#god liked the nothingness so he put a ring on it

[ballad-of-death]

Kissing the boo boo away

;;PAIRING : Jake Peralta x cop!reader

;;SUMMARY : after getting shot, the last thing you expect is a confession from your colleague.

;;NOTES : HEHEHHEHEHHEHE JAKE BRAINROT ENSUES. Also yes very cliche blah blah blah. Anyways! First fic to post on here i hope you guys like it :)

Gettig shot is not like in the movies. You dont just calmly lay and hold the wound. Its loud. It pierces trough you. It makes you gasp for air and yelp in pain. Then there's the force of the blow throwing you back onto the floor and the warm feeling of the bullet going through your skin. The smell of burnt cloth and skin. The ringing in your ears after the shot.

The worried yells of your partners.

You try holding on to the wound but even the smallest bit of pressure makes you want to throw up.

The sound of steps and shots ringing in the background as a habd on your shoulder brings you back to reality.

"Hey! Hey! Dont close your eyes stay with me now! Its me Jake! Hey look at me!" The detective held your shoulder and tried keeping you awake as much as he could. He tried to put pressure on your wound but you just winced and groaned in pain. The bullet shot you theough the abdomen and you couldn't sit upright without immense pain.

"Dont worry everything will be okay just look at me. The medics are on their way just hold on a little longer!"

Jake said with obvious worry in his tone. You tried your best to open your eyes but the heavy feeling of tiredness washed over you. The warmth of your bosy as the blood pumped more and more seemed... comforting in a sense... just closing your eyes to rest wouldn't hurt right? The pain would still keep you awake right?

"No, No, No, No, No! Hey he look at me Hey! Dont "

The bliss of rest entwred your mind and all you could think about was... nothing. Just nothing. Pure nothingness. If it were a movie it would be a black screen, yet not in a bad ending way but a break between plots.

----

You woke up to the beeps of the ECG next to your bed. You look arounf the room but your eyes are still adjusting.

Yet, you can clearly make out the sillouette of a person to your right. They are holding your hand and seem to be sleeping. As your eyes finally adjust you see who it is. Jake.

You tap his hand a few times to try and wake him up and it works.

Hes gasps and jotls closer to you his eyes still slightly closed.

"Hm? What? Wait. Y/N! You're awake! Oh i thought you were going to sleep for like three days like in the movies oh my god you scared me to death!" He rambles on as you chuckled to yourself.

"Thanks Peralta, you know how to make someone feel better" you smile at him letting him know you were joking.

"Yes sorry. But are you okay? Should i call the nurse? Does it hurt? Are you okay? Do you need anything? Anything at all?" He seemed distressed, worried even. You never saw him like this. He wasnt his goofy self anymore. He was more serious.

"'M fine Jake. But you sound more worried the I am. Is everything okay with you?"

"Yes...no... maybe? I dont know but i doesnt matter. You cant do this to me! You cant be so brave ! When you got shot you worried me so so so so much Y/N! I thought i lost you! Like actually. This isnt like a monologue i put on because i had to. You actually scared me. I care about you so much and you just get shot like that." He held your hand tighter and looked you in the eyes. His voice was really serious.

Your hand reached for his head and cupped his face lightly.

"Jake... I'm sorry, although its not my fault i got shot but...im sorry. Dont be so worried about me though. No matter what i will be fine" you smile at him.

"No Y/N i will worry about you. I will. You mean so much to me and now when i thought i lost you... Y/N you seriously dont know how much you mean to me. I was so shit scared about you and it made me realize that... that i care about you. More than anything actually.... what im trying to say is—

When i thought you were gone i realized that a life without you would be hard. I love you Y/N. So so so sod so fucking much." He sighed, his eyes were glossy as if he was about to cry.

Your heart ached at this sight. He also meant much to you. The sight of him sad and worried was very rare. Infact you haven't seen him cry ever.

"Jake—"

"No i know its stupid we're coworkers and like it wouldn't work out and you think im saying this because of your state. But im serious Y/N."

"I know you are, but let me finish. I care about you too Jake. And I think i care about you in the same way you do abiut me. I think i might love you too Peralta."

"You know how to ruin a moment using my last name dont you?" You both luaghed. You were relieved he was already back to his normal self.

"Also, the nurse asked me to ask you if you need someone to kiss your booboo away?"

"Not very smooth Peralta, if you want to kiss me just do it."

"Cool, cool cool cool cool cool cool cool"

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hey bubs, I have a request and I’m sorry it’s long 😅 Werebear! Ari x plus size reader🫶🏽

Maybe one day in there relationship she wakes up in a not so good mood about herself which causes her to be insecure for the day and throughout the day she sees girls flirting with ari and thought he flirted back.

Air takes notice of this and just plans for cute movie night, but reader is still not in a good mood so maybe they fight and they both says some hurtful things, nothingness reader and him both apologize and ari just showers her affection and reassurance that he’s only got eyes for her and no else and that he loves her 🥺 what do you think??

hello, don't apologise! okay, so this is my first plus size reader, and I hope you like it, but I would just like to say. no matter what you read in this story, this is not you. do not see yourself as disgusting, ugly, fat, etc. In real life, whether you have more flesh than someone else or less, you are beautiful inside and out. If you ever feel like what the reader feels, please find a friend you can talk to about this (I can be that friend!). but remember, no matter what you look like, you are gorgeous and if someone else doesn't see that. It means they aren't right for you. they aren't meant to be around a god/goddess like you. YOU ARE PERFECT! (also, I do get how it feels, I no longer trust my mind or people from it, haha.)

summary - reader wakes up feeling flawed, seeing everything wrong with their body. ari doesn't catch on as fast and accidentally makes you think he wants someone else. will the issue be resolved after a fight you two have?

warning - angst, insecure reader, nasty thoughts, sad reader and ari, mentions of cheating, fluff.

the gif I use isn’t mine, divider by @newlips

You look at yourself in the mirror, staring at the clump of flesh on your stomach, hips and thighs, frowning at the stretchmarks and how fat the skin looks as you switch angles, wondering why it looks worse the more you stare. Your eyes flit over to a photo of you and Ari, and the frown on your face deepens as you wonder how someone like him would want to be with someone like you. When you found out, Ari wasn’t human. You accepted him because you knew how it felt to be pushed aside for being or looking different, but you would never understand how he can look at you and see something he likes, not when there’s someone better out there for him.

As you hear Ari get closer to the room, you quickly chuck on the gorgeous sundress that he bought you. Still, no matter how pretty it was, whenever you looked in the mirror, the prettiness seemed to be sucked out of the dress, causing you to feel disgusted because you ruined something so gorgeous. 

When Ari entered the room, you put on your best fake smile, and when he wrapped his bulky arms around your chubby form, you tried to hide the grimace you felt, praying he couldn’t feel your rolls underneath. You meet his eyes as he leans down to place a kiss on your plump lips. His compliments go unnoticed as your ears are too busy ringing, your mind filled with horrible thoughts and feelings. 

“Are you ready to go, Tulip?” 

‘Go? Go where?’ You blink, slowly coming out of your haze as you try and think of where you guys are going.

“Remember, baby? You wanted to go to the markets and buy some fresh fruits for the pies you wanted to bake.”

‘Oh, why did I suggest something like that? I wasn’t in my right mind to suggest baking something that would make me fatter. Am I trying to make Ari run for the hills?’

You don’t remember how you got into the car, but you feel Ari resting his hand on your fat thigh, causing you to squirm because the longer his hand stays, the more he’ll become disgusted. Ari tries to talk to you, but you can’t seem to hear a word that comes out of his mouth. Everything seems like a blur once you get to the markets. Walking from one stall to another, picking up the freshest fruits you both can find, occasionally Ari would look at you and smile, kissing your cheek and holding you close to him, but that seemed to fly over your head. 

How other women seemed to look at the two of you didn't fly over your head. They’d flirt with Ari as if you weren’t standing right next to him, wrapped up in his arms. Your eyes glazed over for a split second when you heard Ari respond to them. Deep down, you knew he was being nice, that he’d never look, think or flirt with another woman because Ari deeply loved you. Still, for some reason, you thought he was flirting back. You’ve never seen that smile on him before.

‘Why was he looking at her like that? Did he like how thin she was? That she didn’t have so many rolls or flesh? Did he like how she could fill her sundress perfectly? Did Ari want her instead?’ You don’t notice Ari dismissing the woman’s flirtations or that he looks down at you with concern. Because why would you? You’re so lost in your head that your mind and reality are merging.

Ari pulls you closer to him, his hand coming up to stroke your puffy cheeks. “Hey, Tulip. You with me?” 

You blink, and your eyes slowly move up. You nod because your throat feels too dry for you to speak. Ari nods even though he’s unsure about how you're feeling. You both begin to leave the markets, and throughout the day, it’s a repeat, women flirt. You think Ari is flirting back, and you hate yourself and your body because maybe if you looked like one of those models. You’d be able to keep a man.

You are so spaced out that you don’t notice Ari grabbing your favourite snacks, nor do you see that when you get home, he sets up the lounge room for movie night. Putting on your favourite horror movie because he knows you prefer horror over romance.

While he’s busy setting up something that will hopefully make you feel better, you change into a pair of trackies, and just as you pull on one of his shirts, Ari walks in with a big smile, his eyes moving up and down your body causing you to squirm. 

“What?!” You snap, not wanting him to have the time to judge how ugly you really are, and your arms come around to hug yourself.

Ari’s hands fly up, “Woah, what’s with the attitude, Tulip?” He frowns when you glare, not understanding why you’ve been off today. “What’s wrong with you? Talk to me.” He slowly moves forward.

“What’s wrong with me?! What’s wrong with me!? Like you don’t know! I saw how you looked at those women! I saw how wanted them!” You screamed, desperately holding back the tears because you don’t want to add weakness to the pile of things wrong with you. 

Ari’s brows furrow, beginning to feel irritated with your insecurities. “Tulip, you know damn well that I didn’t flirt with those women! You know that I don’t want them, no matter how fucking skinny they look!” He growls, and his nose twitches in anger. Ari’s eyes move down your form. In his mind, he doesn’t see you as anything but beautiful. But that’s not how you see his look. All you see is disgust, and your heart clenches.

“Bullshit! Why the fuck should I believe you?! All you do is lie to me! I’ve seen you go after them when you think I’m not looking! You don’t think I don’t notice that you don’t touch me when you shift! When you need someone to mate with, but you leave instead!” Your hands tangled into your hair as you scream, tears building up as you think of those lonely nights when you look down at yourself and wish you could just cut the skin off. Because then maybe he’d pick you, perhaps he’d want you as his mate.

“Are you fucking serious!?” Ari growls, stalking forward until his large form towers over your shivering one. “You think I’d fucking go out and cheat on you?! You think the whole time I chased you, trying to prove that I wanted you was all for nothing?! Why the fuck would I waste my time with you if I wanted someone skinnier, someone with fewer fucking problems?! Do you not see that I don’t mate with you because I could fucking hurt you!” He roars, eyes glazed over with fury. His anger is more aimed at himself for not seeing how much you were hurting.

‘Skinner, fewer problems, waste of time, don’t want to mate with you, cheat.’ These words ring in your head, and your heart clenches as it all becomes too much. You look up at Ari with tears in your eyes, and your fists pound on his chest. “I hate you! I hate you!” Both hearts break as tears begin to roll down both of your faces. Ari quickly pulls you into his arms, wrapping you securely against him as he strokes your head.

