#dis doin numbers

[legowolas]

The Rugby World Cup final is happening tonight, and I don't know if my heart can take this kind of stress 😫

[hanlimz]

[midnight thoughts: jungwon + the sublime]

synopsis: after an arduous battle, jungwon isn't sure if he's going to make it, but he has to say something before he goes. pairing: yang jungwon x gn!reader genre/warnings: spiderwon!au, angst with happy ending / mentions of blood, discussions of death, overall angsty themes but no one actually dies!, lots of confessions of love, and weird inclusion of "the sublime" bc we talked abt it in my eng class, also NOT proofread :,) wc: ~2.4k (haha OOPS) a/n: heyyyy how yall doin :))))) this has been sitting in my drafts forEVER ... and i finished it at 1am b4 my first day of school so be warned for inconsistencies / i liked the first half of this drabble but the second half is not my fave ,, so sorry that i couldn't do you justice spiderwon

yang jungwon never believed in the concept of the sublime. that uncanny mixture of overwhelming fear and unsettling fascination never managed to make an impression on him. especially in his line of work, jungwon is firm in his notion of death: when the time comes, a vast blackness will consume him; the void will leech away his life, and he will cease to exist. there will be no theatrics, no white light, no booming voice or angel song—only a comforting emptiness welcoming him into the dark.

now, however, jungwon lies alone in a familiar back alley; the tips of his fingers are numb from the amount of blood he's lost, and he can hardly lift his head up from the brick wall it's resting on. the palms of his hands are stained a deep crimson as he attempts to stop the river of red spilling from his thigh. jungwon admires the eerily beautiful way in which the body lets go; glinting in the dim street lights, his wounds glitter like rubies in a summer sunset. at this point, succumbing to his injuries seems inevitable, and jungwon thinks there may be some truth to be found in sublimity.

but, he's not ready to die. not yet—not with so many things left undone, so many things left unsaid.

with the little strength he has left, jungwon reaches for his backpack hidden in the nook behind the dumpster. he pulls out his phone and dials a number number he knows by heart; his cold fingers fumble over the screen, and he curses his current lack of dexterity. eventually, though, the machine begins to ring. the sound grates on his ears as he waits with bated breath for you to pick up.

"hello?" you croak, your question laden with sleep, "who is it?"

a breathy chuckle escapes jungwon's lips. he had forgotten how late it was, how you mentioned earlier that you had a calulus exam tomorrow, and just how gorgeous you sounded when you were tired. "sorry, [y/n] ... didn't mean to wake you," jungwon sighs, "just wanted to hear your voice."

"won, seriously?" you scoff, "this couldn't have waited 'til tomorrow? i mean, it's—it's two in the morning ... i was literally just dreaming about acing that calc test."

a dopey grin fastens itself to jungwon's lips as he wills his eyes to stay open. if he falls asleep, he knows there's a possibility that he won't get back up; so, he indulges for a bit, listening to your fatigued grumbling and smiling like an idiot. "honestly, m'not sure if tomorrow's in my cards, [y/n]," he admits, trying to hide how labored his breaths are becoming, "'nd i jus' wanted to hear you one last time."

"yang jungwon, what the hell are you—" jungwon knows exactly when you realize he's in trouble. he knows exactly when you realize he's not messing with you. the abrupt pause, the hitch in your breath, the way you inhale through your teeth—it's almost too obvious. "oh fuck," you continue, "oh shit ... won, where are you? are you hurt? what can i do to help?"

jungwon coughs out a laugh, "'m in the alley off jackson ave, 'nd i think i've bled on every piece of old furniture back here, if that says anything."

your breathing is frantic. jungwon listens to the sound of rustling clothes and the occasional thud of your foot as it hits your bed frame. you're cursing and mumbling and unravelling at the seams, searching for whatever you can that might help you help jungwon. out loud, you go through a list: gauze, neosporin, saline.

"am i missing anything?" you ask, not expecting a response.

"bandages?" jungwon replies.

"bandages!" you exclaim, "i almost forgot the fucking bandages?" there's more noise on the other side of the phone, and jungwon doesn't let himself relax until he hears your window crack open. metal clangs as you rush down the fire escape; he wills the beating of his heart to match the tempo of your feet against the steps. jungwon wills himself to stay alive. and, it's almost as though you can read his mind through the phone. "don't you dare fall asleep, yang jungwon. talk to me about something—anything—just don't fall asleep."

he racks his brain for a topic of conversation; the nerves building in his stomach as he anticipates next week's orgo exam, the cat he rescued from a tree in queensbridge park earlier today, the new thai restaurant that opened up near his apartment building. options race through his mind, but all of jungwon's thoughts lead back to you.

"i love you," jungwon says, abrupt yet resolute.

"oh god." you suck in an incredulous gasp, "you're delirious. this is—"

"i'm not delirious," he interrupts, voice hauntingly clear. "i know what i'm saying. and, i'm saying that i love you, [y/n] [l/n]."

for a moment, the line crackles with a thick, viscous silence that seeps through the grainy static; it's heavy, almost too real, and jungwon listens to the sound of your shoes slamming against the pavement until you speak again. "okay," you sigh, something unreadable swimming behind your words, "keep talking to me, jungwon."

jungwon takes in a deep breath before speaking again. his whole body is cold now, and if it weren't for the weakness spreading throughout his veins, he's positive his teeth would be chattering. inhaling the concoction of gasoline fumes, freshly dumped trash, and frigid, autumn air, jungwon feels the chill of the reaper creeping up the length of his spine. its spindly fingers beckon him into that same darkness he was once so sure of, once so okay with. but, jungwon can't let himself give in to its temptation. after all, he has someone waiting for him.

"you give me this feeling," jungwon declares in an inexplicable moment of lucidity, "'nd i dunno how to explain it. it's—it's like ... i look at you, and you pull me in. an invisible string, maybe? fate? true love? i'm—i have no idea what to call it. you always make me want to know more, even though i've known you forever. since we were kids, [y/n]—i've felt like this for years. and, i'm sorry. i'm sorry for not telling you earlier, for not telling you when i told you about the whole spiderman thing.

"i'm such an idiot for making you worry. someone who loves you shouldn't do that to you, i shouldn't do that to you. and, god [y/n]—i love you so much. you're this force of nature, you know? drawing me in, even though it's dangerous. and, even though i'm terrified of what the consequences might be, i love you so much that i'm afraid to die without saying it at least once.

"i'm—i'm so sorry for being so stupid, because—" jungwon whispers with a shaky voice, teetering on the edge of consciousness, "i love you, [y/n]. i love you."

jungwon's hearing is fading in and out, and his vision is growing blurry; but, the sounds of your footsteps accompanied by the incessant drone of his phone keeps him from slipping into that overwhelming darkness. you take in a sharp breath, and his head lolls in your direction. jungwon's lips are molded into a mindless, faraway smile; his eyes are misted over, foggy with both pain and fatigue. he's not all there, but he still manages to be cheerful. it astounds you.

rushing over to begin applying all the first aid supplies you managed to stuff into your backpack. wound-wash, gauze, bandage, wound-wash, gauze, bandage, wound-wash gauze bandage, wound-washgauzebandage. the sheer amount of blood that has been leeched from his body makes you dizzy; your head is spinning as you try to calculate just how many pints would be equal to what you've just sopped up. glancing up at your best friend (crush? lover?) you see that his eyes have drooped shut. his skin is pallid, his lips are pale, his neck is craned at an awkward angle as it rests on his shoulder. and, your heart stops because you didn't get to say it back.

"no. no, no, no ... won—jungwon, wake up!" a storm brews in your stomach. it starts as a mellow rain pattering against the lining of your intestines, then becomes a raging tempest as it bubbles up and out of your throat. "please, please, please! i got here in time, i swear—i never cared about the stupid, fucking calc test! i cared about you, i care about you! and, i'm here now, so you can't leave. you can't leave me."

an inhuman shriek claws through your lips, ricocheting against the brick walls that seem to be caving in around you; the weight of the world crashes into your frail shoulders, threatening to crush you. as you inch even closer to jungwon's shrouded figure, your pants are soaked through with a crude mixture of blood and rainwater. you reach out for him and cup his cheek with a trembling hand, and part of you swears his skin is still warm to the touch.

but, hope has no place here.

instead, you cradle his head and heave his body to rest against yours. he is astonishingly heavy; you can feel his muscles ripple beneath the tips of your fingers, but you're already convinced. your best friend is dead. slowly, the cement will absorb his heat, and he will grow cold. as the morning draws nigh, you will be forced to put his mask back on and leave him for someone else to find. then, the news articles will pour in, and the city will have stolen not only his life, but his death as well. tears are wetting his scalp as you bury your nose into his sweat-caked hair. you're gripping at his suit so hard you think the threads might snap, and the throbbing in your head is nothing compared to the agony in your heart.

the wailing doesn't stop until, in your peripherals, you see his finger twitch. sucking a staggering breath through his nose, jungwon cracks open a tired eye to gaze up at you. "i would—" he coughs out with a wince, "i would never leave you."

in your stupor, his voice doesn't register first. his mouth moves, but no sound escapes him; then, the words play over again in your mind while his lips remain closed. seconds melt into minutes, and you float away from your body. a numbness overtakes you as you stare at the scene before you from about five feet away; your fingers are still clutching at the suit fibers, the pajamas you chose earlier tonight are now saturated with blood, and jungwon is breathing. jungwon is breathing. jungwon is breathing.

snapping back into yourself, you place a weak hand on his chest. steadily, certainly—it rises and falls; the beating of his heart, though shallow and slow, thrums beneath your palm. shifting your stare to his face, you are greeted once again by a familiar, wry smile. jungwon is alive. despite all odds, the boy you love is alive; and, try as you might, you can't really help yourself.

"[y/n]?" he croaks, quirking the eyebrow above his less swollen eye, "can you hear—"

"i love you, too."

the utterance dangles precariously in the frigid midnight air. jungwon's lack of response causes your stomach to churn until he relexes further into your frame, huffing out a pained laugh. he lets himself rest for a moment, relishing in the warmth he manages to leech from your skin. "it wasn't ... wasn't supp—supposed to happen like this, you know?" jungwon protests, voice catching on his fatigue and discomfort. "i ... had everything planned—planned out."

"won, you don't—"

baring his teeth, he lifts a hand to hold the one you kept on his chest and barrels through your objection. "i was gonna take you to the met ... gonna take you for a pic—a picnic in central park." jungwon sputters, pressing his forehead against your upper arm, "then, we would swing ... back to your apartment. 'nd, i was gonna tell—tell you. tell you about how i feel."

still supporting his neck with your arm, you move to take his face in your palm once more. jungwon's gaze is sharper than it was just minutes ago—more focused, more alert. the emotions swirling in those deep pools of raw umber are more multitudinous than the stars they reflect. gratitude, torment, joy, defeat, love. bridging the gap that had separated the two of you for so long, you stop just shy of his lips. a dynamic heat emanates from them; jungwon is practically vibrating under your touch, living and breathing.

"are you okay?" you ask, "is this okay?"

jungwon answers by pushing himself up—closing the distance, sharing your breath, connecting your souls. salt and iron dance on his tongue as your tears mingle with his blood. it's a hypnotizing concoction—one that threatens to send him reeling, one that threatens to have him spinning out with no hope of return. fireworks explode behind his eyelids, a myriad of bright reds and vibrant oranges blinds him, and jungwon uses what is left of his strength to grip your wrist; he grounds himself and allows his lungs to burn as he breathes you in.

after a while, however, your parting is instinctual as the lack of oxygen forces you apart—two bodies trying to preserve themselves long enough to meet again. with a labored sigh, jungwon slumps backwards and tucks his chin to catch your gaze. in that moment, he finds himself frozen; his essence is suspended motionless, positively bewitched by you. in the silence, where all he can sense is you, jungwon embraces the ever-present warmth that has flourished within him. it floods his being with a terrifyingly powerful adoration for you. it is nothing like he has ever felt before, and though he is brave enough to confess, this extent of his love for you—it scares him.

however, as your skin glows in the light of the moon and your eyes pool with the desire for a future with him, jungwon digs his feet in and roots your love deep within his heart. he refuses to let this fear grow in its place; instead, he vows to nurture it, to care for it, to protect it. as he lies in your arms, jungwon rejects the sublime once more and chooses for himself.

"i love you, [y/n]," he whispers into your palm.

the world seems to go quiet as it listens for your response.

"i love you, too, jungwon."

[jynxpsiche]

Can I request a tangerine x reader??

SURE NO PROB! Hope u all like it!! <3 <3 sorry if it’s short.

Paired with a crush

💌. Summary: Tangerine knew who you were, and he also knew how good and professional you were at your job…

or

…Tangerine gets paired up with his crush.

💌. Warning: female reader, canon gore, not canon events, fluff, reader’s code name is Ruby, slightly suggestive, mdni. English is not my first language! I don’t know many British slangs!

“Bruv, you sure ya okay?” Lemon’s voice reached his brother’s ears, trying to wake him up from his trance.

Lemon noticed how Tangerine’s figure completely froze when he read a message on his phone. It felt uncharacteristically from him, being completely still and silent for such a long time.

Is he having a heart attack? Thought Lemon, his gaze still locked on his brother.

Slowly, trying not to scare him off, the man approached his brother’s figure, standing still in the middle of the living room.

Just a few minutes ago, the curly-haired man was simply reading a book on the couch when a little ‘ping’ from his phone caught his attention.

