all the same? Neither of us know the answer. 

I don’t hate you, I’m sorry for writing so in the last letter. I didn’t mean it. I would never mean it. All I can hope for now is that you’re happy wherever you are.

Sincerely apologetic, 

Jeon Jungkook. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: april again

Hello! 

It’s April and you know what that means, I get saddled with a new tutor yey (⋟﹏⋞) It’s strictly formal now and honestly kind of boring. I know you weren’t really my tutor back in the day, just helping me on the side hehe but I still appreciate you. It was also April then, April 28th, that we finally spoke like two human beings. Your voice was so tired but you seemed curious—

Jungkook lifted his head from the laptop of his home, suddenly feeling the betraying sting bite at the bottom of his eyes. 

“Don’t cry!” he scolded himself. “What’s the use of crying now that everything's done?”

Sensing his owner’s distress, Bam cautiously approached the crouched man and pressed his nose into Jungkook’s shin. He stared down at the dog, surprise in his expression hinting at the fact that for a second he’d forgotten Bam existed. For a second he was back with you. 

April 28th

“What are you doing?” the voice sounding near him was quiet. Somewhat curious but even more so perturbed. Jungkook detached himself from the table he’d slouched upon in the throes of his utter defeat. 

Seeing you though, the sleepy disquiet within him frayed and he swallowed nervously, trying his hardest to appear at complete ease. 

“Regretting life choices,” he groaned conversationally. “You?” 

“Just getting a soda,” you tossed your head towards the vending machine. It had an indent at the side. Rumour had it that one night Jin kicked it because he didn’t have enough money on him to buy a candy bar. It was, of course, just a rumour and Junkook knew it because he was the one who kicked the machine. 

He did sort of feel bad about it but he had been hungry. 

“Nothing nearly as dramatic.”

An awkward quiet settled between them. What are you thinking, Jungkook thought. He noticed the way your eyes lingered on him, a touch too long to be absolutely casual, and then quickly averted away as your lips pursed into a straight line, almost like you were reprimanding yourself. 

Maybe because you were prohibited from talking to him? It wouldn’t be the first time such an order took place as much as Jungkook hated it. 

“Do you need help?” your voice had been low, so deadpan he entirely missed that you’d spoken at all but when the realization hit, he had to force himself to not be too happy.

“It’d be nice if you did,” he gave a small smile, shuffling to make space for you on the couch. You stared at the newly liberated spot for a second but ultimately sat down if a bit stiffly. 

Peering into his notebook, you asked him:

“What do you have to do?” 

“Answer these questions using 10 words or less.”

You leaned your head to the side and as he took the next, shuddering breath, the scent of your shampoo filled him whole. It fit you like a glove. Immediately, he wanted more of it. 

“That’s a strange exercise,” you muttered and as Jungkook’s throat grew dry, he only shrugged in response. You’d given him details, solid answers and explanations but he still failed miserably. He hadn’t heard a thing you said over the sound of his heart rushing. 

Only the wet cold of Bam’s nose roused him from the memory. With a sad smile, he patted the dog’s head, feeling suddenly guilty to be looked at with such adoring eyes. 

“Good boy,” he whispered as Bam’s tail thwacked against the floor of his empty and quiet apartment. “Good boy, Bam.”

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: what’s next

Hello!

Have you been eating well? Have you been meeting up with friends? I remember you told me once, probably thinking I’ll forget it, that they’ve been missing you and you’ve been missing them. I didn’t forget — I remember. I hope you’ve gone out with them and that your cheeks glow the way they do when you’re really, really happy. I haven’t forgotten that either. I don’t want to. 

I…uh…I’ve stopped crying. I don’t why that’s so awkward to say, I mean you’re not even here. If anything I’m talking to myself. It’s a bit sad, isn’t it hehe. Don’t judge me, please.

Anyways I’ve stopped tearing up at random times. Now I’m just…I don’t know — numb? Unmotivated? In those few rare free days I don’t do much — just lie in my bed. I don’t have the strength to get out of it. Though some days it’s not so bad — I’m almost the way I was before. I go out, I eat ice-cream, take Bam out for good long walks — it’s almost normal but then inevitably I crash and I don’t want to move or go anywhere, or even speak with anyone. 

In fact, for the last week this is the most speaking I’ve done — writing this to you. I don’t why I keep it up but it helps. I myself don’t quite understand haha. I hope that tomorrow it’ll be a good day. My house has been a mess, my hair is kind of dirty and I think Bam is getting antsy cramped inside for extended periods of time. I have been declining my mom’s calls cause I don’t want to hear me like this. She’ll only worry and it’ll make the whole situation worse. I need to move but today I’ve sat here all day and thought of you. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: why?

wh do i =kep writinng to u? u;re nhot here whats the point?? whats the goodammn point> 

jimin found ou t about the leterc 

he didnt saay nuthign but the way he lookred at me…

pity

is ti a crime?????? to lvoe someone?? to want to tlak to them?? everyien else is lucjkf they cqan talk to thei r loved cnes but em?? im aloen so yesh i write yo you!! i wan t to be delusionalf i dont care fwha anyer says! youre my friend!  iw ill talk to you aven if tis patheti c even if tish thoguht lettters youll nevar read! i dont caare1

jminn thiggks im crayz

an I? 

have u maed me crazy?

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: I’m sorry

So…I got really drunk yesterday  (≡ε≡；) I can hold my liquor, don't get me wrong, but Jiminie drinks like he’s got a new liver lined up °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞° But reading it over this morning (barely, my eyes are swollen) I recalled the fight that we had and that I never did apologize. I’m sorry that I took my anger out on you that one time. I should have said sorry already then. I didn’t but I was. Still am. 

May, 22nd

“You were supposed to go home hours ago.”

By now, he was well familiar with the voice and its disinterested tembre. You always sounded so…bored and for some reason today of all days Jungkook got pissed off because of it. 

You were always…looking down at him. Just like the others. You were judging him, weren’t you? Why else were you so distant? Why else did your face not change expressions as he got near you? You couldn’t stand him. You could see what he was behind the carefully curated smokescreen of what Jeon Jungkook was supposed to be. You saw him. Those weary, disturbingly observant eyes drilled right through what was supposed to be a charming, yet impenetrable wall. He didn’t truly know anyone and no one was supposed to truly know him. Yet in front of you he suddenly found himself bare.

“Why? Because you say so?” he spat from where he’d fallen on the floor. His ankle had given out and one point and when you came in he was panting from the pain. Of course, you’d see him in such a humiliating state. 

You blinked mutely at his sudden harshness. You weren’t friends, you weren’t allowed to be friends but still the relationship was amicable. For coworkers. Barely.

“You’re upset,” flatly you stated, one hand gripping the door handle far too tightly. 

“Yeah, no shit,” he grumbled. Why were you looking at him like that? Like you saw him?! Who even were you?!

“You’re upset but  that’s no reason for you to talk to me like this.”

As cold as a bucket of winter river. Your voice washed over him and Jungkook found himself not an injured wolf baring his teeth and protecting his den but a puppy, sopping wet and scrambling uselessly against the palm that had seized him by the scruff. 

“I’m a grown man.”

“Not right now.” 

You both came to standstill, glaring obstinately at each other. 

It had been the longest eye-contact Jungkook had with you. Shame it was out of anger. 

You drew an exhausted sigh as Jungkook brittled.  

“I understand you’re in pain and wanting perfection but be nicer to yourself.”

He scoffed harshly. 

“I don’t need your pity.”

Something in your gaze grew utterly frigid and all at once he was rendered deeply afraid. 

“And I’m not offering it to you.”

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: I’m sorry

So…I got really drunk yesterday  (≡ε≡；) I can hold my liquor but Jiminie drinks like he’s got a new liver lined up °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞° Reading over that garbage this morning (barely, my eyes are swollen) I recalled the fight that we had and that I never did apologize. I’m sorry that I took my anger out on you that one time. I should have said sorry already then. I didn’t but I was. Still am.

For these last few days I keep thinking about what you said afterwards — when I finally mustered up the courage to grovel three days later. That I’m not someone you would pity and that I need not to apologize just change. You were so different then. You were strong. Stern. You didn’t take any of my shit and for that — thank you. I don’t know why but it made me love you more. 

Huh. I just said it. 

It’s kind of sad that you’ll never hear it.

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: catching up! :D

HELLO!

It’s been two whole weeks since I last wrote to  you. We’ve been so busy, I’ve barely had the time to sit down >⌓<｡

How are you? How is life back home? Did you meet up with those friends of yours? Did you find a new job? Did you find someone…new?

Maybe don’t tell me that last one haha

I’ve been…good. It’s a surprise really. I don’t miss you any less than I did yesterday or I will tomorrow but there’s not that horridly heavy sense in my chest today. I don’t know what happened in the moments before I wrote to you last and now. Maybe because I remembered how miserable you were here. You ate alone, no one really spoke to you. They liked you! They really did! I just guess…it’s too different here. It couldn’t have been easy to always think about what to say, how to say it and how people will perceive you. I pondered how I feel when overseas and I…I understand now why you were so closed off. You must have been protecting yourself, weren’t you? Like I was that day when my ankle was twisted. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that you came here at all, that we met but…I don’t want you here at the cost of your happiness. I think I’ve finally come to terms with that you left. Better you’re happy somewhere else, at your home with the people and things you know rather than you’re miserable here with me. I was not much of a help to you, wasn’t I? Always so scared of my own feelings and possibilities of future failings that I never even considered the present and how lonely you must have felt. I’m sorry that I wasn’t better for you.

I hope you’re among better people now. You deserve the world. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: something weird happened 

So as I said in the subject, something weird happened?? Do you remember Eun-joo? She came to the studio one day and you asked me whether she was my lover. I blushed so hard then (>\\\\\\<) I don’t even know why. Just hearing you say the word “lover” aaaah it sounded so scandalous hehehe I must be crazy

Anyway, back then I said no, well, I yelled it and your face scrunched up in that adorable way it does when you’re both surprised and confused but yesterday she…uh…asked me out? On a date? 

You never knew this but uhm…I kind of had a crush on her before you came along. I never asked her out because our schedules conflicted so much we barely spoke and I’ve always liked better to ask someone out in person, you know. And then well you arrived and uh…

I think you get it. 

But now you’re gone and I said yes to Eun-joo.  

Uh…was I allowed to do that? Why am I asking you? 「(°ヘ°)

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: hah 

So….I went on a date and uhm…

I rejected her. 

Well, somewhat. By the end of the evening, she was asking me about whom I was thinking about so much and well…it is true. I spent the entire night thinking about what you would have done, what you would have said instead of her. Unwittingly I found myself yearning not for her enthusiastic compliments but for your dry ass remarks. 

We’ve decided to stay as friends. 

I don’t think I’ll be dating anytime soon.

