#corpse songfic

[euphoritooth]

Damn. Pack it up y'all, I'm posting tri-monthly now.. Just kidding. Take my promises with a grain of salt. I have no idea what's next. Believe me, I was trying! The mental image is hardly there most of the time, but her music gets my brain going. Also obligatory Christmas thing I guess.

Lyrics/Theme: A Long, Unfortunate While by Ethel Cain.

[erimeows]

Sapphire & Gold

The moon sings a song of pale light and soft wind as Itachi Uchiha and Kisame Hoshigaki walk through the outskirts of Kirigakure, their sandals plip-plopping against the puddles that litter the grassland they’re trekking through. Kisame has the incapacitated body of their target on his back; some sort of Kirigakure politician that was getting in the way of Tobi’s work. They’re trying to get to a safe place to dispose of the body with Itachi’s crows where no one will stumble across them. 

Eventually, they get to part of the forest where they’re surrounded by enough trees and fog that Itachi feels secure to do the disposal. So, they do, and as their target is ripped to shreds and consumed by the birds, he glances over at Kisame.

The older man is covered in blood from head to toe and doesn’t seem to mind it. The rusty grime mats in his indigo locks and crusts over his sapphire skin, tainting him, but his golden eyes seem to glow against the dull night with the adrenaline and dopamine that rushes through his veins.

And oddly enough, he looks more beautiful than ever; in his element, covered in rain and in blood, his hands scraped to shreds and his cloak torn and stained from the fight against their target’s bodyguards.

Itachi doesn’t blush, and he doesn’t fawn, because he knows Kisame is smart enough to pick up on those things if he dares to let his composure slip. So, Itachi commits the image to memory and looks away instead, even as anger dares to consume him- yes, that’s the emotion that he feels when he and Kisame are alone like this; anger. Itachi is angry. He’s angry that, were he partnered with literally anyone else in the Akatsuki, he could have stayed to himself and refused to fall for anyone before his inevitable death, angry that after a life of shoving everything and everyone away, he allowed Kisame to melt his icy composure so easily.

He remembers the first day they met. He was sitting on the edge of a dock overlooking the ocean when Kisame approached and introduced himself. 

“I’ll be teaming up with you starting today. I’m Kisame Hoshigaki, formerly of the Hidden Mist; one of the seven ninja swordsmen,” A basic introduction, but nothing special. Itachi didn’t bother turning around at the time, too entranced by the shadows of the sharks that swam in the water below. They danced around each other so gracefully back then. “So pleased to make your acquaintance… And you are Itachi Uchiha, formerly of the Hidden Leaf. I’ve heard the rumors that you slaughtered all of your fellow Uchiha clansmen. I think that we’re alike, you and I. That’s the reason I wanted to be teamed with you in the Akatsuki. It’s really indescribable, isn’t it? Killing your comrades is quite the sensation, wouldn’t you say so, Itachi?”

Itachi had been offended at the time by both the implication that he was a stonecold killer who delighted in murdering his comrades and by the way Kisame so easily talked about killing people. At the same time, though, he’d been utterly entranced. 

“You talk a lot. You don’t understand me; you don’t even understand yourself,” Itachi spat, looking over his shoulder. He remembers not being able to control that urge to blush at the mere sight of Kisame back then; his cheeks had burned bright red, so he’d been forced to face the water again even though all he wanted was to stare into Kisame’s golden eyes. Fearful and fresh off of what he’d done to his clan, Itachi resorted to insults. “You’re just a thug who got lost in the mist and ended up here. You can’t even control where you’re going. Am I wrong?”

“Do you want to know something interesting? Most sharks are ovoviviparous, which means that the eggs hatch inside the female’s body before the young are born. However, with some kinds of sharks, the number of eggs that hatch will differ from the number of young that emerge from the mother’s belly. Do you know why that is?” Kisame asked, but Itachi said nothing because no, he hadn’t known; sharks were never seen back in Konohagakure. Kisame answered the question for him after a few minutes. “Because of cannibalism. Right from the moment they hatch, they start eating each other inside their mother’s uterus. The fratricidal warfare begins as soon as they’re born. To each shark, all the others are just food to be eaten. Starting today, you are an Akatsuki member and my companion, so be wary… Of me.”

Itachi activated his Sharingan, not to fight or to intimidate, but to lock the moment in his memory for eternity; something he now regrets. He only did it because he was so terribly entranced by the way his heart started to skip beats like never before, so he could encapsulate the fear and the curiosity and the obsession.

“Same goes for you.”

“Now, let’s be friends and have some fun, alright?” Kisame had put a hand on his shoulder, so cold and firm. “And hope that we will not end up as each other’s final opponents.”

“No one who dares to raise a hand against a comrade ever dies a decent death,” Itachi stood, trying to avoid Kisame’s gaze. Perhaps he assumed that he would run the risk of Kisame seeing through him if their eyes met. He still tries to avoid eye contact with the man to this day for that very reason. “Remember that.”

“Well, that means our fates are sealed; you and I are depraved and worthless.”

“Not true. We’re both human- not fish,” Itachi murmured, sounding much more sure of himself than he actually was that day. He wanted to convince himself that Kisame was more human than monster. He still tries to. “No matter who you are, you do not truly know what kind of man you’ve become until you reach the very end. One realizes one’s true nature at the moment of death. Don’t you think that’s what death is about?”

With that, he’d left, unable to shake the feeling of Kisame’s hand on his shoulder. 

Even though his feet knew the path he should’ve taken back then, he has since walked alongside Kisame in the dark without giving a single thought as to where it might lead. 

And all the empty rooms- the homes of the Jinchuriki they’ve captured, the hotels they’ve stayed in, the little tea shops they’ve lingered in for too long for some sense of normalcy- they- Itachi- could have left the Akatsuki at any time and chosen to go anywhere else. Instead, Itachi made a bed with his apathy and followed the orders of his village to get intel from the S-Rank organization, and Kisame continued on his path of darkness with Itachi by his side.

Clearing his head of the painful memories, Itachi peers down at the body before them. He dispels the crows and watches Kisame scatter what’s left of the teeth and bones deep underneath the earth. It’s a disturbing sight, even after everything they’ve done. The death never seems to become any easier to witness- or to cause. Itachi averts his eyes and continues to walk down the dark path they’ve grown used to.

Kisame follows behind. The lull of their usual silence, however, is broken by Kisame, whose voice is barely audible over the rain that begins to pour over them.

“Itachi… You’ve been off lately,” Kisame starts, and Itachi thinks that might be it- a simple voicing of Kisame’s concern that he can brush off like the rest, which has been a frequent occurrence since his illness has gotten worse. Much to his surprise, Kisame continues. “I think we need to talk about it.”

“I think we’re fine,” Itachi says. Even he can’t deny how his voice shakes despite how he tries to remain calm. As he gets closer and closer to his death, his emotions get more and more potent. “Let’s move on, yes?”

At this point, Kisame tends to drop the subject, but this time, he grabs Itachi by the wrist.

“No,” Kisame insists. His fingers, cold and firm like they were the day they met, squeeze around Itachi’s wrist, which is much thinner than it was back then. Itachi doesn’t dare turn to face him. He’s scared that, if he does, he’ll finally break after so many years of keeping himself together for the sake of not pushing this thing that they have until it breaks. “I’m serious. I’m sick of always moving on from the things we need to talk about. You know I’m not one to dampen the mood like this, but neither of us should pretend that things haven’t changed lately. Do you seriously expect me to ignore what’s been going on between us?”

Itachi’s heart knows the weight of continuing to ignore his feelings, but that’s what he’s grown used to. Ever since he was little, he was forced to shove down everything he felt and keep a straight, calm face- for the sake of the clan, for the sake of Sasuke, for the sake of the village, and now, for the sake of Kisame and for the sake of the Akatsuki. After over ten years worth of dust and neglect, his heart is beyond trying to explore the depths of. 

Why not just keep shoving everything down until he dies? That’s all he knows, anyway.

Itachi tries to pull away, but Kisame holds him firm. He debates on using his Sharingan before deciding against it. He needs it for his inevitable fight with Sasuke, and the more he uses it, the less time he has left. So he turns to look at Kisame and attempt to convince him to let go, but when he does, Kisame is staring at him like they’re human. Not monsters, not murderers, just two human men; two true comrades.

“Don’t you dare look at me that way,” He commands, too overpowered by his emotions to think better of it. “Not after everything we’ve done.”

At one point, perhaps even just before Kisame decided to open this Pandora’s box, Itachi thought he’d made peace with his weariness and let it be. Now, flames of raw emotion feel like they’re licking up his body and melting his icy exterior before their very eyes. He despises how Kisame has made him feel all of these things so suddenly- it’s almost as if he has been hoarding parts of Itachi that the Uchiha himself didn’t know existed before now.

“Why? Are you going to stop me, Itachi? You can’t deny the tension that’s been boiling between us,” Kisame smiles. His sharp teeth shine a brilliant white underneath the beams of moonlight that peek through the storm clouds. Itachi’s heart skips a beat, just like it did back then. He hates himself for it. “I’ll stop if you tell me what the problem is. We’re comrades, remember?”

He loves Kisame like the sun- he has since the start, boring the shadows that the older man always seemed to make with no light of his own. Aside from Sasuke, Kisame has been the only thing to keep him going through illness, violence, and trauma. 

“The problem is that you make me want things I can’t have,” Itachi confesses, his composure finally faltering.

Itachi thinks of all the things they could have had- anything else, any other life, with peace and love. If it were another life, they could have been normal people who met under normal circumstances and fell in love. He sees how Kisame looks at him; he knows that the very tension Kisame mentioned is very much there, so thick between them that he could cut through it with a kunai if he were to acknowledge his presence. 

“Like what?”

“If you must know,” Itachi clears his throat and trains his eyes on the muddy ground. He doesn’t even pause to consider it. He’s going to die soon, so why not do this? Why not ruin everything in his wake? Kisame is practically begging for him to do so. “Love and trust and all of those other meaningless things we left behind when we abandoned our villages so long ago- when they abandoned us.”

“Abandoned? I like to think of it as freed,” Kisame quips, his grin growing. He’s braver than Itachi in how he reaches forward with his spare hand to rest it on Itachi’s cheek. This man, this killer, caresses his face like it’s fragile glass. Sweet. Gentle. Words that no one else would use to describe Kisame or his actions. They’re the only ones who know each other like this. “And you can have those things alongside our lifestyle, whether you believe it or not.”

“Don’t you think that’s cruel?” Itachi asks. The rain that streams down his face allows him to cry. The tears blend in with the water seamlessly. “We both know I’m going to die soon.”

“Life has been cruel to the both of us regardless, why not let this be the cherry on top? It’s as they say, it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”

“I can’t say I agree with that sentiment,” Itachi replies with a frown.

He snatches his hand away. This time, Kisame lets him. It seems as if he’s gotten what he wanted from Itachi; an admission of guilt. 

The two men continue to walk in the rain. Itachi hopes that will be enough, but within minutes, Kisame is talking again.

“So, Itachi… Why me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re attractive. So, out of everyone, why would you love a monster like me?”

Itachi pauses. Then, he answers. 

“Because I, too, am a monster.”

“Then wouldn’t you say we belong together?”

“No, Kisame, I’m more monstrous than you could ever dream of being. Unlike me, you still have a shred of humanity left,” Maybe it’s true, maybe it’s not. Itachi isn’t sure. Neither of them are quite monsters, but neither of them are quite human either. They’re somewhere in between, in a state of limbo that only the two of them could ever understand. “We don’t belong together. We never have.”

“Are you saying our partnership never should’ve happened?”

“Precisely. We both… We both would’ve been better off that way.”

The rain seems to settle into a light sprinkle as the two approach a stream. Wordlessly, they undress, knowing that they should wash their light wounds and get the blood off of their bodies before anything gets infected. Neither of them bat an eye at each other. It’s practically a post-battle routine now.

“Well, we can’t go back in time, and if you really do feel the same way, I’m not going to give up on you,” Kisame sinks into the water. For the first time, Itachi dares to look at him; dewy sapphire skin, soft gills, hard and defined muscle. Kisame is big and brawny, the exact opposite of Itachi, who feels small in comparison. The ravenette knows he’s slowly wasting away into nothing but pale, cracked skin coiled around increasingly visible and fragile bone. He’s not just small in comparison- no, he’s nothing in comparison to this man. “I want to feel the fire that you’ve kept from me, Itachi.”

The words stab through Itachi like swords to the pit of his belly. Kisame looks back at Itachi, who is awkwardly holding his Akatsuki robes in front of himself instead of getting into the lukewarm Kirigakure water.

“I won’t let you feel it. I’d burn you, after all,” Itachi finally responds after remaining silent for far too long. He tries to disregard Kisame’s prying golden eyes as he drops his robes and gets into the water a couple feet away from him. He manages to find some comfort on a smooth rock. The current is soft and clear. “As many threats as I’ve made over the years, the last thing I want to do is hurt you, Kisame.”

“Look at you, being a coward. What’s new? You’re always running away; running from your village, from your remaining family, from the enemies we face. You always err on the side of caution even though you chose this path just as I chose mine,” Kisame criticizes, criticizes, criticizes. Something he’s always been good at. Itachi doesn’t even dignify it, just lets it roll off of him in tangent with the stream’s water. “Name your courage now and take a risk for once, will you? I’m getting tired of how predictable you’re becoming.”

He manages to swallow his doubt, if only for tonight. He knows it’ll be one of the last before he has to face Sasuke. 

“How’s this for predictable?” Itachi asks and moves through the water so he can sit closer to Kisame. Kisame stares over at him. This time, Kisame’s the one who’s blushing. His cheeks are dusted purple and he looks at Itachi with measured curiosity. Itachi revels in the way Kisame’s body tenses with anticipation when he reaches forward, only to drag water over his muscles to wash off the blood. “Not what you were expecting, was it? If you’re so insistent, I’ll cease my running away for now, Kisame.”

“Then come,” Kisame grabs Itachi by the hips and pulls him closer. Itachi offers the biggest smile he can muster and continues to wash the blood off of his partner. Their bodies, worn and rough, seem to mold together within the flow of the stream. Golden eyes burn into charcoal ones. “Come and burn me to ashes, Itachi.”

“If that’s what you want, I suppose I have no choice but to indulge you for now.”

Itachi acquiesces against his better judgment and, within seconds, Kisame is grabbing him by the face and locking their lips together in a silent promise.

[schoenpepper]

Our Love is God (Heathers the Musical)

Intro: He worships you.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, death, gore, blood, yandere

A/N: Jade jade jade jade my love my baby boy mwahhhh cutie pie. A little different than the other songfics, kinda short.

Masterlist

They made you cry, but that will end tonight

Human blood is a deep, crimson red. It smells like rusted metal…tastes like it too. When Jade brings his hand to his lips, his mind is clouded with thoughts of you. Would you enjoy the taste too? The sensation? His tongue darts out to lick the droplet of maroon, the remnants of your tormentors.

He thinks you would enjoy it as much as he does.

The color stains white roses the most stunning red.

You are the only thing that's right about this broken world

You were saved by them?

You didn’t need saving, darling.

With Ramshackle gone that time, he would have been all too happy to recommend his own room for you to stay in. He’d heard of the saying that royals bleed blue, but that’s simply untrue. Royals bleed the exact same hue. There’s amusement when he rhymes in his mind, humming a happy tune as he exits the premises. It seems the wild animals ought to have better senses, lest they don’t realize when they’re being hunted.

We'll burn it down and then, we'll build the world again

Jade is a lot of things, but he’s no hypocrite. He’d promised himself to kill all those who vied for your attention, after all. All’s fair in love, war, and business.

They called it a love-addled rampage.

But he’s never felt such clarity before. They must be liars.

You are his only truth.

Our love is God

Quick. He needed to make it quick. Unforeseen. If they put up a fight, the other will be desperate to protect—hah. There is no use protecting a corpse.

Morale is down. It’s easier to strike. So he does.

Gold clatters to the ground, caked by dust and organs.

There is the aftertaste of sand and sadness.

You're not alone

The hunter is dangerous. It’s quite lucky he’d gotten rid of him much earlier, lest his pilgrimage end up with unwanted surprises. On the chessboard, the rest of the white pieces are already off the board. The queen remains. A pawn is standing guard.

He makes a move.

The pawn falls.

The queen is unaware of the danger. Another move. There’s not much left to do, cornered on the board. And eventually, it falls too. Anticlimactic, but not quite unexpected. He’d planned for too long for all of his plans to fail at this time.

And when the morning comes

It’s surprisingly easy to dismantle a robot.

Especially one that saw him as no threat.

Technology is very convenient really, cameras fall apart with just one swing of a metal rod. Your friends, there’s just too many of them. Isn’t he so kind, so benevolent, so gracious, for culling the herd? Jade’s the only one you need. Jade is the only one you love.

Jade will be the only one left soon enough.

We'll burn away that tear, and raise our city here

At a critical juncture, it all falls apart. In any case, he’d never expected to take on one of the most powerful mages in the world and win. He’s shackled and bound while they assess how far the damages of his love had gone. They say it’s gone too far, but he believes he hasn’t gone nearly far enough yet. No. You deserve more, don’t you?

You plead with your friend to give you some space. You want to talk to Jade? Alone?

Even now, you’re just the sweetest.

You chose to be left alone in a room with a chained predator.

(Are you unaware the predator can still bite?)

Our love is God

“Why…why did you kill them all?”

“I did it for you, my love.”

You’re looking at him strangely. He doesn’t like it; he can’t read your expressions, your movements.

We can start and finish wars

They’re turning him in to the authorities. That’s fine.

Even far away, locked in a cell, he will always think of you. Dream of you.

You are the parasite implanted into his brain, a creature that ate up his internal organs and replaced them all with images of yourself. You are an alien, one that chose to burrow itself into him and turn his blood into nothing but pure desire for you and everything that you represent.

We're what killed the dinosaurs

You visit him in the dead of night.

How did he never know you could pick locks?

The fae were careless, the door wasn’t enchanted by any sort of magic. You came back to his side, why? Do you despise him, detest him, for murdering all the people you hold dear in blood as cold as the ice floes in his home? Don’t look at him with hatred.

Don’t get too close.

(The predator has always had its sights set on you.)

We're the asteroid that's overdue

“Jade…”

He could think of so many things you could say to him.

Each and every one would be like knives digging themselves into his flesh. Darling, do be gentle with him, would you? He’s only bled because of his love for you. It’s a hideous thing that he keeps alive, just for you. Don’t deny him.