With an annoyed groan the man rose from his comfortable position on the couch and picked his phone, which was on the armchair.

Lemon simply observed the scene unfazed since he didn’t discovered any signs of a strange behaviour from his brother. But things changed when the other man checked the phone.

At first the room had fallen into a strange silence, no longer the comfortable silence of before but one that managed to put anyone in the room in awe.

Time seemed to have slowed down and it was also the outside that fell silent. If before Lemon could hear a few cars passing by or simply the urban noises of the city, now even those had suddenly died down and disappeared into thin air.

Very few things in their career had managed to silence Tangerine noticeably. Other things, however, had him talking until Lemon's head burst.

And the subject of his conversations was always her.

Lemon knew by heart the story of how Tangerine had first met the girl, always specifying how his was only an initial hatred that gradually became simple tolerance.

Ruby. This was the name constantly present on his lips.

Firstly, Lemon heard how Tangerine called her an insufferable girl, overconfident and convinced she was better than everyone else.

But afterwards... the situation had completely changed.

He had heard how she had managed to eliminate an entire organisation, kill the boss and complete the job in the shortest possible time. A single week.

Tangerine rarely spoke well of other people, but she was clearly an exception.

Lemon often teased him, just for the fun of it. "Ya only eva talk ‘bout her, ya ‘ave a crush?" But each time the curly-haired man denied it.

It was perfectly normal for him to appreciate the talents of another colleague. The only problem was that Tangerine never made appreciations about others. Only he didn't realise it.

“Mate, the fuck ya doin’?” Asked annoyed Lemon, tired of seeing his brother’s frozen figure in the middle of the living room. With a deep sigh he took place on the large couch, remote control in hand. “I really wan’ta watch Thomas, but I fuckin’ can’t with you in the fuckin’ way.” He said through clenched teeth, irritation evident in his words.

Finally Tangerine woke up from his trance and dumbfoundedly his wide gaze fell on his brother, who was looking at him annoyingly.

With a raise of his eyebrows, the man once again demanded an explanation. Quickly the brother showed his own phone, which was open on a phone number. His contractor for that job.

“Wha’ I’m s’ppos’d to be lookin’ at?” Asked Lemon, a bored expression on his face while his eyes lazily read the message.

With a trembling finger, due to adrenaline and excitement, Tangerine pointed at a specific word, more exactly a phrase.

“You won’t be working alone. You’re partner for this job will be Ruby.” Read the man from the couch but his expression still bewildered. “I still don’t understand, bruv.”

A groan coming from the standing man echoed through the room. Tangerine irritatedly pinched his nose bridge, hoping to calm down a little. “Ya bell end, it’s her.”

His brother only stared at him as if he had grown two heads. “‘m not followin’ mate.”

“Ruby! It’s her. I’ve been partnered up with her!” The man shouted under his breath, eyes wide and full of an enthusiasm that looked too strange on him. He was like a child on Christmas.

Lemon still did not speak. His confusion was still too evident on his face. Yet he should know who his brother was talking about.

Then Heureka.

It was like a lightbulb lightened up on his head. At the same time his eyes grew bigger and his mouth opened wide. “Ooh…got it, got it…” his head bouncing a couple of times in an affermative motion.

Tangerine was ready to answer his brother harshly when his phone rang with an incoming call. An unknown number.

“Who’s it?” Lemon asked pretending to care when in reality his attention was on the television, Thomas & Friends now playing.

“I don’t fuckin’ know— hello, the fuck ya want?” Tangerine answered the phone and the unwelcoming tone he used showed clearly his high irritation and the no patience left.

“Is this how you talk to work partners?” The frown on his face immediately shifted into a stunned expression. The voice from the other side of phone was the most angelic one he ever heard.

He had only watched her from afar, never really interacted with her. That meant that he also never have heard her voice either.

He always imagined how her voice would have been, but his dreams could never be compared to her real voice.

And that first interaction with her left him speechless.

He had always planned his first meeting with the girl. He hoped he could charm the girl with his charm and maybe invite her out. But apparently luck was not on his side.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Tangerine. Even if not in person, for now.” Spoke the voice again, this time waking the man from his temporary trance.

Tangerine cleared his throat, “M’apologise love, wasn’t my intention to speak t’ya like that.” He explained sheepishly. His tone wasn’t his usual one, the rude and annoyed one, but one more submitted and apologetical. Almost…gentle.

Lemon often glanced up at him, unimpressed.

“It’s fine. Now let’s talk about the job.” Ordered the voice from the other side.

Tangerine nodded his head multiple times. “A’right, love.” And off he was, into his office, his figure followed for a short amount of time by Lemon’s unbothered eyes.

Everything needed to go as planned. No one had to fuck up and nothing had to stop them.

They had spent a lot of time on analysing every detail of the job, in order to avoid inconveniences and notarlo failure. The pay was pretty high, so they had to do a proper job.

The contractor, when contacted the two, explained them the type of job: apparently a well-know mafia boss of France had organised a ball in which were invited criminals from all over the world. His intention was to present a poisonous gas capable of killing a large army with the smallest dose.

A woman and a man were standing outside a large villa, where music was blasted from inside.

The two were arm in arm and wore extremely elegant clothes, perfect for the occasion.

“Are you ready, mister Tangerine?” the lady smirked at the man beside her, a confident sparkle in her eyes.

“Always ready, love.” He smirked back.

When they entered the ball room they were pervaded by smoke and loud chatter from the other guests.

Warm lights illuminated the entire room, showing off all the baroque details of the place.

With confident steps, the couple advanced through the room, their arms still entwined with each other and a polite smile on both faces. They had to give a very good impression and not arouse any kind of suspicion.

Their gazes keenly observed the entire environment, the people and especially the blind spots in the room. They could not afford mistakes.

Instinctively, Tangerine abandoned the grip of their arms and encircled her colleague's waist, displaying a strong and secure hold.

That action did not bother the girl; on the contrary, she tried to get as close to his body as possible. Because she felt safe with him.

“A’right love, seen the target yet?”

Their job was to identify the person responsible for selling the poison, kill him as quietly as possible and finally steal all the information concerning the poison.

If they wanted, they could have also blew everyone up once they had completed the main tasks of the job. But they had to remain professional.

The woman analysed each guest, her eyes scanning every little detail in order to find the one described in the documents received.

But there were so many people that it was lightly complicated than normal. His body moved a little closer to that of the man by her side. His cologne immediately reaching her nose.

It would have been a lie to say that she was not attracted to him.

“Nothing. It’s like he’s not even here.” Then something clicked on her mind.

Of course the target wasn’t there!

While the party was going, his job was to anticipate the spread of poison on a global scale. This whole party was just a whole cover.

Suddenly, she brought her face closer to his, her breath tickling his ear. A small smile on her face, to disguise themselves and to not let the cover blow up.

“Most likely he’s not here because he needs to sell the gas earlier, all over the world.” She explained, his eyes fluttering close briefly due to her proximity.

The heart in his chest started beating wildly, as if he had just finished running a marathon.

But in reality he was simply in a sumptuous, baroque-style hall, teeming with people whose intent was simply to shift their attention elsewhere.

Oh, how he wished they could be the only one there. And dance together all the night.

In each other arms.

With a sharp look he scanned the room again, noticing something unusual.

The number of bodyguards was even, as it was well known that the boss did not like odd numbers. According to him, they were bad luck.

Therefore he had decided to place two bodyguards every six metres throughout the hall. But then why were there as many as three bodyguards near one wall?

Something was not right.

"Let's try lookin’ there," he whispered. The girl gave him a confused sideways glance "What? And why?" "Just a guess.”

As his hand gently gripped at her waist, they gracefully moved around the large hall trying to attract as little attention as possible.

Her ample dress sparkled slightly, emphasising the strong colour of the dress. It was very difficult for Tangerine to maintain attention. His grip tightened slightly.

The girl understood her colleague's intentions, having also noticed the unusual position of the three bodyguards.

Now all that was needed was to find a distraction.

But someone up there surely was helping them since a dispute nearby drawn the three bodyguards’ attention.

Swiftly, the couple slipped into the hidden entrance of the hall, initially finding themselves in a simple corridor. Neither a door nor a soul. The corridor was completely empty.

The two began to walk down the dimly lit corridor, walking as lightly as possible on the floor. Surely their intention was not to attract the attention of the guards.

The corridor extended a few more metres and then continued to the left, where it ended in a security door.

A code was required to enter.

“I got it” she said under her breath, pulling a little bottle spray from between her breasts. The perfect hiding spot thought Tangerine with a satisfied look.

The door creaked open and the couple was met with a dark laboratory.

Long, thin shelves filled with vials containing yellowish liquid ran along the entire front wall. Machines were positioned on several metal tables. But no sign of the scientist responsible.

However, a strong smell of chemicals and smoke could still be smelled in the air, a sign that the machinery had recently been switched off.

The feminine figure gracefully wondered around the immense laboratory, observing closely the vials. The man behind her approached a cabinet in a corner.

“This isn’t what we’re looking for. These are just wrong prototypes.” She exclaimed, picking a vial between her fingers.

Tangerine only hummed approvingly, immediately losing interest in the empty cabinet. But something caught his attention.

One of the shelves seemed shallow compared to the others and only an experienced eye would have noticed this.

Tapping the bottom of the shelf with his hand, Tangerine noticed the wall moving slightly. With his fingers he managed to move the bottom, revealing a black button.

Suddenly the locker opened with a slight click and promptly Tangerine opened the new entrance with both hands.

From the back of the new entrance he heard the clatter of some metal objects. A whispered mutter prompted the man to move.

Without wasting any time he hurried down the narrow dark corridor, following the noise coming from the other side. One hand was already ready on the gun hidden in his trousers.

But before he could leap into action, a bullet grazed his cheekbone. A cry of exasperation escaped his lips. “Tan-“ she was calling out for him but in a second his figure was running back, where she was.

His voice interrupted hers “Ruby! Ruby! Take cover!”another bullet now grazed his tight.

Both of them were on either side of the door, their backs to the wall and their heads turned towards the entrance.

Quick bullets flew all the way down the corridor to the entrance, preventing the two from controlling the situation.

“We need to rush in!” “Ya crazy! D’ya hav’ a death wish or som’thin’?” “Tangerine it’s the only way in! You have better ideas?!” The man only looked at her, his blue eyes pierced into hers “Just…just please Ruby, don’ get hurt.”

The woman smiled sweetly at him “You can call me (Y/n)” she said before jumping in action.

He followed her figure with a love sick look in his eyes.

a/n !

I know I know shitty ending, didn’t really know how to end this one. I still hope you all liked it and sorry if I’m posting frequently but I’m not home right now!

Love you all and take care! <3

[prettyboykatsuki]

through the current | b. katsuki

★ tags ; angst, pre-relationship, gn!reader, one-sided arguing lol.

★ wc ; 1k (???)

★ a/n ; this wasnt supposed to be long at all rip.

★ synopsis ; you get into an accident trying to protect bakugou and he doesn't take it well.

It rips through him like a torrent.

Katsuki slams the door behind him but you've managed to enter the room with him. He can't turn to face you, can't move. It's like walking through quicksand, feet trudging through the floor that's trying to swallow him up.

And he can't breathe. Can't do anything except tremble with some emotion that's shaking his heart up like a soda can. He feels like he's going to spill over if you say anything, but he knows you didn't just join him to sit and stand there stupidly.

Your voice is the same. Mellow. Softened. Concerned. For a minute, Katsuki wishes you would never talk again.

He almost lost you and everything else feels like white noise. Almost is a familiar word. It lingers bitterly on his tongue. Almost the successor. Almost number one. Almost dead. He hates almosts.

"Katsuki."

"Don't," he warns, fearful of what he'll say next. He doesn't know what he's stopping but he knows he wants to stop it "Don't you fucking dare."

For a moment it's completely still. Unnervingly, like you're using all of your efforts to make sure nothing happens. The whole room feels like it might collapse if it's distured, but you talk one more time. Touch the raw nerve that shows itself to you, like a bloomed flower.

"Katsuki," You repeat again, a little gentler than the last.

"I fucking hate you," His voice shakes. It doesn't do much else other than that, hoarse in how he speaks. Everything he's ever thought comes breaking through and he turns to face you "I hate you so fucking much, I—"

His head is spinning. Nothing makes sense and he doesn't even know where the words are coming from. He's buried it all so deep that he doesn't know them.

"I hate everything about you. I hate the way you fucking talk to me all soft. I hate your fucking stupid, half-assed ideas and your shitty late night texts," He points at you accusingly "I hate when you fucking call me."

"It pisses me off so much, you're so damn insufferable. That damn hag always asks me about you. What the hell am I supposed to say?"

He's too afraid to look at your face. If he knows you at all, you're looking right through him and he hates that part of you too.

"All you ever do is show up and parade yourself around in my goddamn life even when I don't ask. Always inserting yourself into my shit like you belong there."

He inches closer and closer to the very thing he's wanted to swallow, like it's waiting to shoot out of his throat. Everything he's saying is the aftermath. Like poking a straw through a lid where everything comes out around.

He can feel it all coming in at once.

"And you're always so—so fucking casual. Calling my name and coming over and asking me about personal shit. Who the fuck even are you? To show up in my fucking life like you know me? You don't know me so why do you—?"

And then he stumbles. He feels it, all of it. The tears start to slip and the hand that's been holding on has started to weaken.