“Oh, Tulip. I’m so fucking sorry. You’re my goddess, and I love you so much.” Ari’s voice cracks, and his eyes close as he basks in the feel of holding you in his arms, letting out a sigh of relief as you sink into his hold. 

“I’m so sorry, Bear! I’m sorry. Please forgive me! I don’t hate you. I love you so much.” You bury your face into his chest, and your tears soak his shirt as your sobs fill the room. You felt lucky that you had someone like Ari in your life. 

Ari pulls away and kneels on the ground, placing loving kisses all over your stomach, hips and thighs, showing how much he loves your body, proving he’s unbothered by your insecurities and that he only sees it as perfection. Ari looks up at you and pouts. “There’s nothing I’ll find more beautiful in this world than you, Tulip. Not the sun. Not the moon. Not even the entire galaxy compares to the light you radiate wherever you go.” Your breath hitches from his words, feeling your cracked heart begin to heal.

You reach down and stroke his cheek, watching his eyes flutter closed, a soft breath leaving him at your gentle touch. “Thank you, Bear. I’m so sorry that I’ve been such a mess, and there’s no other man I’d love not when I have you.” Ari stands at full height, and a squeal escapes your mouth as he lifts you like you weigh nothing, carrying you into the lounge room where everything is set up.

The moment he lies you down and holds you against him is when your eyes begin to flutter closed from his sweet woodsy scent and warmth, feeling safe and secure in the arms of the man you love and who loves you.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[sanguine-law]

@melancoliefatale | warm

He didn’t how he ended up here in the woods and against the cold ground and frozen leaf nor does…only the stinging pain in his head and the uncomfortable feeling in his body, god he felt cold…Justin looked at his surrounding but it was only enveloped in a mist, he can’t see anything, he can’t go home. He could feel the wind hitting his face as his arms surround him trying pitifully to preserve body heat, Justin weakly called for help as he walked but the florist could feel that he walked like a boat and that he couldn’t feel his finger. after a while of desperation for help, his body give out and it felt like falling in something soft as he cannot register that it fell on snow, it felt so tiring, some sleep wouldn’t hurt ? A good sleep… But his eyes register something, a silhouette or maybe it was his imagination ? He doesn’t know anymore except that his body felt numb and couldn’t feel the harsh cold anymore. Then the red silhouette stop and Justin eyes widen a bit when it see who it was…that vampire of last time, the one who tried to eat him and for the first time Justin begin to fear that his eyes begin to water, not processing the words spoken by the stranger as he closed his eyes waiting for his end. except that he felt himself being against something warm, breathing and something put against his shoulder as a cover, a delicate hand rubbing with precautions his back to warm him up as Justin could feel being carried. « Don’t….kill me…please… » he weakly plead in a whisper so low that it would be easily carried in the winds.

He thanked Hell for his enchantment abilities. In a blizzard like this, a normal heat ward would have left Joseph's wings completely frigid and icy. Not to mention his legs and his face with how long he'd been out. His extensive spells on his new pin kept him as warm as an early summer day. Even as a little bat.

Joseph had been flying back to his city when he heard a voice. Someone else was still out in this mess.

His ears wiggled. Joseph latched onto a nearby tree and focused on the sound. The voice... and he could hear the crunch of snow. Footsteps.

He flew off again to follow the sound. With the direction of the crunchy steps, Joseph could estimate where the person was going. And what direction they were going.

What he ended up finding didn't surprise him at first. A human, collapsed in the snow. As he flew closer, Joseph turned back into his vampire form mid flight. And he got a better look.

He recognized that face. It was that little florist boy he'd seen in town. The one he'd enjoyed giving a good scare. Joseph flew down, landing beside the man. Well this was an interesting case.

Normally, Joseph would leave a person to die. He used to. But this florist amused him. He scared so easily, and reacted so stiffly. And, the man had seemingly not told anyone about that midnight encounter of theirs.

Joseph knelt down and picked the man up. Even getting covered in snow like this, those enchantments would keep Joseph warm. Not Justin, though that would be to the poor florist's detriment if they did. As cold as the man felt, too much heat would stop his heart.

But so could a flight.

Joseph had just elected to draw upon his magic when he heard the man speak. Or, whisper. He couldn't help but smile. Even as the man was freezing, he couldn't help his fear of a vampire. He chuckled. One wing stretched forward, opening a portal as he casually said, "I won't kill you. Luckily for you, I've eaten today and I'm quite full."

Then he stepped through to a large room in his warm house. The portal closed behind him.

The room had a few white beds in it, each with a metal stand beside the head, separated haphazardly with curtains. Joseph walked over to one of the beds and set the man down. The mattress would get wet from snow, but it was better than the cold tile floor.

Joseph then pulled out a ring. He reached into nothingness, then pulled out what looked like a small screw. In truth, it was a screw enchanted to help him focus teleportation. With a snap, Justin's cold, wet clothes were suddenly on the floor beside the bed.

Joseph then walked over to the wall. He leaned in toward a small pipe in the wall, and whistled. That would get the attention of his staff. "Nurses," he called with a lack of care, "towels, dry clothes, and warm bottles of water to the medical wing." Because like hell did Joseph intend to do the rest himself.

He had staff to do that fine work for him while he watched.

He turned back to the florist with a smile. "As unlucky as you were to find yourself in a blizzard, you're quite lucky someone like myself found you." Joseph laughed to himself. "Or perhaps, even unluckier.

"The little florist, right?"

[yesimwriting]

Resurgence

A/n this is a product of me going with the flow to get rid of some writer’s block, i originally wanted to write a jason x reader story but this became much more background heavy and turned into something else so i’m thinking maybe mini series! some found family vibes, idk though

Summary: After an impulsive attempt to run away with your best friend ends in an accident that alters everything about you (literally--like on a genetic level), you’re pushed into the Titan’s world. 

----

Earlier. 

I know it’s too early for total cynicism, but the note Jenna left out on the counter doesn’t allow for much else. A passive aggressive, vague scribbling reminding me that just because we went to bed and woke up doesn’t mean the fight is over. The note is taped to a box of cereal because she’s pointedly reminding me that there’s a reason she’s not here making me breakfast. Whatever. 

I pour myself a bowl before pulling open the door to the fridge. The nearly empty carton of milk is expired. Perfect.

My phone starts to buzz before I can get rid of souring milk. Violet’s contact name and picture takes up my screen as I pick up the device. “Hey.” 

“Do you remember yesterday? When you were talking about just getting in a car and driving anywhere and everywhere and never looking back?”

Intense way to start a before 8AM call. “Weird conversation starter... but yeah.” 

She sighs, the sound a puff of air into my receiver. “I took my step dad’s car, I’m about to pass your house, do you want to come with me?” 

Oh my god. She’s lost it. “Are you insane?” 

“Do you want to get out of here or not?” 

My eyes fall to the skirt of my uniform and then to Jenna’s note. Memories of last night’s argument hit with no warning. “Let’s go.” 

----

Present.

There’s light and then I’m plunged back into darkness. A nothingness that I can feel. A nothingness that aches. Get up. Get up. Get-- 

My body won’t move. I latch onto the only thing I can, the faint prickle of light from behind my eyes. It’s kind of...irritating. And I can hear a strange, flat ringing. I screw my eyes shut tighter, a touch of mobility returning. Slowly, enough of it comes back for me to open my eyes. 

Okay. I’m staring at a roof. Not at the sky...and not at Violet’s...The thought brings me back to the pain in my body. Everything is sore, but I’m resting somewhere that should be comfortable. A bed, not the side of the road...not the last place I remember. 

Wait--where am I? I sit up fully, the buzzing noise turns into a sporadic mess of beeping. Each bump of noise feels like it’s striking me in the head. My hands stretch forward to rub my face. The movement feels like mush and restrained. 

My eyes drop to my arms. There’s a tube sticking out of my arm, an object I vaguely register as an IV. A few other wires are sticking out from me, including a tube in my nose. Okay--this is getting weird. I sit up a little more before twisting my fingers around the oxygen tube. 

“I wouldn’t--” My body presses as far back into the cot as I physically can before snapping my head forward. There’s a guy standing next to one of two chairs lined neatly against a wall. “I don’t think you should touch that.” 

Has he been here the entire time? And--and what is ‘the entire time’? How long has it been since Violet? 

The question claws its way all the way to the tip of my tongue. I clamp my mouth shut to keep from asking it because I already know. After what I saw...what I felt...I know the answer. No one gets put back together after going through what happened to Violet and the last thing I want right now is to get into it with a stranger who may or may not be a danger. Speaking it into the world feels too real, too solid a vulnerability. 

All I can do is stare at the stranger. His neat brown hair and put together posture seem mature enough that he could be a doctor if I’m going with the assumption that this is a hospital, but that doesn’t feel right. He’s not wearing a lab coat and his clothing feels a little too casual. He also feels a little too young to have finished med school. 

“...You’re not a doctor.” 

He takes my analysis well, tilting his chin down quickly in some sort of nod. “No.” The stranger takes a small step forward, more of a shift in my direction. “What do--do you know where you are? Do you remember anything?” 

The question is a jab to already bruised ribs. Do I remember? Remember the car that came out of nowhere, that started chasing us at the gas station; the box Jenna pulled out from under the seats; the electric feeling of that liquid in my veins; waking up again and seeing the wreckage, seeing Jenna... 

I swallow it all down, eyeing the stranger a little more cautiously. The urgency is weird. There are only so many reasons for a stranger to be in a hospital room with me. There’s a small chance he’s just some kind of good samaritan, who found me bleeding out somehow. He could also be with the people from the car or--or something else. Something bigger. 

“Why do you care?” The words feel too raspy to have any real bite. “Actually, a better question--who even are you?” 

His eyebrows draw together briefly, almost reluctantly. “I’m Dick Grayson.” 

It’s a patient introduction, not exactly soft but politer than I expected. I don’t know what the appropriate reaction is, so I just nod. 

Something about the way he’s lingering tells me that this strange interaction hasn’t been enough for him. Dick is going to push his questions or ask something else or maybe even justify his presence, but before he gets to do any of that, the door is pushed open. 

A woman in a lab coat doesn’t even throw a curious glance in Dick’s direction. Does that indicate that he’s been in here for awhile? Or--or did he tell the hospital we’re in that I know him somehow? 

“Okay,” the doctor hums, extending the last syllable as she glances at a clipboard, “You’re looking a lot better after the scare you gave us.” Her eyes shift away from my chart and towards the heart monitor that’s now beeping steadily, “Hm. That last alert must have been some kind of system error.” 

Whatever that means. “Uh--scare?” 

She presses her lips together, briefly turning her attention back to the clip board. “You were rushed into treatment, your body has experienced significant trauma.” The doctor pauses to take a breath, “Maybe this would be better discussed later. With a parent.” 

“What happened after...the accident?” She still seems unsure. “Please.” 

The doctor lets out a hesitant sigh, “During your treatment, your heart briefly stopped.” I--I flatlined? “But after you restabilized, there were no further complications and you seem well on your way to making a full recovery.” I nod blankly. “Is there anyone we should call for you?” Ugh. Jenna’s so going to kill me. “Could you use a minute first?” 

“A minute sounds like a good idea.” Whoever Dick Grayson is, he has no issue over inserting himself. 

The doctor nods, being suspiciously unsuspicious of the random guy, “Alright, I’ll be back.” 

She leaves; Dick doesn’t. I turn my arm over, staring at the IV in my arm. Maybe if I’m quiet enough, he’ll leave. 