I’d say that I’m absolutely okay with you seeing someone but you know me — I’m jealous as all hell just thinking about it (￣ε￣)

Seoul in particular is the kind of city that never sleeps. Jungkook is once again made sure of that when he tries to sleep but cannot. Bam’s snores fill up the otherwise quiet room as he tosses to and fro. This last letter, about the deep clean,  is not giving him rest. He keeps recalling that rainy day in the park, not even wishing he’d done things differently but just wishing he could still see you. That this…hope, twisting around his neck like a noose, would end. If he would bear no hope he wouldn’t still dream, would he? He would be able to rest, wouldn’t he?

God, he needs to rest. He’s given you his mind and soul and if you were his sun, you could spare him at least some clarity. He didn’t care anymore — be it cold or cruel. He needed to be let go even if he probably won’t let you go himself. 

Jumping out the bed, he makes a quick beeline to the still running laptop. Bam rattles in his cage, disturbed by the sudden movement but his eyes fall too heavily to muster up a bark. Seconds later, he’s already slumbering. While Jungkook is wide awake, fingers clattering noisily against the keyboard.

June 16th

The small bottle of milk flowed just underneath his nose as heartless rain continued to pelt the ground below. Thick smell of petrichor swirled the air around. Stunned, Jungkook lifted his head and traced the hand that held the milk for him. 

Seeing you he gave a feeble smile. 

Of course you would be here when he thought he was alone. 

“How did you find me?” he rasped, accepting the bottle though not moving to puncture the small foliage. 

With a sigh, you settled on the swing next to his — it produced a horribly dragged out screech. 

“I didn’t,” you shrugged. “I just walked by and saw you.” 

“And just so happened to have my favourite brand of milk?” he arched an eyebrow and because the rain made his eyes blurry, he thought, he deluded himself for a second that you blushed. Blushed and darted your gaze guiltily away to settle upon the crowded Seoul horizon. 

“I’ve noticed you drinking it so I bought it…to try,” you coughed and silence fell upon the world. 

The day was hot, extremely humid, even the falling rain did not help in the matter. Why did he come here, to this empty park on the far side of the city Jungkook did not know. Could it be….no, that was impossible. Nothing so childishly romantic could not take root in a cruel, unforgiving reality. 

“You’re feeling down again?” you inquired, swinging back and forth, the plastic bag swinging next to  you. He wondered what you bought, what you ate to feel good and full. 

“Yeah, just a bit,” he lied, scuffing the soles of his shoes against the ground. 

“A bit,” you repeated in a barely audible mutter. “Are you sure it’s a bit?”

“Do you think I’m lying?” 

But despite the shortness of time, Jungkook had changed. His voice held neither malice, nor challenge. In fact the irony was all but obvious in the lilt of his tone. He was lying and you knew that he was. 

“Yes,” easily, you replied, pulling a snort of amusement from the depths of his chest. “You’re mostly a terrible liar but also surprisingly good when it comes to hiding yourself.”

“And are you?” Jungkook asked, daring for the first time to take a proper look at you. It was so…difficult. For him it was like staring at the sun. It was oftentimes easier to not look lest he dreamt too much. “Are you a good liar?”

You stared at the ground, closing your eyes for a brief second of what seemed to be utter heartbreak. 

“I’m an excellent liar,” you murmured. When you opened your eyes once more, the bout of sudden vulnerability was gone. You shuck it off like dogs did water and once again Jungkook sat absolutely mesmerized at how you were able to do it. 

“But it can’t be helped,” you concluded firmly. 

“Why are you an excellent liar?” Jungkook teased you further, feeling the beat of his heart stumble and clamber. Maybe…

“I’m in love with someone but…it’s not reciprocated,” you swung back and forth, purposefully avoiding his gaze. 

The excited dash of his heart came crashing down, punching up arid bile at the back of Jungkook’s throat. In love with another, huh. 

“Why do you think it’s not reciprocated?” gently, he questioned, gripping the milk between his trembling fingers.  

“It just can’t be,” you refuted stubbornly. “I think he sees me in the same way people do…desks. Or notebooks.”

“Notebooks?” 

“Yeah, you know,” you pursed your lips and the sheer amount of grief that passed your features made Jungkook sick. Whoever this son of a bitch was that made you this said deserved a motorbike in the face.  “People can genuinely like their stuff until they’re in good use but once that use runs out,” you sucked a breath through your gritted teeth. “They replace it and forget all about them in the end. It’s that sort of like.”

“That smooth-brained son of a bitch,” he cried out angrily. “Damn, I should beat that foul smelling dickwad to the last inch of his life. How dare he treat our fairy like that?!”

Tearily you laughed and more than anything Jungkook wanted to hold your hand and lull the pain. But he couldn’t. He had no place in your life. Not really. So he held the milk instead — the bottle popping up from the pressure underneath his palm. 

Dumbly, you both looked as it leaked down onto the ground. 

“Smooth-brained,” you chuckled to yourself. “Perhaps. But he smells nice.”

Jungkook tried not to sulk at this new piece of information. Too many nice-smelling but dumb people rolled around the circles of his acquaintances  — he couldn’t track the son of a bitch down even if he tried. He had no idea how lucky he was. Jungkook’s sun was giving him warmth and he dared not to care for it. 

“What’s got you looking so dour yourself?” 

“Oh,” he swallowed nervously, his gaze rapidly growing so hazy, even when staying still, he could swear the world was trembling. “I like someone myself. They’re kind to me, strict albeit kind, however…” he sat, transfixed somberly on the ground. One glimpse at you and he’d break. One glimpse and he’d force this ocean of his feelings upon you. He’d make you feel bad — it was always awkward to hear a love confession from someone whom you did not like. So he had to be strong. Had to be strong for you, as strange as it sounded. “I’m not good enough for them.”

“That’s nonsense,” you scoffed, beginning to swing back and forth. The ends of your shoes grew wet as briefly you found yourself amidst the rain. 

“I meant me, just Jeon Jungkook, is not good enough,” he clarified with an eye roll. “I didn’t mean Jungkook the idol.”

“Neither did I."

The rain kept pouring the entire afternoon and it was one of the happiest days Jungkook had ever lived through. 

Shame you left soon after. 

to: 17780_specialhelp@navercorp.com

subject: please

Even if...even if the year we spent together meant nothing to you, that the kindness you extended towards me, that the help you sent my way unknowingly pulling me from a pit of inescapable darkness is nothing but an empty void, no more deserving of your attention than the dirt on the side of the road, I beg of you to be gracious once more. Just write to me. Just one letter is all I ask for. No matter what you have to say, should it be something as little as one singular "bye", please, write to me. I'll keep you in my thoughts, forever most likely as you've made your home in them.

Sincerely, 

Jeon Jungkook.

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @flitzerj; @royallyjjk; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi267; @jung-nika-hoseok; @silverliningsandstorms;

 © soraviie, 2023

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug watches 'The Return'

Doug and I have made up for our disagreement regarding Montana. I did not, in fact, go to his St Patrick's Day party (due to the fact I was busy with my daughter's Scout pack being in the parade), but we bonded over the insane weather in our region recently.

He had a lot of strong opinions on this, and it was a little scattered. Kind of like most TV shows, I guess.

CW: Doug Doug's on and continues to have Feelings about Certain Geographic Locations. Enjoy!

---------------------------------

Episode 4: “Redneck Family Bonding”

You know how I know them clone boys is from Florida?

Because the show opens to Little Orphan Blonde sleeping in their busted work van wearing a puka shell necklace while her brother Daddy Warcrimes is shooting fruit on the beach all while their adopted mutant dog chases critters away from the trash can.

Yup. Average day in Florida. 

Of course Daddy Rambo is sitting on the ledge, watching Daddy Warcrimes and mumbling to himself. Do you think he peeps on the neighbors in the other part of Space Daytona? He totally does. Daddy Rambo, you need a girlfriend, make that fruity robot wear a skirt and take it out on a date or something. 

Hell YEAH, my boy Toaster Strudel is BACK! Look at him hugging everyone. Good man. Love him. Why is Daddy Warcrimes still wearing that fisherman sweater, is it St. Patrick’s Day still? Where’s Rex? Oh well. 

And they’re chilling out on Hoops’s porch, chugging the man’s liquor and eating his sushi. I would, too. Oh man, they’re referencing Ryan-from-Accounting. I’m sad now. Where’s Church Lady? Probably realized she was too good for Ryan-from-Accounting, or maybe she found his bitch wife Laura and now they wine buddies. I guess. 

Aw, Mutant Jimmers is friends with the monkeys. God damn, I love Mutant Jimmers. 

No one can hack into the iPad Little Orphan Blondie took from her internship at the Museum of Science and Industry. Little Orphan Blondie’s a kid, make the kid do it! All kids know how iPads work! 

They still kept Daddy Warcrimes’s armor with the Georgia colors and the skulls! And that’s why Daddy Rambo won’t look at him–look at Daddy Rambo’s colors, man’s a Gator fan and the SEC decides everything now don’t it. 

So…they’re going back to Space Wyoming? Oh man, I remember this dump. I hope they threw THAT BLOND JACKASS’S body in a dumpster and let the bears eat it. 

Back to the walk-in refrigerator where Daddy Warcrimes hung out with….oh. Oh. Sassy Park Ranger. Oh. But hey they found an ATM! How else are they gonna buy weed out here? 

You know it’s a redneck family vacation because someone’s gotta get out of the trailer and turn on the circuit breaker cause there’s no power and they gotta watch the Saints play. At least they ain’t hot wiring the HMS Search Warrant to power shit up. Actually, it would be great if they did–that’s some redneck engineering right there and it’s good bonding for those angry boys. 

Oh the daddy fight! Daddy Warcrimes and Daddy Rambo need the therapy and they ain’t gonna get it so they gonna do what rednecks do when they upset and need to talk…go outside the trailer and scream and shove each other while the dog barks at everything. Someone needs to trip on a rusty rake now. I feel like I’m watching my own family on Christmas.

Of course, turning off the power means the critters are coming! Is it gonna be a snow gator? No? Oh man it’s one of them worms from that sand movie that Bobbie Lee keeps talking about! 

Go go Daddy Warcrimes go! Save Daddy Rambo! 

Once again, they rednecks, because nothing solves a problem like shooting a gun repeatedly into the ground. Don’t none of these folks have a taser? Some bear mace? Come on, there’s a Wal Mart on Space Daytona I know there is. 

Mutant Jimmers is helping everyone out! Go Mutant Jimmers go! When does Mutant Jimmers get her own show? 

Toaster Strudel bitching at everyone as he gonna do. I agree Toaster Strudel, I agree. 

Man look at Little Orphan Blondie go and there’s Julio doing all the work while being chased by the snow critter. Why does every animal on earth wanna mate with Julio I swear to God. 

And they turned the power back on and boom no more critter chasing. This is the most redneck show I swear I’m watching a show about my idiot brother in law and his friends in Wyoming. 

