#help me i fear i will be attacked for this

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

i hurt my own feelings by imagining how shark mer ghost's insomnia might get worse if remora mer reader got attacked/hurt by a predator while he was sleeping somewhere else

74 / part 2 of shark!141 after remora reader gets attacked

...

Ghost’s grip anchors you in place. His rough palm spans nearly across your back and reignites the sting of half-healed wounds. For a moment, to your sleep-deprived, terror-stricken, paranoid prey brain, he’s not Ghost—just a much larger mer with you trapped in his grip.

You twist, but it accomplishes nothing besides grinding your cheek further into the cold, cave-white sand floor.

"Stop squirming," he snarls. The command lacks its usual bite. The sand swirls around you both, stirred by the agitated flick of his tail. His grip tightens as you struggle. "You think I'm the one you need to fear? Look at you—panicking over shadows. You're damn lucky it's me and not some actual threat."

Your heart hammers in your chest. The first time you pluck up the courage to venture out into the water since the encounter with the barracuda mer--driven by hunger--and here's what it gets you.

"Breathe," Ghost orders. "Before you pass out and make this even more of a mess."

You go limp. "Are you gonna kill me?"

Ghost exhales sharply through his gills. "Shut up," he mutters. "If I wanted you dead, I'd be picking you out of my teeth." His thumb presses into the knotted muscle of your lower back, right where the deepest claw marks still ache. You skipped the fucking patrols. Skipped letting anyone check those wounds while you fussed over everyone else. That's what gets you killed. Ghost focuses on the most inflamed gash near your shoulder blade. Sand packed in the wound. Smell of rot starting to set in. A growl vibrates through his chest. Apparently you'd let it fester over accepting help.

Ghost dips his head and sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder--not breaking skin, but applying enough pressure to freeze you in place. His tongue swipes harshly across the infected lacerations. Saltwater and enzymes sting through the detritus. He's... cleaning you. Roughly. Your fingers flutter and thread into wet sand. The dual sensation of pain and the unexpected intimacy send conflicting dizziness up your spine. This isn't right. You should be the one cleaning him.

The pressure of his jaw keeps you from jerking away. His free hand pins your wrist to the sand when your fingers twitch toward his ribs. Like you could ever push him off. You're hyperaware of his strong prey drive and your own instincts to freeze. You don't dare to even squirm. Still, his teeth press harder in a silent warning.

His tongue drags over the inflamed tissue again, methodical despite the violence of the gesture. The scrape of his rough tongue against your wounds burns—not just from the salt, but from the sheer wrongness of it. A shark mer shouldn’t be debriding a remora’s injuries. Shouldn’t be this close or handling you this way without intent to maim or breed. His teeth graze the edge of a half-scabbed gash, testing the give of the tissue. One sharp jerk of his head could tear it open. Instead, his tongue laps another stripe over the wound, slower this time.

Finally, the scrape of his teeth retreats to the safer press of his lips—still firm, still controlling, but no longer threatening to break skin. His grip on your wrist eases.

A shudder works through you. Not fear. Not quite.

He doesn’t lift his head until the marks are flush and pink with fresh irritation instead of festering neglect.

"Stay still."

Sand resettles around you as he reaches for a clump of nearby kelp and rips it free. His movements are efficient as he presses the kelp’s gel against the wounds to seal them.

So that's why he chased you into the cove at the edge of the kelp forest. You hadn't even noticed you were being corralled. You do your best to keep still and prone in the sand despite the overwhelming urge to peer at him over your shoulder. You focus on the sting of his rough healing instead.

Even when curiosity wins out, he doesn’t let you look. One broad hand presses between your shoulder blades to keep you down. The other works the kelp into the wounds with a clinical sort of brutality—no gentleness, just efficiency.

The kelp’s cool gel seeps into the inflamed tissue, to soothe the burn of his rough cleaning.

His voice is a low rumble against your spine. “You don’t get to hide in the reef and rot.” The words are harsh, but the way his other hand shifts to cradle the side of your neck—keeping your face from grinding into the sand—isn't.

He doesn’t elaborate, either. Just drags you upright by the scruff of your neck and shoves you toward the open water. “Swim. Before I decide you’re not worth the trouble.”

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3

more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist

[weeb-simp-11]

⏦☣︎➢I NEED MARK’S FLAXANDIH

NOTE: You guys aren't giving enough love for my bb Flaxancible :((, I crave him so much that its too much even for me. Getting the hang of Tumblr, semi-proof read.

Paring: Flaxan!Mark Grayson x f!Reader — Female Anatomy and She/They + You Pronouns, Established Relationship?

Sypnosis: Flaxan Mark probably did the right thing — attacking the Pentagon and fucking you before ReAnimen beat his ahh up

Warning: Smut

Arriving a new universe probably wasn’t for the weak. Thanks to Angstrom — or not, he’d promise something for each and every one variant, like Phantom Mark who wanted his mom back, Maskless Mark who missed William and Sinister Mark who just wanted to destroy everything that is in sight. Every Mark variant had something they’d lost or an ambition.

Flaxan Mark on the other hand, he had everything he’d wanted, power, strength, everything, thus he even conquered over the Flaxans that tried to destroy earth, he’s already an emperor. But still, something wasn’t right.

Flaxan Mark flew over the city of this current universe; Arlington, Virginia. As if he’s trying to find a certain place.. or institution?

He hovered above the building of the Global Defense Agency, observing it before dashing into the place, damaging the base, the establishment—a wreck by such a small entrance. Tons of rubble fell, alerting the people and Director of the GDA to find the culprit.

He made his way towards the empty sleek halls, his feet softly padding against the floor that had just been splattered with the blood of his victims, eventually finding himself in a somewhat empty hall. His eyes slightly widened, finding her.

“Mark? Is that you?— we really need your help and—” your rambling came to a halt, realizing that he wasn’t Mark. Oh fuck. “Shit—“ You cursed, trying to dial Cecil’s office but you get cut off when he took it away from you.

You turned to look at the hallway but found it empty, gently pursing your lips together. You shuddered when you felt him breathing and looming over you, you looked back at him with fear. To your surprise, it definitely wasn’t your Mark.

“Stay away— I- I’ll press this button.” You gripped the switch tightly, holding it between you and him. That button was the one that Cecil used on Mark before, a copy from that creature he fought that emitted a wail so powerful enough to stun him as he was making a treaty with Queen Aquaria and with that Cecil gave you a copy, in which you reluctantly accepted at first. Thankfully right now, it’s going to be useful to you.

“You’re just as beautiful as I remember.” He whispered, gently caressing her skin as he lowered her hand that held the remote. This variant looked so much different from Mark. Much more shorter hair, the flaxan attire? Is he a flaxan?

“You look just like her.” He weakly said, his voice trembling in anticipation as he ran his thumb across her features, analyzing her eyes, skin, and lips before slipping it between her mouth, earning a yelp out of protest from her. You bit his thumb that he stuck in your mouth, Flaxan Mark immediately retracted it back, replacing his thumb with his lips.

“You are her.” You melted into the kiss. He kisses just like Mark, he is Mark after all. You fluttered your eyes open gently, slowly reaching out for his wristband. He noticed this small movement, gripping her wrists on the side with his hand, restraining her. He knew this too well.

“Mmh- Mark.” You moan into his lips, back pressed against the wall behind her. Flaxan Mark’s hands dared to touch her, too afraid to hurt her, too scared to lose her, so he made sure he wasn’t bruising her wrists when he restrained her up.

He broke his lips away from her, resting them over her cheek, relishing how she felt once again in his arms. He trailed his lips from her cheek to her jaw, his hands that restrained her wrists shifted to your shoulders, resting there as his fingers flexed against her skin. He made his way to her neck, kissing over the moles, the way he used to do so with her before. His teeth nibbling, refraining himself from leaving marks as he is actually scared to hurt his beloved that he just once again found.

His swallowed, hearing her soft sounds, he knew her too well, too well that in every dimension, she’s the same. He loved the fact that she was like her. His you in his dimension.

One of his hands landed on her figure, gently caressing your skin trough your uniform. “Not enough— time.. To make love with you.” He grunted, looking over their surroundings before hiking your skirt up. He was impatient, a parallel to Mark. He unbuckles his armor, freeing his veiny dih, the tip twitching with anticipation as she watched it brush against her thigh.

He slipped himself with no thought — actually a thought, a thought of fucking and probably breeding her in some way? Imagine losing her in his dimension and finding her in another’s dimension, all unbothered, so he took the risk before losing the chance to ever see her again.

“Gotta breed this fucking pussy before I slaughter them all— shit..” The Flaxan penetrated her, the feeling of his dick was too overwhelming for her, making her mind go numb. She clenched her gummy warmth around him as he thrusted, in and out of her hole. a small sound escaped his lips at the feeling of feeling her around him once again after being separated for so long he couldn’t even imagine. Bros stupid ahh did not slaughter them all.

“Don’t you leave me— don’t you dare fucking leave me.” His hips stuttered against her as she clutched onto the cold wall behind her and clutching onto his Flaxan armor that gleamed. She moaned incoherently, his metal-clad fingers digging on her sides painfully. The frequency button fell out of her hands, landing with a small thud on the floor.

You moaned, holding onto his with dear life as he rutted his hips against hers. He paused, feeling a lump forming on his throat before taking a deep breath and trying to put his desire into words. “Fucking- shit..” He hesitated, looking away for a moment before back up at her. The sudden change of position made her gasp quietly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he lifted her hips up to his level. Her eyes met his as well, her breathing getting a bit heavier as more and more anticipation spread through her.

He held her with one arm while the other went between them both, his fingers brushing against her folds, his thumb gently circled her clitoris. He ran a pad of his fingers across her folds whilst he slowly penetrated her. She felt so warm, so tight around him. It made the poor Flaxans head spin almost.

His hand moved to her hip, his grip firm and possessive. The muscles in his arm flexed as he guided himself forward, his body trembling with coiled tension. As he slowly slid into her, the sensations overcame him. The heat, the wetness, the way she clenched around him sent a shudder of pure pleasure through his entire body.

“Fuck.”

He cursed.

Already cumming between her folds.

Her climax came after his, gushing all over his dick, clamping his appendage, milking him. You fell onto him, body weakening under his resolve, he kept his small pace, drawing their climax to its end.