The new world needed room for me and you

“Can you run?”

That is…certainly not what he expected you to say.

“Not with these cuffs, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, right. Turn around.”

I worship you

You would set him free?

Maybe you’re just as crazy as he is.

Deft fingers work with a bent hair pin to unlock the chains. He’s really lucky he wasn’t restrained by magic, you would have had no way of undoing those.

I'd trade my life for yours

You give him back his magic pen and pull him to run back to the Hall of Mirrors.

Our love is God

He relishes the feeling of your hand in his.

Our love is God

“Not that I don’t enjoy the midnight rendezvous, but where exactly are we going?”

“Home. Where you’re not wanted by the mage police.”

“And how do we get there?”

“Like how I got here. The Dark Mirror.”

Our love is God

Have you always known how to return to your old world…?

Our love is God

Green lightning strikes in the distance. The two of you are running out of time.

We can start and finish wars

As marvelous as dying with you would be, he enjoys the thought of escaping with you more. He can still run, but you’re beginning to lag behind. He scoops you up into his arms and keeps running.

We're what killed the dinosaurs

The hall is close. He can see its vague silhouette in the distance.

We're the asteroid that's overdue

In a puff of green smoke, you’re taken from him.

They'll die because we say they must

They think he’d kidnapped you. He doesn’t speak up to clarify the misunderstanding. It would be better for you to be the victim.

I worship you

You struggle and jump with him into the mirror anyway.

I'd trade my life for yours

He watches as you break the mirror with the closest thing you can throw at it. 

“I…I got you back. Here. I didn’t think…” you break out into a sudden laugh, and he’s frozen in place when you wrap your arms around him. Is this a cause worthy of celebration? He doesn’t quite understand. But you’re in his embrace and he would be damned if he let you go.

We'll make them disappear

“This is your house?”

“Mmh, it’s just me. It’s fine though. With you here, I won’t be lonely anymore.”

We'll plant our garden here

The first night, he woke up next to you and found a nearby mirror shining with green light. He tossed a sheet over it and broke it when daylight came, telling you it needed to be replaced.

You never questioned his words.

Our love is God

He fits right in this magicless world. There is no competition here. No one is worthy of your gaze. It calms him down.

Our love is God

The next time a mirror glows, he breaks it immediately.

Our love is God

The souls are still haunting him.

Our love is God

The faes are still looking for a way to him.

Our love is God

All of it fades when he’s right next to you.

Our love is God

There is nothing Jade won’t do to love you.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for a Fic...

~*~

1. hiiiii i hope all of you are having a wonderful dayyy! for the next itmf, could i request any modern zombie apocalypse fics? I just read The Edge of Night by Hobbsy3 and now i’m craving more 😅could wangxian be the main pairing and no character deaths between them? thank youuuu ♡ 

❤️ A Corpse Called By Name by jaemyun (Not rated, 60k, wangxian, angst w/ happy ending, zombie apocalypse, zombie WWX, yunmeng trio)

~*~

2. do you know any wangxian fics where Lan Xichen is also in love with Wei Wuxian? NOT WWX/LZ/LX, just where Xichen also falls for WWX

Melody of the Lost and Found by esama (T, 48k, WIP, XiXian, WangXian, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Grief/Mourning, YLLZ WWX, There are two WWXs in this)

Is this a Shakespearean Comedy, because I'm in love with the wrong person by firesonic152 (E, 7k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Adultery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Sneaking Around, Requited Love, Mutual Pining, Explicit Sexual Content, Bittersweet Ending)

Burning Bridges by Keysmashed (E, 12k, wangxian, arranged marriage, misunderstandings, pining, angst w/ happy ending, family drama, swordfighting, non-graphic smut, emotional rollercoaster, love confessions, everyone lives au)

Over and Over Again by Miss_Writers_Block (T, 1k, WangXian, WWX/Everyone, Everyone Loves WWX, Unrequited Love, except for one, and its the obvious one, Canon Compliant) there is this classic!

~*~

3. Hello there, I was wondering if there was any fanfiction [regardless of the website] about time travel to the past wei wuxian , but when he goes back the past mdzs has to deal with his depressing or suicidal side (here I mean wei wuxian becomes younger) , or yiling laozu time travel and meets his past self and family

How did I end up with this Frozen Heart? by Grace_ShadowWolf (TaubeLePigeon) (T, 53k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Fix-It, PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, YP!WWX, twin prides of yunmeng are horrified at the relationship between their future selves, YP!WWX has short hair, Canon Divergence, Self-Indulgent, wangxian get together early, Songfic, JC Bashing, LXC Bashing)

The Wild Geese's Tomb by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 66k, WangXian, Time Travel AU, fixit, Temporary Character Death)

~*~

4. Hi! "In the mood" ask...I was wondering if anyone knows of any fics where someone (I was thinking Lan Qiren but it doesn't have to be) starts having suspicions that Lan Wangji is "following in his father's footsteps" and that Wei Wuxian isn't a willing partner in their relationship - a wrong assumption, but I'd like to see people opposing LWJ to be protective on WWX's behalf! @therealscarymarlowe

Every Mother's Son by Chrononautical (T, 11k, WangXian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Madam Lán Leaves Cloud Recesses, mentions of rape/non-con between Madam Lan & Qingheng-Jun) the former Madam Lan returns to 'rescue' WWX

Unbreakable Heaven, Luminous Earth by carolyncaves (M, 96k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Secret Identity, almost to the point of uncomfortable identity theft, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Suicidal Thoughts, that's for WWX after Nightless City and is not pervasive throughout the fic, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Power Imbalance, mainly between WWX and JGY in an entirely nonsexual manner, oh jyl lives, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies)

Hold Truth to the Light by SoManyJacks (E, 15k, WangXian, Light Angst, Fluff, idiot plot kind of, switch!lwj, service top!wwx, Accusations of rape, False Accusations, nasty rumors, Alcohol, arranged marriage sideplot, Painful Sex, Anal Sex, POV Alternating, Light Dom/sub, Post-Canon, Based on the novel, Flip Fuck, gratuitous epilogues, uhhh also donkey)

~*~

5. Hii! I hope you are doing well, and Mod Kay, i hope you have a swift recovery!! So, I recently read a fic with wen xu being a decent guy and i was wondering if you had anymore fics where the wen sons aren't complete assholes and actually bond with wwx?? Thank you in advance!!! @flexible-racoon

All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos (M, 64k, WIP, WRH & WWX, WangXian, WWX is a Wēn, Abuse, Whipping, Manipulations, Warning: WRH, Smart WWX, Possessive Behavior, Warning: JGS, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con)

~*~

6. Hi!!!! Any recommendations about wwx adopting a puppy/dog or wwx overcoming his phobia about dogs??? Thank you so much

Imprints by Lisa_Telramor (G, 47k, wangxian, post-canon, accidental puppy acquisition, humor, panic attacks, phobia recovery, JC & WWX reconciliation, poor life choices, self acceptance, developing relationship, fluff)

🧡 Rabbit Heart by Suaine (M, 56k, WangXian, during the separation in ep50, some animal cruelty (not committed by main characters), WWX adopts a puppy (YES I KNOW), Family Issues, Sexual Content)

I'm Alright 'Cuz I Have You Here With Me by wwx-lwj-ai-ni (TDKeh16) (T, 17k, WangXian, Modern AU, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Friends to Lovers, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Facing Fears, Supportive Friendship, Mention of childhood dog attack, Pining LWJ, Oblivious WWX, Sharing a Bed)

Must Love Dogs by northebee, wingedwords (T, 17k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Panic Attack, Hurt/Comfort)

Silver bells and cockle shells by teawater (T, 97k, WangXian, Family Fluff, JC's Birthday party, Reincarnations, Pets, Facing Fears, One-sided attraction, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Night Hunts, some actual Angst, I really mean it, mainly for side charas tho)

leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you’ve met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation)

~*~

7. Do you have a list of stories with ‘modern/present’ Wei Wuxian and ‘ancient/xianxia’ Lan Wangji?

It doesn’t particularly matter if Lan Wangji meets present day Wei Wuxian thanks to being immortal, suspended animation, time travel, dimension hopping, or something else. It’s just the clash of modern and ‘ancient’ sensibilities that makes it fun. I’m delighted every time I come across one!

(I’m not really sure what I would search for to find more of that sort of story myself, since the mechanism of their meeting has been so different each time I’ve found one). @ladysunami

take me back to a time by DizziDreams (T, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Modern with Magic, Time Travel, Sharing a Bed, Angst with a Happy Ending, Student!WWX, Time-Traveling Wizard!LWJ, Slow Burn, Character Death, Angstreference to abuse, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Abuse, Canon!LWJ, Canon-Typical Violence, Mutual Pining, Chronic Illness, Not A Fix-It, Case Fic, implied 3zun, Transmigration, America, [Podfic of] take me back to a time by dreamhazer)

The Life Cycle of the Frog and the Fish by Aerlalaith (T, 53k, WangXian, Reincarnation, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Sort Of, Reincarnation, Mystery, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Illnesses Curses, References to Illness, Modern with Magic)

Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, modern wwx, cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences, Miscommunication, LWJ Has a Big Dick, Anal Sex)

an impromptu visit to the city by bosbie (T, 12k, WangXian, Modern AU, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Fluff, Humor, First Meetings, Falling In Love, Getting Together)

That Nasty Wei Wuxian by Avescor (T, 38k, WangXian, Modern AU, Time Travel, shirtless lwj, Chaotic WWX, Disaster friend JC, Character Development, Pre-Relationship, Adorable teenage cultivators, WWX messes with Cloud Recesses, Unreliable Narrator, chaotic evil WWX, Smoll WWX, trying to cope LWJ, Life lessons from an internet troll)

the song remains the same by la_muerta (T, 4k, WangXian, Reincarnation, Post CQL-canon, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

8. itmf lwj breaks down crying in front of wwx, bonus point if we get to know wwx's reaction towards seeing the usually-stoic lwj suddenly showing so much emotion

Regrets by antebunny (G, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Time Travel, Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Descriptions of Love, and other squishy feeling, Angst with a Happy Ending) maybe regrets by antebunny, towards the end lwj cries and they confess😊

~*~

9. Hi for itmf are there any fics that takes place after Wangxian marry and while on a night wwx gets hurt badly and this leads to jc and wwx reconcile with Lwj taking care of wwx

Thanks! @elainaparker

can people untie themselves, uncurling like flowers by annemari (T, 19k, JC & WWX, WangXian, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Family, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together)

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, Road Trips, (terrible road trips), Post-Canon, Rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, ish, Awkward Conversations, POV JC, JC & WWX Reconciliation, (ish they're working on it)

Hindsight by Unicornelia96 (M, 15k, JC & WWX, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, POV WWX, Hurt WWX, Burial Mounds, reference to possible cannibalism, Cannibalism, Major Character Injury, Serious Injuries, Angst with a Happy Ending, ish)

Although I'm not sure if any of my recs for 9 are specifically after they married. Pretty sure they're from before, but still post-canon

~*~

10. Can u pls refer fics which are similar to divulgences by ataraxistence

~*~

11. For the next ITMF do you have any fic where both LWJ and WWX died and are brought back to life? Bonus points if their families feel guilty about what happened

The Young Masters of Four Seasons Manor by gaotamao (G, 91k, WangXian, WenZhou, YeRong, Time Regression fix-it, WKX raises monstrous sons, Not Jiang Sect Friendly, No Golden Core Transfer) but without the bonus point op mentioned

~*~

12. hii! im itmf fics where wangxian kinda know the other likes them before Officially Getting Together, like in canon, or similarly if it's more of a gradual falling together than a big shocking confession. thank you!!

❤️ I Started From the Bottom/And Now I’m Rich by x_los (E, 58k, wangxian, incidental and hilarious wwx/others that only result in death not anything sexual) it is a crack fic kinda, with wwx time travel. But wwx acknowledges mentally their romantic tension and the potential for something, before a wangxian typical confession occurs

~*~

13. I was wondering is there any fics where after getting told off by lwj to not pester him anymore wwx does exactly that and stops paying him so much attention but it bothers lwj for some reason and he doesn't. like. that. at all.

Twitter threadfic by @/Cosmicmilktea

The Taste Of Cherry by chiyukimei (E, 6k, WangXian, Cherry Magic AU, Not JC Friendly, Lots of kissing, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Soft LQR) has a brief (very brief) moment like that

~*~

14. Hi i m in the mood for a fic for social media aus specially those that has those fake posts or smthing but any works thanks!

Gremlin BF twitter thread by nyanxian this one is one twt, but one of my faves (Podfic: Gremlin Twitter Boyfriend by bluegeekEM, cantarina, duckgirlie, EosRose, exmanhater, fleurrochard, GoLBCollabs (GodOfLaundryBaskets), Gondolinpod (Gondolin), isweedan, knight_tracer, nyanxian, Opalsong, RevolutionaryJo, Rhea314 (Rhea), Rindle, sisi_rambles, Syr, Vorvayne_reads (Vorvayne))

My mom says I can marry whoever I want, and I want to marry this random guy I met on tumblr by Admiranda, miixz (T, 45k, WangXian, WN/OFC, MM/MM's Husband, Modern AU, Social Media, Chatting & Messaging, Texting, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, Falling In Love, Fluff, Female WN, Internet Fights, Implied Reincarnation, modern au with cultivation, not the jc friendliest because of our fandom opinions but he's not really here)

~*~

15. Yoooooo!!! Love you all, thankful for all the hard work you do for us fans! I don't know if this is ITMF or a compilation-related but I noticed the last time-travel compilation (part 3) is from over a year ago. Have any new time travel fic hit the charts over the past 12+ months? 😁 @kimboo-york

Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WangXian, WQ & WN & WWX, Canon Divergence, Angst, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-it, Not JC Friendly, Dark, BAMF WWX, mentions of abuse, Canon JC traits, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Cw for character death)

❤️ the thing with feathers by RoseThorne  (G, 43k, wangxian, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Fear, Recovery, Sharing a Bed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Sexual Tension, Arranged Marriage, Grief, Adoption, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect)

The blame game by apathyinreverie (T, 13k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, possessive LWJ, oblivious WWX, fluff, romance, golden core reveal, golden core fix-it) 

Here With Me by iamwish (T, 58k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon-Typical Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Bad Parent YZY, POV WWX, POV LWJ, POV JC, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Has PTSD, and also depression sometimes, Unreliable Narrator) 

Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing) 

Pocketful of Soul by Jenrose (T, 182k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BAMF MXY, MXY Lives, Genderfluid MXY, MXY Backstory, POV MXY, If At First You Don’t Succeed Try Try Again and Again and Again, Wangxian Speedrun, times three because time travel, Found Family, Genius MXY, Genius WWX, Not particularly JGY friendly, CQL-based) 

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

16. ITMF Wei Ying raising jin ling canon divergence/ canonverse/ alternate Universe. All will do @whateverweilanlovechild

~*~

17. Hi!!! I hope you all doing well! I just wanna ask for a recommendations (if there is one) about Lan elders forcing LWJ to take in someone (a girl) to atleast bear his child (it doesn’t matter to them if LWJ is married to WWX as long as lwj bears an heir). Thank you so much for your hardwork!

The light of you will stay by orphan_account (M, 74k, WangXian, LWJ/OFC, Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage between LWJ and Fem!OC, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Canonical Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Wangxian is endgame, the consumation of the marriage is mentioned, there is no explicit het sex here, Implied Het Sex, because pregnancy)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what  you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack,  whatever - it’s all good!***

[scarletst0ries]

TWST: The EPIC Saga p6: Polyphemus

Main characters: Ortho Shroud(Polyphemus) and Jamil Viper(Odysseus)

Style: Songfic

CW: Death, threatening, dolls, slight body horror(?)

Inspired by @werewolfbyknight’s character ideas

Masterlist

A/N: Saga number 2 let’s go!!! I’m sorry Ortho lovers…

The island is a hilly- a stark contrast to the Blotfruit Eaters’ home. A small party of twenty six including Ace, Kalim, and the captain head further inland. They gather fresh fruit, but…there is no wild game… The party keeps walking until they find a small rocky outcropping. Ace runs ahead with a few men to scout.

A few minutes later he returns with news: the outcropping opens up into a cave and a beastfolk could hear a distant bleating of a sheep inside. The captain gives the order to hunt inside the cave.

The cavern is dark and cool with a distinct stench. Kalim casts a spell and small dancing lights illuminate the dark.

Then they see it. A sheep.

But they don’t notice that it looks wrong. That it’s fur and eyes are inky black, or that the shadows of the cave seem to move on their own. The captain fires a spell and kills it instantly.

“Over here,” He shouts as it falls. Ace, Kalim, and him walk towards the corpse whose wool appears to blend into the darkness. More sheep materialize as the light gets closer.

”Look at all this food! Look at all these sheep! Can you believe this cave has all this for us to keep?!” Kalim babbles. The captain suppresses the urge to roll his eyes at the cheerful man’s excitement. His mood made sense, they hadn’t had fresh meat for months. Ace looks around approvingly.

“I’ve got to hand it to you both, this is quite the treat,” Ace looks at the small herd that gathers around them, “There are sheep here to feed the entire fleet!”

The men behind them begin looking hungrily at the sheep slowly closing in around them. The captain looks at the sheep suspiciously.

“It’s almost too perfect, too good to be true,” He muses, “Why would the blotfruit eaters pass up on all this food?-“

“Who are you?” A childlike voice interrupts. The group startles and the sheep vanish into pools of black ink. Kalim sends some light further into the cave and the party recoils at the sight of their host.

A wooden doll is collapsed onto the ground. It is the size of a young boy, about ten or eleven, with bright blue hair painted on like flames. Its head snaps up, revealing only a singular cracked hole on the right side of its face, blot pouring out. Each limb has a long black tendril attached to it. A large mass of blot, twenty times its size clings onto the walls of the cavern. A phantom.

“Hey there….we’re just travelers,” the captain raises his hands above his head, “We come in peace.”

“You killed my sheep…,” The doll lurches forward, standing up, “My favorite sheep…” Its head tilts to the side and slowly rocks forward before snapping straight up, making eye contact with the captain. He and his crew sneak closer together.

A single drop of blot drips down the doll’s wooden face, “What gives you the right to deal a pain so deep? Don’t you know that pain you sow is pain you reap?”

It lunges towards them, laughing maniacally, “Time to drink your blood right where you stand!”

The phantom behind the doll travels across the walls and blocks the entrance. The doll stops right in front of the captain’s face.

