#first life series post... kinda frightened

[medkitphighting]

she bam! on my boo until i zler...

hat ver. below the cut, i preferred the other version more... ^.^

[evilminji]

You know my Crechelings Are Possessed post?

What if it was just the one? A SI-OC or OC?

Dying and going THROUGH the Force? I will attest, is GONNA have side effects. You're gonna end up... weird. Not Normal for a Force Sensitive. Kinda like Anikin tbh. A bit TOO in tune. A bit TOO aware. Connected.

As though your brain was cracked open 5+ dimensionally, to the Whole Of Creation that IS the Force and it kinda fucked you up a bit. Cause as A Luminous Force Being? You were fine! Energy and light! But as MATTER? Well...

Matter breaks.

Can withstand only so much.

We are LIMITED by our matter, crude and flawed as it is. Beloved as it may be.

Cause make no mistake! You aren't BROKEN. But you are CHANGED. There were a series of clear, monumentous, and "life" altering events back to back here! Death, a traumatizing thing no matter HOW peaceful it may have been. And in all likelihood? It was NOT a peaceful end. It probably? Hurt. Was frightening. Abrupt. There is grief and hurt there. Fear.

Then the trauma of being separated from everyone we have ever known. Without closure. For them OR us. Our empathy would remind us of their suffering. That they do NOT know we are okay. That we have no way to TELL them we are. This too, is trauma. But? Worse?

Is the Force.

We? Are no Jedi. Not yet. We are confused. Lost and do not understand. It is FOREIGN to us. An outside will that we cannot escape. Where are our gods? The death we expected? The afterlife we assumed we would meet? It's INSIDE US. It IS US. We are IT. We don't know where we are and everything feels?

E N D L E S S .

Can force ghosts even cry? Weep, terrified and overwhelmed? Afraid? Simply BRINGING us to them would not impart understanding. And imparting understanding? Well... we know it to be not OF us? To be inflicted. An invasion. The Force is not cruel. But! Importantly! It is not and has never BEEN? Mortal.

Blue and Orange morality is at play. How do you explain to a formless, infinite, all knowing, all powerful God Force? The concept of "boundaries"? Limits? There is GOOD to be done. It's helping you! Pushing love and comfort! Surely that should work? Why is that not working? It is... confused. Not MADE for such contemplations.

This too, is Trauma. Being held in the hands of a God. Benevolent does not mean SAFE. Does not mean you will not be unharmed. Just... that they do not MEAN to harm you.

Or have very Good Reasons for why they "Must".

The Force Ghosts help. They are patient in the way only old Master's could be. Kind. They understand. Have taught. And so? Though they are quite confused, they understand you struggle to release your fear. Explaining things helps. Talking helps. And you find peace.

Not the afterlife you EXPECTED, but not terrible.

Which... of course, is when once again things change.

Birth, Life, these TOO, are Trauma. You were FREE. No more pain. No aches. No hunger, no thirst, no exhaustion. Connection deeper then this broken and flawed matter could ever hope to achieve. The world has gone SILENT. Muffled. Like solitary confinement for the SOUL.

Only in meditation, are you FREE.

Your parents can't handle you. You grieve for them. For the child they should have had. Look around the nursery, so filled with excitement and love, and feel nothing but the urge to weep. You are a stillborn, brought to life. A child stolen. They deserved better then this. Even as you can not be anything but what you ARE? What of THEIR sorrow? Their confusion and futures now impossible?

You love them. They are not yours. Will never tryely be your parents, for all they brought you into this world. But oh, Oh, you love these poor grieving souls. Wish it had not been you. That they could have had the child they were so excited to love. You... you are sorry. So, so sorry.

They take you to the Temple. You guild them to a child in need, first. Hope they will be happy.

You do not look back.

They put you in a Creche with others just as "Unusually Strong" in the Force. Is that Grogu? Hi Grogu. Who are the rest of you? The room is quite. Everyone talking loudly in the Force, instead. It would be deafening for the more delicate younglings. They don't have the shields for it yet. The children here SHOUT without meaning too, like standing at a rock concert.

Visions are a constant thing. Unusual Force gifts and manifestations. Illirrrska can see auras. Doesn't know what they MEAN, mind you, and xe sees them on EVERYTHING that lives, but still! Xey are well on xeir way to figuring it out. (Xey have a holo document cataloging the colors, you see.)

You fit right in! With your Tiny Herald Of Death To Come nature. Your Creche mates believe you. The adults? Have grown numb. Used to filtering. Tiny younglings with Too Much Force flowing through them? Are horrors. Viscerally unsettling. Unnatural.

Even to the Jedi.

But! They REFUSE to treat children with such caution and distain. Hold them at an arms length out of FEAR. So they mentally filter. "That's nice dear, horrifying concepts and brain melting secrets, mmmhmmm. Eat your pudding. Who wants to play float ball~‽ Yaaaaaay!"

No one will listen. Future in motion. But really, of course it is. You are no fool.

However... tell me, Master Jedi. Does it matter? If we die one step to the right as apposed to the left? Because you would not LISTEN when the Force spoke? The future only changes when you ACT. Not when you REFUSE too. Out of FEAR. Out of IGNORANCE. Out of ATTACHMENT.

And make no mistake, you ARE attached. Clinging so hard to your beliefs that you could not POSSIBLY be wrong. Could not POSSIBLY be fallible, be fooled by the Dark Side and lead astray, that you have turned your back on the very Tennants of the Code itself.

What is more important? Tradition or the Force? The innocent or the way things were? Tell me, what is the will of the Force... and what is Fear? Convenience? The little moral compromises that damn? Who do you serve, Master Jedi? And ARE you serving them?

Perhaps you should meditate.

Just???

This Tiny Cryptid Crecheling? That speaks like a wizened old Master? Feels like a tiny star in the Force? Not a cute lil ball of light. A FUCKING STAR. Giant ball of gas in space, a burning ball of light, THAT kind of star! But... small? Person shaped. It's like meditating next to a Force Nexus.

They just? Hand you things. Or sabotage random ships. Literally just FUCKING SHOT a knight once, for no clear reason! All they would say is "it's not like you'll actually listen. This is the only way." What? Of COURSE WE'LL LISTEN! (No. They won't. Just ask Sifo. Ask Obi-Wan. The Sith, fear, and hubris have eroded the Jedi from within.)

The full blown confidence of an adult? Combined with the creepy "oh god. They're in THE VENTS!!!" Nature of highly force sensitive Crechelings?

Magnificent~☆

They can see into your SOUL. Are holding a toddler that squirms around, wiggles up to whisper in their ear, gets a nod, only for YOU to be somberly informed that your second in command (a life long friend) has betrayed you. Avoid wearing red. You will die on a Friday. By the way, they can't reach the counter... could you hand them those snacks?

One of the other one speaks to trees.

The trees SPEAK BACK.

Prophecy. Fuckin Terrifying Prophecy EVERYWHERE.

Did YOU want to know that your grandson will grow up to kill his brother? No? Too bad! Not even married yet? ALSO TOO BAD! Have FUN with that knowledge! How about learning that there is horrific suffering planets away? No. No there ISN'T anything you can do about it. Just... here! Have some Deeply Cursed Knowledge. From a toddler. Now! They're gonna go eat grass~☆

The appear and disappear at random. Climb the walls. Fuckin FLOAT. The Force itself is their imaginary friend! They literally consult it over PUDDING CHOICES. Sometimes? They talk in perfect synchronization, like a hive mind. Stare without blinking. One moment they are perfectly normal children... the next? Like PUPPETS.

Tiny avatars. Through which SOMETHING GREATER speaks. They KNOW, not think, KNOW what they need to do. You can not convince them. Trying just makes you an obstacle to be overcome.

They are four.

Toddlers and children. Younglings. Initiates!

I just? Want there to be? A portion of Deeply Cursed/Possessed Crechelings? That are just LIKE that. Loved regardless. Nothing wrong with them. They're just too strong for their lil bitty baby brains. Once they learn to shield better? It'll balance out. Anikin would have gone there, had he been found young.

It'd be hilarious? If what saves the galaxy? Is someone finally REMEMBERING that? And thinking to themselves?

"Hey, you know what might be good for that Skywalker kid? Being exposed to more Force Sensitives that GET him. We should put him on Cursed Crechelings duty for a bit." And??

Anikin? Is in LOVE? They are all so SMOL an NORMAL? Finally! Jedi who aren't EMOTIONALLY DISTANT! Shielded? What do mean "Shielded"? No I'm not shouting all the time! This is my normal speaking voice! *Skywalker confusion as he cuddles babies*

Cause like? He too? Spoke in horrifying prophecy? Was vaguely Anti-christ-y? Did the (o.o) see into your sooooooul stare? So WHAT? That's just how babies ARE!

.....what do you MEAN "no"?

Every day, throwing open Obi-Wan's poor, slowly being destroyed, front door like "Master! Did you know I am AN OUTLIER!? And REALLY LOUD!? Other people aren't emotionally crippled psychopaths, they're just really REALLY quite compared to me!!" "Ah. Yes, Anikin, please. Maybe say that LOUDER. I don't think the ENTIRE temple quite heard you... -_- "

Just?? Anikin Skywalker! And his Hoard of Creepy Possessed Crechelings that are TOTALLY NORMAL, Guys! All kids are like this! He's a GREAT role model and baby sitting! Yeah, it's the Clone wars, and no, he has NO idea how the entire Creche got onto the ship... but hey! Enrichment! That's good for them, right?

(^-^) (o.o) (|o.o|) (o,o) (o-o) (|o,o|)

*clones look from their general, to the tiny unblinking magic jedi babies, back to their general* s-sure?

@legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @babbling-babull @hdgnj @hypewinter @leftnotright @starwarsblr

[overlyimmersed]

The Tournament so far!

As of November 20 Percival prevailed over Gareth using his frightening Life Spirit powers, and "Mystery Package" bested Donny using a series of interesting moves which were revealed to be Dubs testing out the magical weapons he's made for Anne, Nasiens and Donny.

The fight between Anne and Diodora is now underway. Diodora drew first blood, but Anne didn't seem fazed in the least. There's a clear difference between the two in terms of skill and experience, which was pointed out first by Beltreipe and then Anne herself. But it's still anyone's guess how this match will end.

The magenta stars indicate my picks, for anyone who didn't see or doesn't remember my predictions post. So far I've been right ;P if you'd like to see my full predictions click here.

From what I've seen of the fandom in the last 2 days, Anne's responses here are making her very unpopular :p You guys really have a soft spot for Diodora, huh? Though I guess Anne wasn't exactly winning any contests with us to begin with, since she's on the losing end of the shipwar....and she's kinda obnoxious all on her own... Eitherway, this chapter did not help her stats with the fans!

[hellsdaydreamwastaken]

SCP-2740 is easily my favourite SCP btw. So fucking good. Genuinely dread-inducing throughout, even keeping that atmosphere An atmosphere where you're never allowed to be at ease, even in the bits that in most skips are expected to be just "fluff", that you kinda glaze over, and are only even really in there to make it feel more "realistically" like an actual official document, like the post-interview debriefings and technical comments on tests. The fact it manages to make even the fluff bits scary is enough of an achievement on its own, the fact it does so without even breaking clinical tone or having in particular even really HAPPEN in said bits is just… astonishing craft. THIS is how you tell a frightening story via an official document. And it's not the most "scary" SCP in the traditional sense of "spooky monsters" (indeed it doesn't even have any monsters at all - and possibly not even an anomaly!), nor even the most genuinely "disturbing" as there are other articles that deal with more down-to-Earth real life horrors (which of course that article also does a metaphorical sense, but I mean there are articles that have literal elements like abuse, etc., not presented metaphorically but just straight-up textually), but probably the most… just tangibly disquieting article on the whole website. 

It also does exactly what any good ghost story should as well - in being "really about" a mundane type of horror, with the ghosts themselves representing some buried aspect of culture or life or normality - something that is with us every day but we ignore because we have to pretend that things are OK, to stay sane - but also at the same time having a story that works well enough in its own right that even if you happen not to connect with that bit you can just enjoy it as, in fact, a story that is about ghosts. It's incredibly relatable to me for deeply personal (and painful) reasons as a trans girl who grew up with horrible abusive right-wing parents, but wisely avoids lapsing into pure "allegory" (a trope I greatly dislike in horror), and still working as just a straightforward spooky ghost mystery story as well, if that's what happens to float your boat.

Strongly Shirley Jackson vibes as well, which is obviously never bad!

Amazing article. Just reread it and damn I'd even forgotten how good it was. I've been at least vaguely into scp since Series 1, but this is the article that first got me fully obsessed, back when it was first posted to the site. Truly a special one here. My fave SCP no question and very unlikely to ever be dethroned either.

[jonfucius]

Great Star Trek Rewatch - The Original Series S1

Originally posted on Twitter 16 October 2020 - 26 October 2020

Star Trek: The Original Series Season 1 is up next in my Great Star Trek Rewatch. As with ENT, DSC, and STX, mini-reviews will document my progress.

The Cage: Star Trek’s would-be pilot from 1964 suddenly has incredible relevance to today’s Star Trek: Discovery. This is one of my favorite episodes of any series, and it gave us TOS’s only two-parter. Pike goes from wounded, vulnerable leader to the man we know in DSC. 10/10

The Man Trap: A solid but unremarkable episode. I can see why NBC picked this one to be the first episode shown, but it's not nearly as strong as "The Cage" or "Where No Man Has Gone Before." The creature makeup scared me as a child and still evokes a little primal fear. 6/10

Charlie X: Adolescence is challenge aplenty, and more so when you're omnipotent. This isn't a horrible episode, but it's not great either. Thus begins TOS's frequent encounters with all-powerful beings of energies. Extra point awarded for Spock and Uhura's duet. 7/10

Where No Man Has Gone Before: Star Trek's second pilot, and a stronger entry than the previous two. Kirk's speech about humanity needing its frailties is a nice counterpart to his need for his pain in Star Trek V. 9/10

The Naked Time: This episode is famous for our heroes acting out of character, and while it is entertaining I feel like it would have been more powerful if it came a couple episodes later. 7/10

The Enemy Within: Evil twin and transporter accident episodes are a well-worn Trek trope these days, but this is the first and arguably one of the best. Shatner does some good work portraying both sides of Kirk's psyche. 7/10

Mudd's Women: I love Roger C. Carmel in the role of Harcourt Fenton Mudd.

THAT BEING SAID

I hate this episode. It's misogynistic, it's gross, it's sexist, it's everything wrong with TOS distilled into one interminable slog. This episode gets one point for Roger C. Carmel. 1/10

What Are Little Girls Made Of?: Ruk is a little scary, and the android makeup effects are decent for the mid-60s, but the premise (are duplicates with our full selves really us?) isn't fully explored. Hoping S2 of Star Trek: Picard really dives into this idea. 6/10

Miri: The titular Miri's crush on Kirk is cringey (to say the least). The duplicate Earth really has no bearing on the plot, other than a "huh, weird" reaction at the top of the episode. The "Fountain of Youth=DANGER" plot is an old Trek trope, given birth here. 5/10

Dagger of the Mind: I've always had a crush on Dr. Noel (Kirk clearly did as well). Woodward, Gregory, and Hill are excellent in their roles, and the neural neutralizer was kinda frightening to young Jonfucius. Plus, who doesn't love a good Christmas episode? 8/10

The Corbomite Maneuver: Here's an episode that should've aired first, in place of "The Man Trap". The Balok puppet is frightening, sure, but it's a classic Star Trek story of realizing the "bad guys" are merely misunderstood. Shows Kirk as a master tactician, as well. 10/10

The Menagerie, Part 1: An ingenious reuse of the unaired "The Cage" footage that establishes history for Spock and the Enterprise, thus growing the show's larger universe. 10/10

The Menagerie, Part 2: Spock's trial concludes, as we learn that the whole point was to give Pike a new life. 10/10

The Conscience of the King: Beginning Star Trek’s long association with the Bard, this one is steeped in Shakespearean tone and plot. A truly tragic ending, moody direction, and heightened performances sets this murder mystery apart from others. 9/10

Balance of Terror: When Star Trek: The Original Series fires on all cylinders, it puts out episodes like this one. A tense naval battle with a melancholy ending, this is one of the best episodes of all time. Mark Lenard is superb as the Romulan commander. 10/10

Shore Leave: Finnegan is just the worst. A surreal escapade with just a little camp. Serviceable and cromulent. 7/10

The Galileo Seven: Spock still has a lot to learn about humanity. Star Trek's first shuttlecraft mishap is still one of its best. Great visual effects (especially with the remastered edition). 8/10

The Squire of Gothos: Trelane is a rough draft for Q, and boy is most of this episode rough. The twist at the end is pretty great, however. 6/10

Arena: I've seen this one a few times, and each time, I fail to understand why the fandom adores this one. It's very slow in the middle, made up for by the unseen Gorn attack at the top and Kirk's morality play at the end. 7/10

Tomorrow is Yesterday: A light-hearted time travel yarn with a compelling guest performance, deftly told by D.C. Fontana’s script (with some obvious Gene Coon touches). One of my all-time favorites from TOS. 9/10

Court Martial: Technically the 2nd courtroom drama (“The Menagerie”), but it is the first one to use a trial to examine our heroes. Shoutout to Richard Webb’s Finney, and a court-martial panel with an Afro-Portuguese and South Asian membership - a rarity in 1960s TV. 7/10

The Return of the Archons: Kirk's first opportunity to talk a computer to death, this episode is surreal and a little creepy. However, I don't consider it to be of The Body (of outstanding episodes). 6/10

Space Seed: Gee, I wonder if we'll ever follow up on those Augments left behind on Ceti Alpha V…

Jokes (and problematic brownface aside), this is rightly a classic episode. 9/10

A Taste of Armageddon: A thoughtful meditation on human nature and war, another strong S1 entry. I can't help but feel some parallels to the Americans who have just shrugged and accepted COVID-19 as a fact of life, rather than something that can be defeated. 8/10

This Side of Paradise: A strong acting showcase for Shatner and Nimoy. Some classic philosophical banter in the tag. 8/10

The Devil in the Dark: An episode that rightly deserves the epithet "classic." Ignore the goofy Horta costume and focus on the story. Classically Star Trek through and through. 10/10

Errand of Mercy: Introducing the Klingons with John Colicos was a masterstroke. The brownface is horrendous, but the performances and the story are superb. 8/10

The Alternative Factor: The "what is the worst episode of TOS?" debates rarely mention this absolute turd. Might have something to do with being sandwiched between two pretty great episodes. "Mudd's Women" at least has Carmel's performance going for it. 0/10

The City on the Edge of Forever: It's certainly in contention for the GOAT title, but it's not my all-time favorite. Still, Harlan Ellison's script (rewritten by Roddenberry) and the performances are firing on all cylinders, and the ending is truly shattering. 9/10

Operation -- Annihilate!: This episode creeped me out as a kid, but it's a wimpy episode to end a season on. 6/10

And with that, Season 1 of TOS comes to an end in my Great Star Trek Rewatch. Final score: 7.43/10. Highest score(s): "The Cage," "The Corbomite Maneuver," "The Menagerie," "Balance of Terror," "The Devil in the Dark." Lowest score(s): “The Alternative Factor."

[456-is-the-way]

Hello, hope you don't mind me siltering in and dropping a follow to fellow writer. I'm @/pteridopsidaissues (this just happens to be my main and I don't ask with anon) but I wanted to drop in a request for Marc Spector if you don't mind. I was thinking of maybe a fellow avatar (avatar of Anubis) who's been paired to work with him due to Khonshu and Anubis working a pact together. I'll leave creative liberty up to you where you want to go with it but I wanted to pop in with one.

𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝚡 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝) 

𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕: Hello, hope you don't mind me filtering in and dropping a follow to fellow writers. I'm @/pteridopsidaissues (this just happens to be my main and I don't ask with anon) but I wanted to drop in a request for Marc Spector if you don't mind. I was thinking of maybe a fellow avatar (avatar of Anubis) who's been paired to work with him due to Khonshu and Anubis working a pact together. I'll leave creative liberty up to you where you want to go with it but I wanted to pop in with one. 

𝑨/𝒏: Hello everyone! This is my first Moon Knight fanfiction!! Gotten this request about a week ago and decided to wait on episode 2 until writing it! To let everyone know I am open for more requests ESPECIALLY regarding Moon Knight (and other characters of Oscar listened). This one is NOT smut. But since I am 20 I am ok with writing it. But you MUST be over 18 when you request it or else I will block you. Now here we go! Plus talking about DID. I have been reading people post on tumbler about correct terms and how to write this appropriately. Please if anything comes off incorrect or disrespectful I am sorry. Message me and I can edit any part of this fanfiction. Regarding the Egptian facts I did get information off this website. I kinda also got inspired to based this series off Mr.Sandman. I'll link the song.

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: EPISODE 1 AND 2(ISH) SPOILERS! Drinking, Drugs(mentioned), Curings (a lot), Blood(i think), Death (I thin) and yeah I tried my best. Lmao

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: You are the avatar for Anubis the Egyptian God of death. Both your god and Konshu, God of the Moon, have a similar goal in mind. Find Ammit's tomb before Arthur Harrow. You journey to London searching for Marc Spector (Moon Knight). Not only do you find Marc but discover there is more than one side to him. 

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 2,594

ℳ𝓇 𝒮𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓂𝒶𝓃

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 1 𝚘𝚏 3(??...𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚝...𝚕𝚘𝚕)

For years (Y/n) has been plagued with a curse. Others would call them gifts, abilities to possess power beyond human imagination. She almost forgot about how normal life was before Anubis chose her, a nobody, to become his Avatar. It all started in 2018 when Thanos erased half the population. Like others, she lost everything, including her mind. Anubis first came to her three months later when (Y/n) stumbled out of a local bar into the dark alleyway. The God frightened her, of course, she believed someone must have spiked her drink. You simply do not see an Egyptian God every day. Nor does a purple alien often erase half the planet she thought right after. He stood tall, golden eyes piercing her soul, a black jackal head, and flail clutched in his left hand. Perhaps the God of death has come to take her into hell. However, his words shocked (Y/n). Anubis elicited a proposition she could not turn down. Their deal is that she will permit him to use her body, become his Death Angel, his personal assassin, and at the end of her life, he would grant her a free pass into heaven. How could she turn down such an invitation? A God is asking for her help. Maybe she survived the blip because fate allowed her to. No family, no friends, and completely alone. Who could even notice her absence? (Y/n) made a deal with the devil that day since then she could not escape his control, or maybe she did not want to.

Time flew from 2018 to 2024. Everyone she loved has come back. (Y/n) decided she will leave Anubis and go back home. But the blood on her hands will never disappear and neither will the God in (Y/n)'s mind. After a long year of begging for release, Anubis gave her one loophole out of their deal. You see, Konshu is not the only God seeking Ammit’s tomb. Anubis recently became interested in a new quest. The two Gods made an alliance. Konshu’s Moon Knight and Anubis’ Death Angel will fight together to defeat Arthur Harrow before he can reach the tomb. (Y/n) accepted the deal with no questions asked. Anubis told her where to find Marc Spector, the man who was Konshu's avatar. London is not an exact place on her bucket list but this is where Moon Knight is located. 

(Y/n) and Marc's first encounter went horrible. Both were persistent, loners, and had their own strategies for performing missions. Marc plans everything, he lines up plans A to Z and likes having every scenario prepared. On the other hand, (Y/n) is the opposite, a wild card having a go with the flow type, and doing what she feels in the moment. A reason why (Y/n) dislikes a partnership deal. When she does not follow Marc's lead it results in them losing the scarab. Both had a good plan yet two contrary paths to achieving it. A few more unsuccessful missions later the Gods second guess their pact. Each warrior is very stubborn and unbreakable in their manners. 

'I wonder if our pact truly can fulfill our goals. They have more to be considered about than personal egos.' Anubis remarks. He only had limited avatars in his long reign of God. (Y/n) stuck out. 'Time is running short as Arthur Harrow reaches closer to Ammit.' 

Konshu bowed his head contemplating how problematic these humans are despite their noticeable fondness for each other. 'We've come too far now. Your angle and my knight must come to an agreement. Both wish for freedom yet he is the embodiment of an Avatar I sought centuries for...Oh great the idiot's back. We can plan more later.' He left quickly to take care of Steven

They had just escaped from the castle when- Well she did not remember it fully sometimes Anubis just takes over and makes her go where he wants. (A/N: The reader does not have DID just Anubis being rude lmao). She woke up, broke into a hot sweat, and is back at her flat? Rolling over she grabbed her phone. How did she lose a week?! What did Anubis do with her body? She never has known the God to control her this long. (Y/n) then noticed Anubis standing there staring at her. 

"Can you not be creepy as fuck? Damn. What the hell?! Things were going- decent. In fairness I didn't mean to push Marc out the window, it's his fault landing on his stupid...handsome...face…" (Y/n) told the God Anubis. He did not seem amused by her words. 

"Girl, you want out of this? Right? That is why you have agreed to our terms. Now, find Marc and deal with this problem. Remember who is in charge here." Anubis growled. (Y/n) rolled her eyes mocking the God. "Do not mock me, child." His comments (Y/n)'s room began to shake. "Your simple human mind could not fathom exactly what can happen if or when Harrow gets to Ammit before us." 

(Y/n) frowned, "When you said one last mission I thought… maybe something easier. Kill a bad guy. Destroy a country you know the usual! Not find some God's tomb before a cult leader resurrects her! Oh, plus you forgot to mention his freaky powers and staff. Besides, you paired me with Marc -" 

"The problem isn't Spector entirely my dear. If you can find a solution instead of arguing with Marc things may go smoothly. You are running out of time. If you do not finish this...and fail you are mine forever." Anubis then disappeared. 

"Fucking bastard." She whispered, forcing herself out of bed and getting dressed. Marc occasionally shared measly facts about himself. Including his place of work. Who knew that would come in handy? (Y/n) rushed out the door. If Marc lost the Scarab she would kill him. They worked hard to find it which lead straight to Ammit's tomb, the last peace Harrow needed to finish his journey. 

"London just has to be busy." She grumbles fighting her way into the trolley. (Y/n) exists at the stop by his workplace, the Museum Of Fine Arts. The museum is rather busy. It had opened less than an hour ago. She went to customer service desk asking for Marc Spector but, they said no one under that name is employed. He probably is under a false identity because in their lifestyle it is necessary to carry back up names, passports, and money. 

Steven's day is rough like normal. Haunted by dreams of...some weird castle, a cult leader, but shocking to Steven this one contained a beautiful woman... He sighed returning to his job as a gift shop-ist, timid Steven's typical day, including Donna yelling, being called Scott, and inventory. Steven greeted morning guests and employees finishing a small task list. Until he saw the woman from his dreams, was she real? She had perfect  (h/c) locks, (e/c) orbs, and a body to die for. When she looked his way Steven flushed awkwardly waving his hand with an enormous smile on his face. It soon subsides as (Y/n) strides his way. The look on her face...is he about to get murdered by this goddess? 

"YOU!" (Y/n) screamed once entering the gift shop. Steven uncertain points to himself. "Yeah idiot who the fuck else?! What happened?! Damn you always land like a fucking cat but no- you had to hit your face!" The woman jumped the counter shoving Steven, who is presently shaking, against the wall. "Speak!" 

Steven gave (Y/n) his big brown doe eyes promptly she calmed. "I-I am sorry miss. But I have no idea what you mean."

"What is this accent? Marc, please tell me did you manage to keep the scarab? Anubis is pissed at me!" 

'Anubis? The God of Death? Maybe this is some joke Donna or Ronnie decided to pull. But..she called him Marc...Steven opened his mouth immediately, shutting it just the same. He trembled under her eyes, "Why...why did you c-...c-call me, Marc?"

"That is your...name." 

"No, my name is Steven with a V. See." Steven tapped his name tag. It clearly said 'Steven'. (Y/n) blinked, unsure of what to say. Did he take her for a fool?

"Oh...Do you have an equally handsome twin named Marc?" She asked. 

He reddens being called 'handsome'. "No, n-not that I know of...I-I been having weird dreams or I think they are dreams. Until I saw you." Steven whispered gazing helplessly down at (Y/n). 

"What kind of dreams?" 

"M-Maybe we could speak about this on my lunch break, yeah? Donna will have my job if she...sees me distracting you." (Y/n) pondered his request. The way he spoke and assured her that he is not Marc...many years in this arena she could spot a liar. Steven was not one.

"Fine. You have a lot of explaining to do." Before (Y/n) left the gift shop Steven called for her. 

"Wait!- S-sorry for yelling at ya- I must know...uhh do you...Well...You know...really think I...am handsome?" He whispered shyly, rubbing his arm. She chuckled, nodding. 

"Yes I do, Steven with a V."

In the meantime (Y/n) decides to walk around the free museum. Impressively it was solely based on Egyptian history. She knew a decent amount in this subject mainly after one decided to use her body. More time was spent reading about Konshu. Until resting her eyes upon Anubis. Her master, her God, the writing states: 'Anubis, also called Anpu, ancient Egyptian God of the dead, represented by a jackal or the figure of a man with the head of a jackal. In the Early Dynastic period and the Old Kingdom, he enjoyed a preeminent (though not exclusive) position as lord of the dead, but he was later overshadowed by Osiris. His role is reflected in such epithets as “He Who Is upon His Mountain” (i.e., the necropolis), “Lord of the Sacred Land,” “Foremost of the Westerners,” and “He Who Is in the Place of Embalming."...' 

She stopped distracted by the statue in front of her. It stood considerably shorter than her actual deity is. Certainly, they could not represent accurate heights of (what many considered to be fake) Egyptian Gods. “Yeah, some fucking God you are, Anubis.” Near the end of her self-guided tour, a gentle hand caressed her shoulder. (Y/n) quickly turned around a burrito jabbed right between her body and Stevens.

“Hey, I got hungry and...and thought perhaps you would like something. I know a nice little square that we can go to. My lunch break is roughly an hour.” Steven is nothing like Marc Spector, an instant thing she noticed. Marc stood tall, had excellent posture, confidence, and a raw American accent, although further could be declared about Marc Spector. On the other hand, Steven is slumped over, hunched, scared of the world, innocent brown eyes, no confidence, she dared to say no experience with women and the British accent. Surely if Anubis knew about this he would inform (Y/n). On second thought he enjoyed seeing her this frustrated. 

“Oh! Thank you, Steven, that is very kind of you.” She took the burrito, “Sure lead the way. I have more than enough time on my hands.” Steven lent a nervous smile leading her to the courtyard. A water fountain is centered in the middle with a statue man posing for pictures. Steven took a seat on the bench nearby patting the empty place beside him. (Y/n) sat down unwrapping her burrito. “Steven, you are not Marc? Or a brother? Maybe an oddly identical relative?”

“No, I promise. I am just as confused… You may think I am crazy. Hell I know I am. There is this Egyptian God inside of my head, Konshu. He haunts me-“

“Anubis for me.”

“Wh-what?” Steven asked, puzzled.

“I said Anubis for me, we both have a God up here.” She points to her brain. “Well technically he can be anywhere but I can only see him. No one else can see other Deities. Like Konshu. I am incapable of seeing him. When my master created their deal I now can sometimes hear him speak with Anubis. They are – Hey are you ok?” (Y/n) questioned as Steven’s beautiful eyes turned red as tears streamed down his tan cheeks.

“Y-Yeah I have been so frightened. Now knowing I am not totally insane. I was so alone. Trapped in this nightmare. Begging and praying to whoever is listening send me...someone. That perhaps my nightmares are over...Even someone to call my own. It still does not explain why I get blackouts so often. Anyways- I uh...ordered a Vegan burrito.” He whipped the tears off and started apologizing for crying. 

Her (e/c) soften, cherry red lips pout with Steven's honesty “You're lonely nights are over now, Steven. We both can help each other. Sadly, I cannot exactly help you with blackouts. Especially when you blackout with no recollection of the events during them. Plus being called Marc Spector…Ah Hehe, I kind of assumed. I still enjoy it.”

“Please tell me if I am…asking too much. What are w-we to each other? Am I- or even Marc your... boyfriend? Because you did call me h-h-handsome.” Steven asked.

(Y/n) flushed looking away, “No. We are not a couple. We hardly can function enough to be deemed, friends..”

Steven pouts not hiding the disappointment. “What a knob Marc must be. I don’t see why he wouldn’t date you! I mean you look perfect and so beautiful...” His mouth moved faster than his brain at times causing him to become a blushing mess. She bites her lip (s/c) equally red.

“I am flattered, Steven. However, Marc might disagree. We don’t exactly get along.”

Steven chuckled and opened his mouth before suddenly dropping his burrito eyes rolling back into his head. (Y/n) stood up panicking.

His eyes open, Steve-no this isn't Steven, stood up causing (Y/n) to step back. "M-Marc?" 

Marc nods, "Yeah unfortunately your date with Steven has to be cut short." 

"You need to fucking explain what is going on! Marc or Steve! American or British accent?!" (Y/n) looked into the sharp brown eyes. 

"I vow that I will clarify everything. First I must obtain the bag from my storage locker. Are you coming with me?"

(Y/n) huffed, "Not like I have a choice. So do you have the damn Scarab or not? I only need to know . Anubis is up my ass about this. All because you fucking landed on your face." 

Marc smirked, "Don't you mean handsome face? Ah...Well that's for me to know and you to find out. How far is Abuis up your ass exactly?" 

(Y/n) glared, "Jerk. I assume you are taking me to this storage locker to what? Murder me?" 

"I gave it a thought." He remarks earning a slap on the arm. "Ah! Watch it. You know if I recalled you pushed me out the window." 

"Sorry ,love. I didn't see ya." (Y/n) smirked following Marc into the streets of London. For a moment Anubis appeared, eyes glowing. She paused, throwing her hands up as if 'what do you want.' 

"You better not mess up again." He warns. 

~ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗⁱⁿᵘᵉᵈ

[nururu]

I wonder why ppl always attribute any increase of seriousness post ts in Zoro, to mihawk's influence.. and kinda just brush over his thriller bark scene and then his experience in sabaody. like he was at deaths door twice, back to back. he was on the mend from the first near death and then gets beat near to death soon after.. and then gets spirited away not knowing if his crew is okay or not. which, as the protector of the crew, for the first time, he's in the position where he completely failed to protect and support them. Zoro has a lot to live for, death isn't something that doesn't frighten him. he's reckless but Zoro doesn't want to die. he doesn't want to be without his friends. he doesn't want his path to end, because he has some important goals he'd still like to achieve. Zoro is the type to recognize a problem, address it, and then do what he can to overcome it. he did everything he could to fix the problems with himself and his perspective so he would never have to be in that position again. so he could better ensure his and the crews survival, so he won't lose the things that are valuable to him. including his own life. those experiences were traumatic for Zoro. in punk hazard we see him have a flashback of those moments, and immediately he recognizes that they're falling into the same old bad habits that put them all at risk before and he gets serious, and yells at them and gives everyone a wake up call. he was also the only one in the crew to be brought to a point of near death twice, but most importantly in sabaody, because being near death is a unique experience only Zoro was going through, for the purpose of setting up some of the best character development in the series (probably biased but That's My Opinion!). Zoro begged mihawk to help him overcome these weaknesses and mihawk helped him. but any additional seriousness Zoro may have post ts, is 100% due to how he was effected by these traumatic near death experiences, and is a natural and completely valid reaction.. (imo!!!) also? Zoro did not lose his silly goofiness at all. he didn't lose his smile, he didn't lose his ability to enjoy himself, he didn't lose his laugh. he just grew into a stronger, more capable, more grown and fully realized version of himself.

[jurrasicworldcc]

Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous: Return to Isla Nublar fanfic (Part 1)

Characters: Darius Bowman, Kenji Kon-Bowman, Casey Johnson (OC), April Turner-Johnson (OC), Ben Pincus, Brooklynn, Yasmina “Yaz” Fadoula-Gutierrez, Sammy Gutierrez, The Ultra Rex, Tiff, Tommy Oliver (OC), Lana Williams (OC), Edie (OC), Audrey (OC), Caroline Johnson (OC), Mae Turner

Context: So, I made a post recently about a JWCC sequel idea and I apparently decided to make a fanfic series to incorporate the full story. Hope you enjoy part 1!!!

Warning: Blood, Mentions and future scenes of Child abuse, Gore, Violence, Intense & Frightening scenes, Language

I DO NOT OWN JURASSIC WORLD!!!

————————————————————————

San Antonio, Texas - Gutierrez Family Barn - March 12th, 2023

Casey adjusted his tie and sighed. He, Darius, Kenji, and Ben were sitting in the chairs that were set in rows in the barn. It was Yaz and Sammy’s wedding.

“Man…I totally bet Sammy’s scared shitless..” Kenji whispered.

Casey chuckled quietly and turned on his walkie. “Brooklynn? What’s taking so long??”

“We’re fine!” Brooklynn’s voice replied. “We’re just dealing with some bridal stress relief right now.”

He could hear Sammy hyperventilating and her sisters trying to calm her down. “Quick, calm her down and get ready. Yaz is sweating profusely from where I can see!”

“Okay, okay, calm down.”

The walkie shut off and Casey sighed. Darius smiled and said, “Can you believe it? Yaz and Sammy are getting married.”

“Yeah, we kinda knew this would happen.” Ben replied. “I just wish Bumpy were here.”

“You can tell her about it when you visit Isla Mantah again.”

“Thanks, D.”

Suddenly, the piano music came and the audience stood up.

“Finally!” Casey whispered.

Brooklynn, April, and Sammy’s sisters made it to the altar and Mr. Gutierrez walking Sammy down the isle. Yaz was so happy and giggled.

After what seems like an eternity, Bessie (the cow) came with the rings and Yaz and Sammy got their rings on each finger. With that, the pastor said, “Now, with the power invested in me, I now pronounce you both married partners for life. You may kiss the bride.”

The pastor stepped back and Sammy pulled Yaz in for a passionate kiss and hugged her tight. The audience erupted into cheer and laughter and the pastor loudly announced, “I now introduce Samantha and Yasmina Gutierrez!”

Casey clapped and April waved at him. With that, Ms. Fadoula burst into tears and wailed, “My baby’s married now!!”

Yaz smiled at her new wife and said, “Hi, Mrs. Gutierrez.”

Three Months Later - Costa Rica

Casey finally placed the last piece of science down and stretched. “Man, that was the last piece of sodium placed and now…quitting time for the day.”

April sat down and said, “Hey, hon.”

She planted a kiss on his cheek and Casey returned the favor with a peck on her lips. April giggled gleefully and said, “We gotta meet up with the others for that picnic that Yaz and Sammy planned with us after their honeymoon.”

“Yeah, I know, April. Sammy reminded us twelve times.” Casey chuckled.

“Yeah…”

The two proceeded to exit the lab part of the house and Caroline smiled. “Took you two long enough.”

