#hollering numbers into the void

[yuriwarrior]

if miracles exist, then the girl you hate is right. if miracles exist, then that means it's your own fault she's with someone else. if miracles exist, then that means you weren't doomed from the start. if miracles exist, then utena didn't win by chance. if miracles exist, you doomed yourself. if miracles exist, then the girl you love is right

[inlocusmads]

I literally went through the seven stages of grief during the fifteen minutes lol, I'm still recovering through this stuff:

During the rough braking phase, I was like "okay okay IT'S LITERALLY PLUMMETING THROUGHOKAY MY GUY SLOW DOWN SLOW THE FUCK DOWN and okay okay you're slow great great great, ISRO knows more than you mads, stfu" and legit hyperventilating. And then like I saw the horizontal and vertical velocity numbers going down and down, each digit more painful than the rest. This was where things sort of went wrong last time, because Vikky 1 had so much thrust power, it went "weeee- wooosh - badum" and so did my heart that dropped fifteen thousand fucking feet.Then altitude holding. FUCKING GENIUS. YOU GUYS NEED TO KNOW. okay so basically this guy, this lil Vikram dude fired up two of its engines, firing one here one there, one here one there - one at a time, to transition from a slanting position to a vertical descent position. Like my heart dropped. I was feeling everything.

Numbness. Anxiety. Deja vu. It was fucking insane. And it had to be done in the most controlled way because everything is automated. ISRO cannot guide Vikram 2. They can only keep their fingers crossed and hope for the best.

The numbers kept going down. So did the altitude. 7.6km, 6.6 km. 5.6 km. It slowly oriented itself and I EXPLODED. SCREAMING. CRYING. It slowly tilted, firing one here one there, getting it to a vertical Y-axis-esque 90 degree position and then it hit me.

This was going to happen.

We're landing.

We're actually fucking landing.

We're making history.

This is happening. This is actually happening. This isn't like last time.

Fifteen minutes of terror. Fifteen minutes of pain. It was all gonna be over. It's gonna be fine. I was literally palpitating. Literally straight out of that Eminem song - palms sweaty, mother's spaghetti vomit - everything. But then there's also this scepticism. What if this, what if that.

What if something goes wrong.

I literally could not breathe. I saw the live stream; the mission control was calm. Everyone had their eyes on the screen, extremely focused, literally no expectation or anything. It's all about this.

The altitude keeps dropping. It comes down to 150m.

Horizontal velocity reaches 0. Vertical reaches 0.

Vikram is literally hovering. It is literally hovering. I'm hollering and it's just there. Time for the final descent phase. Vertical descent.

The engines fire one last time.

It drops and drops

The simulation graphic on screen which translates this real time data is super laggy, cuz YouTube be Youtube'ing and I was losing it. Literally denial, delusion all packed into one and this deep fear that maybe..

Nah.

No.

It's happening.

It's fucking happening

Four years. WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR FOUR YEARS. we can wait for a minute longer.

The clock reads 6:05 pm. The lander reaches the surface and locks itself there. Nobody moves. And then the announcer goes "We have achieved touchdo-"

Since I was at uni and we were having a massive watch party, everyone screamed. Everyone cried. We just fucking hugged. We weren't even in mission control, just a bunch of pathetic engineering kiddos trying to understand why we do the things we do. We cried and cried and cried and on screen we saw people celebrating and it was this just beautiful moment that's just forever implanted in my brain now.

All I want to say is, fucking celebrate science you guys. The failures, the successes, the breakthroughs , the bots, the science fiction, the science fiction turning reality, can we just.. do that? I felt like a kid again, yknow? I was in utter disbelief after that. I still recall screaming and throwing my hands up and my brain's like "bro maybe you gaslighted too close to the sun" and I kept watching the landing over and over and over again after that and ughhhhhh

This brainrot will never end lmao. I'm so sorry XD. I just have to put it out there and scream it into the void because THEY DID A THING. THEY DID A GREAT THING. AND it just brings me a lot of hope, yknow?

[case-57-with-the-enclosure]

Chapter 4

of lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) by @definitelynotshouting!