“Your life now is in my hands, before I’m done, you will learn that it’s not so fun to take. You came to my home to steal, and now you’ll become my meal!” It taunts.

The captain starts to speak, but is interrupted by the puppet. “A trade you see? Take from you like you took from me,” The faceless doll almost appears to smile.

The captain weighs their options. Their best chance of survival is to outwit the doll and phantom.

”There’s been a misunderstanding, we never came here to steal,” the captain’s eyes glow red slightly, “But I can see we’ve done some damage, maybe you and I can make a deal?”

The doll snaps its head to the side interested.

Seeing that it took the bait, the captain continues, “I’ll give you the finest treasures, so long as we leave alive, you can have the world’s best tasting wine…”

“Wine?

The captain smirks and opens his canteen, sprinkling something in it. He hands it to the doll, “Have a drink, one sip and you’ll understand, the power that’s in your hand. Wine so fresh, you’d never want to drain human flesh again. Then we will be on our way, no bloodshed here today. A trade you see? A gift from you and a gift from me…”

The doll looks at the canteen confused and then pours it into the eyehole. It grunts and snaps its attention back to the captain.

“I’d like to thank you! Stranger what’s your name?” It asks cheerfully.

“My name is Nobody,” The lie flows off his tongue.

“Nobody! For your….gift, I’ve one to reply.”

“I’m so glad we see eye-to-eye.”

“Yes, you shall be the final man to DIE!!!”

The captain hesitates, “Wait…what?”

A wave of blot oozes out of the cavern walls towards his men.

“WATCH OUT!”

_________________________________________

[grisailledreams]

Never Enough

Astarion stews in a little jealousy while Brynne sings at a Gortash-sponsored party. (AKA Astarynne fluff is back deal with it)

EDIT: Lmao songfic bitches! Never Enough from The Greatest Showman

Title: Never Enough Word count: ~3108 words Pairing: Astarynne (Astarion/Brynne // Astarion/OC // Astarion/Tav -- can you tell idk how we're supposed to be tagging this?) Content Warnings: Light swearing

For a moment, there, Astarion thought he and Brynne had something special. He was the first person she spoke to in the morning. The last touch she sought before bedding down. The one she embraced hardest when that desiccated skeleton man in their camp brought him back from the brink of death, or when it was Brynne being ressurected instead. And yet, every bloody time she sang a duet, it was always with someone else!

Whenever the group came short on coin or supplies, a bard could magically make gold appear with a wiggle of the fingers and a pretty tune – even in a refugee camp. More collected in the hat if she had a partner and upped the performance value, so occasionally Brynne dragged one of their companions onstage and… well, sparks flew. Every time.

She and Wyll sang a romantic duet about defying fate, complete with wizard-made miniature fireworks.

Shadowheart begrudgingly became the other half of a musical business deal.

Karlach had a fantastic time bellowing out a dramatic, pining vow with her.

Gale often got roped into a windy, free-spirited call to adventure.

It was the Wyll number that stuck in Astarion’s craw the most. His ability to provide special effects made him an attractive partner, as did his surprising ability to carry a tune while doing so. That may have had a little to do with Brynne. There was something about her playing that seemed to draw music out of people if she wanted it to; unlikely that Shadowheart knew any music that wasn’t a psalm to Shar. But Brynne and Wyll fell into their show, casting doubts and aspersions aside to promise that they could be together in spite of the world telling them that they couldn’t. They danced in one another’s arms. If Brynne hung a length of silk from a high ceiling – a trick she pulled in the Last Light – she and Wyll performed simple aerial feats to add to the music. And, at the end of the song, Wyll always moved in for a kiss. Astarion always held his breath. Brynne always stepped away and again reiterated that they couldn’t be together. In song.

Afterwards, her duet partners might have said something friendly about how fun it was, or ask with bright eyes how much they managed to rake in, but the romance of it all never brought them closer.

Did it? The jealous fire in Astarion’s belly only made him believe that Wyll looked at her a little too long for the rest of the night, a little too dreamy-eyed, juxtaposing a little too much of a fairytale damsel’s aura over Brynne’s face–

Not once did the bard ever, ever ask Astarion if he’d like to sing with her.

He didn’t. Why embarrass himself in front of so many people the way their associates did? But an invitation might have been nice.

It took last place in the list of his concerns when Gortash invited – “Read,” said Astarion as they looked at the notice, “insists.” – Brynne to play at a dinner honoring the officials of the Flaming Fists and, in the interest of not having anyone throw them all into Wyrm’s Rock, Brynne agreed. She’d been playing coy with the new Archduke every time he suggested they work together. “Avoiding a fight” without making promises she didn’t intend to keep. Gods. Yes, he understood the intention of it and yes, he would have done the same thing for slightly different reasons, but now she was forcing him to go along with her idiot plans because he knew — he knew, gods damn her! — that if he didn't, she'd wind up in Wyrm's Rock with Gortash waving his hand for a servant to dispose of her corpse and mop the blood from his shiny, marble floor. And then what was Astarion supposed to do? Go to Withers? What lesson would Brynne learn, then, about doing stupid things?

When the night arrived, Karlach, Astarion, and Jaheira dressed up as much as any of them cared to – Loudly, Nicely, and “Fuck It” in that order – and concealed the weapons they were banned from bringing on their persons. Brynne didn’t seem worried. Her creepy lyre strung with spider silk, she insisted, was all the weapon she needed when Astarion asked her about whether she wanted her bow or her rapier and where she planned to put either.

“Where could I possibly hide those in this dress?” she asked, with far too much laughter in her voice for comfort.

In fairness, she was right. The fabric, a fetchingly deep shade of green that made her pink skin glow, had been clipped, stitched, and draped in a style reminiscent of Antiquity – one that exposed most of her back, especially with her green-and-brown hair teased into a careless updo laced with gold chains. Matching metallic flowers and insects cast in a modern style pinned the fabric into fanciful sleeves that fell away at the elbow so as not to get in the way of her playing. She’d even abandoned her daywear boots – leather and scruffy and certainly not a pair to go with this ensemble – for soft, thick-soled sandals with jeweled clasps and straps that ran up to the thigh. Decidedly unsuitable for a fight if one broke out.

Astarion’s judgmental eye only went over her once before he took a knee at her feet, took his dagger sheath entirely from his belt, and strapped the sussur blade just above the topmost strap of Brynne’s sandal where she could easily reach it.

When she began to protest, Astarion dramatically sighed and cut her off. “I’ll have to make do with my rapier. Do take care not to lose that. We went through so much to have it forged.”

He kissed her and called her beautiful so she’d forget to keep arguing.

Their party walked through streets that used to be so lively at this time of day, when the sun had just gone down and lanterns lit the way. Taverns and burlesque houses that typically stayed loud and merry into the first rays of dawn largely closed their doors before midnight. Anyone who still dared be out by nightfall cast suspicious glances at the adventurers, not knowing whether they were saviours or oncoming damnation. Thank gods Astarion need not hunt nowadays. Breaking down those psychological walls would have been exhausting. As he and the rest of the group approached Wyrm’s Rock, they found one of the few places with open doors, bright lights, chatter, and the smell of food wafting from the windows: the Flaming Fist officers’ barracks.

Even at a party – especially at a party, maybe – there were guards. A tall, muscular woman in full steel plate stopped them at the door to mean-mug them into giving up whatever anti-Gortashian plot they might think to hatch. In that sickeningly sweet, gorgeously manipulative way of hers, Brynne batted her eyelashes and flashed the letter bearing the Archduke’s signature.

Once the manip decided it wasn’t a forgery, the glare softened into boredom and she flatly said, “No weapons past this point.”

“We know!” Brynne chirped. “We came prepared!” She turned around to face her team, raising her brows. “Right?”

Karlach, Jaheira, and Astarion exchanged glances amongst themselves. With a shrug, Jaheira said, “Don’t look at me. What, you think I’m senile and forgot we weren’t allowed to bring blades? And this one,” she said, jabbing her thumb to Karlach, “wouldn’t be able to hide a weapon in a smith’s forge.”

“Hey!”

And then they all whirled on Astarion.

He groaned, hung his head back, and drew his fingers through his freshly-washed and touseled hair. “I’m hurt. I’m offended. You all really think so little of me?!”

“I could pick you up by the ankle and shake it out of you,” Karlach offered.

“Ugh, fine, fine…” Astarion opened his doublet, pulled out a cheap, tiny dagger from a hidden pocket, and waved it in front of their faces before he deposited it in the manip’s waiting hand. “There. Happy?”

“Astarion!”

The disappointment in Brynne’s voice might have broken his heart if it hadn’t been all one massive pantomime.

In Brynne’s flurry of impassioned apologies to the manip and offers to leave Astarion behind, not to mention Jaheira and Karlach muttering criticisms of him under their breath, the Flaming Fist never once thought to check the rest of them to see if they were also carrying concealed blades. Clearly, they cared deeply about being present for this Gortash-sponsored event. The other option likely involved a trip to Wyrm’s Rock for defiance. Who would think that sweet, freckled, spring blossom face could lie so perfectly? Clearly, not the manip waving them through the gate.

Officers enjoyed higher pay and more authority, but it seemed their buildings were still just too small to host gatherings anywhere other than their courtyard. Wait, there were hay mannequins crushed below the stairs. Training yard. Out-of-place tablecloths decorated shabby trestle tables, set with gleaming silver tableware for the officers and attending patriars. No one too fancy. High-ranking merchants, lower nobility, people who might have been invited to Gortash’s ascension ceremony but also would have been surprised and eager by it. Dinner smelled expensive; a far cry from even the fare at the Elfsong. Serving staff made rounds through the party with trays of hors d’ouevres and crystal flutes full of sparkling wine, but a bar had been set up opposite the stage. A few invitees spared the party a glance, but once they saw Brynne and her lyre, they lost interest. The band had to set up. They wouldn’t be interesting until later. Then again, they didn’t know that Astarion was about to go mingle.

He hung back for a moment, though, so he could fix her hair. One of the curls she left loose didn’t look as nice as the one next to it. “Singing with Karlach again?” he asked, trying to sound conversational; he failed to keep out the grumble. “Or are you forcing poor old Jaheira on stage with you for once?”

“Neither.” Astarion glanced up. “No duets.” And glanced down to fix the drape of one of her sleeves. “Gortash sent an incredibly specific set list for me.”

“Dictatorial even in party music. I should be less surprised.”

“Maybe if I do a decent job for his underlings, I’ll get to play for the man, himself!” They both laughed. Neither of them wanted to be in the same room as Gortash again unless it was to slit his throat. “Alright. Don’t pickpocket anyone, okay?”

“But darling,” he purred, briefly drawing his foreknuckle over her cheekbone and the elven knots tattooed over it, “you know how your pretty music makes my fingers itch.”

Again, she giggled, rolling her eyes, but her face glowed in that odd, warm way that eladrins seemed to do when they were happy. Absolutely blinding, sometimes, like the morning after that first night they’d spent together, or the one after their little celebration with the tieflings. Luckily, she’d been sunny in his direction often enough that he could stand its light. He liked that she saw their dynamic burglary duo status as something favorable. Even cherished.

Astarion kissed the back of her hand, demure enough in his gesture so as not to cheapen her presence in front of her audience, but also to enough eyes to make sure they all knew she was taken. “Break a leg, my love,” he murmured, right before he melted into the crowd. The strings sang to him before he reached the open bar.

The wine did nothing to relax the tension in Astarion’s legs and he’d sooner chop his own foot off before he jiggled a leg the way Brynne did whenever she felt restless. He wasn’t used to a task so full of nothing. They were always trying to infiltrate, steal, expose, kill, or save someone or something, typically with mixed results, and while they could have spent half that time doing something more worthwhile, at least it felt productive when they inevitably found gold, treasure, or new equipment. None of that, here. She’d told him so. But with all those eyes glued to her, easing into the music, Astarion spied no fewer than three purses he could cut and several pieces of jewelry easily liberated. On toetips, he could probably sneak into the officer’s chambers and rummage through their things before Brynne even finished the song. He’d done beautiful work with her in the counting house like this. She could play for hours. He hadn’t met a lock he couldn’t pick.

Instead, Astarion tried to listen to the music. War songs, mostly, an anthem to Bane, and multiple numbers clearly written by Gortash, himself, praising his new elevation in status… all ridiculous. The attendees listened politely and applauded with extra strength when Gortash’s name was mentioned, but for the most part, they spoke amongst themselves. Karlach and Jaheira managed to elbow their way into a table with a wealthy old married couple who were dressed far too formally and too old-fashioned to be anything other than family or donors. By the sounds of it, they were too deaf to be offended by Karlach’s occasional loud outburst. The wife in blue velvet patted Karlach on the shoulder while her partner, Wife in Green, launched into a rambling tale that Jaheira patiently listened to… or, at least, she seemed to nod periodically.

Servants served dinner and Karlach tried to wave Astarion over to join them, but he held up a hand. Being a vampire made his already limited elven diet that much more restrictive. The only hunger he’d felt lately was for… well. He didn’t need to say it, did he?

As Brynne wrapped up another song about Gortash – Jannath’s Ecstasy – one of the Archduke’s representatives, sent to the event as his stand-in, tapped a spoon to his glass and stood up. A thin little human man with a whisker-thin mustache and a curly-tailed coat. He cleared his voice and said in a reedy voice, “A few words, from His Grace, Archduke Enver Gortash…”

Oh, the droning. Blah blah blah, dawn of a new age, blah blah blah, thin steel line. The myriads pamphlets regarding Gortash’s policy plans were bad enough. Each syllable of this speech made Astarion want to dismantle his ears piece by piece from the inside out. He caught Brynne’s eye. She grinned at him, lips pressed tightly together so she could rearrange her expression if one of the Fists realized she wasn’t drinking in every word. Jaheira and Karlach did that. One, desiring to learn more about their enemy through the words he spoke through a puppet. The other, glowing red and barely containing her fury; the patriars at their table soon fanned themselves from the heat.

 Finally, the human stepped down, bid the attendees to enjoy their meal, and flashed Brynne a signal to continue playing her set. She dipped her head with a sweet smile and dropped an inch as some kind of respectful curtsy that managed to not put her playing stance off-balance. Nothing more than background noise, no one could say that Brynne didn’t do her very best when it came to music. Even when she only had a true audience of one. Her eyes found Astarion again. That smile widened and warmed.

He couldn’t look away, not when her fingers danced over the strings and made the lyre twinkle like a starry music box.Her expression softened and Astarion knew this song was his.

“I’m trying to hold my breath. Let it stay this way. Can’t let this moment end.”

No one noticed that this wasn’t part of the preapproved set list for quite a while. Perhaps they were too invested in complimenting the food and wine selection and the Fists had long tuned her out by then. Fine. They didn’t need to. Astarion’s stomach squirmed in a more pleasant way than to which he was accustomed, letting the music caress him in the way Brynne clearly wanted to do herself. A clandestine little love note in the middle of a crowded room. A shame that it couldn’t last.

“All the shine of a thousand spotlights, all the stars we steal from the night sky will never be enough. Never be enough. Towers of gold are still too little. These hands could hold the world, but it’ll never be enough. Never be enough for me.”

 Faces began to turn to stone. Laughs throttled and broke mid-throat. The attendees who weren’t entirely pro-Gortashian rule shifted uncomfortably where they sat. The rest glared. Brynne sang, her lyrics full of greed and reaching farther beyond what was reasonable, all packaged up in the sound of a gentle ballad that grew in strength with each iteration. Karlach groaned a little and when Astarion glanced over to their table, the tiefling was rubbing her temple with a single finger and Jaheira looked ready to garrote Brynne. Astarion shook his head, smirking. They were going to get run out of town if she didn’t stop soon.

Every person in that courtyard aside from Brynne and Astarion had missed the parts that solidified her song as one of love, and Astarion greedily hoarded them for himself.

You set off a dream in me, getting louder now. Can you hear it echoing? Take my hand. Will you share this with me? ‘Cause darling, without you…

No matter how many bank vaults they flawlessly emptied, no matter how fine the wines they stole, no matter how heavy their gold purses grew, it would never be enough without Brynne at his side, hand in hand.

Who else could be his partner in crime as well as in life?

The song ended as gently as it started and through the polite, if stilted, smatter of applause, Brynne blew Astarion a kiss. A pair of Fist gauntlets escorted her off stage. She laughed, waved off their worry, tried to assure them that it wasn’t any criticism of the Archduke or his loyal patriars, but to the gate she went all the same. Astarion gestured with his head for Jaheira and Karlach to follow, pocketing his secret smile.

He grabbed Brynne’s hand before she saw him exit the courtyard. Karlach and Jaheira launched into complaints about barely being able to eat anything or get properly drunk, or how they were having such a nice conversation with those sweet old Grans. Astarion and Brynne tuned them out. She squeezed his fingers. Heat bloomed in his chest.

Brynne never sang songs to any of the others the way she did for him. And he’d never get enough of it.

[miz-joelys-sherlollilists]

Latest & Greatest Sherlollbrary Additions 09/13/23

No Time by Moss_Rose_10 (Rated K, One-Shot) Post HLV, Songfic AO3 2023

Unexpected Reunions (Chapter 2) by DaydreamingInFebruary (Rated T, Chapter) Post TFP, Adapt/Crossover (MCU) AO3 2023

Untitled (❛ i could keep you safe. they’re all afraid of me. ❜) by theresawritesstuff (Rated K, One-Shot) Undercover Sherlolly tumblr 2023

Untitled (a kiss pressed to the neck) by theresawritesstuff (Rated K, One-Shot) Parentlock tumblr 2023

Untitled (Discussing corpses/decomposition over dinner) by theresawritesstuff (Rated K+, One-Shot) tumblr 2023

without air (sherlolly) by vevove (Rated T, One-Shot) Post Reichenbach AO3 2023

[blxckdragonfly]

Still Falling For You (Darkness Finds You Universe #12)

(Song: "Still Falling For You" by Ellie Goulding.

Warnings: Mention of Death, Nightmares, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, NSFW-esque smut/ light scarf play towards the end. That means-- minors: scoot.

Pairing: Chris Motionless & Lycia Winters "pronunciation of her name-- Lai-shuh" (played by Ana De Armas)

Word Count: 9,507

Synopsis: After arriving back home in Baltimore and staying for a bit to check on Adrian's condition, Lycia has a horrific nightmare and Chris takes it upon himself to make sure she forgets her worries.