“Mom…” Casey chuckled.

“How about I go get ready and we head on over to the park?” April asked.

“Sure, babe.”

April pecked Casey’s lips and left the room. Caroline smiled and asked, “Casey, what is it?”

Casey chuckled and looked at his mother. “Mom…I’m gonna plan to ask April to marry me!”

Caroline covered her mouth keep her screaming from joy and hugged him. “Casey! I have been wanting this moment to happen ever since you first introduced me to her!”

“You okay?” April’s voice called.

“Nothing!”

Caroline smiled and went to a cabinet in which she took out a small ring box which she opened and showed a silver ring with a beautiful diamond on it. “This was my grandmother’s engagement ring. She hoped that I would eventually use it and then give it to my children…and I now give it to you.”

Casey looked at the beautiful ring and suddenly put it in his pocket as he heard April’s footsteps and she appeared with a basket and her blue skirt well-ironed. “Ready?”

“Yep.” Casey replied.

The two proceeded to leave the house and walked to the Parque Okayama park where the others were sitting on a beach towel over one of the grass fields. Ben waved for the two. “Hey! April and Casey! Over here!”

The couple smiled and sat down. Darius said, “Hey, guys!”

“Hey, Case!” Sammy said.

“Hey, guys!” Casey said. “Sammy, Yaz, how was your honeymoon?”

Yaz laughed gleefully. “We loved it! A honeymoon in Italy was the best day we’ve had since our first kiss! Thanks, Kenji, for paying for all that.”

“I’m just stuck paying the bills.” Kenji chuckled. “It’s the least I can do to make you two ladies happen.”

Sammy chuckled and gazed lovingly at her wife. “And spending that week in Italy with my wife is the best experience I could have.”

“I love you, Sam.” Yaz smiled.

“I love you too, Yaz.”

The two kissed and Brooklynn said, “This was way better than when you spam your flirty stuff on the Discord DMs.”

Yaz playfully chucked a leaf at Brooklynn and the two girls giggled. Sammy wrapped her arms around her wife and said, “Guys! We gotta get eating!”

Kenji pulled out the pizza box and Casey asked, “Is this Papa Johns?”

“Yup.” Kenji replied. “ Aaaaaaannnddd, I forgot a pizza cutter.”

“Oh, honey.” Brooklynn soothed a hand on his shoulder.

“No need.” Casey showed his hand which formed into his raptor claw and cut the pizza in separate slices.

After a while, it nearly became sunset and then Brooklynn asked Kenji, “Hey, Kenj? Should we tell them?”

“Tell us what?” Casey asked. “I mean, Ben and Darius are dating and we were shocked by that, Yaz and Sammy are married, so what’s gonna shock us now?”

Brooklynn showed her right hand which had a shiny little ring and Kenji said, “We’re engaged!”

Sammy squealed and Ben cheered. Yaz clapped her hands and Casey yelled, “Holy shit! Congratulations!”

“Yeah! Congratulations!” April added.

“Awesome! Congrats, bro!” Darius said.

“Y’know, I’m soon to become a Bowman.” Brooklynn replied. “Just thinking about it…”

She squealed like Suzie Q from Jojo. “It makes me blush!”

“This is crazy…” Sammy said. “This all started eight years ago, back on Isla Nublar. We went from strangers, to friends, and eventually family.”

“Yeah…Yeah, we did.” Casey smiled.

“Now look at us. Now we’re-”

“Immortal.” Ben said.

“In-laws.” Brooklynn said.

“Survivors.” April said.

“Celebrities.” Darius said.

“I was gonna say, “Soulmates” and together.” Sammy replied.

“And to think that Sammy would become my wife.” Yaz added.

“And to think that most of us are about to be married.” Darius said.

“Also, it’s June. This is the seventh anniversary of when we escaped Nublar.” Casey said. “Happy Nublar-escape anniversary!!”

“HAPPY NUBLAR-ESCAPE ANNIVERSARY!!!” Everyone said.

Around an hour and a half, the six of the Nublar Seven returned to the hotel and Casey and April walked back to their home.

April chuckled and got her night clothes on. Casey looked in his pocket and got the box with the ring in it. April sat on the bed and said, “It’s nice that the others are staying in Costa Rica for the rest of the week for that anniversary that you made.”

“Yeah.” Casey walked over to her with the ring box behind his back. “Hey, babe. I have a massive question right now. Since Kenji and Brooklynn are engaged now and, well, April…I love you so much and now that Mae has a girlfriend and a lot of things are going good in our lives right now, I wanna make our lives even better than those experiences on Isla Mantah and with TJ, Angel, Rebel, and Firecracker…So, April Turner, will you…” He opened the box in which April gasped. “…marry me?”

“Casey, YES!” April exclaimed.

Casey and April hugged and he slid the ring onto her finger. The two kissed and Caroline walked in. The scientist smiled and asked her son, “So, what’s the answer?”

“Yes.” April has happy tears down her face.

Caroline screamed of excitement and hugged the two. Casey smiled and before the two went to bed, he got on his phone and got into the group chat.

DrCaseyJohnson: Hey, guys!

TrackOlympicsYaz (Mrs. Gutierrez): What?

Farmgirl2022: Yeah, you woke me and Yaz up. What’s the news???

BrooklynnUnboxesTheWorld: What’s the news, Dr. Johnson?”

DrCaseyJohnson: I proposed to April tonight and she said, “Yes!!!!”

JungleBoy5000: WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Dinonerd2001: THAT’S AMAZING!!!! I’m so happy for you two!!!!

BrooklynnUnboxesTheWorld: When’s the wedding????

DrCaseyJohnson: I just proposed! I had not thought of anything else yet. To quote Yaz from 2015, “I did not think this through.”

TrackOlympicsYaz (Mrs. Gutierrez): Please do not quote me the day I broke my ankle, that was not a pleasant moment for any of us.

Casey smiled and looked at the sleeping fiancée besides him. Life could not be any better.

[softluci]

talking to myself

[to begin, i wanna give a TW for mentions of m/rder, as well as s/icide and s/icidal jokes and thoughts; i know that i personally make a lot of jokes like these and so do a lot of my friends and people in general, but i also know that this can be really triggering for a lot of people, so if you are one of those people, this is not the post for you. take care of yourselves.] 

i’m, like, 100% sure that this is something associated with younger people, but in case it isn’t, i’ll just talk about myself. so, i talk to myself a lot. like, a lot. even more than i used to now that i’m alone a lot of the time. and the things that i say (and my friends also say), while they have no basis in reality, they are thoroughly unhinged. and i know that. but! i also find it incredibly funny and i wanted to do a set of headcanons for an mc who talks to themselves like that. some examples of things i say, some of which are things i picked up from my friends, include: 

“you’re sick” (/neg) “this is deranged” “the derangement” “i am insane” “i can’t take it anymore” [sobbing] “this is getting annoying, i need a fucking gun.” “i’m gonna kill myself and ruin everyone’s day.” “and it’s like, why, you know?”  “i’m gonna start killing people” “oh my god, i’m totally buggin” “get the FUCK—” “every day, i am provoked to rage” [unprovoked, uncontrollable laughter] “this reality...it wants me to be a murderer.” “i will kill.” “i don’t wanna” “it’s an illness that you have” “i would kill myself in front of you and permanently alter the trajectory of your life.” “it is time for the immense power of violence.” “don’t make me get violent~” “okay so just die then.” “i’m gonna rip you apart with my teeth.” “i’ll just die, that’s fine.”  and so on, and so forth. 

this is kinda long, but whatever, mc is gn, let’s have fun.

lucifer 

lucifer liked to think that he’d gotten used to you and your tendency to speak with little to no thought. he didn’t love this about you, but he certainly learned to expect it as the days went by. what he didn’t know, however, was that you talked to yourself. his guess was that you’d been refraining from doing so around him, as there was literally no other explanation for what had just happened to his state of being.

he was on his way to the kitchen, just to get some coffee before heading back to his office, when he heard something hit the floor. it didn’t sound like anything broke, so he wasn’t too concerned, but, nevertheless, he quickened his pace. 

he was not prepared for what you said, nor the venom you said it with, as he heard—

“this reality...it wants me to be a murderer, an instrument of evil...fine.”

you definitely weren’t expecting him to approach you as quickly as he did and grab your chin the way he did, but he was making sure you weren’t possessed. upon finding out that, no, you weren’t possessed, you’d just dropped a spoon, he took about seventeen points of psychic damage. 

mc, he is old and tired and he’s not used to this new flavor of humans who like to say the most deranged things they can think of whenever they’re slightly inconvenienced. you are shaving decades off of his life. he can’t tell you to refrain from doing that because you have been, so he is going to take it upon himself to try and make your life easier whenever he can. hopefully it’ll work, and you won’t be moved to unhinge yourself from your sanity the next time you make a small mistake. 

mammon

mammon is around you often enough to know that you talk to yourself every now and again. nothing too out of the ordinary, maybe some comments about the homework you were working on or whatever you were doing on your d.d.d. he was also around you often enough to know that the things you said weren’t always well thought-out, or thought-out at all. he wasn’t judging, he had no place to, he knew that, but—you know, he can’t say he was prepared for this. 

he was on his way to your room, as per usual, when, as he got to your doorway, you were overcome by something vile and you said, “i will kill.”

he has never burst into your room faster. he’s in your face, he’s yelling, his hands are on your shoulders, he’s this close to thrashing you around in hopes that whatever evil crawled inside of you while he wasn’t looking will come flying out—

what...did you say? you made a mistake on your homework? you made a mistake on your homework and your next course of action was to make anyone in a 300 foot radius think you’re possessed? you’re more boneheaded than he thought, and you should feel ashamed at this moment because this is the resident bonehead speaking. moving on, though. 

how can he make you into a happier person overall so that this doesn’t happen? if you don’t know, he’ll just attach himself to your hip so he can find out. congratulations, he’s never leaving you alone.

levi

levi is no stranger to saying things he doesn’t mean in moments of stress—this is just what happens when a person spends a lot of time playing games online. he’s said some pretty off-color things during matches, strings of curses, and the like, but he has never said, nor heard anything like what just left your mouth.

“i’m gonna start killing people.”

at first, he didn’t really react, giving you a quick glance and asking, “in the game, right?”

upon being met with silence, he looked to see you gripping your controller too tightly to actually use it, and asked again, “in the game, right?”

you blinked, apparently freed from whatever rage induced trance you slipped into, and turned towards him, “did you say something?”

he blinked at you once, twice, like the gears in his head were turning, and then—hysteria. 

he has you pinned to the floor with your wrists above your head, horns protruding from his scalp, and he is screaming—who are you, what have you done with mc, tell him your name before he summons lotan, leave his friend alone, and so on and so forth. he was interrogating you before you could even process the situation enough to feel fear. 

once he got over the bulk of his panic, he heard you screaming back at him, telling him it was you, you weren’t possessed, just talking to yourself, and let go of your wrists before he breaks them—he understood, kind of. he has no idea why you’d choose a phrase like that for when you’re annoyed, but at least you weren’t possessed! his henry was safe after all ^_^

he was so relieved that it took him a few seconds to realize he was still…pinning you down…and straddling you…so, naturally, more hysteria.

satan 

he’d actually grown fond of you and your tendency to speak with no thought or regard for the consequences of your actions—mainly because it stressed lucifer out, but he was fond of it nonetheless. it made you all the more interesting, more fun to talk to, and it helped him read you better. he liked to pick you apart by way of conversation, and he liked to do it as often as possible. 

presently, he was on his way to the library to meet you. the two of you were set to talk about a series you decided to read together. as he approached the doorway, he heard your voice, but no one else’s. he smiled in place of a laugh. were you talking to yourself? how cute—

“every day...i am provoked to rage unimaginable. why?” 

before you could even finish exhaling, he was above you, holding your face in his hands. from the glow of his eyes, you could tell he was barely keeping it together, but you had no idea what was wrong. did he hear what you said?

he said your name carefully, swiping his thumbs under your eyes. “have we been spending too much time together?” 

he was rubbing off on you, in the worst possible way. how could he have allowed this to happen? what has he done to you? where did this anger of yours come from? it has to be because of him. it would hurt, but he would distance himself from you at once, if that’s what—

“ah, did you hear what i said? i talk to myself like this all the time, satan, i’ve been doing it since before we even met. sorry if i frightened you.” 

he blinked, hands dropping to your shoulders. he was relieved, but so, so confused. 

“well,” he started, “then let’s talk about that instead.” 

asmo 

if you’d been refraining from talking to yourself around lucifer, you definitely did it for asmo too. there was no one in this house who wanted to see you angry less than he did. anger was such an ugly emotion, wasn’t it? he much preferred sadness; it was easier to manage, both in himself and others. 

of course, he could never think about being angry or sad when he was with you! how could he, when he’s with one of his favorite people? presently, he was on his way to your room to pick you up for one of your weekly outings. oh, you left the door open for him and everything! he was about to call out to you, but then he heard you talking to someone—he had no idea who it possibly could’ve been because he had no idea you could even sound like that when speaking to a sentient being. 

“i will rip you apart with my fucking teeth.” 

he had his arms around you before you even knew he was in your room. it seemed like a hug, and in a way, it was! the intent was to keep you in place so you couldn’t run away, rather than to comfort you, but it’s not like you could tell; his arms were around you all the time anyway.

“mc, light of my life, apple of my eye, who are you talking to?”

you twisted in his hold to face him, “i talk to myself all the time, asmo, you can ask anyone.”

he hummed, staring at you for a while before changing his hold on you into an actual hug. 

“you had me worried for a minute, darling~”

he didn’t really believe you, but he figured he would know if you were lying, and he could definitely handle whatever vile thing wormed its way into you while nobody was looking. best case scenario, he really didn’t have anything to worry about, and worst case scenario, you started speaking in tongues in the middle of majolish. if the latter happened to occur, he was strong enough to purge a lower demon from your body. it might hurt a lot a little , but at least you’d be safe!

beel 

for the most part, beel didn’t feel any particular way about your inclination to say words with no thought behind them. it was just something you did, like anything else was; he accepted it the same way he accepted everything else about you because that’s what friends do for each other. however—he would be lying if he said you didn’t upset him at times. 

like today—he was set to do his homework with you, on his way to the living room with an armful of snacks, when he heard something like the tip of a pencil breaking. it didn’t bother him, but it seemed to bother you. a lot. 

“i—i’ve had it, i’m gonna kill myself and ruin everyone’s goddamn day.” 

all of his snacks scattered across the floor when he dropped them to get to you. his hands were on your shoulders, but he wasn’t grabbing you. fortunately (or, unfortunately), belphie did this around him all the time, so he knew what to do, albeit it wasn’t much. 

slowly, he pulled you into a hug. not a crushing one, but enough to keep you from going anywhere. 

you started to explain yourself, telling him you do this all the time, that you didn’t mean it, that you were fine. it did nothing to reassure him because those were all of belphie’s usual phrases, but he appreciated the sentiment. 

“i know,” he started, pulling away from you. “i’m just making sure you don’t go anywhere. i like having you around. that’s all.”

belphie 

alright, this house isn’t big enough for the two of you. he is the vocally unwell person around these parts, he is the one who everyone is concerned about at all times, thank you very much. he was the one who made the jokes about death. he was the one with the concerning one-liners. that was all him. he wasn’t proud of it, he didn’t like the fact that things were this way, but it was what it was. he didn’t want you to be like him, and yet, there you were doing exactly that—even if you didn’t know. 

he was in your room, in your bed, actually— unbeknownst to you—because he was having trouble sleeping. you were somewhere in the house, on your way there, and once you arrived, it seemed like you were stressed. he didn’t know for sure, but he had a hunch that something was just eating away at you because as soon as you came in the door, you threw your bag on the ground and said—

well, you didn’t say anything, at first. the first thing you did was laugh. it was unrestrained, loud, and completely void of joy. and then, you said, “i can’t—i can’t fucking do this, i’ll just die, that’s fine, that’s okay.” 

he sat up faster than he has in the last century, deciding to be merciful and overlook how hard you gasped when you saw he was there. 

“belphie? why are you in my room?” 

he stood up, approaching you at a snail’s pace, “i couldn’t sleep, i was waiting for you, next question—why did you say what you just said?” 

before you could even start your usual explanation—you do this all the time, it’s fine, you’re fine—he was speaking again. 

“and don’t—don’t even try that, ‘it’s fine, ask anyone,’ shit with me, that’s my go-to, so you’re gonna have to come up with something new.” 

he looked at you expectantly, reaching behind you to close the door, locking it soon after. 

“belphie—”

he pulled you to your bed, falling onto it with you and holding you in place. 

“i have been doing this for much longer than you, and i will be doing it for a long time after you. i’d like to postpone the latter for as long as possible, so i would appreciate it if you talked to me.”

[nishisun]

suna rintaro is NOT a genius.

summary: you loved the idea of soulmates. suna rintaro didn’t. it isn’t that hard to put two and two together to realize that maybe people with different opinions on things don’t belong together.

part 2

a/n: this was literally supposed to be a series, i gave up on it because i just didn’t like the way it turned out. it used to be called “out of my league” and this was the intro. i also renamed it. just emptying drafts!! please don’t get confused with the random timeskip, once again, this was a part of a series i never ended up posting😭

WARNING!!: suggestive themes, mentions of death, idk kinda angsty but tell me if i missed anything

Soulmates. Whatever the hell that means. The idea of soulmates is something I truly don’t understand. It’s bullshit, honestly. It’s all-pervasive.

My mother always told me I'd eventually find "the one.” I used to believe that when I was younger of course. But in my opinion? It’s all cliches. It's unhelpful, and it's certainly not true. Destiny is an excuse for the weak. Why do you think most marriages end in divorce? It's 'cause people who believe they are “destined to be" assume everything will fall into place without any effort. I don't appreciate people pontificating bullshit like that just to make me feel better, especially if they haven't found their "soulmate" themselves. My sister once told me, “People who believe in soulmates are more likely to break up and encounter more difficulty in their relationship, which will lead them to give up on one another eventually.”

I sure do believe that.

My mother is a prime example. Fumeiko Suna, my dear mother. Well, she clearly hasn’t found hers. I found out when I came home after a tedious day of school in 5th grade and found my dear mother on the floor crying, with bruises all over her face and a busted lip.

Initially, I thought a burglar had broken into our home once again, but if that were the case then there would’ve been missing furniture. But there wasn’t.

In fact, the place seemed cleaner than usual. When I ran up to her and asked her what had happened, there he was. The devil himself. My father. He reeked of alcohol, and I could detect his shadow towering over me. It’s funny how that I think of it. I used to fear that son of a bitch. Now, I’m way taller than him, and hate his guts. I turned around to see a faux-sympathetic smile plastered on his face.

He explained how my mother was being “clumsy” and had fell and busted her lip on one of the corners of the kitchen table and when I turned back around to face my mother, she smiled gently and nodded in agreement. She didn’t say anything after that.

It was then I realized my father had beat my mother to a pulp.

Long story short, when I found it was my father, sure, I was frightened. In fact, I remember going into my siblings’ rooms to inform them, they shrugged it off and told me that dad had been doing it for a while now.

Over time, when my dad had found out that I was aware, he didn't mind beating the absolute shit out of my mother in front of all three of us. This was when my burning hatred for that man started. Nobody in the house even attempted to stop him. I did a few times, though. He took all his anger out on me. At least my mom had a break for the day.

I almost pitied my mother. Almost. Maybe if she was strong enough to leave him, then yeah, I’d feel bad. But she still decides to stay with his sorry ass. It’s pathetic. It’s unrequited love or whatever you call it. How could she still love that asshole?