Nothing brings the family together like going out to an abandoned trailer, searching for the power, shooting guns, getting chased by critters and a screaming shove-fight outside while the dog chases a big-assed animal away from the garbage. Yup. Space rednecks. They all need NASCAR shirts. 

Well, they got the iPad working again….back to Space Florida! And they all getting along.

Meat Muffin, why did this episode make me so happy?

Tagging Doug's fans because yes: @skellymom @cdblake1565 @megmca @sued134 @eyecandyeoz @amalthiaph @yeehawgeek @eelfuneral @thecoffeelorian @lightwise @archivistofnerddom @askyourfox @heavenseed76 @totallyunidentified

[immortal-raine]

NEW OP CHARACTER (OC)

Out of the 7 years I’ve been consuming OP I haven’t made made an Oc until now hehe

She’s still in daft so bear with me, tbh she doesn’t have a name yet maybe Mylo? Nova?Lmao idk

Gonna have to zoom in, to really soak in the plot jk jk I’m info dumping here: (but if you don’t wanna read a lot, the images is a recap more or less)

- Born In Water 7, This Kid Worked as a Apprentice Shipwright at Galley-La Co.

- Got Caught in a Annual Aqua Laguna at like 14 ish

- Ended Up Stranded On a Random Island, Built a Boat to Get Back Home; Without a Log Pose, Map, Or Navigation Skills, She Just Ended Up Drifting From Place to Place. Kinda Became A Adventure on It’s Own

- Found and Ate A Devil Fruit called smth like…

[ Sheep Sheep Fruit Model: Komahitsuji]?

- Now Can’t Swim, She Decided to Stay on Island And Just Live as a Sheep, Eat, Sleep, Shit and Repeat living the dream y’know

- Months Pass And A Ship With A handful Of Pirates Show Up, Izo Being Apart This. Believing A Sheep Native to Wano Somehow Got Out Of Country, Decided to Bring it Along. Izo Using Snack Sack To Get it Aboard The Ship, And Her Being Have Sleep And Delirious, She Follows.

- Not Fully Aware During The Trip Back To The Main Ship, She Wakes Up in Front of Whitebeard Confused, But Keeps up The Sheep Act really what do you expect, they make awesome food, she can chill all day, and be on the sea without worry, it’s a solid deal

- After Week She Just Decides To stop The Act, Playing With Stephan And Kotatsu Was Fun But Getting Treated Like Them, Not So Much

- Huge Shock For Everyone But They Got Over it, Got Adopted By Whitebeard, And Became a Official Member Of Whitebeard Pirates

- Starts Working as a Apprentice Shipwright Again, Under 6th Division Blamenco!

- Working in The 6th Division Means She’s Not Always On The Main Ship, But When She is She’s Following Izo around, Izo Being The one Who Brought Her is Kinda Responsible of Making Sure She’s Alright

- Besides Izo, She’s Learning a Few Things From Haruta, Ranting to Namur, Listening to Stories from Whitebeard, Gushing about UTA to Thatch, and Bothering Marco because everyone likes to do that once in a while

- Getting Away From Work Is Where Whitey Bay Comes In, Jump Ship With Her and Be MIA until She’s Found Out and Called Back

Ace Joining (Kidnapped) 2 years after her:

(Gonna have to zoom in man)

- Met 2 Months into his assassination attempts they met randomly, when Whitey Bay dropped her off.

Ace and Her Was Cool After The Assassination Attempts, They Would Talk When She’d Get Back From Where She Working

After The Paramount War:

- Too Young To Participate In The War, She Was Left To morn Whitebeard and Her Brother’s Lives

- She Took Care Of Stephan For A Bit Until She Decided To Work For The Revs

- Learned protocols And Tactics For a Year

- There She Loved Meeting Ivankov because who wouldn’t? And Learning under Inazuma Was Fun Reminded Her of Learning Things From Haruta

- Met Sabo and Talked about Ace and Moments She Spent With Him

- After Being Deployed In A Mission With Sabo, Koala, Hack, And a Handful Of Revs, She Both Respected And Feared Sabo

- Koala Unintentionally Saved Her From Talking With Sabo Once And Became Her Saving Grace Ever Since

- She Was Deployed Under Morgans as a Spy to Keep Tabs On Him and Anything Else Note Worthy

- Shockingly Met Deuce, Told Him The Truth because she’s conditioned to tell her older bothers the truth He Didn’t Care Much, So He Became A Silent Accomplice

- Another Year Pass And Strawhat Pirates Make Their Debut Into The New World, While Working For The Revs She also Helps Deuce Write Reports On The StrawHats Newest Exploits

Now That that’s Over With, Here’s All Her Art (Still Drafting)

Sketches:

With Color:

Thanks for coming to my rant fest, or just looking at the art, I appreciate it, okay bye :D

[workingforitallthetime]

I would be super interested in hearing more of your thoughts on the bedard athletic article... i read it just now and. hmm.

OK we’re back for Part II, the Bedard/Fantilli parenting part! (Part I here.)

I previously squawked about being jarred by the subhead in the Star: “But Connor Bedard’s story was always more about raising a happy and grounded child than a star.” But now that I’ve processed both articles, it’s not necessarily off-base. The Bedards clearly do very much care about raising a happy and grounded child. It’s just that their philosophy about how to accomplish that outcome seems to be focused around making sure Connor has everything that Connor thinks he needs.

There’s presumably a difference between everything that Connor thinks that he needs and everything Connor actually needs, just like there is with any teenager. So what really stands out to me in both of these articles is the many examples of how the Bedard parents seemingly do not ever go against Connor’s decisions around hockey, even when they’ve had (or arguably should have had) legitimate misgivings. Some examples from the Toronto Star article:

Melanie didn’t think Connor should apply for exceptional status, to the point where she was losing sleep over it. Connor “told her how upset he’d be if she blocked his goals,” and she caved. (The quote is from The Athletic but Melanie’s emotions get more attention in the Star.)

This quote from dad about little kid Connor going to open ice: “He’d stay there eight hours at a time,” says Tom. “More, sometimes. He’d come off, eat, go back on. His feet would be literally bleeding. I would go on once in a while, but normally I would just let him do his thing.” Like… maybe it’s time to make your kid take a break if his feet are literally bleeding????

Ah, the Hawaiian vacation, the trip that Connor refused to go on unless he could take his hockey gear and keep practicing. There’s a series of choices there as a parent. Not only are you acceding to your kid’s demands to play hockey in the midst of your one and only family vacation ever, you’re actively facilitating his demands by paying to check his goddamned gear bag and leaving your own relaxing lounge by the pool/on the beach to drive him to the only rink on the island (which I’m fairly confident was not walking distance from any resort they may have been staying at.) Like!!! That is such a series of choices!!! All made in the service of allowing your hockey-obsessed kid to have exactly what he wants, rather than deciding that perhaps it would be good for him and for your whole family to have a tiny little vacation from his life’s obsession!!! (Much of the information in this paragraph is based on the TSN spot, which has the most detail about this trip.)

I think it’s super interesting that the coach of the Pats says he’s tried to dial Connor back (making him take days off, against Connor’s wishes) but apparently his family never has.

This is not the Fantilli family shared decisonmaking model, where all four of them talk about collectively making every decision about what Adam’s path has been. (And also extol the importance of family vacations.) In the Bedard family, Connor is driving the bus and his parents have decided that their role is to support him as he decides how best to follow his dreams.

I was absolutely gobsmacked by this quote:

Melanie moved to Regina to be Connor’s billet the past two seasons, because nobody knew what it would be like for a kid of his calibre, and as Paddock puts it, “His whole preparations are based around perfection, and she’s the only one that knows it.” 

Moving because you don’t want your 15-year-old to live with strangers would be completely understandable. Moving because you are the only person who can possibly live up to your 15-year-old’s standards of perfection and you don’t want him to have to live a life where everything is not exactly perfect for him is FUCKING BANANAS.

Of course, there’s a Fantilli contrast here too. I’m thinking of the interview where Adam said his performance coach therapist helped him “turn rituals into routines.” Learning how to cope when it is not possible to have everything run exactly according to your standards of perfection seems like a fairly important life lesson for your kid to learn if you want him to be happy and grounded. (Most parents start teaching that around the time their two-year-old throws a tantrum because the purple cup is in the dishwasher so they have to drink their apple juice from the green cup.) But maybe it’s less important if your version of “happy” is that your kid gets everything he wants.

It’s interesting that there’s a common thread between the Bedards and Fantillis of some distaste for the minor hockey scene. (“Melanie had already started staying away from the games after experiencing the fierce currents of youth hockey on the moneyed North Shore.”) The Fantillis dealt with that by finding a different path that took their kids out of that system entirely, and the Bedards don’t even seem to have considered that option. Connor wanted exceptional status in the CHL and that’s what Connor got.

And maybe that’s connected to another interesting Bedard/Fantilli contrast. The Fantills, in describing their shared decisionmaking model, always seem to radiate confidence that they’ve made the right decisions, even when those decisions have been hard or haven’t been popular. See, e.g., Julia emphasizing in Adam’s TSN spot that “it was about making the right decision for each son,” or Giuliano evangelizing the prep school route in the Gulo Gulo article, or Adam explaining, “It’s probably about a week-long process for every decision that we make and I don’t think we’ve made a wrong decision so far.” But the Bedards, apparently, have some self-doubt about letting Connor drive the bus:

Bedard’s parents still worry. Melanie worries about school taking a relative back seat — in the room at the Brandt Centre, a chart of Hamlet’s characters is the only real indication it’s a classroom. Tom thinks about the kids of the people he works with, and how they’re growing up.

“Their kids play hockey, but they hunt, they fish, they motorcycle, they snowmobile and they’re good at all of them,” he says. “But they’re not great at any of them. But is that better in the long run? Maybe it is.”

sources: The Athletic, the Toronto Star, TSN, Gulo Gulo,

[linaselandbasil]

Eldarya boys as roommates.

Nevra: Has a lot of stuff he doesn't want you to touch but they're literally everywhere, you will inevitably have to touch it to make way. He'll keep the house clean if he has a date coming over though, which happens every few days to every few weeks. He has a lot of expensive stuff, so he's watching you with concern when you walk by his antique table lamp he decided to put on a coffee table, or his handwoven Persian rug that was passed down from his late father to him, or the irreplaceable framed picture Karenn drew of them when she was 6. Also, Karenn. Shes at his place maybe every other day? She never stops talking but that's fine, at least Nevra isn't bothering you. He thinks he's mysterious and dark, but he's simply a goth chatter machine.