And we're back! It's been a while since I wrote more with these two! I'm sorry it took a bit to finish part two but there's a lot of stuff in this one so I hope you enjoy! x Tiger)

Chris and Lycia’s Airbnb: September 10th, 2023– Baltimore, Maryland. 

I was inside of a chapel, I could see so many people filling up the pews of the chapel and they were wearing black from top to bottom. I keep walking down the aisle until I stop completely in my tracks, there are two caskets at the front that are closed and I look up to see the portraits of both Marcus and Adrian staring back at me. 

Slowly, all of the mourners turn their heads toward me and stare at me as the caskets begin to open, revealing the corpses of my little brother and the burnt corpse of my ex-boyfriend. I jump back in fright as they approach me one by one. 

“Why didn’t you save us, Lycia?” Their voices hissed in an eerie tone. I begin to panic, falling to my knees and crying as I rock back and forth. 

“I’m sorry,” I say over and over. “I’m sorry.” 

I woke up with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. Beads of sweat clinging to my forehead as I struggle to catch my breath, the remnants of my nightmare still lingering and haunting my mind. I glance over at Chris, who lays peacefully asleep behind me, unaware of the turmoil that has just unfolded within my subconscious. I want nothing more than to curl in his arms and forget about the vivid images that have plagued me in my sleep. 

But I know I couldn’t escape the darkness that seems to surround me. Quietly slipping out of bed in the Airbnb that Chris and I have been staying in, I tiptoe toward the window, drawing back the curtains to let in the faint light of dawn. 

Baltimore’s skyline stretches out before me, its familiar contours offering a sense of comfort amidst the lingering fear. I continue to tiptoe out of the room and head downstairs in the search for coffee. As I descend the stairs, the creaking floorboards echo through the quiet house. I feel a chill run down my spine, as if the nightmare is seeping into my waking moments. The lingering scent of brewed coffee draws me towards the kitchen, a beacon of warmth and solace. 

But as I walk into the kitchen, I freeze in my tracks. The coffee machine stands silent and still, its usual bubbling and brewing absent. I frown, a pang of disappointment settling in my chest. It seems even the simplest comforts were denied for me today. 

Just as I turn to leave, a soft voice startles me from behind. “Looking for this?” 

I spin around to see Chris standing there, awake and holding a steaming mug of coffee. I rest my red nailed hand against my racing heart and take a deep breath. 

“Babe, you scared me.” I say as I rush forward to take it from him. Cradling the warm ceramic in my hands, I meet his concerned brown eyes. 

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Chris begins but his words are cut off as he notices that I’m about to cry. “Hey. Shhhh. What’s the matter?” 

I look up at Chris, my eyes welling with tears. The remnants of the nightmare still clings onto me, refusing to loosen its grip on my mind. I take a shaky breath, struggling to find the words to express the overwhelming fear that’s consuming me. 

“I… I had a nightmare,” I finally manage to say, my voice trembling and breaking. “It was so vivid, Chris. I saw… I saw Marcus and Adrian, even though I know Adrian’s still in the hospital. They were in a chapel, their coffins opened and they accused me.” 

Chris wraps his arms around me, pulling me close and offering me the warmth and comfort I so desperately sought. His touch is soothing, his voice gentle as he leans in to whisper in my ear. 

“It was just a nightmare, baby,” He murmured, his words a balm against my tears. “You’re doing everything you possibly can for Adrian as he’s dealing with his illness and Marcus… Well, we both know what happened to him wasn’t your fault.” 

I nod, my tears staining Chris’s shirt. I know deep down that he’s right, but the nightmare had shaken me to my core. It feels as if the weight of the guilt and responsibility is suffocating me. 

“I know,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “But it’s hard not to blame myself for Marcus when he burned himself alive. I can’t help but always think that if I had done something differently, things would be different now.” 

Chris holds me tighter, his grip a lifeline amidst the storm of my emotions. He knows the pain I carry, the guilt that threatens to consume me. But he also knows that no amount of self-blame would be able to bring Marcus back or change the past and it’s his duty, as my partner, to remind me of that truth. 

“We all have regrets, Lycia,” He said softly. “But blaming yourself for Marcus’s tragic end won’t bring him back. You loved him fiercely and sometimes love isn’t enough to save someone from their demons.” 

I nod, my tears subsiding as I take in his comforting words and knowing that he’s right again. The burden of guilt is not my own to bear alone. Marcus did battle his demons and despite my love for him, I couldn’t have single-handedly rescued him from his pain. With a new found clarity, I wipe my tears and I look up at Chris. 

“Thank you,” I whisper, gratitude filling my voice. “Thank you for reminding me that I can’t always carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.” 

Chris smiles gently, his eyes filling with unwavering support. He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, his touch tender and reassuring. 

“You don’t have to face this alone,” He replies. “We’re in this together. Remember?” 

I nod, my heart swelling with love for the man standing before me. In this moment, I know that no matter what darkness comes our way, we will always be able to handle it together. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, feeling the weight of my nightmares beginning to lift from my shoulders. 

A moment of silence passes and I open my eyes again, I stare into the warm brown of Chris’s eyes, before setting down my coffee mug on the counter and I wrap my arms around his tattooed neck, my red nails running through his short purple hair. Chris gives a small hum and he leans closer into my touch. 

“I never told you how hard that day was,” I murmur, my voice soft as Chris looks at me. “The day I had to bury him. Marcus.” 

Chris holds me tighter, his heart aching for me as I take another breath before deciding to open up about the pain that I carry alone. He knows it’s time for me to share my burden, to release the weight of my unspoken words. 

“I can’t even begin to imagine,” Chris responds, his voice filled with empathy. “Tell me, Lycia Rose. Tell me about that day.” 

I steady myself before I begin to recount the painful memories that have haunted me for so long. 

“The day was cold and gray,” I begin, my voice trembling slightly. “The cemetery was quiet, almost eerily so. As I stood there, surrounded by mournful silence, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of guilt and sorrow.” 

I pause for a moment, memories flooding back to my mind like a torrential downpour. 

“I remember how hard it was to watch them lower Marcus’s casket into the ground,” I continue, tears threatening to spill from my eyes once more as a wave of grief passes through me. “I felt this overwhelming sense of loss, like a part of my soul was being buried alongside him.” 

Chris listens intently, his heart breaking for me as he realizes the depth of the pain I endured alone. 

“And when they handed me a handful of dirt to toss onto his casket, I couldn’t do it. Not because of the sadness that I felt, but also because I could hear Marcus’s family– his parents and sister, they were so angry with me. They blamed me for being the cause of his death and they humiliated me and I…” I feel tears slowly fall down my cheeks as I tighten my arms slightly around Chris’s neck. 

Chris holds me even closer, his heart aching for me as I relive the painful memories. He can’t imagine the weight of the guilt and shame I had to carry for so long. Gently wiping away my tears with his tattooed thumb, he speaks in a voice filled with compassion. 

“Oh, Lycia. I’m so sorry you had to experience that,” Chris murmured. “No one should have to endure such cruelty during such a difficult time– especially in a setting like a funeral service. You didn’t deserve any of it.” 

I nod, my throat tight with emotion. I have never shared these painful details with Chris before, even when we were first seeing each other. But now, as I feel his unwavering support and understanding, I know it’s time to let go of these burdens that have weighed me down for so long. 

“T-They blamed me for everything,” I whisper, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness. “They couldn’t see past their grief to understand that Marcus’s pain ran deeper than anyone could comprehend. And instead of offering compassion or trying to understand– they chose to direct their anger at me.” 

Chris tightens his grip around me, his heart heavy with the weight of my words. He knows all too well of the pain of being judged by others. But in that moment, he refuses to let me feel alone in my anguish. 

“Honey, you didn’t fucking deserve any of that,” Chris said firmly, his voice filled with conviction. “Marcus’s family was hurting and it was easier for them to blame rather than face the reality of what happened. You were there for him until the very end. You loved him and that love shouldn’t be tarnished by their ignorance.” 

I sigh as I begin to calm down, my tears once again start to dry as Chris continues to hold me close. I know that my ex-boyfriend’s family had been in an immense amount of grief but it didn’t make it any less hurtful. 

“I couldn’t understand why they blamed me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Why couldn’t they see that I didn’t cause his death? I wanted to help him, to save him from the darkness but I just… I couldn’t.” 

Chris presses a gentle kiss to my temple, his lips lingering against my skin for a moment before he speaks. 

“People often look for someone to blame, especially in the face of a tragedy,” He says, his voice soft and soothing. “It’s easier for them to find a target, rather than confront the difficult truth that sometimes we can’t save the ones we love, no matter how hard we try.” 

I nod, my heart finally finding solace in Chris’s words. I have carried the weight of this blame for far too long, blaming myself for something I have no control over. But now, with Chris by my side, I know I’m healing even if it takes one step at a time. 

Fire and ice

This love is like fire and ice

This love is like rain and blue skies

“But you know there is something good that came out of this,” Chris says as I look up at him, my yellow-green hazel eyes meeting his brown ones. “If you hadn’t gone through all of this, Lycia, I would have never met you– let alone fallen in love with you. Things would be totally different for you and I.” 

I smile through my lingering tears, my heart overflowing with gratitude for the man who stands before me. In that moment, I realize that all of the pain and heartache I endured did indeed bring me to this incredible love and understanding that I now have with Chris Motionless. Chris has not just become my rock, he’s my anchor and source of strength when I feel weakest. 

“You’re right,” I whisper as I trace my fingers along his tattooed neck, stroking the calligraphy lyric from “Saturday Night” by Misfits and his winged coffin tattoo with the most loving touch. “Meeting you, falling in love with you– It’s the silver lining in all of this darkness. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner to share this journey with than you, Chris Cerulli.” 

As the words leave my lips, I feel a wave of warmth wash over me. I smile at Chris, my heart filled with love and gratitude. He returns my smile, his brown eyes twinkling with affection. 

“And I couldn’t have asked for a better woman to be on this journey with than you, Lycia,” Chris whispers, gently caressing my face. “I’m so glad our paths crossed and I’m honored to be by your side, through all the ups and downs, good and bad.” 

With that, Chris lifts my chin and kisses me softly, our lips meeting with a tenderness that speaks volumes. The kiss was slow, filled with unspoken words of love and understanding. 

As we pull away, I wrap my arms around Chris once more, burying my face in his neck. I kiss along his tattooed skin all the way up to his cheek, my lips lingering on his jawline before I whisper: “I love you, Chris.” 

Chris wraps his arms around my waist and he kisses my forehead a few times, his heart swelling with emotion. 

“I love you too, Lycia,” He replies, his voice filled with sincerity. 

Before I can meet his lips in another passionate kiss, I hear my phone go off. I look at Chris and sigh as I pick it to see a text message from Nicholas: 

Hey, sis. I have a bit of bad news– Adrian’s condition has gotten worse overnight. The doctors have found an abscess in his right lung due to the pneumonia. He’s on a ventilator until they can take him in for surgery later on tonight. 

My hands start to shake as I read the words on my phone screen, my heart sinking with each passing second. Panic claws at my chest, threatening to suffocate me. I can’t lose another person that I love. Not after everything I’ve been through with Marcus. Chris notices the change in my demeanor, concern etches across his face. 

“What is it, baby?” He asks, his voice laced with worry. I struggle to find my voice, tears welling up in my eyes again. 

“It’s Adrian,” I manage to choke out. “He’s… He’s gotten worse.” 

Without hesitation, Chris takes my hand in his and he squeezes it lightly, he kisses the back of my hand as he offers a steadying presence amidst the chaos of emotions. 

“Tell your brother we’ll be there as soon as we can,” He said firmly. “And then after we go check on Adrian, I’m gonna take you out for a nice lunch and then we can come back here. I know how hard this has been for you and all I want is to take your mind off it. How does that sound?” 

I look into Chris’s eyes, grateful for his unwavering support and understanding. I nod, a mix of gratitude and worry etches on my face. Chris presses a comforting kiss on my forehead before we set our mugs in the sink and go upstairs to get ready. 

I put on some light make up and change from my pajamas to an oversized stone colored tee with a celestial design on the front and back from Nasty Gal, my wet look leggings from Black Milk Clothing, a pair of gold hoop earrings to match my wolf necklace and gold coffin ring and a pair of black faux leather boots and I put on a black beanie. 

As I’m finishing getting ready, I notice a flash of dark purple cross my vision when I look into the bathroom mirror. I turn around to see Chris holding my favorite flower, a Queen of The Night tulip in his hand. 

“Oh, Chris. Aren’t you just the sweetest?” I whisper as I blink away tears. Chris smiles warmly at me, he knows how much I adore Queen of The Night tulips and he wants to bring me a moment of joy amidst the chaos we’re facing. 

“Not as sweet as you are, my Lycia,” Chris replies, his voice filled with tenderness. “I just wanted to remind you that even in the darkest times, there is always beauty and love.” 

I take the tulip from Chris, holding it delicately in my hands. With a smile of my own, I lean in and press a soft kiss against his lips, savoring the taste of his sweetness mingling with the scent of the tulip. When we break apart, I tuck the tulip behind my ear. 

Together, we make our way to the hospital, our hands tightly intertwined. My heart races with a mix of fear and hope as we enter Adrian’s room. Tubes and machines surround him as well as an oxygen mask to help him breathe, the stark reminder of the fragility of life. Despite it all, Adrian lay there peacefully, his face serene in the midst of his battle, his long brown hair over his eyes. 

I spot Nicholas and Colin standing near the window, their gazes fixed on Adrian. Their eyes were both red-rimmed with worry and lack of sleep. When they notice us approaching, Nicholas turns to us with a weary smile. 

“Hey,” Nicholas whispers, his voice filled with exhaustion. “We’re glad you guys are here.” 

I embrace each of them tightly, trying to convey comfort through my touch as Chris stands beside them, offering silent support. They’re a united front in the face of adversity. 

“How is he?” I ask, my voice shaking. 

Nicholas sighs heavily as he looks at me before responding. “The doctors are doing everything they can but… It’s not looking good right now.” 

My heart sinks at Nicholas’s words, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I glance over at Adrian, his shallow breathing barely visible beneath the oxygen mask. The room is filled with an air of helplessness, each second ticking by with a sense of urgency and despair. 

This love is like sun on the rise

This love got me rolling the dice

Don't let me lose

Chris stands beside me, his presence a steady anchor amidst the storm. His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining in a comforting embrace. My thumb tracing the jack o’ lantern on the back of his left hand. 

Our eyes meet and we both know that no matter what happens, we will face it together. Love flows between us like a lifeline, providing strength and solace in the midst of uncertainty. 

As a few hours stretch on, Chris and I stay by Adrian’s side, our eyes never straying his fragile form. The beeping of monitors fills the room, creating a dissonant symphony that mirrors the tumultuous emotion swirling within it. 

Suddenly, a commotion at the door draws our attention. A team of doctors and nurses rush in, their urgent movements cutting through the heavy silence. My heart skips a beat, my grip on Chris’s hand tightening as fear grips me. 

One of the doctors, a middle-aged woman with dark skin and light brown hair and kind eyes, approaches us with a sympathetic smile. 

“My name is Dr. Lewis,” She introduces herself. “We have some news.” 

My heart pounds in my chest as I brace myself for whatever Dr. Lewis is about to say. Chris squeezes my hand reassuringly, silently reminding me that we’re in this together. 

“We managed to stabilize Adrian for now,” Dr. Lewis begins gently, her voice laced with caution and hope. “But he’s still in critical condition.” 

My breath catches in my throat as the news sinks in. I look at Chris, and he meets my gaze with a steady and supportive expression. Our hands are still entwined, a silent testament to the strength of our bond. 

“However,” continues Dr. Lewis, “We’ve made some progress in finding the source of the infection– which was indeed transmitted from a case of COVID-19, and we’re hoping to start treatment soon. It’s going to be a long road to recovery but we’re optimistic about Adrian’s chances.” 

My heart swells with gratitude at Dr. Lewis’s words, even as I still feel the weight of the situation hanging over us. I know that we have a long road ahead and every moment would be filled with both hope and terror. But with Chris by my side, I know I can face anything. 

Nicholas and Colin both share a brief moment of relief, though the worry lingers in their eyes. They know the fight isn't over yet, but they are glad for any sign of progress. 

“Thank you, doctor,” Nicholas says as Dr. Lewis nods and walks off to see the next patient. “Chris, why don’t you and Lycia go? Lycia, I’ll text you if there’s any updates.” 

I nod, squeezing Chris’s hand one last time before we walk out of the hospital room. I feel a mix of emotions– hope, fear, love. Chris leads me out, his hand still wraps around mine, guiding me gently towards the exit. 

As we leave the hospital, we find that the sky is beginning to darken and decide to grab the lunch we promised each other earlier. We find a small Italian restaurant that serves vegan options on the way back to the Airbnb and are led to a cozy table by the window. The warm atmosphere and the scent of garlic bread fills our senses as we both take a deep breath. 

“Are you hungry, honey? Or do you want to just sit here a while?” Chris asks, concerned as he reaches across the table and takes both of my hands in his, his thumbs tracing my moon tattoo on the corner of my right wrist and the red inked snake tattoo on my outer forearm. 

He can see the strain in my eyes, but he doesn’t want to push me too hard. I give Chris a grateful smile, my heart swelling with love for him. 

“I’m hungry,” I admit, my voice laced with exhaustion. “But more than anything, I just want to be here with you. To have a moment of peace from the chaos.” 

Still falling for you

Still falling for you

Beautiful mind

Chris nods understandingly, his brown gaze filled with tenderness. “Then let’s take this time to just be,” He replies softly. 

We sit in silence, our hands still intertwined, as we watch the world go by through the window. The sounds of laughter and chatter from other diners fill the air, creating a comforting backdrop to our shared moment of respite. 

Our plates arrive, steaming with delicious vegan food that fills the air with mouth watering aromas. My stomach growls, reminding me of my hunger. I can’t help but smile at the sight of food before me, grateful for this simple pleasure to get me away from the chaos. 

As we dig into our meal, the heaviness in our hearts begin to ease up ever so slightly. It’s moments like these– when we are allowed to forget, even just for a little while– that gives us the strength to keep fighting. 

I reach across the table and take a bite from Chris’s vegan pasta, a playful glimmer in my yellow-green hazel eyes. 

“Mm. This is amazing,” I say with a grin. “You always know how to find the best places.” 

Chris chuckles and nods in agreement. 

“It’s all about finding those hidden gems, babe,” He replies, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement. “And sharing them with you.” 