“You remember the accident.” Guess the assumption that he’d just leave was an optimistic one. 

My fingers twist the thin fabric of the hospital blanket. “Did you find me or something?” 

Dick pauses, thinking about the best way to answer what must feel like a fragile question. “Or something.” Weird. “That car you were in, it wasn’t yours.” 

Great, now I’m not only going to have to tell Violet’s parents what happened to her, I’m also going to get arrested for stealing a car. “No.” 

The confession has no affect on him. He seemed sure enough in his assumption, so maybe he already decided my answer wouldn’t matter. “Did you know what was in the car?” 

There’s a generalness in the question that I could use to my advantage--should use to my advantage--but the memories resurfacing make all rational thought impossible. The stuff in the car is what got me here. 

“No,” the answer is more honest than I should be, “Not until after.” 

His eyebrows pinch together, a hint of something less stoic bleeding into his expression. Maybe a touch of empathy. It’s not overbearing or much, but the shift is enough to make me feel exposed. Too exposed for some guy who I met through a hospital room and has only given me his name. A part of me wishes my phone was on me--a google search could potentially help. 

I flatten my hands on my lap. “How do you know about the car?” The last people that knew about the weird fluid rammed themselves into a car until it flipped off a bridge. He could easily be working for them--some nice enough looking guy to make sure I woke up without freaking out and alerting anyone.

“I’m not with them.” Dick provides his defense stiffly, like he’s aware of its lack of strength. 

The call button is only inches away from my hand. “Right, ‘cause the people that used a car to push my car off a bridge are for sure above lying.” 

He takes another mini-step forward. “I’m actually trying to help you.” 

Another thing he can’t prove. “Then tell me how you know about the blue stuff.” 

Dick tries to suppress a sigh. I can’t tell if he was working under the assumption that I’d just wake up and happily go along with whatever. “...Because I’ve been looking for it.” 

“That’s not sketchy at all.”

Something else tugs at his expression that’s different than before. Not pity or an apology, more like a general acknowledgement of how weird he’s being. “I saw the accident.” The words hit harder than they should considering the lack of meanness. “One of the vials was missing.” 

Right before the accident, I opened the small box to see what Violet was talking about. I took one of the vials out to examine it and then the car flipped. “So you have the other vials?”

My question isn’t appreciated. “Do you know what happened after the accident?” The first few minutes, I was still awake. Conscious enough to crawl my way out of the car, but everything after that is stuck behind a dark wall. He takes my silence as an answer. “The battery was completely fried, but the engine was still running.” 

That’s a fun fact? “Uh--cool?” I never did ask him anything that would reveal how mentally well he is. “I must have missed that while trying to crawl out of it before it exploded or something.” 

“I didn’t--” The corner of my mouth turns up a little at his slight unease. I wasn’t sarcastic with the intention of being mean or making the stranger uncomfortable, but I’m not exactly mad it happened. He seems to catch onto the fact that I’m only giving him a hard time because I can. “Cars need batteries to run.” 

Dick’s eyes stay trained on me after those words, analyzing my reaction to them. My first instinct is to dismiss it. I can’t imagine that car ever being fixed and car batteries are replaceable. That’s the least of its issues. Then it hits me--how was the engine running? “Oh.” He’s still watching. Why? “...What does a car have to do with me?” 

“The people that are looking for the vials are dangerous.” I lift an arm to gesture to my IV, a quiet way of saying no shit. “They’re going to come back.” 

My stomach knots at that. It’s not like I necessarily thought this was all over, but I hadn’t considered what could happen next. “I don’t have the missing vial.” As far as I know, he’s no one important, but the urge to get him to believe me hits hard and fast. “It probably fell and--and shattered or something.” 

His expression doesn’t give me anything to work with. “If you come with me, I can test if it had any effects on you--”

Okay, I know a kidnapping scam when I see one. “You’re kidding, right?” He keeps his blankness, his posture somehow straighter than it was before. Dick’s radiating a sense of authority that’s definitely practiced. “Are you asking or telling?” 

“I’m trying to help.”

“And if I don’t want your help because there’s no way some weird, lab goo did anything to me?” My hand shifts forward, reaching for the remote with the help button. “You seem nice enough, thank you for not leaving me to die in some underpass, but I think it’s time you go. Good luck with your goo situation.” 

Dick’s eyes drop down to my hand. In about two steps, he’s at the side of my bed. “Don’t.” 

I’ve never wanted to press a button more in my life. My thumb finds the trigger, but before I can press it, a strong grip secures itself around my wrist. He moved so quickly, I’m still registering the fact that he went to grab me. Who is this guy?

Before I can warn him that I have nothing against screaming bloody murder until someone separates us, I’m snapped out of my thoughts. My body feels disconnected, like it’s floating. 

A light flickers behind my eyes, glazing over my vision. Some strong, hard to name thing pulls at my stomach, an even stronger feeling settles in my chest. That one is easier to listen to as something flickers to the front of my mind like a hazy memory or unfinished dream. I can’t tell what it is, but my body knows to trust it. To believe it. Do I know him? 

The feeling is so close to familiarity that it feels like a physical hit. My fingers go slack, and the remote slips from my grasp and onto the cot. He lets go and moves back into place immediately. 

I know that deciding whether or not to let some random guy run some sort of test on me cannot be a choice so influenced by a vibe. But what I saw has drained most of the fight from me. Maybe it’s a side effect of the car accident. Like some type of internal bleeding? 

“Sorry, I don’t--” 

“You want to run some tests on me or--?” It’s more of a summary for me than a direct question for him. Ugh. Maybe if he had asked for anything less weird...then again, I can’t think of anything that wouldn’t be weird from a stranger that’s just in my hospital room. “How do you even know about this?” 

He hesitates, “Long story.” 

Helpful. I guess it is kind of comforting that he’s this bad at getting me to want to come with him, because no respectable kidnapper would be this openly weird. And that instinct is still at the back of my mind, urging me to trust him. “You get that you’re super sketchy, right?” If this is some kind of trap, I deserve what I’m going to get. “If I agree, can I borrow a phone to call someone?” Grabbing my phone wasn’t a priority when I crawled out of that car, and I really doubt it somehow miraculously made its way to the hospital with me. 

“Parents?” 

Jenna’s so gonna kill me. “Sort of.” I’m not in the mood to get into my living situation, so I just stare at my sheets before he can ask. “What? You’re the only that gets to be cryptic?” The attempt at humor surprises me. He’s still a stranger, but my head isn’t accepting that. 

“You can call them.” 

“Then...okay.” I’m going to end up on dateline and my episode will be so boring some girl with a true crime podcast will skip my episode. “But if you’re some kidnapping serial killer, I will fuck you up.” 

The corner of his mouth turns up a bit, like something about what I said is amusing him. Kind of rude, considering that I’m being completely serious, but I can’t decide if that makes me feel better or worse about my decision. 

----

This might be one of the nicest buildings I’ve ever stepped foot in. It’s not like the building Dick’s led me to is overly extravagant, but it’s definitely structured in a way that feels well off. Like it’s owned by the kind of rich person that’s so wealthy they don’t feel the need to prove it. 

“Dude,” I give myself a second to take in the space, “If you had led with how nice this place is, we could’ve skipped the whole hospital argument.” 

My presence here feels a little bit like a smudge. It’s not like I’m always put together or feel like I should be overly dressed up, but the hospital gave me back what I was wearing during the accident. Because Violet decided to runaway before school, I left the house in my uniform. It’s not the cruelest thing I’ve seen a Catholic school put someone in, but the plaid skirt and white button down don’t do much for my confidence, and they didn’t exactly hold up in the chaos of the accident...neither did my hair or face. 

“Really?”

I shrug, still looking around the space, “It definitely wouldn’t have hurt.” Tugging on the dirt smeared edge of my sleeve,  I turn back to him. “I’m Y/n, by the way.” It’s not information I really wanted to give, but I’m already here. It’s not like he can double kidnap me if that’s what this is, and knowing who I am won’t change anything. If he tries to use me for ransom all he’ll be able to get from Jenna is an IOU. “Felt weird that I hadn’t said that yet.” 

The car accident must have seriously damaged my self preservation abilities, or maybe it’s the fact that anything I can latch onto is a distraction from Violet, because I step further into the room, fully entering the space and seeing the full living room. 

Two heads on the side of the couch that I couldn’t see before snap towards me so quickly it almost feels like they moved in sync. The one farthest from me has a dark purple bob and the boy next to her has green hair. The stare off is a little weird and refuels my doubts. They both look a lot closer to my age than Dick’s. 

The girl breaks the silence, “Who’s this?” 

I’m not sure if that’s a question directed at me or Dick, but I answer anyway, “I--” 

“You wanted to call someone, right?” Dick steps up so that he’s next to me, handing me an unlocked cell phone. 

Weird place to jump in, but at least he isn’t being cagey and taking away my ability to contact someone. “Yeah.” I take the phone, already dreading this conversation. “Could I get some water?” 

“Kitchen’s that way, take whatever you want.” Looking through a rich guy’s fridge might take the sting out of being berated by Jenna. 

I start walking in the direction he gestured towards. “Cool.” 

After finding the kitchen, I dial Jenna’s number. She answers on the second ring. “Okay--don’t freak out.” 

“Where the fuck are you? Were you kidnapped?” 

“One, that sounds like freaking out. Two, why are you always assuming I’ve been kidnapped?” 

She sighs before getting my name out in a way that tells me to not mess with her right now. That makes me cut to the chase, summarizing majority of what happened and glossing over what I can’t get out or explain. She gets extra mad when I tell her that I followed a stranger home just because they said they found me. Jenna rightfully yells at me, and then finally asks me where I am. 

The realization that I have no clue makes me feel a lot worse about the situation. I paid extra attention on the drive here, but no part of this felt like any part of Gotham I’ve ever been to. Maybe it’s because it’s a richer area? 

I duck my head back into the living room, “Hey, Dick?” He looks up from the two in the living room, who I guess he was giving some context to. “I’m on the phone and someone wants to pick me up. Where are--” Jenna cuts me off in that way of hers, reminding me how much I suck at giving directions. “Uh--she wants to talk to you.” 

His eyebrows draw together, “Your mom?” 

Shrugging, I start walking towards him. “Uh--my Jenna,” I hold the phone out towards him, “That’s like having a mom, just...louder.” He eyes the phone oddly. “You’ll see.” He’ll have to, Jenna gets her way. 

Dick takes the phone, instantly catching on to what I meant and stepping away to talk to her. He throws out the part of stolen car, which would have been nice for him to keep to himself. Then he says...San Francisco, which makes no sense to me because Violet and I were nowhere near California. That’s where she wanted to go, but we barely made it out of Gotham before it all happened. 

I blink, sitting down on the couch in shock. My head then turns to the boy next to me, “Hi, I’m Y/n.” 

After a second, he smiles politely and says, “Gar.” 

“Nice to meet you,” a little awkward, but he’s looking at me so politely I can’t help but fall back on normal habits, “Are we not in Gotham?” 

He briefly looks confused and then a little apologetic, “No.” 

Great, I’m brain damaged. That’s the only logical explanation for how I got to San Francisco without even realizing it. “...Cool.” 

The girl sits up a little more, looking over at me, “Are you okay?” 

“Uh,” all of my potential answers make me sound insane, “I’ve been better.” 

Dick’s conversation with Jenna seems to be getting calmer, which bugs me a little. I can’t explain it, it’s just suspicious that he’s not only this super upstanding guy that helped me get to and from the hospital, he’s also capable of getting Jenna on his side. He ends the call. 