Ezarel: Always annoyed by something you just did because he was planning something and you ruined it. He'd need to be at the edge of death before he disrespects your boundaries. He could be literally bleeding out and he'd avoid going to your room and waking you up because that's rude. He makes messes but they absolutely cannot be cleaned up, otherwise he can't find what he needs. He brings his work home a lot, there's documents and alchemical formulae on the kitchen table because why not? Why shouldn't he read his research notes on fungi based aphrodisiacs while eating dinner? He often comes home with his fringe burned, legend says his hair is like that because he forgot to tie it up and something exploded.

Leiftan: Very polite, he did nothing wrong in his entire life, he's a literal angel... But he's never home and his cat is a bitch and you're gonna have to feed that thing pretty regularly. When he comes home the cat is also an angel, but the bite marks and the piss stains remain. All his clothes are white or grey so he's done for the week in one or two loads, he's great at cooking (for eldarya standards anyway) and he sweeps up his cats hair every time he sees it. He's great.

Lance: You'll probably never be his roommate because he always lives with his brother. He's never home, he's always up to some bullshit, he's got no job most of the time but he has money somehow? Probably from Valkyon. You'll never have to worry about burglars, he'll eat them whole. He leaves his big ass shoes everywhere and you'll probably trip on them. He's usually a tidy person but by the end of the day he just wants a nap. Also, this creature is simultaneously a night owl and an early bird. Does he even sleep? How is he so muscular? Did you know sleep is detrimental to muscule development? Hmmm? I've never seen him sleep.

Valkyon: He has so many drugs, you'd start praying that the cops never show up. He's also that one bitch who has expensive liquor out on the top of the shelf to let people know he has a problem but he still has taste. He's not home most of the time because he's out getting laid somewhere. He's never late with rent either, but the cash is always sticky. He hates it when people come over but he also hates not minding his business so he shuts up about it. It doesn't matter what he's having, it could be antidepressants, but he'll ask you if you want sum'. That's some brother behavior right there.

Mathieu: He's a gym bro and he always has his gym friends over and they're playing video games while you're trying to live life like a normal person but there's 4-6 shredded dudes and girls in your living room every weekend. He's a Kevin, sadly, but he means well. (Search stories about Kevin, you'll understand) He ran into Lance at the gym and now he smokes weed too so he smells like skunk every once in a while. He'll cook nice meals for you, which is nice unless he Kevins it up.

[marinereverie]

hold me tight

→ cult! kanata shinkai x reader

↳ warnings: spoilers for meteor impact (?), mentions of cults and implications of abusive parents, a meltdown, nothing extreme happens but the future parts will contain yandere themes and unhealthier relationship dynamics.

↳ notes: 3.2k words. this takes place wayyy before the academy, tried to stay accurate to meteor impact, lmk if any warnings need to be added; ty keep in mind kanata is very much human just brainwashed; this is probably a prologue .. will edit this later

It was always just you and your mother.

That ended when you both suddenly moved far off from your hometown without so much as a word to anyone. Your mother swore up and down this would be the last time this would happen, that where you were going was a perfect paradise for the two of you to stay from now on.

And then, you were surrounded by too many people all at once when you had finally arrived; people clad in strange robes and wearing odd expressions. After a discussions between your mother and one of them, she was led away while you were held back from following after her by a gentle-looking woman who smiled at you far too falsely to soothe your cries and wails.

Upon entering this place grander than any house you had ever lived in, she was assigned as your guide.

From then on, Lorie never seemed to want to let you see your mother anymore after entering, always ushering you off to the morning sessions or to complete your daily chores when you were idle enough to request such things like visits or ask when you’d see her again.

You complied with her demands even if you wondered what she was doing without you around; you hoped she wasn’t lonely at least.

But as a child, you could only do what these people told you to. You were given to eat along with the other children your age after your prayers had been said, and it was never freezing inside nor did you have to be ready to leave at a moments notice during the night, so you didn’t mind it as much as you should have.

You figured you were happier here; warm with a full belly and more playmates than you knew what to do with.

Sometimes after supper had been served and devoured, your guide would come and tell you the stories of the god that came from the depths of the sea; how you were all here to protect him as the ones before him protected all of you in return, saving the people on this land devoted to him.

Just as the previous god did, and the one before, and so forth.

And so would the next.

“But… where is he?” You asked her one day, clutching onto her robes with curiosity glimmering in your eyes.

“If you offer your heart and your utmost care to him, he’ll be there for you when you need him most.”

… A pause.

“But if you’re lucky…” She paused for effect, a hopeful expression suddenly crossing her face. “—perhaps he will call on you for your help one day.” She patiently smoothed over the crinkled fabric when your hands ceased their grip; her smile as present as ever.

“And only then will you meet him. Do your best, okay?”

You nodded your head to her words, and she chided you to return to the devotees quarters along with the other children, figuring she had kept you from sleep long enough for tonight.

You bid her goodbye with a smile, and run off, much to her displeasure. You’d surely trip one of these days, maybe then you’d learn to listen to her warnings.

It wasn’t until some years had passed that you met that god she spoke of.

Your guide seemed overjoyed at the summons, all-too-eager to tug you away from your beloved companions and lower herself to your eye-level, speaking in a frenzied voice.

“You must be on your best behavior. He’s just your age, so you shouldn’t have any trouble getting along, just as you do with the others. Mind your tongue and stand up straight.” She continued to fuss over you, fixing your hair as quickly as she could while she lectured.

Knitting your brows together, you didn’t have a chance to clarify exactly who she meant, before two figures approached the both of you silently. Only then did it click that something was off, summons were never really good.

“They’re the best pick, I swear on it. They’re just what you’re looking for, can’t you tell? You won’t regret this.” She chattered away, but they didn’t seem to be listening to her words, instead starting to walk after glancing at you and giving you a curt nod.

She gave you a light push in their direction and you followed reluctantly after them, looking back at Lorie until you went down halls that stretched and twisted too far for you to see her outline as you walked with the two unfamiliar figures. You couldn’t tell their features due to the hoods obscuring their faces, which only proved to add to your nerves in flames.

They wore slightly different garments than all the guides you’d seen. The embroidery was far more symbolic and detailed, nothing you recognized at all, so you’d have to ask Lorie why that was once you returned. Swallowing down your questions at hand as best you could, you continued on.

Stairs leading downwards revealed an entirely different area in the foundation you had lived the past few years, and you soon reached a hall at the very far side of it.

The two had come to a halt before two large sleek doors, and you marveled at their size; golden carved handles placed in the middle and engravings splayed all over the wood surrounding them. Nothing like the simple ones up stairs, you noted. One pried them open, while the other motioned for you to go in and held the door open. Upon you entering, they took post and gave you a watchful stare as you turned your back on them.

Immediately you were greeted by large bamboo blinds obstructing your view of the middle of the room; a shadow of someone jolting up from what had to be a raised platform, their head previously turned had snapped around to stare straight ahead as if they could see through the blinds, peeking through the thin cracks.

The intensity of the stare made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, goosebumps rising on your arms as you threw a nervous look back at the two guards…? behind you.

“Open them.” The person behind the blinds spoke with a firm tone, but it didn’t seem directed at you, and someone stepped forward to part the blinds in half. Once seperated, you were able to finally see whom you had been taken here to meet.

On a cushioned platform raised to the height of your chest, stairs curled around it, laid a half-sitting up boy with long, vibrant blue hair. His green eyes bored into yours without relent, and filled you with an emotion you couldn’t quite identify aside from fear. The pit in your stomach grew, feeling put off by the large lavish room yet void of any other people aside from you, the strange boy, and the figures that had accompanied her you.

He raised a hand that beckoned you closer and you approached the stairs hesitantly, before he began to scramble towards you to meet you halfway; and only then did you realize the boy had been slightly shaking.

Not with fear, but… desperation. You could recognize it now, after spending your time in this religion; you had seen some often reflect his current state of being without being given guidance.

“What is your wish? What do you wish for?”

You froze.

“Tell me! What is it you want?” The boy repeated, his gaze remaining unchanged, and you got the feeling he was analyzing you for something you weren’t sure of. Your hand moved to grip at your light garbs, all the other children your age wore them, aside from the boy in front of you. Dressed ornately and more elaborate than anyone else you had seen in the institution, you got the feeling he resembled the portraits of the current god far too much for it to be a coincidence.

His hands dropped down to ball into small fists, knuckles turning white, the tense demeanor only served to further scare you; and you hurried to blurt something out.

“M-…Mother? I want my mother, to see her. That’s… That’s my wish.”

At your words, he shifted all of his attention to the remaining guard standing post. You weren’t even sure if he heard you, but the guard wasted no time at all to exit hasilty but not without direction. He remained taut like an arrow even afterwards, but he addressed you once more after the doors slammed shut resoundingly behind the guard.

“The devotee shall attain what is sought.”

It sounded as if it had been recited countless times before, but it made you feel a bit nauseous nonetheless. You asked for your mother, but you hadn’t seen her in so long, something felt odd. It was the only thing you could think of, suddenly face-to-face with the being that could pass judgement on you, or retribution on those that threatened the peace of those residing in the foundation.

Under his level gaze, you wringed your hands silently, not knowing what else to do.

You were only snapped out of your thoughts by the approaching footsteps of two people.

Your mother stared at the ground as she walked alongside the guard, wringing her hands just like you with a blank expression. The guard halted, and she raised her gaze upwards, settling on you both.

“Mom?” You climbed off the steps all too quickly, away from your god, carelessly made your way towards her with bubbling excitement and blind rushes of bursting happiness.

“Mom!” You immediately wrapped your arms against her upon nearing the two, pulling her into as tight of a hug you could manage. You weren’t sure what you had been so worried about earlier anymore, you couldn’t help the smile that bloomed over your face. She looked differently now, she had let her hair grow past her shoulders instead of cutting it like usual with dull scissors to avoid having it pulled; despite her nervousness, you thought she seemed less stressed than the last time you’d see her.

You felt so strongly such joy, your previously suppressed longing resurfaced suddenly, so strongly and threatened to overwhelm you as you were; you practically buzzed with content as you relished the feeling of holding your mother once more, her child could hardly contain their happiness much longer.

Yet, she never embraced you back.

She stood too still for you not to notice the lack of reciprocation after your head cleared, and you tilted your head up curiously to look at her once again, still caught up in your joy albeit calmer.

She stared at you right back with a sense of mute horror, and panic began to fill her widened eyes.

Your mother closed her eyes tightly for a moment, as if trying to endure the moment for just a little more, before she couldn’t take it anymore and shoved you off of her with a quick push. It was too rough for you to maintain your balence, and you fell backwards onto the smooth floor; letting out a pained grunt. The guards didn’t move an inch, but gave eachother a silent, knowing look.

She took two steps away from you, eyes trained on your fallen figure as she made no attempt to help you up.

Despite this, you ignored the stinging in your palms and reached your hands out to her again.

“Why…” She began, more steps away from you crumpled on the ground.

“Why did you call for me?”

Silence.

After a long beat,

“You look more and more like him—!”