While we eat our meal, we keep our conversation light and Chris does everything he can to keep me smiling and laughing. After we pay the bill and leave the restaurant, I lightly squeeze his hand. 

“Before we head back to the Airbnb,” I say. “I want to go visit Marcus’s gravesite. I haven’t been there in a while.” 

Chris nods, understanding my need to go and visit the place where my ex now laid. As we walk toward the cemetery, hand in hand, I can feel my grief coming back– the memories of how cheerful Marcus had been when he was with me, before he lit himself on fire. As we approach the familiar white marble gravestone that reads: 

Marcus Luis Reyes

July 27th, 1984- March 14th, 2019

Devoted Son and Brother 

I take a deep breath and I let out a sob. 

“I can’t believe it’s been almost four years since he died,” I say, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I still miss him so much.” 

“Oh, my Lycia. Don’t cry,” Chris murmurs as he approaches me, wrapping his arms around me. 

“If it wasn’t for me, I know he would still be here,” I sniffle. “Maybe his family is right after all. I am the reason he’s dead.” 

Chris holds me tightly in his arms, brushing away my tears with his tattooed thumbs. 

“Lycia, babe, it’s not your fault,” He whispers into my hair, trying to calm the storm of emotions that threatens to consume me. “Marcus made his own choices, and we can’t blame ourselves for the actions of others. You loved him, and that doesn’t mean you caused his death.” 

He pulls back slightly so he can look into my yellow-green hazel eyes with the same love and comfort that he’d given to me. “The hardest part of grief is accepting that we can’t control even if we wish we could and honey, I know how hard that is for you. But you cannot hold onto that guilt, do you hear me? You were the one person who loved him enough to try and help him through his darkness and you did everything in your power to do so. That’s not something to be ashamed of. That’s something to be proud of, Lycia Rose.” 

I nod, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to clear my mind of the guilt that haunted me. I know that Chris is right, but it’s still a difficult thing to accept fully. 

Suddenly, it started to rain, the water droplets coating both me and Chris, my grief finally subsides and I smile as I remember when he and his band, Motionless In White had played a set at Inkcarceration Festival a few months back and it was raining heavily the entire day. My heart flutters in my chest as the thought of when Chris had pulled me aside into the rain and kissed me so deeply, it made me melt. 

Your heart gave me new kind of highs

Your heart got me feeling so fine

So what to do

Still falling for you

Still falling for you

Lost in the memory, I suddenly look up and see Chris’s reflection in the water droplets on my eyelashes. He gently reaches out and wipes them from my face with his black painted thumb, his eyes mirroring the same amount of love I feel for him. 

“No matter what, I will always catch you when you fall,” He said softly, his voice carrying a promise that makes my heart melt with gratitude and love. 

“I know you will, because there’s no one else in this world that I’d rather have caught me than you, Christopher Cerulli. I love you so much,” I whisper. 

Chris smiles at me, his heart warming at my words. He reaches up and carefully brushes a strand of my long caramel brown and purple hair from my face, tucking it gently behind my ear. “And I love you, Lycia, more than words can ever say.” 

He leans down and kisses me tenderly, our lips meeting in a tender and loving way. I wrap my arms around him, my fingers running through his short purple hair and down the back of his tattooed neck, he shivers at my fingernails brushing his skin as he deepens our kiss. 

As we stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the rain continues to pour down, washing away some of the pain I felt from my past. I close my eyes and let myself be lost in the moment, feeling the softness of Chris’s shirt against my skin and the warmth of his touch. 

Chris pulls back slightly, his brown eyes filled with a love so deeply, it makes my heart melt. 

“Would you like to go back to the Airbnb, baby?” He says, his voice soft and tender. 

I smile, my heart swelling with love for Chris. I nod and gently squeeze his hand. 

“Yes, let’s go back,” I reply, my voice filled with warmth. “I just want to chill in your arms.” 

Chris gives me a small sideways smile as he leads me back to the car, our hands still tightly locked together. The rain continued to pour as we drove back to the Airbnb.

When we arrive, I unlock the door and we walk inside, shaking off the rain as we enter. Once inside, I wrap my arms around Chris, my body shaking with the remnants of my tears. He holds me tightly, his chin resting on my hair after I’d taken off my beanie. We stand like that for a moment, just enjoying the warmth of our embrace. 

“Do you want to take a shower together?” Chris asks, his voice gentle. “Maybe it’ll help you feel better.” 

I nod, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. The idea of sharing such an intimate moment under the warm rush of water sounded comforting, a way to wash away the lingering sadness and worry of the day that still clings to me. 

We make our way to the bathroom, our footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting as we slowly undress. Chris turns on the shower, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right- warm and soothing. I step in first, letting the water cascade down my body, feeling its weight ease the tension off my muscles.  

Chris joins moments later, his presence filling the small space with a sense of intimacy that only we can share. He wraps his tattooed arms around me from behind, pulling me close as we stand beneath the steady stream of water. I lean into his embrace, feeling the strength and warmth of his body against mine. 

It took us a while

With every breath a new day

With love on the line

We've had our share of mistakes

Chris kisses a path from my shoulder, all the way up to my neck and to my earlobe, his warm breath on my skin making me shiver slightly. His hands trace my fox and deer antler tattoos before he rubs my breasts. 

“That’s right, beautiful. Relax,” Chris murmurs as he kisses the side of my throat as he continues to massage my skin. “Let go of everything that’s troubling you right now. Just stay in this moment with me.” 

I close my eyes, allowing Chris’s words to wash over me, grounding me in the present. The water continues to pour down on us, a steady rhythm that matches the beating of our hearts. I let go of everything else, giving myself fully to the moment and to the love that I share with Chris as he washes my hair and body. 

After we’re clean, we step out of the shower and wrap ourselves in towels. He then takes both of my hands and walks me back into the bedroom of our Airbnb, where the king sized bed is waiting for us. 

Chris suddenly and playfully pushes me on my back on the bed after we have changed into our comfortable clothes for the night, making me giggle as I look up at him and I signal to him with my finger to come to me and he slowly obliges with a chuckle of his own. 

Chris gets into bed with me, wrapping his tattooed arms around me as I lay my head on his bare tattooed chest, my fingers trace the unfinished haunted house tattoo on his chest and stomach. 

We lay there in silence for a while into the night, wrapped in each other’s embrace while the storm continued outside of our Airbnb, rain pelting against the window panes. I smell his familiar scent of cologne, coffee and a hint of pumpkin spice and I relax into his body. 

“Lycia?” Chris asks as I hum in response into his skin. “Tell me, what do you love most about me?” 

I grin as I look up at him, my chin resting on his chest. “Holy shit, thanks for that,” I say as he laughed softly. 

“For what?” He replies. 

“For that really big question,” I continue. “There are so many things that I love you for, if I were to tell you, it would take all night.” 

‘“Let me hear every single one of them,” He whispers as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Make me fall in love with you all over again.” 

And just like that

All I breathe

All I feel

You are all for me

My eyes sparkle as I think about all the things that I love most about Chris. I lean in and kiss him for a second before I decide to speak. 

“Where do I start?” I murmur, smiling up at him. “I love the way your eyes light up when you’re performing on stage and how you always make me laugh with your goofy jokes.” 

Chris chuckles, nodding. “Go on.” 

“I love the way you take care of me, how you listen to me when I’m feeling down and help me see the good in things,” I continue, my voice soft and tender. “And I love how you can be both strong and gentle, fierce and caring all at the same time.” 

Chris leans down, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Keep going, babe. I want to hear everything.” 

I close my eyes, basking in the warmth of his touch. “I love the way your voice sounds when you sing, the way your brown eyes shine like melted chocolate and the way your tattooed arms hold me close.” I whisper. “I love the way you cook and the fact that you’re a total nerd when it comes to video games and hockey.” 

I laugh softly as I look at him, my hand moving up to caress his face. “And most of all, I love you for who you are, Chris. Whether you’re Chris Motionless or just being my Chris, you will always be the man of my dreams.” 

Chris smiles, his heart swelling with love. He kisses me deeply, pouring all of his emotion into that moment. 

“Lycia,” He begins, his voice a mixture of tenderness and devotion. “I promise to always be here for you, to support you in everything that you do as a photographer. I will be your rock, your confidant, and your biggest fan. I will make you laugh when you’re sad and hold you tight when the world feels overwhelming and I promise to love you fiercely, with every beat of my heart.” 

Before I can speak, a deafening crash of thunder echoes through the room and jolts us from our reverie. I instinctively cling tighter to Chris, seeking solace in his embrace as my scream is muffled into the sheets below. 

“Shh, honey. It’s just a storm,” He murmurs into my hair, his voice soothing and steady. “You’re safe with me, I’ve got you in my arms.” 

You are all for me

I'm in

And just like that

All I breathe

All I feel

As the storm intensifies, Chris decides to distract me from my anxiety over thunderstorms while he’s holding me and whispering comforting words to me. He reaches over to the nightstand and pulls out a deck of playing cards, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Hey, how about we play a game to take our minds off the storm?” He suggests, with a playful smile curling on his lips. I look up at him, my eyes still wide with unease. But I can't resist his infectious enthusiasm. With a hesitant nod, I agree. 

Chris shuffles the cards expertly, his tattooed fingers moving with precision and speed. He deals us each a hand, our fingers brushing against each other with every card that’s put on the bed sheet between us. 

“What happens if I win?” I say softly as I look into Chris’s eyes. 

“If you win, I’ll spend the rest of tonight kissing every inch of you,” Chris whispers, seductively. 

I blush, a mixture of excitement and nerves coursing through my veins. I have always loved the way that Chris kisses me, his lips so tender and yet full of passion. The thought of him showering me with kisses all night makes my heart race. 

“And what if you win?” I ask, trying to hide my anticipation. 

A devilish grin spreads across Chris’s face as he leans in closer to me, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. 

“If I win,” He says, tracing circles on the back of my hand with his index finger. “You have to fulfill one fantasy of mine.” 

My eyes widen, a mixture of curiosity and excitement dancing in my gaze. I bite my lip, feeling a course of adrenaline coursing through me. 

“And what might that be?” I whisper, my voice barely audible above the sound of the rain pouring against the window. Chris leans in even closer, his warm breath brushing against my ear as he speaks. 

“I want to blindfold you,” He murmurs, his voice dripping with desire. My breath hitches at his words. The thought of surrendering control to Chris ignites a fire within me. I gaze into his eyes, seeing the desire mirrored in their depths. 

“Deal,” I whisper back, my voice laced with anticipation. Chris leans back and continues the game of cards. 

You are all for me

No one can lift me, catch me the way that you do

I'm still falling for you

We play onward, our focus shifting from the storm raging outside to the intense competition between us. Each hand we play is an opportunity for laughter, teasing and stolen glances. As the game wears on, the tension in the room grows, matching the intensity of the storm. 

Eventually, I find myself on the verge of victory. My final card lays the key to winning the game but as I reach to lay it down, an enormous crash of thunder shakes the Airbnb, the lights flicker before plunging us into darkness. 

Startled, I gasp and instinctively reach for Chris, seeking comfort in his touch. At this moment, the reality of our situation sinks in. The storm has knocked out the power, leaving us in complete darkness. 

Chris holds me tightly and whispers reassurances in my ear. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll find a way through this. We just have to stick together.” 

I nod against his chest as I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself amidst the darkness and uncertainty. I realize that this unexpected turn of events could be an opportunity to strengthen our bond even farther. 

Brighter than gold

This love shining brighter than gold

This love is like letters in bold

This love is like out of control

With newfound determination, I make a decision. “Chris,” I say firmly. “Let’s continue our game by candlelight.” 

A smile spreads across Chris’s face as he realizes the significance of my words. Without hesitation, he releases his grip on me and fumbles through the darkness until he finds a box of matches. He strikes one against the rough surface, and a flickering flame illuminates the room. 

As the candlelight bathes the room in a warm glow, I feel a surge of courage. I reach for Chris’s hand, intertwining my fingers with his and lead him back to the edge of the bed where we have been playing. 

With the deck of cards in hand, we sit down cross-legged from each other. The flickering flame casts dancing shadows across our faces as we resume our game. As the final card is placed on the bed sheet, I hold my breath, hoping for a miracle but luck isn’t on my side tonight. 

“Full house,” Chris declares, his brown eyes gleaming with triumph. My heart sinks as I realize that I lost the game. A mixture of excitement and nervousness fills the air as Chris retrieves a black silk blindfold from the nightstand drawer. 

My hands tremble as he places it over my eyes, blocking out my sight. The anticipation grows with each passing second, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. 

“Trust me, honey,” Chris whispers into my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine as he slowly undresses me. “I promise you’ll enjoy every moment.” 

This love is never growing old

You make it new

Still falling for you

Still falling for you

I nod, placing all my trust in him. I’m ready to surrender myself completely to his desires. He guides my trembling hands to the headboard, securing them as well with black silk restraints. I feel both vulnerability and excitement coursing through me as he tightens each knot. 

Once I’m securely tied to the headboard, I feel a surge of anticipation. The darkness heightens my senses, making every touch and sound more electrifying. I can hear Chris moving around the room, the rustling of fabric and the click of a drawer being open. 

Then suddenly, there’s silence. My breath heightens as I wait for Chris’s next move. Time seems to stretch on endlessly in the darkness until finally, I hear his voice, low and husky. 

“I want you to feel everything,” He says, his words sending a shiver down my spine. “Every touch, every caress, every sensation.” 

My heart races as I feel something soft and silky slide across my skin– the touch of feathers. They trail along my arms and thighs, leaving a set of goosebumps in their wake. I squirm against the restraints, yearning for more. Chris continues to explore my body with feather-light touches, his every movement precise and calculated. 

I can hardly contain my excitement as I feel the feather dance across my nipples and around my fox and deer antler tattoos, sensing a jolt of pleasure through my whole being. 

As Chris continues to tease me with the feathers, I couldn’t help but wonder what other sensations he has in store for me. 

I can hear the sound of something being uncapped and then a cool, viscous liquid dripping onto my skin. I shiver, both from the sensation and the anticipation of what was to come. My breath hitches once more as the liquid trickles down my skin, leaving a trail of coolness in its wake. 

Chris’s whispered words echo in my mind: “I want you to feel everything.” 

And feel everything I did. As he runs his fingers lightly over the now sensitive areas covered in that cooling liquid. I can feel every sensation heightened. Each touch sends shivers down my spine and my desire for him grows with each passing second. 

Chris’s voice breaks through the silence, his low words sending another shiver down my spine. “Allow me to show you how much I desire you.” 

The sound of fabric being rustled fills the room, and then I feel something soft and velvety against my lips. I open my mouth to take it in, my tongue eager for the taste of whatever it is. As I do, the flavor of vegan chocolate explodes in my mouth. It’s rich and decadent, and as it melts, I feel a warmth spreading through my body. 

As the chocolate lingers on my tongue, I feel a change in the air. The silence is broken by the sound of Chris’s deep breaths, growing heavier with each passing moment. And then suddenly, I feel his lips on mine. 

The kiss is passionate and hungry, our tongues dancing together as our bodies press against each other. I moan into Chris’s mouth, the sensation making my heart race even faster. His hands caress my skin, sending waves of pleasure throughout my body. I can feel every inch of his body against mine, every muscle tight and defined. 

As our kiss deepens, Chris’s hands begin to explore my body, finding the sensitive spots that make shivers run down my spine. His hands trace over the curve of my neck, down my chest, where he massages each of my breasts, and over my heart, his touch sending sensations that threaten to consume me. 

With love on the line

What if we both would need more

But all your flaws and scars are mine

Once again, I hear the sound of fabric rustling and then the sensation of something cool and soft against my skin. As Chris removes the blindfold from my eyes, I gasp at the sight before me. The room is now completely covered in candlelight, illuminating every detail of our passionate encounter. Chris stands before me in nothing more than his black boxer briefs, his muscles rippling with desire. 

Seeing him like this, I feel the need to reach out and touch him, explore every inch of his body as he had explored mine now that he has let me free of my restraints. I reach out and wrap my fingers around his waist, pulling him towards me. I playfully grip his boxer briefs, pulling them down to reveal his hard member, standing proud against his body. 

Without hesitation, I take him in my mouth, my tongue swirling around his head as I suck gently. I hear a groan escape from Chris as pleasure takes over him, his hands gripping the side of the headboard. 

“Fuck, Lycia, your mouth,” Chris moans as I relish in the taste of him, the salty sweetness of his skin mixing with the aroma of arousal. I suck harder, my mouth moving up and down on him in a frenzied rhythm, my tongue darting out to tease and torment him. 

And just like that

All I breathe

All I feel

You are all for me

I'm in

Chris moans louder, his hips bucking involuntarily as he lets himself be consumed by the sensation of my mouth on his length. I can feel his desire building within me, the waves of pleasure washing over me as I continue to pleasure him. I want to feel him inside of me, to be at one with him in the most intimate way possible. 

I release him from my mouth, eyes locking with his, filled with a hunger for him that I’ve never experienced before. 

Chris crawls back onto the bed and we continue exploring each other’s bodies, I want more. I need more. I know that Chris is the only one who can satisfy my desires, who could fulfill any fantasy of mine. 

“Take me,” I whisper hoarsely, as my eyes lock onto Chris’s as I spread my legs wide, the candlelight giving my phoenix tattoo on my hip an ethereal glow as I invite him in. Chris doesn’t need to be told twice. He positions himself at my entrance, our bodies aligned perfectly. 

After taking a moment to breathe deeply, Chris thrusts himself inside me and I gasp loudly at the intense sensation that washes over me. It’s everything I hoped for after such an intimate night like this one. Our bodies move together in perfect sync as we find our rhythm. 

Chris’s breath is ragged as he pounds into me, his body a blur of motion. I moan with each thrust, the feeling of him inside me making me crave more and more. My legs wrap around his waist, guiding him deeper as I want him to take me fully. As we continue our passion, I can feel Chris’s body tremble against mine as I dig my nails into his back, knowing that he’s close. 

And then, as if on cue, he groans loudly into my neck and his body stiffens as he slams into me one last time. I feel him pulse inside of me, his seed spilling deep inside me. I clench around him, wanting to milk every last drop. As he pulls out, I can feel the remnants of our lovemaking dripping down my thighs. 

I wrap my tired arms around Chris’s neck and I sigh softly as I hold him close to me. 

“Well, I hope that fulfills your fantasy, babe.” I murmur as Chris chuckles into my skin, his forehead resting up against mine and our noses touch. 