Before he can give any kind of update, I’m already up, “How am I not in Gotham?” I don’t give him the chance to answer. “You said you saw the accident, so that means you got me here.” 

“No.” I wonder how quickly I could get out of here. My body’s still sore, but pain’s something to worry about later. “I--exaggerated on how much I saw.” 

He’s not exactly helping himself, “So you've been lying this entire time.” 

“I didn’t want to scare you.” 

That sounds like something a kidnapper would be worried about. Panic rises in my chest and the room feels too hot, too charged. The lights briefly waver and that only adds to my stress. “Then how did I get here?” 

Dick’s looking at me the same way he did in the hospital. A hesitant sort of empathy. It’s restrained, but it feels so genuine that my stomach twists. If he’s not the one that dragged me here, then that means that--and how much time did I lose? 

It feels too naive to believe him just because of a look, but that would explain a lot. If he had seen the accident, he would have had more questions. He probably would have mentioned Violet. “How’d you find me? And--and why’d you say that stuff about the car battery?” 

“They had you, and the battery thing was a little different than what I said.” The confirmation is a punch to the gut. How long was I out? What did they do to me? Why did they take me when they had the vials? “Jenna’s flying out first thing tomorrow.” I must look like I’m about to snap, because he’s making a point of keeping his words even and slow. I don’t know how she’s going to fly out considering she maxed out her credit card trying to buy concert tickets. “We can get you something more comfortable to wear and something to eat before we get into anything else.”

He’s just trying to be nice, understanding, but it makes me feel too much like a little kid. Especially since there are two people around my age watching this play out. There’s still a chance this is some kind of trap, but it’s a little too late to decide if I trust him. I give in with a reluctant nod.

----

The shower pressure I just experienced is something that I can’t see myself forgetting. Before I walked into the bathroom the girl, who I learned is named Rachel, brought me something comfortable. Some elastic pajama pants and a black crewneck.

I don’t know how much of it is Rachel being genuine or if Dick told her to hang around a little, but she showed up a little after I got out of the shower and took me to a guest bedroom so I could put away my clothes. She then walked me to the kitchen, awkwardly admitted that they’re overdue for a grocery run before giving me some options. 

Rachel ends up making me a grilled cheese. It’s a little awkward letting a stranger do something for me, but it’d feel even weirder casually using an unfamiliar kitchen like I live here. 

My hunger felt all consuming until food was put in front of me. I keep thinking of Violet and all the hours I lost. But rationally, I know I should eat something and that it’d be kind of rude not to, so I take small bites of the edge of my sandwich. 

I’m still working on the first triangular half when Gar shows up, offering me another polite smile. I force myself to return it even though the day’s starting to catch up with me. 

“Uh-hey,” he walks into the kitchen, “I know I introduced myself earlier, but that was...” Gar brushes that train of thought away with a small breath, “Uh--are you feeling better?”  

I nod, turning to face him, “The shower helped.” I set my half of the grilled cheese down, “I picked so many twigs out of my hair.” Why would I say that? 

“Yeah, you look a little better.” He reaches the counter, tapping his fingers on the counter, “Not that you looked bad before! Just that you look like you’re feeling a little better.” 

The correction comes out like a knee-jerk reaction. Like he really thought he might have offended me. “I get it,” I can’t help but smile a little, “And absolutely no worries if you had meant it the other way, I saw myself in the mirror. I definitely looked accurate to my car accident.” I thought mentioning the car accident casually would make it feel breezy and normal, but it just feels sad. “There’s no non-weird way to say that.” 

“It’s fine.” Gar’s words come out so assured I almost believe him, “We’ve heard weirder.” 

Rachel nods, “A lot weirder.” 

I look between the two of them before taking another bite out of my grilled cheese. They’re both looking at me while trying to pretend that they’re doing something else. I guess I know how my 4th grade class guinea pig felt. 

A part of me wants to start conversation. Some of it is the awkward feel of silence and some of it is the urge to return their niceness, but I’m also tired and not sure how much of a point there is. Tomorrow, I’ll be back home and likely permanently grounded. 

“Do you feel like we’re hovering?” Rachel’s question takes me by surprise. Before I can instinctually tell them that they’re both fine, she continues, “We can give you some space if you want. I know it’s a little overwhelming.” 

What is? Showing up here? The accident? It shouldn’t matter considering that I’m leaving tomorrow. “Some quiet might be nice,” I admit, “Just because Dick’s probably going to show up and get me to--” He never did specify what he was going to check out about me. Do they know that’s why I’m here? Also--why are they here? “I don’t even know. Just something I’m not really looking forward to.”

“We get it,” Rachel hums, stepping away from the counter, “We’ll give you a minute.” 

The two actually leave, a part of me is surprised at how genuine that was. They didn’t even linger like I might at best steal something and at worse finally snap. I get two minutes of quiet before the sound of footsteps entering the kitchen puts me back into focus mode. 

I tilt my head slightly, expecting Rachel or Gar or maybe even Dick. It’s...none of them. The person I don’t know walks straight past me and towards the fridge. They open it, the small light illuminating their skin in a way that makes the sheen of sweat impossible to ignore.

He pulls out a bottle of water, shuts the door, and then looks at me. There’s no hint of surprise as his eyes briefly focus on my face before trailing downwards. Is he-- “Something happen to your face?” 

This again. Stupid car accident had to bust my lip and bruise my face. “Uh--” While Rachel and Gar were attentive and purposefully polite, trying to apply regular social standards to an abnormal situation, this guy doesn’t seem to care about that at all. The thought of just blankly stating the car accident thing again, especially to someone this forward, is so unappealing I just blurt out, “Drug deal gone wrong.” 

Oh my god, the more I interact with people, the more I realize there has to be something seriously wrong with me. Like brain damage. Like over-40-pro-football player lever of concussed. 

Before I can say anything, he tilts his head again, looking me over more openly than before, "Right, because you seem the type.” 

I can’t tell if he’s making fun of me or amused. Probably the first one. “The best drug dealers don’t seem like drug dealers.” 

“Really?” There’s a level of kind-of-there annoyance that throws me. Like irritated is his natural state and it’s miracle enough that I didn’t make it worse. But the confidence in his voice keeps it from being fully bitter. 

“No,” I tap my nails on the counter, “I just didn’t feel like getting into the car accident thing again.” 

He’s quiet for a second, “And you thought drug deals would be easier?” 

I shrug, feeling a little smaller. I can’t tell if I can’t stand him or think he’s a little funny. “Must be an early sign of brain damage.”

He tilts his water bottle in a vague gesture towards my face. “I’d believe it.” 

Rude. I know I just said it, but still. “At least I have an excuse.” 

His eyebrows draw together in offense, and it doesn’t make me feel great. He wasn’t that bad and that was sort of a jump, but I’ll probably never see him again, so... 

“What’s your--” 

Before he can get into any sort of rant, a voice cuts him off, “Jason.” Oh, it’s Dick. I turn my head enough to catch his tense look. “Leave her alone.” 

“She started it.” 

Okay, yeah, I think he annoys me more than I find him funny. “Nice come back,” I mumble, pushing away from the counter, “What are you? 12?” 

“If you want to find out--” 

Ah. I’ve been through too much today for this. "Like that line’s ever worked.” 

He isn’t swayed by my reaction, “Trust me, I don’t need--” 

“Okay,” Dick inserts himself into the conversation, and a part of me is glad for the excuse to leave. “Enough.” He then looks at me, “Are you ready?” 

At least it’ll be over soon. “As long as you don’t tell me that stuff turned me part alien or whatever.” 

He draws his eyebrows together, “Part alien?” 

“So magical science goo is real, but my thing’s unrealistic.” 

[arrivingonthescene]

most of dora's facts stemming from harry's dream version of her, or jean who's only ever heard harry shitting on her, makes it hard to figure out what she's like. i get that's the point but i'm so curious. would she really think he's a poverty-stricken fuck if they lived in that matchbox with fleeting electricity if she wrote that letter that's so full of infatuation? her parents paid for their life and harry's RCM training but for how long? was she still an arts academic? obviously at some point the last straw on the mountain of straws made it fizzle into nothingness but... idk i can't help but feel the letter & dream-dora stating she fell in love with harry at first sight from how Cool he was, being a form of worship on her part too, an innocent version. "I wanted you to be the rest of my life that day." and along the years that worship tipped over to a detrimental degree on harry's side. and even the dream version of her who spits back the things most likely said durimg arguments, goes from frustration to pity to wistfulness, but what made it sadder to me was how long the phone call can go on for. dream-dora says she moved on so bluntly and lists all the things she dislikes about him, but phone-dora's patience shined through even when harry's saying shitty stuff to her. she could have just hung up immediately and never pick up again the first time he rings her

so going off this, the following are personal headcanons

i imagine she dated harry in an act of rebellion, harry joined the RCM to increase his Cool Factor from high school gym teacher to badass superstar cop (i think the game says she pushed him towards it but i view this via harry-lens where she is a God who caused everything) and along the way as he deteriorated it brcame kind of sunk-cost. along the way she became pregnant, and maybe when the old harry shimmered through she thought they could make it work, but reality hit and she terminated it. i honestly feel like she'd do so alone. and now i wonder if she had any friends or if dating harry made her isolated. did anyone support her leaving him? i'd imagine her parents were thrilled to hear it.

from how open harry is about his thought processes, and how painful it is to him to hear dream-dora demean them, i felt that real-dora could have apreciated them during their good days. i imagine anyone harry knows that intimately who also supports all his voices and brain compartmentalization can easily become someone he worships because of how rare that'd be for him. because how else would he be with her for that long if she hated those parts of him right off the bat? like, all these acts of humanity made him raise her higher and higher until she reached a status she could never act out, she is not perfect, she's just a person, she is a person i'm suddenly so interested in. during harry's fledgeling RCM days i bet she asked tk hear how mr. law brought justice but it quickly became apparent that, not only were the tales depressing, he was throwing himself into work so hard. married to the job. dora having to sell her collected art pieces to get by. and one day harry asks to sell one that's extremely precious to her and that's when she put her foot down and asked her parents for assistance. maybe it was a figurine. time went on as RCM life consumed him, and harry forgot what made dora tick but he never forgets the fact that she loves figurines

more tame but, harry having art cop as one of his copotypes, what if he picked up that notion to impress her? i don't know if she'd teach him art critique herself but like. so much of harry's personality is bending himself every which way to impress someone. i mean i can kind of see how that'd be an addicting person to date knowing he and dora broke up and got back together before. tripping over himself a hundred million times to impress her or win her back. i know for a fact the 'i have a vast soul' thoughts harry can express are him internalizing things she said about him

it could have been easy for the writing to demonize her but it was so apparent that it's harry's twisted view. god the writing of this game. picking out parts of who dora is from inside harry's imprints in the world.

[jbarneswilson]

11 for sarahbucky!

hi, nonnie! thanks for sending this prompt request!

11. taking care of them when they’re sick

au, established relationship

The insistent ringing of her iPhone finally penetrates the fog of sleep and Sarah groans as she fishes on her nightstand for the blasted thing. She squints one eye open and tries to pick out the green answer button among the squiggles on the screen. “Hello?”

“Oh thank God you’re—well, I was gonna say ‘alive’ but you sound terrible. What happened?”

“Um,” she croaks through a throat filled with knives, “I dunno?”