( 1 & 2, 3)

"For a long moment, Grian stares at them, mind as fresh and blank as new snow. It feels like he’s circling something, drawing inexplicably closer to its event horizon with each new revolution– like any minute now it will pull him in, and he’ll fall, forever tumbling to regain his balance."

oh the spiral,,, love the use of event horizon here hell yeah

"It only takes a few simple ingredients to invert a healing potion. All he needs after that is a little time to brew them, when nobody else is looking."

extremely personally attacked bc -and this might shock you /s- my special interest is this block game and as soon as Tango mentioned potions the entire chart popped up on my brain.

this one, almost exactly. backstabbed by my own autism once again

"Three or four." Grian keeps his face carefully neutral. "I dunno, maybe five?"

WHATS THAT LIKE, 15 HEARTS OF DAMAGE? 30 IF HE GIVES HIM HEALING II???? GRIAANNNN

"It's a familiar tic, and the aching thing in Grian's chest spiderwebs out in fragile fractures. He's never enjoyed lying. Half-truths, sure, and he's always loved a good loophole– but outright lying? That's not his normal style. Tango is right, five is an absurd number– it's a miracle he's even entertaining the thought."

"spiderwebs out in fragile fractures." AUGH oh how i love literature fuck yeah. that hurt

"But five will be enough to make sure. No last minute resurrections, no sudden rescues. Just himself, the void, and the universe they all belong to. He wonders if it will sing to him as his code falls apart."

*dies*

"You weigh like, nothing, dude," Tango informs him, and there's a little hitch in his voice Grian doesn't want to parse. It makes something in his chest shudder and curl up, tight and cold. "What the hell."

there's something so infinitely funny to me about the direct contrast between the narration and the dialog- its like tango is a muppet starring on a Noir film. very good.

Grian's chuckle is a small, reluctant thing, breaking in his throat midway, but Tango's entire demeanor brightens as if he'd burst out into howling laughter. Something swells in the air around them, and it takes a moment for Grian to pinpoint that feeling as hope.

HEAD IN HANDS orz I'M- (sobs) I'm a weak man i see hope and i go nuts

Maybe it's the knee-jerk fear that makes Grian do it, the bone-deep terror that this will somehow pollute his resolve– or maybe it's just cruel impulse. Either way, this question has been spinning in his mind ever since they found him in the void, and Grian blurts it out before he can swallow it back down. "Why are you even here?"

i loooooove dread and terror man, hooting and hollering for cruel impulses

"I'm serious, man." Tango sets his jaw, then heaves a sigh, glancing up at the ceiling. One foot taps anxiously against the wooden floor. "It's… okay. Okay, I’ll admit it. It's actually because of Jimmy." It takes a beat for that to sink in. When it does, Grian’s eyebrows rocket into his hairline, incredulous. "Tim?"

gay people?? on my block game????? more likely than you think

ok i didn't grab any specific fragments of Pearl's appearance but oh boy oh buddy oh fuck if my back didn't tense up :^> ass clenched i fear

====================================

Closing Thoughts

i know it will get worse before it gets better. but i can't help but to hope and i think that's a wonderful thing to achieve while writing angst <3

i have the urgent need to do ANYTHING minecraft-fiction related, so i might start workshoping something with my friends and i's mc ocs :Dc idk im inspired

[sisterdragonwithfeathers]

I posted 967 times in 2022

That's 325 more posts than 2021!

151 posts created (16%)

816 posts reblogged (84%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@stories-dearheart

@called-kept

@tiny-dragons-tea-room

@hollers-and-holmes

@she-is-amused

I tagged 569 of my posts in 2022

Only 41% of my posts had no tags

#zlart - 75 posts

#feather rambles - 58 posts

#art inspiration - 48 posts

#for later - 33 posts

#star wars - 31 posts

#awesome art - 30 posts

#hermitcraft - 21 posts

#sketch - 20 posts

#shops to visit when i have money - 19 posts

#dragon - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#and you are not the only one who lives and watches the rain and holds warm cups close in your hands and is wading through too many options

I sent 3 gifts in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I don't (and won't) often post prayer requests on platforms like this, but I know I've got some believer mutuals.

I have a friend who has several chronic issues. They can't really be cured, and treatment only does so much. She is young like me, and has lived with them (worsening) for a number of years already.

Her symptoms have been especially bad in the last few weeks, since her family attended a week-long church fellowship camp. It usually takes her quite long to recover, but it has been especially hard this year.

If you would, pray for her endurance, her pain, and her peace, as well as the wisdom of everyone in her support system (including myself).

(I have permission from her to ask for others' prayers, with the omission of her name)

200 notes - Posted July 29, 2022

#4

See the full post

339 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

#3

Several more Xisumas of the Void

I am very tempted to animate this guy specifically

345 notes - Posted June 6, 2022

#2

Ender-Mumbo, now with colors!