“You always seem to have the best one liner when we make love,” Chris whispers as his fingers tickle my sides, making me giggle. 

“I think it’s because I have the best partner when we make love,” I say softly as I glance over at him. 

Chris can’t help but smile at my words. He knows that our love is something special, something that can’t be found anywhere else. He leans in to kiss me, his lips brushing lightly against mine. 

“I think you’re right,” He whispers. “We make quite the pair.” 

“We certainly do,” I reply as I run my fingers through his purple hair. Chris looks down at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and lust. As we lay there, our bodies still entwined, he begins to stroke my hair. 

“You know I’ve never had a partner quite like you,” He says softly, his voice filled with an emotion that I can’t quite place. 

I look up at him, my eyes shining with love and adoration. “And I’ve never had a partner quite like you either,” I reply. 

There’s a moment of silence as we both take in the gravity of their words. Chris leans in and kisses me gently on the lips, his tongue gently exploring my mouth. I moan softly, my body responding to his touch. 

You are all for me

No one can lift me, catch me the way that you do

I'm still falling for you

“I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you,” He whispers. “I’ve never felt like this before.” 

I smile at Chris and whisper back, “I feel the same way. You make me feel like the luckiest person in the world.” 

I rest my head on the center of Chris’s chest, my fingers trace down the tattoos on his arm in a slow but loving pattern, I place kisses on his skin. 

“I love you,” Chris says, his voice low and husky, his eyes lock on mine. I look up at him with a soft smile crossing my lips. 

“I love you too,” I whisper, my voice barely above a whisper. Chris smiles down at me as he continues to stroke my caramel brown and purple hair. 

“I could stay like this forever,” He murmurs, his voice filled with contentment. 

“Me too,” I reply as I nuzzle myself into him, kissing his tattooed throat a few times. “Mmm. You’re so warm, babe. Why are you so warm? I love it.” 

Chris chuckles as he runs his fingers through my hair again as he responds: “Well, honey, maybe that’s because I’m so happy to be with you.” 

I giggle, my eyes sparkling as I look at him. “I’m happy to be with you too, you know that. But, seriously, why are you so warm?” 

Chris grins, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. “I think it’s because I’m always thinking of you, my sweet Lycia,” He leans down to whisper in my ear. “And you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” 

I blush, my cheeks flushing pink as I continue to giggle. “You’re seriously a dork, Chris Motionless. But that’s what I love about you.” 

Chris laughs with a fond smile on his face, his voice rumbling through the room. "Well, I could say the same about you, Lycia Rose. Your dorkiness is one of the things I love most about you."

I playfully punch him in the arm, my eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Ow, babe. What was that for?" Chris says, laughing as he gently rubs his arm.

"Just because you're always teasing me doesn't mean I always have to put up with it." I retort, a playful grin on my face.

Chris pulls me close, causing me to giggle as he whispers, "I know, but you love it, don't you?"

I sigh, melting into his embrace as I reply, "Yes, maybe I do."

I love how I feel being in his arms, how his warmth enveloped me like a blanket. I love how his lips taste, how his fingers feel on my skin. I love how he makes me feel alive, how he gives me a purpose, a reason to keep going.

Falling, crash into my arms

Love you like this

Like a first kiss

Never let go

Chris's brown eyes are fixated on me, a look of pure adoration that makes my heart flutter. I smile softly at him as I rest my cheek on his chest, my fingers moving through his purple hair as I hum to myself.

I move my head and start to kiss the haunted house tattoo on his chest, I watch as Chris closes his eyes and holds me closer to him.

"Seus braços são meu santuário e meu coração sempre será seu, amor." I whisper in perfect Portuguese as I trace his tattoos. Chris opens one brown eye and looked at me.

"What did you say, honey?" He asks softly as I shift so my forehead is touching his, I caress his face with one single finger, a loving smile crosses my face.

"Your arms are my sanctuary and my heart will always be yours, love." I say into his lips.

Chris can't help but feel a wave of emotion wash over him as I speak these words. He pulls me closer, wrapping his arms completely around me as he holds me tightly.

"I love you too, babe," He whispers, his voice hardly above a whisper. "You will always be my Lycia. Never forget that."

I smile up at Chris, my eyes filled with love and adoration.

"I'll never forget, Chris. I promise." I say softly as I keep tracing his haunted house chest tattoo.

I lean in to kiss him again but my phone buzzed, I sigh and moved away from Chris, I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed it to see a text message from my brother, Nicholas.

Hey, Lycia. Just checking in and wanted to tell you some great news-- Adrian is out of surgery, he's breathing on his own and he'll be able to go home tomorrow.

Relief floods through me and I hug my phone to my bare chest. My little brother is going to be okay.

As my heart swells with relief, I can't help but let a small tear slip down my cheek. Chris notices the change in my demeanor and gently wipes away the tear, his tattooed fingers tender and loving.

"That's wonderful news," He says, his voice filled with empathy.

I nod, choking back my emotions. I look up at Chris with grateful eyes.

"Thank you for being here for me, for being my rock through all of this." I whisper, my voice barely audible.

Chris smiles at me softly, his brown eyes never leaving mine. "Honey, there's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here by your side. You and I will always get through anything that comes our way, because we will always have strength in each other."

I feel a warmth in my chest as his words sank in. I know that he's right; together we can handle anything that comes our way. I look into his eyes, my feelings for him growing stronger by the second.

"You have no idea how much that means to me, Chris," I whisper, my voice trembling with emotion. "You are my rock, my strength, and my everything. I love you so much."

Chris's heart swells at my words. He leans in and kisses me softly, his lips lingering on mine as if trying to absorb every ounce of my love. "And I love you more, Lycia. We'll face this together, just like everything else we've faced together. We'll come out stronger because of it."

I can't help but smile at his words. I know he's right; we would face everything together.

Chris scoops me back into his arms, making me giggle as he lays back in the bed with me once more. He brings the sheets up around us again, I settle perfectly in his arms and I snuggle into him.

As the night continued, I feel a deep sense of peace and contentment wash over me. I know exactly where I'm meant to be. In Chris Motionless's arms, surrounded by love and warmth. As we lay there and finally settle into sleep, I can't help but look forward to the next adventures that we'd embark on together and the strength we would find in each other along the way.

And just like that

All I feel is you

All I feel is you

You are all for me

I’m still falling ...

And just like that

All I feel is you

All I feel is you

You are all for me

No one can lift me, catch me the way that you do

I’m still falling for you…

[devil-doll13]

Graves of The Father

Tw: Angst, Horror, Death, Blood/Slight Gore, Implied Neglect/Abuse kinda?, Descriptions Of Corpses/Body Horrorish, like it gets a wee bit disgusting, Mentions of Birth, Religious Themes

Proceed With Caution!

I’m rather proud of this one, actually. It’s the most horror oriented fic i’ve made for Abigail yet. Some backstory/lore in here. A bit Lovecraftian but only a little. I’m still experimenting here lol.

Horror/Slasher Oc Writing For Abigail Williams

Basically a songfic, lyrics are in italics

Summary: Abigail & Her Father.

Dividers by firefly-dividers

Art by Takato Yamamoto

Sextons of the churchyard

Have seen unblessed things;

Ground no longer hallowed

Has sprouted new graves

Lucina Williams was found dead at 6:27, on a frosty November morning, in Salem, Massachusetts, in an old, weathered cemetery. She lay in the befouled hollow of an aged grave, her glassy eyes rolled back, convulsing in agony. And yet her face was twisted in an unnerving smile, disturbingly serene. She had died in a state of euphoric bliss. Happiness so unnatural, so completely grotesque, that her face had to be covered up in pictures; for the elderly gravekeeper’s state of mind. He had seen many awful things in his lifetime, but none so horrifying as this.

Lucy was buried in that very same churchyard. Her lonely grave untended to, unloved. No mourners or flowers were ever present, for she was disowned for some despicable deed the family would not speak of. Only that they were certain, absolutely so, that she had been taken in by the Devil; Lucy was pure evil.

The child she had given birth to, a pale, frightful specimen, was later christened Abigail. Her conception profane, her birth unnatural, her existence forbidden. A daughter of the grave, a creature born outside of God’s holy light. The wretched girl began her unfortunate life in shame. In the ever looming shadow of her mother’s sins, unable to redeem herself. A blight unto all; the final curse of a dying witch.

(The art of veneficium, Lucy learned from Him.)

Blasphemy made flesh. Ungodly freak, dark defiler. She poisons the family tree. The cuckoo in the nest. The snake in the grass. The fatal tumour.

The holy Father, not her Father, condemns her to eternal damnation, for rotten children do not deserve heaven. To plead for salvation is hopeless; there is no God who could give her purity back.

She simply should not exist.

(All of this, she has been told.)

Her family are repulsed by her, instinctively, but compelled by unknown forces to shelter her. They die one by one, at her unwilling command.

… But as a young girl she lives in merciful innocence. She knows not what she does, lost in her world of make believe. Strange yet wondrous creatures speak to her in the darkened night, as she dreams of flying amongst the glittering stars. Waving silver wands, casting magic spells. Dancing with dryads under the pale moonlight, enchanted by faeries; elven beings only she can see.

For if anyone were to turn their uncursed eye upon such abominations, madness would destroy them.

(Her older cousins, aged seven and eight, refused to speak of the incident. They refused to speak at all. Until death.)

Descendants of a clan

That usurped maternity

Hear whispers in their blood;

This summons of their fathers.

In a loveless home, she yearns for love, as all God’s children do. But cold hearts yield only emptiness, and hateful whispers spur her on to look elsewhere.

The graveyard beckons, begs her to draw closer. An almost desperate compulsion. Homesickness. As she walks amongst decaying tombstones, she hears ghostly whispers call out, and feels wraithlike fingers comb through her hair. A spectral voice cries out for sweet nourishment; she offers it her milk to pacify.

There, in the dark recesses of the churchyard’s ancient yew tree, she begs for comfort. She lies coiled as foul, egg despoiling serpent.

(As in the garden of Eden, she is the great deceiver.)

Inside she feels the thrum of an old God’s heartbeat. It exactly mirrors her own; an inherited resonance.

So powerful is this connection, she sees in her mind’s eye the unearthly form of the Father. The yew tree His outstretched hand, their gnarled, malformed branches His fingers, toxic sap His blood, unending roots His veins from which His dark ichor pulsates.

Her fingers trace the ancient bark, recounting primordial treelore. Her blood stirs with eldritch knowledge. Visions echo from another world far back behind her eyelids and inside her mind, as the Father summons her from deep below.

(Far from God’s condemning eye.)

“Forgive me Father

For I know not what I do;

My grave beckons

As irresistible as drawing breath.”

In the old yew she sleeps and dreams of His majesty. The Underworld, home of the blessed dead. Outside of this mundane plane of existence, his shadowy domain. It is a labyrinth of catacombs, endless and unfathomable. It eternally devours itself, serpentine; the cycle of life and death unfolding. Forever.

She peers into the gaping maw of Hades, in which the Great Gravekeeper resides. He sits upon a throne of misshapen yew, a monstrosity of wood and decayed flesh, and He is wreathed in bloodsoaked thorns and cloaked in an abyssal shroud. Atop His massive head rests His magnificent Crown of Horns.

The spirits of the departed kneel before Him in worshipful devotion, their servile offerings reek foul miasma. They chant in feverish orations, invoking His accursed epithet:

(Father of The Graves. None So Vile.)

His true name is unspeakable in human tongue, yet it throbs deeply in her soul, as familiar as her own.

His countless reptilian eyes turn to watch her in curious amusement. Her body shivers, an instinctive fear. The Father observes His daughter, and in recognition, He reaches out an ashy, skeletal hand for her to grasp. It is kindly, almost gentle. Loving.

… But every time she awakes in tormented screams. Her mortal brain is seized by otherworldly forces. Inside her witchblood boils with poison. She feels unbearably empty. The hollowness is agonising; she does not belong here. But there, by her Father’s side.

(And yet, she serves a purpose here, for He would not create without reason. Between life and death, she acts as His median emissary.)

Nature abhors a vacuum

The same is true to a tomb…

A vacant grave must be filled,

For this the Father’s will.

On Hallowe’en, she prepares for the welcoming feast.

The chosen victim lies screaming on the altar, gutted in ritual sacrifice. Arterial blood fills the chalice, spilling onto her conjuring sigil. A sickly green cloud of smoke emanates from within; The Dark Ones are appeased. She murmurs incantations, praying in an eldritch language. Her Father’s tongue.

Another shrill shriek of pain fills the air as she continues the disembowelment. Unflinching, she rips through soft flesh; carving out her choicest cuts. They cry and beg her to stop, to please god stop and oh god please stop like a bleating, pathetic lamb.

(“Be quiet.” She hisses. She must have silence.)

Candles flicker, wavering in the late October wind. Thunder cracks the livid sky, wild forks of lightning split across a hellish landscape of her own design. Acid rain floods a barren wasteland, corrupting the once fertile soil and disintegrating crops to dust. There is no escape. Under His reign, all will wither.

A gaping chest wound as she extracts the heart, relishing in the final cry of a slaughtered pig. For a moment she holds it, admiring the coveted organ. Dark, warm rivulets of blood flow across her palms and through her fingers. Pure and untainted. So unlike her own.

The first time she has killed with her own hands.

(It felt good to be cruel. To eat her guilt and shame.)

She turns back to her altar, prepares the sacrament:

A black box, dripping vile fluids; her phylactery. Her shadowed grimoire, bound in dark, hard leather. Nightshade, hemlock, aconite. An hourglass of ash, pilfered from a funeral urn. An assortment of bones, human and animal. Her ritual sickle, seeped in gore and entwined in snakeskin. Objects of witchcraft.

Now joined by the heart, lungs, stomach, the entrails, the severed head and the tormented soul. All them are hers now. Her cabalistic hoard. Madness overtakes her then. It spikes in her brain like fever. She grasps the overflowing cup of blood with one pale, bony hand. And, with a decadent sigh, tips it into her open mouth. It trickles slowly into her throat. She swallows it. It tastes like copper, like iron, like death; a flavour gone sweetly rancid.

(She is without mercy. Without compassion. The Father’s will is absolute. She will sow the bitter seeds of His funeral empire and be rewarded in death.)

Sired in blasphemy

In nocturnal obeisance to rotted hearts

Filled with necrolatry

Reverse the life cycle, be reborn through death

Now the time has come. She must reap her harvest.

Autumn’s frost bites her face. A deathly chill pierces her bones, but she does not shiver. She is serene, so oddly calm in her unraveling mind. Twisted, maligned branches of the old yew tree find her again and guide her to the cobwebbed graveyard.

Under the midnight sky, the tombstones appear as a sea of desolate grey waves, blanketed in fog like a funeral shroud. In that misty gloom, she walks amidst weeping spirits. They reach out with icy phantom limbs, offering up sepulchral hymns to their unholy lich mistress, they plead for their salvation; to be granted life once again.

(For the first time she will answer their prayers.)

Tonight, she will pervert life’s sacred order. Tonight, she will defy the righteous fury of God. Tonight, the Father’s will is to be carried out, as the once dead shall be reborn from the womb of the earth and usurp the living. By His will. By her will.

A moment of silence as she contemplates the vastness of her actions now, the end result of a perfect tantrum. She remembers all the faces turned away, all that would sneer at her demise. All of the fear, disgust and hatred, eyes seething and spiteful. Their eyes. Her eyes.

Blackened slivers of ichor drip from her sickle. Her own blood, her venom. So impure, so violently cancerous. It taints the consecrated land below. Theirs. Hers.

(Its blade reflects the moonlight, pale and haunting.)

And so from her lips spills a forbidden spell. Her cursed blood is absorbed into putrid grass, where it slowly coagulates into an obsidian snake. It slithers downward, downward, downward, into the many awaiting, hungry mouths of a thousand corpses.

From below an eerie moan. Singular, then multiplied. A foul odour wafts through the air as the tombs unseal, dark fog swirling in a shadowy haze. The Underworld exhale, from the filth they emerge:

Undead victims of plague, riddled with disease, lift their filthy, maggot-infested bodies from the infected earth. A writhing mass of baleful poxflesh, leaking yellowed pus and choked with vomit. Frenzied, murderous abominations scream in rage and bloodlust, tearing apart coffin lid and shattering tombstone to dust. Withered and shambling corpses groan in despair, ravenous victims of starvation. Their mortal hunger torments them still. They salivate and froth desperately at the mouth, crying in their desire to consume flesh and suck marrow from bone; to devour utterly. The drowned are bloated, soaked in embalming fluids. Their skin is cold and their lips are blue. They are still. Lifeless, glassy eyes stare up at the evil moon. Frozen. Possessed.

(Pestilence. War. Famine. Death.)

Observing her resurrected horde, she is filled with an intense feeling of power. It is intoxicating, so alluring. She reaches up an outstretched hand, as the malevolent puppet master, and they are forced to dance for her on invisible strings. Her magic binds their souls in eternal undying servitude. Pawns of her twisted vision, ensnared in her web, bewitched by her black sorcery. They shall all be as one. Necromantic slaves. Forever in her chains.

The Witching Hour bell tolls, thirteen times, as it did on the eve of her birth. The dead surround her in undivine mass; their vile priestess. They lift her onto many decrepit, rotted shoulders, and upon her head they crown a wreath of thorns, a halo of briar and sin. Her face is white, vacant. She no longer feels pain.

Infernal legions rise. Under her command, they begin their dread march. Onward, towards the apocalypse.

(No regrets. No going back. The end has begun.)

Her tears flow freely now, her body numb with cold. She recites in hushed whispers a final invocation, one final goodbye:

“Forgive me Father,

For I know not what I do;

I leave a void to fill one,

Hear my prayers from far below…”

Once I finally get around to writing that backstory fic it’ll add more context to this one. Thanks for reading!

(Taglist: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood, @goldrose-star, @soupbabe, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @solmints-messyocdiary)

[uchiha-7thsingularity]

Fire on Fire (Rime x MC)

Wanted to do a songfic. Tried my best. Guess this is an early valentine's day fic. Might do one for that day. And one for felix with the song "You're so beautiful" but I am busy with exams. Wanted to try this writing prompt out. Might write for arcana later and my oc's origin.

Shooting stars miles away glisten the skyline. 

The black void???…

….umbra??……

…Twilight abyss?

In the dusk of midnight, a hollow stillness consumes the dimly lit halls of Black Thorne, gentle strides headed straight for the estates outdoors.

*thump* 

~creak 

(...) 