NOTE: “What was that? 8 seconds?” — Guinevere Beck from the Netflix Series, YOU

[lumieresdreams]

an: self-indulgent thoughts from an underweight and mentally unstable caleb enjoyer <'3. this was also inspired with one of his notifs saying "your takeout is here. is that all you're eating? let me whip up something quick for you"

cw: ED mention, hurt/comfort, there's fluff somewhere i think, use of 'you', follows canon loosely

it's been years since the peak of your worst struggles back in school, all the stress from making sure you keep your grades up while trying to find your place in a society that seemed to change on a dime right before your eyes was overwhelming. from the get-go, everything has always felt impermanent, like anything and everything can disappear easily, so when you do get a hold of something that's tangible and consistent, you hold onto it for dear life.

one of which was caleb. he's seen you through most of it, if not all of your lowest lows. he was there when you cried about having to break things off with your first best friend, or how someone was mean to you unintentionally when you were already having an emotional field day, or about that one exam that you feared you'd trash so much so that you had an anxiety attack in his arms.

one unhealthy coping mechanism that came out of this was saving eating meals for another day, it came about unintentionally. a missed meal because you were so tired from school and socializing that you slept the night away, eating at a weird time, prioritizing homework over preparing food... this pattern wouldn't go unnoticed by caleb's keen eye, he always had a habit of giving you tight hugs once in a while to squeeze a laugh out of you when you're being playful together, and he could feel the physical difference, no matter how big or small.

the next time you came home, the place smelt of a freshly cooked dinner that came from the kitchen, but before you could even take a step towards the source, caleb pulled you aside and gently reminded you that you can rely on him. that he understands that you're an adult now, but he'll always be in your corner when you need him and as simple as it was, that was enough to bring you to tears. you found yourself gently sobbing into caleb's shirt, gripping onto him as your cries made your body tremble in his arms.

then and only then did you finally find the courage to let him know about the lack of appetite you've grown accustomed to lately and how it feels so wrong, that you didn't want any part of this. caleb listened and cooed at you softly, gently rocking you both from side to side to help you regulate your emotions, making noises of confirmation here and there to let you know he's listening. this was a norm back then and no matter how many times it happened, caleb will always be there to pick up your broken pieces and hug you back into shape. then offer you his heavenly cooking for comfort right after.

so why is it now, years later, was the same ailment coming back to haunt you? you've graduated, found a job you like that cares about your own wellbeing, you have friends that you can actually genuinely claim as close to you, and caleb is back in your life. unbeknownst to you, it was actually the last reason that stressed you out. he was gone for so long, someone you thought would always be in your life disappeared and that basically shattered your entire world. with the time he was absent, you've started overworking while also agreeing to going out with friends after, leaving you with barely any room to even think about food unless the hangout involved it.

when caleb came back and discovered this returning habit of yours, he was heartbroken. he immediately fell back to being your caretaker, making your favorite food, offering you small snacks, as well as sneaking in a small packet of snacks in your uniform once in a while. his quiet yet proactive encouragement and apology made you feel emotional, having breakdowns in your lonesome multiple times, sometimes even at your workplace bathroom when you finally find a snack in your bag or work uniform.

and once you have free time to visit him in skyhaven, it feels like having to relearn to be around caleb again. was it okay to hug him? tease him? pinch his cheek even? would that be weird? this would happen for the first few times you spend time alone together, every single time caleb would give you the time and space to feel comfortable enough to give him affection, and every single visit to each other's place you find these old and comforting habits easier to do again.

little by little, food would stop becoming unappetizing again, not with how mouthwatering caleb would make them. he helped you work your way back from snacking all day, to full on meals throughout a long span of time, making sure it was never rushed. and overtime, you find yourself cheering up again. despite the complexities of caleb's current situation as colonel, having him around and a call away in case of emergencies feels just right, as if your world was being bandaged up and put together again.

[buried-dog]

TW: vent + violence, suicide, and homophobia mentioned!

I wasn't diagnosed until I was 18 and out of highschool (and payed insane money for it) despite multiple years of trying. As a child I was "diagnosed" with symptoms of ADHD and autism as well math level 3 years behind what's expected for my age. This meant I would receive absolutely no help whatsoever but all the discrimination. The reason my parents heard? Because, and I quote, they were "trying to make their child into an idiot in order to gain benefits" because the three of us "are lazy".

In kindergarten my classmates destroyed my books and toys and my teacher laughed that I was crying about it. When someone turned off lights in the restroom, after brushing my teeth as one of the first kids to be done, the kids banged on the glass door making it fall on my foot. My toes were so broken my shoes were visible stained with my blood. The teacher put a small bandaid on the cut and didn't inform anyone about this. When my mom came to pick me up at 6 pm the teacher was demanding she pay for damages I didn't even cost. My mom basically told her "shut up, you insane bitch, I'm taking my child to hospital" in much nicer words. Turned out I had multiple of my toes crushed and one of my bones cut my skin, that's why I was bleeding. The teacher was not punished or moved in any way.

When I was in my first primary school I was regularly beaten by "gifted kids" who not only were not punished but instead I was forced by my teacher to apologise to my abusers, because at that point it wasn't just bullying, or else I would be kept a year back. Among other things they did was putting my hair on fire, throwing firecrackers at me, throwing me into the frozen pond, under the ice, that was in a park next to the school, destroying my backpack and textbooks, and even cutting me with scissors. If I told the teachers I would be forced to apologize to them. The situation I remember the most is when suddenly a girl attacked me and kicked me so hard in the leg I couldn't walk for the next two days. I remember when a week later I learned my homeroom teacher forgot about this despite the fact she was the one to help me get to the nurse.

In my second primary school I was locked in classrooms during breaks as punishment for not doing homework which ended up with me developing claustrophobia (fear of locked places and situations you can't escape! Not small places! Although they also can trigger.). I was still bullied by students and teachers, but finally it was only verbally. I wish adults would tell me that I have any potential to waste, instead my teachers would regularly say it's good that I was "the way I was" because I wouldnt be able to hold a job anyway. One substitute teacher said to my face during an English lesson that I should just kill myself because I'm useless to society and only a leech. Mind you, I was 14 at that time. Even my class thought that this was too much and reported him. He was not punished in any way and we still had lessons with him. When I was 12 I had an aneurysm. After spending Christmas, new year and my 13th birthday in hospital I was let out early, but was supposed to stay in bed for 2 more weeks. I asked my classmates who lived few houses down the street if I can come by to borrow his notebooks. He told me I can't because he was too embarrassed about me showing up at his house, because as I learned later, while I was dying, my school started a true rumour I'm queer. When I came back to school I was given a week to catch up with everything that happened during those months, but nobody wanted to give their notes to a "dirty fag" so I got in even more trouble academically.

By the time I got to highschool my parents pulled me out of school because they knew if I continued I would just kill myself. You cannot drop out where I'm from so officially I was homeschooled. I have no idea how I managed to pass final exams, but it was literally the exact % I needed to pass them.

Colour me pissed when I talk about how I and many others were literally torture by school and out of nowhere a Gifted Kid crawls out to change the entire conversation to something it wasn't about. It's not that you weren't traumatized by school, it's that it's not about you!

insane to me when former gifted kids hear other people (mainly disabled people and dropouts) talk about being horribly traumatized & irreversibly harmed by the school system and their response 9/10 times is “oh yeah??? you think that’s bad??? well my teacher said I had potential and everyone said I was going places and then I didn’t” like we’re supposed to be absolutely devastated for them because of this. lmfao

[midnightbasil]

Imagine you’re in an isekai to One Piece…the Straw Hats take you in and everything seems like the perfect adventure until….

You realize it’s 4Kids One Piece.

You stare out at the sea wondering why the water looks so…wrong.

You keep arguing with Luffy about his attack names. “But Luffyyyy, Gum-Gum Pistol would just sound so much cooler”

Zolo keeps getting confused/pissed you call him Zoro. (Or Mr. Sabat 😏) If he ever pisses you off you just make chicken noises at him

You start to lose all fear of guns. They’re just green water guns, right? And why are everyone’s swords so short?

You’re begging Sanji for a drink and smoke, but all he gives you is orange juice & lollipops.

It might be from you telling him to never quit his day job and become a voice actor…

You can’t help calling out Usopp on lying about the Log Pose, but he insists his dad left him the Grand Compass. It’s an argument you’ll never win even when you know you’re right.

You only address Robin as partner, or little lady with your best southern drawl until you notice a hand around your neck

The crew takes bets on how long it’ll take you to get arrested since you keep back talking the Navy on how “they’re not good enough to be called Marines…”

Mihawk stabs you on sight because you keep laughing and can’t take him seriously.

Hell, Shanks is just as bad. He might just not stab you for it but. But after you say “Blimey ya bloody pirate!” to him a dozen times he’s thinking about it.

I can’t even imagine if you’re there between the two of them. I wouldn’t be able to breathe.

You keep following Nami around with bug spray and flu medicine. It’s really starting to annoy her and she doesn’t understand what your deal is.

All you want is to buy clothing with some text/kanji on it, or know what a building is before you , but you sure as hell won’t fine anything in Loge Rouge Town…

Captain Chaser damn near arrests you on the spot when you offer him a cigar and say: “Hey there big fella, you’d be a lot cooler if you were a…smoker.”

When you offer one to Crocodile though he’s either going to kill you or fall in love with you. How main character energy lucky are ya feeling?

✨Protagonists are protected from plot holes in Isekais, right?✨

That’s why nobody blinked when you slapped Vivi across the face when she said with her whole chest “Zolo has the compass, he’ll keep us on course” It’s not your fault okay, it was a reflex reaction to hearing the most stupid phrase ever uttered.

Brook keeps talking about Laboon, but nobody seems to know what the hell he’s on about. You make up some shit about them being so scared of the ice berg that’s why they don’t remember.

You offer Dr. Kureha some pickled plums and Chopper just stares at you…

And just because I can’t resist…

The literal second you get the chance you sharpie “ASCE” on Trace’s arm. He’s so confused when he wakes up. You grip his shoulders with all your might and look him dead in his eyes:

Maybe it was the Rainbow Mist that made everything feel off, because one day you wake up and everything seems…better. At the end of the day, you’re just glad they couldn’t get their hands on Law…

I could go on, there’s obvi more wack stuff 4Kids did. (Like unforgivably cutting Dan Green from being the narrator!!!)

But these are my favorites/what stood out most to me. If I forgot something reblog this and add it on!

[lemotmo]

Wow.

Q. What do you mean about Ravi being the physical manifestation of Buck's issues or trauma? Ravi is definitely a character in his own right and is not dependent on Buck for screen time. That's a wild thing to say. Can you explain that viewpoint to me please?

A. It's not a statement meant to take away from Ravi as a character but his episodes are pretty tightly tied to whatever is going on with Buck at the time. That's not my viewpoint. That's the way his episode history goes. And in most of his episodes Buck's storyline at the time is in one way or another tied to Eddie, or Buck's abandonment issues, or, in several cases, both. This is going to get lengthy, anon. I hope that's okay.

Ravi's first episode is Jinx in season 4. The episode where Eddie shows interest in Anna and Buck thinks the station is cursed or jinxed because of the calls they get that day. Also the first mention of the universe screaming at Eddie, which was said by Buck. His second episode was Treasure Hunt which sees Buck and Eddie teaming with Taylor to search for the hidden treasure, and Eddie's dislike of Taylor becomes pretty clear. The next episode Ravi appears in is Survivors. No explanation necessary, Eddie gets shot in that episode. Then we arrive at season 5. The season that had the most appearances for Ravi by far. We start with Panic, Desperate Times, and Desperate Measures. Those episodes encompass the aftermath of Eddie getting shot, Buck discovering he's Christopher's legal guardian if something happens to Eddie, Eddie's panic attacks, and his subsequent admission that he isn't in love with Anna. That's also the episode stretch of Maddie's postpartum and her leaving Chim and Jee. That brings us to Home and Away, the episode where Chim leaves to go search for Maddie.

Still in season 5 that takes us to Peer Pressure which is the first episode where Buck and Ravi are teamed up as partners because Eddie has been moved over to partner with Hen in Chimney's absence. That brings us to Ravi's appearance in Brawl in Cellblock 911. Buck and Eddie get kidnapped by the escaped prisoners, they threaten Christopher, and Buck fears Eddie has been shot again. Then Ghost Stories where Taylor's job, and the ways she goes about doing her job, start to become an issue in her relationship with Buck. That brings us to Defend in Place, where an explosion at a hospital finds Buck and Eddie trying to locate an 8 year old boy and his newborn baby sister. This is also the episode where Ravi reveals he had cancer as a child. His backstory is literally Buck's childhood trauma. Which leads us to Past is Prologue. The episode that revealed the story of Daniel and how Buck was born to be a donor sibling. The episode also highlighted more cracks forming in his relationship with Taylor. The following episode, Wrapped in Red, was the episode Eddie decided to leave the 118 and join the 911 call center. The next episode, Outside Looking In, is Eddie trying to settle in at dispatch, the building of his breakdown arc, and the episode where Buck kisses Lucy and then asks Taylor to move in with him out of guilt (a mistake Buck would repeat again in season 8). Ravi's next episode was Boston which picked the Maddie storyline back up. Then Fear-O-Phobia is the episode where Eddie has his breakdown after finding out about his former Afghanistan squad and Buck decides he has to tell Taylor the truth. Next is Dumb Luck which has Eddie in therapy and Buck trying to help him through that. Hero Complex puts Buck's relationship issues with Taylor back at the forefront. Leading to Starting Over which sees the end of Buck and Taylor's relationship for good. Ravi did not appear in a single episode that wasn't in some way related to Buck and Eddie or Buck's fears of being left behind or abandoned by the people he loves.