425 notes - Posted March 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Season 9 Grian design but he carries his hatched Greggs in one of these bad boys

704 notes - Posted May 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[nmsthim]

I Want You

I# UNCLE# SAM WANT YOU I want you uncle Sam said I need you break a leg I need you you heard em say I need you I ain't playing games

GET THAT HEAD and bring back home the bacon collecting hopes, wishing, and dreams no time like present (f heartache money tight let it fall in style (ms.bling posing like I better be downtown followed back, you know what time it is. kick ass I think I might ride this donkey hit my line cashing out on a cash cow yelling where the beef now martial arts like I'm legally blind getting the best of me try not to withdrawal it takes two to tango this right here a kung fu pow real funny to know that's how we get down up town fuck and across the seven sea there's treasure with the x on the spot making getaways look like vacation trips no problem out weighing the decision gravity all falls down to make music to my ears getting out the anxiety, I just might rip out the seems how often to walk thru and cash out like a rock so don't hesitate yes this is the becoming these aspirations have push me this far almost a natural at your wildest ambitions confront you fears before the outcome before the f goofyass you look outer spaced put me on what in first place damning me ill get you the stake shake em bake em earthquake season greetings what I in team play fights turn into gang bangs hang time boss up but need that cap on my bandwagon still selling what's in her car back notice me get a bigger picture slow it down

I want you uncle Sam said I need you break a leg I need you you heard em say I need you I ain't playing games

GET THAT HEAD headache not on my mind I let it rip like a wild card spotted a squattor and squared off cops and robbers finding a better suitor get the bag, they had me hollering what's your intention with my daughter!? You know I got IT, I'm on it, a spotter ain't sharing off the same plate (dogma two heads are not better than one (magnum can't be abused if you never felt a fade in the darkest knight a joke is knowing I made you bleed coming and going at convenience stores shutting down and school days are long gone coming into existence and relative to popular demand saying yes I can grab a handful of connections like ima about to start something call it a lesson plan about to set it off I might just change the game f what a hater got to say about the next number I'm taking in void a pussy nigga and found a way in the man match the bag too too much time and patience had a score to settle put a screen and saver the moment you not bothering me not anymore I keep record pop up guess who sis, its me (johnny keeping up with the Jones's where have you been my whole life… choosy bitches needed one reason . not one but more to cum… stop monkeying around and got deeply involved moore than just skin deep beauty bills piled up like whoo

I want you uncle Sam said I need you break a leg I need you you heard em say I need you I ain't playing games

THEN LEAVE scapegoats for a major deal presidential feels all glory and grandeur (will gimme the keys I ain't playing with no down beat baddie rock the vote and have it swing my way money ain't a thing I like the way this went come thru sending shot major news A plus for winners jagermeiser might just get me a sugar daddy dance it off calling all the shots more money more problems but for right now we feast put

I want you uncle Sam said I need you break a leg I need you you heard em say I need you I ain't playing games

[xamaxenta]

Like two hot minutes away from another mental breakdown sorry i like the void that is tumblr to scream into

But consider Ace going to several crew members for comfort because boy is touch starved and needs kind interaction, which he got from his brothers but both of them aren’t with him currently

With Izou he sits near him, tending to a pot of tea - keeping it warm with his fire whilst Izou reads aloud or shows him a new book, tbh Ace’s education picks up again with him and this is where Izou finds out Ace has pure talent for maths

Fossa loves to find all things combustible with Ace, they spend a lot of time together burning shit and finding the best reactions, it’s all for Fossa’s katana, but everyone knows they just like blowing stuff up - there’s permament scorch scars within the workshop on the moby

Speed Jiru dishes out the best dad hair ruffle and always executes it on Ace whenever they’re passing by, he also has the second most groan worthy puns and jokes after Pops himself

As big as Atmos is he’s just a giant bear who just likes to sit and chill, often seen napping with Ace out on deck

Haruta, Ace’s mischief maker in arms on the level that Sabo used to be, these two should never under any circumstances be left alone together because they are most definitely plotting their next big prank

Kingdew is sort of a role model for Ace, Ace thinks this dude is cool as hell from his hair to his gauntlest, to him he’s the bees knees and Kingdew loves that Ace is his number one fan and honestly goes easy on him because of this - he can’t say no the Ace puppy eyes and receives the title Kingpushover, they’re always seen brawling and roughhousing for fun