Pleased as ever by the fresh midnight breeze wafting his unnerved soul, rime proceeds to escort himself to the edge of the pond lily. Head forward and shoulders straight, his white-tipped nose twitches, as his brow furrows on the nightmare he had moments beforehand. 

White ashes fell from the crimson sky, bloody mournfall shattered, the undead corpses wailing all around. His fingers were numb. Heart beating rapidly in his eardrums like open gunfire across the battlefield. Breath sinking inside his clamped, dry throat waiting to break apart at any waking second. 

For five years. Rime wasn't kidding about crawling through nine levels of hell to escape to his past life…waiting for him. Or, so he assumed. In all honesty, the life before himself was a shitshow, since YOU appeared in his stead. Gaining his relic by sheer luck. Seeing his old pals (what's left of them) gather to lay their lives for a mere wannabe; try hard. A payaso! Worst. If nothing else to be stolen of his existence. Watching Felix (his ex-lover, friend, and colleague) dove head first into a full-on companionship with a past image of the man he used to strive to be. Chimed under his cold breath, "Mother always said I'm to romantic for my own good will."  For his household. For his found family. For his felix. Personally, for himself. 

Blossoms flourished in the greenhouse with a polished elegant color palette of warm tones in the spring season. Water droplets pitter-pattered against the stone floor and whiffs of lavender stealing the breath of an undead man. In a heartbeat, rime strided onto the floating stones toward the white-pillared done towering above the pond's clear surface. He slowly sucked in a breath, his long lashes fluttering at the greenery before him. The area felt like a solitude of peace.

Still; uplifting.

Calm; quiet.

Contentis ; is never-ending.

In conclusion, nothing precious in the end….story of his life. His ears drooped, flicking at the noises of nature surrounding him and the cursed manor. "Now fucking what?", his voice slithers upon death ears. Soft clicks skip across the pond's watery path toward him with a hollow echo. His fluffy ears flick leaving him to roll his shoulders back and straighten for his unwanted associate.

In retrospect, you had woken from a nap earlier to be relieved of exhaustion. So, to put it simply you were passing time wandering the foyers to look upon the paintings and statues to induce sleep.  Therefore, passing a closed covered window you peeked past the curtain only to admire a night sky. Instead of stars your vision glossed over the shadow inside the dome hanging his weary head. By the time you recognized your intentions you faced the one person who despised you for good reasons. Not enough to excuse his violent outbursts. Or snarky comments. Hardly to abandon his morals behind of favorable intentions.

Unsure you walk up behind his sluggish figure to vaguely see his dreadful, tensed expression. He truly seemed haunted by something. Not saying a word you lean against the railing of the dome….laying your gaze to rime's clenched fists around the wooden barrier. Whispers of every splinter of wood cracked underneath his pale fingertips. "You're dancing in the movies," gently coaxing him to avert his anguish. Tucking a strand of hair back you whistle, "My mother once said that to me. I asked her what it meant. She told me I left reality for a fantasy. And I needed to learn to balance the two not as one world, or separate, except as a result of my desires." Rime tilts his head, adopting an agitated statue. His fingers release the wooden balustrade in a huff. "Then I saw you…and I knew instantly." 

Your weird inquiries vexes his cold-hearted soul, needless to say he abides to the honey-suckle voice, shoulders slacking bit by bit. His pierced gaze fixed on you with his arms crossed covering his scar. Brows furrowed at your calm tone, "I didn't come back to life to be patronized by you,"bitterness seeped from him while tapping his foot. By a whim you step toward him slowly, his eyes immediately locks onto your gaze on him….and only him.

Stepping back again, the two of you avert your gaze somewhere else, aware of each other's motives. "You're honestly right, rime. Maybe it's 'cause I got a little bit older, maybe it's all that I've been through till now."

Slowly you step towards his awakened spirit again with the courage to face him head on no matter his tenacious insults.

"I like to think it's how you sometimes lean on my shoulder when it's just us two," his scent tickles my nose while he leans a bit closer, "And how I see myself with you."

His mind reels from your intoxicating scent. Afraid to say a word his toes curl in anticipation to hear his name roll off your tongue. For the recent times you've dared to notice his moods. Cook meals with him to catch him up on the starsworns' chaotic intentions the past few months. Advised him to act on his own terms, rather than strain himself to comfort those around him daily by putting a fake persona. Heart fluttered, but still you take his breath away and steal the things he once knew by heart. He wants to hate you. Needs to be rid of your sweet smile. Your contagious laughter. Your generous offers to redeem himself. But at what cost will come with that. "There you go again MC, saving me from out the cold. Sticking your nose where it doesn't belong." Snickering as you puff your tinted cheeks raw from the chilled air.

"Fire on fire would normally kill us. Normally, their right….in our favor we're the embodiment of self-destruction." Slowly, but surely rime conjures a black flame in his right palm to pull you in closer by the waist. If it wasn't hatred he felt, it was desire. But this much desire unnerved him to the bone. More than his nightmares. 

Dead and buried he was lost. The resurrection changed nothing. (Together with you, I felt like a winner…of course the others think I'm out of control and say I'm a sinner.) He doesn't blame them. But he won't let anyone ruin the beautiful symphony you've shown to him by healing him in the past moments shared in secret. After his myriad attempts to scorch you to ashes. Now he doesn't know what he needs to be himself once more. Of course, your awed expression leaves him to wonder.

He hummed, "Enough with the jokes. We should head inside." Quickly nodding, you offer a soft smile while heading to the warm, secure vine manor. Not far behind, his chest ached with an familiar feeling. It wrecked him to see you walk away from him. Even if you were only just going a little ways ahead of him. Cynical and malicious voices carried on in the back of his mind as he washed the doubt away.

One day….when he was ready to confront his inner demons, regrets, and sorrows….would he chase the feelings guiding him to you. 'Cause, when you unfold him bit by bit; he will hopefully wait to hear your thoughts of him. In his trek, a whisper escapes low in his throat, "I want to look into your passionate eyes. And you look into my burning eyes." The wind picks up, as does his train of thought. (You are perfection. My only direction, MC. Fire on Fire….could not lay a flame on us.)

[bbluejoseph]

bbluejoseph's 2022 fic masterlist

this is just a collection of everything i posted on ao3 in 2022! i did intentionally leave out one fic (Surrounded, Hounded) since i've updated it this year, though the first chapters were actually posted in 2022. all but two of the following fics are complete, and i do plan to continue those fics eventually.

I'd Find A Match (The Way You Say Good Morning) Posted Feb. 15th; approx 2k words Tags: songfic, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, everything is beautiful and nothing hurts, mutual pining, first kiss, dorks in love, early days

Tyler laughs and lifts the cover off the keys again. "I might be able to do Für Elise. If I go slow."

Idaho Posted Feb. 25th; approx 1k words Tags: friendship/love, anxiety, disassociation, grief/mourning, fight or flight, past mental health issues, implied/referenced suicidal thoughts, desperation, ambiguous/open ending, sad with a happy ending, songfic, apply ship goggles to taste

He doesn't know why he grips Josh's arm so tight, only that he needs to, and thank God, Josh doesn't shove him off. "Take me back to the bus," Tyler whispers. The confusion is back, warring with the worry in Josh's voice. "What?" "Take me back to the bus," he begs. "Please."

Counting All The Numbers Between Zero And One Posted Mar. 5th; approx 2k words Tags: apply ship goggles to taste, best friends, running away, grief/mourning, loss of parent(s), implied/referenced character death, angst, hurt/comfort, crying, bittersweet ending, josh dun is a sweetheart, implied sucidal thoughts, implied suicidal ideation

"You didn't leave a note," Josh mumbles, sniffing, but his voice is clearer now. "I didn't know what to say," Tyler tells him slowly. There's more to it than that, and they both know it.

Home Posted Mar. 16th; approx 7k words Tags: dema, secret relationship, forbidden love, established relationship, dystopia, religious cults, angst, bad ending, blood and gore, blasphemy, religious imagery & symbolism, cannibalism, dead dove: do not eat

Andre's calculating, dark eyes wash over his face. "Yet you hesitate." Tyler swallows. "What if I'm not ready?" (We want you home in one piece, now.)

Please Don't Bite Last updated Mar. 25th; approx 13k words Tags: blood, gore, murder, cannibalism, graphic description of corpses, supernatural elements, shapeshifters, demonic possession, attempted sexual assault, nonbinary blurryface, crush at first sight, not as dark as the tags make it seem

They swallowed, savoring the last bit of metallic sweetness before wiping their mouth with the back of their hand. It came away red.

Your Time Will Come Posted April 26th; approx 5k words Tags: early days, friends to lovers, best friends, friends with benefits, complicated relationships, time skips, implied sexual content, mild sexual content, light angst, fluff, getting together, getting back together, kissing, hook-up, happy ending, mutual pining, not actually unrequited love, memories

It's been three years since they actually hung out together, and a lot has changed. Josh's feelings haven't. Maybe it's time he told Tyler the truth.

Bet You Got It All Planned Right Posted May 18th; approx 18k words Tags: teenagers, young love, post-high school, high school sweethearts, established relationship, running away, trans male character, transphobia, childhood sweethearts, unplanned pregnancy, implied sexual content, discussion of abortion, haircuts, angst and hurt/comfort, happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, internal conflict, secrets, guilt

The dark outside the bus didn't feel real. The worn pleather seats of the greyhound bus didn't feel real. Josh couldn't feel his hand, either despite or in spite of the fact that he'd been gripping the arm rest to his left for the entire bus ride. He was stressed, which was probably bad for- No. No, he didn't want to think about that right now. Nothing about today, or yesterday, or any day before. As far as Josh could process right now, this was the beginning.

Terminarch Posted June 1st; approx 3k words Tags: banditos, dreams and nightmares, being lost, apocalypse, dema, frostbite, winter, headaches & migraines, aliens, alien abduction, apply ship goggles to taste, hurt/comfort, bad ending, self-sacrifice, friendship/love, body horror, angst

He has a headache, but that's an understatement.

Lazarus Posted Sept. 7th; approx 1k words Tags: religious imagery & symbolism, cults, good day dema, scaled and icy, past character death, resurrection

"Do you know your name, honey?" she asks with that same smile plastered on her face. Her mascara looks even messier up close; Tyler stares at a piece of hair that's fallen into her face. "Tyler," he says. "And do you know how you got here?" He searches his mind for an answer, absently reaching for something he cannot see or feel. Tyler comes up empty. "No."

Guarding The Gates (But It All Got Away) Posted Oct. 31st; approx 22k words Tags: trench, dema, past abuse, idiots in love, established relationship, fictober, hurt/comfort, angst, past character death, head injury, good day dema, propaganda, implied sexual content, headaches & migraines, dreams, torture, implied/referenced brainwashing, angst and hurt/comfort, crying, body horror

Since the destruction of the vials in the Tower of Silence, there have been no further mysterious disappearances from Tyler or any of the other banditos. However, things are changing in the city in ways the banditos hadn't expected, and they'll have to adapt to match the bishops' attempts at control. There's something unknown at play here, something none of them fully understand, and it's remained hidden long enough.

Suburban Dream Posted Oct. 31st; approx 4k words Tags: established relationship, angst, hopeful ending, relationship issues, arguing, blood and gore, murder, cannibalism, suburbia, revenge, serial killers, supernatural elements, implied sexual content, violence

Tyler is not a man driven to the edge. Or, he's one of those things. Maybe romance isn't dead after all.

Made To Live (Set Things Right) Last updated Nov. 8th; approx 7k words Tags: the outside music video, dema, trench, memory loss, shipwrecked, scaled and icy, saturday, ned

How smart is this thing? Is Ned its name, or is that what it thinks he is? Is he going crazy? Josh swallows, clears his throat, and points at himself. "Josh?" he says, more like a question than a statement.

Double Check For Double Meanings Posted Nov. 11th; approx 8k words Tags: femslash, genderbending, useless lesbians, celebrity crush, party, hook-up, strangers to lovers, bisexual female character, lesbian character, alternate universe, lady pilots, non-explicit sex, mild sexual content, songfic

She's hot. She's a bitch. She's a whore; she's a prude. She acts like she owns the world. She does own the world. She's a killer, and she'll break your heart if you let her. Josh isn't put off by any of this, even if she knows a lot of people are.

How Jim Saved Christmas Posted Dec. 25th; approx 2k words Tags: animal pov, christmas, tooth-rotting fluff, pre-relationship, getting together, meet-cute, fluff, christmas fluff, romantic comedy

It's almost Christmas, and Jim is running out of time to find the perfect gift for his human, Josh. What's a good dog to do?

[eden-regained]

Ok so in late 2015 I was on this trip where I wrote the beginnings of a kind-of-but-also-not-really embarassing songfic centering around Murdoc living in this weird ass city in a distant future run by none other than a dictatorship mandated by “Feel Good Incorporated” where he’s the superhero-esque fist of justice, enforcing the laws of the “Agenda of Hedone”.

Essentially humans are forced to live in this strange state of constant sensory overload. It’s food, wine and love all day, everyday, but with a teeny-tiny twist.

Long-ass story very short, a group of people in a post-apocalyptic world a long time ago discovered they possess incredibly strong psychic abilities, however, they came at a heavy price: the more the Extrasensory Perceptionist uses their powers, the more they lose their ability to feel positive emotions. Soon, this group had finished constructing their own city far away from the pitiful remnants of civilization, it was grand and unlike anything previously built in all of human history, though in the process the group collectively exhausted all of their joy, which led them to become very powerful but also very dead inside. So, rather fittingly but also in a comically macabre way, the newborn setup for the metropolis of tomorrow was named “Melancholy Town” (where they never smiled).

Luckily for the new kings but at the unlucky expense of the people who chose to follow their new leaders, it was discovered that an ESPer could recharge back to full human emotion as long as they kept a large mass of people in their vicinity happy. Morbidly happy. If you guessed the twist by now, yeah, it’s hell on earth; through nonstop use of their powers to freeze the populus within a bubble of boundless hedonism, the immortal kings, now under the guise of Feel Good Inc have created an illusionary Perpetuum Mobile, endelssly supplying the city with anything it desires.

As one could imagine, though, this lifestyle of consuming basically nothing but magic-enhanced products aswell as permanent insomnia and total isolation from the outside world have over many generations led to sickly, short lived humans who aren’t even aware of death’s existence sooner or later clogging up the cold, dark catacombs hidden beneath the city like dead tapeworms in a fox’s bowels. Those unlucky enough to miraculously live past 40 will most likely have experienced the grim fate of complete desensitization by then, leaving them to waste away like living corpses.

In order to keep “bliss” and “””Peace””” alive, the descendants of the esper-kings are tasked with collecting the dead and disposing, silencing any possible upheaval of them on top of generally showing presence as (ironically) the ideal citizens. This is where Murdoc comes in.

Murdoc is the clone of the oldest, most powerful esper king who remains a mystery even among the inner council of Feel Good Inc as post self isolation somewhere within the city no one has seen him, not even his former comerades. Despite this fact though, even now at the age of sixteen Murdoc has barely shown any skill in his abilites, the coolest stunt he’s ever managed to pull was making a pebble levitate. Of course this pathetic ineptidude is skillfully swept under the rug, instead, to the people of Melancholy Town Murdoc is propagated as this wickedly talented God in boy’s skin. And as a small child Murdoc believed it without question.

With each passing day, though, Murdoc becomes more and more aware of what kind of fucked up bullshit he’s growing up with and one fateful night he decides to smuggle himself inside in a “garbage” truck to find out where it takes him.

Since the catacombs are pretty much filled to the brim with bones by now, the bodies are shipped to the coast to be dumped in the sea. Lucky for Murdoc, an illegally operating group of whalers conveniently comes by to rescue him.

Turns out there is an outside world, and not only that; said outside world, while not as outwardly glamourous looking as Melancholy Town has healthy, genuinely happy living everywhere. At first Murdoc is completely disturbed and wants to go home, sure, everything he’s known so far was a fat fucking lie. But at “home” he was deified! Worshipped despite his lack of talent! Luckily there’s a glimmer of hope in this new, alien world for him; his lack of talent in psychic abilites will spare him the horrors of impending ahedonia and soon, Murdoc, despite his initial selfish hesitation makes the choice to join a group of escapees, survivors and knowing outsiders to topple the regime that plagues his birthplace. If only his “ancestor” didn’t listen to his thoughts through a one-sided telepathic link...

[nyxirrationalstories]

Oh, little Asier

Summaries: Continuation of the story to request mythology scenarios. It's something I already had written, but I added more things to it so that it doesn't only focus on the lore of a secondary character.

You can say that it has to do with the headcanons of yandere Atenea and the future ones about Ares (and other non greek gods).

I hope you enjoy the songfic. PD: Almost in the end, there is a little bit of Loki x Reader (fem, but if you ask can be male).

Leaves of the vine Falling so slowly Like fragile little shells Drifting in the foam

Life… What really is life? No one knows concretely as each person has a unique concept of what life is whether it is fantasy or realistic. Ironically, one only tends to talk about these subjects when one feels lost, when one loses someone or at the end of it, more often in the second and third situation.

Little soldier boy Come marching home Brave little soldier Come march home

Athena stared petrified at the letter that Ennius was reading aloud while Ares exploded in anger, smashing things with unimaginable force, tears of sadness and pain in his eyes. They had no body and now they had no soul for their rites:

Ares had the Thracian funeral rite that lasted three days, with exposure of the corpse, while it was mourned by relatives and friends. During the first day animal sacrifices were performed; the second day was for different competitions and on the third day a ritual meal was offered for the family and participants of the funeral rite. At the moment of burying the deceased, jokes were told to remember the deceased with some joy.

Athena had some funeral rites quite long and with more phases: in the pre-depositional part the Prothesis and the Ekphora were performed; then in the depositional part, at the moment of pouring the earth, libations were made on the coffin if it was a burial and on the urn if it was a cremation. In this second case, wine was used to extinguish the last embers. Then, one of the relatives put the ashes in an urn. Finally, in both cases, the trousseau was placed next to the mortal remains. And in the last post-depositional phase, a perideipnon was made so that thirty days later the triakostia was performed.

As one rite was too short and the other too long, both gods agreed to make the Spartan funeral rite: it lasted eleven days, the twelfth day was relieved after having made a sacrifice to a cow: it was forbidden to mourn publicly for the deceased but not to wear as a sign of mourning mourning mournful costumes.