“Okay, well, sit tight. I’ll be there as soon as I pick up some supplies. Don’t worry about letting me in, I still have your spare key.”

Before Sarah can ask who she’s talking to, the call ends. She falls into a dreamless sleep in the midst of unlocking her phone to see who called.

*

Sarah awakens some time later to the feel of the bed dipping as a cool hand settles over her forehead. “Wuh?”

“Hey,” Bucky smiles softly down at her, “how’re you feeling?”

She tries to say she’d rather be dead but all she can manage is a miserable croak. He frowns at her in sympathy and magically produces a cup of steaming… nothingness. Try as she might, she can’t smell a thing through her blocked nose.

“I got you some miso soup from Arashi, I know how much you like that place. Here,” he puts the straw to her lips, “drink some of this so I can give you some medicine.”

She sips obediently and feels slightly closer to wanting to live again as the broth soothes her throat and spreads warmth through her. By the time she’s finished half of it, she can actually sit up under her own power.

Setting the cup down on her nightstand, Bucky grabs another cup, this one containing a fizzing liquid. Sarah curls her lip and groans weakly in protest.

“I know you hate anything that fizzes but, trust me, it’ll help you feel better faster.”

Glaring at him, she gulps it down and shudders. He tries his best not to smile at her but he can’t hold it back when she sneezes. Before she can even ask, he hands her the box of tissues then holds up the wastebasket so she can dispose of it.

“All right, why don’t you lie down and get some rest. I’ll…” he trails off as she grabs his hand and tries to pull him down next to her. “Okay, okay, gimme a second.”

He stands up and quickly strips down to his boxers, blushing slightly when she makes a sound of appreciation. Going around to the other side of the bed, he slips beneath the covers and pulls Sarah close. She rests her head on his shoulder and wraps her arm around his middle with a happy sigh.

Kissing her forehead, Bucky tells her, “Get some rest, babe. I’ll wake you up when it’s time for some more medicine.”

“You despot.”

“You love it.”

pick a prompt | send it to me

[efrmellifer]

VI. Treasure (Ring)

There was something wrong with the day. There had to be. How else would seemingly everything have gone wrong?

Etien had overslept, and more than just catching an extra fifteen minutes past when she should have been up. She had been sleeping like the dead, according to the note left on her bedside.

Aymeric, gods bless him, had managed to take care of Betula and Landric while getting himself ready for meetings with the Houses Assembled and training with the Temple Knights, and set the children up with books (and the steward to mind them, just in case) in the drawing room while they waited for Etien to wake up.

I did kiss your cheek before departing, dearest, but I fear you may not have sensed it. She let out a soft sigh with knit brows as she read that. What a man, was all she could think. What a superhero of a man.

“Good morning, you two,” she breezed, trying to act nonchalant, trying to shake the disappointment of tea that was stale and Mun-Tuy milk that was on the edge of spoiling. “Are we ready for the day? Your father got you all fed and dressed, I hear.”

It wasn't, she admitted, so much that they were difficult tasks or that Aymeric had ever neglected the duties of fatherhood. It was simply that she was reminded that he often was the sole parent available to them, with help from Edmont. She felt terrible for losing out on precious time with the children today. And about Aymeric having even less time for himself because of this.

Eager not to lose more time, she got out of bed, stretching and licking her teeth, making the bed and getting dressed before she rushed down to the kitchen and then out to the drawing room.

“Yes, Mum,” Landric replied.

“Excellent. We shall have to treat him to a relaxing evening tonight, won’t we?”

She fixed hats on everyone’s heads and gloves on her hands before taking each child’s hand in one of hers and mouthing “thank you” to the steward on the way out the door.

Running errands was more in every way when she had the kits with her, Etien found. It was more pleasant to see Betula go wide-eyed at the wares for sale in the Jeweled Crozier, to hear the shopkeeps remark “such well-behaved little ones!”, than it was to simply do the shopping alone, asking “how fresh are these salmon?” and looking at shiny trinkets with what the gobbieflock would have described as “lustyeyes” all by herself.

But it was also a little more stressful to make sure neither child got lost in the crowd, that Betula didn’t break anything from wanting a closer look, that Landric didn’t clam up so tight no one could communicate with him. It was easier to hand over coin as a housewife only out on quick errands, to do it alone and not have to worry about them, but she enjoyed having the children with her.

She had thought maybe the joy of errands with the kits would redeem the day, but returning home, she found that there were new ordeals to come.

Betula and Landric were content to play in the drawing room, little carved-wood dragons soaring through the air in their hands, and as Etien sat watching them, doing a little mending and planning meals, she reached up to slip her finger through the Borel ring on its chain around her neck… and there was nothing there.

Where was it? She put it on every day when she got dressed—in the field, she left it on; here at home, it came off at night and went back on in the morning. She knew she had taken it off slipping into bed last night. She could recall the scene with crystal clarity, the way the pendants and chain had clattered softly against the wood and Aymeric had reached out for her as she lifted the covers to get under them and into his arms.

When she’d woken… she recalled buttoning up her dress. She put her necklace on every morning, it was a habit she’d never broken.

If it had come off in the Crozier, it was gone, certainly. Too many feet walked that pathway; it was probably kicked into the snow or off the edge into nothingness over the mountainside. Or if it had been found, then someone picked it up, and it was silver and a sapphire. If they turned it in, who could say it would return to her hands?

Or the hands of its true owner, Aymeric.

Etien felt like a terrible excuse for a wife today.

She went back to sewing, trying her best to (in her mind) at least do one thing right.

She prepared dinner, feeling dread seeping into the pit forming in her stomach. She wasn’t even dreading Aymeric’s reaction—she’d never had any reason to fear him or the way he’d reacted to her, even when it would have been understandable for him to be upset with her.

He was patient and reasonable, and there was a very good chance that he was going to take this in stride. But she couldn’t shake off the guilt, couldn't find her way out of the panic that gripped her.

That ring was one of her most treasured possessions, a marker of where she belonged, whom she belonged with. It was her wedding ring, but more than that, it was a family heirloom. To lose it in the street, even though it wasn’t out of carelessness, just a sheer accident, felt unforgivable.

He arrived home, and the children cheered, rushing to him.

He kissed the tops of their heads, then turned to Etien for a kiss hello. She squirmed with guilt, and kissed him briefly.

“I need to talk to you after dinner,” she said. “It’s… something I did, not you.”

He blinked down at her. “All—all right.” He stroked her cheek. “Please do not look so nervous, dearheart. Whatever has happened, we can resolve it, I’m sure.”

She nodded, swallowing. “Let’s just go eat.”

Dinner was pleasant and uneventful. When it wasn’t on his utensils or drinkware, Aymeric’s hand was over Etien’s reassuringly.

Once the dishes were cleared, they retreated to their bedroom.

“Now. What is going on?” he asked her, sitting down on the bed.

“I lost your—your mother’s ring,” Etien admitted, with no preamble. No need to delay it, it wasn’t going to change anything. “I’m sorry, Aymeric. I know it’s one of the last mementos you have of her, and that it meant a lot to you.” Tears streaked from her eyes as she looked down at the floor. “It meant a lot to me, too; I think it fell off me when I was shopping with the kits earlier. I still have to tell Estinien and Yugiri I lost the locket and seashell from them, too, but the ring was a little more important. I’m so sorry. I understand if you’re angry with me.”

“Oh, Etien,” he murmured. She winced. He sounded disappointed, but he took her hand. Then, he looked to her bedside table and smiled. He pushed aside the note he’d written her. “This ring?”

She gasped.

“You must have laid the note atop the necklace and forgotten all of them. But there the ring is, there the locket and shell are, safe and sound.”

She sighed, a few more tears—now of relief—slipping out. “Oh, thank the gods.”

By her hand, Aymeric drew her close, wrapping his arms around her middle. “I agree. The thing I treasure most is all right. And so is the ring.”

She giggled wetly, and he rubbed her back.

“Kneel, dearest, so I can put it back in its proper place.”

She sank to her knees, and he clasped the chain around her neck, feeling the ring as it settled into the dip in her collarbone. “There you go.” He tipped her chin up so she met his eyes. “Even if you had lost it, my love is not contained in it. There are jewelers who could make replicas.”

“But—”

He shushed her softly. “Things are replaceable. You, and our children and family, are not. I know which I would rather have.”

She lifted slightly, steadying herself with her hands on his knees so she could kiss him. “We’re all lucky to have you.”

[c0ffinshit]

Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome Part Three

Part One

Part Two

Part Four

A/N: 🎶 guess who’s back? back again. occtaika’s back. tell a friend! 🎶 hi hi everyone ! guess who finally got around to writing something? ME ! so enjoy part 3 !!!

word count: 1,395

warnings: casual gaslighting, heavy swearing, hurt, manipulative albert

people who asked to be tagged: @ethanhoewke​

I didn’t talk to him the next day. It was an empty feeling when I thought of him. Grabber no longer felt like a man I admired and adored. He felt like some guy I knew. I still wrote and took whatever small trinkets I found home with me, just for him. But that nothingness loomed over me like the Sword of Damocles, ready to strike me down with a simple cut of the rope holding it. A couple of days after that whole affair, I woke up at 6:30. Maybe I overreached, I thought as my legs slipped into my work pants. My boss told me the day before that I had to come in early because one of my good-for-nothing coworkers had to leave for Utah, still don’t know why they had to go. But since I’m a fine coworker (and my boss told me he would pay me extra), I took the early shift. Suddenly, the doorbell rings. No one comes by my door, not even my friends. I poked my head out of my room, trying to see who it was. An amorphous figure of a man stood outside. For a split second, my heart skipped, thinking it was The Grabber. But how would he have gotten out of prison? I finally put on my shirt and walked to the door.

"Who is it?" I asked a little bit too loudly.

No answer. I walk to the door.

"Jesus Christ." I see an Albert-like shape out of his prison uniform and in nice copper pants with a dark brown long-sleeved button-down shirt. He stood in front of my door with daisies in his hands.

God, not him. Grabber was not in prison; he was on my front doorstep. My brain was scrambled. The Grabber knocked on the door again, which sounded like a cry from me to come to the door. My heart had no desire to see his face, but I wanted so badly to fall back into his arms and forgive him for using me. My legs ran back into my room, picking up my phone to call into work sick. He knocks again, still wanting me to come to the door. Why was I so scared and so mad? Maybe I was overreacting. Did I really just want to be a sex toy to him? No, I am a woman, and I should be treated better than that. I kept telling myself not to answer the door, and hopefully, he’d go away. Tears ran down my face as I sank to the floor, completely overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. Suddenly, the knocking stopped. My crying stopped. The feelings stopped. It even felt like the world wasn’t spinning. The world went silent. Honestly, I was so confused as I got up from the floor and walked into the hallway to check the window by my door. The figure was gone. Albert was gone. I never thought to ask if it was him; maybe he was all in my head. Maybe, I was overreacting. Suddenly, a quieter knock emerges from my front door. I quickly grabbed my favorite blanket since I was missing my work shirt. Gingerly, I grabbed the door handle and slowly turned the knob. As I do this, I peek outside the door. My eyes widened as the realization of Albert came into my mind. It was him standing in front of my house.

"Jesus Christ," I repeat.

"Told you I’d see you when I got out."

"I thought you weren’t supposed to be out until," I tried to think of the date when he was released, but nothing came to mind. Maybe, there really was no date.

"Well, cops are all ears the minute you mention money," he said through his crooked smile.

I look at him with a slight glare, "So basically, you escaped."