Curiel whilst more reclusive and introverted than most of the moby crew, is also not immune to Ace and when it’s his shift to reel in the nets and sort out the catch of the day, he always requests Ace to help him who sings when he catches fish

Blenheim a man not much smaller than pops is often requested by the crew to help them reach high places, or to ride on his shoulders lol - Ace and Blenheim have a combo attack that involves Ace riding on his shoulders

Namur loves Ace, it’s super wholesome and he never minds fishing him out when the logia gets thrown overboard, Ace is appealing to coldblooded creatures and Namur is no exception often leaning against Ace during times of rest, usually he and Ace sit together at dinner times

Rakuyo also sees Ace as a son rather than a brother figure and always tries to give him life advice, even though its kinda bad, Ace appreciates it all the same and respects this weird second or third father figure, Rakuyo just has to holler SON at Ace and Ace runs over to him like YO second pops

Blamenco after Haruta a second partner in crime, often stealing stuff from the kitchens using his pocket abilities to share with Ace because they both have tremendous and obnoxious appetites

Vista always viewed Ace as too big for his britches but like a stubborn wart Ace grew on him like everyone else, he tries and fails dismally to teach the ways of chivalry and romance to Ace

Thatch is the first friend to Ace in the crew, the older brother Ace never had and the guy Ace spills all his insecurities, worries and thoughts to - Thatch is the self proclaimed Luffy specialist thanks to this, people say he spoils Ace which is totally not true, Theyre soulmates in the bromance sense (sorry deuce)

Jozu has always been self conscious of his looks, he’s pretty intimidating and his smile is kind of wonky, Ace unlike most new recruits does not quake in his boots at the mere sight of Diamond Jozu and instead calls him an old man and that his devil fruit power is awesome, they have a special handshake for each other thats very complex

Marco tries not to favour Ace but its hard not to, Ace proves to be unyieldingly loyal, sweet natured and most surprisingly polite - its no small wonder that this would check many boxes for the phoenix - and at first stayed away to deal with the strange uneeded feelings but Ace has a habit of squirming into the iciest of hearts and literally hunts Marco down until he says he loves him back - after all this they snuggle everywhere its fucking disgusting

[ibis-gt]

20. “I never thought I’d be here.” For any character that you feel fits!