I mean, I’m not even going to lie, I’m an asshole too, but I’m definitely not my dad. I would never want to be him. He’s not someone I looked up to, he doesn’t do anything inspirational. He’s a businessman. He travels the majority of the time, and I’m pretty sure my mom invites men over when he’s gone. I don’t care enough to find out. But if I ever hear some guy rearranging my mom’s guts, I’ll kill him. I don’t even blame my mother. What she’s doing is wrong, she knows it and so do both of my older siblings. But they don't seem to care so why should I?

Who knows why she just won’t leave him. Maybe it’s cause they don’t want to ruin how people view our “picture perfect” family. I wonder what they’d say. “I thought the Suna’s were the ideal family? I guess not.”

My dad would probably lose it if he heard that.

Both my mother and my father are the cause of this broken family of mine. They never fed me or any of my siblings the love we always desired when we were younger. They never came to any of my volleyball games when I was younger. They never applauded me for the little recitals we’d have in class in primary school. They were never even here for most of my childhood. They always put money first and left us with the housekeepers. Hell, the housekeepers probably know me better than my own parents.They failed as parents. I despise them for it. They’re most likely the reason I am the way I am, but to be honest?

I don’t give a fuck.

In fact, I should thank them! Because of how they “raised” me, i’m extremely blunt, which is why people respect me. I use the hatred I have for my family and take it out on people and no, I’m not proud of that. I may be a heartless asshole, but I like that people fear me. The hell? Does that make me a sadist? Either way, people know to never fuck with me cause I’d fuck their shit up. I’ve overheard many people say it’s ‘cause of my privilege. It probably is. Money can’t buy happiness, but it sure can buy you many other things.

If my parents were broke, I’d probably be expelled from school by now. Abuse of alcohol and drugs are forbidden on school property. I don’t even take them at school, I somewhat care about my education and health, but sometimes I just need to blow some steam. Even if I did, nobody’s gonna say shit since my dad is the head of Japan’s board of education. How did his ass even get there?

Call me lonely or cynical. Maybe I am. But how is that a bad thing? Why do people need a significant other to rely on? What, a soulmate is just going to turn my life upside down then suddenly bring me happiness? Pfft, I’m gonna need actual proof that shit like that still happens. I’ve only seen shit like that in fairy tale movies. It’s whatever, though. I can live with being alone. I’ve basically been alone my whole life and it isn’t as bad as people make it.

You loved the idea of having a soulmate. The thought of meeting someone who just understood you, accepted you for who you were, and most importantly, loved you excited you. You couldn’t wait to meet your soulmate.

But recently, you weren’t sure soulmates existed.

When your older sister, Akira, came into your room and burst into tears, it frightened you. Your older sister, the one who’d always provide you advice on relationships and how to keep one was in your room sobbing hysterically because hers hadn’t worked out.

“I just can't believe it,” she sobbed.

You couldn’t believe it either. Your sister had recently gotten engaged to her boyfriend of 9 years. They started dating at the age of 15 and managed to make things work out even after high school, and out of all those years of dating, they never broke up. Not even once.

They’d go on romantic dates on Saturdays and they’d always write love letters to one another every day, just to remind one another of how grateful they were to have each other in their lives. On Halloween, they’d dress up as fictional characters from TV shows and books and take cute selfies and bake a bunch of sweets. They’d invite you to come bake with them, but you would politely deny. You knew they were only offering so you wouldn’t feel left out, which you appreciated.

Of course, they’d argue every now and then, but at the end of the day, they always managed to talk things out. Oh to have a relationship like theirs. They were everything you wanted to have in a relationship and more.

“I really thought he was the one for me, y’know?” No, you don’t know. But that doesn't matter. What mattered was cheering your sister up.

“Maybe he wasn’t ‘the one’ Akira, and that’s okay! People come and go all the time, soulmates come and go all the time as well-”

“You still believe soulmates are real, huh?” she let out a humorless laugh and sniffed her nose, “What If I missed my one shot at love, Y/N? What if I lost my soulmate?”

That’s some deep shit.

Now that you think about it, were soulmates real? Soulmates come and go, yes, you’re aware of that, but even though they leave, it’s always temporary. Soulmates always find a way back to their other half, the piece that completes them.

Your dad never made it back to your mother.

He died in a car crash 5 years ago. Your mother and father had been arguing because she claimed your father was cheating on her since he wouldn’t let her check his phone.

You were 13 at the time. Your sister Akira was accompanying you in your room, listening to them arguing back and forth with one another. There was furniture flying across the room, glass breaking, and both of them throwing curses at each other. You were scared. They never argued in front of you and your sister. They'd bicker sometimes, but it was never anything too deep.

Eventually, your father had enough of your mother’s false accusations, and out of anger, he packed his things and left home. For weeks. It wasn’t until one of your uncles called your mother and broke the news. She didn’t take it very well.

Late 2012-early 2013.

Not many people came to your father’s funeral, his family didn’t like the fact that he and your mother were together, they said your mother was trouble, but your dad still stayed with her, even if that meant it would completely destroy the bond he had with his family. Now that’s true love, you had thought. Only your mother, Akira, the Sunas, your uncle, and you, of course, attended the funeral.

It hurt a lot. It hurt when your mother informed both your grandparents on your mother and father’s side and all they could do is put the blame on her. It hurt how they had claimed you, Akira and your mother were a hindrance to your dear father’s well-being. How could they be so cruel at a time like this?

That was the first time you ever questioned if soulmates were real. Maybe they fell in love at the wrong time? Who knows.

After your father’s passing, Fumiko Suna, your mother’s best friend, was there to help your family out financially. Your mother couldn’t even find the motivating to go to work. Your mother and Fumiko have been best friends since junior high, they’ve literally been inseparable ever since. In fact, after they both got married, they decided to live right next to each other.

Your mom didn’t cope with your father’s death very well; none of you did. But your mom had it the worst.

She would cope with alcohol and clubbing which would always result in her bringing different men home almost every night. You didn’t say much about it, you thought it would be selfish to since that’s what seemed to make your mother feel better about herself, but your sister hated it. She was already 19 and in college at the time, but when she visited and found out that your mother had basically been neglecting you, she was furious.

“Seriously, mom? This is what you’re gonna do while your 13-year-old daughter is in her room having a literal mental breakdown because of your childish behavior?” Your sister had barged into your mother’s room when she thought you were asleep, she was screaming loud.

“You’re interrupting something important, Akira. You know better than to-”

“Oh, shut the hell up mom. You’re the last person on earth to be saying shit like that.”

“Well, if you’re done, you can leave my room now. You’re being disrespectful, and this behavior is not tolerated!” Your mother was screaming now. The man in the bed covering his body under the covers and looking back and forth between Akira and your mother.

“Sakiya, maybe you should hear your daughter out-”

“Not now.” your mother scarcely interrupted the man, eye contact never leaving Akira. “Y/N has never complained about this when you were in college. She knows this is my way of coping, why can’t you understand that too!”

Akira scoffed. “So what, getting fucked by random strangers you find on the filthy streets is your way of coping? Getting wasted every damn night to the point where Y/N has to drag you up to bed is okay with you? Do you even know how much this is affecting Y/N? Did you even bother asking her how she felt? I hate breaking it to you mom, but you need serious help.”

“You selfish child!” Your mother screamed, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her body, getting up from the bed. “How dare you say that to your own mother?”

“I’m only telling the truth! If you’re the mother, then it’s your job to be taking care of Y/N, not neglecting her. When’s the last time you’ve engross in an actual conversation with her when you were fully sober?”

Your mother was silent. She quickly walked up to Akira and grabbed her by the hair and slammed her headfirst against the wall.

“You’ve got a big mouth! Maybe I should wash it with soap like I did back in the day, hm?” Akira was attempting to push her mother away, but she wouldn’t let go of her grip. The man that was still on your mother’s bed was in panic, yelling her name, which didn’t have any effect. He might as well stop.

"Look," Akira mumbled, struggling to get away from your mother's grip, "I know it's been hard ever since dad left-"

“Mom! Let go of her!” You cried from the door of her room.

All 3 adults froze and looked at your glassy eyes, mouths wide open.

“Hey, kiddo, I thought you were asleep?” Akira playfully said, your mother let go of Akira and crossed her arms then looked away from you.

“Well, I can't really go to sleep when there’s a bunch of adults yelling about my well-being,” you muttered incoherently. You quickly wiped the uncontrollable tears off your face and sighed.

“Honey,” your mom started, she walked slowly to you, carefully examined your face, and attempted to hug you, but you didn’t accept the offer which made your mother frown. She stopped walking until she was almost face to face with you and placed a hand on your shoulder gently. “Baby, your sister told me that you weren’t happy. Is this true?”

You looked away from her and stared dully at the floor, subtly shifting your feet, then you softly shook your head “no.”

“See Akira, Y/N is happy. So please stop stressing her out.” Your mother said through gritted teeth, then faced you once again. “Y/N honey, how about I go tuck you into bed, hm? I’m so sorry for the excessive noise that was caused.”

“Mom, how clueless can you be? Y/N looks miserable! It’s unhealthy for Y/N to be living-“

Slap.

Your mother just slapped Akira on the face.

“I know what’s best for my daughter! I am her mother! You are not the one who should be telling me how to take care of my own kid!”

“That’s enough, Sakiya.” a familiar voice said from the door.

“Fumeiko-“

“It’s fine. Sakiya, we need to talk.” It was Fumeiko Suna, your mother’s best friend, also known as your next door neighbor. She had been standing in the hallways the whole time, you didn’t even know she was there. Akira was the one who called her over.

That night your mother agreed to get help for her drinking problem. She was gone for 6 months. During those 6 months, the Suna’s took you in since Akira would be in college and you couldn’t have been more grateful.

You and Rintaro were the only kids in the house, being that you both were the same age and the others were in college. It was okay, they were all very polite, dinners were awkward, you could feel some sort of tension between the family but you didn’t pay any attention to it.

When your mom finally came back, it was awkward at first. She still seemed the same, loving and caring, just sober and free of alcohol. It was nice. You two spent the weekends bonding at the mall, watching a movie, or even getting your nails done. Eventually, she gained your trust back, and you couldn’t have been happier.

January 2017.

“Akira, don’t say that. You may not believe me now, but you are such an amazing person, don’t ever think you’ll never find love again. It’s all about having a positive mindset!” you said, thoughtfully stroking her hair as her head laid on your chest.

“I told you that.”

“You did,” you chuckled, “you should take your own advice.

“Oh, shut up!” you both laughed, and Akira let out a shaky sigh. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Of course, you don't need to thank me. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

— so this is one of the writings that i wrote in January 😭 it’s been in my drafts and i re-read it once and instantly hated it right after. if there’s any typos please tell me!!

— also i wanna apologize again for putting gmds on hiatus,, i feel so bad 😭 i wanna make it up to you guys but idk how so if you have suggestions pls tell me

[bibbykins]

Tandem Heartbeats and Close Calls

A/N: Hi everyone! I had started this little drabble forever ago and recently finished it in a half-asleep stupor, so I hope you can forgive the quality. It’s not my best work, but I do want to give the time I spent finishing it justice by posting. Also, I know a ton of people want some sort of part two or continuance for Embroidery, and I do too, so until I can muster a proper part-two, please enjoy this drabble... which is also me committing myself to a series of fight/make up drabbles for the soft yan boys. Either way, I hope you all enjoy and have a lovely day/night!

Pairing: Soft Yandere! (Embroidery) Kim Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: toxic relationship, unhealthy relationship, panic attack, sensory overload meltdown/reaction, mean/degrading words, dissociation (kinda), emotional manipulation- this is not a depiction of a good or healthy couple this is an installment in the dark romance that I write for a mature (18+ since the first installment is rated as such) audience and do not wish nor intend for anyone to glorify or strive for this kind of relationship and I do not think anyone in BTS would act like this at all IRL, this is a work of fiction depicting a relationship that could not exist as such or functionally IRL,I could go on for days about this but please know that much. Also if I left out anything else I should add in the warnings I am so sorry and please let me know. 

Summary: He just wanted to stand up for you and you just wanted to stand on your own. The thought of you doing anything on your own, without him,  shakes him to his very core. 

You hated tension. You hated anger and the silence that came from having no words to properly express emotions. Yet, here you were with Taehyung, sitting in  his living room as he paced wildly, the both of you still in your work clothes. The disagreement turned full-blown fight stemming from an issue that seemed so silly to you.

You looked at your nails, chipping off the polish as you spoke, “I don’t see why you’re overreacting to misogyny in the workplace like this.” You mumbled, "And mad at me for it." You huffed, only earning a scoff from the pacing man.

“I don’t see why you’re so intent on being pushed around by lazy workers.” He seethed, “Youngmin knows better than to throw his work on you, he’s a production manager!”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at this. You already knew that. You were just about to tell Youngmin that before Taehyung stepped in needlessly. This had definitely not been the first time people dumped work on you purely because you were a capable secretary and someone who looked like a pushover. You knew how to handle these situations, regardless if you ended up doing the work. Taehyung, however, seemed to not have any such faith in you considering the scene he made on the entire accounting floor, embarrassing the life out of you.

“That doesn’t give you the right to make a scene on my behalf.” You hissed back, "I can stand up for myself, if you just gave me the chance."

Taehyung scoffed and it made your eyebrow twitch at his patronizing demeanor, “Well, what else do I do if you’re being pushed around?” You huffed at the comment.

“I’m not being pushed around.” You tried to reason but Taehyung wouldn’t have it.

“Well, I’m the one making sure of that!” You flinched at the volume of his voice, but he didn’t catch it from his pacing while you stood, making him freeze.

“Then why are you the only one pushing me around?!” You huffed, tears in your eyes while Taehyung felt his heart crack. You had never yelled at him before, let alone cried because if him. The same realization seemed to dawn on you as you faltered for a moment, “I-I can handle things myself sometimes, you know.” You spoke incredulously, “I was a person of my own before you, do you not get that?!”

“Oh yeah? Who?” He snapped and you gasped lightly. Is this what he genuinely thought about you? Did your own boyfriend think so low of you and you couldn't see it, “I just remember you being a receptionist that cried on the phone and couldn’t be bothered to so much as make her own lunch, so what were you, if not mine?” He finished his words with a hard glare fixated at you which immediately softened at your glassy eyes with betrayal lying in your pupils

"How could you say that to me?!" You seethed, your eyes void of any affection or love for the man before you, making him freeze, “Do you know how hard I’ve worked to be who I am, and that person is not just your girlfriend, do you want me to prove it?!" Your words felt like a veiled threat, like you would leave him and he felt your words like a spear to the heart.

He could not let that happen, under any circumstances. You could not leave him. He could never allow it. You were his world, his everything, his reason for existing.

Going into panic mode, the man spoke in a hushed tone “Baby, I didn’t mean-

You held your hand up, silencing him as you shook your head, “I need some time to, you know, figure out who I am." You spoke sarcastically but voice quiet as you shuffled to the door.

"W-What do you mean?" He tried to keep the panic in his voice at bay as you slipped on your shoes.

You shrugged, "I don't know." An honest answer did make the situation less frightening for the both of you. What the fuck did you mean? What the fuck were you going to do by yourself?

Wrong answer. In order for you to leave this place, he had to know you loved him and would still continue to do so.

"You know I love you, my Venus, right?" His restraint was hanging by a thread as he watched you slip on your shoes.

"Right." You spoke, barely above a whisper.

Strike two. You didn't say it back. Why would you not say it back? How could you not say it back?! Taehyung watched his nightmare unfold at his own hand. You were slipping away from him, and for the first time, he had no idea what to do.

"I don't want you to go home this late, my love." He took slow steps toward you as your shaky hands tied your shoes, not accustomed to this kind of conflict, "I can just sleep on the couch, and you can..."

You whimpered as you couldn't tie your damn shoes. Your hands were shaking along with the rest of your form as you couldn't focus on the task at hand. You were overstimulated to say the least by everything. From the work day, to the scene, to the fight, to the brokeness of everything around you. Taehyung and you rarely ever fought and each time it was mentally exhausted, but it had never been this bad. You had never felt so sub-human and worthless. Were you just an accessory this whole time?

Had Taehyung loved you or just your company? You felt like a burden to him and just like a shitty excuse of a human all around. What the hell are you if not his? Maybe he was right.

A whine sounded from your closed lips as tears fell to the ground. Your shaky hands had paused on your laces completely, the knots tangled and resembling nothing like the bunny ears you needed. Goodness, you couldn't even tie your damn shoes correctly. 

Taehyung's words evidently fell on def years as only distressed sounds and whines came from you. The word was blurrying from your tears and just being overwhelmed all around as your chest squeezed around itself and you opened your mouth to choke on a sob before two hands covered your ears, pushing your face into a familiar chest.

You fought against the embrace before falling on your bottom and defeatedly ceasing your struggles as you focused on the quickened heartbeat your partner had. Why was he so panicked? Surely you were not significant enough to make the ever cool Kim Taehyung's self-confidence shake, right? His heart was pounding furiously, just like yours, though. You thought back to his comment about tandem heart beats on your first night together. Now, the reasoning didn't sound so crazy as the synchronous heartbeats you both shared resounded between your forms. Your sobs evolved into just heavy breaths as your shoulders relaxed a bit, signaling the man holding you to pull back a bit. His hands slid down to cup your cheeks and stroked them softly, a sad smile adorning his beautiful face.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay, hm?" He kissed your forehead, eyes glossy as he pulled back, laying his forehead on yours, "I'm so fucking sorry I was being such a piece of shit." His voice shook, "Fuck, I never meant to hurt you like that, I didn't even mean what I said. I was just fucking projecting because I was nothing until you came into my life-"

"What a lie." You sniffled, "You have always been Kim Taehyung, campus prince, successful businessman, a fucking CEO- board member- whatever." You sighed out, "You've always been something-"

"None of that meant anything to me, barely does now, I never cared about anything until I met you." He breathed shakily, "I love you so much and you brought so much color to my world and I felt like all I had to offer you was protection and I have no damn idea how to be of use to you while you're so effortlessly the focal point of my existence." 

Your breath hitched at this, "I-I… What the hell are you talking about?" You huffed out, "This whole night I have felt like such a burden, like I was just a pet for you to look after, like I would be nothing without you- like you said-" Pain flashed across his face. He did say that. He didn’t mean it, but he said it and it affected you.

"Shit, I did not mean that at all, please believe me." He begged, voice cracking, "I am nothing if not yours, I can't take care of myself without you, my life is nothing without you in it." You opened your mouth to protest but he continued after a heavy breath, "I remember you as the receptionist who didn't care who liked her and who didn't, but you were still so shamelessly human and it was, and still is, fucking beautiful to see, you are so dedicated and hard-working. I felt the only way I could even get involved with you was through anonymous lunches because I was too cowardly to just approach you. Why would you like me to begin with? You never once needed me, but I have spent years now, needing you so shamelessly and it makes me feel so small when you don't need my help and I lash out like a child about it and say things I don't fucking mean, at all." He took a deep breath, "I love you more than anything, more than life itself, and I never want to make you feel like anything less than a fucking goddess and I'm so sorry I fucked up so bad." You couldn't find words as he gave you a short kiss on your nose before pulling away, averting his eyes as his cheeks glistened and he focused his hand on your shoes, "If you still need time on your own, I understand, and...and I will respect that." He spoke softly, defeated, as he gently undid the tangle of knots on your left shoe before beginning to tie it correctly, "Is that too tight?" He murmured.