"Why do you keep getting to know me? Why do you even—I don't get it and I've tried for so long to get it. To figure out whatever the hell motive you have, like someday I'm gonna wake up and it's all gonna be—fuck, like it's all gonna disappear and I hate that it feels like that—I hate that it—"

He breathes deep and wipes the tears off his face, falling to pieces.

"....What the hell are doin' to me? How could you make me feel whatever the hell this and then get yourself into some shit like that, you could've—you could've fucking died and—"

He looks at you. He can't stop looking at you, even if he wants too.

"This shit is my job. I'm supposed to put my life my line everyday, but you're a fucking civilian but you put yourself in front of me like it was nothing and I—shit, what the fuck?"

He's crying again, for god knows what time but this time he can't hold them back, angrily rubbing his eyes. He bites through his lower lip.

He hears your steps before he can see you, and before he can stop you, he feels the warmth of your hand. On his face, your thumb wiping his eyes. He wants to lean into you, but he's so scared to do anything but stand there. The minute he relents is the minute everything else goes with him.

And it's all too much, too sudden, too heavy so he just. Cries and scowls at you. The warmth in your face, bright and adoring and concerned and god—what was he going to do if something happened? On repeat, he thinks over and over that he couldn't stand it.

"Oh, man." You laugh tiredly, lovingly with a soft lilt "I'm sorry. I must've made you anxious, huh?"

"I hate you," He repeats, weaker than the last.

"I didn't mean to make you worry. And there's not an ulterior motive," You say, the other hand going up to cradle his whole face "There's not even any rhyme or reason. I would do it again, a hundred times over, to make sure you were okay."

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you're so—"

"Katsuki," You say one more time, leaning forward to brush your nose against his "I do it because I love you. I don't mean to make you anxious."

This time it's all shattered, all broken. His knees give in and he finds himself crushed in the weight of your arms. You hold him all together like always and he wishes the world would disappear. That he could stay just like this without ever having to think about anything else.

"...Don't fucking leave, don't you ever—"

You shush him.

"Promise I won't."

[cultofdixon]

Falling for the archer

What dating / being married to Daryl Dixon would be like • Grimes’ little sister!reader / Eldest Greene sister!reader [doin’ both cuz why tf not] • ANGST/SFW/NSFW

Requested by: @witch-of-letters

Rick Grimes’ Little Sister

Dating

Let’s be real, Rick Grimes would wish he was still in a coma if he saw you—his little sister—with a man that tried to kill him for what he did to his older brother

But when you look a little deeper in that situation, he would’ve reacted the same way if someone had done that to you

But y’all weren’t together in the quarry. People assumed such by how comfortable Daryl was around you.

The man gave you an ounce of his trust in the very beginning because you didn’t treat him like an asshole [like a certain home wrecker cop…]

It grew from there and had its moments. Daryl didn’t want to act on this feeling growing inside of him until he knew that you felt the same way.

But you were also struggling with the same brewing feelings that you’ve had since the ambush on the quarry campsite. Daryl knew you had the strength to defend yourself, but the second he arrived he took out every sicko that came your way. That when it was all over, the archer quickly scanned your person to make sure you were alright

The two of you really wanted to ignore your feelings because of the whole “end of the world who would have time for this?” spiel but the universe had other plans.

2 incidents happened

Daryl drunkenly confessed his brewing feelings the night at the CDC and given that the man was drunk and you were in shock hearing that come from him, he simply wished he died right then and there thinking he must’ve scared you off. But when waking the next day to the worse hangover, he saw you sleeping on the couch across from him and a glass of water with some pain killers were placed on the table for him. He indeed didn’t scare you off but was afraid he ruined something

But the other incident was at the farm when the “walker” got shot and revealed itself to be Daryl. Rick had to pry you off Andrea when you managed to get a hold of her. Daryl heard about the incident from Glenn after he left the Greene house and went to recover in the comforts of his tent.

He had to go look for you once it was night enough to get some alone time with you.

“You’re a crazy son of a bitch for picking a fight”

“Maybe if you didn’t get hurt, didn’t get lost, and didn’t get shot by Ms. Trigger Happy—I wouldn’t have had to give her a piece of my mind”

“Why do you care so much for somebody like me?”

“Because I can! And I’m falling in love with you! I’m done ignoring my feelings…I couldn’t…I wouldn’t live with myself if you died without knowing how I felt”

Typical for the other party to confess their feelings first with Daryl Dixon. But all he needed was that confirmation before closing the space between the two of you and pressing his lips firmly against yours.

Yeah. Rick shouldn’t have been on watch that night cuz he saw y’all kissing. But given how you almost beat Andrea to a pulp, he wasn’t going to get in the way right away.

Daryl didn’t want to stop kissing you, or let you go for the matter. But he knew if you didn’t go back to your tent that night, someone would come looking for you. And he didn’t want anybody else in those moments that he just wanted it to be the two of you.

The two of you found small moments to be by yourselves and admire the other. Even when their time at the farm was getting cut short by a number of events.

Sophia…Dale…Shane…the fire

When the fire happened and everyone’s first thought was to get the hell out of there, that was when Rick knew for himself that Daryl wouldn’t do any harm given how protective the archer was when you were last to join back on the highway. He met you halfway checking every part of you before pulling you into his embrace and squeezing the life outta yea.

Guess you can say when the “indirect seal of approval” from Rick Grimes came into play, that you started dating Daryl.

Or whatever dating is in the apocalypse.

Daryl isn’t one to be flashy in the relationship and you respected that, but that didn’t stop him from at least trying.

He always wanted to be close to you in any sort of way, for the most part it was sitting next to you by the fire…on the overturn car keeping watch…in your cell…the list could go on.

Sometimes Daryl would take your hand when you’d least expect it and it brought on the butterflies. His hands made yours feel extremely small and brought on a lot of thoughts that were proven later.

The times you would be more intimate even if it was just a short kiss was when no one was around. As stated before. Daryl likes having these moments in private.

Daryl knew it could be a bit unfair, he didn’t want anyone else in your bubble and he especially didn’t like the way those who didn’t know about the two of you—look at you like your fair game. Really only the farm group knows.

But he will say he was amused by how you handled those situations.

“Hey good looking wanna—-“

“Nope. Go away” Y/N got up from the tables in the prison trying to physically leave and when the man cornered her. Daryl was about to to take care of this guy and reveal to everybody about the two, but suddenly the man met the concrete floor after Y/N grabbed the book she was reading off the table and using it as a weapon.

“Crazy bi—-“ he was cut off by her dropping her book on his face and walking away.

That lead to Daryl wanting to take a leap of faith one day.

“Y/N”

“Oh hey D. I just finished getting the truck ready for the run with Sasha later. Did yea—“

Daryl cut her off by pressing his lips against hers feeling her arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

To the Woodbury folk, it came as a shock. Meanwhile, Carol got Glenn’s oatmeal packets for the bet they made about how long it would take for them to be out and open about it.

Since then he’s been a bit more open to public affection.

He’s still not the biggest about it being public but he secretly likes it. Especially when he hears you talk about how great of a man he is to Maggie. Even if part of him doesn’t believe it.

It still takes what feels like forever to get Daryl to believe the words you say to him. He gets the warm feeling in his chest during the moment and you can tell when he starts to feel his insecurities get the best of him.

Which brings into discussion—his scars

He never wanted you to see them and you never pry.

There was a moment in Alexandria where you walked in on him changing and he felt his whole body tense when the door opened. But he instantly relaxed when he heard you say that you were turning around. He didn’t even get his shirt on when he approached you and wanting to get closer to you by letting you see what he’s most ashamed of.

That leap, lead to more. You’ve always felt loved with Daryl even when he doesn’t say it often, and with that moment of him showing his scars…his anxieties about losing you to someone better has washed away.

Now to be a bit more chaotic…

Daryl respected your boundaries and went at your speed when it came to sex. But according to you, he has a look that would get yea going and there was one time he unintentionally did said look when you were talking to your older brother

“Y/N yea listening?” Rick waves his hand in front of your face as you were focused on Daryl looking your direction.

Daryl was waiting to go on a run with you and didn’t know that he was giving you that “look” when you were trying to take down what Rick needed.

“Y/N!” Rick yells only for his sister to sock him in the gut in response.

“I heard you! Now I gotta take fucking care of something before we go” You state before approaching Daryl and grabbing him by the arm heading back inside to take care of “business”.

[A/N: I used pronouns and then didn’t use pronouns in this,,,so my bad]

“The look” is really just taking up any opportunity. Not that Daryl’s complaining.

But there was one morning when you woke before Daryl could leave the bedroom first because Rick knows y’all are dating but doesn’t know y’all share a bedroom…

Bc you didn’t in the prison to respect Daryl’s feelings about feeling confined in a cell

You entered the living room without checking if Daryl left your bed or not and was about to get some water when Rick asked what you were doing last night.

Then cue Daryl coming down thinking Rick wouldn’t be in there and being met with the man’s attention.

“That’s what you were doin’ last night”

“…Yes”

“Yknow four people live in this place right”

“Yes”

“Y/N—-“

“Does Carl know about you and Michonne?”

“Okay. I’m just gonna ignore this so you don’t use that against me”

Engaged to Married

Daryl’s thing when going on runs is finding trinkets or anything that’ll make you smile. That was the one thing you’ve kept with you since the fall of the prison to after the wolves attack.

Daryl found you placing the things he found you on the shelves in your shared room because they bring you joy.

That one day, you went into your room after a long day and saw a small box. Being confused by the new item, you picked it up and opened it.

Only for all of Alexandria to hear you scream off the top of your lungs. If Daryl didn’t inform some…yeah people would think someone broke in again

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

Daryl stood at the gazebo watching Y/N approach him with the ring box in hand.

“Why didn’t you do this the right way?!”

“Uhm. Because…” Daryl took the box and instantly got down on one knee to open it presenting it to Y/N. “I planned this out…and I’m asking you now. Will yea marry me?”

“Yes! I will always say yes!”

Daryl didn’t have to ask for Rick’s blessing, because the two went on a run together when the archer found the ring and was like “You should propose with that, when yea ready”

As much as the group literally had a pastor—-the two of you wanted Rick to officiate and you kept it intimate. With only the group you first came to Alexandria with. And Aaron and Eric. The only Alexandrians Daryl trusted so far.

Being married, honestly didn’t feel very different to Daryl. Except that you two now have a place for yourselves and he really didn’t have to worry about any other guy looking your direction.

Besides. The man likes to leave marks in obvious places. Even slightly before y’all got married, no one even tried because you were marked and Daryl scared most of the men.

Waking up next to you in your own place was the best. Daryl didn’t have to get up right away and not alone for the matter. He’d roll over if he wasn’t already facing you and bring you close that you tiredly wrap yourself around him. The morning sex is a bonus too

You would always take his sweatshirts which were his least worn shirt until much later. He loved seeing you in his shirts but more specifically when he’d come home to you wearing only his shirt.

The two of you gained a routine where either of you would always throw up “I love you” in sign language whenever he went on runs or you would see him during your break from the infirmary. Daryl signed such to you when he was being whisked away by the Saviors and that was the only time it broke you.

Even when all the bad happened and you reunited, the promise Daryl made the day you were married…you made again when he latched onto you the second you walked through Hilltop’s doors.

I will always be by your side until the end, even if someone or something gets in the way. I will always find my way back to you.

The Eldest Greene Sister

Dating

Hershel wasn’t the only one to not like the new comers. But you were more open to bringing people in than he was.

“You don’t know what they’ll do”

“I know for a fact that they wanted to save their kid. What happens next? We’ll approach it with an open mind, old man”

“Don’t talk to me like that. Please”

“Sorry dad”

You and your sister Maggie were the only open minded ones when it came to the two officers and an injured child, multiplying into a whole group.

And Maggie wasn’t the only one that gained an interest in someone in their group.

But you were more risky with the whole “take on the biggest man in the room” in a literal and non-literal sense.

Daryl noticed how relaxed you were when things got heated with the group vs the Greene family. But also noticed a part of you didn’t really care for what your family argued. Guess you were also the black sheep in your family.

The first time the two of you ever talked was about trying to find Sophia. The group wanting to rest up while the archer wanted to go back out there and given the few protests. You figured you’d help the guy without any of them knowing.

Little did you know that he’d take your stubborn bitch of a horse.

The group that came knew Daryl had left to look for Sophia but the Greene family didn’t know that you went out after him. Because again, your horse is easily startled. Finding Daryl wasn’t the hardest thing in the world because these were your woods, your solitude even in this new hell. You ignored your horse completely when you realized that its rider is no longer on him or in the surrounding area.

Daryl thought he was hallucinating when you found him. Given he’s been seeing Merle. You were instantly stressed out given the arrow in his side and didn’t even think about bringing any form of first aid.

“Are you an Angel?”

Y/N laughs to the question as she pressed down on the bleeding wound making him grip onto her arm. “Far from it, honey”

That pet name stuck.

As you were helping Daryl walk back to the farm after several moments of him talking to the blood loss. You heard the yelling and thought nothing of it but when a few of the men from his group came running toward the two. It clicked that he must’ve been labeled as a Walker by their lookout. As the group got closer and it was revealed to them who it was…your anxiety got the best of you shoving Daryl quickly to the ground and that’s when the shot rang through.

Daryl groans from impact and heard the thud beside him seeing the eldest Greene sister through blurred vision gripping her arm.

Who woulda thought almost dying is what brought y’all together

I’m kidding.

But it did show to Daryl that you weren’t a threat of any kind. Even if you did prove that to him a few times already.