hollers FOOBAWWWWW into the void... here have some little guys getting set up

~~~

Two tiny figures scampered across the locker room floor of the Globe Stadium. It was nearly one in the morning and they were the only living beings in the place. They were headed towards the door that led to the coach’s office, which had been left ajar just for them. Their night vision was superb, but one of them, Boots, fumbled for the lights anyway. A tall standing lamp sat right next to the door, and an extra long thread had been tied to the cord so that the five inch tall men could operate the light. Boots had to put his full weight on the thread and jump a few times to finally tug hard enough to turn it on.

The office had been rearranged slightly to accommodate the pair. Two desks now sat facing each other with a few feet of space between them. Furniture obviously yoinked from various nieces’ and nephews’ dollhouses was scattered across the top of one, providing places for the two borrowers to work, plan, write, sleep, and eat. There were rope ladders stretching from each corner of the desk to the floor so that they could climb up on their own. The other desk was covered in stacks of paperwork that the team’s manager was supposed to fill out, but which usually fell to Cam to deal with.

“I never thought I’d be here,” Luther said behind Boots, still hesitating in the doorway.

“I always knew I’d be here,” Boots replied. He stopped and turned to face Luther, beaming at him. “With your help. You and me, Luther, me and you. Look at all this! We did this together.”

Luther scoffed. “Didn’t I tell you not to do this about a hundred times?”

“Only bolstering my resolve! You know me so well, you know I’m motivated best by spite. If you’d gone along with it from the start, I would’ve given up.”

“I don’t pretend to understand your reasoning,” Luther sighed, “But I’ll take your word for it.” He took his first careful steps into the office, glancing around as though he expected to be ambushed at any moment. “We still have to share this place, though?”

“Yeah, well,” Boots waved a hand dismissively. “Big guy wants to keep an eye on us, I guess. Soon as he sees how good we are, he’ll give us more space.” Boots bit back a leer and a teasing comment about how he thought Luther would love the chance to get up close and personal with Cam. He gestured for Luther to follow him and headed for their desk. After a moment, he heard the telltale skittering of tiny claws against the floor, and smiled.

They shimmied up the rope ladder one after the other and stood by the edge of the desk, just taking in their surroundings. Boots approached a dresser and swung the doors open. It was empty except for a note, which he unfolded and read aloud.

“‘Once I get your measurements I’ll make you guys some clothes if you like.’ And then he’s written ‘XOXO’ and crossed it out, and under it he’s written, ‘is that too unprofessional? Sorry’, and signed it ‘from Hugh’. Huh.”

“Measurements? We’re both fifteen palms high, right?”

“I think he means in human units. Like, remember that tailor’s where we borrowed that velvet? They had those yellow strips all coiled up with numbers down it. Those things.”

Luther’s nose wrinkled. “How’re we supposed to know how many of those we are?”

Boots shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to borrow a yellow coil.” He tucked the note back in the dresser and continued on.

None of the doll furniture had been designed to actually be used, so the team had made modifications here and there for the borrowers. There were two little beds whose original mattress - made of poor quality styrofoam covered in scratchy fabric - had been removed and replaced with a little handmade cushion each, soft fabric stitched together and stuffed with cotton balls. The similarly scratchy blankets were replaced with specially sized bedsheets and quilts.

Luther stared critically at the beds, only size to hold one of them at a time. “Are we supposed to just… lie on these?”

“I guess? Weird.” They got to work tugging the covers and mattresses off and arranging them in a little pile. It wasn’t quite as big as their nest back home, but it was a start. Luther pushed the bedframes off the side of the desk and dusted off his hands, enjoying the sound they made as they crashed into the floor below.

Next, they examined the scattered little tables and chairs set up in the middle of the desk. There were stacks of scrap paper cut to various sizes, sticks of charcoal and graphite, a cut up eraser, and a set of fingerpaints. Evidently these were for making notes and drawing out plays. Boots nodded his approval. There was even a tiny chalkboard with a thimble full of shards of chalk in different colors.

“They’ve got us pretty well set up here,” Luther said. He picked up a shard of charcoal and scribbled a smiley face on one of the smaller sheets of paper.

“Yeah, we move a few things from the nest over and we’re all good to go.” Boots eyed a tiny hat stand with a few doll hats hanging from it. He tried on a top hat, but didn’t like how it pinched his ears, so he put it back.

“No,” Luther said. “We shouldn’t move anything from the nest. We might need it in case…” He trailed off and stared at the ground.

Boots sighed. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right. I’ve got high hopes for this team, but… well, you never know.” He walked over to where Luther stood and put his chin on Luther’s shoulder. “I think we’ll be okay. Look, they’re already bending over backwards to accommodate us. That friendly really sealed the deal, I think. You can feel the confidence, we’re ready to get back in there and fight.”