Albert’s eyes darken as if I should’ve said anything. I should have kept my mouth shut.

"How dare you assume that? I got out fair and square!" his arms fell to his side.

"You just told me you bribed a cop to get you out!" I exclaimed.

"I didn’t say that!" he said, his hands grabbing my shoulders, "I would never lie to you like that."

"Except when it's most convenient for you," I replied coldly.

Grabber places his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent. He was so pathetic. It was honestly one of the saddest sights I’ve ever seen.

"Woah, hit a nerve there," he chuckles awkwardly. His eyes move from mine, "Look, I sense that you are still bothered about what happened last Saturday. And I’m not here to apologize because I am still confused about why you’re mad."

He said it in a way that almost seemed like he was trying to apologize but wanted me to say I was sorry for being such a bitch. But he’s the one who wanted to show up at my house. I didn’t know what he wanted. To apologize or rip off my pants and fuck me then and there.

"Good, because I’m not saying sorry either."

"Why?" His tone was urgent and assertive.

"Because I didn’t do anything. You’re the fuck-up."

Sure, I may admit that what I said was really mean. But knowing that Albert needed to hear it just so his heart could start beating for once.

"Excuse me?" he asked, his tone almost hurting.

"I’m giving you what you want. Since I have a strong feeling that you like it when I insult you, much like you do to me. So I’m going to repeat myself, you’re a fuck-up who needs to get off my welcome mat."

His brown dress shoes stepped back. The Grabber’s other hand clenched into fists for a second before speaking.

"I’m not a fuck-up. I’m giving you what you want. The dreamy-er version of me."

My eyes felt like they were burning into the back of my skull. I felt like a moron for even interacting with him in the first place.

"Are you fucking serious? That’s not the man I fell in love with. You’re a total stranger to me."

"But it's the truth (Y/N)! You fell in love with a fantasy version of me. One that would’ve held you when you were scared. One that could’ve made you breakfast in the morning and kissed you every night. I’m not that guy, and I will never be that guy for you."

Words haunted me in every nightmare but, when said aloud, held no weight.

"(Y/N), I can’t give you what you want. I’ve told you that a billion times."

I wanted to feel for him; I did. Anger, sadness, or even pity-- just anything to make me feel something.

"I want to love you. I want so badly to wrap my arms you and hope that you forgive me-"

"Put the mask down, Shaw. I can see right through you."

"God, can you let me speak for just a second and listen? I know I haven’t been the kindest to you, and you deserve so much better than me."

"Yeah, I do deserve better. Do you know how many times you’ve hurt me with the things you say, and I had to live in the delusion pretending that it didn’t happen? Shaw, I’m an adult. I have feelings."

"That’s not the point. The point is that you should have a fucking delusion over a guy who clearly doesn’t like you. I want to love you, but I can’t. I feel nothing when I look at you."

"You are so lucky I hate you right now." I said, walking away from the door.

The Grabber places the daisies neatly on the mat, "And I’m so lucky to have you feel what I’ve felt for years."

It's funny looking back on this moment, realizing how honestly blind I was. Sure, I did want to live in blissful ignorants, but nothing about it was truly blissful in the way you’d think.

"After not seeing me for years while I was in prison, this is how you decide to treat me."

Albert turned his back and started walking to the black van parked outside my door. Calling after and apologizing felt useless since neither of us wanted to admit we were both terrible people. Nobody wants to admit shit like that.

[megatraven]

Hades Doesn't Save Her (WIP)

_

“Don’t do this.”

It’s the last thing she can think to say, the last plea she can make.  It’s only for Hades to hear, as he cradles her face in his hands. She looks into his eyes, searching for any remaining pieces of the man- the god- she had loved, but anything left is already in mourning.

As if she’s already dead.

Her grip on his wrists go slack.

Even after all of it- after she’s thrown his engagement ring back at him, almost run from the gods completely, almost taken the deal of a titan- she still clung to the desperate hope that Hades would find that he loves her enough to defy the gods. That he would love her enough to save her after all.

But he only stares back at her, resigned, as he has since the moment the gods decided to kill her.

“It won’t hurt,” he finally says, voice cool, and his aura activates before either of them can say more. Where she used to find comfort, only dread lives, now.

His power, and the power of every other Top Tier God floods her. In the back of her mind, she barely registers when the last one joins, just a split second later than every other one. It’s Aphrodite’s and, for some reason, though it hurts in the same way Hades’ betrayal does, it helps her breathe easier for a moment.

And then the world falls away.

Nothingness surrounds her, a terrible, foreboding darkness that her soul fears on instinct. A place where people like her, young and human, are put to rest.

A graveyard that takes its people when they’re still alive.

A feral sound escapes her as she struggles against her fate, fights against the inky void that grasps onto her, sinks beneath her skin.

“No... No!” she shouts, and almost on instinct, she calls forth the power of her ring, hoping it might save her, somehow.

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then-

Tendrils of gold pierce the darkness she’s been banished to, chaining across her body akin to an embrace. Part of her wants nothing more than to struggle against them, but she knows- this is what she wanted. Her saving grace.

The most she can do is hold onto them, too, and hope against everything that it’s enough to anchor her soul when the gods would see it flushed away.

Somewhere, in the encroaching dark, she hears a voice, ancient and tired. She strains her ears to hear, pushes the roar of divine power out of her mind as best she can, and listens.

“...on’t want... this.”

The chains of gold around her tighten, ever so slightly.

“Not again... ot now.”

Her mind races from the possibilities, but there’s only one person it could really be. A voice that sounds familiar and strange, heard in dreams forgotten. An essence, that watched over her for 15 years before settling into her skin itself.

A goddess that’s been missing for decades, by her own decision, only for the gods to try taking her choice away one more time.

Hera.

She misses what the goddess says after the realization comes to her, but she has a guess as to what’s being said. One last spark of genuine hope ignites in her chest.

“Then don’t let it happen!” she shouts. It doesn’t leave her mouth, but the words scream out of the depths of her soul, echoing through the dark surrounding her until it pierces through, letting more gold spill in. It joins the other chains, wrapping around her, helping her hold on.

“...ow? ...werless ag...nst them...”

“I- I don’t know. But there has to be some way. You don’t want this, and I don’t either. There has to be a way.”

The goddess is silent.

“...Please.”

Nothing.

The hope begins to slip away, but she’s desperate.

“Please!”

Her voice cracks on the word, her last weapon, and Hera answers her again.

“...One way...”

“I’ll do anything. Anything.”

She hardly recognizes her own voice, now. It’s raw and filled with something so primal, the only thing she can even think to compare it to is Hades’ aura when its screams pierced the air. For all it should hurt to make that comparison, she feels more powerful for it instead.

She feels like she’s been thrust back to a primeval version of herself, some piece of her that has existed long before humans, and even the gods themselves. A part that refuses to die, that stays alive through any and everything thrown at it.

A piece that wills her to survive, too.

“Anything...”

“Yes.” She swallows. “Anything.”

The goddess stirs, somehow. She can feel it, in her blood, in her bones, in her very soul. More light spills out across the dark, and the goddess’ voice rings clear, the barrier between them breaking more and more.

“Then you must take my place. You must forgo your humanity, and become a goddess in my stead.” Her voice rings with something terribly sad, but it’s for her, not the goddess herself. “There is no other option, not when time is so short.”

“I...” She struggles to say anything, the thought of actually becoming a goddess, of taking Hera’s place too much to process.

She did say anything, but...

“Please.”

The goddess repeats her own plea back to her, and she knows there’s no other answer.

Her resolve hardens, sharpens.

Anything.

“I’ll do it.”

“...Thank you.”

The goddess whispers it, a soft caress- and then she’s gone.

She feels it when she’s gone.

The darkness fades away completely, and light streams down on her, a perfect reflection of the ichor that burns its way through her body, waking up at long last.

Her senses begin to come back to her, a little too strongly for her to do anything more than blink away the blinding brilliance of Olympus as she comes to.

Hades holds onto her with his entire body, and she vaguely notes that she must have collapsed when the ritual started. Slowly, her eyes move to meet his, and the moment they do, he smiles.

“Hera,” Hades breathes, and the relief in his gaze is a knife to the heart. There’s hardly any trace of remorse or guilt in his expression, and it sets her blood on fire.

She didn’t think it was possible for him to hurt her any more than he has, but in that single name- she learns he never believed there was any hope that she would survive the awakening of the goddess.

Tears form furiously, thick and golden, like the blood underneath her skin, and she’s sure her hatred must be shining through just the same, because Hades flinches away.

“Not Hera,” she whispers, seething. “Never Hera.”

She sees when understanding dawns on Hades’ face, and for once, the god is tongue-tied, stumbling over his words, trying to walk his mistake back.

But it’s too late.

Her words cut through his, for the very first time. The power in them is new, and not entirely welcome, but it’s hers now.

“I will-” she stands up- “never forgive you-” and raises her voice for all the gods to hear- “ANY of you.”

Several gods start speaking at once, outraged, confused, but she ignores them easily. Any influence they’d had over her is gone now, her blood providing a built-in immunity.

“You should have thought twice about trying to kill the woman you wanted to be your missing goddess.” Her eyes haven’t left Hades, and though the rest of the Pantheon won’t understand the full meaning of her words, he will. “Especially knowing that she didn’t want to come back.”

Power rises in her like the tide, then, brilliant peacock feathers forming on a whim. With barely a thought, they rain down on the gods, drawing out godly auras and shrieks of surprise, and she uses the brief distraction to run from the throne room.

Human agents try to stop her on the way, but one look freezes each in place until she’s already out of sight, and demigods meet a similar fate when they cross her path, even Hercules.

It’s a long, winding path to the elevators, but she makes it.

She makes it.

And she steps inside, watching golden doors close on Olympus.

The moment it starts moving, down, down, down to Earth, the tight knot that’s formed in her chest loosens, ever so slightly. She can breathe again by the time the doors open up, and it takes nothing at all to shoo away the agents on guard, called on to stop her.

“Out of my way,” she growls- and they listen, auras falling back, guns holstered. Recognition burns in the eyes of some of their faces, but it only twists the knife in further, hurt on top of hurt.

And they all thought it was an honor, she thinks, bitter as she crosses the threshold.

No one else tries to stop her.

She’s halfway home before she realizes that she’s walking in the wrong direction, and a dull sort of pain tears at her chest.

She hadn’t been heading towards her apartment- she’d been headed towards Hades’ condo.

“Not there. Never again,” she mutters, and turns away, only to stop again a moment later.

“It- it probably isn’t even safe to go there, is it?” She shakes her head. “But where else...”

Unsure of where to go now, when her life’s been turned upside down, she lets her feet carry her through the city, aimless.

“There’s always Josh, but- no, I don’t want to get him involved. I don’t want to think that they’d use him to get to me.” She winces with her next words. “He’ll be safer without me.”

It doesn’t leave her many other options.

“Not my place. Not Josh’s. Not... Alex’s. Definitely not Cerberus or the other guardians. Selene and Helios always stayed with Hades. Astraeus- he’s gone, now. So where..?”

The answer doesn’t come until she finds herself standing in front of a door, pretty nondescript, with a boar emblazoned on it.

The Boarback.

“Neutral ground. That should work for now.”

[stars-and-loops]

HI MAV I have a trail mix travelers inbox fic. It's Osvald and Cyrus' first encounter. It takes place when Osvald is 23. He's still studying in Montwise, so he's buddies with Harvey and hasn't met Rita yet

That accursed library of Montwise was confusing. Why in Alephan's name would D'arqest's work be anywhere but the magic section!? They weren't in history either. Harvey said they had his writing, so it must be there somewhere, right?