The two of you grew close when it was revealed that Sophia was one of the walkers in the barn. He didn’t think he had to hear what you had to say…let alone be vulnerable

“Why do yea care?”

“Are you serious?”

“Look sunshine—I don’t need to fucking hear some “it happens for a reason” bullshit out your ranch hand mouth just le—-“

“Nah. You listen here, sugar.” Y/N shoved Daryl back knowing damn well he was still recovering. Hell so was she. “A fuckton of my family was in there and I didn’t know what my bitch of an old man was doing until the rest of y’all knew. I’ve lost enough of people to know that shit happens at random. But as long as I knew…it wouldn’t eat me alive for the rest of my life. I hated not knowing what happened but sometimes that just happens too…isn’t it better to know that this happened instead of beating yourself up for not findin’ her?”

“…She wasn’t even mine”

“Doesn’t mean it don’t hurt yea too”

Something about what you said, glued him to your side and you weren’t complaining. Because who woulda thought at the end of the world you found someone that understands yea. Even if some of the things you say, worries the guy.

You’re an honest person and everyone appreciates that. Daryl especially.

But sometimes your honesty sparks unwanted anxiety and made few turn a bit resentful even if you were also the one that would do anything and everything to provide for the group.

Even before y’all became official, Daryl found himself silently checking up on you and one night at the prison before the infusion of new people…You sat beside him outside the prison leaning against him and letting him keep you close.

The prison era is when y’all confessed. Or more so Daryl did…and you returned once you “returned”

The medicine got to their people in time before anymore could go through death’s door. But as the others woke up, you still laid unconscious. Daryl never left your side the second the medicine got in and his anxiety got the best of him when your breathing would stop for strange periods that made him think he’d have to do CPR.

“You can’t leave me…you can’t. I won’t forgive yea” Daryl frowns bringing your unconscious form into his arms bringing her close. “How could yea. How could yea come into my life and made me feel a certain way that I have never felt—just for you to leave me. This isn’t better. Waiting isn’t great. I need to know if yea with me til the end or not…”

“Mm…ain’t gettin rid of me, honey”

Hershel was about to check on you when he heard sobbing. He thought you died and your old man held a lot of regret for how he treated you but when he saw Daryl holding you in his embrace sobbing even harder when you held onto him.

It always takes stressful situations to bring few together.

You were official in that moment but neither you or Daryl did more than hold hands until Carol needed a favor in getting your archer to take a shower.

“D, you busy?”

“Yea gonna force me to be nice to people too?”

“Nah. I don’t trust it here that much either. But the house is empty”

Daryl looks at you confused but quick to notice you were only wearing a robe.

“And what are yea planning with an empty house?”

“Fuck if I know…but no one would be around to hear me screaming your name in the shower…” You smirk heading back inside as Daryl sat there for a second longer before leaving his crossbow and following after you.

Daryl wasn’t the only one to bear scars from his past. You knew about his before you saw them as did he. The two of you would talk a lot at night just watching the stars from the prison so you knew what his father did and he knew what yours did…but also yourself.

He didn’t hold back with worshiping your body and making you feel loved every second of every day since that moment.

Married

Alexandria made the two you feel safe in a slow manner but you had each other and that’s what is important.

Neither of you wanted anything fancy or really a ceremony. You two just. Found some rings and went from there. He loves calling you his wife whenever he got the chance to do so.

Maggie was mad that you gave her a wedding and you didn’t let her give you one.

Being married was being more intimate. Your dating phase was more so becoming even closer with the other.

Marriage didn’t feel different. Except for the fact that you two were given a place of your own and y’all decided to christen every room in the place.

You were more of a jealous person when the two of you became husband and wife compared to girlfriend and boyfriend. People were once afraid of Daryl. Now he’s a provider and some of the ladies would stare at the man. But little did he know that he had an attack dog.

It was hot how jealous you can get but not when you start threatening to hit people.

Your jealousy level is about the same equivalence to Daryl’s over protectiveness. Man needs to know where you’re at when you’re not right beside him. And tying the knot did have y’all doing a lot of shut together. But sometimes Daryl would find himself panicking when he hasn’t found you within the first hour of returning home after a run.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothin’”

“…If you want to join me in the shower you could just do so instead of sitting on the bathroom sink waiting for me to finish”

________

Author’s note:

Me: *writing this*

Internet history: *eight closed tabs about different definitions for the word “Headcanon”*

This is my first one…like. Ever. I hope I did it justice

[unclewaynemunson]

Tadaaaa here is the sequel to this post, which came from an ask that got me in a chokehold for days now so kudos to the lovely anon who sent that prompt to me! You can also read the whole thing on ao3 :)

As soon as Eddie got into the passenger seat of his Wayne's truck, he saw the whole world go blurry. He tried to blink away his tears, but it was no use – nothing ever escaped his uncle's notice anyway.

'Wanna tell me what's wrong, boy?' he asked while he started the car.

Eddie grimaced. 'You know how they say you should never meet your heroes?'

'Hm?'

'Well, I met mine. On the fucking train. Just yet.'

Wayne shot him an incredulous glance.

'What was the Black Sabbath guy doin' on a train?'

'What? No, it wasn't... No.'

'The Hobbits guy?'

'Jesus Christ, Wayne, Tolkien died like fifteen years ago, keep up.'

'You want me to keep guessin' or you gonna tell me?'

Eddie rolled his eyes.

'Yeah, no, you wouldn't guess it right anyway. It's this poet.'

'Don't think I ever heard you talk 'bout poetry before,' Wayne remarked.

And that was exactly the thing. Ronan Right had been something... private. Something between Eddie and the faceless blob in his mind that embodied Right – and maybe Jeff. Okay, and Jeff's mom. But it wasn't someone he'd talk people's ears off about on any occasion he got, like he did with plenty of other musicians or writers that he'd get all obsessive about.

Until Steve, that was. Steve, who had been casually listening to his music. Steve, who had recognized the book in his hands and effortlessly opened the floodgates of his obsession. Steve, who had said the most beautiful things about Corroded Coffin without even knowing who Eddie was. Steve, who had talked with him about their shared passions for hours. Steve, who he now somehow had to merge with Right in his mind.

Steve, who seemed so perfect that it made all of Eddie's alarm bells go off at the loudest possible volume. Because this couldn't be real. This was something straight from a disgustingly sweet romcom scenario, and if there was anything Eddie could be certain about, it was that his life was no romcom.

So during the short walk from the station to Wayne's car, Eddie's head had already come up with a dozen scenarios that were completely spiraling out of control – even though they'd all make for great songs, no doubt about that. Steve would die some kind of tragic death on his way to their first date. Steve was secretly addicted to crack. Steve was a stalkerish fan who had lied to him about being Ronan Right to get close to him. Steve would cheat on him on their wedding day.

The list of possibilities was endless and terrifying – while the list of possibilities for this having a happy ending, on the other hand, was exceptionally short.

'Was it that bad?' asked Wayne while they headed out of the city.

Usually, Eddie enjoyed amping up his dramatics to a maximum around Wayne, providing the much-needed balance to his uncle's calm and steady demeanor. But right now, Eddie felt himself deflate in his seat. He couldn't bring himself to make a show out of it.

'No,' he said, quietly. 'He was perfect.'

And Wayne must've heard it in his voice, must've picked up right away that this wasn't Eddie being dramatic, that something serious was going on here, because he gave him this look that was cutting way too deep into his heart.

'Nobody can be that perfect, you know,' Eddie continued. 'It's impossible. And he – he gave me his number. And I just know that if I call it, and we get to know each other better, I'll get crushingly disappointed sooner rather than later. Because something has to be, like, disturbingly wrong with this guy.'

Anyone else than Wayne would probably tell Eddie that he was being ridiculous, that he should get over himself and call Steve; that he should allow himself to let good things happen to him or some shit. But Wayne wasn't just anyone. Wayne was the one person who knew exactly what Eddie meant. The one person who had seen from up-close the shitshow that Eddie's life had been, who had retained a front row seat through all of it. And he had had his own fair share of misery himself, Eddie knew that much. He was too old and had gotten punched down too many times to still hold naive illusions of the possibility of good things.

So he didn't give him some bullshit advice. He merely patted Eddie's knee and turned up the radio.

---

Ever since Eddie had left Hawkins, it had become a habit of him to stay with Wayne for a couple of weeks every now and then. For all his desires to get the hell out of that town when he was younger, he still spent way too much time at his uncle's trailer. But it wasn't Hawkins that he came back for, it was uncle Wayne.

It was home. And it helped him breathe whenever the city got too intense. Helped him get detached from everything that distracted him from the shit that actually mattered. Helped him get his head right when Chicago was threatening to make him lose it.

Time seemed to move differently in Hawkins than in the city. Slower. More naturally, too, somehow. Maybe it was because of the lack of nightlife and flashing neon signs when the world was supposed to be wrapped in darkness. The fact that he could still see the stars when he stepped out of the trailer at nighttime. Maybe it was the quiet, which allowed him to actually hear himself think. Or maybe it was the predictability of it all: Wayne waking him up with a cup of coffee in the morning, the two of them sharing cigarettes on the porch, Eddie helping Wayne with some chores and then trying to write new songs until well into the night, when the world was his and his alone.

He kept reading Right almost religiously, but it was different, now. Now that he could hear Steve's voice say those words, now that he could envision the way in which the sun shone on his hair through the dirty train window and the shape of his hands clutching a walkman that had Eddie's music in it. It was all different.

After a week, Eddie had a whole album worth of songs about the deception of things that seemed perfect. He hadn't been able to write even one song about things ending well, about things working out. That wasn't his life. Things never worked out. Why would they, for a boy born in a household where the trifecta of poverty, addiction and violence was all he had ever known? In the five albums he had produced so far, he'd never experienced a lack of demons to write about.

So no, he wouldn't be calling Steve, even though he had read the number that was written down on the sleeve of his own album so often that it'd probably be impossible to ever erase it from his mind again. He'd protect himself, this time. He'd cherish the hours he got to spend with Ronan Right, the memories that were already starting to feel like a fever dream, and not let his heart break any further. Not this time. Not again.

---

'Got mail for ya.'

An envelope landed in Eddie's lap.

'What's this?'

'I dunno, 's your mail,' Wayne answered.

Eddie didn't recognize the handwriting and the Indianapolis post stamp didn't give him much of a clue either. It didn't make sense that someone would send him a letter at his uncle's place.

He frowned, roughly tore open the envelope and pulled a single sheet of paper out of it. It was neither directed at nor signed by anyone, but that wasn't necessary for Eddie to know who sent it.

'What is it, boy?' Wayne asked, a worried edge to his voice upon hearing the choked sob that freed itself from Eddie's throat.

Eddie knew that the words were only meant for him. But he and Wayne were a unit, always had been, ever since Eddie moved into Forest Hills. So he wordlessly handed the paper to his uncle, roughly wiping the tears from his eyes.

Wayne assessed the text with a wrinkled forehead, holding the paper at an arm's-length in order to read it.

'That from the boy you met on the train?'

Eddie nodded.

When his uncle looked up from the letter, Eddie caught an almost unfamiliar look in his eyes. It was soft, hopeful. Optimistic.

'You know I ain't any good with words, like you, or this – this poet,' Wayne said. 'But this...' He pressed the letter back into Eddie's hand. 'This looks like he knows you, Ed. Like he sees you. For all that you are.'

He didn't tell Eddie what to do; that wasn't his style, never had been. But what he did say kept bouncing through Eddie's head unceasingly, making him unable to sleep, unable to write, unable to think about anything else.

---

Eddie desperately wanted to say something meaningful when Steve picked up the phone. He wanted to thank him for reaching out, to apologize for being too much of a coward to call earlier – but what came out of his mouth instead was, 'How did you know where to find me?'

'Eddie, is that you?' It sounded like Steve didn't quite believe it.

'Yeah – yeah, it's me,' was the only thing he managed to get out of his mouth.

'Look, I'm sorry if I overstepped,' Steve told him. 'I just – I couldn't get you out of my head and it all felt so right, you know, like fate or some shit, so I just had to... I needed to try. And I knew your name, and that you were staying with your uncle, so I got help from some friends and they managed to find your uncle's address.'

And as if Eddie hadn't been enough of an emotional wreck over the past week, his vision got blurry with tears yet again.

'Sorry, was it – did I go too far?' Steve sounded nervous.

Eddie could perfectly envision the way he would be frowning and anxiously running a hand through his hair; as if they had already shared a whole lifetime of getting to know all about each other's mannerisms instead of a few stolen hours on a train.

He hated the idea of Steve thinking he had done something wrong when all he ever did was so fucking right, so he determinedly shook his head, then realized Steve wouldn't be able to see that, and started scraping for words.

'No, Steve, you... You're perfect. And that scared the shit out of me, because so far, my life hasn't really done perfect. Most of our songs, they're – well – creative retellings of my own shit.' Now that he started talking, the words actually came a lot easier. 'They're all real, at the core, when you peel away the layers of, like, monster slaying and fantasy imagery. Like, everything underneath all that, it's all... me. Damage, betrayal, fear, violence – all that shit is true. Life hasn't been kind to me, Steve. And I was convinced that you'd only become an addition to that long list of crap, because you seemed way too perfect. I never thought I could have something good. And you're good, Steve, you're so fucking good. So I couldn't believe it.'

A long silence ensued at the other side of the line. Then, a sigh.

Then, 'Eddie,' in the softest voice possible, like his name was something breakable. Eddie didn't remember ever having heard his name said like that.