You blinked. And furrowed your brows, trying to understand what you had done wrong. What happened? What was going on?

At your lack of response and her growing anger, your mother suddenly scowled and raised a hand upwards as if to strike you, and fear suddenly upsurged you once more. But before any painful contact could be made, she was suddenly restrained by the two guards; she struggled as best she could, her eyes not leaving you, as they began to drag her out of the room and down the halls. She yelled various things you couldn’t hear that well through the guard’s hand muffling it, but the tone was clearly soaked in resentment.

The doors slamming shut once again did little to reach you.

A lone trembling child remained on the floor, not any older than the one on the platform.

Tears began to slowly seep from your eyes quietly, trailing down your cheeks without end. And before you knew it, you began letting out small little sniffles that grew into choked off breaths, before you were fully sobbing by the end of it. The pain of your mother’s forced return stung your heart far too deep for you to remain composed, something you were always better at than the other children.

The boy’s clothes rustled as he pushed himself closed to the edge of his platform, but never stepping off it; his legs dangled over the edge and peeled out from plunder his long clothes, a red ribbon binding them together way past his ankles, like a mermaid’s tail. Not seeming to understand how things had gotten out of hand so quickly. Not seeming to understand why you were suddenly in pain, after he had granted your wish, puzzled by your sadness. A beat passed, before his trembling returned worse than before.

Panic was clear on his face, but you remained caught up in your grief until that fist came down onto the edge suddenly, snapping you out of your daze briefly with the loud bang. He beckoned for you to come closer once he had your attention on him, unmoving on his platform.

Your tear-filled eyes were roughly wiped by your still stinging palm, but you raised your head to nod. With unsteady legs, you pushed yourself back up and towards the set of stairs in front of him. At this, he pushed himself backwards into the cushions he had originally been resting on, sitting up to face you with his bound legs folded beside him.

Unsure of what to do, you took a seat in front of him. Heart still hurt, you only hated the fact you couldn’t run to Lorie right now.

You didn’t even know why you were away from her, you suddenly felt as lost as when you first arrived, just as helpless as back then.

Your god seemed extremely out of his element when faced with you in such close proximity, arms far too stiff and bent squarely to be useful in wrapping around you with an actual hug, but his limbs mimicked what he had seen you do to your mother; recalling how joyous you had been while performing the strange act. Without any understanding, he attempted to replicate the motion in order to hopefully pry that same emotion out of you once more.

“It is ‘okay’… No more…”

An unsure voice, but a clear attempt at consoling you.

That was all it took for you to crack again, far too sensitive to keep yourself somewhat calmed. With watery eyes, you held onto him tightly and crushingly, bawling loud and wounded cries until you could no longer find the tears to. His clothes had been long soaked by then, but he didn’t notice, or didn’t care enough to stop you.

When your fit had finally subsided, you found yourself feeling a bit better and… warm.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had cried so strongly, usually Lorie was adept at handling you before it could take a turn for the worst like just then. Letting go of ‘Kanata’, as you’d seen written and spoken various times by those higher in power than Lorie, always in deep and strict respect; you avoided looking at his face directly, only out of the corner of your eye. You couldn’t bare to see if he had the same expression your mother had.

“I’m sorry… A-And… Thank you.”

Shame suddenly overcame you, and you scooted backwards to put some inches of distance between you two.

He seemed dazed upon separation, not having moved as best he could during your breakdown. A small, faint smile appeared over his face for a reason he didn’t dwell on. Although he had never been embraced so, the warmth remained as if to taunt him that it had left his reach, but he managed to control his urges to repeat the action to squeeze more of it. The feeling ghosted over his body despite this.

Kanata had asked the two high-ranking officials for someone he could help after a string of failures, pleading for someone to grant a wish for, and they had obliged with uncertainty if it would worsen his condition or improve it.

If only to soothe his torment over failing to cure one of the children, and end his hysterics, lest they need to seclude him for a while in the empty water tank. A wish so sincerely given to him, becoming soured with his inexperience, had proved enough to warrant his desperate request.

Now in his reach was someone he could help, someone he had already helped now after his blunder. This new experience cemented his position as a capable god once more in his mind after being shaken so disastrously, finally able to breathe without tight panic gripping at him. One failure had managed to uproot him entirely, and left him unable to cope as a young god.

As you gave him a wobbly smile, drying tears still staining your cheeks, you kneeled down in front of him with your head lowered to the floor just as your guide had taught you repeatedly without fail, the very picture of sincere gratitude.

You were both alone in the room, but you sensed none of the hysteria he was nearly thrown into from him now.

He paid no mind to the doors reopening, unblinking eyes remaining fixed on you.

“Devotee, your time has ended.” announced one of the guards, while the other furrowed his brow at you positioned closely in front of the deity.

“Escort them to the quarters. If you’re needed again, you will be informed through your guide. Pay your respects accordingly and you’ll return in time.” The first one acted on the others orders and approached to seemingly drag you off the platform, but a raised palm from the silent Kanata stopped him in his tracks immediately.

You nodded in understanding and faced Kanata once again, bowing deeply before following the guard out into the hallway; escaping his burning stare. He watched you as you retreated, until you fell outside of his sight completely. The remaining official repeated your last actions before excusing himself, leaving Kanata in the room alone to himself.

His hand reached up to clutch at his face shakily, far too much on his mind now, yet thrumming beneath the surface of it all was the sense of pure satisfaction, undeniable and certain contentment. Frantic nearly-incomprehensible mumbles spilled from his lips, shaky words of a barely-used voice.

He would have to issue new orders soon. This would not be the last time you meet, if only to stabilize himself more. He didn’t understand why he felt so strongly that you both could not part ways, but he didn’t dare to question it. He would do better now, he was sure of it.

It had to be, he thought as he looked down at his trembling hand and hardened his determination.

If this was your effect, you would need to visit him again soon. Perhaps as soon as possible in time for the next ceremony with the purple-haired boys family.

Kanata had wished for someone he could help. And in return, he was granted you.

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

@meshlaxbunny gave me a lovely prompt and I intend to run wildly through the desert with it.

THE JOURNEY BEGINS UNDER THE CUT.

The second sun was just over the horizon when she arrived at the palace. Deliveries to the rear entrance, as usual. Her dewback’s saddle bags were heavy with all manner of meats, cheeses, breads, and produce. The sallyport door opened as she approached and a handful of familiar droids filed out ready to unload her cargo. She dismounted her dewback and pulled a trough of kitchen scraps from the inside of the sallyport, dragging it out to her dewback who scratched anxiously at the dirt in anticipation.

“Here ya go big boy,” she said softly, patting him on the shoulder as he munched gratefully at the contents of the trough. She pulled a water skin from her saddle and filled it at the rusty spigot just inside the sallyport. The ratcatcher droid tugged at her shirt to get her attention, then handed her a chunk of hearty, dense seedbread with a thick smear of salted butter.

“Thanks old buddy. Are you staying out of trouble?”

The droid nodded.

“Good. Keep it that way, little friend.”

The droid chirped and made its way back towards the kitchen.

She stepped outside into the soft warmth of the morning sun and sat cross legged against the palace wall, eating her bread and watching her dewback work his way through a week’s worth of scraps. She closed her eyes briefly and leaned her head back against the wall. She’d need to find a place to sleep soon. The overnight trip from the port at Mos Eisley wasn’t especially difficult or even dangerous, but it was exhausting. Maybe she’d camp on the outskirts of town or find a room at an inn with a stall large enough for her dewback - that would be a treat if she has enough credits.

She opened her eyes when she heard footsteps. A broad chested man in black stepped out of the sallyport. A guard she hadn’t met yet, maybe? He gave her a warm smile, which she returned if only at a dim wattage.

“How was the ride from Mos Eisley?” he asked.

“Oh, not so bad. Just long. It’s a good ten hours in the saddle.”

“Ah yes, a long time to be on the Dune Sea alone,” he replied, almost wistfully.

They were both quiet for a moment.

“Have you met the new Daimyo yet?” she asked.

He gave her another warm smile and stroked her dewback’s shoulder firmly, like someone who knew his way around large animals.

“I have not,” he replied.

“Ah well, he can’t be any worse than Jabba or Bib Fortuna.”

“Are you so sure?” he asked.

“I was a slave once, and now I am not,” she said, gesturing with open palms towards her dewback and the Dune Sea beyond. “Jabba was cruel, Bib Fortuna was weak. Perhaps this daimyo will be somewhere in between.”

“Perhaps,” he replied. “There are cots and fresh linens in the old slave quarters. You can stable your dewback in the hangar for the day and get some rest.”

“The new daimyo won’t mind?”

“I don’t think he’ll mind at all.” With that, he turned and walked back in to the sallyport.

She led her dewback to into the open hangar and, as her eyes adjusted to the dim light under the hangar’s dome, she saw a familiar ship.

The bounty hunter Boba Fett’s ship, a modified Firespray, almost seemed like an illusion. Wasn’t Boba Fett dead? She’d met him a handful of times when she still danced on a chain for Jabba’s amusement. She’d been glad to leave that life behind, but she remembered Boba Fett quietly slipping her a few credits here and there when he came around to take contracts from Jabba. Some of those credits went towards the purchase of her dewback - her means of making a living now that she was free. She raised her water skin to the ship and poured some water out on the floor before taking a sip.

“Wherever you are, Boba Fett, I hope it’s bright suns and cool winds.”

…

It needs a title, the dewback needs a name, and the main character needs a name. I’m open to suggestions! There will be eventual smut - but we need to get some momentum going first!

@daimyosprincess

@acatalystrising

@baufraus

@die-herzlos-engel

@dukeoftheblackstar

Am I missing anyone?

[supervillain-smut]

Hi hi! Back again, and I was wondering if I could get some fluff with Lucien helping out his silencer in little ways because they've been overworking themselves trying to keep up with their contracts, their need to protect and care for their family, and serving the brotherhood. And because of all that they haven't been taking as good care of themselves as they should be (not sleeping most nights, not really eating, and she they do it's just something small, things like that)?

Hi, welcome back! Hope I did your request justice!

Contracts, Lucien's orders, Vicente's requests for small tasks, and cleaning up after the more messy members of your sanctuary weren't your duty. Still, you did it anyways because someone has to make the place look presentable, even when the Speaker wasn't here, fetching food and alchemical ingredients given you were the only one that really went anywhere for more than what was absolutely necessary, breaking up the daily fights, feeding Schemer, and the rare, almost non-existent relaxing. Those were your duties, self-appointed or otherwise, in the Cheydinhal sanctuary.

No one would offer to take things off your hands, settle things themselves, or simply take responsability for their own things. It was all up to you. Lucien had seen enough.