“What happens after the first loss?” Luther said, voice soft and quiet. “What happens if they lose two in a row? Or three? What if you’re wrong, and you don’t know how to coach a team, and it all falls apart? Are they still going to be this nice and accommodating?” There was no anxiety, no worry in his tone. It carried a tinge of inevitability. Luther wasn’t scared this might happen, Boots realized. He’d already decided it was going to.

“We’ll see. I don’t think they’ll turn on us - this is a last ditch effort anyway. I’m not burning any bridges til we get to them.”

“Okay,” Luther said with a shrug. “We’ll see.”

They were quiet for a long moment. There was still a lingering tension in the air between them, a pervading awkwardness that stretched like a string from one to the other. Boots needed some way to cut it.

“C’mon, let’s see if they’ve restocked the vending machines yet. I’ll get you a thing of prawn cocktail Walkers or die trying.”

That got Luther to crack a smile. He loved watching Boots struggle with that machine.

“Dinner and a show? Fine, I’m game.” He placed the charcoal stick carefully back on the table and wiped the smudges that stuck to his hand off on Boots’ poncho. They descended the rope ladder and turned out the light, and all was quiet and still once more.

[please-buckme]

A Broken Heart.

Lee Bodecker x fem!reader

Chapter 2

Chapter warnings: 18+ mentions of death, mentions of sex, cursing, Lee being an ass, angst, meninist behaviors

Chapter summary: You move back home after three years to find your heart still in shambles.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 // Chapter 3

3 Years Later

After moving a whole county away, Highland Ohio to be exact, you stayed for quite some time. Your aunt was amazing and the sweetest woman you’d ever known, and living with her was a breeze. She’d even gotten you a job at the auto shop her recently deceased husband left to her, which you loved. Life was good, for a while. You never had a reason to come home until your momma got sick.

For the past year you watched as your momma slowly faded away until the last week of April when she finally passed in her sleep. You were devastated, of course, but not only because of her death. She didn’t have much to her name besides a couple thousand in the bank and the house you’d left so long ago, which she left all to you.

The house was old. White paneling a faint tint of brown, grey shutters that were almost all off their hinges and rust anywhere you looked. It was a fixer upper and there’s no way you could sell it in its current condition. So, you decided to move back to Knockemstiff, just for the time being.

In all honesty, you’d grown to hate that town. Nothing but bad memories and any good memories you’d had were tarnished completely. So, once the house was decent enough to sell, you were out of there and back to the life you’d created in Highland.

Your aunt and you drove together in her pick up truck back to the house after your momma passed. She helped you unload your stuff and take things to the necessary rooms.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? I can make my famous pancakes. I know you love’em.” She grinned.

“As tempting as that sounds, I’m fine. Please, I insist you go now before it gets dark.” You pull your aunt into a hug, a tight hug.

“I’m gonna miss havin’ you around, kiddo.” She sighed, her breath fanning over your neck.

“It’s only for a few months. I’ll be back to annoying you in no time, oldie.”

“Hey, I’m not old.” She laughed and pointed her finger at you sternly but still in a lighthearted way.

“And I’m not a kid.”

She laughed a little more then sighed, “Well, I guess I’ll head out. Call me if you need anything and don’t forget to go down to Billy’s tomorrow. He’s excited to bring you in.”

You smiled, “How could I forget? I need some sort of income to fix this craphole up.”

You walked your aunt to her car and waved her goodbye as she drove way. Your eyes welled up but you made sure not to cry in front of her or she’d never leave.

Once you went back in, you immediately got to work. Starting in the kitchen, you didn’t have much but a few coffee cups. The house was still occupied with your momma’s things and you were already dreading having to go through it all.

Things started to come together room by room as you worked most of the day away. You cleaned and rearranged things to your liking now that it was your house. It felt almost empowering to do what you want. You’d never lived alone so, in a way, this was an adventure as well.

You took your old room instead of the master, since that’s where your momma passed. It gave you goosebumps just thinking about and you knew you’d never get any sleep if you stayed in there. Your room wasn’t big but it was good enough for now and much better than sleeping in your momma’s death bed, hard pass.

You’d taken a seat on the couch with some tea you’d brewed up earlier that morning. This was the first time you sat down since arriving, and of course there’s a knock at the door.

“Whatever you’re selling, I promise you, I ain’t interested.” You shout, too exhausted to even attempt getting up.

The knocking continued, “Oh, for fucks sake.” You groaned under your breath and stood on your aching feet to tell them to fuck off in person. You opened the door, “did you not hear me the first time. I said-“

“Hi, Y/n” Lee greeted as he removed his hat.

You scoffed, “Can I help you with somethin’, Sheriff?”

Lee stood there, fiddling with the bill of his hat. His belly had gotten a little bigger and his cheeks had gotten a little chubbier, but you couldn’t help the hitch in your throat when his wedding ring caught your eye. Just a basic silver band, nothing special. But it still left a hollow pit in your stomach.