You shook your head, tears heavy on your cheeks, "Stop, Tae-Tae." You pleaded softly but he could hardly register your words until you laid a hand on his, making him look up at you.

You studied his face, tears fresh on his cheeks with stains beginning to dry from previous ones, "Baby?" His voice was so broken.

"You can just take off the shoes, I-I want to lay down." You looked at him as he met your eyes with hopefully ones, "With you. I want to lay down… with you." He nodded before gingerly taking your shoes off, as if to give you time to change your mind, "I love you Tae-Tae, I really fucking do, and it's so scary because I want to be perfect for you like you are for me and I feel like I keep falling short and so to hear you say that earlier it just…" You shrugged, not sure how to vocalize how you felt.

He sighed, "I really didn't mean it, but it doesn't change the fact that I said it." He began to take off the other shoe, "I do think you're perfect and I need to be better with my stupid fucking insecurity about it and stop being such a dick." He slipped the other shoe off before pulling you into a tight embrace, "I love you, so much, and I would give up everything in a heartbeat just to be with you." You held him back, giving him peace of mind after being so vulnerable.

Your body was exhausted as he carried you to his bedroom. You could barely help him as he dressed you for bed and tucked you in carefully before sliding in next to you. He cradled you delicately in his arms, not squeezing until you held him against you tighter, "I forgive you." You whispered against his chest, "I love you, I really do."

"Thank you so much, my Venus." He sighed in relief at your words, "I love you too, so fucking much." He leant down as you kissed his lips softly. 

Taehyung lightly admonished himself for a moment. He nearly lost you. He could never let that happen again from his own foolishness. He couldn't live without you. He would never fuck up like that again, and he wouldn't. He vowed to never make a scene like that. He had to do that shit in private, obviously. He slipped up, but he would not be so obnoxious again. 

Before he could continue to curse his stupidity, you snuggled against him, "G'night, my love." You murmured and he relaxed instantly, head cleared with only thoughts of how much he loved you.

"Sweet dreams, my Venus." He kissed the crown of your head and you hummed in delight at the gesture before he joined you in closing his eyes and drifting away into a peaceful sleep after one of the scariest nights of his life.

Thankfully, Taehyung never made the same mistake twice. Especially a mistake so critical. Who knows what he would’ve had to do if you were dead set on leaving him? Again, thankfully, neither you, nor Taehyung, would not find out. Not that Taehyung  planned for you to ever find out just how far he was willing to go to keep you with him, to keep your requited love, to keep both of your hearts beating, together.

Masterlist

Donate to my ko-fi (if you want to ofc)

[suganovakawa]

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem!reader , platonic hajime iwaizumi x fem!reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , car accident , amnesia recovery

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

what is hajime’s deal ? what did oikawa do to him to get him so upset ?

word count : 1.3k

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀you weren't an idiot. you know, damn well at that, you are far from an idiot. and you sure as hell hoped hajime didn't take you as one. you lost your memories, not your common sense.

⠀it was quite obvious that hajime had that oikawa boy pinned up against a wall, and not in the dreamy way fanfictions like to describe it as. no, there was definitely unwanted tension between the two; it was evident they didn't like each other. despised each other, even. whether you had known of this before or after your incident, you wouldn't have been able to remember something like that.

⠀you really, truly hoped hajime didn't underestimate your observation skills, or your common sense. any random passerby would've seen the anger blazing those olive hued irises of his as he glared down at your classmate. was it coincidence that it was oikawa of all people that you two happened to bump into after school? you wouldn't have known of the brunet's reasons to have stayed at seijoh; then again, it probably wasn't any of your business.

⠀you wanted to speak up and confront iwaizumi as you had turned the corner - he was fast, but not fast enough to back up from the other before you laid eyes on the two boys. if the atmosphere between the three of you alone wasn't suffocating, you might've. it wasn't like you were afraid of confronting him. he seemed like a reasonable person, open to communication.

⠀in truth, it was oikawa you were worried about.

⠀the poor guy turned pale, the color draining from his skin when you entered the scene. as to why he had such a pitiful reaction, you wouldn't be able to guess. from the looks of his typical poise and attitude during school hours, he certainly didn't seem like the weak, bashful type. and according to hajime, he too had played volleyball alongside him. however, the universe seemed to not want you to know of their current relationship status - every time you asked, distractions would get in the way of an answer. in this scenario, oikawa’s silent plea for an escape was what drove you to play the oblivious card. the relief that shone in both of their eyes as you turned around to walk away sent your stomach in nervous turmoil.

⠀come to think of it, you were pretty kept in the dark about all of this. you only knew as much as hajime was willing to tell. the idea of asking others wasn't appealing to you yet; hajime seemed to be quite content being the only individual answering all of your questions. and while you were more than grateful for his assistance and his company alike, there was always that voice in the back of your head trying to reach out to you, but you had no idea what it was trying to say. it was too blurry to be put into words.

⠀you waited in front of aoba johsai with your arms crossed loosely at your sides, waiting for iwa to take you home as he had been insisting to everyday this week. whether he wanted this to occur everyday or not, that’s what it seemed like to you. you didn’t mind, but you wanted to branch out and find out who your other friends were. you spoke to the volleyball team at lunch time, and you enjoyed their company tremendously. alas, it was the only time of day you were able to give them, as hajime was quick to escort you everywhere, practically glued to your hip.

⠀the thought of you two being in a relationship crossed your mind, more times than one. it would be a valid explanation for his behavior. he acted the way a boyfriend should - walking you to and from school, helping you with assignments and keeping you company after hours, even offering to carry your belongings when you can clearly do it yourself. you appreciated and acknowledged the chivalry, but when it became too out of hand, you were curious. if you two were an item before your accident, was there a reason he hadn't told you yet? you remembered quite clearly what happened that first day you woke up in a hospital bed, he made it clear that you and him were just friends - nothing more, nothing less - but his behavior has been convincing you otherwise.

⠀"hajime - " you were cut off by the way he gripped your wrist - firm, but nothing that could hurt you. you wouldn't have been able to pull away if you wanted to, though. his strength outmatched yours. your words caught in your throat, he was angry, very angry. the scowl painted on his face frightened you; you hadn't seen him act this way all week. was this oikawa's fault? what could he have done to make him this worked up?

⠀"hajime, please slow down. i can't keep up with you pulling me around like this." your voice was solid enough to knock him out of his frustration, he jolted a bit and loosened his hold on your wrist so you could pull back. his hands clenched into fists, but you could tell he had calmed down. not all the way, but he was sensible. you were on your guard. usually you could read him like a book - he was always open to you. now, there was no telling what he was going to say to you next.

⠀"y/n, i have a request for you." his voice was quiet, soft spoken - as if projecting any louder would let off a bomb. "of course, you're not obligated to, but i would really, really appreciate if you could do this one thing for me."

⠀"sure, it's the least i can do to repay the kindness you've showed me all week. i can handle a simple request." your body was tense, and so was his. however, the tension was created from two different reasons. "what do you need from me, hajime?"

⠀"stay away from oikawa."

⠀you blinked. "excuse me?"

⠀"as far away as you can, don't let him talk to you, don't let him step near you, nothing. you shouldn't be with someone like him." your eyes shot open wider as your feet abruptly ceased walking, your chest dropping to your stomach as he caught onto your reaction. you didn't need to open your mouth, he knew exactly what you wanted to say. "he doesn't look like it, but he's a bad person, y/n. you don't need him in your life, you're better off without that germ infecting it. he's done bad things - especially to you. i don't need to remind you, i'll just plague your thoughts with bad things. you don't need to hold that burden."

⠀the vendetta he held against oikawa sent goosebumps through your body, and it wasn't anything comfortable. now he's telling you that he knows something about you he never bothered to tell you about before? didn't you have a right to know? if oikawa hurt you, shouldn't it be your business so that you yourself can judge if you should stay away from him or not? his lack of logic was beginning to concern you, but the glare in his eyes stated clearly that he was taking no argument. and since he was the one with all of his memories, you really had no room to impose.

⠀"... yeah. got it. oikawa bad. very bad. do not engage." hearing your compliance flipped a switch, he smiled brightly and nodded.

⠀"i knew i could count on you, y/n. believe me, you're much better off this way. the things he's done, are completely unforgivable. if you had your memories, you'd agree with me."

⠀maybe, but you wanted to be the judge of that.

a / n : this stupid taglist almost made me cry i had to do it six times because tumblr kept glitching on me n my dumbass kept forgetting to save it BAHAHAHA

wow i’m being productive lmao. second post in one night WOOOOO who needs school 😼 n e ways bit of a self promo but my new smau, rumor has it, is finally out! would be grateful if u check it out 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

taglist : @ot127 @rena0921 @karlitabi-rrito @psychicpercyjacksonfan @crescentbitch @amelimiles @damnirina @pasta-warlord @blossomingbangtan @clinomanians @i-am-kinda-in-a-lot-of-fandoms @manq-fandoms @citruss @sugar-wara @haikoo @anime-simp @kairostatue @awkwardspontaneity @iwantapoptartqwq @aquariarose @softestdreamer @plantisnotplant @avylee @froppysgirl @that-animebitch @wisepandaslimeland @samanthaa-leanne @dumplingzumispam @0hakaashi @captain-janeway @afterglowkuroo @bellabelieveme @attixca @chickenrest @tycrackculture @ynjimenez @lissa-writes-and-does-matchups @lavieenblancetnoir @dabilove27 @cuddleslut @crypto-s @keigosbitch @readeretal @shittykawaa @donghyuckster @adriloen @ella-solei @emiyummy @kukiisan @catyuyuyuu @sillykittt @dolan-mendes @kiritokunuwu @the-third-wall @yammers @monviemoo @dicerawr @psychopath-satan

taglist closed , i’m so glad you’re enjoying the series! 🥺🤲🏼✨❤️

[libsterslobsters]

Whole Lotta Love

Synopsis: For some people, Valentine’s Day is another word for "stress", especially when you don't know what the other person is expecting. Several years into their relationship, Bucky’s pretty sure he has a good understanding of the Reader, until a word from Sam makes him question everything he thinks he knows. The race is on to make their first Valentine’s Day since saying their vows a special one, but as per usual, fate has it's own ideas about what will make the holiday truly memorable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Author's note: This fic contains references to earlier stories. For more information, click the series masterlist link. As always, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I think of her as an OC.

The song referenced is Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran

Series Masterlist

A The Song Remains The Same Fic

---------‐-----------------------------------

“So, Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his laptop (or more specifically, the field report he’s typing) at Sam’s words. Despite his concentration, he can tell that his partner is staring at him, boring holes into his back with his gaze.

“Uh-huh.” He’s listening, but so far, he doesn’t care.

“What are you doing for it?” For Valentine’s day? Um…

“Not much.” It’s a Tuesday this year, right? Then probably working, like most other people, he’d imagine.

The room is silent as he types, so Bucky assumes that settles the matter. That is, until Sam mutters a quiet, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“About what?” How many paragraphs does he have to type before he can pass this off as a full report? When he joined the Avengers, he thought the hardest part of his job would be the bad guy of the week, not doing paperwork!

“You’re really not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Seriously?” He nods absentmindedly and clicks the save icon. He’ll finish this tomorrow. It’s five o’clock. Time to head home. Home to-

“What’s your wife gonna think about that?” He shrugs and cuts the power to the laptop.

“She thinks that the whole holiday is a rip-off. See you Monday?” He turns around for confirmation, only to catch Sam staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “What?”

“A rip-off?” Is he just going to be stuck repeating himself?

“Yep.” Told him that the first February 14th they spent together.

“And you actually believed her?”

He nods. “She’s not one to lie.”

Sam nods incredulously. “Uh-huh. And are you planning to ever have sex again?”

He’s not going to dignify that with an answer (because really, isn’t it obvious?).

“Fine.” Sam shrugs. “You do you, man. All I’m saying is, if I had a wife who looked like that-” he indicates the lock screen of Bucky’s phone (a picture of her laughing, telling him to put away the damn camera after wrestling the dog for the tie to her favorite robe). “-I’d have my V-day plans set up a month in advance.”

Normally Bucky would take what Sam says with a grain of salt, but he is after all a man out of time, so maybe it’s worth considering that his partner may be right.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Outside of the bedroom?” He narrows his eyes at the Falcon. “Okay, bad joke.” Sam scratches at the back of his head, thinking. “I don’t know, man. That’s your girl. You know her best, but flowers are always a good place to start.” Good to know that hasn’t changed since the 1940s. Although, last time he brought her flowers, she spent the afternoon sneezing until he eventually convinced her that it was okay, he wouldn’t be offended, she should throw the damn things out. Then again, that was before she was a super soldier.

“Flowers.” He repeats, earning a nod from Sam.

“You can get creative. Do a little research. But I’m just saying, when a woman waits five years for you to reappear, the least she deserves is a few flowers.” On that, they can agree.

He must bid Sam some sort of goodbye and make his way through the Avengers compound, but he’s unaware of anything until he’s in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of his car, googling “What to do for your wife on Valentine’s Day.” There’s a web page that boasts twenty different selections. Might as well give it a look.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s nearly home when her phone dings with a text from Barnes. “Just got in. Forgot to get milk. Can you swing by on your way, or should I go to the gas station and pick up a gallon?” A frown forms on her face. It’s pretty rare that Bucky forgets things. Must’ve been a hell of a day at work, then. Either that, or his brain has completely turned to mush thanks to typing out field reports. Either way-

“I got it. See you in twenty.” She thinks about tacking on a “love you”, but the light turns green before she can.

The grocery store is packed thanks to so many people getting off work. There’s only three carts left, all with bad wheels. She chooses the least squeaky option and, grabbing an add on her way, heads into the grocery store. Milk, and if she remembers right from this morning, they’re running dangerously low on coffee and tea. Despite caffeine having absolutely no effect on their enhanced bodies, both of them are nightmares to be around in the mornings without their beverages of choice. Force of habit and all.

She’s halfway to the checkout when she sees it. A sign, decorated in garish shades of red, pink, and purple. “All Valentine’s Day chocolates 10% off.” Shit. Yeah, that is coming up. To tell the truth, she’d completely forgot all about that day halfway through February. For most of her life, it only meant giving homemade cards at school when most kids had store-bought. Then, once she reached adulthood, it was a reminder that she was destined to be alone. Who would want someone who’s on the run, and what’s more, sees the future? Once she and Barnes got together, it didn’t change much. That first Valentine’s Day, he mentioned the holiday, and she shut it down immediately. They were both broke (or at least, he had no legitimate way of making money while she was broke), and celebrating a mostly commercial holiday seemed like a waste. Plus, she didn’t want to put a strain on a new relationship. Over the years, the subject never came up again, and she’s content for it to stay a non-starter, thank you very much. In her opinion, you should show your partner you love them every day of the year, not shoe-horn it into one twenty-four hour period. Call her unromantic if you must.

She’s completely immune to the various displays of cheap chocolate in heart-shaped boxes and overly sentimental cards as she approaches the register and starts to unload her items. Milk. Tea. That one specific brand of coffee that he likes because, “It tastes like what we drank in basic training. Terrible, but I kinda got used to it, so now everything else tastes like it’s trying too hard.” whatever that means. He’s right; she’s tasted it, and it’s fucking awful. Still, every morning, he drinks at least three cups while she drains her pot of tea.

“You got a hot date for Valentine’s Day, hun?” The cashier asks her, never breaking her rhythm as she rings up the items.

She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The cashier’s eye go wide, and she holds up her left hand. “And every other day.”

“Ooh, nice. How long have you been together?”

“Nine years.” Wait… “Or four years, depending on which of us you ask. He blipped, I stayed.”

The cashier nods. “So are you older than him now?”

Physically? They’re not completely sure, but if you calculate the times he was off the ice with HYDRA and add that to the age he was before the serum, then they’re not far off. But chronologically- “No, he’s still older.” And yes, it will always be funny that Sam responds with “Okay, boomer” whenever Bucky makes an outdated reference (even if he’s off by a good twenty years).

With a little more light chatter, she pays for her items and leaves. Now, for home.

As soon as she opens the front door, she’s greeted by their dog, Sarge, barking excitedly and hopping around like he’s on a trampoline despite missing a leg. Bucky’s not far behind, placing a quick peck on her forehead before taking the bags from her and unloading them in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to cook, but unless her nose has suddenly decided to give out, he hasn’t started dinner yet. She doesn’t mind taking over tonight, and when he sheepishly apologizes while she begins her preparations, she brushes it off. Although, for the second time in an hour, she’s seen proof of his unusual absentmindedness. Oh well. She’ll ask him about it later.

Despite being relieved from tonight’s chef duties, Bucky stays in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar scrolling through his phone as she cooks. His expression is neutral, which can mean one of two things; a) he’s just killing time and there aren’t any interesting posts or articles vying for his attention, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, b) he’s deep in thought, possibly angry, sad, or even frightened, but he’s gone into Winter Soldier mode and shut down so that she won’t pick up on his mood. Damn the man and his poker face.

Eventually dinner is served and she sends him off toward the fridge in search of two beers while she serves their plates. Just as she’s spooning a generous helping of salad into her bowl, it happens. A vision, but a limited one. All she’s seeing is a phone. Well, that and the hand holding it. She’s not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that she immediately recognizes the hand as Bucky’s, but that goes by the wayside as she takes in the article he’s reading. “Should you do something for Valentine’s Day even is she says no?” It’s a thread on some anonymous discussion board. The reply that has his attention is in reference to a now divorced individual who “was dumb enough to believe that, on our first V-Day as a married couple, she didn’t want anything.” Oh boy. Not good. This will be their first Valentine’s Day since exchanging vows, and if the fact that he’s read this reply (if not already read, will read soon) means that it’s at least crossed his radar that she might be feeding him bullshit. That’s not the case, but after his research, she knows from experience that no matter how much she tries to convince him otherwise, a small part of his mind will be stuck on, “But what if this is a big deal?” Which means-

“Doll, are you just gonna stand there with the salad tongs in your hand?” That snaps her out of it.

“No. Just a vision.” He frowns as she passes him his plate.

“Anything important happen?” Should she say?

“No.” She’s not sure if the smile or not, so she takes a bite from her roll to cover it. “Random sneak peek.” It’s not a lie. What she saw really isn’t important. Still, if he’s in that mindset, she should probably go on and do something for him just in case. After all, why should it only be the ladies who reap this holiday’s benefits?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Not flowers. That’s the one thing that, after copious amounts of research Bucky is one hundred percent certain about. They may still be a common romantic gift, but since they were also a go-to back when he was courting girls in the 1940s, it’s safe to say they’ve been overdone. Plus, he doesn’t really want to remind her of that time she had such a severe allergic reaction to the flowers he picked her on a walk through the park in Bucharest that her eyes nearly swelled shut and she sneezed herself sick. That doesn’t exactly seem like prime romance.

Chocolates or other candies have the same issues as flowers. Contrived and predictable. A bottle of wine is nice, but neither of them can so much as get mildly tipsy thanks to the super serum. The fourteenth is his day to cook, so he guesses he could do some reading and try to create something a little more special than spaghetti (he thought about going to a nice restaurant for dinner, but there’s a few issues with that, not the least of which is they’re likely to be recognized without their disguises, and he’d rather not look at his wife through sunglasses on Valentine’s day), but that seems a little underwhelming.

As he loads the dishwasher (she fell asleep half-way through the third episode of whichever nonsensical comedy they’re watching this week, so he sneaked back downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes), he thinks back to the dozen separate articles he read on the subject of Valentine’s Day gifts. Jewelry was a common theme, but that’s out. She’ll say thank you to his face, but worry about the cost behind his back. Plus, he has absolutely no idea what she’d like, and there’s no sense in purchasing something only for her to hate it.