But the body never arrived

Ashes in the snow Falling so slowly Like fragile broken hearts with nowhere to go

For Ares, losing a son was common but it hurt in the same way and with the same intensity as if he had been the first son to die. Depending on the cause of death, the god seemed to deal with the loss differently. In the case of Argenis was no exception but the anger he felt was more intense; he refused to "let go" of one of his sons without having said goodbye properly.

In the case of Athena, this pain was something new: it is true that she had cried with the death of Pallas but losing a child was a sensation that was so painful, a tightness in the chest and a choking in the throat that for a moment she wished to feel the punishment of Styx which is pain that had no words to describe.

Losing your partner makes you a widower Losing your parents makes you an orphan but losing your children? There is no word that can contain such pain

Little soldier boy Taken from home Forced to fight in a war That wasn't his own

A few hours until Tyr showed up, the day for Argenis had a somewhat gloomy air, feeling that something bad was going to happen causing him to behave in a distant and somewhat cold way at breakfast time. This atypical behavior of his did not go unnoticed by those who knew him and they began to question him if he was well, causing him to become somewhat evasive, and if insisted on too much he became aggressive. At one point his left arm began to burn a little, when he put his eyes on where it hurt he saw the rune of Tyr illuminating; at the time the young man thought it would be Loki with some of his orders but fate had prepared a bad trick for him.

Athena did not remember how the discussion had started, not even that they had argued, but when for some reason Argenis asked in pain "Mother, don't you love me?" the goddess only answered "I think I can love you" the young man's face expressed a pain as deep as if he had been pierced by an arrow in the chest. In a cold way he withdrew from the room, holding his pain and crying to release it in solitude. Athena regretted her words but let Argenis have some time to unburden himself and apologize to each other.

But… that would be the last time they crossed words.

When Tyr arrived, the first one he crossed paths with was Ares; both greeted each other until the Hellenic/Tracian god questioned his appearance. Tyr told him that he came for the young man who was from time to time in the service of Loki as he had his rune "tattooed" and as they were looking to expand in the territory that belonged to the Tuatha Dé Danann for which every warrior served him.

Ares was going to protest against it but Argenis appeared, having heard everything, and agreed to go. He told his father that he wanted to prove his worth as a warrior and that he would return home with riches and the enemy's sword to make them proud of him. Ares knew that this was a promise that was not easily kept but his son had convinced him to let him go right then and there.

The truth was that the runes Loki had placed on his arm were a call he could not refuse. Argenis remembered the time he refused to answer the call of the runes causing him the worst suffering, he even cried and vomited in pain until he finally appeared before Loki. Dying but in the end he did what he had to do, when the god of deception saw him he was quite surprised by the punishment imposed by the runes.

Loki could be quite strange but he was a good guy when he wanted to be.

When Argenis heard what Tyr said, he knew that his destiny was to go to that war, yes or yes.

Little soldier boy Cold and alone Brave little soldier Never made it home

Argenis fought fiercely as he had been taught but he also kept his wits about him in battle, never succumbing to hubris and always fighting with honor. He was also not very comfortable destroying homes and kidnapping people to the point that he let children, old people and women live, making sure no one saw what he was doing.

But there was a time when a maiden had given him a necklace with a pendant with a strange symbol but what he remembered most was that the redhead had given him a kiss as a thank you leaving him somewhat astonished and spellbound by her at the same time.

Although their allies were strong, the enemy knew their lands quite well so every time they faced each other the "berserkers" lost but left heavy casualties to the enemy. It was in one of these battles that he lost his life, three battles before the "Norsemen" decided not to continue with this war.

When the young Hellenic was dying leaning on a stone, who received a strong and grotesque axe in the right shoulder by one of his own because he saw that he let a maiden escape, he only waited for the Furies to pick up his soul. The good thing was that he no longer needed coin for the deal he had made with Hades but he felt sad that his body would not be buried. He closed his eyes for a moment but when he opened them again, instead of seeing the Furies, in front of him was a lady of warlike appearance and black hair.

Her name was Morrigan and since he was in her territory she would be the one to take his soul, but the goddess told him that since he had saved Aine she had asked her to be merciful to him. The Celtic goddess saw the necklace that the maiden, Argenis supposed it was Aine, had given him; Morrigan observed it carefully and with a snap of her fingers, Argenis breathed his last breath and bled to death.

Leaves of the vine Changing so slowly Like empty fallen souls Searching for a home The little soldier Thought he could fly Brave little soldier Fallen in the war

With the only thing they could recover was the shield and sword that were now displayed in their respective temples: Athena the sword and Ares the shield.

Argenis was not warlike but he knew how to defend himself as if he were of that nature; he liked to explore and discover new things, he had the dream of traveling beyond Greece… a dream he made but with a disastrous destiny.

The saddest thing of all is that Argenis would be remembered by few, only his family and his few friends could not say that he was their son. He would be publicly denied, just another name in a common pile.

Although some of his objects would be preserved, they would slowly fade and vanish, leaving only ghosts of what once was, but never would be.

Dreams, aspirations, desires, pain, anger, sadness, happiness, mistakes, successes, problems and solutions… life that will never return, life that I was not lucky enough to fully express.

Argenis did not return, the only thing that came back was his sword and shield, and he will not return.

My little soldier boy I need you at home Brave little soldier Come march home

The greatest sadness for these gods is that they were never able to say goodbye to their son properly, always with the promise that he would return.

Athena regretting her last words to someone she loved.

Ares regretting that his vigor for war had blinded him to let his son "prove" his worth, even though Argenis was valuable to them.

A little soldier who should not have left A little soldier who will never come back.

Lugh watched in amazement as the white swan with the black beak handed him a small creature, sleeping peacefully among the cloths. The god held the baby gently and watched as the swan transformed, as he suspected, into a fairy and disappeared to leave the man and the little one alone.

---And where did they steal you from? --- asked the great Samildanach, uncovering the little one a little, as he did so he saw that on his chest lay a triquet revealing the nature of the baby ---Ah, I see. I wonder what god took pity on you so much or that you pleased enough to give you the gift of life again---he covered the little one again, remembering with brevity his son Setanta (Cú Chulainn) making his paternal instinct arise again--- Mmm, in that case I will make sure that your second chance will be pleasant… your name will be Arawn…. Arawn Mac Lugh (or Arawn O' Lugh since it means the same thing), you will be a great craftsman like me, your father --- he said, walking away from the lake to go with the little soldier boy to his house, to his home.

And finally, Asier woke up. His eyes were wet and red, his cheeks were still wet because the tears had not stopped.

--- In what life will it be when the gods get bored of me and let me die in peace? --- he cried in frustration, wiping away the bitter tears of a restless soul.

--- Hey Asier… oh, are you okay? A nightmare? --- the boy looked at the young lady, trying to hold back his tears for her. There were times when you could be weak, there were times when you were allowed to cry; but, when people depended on you, sometimes it was better to keep it private.

--- It's just… I thought you were leaving. I didn't mean to disturb you.

--- You don't bother me, you're like my little brother. You can trust me, is something wrong?

To tell her, or not to tell her, the question that will lead to madness or mockery. He couldn't say anything as an annoying red-haired man approached them.

--- Oh, he's awake at last, I'm glad. I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye to my little friend --- commented the man as he stroked the little boy's head.

--- loðbrók --- barked Asier with such genuine irritation that it seemed that at any moment he would hit him hard.

The red-haired man just smiled, and with a wave of his hand he dropped an object from another room.

--- I'll be right back, I'm going to see what that was. Please behave with Asier, he is a very nice boy… and sarcastic if he gets annoyed. --- said the nanny before leaving them alone.

--- Underpants- Hairy your mother, Argenis, so many lives and you have already become insolent at such a young age. --- commented the yellow-eyed one as he crossed his arms.

--- Don't tell me what I am and what I am not, Loki, because for another one of your imprudences you are going to cause another Ragnarok and this time not only within the Nordic pantheon --- Asier reproached him in a serious tone, but his childish body made him see all this in a comical way. --- Leave her alone! and leave me alone. And, of all the gods I've known, I had to see you again, in every one of my damned lives.

--- Oh, Argenis-

--- Asier, my name is Asier.

--- The girl is adorable in her innocence, and you are my best warrior. My great comrade, my good messenger bird and apparently a good watchdog. --- Loki scoffed, squeezing the boy's cheeks --- you sure do make these games fun. I mean, I heard the other day that Hades got caught seeing the human thanks to you. I also heard that the rice Inari gave the human ended up being eaten by other people and don't get me started on the tantrum Tlaloc threw just because a kid made himself throw up so his nanny would take him home.

--- I hate you

--- I know, and for that, I love you

[ao3feed-crimeboys]

Arson in Your (Our) Blood

by XylstGlitch

A bottle of kerosene weighed down his bloody bones. They say what can be used to aid humanity, could be also used for their downfall. More accurately, only one person in his hazy mind said that to him. Paraffin, or so-called lighter fluid from the ancient 1900s to the gasoline-smelling moisture tainted by wads of cotton inside speedy lighters. Just a click of flint and a blaze of tangerine would spread all over the area, licks of fiery hot heat kissing the corpse on the ground, as soon as Tommy splattered the crystal clear liquid over his handkerchief, setting the silver cloth ablaze with a cheap cigarette lighter.

The blond turned 18 a few weeks ago, cut him some slack.

He wonders how fast the police would find traces of him, the recently-turned-adult wasn’t exactly subtle after all, burning a whole body on a hillside cemetery. Wilbur would have scolded him to do a better job of this, but he isn’t here, right?

No matter, Tommy can meet him soon enough when the police detectives find traces of Thomas Soot in the remains of this unknown stranger.

 (Or, crimeboys are batshit insane and arsonists, and Tommy would do anything, and I mean ANYTHING, for them to reunite.)

Words: 1380, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)

Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, No Romantic Relationship(s)

Additional Tags: Arsonist Wilbur Soot, Arsonist TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Murder, Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, honestly how can i tag this cuz this shit is wild af, Insane Wilbur Soot, Insane TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Fucked Up, Morally fucked up, there is no morally gray only goddamn batshit crazy, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Character Death, Murder Family, Blood, Insanity, and i mean fr, my brain went WEE WOO WEE WOO in the best way possible while writing this, Songfic, Song: Grenadine (Oliver Hazard), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Crime Scenes, Organized Crime, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, mayyybeee-? idk man wtf is this, Arson, Ambiguous/Open Ending

[merely-a-caricature]

“Q36: Have you ever been made to eat the corpse of a cockroach?” The Taste of Cockroach.

This is a MHA fanfic/songfic with Deku based off of Maretu’’s song, “The Taste of Cockroach”!

[thefanficmonster]

You Look Happier

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral - They/Them pronouns used)

Warnings: Post Break-up Angst, Swearing, Heartbreak

Genre: Angst, Song fic (Happier by Ed Sheeran), RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse’s struggles following the break up between him and Y/N perfectly described through the song lyrics of the song Happier by Ed Sheeran.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request, it was my first song fic one and I’m really happy to be writing it. Hope you enjoy the fic despite the wait. Love, Vy ❤

“Walking down 29th and Park”

I’ve never been one to be keen on going out when it isn’t necessary. If I wanted a breath of fresh air I’d just spend some time in the safety of the semi-outdoors of my balcony. However now, even as I’m fully in the outside world, protected by no walls to preserve my identity, I still feel suffocated like those walls, instead of being around me are crushing me underneath their weight.

What I see next only adds to that weight...

“I saw you in another’s arms“

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Why are they here? No, that’s a dumb question. They live in the same city and frequent the same places. They were the ones who brought me to them and introduced me to a world where no one knew me. I was on their territory, not vice versa.

But the sight of them itself isn’t what has frozen me dead in the middle of the side walk - it’s the person walking alongside Y/N with an arm around their waist, completely ignorant to my presence, luckily for me.

Or to my dismay, I’m not even sure what to feel anymore. 

“Only a month we’ve been apart...“

It’s been a month and then some after the break up I initiated. I was the one to put an end to it, I have no right to feel anything, especially not this tiny evil sense of betrayal that’s lurking inside my chest. Thankfully it’s significantly smaller than the other emotions in there but they aren’t that great either: jealousy, dread, sorrow, utter and unbearable pain. 

The need to run to them and beg for their forgiveness. Beg for them to take me back, promise that I’ve changed and that I’m no longer that same idiot who valued my own personal gain and privacy over the person who cared about me with all their heart.

“You look happier...“

But I can’t do that. Not when they look so happy with him. I can’t ruin another great thing for Y/N, they don’t deserve that. I’ve already done enough. I capsized our boat, but they thankfully swam away instead of drowning like I still am.

“Saw you walk inside a bar“

It hurts to see them walking into that bar which we frequented so much the staff memorized our schedules and orders with someone else. It hurts to see that they’re running down the same routine but with someone who isn’t me. It made me feel special, every time they took me to a place they liked and enjoyed going to. I felt like I was getting little snippets of them in all those bars, pubs and diners. It all felt so natural. So real. So lovely.

“He said something to make you laugh“

I watch through the glass at the front of the street side bar, sitting down on one of the stools by the outside tables, hoping and praying to God they don’t see me. But how could they when they’re so enchanted by this wonderful guy. He’s handsome, tall, blonde, charming, humorous, basically checks off all the boxes for anyone to fall for him. However, what bugs me most is the last one - the humor. Y/N always said that the way to their heart is for a person to get a genuine laugh out of them. That is basically their love spell. And this guy is casting a spell, alright. Without even fucking trying.

“I saw that both your smiles were twice as wide as ours“

It may be the whole weight of this situation crippling me and turning my brain into nothing but a sad mush but I really can’t remember a time we were that happy together. I’ve never made Y/N laugh like that, I’ve never even made them smile so widely 

And man, does that fucking sting. It’s insane what you realize when you see a person you thought was happy with you be actually happy with someone else.

“Yeah, you look happier, you do“

Maybe it’s for the best I flipped that boat, cut them their losses...

“Ain’t nobody hurt you like I hurt you“

After all, I was constantly hurting Y/N without realizing it. I was assuming what they wanted and what they wanted our relationship to be, never actually asking them. Maybe it’s for the best that I put an end to it...

I remember the night they finally snapped after overhearing me tell my friends that they were just a roommate when their voice was picked up by the mic as they were taking a phone call in the hall. Yes, I said they were a roommate. Not even a friend, a roommate.

What’s worse is that instead of apologizing, I gaslighted them. I told Y/N that it was for the best no one knew our relationship status for their own privacy sake. But unlike me, they know how to read a person properly and didn’t think twice about smacking me across the face with it.

“My privacy or yours, Corpse?! Or are you just embarrassed of me? Go on, you can tell me, I won’t be mad. After all, what do I have to be mad about, we’re just roommates anyway.“

“Y/N, don’t blow this out of proportion.“

“Oh, I’m blowing it out of proportion?“

“Yes! Like you do with everything, for fuck’s sake.“

“But ain’t nobody love you like I do“

God, I wish I was able to tell them. I wish I got the guts to tell them. I wish I could’ve swallowed that insane ego and pride of mine and said what I never said.  The sad truth is, that Y/N will never know how much I loved them. How much I still love them and how clueless I am when it comes to showing and expressing it. They’ll never know, cause I never once said those three words to them. Not. Even. Fucking. Once.

“Promise that I will not take it personal, baby, if you’re moving on with someone new“

It hurts, it hurts so fucking much to see them sit at our table with a new potential or concrete partner, drink their usual drink, look at him the way they used to look at me. It almost feels like they know I’m watching them and they’re doing it on purpose to prove a point. But even if that were the case, they’d have every right to shove it in my face how badly I fucked up.

I deserve it.

“Cause baby you look happier, you do“

All that matters currently is how happy they look to be with him. How much they’ve changed for the better since I’ve stepped out of their life. Now that shit is worse than anything I could imagine. To see someone flourish without you, a telltale sign that you were holding them back, that’s certain to shatter your heart, at least that’s how mine works.

“My friends told me one day I’ll feel it too“

It’s ironic - I never told my friends we were dating but I did tell them about the break up. The motherfucking irony.

After the initial shock, they all agreed that what I did was pretty fucking bad but they also told me to lighten up. They were insistent on the fact that if I wasn’t the one for Y/N, then they definitely weren’t the one for me too and I should learn from the experience and leave it behind.

“I could try to smile to hide the truth“

I agreed, more to make them feel better about their generic advice that I could’ve found on a motivational post on Instagram than anything. I agreed, hoping that a placebo effect would occur and brainwash me into thinking that too.

“But I know I was happier with you“

It didn’t work, it still hasn’t worked. 

I’m still so in love with Y/N just like from the moment we first got to actually talking, to the moments I saw them walking out of my apartment, their packed suitcase in hand. Walking out of my life. I never stopped being head-over-heels for them. I never stopped loving them or loved them any less. This isn’t a situation where I love them now just because I no longer have them. I never stopped loving them. I was just a self-centered idiot, afraid of the powerful feeling that were wracking my mind and soul. They still are, I’ve just come to term with them, learned that they aren’t anything to be afraid of.

What I am afraid of is that I’ve come to that realization too late. That I lost my one shot at truly being happy. I can’t imagine myself happier with anyone else besides Y/N.

“But baby you look happier, you do“

But the fact still stands that, unlike me, they have found a lot greater happiness with someone else. I’d hate myself if I ever let my selfishness ruin that for them.

“I knew that one day you’d fall for someone new“

I always knew they deserved better. Someone who wouldn’t be afraid to openly show his or her love for them. Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kiss them in public, or hold their hand, or introduce them to their friends as their romantic partner. Someone who’d do all the things I was afraid to do.

“But if he breaks your heart like lovers do“

I definitely have no moral high ground to be saying this considering what I’ve done, but I swear on my heart and soul and everything I own that if he breaks Y/N’s heart he’ll pay a high price. Yes, that’s very hypocritical of me to say and think, but I don’t care. I’d do anything to prevent them from going through something like that again and/or punish the person who puts them in the same situation I did.

Hypocriticalness be damned.

“Just know that I’ll be waitin’ here for you“

I know I’m the last person Y/N would turn to for comfort in a break up situation or any relationship problems at that, but God knows I’d do anything to let them know I’ll always be there for them, no matter what. No matter the time of day, the problem or method of contact - I’d still find my way to them if that’s what they want.

Although I doubt they’ll ever want that again.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo  @beatrhizn  @blueberrystigma  @beatrhizn  @chicken-taco-burrito  @scorpio-echo  @nyctophiliiiiaaa  @squirreljoe   @azra-x  @ace-of-spaids2  @kxllanxtdoor  @ateliefloresdaprimavera