'I think that was exactly what I heard in your songs. Why I kept listening to them. Why they inspired me so much.'

Eddie tried to swallow away the lump in his throat, suffocated by the emotions bubbling up inside of him.

'I wish I could hold you, right now.'

Eddie's breath caught. He knew exactly what he needed to do: he needed to stop running. He needed to trust that Steve could be right, for him. That Steve could be something good.

'I mean, you could come over to Hawkins and do just that, you know,' he suggested.

'D'you want me to?'

He nodded, again forgetting that Steve couldn't see him.

'Yeah, I'd like that. Probably still got half that cookie somewhere in my pocket, y'know. Maybe we could share it.'

Credit where credit is due: the line “He sees you, for all that you are” isn't mine, it's one of my favorite quotes from Schitt's Creek and I really wanted Wayne to say that to Eddie about Steve, so here we have it <3

@ My beloved 🥐 anon: I hope you like this ending, and that I came close enough to your suggestion to have Steve make Eddie a character in his next poem <3

Taglist: @kathorakiryu @goodolefashionedloverboi @undreaming-rambles @fangirlycupcake @ghouligans-central @henderdads @dolphincliffs @anglhrts @ajamlessbaby @yearningagain @vampireinthesun @xxbottlecapx @kissaphobic-kas @mad-h-w @booksandsience @obsessivlyme @ppunkpuppyy @barnes-bestgirl @capital-p-platonic​ @eddiemunsonmeltdowns @callme-keys​​

[shawtuzi]

i got not one, not two, not three but FOUR requests asking for more plug!connie so y’all already know i had to this for the girlies

this is 18+///cw include: smut, some fluff, drug usage, black coded reader

- plug!connie is one of those boyfriends that people assume don’t exist because he treats you like you’re his entire world he is just that perfect

- unlike eren, connie loves having you hit the block with him. it’s sorta risky yes but he’d rather have his passenger princess sitting oh so prettily next to him instead of being by himself

- expect to do a lot of shotgunning with him!!! he loves hearing the tiny whimpers that escape your glossed up lips when he teases you just the smallest bit, nibbling on your bottom lip or even going as far as to suck on it

- okay now hear me out i don’t see plug!connie wearing grills BUT i can see him wearing tooth jewelry more specifically a tiny cross made of diamonds on one of his top canine teeth

- speaking of jewelry plug!connie wasn’t and still isn’t into it fr but he will wear the diamond cuban link chain you bought for him till the day he dies. he would’ve worn it either way if it was fake and turned his neck green he doesn’t care he just wants to please you and make you happy </3

- plug!connie lives to please you and make sure you are as happy and content as can be. basically if something isn’t going your way he will do everything in his power to make it work out and if he can’t then it bothers the living shit outta him because if his girlfriend can’t get exactly what she wants then what’s the point of living??? baby boy hates seeing you sad or in distress

- plug!connie is thee number one hype man. it doesn’t matter if it’s something as small as trying out a new lash style or nail shape he will make sure you know you look tf good

- “i’m back con!” you called out kicking your shoes off at the door. connie was up in a flash itching to give you a greeting kiss. he gave you one, two, three pecks on the lips before noticing something was… off. “something’s different about you….” his hands were still glued to your cheeks squishing them together. “new eyelashes? they look different than the ones you usually get.” he was right on the money chile you switched out your usual doll styled lashes for staggered ones. “yeah how’d you know?” you giggled prying his hands of your face. he wrapped his arms around your waist giving you a sly smile, “baby, your face is all i think about of course i’d notice.” *screams*

- his stroke game is on another level it’s actually sickening. he knows your body very very well. he knows exactly when to change his pace and the power of his thrusts because all that’s really on his mind is your pleasure. if connie had to choose his preferred position it would be missionary but don’t get him wrong he loves backshots just as much

- “con-nie” you whined digging your acrylics into his flexing biceps. connie chuckled above you wrapping a hand around your throat, “shit you close ma? yeah i know you are- fuck squeezin’ me so damn good. love this fucking pussy, love you even more.” when he felt you were about to cum he sat up on his knees before grabbing onto you waist and fucking into you until you soaked his dick and the bedsheets in your cum

- sometimes he’ll randomly wake you up by showering you in $50 and $100 bills just because he can. “con what are you doing” you sighed cracking an eye open to see your giddy boyfriend kneeling over you with a stack of money in his hand. “waking you up obviously what else would i be doin. now if you hurry up and give me my good morning kiss i’ll take you to sephora.”

- king of smoking a blunt while you suck him off. between your plump lips wrapped around his dick and the effects from the weed homeboy was in heaven. he’s not much of a head pusher when he’s like this, nah he’ll let you go the pace you want because if he’s lucky enough you’ll put your shyness aside and dirty talk him into an orgasm

- “you gonna cum honey?” you purred stroking his dick with both hands. your lips and chin were coated in saliva and precum but you didn’t bother wiping your face knowing he liked his head wet and sloppy. “god damn if you keep doing that ima cum right now” he rasped taking a hit of the blunt. by now connie was completely gone, his eyes were rolled back and his head was lolled against the couch moans slipping from his parted lips. “that’s right suck me good make daddy cum” connie grunted setting his free hand on your bobbing head. oh how you loved giving plug!connie head <3

- plug!connies love language is words of affirmation without a doubt so make sure you let baby boy know you love him and appreciate him and give him lots of praise

@wintershading this one’s for u girl i hope you enjoyed reading it <3333

[bookworm-2692]

Life Tracker updated for Episode 7! This one is much quicker than Episode 6 on account of not being on holiday at the time, even though there were two thirds more deaths this time. Previous posts: Session 6, Session 5, Session 4. Also Session 8 (finale) post!

As usual, close ups and commentary below the cut. I’ve also added another graph for the average time of each team, which will also be below the cut.

There was so much carnage! 45 whole deaths in a single session! Not all deaths were awarded time during the session, but Scott’s video advised that it would be added by next session, so I have taken the liberty to add all the time as I see fit, hence why Scott is back to 7.5 hours. I haven’t seen every episode yet (in fact, other than Scott, I’ve only seen those that have perma-died), so I’m not sure if anyone else’s time is a mismatch, but if so I’m happy to explain where I’m getting my time additions and subtractions from!

Now for some close ups.

First, there was enough chaos that I decided to take a close up of Session 6 and 7 together so we can properly appreciate it:

And a close up of Session 7 by itself:

So many people lost major time, so it’s interesting to see Scott’s uptick of time at the end - he ended on only 30 minutes less than he would have been if he hadn’t died at all this session. Pearl didn’t die at all, and got the kill credit for Martyn blowing himself up in a trap, so she actually ended the session 30 minutes better than she started it. Grian also did very well for himself - he killed and died so many times, but somehow ended on the exact time he would have been on if he had experienced a peaceful deathless session.

BigB, Cleo, and Martyn all ended the session 1 hour poorer than they started, and Bdubs and Scar ended 1.5 hours below where they would have been. Nosy Neighbours are thus doing super well, with Mean Gills and Clockers not too far behind, in terms of maintaining position from the start of the session.

TIES had an awful time this session, with Impulse and Tango both losing a net 2 hours, and Etho and Skizz losing a net 2.5 hours - and obviously Skizz entirely died.

Joel possibly had the worst time, losing a net 3.5 hours this session - though it didn’t help that 5 of his 7 deaths were all caused by the one person. Technically Jimmy didn’t do too badly, given he only lost a net 1.5 hours... but given that he was out of the series only an hour into the session, and also the first out entirely... it really didn’t go well for him either

I also find it interesting the sheer number of vertical lines this graph, the ones representing a death immediately followed by a kill or vice versa. I would love to figure out a way to show only one line at a time on the graph, so we can more easily see someone’s journey, but I haven’t had time to look into it yet.

Now onto the graph of the average times per team.

This one is super interesting to me, especially TIES’s line - they had the lowest average life right from the start, but somehow by Session 4, through Session 5, and for most of Session 6, they were the team with the highest average time, and then it quite literally went downhill from there. The only thing saving them from being last now is the fact that the Bad Boys are down to only a single living player, and even then Grian is doing far better than most of TIES.

It’s also interesting to me how Mean Gills had a significant time uptick at the end of both Session 6 and Session 7 (the first due to Martyn and the second due to Scott). Scott’s time was so high that it kept Mean Gills’ average time as yellow for all of Session 6 despite Martyn being red for most of it... and Martyn then got enough kills to keep it there. Mean Gills is also the only team in the entire graph to anywhere gain such consistent significant time.

These averages also coincide with the comments I made above about the time offset difference for each player from the start to end of the session. Mean Gills are doing well, but they’ve been doing well for so long that I’m sure most players are aware that they need to be a target. Nosy Neighbours are also doing well but I feel like they’ve flown under the radar, and are not a significant target right now.

Here is a close up of this graph with Sessions 1-4:

And the close up for Session 5-7:

And the Session 7 only close up:

I kept the dead players in the teams’ averages, since I think it is a better reflection of the teams’ strength as a whole, but I also created a version that excluded dead players. In those screenshots you can really see Bad Boys’ and TIES’ time jumping up at a death, instead of falling as it did here.

Here are the alternate averages graph:

And close ups:

This makes Bad Boys look a lot better, because Grian does have a lot of time... but he is also alone. And there is definitely strength in numbers. Two players at an hour and a half each can fend off an attacker more easily than a single player at three hours can... unless nerves and panic get to them, as we definitely saw this session.

Wow and I almost forgot to include the raw data for this session!

The first hour of the session:

The second hour of the session:

There is just so much death! Look at all the box outlines!! I could barely fit this data on two screens on the zoom I was on, and I did not want to zoom out further.

I also obviously have data for the averages, but it was too far away from the column with the times on it that I wasn’t sure if it would still be useful on its own? Let me know if you want to see it!

This has once again been fascinating to see, and I cannot wait to see how Session 8 will go. Will it be the last session? Will they go until everyone is dead? Will they somehow have enough people with enough time to get to Session 9? Will Mean Gills be the final two and get to play fun relaxing games like Scott was suggesting? 

Only time will tell.

[babyhatesreality]

Omg imagine this:

They have a Polaroid camera and one day she ask if she could take photos of them. They agree and later they find them somewhere special bc they have a special place in her heart and life 🥺💖💓🦄

My heart is melting 😭

I gotchu fam <3

Say Cheese

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x Little f!reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, pet names all over the place, fluffity fluff fluff fluff.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. 

"Papa, what dis?"

Steve looked up from his mountain of paperwork. You were standing in front of the shelves in their office, examining all their treasures with your eyes (and not your hands because you were a good girl). He grinned when he recognized your little butt wiggle of excitement as you discovered something you hadn't seen before. He stood up and came over to you.

"That is a polaroid camera, my love," he explained, smiling down at you. "You take pictures with it."

"Where da number buttons on it?"

"It's not like my phone or Daddy's phone- this camera doesn't have number buttons."

"It DOESN'T?" you breathed in wonder. "Is dis from the old times?!" you followed up excitedly. You loved anything from 'the old times'.

Steve chuckled. "Yup, but this wasn't mine or Daddy's. We bought this at an antique store. Daddy and I...weren't around when this was invented," he said, side stepping the details. "But we thought it was pretty cool, right?"

"Right! SO cool!"

"You want to hold it?" he asked, as you were practically vibrating with excitement and he knew you were just dying to touch it.

"YES YES YES!!!"

"What do you say, baby?"

"PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!!!"

Steve laughed at your exuberance. "That's my good girl. Be careful now," he said, picking up the old camera and putting it carefully into your hands. You held it like it was a Faberge Egg, your eyes wide with wonder. You gently pivoted it in your hands, examining it from every angle that you could. Steve couldn't help but smile at your absolute laser-like focus as you took in everything about this cool, new thing from the old times.

"You wanna have your picture taken?" he asked gently after a moment. You just turned to him in hushed astonishment, then nodded vigorously. You wanted to jump up and down but you had to be very careful with Papa's treasure. Papa took the camera from you, flipped it around, leaned down, and looked through the small lens window. "Say cheese!"

"CHEESE!"

Papa snapped the photo, then held out the camera to you. He grinned again as you tilted your head adorably, confused by the whirring sounds coming from the camera. You stepped back a bit as the photo started to emerge-you hadn't been expecting that- but once you understood what was happening, you gasped and rushed forward to examine it more closely.

Steve plucked the finished photo from the camera and shook it a couple times. "Wha you doin' dat for, Papa?" you asked, your curiosity insatiable. Steve stopped for a moment, looked at the photo, then shrugged.

"I'm not actually sure, Little One," he said. "I think it helps the photo develop faster." After another moment of shaking, he handed it to you. "Here you go, angel. What do you think?"

You were absolutely gobsmacked. This was so much cooler than you'd ever dreamed. After about five seconds of worshipful silence, however, you turned and yelled down the hallway. "DADDY!!!!"

"Hey, inside voices, baby. You know better than to yell like that," Steve scolded, which was promptly forgotten by you the second Bucky screeched to a halt in the doorway.

"What's wrong?!" he asked, breathing hard at his mad dash across the apartment. He scanned the room for intruders, blood, weapons. Seeing nothing but Steve facepalming and you jumping up and down excitedly, he was confused.

"Daddy, lookit!" you said, thrusting the photo under his nose. "We gotta take pictures together!"

"Trouble," he said sternly. "What have we told you about yelling like that?"