The first thing to take off of your hands were the food and alchemical ingredients. He'd brought some over from the Fort but made a trip to the alchemist anyway, as well as the farmers market. The second task was the simplest; His Silencer would receive no orders from him today. Not one. Third, Vicente's small-time tasks. He spoke to Vicente about what he could handle on his own and set out to take care of the rest. Fourth, speak to Ocheeva and remind her that the contracts were her responsibility and that because the Silencer was the best amongst them, they were not the only one available. Fifth, Mraaj-Dar was now responsible for feeding Schemer. And finally, round up everyone minus the Silencer and terrify them into remembering that it is their duty to not only keep the sanctuary presentable but to sort out any conflicts between themselves in a calm manner that doesn't disturb or involve anyone else.

You awoke later than usual, which was already a bad thing, and slightly unusual; the later you were in starting the day, the less time you'd have for yourself at the end of it, and there was usually shouting by now. You made your bed and prepared to turn around to fix up the rest of the dormitories, only to find them… clean? Odd. Oh well, maybe this was their usual once-in-a-blue-moon spring cleaning.

You reached for the table that normally had contracts and orders to be done, only to find it clear of any paper at all. No orders, no contracts. Nothing outside for the day. Oh well, maybe it was a slow month.

Indeed you still had to leave to grab food, you thought as you swung your knapsack over your shoulder, only to find the coffee and tea on the pot and the cupboards full. Now that was suspicious. Who went out long enough and with the intention of doing that? You grabbed your drink of choice and approached Vicente's quarters. You knocked on his door and asked what he needed to be done for the day. "Nothing today, actually. Thank you for asking, Silencer! I appreciate all that you do for me and this sanctuary."

Now that was most definitely odd. Vicente never thanked you for what you did, to him it was what you should be doing for your family. You could accept that these things just per chance happened to be done the same day, but when you asked Ocheeva how many contracts she'd gotten and prepared to settle next to her for the next four hours or so sorting contracts, only to be swatted away and told that she had them from here on out and that she would no longer need your assistance, did things start to feel completely off. Unsettling, even. It felt strange not having to do anything.

You moved to grab the rat food, only to stand slack-jawed as you watched Mraaj-Dar pour the contents of a new bag of feed into his bowl instead. You watched as Teinaava, so engrossed in his novel, bump straight into Taelendril, sending all of her arrows pouring out of her quiver.

Finally! Something normal! You thought as you strode over prepared to break up the fight, only to stand in awe and shock when Teinaava merely apologized and began to help her pick up the spilled arrows, Taelendril graciously accepting his apology and joining him on the floor.

"Good morning, my Silencer. Sleep well?" Came the voice of the Speaker Lucien LaChance. You had your answer.

"So it was you! You're the reason everything's gone topsy-turvy around here!" You wheeled around and pointed at him, finally connecting the dots between your suddenly well-behaved family and the man with the status and intimidation to make them act like a chicken if he wanted them to.

"I've no idea what you're talking about. Seems like it's all as it should be to me. You've gotten so used to stress you've forgotten what it's like to relax. So? What's it like? Enjoying it so far?" Lucien shrugged and gestured with his hands as he spoke as if nothing was out of sorts.

"What's what like? Enjoying what so far?" You were extremely confused, and it was evident on your face.

"Your day off. Wouldn't it be much better to get some fresh air and take a walk? I hear the gardens of the Imperial City are lovely this spring. Care to ride there with me and see it ourselves?" He slowly extends his hand out of his cloak towards you with a crooked smile, his eyes begging you to take his hand.

You stood still for a moment, taking in what had just happened. Your Speaker had just taken everything off of your shoulders before you woke and was now asking you on a date away from it all. "Yes, I'd love that." You reached out and took his hand, as soon as you did he gently rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand and smiled warmly.

"Wonderful. We can take our time. We've all the time in the world."

[boots-with-the-fur-club]

The 5th and final chapter of Mad Dog!! I’ll be posting it to ao3 when October hits.

@daboyau

@imdefnotvanessa

Donnie and Raph start Mikey proofing the lair in anticipation of the chaos that will start once he transforms again.

April has been texting on her phone with Leo watching as they do.

“Okay, I posted about finding Mr. Talbot’s cane on the page for neighborhood. I told him I could only return it at the park and he agreed.”

“That’s great! Plan B is set!”

“Not too great….I totally forgot that there’s this whole costume, Halloween themed carnival going on! It’ll be filled with people and we can only go once it opens, after sundown.”

“We’ll just pretend we’re in turtle men costumes, it’ll be fine!”

“Not if he turns into a werewolf with a crowd of people to bite!”

“Guyuii…..he wouldn’t agree to go out there if he thought he’d go wolf in front of everyone, right?”

“I don’t know what the guy is thinking! He bit Mikey! Maybe he’s just crazy!”

“We’ll just have to think up some kind of plan to keep both Mikey and your neighbor from hurting people. Although, Mikey is more like a puppy when he turns. I think he’s probably less dangerous at night than he is now.” Leo glares at Mikey who sticks his foot out to trip Raph.

“Let’s hope he stays that way.”

After Raph and Donnie are done, the four of them gang up on Mikey to cover his hands, feet and mouth. He fought them every step of the way, but it was pointless in the end. He was left crossing his arms angrily while siting on the couch.

The others decide to wait until he transforms to begin their turns watching over him for the night. Mikey wound up falling asleep before it happened. When it did, he writhed around in discomfort, whining slightly. The marking on his hand glowed as well.

April sends the other turtles to their rooms to take first shift. She could tell they needed the sleep. When Mikey woke up, he immediately waddled over to her on all fours.

“Aww, come here, big sis is watching you tonight.” She picks him up and hugs him close.

She gets a nuzzle against her cheek in response.

Her Mikey sitting lasts for about half the night. Since his means of destruction were covered up, April was mostly tasked with making sure he didn’t slide into or knock things when he ran. She was pretty grateful for Raph and Donnie taking care of the most easily breakable stuff.

Leo watched him the rest of the night. He may or may not have volunteered in order to draw some things on Mikey’s face and rig a classic shaving cream prank. He knows fully well it’s the curse making him act like a jerk, but they’ve still got a day to deal with him and drawing it was therapeutic.

As it became morning, Mikey went back to normal and the others woke up. He glared hard at them as they burst into laughter at his face. His angry shouting was muffled by the covering over his mouth. April finally took pity on him and took everything off.

“What’s so funny!?”

“That would be your face, Mikey.” Donnie answers with a smirk.

Mikey takes out his phone, flipping the camera view to front facing.

“Leo!!”

“I’ll only apologize after we cure you. That’s when I might actually feel bad.” He smirks, poking his forehead.

“Did you forget that my mouth isn’t covered anymore!?” Mikey bites at his finger.

Leo quickly takes it back.

“Both of you, stop messing around! Having another werewolf to deal with today would make it way harder to handle the mission.” Raph chastises.

Mikey growls softly then heads to the bathroom to wash the drawings off his face.

Once he’s back, they have breakfast. It’s not at meat filled as he’d like but they hadn’t had time for grocery shopping.

During breakfast, a plan is made for April to be the bait to lure in Mr. Talbot. Donnie constructs a durable net to be used after they’ve all finished eating.

It took a combined effort from April, Raph and Leo to prevent Mikey from messing anything up during the time Donnie was working.

Once it was finished and the meeting time was coming up, it was decided that Raph and Leo would be the ones to spring the trap. Donnie would have to watch Mikey.

April stood slightly nervously inside the park. Kids were running around in costumes nearby and stalls were setup everywhere. She could even see a maze in the distance.

“Are you ready, Apes?” Leo whispers from the tree above her.

“You know it. Just be ready with those nets, I do not want to be growing hair everywhere next.” She whispers back, glancing up at him.

“I see him comin this way.” Raph also whispers.

April turns her attention back to in front of her. Mr. Talbot was already getting close.

“Ms. O’Niel. Thank you for finding my cane. Although, you could have picked a better location to give it to me.”

“Just thought it was a good place. Pretty nice thing they’ve got going on, huh?”

“I’d just like my cane back please.”

“Sure sure, I’ll give it back right about….NOW!”

Raph and Leo jump down onto Mr. Talbot with the net.

“What is the meaning of this!?”

“We just caught a werewolf, that’s what!” Leo answers.

“You fools! You don’t know what you’re doing! Give me my cane!”

“We know what’s going on! We’re going to help cure you. We just gotta get you to a lab first and away from all these people.”

“It’s the full moon! I’ll be too strong for a net!”

“For real!?”

The clouds in the night sky part, unveiling the moon.

Mr. Talbot begins snarling and writhing around. Thick hair appears all over his body, and his teeth and claws grow sharp. He tears through the net way too easily. Raph, Leo and April scream before taking off.

Mr. Talbot stands up before throwing his head back, howling loudly. The people who see and hear this clap at what they think is acting. He begins chasing after the three of them.

April quickly starts calling Donnie.

“The net didn’t work!! We’re getting chased!”

“So am I! Mikey turned and now he’s chasing me through the maze!!”

“The maze! We can try to lose him in there! We’ll try to get to you, Donnie! Don’t die and don’t get bitten!”

“I am trying!”

She hangs up and they all run into the maze. Mr. Talbot isn’t far behind them.

“April, please tell me you’re good at mazes!” Leo shouts.

“Uh….I’ve only had to call 911 once!….Maybe twice!”

“We’re doomed!!”

“Don’t worry, Raph’s got a secret to these hay mazes!”

“What is it!?” April questions.

They run into a dead end which Raph smashes through.

“Power smash jitsu!”

“Let’s hope it gets us to Donnie!”

“How are we supposed to find him!?” Leo asks.

They hear Donnie scream in a very similar way to when Meatsweats was going was going to eat him.

“That’s him! Keep screaming, Donnie!”

Using the combination of Donnie’s yelling and Raph’s smashing, everyone winds up in the same area, the middle of the maze.

Although Mikey’s usual werewolf pup form is kind and cute, he’s now just as feral as Mr. Talbot as he inches closer and closer to Donnie.

“Mikey! Stop!” Raph calls out.

Mikey turns and growls at them instead.

“You don’t want to hurt us, we’re your family!” April insists.

Mikey only growls louder.

As April is about to try to convince him more, Mr. Talbot bursts through the hay wall, snarling and clawing at the air.

April, Leo and Raph scream in fear, scrambling away and towards Donnie. They’re now being cornered by two werewolves.

“Oh what an amazing rescue attempt he said sarcastically!” Donnie clings to Raph.

“We’ll be okay! We’ve still got the silver!” April holds up the cane.

Mr. Talbot slashes at it, breaking it in half. The useless wooden part remains in April’s hand.

“Yeah, we’re dead.”

Leo looks down at his rabid brother.

“Mikey! If this is it, I want to tell you that I’m so sorry I made this happen! You were just being a good brother and it got you turned into a werewolf! I love you so much, even if we get turned into puppy chow!”

Mikey stops moving and stares at them.

Mr. Talbot doesn’t care about what’s being said in the slightest and lunges forward.