Another common one was lingerie. Bucky almost choked on his tongue when he saw some of the examples given with that option. None of it looked comfortable (in fact, he’s still scratching his head about how you even put on one of the pieces that popped up on the web page) and he doesn’t want to give her the impression that she has to dress up for him. Even putting all that aside, he has no idea what size she’d even wear. He likes to think that he knows his wife pretty well, but somehow, in all their years together, it never occurred to him to ask her for her clothing sizes. That, and have you even seen the bra sizing system? Does it make sense to anyone, because to Bucky, it’s all gibberish. 32 B? 36 DD? What the hell? Somehow, when HYDRA was training him to extract information, they failed to go over the translation of a woman’s bra size. He supposes he could ask, but he’s not sure there’s a non-suspicious way to work, “Hey, sweetheart. What size are your breasts?” into casual conversation.

Sam said to get creative, so he tried to think outside the box. What’s something she really needs? A new vacuum cleaner is the first thing to come to mind, but he’s not stupid enough to think that would make a good gift. He knows she’s had her eye on a set of throwing stars, but that doesn’t seem to correlate well with what this holiday is all about. That’ll keep until her birthday.

He’s still wracking his brain for anything at all that might work when he feels a wet nose poking at his hand. Sarge. “Hey, boy. Has your mom gone to bed?” The response is a quiet “woof” and lick to his palm. He scratches the mutt behind the ears, smiling to himself as Sarge’s back leg thumps at the treatment.

“What do you think we should get our girl? Huh?” There’s no reply (of course not, he’s talking to a dog), but he nods, pretending all the same that Sarge has offered up a suggestion. “A bone. Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s her thing. Try again.” The dog blinks at him lazily. “No, you’re the one who wants new tennis balls. Not Mom. Although you’re right about her liking peanut butter.” At this rate, he might as well get her a bone and some tennis balls, because he’s sure not coming up with any ideas.

She likes music. The thought pops into his head while he’s brushing his teeth. All sorts of music. Over the years, he’s tried to make sense of the songs he’s heard her listen to, but has yet to find a discernible pattern in her listening habits. She doesn’t seem to stick to just one genre or era. More like she picks songs by how they relate to what she’s feeling at the moment. Wait a second-

“A mixtape.” His reflection mouths the words back at him. Despite technology having moved on from the days of burning CDs, she still has a thick stack of the disks stored in a cabinet and plays them on the regular. He’s even seen a few that she made herself, pasting together the songs she likes to make a “Cleaning mix”, “Workout Mix” and “Pissed off Mix”. Bucky’s sure he could figure out how to burn a CD, but it’s not like she’d be able to listen to that everywhere she went. That leaves a playlist. She uses one of those apps to listen to music on her phone, right? Surely he can put something together for her using that.

Quietly, he climbs into bed next to his sleeping wife and pulls her back against his chest, slinging one arm over her waist as usual. He closes his eyes, but his mind is alight with activity. A playlist. Of course. He’ll put some extra effort into whatever he cooks that night, stop by a bakery and pick up some sweet treats for dessert. Hell, maybe they’ll both dress up and act like they’re on a date. Then, once they’re sitting down to their meal, he’ll pull out his phone and hit play. It’s perfect. At least, he hopes it is.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Putting on a lacy bra and panties set underneath her regular work attire seemed like a brilliant idea this morning. Today’s a short day; she’s only got three classes to teach, and Rhodey called last night to tell Bucky that he’s suspending work hours at three pm “Since most people have holiday preparations to make.” Her plan was to be waiting on the sofa in the living room when he arrives home, professional button-down blouse open just enough for him to get a good look at what’s underneath, pencil skirt pushed up enough to reveal the stockings and garters she’s donned for the occasion. It’s fun, with just enough cheesiness to match this whole holiday. And, well, it’s a guarantee that by the end of the night they’ll be in bed together, both rumpled, sweaty, and satisfied. Perfect, right?

Wrong. On her drive to work, her skimpy underwear began to ride up, giving her a wedgie, and there was no way to adjust without running the risk of wrecking. She was so distracted by her discomfort that she missed her exit, and by the time she arrived at the college, she was running so behind that she didn’t get the chance to run to the bathroom and readjust. Her lecture on sentence diagrams was pure torture before the underwire from her bra decided to join in the fun and poke her directly in the ribs, but with that addition, she was especially impatient with her students’ tendency to joke around a little too much in class.

Luckily, she had just enough time to wrap the exposed metal bit in tissues before her next class, which eliminated the pain in her chest, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort once her stockings began to slide down, having at some point disconnected themselves from the garters. She taught like that for the next two classes, but as soon as they were over, she pealed the whole ensemble off in the teacher’s restroom and changed into her gym clothes. Alright, screw the whole seduction routine. She needs to blow off some steam and fast, or else she’ll be in a bad mood all night.

That’s why, thirty minutes later, she finds herself in the training room of the Avengers compound, working over a punching bag. “Fuck-” Her fist connects, making the bag swing crazily from it’s hook. “-this- whole- day!” It goes sailing, and she feels a little better.

“Ouch!” The voice comes from behind her and she whirls around, gaze resting on-

“Sam.” The man in question holds up his hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

“Don’t shoot! I come in peace.” Rolling her eyes, she holds up her middle finger, receiving a snicker in acknowledgment.

“Just working off a little frustration before I head home.”

“Good.” Sam chuckles. “’cause otherwise, I’d be worried that when Barnes pulls out his dick tonight, you’ll bite it off.” She thinks about telling him that there’s no chance of that, but she might just cut off his if he crosses her. However, that jogs her memory.

“Has he left yet?” Sam nods.

“About an hour ago. Said he had to pick up groceries.” Shit. There goes her plan to shower, throw the damn lingerie back on and proceed as planned.

Bidding Sam a hasty reply, she makes tracks towards her car and, once inside, heads for home. Fine. New plan. She’ll shower once she arrives and then when the evening is drawing to a close, wait for him in bed. Nodding to herself, she puts the car in park and climbs out. Now, to psych herself up enough in the next few hours to put the damn lingerie back on.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Where did he go wrong? It takes all of Bucky’s self control not to spit out the spoonful of sauce he just tasted. This was supposed to be an easy recipe for Chicken Alfredo (or at least, that’s what the website boasted; he should’ve known better than to get his information from the internet and stuck to a good old-fashioned cookbook from the library). Not… whatever the hell this is. Maybe even if the sauce is nauseating, the chicken is okay?

He pulls open the oven door, and immediately smoke billows out, making his eyes water. Okay, chicken’s a little well-done. Who is he kidding? Black. The chicken is burned black. And the pasta… he lifts the pot lid and stirs, only to come to the realization that the pasta is completely stuck to the bottom of the pot. Wonderful.

It’s inevitable; over the years, he’s had his fair share of cooking disasters, but usually he does okay. Tonight though… who the hell up there did he piss off, because the only explanation for how badly this is going is his karma coming due.

Still holding the offending spoon, he looks over at Sarge, who’s staring at him, long pink tongue sticking out as he pants. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want any of this.” There has to be something else he can pull together on short notice. Normally he’d be worried that she’s running late without so much as a text, but today he’s relieved. At least if she’s running behind he’ll have time to… what? Maybe order takeout? Before she gets-

“I’m home.” Shit.

Sarge yips, shaking with excitement, and starts towards the kitchen door, then turns back, uncertain. “Go on. I know you’re dying to jump on her and lick her face.” Something they really should be training out of him because he’s getting too big for that sort of behaviour but, well… there’s a reason they call them “puppy dog eyes.”

Not needing to be coaxed, the dog takes off, tripping a little in the momentary lapse in his memory that he’s a tripod, but easily catches himself and goes on his merry way, leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. From the sound of things, a game of fetch is going on in the living room, so she should be distracted for a while.

He manages to pour the sauce down the drain and scrape most of the pasta into the trash while Sarge is acting as a decoy, but there’s absolutely no way he can dispose of the chicken without tipping her off (damn enhanced senses, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already smelled it). Finally, he decides to just go for it. She’s going to notice whether he throws it out now or two hours from now. Might as well get a head start on cleaning.

Sure enough, not ten seconds after he empties out the oven, he catches a movement in his peripheral vision, and the familiar sound of her breathing tips him off that he’s no longer alone.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Bucky. Did something burn in here, or-” He holds up the pan for her inspection before continuing his scraping.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” He slams the lid back on the trashcan and turns on the tap, intent on rinsing out the pan. “Another is whoever the god of culinary arts is has it in for me today.”

She chuckles. “You know, that would be funnier if we didn’t actually know a god.”

“Yeah, but he’s in control of thunder.” He meets her eyes, smirking slightly. “Although it did look like I electrocuted the bird.” Her lips quirk up into a smile, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her, cupping the back of her head gently to hold her in place when she tries to move away, muttering something about being sweaty.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, but by the time they come up for air, her back his pressed against the wall and he’s got her pinned in place. Not that he’s complaining.

“Anyone ever tell you that the tip of your nose turns pink after you’ve been kissed?’ Her cheeks go rosey in response.

“I think so. One guy did. I told him it’s only when I’m kissed properly.”

He really would like to continue the playful banter, but there’s still the small matter of whatever it is they’re going to eat.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight?”

“Apart from electrocuted chicken?” He responds with a swat to her ass, which earns him a snicker. “Let’s keep it simple. Pizza. Your choice of toppings.” Right, that’s easy enough. Plus, if they have to wait longer than thirty minutes, it’s free.

“Okay. I’ll order while you shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He’s just pulled up the menu on his phone when the sound of her clearing her throat attracts his attention. She’s standing in the doorway, combing through her freshly let down hair with her fingers, a playful look in her eyes.

“Or you could join me. Just a mild suggestion.”

Dinner can wait for a while.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The Brooklyn townhouse they live in has many nice features. There’s a functional if small screened in back porch, big enough to hold a table for two and a grill. Two bedrooms, on the off chance someone from work needs to crash for a night or two. A kitchen with a dishwasher. A working fireplace. Good closet space. And an en suite bathroom.

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to call a bathroom luxurious, especially when, in comparison to what’s featured in many brownstones, it’s more than modest, but she can’t help but think of it as such. There’s a double sink so that in the morning rush to get ready, Bucky’s able to shave and brush his teeth without having to wait for her to finish applying her makeup. Shelving above the toilet makes certain that even if the last person to shower took the towel with them, another one is on hand. Speaking of the shower, it’s not the largest one in the world, but both of them can fit in comfortably at the same time, which is what’s lead to their current situation.

She’s just finished allowing the water to course over her body, easing the sweat from her skin, and is about to begin the process of washing her hair, scrubbing her body, but she hesitates. She might as well ask. It’s only practical after all.

“Do you want to start now or get cleaned up and have dinner beforehand?” It’s obvious what she’s referring to, so she doesn’t bother to spell it out.

His brown knits, and if she didn’t know him as… intimately… as she does, she’d actually believe he’s confused.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming there’s gonna be sex involved at some point tonight?”

She shrugs, wringing out her hair.

“Seemed like a safe enough bet.” She glances pointedly between the two of them. “After all, we’re already undressed. “

His laugh is a quiet huff, barely discernible over the sound of the water. “Then I’d say start now, have dinner, then go for round two. Sound about right to you?”

She nods. “Solid plan.”

“Then get over here.”

Unlike the welcome home kiss they shared not half an hour ago, this one is less tender, more electric. Hands twist in hair, bodies press together. Tongues begging for entrance quickly give way to teeth nipping at bottom lips, an unspoken sparring match for who’ll be in control this time around. Ultimately he wins, grasping her hips and lifting as she wraps her legs securely around his back.

There’s no need for prep; the teasing of their earlier words is foreplay enough. Back pressed against the wall, her body easily welcomes him in as she braces one arm against the glass shower doors for balance. Any concerns about slipping and falling wash away as they move together like so many times before. She’s sure her nails will leave marks on his back, fingertips digging in for purchase and it’s a guarantee her hips will be littered with fingerprints from his grip, but she can’t find it in her to care, and if the desperate, bruising kiss assaulting her lips is anything to judge from, neither can he.

“So damn good, Doll.” It’s panted against her neck. “Always. So damn perfect for me.” All she can manage is a moan in response.

She feels him twitch inside of her and knows he’s close. So is she, but she can’t quite get there without-

As if he’s read her mind, he reaches between them to touch her where she needs it most, and on instinct, she readjusts, locking her arm around his neck to stay in place. “Let go, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” She couldn’t disobey if she wanted to.

“Fuck.” As her walls contract around him, he pulls out just in time to paint her middle with his release.

“That’s one word for it.” She’s still fighting to catch her breath, but she shoots him a shaky smirk, which he returns.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Barnes.” Snickering, she releases him to stand on unsteady legs and pecks his legs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes.” Maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You want the last slice?” Bucky considers it for a moment before deciding-

“Nah. You can have it.” It may not be exactly what he planned, but it’s been a good night. Between the two of them, they’ve gone through two large pizzas while watching the new version of Beauty and the Beast (she rolled her eyes when he asked if this was her way of saying he reminds her of a certain hairy, horned character) in their pajamas.

“No, really. You take it. I don’t want it.” She nudges the mostly-empty pizza box towards him. The noise makes Sarge lift his head from where he was snoozing beside her on the sofa. That gives him an idea.

“I don’t want it either, but I can think of someone who does.” He cocks his head towards the now-drooling dog. “How ‘bout it, boy? Wanna help us out?”

Snickering, she picks the pepperonis and pieces of sausage and ham from the pizza, forming a pile. “Here, Sarge. Catch.” She tosses a coveted treat in the air, and Sarge’s jaw snaps, swallowing it whole. “Good boy.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.

“You know, I actually did have something planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She nods.

“Absolutely. Had a whole seduction plan laid out. Tiny underwear, lacy bra, and stockings with garters included.” Huh. Guess she wouldn’t have taken the “lingerie” option the wrong way. He’ll file that away for future use… along with a mental note to ask her bra size. “That is, until I tried wearing the damn things for longer than an hour. Turns out, hiding a dirty secret under your clothes is more itchy than sexy.”

He can’t help it. He laughs, producing a pout from her which quickly turns into her own quiet laughter.

“Well, that fits in perfectly with my fancy dinner going up in smoke.”

“We really do have shitty luck with the whole “romance” thing.” She’s joking, but he decides to respond anyway.

“I don’t know about that.” Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifts their hands, twin wedding bands catching the light. “You waited five years for me to reappear after the blip, and I convinced you to elope with me. Seems pretty romantic.” Although, that reminds him…

“Don’t move.” Releasing her hand, he stands and goes in search of his phone.

“Bucky, what-”

“Don’t move, Doll. Stay right where you are.” Ah. On the kitchen counter, just where he left it. Jogging back into the room, he resumes his place on the couch next to her. Ignoring her questioning gaze, he pulls up the app and, selecting the correct playlist, hits play.

Immediate recognition blooms on her face at the opening lyrics. “She is the sweetest thing that I know. Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low.” He’s not one for modern music, but when he was googling “songs for Valentine’s Day” and this one popped up, he couldn’t help but think that the lyrics were fitting.

“I didn’t know you’d heard this one.”

He chuckles. “Even old men have a few tricks up their sleeves. That, and a wifi connection.” She rolls her eyes but leans closer, which he takes advantage of to show her the playlist.

“This is the app you use, right?” Receiving a nod, he continues. “Feel free to scroll through and add whatever you want. I haven’t listened to all of them the whole way through, but they seemed to fit the mood.”

Her hand closes over his, covering the phone. “Thank you, Bucky. It’s perfect.”

As the singer goes on about how hearts don’t break around here, he presses his lips against hers.

“I love you, Doll.”

“Love you.”

Not bad for a disastrous Valentine’s Day. Not bad at all.

[the-gay-prometheus]

Frankenstein AU Segment - “The Reunion”

Oh hey- it’s been a minute since I last posted one of these, huh? 

As I’ve kinda been alluding to, this isn’t the segment that I’ve been needing to write, but it’s the one I felt like writing over the past few days. So it just so happens that for once in my life, I’ve actually written something chronologically relevant to the last segment I posted! As in... this literally takes place almost directly after “Willful Disobedience.” 

I’ll admit I kinda rushed the ending of this one a bit, and I think it shows, but it does what it needs to do so I’m just gonna keep it as is for now.

I can’t think of any serious warnings necessary for this one, but feel free to ask me to add warnings/warning tags if you see anything that you think should be warned about!

As always, likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are appreciated and encouraged!

It was a nightmare that awoke him that dreary, stormy night. Though he knew logically that there was nothing to fear, now that the thing he had created had been missing for at least four months, still he couldn’t help but feel those same eyes watching him from the shadows. Shuddering at the thought of that disturbing dark-lipped grin and the strange garbled sounds that had roused him from his slumber on the fateful night of its creation, he lay awake in bed and stared up at the ceiling. “You have nothing to fear,” he muttered aloud, repeating the phrase in his mind hoping that maybe if he said it enough times, it would be true. Yet a sudden bolt of lightning and crash of thunder caused him to yelp and hide under the covers, trembling in a cold sweat. Only one thought eased his troubled mind, and though he resented the idea of once again bothering Henry so late at night, he felt he might go mad if he stayed in his room alone for any longer.

When he silently opened the door to Henry’s room, he fully expected to find him asleep - instead, Henry was sitting upright with his journal and quill in hand. He had been staring out into the storm, but as Victor opened his door his attention snapped away. Though at first he appeared surprised, the expression of shock faded into one of concern. “Another nightmare?” he asked quietly, shutting his journal and setting it along with his quill aside. Victor didn’t answer, simply nodding silently while standing shakily in the doorway. Henry moved over on the bed, and gently pat the place beside him, gesturing for his dear friend to come sit with him. Victor unsteadily strode over, sitting in the place beside Henry but turning his face away. “Do you… want to talk about it?” Victor shook his head, clinging to himself and holding back tears. “Is there anything I can do other than just… be here?” There was no reply from Victor except a sniffle and a shrug of his shoulders. The pouring rain pounded at the glass of the window like some unwanted stranger begging to be let in, a deafening sound in a moment of silence between the two of them. “Would it… help to be held?” Victor gripped at himself tighter and clenched his eyes shut, shuddering as he nodded. When he felt the warm embrace of Henry’s freckled arms wrapping gently around him, something inside him shattered and he burst into a fit of sobs. Henry gripped him tighter, hushing him softly as he wept. Another roar of thunder caused Victor to jump and grab hold of Henry, clinging to him as though his life depended on it. They stayed tangled in each other's arms until Victor’s sobs turned to quiet sniffles, and the rain turned from violent downpour to a gentle, steady fall. When Henry released him, he sat back and reached out, carefully wiping the tears from Victor’s pale cheeks. “Better?” he asked with a kind smile and compassionate gaze. Victor nodded, sheepishly smiling himself, though his smile quickly faded and he shuddered at the thought of once again being alone with his thoughts.

“Better for now, yes, but... would you mind if I stayed the night?” he asked, his voice still hoarse from crying.

“Not at all! Bring a blanket and make yourself at home-” He paused, his eyes suddenly filled with concern. “Are you ok going back and grabbing one on your own or…”

“I’ll be fine,” Victor answered, waving his hand dismissively and hopping down from the bed.