Instantly contrite, you looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Not ta do dat," you said meekly, biting your lips. "Sowwy Daddy, sowwy Papa. I got too excited. AGAIN." You sighed dramatically.

Bucky shook his head, trying to suppress his grin at your cuteness. Steve gave him a look that was also clearly trying to hide his smile. "We can't laugh," Steve muttered to his husband. "Don't encourage her." Both men took a second to compose themselves, before turning back to you, their eyes twinkling.

"Alright, Trouble, you're forgiven," Bucky said, ruffling your hair. "Now tell me all about these pictures."

The three of your spent the next hour doing an impromptu family photo shoot that included a lot of silly poses, a lot of cheek kisses, and tons of laughter.

About two weeks later, after they'd tucked you into bed and you were fast asleep, they were tiptoeing out of your room, when something caught Steve's eye. He gently tapped Bucky's arm and pointed. With the stealth of two super soldiers, they snuck back to the pile of "dragon" treasure you had made last week and refused to disassemble. Steve pulled on a corner of the thing he noticed at the bottom of the pile. Sure enough, it was one of the photos that all three of you were in from your polaroid fun day.

Bucky carefully moved one of your stuffed animals out of the way, revealing even more of the photos.

Both of their hearts swelled as they realized you had kept them both safe in the pile of your greatest treasures.

[thelovelylolly]

a request for Tommy Miller coming to the rescue when readers car breaks down late at night + Tommy putting his coat around her so she doesn't get cold.

🩷

Car Troubles

summary: your car breaks down and you know only one person who's up this late warnings: being alone in the middle of nowhere at night (not sure if that's a true warning, but might as well), pre/no outbreak, fem! reader who's described as smaller than tommy word count: 1.2k notes: tommy my love, he'd come to anyone's rescue and i love him for that (also this is so funny bc my car died on me the other day and i had to get it jumpstarted by someone else lmao)

"No, no, no!" You yelled as you hit your steering wheel.

You were able to pull your car to the side of the road right before the battery died. You groaned as you tried to turn your key, hoping the engine would turn over. Instead, you heard a wheezing sound from your engine before you stopped trying. You leaned your head against the head rest and ran through all your options.

You could try to figure things out by yourself and fix it, but it was late and you were alone on an empty road. You didn't really want to get out of your car at all, you didn't want to risk becoming a face on a missing poster. Which left you with your second option, calling someone.

You didn't know what time it was or how far you were from town, so most of your friends most likely wouldn't answer or be willing to come get you. Most meaning everyone, except for Tommy.

You quickly grabbed your phone from your purse in the passenger's seat and dialed his number. As it rang, you made sure your doors were locked and you didn't see anyone suspicious around.

"Hello?" Tommy's tired voice came from the other end.

"Hey, Tommy, it's me," you quickly answered.

"Oh, hey, sweetheart. Why are you calling me this late? Everything okay?" He asked as you heard sheets shifting around in the background.

You ignored the way his nickname for you made your cheeks warm a bit. "My car died on the side of the road. Do you think you can come get me or jumpstart my car?"

"Yeah, I'll come get you," he paused to quickly pull on some pants and a shirt before swiping his keys from his dresser, "where are you?"

"I'm a few miles from the highway, on the exit with that retro diner," you said.

"Alright, do you want to stay on the phone with me?"

"I would, but I should probably save the battery. I'll call you if it's an emergency, okay?"

"Okay, see you in a bit, sweetheart," he said before hanging up.

You sighed and put your phone back in your bag before leaning back in your seat. You wrapped your arms around yourself as a shiver ran through you. Of course the night your car decided to die was one of those rare nights in Austin when the air was brisk and windy.

You tried to ignore the slight chill slipping into your car by thinking about other things, mainly Tommy. You were happy you had a friend like him. Not only was he willing to help no matter the time of day, he was caring and funny. He was also handsome, but you'd never say it out loud. You didn't want to cross that line between friends and more, even though you two had been dancing around it for months.

Were you waiting for him to give you a sure sign he was into you? Maybe, but was that so bad? You were willing to be the one who makes the first move, you just didn't want to misread anything between you two.

However, Tommy being a gentleman and coming to your rescue late at night was making it harder not to make that first move.

You saw headlights approaching and were brought back to the present. You watched as Tommy got closer and pulled off to the side of the rode in front of your car. You quickly got out of your car and walked over to his driver's side to meet him.

"Hey," you said, crossing your arms in front of you to keep yourself warm in the brisk night air.

"Hey, you doin' alright, sweetheart?" He replied, his accent becoming heavier with his tiredness.

"I'm fine, just ready to go home, y'know?"

"Then, let's get this car fixed."

He flashed you a smile before walking over and popping your engine open. You moved to the side of your car and watched him work, his headlights being the only good source of light. Watching his hands work made you forget about the cold for a moment, but a sudden breeze caused your teeth to chatter and your hands to shake for a few seconds.

Tommy glanced up at you, worry in his eyes. "You cold?"

"Y-yeah, but I'll-"

He cut you off by standing up and taking off his jacket. He stepped closer and wrapped his jacket around your shoulders. It was big on your frame, you nearly drowned in it, but you didn't care as you slipped your arms into the sleeves. The jacket smelled like him and it gave you some relief from the cold. Tommy was standing close to you, so close that if you leaned forward just a bit, your lips would meet.

You saw his eyes fall then meet yours again. He cleared his throat and stepped away, getting back to work. He found your battery before going and grabbing his jumper cables, then turned the ignition off on his car. He quickly opened his engine up and found his battery.

He then handed the cables to you to put on your battery. Once both cables were on, he turned to you and met your gaze. "Let's see if it worked."

You nodded with a smile, then rounded your car and hopped in the driver's seat. You turned your keep and the engine finally turned over. You got out of the car and quickly went over to Tommy, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug.

"Thank you!" Your words were muffled with your face buried in his neck.

He laughed as his arms wrapped tightly around you. "Anytime, sweetheart."

You pulled away just enough to meet his eyes, the two of you smiling like idiots. You saw his eyes dart down again, and you took that as your sign. You leaned in slowly, a bit hesitant, too. As you just started to tilt your head to the side, Tommy closed the gap between you two. Your lips met and it made all that time dancing around your feelings worth it. His lips were soft and fit with yours perfectly as he pulled you even closer. The cold, the cars, everything went out the window and your thoughts were just him and his lips.

It only lasted a few moments, but it felt much longer. You both pulled away and slowly let each other go.

"You, uh, need anything else?" He asked, his hands holding yours for the last bit of contact.

You shook your head. "I think I'm good." Especially after kissing you, you silently add on.

"Alright, well," he finally let your hands go and took care of the cables before shutting your engines, "I'll call you tomorrow."

You two stand between your cars, not really wanting the moment to end. "Sounds good," you reply with a smile.

He quickly kissed your cheek, his lips staying close to your ear. "Talk to you then, sweetheart."

Leaving you blushing, he rounded his car and went to the driver side. You watched as he climbed in before doing the same. He pulled back out onto the road first and you followed behind him.

Maybe you should have car troubles more often.

[pessimisticoptimistsblog]

A/N – I know this is a day late, depression has been rough this week, and the amount of details in here had me pulling my hair out. This is entirely back story for my OC, very minimal Lucifer. Also, barely proofread, but I needed to get it out of my drafts so I don’t delete the whole thing and my account. Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

CW: language, I think? Also, the phrases and her mom's accent are Scots. Hopefully, the page I used to reference it was accurate

Chapter 6

My History

Caelwen’s eyes snapped open at the sound of birds. She hadn’t heard birds, real birds, in centuries. Propping herself up with her hands, she looked around to find the source of the sound; perhaps Lucifer had made a chirping rubber duck? But instead of the dark reds, pinks and blacks of the fallen angel’s workshop, she saw trees full of green leaves and patches of yellow flowers scattered in the tall grass around her. This couldn’t be hell, so where was she?

The last thing Caelwen remembered was Lucifer above her, casting the spell to break the seal Adam had placed on her. What the fuck happened?

"Hullo! Hou'r ye?” A voice sounded behind Caelwen. The brunette spun around into a crouch to face the stranger with her fists raised. Taking in the woman before her now, Caelwen’s shoulders slumped in disbelief. There stood her mother, wavy light blonde hair tied back with a leather cord and warm brown eyes shining, just the way she looked the last time Caelwen saw her.

Caelwen dropped to her knees fully, making no effort to stop the tears beginning to stream down her face.

“Well? Hou’r ye, love? Been awhile, hasn’t it?” The mother’s smile was bright as she walked closer to kneel next to her daughter. “I’m so happy to see ye, though, the circumstances aren’t ideal” she spoke in a whisper and wiped away her daughter’s tears.

Caelwen’s eyes darted over her mother’s face, taking it in before launching herself into the older woman’s arms. Caelwen squeezed her mother tight, terrified she’d disappear, and sobbed loudly. The last time she had seen her mother, the woman was being dragged off by angry villagers while Caelwen had hid inside a hollowed out tree.

“Now now, wee one, enough of that – we don’t have much time. There’s some things I need to tell ye.” Caelwen pulled away slightly, looking up at her mother in confusion. “You’re sleeping, love. Breaking that seal did a number on your mind and soul, you would’ve died if not for Lucifer’s magic being stronger than your father’s!” She said with a half laugh.

Caelwen raised a hand to her chest, remembering the burning pain from before she passed out. She looked to her mother, opening and closing her mouth a few times, too used to not having a voice to remember what it felt like to use it. “W-what, what do you-,” Caelwen coughed a few times, her throat dry.

Oh! Here, drink. It’ll help.” Her mother handed Caelwen a small pouch filled with water.

Taking a few eager gulps and wiping the couple drops that escaped from her chin, Caelwen tried to speak again. “What do you mean ‘we don’t have much time’? What’s going on?” Her voice was hoarse and quiet.

“Well, ye can’t stay here forever! That man, Lucifer, is losing his mind over you. Ye’ve been asleep for a week, Cae’. Poor thing hasn’t been away from your side for more than a few hours. Ye found a good one, better than I did a’ least!” The blonde woman chuckled while brushing Caelwen’s hair away from her face.

The younger girl blushed at the talk of Lucifer; even though he had told her she hadn’t misread the signs, it was still so odd to hear he had been caring for her. “Do you mean Adam? Is that what we need to talk about?”

“Aye. With you being fully intact now, it’s time ye know everything. Adam and I met not long after me ma and da passed, sweating sickness, and I was doin’ my best to maintain the house. I’d had gentlemen coming around for weeks, but Adam was so charming. He told me he was a knight for the king, didn’t know he meant God at the time o’course, only found that out when I had you! He’d been so kind, told me he’d marry me once he was released from service. When I told him I was carrying you, he got so angry – told me to take something, anything to get rid’a ye and then left. I couldn’t bear to do it, so I started running. After the first few months, I couldn’t hide ye. People started to notice the bump. And that I was alone. They all thought I was a harlot, then a witch, I was barely able to find food and shelter before I’d be shunned. And then I had ye, and you were so perfect! But, ye had these wee little nubs on your back. And after your first year, they’d grown and had feathers; that’s when I realized your da wasn’t human, he’d been the only man I’d laid with so I knew it'd been him.” Caelwen’s mother paused, a sad smile on her face.

Caelwen looked puzzled for a moment, acknowledging what her mother had said. “I don’t remember having wings until a few weeks after you died. How could I have had them when I was a baby?”

The older woman chuckled slightly, “I’m getting to that. When you started toddling around, I couldn’t hide them in a swaddle and a child from a village we passed through saw them. Thankfully, her parents thought she was dreaming. I started looking for ways to hide them and remembered something my ma had taught me. My ma was a witch, but a clever one, no one ever knew except me when she told me as she died. She’d always told me before I knew what she’d meant, that healer women always had the best books. The next village we reached, I found a healer and asked if she knew of a book that might help. She only helped when I told her who my ma was and what I truly needed, and thankfully, I kept the secret well. She also helped me with the seal we used, but she’d tied the seal to my life, so once I died, so too did the seal.”

“And that’s why they only showed up after you died. And grandmother being a witch, explains why Adam believed you bewitched him, everyone back then believed it ran in the family.” Caelwen laid back, staring up at the blue sky before her as she thought over everything she had learned.

“Aye, but there’s one more thing. Your great-great grandmother made a deal with a demon that all of the daughters in her line would honor him and spread his name in exchange for protection from evil men. If we ever failed to uphold our end, we’d all suffer for eternity. But if the demon ever allowed harm to befall her line, that daughter would gain abilities to aid her in the depths of hell. That’s why you were able to survive so long with half of you sealed off, the demons deal took effect when Adam hurt you.” The older woman looked off into the distance as Caelwen sat up, processing everything she had learned.

“What about you, though? Men killed you, so why didn’t you survive in hell?”

“Before they could try me as a witch, one of the farmer’s wives had given me a drink with mandrake. I died before the men could do anything, and I didn’t stand much of a chance when I landed in hell.” Caelwen’s mother had a sad smile on her face - she never should have trusted that woman.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, taking in everything around them and enjoying each other’s presence.

There was one more mystery for Caelwen, though. “How are you here then? If you’ve already died in hell, how are you here telling me all of this? Even if it is a dream, I couldn’t possibly have any of this information in my subconscious.”

“A deal I made before I died in hell, so that when you made it down here I’d be able to tell you everything I never had a chance to while alive.” The older woman paused, looking at the sky. Then, as if getting a signal, she nodded and turned to Caelwen. “We’re out of time love, you need to start trying to wake up. Come here,” she held her arms out to her daughter.