Raph shuts his eyes tight while he pulls everyone close, trying to shield them.

Mikey jumps up and barrels into Mr. Talbot’s side.

Raph cautiously opens his eyes and sees that the two of them are circling each other.

“Mikey!?”

“He’s fighting him! Get him, Mikey!” Leo cheers.

Mr. Talbot bares his teeth and continues snarling. Mikey gives him the same treatment in return.

The stalemate only ends when Mikey tackles his rival werewolf, rolling around in the struggle.

Mr. Talbot shoves his hand in Mikey’s face. Mikey bites down on it as hard as he can. Mr. Talbot howls in pain, falling backwards.

Mikey also falls over, looking dazed. The hair, sharp teeth, and claws slowly start receding.

“Are you guys seeing this!? Did that actually just happen!?” April shouts.

“This is so incredibly unscientific, but it did indeed just happen.” Donnie comments.

Leo wiggles free of Raph’s grasp and rushes over to Mikey, kneeling down and lifting him up.

“Mikey! Are you okay!? Say something!”

“Next time….please just save your basketball picks somewhere else.” Mikey tiredly looks up at him.

Leo smiles widely and hugs him tightly.

“Anything beats having to do this whole thing again!”

Mr. Talbot groggily sits up, looking down at his now non clawed or furry hands.

“I’m….cured? How is this possible?”

“By all means, it doesn’t make sense. The only explanation I could come up with is that your werewolf “curse” was most likely a virus. Mikey isn’t a full werewolf so his antibodies were still trying to fight it off, which may have been transferred through saliva. Because you were cured, he was also cured.” Donnie explains.

“You’re right, that didn’t make sense. But that doesn’t matter as long as it worked! Sorry for drawing on your face, Mikey.” Leo apologizes.

“I kinda deserved it. I’m sorry about being a huge were jerk.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anythin Mikey. There’s was nothing you could have done about it. We’re just glad you’re back to normal.” Raph pats his head.

April carefully helps Mr. Talbot stand up.

“I apologize for lying to you, Ms. O’Neil. Obviously I did know where that barking was coming from…..”

“Yeah, I figured. Although I wasn’t expecting this whole situation to be the reason.”

“I tried everything I could to keep myself from other people. The Wolfsbane to stop me from leaving, the silver cane to slow or stop my transformation….I failed that night with the fog. I thought it would have been okay since nobody would want to go outside that late in that weather.”

Leo cringes slightly at hearing that.

Mikey pats his face to cheer him up.

“I’m indebted to you and your friends. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for freeing me and saving anyone who I could have hurt. I do wish there was some small way I could, though….” Mr. Talbot continues.

April think for a moment.

“You know….I think there is something you can do.”

They all end up spending time at the carnival with Mr. Talbot funding the tickets for various games and rides. His torn clothes made a good segue for the neighbors to talk to him about a cool costume he had. Now that he wouldn’t go wolf any time soon, he could be a little more sociable.

The turtles and April had fun trying to win stuffed animals and getting spooked by non werewolf and much safer things.

Once it got late, Mr. Talbot went home, waving goodbye to all of them.

Mikey was completely tired by the events of the day and the last few days. He slept peacefully in Raph’s arms as he was carried home, nuzzling his face into his shoulder.

His brothers and April felt similarly tired, but knew that once they got home they could finally rest.

As they entered the sewers, the moon shined brightly, its light covered as April slipped the manhole into place.

It wasn’t a threat anymore.

[vesperadreamer]

The Siren

You were exhausted from the day and needed to get away from your family as well. The pier always brought you relief and relaxation, just listening to the sea helped to wash away your worries and stresses from the day. You laid back and listened closely, something caught your attention and you shot up trying to listen closer. It sounded like a woman was singing, though the song seemed to be one of longing and yearning. You had to find the source to sate your curiosity and hopefully you could give them some company on a lonely moonlit night.

You followed the source as best you could by ear, letting the song slowly guide you towards your destination. You came to the opening of a cave and carefully moved inside and spotted the source, a woman sitting on a rock lit up by the moon as she sang. However you noticed something wrong, she wasn’t human in fact she looked like she came from the ocean. You saw her legs and arms, her webbed hands and feet, and the finned tail just slightly swaying. You’ve never seen a creature like her before let alone read of one, what could she be you wondered.

You approached slowly and silently before taking a careful seat in the sand as you watched her. How beautiful she was, how mesmerising her voice was, it all mixed together making you want to be with her, stay as long as you could. When her song stopped, you realised that she had been watching you at some point. “What is a human like you doing here? Shouldn’t your kind be at home and sleeping? Do you not know what my kind does to pretty little humans like you? Do you even know what I am?”

So many questions at once, but they were also simple, “I was enjoying the peace and quiet away from people, letting the sea wash away my worries and stress from the day until I heard your singing and followed it. Other than that, I don’t know what you are, I don’t even think I’ve read about your kind.” She laughed at your answers, probably finding them funny before she gave you a wide grin. “I am a siren and you may call me Siren, my sweet pearl. We lead people astray with song and beauty before watching them fall into the sea to be devoured by us.”

Fear gripped you, you swore sirens were either bird-like or had fish lower halves but now you knew the reality of how they could walk on land just devour you whenever. “I won’t eat a pretty little thing like you, my pearl. We only go after those with blackened hearts full of corruption, sin and evil. Its a special sight of ours so don’t you worry.” You relaxed a bit and thought about how if she wanted you dead then she could have just done it while you were entranced by her song and beauty. Maybe she wasn’t bad.

She hopped down and you got a proper look at her, she really did have mythological beauty all things considered. She held out a hand and you looked at it, then at her curiously. “Would you like to see my world? It might help you relax, though I doubt you want to get your clothing wet.” Wait what? You blinked for a moment as you looked at yourself and back at her, she didn’t wear clothes, she was naked. You hid your face behind your hands, sure you were different cultures and people but you expected some modesty. Did they not wear clothing? Did they just not care for it? You really couldn’t tell.

“Theres no reason to be afraid my dear pearl, I’ll be keeping you safe for the entire trip.” You drank in her words and mulled them over, she thought you afraid and not shy or embarrassed. She really didn’t seem to care about the thought of nudity, it was possibly quite natural for her. You sighed and began to slowly and reluctantly remove your clothes, this probably wouldn’t be the only difference you’d see between your worlds, but you certainly hoped it’d be the last embarrassing one. You took her hand once you were finished and she slowly led you into the water, you took a deep and final breath just before you fully submerged.

Everything rushed past you as she held you close, the world under the water’s surface was beautifully lit up by the moonlight. You watched a school swim past you and they had quite a variety of wonderful colours. It didn’t take long before you needed air and badly, you began to squirm and struggle as Siren seemed to watch before turning you around to face her and kiss you. Her kiss caught you by surprise before you realised she was providing you air, making sure you’d be able to stay long and see more of her world. Her world was so much different than yours and you were more than happy to learn about it.

There wasn’t just an entire world beneath the water’s surface, it felt like an entirely different existence altogether. You saw so much life before you, all swimming past as the two of you moved gracefully through the waters. Your eyes were slowly met with a sight of vibrant colours and life, a forest made entirely of kelp and coral housing so many creatures. This was a beauty beyond your imagination, something that you’d never have been able to experience had you turned Siren’s offer down. You wanted her to show you more, you wanted to experience so much more of what she had to offer.

Your heart began to race when sharks began to circle the two of you, were they hungry and planning to eat you? You watched as Siren held out a hand and one of the sharks moved in to brush against it, letting her pet it. She grabbed one of your hands and held it out for you as another shark moved in to brush against you. You could pet the sharks, you were petting the sharks. The sharks were quite affectionate and friendly as you pet them, they almost reminded you of dogs with how they seemed to enjoy the attention. You loved it all, you loved this world Siren was showing and you couldn’t help but wonder what more there was to explore.

She pulled you along and deep into the waters through a dizzying cave system, where was she taking you this time? What was she going to show you? You both surfaced underneath the moonlight in an open top cave with an island in the middle where she placed you at the centre. You looked around curiously as you breathed in the surface air, what was she going to show you this time? She gave you a smile as she sat down, taking your hand in hers. “My dear, wouldn’t you like to throw away your stressful life on the surface? Wouldn’t you like a permanent place with me? You’ll be well fed and taken care of, that I promise.” 

The offer was extremely tempting, could you even really resist seeing such wonders constantly? No need to work or please strangers or family, nobody yelling at you for a small mistake, it was all such a wonderful thought. “Yes! I don’t want to go back, please let me stay!” You saw her grin widen and then came your fear as you saw her razor sharp teeth, they looked like they could tear through flesh quite easily. She moved closer and pinned you down, her face being brought close to your neck and her teeth grazing it, was this your end? 

You felt her lips press against your neck and she began to trail kisses up to your jaw, then your cheek, then your lips. She wasn’t going to eat you, she promised that in the beginning didn’t she? You watched her pull back smiling at you once more as you felt something move between your legs, you were frozen as you saw she had plans to mate you tonight and you couldn’t help but watch as it seemed to slowly stroke your leg. “Sirens and Merfolk are an all female species darling, but that doesn’t mean we can’t reproduce with each other or you.” You shook your head, you didn’t want this, you couldn't! 

You felt Siren cup your cheek, watching as it slid back inside her, “If you don’t want it, that's fine. I wouldn’t dare force you to take something of that size, especially since you’re not of our kind. You need preparation, you need to want it. She returned to kissing you once more as thoughts about her almost fucking you with her cock began to wash away from your mind. You liked that she wouldn’t force you, that she’d be how you wanted her, waiting for you to be ready and ask. She pulled away once more, watching you pant from the makeout session. “Now how about I get started on introducing you to pleasures only I can give you?” You couldn’t agree fast enough to her proposal as she got to work.

[writing-good-vibes]

loving you is like loving the dead (or fucking the dead)

y'all are going to hate me for this one 😈 corey has a sick little fantasy he wants to play out with michael.

big, big, big WARNING this time readers, for corey x michael, smut, age gap relationship (though it's not brought up), psuedo-necrophilia (no one is actually dead), autonecrophilia (again, no one is dead), ice baths, slightly unsafe kink practices (because corey has no idea what he's doing), heavy mentions of suicide and past suicidal ideation. dead dove; do not eat.

divider by @/firefly-graphics.

“I wanna try something,” Corey says, keeping his eyes on the outdated TV set at the foot of the motel bed while it crackles with static; a fierce wind outside meddling with the reception.

They’d been on the road for a few days, sleeping in the truck on the side of the road when they had to, and never for long. Lucky for them, there was only one attendant at the last gas station they stopped at, and it wasn’t difficult to clear out the till. Corey found he could be rather persuasive these days, particularly with Michael’s fear-inducing presence close by. Even without the mask – or, perhaps, especially without the mask, Michael was a cutting figure. The kind of man people trip over themselves to avoid. Either way, they had enough cash for a night in a motel, maybe even two if they found somewhere cheap enough.