Osvald brushed his finger over the spines of the books, skim reading the authors' names.

"Daniels, Davidsen, Dominic..." he muttered as he read them.

But no D'arqest.

Somehwere nearby, a clattering broke the deafening silence. Odd. Osvald was the only one in that section. There were few others who wanted to be at the library at six in the morning.

"Hello?" he said.

He didn't want to admit it, but he was easy to scare. Several heartracing experiences as a child guaranteed he'd scarely feel safe outside his own home. Still, he put on a brave face and peeked beyond the bookshelf. A man sat at one of the work tables, tome in hand. At the sound of Osvald's footsteps, he looked up.

Their eyes met and everything else dissappeared. The world around them melted away into an overwhelming dark nothingness as the man stood. A grin widened his lips as he approached Osvald.

"D'arqest, correct? You truly believe you can finish what the great master couldn't?" the man spoke.

His voiced echoed as though they stood in an empty hallway, but each echo was a different voice. His was calm and matched his appearance, but the first ringing sounded like the gurgled words of a dying man and the second like a monster mimicking human speech. Each ring only became quieter and more distorted than the last.

He handed Osvald the tome. Their hands brushed for a moment and an odd tingling blossomed where the man had touched.

"Hey, Mister, are you alright?" a voice cut through the darkness.

Osvald and the "man" both looked at the source and the dark nothingness faded away. A librarian stood only some meters from Osvald, her eyes full of concern.

He looked back and the man was gone, though the tome and tingling in his hand remained.

"I-I," he stammered.

"Gods, look at your hand!" the librarian gasped.

He glanced down to see the area where his hand tingled was scorched black. And just then, a searing pain took over. He keeled over in pain, mind fuzzy as he couldn't even begin to guess what happened.

The librarian took his uninjured hand and led him to a chair where he sat, though no longer standing didn't make the feeling of the room spinning any more bearable.

"Wait here, I'll fetch a physician," she said before running off.

Once the spinning slowed down, Osvald slowly raised his head. The man stood by a bookshelf, a grin still plastered on his face.

"Call me if you need help again."

Help? What help? This "Cyrus" had done nothing but injure him and make him unable to even describe what he had experienced!

But he glanced down at the tome he held so tightly.

"A complete collection and guide to D'arqest and his work by Cyrus Albright"

An eternity seemed to pass before the librarian returned with a physician in tow. They took care of the wound, though the anxiety lingered.

OH MY GOD?????? i. have no words.

what the hell is going on here

[potatothots]

Curious

Genre: Drama, Horror

Rating: Mature/Explicit (for gore)

Pairing: God-like thing Nick Fowler x Reader (it’s more like an OC, I guess? Nothing is really mentioned)

Warnings: loss of a loved one, dead bodies, allusions to killing, allusions to sex, talk of blood (a lot), gore

Summary: Nick is curious about another man’s wife.

Note - I'm not your guardian. You read what you want. I can't stop you. If you don't heed the warnings, too bad for you, not me.

The woman just wouldn’t die. He had his nails dug into her neck. Blood poured out slowly and made his skin feel sticky, like an overly humid day in a swamp. She struggled, holding onto his wrist in a weakening grip. 

"Mace, you treacherous bitch," Nick gritted out between his teeth, followed by a tired sigh. “Just die already.”

"What are you?" she croaked out, eyes full of fear.

He smirked. "Nothing to you, now. Enjoy your nothingness."

He let the redhead slump to the floor with a final crunch and twist of her neck. He hated her so much he didn't bother to absorb any of her life force. It felt poisonous to him. It always had.

She had been someone he thought he could count on once. At least, as far as being loyal. Now, her sickly pale and gaunt skin made her look like the ugly witch she really was. Her dead body fit in with her band of useless bitches trying to be heroes. Can't be a hero when you're dead. His eyes skimmed the carnage of their dead bodies while he sat to relax in a chair. He sipped on a glass of scotch with a single round ice cube. 

The antique wood floors of his house were ruined from the amount of blood and gore that adorned them. There were arterial sprays up the wall. Most of the expensive furniture lay broken or dirtied. Holes, both bullets and fists, littered the walls. Not even his designer suit and tie were spared from the carnage. 

He was beyond mad. The alcohol helped him calm down, but he was still seeing red. 

From his position on the chair, he could see her looking up at him with lifeless eyes. Her mouth parted forever in an agonizing expression. It matched the odd angle her neck was bent at and the harsh bruises that littered her like the garbage she was. 

His long, slender finger tapped on the glass in his hand. He knew Mace wasn't the right thing for him. She was too gullible. For an agent of the CIA, she was too easily manipulated. All he had to do was put a ring on her finger and pretend she was the one - on an undercover mission, no less. He enjoyed playing with her emotions. He fucking loved it when she was rough, but sadly, she couldn't even gain the upper hand. Nick never played fair. He was a God, for fuck's sake. He was above being fair. He hadn’t even needed guns to take down any of those who bombarded their way into his house. 

He snorted, looking over his fingernails and cuticles. He’d need a manicure to fix the damage. At least now he wouldn't need to worry about her or her girl club annoying him. He could go back to siphoning the emotions, thoughts, and prayers of those worshiping him. 

Nick tilted his head back to finish the last of the scotch. What he needed was a real challenge. His own doll he could play with, but that could handle him. The idea sat heavy in his head. Nick was a selfish man. To find someone to just be his had proved impossible in his long life so far. Mortals were fickle and flighty. They were the dancing flame on a candlestick. It was easy to set them alight and watch them burn away or snuff them out. 

A muffled twill caught his attention. Standing, he meandered over the bodies until he could pinpoint the cause of the noise. In the pocket of some random backup Mace had, a phone was going off. Nick pulled it out and looked at the screen. The face of a young woman with a bright smile greeted him. Her name and phone number were above her picture. He hit the accept button and held the phone to his ear. 

“Hey babe, what do you think about spaghetti tonight?” the woman’s voice on the line asked.

Nick smirked, looking over to the owner of the phone’s shredded face. “Sounds perfect,” he answered her. 

“Sorry to bother you at work! I’ll let you go, I know how busy you are. Love you!”

She hung up the phone before he could say anything back. Her peppy voice matched her picture. 

She must be in love with him, Nick thought to himself. 

He inspected the contents of the phone. They looked like a happy couple according to the images in his photo gallery. They sent each other hearts and kissy faces. A few messages were stilted attempts at sexy talk, highlighted by racy images like two first-time lovers.

Except for one. 

Nick’s eyebrow shot up as he read it. The girl he’d just spoken to, the one with the bright smile and an adorable body, had an intelligence about her he hadn’t expected to find. 

“Don’t explain yourself. I got what I needed out of Donna. Do you think you can go and fuck other women? Just remember what I have on you. They’d kill you on the spot.”

He read and reread the message. It was almost alien how different the message sounded from the others exchanged between the two. A grin etched its way across his face. If this girl was really like this, he wondered how much fun he could have before he’d have to kill her. 

Finishing his drink, he flung the glass away so he could text her. 

Bby, look nice 2nite. I’ll get that wine u like n we can have fun after din <3

A few moments later she responded. really???????

nethng 4 u

:*

It physically pained him to type that way and send those emojis. Yet, he was curious...

[ticiie]

week 23: i've missed you

prompt from the off-season winter sport challenge

pairing: Marco Odermatt/Gino Caviezel

length: 681 words

author's note: stay tuned for the hopefully better second part next week!

“Sorry you missed me; leave a message and I’ll call you back!”

Gino sighed instead of doing as the automatic reply of Marco’s voicemail told him and hung up. The gate at the airport was still almost empty, only a few other passengers were scattered on the uncomfortable chairs, certainly thanks to the ungodly hour. Justin, who was sitting opposite of Gino, caught his gaze.

“Still no luck?”, he asked.

“Nope. If I wouldn’t know any better, I’d say he’s doing it on purpose.”

Gino felt like he had the right to be a little angry at Marco. After all, they had agreed to talk on the phone before Gino’s flight would leave. Now boarding was about to start and yet Marco had still not returned a single one of Gino’s five calls. He better has a good excuse, Gino thought to himself and flopped down on the chair again. He stared into nothingness, his thoughts spinning and turning, the tenseness caused by the upcoming training camp as prominent as never before. It made his heart speed up when Gino thought about it. Thanks to the pandemic, they had been obligated to find different training destinations instead of South America. The last time Gino had been there was a good three years ago, a lot had changed in that time and he wondered if he would be able to adjust to those changes. He hated how easy it was for the panic to take over him these days. He had tried to find a reason for it, some sort of explanation why he was somehow feeling out of balance, but thinking about it had only made it worse. That’s how he ended up here, at the airport, alongside some of his team mates, all waiting for their flight heading to the southern end of the world. It took a very angry look from Justin to make Gino realise he had started to tap his foot on the spot again.

“Sorry”, he mumbled and stopped.

A woman dressed in the colours of the airline stepped up to the desk and started to call out the boarding regulations. Everyone busied themselves with gathering their stuff, Gino struggled to fit his empty water bottle back into his carry-on bag, and therefore didn’t notice his phone starting to ring. It was still attached to the charging cable, lying on the small table that separated Thomas’ seat from Gino’s. On the other side of the line, about 80km to the west of Gino’s current location, Marco groaned at least as equally as annoyed as Gino just had done it himself. Other than him, he did leave a message:

“I am so sorry, I didn’t hear your call, this place is packed and then I walked into Simon and I- God I’m so sorry. Have a save flight and let me know when you’ve arrived. I miss you, can’t wait to see you again.”

Gino listened to the message while waiting in the short line to have his ticket checked for the final time. The smile that creeped its way in his face felt like a relief, as did hearing Marco’s voice. The thing inside Gino that had caused his world to tip over settled back into place and steadied itself. The anger disappeared. If everything went as planned, he would get to see Marco again in 48 hours. And who knew, perhaps they’d be lucky and actually make it to answer the phone for once during the layover in Buenos Aires. 48 hours were foreseeable. After two weeks of not seeing each other, leaving voice memos, text messages and long conversations on the phone in the middle of the night, Gino could make it through another 48 hours for sure. Someone patted Gino on the back and when he turned around, he saw Thomas smiling at him encouragingly. He had known Gino for long enough to know exactly who made him grin in such a loving way. Gino replayed it one more time before putting his phone away and catching up with the others. 48 hours.

[nicos-archive]

Jennifer was back in the goddesses soul. Like always, she was standing on top of a lake with nothingness for as far as the eye can see. 

Leal standing right in front of her. If anyone else were to look at her, she’d seem ethereal. Like she once saw her. 

“God. You’re such a cockroach. What’s so good about living that you fight so hard for it.” Leal sneered 

“That’s funny coming from you. Why do you even want my soul so badly?”

“Because out of everyone I’ve ever met, I hate you the most. I want to tear you apart. I want to see you suffer. I want to eat you and ruin your body. You belong to me, and one day you’ll see when I take everything from you.”

“Really, I wish I could go one day without seeing your ugly ass face.” It was bad enough seeing her when she was asleep, but when she was dead? So much worse as they had more time to yell at each other.

Then, like that, she could feel a pull. 

“It seems our time is being cut short. Hopefully you’ll finally give up the next time I see you.” Leal’s smiling face is the last thing she sees.