Arriving at season 6. Ravi only appeared in 5 episodes that season. His first appearance that season is episode 14, Performance Anxiety. This is the episode Eddie's aunt fixed him up on a blind date and Eddie told the team he feels like he has to perform when he's on dates. That brings us to Death and Taxes where Buck meets Natalia the death doula. Then we have the Love is in the Air episode where Eddie attempts to meet a woman and runs into Marisol at the end of the episode. That brings us to Pay it Forward. The episode where Buck's donor baby is delivered by him, he and Natalia talk about getting a couch, and Eddie asks Marisol out on a date.

Now we arrive at season 7. Ravi's first appearance that season is Buck Bothered and Bewildered. No explanation necessary. Then You Don't Know Me which is Buck's first date with a man, Eddie asking Marisol to move in with him and finding out she was almost a nun. Then we have There Goes the Groom, the bachelor party episode. That takes us to Ashes Ashes where Buck meets Kim for the first time and Eddie tells Kim about her similarities to Shannon. Then finally to all Fall Down which sees Christopher's reaction to the Kim reveal and his decision to leave for El Paso.

Welcome season 8. Ravi's season 8 episodes include: Holy Mother of God, Disconnected, Invisible, Sick Day, Lab Rats, and The Last Alarm. Every episode after Eddie left for Texas and Buck's subsequent attempts to adjust to the new normal. His episode history on this show anon is very loud and very intentional. A pattern like that is not accidental or coincidental. It is intentional. It's why placing Ravi in the Buddie scene in The Last Alarm was so intriguing. Having Eddie hug Ravi was a way to show that Buck's fears are safe with Eddie. Eddie is the safe place for Buck to let the traumas of his past go once and for all. And it's why I think Ravi is who Buck is going to be trapped with during the earthquake episodes. Right now Buck is avoiding all the things he needs to admit and reconcile with. Trapping him with Ravi is literally trapping him with the things preventing him from moving forward. And Eddie has always been a thing that Buck is clearly not allowing himself to really think honestly about. The earthquake in season 2 changed Buck and Eddie's relationship. The earthquake in season 8 will change their relationship again.

Thank you Nonny!

Ali! You did your research! This is so impressive and very interesting to read as well. Thank you for sharing this with us!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[sunday-bug]

He knows you will catch him when he feels like he’s going to fall and drown in his fear again.

This was so touching and made me feel so seen as someone that deals with anxiety attacks. Setting this in a grocery store was perfect because they can be such a sensory overload. I wear headphones sometimes to help with that.

Thank you for writing this. So important. Love seeing Bucky dealing with his fears 🫶🏻

Put your hands in mine

He can’t breathe. His lungs burn and the water above his head gets darker and darker. Theres no more light. Until there is again.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 2.263 Words

Warnings/Tags: Anxiety, hurt/comfort, crowds, established relationship, fluff

Authors Note: Part of the works for Mai — month of mental health awareness! You’re not alone and I’m proud of you! Divider made by me. Shout out to my favorite person @thevillainswhore for brainstorming, the aesthetic and for all the love and proofreading! I adore you, te iubesc.❤️

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Put your hands in mine.

And I will pull you out of the darkest waters.”

Loud noises. Crowded places.

Bucky hates it, and yet, he still tries to live his life as best as he can. He keeps trying to get out of your shared apartment more often, to be around people for longer periods of time. But somehow, it only makes him want to curl in on himself, with you wrapped in his arms in the safety of your apartment.

He’s not ready for the world just yet. He’s not ready for the business, the noises of the actions. He had them long enough — for years and years. And now, finally settled down with the woman he loves, he wants to keep the peace a while longer before he’s ready to face the loud world outside.

But somehow, sometimes he still manages to interact with the outside — as long as you’re by his side he knows he can do more than he believes.

Bucky’s fingers cling to the shopping cart he’s currently pushing through the aisle of the grocery store. His ocean blue eyes dart from one side of the aisle to the other and back to the cart as he takes in the different products.

Lots of jam, way more than he used to know back in the days. Bread — delicious and softer than he knows, and so many variants — you always buy different ones. One better than the other. But his favorite one is still the brown bread with the star on top. It reminds him of his childhood, and it tastes almost the same as remembers.

Maybe if he just keeps his mind busy enough he can try and mute the noises around him. If he just —

“Buck?” You ask softly, your warm fingers circling the back of his hand and his white knuckles. Your voice is soft and soothing, just like the smile that’s spreading on your lips.

You’re smaller than Bucky, but you’re standing perfectly in front of him to bring his attention to you. You’re blocking the people around you from running into your boyfriend, making it easier for him to focus on you — and only you.

“Do you want to get out of here already?” You offer but your boyfriend shakes his head and turns his head to interlace your fingers with his thicker ones.

You’re always so soft with him, sweet and loving. Bucky could melt with you around. The understanding and support you offer him causes his heart to clench every now and then, the insecurities growing stronger. How does someone dark like him, deserve someone so sweet like you?

Never pushing him, never judging him. Bucky wonders what he did to make you fall in love with him. But no matter what it was, he’s glad he was able to get your interest, to get the love you show him.

Bucky takes a shaky breath. You offered him to go shopping by yourself, but he didn’t want you to do it alone — he wanted to come with you. And even though he regrets his decision slightly, he’s grateful to have you around.

“N-no,” he says, forcing a smile on his plump lips. You sigh but nod, knowing that Bucky’s feeling overwhelmed already. But you also don’t want to act like he’s a kid who doesn’t know his own limits well enough to decide himself.

Bucky can decide when his limits are reached. And as much as he tries to push them every now and then, you know he would never lie, would it really be too much for him.

His eyes are slightly narrowed and he tightens his grip around your hand. “I-it’s fine, babydoll. A bit loud and crowded but not too much.”

You hum softly, followed by a soft giggle. You lean closer to him, standing in your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips before you wrap one of your arms around his waist. The other still interlaced with his thick fingers to sooth him and keep him calm.

“You’re doing good, Buck. I’m proud of you and I’m glad you decided to come here with me,” you mumble while you push him with you through the aisle. Bucky sighs softly, relaxing with your arm around him. He knows you will catch him when he feels like he’s going to fall and drown in his fear again.

When you finally reach the section with fruits and vegetables, you look for a quiet corner, pushing the cart and Bucky there to keep him away from all the noises and business of the other people.

A soft, warm smile spreads on your lips as he leans down to kiss you softly. Bucky’s blue orbs light up slightly when he can focus on you and the music of the store but nothing else.

It’s quiet. He can watch everyone and it’s less crowded. Perfect for him to wait for you to get a few fruits and vegetables.

You move through the aisles to take some apples and bananas before you move further to the vegetables. It’s a bit crowded but when you look up to Bucky you see him still softly smiling at you. There’s not many people around him, only an elderly lady and a mother with her kid.

So you look back to the vegetables and get some peppers and cucumbers too. You can still feel his intense gaze on you, taking in every detail.

Bucky’s tapping his fingers against the cart, keeping his focus on the music and on you so he won’t be too overwhelmed, until —

“Ow! I’m sorry, sir,” a lady apologizes as she pushes her cart with force into Bucky’s side. The kid on her arm is crying loudly, and the moment they notice their mother's attention on someone else — and not on the gummy bears they want — they start screaming.

The pain in Bucky’s hips is nothing compared to the noises that crash down on him like a heavy weight. The music from the loudspeakers is suddenly way louder. The mother talking to her child. The child that’s still crying and screaming. And suddenly he’s aware of every noise around him.

Bucky can hear every little noise in the whole shop. The people around him. The people on the other side of the shop. Even the registers and the cooling systems of the fridges.

His breath hitches, his chest tightens as he wraps his fingers tightly around the cart. His blue eyes are widened as the noises become even louder. Bucky can hear his heartbeat so loud and clear like every other noise in the shop. And there is no way for him to mute all these noises.

“B-ba…by-do—“ Bucky chokes, his hands shooting to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. He tries to pull on it, to rip it off his body but it doesn’t budge. It only tightens and becomes heavier until he feels like he can’t breathe anymore. “P-ple—“

And there it is again — the feeling of the dark water around him. Only a small amount of sun is shining through the darkness but it’s fading slowly. And he’s sinking, further and further while he feels like he’s drowning.

Bucky never thought it would be possible for him — or for anyone — to feel like they could drown without physically being in a body of water. And yet, he feels as if he's sinking into the depth of the ocean, the water surrounding him everywhere and there’s no place he could grab a hold on.

The water is hugging him like an old friend, but it isn’t an old friend. It never was and it never is — it never will be. It’s only his darkest enemy, his fear of losing control, of losing himself.

He gasps loudly, his eyes scanning the people around him to find you but everything is blurred. Everyone looks so similar, the voices mix with the others. He just can’t make out where you are, he can’t hear your voice, he can’t see your face, your worried expression or maybe your soft smile — he can’t tell because everyone looks just like the others in the shop.

“B-babydo-ol-l…” he whispers, tugging harshly at the collar of his shirt. A soft whimper leaves his plump lips as he feels his lungs burning. The darkness of his thoughts became worse. Even the corners of his view turn a few shades darker, supporting the feeling to sink further in the ocean.

The sun — actually the light of the shop — disappears with every second. The weight that’s pulling him down becomes heavier and heavier, his breathing unsteady and frantic as he tries to grab for anything so he won’t drown.

“Buck,” your soft voice is audible. It’s so close and yet so far. He can’t reach for you, but he wants to — he needs to. “Bucky, hey, baby. You’re safe, try to take a deep breath for me, please.”

He can feel your warm hand reaching for his. Your fingers curl around Bucky’s thicker ones as you pull his clenched fingers off his shirt. He doesn’t want to let go of his only grounding source but he also doesn’t stop you — deep down he knows you’re his real grounding, his anchor.

“Loud noises are overwhelming, aren’t they? But it’s okay. I’m here, I've got you. Just try and focus on my voice, I know it’s hard but you need to listen to me otherwise we can’t get out of here,” you say. Your voice is still so soft and soothing, warming his chest as he feels his eyes moving toward yours.

Bucky’s mouth opens before he closes it again. He remains silent but you can see his eyes flickering from yours to your fingers before they settle back on yours.

He takes in the soft smile that’s tugging at your lips as you stand in front of him — causing his heart to flutter slightly. Your fingers interlace with his as you rub soothing circles over the back of his hands. Bucky notices your lips moving, trying to calm him down and even though the noises are still louder than your voice, he can make out some of the words you’re saying.

“I know you listen to me, Buck. Maybe not completely but I know you try. And I’m proud of you, you’re doing so good, baby,” you assure him, hoping it will help him to calm down.