Michael, doesn’t say anything, but his head tilts minutely in Corey’s direction from where he had been focused on the staticky TV screen, showing his apparent attention.

“Like…” Corey thinks of how to word it in a way Michael will understand. “Like play-pretend.”

Once again, no response, but he knows Michael is listening. He leans up on his elbows from where he was reclined beside the older man. “Play-pretend where you’re the killer, and I get to be the corpse.”

Corey had thought a lot about being dead. After the accident, they’d put him on anti-anxiety meds. His psychiatrist said he wasn’t coping. There’s talk of adding antidepressants to his prescription, but when he doesn’t talk much in his sessions, they’re worried it’ll do more harm than good. He overhears his psychiatrist telling Momma to keep an eye on him. Six months later and momma had got sick of all this psychology talk – “You’re fine, Corey. These doctors, they don’t know what they’re talking about, trying to dose you up with God-knows-what and putting silly ideas in your head. It’s hurting you, Corey. Now, listen to your mother, I know what’s best for you.” – and stopped paying for his refills.

He'd stopped taking them anyway, leaving the half-full orange pill bottle to gather dust at the back of the bathroom cabinet. They’d never helped his nerves, even when things were at their worst. Besides the therapy appointments, he didn’t leave the house for months. Not with the way people stared at him, the way they shouted at him across parking lots and while he waited in line with Momma at the grocery store. She warded most of them off, but it didn’t change anything. The acquittal had stopped him going to jail, but he was already damned.

The first time he went back to the Allen house was on Halloween. The surviving Allens had abandoned it after the trial; Corey wasn’t sure where they’d moved to, but he somehow knew they were still in Haddonfield. It had been a whole year since Jeremy had died and nothing had changed, Corey’s blood pumped through his veins so harshly he could hear it in his ears, just like he had that night. The house is empty, stripped of everything bar the piano in the front room and some clothes hangers in the closets. Corey checked every room, he didn’t know what for, until he got to the attic. That was the first time he tried.

By no means the first time he’d thought about it, though. No, he’d been thinking about it. He’d spent a disturbing amount of time thinking about it. But as he climbed over the railing, looking between his sneakers at the long drop and sudden stop, he really thinks he could do it. He thinks about it for a long time, but his fingers never loosen their grip on the banister and his feet stay planted between the spindles.

It happens more often than Corey knows is normal. He goes to the Allen house and climbs over the third-floor railing and looks down. He wonders how many times it’ll take until one day he just lets go. Not that it matters, he thinks. Falling would just be the final nail in the coffin; he feels as good as dead already. A cold, empty body in a cold, empty house.

When he gets home afterwards, he always uses the back door. He has every creaky floorboard memorised, and he’s almost silent as he passes Momma and Ronald’s room. She never even notices he’s missing; he knows she doesn’t because if she did there’d be bars on his windows and a new lock on the back door before he even woke up in the morning.

That all seems so long ago. These days, he’s never felt more alive. The longing he once had has been replaced with a sick curiosity to have just a taste of what he had wanted so badly back then.

Corey shivers as soon as he steps into the tub, full to the brim with cold water and ice that he had to run out to the icebox for.

Michael watches from the bathroom doorway, arms relaxed by his sides, as though Corey trying to freeze himself into a corpse is nothing out of the ordinary.

The shower curtain isn’t pulled over, and displaced water and chunks of ice spill over the side of the bath, splashing and skidding across the cracked tile floor when Corey lowers himself into the makeshift ice bath, wincing when his balls tighten as he submerges himself. Corey sinks down further, up to his shoulders and a shocked gasp leaves him, making it sound like he’s been winded. His muscles start to spasm as his body tries to maintain its own heat.

There’s a cup of ice sweating away on the counter next to the sink. Corey tips some into his mouth and rolls it around with his tongue, pressing another ice cube to his lips until it hurts, then keeps it there longer still.

He doesn’t think it’ll work but he props a leg up on the edge of the tub and shoves an ice cube up himself. He’s already slick with Vaseline, having prepped himself in bed while Michael sat and watched Jeopardy. Now the ice surrounding him was nothing compared to how cold his fucking insides suddenly felt. Corey cringes, his hips bucking as he clenches around the uncomfortable intrusion. He crunches on the ice in his mouth to distract himself. “Have to wait for it to melt inside,” he grits out through clenched teeth.

Michal watches with that faint sort of fascination he has for most things which he does not personally understand, yet are intriguing enough for him to consider.

While they wait, Corey grips the rim of the bath, fingers sore with cold-cramp. How did he get here? Jumping from the top storey. Overdosing on his meds. Slitting his wrists with Laurie’s knife. Hanging himself by the belt he’d stopped wearing. No, no. Those days are long gone. Now he’d just use Michael. “How did you kill me?” Corey asks.

Michael is silent. His head dips slightly, like he’s looking the younger man up and down. He approaches, crossing the small room in two strides, before crouching next to the tub. Reaching out, his good hand circles Corey’s throat, finger and thumb pressing ominously on either side of Corey’s windpipe. Strangulation, Michael is saying. Corey should have guessed.

Corey closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, the hand on his throat is gone and Michael has retreated back to the doorway.

It’s impossible to keep track of time like this. Hours could have passed and Corey wouldn’t be able to tell. Corey’s teeth are chattering hard and when he chances a peek at the clock, he manages to let out a shaky breath. Times up. With quaking arms, he lifts himself out of the water. Dripping onto the already-wet tile. As he stands there shivering, he glances over at Michael, still stood watch stoically.

Without a word, which is no surprise, Michael keeps an arm’s length away from him and hands him one of the scratchy motel towels. Corey pats himself dry, not wanting to heat up too quickly when they haven’t even started yet. Catching sight of himself in the vanity mirror shocks him more than he thought it would. He’s pale, sickly pale, and there’s a blue hue on his lips. Every inch of him is devoid of life.

Michael’s playing ‘killer’, isn’t he, so the mask stays on this time. He closes the gap between the two of them, blackened eye holes bore into Corey. Michael's come closer to killing Corey than this, but Corey never had the chance to really play the role of ‘corpse’ then.

There’s a voice in the back of Corey’s head that says they should probably talk about this before they go any further, but before he can indulge or deny that voice, Michael wraps his hands arounds his waist and heft him into a fireman’s lift.

Oh fuck. Michael’s weathered and scarred skin feels white hot against Corey’s, his heart pounds and he doesn’t know if it’s because he wants this so fucking bad or because his body temperature has dropped so much his heartrate is working overtime. Like a ragdoll, Corey doesn’t react when Michael tosses him onto the bed, or when he spreads his legs obscenely wide.

Thick fingers dip into the Vaseline and then into Corey, almost burning hot, replacing what might have been washed away in the bath. Corey breaths shallowly, past the point of shivering now that a dense numbness has settled in his limbs.

It’s more difficult than Corey expects, pretending to be dead. He wants so badly to whimper, to moan when Michael pushes his unreasonably big cock into him. To rock his hips up to meet Michael’s. To press his blueing lips to the rotten latex of the mask. But he forces himself to be still, to make himself go limp. Michael has always been able to manhandle him, but he feels so much more vulnerable when he can’t resist. Or assist, is more like it, he thinks.

He’s used to the stretch by now, but the intensity remains each and every time. Very rarely does Corey wish Michael spoke, but right now he desperately wants to know if his insides feel as deathly cold as his outsides. If Michael’s cock is really that searing of if he’s just forgotten what warm flesh feels like.

Corey tries to suppress a moan, but the sound still rumbles in his throat and slips from his slackened mouth. Michael’s hand comes up, clamps over Corey’s cold lips and squeezes just the right side of too tight. He holds the pressure for a moment before letting go – Be quiet, you’re supposed to be dead, the gesture warns.

Corey does as he’s told. It comes as a surprise when he feels himself get hard, he’d thought he couldn’t with how cold he is, his blood vessels must have closed off, right? Freezing right down to the bone it feels like. Although corpses can stay hard, if that’s how they died, Corey thinks.

As he stares at the ceiling and lets his eyes lose focus even more, Corey’s mind wanders back to the sewer. Thinks about the day he woke up, dazed and scared, and how Michael could have killed him. Could have squeezed the life out of him and fucked him while he was still warm. Or saved him for later when he’d be cold, just like he is now, only better.

He wishes he could see what he looked like from the outside. Wants to know how depraved and disgusting they look as Michael ploughs his prone form, ice cold to the touch and unable to stop himself being defiled. His limbs really do feel stiff from the cold, and he really doesn’t think he could stop Michael even if he wanted to. That mindless bliss he feels when he can just lie there and take it is heightened by the thought of him being like this forever, his skin getting colder and his eyes clouding grey with death and Michael’s cock rocking him into an endless sleep –

Abruptly, Michael pulls out and Corey wonders what’s happening, wonders if Michael’s suddenly decided he’s not into it, before he’s flipped over. His arm is trapped at an uncomfortable angle beneath him, but he doesn’t readjust, just waits until Michael forces himself back in, half-pulling Corey back onto his cock. The rough material of Michael’s coveralls – because he is the killer, right now, not the man – chafes Corey’s freezing thighs.

Corey’s twisted arm brushes against his own cock with each thrust. It takes everything in him not to react, not to move his arm just a little so he can grasp himself with an icy hand. He resists the temptation, after all, he’s dead, isn’t he? Mind long gone and nothing useful left of him except a cold, tight hole.

Being dead feels so mind numbingly good. So, so much better than he ever imagined. Even at his worst, even when he cried himself to sleep every night. He’s so fucking glad he waited – no, that’s a lie – he’s so fucking glad he never had the guts to do it. Because if he’d offed himself back then, his body would have gone to waste.

Getting bored, or maybe Corey just makes such a pretty corpse that he should be face up, Michael flips him back over, and Corey’s gaze briefly refocus on the ceiling once again, his mouth open and wanting. The thrusts get harsher, Michael is ruthless as the best of times, and Corey certainly isn’t going to break the moment to complain. He chokes back a moan, his leg twitching involuntarily when Michael’s hips smash against his in a final moment of primal desire.

Corey comes untouched, as soon he feels the explosion of heat inside him from Michael’s own release. If anything can bring him back to life, it’s Michael.

He blinks slowly; a long, slow breath rattles his chest.

“If you fucked me like that afterwards, I really would let you kill me,” Corey says, from the cocoon of blankets he’s swaddled himself in.

The friction and exertion from their fucking had warmed him up a little by the end, but then he’d started shivering again and realised he should probably do something about it.

Michael is sat beside him on the bed, leaning against the headboard, when he turns to face Corey properly. The mask sits between them.

Whether you let me or not, I’ll do it one day, Michael is saying. And Corey knows it.