What happened then was a blur, a faded memory with only fragments remaining. He ran after exiting Henry’s room, back to his own to quickly grab his favorite wool blanket and nearly panicked at the sound of a tree branch tapping and scraping at his window, Somehow from there he ended up back in Henry’s room, making a cozy nest for himself on the floor where he decided he would sleep for the night - complete with extra pillows that Henry provided him with, and it was there with his blanket wrapped tightly around himself that his eyes began to close. When they opened, however, he was no longer on the floor but instead lying in bed next to Henry, who slept soundly with his face turned away. Victor’s eyes opened wide at the sudden realization that somehow, in his sleep, he must have climbed up into the bed. As he tried to remember why or how it happened, his memory flashed with tiny glimpses at some other horrifying nightmare, and he realized all at once that in his fright he must have come to Henry for comfort, only to find him sleeping. He stirred, slowly trying to move toward the edge of the bed, but as he shifted, Henry turned in his sleep, now facing him, and he froze. Unwilling to wake his host, Victor lay perfectly still, moving only to shift back to laying with his eyes to the ceiling. He stared upward, but he felt no fear there lying next to Henry. His breathing was slow, his heart calm, and his mind at peace. Yet still, he found himself entirely unable to sleep. Henry shifted and murmured something beside him that sounded like it might have been a name - his name. Victor turned his face toward him, partially curious to see if Henry had awoken or was beginning to wake, and soon turned his entire body on his side to face him as he realized his eyes were still closed and his expression was that of someone peacefully sound asleep.

Something about that moment took Victor’s breath away. He had long known that what he felt when he was with his dear friend was something far deeper than a general platonic affection, but the pieces of his affections suddenly seemed to click together as they lay together in simple silence. His brown eyes began to well with tears once again. “I have searched so long for greatness and power, hoping that it might fill some final void within me,” he whispered, though he knew Henry couldn’t hear him, “yet all this time, all I needed to feel whole was this - just to be here, just to be with you.” He turned himself onto his back again, staring upward as tears slowly streamed down his face. “Why can we not just stay like this? Why can we not just be this - be us?” His gaze fell back onto Henry, and he felt a dull pain from deep within him that throbbed with every beat of his heart. “Would you even want that? Or is this wrong? Am I wrong?” Henry shifted in his sleep, and it seemed for a moment that his eyes might dare to blink open, which frightened Victor into silence at the thought that he may have just bore his entire soul to his most trusted friend. He didn’t wake, though, instead simply heaving a soft sigh in his slumber as he went entirely still once again. The sky outside began to lighten as the first rays of sun peeked over the horizon and filtered through the window, some soon resting upon the fiery waves of Henry’s hair and revealing the dormant ember-like brightness that had been concealed by the darkness of night. As dawn passed, Victor stayed staring at his dearest friend’s fair face, and as he stared he reached out, tracing the air over a cluster of freckles with a smile. “Andromeda,” he breathed, recognizing the latest in a series of constellations he had discovered over the years. He wanted so badly just to reach a little further and touch him, as though he were afraid that maybe it was all some illusion, some cruel trick that he could be so close and yet so far from where he wanted to be - from who he wanted to be. Instead he retracted his hand with a gentle sigh and lay there in silent wonder, letting his mind wander with visions of what could be, or what could have been. Henry stirred beside him once again, his eyelids twitching. Victor felt himself freeze again. What would he say? What would he do? Would he be angry? Would he pull him closer? Would he do nothing at all? From the corner of his eye he caught sight of a tall shadow on the wall beyond, looming ominously. He felt his stomach churn and his heart race with both fury and fear, until suddenly everything stopped. Everything was still - too still. “This isn’t right,” he whispered to himself. “He wasn’t there.” Just as Henry’s eyes slowly opened, he blinked.

Tiny shafts of sunlight filtered through miniscule cracks in the wooden log walls, illuminating particles of dust that floated through the air. Victor squinted as his eyes opened. For a moment, he smiled, half expecting Henry’s hazel eyes to be gazing back at him, but instead there was the bare wood of the cabin walls and the small stream of light that aligned directly with his sight and blinded him despite its meager size. He pulled his wool blanket over his face with a groan to block out the light, and though he tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep, there was an aching in his chest that kept him awake. Though he knew it was impossible, he kept hoping and wishing that somehow, some way, he could simply will Henry into existence there with him. Finally growing exhausted of his pining, he slipped out of bed, pinning his blanket around himself as a cape, and stepped out of his room. The creature lay sleeping soundly on the floor in front of the fireplace, that being the only place he ever slept despite having a room of his own. Victor paused, staring down at him for a moment, suddenly envying him. After having been calmed from another night terror, the creature seemed so peaceful and at rest in his sleep, while Victor seemed to be cursed only to dream of memories that pained him and made him feel all the more lonely and lost, twisted and changed by fears he so desperately tried to suppress. Cautiously stepping over his creation’s outstretched leg, he made his way to the door and stepped outside into the light of dawn. At first he shielded his eyes from the light, but as they adjusted, he strode toward the edge of the ledge and paused just before the rock dropped off into a steep cliff, just so most of his feet were still on solid ground though his toes hung over the edge. It was a dangerous place to stand, especially with the strong breeze that pushed its way through, but the danger of it was the last thing on his mind as he stared ahead, his hands clasped behind his back.

A feeling of homesickness flooded through him, though he couldn’t quite discern what it was for. Was it for Geneva, for the lake and the forests and the view of the mountains from below? Was it for the home and family he left behind so many years ago? Or was it just for Henry himself- He shook the thought from his head. "That's silly," he muttered aloud. "You can't feel homesick for a person." Yet when he thought about his soothing voice as he read some ancient poem or story, or the way he held him when he was scared or sad; when he thought about the way he could paint a picture with words or tell a story through sketches, that feeling of homesickness only grew more prevalent. In his heartache, he hadn’t heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, nor had he heard when they stopped, followed by the clattering of a walking stick and pack being dropped to the ground. Instead, it was a voice that broke him from his thoughts, sending both a wave of heat and an icy chill through his veins.

“Victor?” He turned his head, and swore he was hallucinating. Standing there bathed in the golden light of the morning sun was the exact person who had been consuming his every waking thought. In a moment of something between blind panic and overwhelming joy, Victor thoughtlessly fully turned to face him while stumbling backward - except there was nothing to stumble back on. One foot slipped from the edge of the cliff, and he flailed his arms, trying to push his balance onto the one foot that still remained on land despite that one beginning to slip as well. Just as he was about to fall back to what would most certainly have been an inevitable death, a hand grabbed one of his flailing arms by the wrist and stopped his fall. He glanced back as fragments of stone tumbled off the cliff, falling through the air until they could no longer be seen. His breath caught in his throat at the thought that he could have just perished due to his own carelessness, but when he looked back up he felt his heart flutter. Henry was staring down at him with a look of both terror and relief in his eyes, wisps of his orange hair that had escaped being tied back drifting over his face and catching the sunlight like thin streams of fire, gleaming and shifting in vibrant shades of auburn with each waving motion of the breeze. 

“H-hi Henry,” Victor managed to stutter breathlessly as he gazed upward with wide eyes. The grip on his wrist tightened and he felt himself blush, so he turned his head away as Henry hoisted him back up onto solid ground, only to blush harder as his friend suddenly pulled him into so tight of an embrace he thought his frail ribs might crack. Though it was slightly painful, the sudden rush of euphoria from being once again wrapped in Henry’s arms overrode any pain he felt. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to laugh, or cry, or maybe both at once, but whatever the case, he clung to Henry tightly in return, silently hoping that this was in fact reality and not just some waking dream. Henry pulled back, placing his hands on Victor’s shoulders as Victor reluctantly released him.

“My dear Frankenstein,” Henry murmured. The words shot straight through Victor, words he had been longing to hear for the months he had been away, words that only Henry ever spoke, and he felt as though he might faint at the mere sound of them.

“It’s… it’s been far too long,” Victor managed to whisper, leaning his head to one side and resting it on Henry’s hand. Henry returned the gesture with a comforting smile.

“It has,” he concurred, seemingly searching Victor’s face for answers to some unspoken question. Victor looked back up at him, his own eyes wandering for want of answers, and as he stared, his gaze turned to a sudden look of confusion and concern as reason and logic began to overtake his senses.

“How did you find me?” He paused, then stepped back and pulled fully away from Henry’s touch. “Why aren’t you still at Ingolstadt?” Henry shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m taking time off,” he answered simply. “After you left I was so worried - about you and your family, I guess - I just… couldn’t keep my focus on my studies, so I decided it might be best to come home and take a break.” Victor was about to reply, but went silent as Henry suddenly went rummaging through one of his pockets and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “As for how I found you,” he began, waving it in the air, “I got your letter!” Victor gave him an odd look.

“...Letter?” Henry unfolded it and looked it over.

“You don’t remember sending this?” Victor thought long and hard, trying to consider all of the possibilities - maybe he had sent something and forgotten? Or maybe he had written and sent something in some daze of confusion and lost all memory of it? Neither made much sense, but they were the only answers that seemed to come to mind.

“Not to my knowledge, no.” He reached out. “Do you mind if I take a look?” Henry laughed as he shook his head.

“Of course not! You’re the one that wrote it, after all,” he replied as he placed the letter into Victor’s hand. Victor read it over, growing more confused and concerned with himself. Henry was right - it looked exactly like his handwriting and the tone of voice in the letter seemed to match the tone he so often used in his typical letters to Henry from his time in Ingolstadt before that same fateful day that he arrived there. “Whatever the case, whether you wrote it or not,” Henry began, smiling and resting one hand back on Victor’s shoulder. “You have no idea how delighted I am to see you again.” Victor hid his blushing behind the paper as he inspected it closer.

“More like you have no idea how delighted I am to see you again,” he mumbled. The letter certainly seemed flawlessly his own creation, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t recall when, or frankly how, he would have sent it. “When did you say you received this?”

“I… hadn’t said, but it was yesterday evening.” Victor’s expression became even more contorted with confusion, and Henry himself began to worry. “Is there something wrong?”

“Henry… I never wrote you a letter.” Henry stared.

“I’m not sure if I should be more offended or concerned by that sentence, but I think the answer lies somewhere in the middle.” The thought that he might have offended him sent a twinge of guilt through Victor, and he glanced up with a sigh.

“That’s not to say I didn’t want to write to you. It’s just… I can’t leave this place. It’s a long story.”

“You did mention that in the letter, something about how you were unable to leave. That’s part of why I left as soon as I received it - I figured you might be in trouble, but you look perfectly well, other than perhaps a bit thinner than usual.” 

“That’s just it-” Victor began, looking back down at the letter. “If I’m stuck here, then how would I have gotten this letter to you?” Henry thought for a moment.

“Well, it was delivered by someone who wished to remain anonymous if that makes any difference. Perhaps there was someone who had come here that you forgot and had asked to deliver the letter?” Victor shook his head.

“Impossible. I would have known if someone else had come. There’s no one here except me and-” He paused, his eyes catching on to something strange, a pattern in the way each character was written. He knew his own handwriting - it was sloppy at best, yet typically at least legible, and he never wrote one letter the same way twice. That was the problem, though - the handwriting looked nearly identical, yes, but it was too perfect. Each letter, though sloppily written, was written in nearly the exact same style, as though it had been copied. It was such a small detail, something he himself with his ever observant eyes barely caught on to, but it was enough to alert him that he was right - he never wrote a letter. “It was forged,” he said out loud suddenly. Henry took the letter from his hands and gave it a closer look. “You know my handwriting, Henry. It’s imperfect. I’ve always complained about how imperfect and inconsistent it is. But this? It’s…”

“Perfectly imperfect,” Henry muttered, finishing his sentence for him. “Now that you mention it, I see what you mean. How fascinating… whoever wrote this put a lot of time and care and effort into trying to make it look and sound like you, and certainly nearly managed to achieve it.” He folded the letter back up and returned it to his pocket, but as he did, he repeated Victor’s own words in his head. “Did you say there was someone else here?” Victor didn’t answer. He barely heard him, as he became lost in his own thoughts, trying to decipher who had written it and how it could have been delivered, and how the author would have known his whereabouts.

Perfectly imperfect, he thought to himself. Perfectly imperfect… His eyes went wide and he felt as though his blood was draining to his feet as he went pale and his stomach seemed to twist itself in knots. “Perfectly imperfect,” he repeated aloud, as though in a trance. Henry gave him a concerned look, and reached out, taking his hand gently.

“Victor? Is there something wrong?” Victor trembled, then suddenly tore his hand away and made his way over to the belongings Henry had dropped, gathering them up and placing them back into Henry’s hands.

“You need to leave,” he demanded, his tone hoarse yet dark. Henry blinked.

“I’m… are you sure?”

“Yes I am sure.” He wasn’t sure - but all he knew was he suddenly felt a surge of fear and fury rising through himself. Henry stared, seemingly analyzing him, then gently placed his things onto the ground again.

“No you’re not-”

“Yes I am,” Victor interrupted. His breathing quickened as his heart began to race. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to appear as calm as possible, he rested a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “You need to leave, Henry. You’re not safe here.” Henry’s hand dropped to the rapier he kept sheathed at his side.

“Victor, I can protect myself - you know that. Whatever it is, rest assured, I will be fine.” He reached up, placing his hand over Victor’s hand. “What I’m more concerned about is you and your safety.” Victor looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. “Why are you really here?”

“I told you, it’s a long story,” he uttered, his voice almost like a low growl as he suddenly pushed Henry back. “One that I don’t have the time to tell. Go, Henry. Leave, and don’t come back - for your own sake.” Henry stumbled back as Victor pushed him, and though he desperately wanted to refuse, he sighed and began retrieving his things.

“If that’s really what you want, then I’ll go,” he answered quietly, trying to hide the sorrow in his voice. His tone sent Victor’s mind reeling and a sudden shock of pain in his heart, but he strengthened his resolve and continued to hurry Henry along. Exhausted from his journey and now pained by rejection, Henry trudged along, until out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of something that made him stop and raise his head. It was the cabin he saw, quaint and carefully constructed of logs likely found from the mountain forest. “Oh!” he exclaimed, causing Victor to pause as well. “Did you build that?” he asked, glancing back toward his friend.

“No- well- I- It’s not important. Time to go,” Victor grumbled, pushing at him again. Henry stepped away from him, nearly causing him to fall forward, and walked toward the little dwelling with curiosity.

“It’s… nice, actually,” he complimented, looking it over and glancing at his surroundings. “Must be pretty wonderful to be living in such a beautiful place with such an incredible view.”

“No, it’s a living hell of my own creation. Come on, Henry,” Victor pleaded, grabbing hold of his arm and trying to pull him away. Just then, the door to the cabin creaked as it opened, and Victor froze. He dared not to look, and a million scenarios raced through his mind. Had that demon lured Henry here to hurt him? Would Henry attack it out of fear of its hideousness? Would it attack him back? Panic began to course through him, but as the door closed, it wasn’t chaos that ensued, but instead Henry’s kind voice and cheerful disposition that rose over the mess of disastrous thoughts that tumbled around in his head.

“Oh, hello there! And who might you be?”

[kerie-prince]

We're Worlds Apart (3)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: cursing, angst(?), Draco being a meanie :(

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: not my best lmao kinda gets cheesy. anyways, Y/M/N = your mother’s name and Y/B/N = your brother’s name

(gif cred)

“Do I really have to get one?” Draco whined in the middle of the phone store, getting his very first cellular device.

“Yeah, man. It's 2008 and you still write letters. Plus, your bird took a shit on my car,” Blaine said matter-of-factly. He found it funny that Draco still used an owl post for communication; the only other person Blaine knew that still uses an owl is his 97 year old grandmother. And even she has a landline in her house. “It's just easier and quicker to use. Why wait a whole day for a letter when you can just text me and I’ll respond in two seconds?”

“I’ve never even used a wall phone, how do you expect me to use a bloody cell-phone, Blaine?” Draco was fidgeting in his seat as he waited for the store employee to finish, what was it called, a credit score? Muggles sure are weird.

She came back shortly with a small, black box that had a weird word on it. What the bloody hell is an iPhone? She explained how it turned on, all the applications it carried, and details about billing and more. Draco was still confused about the whole thing but Blaine said that he would help him understand it better.

“Well look at you, Dray. A modern wizard in America,” Blaine jokes. Draco played with the new device, working out all the kinks of it. He sent his very first text message to Blaine at that moment. Took him precisely 5 minutes to type out a very bland, simple ‘Hello. -Draco L. Malfoy’

It made Blaine laugh so hard that he held his stomach. “My god, we’re gonna have to work on your texting skills, man. First things first, you don't have to sign your name at the end of a text. I know it's you.” Blaine explained to Draco all the fundamentals of texting as they walked through the halls of Santa Marie.

Throughout the day, Draco shared his new number with his department. The more he shared his number, the faster he became at typing.

At the end of his shift, he went to a nearby restaurant where he usually picked up dinner —not one to know his way around the kitchen — and headed home.

It's been a good week for him; his mother had sent him a letter everyday, he finished setting up the guest room for Theo and Blaise, he has this new phone, and best of all, Y/N had not crossed his mind once.

Now he still hasn't accepted what she does in her free time, but also he realized that she’s not exactly harming him nor did she know what he was. He's usually busy with all the work he does, anyway. It was quite a sudden change of heart. But mostly, it was his mother that was able to talk to him and change his views.

My dearest son, had it been during the time before the war, I would have agreed with you. But you have to understand that things are different now. You're different now. Now I am not forcing you, but maybe you should just talk with her just once. If not, just ignore her. After all, she only lives next door.

When he read the letter, he could practically hear all of his friends telling him ‘She's right, you know.’ And deep down, he knew it too. So he went with her advice: ignore Y/N.

—

You’ve had a terrible week; your assistant manager forgot to count the inventory which meant she also forgot to make an order for inventory. A group of teens stole a bunch of little vials of oils you had put on display. And to top it all off, a man stood in front of your shop with signs that had biblical verses written on them, blocking the entrance way and essentially driving away any potential customers. You called security but they never came.

You were used to this happening, it's happened all your life. But that didn't mean that it didn't hurt. I'm not harming anyone, so why does this happen to me? Next week, your mother was flying in from Maine to look around the house to make sure nothing would ‘freak Stephanie out.’ 

Driving back home, you were just waiting to mix some bath salts in your tub, play music, and relax for the next couple of days. By sheer coincidence, as you pulled in you noticed your neighbor that you now knew as Draco pull into his driveway.

This week can't exactly get worse you thought as your legs carried you to his front door. With gentle knocks on the door, you waited patiently. Being rejected once more didn't bother you, but you at least wanted to hear him speak to you and try your chance to become better acquainted.

Draco opened his door, his tie was undone and he looked confusingly at you. “Can I help you?”

Panic overcame your senses and without thinking, you blurted out, “Do you hate me?” You noticed his shocked face as it was probably not something he expected to hear.

“Excuse me, what exactly are you talking about?” he asked in his entrancing British accent. It was too late to take it back, so you just kept going with it. “I’m sorry, but you moved in here four months ago and you seem to have made friends with everyone around here but for some reason, you won’t even say ‘hi’ to me. Did I offend you or something?” You sounded exhausted and sad. Not only at the week you just had, but how Draco wasn’t being so neighborly with you as he was with everyone else on the street. It bothered you so much to no end. And the most frustrating thing was that you didn’t understand why.

“Uh, I apologize that we haven’t been on speaking terms but I don’t think I have to talk to you now, do I?” Draco scoffed. Why is he being such a jerk? “I’m not saying that you have to talk to me, but it’d be nice if you could at least wave or something. But instead, you look at me funny and ignore me. It’s kinda rude.” 