While dating Bucky you learned how to handle his anxiety and his panic attacks. Not just because of therapy but also because of all the talks you have after such a situation — allowing Bucky to look back and help you both to understand what you can do to either help or avoid these situations.

From finding out what overwhelmed him to what he felt until he can tell you what he might have needed, you talk about every detail Bucky wants to share with you. So, with his help of what he could have needed in such a moment you can try different things out until you both are happy with the result.

“You have to stay calm. I’m not gonna hurt you, but I need to cover your ears. It might be a bit of pressure but then the noises will be quieter,” you explain before you bring his hands to your hips, placing them there for him to ground himself before you reach up to cover his ears softly.

Bucky flinches, his fingers digging almost painfully into your hips as he stares at you with widened, fear filled eyes. Your thumbs stroke softly along his cheeks, still covering his ears as you feel him relaxing softly into your embrace.

Bucky’s breath slows down, the noises are quieter. Once again — like so many times before — your hand reached out for him when he was drowning. It’s your hands that take a tight hold on him, making sure he can’t drown in the darkness.

You move your hands down his cheeks, wiping away a few streaks of tears before you settle your hands around his neck.

“I-I’m sorry…” he mumbles, leaning his head against yours. Bucky takes a shaky breath, way more steady than before but still on edge with his emotions. “I shouldn’t have gone shopping with you… it’s only… I’m only in your way.”

“You will never be in my way. I’m glad you came to the shop with me,” you mutter, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose. “I don’t like you suffering like that, Buck. But you went out with me, you should be proud.”

“Are you proud?”

“Of you?”

Bucky nods softly. His blue eyes flickering to yours, uncertainty written all over his face. How can he possibly be proud of himself when he just had a panic attack where he needed your help to calm down?

“More than anything,” you say with such a softness and honesty that Bucky feels like he’s melting in your arms. He nods, sighing softly. “I’m really proud of you, Buck. You’re so much stronger than you think. You went to hell and back, and yet, you’re still so lovely and caring about the people you love.”

Bucky smiles softly, a soft pink creeping onto his cheeks as he tries to hide his face in the crook of your neck. “Don’t say that…”

“Because you know it’s true?”

“No… because it makes me blush,” he whines playfully. Bucky leans back a bit, his ocean blue orbs flickering to your lips, then back to your eyes. Within another second his warm, plump lips press against yours, pouring all his love and adoration into the kiss.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @rnurse-kole @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @irisk12 @lilyalone @thenameswinter99 @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princesscore-angel @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @bamitzzsam @feynightlight @ethanhoewke @kandis-mom @peachy-satan00 @armystay89 @queen-honeybee-stories @p1nkgirly333

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Rebirth

My feels after The Last of Us S02E04 made me do this. (You know the drill by now.) JOEL LIVES, a little bit of angst and mention of the Abby incident, Ellie's going to be a dad, cuteless overload. Joel x reader.

You never expected it to be easy for Joel to heal. He had been badly injured by the woman whose head you cracked open with the golf club she had meant to kill Joel with. Luckily, you and Ellie burst in just in the nick of time. You hadn't killed anyone in years, and never with such calculation and coldness. But when you saw Joel, saw her, you put a bullet in her knee just as she had done with Joel, and once the rest of her posse were down, you had taken the club from her, and you had made sure she felt it. But unlike her, you were quick about it. Joel needed to get back to Jackson.

Joel is one of those guys who take everything upon themselves. He can't help it, it's just how he's wired. He spent months in a hospital bed recuperating, and as soon as he was out of the woods, he started to feel bad about not being in Jackson during the attack. He felt bad for not being able to protect Dina, who reminded him that she got away without injury. He chided himself for not being more careful.

It took your shouting at him to turn the tide. You were not physically injured, but you were hurting from what you had seen. You thought you had lost him, and now you were about to lose him to self loathing. You would not accept that. You needed him like you needed air, and he was not allowed to go down dark paths where you could not follow.

When he finally was released, you took him to see Gail. With her help, the two of you could untangle the webs of guilt, relief, remorse, and fear. And it helped that Ellie was speaking to him again.

Ellie shutting him out had been so hard on Joel, and he was grateful that trial was over. Carefully, he and Ellie made amends, one sentence at a time, with you in the other room, busying yourself with something, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. Now that those two were on speaking terms again, and Joel was over his near death experience, and you had left your trauma of nearly losing him behind, you only had to deal with one thing: Sourpuss Joel who wasn't allowed to put any weight on his injured leg, and would walk with a limp for the rest of his life. He needed rest, and Joel was not a person who rested. That was your cross to bear. Ellie was mostly preoccupied with Dina. It was as if should be: let the young enjoy their youth. You don't mind dealing with a grouchy Joel. He was your grouchy Joel, and he was alive.

After what had happened to Dina, she and Ellie had become inseparable, and it wasn't just friendship anymore. You were happy for Ellie, had seen it coming for some time, but clearly Dina hadn't been ready to face it. Now that they were an item, Ellie seemed happier than ever.

That happiness is shining out of her face when she tells you and Joel that Dina's pregnant, and that she's going to be "a dad".

It takes Joel and you a moment to fully understand what she means. Your first thought is "how did that happen?" before you realize that of course Ellie isn't the biological father.

Both of you must have looked quite stunned because Ellie adds, in a tone which teasingly suggests she's talking to very slow people:

"Jesse is the biological father. But since Dina and I are together, it's our baby. We'll raise it, and he can participate if he wants to."

"That's wonderful news, Ellie," you now smile, holding out your arms for a hug. Ellie falls into your embrace, warm and grateful, but you can feel her hesitance. She's still waiting for Joel's reaction: the most important one. You glance over at him, seeing a plethora of emotions pass over his face before he gives Ellie a wry grin.

"You sure you're ready for it, kiddo?"

"Were you?" she counters immediately, and Joel chuckles.

"No one is. But you figure it out as you go along."

He pulls her in for a hug.

"You'll be a great... dad. And any kid's lucky to have you in their lives."

"You and Dina will make it," you agree, and Ellie looks relieved.

"Thanks, guys. We're not telling everybody yet," she points out, "but I wanted to tell you guys."

The two of you promise her to keep the secret, before she leaves to seek out Dina. You turn to Joel, who sighs deeply and shakes his head.

"Kids today."

"You know she'll be great."

"Of course. Just feel like I'm getting too old to keep track of all these things," he groans as he rubs his forehead, before looking up at you with a calm but tired smile.

"You're doing great, too, peepaw." You shoot him a teasing grin. Joel squares his shoulders.

"Peepaw?"

"That's what I'm going to call you now," you giggle, and move back as he reaches for you.

"The hell you are."

He's got that frown on his face, but his eyes are warm and playful. When his injured leg prohibits pursuit, he instead beckons to you.

"C'mere."

"Nu-huh."

"You know you want to, moomaw."

"You wouldn't dare," you warn him. You may be as old as he is, but you are not a moomaw.

He can barely keep from laughing, and you let him catch you and pull you into his arms. Your arms go around his waist and your nose brushes against his.

"Grammy," he suggests in a murmur, lips wandering to your cheek where he kisses you lightly.

"No."

"Gam gam?" Another kiss, this time closer to your ear.

"Gigi, then."

"Shut up and kiss me, Joel..."

He slides his hands down to your ass, and does as he's told. And you know that he's going to be alright. You're all going to be alright.

[sorrowful-wallflower]

Count - @into-the-jeggyverse - 641 words

Regulus was waiting in line at the busy cafe. He got off work early and wanted to surprise James with lunch. James had been stressed lately, what with work and the anniversary of his parents' murder coming up. It had been ten years, but the wound seemed to get ripped open every year by one thing or another. Regulus was determined to help him through it, no matter how long it took. He grabbed their food ten minutes later and headed home. Regulus thought about calling to make sure James was home, but he remembered James telling him that he was taking the day off and had no plans to leave the house, so he didn't. The drive to their house seemed to stretch on and on, and Regulus started to get a feeling that something wasn't right. He hit the call button on his steering wheel, calling James' cell to only receive his voicemail. That definitely wasn't good. James never shut his phone off or let it die, even if he wasn't on call. Regulus pressed the gas pedal to the floor and weaved around the cars in front of him. When he got home, he let out a small sigh of relief. James' car was in the drive, but he still rushed into the house, forgetting the food altogether. "James?" Regulus called out as soon as he opened the door. No answer. He made his way around the house, checking every room until he got to their bedroom. The door was open, but he didn't hear anything at first. That was until a choked sob came from within, and he rushed inside to find James in the corner. His knees were to his chest, and he was pulling at his hair. "Jamie?" Regulus asked quietly, moving towards him slowly so as not to spook his boyfriend. "No, no, no, no," James muttered, but didn't seem to realise that Regulus was in the room with him. Regulus knelt in front of him, taking his hands out of his hair gently and rubbing small circles into the back of them. James was breathing hard, his hazel eyes showing fear and panic, and Regulus' heart broke for him. "Jamie, I'm here, baby." James looked up slightly, seeming to have heard him. "I need you to breathe for me, okay. Can you do that for me?" James nodded subtly. Regulus pulled James' hand and set it over his own heart as he demonstrated how he needed him to breathe. "Okay, baby. Let's breathe. I'll count and you focus on matching me." "Here we go. In, one, two, three, four, and out, one, two, three, four. Good. That's good, Jamie. Again," Regulus said easily, tapping the back of James' hand with every count. It took a while, but eventually, they got James' breathing back to normal, and he seemed to be coming back to reality. Regulus wiped the tears off his cheek before he kissed him on the temple and pulled James into his lap. James fell into him without resistance. Regulus ran his fingers through his hair as they sat in the silence. James had his eyes closed as he relaxed into the feeling. After a while, James let out a heavy sigh and slowly opened his eyes, smiling slightly when he looked up to see Regulus. "Hi, baby," Regulus whispered, smiling back at his boyfriend as he continued stroking his messy curls. "Hi." "Do you want to tell me what caused the panic attack?" Regulus asked gently. "You don't have to, but I can't help if I don't know what happened." James closed his eyes again for a minute before opening them and staring at Regulus with so much pain that he wanted to kill whoever hurt him. "He found me," James whispered as a single tear fell down his cheek again.

[regretismyconstantcompanion]

Aberforth stood alone behind the bar after Harry left, the boy’s words hanging in the stale air like smoke that wouldn’t clear. He didn’t move for a long time, just stared at the door, his jaw tight, eyes stormy.

“Bloody fool,” he muttered, not quite sure if he meant Harry… or his brother. Aberforth moved behind the bar again, poured himself a measure of something sharp, and knocked it back in one go.

A time traveller. Who knew everything—everything—about their family, about Ariana, about Albus and Grindelwald… and still wanted to help. His face twisted. Fool boy. He had same damn fire in him. Same bloody stubbornness too. He snorted to himself, shaking his head. “You’re always drawing them in, Albus. Even when you’re not trying. Even from across time.” There was no one to hear him. No one to answer. But the bitterness was old, and it still burned. *********** The morning was still damp from the nights mist, the grass soft underfoot as Albus moved through the narrow vegetable patch beside the cottage. His long sleeves were rolled up, wand tucked behind his ear as he carefully weeded between rows of sprouting leeks and cabbage. His hands were soil-stained, his back slightly hunched—not with age, but with weariness.

Behind him, a few hens pecked lazily at the ground, and a goat bleated irritably from a small, rickety enclosure nearby. Albus straightened with a soft grunt, walked over, and gently scattered a scoop of grain into a worn trough.

“Patience, Ivy,” he murmured, scratching the goat between the ears. “No need to act as if I forget you.”

Fawkes sat perched on the crooked fence post, watching. Silent. Still judging.