The worst thing about it isn’t the pitch black eyes that made her golden iris glow, but the halo and jewelry that enhances the image. She just wished that she could just cover her all in mud or something.

When she closes her eyes, she feels all her senses slowly come back to her. The worst part of dying was not the pain from feeling her bones break and pierce her organs. Or even her blood vessels and nerves get torn along with flesh and bone.

No, what hurt the most was coming back from nothingness that peace of death and being ripped back into her body with a consciousness that was still in the middle of pain. Her body was healed. Enough so to bring her back, but that didn’t mean her body was in perfect condition. Being put back together hurts just as much as being ripped apart.

She tries to breathe, but her lungs are still full of water. She couldn’t even open her eyes yet. They either weren’t there yet, or too damaged. It was hard to which was the case. Even her hearing wasn’t fully back yet. She feels a sharp pain on her chest. 

Once. 

Twice. 

A faint ringing in her ear that grows louder and louder. Suddenly she hears everything and it’s too loud. The waves, wind, the sound of a flag in the wind, something metal banging against another. Then everything quiets down to a normal as the ringing fades.

The water in her lungs finally makes its way out as she coughs it out. Her eyes snap open and sees Matt over her. Hands still on her chest, about to make another compression.

“Thanks.” She mutters weakly. Body still feeling weak and disoriented. 

He just nods before helping her sit up, it’s then that she notices he had put his jacket over her.

“How long was I at the bottom of the ocean?”

“2 weeks.”

“God. I’m so fucked. There's no way I’m going to make this month's quota. He’s just gonna throw me back in there.” She groans as she covers her face with her hands. 

“Don’t worry. Janne and Lina have been taking care of that.”

“Oh? She must really love my brother if she’s actually going to lift a finger. I should probably do something special for Janne too.” Jennifer sighs. She may seem annoyed and exhausted but, she really was grateful to them.

Instead of responding, he just helps her stand up.

Unfortunately, the two were used to this situation. As much as she and her brother would love to defy their boss and maybe even leave the gang, they couldn’t. He was much stronger than them and just by not meeting his expectations he not only killed them but dismembered them and threw them in the ocean.  

Which was what he did when they really pissed him off. It’s been only a few months since this last happened. They didn’t even bother to fight back during their punishments. That only made it worse.

They didn’t even bother to question why, out of everyone, they were the only ones ever punished.

With that aside, she follows Matt to a bathroom. Once inside, she opens a pocket dimension where she keeps an extra change of clothes for situations like these. 

When she comes out, she’s still wearing Matt’s slightly damp and oversized coat. He doesn’t ask for it back, so she doesn’t bother. She has more important things to worry about. 

“Let me show you where my brother is.”

A nod is all she got in response. That and his hands go to hold her shaking hands. She didn’t need to say it, but he knew she was worried, scared, nervous, and felt alone. He was just glad he could be there for her. 

In turn, she looked at him with a small smile. In times like these she always knew he’d be there for her and, it helped eased the anxiety she held whenever she couldn’t see her twin

[righteouscookiedough]

C2 E16 Reactions

Such a fun episode!! with timestamps up to the minute this time idk how helpful they will be!! Here ya go @mysticalspiders​

0:01 omg this is the beginning of the 80s dndbeyond/Gail ads!!!!! 

0:03 travis killing the 80s ad VoiceOver voice0:06 *the bears are back in town* I wanna do another honey heist

0:13 oh fuck I forgot this guy came out to play. Bottom half tapers into nothingness???

0:14 I HAVE A SECRET FOR YOU jester you are always adorable. 0:15 he HATES cinnamon

0:16 BEAUYASHA ANGST yeahhhhh deflect it Yasha big strong woman

0:19 “…acquaintances, we’re not friends yet” - Nott

0:19:30 I DONT KNOW IF HE HAS FEET

0:23 froyo damage not doing as good as he expected :/

0:26 travis is losing his mind and so is everyone else

0:35 “I’m gonna parkour off of Yasha’s body” lets go lesbians lets go!!

0:49 jester’s unconscious!!!! Ahhhh! How is this still stressful I know who survives!!!

0:50 MOLLY W/ THE HDYWTDT!!!!

0:52 “this is a really bad day you guys”

1:06 Greased Goblin, everyones favorite goblin game

1:07 OILED AND ASHED

1:08 Nott finally uses Mage hand and of course it is to steal jewelry

1:20 MENDING A SPELLBOOK!!! Oh that was disappointing

1:21 ~the magician’s judge~ why do they keep finding big swords??

1:23 “is it cursed?” “Hello?” *shakes sword* “I don’t think so”

1:25 the division of the rings, a sacred act, Nott should get an extra one for finding them. Jester should get Caleb’s cause he isn’t saying anything

1:38 they have spent SO LONG discussing where to hide this sword

1:39 “what if we roll the sword up like a fruit roll-up”

1:48 Molly does NOT have nipple rings but he and fjord will be going for a swim

1:54 “I lift him up by his armpits”

1:56 wow that underground river pigeon is very loud

1:59 EVERYBODY LEAVE THE TABLE BUT FJORD!!!! FJORD LORE!!!!

2:00 ~*every time he touches the water he has backstory*~

2:04 …fjord… just swallowed a sword… 

2:05 FALCHION UPDATE!!!!!!

BREAK

2:20 maybe Nott should put flowers in Caleb’s hair EVERY day

2:22 fjord has… small tusks… is that an indication of other body parts??

2:23 oh my god travis just made this joke into such a sad story

2:26 “did you kill any of the children who made fun of you?” “Yasha did you kill anyone who grew up with you??

2:37 “dont you want to carry me???!?!! My legs are a little… achey”

2:54 “I’m a cooool 45 pounds, yo!” 

3:11 “she likes me too much cause I worship her reallll good”

3:13 the m9 ARE doing drugs together. And by m9 I mean just beau and Molly

3:18 “what happened to you?” 

3:25 some Nott lore !!!

3:30 AND IM TOUCHED BY THE SUN EVERY MORNING PUMAT YOU SLAYERRRR

3:32 Pocket Bacon TM

3:34 Beau lore??? Damn were getting little bites of everybody’s backstory today

3:42 "Caleb and I have a date to talk about his special package” “do you need some privacy?” “No!”

3:47 an ancient concept of possibility? Infinity that threatens to disperse you???? Matthew???

3:48 OH????? FRAGMENT OF POSSIBILITY??3:50 they refuse to let Liam read

3:52 “why were you mumbling about your mom and your dad, tho?” 

3:53 “if you ever want to talk about it you can just come to us!” 

3:55 we’ve all done karaoke before

3:57 “your son is just the cutest!” 

3:58 we’re picking up at harvest close festival!! (It’s Fessuran alREADY???)

4:00 Tal has TWO PAIRS of lederhosen

Ok that is all!! Goodnight everybody (it is 9am)!!!

[arkayarcane]

Space = Cool

GAnyone wanna know some cool space facts? No? Too bad. Here’s five of ‘m because I can.

1: There is a planet called Gliese 436b that is made of ice, yet is continuously on fire.

2: Another planet has been discovered that is made of solid diamond.

3: According to astronauts, space smelt like burnt steak.

4: Some scientists claim the center of the milky way smells like rum and tastes like raspberries

5: Scientists have theorized that Black Holes aren’t actually a singularity, but rather ring-shaped.

[sexyandcringe]

Warning: none

Content: Angst to fluff, hurt/comfort

A/n: i got this idea while i was listening to an italian singer (Ultimo, try him out, he is amazing), and was making scenarios of Omi singing them songs for me.

You're lying in your bed, listening to your sad playlist as you stare into the nothingness of your dark room.

Your breath catches in your throat when you hear that part of the song that makes you want to cry and scream into the void, but you don't even have the energy to scream anymore, so you let thin tears trickle down your left cheek.

It's when you are in the middle of your weekly crying session at 00.37 that you hear your doorbell ringing. Your first thought is:

Who the fuck won't let me cry in peace at midnight of a working day?!

but when logic replaces your tears, you get paranoid. What if it's a robber? a serial killer? a psycho that will definetly put you in danger?

At these thoughts you decide to keep 911/112 dialed up in your phone and not answer the door; but more options flood into your mind: What if it's a friend of yours who need help? maybe a stranger who is getting followed and needs shelter asap?

You decide to think positive and get out of your bed. Curiosity also takes over you, but you still keep the emergency numbers on your phone. You thank your past self that let the lights of the entrace on and peek through the doorhole.

Your heart drops when you see the culprit of your annoyance.

"Kiyo- Sakusa?" you open the door.

It's been eight months since you have seen him. Eight months since you have been avoiding all the places you two used to go to. Eight months since you've asked your manager to change your departement because you didn't want to meet him in the photoshooting processes, keeping a low profile behind the scenes.

It's been eight months since you have seen him and today he looks a complete mess. His eyes are red and swollen, his shirt undone, his hair are messy and unkept and although Kiyoomi never really liked alcohol much, today he reeks of it.

He looks up to you with what you can perceive to be despair and hope mixed.

"What's happening?" you ask, trying to find answers in his dark eyes.

Sakusa's heart clenches. It's been so long, yet you still use that kind, sweet tone of yours. To be fair he didn't expect you to open the door at all, and in the remote possibility of that happening, he assumed that it would be to yell at him, to tell him what the hell is he doing here and to get lost.

He thinks he really doesn't deserve you. He made you feel so, so unloved, so insecure. He made you feel as if you weren't enough because he was still caught up in the past; He was the one who still thought of another woman who left him forever.

But he is healing now. Both of you know that these things take time and that's why you decided to break up with him. You both need time to heal. How can you expect to be in a happy relationship when both of you are broken?

"I missed you." he sighs, and you catch on a tremble in his voice.

You wait for him to say more — you want for him to say something more, because God, you missed him, too, but you are scared to get hurt again.

"Please." He plays with his fingers. " I- i'll be better. I'm such an idiot, i- i kept crying over someone i lost already, but couldn't hold onto what i actually had, what was actually important to me. I'm so sorry, Y/N, i really am." At this point he is crying, his hiccups filling up the empty, little garden. "Please, i miss you, so much."

You have no idea what is he pleading for, but you hate seeing him cry, so you let him in. "Come in, it's cold outside."

You offer him some water and prepare some hot chocolate, because you know that Kiyoomi hates coffee.

"Are you feeling better?" You ask once he has calmed down, and Sakusa feels like crying again, because he really doesn't deserve you and your kindness, but he needs to control himself for now. He needs to fix this.

"Yeah, but i meant every word i said."

"Do you... do you want us to get-"

"Yes. I want you back, Y/N. I promise, i won't make you feel unloved ever again. Trust me on this one. I'll do my best." he looks at you with hope in his eyes.

Kiyoomi.

Throughout your relationship with him, if you could call it that, he has been nothing but a sweetheart to you, but you could notice how he always searched for someone else in your eyes, how under the starry night skies he always dreamed to be with someone — someone who was not you. You know he was trying his best to forget the past and love you unconditionally, but his heart was still too weak, still too fragile.

You don't think you could have found anyone better than him, but how does the saying goes? Right person at the wrong time. He was your right person, but you met him when both of you were still broken from your traumatic pasts and needed time to heal. Is 8 months enough? You don't think so, but today, for once, you saw him looking at you - and not someone he hoped you were, while you are also in a better place than before.

It will take some time more, bit by bit, but both of you are healing and learning to move on.

So you let yourself believe in him and believe in you.

You let yourself believe in a future "us".

Reblogs are really appreciated!