Wrapping her arms around her mother, Caelwen held her tight, not ready to leave the warm embrace. Her mother pulled away, brushing loose hairs away from Caelwen’s face, then cupping her cheek. Brown eyes gazed into green, “A love ye, Cae. Be safe, please, and kick yer father’s arse for me?”

Caelwen leaned into her mother’s hand, closing her eyes and laughing slightly. “I think I can do that. I love you too.”

When the Nephilim reopened her eyes, her mother was gone, and so was the field. Now surrounded by the inky blackness of her mind, Caelwen crossed her legs and tried to focus on waking up.

~In Hell~

“I’m sorry Charlie, I can’t come today… yes she’s still not awake… I know, but I-…” Lucifer was pacing the floor of his room, shrinking into himself as he spoke to his daughter. He hated to disappoint her, again, but Caelwen could wake up at any time, and he wanted to be with her when she did. Sure, it had been over a week now, and the doctor he'd sworn to secrecy had said it may take a while still, but what if it didn’t and he wasn’t here?!

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Charlie. I’ll- I’ll be there in an hour, okay?... Yeah, see you soon.” Lucifer ended the call before walking closer to his bed. He looked down at Caelwen’s prone form, her hair splayed around her peaceful face. Grabbing her limp hand, Lucifer squeezed it, whispering, “I’ll be back tonight. Can’t keep letting Charlie down, right? Heh…” He laughed awkwardly, releasing Caelwen’s hand and darting out the door before he could change his mind.

Later that night, Lucifer returned home, drained. He loved helping Charlie and bonding, but dealing with the sinners of the hotel was far from enjoyable. Lucifer walked into his room, removing his coat and vest and rolling up his sleeves. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up while briefly glancing towards his bed and then moving towards his bathroom.

Entering the bathroom, Lucifer looked at his reflection, releasing a heavy sigh. He closed his eyes and hung his head for a moment before his brain finally caught up with him. Lucifer’s eyes sprung open, and he threw open the bathroom door to look at his bed. There was Caelwen sitting up in the bed, green eyes glittering as she tried to hide her laughter behind a hand.

Calewen had stared at Lucifer as he walked into the bathroom, wondering if he had noticed her. She had been awake for a couple hours, long enough to mull over all the information she had learned and stretch out the stiffness in her joints.

“You’re awake? How- uh, how are you feeling? Any pain?” Lucifer questioned the Nephilim in his bed. When she shook her head, he let his shoulders relax. “Did it… have you tried to talk? To see if it worked?” Lucifer nervously fiddled with his fingers as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

Caelwen cleared her throat slightly, “It worked. Thank you, Lucifer!” She smiled brightly at the fallen angel before her. “And thank you for taking care of me while I recovered, I’m sorry to have worried you.”

Lucifer smiled tiredly, “I’m just happy you’re okay. And that it worked!”

Noticing the bags under her companions eyes, Caelwen pat the bed and started to rise, “We can talk more in the morning, you look like you could use some sleep. I’ll head to the guest room, it’ll be nice to stretch my legs!”

Before she could swing her legs over the side of the bed, Lucifer was pushing her back down. “No! No, stay, please! I can go sleep somewhere else, no need for you to push yourself!”

Caelwen looked at Lucifer’s panicked face, raising a brow and grabbing his hands that held her shoulders down. Lucifer, realizing what he had done and the position they were in, jumped off the bed, half tripping over his feet as he backed away towards the door.

A quick, high-pitched goodnight was the last thing Caelwen heard before Lucifer had disappeared in a puff of red smoke.

A/N – I’m stopping here for a few reasons, but mostly because this chapter has kicked my butt and I hate it. Sorry it’s a bit shorter than normal, but this took like 2 days to write. Next chapter will be a bit more of like fleshing out the relationship.

Tag list

@leximus98

[miyuhpapayuh]

He Got Game.

Devin - shorty with the snake tattoo and bad ass attitude.

 

"Who's shorty?" Odell asks one of his boys, Jay.

"Who?" He asks, staring around, cluelessly.

"Over there, with the green hoodie on." He grabs the back of his neck and points to her.

"Oh! That's Devin, man."

"Damn, she bad as hell."

"She'd cut yo ass up." His other friend, Sean, says.

"Fuck that mean? These girls flock to a young nigga!" Odell pats his chest for emphasis.

"Unfortunately, cause nobody else is available." Jay adds with an obnoxious snort.

"When's the last time you got some pussy?" He asks Jay, who's laughter slowly dies down.

"Exactly. Besides, who said I wanted to fuck her?" Both Jay and Sean throw balled up napkins at him.

"Shut your stupid ass up. You and I both know that's your motive— your only motive. Like I said, she'd cut your ass up." Sean reiterates.

"She a lil rough one, huh?" Odell asks, licking his lips.

"Mhm, her lil heavy handed ass."

"Don't say nun'. Let ol' rookie get smacked up."

"Rookie? You must be out ya body. She can't be that bad—"

"She hard body. This ain't like them lil hoes you be fuckin' wit. Shorty different." Sean shakes his head at Odell's pig headed behavior.

"Facts. Quit actin' like you can handle her, cause ya can't." Jay adds, patting his shoulder for emphasis.

"Both of y'all can kiss my ass crack. I ain't gon say nun' else, ima just show y'all how I do— cause, I always get them drawls." His wicked smirk comes out to play.

"Lord please forgive him." Jay looks up towards the ceiling with his hands clasped together.

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

Spotting Devin walking down the sidewalk, Odell decides to make his move.

Swiftly catching up to her, he gently grabs her wrist to catch her attention. She turns in his direction, as well as her friends whose eyes grow wide.

"Excuse me, beautiful. Can I holla at you for a minute?" She raises an eyebrow and looks down at his hand still wrapped around her wrist, before looking back up at him.

"You can start by removing your hand from me." She yanks and he releases her with a soft chuckle.

"I'm Odell—"

"Mmhm. I know who you are." She looks in her friends' direction and nods her head. They snicker and slowly head towards a bench, not too far away.

"Whatchu want lover boy?" She crosses her arms over her chest, watching him stuff his hands in his jacket pockets.

"I saw you earlier and couldn't pass up the opportunity to—"

"—spit game? I'm not interested." She starts to walk away, but he blocks her path.

"You ain't even give me a fair shot, shorty." She sighs.

"I'm not your shorty. I have a name."

"You ain't even told me what it was, though." He smirks.

"It's Devin."

"You got a boy name." He chuckles.

"I got boy hands, too. You wanna feel 'em?" She squints at him.

"These lil ass hands," he grabs her right hand and holds it up, laughing to himself, "you ain't doin' no damage."

Yanking away from him again, she slaps his arm. He flinches, but quickly recovers. She smirks.

"I play ball, baby. It's gon take a whole lot more than a slap to hurt me."

"Oh, you want it to hurt? I can make that happen."

He steps closer to her.

"Nothin' but space and opportunity."

"Name a time and a place."

"How bout this," his minty breathes invades her nostrils, delighting her. "You come to the crib after school. I can show you that I'm really not that bad."

"You ain't slick. But, since I have nothing else to do— I'll entertain you. Take my number down."

Not even bothering to hide his excitement, he whips his phone out and eagerly types those ten digits into the contact log, locking her in.

She laughs, before turning on her heels to walk away. Odell notices the sudden switch in her hips and chuckles to himself.

"Well, well..... well. We watched and I can honestly say this with a straight face." Sean steps in front of Odell and lays his hand on his shoulder. "You're a semi-alive man."

Jay snickers, listening to the teeth-sucking noise leave Odell. "Get off me." He pushes Sean back and holds his phone up, showing both of them her contact. "Not only that, but she's comin' over after school. So much for ya lil hard body."

"We saw her smack you. You flinched, you big dummy." Jay laughs, slapping Odell himself.

"I'm not a brick wall, dingus. Of course I flinched. It ain't kill me, though." He pulls his toboggan off and tosses it at him.

"Fix that shit on your head and maybe somebody'll give you some pussy." Odell spats, before turning to Sean.

"And you, you big bitch. Your girl is gonna be putty in my hands by four o'clock. I won't even bet you on it, cause this is what I do."

With that, he walks down the sidewalk to his car.

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

The doorbell rings once, sending him coolly striding towards the door. He opens it up and moves to the side to let her in, taking in her changed wardrobe.

Her green hoodie and jeans are now a black belly shirt and matching shorts, along with adidas slides, showing off her golden anklet and baby pink toes.

"You done eye-fuckin' me?" He slowly drags his eyes up to her face, chuckling at the slight annoyance etched on it.

"I'm just lookin'. Ain't no harm in that, is there?" He walks into the living room and plops down on the couch, watching her stand in the same spot.

"Mm." She walks towards the couch and does the same, draping one arm across the side of the couch and placing the other underneath her chin.

"The change of clothes makes me think that you want me to look at you. I could be wrong—"

"You are. A girl can't be comfortable?"

"I ain't say that. I'm saying you coulda been comfortable in anything. Leggings, sweats, a crewneck. Strollin' in here lookin' like Dick Appointment 101. It's some natural shit to assume--"

"Fuckin' with me, you don't assume shit. ¿Claro?"

"Que sí, mama."

She cut her eyes at him, snatching up the remote. She wanted nothing more than to claw that smug look off his face.

Underneath the irritation...she was impressed. Never in a million years would she vocalize it, though.

"We not watching no fuckin' ESPN," she said flipping through the channels until she found something worth watching.

He put his hands up in mock surrender. "I ain't trippin', shorty."

She settled on Jamie Foxx reruns. They fell into a comfortable silence, only punctuated by their shared laughter. Stealing quick glances to her face he thought, 'Damn she got a pretty smile with her mean ass.'

About an hour into the marathon, she allowed herself to get comfortable, leaning back into the couch cushions and slipping off her shoes to fold her legs. Odell's arm casually snaked its way across the back of the couch. He half expected her to physically remove it. She simply carried on watching the show as if she didn't notice.

"Where's your bathroom, pretty boy?"

"Down the hall, second door on the right." She excuses herself, following his directions.

After washing her hands, she checked her phone to see a text from her best friend, Charli.

Charli👸✨: Yoooo. Where you at? Tryna hit the mall and catch this Vicky Secrets sale.

Did she really want to tell her friend who she was with? She decided why not. She's grown.

Devvy Dev❤: Kickin it at Odell's house. We'll link later.

Charli👸✨: Kickin it at who house👀??? Fuck you doing over there?

Devvy Dev❤: Ain't have shit better to do

Charli👸✨: I thought he wasn't shit but a cocky under grown dickhead

Devvy Dev❤: He is...

Charli👸✨: Mmm. Him in them gray sweats the other day got you reconsidering, huh sis😜?

Devvy Dev❤: Bye Charli😑😑😑

She locked her phone and returned to her spot on the sofa.

"Thought you bailed out the window or some shit," he chuckled.

"If I wanted to dip, I woulda done it, playboy."

He snickered, mumbling something under his breath.

"Speak the fuck up."

"Keep on, and imma put something in that smart ass mouth," he spoke up, staring her dead in the face.

"Boy, you ain't gon do a muthafuckin' thing except keep flappin' ya gums like you been doing."

By this time she'd gotten up from her seat, talking with her hands.

"Wanna bet, baby girl?" He mimicked her stance, standing inches away from her face.

"Yo back the fuck up!" She mushed him in his forehead.

"Do that shit again..." before her hand can even come towards him, his thick fingers wrap around her wrist, pulling her closer towards his face.

Moving backwards now, he stares down at her, watching the amusement in her eyes grow. Her back hits the wall, roughly while his hands plant themselves on either side of her head.

"You think I'm playin' with you, huh?" He asks, as she cocks her head to the side, silently egging him on.

"Actions speak louder than words, yet.... you're still talking." As soon as "talking' leaves her mouth, his lips smash against hers, in a heated hurry to shut her up and feel how soft her lips are.

 Her fingers find the front of his shirt, wrinkling it with how tight she's gripping it. His tongue invades hers, turning her on. Her restraint starts to slip.

She begins pushing him away, trying to regain her attitude, which is now clouded with all the positions she wants him to put her in.

Catching on to her becoming putty, he moves his lips towards her neck, gliding his tongue over various spots, in search for the one that makes her weak.

Hearing the hitch in her breath as his tongue runs up the left side of her neck, lightly grazing his teeth against her skin, he smirks to himself.

"You done fightin' me?" He brings his face back up to hers, staring right into her eyes. They still hold a fire, but most of it diminished from his lips, alone.

She doesn't verbally respond, but the way that her fingers are back, clutching the collar of his shirt, he knows the answer.

He picks her up and heads down the hall, into his bedroom. Kicking the door closed, he tosses her onto the bed and pulls his shirt off, immediately pushing his sweats down next.

He hovers over her and pushes the bottom of her shirt up, revealing her petite breasts. His tongue returns to her skin, running circles around her sensitive areolas.

A moan slips from her mouth, while her hands cradle his head. His mouth encloses around her nipple, pulling another moan from her, this time much louder.

"Stop teasing me." Lust carries every word, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. He grunts against her, before sliding down to remove her shorts, revealing her pink lacies from Victoria Secret.

Spreading her legs, his eyes light up at the sight of the middle of her panties dampening by the second. He licks his lips and pulls them to the side, inhaling her arousal.

His mouth attaches to her wetness, quickly working her up. Her hands grope her own flesh, before sliding up into her hair, all while biting the hell outta her lip.