Albus glanced up at him, squinting against the grey morning light. “You needn’t look so disapproving,” he said mildly. “There’s no shame in caring for the living things that still depend on me.”

He turned back toward the garden, brushing off his hands, but paused.

There was a shift in the air. Subtle. Familiar. His fingers itched to reach for his wand, almost expecting an attack for a moment. No one ever came uninvited and he invited no one.

The trowel slipped from his fingers and landed with a soft thud in the earth, forgotten.

For a moment, Albus remained utterly still, eyes fixed on the edge of the trees where the shimmer of magic had stirred the air—and then revealed him. Not a specter or illusion. Not a memory conjured by grief.

Harry.

Albus swallowed, his throat tight and dry despite the morning dew. He hadn’t expected him to return so soon. Perhaps not at all. He had half-convinced himself the boy had given up, or better still, come to his senses and returned to the future where he belonged. But here he was. Back. Again.

And walking toward him with that same relentless determination. That same impossible hope.

Why do they always come back? Albus thought bitterly. Not out of pity. Never that. But out of belief. A belief he no longer deserved. He could see it in Harrys eyes, even from a distance, that unwavering need to fix what could not be fixed.

And yet…

Albus found himself brushing the dirt from his robes. Straightening. Looking presentable, as though some part of him wanted to be seen. As though the sight of that young man standing at the edge of his silence had stirred something deeper than his guilt—something older.

Responsibility. Affection. Fear.

Fawkes gave a low, chiding trill from the fencepost. Albus didn’t meet his gaze.

Instead, he lifted his chin and took a few steps forward, boots soft in the grass.

“Harry,” he said at last, his voice quiet—measured, but no longer cold. “You’ve returned.”

Albus Dumbledore was sitting on the couch, staring into the fireplace that was across from him. The crackling of the flames was the only sound breaking the silence in the cottage that was nestled in the Scottish Highlands. It was isolated, miles away from even the nearest village. He had chosen it for that very reason, desperate for solitude even if it wasn't something that had been forced upon him. He had lost the duel against Grindelwald. He had known that had always been a possibility. There were equals after all and had known each other painfully well. They had spent that summer duelling, friendly but pushing each others boundaries. They had grown and changed and become more powerful but their tendencies had lingered. The fight had lasted well over an hour but in the end, Gellert had just gotten the better of him and managed to disarm him and send him flying backwards. His only minor consolation was the fight had left them both panting and injured. But it had been clear who the winner was. There was no backing out of the agreement they had made. His time in Nurmengard had been brief. A chance to recover from the duel before Gellert gave him an ultimatum. He could remain free if he agreed to leave Hogwarts and retreat from the Wizarding World. Albus had already known he would leave the school, for certainly he had lost that right when he had failed his students and the Wizarding World as a whole. He had agreed, knowing Gellert wasn't giving him a choice and not agreeing would result in either his death or being imprisoned in Nurmengard forever or the deaths of those he cared about. And so here he was, over a year after the duel. Staring into the fire, sitting beside a cup of tea that had long gone cold. Books had been removed from the overflowing bookshelves, scattered around the room. Some had been read, some he hadn't even yet opened. Plain parchment piled up on the desk. Few knew where he was and so letters came rarely. He had picked some of the fruit and vegetables he grew in a small garden he tended to. Perhaps he would make some jams and chutneys if he could find the strength and motivation. It came sometimes, mixed in with the heavy weight of despair that seemed to fill his waking hours. He had failed. He had let down the wizarding world and now he banished just beyond the world he loved so much. He knew what was happening there, of course. He did his best to learn of Gellerts ongoing plans and rise to power. Without him there, there was nothing to stop him. He knew the few Ministries that still existed moved against him but it wouldn't take much for them to fall. Everything would be lost then and Albus knew he was powerless to stop it. @johamfated

[elliespassagerprincess]

Ellie Williams x BPD! Reader please 🙏

Split Edges - ellie williams x reader

hi anon! i hope you enjoy:)

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are open! send me your silly thoughts

Warning: Intense emotional themes, self-sabotage, swearing, dark thoughts, panic attacks, co-dependency, manipulation, and one shocking betrayal

Summary: in which you needed help

masterlist

“I’m sorry I go from loving you to hating you in minutes.

I’m sorry I can’t tell what’s real.

I just don’t want to lose you.”

Ellie met you when she was at her worst.

And you?

You were a wildfire in human skin.

Charming one second. Distant the next.

Your moods didn’t shift—they switched. On and off. Light and dark.

And Ellie, for all her trauma-hardened edges, found herself drawn in.

You saw her, truly saw her. Not as a weapon or a survivor.

But as someone worth loving. That scared her.

But not as much as how fast she fell.

You loved hard. That’s the thing no one tells you about BPD.

It’s not drama—it’s devotion.

When Ellie laughed, it filled every empty part of you. When she touched your hand, it was like being stitched back together.

But the fear was always there.

She could leave.

And if she left, you’d unravel. So you tried to hold tighter. Love harder. Be perfect.

But no one can be perfect forever.

Ellie started pulling away after you had your first episode in front of her. You saw her glance at someone else for half a second too long.

Your stomach dropped.

Your heart snapped.

“You’re bored of me,” you said. “You’re already looking for someone else.”

“What?” she laughed, confused. “I just asked them for extra ammo—”

“No,” you snapped. “I saw you.”

The fight lasted hours. You cried. Screamed. Threw your knife into the wall.

Ellie didn’t leave.

But she didn’t touch you either.

And that’s when you knew:

She was starting to fear you.

And that made you hate yourself.

So you punished yourself. Silently. The way you always did.

But Ellie noticed the new scar.

One night, she sat across from you, voice low.

“I want to be with you,” she said. “But not like this. You have to get help.”

“I am help,” you hissed. “I’m the only one who’s stayed.”

“You love me so much you’re destroying me.”

That shut you up.

Because maybe she was right.

So you made her a promise: you’d try.

You’d get better.

For her.

And for a while, you did.

You journaled. You started meds. You smiled more. You apologized when you snapped instead of vanishing for days.

Ellie let her walls down again.

And things were good. Too good.

That’s how you should’ve known something was coming.

The knock at the door came on a rain-heavy evening. You opened it to find Dina.

Alive. Shaking. Pale.

“She told me you were dead,” she said to you.

You blinked. “What?”

“She said you lost it during a raid. That you bled out in her arms.”

“I’ve never even been in a raid,” you said slowly.

Dina stared at you.

Ellie had lied.

Not about you.

About Dina.

Because while Ellie had been healing you…

She’d been hiding the fact that she never stopped loving someone else.

You confronted her that night.

“You said she was gone.”

Ellie sat still, jaw clenched.

“She was. I thought she was—”

“Liar,” you whispered. “You wanted her gone. You wanted me to replace her.”

“You’re not a replacement,” Ellie snapped. “You’re... you're worse.”

The words left her mouth before she could take them back.

And just like that, the switch flipped.

You were done.

You disappeared the next morning. Vanished into the woods.

Ellie searched for days. Weeks. She cried. Screamed. Left notes carved into tree bark.

But she never found you.

Because you didn’t want to be found.

Until the next season, when Ellie found something under her bed.

A recording.

Your voice. Calm. Unstable. Honest.

“If you’re hearing this, I’m gone. Not dead—just done. You didn’t break me. I just finally saw who I was when I wasn’t trying to hold you. You were always scared of losing me. But I think I was more scared of losing myself.”

Ellie sits on the porch every dusk now. Alone. The wind carries echoes of your voice. Not real. But not gone either. She doesn’t know where you are. But part of her knows she’ll never find you. And for once, it’s not because you’re lost.

It’s because you finally let go.

[deswhomst]

🦋 I think this one was for the microfics??? Why is my memory so bad- ANYWAY

Tedromeda with Tonks? Fluff or angst I don’t mind… but I’m thinking a Tonks coming out to them about being gender fluid or Tonks being a metamorphosis(?) for the first time?

Up to you really! I don’t mind! Also take your time my love! No pressure!

[500 followers event ask game]

thank you for the ask and i’m sorry for taking so long! <33 this was great to write i hope i was able to capture the experience well but if i have misrepresented it, i am very sorry and feel free to call me out on it so i can better my understanding.

Mother, Mother | @black-sisters-microfic | Tonks & Tedromeda | Word Count: 930

Andromeda wished she was one of those picture perfect mothers who always knew what to say—who always knew what their kids needed—but it has been evident time and time again that she’s far from that. She truly does try her best but she knew what having a difficult mother felt like and she lived in constant fear that she’ll make her daughter feel exactly as Druella had made her feel.

Nymphadora was eighteen now, freshly out of Hogwarts and already enrolling for the Auror training programme. At her age, Andromeda was hiding a pregnancy and leaving home, which makes her think that she didn’t fuck up that bad, right? At least, Nymphadora knew that she could love whomever she pleased and her parents would support her.

Druella Black could never.

Still, that didn’t mean that Andromeda and Nymphadora never struggled. It came almost naturally to Ted, though—parenting and all. She supposed that it helps that he wasn’t a Black.

“Relax,” Ted whispered. “I can hear you worrying, darling.”

“Easy for you to say,” Andromeda snapped unfairly. “We both know that Nymphadora didn’t call this family meeting because she has an issue with you.”

Ted sighed. “We don’t know what she wants to talk about, Andy. Why are you assuming it’s an issue with you?”

Andromeda crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into the sofa stubbornly, choosing not to answer the question.

“I know you both have been fighting a lot recently,” Ted began tentatively, “but not everything is an attack, yeah?”

“I don’t want her to be so upset every time we talk,” she admitted, blinking aggressively to keep the tears away. “I don’t want to sound like a fucking baby but I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, Ted.”

“Hey, go easy on yourself,” he said gently. “I promise you it feels worse to you than it is. ‘Dora’s just at an age where she gets easily irritated.”

“By me, alone?”

“She just values your opinion more than anyone else’s.”

There was the sound of a crash outside which signaled Nymphadora’s arrival. Andromeda sighed but made a note to refrain from criticizing her daughter’s clumsiness because those remarks were exactly the type of thing that fed her irritation and drove her away.

“You okay, kid?” Ted asked as soon as she was inside the house.

“Fine, Dad,” she replied, brushing off her clothes and taking a seat on the chair opposite her parents. “Stupid step at the entrance—I never see it.”

It took everything in Andromeda not to point out that it wasn’t the step’s fault.

Ted chuckled. “Maybe we can do a renovation. It’s been years since we changed things around.”

See. Ted always knew what to say.

“Yeah!” Andromeda piped in, a little too enthusiastic. “That sounds like a great idea. We could all work on it together.”

“Sure,” Nymphadora shrugged. “But first I should tell you both why I called this family meeting.”

“Go on,” Andromeda nodded, passing what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

“I—I don’t like being called Nymphadora,” she started. “And at first I thought it was only because the name is so stupid but it also just feels too … feminine.”

“Too feminine?” Andromeda repeated hesitantly.

Nymphadora nodded. “I don’t always feel like I’m a girl. I know this may be something you both have never heard of but I’ve done a bit of research and it’s really helped me understand how I feel about gender.”

Andromeda was admittedly having a hard time following but she didn’t want to hurt her or say the wrong thing so she quietly nodded along.

“Can you elaborate?” Ted said. “I would like to know more so I can get it better.”

“So—it’s like, I sometimes identify with one gender and with others at other times,” she explained. “Sometimes, I don’t identify with any gender at all. It varies, honestly … the term is called genderfluid, if you wanted to know.”

“What—what would you liked to be called?” Andromeda asked. “If not Nymphadora, I mean.”