“I-“ he cleared his suddenly dry throat. “I heard you was back in town. Thought I’d come see for ma self if the rumors were true.”

“Welp, here I am. You can go now.”

“Y/n, I-“

“No, Lee, please. I’ve had a long day and I honestly don’t feel like talking to you right now. No, I take that back. I don’t feel like talking to you at all.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think, doll.” He grins.

“Goodbye, Sheriff.” You shut the door only to hear him holler at you from the other side.

“Still can’t say my name, huh, Doll? Boy, I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” Your heart sank at his words. It seemed your pain was a joke to him this whole time. You’d always pictured him crying alone like you were but clearly that was never the case. Y’all’s relationship didn’t seem one sided until you were the only one hurt by the fall out.

“Welcome home, Y/n.” He said before you heard his boots click against the porch as he left.

You took a deep breath as you backed away from the door. Tears rimmed your eyes and you scoffed aloud to yourself. After three years you still weren’t over him and you knew that. You didn’t know, however, that he’d still have such a hold on you. And by the way he reacted to how sensitive you were towards the situation still didn’t help the ever growing void that ran through your entire loveless body. The only man you ever loved looked at you as if you were a quick fuck and a punchline.

A tear burned against your cheek and you were quick to wipe it away. You swore to yourself that you’d never cry over that man again and you won’t, instead you decided it was time for a much needed bath.

The bath was scolding hot, just how you liked it, and you opened up a bottle of wine as a sort of reward for the work you’d done today. Once the water got cold and the wine ran out, you brushed your hand and teeth and went to bed.

//

The sun beamed down against your skin as you walked to the local auto shop where your aunt had set you up with another job. You were always good with numbers and they desperately needed someone on the books. Your job would be to look at their spending over the last few months and figure out some sort of budget. You did that for your aunt at her shop, so this didn’t worry you at all.

“Hi, you must be Billy.” You greet the owner, “I’m

y/n, Peggy’s niece.”

“Oh, yes. I’m glad you finally made it down.” He beamed, shaking your hand, “How long will you be here for?”

“I’m not sure, actually. Just until I get my house fixed up enough to sell.” You say, retracting your hand from his sweaty one.

“Ah, well as luck would have it, our secretary just quit on us last week, so there’s a position you’ll adjust to right fine.”

You scoffed, “Wait a minute. Did you say secretary?”

“Yeah. You need to get your hearing checked, Honey?” He grinned. What is it with the men in this town?!

“No, I heard you just fine. My problem is that I was supposed to be your Budget Holder, not a damn secretary.” Your face was turning a touch of pink as you became increasingly annoyed.

“That’s a man's job, sweetie. We don’t you blown a fuse tryin’ ta add up all them numbers, now do we?”

“You can’t be serious.” You say flatly.

“Look, it’s the only position we got. Take it or leave it.”

Everything in you wanted to March out of that shop and never go back again. A secretary's position is nothing to frown upon, but to only be offered it because you’re a woman was despicable. Sadly, you needed this job and it would only be for a few months. So, when you told him you’d take the job you swallowed every ounce of respect you had for yourself. Knockemstiff was truly the worst town in America.

“Sounds great. We’ll see you tomorrow for training. There’s no dress code but there are a few things you’ll need to know before starting. I’ll fill you in once we start your training tomorrow.” He shook your hand again, completely ignoring the furious grimace on your face.

“Great. See you tomorrow.” You mumbled, walking away so you didn’t ‘accidentally’ hit your new boss.

//

Before heading home you decided to stop and grab some things for the house. Being sick, your momma didn’t eat much besides soup, and there was an over abundance of vanilla flavored Ovaltine cans littering the kitchen counters, which you hated.

The second the doors opened, all eyes were on you. You even heard a faint gasp coming from the woman at the register. A smirk crept upon your face. These people's lives were so boring that they still aren’t over your breakup that happened so long ago. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a cart and headed down the produce aisle.

Once you grabbed the vegetables you’d need for a stew, you headed towards the baking aisle. You need the ingredients for an upside down pineapple cake your momma used to make for you as a kid. Your aunt was coming into town on Saturday to lend a hand and celebrate her birthday. You told her to go have fun, but she insisted on spending her special day with you.

As you searched for the baking soda, you heard your name.

“Did you see Y/n’s back in town?” A lady with a high pitched voice whispered.

“I did. I just saw her. Poor thing. She’s probably still caught up on the sheriff. Prolly wish it was her that was on his arm instead of Laura-Jean.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I know it. Wouldn’t you, though? He’s so handsome.” The lady with the high patched voice giggled.

“Oh, hush! Don’t say things like that.” The other lady joined the high pitched one in whispered giggles. “Oh my goodness, here he comes.” She cleared her throat, “Afternoon, Sheriff.”

“Evenin’,Ladies. Y’all behavin’ yourselves?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

They both giggled and in unison said, “Yes, Sheriff.”