Her legs drape over his neck, pulling him closer by her heels. His tongue grazes over a certain spot, sending her back bending upward.

"Fuck!" Every lick after that makes her jolt and screw her eyes shut. Her hands find his shoulders, lightly imprinting his skin.

He moans against her, sending vibrations through her clit. She wines her hips against his face, becoming a little more vocal.

"Fuuuuuck.... you gonna slurp this honey, baby?" In response, he shakes his head from side to side, causing her head to hit the pillows and her toes to curl.

"Ohhh fuck!" Her pouty bottom lip gets pulled between her teeth, as she grinds herself through her first orgasm, silently wishing it would stay a second longer.

She sits up and attacks his lips, while his heavy hand blindly searches for the rubber in his dresser drawer. She pushes his boxers down with her feet, before grinding her wet core against his bare length.

"As much as I'd love to raw dog you, I need to put this on." He grumbles against lips, making her pout.

Quickly putting the condom on, he sinks into her warmth and grunts, heavily. "God damn, baby."

"Ugh, I feel it in my stomach." Her hand rests on his hip, feeling him start to grind in and out of her. Her moans flow through the room, causing a smile to break out on his lips.

The look in her eyes shift as he begins hitting her spot. Her hand pushes at his waist, seizing up at the feeling.

"Oh my God, Odell!" He takes her hand into his own, planting kisses on the back of it, continuously slamming into her spot.

"You're s-such a fucking— ah!" Her back arches away from the bed.

"I'm such a what, babygirl? Finish that fuckin' sentence."

"Sssss.... such a fucking asshole— don't stop!"

"I ain't stoppin' baby. Cum on this dick."

Every time they collide, her peak grows closer. Her nails dig into his back, as he rolls his hips into hers, hitting spots she never knew about.

"Shhhiiiittt!" Her body begins trembling from head to toe, signaling the beginning of her second orgasm.

He leans down and sucks on her neck, making her clench around him. Her nails leave behind scratches with every heavy thrust.

"Unh! Okay.... okay!" Both hands push at his waist, trying to get him to stop. Squeezing her walls around him, only makes him growl in her ear.

"I can't— I c-can't!" She pushes him back and palms her vagina, breathing harshly. Her body jerks from the slight overstimulation.

He flips her over, removes her panties and pushes the middle of her back down. She pushes her ass up in the air, making him bite down on his lip.

Sliding behind her, he spreads her legs and glides back into her, rubbing up against her spot, again.

"What happened to all that attitude, huh?" He begins pumping heavily into her, causing her to fist the sheets.

"Huh? You still holdin' it in?"

"No! Fuck me!" She reaches back with one hand, pulling him closer to her. He grinds into her, sending her eyes to the back of her head.

"What's my name?"

"Mmm, Odell.... oh my God!" He speeds back up, causing her to squeeze around him.

"Just like that— fuuuuck!" He wraps an arm around her chest, bringing back on him quicker, causing her to scream out.

"Ah! That's my spot, babyyyy!"

"Baby, huh?" He mumbles against her ear.

"Fuck you." She grits through her teeth, feeling her final peak creeping up.

"That's what you're doing, babygirl." Her nails dig into his arm and leg. Her head is permanently thrown back onto his shoulder as she explodes loudly.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck...... oh my God, yes! Mmmm.." Odell cumming not too far behind her, ends their heated connection and disposes of the condom.

Devin pulls her panties back and pushes her top back down, smirking at a lazy Odell.

"Wanna order a pizza?" He asks, pulling his clothes back on.

"Sure." She runs her hand through her hair, making her tattoo visible for the second time.

"Cool. We can talk about this." He pokes her left wrist.

"What if I don't wanna tell you?"

"Then, I'll just break ya back, again."

Hehe... I love revisiting old stories. Enjoy!

@sheabuttahwrites @thegifstories @blackerthings @starcrossedxwriter @harmshake @honestpreference @ghostfacekill-monger @soufcakmistress @twistedcharismaaa @headcannonxgalore @mauvecherie-writes @abeautifulmindexposed

[chase-omega]

Maybe it's for the best that I never got into Metroid. Cuz apparently people are STILL waiting for Prime 4? Ngl, Metroid fans. Nintendo is doin' you more dirty than Square Enix did Kingdom Hearts fans.

I mean imagine waiting years and years and years for something and getting no updates or gameplay footage of any kind. Reminds me of the 14 year wait for Kingdom Hearts 3.

You know in Japan, they consider the number 4 bad luck cuz when said in Japanese, it sounds like the Japanese word for "death".

Maybe Metroid Prime 4 died.

[zonerobotnik]

Haven't drawn him yet, but my brain has conjured up all kinds of stuff for Hazbin Gideon. And since I got creative block, I'll just put it here.

He's a showman and a serial killer and he tends to target people that exploit the innocent, with Valentino being at the top of his hitlist. In life, he was a vigilante that hunted down people like that and he has gone after them again now that they're all dead. His motivation is the fact that he himself was exploited by his own father from the moment he was born and the only reason his father didn't die at his hand was because he could use him, until he lost his mind and Gideon left him to suffer alone.

He's a powerful Overlord that is friends with Rosie and Alastor and has stolen territory from several of his targets, including targeting the Vees' territories to try to draw out Valentino so he can kill him.

He goes by G or Glee and has psychic powers he uses to mess with people and the magic he learned when he was alive. He has many demonic allies from when he summoned them to make Deals for power and assistance with tracking down his targets. (He never bartered his Soul, he's not stupid.)

He finds the Hazbin Hotel charming but is doubtful it will work and thinks Heaven is stupid if they think Hell will reduce in number just because they take out a few because he knows for a fact that Sinners die every day. When asked if he wanted to give it a shot, he cheerfully says, "I tried the redemption thing in life, thought Ah was doin' good by killin' bad people. Yet, here Ah am and here Ah stay." He also suggests that rather than try to change Heaven's mind, she should order everyone into hiding every scheduled Extermination Day so no one dies, but Charlie is determined to change their minds and allow redemption.

He also makes black-market Angelic Weapons, snagging Angelic Spears before Carmilla's girls can to melt them down into bullets or repurposing them into knives. He carries an Angelic Knife on him at all times, which he uses his telekinesis to attack people from a distance with it. He also has an Angelic Gun, though he doesn't like to use it and mostly has it for intimidation.

He thinks Varian is a fool for allying with the Vees and he'd be safer from Alastor under his protection, not Vox's. Varian refuses and Gideon taunts him for being "a scared little boy still clinging to his father-figure".

That's all I got so far. Still figuring out what to make him look like, but I know I don't want him to look like an animal.

[obsidiancreates]

No Context AU (No-One Is Actor and No-One Is Each Other)

"What would you know about it?" Space hisses, jabbing his finger into Heist's chest. "Do you remember dying? Over and over and over again?"

"No." Heist stands his ground though, smirking. "Because I'm not a whiny bitch who got caught in a wormhole."

"But... you are." Illinois gestures from where he leans on the wall. "Yancy's got the proof on his arm."

"We're here because we all got caught in a wormhole," Date pipes up, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "I don't remember mine either. I'm not bragging about it."

Space grabs Heist by the vest. "Do you know how many lives I've lived? Do you want to meet some of the people I've been? Because I would gladly introduce you to the time I was a serial murderer." His form spasms, and for a he's wearing burgundy and a necklace and sunglasses and there's a knife against Heist's throat-

And then it's gone.

"I'm not scared of you," Heist scoffs. "I've faced way worse certain death! What was the one thing, Yancy? In the uhhh... zombie, thing?"

Yancy looks at his right arm. "Youse got shot in the chest?"

"Yeah! And I survived that, didn't I?"

"Big deal. So did I."

"Yeah, and then your Captain abandoned you, do I have that right?"

"They came back."

"Oh, goodie for you, yours comes back for you. I may not be able to remember much from the other timelines, but I remember someone a lot more eager to move on. Didn't even mourn."

"That's a complete self-burn, you know." Date picks at the petals of a rose. "Mine liked spending time with me. They had to get tricked in order to leave me behind."

"You mean shoot you?"

"Same difference. They had to be tricked to get me out of their life."

"Didn't you say they rejected your proposal once?"

"I just moved a little too fast for them! They still said yes to a second date!"

"Youse guys is doin' real good at rememberin' now. Wonder why."

"Because it's all we talk about?" Illinois kicks the wall with the back of his boot. "Y/N this, Captain that, my date this, we did this together, this happened to us... sometimes you just have to let people go. Everyone dies gruesome deaths, and that's okay. No need to try and save them. At least, no need to try very hard."

Space lets go of Heist, looking at Indy with all the shock his face can possibly express. "You don't value your Captain?"

"Not my Captain. And they're fine. But they're one of many, you know. Handsome and/or beautiful as any artifact, but just another in a long line of people who fall in love with me and end up dying or just not making the cut."

"Why'd you even come after them then?!"

"I didn't, really. I just jump through every portal I see. Usually leads to ancient gods and golden cities, not... tiny inescapable rooms full of assholes."

"Hey!" Date gestures to himself. "How am I the asshole?!"

"Youse made 'em pay for dinner," Yancy says. "And youse got 'em kidnapped if they didn't."

"That-! ... Is a fair point."

Space looks around. "They- they're The Captain! They're... they held on!"

"Got sucked away when I tried showin' 'em my new number," Yancy grumbles, accepting a rose to pick at then Date offers it. "They didn't mean too, I knows it! But it stung. Ow, like this stupid thorn!"

"Wait, I thought Yancy said I was the one with the hold on or let go options?"

"Youse both got 'em. But his turns out better." Yancy pats his left arm this time. "Like his more, honestly."

"Didn't you come from my universe?!"

"Youse showed up in his too."

"He did?"

"I did?"

Yancy peers at his arm, and taps one of the boxes. "Right heres, for a minute. Maybe less."

"Oh, great. I get a cameo in your shitfest."

Date throws down his rose. "Why are you such a dick?"

"Oh please, didn't you throw the rose away instead of giving it to yours?"

"That's not as bad as telling them I won't come back for them if they get caught during a heist!"

"At least I didn't wear sneakers with my suit! Or propose!"

"You wanted to go on a date too!"

"It's not the same!"

Space sits down next to Yancy, closing his eyes. "How am I more tired now than when I was undying in a timeloop for so long the universe ended?"

Yancy shrugs. "Youse is all pretty similar. Can be tiring."

"... Yeah. No kidding."

[keeganhogan]

The Burmese Harp

The Burmese Harp was a film in which I found similarities with Ugetsu. Specifically, the theme of critiquing the military’s use of bushido. This is most obviously present when Mizushima fails to convince the other Japanese troop in the mountain to surrender. Mizushima says blatantly that no good will be done by their deaths and that they are more useful aiding their war-torn country, something that Mizushima will soon dedicate himself to, but for Burma. The refusal of the soldiers to follow Mizushima is exemplary of the notion of honor in death as a warrior, and as we see with Mizushima being the sole survivor of that attack, their death was not honorable. They did not go out fighting, they were simply blown to bits once Mizushima’s time was up. The use of gore in this film was also very interesting. The close-up shots on the rotting corpses of soldiers and the number of piles of numerous dead bodies was something I was not expecting from this film. I believe this also goes to show the lack of honor in death. These men were killed and left to rot and be picked at by vultures. This promise of becoming an honorable warrior in death for Japan’s sake is put on blast, as we see how horrible and pitiful the death of these soldiers really was. Even the sergeant, before coming around to believing that Mizushima could be alive, says that to doubt his death is to dishonor his spirit. This saying that claiming a dead warrior is not truly dead would be disrespectful to the warrior who died honorably in battle.

Despite this critique, I couldn’t help but feel that the movie had a little too much empathy for the oppressor. There was almost no depiction of the crimes committed against the Burmese people, and the Japanese soldiers are all depicted as goodhearted men who only interact positively or neutrally with the native people. After reading more about Burma after the movie, this was certainly not the case in reality, and this depiction is relatively disrespectful to the events that did take place.

However, the overall message of the film is how war can change people, how music can be a powerful force to bridge the canyons created by war, and the duty of people in a postwar environment to ease these inevitable pains. To talk on the first point, Mizushima’s change in the movie is quite linked to nationality. Where he begins as Japanese, with a cheap harp, he slowly becomes one with the Burmese people, and his harp at the end of the movie is very fancy. His realizations of the horrors of war give him empathy with the Burmese people, but he also feels indebted to the Japanese soldiers left behind by their country. He feels he owes it to them to do better for them than their country did, and to do this, must turn to Buddhism and the people of Burma. The theme of music is one that I feel is strong at the beginning but loses its relevance for most of the film up until the end. Music obviously is the source of the comradery of the soldiers, but it also allows them to connect with the English troops at the start of the film too. That image of two opposing forces singing together was a strong one in the film. At the end of the film we see that Mizushima is still connected to his friends through music despite the changes he has undergone and the fact that he must leave them behind. Another gap between people created by war, they will always be connected by the music they shared. The final point about the cycle of war was something exemplified in the opening and closing shots of the landscape. The same quote about the soil and rocks of Burma being red appears, but at the end, Mizushima is there walking into the distance, where he wasn’t before. This cycle of war, blood, and red will always continue, as it seems man is doomed to do, but Mizushima’s purpose is to be there for his fellow man in these times and do all he can to ease that burden. He accepts that this cycle exists, acknowledges how awful it is, and dedicates himself to doing all he can in his power to help in the aftermath.