“I like Tonks, actually,” she shrugged. “I don’t mind “Dora” either but sometimes my friends called me Tonks and I really liked it so I started telling everyone to use that.”

“And you’re our kid then? Not daughter?” Ted wondered.

Nym—Tonks shook her head. “Sometimes, I’m your daughter. Sometimes, I’m your son. Sometimes, I’m just your kid.”

It suddenly occurred to Andromeda that Ted refers to her as both kid and daughter while Andromeda solely has stuck to daughter. She also realised that she was the one who named her Nymphadora and called her that all the time, unlike Ted who used ‘Dora as well. Maybe some of Tonks’ frustration towards Andromeda came from here.

“Another thing,” Tonks continued. “I don’t hate being called she but I also like he/him and they/them. People usually stick to just she/her if they know it’s an option but I would really love it if you could alternate between all three maybe? Not many people do.”

“Got it,” Ted nodded, then with a smile, he added, “Tonks.”

Tonks grinned back at him and Andromeda doesn’t remember the last time she had seen them so happy.

“Mum?” she said, looking at her expectantly.

Andromeda smiled like it was the easiest thing in the world. “I’m so proud of you for sharing this with us, Tonks.”

And that grin was now aimed at Andromeda.

It would definitely take some time getting into the habit of these changes but it will all be worth it if it made her child happy and feel supported.

[thatmadshifter11]

JJK OC IDEAS

Please help me decide what’s good and what I should and shouldn’t keep. New ideas are also welcome, I’m new to the jjk fandom.

Akatsuki Kiko Ayumu

Recently graduated from Tokyo Jujutsu High, Ayumu is a Special Grade Sorcerer who also happens to be a vessel to Sukuna’s daughter, Yamika. She is one of the only sorcerers who could rival Gojo and she could do it without Yamika. Her and Yamika have a sisterly, bff type bound. 

Ideas 1:

Cursed Technique 1: Hemokinesis (Blood Manipulation)

Allows her to control and weaponize her own blood.

Scarlet Needles: She hardens droplets into needles midair and controls them like remote weapons.

Blood Wreath: Wraps herself in flowing blood that acts as both armor and offense—cutting anything it touches.

Drawback: Overuse causes severe anemia, dizziness, or even temporary blindness.

**Cursed Technique 2: Foresight Weaving (Fortune Telling)

A ritual-based technique using charms, dice, cards, or bones. Grants glimpses of potential future moments within a short time frame (5–10 seconds ahead max).

Quick Glimpse: Reflexive use allows her to dodge or anticipate enemy attacks.

Reading of Death: If she completes a full ritual (30 seconds undisturbed), she can view someone’s most likely death scenario—and weaponize that psychological knowledge.

Limitation: Visions aren’t guaranteed and may show misleading or symbolic outcomes. Overuse can cause confusion, nosebleeds, and hallucinations.

**Cursed Technique 3: Veil Mirage (Illusions)

Creates realistic illusions within a radius, layered with cursed energy to fool all five senses.

Phantom Doubles: Projects false versions of herself during combat.

Memory Traps: Alters an opponent’s sense of surroundings, making them think they’re reliving past traumas or locations.

Counters: Can be broken by Domain techniques or anyone with sharp cursed sensory perception.

Cursed Technique 4: Mental Displacement

Disrupts the opponent’s thoughts by injecting cursed energy directly into their mind.

Mind Lag: Briefly causes confusion or stuns enemies mid-battle, disrupting their decision-making or motor control.

Curse Whisper: Allows her to "speak" inside someone's mind, seeding doubt, fear, or false commands.

High Risk: Requires eye contact or direct focus—if resisted, it can backfire and cause mental strain or backlash.

Domain Expansion: The Crimson Tarot

A ritual space in the form of a floating red-tinted realm surrounded by spinning tarot cards and dripping sigils.

In this Domain, she can trap an opponent inside a single tarot card vision—forcing them to experience a “fated” outcome based on one of her future readings.

She can manipulate blood and illusions freely within the domain.

If her fortune telling is accurate, her power is amplified drastically. If it’s wrong, she becomes vulnerable during the backlash.

Personality:

Outward: Calm, regal, poetic speaker, always observing

Inner Conflict: Fears she may become like the curses she manipulates—beautiful but false

Habits: Carries tarot cards, wears rings filled with stored blood, burns incense when preparing to read fate

Ideas 2

Akatsuki Kiko Ayumu – Cursed Techniques Overview

Cursed Energy Style:

Refined, ritualistic, and emotionally controlled. Ayumu’s cursed energy feels cold, fluid, and sharp—like blood ink being drawn across a ritual scroll. She rarely wastes movement and calculates everything like a long-term fortune.

1. Bloodcrafting (Shōketsu no Jutsu | 血結術式)

Category: Offensive / Trap-based Ayumu manipulates her own blood, infused with cursed energy, into weapons, sigils, or tools. She doesn’t need external blood sources—her body regenerates slowly, but overuse weakens her.

Key Applications:

Crimson Vines – Razor-thin blood threads that wrap around or slice enemies like barbed wire.

Blood Sigils – Draws temporary glyphs on surfaces or air. They activate when touched, causing explosions, illusions, or paralysis.

Bloodbound Tether – Links her body to someone else’s—if they injure her, they suffer a mirrored wound (short duration).

Limitations: If she loses too much blood, her control becomes unstable and vision begins to blur.

2. Fortune Threading (Enkaku no Unmei | 遠隔の運命)

Category: Support / Predictive Ayumu reads spiritual threads of fate using cursed tools—usually bone dice, inked cards, or red string. This isn’t absolute prediction, but a glimpse at high-probability outcomes.

Key Applications:

Thread Sight – In battle, she sees faint threads representing actions the enemy may take. Lets her dodge, counter, or feint accurately.

False Fate – Can implant a false prediction into the enemy’s mind. Makes them question their next move.

Death Thread Ritual – Requires 15 seconds of uninterrupted casting. If completed, she sees how someone is most likely to die—and can use that knowledge to psychologically manipulate them.

Limitations: Cannot predict random variables (like someone under mental manipulation or outside interference).

3. Red Veil Illusions (Aka no Gen'ei | 赤の幻影)

Category: Illusion / Disruption Ayumu casts layered, multi-sensory illusions by weaving cursed energy into the five senses. These are usually subtle and manipulative rather than flashy.

Key Applications:

Sensory Swap – Temporarily reverses left/right or up/down sensations in enemies, disorienting them.

Echohall – Creates a hallway or room that loops infinitely until the target realizes it’s an illusion.

Whisper Illusion – Implants a voice into someone’s mind, mimicking a loved one or past trauma to break their guard.

Limitations: Illusions don’t work on those with Domain Amplification or extremely high cursed energy perception.

4. Mind Bloom (Shinsō no Hana | 心層の華)

Category: Psychological / Mental Invasion Ayumu can touch a person's cursed energy field and implant a thought, emotion, or subtle memory distortion.

Key Applications:

Emotion Shift – Causes enemies to feel false emotions like regret, joy, guilt, or dread—useful for interrupting combat rhythm.

Mirror Thought – Briefly syncs with an enemy’s instinctive thought process, letting her copy their fighting rhythm.

Memory Sway – Makes someone believe she said or did something she never did (e.g., "I already placed a seal on you").

Limitations: Requires close proximity or physical connection. Drains her focus, leaving her vulnerable if used too long.

Synergy Between Techniques:

Ayumu often starts fights indirectly, using illusions or false emotions to unnerve or confuse.

She uses blood sigils to control space and fortune threading to decide when to strike.

When pressed, she switches to Crimson Vines and Mirror Thought to engage in direct combat, never without a layered mind game.

Her opponents rarely realize she’s already influenced them—until it’s too late.

Ayumu is a young sorcerer known for her quiet intensity, emotional depth, and resilient heart. She’s not the loudest or the flashiest, but when she moves—people watch. There’s something in the way she carries herself, like she’s walking a tightrope between light and shadow, grace and rage.

Ayumu isn’t just strong because of cursed techniques or battle skills—she’s strong because she’s endured, she’s chosen, and she keeps choosing the harder path.

Core Personality Traits:

1. Empathetic but Not Soft

Ayumu feels deeply—pain, joy, sorrow—but she’s not fragile.

She doesn’t believe in looking away from suffering; instead, she stares it down and learns from it.

People come to her when they need quiet understanding, not loud motivation.

“You don’t have to say it. I already know. And I’m still here.”

2. Morally Grey, But Self-Aware

Ayumu isn’t a goody-goody hero. She’s made ruthless choices when she had to—but she owns them.

She holds others accountable, but never pretends to be perfect herself.

Believes the ends can justify the means—but only if you don’t lose yourself in the process.

3. Independent but Not Distant

She doesn’t rely on others emotionally, but she doesn’t isolate either.

She values earned trust and mutual respect, not blind loyalty.

If you earn her friendship, it’s for life—but betray her, and you’ll never get back in.

4. Intellectually Sharp

Ayumu reads people well—picks up on microexpressions, tone shifts, lies.

She's strategic in battle, often reading the flow of cursed energy and intent before others do.

She’s also emotionally intelligent, which is part of why Yamika listens to her.

5. Quietly Rebellious

She doesn’t start fights with authority—but she never blindly obeys it.

If the higher-ups make a call she disagrees with, she’ll find her own way—even if it means going rogue.

She questions everything and often chooses compassion over command.

Motivations and Inner Conflict:

Her Main Drive:

To protect what matters without becoming what she hates.

Ayumu is always asking herself:

How far can I go before I become a monster?

What’s the point of saving others if I lose myself?

Can someone like me—who holds a curse inside—still do good in this world?

These questions keep her grounded. They’re what separate her from sorcerers who become twisted by the system—or by their own trauma.

Combat Style (Briefly, without techniques):

Fluid and fierce—Ayumu blends elegance with lethal efficiency.

Fights with a measured calm, striking only when necessary—but when she does, it’s devastating.

Uses misdirection, feints, and psychological tactics to unnerve enemies.

Relationships & Interactions:

With Yamika:

As we explored, Ayumu sees Yamika as a companion, not a curse. Their bond is her most dangerous and most meaningful connection.

With Mentors (Gojo, Nanami):

Gojo likes her for her unpredictability, and sees her as someone with the potential to “rewrite the rules.”

Nanami respects her quiet strength and often acts like a reluctant uncle figure—calm, firm, and protective.

With Allies:

Ayumu tends to draw in outcasts, broken people, or those who’ve been judged.

She listens. She validates. And she gives people the courage to be who they are.

Symbolism & Themes Around Her:

Ember imagery: She burns quietly—but she never goes out. Even when smothered, she glows in the dark, waiting for the moment to ignite.

Balance: She walks the line between curse and sorcerer, love and destruction, justice and vengeance.

Mirror and Shadow: She reflects the best in others—but carries the shadows they fear.

Yamika Sukuna

Curse Technique Ideas:

1. Blood Garden (血の苑 - Chi no Sono):

Grows blood-soaked flowers or thorns from surfaces (or bodies).

Each flower blooms by feeding off fear or pain.

They explode or entangle, depending on the user's mood.

2. Cursed Blossom Illusions:

She creates a beautiful illusionary realm full of deadly flora.

Victims experience a dream-like hallucination where time distorts and perception is warped.

Combines her illusion craft with Sukuna's psychological intimidation.

3. Inherited Malevolence (Technique passed down from Sukuna):

Can create small versions of Sukuna’s slashing attacks (Dismantle/Cleave), but in an artistic or graceful form—like ribbon slashes or blossom-shaped bursts.