“Merlin, you muggles are so temperamental.” Draco said under his breath. The word sounded funny to you.

“Muggles? Did you just call me a muggle?” The look on Draco’s face didn’t go unnoticed. He stared at you for a few moments, not saying anything. What does that mean? “Is that what you call Americans in the UK? Doesn’t really sound nice.”

Draco started laughing mockingly at you, his grip on his door tightening and knuckles turning white, “Look, I don’t understand what it is exactly you want from me but I will say this; the fact that you are so offended that I won’t acknowledge you is honestly quite fucking childish and if you couldn’t get the hint then I’ll say it plainly for you now. I don’t. Wish. To. Be. Friends. With. You. Got it?” and with that, he slammed the door in your face.

Groaning out, you yelled at him through his door, “Fuck you then! I don’t wanna be friends with some rude prick!” You ran to your door and slammed it pretty hard. The sudden noise frightened your cat and made her run from her tower into your room. What the fuck is his deal? 

You walked to your room, pissed off and tired. Looking up, you saw Draco in his room. You stared each other down before you walked up to your window to close your blinds, flipping him off before it fully closed. Afterwards, you took a regular shower and went to bed. Anger built up inside you, and for probably the first time, you hated another human being. And you had to live next to him for god knows how long.

-

“I mean, did you really have to say that to her?” Ian and Ashley had just listened to Draco explain what had happened the night before. Ian just sat in the chair eating his lunch as Ashley responded to him. “I know things might be different in England, but you should’ve given her a chance. She could be nice. I have a couple No-Maj friends on my block.”

“I’m on Ash with this. Is it really all because she’s Wiccan? Be honest, Dray,” Ian chipped in. At that point, Draco didn’t really know what to say. He thought he could look past it, but he couldn’t. “Maybe, yeah. I come from two families that had very strict traditions and views of muggles. I thought I dropped those views but seeing first hand what they do and-”

“And it makes you feel like a freak? Because you’re a real wizard that can do magic and they sit in some weirdly drawn circle and ‘do’ magic?” Ashley finished Draco’s sentence, making quotation marks with her hands. “I get it, I really do. I was offended too when I had to read about No-Maj’s doing this during school. And then to see movies where witches are viewed as ugly, green-skinned hags with warts on her face and wear rags for clothes. Kinda brings you down as a kid. But I got over it. You should, too.” Ashley held Draco’s hand for a bit before she grabbed her coffee mug and left for her appointments.

Ian sat quietly, watching as Draco was sinking in everything he was advised. “Look man, it’s not really my business to be telling you what you should or shouldn’t like, and who you should or shouldn’t like. And you know what, you’re not exactly in the wrong to get mad about what happened. After all, she just kinda picked a fight with you out of nowhere.” Draco had a face that looked as if he was saying ‘Right? I’m not crazy here’

“But,” of course there’s a ‘but’, “from what I hear around the street, Y/N’s really nice. Super weird for sure, but an overall nice person. I think you should think about it.” Ian nodded at Draco before joining Ashley out of the breakroom. Draco sat there, thinking about what his friends said and also thought back to his mother’s letters. I’m such a child. And I’m the one that called her childish. If he was honest, you were but it didn’t make him better.

He knew what he was going to do after work. It pained him to have to apologize to someone. Apologizing wasn’t something he was exactly used to doing. He’s only done it once to Harry and his friends nearly three years after the Battle. He didn’t even really know what to say to you. But he’ll figure it out. Right?

-

You stood shocked at your doorstep, hands holding onto the sweater as you looked before you. “Mom, you’re here early.”

“I had been given an extra week off of work so I thought I’d just come and see my oldest baby before your brother and Stephanie comes. Also gives me a head start to plan our dinner and get this house situated,” your mother walked past you with her two large luggage cases and dropped them on your living room floor. She looked around the house and eyed all the decorations and pictures on the walls.

To her, everything was nearly normal. You had family pictures posted and some pictures of you and your friends from college. In the living room, you had a tapestry hung up behind your couch that used to belong to your grandmother. “Y/N please, will you take down that blanket? Why don’t you put up a picture of some flowers, or maybe something abstract?”

“Because I don’t want a picture of flowers and that’s not a blanket. It was Grandma’s. I want it hung up there. Ma, you gotta understand that it’s my house now.” Your arms were crossed due to the cold. You had the day off and tried to spend it well as you did your cleansing spell in the morning, but it seems that it wasn’t very effective seeing as your mother came in and immediately started nitpicking everything.

“It was cute in your room when you were a kid. But you’re 26 now. How would your boyfriend feel if he walked in here and thought ‘oh, didn’t know I was dating a 16 year old.’” Her constant criticism was nearly pushing you to the edge. “Ma, I don’t really want to argue with you tonight so I’m just going to bed-” a doorbell rang throughout the house and you were thanking whoever was listening for giving you a reason to walk away from your mother. 

As soon as you opened the door, you were met with another face that you weren’t exactly excited to see. “Can I help you?” you repeated Draco’s words from last night back at him in a spiteful tone.

Through gritted teeth, he looked at you and said, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for being an arse yesterday. I hope we can look past it and become well-acquainted neighbors.”

“Huh, you’re sorry? You don’t really sound it.”

“I know, I’m not really used to doing this,” Draco quipped. “But nonetheless, I would still like to apologize.”

“Yeah, whatever, I’m sorry too.” You were about to close the door until your mother came up and pushed the door completely open, “Honey, who’s at the door- oh! Hello, I’m Y/M/N. And you are?” She looked at Draco with the nicest smile that you had ever seen on her.

“Hello, My name’s Draco. Nice to meet you,” he awkwardly shook your mother’s hand. He didn’t smile, but he also didn’t have the usual scowl on his face when he would look at you. Guess he does have manners. “Y/N, is this a friend of yours?” your mother insinuated with a less than discreet wink. Without missing a beat, you replied, “No. Ma, this is my new neighbor. I just met him. But it’s late, so nice meeting you Draco. See you around.” And you closed the door.

“That was rude, Y/N. You should have invited him in. He’s very cute,” your mother grabbed her bags and headed into the guest room. From a distance, you could hear your mother speak to herself, saying ‘At least this room looks normal’. “It’s kinda late. Besides, we have all the time in the world to talk.” 

You walked to your small closet and grabbed the special bath salts for stress relief and walked to your bathroom. Starting to strip, your mother barged in. “Ma! Privacy, please!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I gave birth to you. Anyways, how long has it been since he moved in? Do you think he knows about your witchy stuff?” She asked as she stood by the door, checking her reflection as you continued to undress for your bath. “I don’t really hold a sign around my neck that says I’m a Wiccan, Mother,” you said with closed eyes. Your mother said, “I hope not. Night, baby,” and closed the door.

This is going to be a long three weeks.

-

The morning came and you woke up before your alarm and did your daily routine. The only difference was that your mother was going through your pantry looking for ingredients to make breakfast. “Morning, honey. Do you want some pancakes? I’ll make your favorites! It’s still blueberry, right?”

“No, that was Y/B/N. Mine are chocolate chip and peanut butter.” You said flatly as you grabbed your watering can. “Oh that’s right. But I already bought the blueberries.”

“That’s fine, they still taste good.” Your mother was satisfied with your response and started right away. You walked out to your front yard and watered your plants along the fence. The betony plants were beautiful, its sight was calming your nerves as you poured water over them. The sound of a door closing caused you to look up, watching Draco as he was standing in his yard with what seemed like a cigarette attached to his lips before he took it out and placed it onto an ashtray that was on his porch.

He walked over to the fence that separated your yards. The smell of the cigarette was in the air and it reminded you of your late father. “I meant it last night,” he mentioned his apology. You didn’t really know what to say so you just nodded and went back to watering your plants.

“But if I recall, you did start that fight,” he chuckled. You glared up at him for a few seconds before returning to your task. “Alright, I guess I’m sorry too.” Draco scoffed and just whispered ‘Whatever’ and walked away. “Wait,” you called for him before he walked back into his house and luckily, he stopped. “I’m sorry,” you said with sincerity. “Can we just start over?”

He stared at you, visibly contemplating your question then finally said, “Sure.” He walked into his house and you stood shocked in your yard. Your mother walked out and announced to you, “Honey! Breakfast is ready! Come on, I think your plants are watered enough.” With the snap of your screen door, you were released from your daze and walked inside. Maybe this week is turning around after all.

-

Draco sat in his room, not exactly sure what exactly happened. Was he really going to try and become friends with a muggle? He could imagine the look on his fathers face. Just because he had lost in the Battle, didn’t mean that he magically accepted muggles and muggle-borns. Narcissa didn’t like them much either but she also didn’t hate them as Lucius did.

This would shock not only his parents, but also his friends, Blaise and Theo. Merlin, the person that would probably have a field day about this would be Hermione Granger. He sat there, imagining Granger either laughing at him or cursing him after all the bullying he put her through. All those years of calling her a mudblood and he becomes friends with a muggle. A No-Maj. A Wiccan No-Maj. But then he thought about what Ian said at work. Y/N is really nice. Weird, but nice. And when he agreed to having a fresh start with you, he figured that it would give you a chance to prove him wrong about what you were like.

Or she could be exactly what I always thought muggles to be. Foolish.

—

next chp

(っ◔◡◔)っtaglist: @beiahadid @malfoy-styles-wife @fivenightslaughter @juneballoon999 @leydileyla @fangirlanotherjust @originalsoulcollector @opiomancy @lipstickandloveletters

[fannishcodex]

So I love @revasnaslan 's Where One Fell Verse, a SPOP AU. :D (Will add a link to the fic series in a comment or reblog below after remembering that tumblr sometimes has issues with embedded links, I think.)

Like, I really love it a lot, it borders on self-conscious "am I being too much, will this for some reason bother the fic writer??" And really, I’ve realized, no way, it won’t, especially since I write fic too and know I would be delighted if my fic got that reaction; but I think this may be more part of my self-consciousness and shyness. In any case, my affection for these fics is on hyperfixation level. I'm in the WOF Verse fandom. It's a thing I've been thinking about in some way since I found it late last year via @cirusthecitrus, it's one of the things that cheers me up these days. I struggle to articulate my pleasure with this fic, but I want to try to do it more.

This fic is a wonderfully character-driven story.

Fic spoilers under the cut, so recommend reading Where One Fell (fic 1) and Everything But A Door (fic 2) before this--and also, just, this fic has my deepest rec and everyone should check it out:

But, another different note first, even more self-conscious on my part: me writing about this fic more feels long overdue, but I really do struggle to sometimes articulate even my positive feelings about a thing because I want to get it across well--but I'm trying to more just spill it out now instead of trying to refine it more; and just also other things have been...a lot, there's been a lot (good and less good) that's pulled my attention in other directions too. So, long overdue, I wish I could've done more earlier, but I still just want to...gush about the fic; but I get self-conscious and worry about, like, "I don't want to end up pestering/pressuring and asking for immediate gratification for a new chapter/I don't want to guilt-trip for an update especially since I feel like I understand because I write fic too and I write slow and it's hard"...but I still want to gush about WOF verse, especially since it's like any other story I enjoy. I like gushing about the stories I enjoy.

So, again, this fic is wonderfully character-driven, which I love.

I'll bring up some canon for obvious reasons, but mostly in terms of contrast. One of the ways WOF Verse felt refreshing and drew me in was that after SPOP canon--well, in some ways SPOP canon feels like a wasted ensemble show; like many other things SPOP doesn't pull off, it doesn't pull off an ensemble show (especially when it ends up sidelining a bunch of characters that should've been prioritized more instead of a very mishandled character), and it kinda feels like it ends up having too many characters/like it starts feeling like too many characters if some are sort of just there and not really used (and I have my thoughts on who should've been prioritized, but that's another post; though granted I think my interest in this fic really indicates some of the characters I would've prioritized more).

So, I enjoyed how WOF Verse focuses on a smaller cast, giving them more attention and exploring them more. The general summary of the fic immediately drew me in, because I'm a sucker for family themes and dysfunctional families and familial love getting messy and complicated in fiction, and I hadn't realized I needed clone Hordak and his genetic template/progenitor Horde Prime shifted to them being literally brothers, plus the added twist of having Horde Prime actually care for his brother, but Prime's become thoroughly twisted in how he shows that affection and protectiveness--didn't know I needed that until I found this fic. And oh do I enjoy how this fic opened up the original '80s She-Ra/MOTU up to me more, because I just thought "wow, Hec-Tor Kur is a good made-up alt name/'real-ish' name with a last name for Hordak in this AU, and Anillis Kur just sounds cool and it just feels like it fits as an alt name/real name for Horde Prime when he's not always using that title," and I thought making them literally blood brothers was just a neat twist on them being clone and genetic template/progenitor. But nope, apparently Hec-Tor Kur and Anillis Kur are their real alt names from the original '80s canon which also heavily implies they're brothers, and that's really cool. (And I think it would've been really interesting if spop/the latest reboot had actually just explored that more, explored them more as brothers and siblings.)

Again, WOF is very character-driven, and I love that. And I enjoy how this feels like it also fits the story and world of the fic, which involves Anillis Kur/Horde Prime going into Extremely Overprotective Brother Mode and confining his sickly younger brother Hec-Tor (Hordak) to the Velvet Glove because he's that paranoid about anything happening to his brother due to a lot of family trauma that happened before Hec-Tor was even born/when he was just a baby (and baby Hec-Tor himself almost succumbing to illness and dying did not help with Anillis's issues), not to mention that controlling; so much of the fic so far is in a closed world, it adds to the hyper focus on the characters in that closed world. I appreciate how at times the fic really does have this claustrophobic feeling. I like how it sometimes makes me think of like a one-setting/limited setting play on a multi-chapter scale.

And of course, I like the specific characters getting this sort of hyper focus, and WOF makes me enjoy them even more. I love Hordak, his character, his voice, his design, etc. Horde Prime also has such a cool design and again that same cool voice, I adore Keston John's voice acting and his range in it. Canon S5 doesn't give him enough internal depth or character though, and ultimately makes him too much of just an obstacle and symbol/too much of a plot device in the show and a wasted opportunity for a more interesting character. That becomes even more apparent in contrast to WOF Verse, because Anillis Kur/Horde Prime is so much more interesting!!! Like Anillis/WOF!Prime is so much more interesting, it makes me realize how canon Prime is lacking in character/interest.

Ohman, this Prime. Prime has a great design and a great voice, and WOF has an interesting personality to match those elements in quality. There's so much fascinating contrast with him in WOF, and it makes him feel like a more unsettling villain. We've seen him care, and so it feels more frightening when he turns more aggressive and ruthless and cold. WOF's opening scene really effectively sets that contrast with him; it starts with him exhausted but having a really sweet moment with a very young Hec-Tor, and then not long after that when Hec-Tor's asleep in his arms it's a very unsettling mood whiplash with how Anillis coldly treats the clone attendant; it's even very effectively distilled and crystalized even further with the image of Anillis holding a sleeping Hec-Tor in his arms while glaring daggers at the clone attendant, that contrast of love and threat. Like, definitely a character that can do Both and I love that. And contrast adds layers to Anillis, it renders him in even more emotional dimensions, he can be multiple things at once.

And I rather love that he's far less...touchy, with everyone; it more finally struck me that he's rarely negatively touched anyone until a pivotal scene, and it being a rarity made the scene pack more of a punch, and then I looked back and realized he just doesn't do that often, there's another earlier scene that also feels shocking because it's another rare use of explicit touch, his touch is more targeted--he doesn't need to constantly do it to feel threatening at all, and is in fact much more threatening and unsettling without it. (I literally had to pause some instances because I was nervous about what Anillis would do next.) It's so fascinating to watch Anillis steadily grow worse and to watch Hec-Tor gradually have the dawning realization of what Anillis is really doing and the truth of his situation. It's interesting to see Hec-Tor gradually realizing that what he's lived with his whole life and what has felt normal isn't a good thing, it's not acceptable.

And I really do like that familial love is such a motivating factor for Anillis, and that it's something that feeds into a lot of his ruthlessness and villainy; and it feels like something I still don't see enough in fiction. And it just feels more believable, more consistent. Anillis acts horribly, is abusive, but it still feels like what he does is out of love for his brother and he really is blind to what he's actually doing to his brother, that it's the opposite of what he wants, it's not protecting him like he believes. I like that level of character believability/consistency, and part of that also involves how it's overall framed, and it's still framed as pretty terrifying; Anillis cares about his brother, but his methods are twisted.

And my gut feeling does...well, feel connections between canon and this AU--and that may be obvious as source material and fic based on it, but I mean--it's as if canon were the very rough first sketch/draft, and WOF is the fully realized version of the character, plus the change of shifting his brotherly status into a brother that actually does care but goes about it in a horribly twisted way. WOF takes parts and pieces and little details from canon and fleshes them out into something more fully dimensional and more interesting. Like the trace of canon Prime's collection with plants/other things and even arguably the imagery at the end with his ship the Velvet Glove becoming a tree feel connected to a more fleshed out version in WOF where Anillis keeps a garden. And there's so much meaning that can be pulled from his garden--it's another reflection of his controlling behavior with the way he controls/manages the garden; on the flip side, it feels like it further reflects the contrast/dichotomy in his character, as gardens can still have positive connotations too--it can reflect the potential Anillis had (may still have?) for genuine good/for genuinely nurturing care. And it also does more explicitly point to Anillis's affection for family since his late father had kept a garden too and Anillis's own garden on the Velvet Glove still has his father's plants. There's so much done with Anillis's garden.

And with his backstory and the contrast in his character, just his...everything, I also want to know more about Anillis, I'm curious for even more of his backstory, even going more into "why are you like this?" Like this is a genuinely fascinating, charismatic, threatening, multi-faceted antagonist right here.  

And I can go on about Anillis, but I love Hec-Tor/Hordak in this too. I love Hordak, and I enjoy how this still feels so much like Hordak, but with a different life; I feel like there are commonalities that remain from canon within him combined with differences based on the AU he's in and the different experiences he's lived with. Like, there's such an interesting detail with Hec-Tor's growing anger issues that remind me of Hordak--it's there, but different because of their different lives, Hec-Tor's developing because of his isolation but still quieter, simmering, because his brother only has his best interests at heart, he shouldn't act like this... And then it’s so nice to see Hec-Tor be even more talkative about SCIENCE because he does have more space to be a bit more open about his passions in this AU/different life situation. And it's all like another AU I didn't realize I wanted until I saw it--I really dig seeing Hordak/Hec-Tor as a baby, as a little kid, getting to have a childhood and get to have more typical developmental stages and to have more familial experiences, albeit twisted ones. And I love how the story has shifted to Hec-Tor more, love his POV and following him on his journey.

And the clones! The clones are great in WOF and give me feels too. I love how more of them are focused on as individuals, and that we get to see more of their characters and glimpse their differing views. And when Etherian characters join in, they're as well written and interesting too (the Entrapdak is so good). I just like WOF's cast, and the line-up plucked from canon and how they adjust to the AU; this ensemble just feels better, and it's utilized and treated better than canon.

And the worldbuilding with Anillis & Hec-Tor’s race and the clones and their world is so good and seamlessly interwoven with story and character, enhancing the whole thing even more and making things even more interesting.

I just...really love these characters and this story. They have a lot of heart and intrigue.

(Disclaimer: I definitely ended up having trouble figuring out tags for this. Especially since I think only the first five tags actually show up at first? And I think last I checked tumblr freaks out over dashes within a tag so while “hec-tor kur” probably fits better, I don’t think tumblr can handle that for some reason so just going with “hordak,” which also really still just fits.)