Possibly has her own variation: “Petal Severance” – a slash that cuts not flesh, but “intention” (it stops cursed techniques or instincts briefly).

4. Heavenly Womb of Rot:

Symbolizing a cursed "birthright," she can implant seeds of decay inside people during battle, causing them to rot from the soul out unless they break her illusion.

This acts as both a trap and a slow-burn execution.

Her Domain Expansion could resemble a crimson garden of decay, where every bloom is a cursed wound.

Personality Overview:

Yamika is the embodiment of chaotic allure—a cursed beauty who thrives on attention, domination, and fear. She's a confident, flirtatious sadist who enjoys playing with her prey—mentally, emotionally, and sometimes romantically—before delivering a crushing blow. Her presence is both intoxicating and terrifying.

Flirtatious & Teasing:

Constantly flirts with enemies, allies, or even people she plans to kill. Her tone is silky, her smile wicked.

Uses pet names like “darling,” “sweet thing,” or “little plaything.”

Touches people without warning, trailing a finger along their jaw, or plucking lint from their shoulder—then laughing when they flinch.

Treats combat like foreplay: “Don’t go dying too quickly—I like them squirmy.”

Cocky & Confident:

Carries herself like a goddess among mortals—she fully believes she’s superior in blood, beauty, and brains.

Often mocks others for their “pathetic emotions” or “heroic complexes,” but she’s never overtly angry—just amused.

Loves being underestimated, only to make her opponent regret it.

Tends to speak as if victory is inevitable: “You already lost, darling. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

Twisted Sense of Love & Ownership:

Gets weirdly possessive over anyone who impresses her in battle or shows resistance to her charms—treats them like pets or potential “toys.”

Might “fall in love” with an enemy mid-fight, only to try and break them emotionally.

Will jokingly propose or flirt with someone she's torturing: “Marry me, won’t you? Or do I have to break your legs first?”

How She Views Sukuna:

Calls him “Daddy” in a teasing or sarcastic tone—she’s not afraid of him, but she does crave recognition.

Fluctuates between mocking Sukuna’s brutality and admiring it, saying things like: “Daddy could learn a thing or two from me. I kill with style.”

May be rebellious, but would never allow anyone else to insult him—only she gets to do that.

Voice & Mannerisms:

Speaks with a playful lilt, like she’s always on the verge of laughter.

Frequently licks her lips, tilts her head, or leans in far too close when talking.

Laughs when people scream—especially if they beg or confess.

When irritated, her voice gets calm and cold, which is more dangerous than when she’s smiling.

Yamika & Ayumu – Cursed Soul Sisters

Though Yamika is the daughter of Sukuna and a powerful curse in her own right, her relationship with her vessel, Ayumu, defies the typical parasitic dynamic seen in Jujutsu Kaisen. Instead of domination or hatred, the two share an unexpectedly strong, sister-like bond built on mutual respect, survival, and an eerie sense of loyalty.

How the Bond Formed:

When Yamika was sealed inside Ayumu, it wasn’t immediate chaos. Unlike Sukuna, Yamika didn’t try to overpower her host—she was curious. Intrigued by Ayumu’s fire, vulnerability, and values, Yamika watched quietly... and then started talking.

Over time, the two began to understand each other. Where most curses would try to erode a host’s will, Yamika found herself admiring Ayumu’s conviction—and even sharing some of it.

Shared Morals and Values:

Freedom & Autonomy: Both women value their freedom to make their own choices, and hate being used as pawns—whether by higher-ups, curses, or fate.

Selective Mercy: Though Yamika is a flirtatious killer, she doesn’t enjoy senseless violence. Like Ayumu, she believes that those who are truly innocent should be spared—though she’ll still tease them.

Hating Hypocrisy: They both loathe those who wear masks of justice but act out of selfishness. Whether it’s a corrupt sorcerer or a self-righteous exorcist, Yamika and Ayumu see right through it—and agree they deserve to be exposed or destroyed.

Value of Beauty and Identity: Ayumu takes pride in being herself, despite being judged. Yamika, though more chaotic, respects this deeply. She believes in being unapologetically who you are—even if the world fears you.

Their Sisterly Dynamic:

Protective of Each Other: Yamika doesn’t allow just anyone to harm Ayumu. If someone threatens her vessel, Yamika’s usual teasing tone vanishes—and something colder, older, and deadly takes its place. Ayumu, meanwhile, has grown to defend Yamika emotionally when others call her a monster.

Constant Bickering... Like Sisters: Ayumu rolls her eyes at Yamika’s flirtatious remarks or drama queen moments. Yamika pokes fun at Ayumu’s moral dilemmas or crushes. But beneath it all, there’s a fierce loyalty.

Late-Night Conversations in the Mindscape: When Ayumu can’t sleep, Yamika talks to her. They share memories, joke about people they hate, or argue about what “love” really means. Yamika sometimes sings in a soft voice, just to mess with Ayumu—or comfort her.

Blended Strengths: In battle, they’ve found ways to fight in sync—Ayumu with her martial arts and technique, Yamika lending cursed energy or manipulating the field with poetic precision. Their synergy is eerie... and powerful.

Shared Body, Shared Will – Yamika & Ayumu’s Synchronization

As their bond matured, Ayumu and Yamika developed a rare, almost seamless ability to cohabitate their body, going far beyond the typical vessel-curse dynamic. Unlike Sukuna and Yuji, who often clash violently over control, Yamika and Ayumu function more like two souls sharing a single body with fluidity and mutual understanding.

Body Sharing Dynamics:

1. Voluntary Switching:

Either one can take the lead depending on the situation.

Ayumu usually handles daily life, emotions, and personal interactions.

Yamika steps forward during battle, interrogation, or when Ayumu is in danger—or just when she’s bored and wants to "play."

The switch is smooth, instant, and often accompanied by visual cues—like a change in eye color, body language, or voice tone.

2. Co-Presence:

Even when one is in control, the other is fully aware, watching, and can comment or guide from within.

Their mental link allows them to have full conversations internally, whether arguing, joking, or strategizing.

It’s not uncommon for Ayumu to laugh at something Yamika says in her head, confusing those around her.

Moments of True Fusion:

In moments of deep emotional stress or combat intensity, their personalities can blend into one, creating a version of Ayumu that moves with Yamika’s confidence and cruelty, or a version of Yamika softened by Ayumu’s empathy.

This fusion isn’t just physical—it’s spiritual. They feel each other's pain, joy, and instinct.

“When I bleed, she burns. When she smiles, I breathe. We are two voices in one song.” – Ayumu

Unique Advantages of Their Bond:

Dual Processing: Yamika can warn Ayumu of danger mid-battle or point out emotional manipulation others might miss.

Emotional Anchoring: Ayumu keeps Yamika grounded when her bloodlust flares. Yamika, in turn, lends Ayumu strength when she’s emotionally overwhelmed.

False Vulnerability: Enemies who think they’re facing just Ayumu are often surprised when Yamika suddenly takes over mid-fight with a smirk and a chilling “My turn, sweetheart.”

Other People’s Reactions:

Sorcerers are deeply unsettled by how well they function together—some even fear Ayumu has been corrupted beyond saving.

Friends often can’t tell who they’re speaking to unless they look closely at her eyes or listen to the subtle change in her tone.

Enemies often think they’re hallucinating when Ayumu suddenly starts flirting like a predator—or when Yamika shows unexpected mercy.

The Sorcerers’ Perspective: Gojo & Nanami on Yamika and Ayumu

Gojo’s View – Amused Respect & Quiet Worry:

Gojo Satoru, with his sharp intuition and ability to see beyond the obvious, doesn’t believe for a second that Yamika behaves simply because of compatibility. He has a theory—one he sometimes shares half-jokingly but always with serious undertones:

“Yamika’s not the kind of curse who follows anyone. She’s not tame. She’s impressed. And she’s smart enough to know when she's outclassed—morally, at least.”

He believes Yamika stays in line because Ayumu doesn’t need her to be powerful. That terrifies most curses. But for Yamika? It intrigues her.

Gojo sees it as a balance of equals, not dominance.

“Ayumu can be ruthless all on her own. She chooses restraint. And Yamika? She's in awe of that kind of control—because she doesn’t have it herself.”

Gojo teases Ayumu about being the only person to ever “tame a curse by making it fall in love with her spine.”

Nanami’s View – Analytical & Protective:

Nanami is more reserved, but he’s observed Yamika’s behavior with Ayumu over time and drawn a strategic conclusion:

“This is not possession. This is partnership. And if anything… the curse follows the sorcerer’s lead.”

To Nanami, Yamika isn’t the threat people think she is—not because she lacks power, but because Ayumu’s will is stronger.

He’s watched Ayumu fight, bleed, and win without ever surrendering herself to Yamika’s influence, and in that strength, Yamika found something rare: respect.

“Curses obey power. Yamika obeys something greater: admiration. Ayumu’s self-mastery is the chain, and it’s one Yamika chooses not to break.”

Nanami worries, though—if Ayumu ever falters, emotionally or morally, Yamika might take the wheel… and never give it back.

Why Yamika “Behaves”:

Not fear. Not submission. But fascination.

Yamika is used to being feared, hated, or sealed. But Ayumu stood beside her, looked her in the eye, and never flinched.

That single act rewrote Yamika’s entire perspective.

“She doesn’t need me to win. She just lets me be part of it. How could I not adore her?”– Yamika, half-mocking, half-sincere

Yamika may flirt, tease, and provoke, but she’s genuinely impressed by Ayumu’s strength, restraint, and ability to lead a path of her own—without fully rejecting the curse that lives within her.

In Ayumu, Yamika sees not weakness—but a mirror of what she could be, if she had ever been human.

Ayumu’s Perspective on Yamika – A Curse, a Companion, a Reflection

Ayumu doesn’t view Yamika as just a curse lodged in her soul. She’s too perceptive, too emotionally grounded for that. While the world might call Yamika a monster, a demon, or a ticking time bomb, Ayumu sees something else—something far more nuanced and far more personal.

At First: Caution and Curiosity

When Yamika first awakened inside her, Ayumu was wary—but not afraid. She knew who Sukuna was, and the idea that his daughter now shared her body should have been a nightmare.

But Yamika didn’t strike immediately. She didn’t scream, claw, or try to rip control away.

She watched. She listened.

And Ayumu, ever-introspective, found herself doing the same.

What Ayumu Saw in Her:

1. A Mirror of Power—Untamed and Unrefined

Ayumu realized quickly: Yamika is powerful, yes—but that power lacks anchor or direction. It’s pure, raw, destructive instinct—but not without intelligence or emotion.

“She has the strength to destroy cities, but the heart of someone who’s never known love without fear.”

Ayumu doesn’t see a mindless curse. She sees potential. Someone who could be more if they just had someone to walk beside—rather than chain them down.

2. An Equal—Not a Tool or a Burden

Ayumu has always believed that people—even curses—deserve to choose who they want to be. And Yamika? For all her flirtation and violence, she chooses not to dominate Ayumu. She offers. Suggests. Even teases.

But never forces.

“She doesn’t need me. But she stays. That means something.”

Ayumu admires that. Deeply.

3. A Companion in Darkness

Ayumu has had her own brushes with pain, loneliness, and being misunderstood. While she keeps her heart warm, she knows what it’s like to carry something monstrous inside.

Yamika isn’t just a curse. She’s the voice in Ayumu’s mind that whispers strength when she’s weak, beauty when she feels broken, and fury when injustice burns too hot.

They don’t always agree—but Yamika never abandons her. And Ayumu would never abandon Yamika.

“If I can love the worst parts of myself... maybe she can learn to love herself too.”

Their Bond, From Ayumu’s Side:

Protective: Ayumu will argue with Yamika, but she won’t let others insult or dismiss her. Yamika may be a curse—but she’s hers.

Empathetic: Ayumu senses the pain behind Yamika’s smirks. She can feel it ripple through their shared soul. And in moments of silence, she offers gentle understanding, not judgment.

Grounded: Yamika tempts her toward darkness, toward revenge, toward indulgence. But Ayumu chooses her own way—and Yamika respects her more for it.

In Ayumu’s Words:

“Yamika is fire—beautiful, unpredictable, and dangerous. But fire isn’t evil. It just needs something strong enough to hold it. I don’t fear her. I see her. And I think… maybe she’s starting to see herself too.”

[carbonfiction]

Not to me

Summary: just a super short lil self indulgent drabble about frank reminding you of your own strength on/after a bad anxiety day.. Basically i needed this after some stuff so..

Warnings?: vague mentions of mental health/ anxiety struggles. Post panic attack comfort ig? frank just being the ultimate comfort man.

Masterlist

"Ya know.. It aint make you a burden" Frank murmers lowly, sitting besides your curled up frame resting on the bed. The sheets white knuckled in your grip still. One of his hands slowly replacing it as the other moves to tuck a stray piece of hair back. "Not to me. Not to anyone."

Your puffy eyes sit cast at the wall still, barley blinking. A heavy swirl of emotions mixing through them in a way that feels so bone deep it physically hurts. Your mind loud, telling you lies and deceit through pounding beats of your heart and waves of nausea that just.. Dont go away. Its been hours since the last anxiety attack wracked your body and yet, yet you still sit with the shame of it blistering hot in your heart.

Your face morphs, lips ready to form a scoff but frank catches it, cupping your cheek and making you really meet his eyes. Warm, rich chocolate staring fondly at you. "Dont." Frank says, sharper than perhaps the intent as his voice remains unwavering. "Dont do that. I mean it sweetheart, not your fault, n aint nothing about you a bother"

The complete sincerity in his eyes make yours water once again, lip wobbling. "I.. Im sorry.. I cant.." you whimper, throat thick and choked up. On the verge of collapse.

Franks thumbs brush your cheeks, a soft sigh falling from his lips as he shuffles himself down besides you. His large frame open and ready, pulling you in and holding on tight, to ground you when the world feels too much. Like your too much.

"Told you there aint nothin to be sorry for alright? It happens." he murmers, lips pressing to your temple gently. A hand moving to rub your back. His hold offering enough pressure to cease the trembling you hadn't even noticed still there.

"Everythings so big.. And im too.. too scared and i dont know why" you whisper, fists tightening in his shirt.

"I know sweetheart, i know." frank breathes in response. Quiet for a moment before he squeezes your bicep softly. "But its okay to be scared. Hell look at you.. Still here, still pushin, despite the fear. That means somethin'. Somethin it aint ever gonna be able to take away. My girl, Tough as nails"

You hum quietly at that, still not quite sure curled against him and still emotional. Anxietys claws slowly backing away from your heart, your throat, the longer you remain in franks grip. Soothing and comforting, helping to get you through on the days that feel too big.

Always there and always proud, ready to remind you of your own strength, no matter the inevitable wobbles along the road.

Ps- My asks/dms are always open if anyone wants to chat about anything at all. I get it, ive been there and worn the t-shirt more times than i dare count.. But you aren't alone no matter what your brain tells you. Plus, Frank loves you and so do i <3

[blackwall-my-tiny-husband]

Weekend writing challenge 4/4 pt1

I saw these prompts from like a month ago and several really struck me with the desire to write for them so here I am lol.

The prompts are by the lovely @thedissonantverses and can be found HERE

I’m using the prompt : Character A is kidnapped specifically to lure Character B into a trap and Character B is aware. Optional C and D trying to talking them out of rescuing A.

Set sometime after Hardings lock in

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Taash stood in the doorway of the meditation room arms crossed, watching Zalan prowl the room, attaching small daggers to various parts of his armor. He hesitated by a bow- Harding’s bow before grabbing it and carrying it in his hand.

His own bow was slung across his back and he grabbed his last sword before stalking out of the room. Shoving past the Qunari.

They let out a frustrated sigh and followed, using their longer strides to get in front of him and blocked the entrance to the eluvian room. Bellara was in the library with most of the others, her hands twisting in worry.

“Get out of my way Taash.” Zalan was nearly growling and Taash ground their teeth, he was so angry, they could smell the sharp almost metallic scent heavy in the air. So overwhelming it was almost covering the fear coming from half the team.

Flaring their nostrils the dragon hunter shook their head.

“They took Harding on purpose. If you just rush in like this you’ll die.” A shudder still ran through them watching Zalan. No one had ever seen him like this, he was barely contained rage and glared murderously up at them.

“Move.” His hand was on the hilt of his sword and Taash was suddenly very aware that most of the others had no weapons on them. Their own axes were tucked away in their room up the stairs and would be no help in this moment.

The air suddenly felt colder; it could have been Neve’s magic or it could have been the silence slicing through the room. The sounds of quiet arguing between the others in the library moments ago over what to do, how to get Lace back, who should go, how to approach the obvious trap all came to a halt and everyone’s eyes were on Taash and Zalan.

The crow was coiled, his eyes empty of their normal mirth.

“I will go through you or past you. Your choice.” His voice was hard and deadly and Taash knew he wasn’t bluffing.

“Rook! If you go you’ll be killed. We just need a few minutes to figure out how to help her-“ Bellara had taken a few steps closer, trying to reach him with the worry in her voice but Davrin grabbed her arm to keep her back.

Zalan didn’t budge or even turn to look at her, he took a step towards Taash instead, gently pulling on his sword handle, the threat clear.

“They will kill you. That won’t help Harding.” They tried one more time, keeping their arms loose at their sides ready to try and grab Rook if he made a move.

“They can try.” He snapped, face twisted in rage and he took another step, fully drawing his sword. “Move Taash.”

There was a little gasp from Bellara whose eyes bugged. Davrin pulled her behind him and took a few cautious steps forward but even that didn’t put him close enough to lunge at Rook if he attacked. The tension was so thick in the air Taash felt bogged down like it was smoke filling a closed off room.

A tiny bag landed at Zalan’s feet, clattering and Lucanis held his hand out.

“Give me Harding’s bow. You won’t be able to carry it with your own on your back.”

The assassin was in his full battle armor, swords at his hip with several extra daggers on his belts just like Zalan. Rook didn’t move but did turn his head just enough to glare at his fellow Crow.

“I will not slow you down. I know how a crow operates on a contract.”

Taash watched Zalan’s jaw clench and he reluctantly handed over the bow still in his off hand. Lucanis just slid it onto his back and looked up, calmer than anyone else in the entire room as he picked up the little bag that, by the scent, contained tiny explosives.

“We will be back with Harding. Taash please finish dinner for me, all the preparations were already laid out.”

Unwillingly Taash leaned to one side, worry still weighing on them, making their face scrunch. But even that small opening was enough and Zalan was storming through, Lucanis calmly on his heels.

“We aren’t going to stop them?” Came Bellara’s almost shrill protest, gesturing at them while Davrin stayed in front of her, not letting her try to go after them.

Taash threw their hands up in surrender and walked away from the eluvian room. Not knowing what else to do.

“He was serious Bell. I think he really would have fought Taash to get through.” Neve grumbled, coming to stand near the elves, arms crossed herself.

The whole team was angry. At themselves for letting Harding get taken. At the Venatori for sending in a ransom note that said for Rook to come alone. At Zalan for rushing off. At themselves for not being able to stop him.

“Lucanis is well known for his Mage killing.” Emmrich said, patting Manfed’s arm who was making distressed noises. “Surely he will be able to keep even Rook’s recklessness in check and be able to bring them all home safely.” His voice was calm, sure, but Taash could smell the worry coming from him too.

They were all scared for Harding, trapped by the Venatori, and for Rook who had looked like a completely different person since they’d told him about Lace and the note. He’d looked like an enraged dragon, eyes full of fire and the promise of death. His anger had radiated off of him in waves and it made Taash wonder if the mages with their magic could have physically seen that, it had felt like they should be able to see it even if logically it wasn’t really magic and so probablythey couldn’t.

The crows were gone, to fetch their lost scout and Taash looked around the room. The others looking as lost as they felt. Guess the only thing left to do was wait.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The best part of this is definitely that I could swap Zalan and Harding here and I feel like it would basically be the same, she would have been a little less plow through your friends about it but she would definitely rain death on her enemies to get Rook back

[darknessembrxced]

There was a distinct change in his energy and his presence. Cassy felt instincts tell her to run, demand to gain some distance. But, at the same time, she knew that she couldn't. Not only physically, but it would be a detriment to what had happened so far between them. Her brow remained furrowed. Each step back brought her closer to the wall with his large frame crowding her. Maybe it was foolishness, but there was still a sense, at least in her mind, that he wasn't going to hurt her. This all felt far more like purposeful intimidation than it was any threat of harm.

Her eyes remained locked on the masked face that towered over her. It could have been a mistake. Like locking eyes with a predator, who would see it as a threat, but Cassy couldn't look away. Remaining calm, she put faith in the trust that she had given him tonight. It still felt entirely different from an immediate threat. The touch that came seemed to only prove that.

"You aren't." A simple statement. Damning in a way that couldn't have been anticipated, and yet, even if Cassy had known, she wouldn't have cared. "You aren't a danger. Well, maybe to your opponents in the ring to some degree. But you aren't a danger to me. You helped me tonight. Saved me from that attack when you didn't have to." Her breathing remained calm, and there wasn't any sort of difference in the way that she looked at him. No fear, no terror. After a second, she risked reaching out and grabbing his forearm once more. A gentle squeeze given, the same sort of touch that she had been giving him all night.

There was just a hope that this was the right decision. "Besides, I uh, can't run right now." She pointed out with a little laugh. As if trying to relieve some of the tension. No movements made to get away, nothing to pull her from the potential wraith and consequence of her actions.

"It's okay."

His breath was becoming more laboured by the second.

He wasn't a man. He wasn't human. He wasn't deserving of empathy or anything else; he was an instrument and was there for one single reason: to find revenge against his brother. And yet everything was so confused, especially now. He wasn't supposed to get that distracted. Bearer would have certainly punished him if he had found out. Or worse.

Kane's hurt and concerned gaze landed on Cassy. He made a mistake. He shouldn't have stayed that long. And now he knew her scent. He knew how her body weighed in his arms. He knew the feeling of her soft breath on his chest. He knew the gentle grip of her hand on his arm. His skin was branded by that knowledge. His senses, completely overrun by her presence.

Kane took a step forward. And then another. His energy switched from gentle to menacing, and it made the difference. He felt a visceral need inside of him, something that shook his guts and made his blood boil. He wanted her, all of her. Her essence. Her pureness. Her prettiness. Everything she represented that he could never have, that he could never be. As he got closer, she didn't move; she didn't run.

Fool little girl. He thought, his breath quickened under his mask as he forced her to back against the wall where he closed her, caging her between him and the cement. He moved slowly. He could have grabbed her and slammed her against the wall if he wanted. He could have done unspeakable things to her - give free rein to all of his deepest, most twisted desires, but he didn't. He hesitated, finding for a second a beam of clarity into his derangement. Kane raised his gloved hand, daring to push a lock of her hair off her forehead, but he didn't touch her further, holding his breath, holding his entire self. "Run," he urged her, hoping she'd take his suggestion. "I am danger."