“Oh give me a break.” You grimaced to yourself.

“Heard Y/n’s back in town.” The high pitched one spoke up. Your face burned. Why would they bring you up to him so bluntly like that? Everyone in this town was so unbelievably nosy.

“I- I heard. Actually just went to see her yesterday.” He said, clearing his throat.

“Uh-oh, the misses didn’t like that, I’m sure.” They giggled.

“Oh, no. She didn’t mind. I was just droppin’ by to give her my condolences about her momma dyin’. Then, she slammed the door in my face. I guess she’s still pretty upset with me.” He was pouting, trying to get some sort of sympathy. If you rolled your eyes any harder you thought they’d pop out of your head.

“Oh, you poor thing. Is there anything we can-“

Suddenly the baking soda slipped from your hand and scattered all other the floor in a puff of dust. “Shit, shit, shit.” You whispered to yourself.

“What was that?” One of the ladies asked.

“Excuse me, ladies.” Lee said. You could hear his boots clacking against the floor on there way over to you.

Shit.

You desperately wanted to run away but leaving this mess for someone to clean up wasn’t right, not even with the predicament you found yourself in. “Well, well, well,” Lee mocked as he rounded the corner. “Only here for less than a day and you’re already causin’ trouble.”

“Stay out of this, Bodecker.” You huff, trying to scoop the baking soda back into the card box it spilled from.

“Was you eavesdroppin’, girl?” He asked, kicking the soul of your shoe.

You scoffed, “Oh, please. I could give two shits what you say about me, Bodecker.”

He leaned in close, hovering over your left side. You heard him chuckle which startled you. He was so close. You could feel the familiar heat radiating from his body and smell that familiar cologne. His lips came down close to your ear. He licked them and then whispered, “If ya weren’t eavesdroppin’, how’d ya know I was talkin’ bout you, hm?”

Your eyes shuttered closed as he spoke, feeling his hot breath against your cheek. His deep southern drawl always made you weak. It took you back to those times in the back of the cruiser. He whispered such dirty praises in your ear when you would ride his cock. Those dirty words that could make you cum in seconds.

“You still with me, doll?” You felt him tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You flitched and stood up, “I- don’t touch me and stop calling me doll, alright? I really don’t have time for your games today, sheriff, and I’m not even really sure what you’re playin’ at in the first place.”

He smirked, running a thumb across his lip, “Darlin, I think the only thing I ever played was you..”

“I-“ your breath hitched in the back of your throat, “I have to go.” You turned to walk away, leaving the mess you’d made and your cart behind. Your eyes welled up with tears again. You didn’t know the man that stood in front of you. Lee was nothing but good to you when you dated and now he’s the most hateful man you’d ever met. The man you loved had disappeared and there’s nothing you could do to bring him back, no matter how bad you wanted to. A tear stained your cheek as you sped through the aisle. You could hear Lee hollering for you to stop but you wouldn’t this time.

All the heartbreak and sorrow that you’d left behind was creeping its way back in. The sooner you sold the house and got the hell out of there, the better.

Dividers by: @firefly-in-darkness

Taglist: @haydens-moles , @c00lkidvibes , @tcc-gizmachine , @buckysm3talarm , @gogolucky13 , @cryptidcasanova , @heavenlyseb , @writersbuck , @teddy-bearbaby , @bbmommy0902 , @sweetllamaparadise , @thereblogcrusader , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @frostbytebaby , @jessyballet , @emotionallyandphysicallydone , @sarge-barnes-sir , @generalbagelcookieslime , @lady-loki-ren , @dime-piece-xo , @greeneyedblondie44

(Dm me to be added to taglist)

[bts-hyperfixation]

Sweethearts

Your high school graduation was just like the ones you’d seen in the movies. After excepting your diplomas in front of your families, you and your friends headed of to a random field for a bonfire and camping. It was a night you never wanted to forget. It was filled with old stories and laughter, nostalgic memories and wishes for the future. Most importantly it was spent with the boy you thought would be your one and only. Jungkook was supposed to be your forever. That was the night you lost your virginity to him.

It was awkward and uncomfortable, both of you fumbling to figure things out through messy kisses and rough grasps, but you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. You spent that night wrapped in each-other’s arms, dreaming of what the future could hold. It had all seemed so perfect, everything set out in front of you. Attending the same university, finding jobs in the same city and eventually marriage. It was all mapped out waiting for you… until it wasn’t.

Like most high school romances, it all fell apart. Not immediately, and not all at once. It started with little things: your workload got too heavy, his friends teased him, you both lashed out in frustration. By the end of the first semester, it became too much and after a long tear-filled goodbye you let each other go.

That was almost a year ago now. You had managed to avoid seeing him for the most part and were moving on well. Obviously, some of the rumours made their way to you:

“Did you hear Jeon slept with almost all of the drama girls before they found out about each other?”

“I heard he was so good none of them cared.”

“I mean his numbers that high at this point it makes you wonder doesn’t it….”

“Yeah, he must be a GOD in bed.”

You usually just shook your head at the giggling girls and moved on. It still hurt to think about him sometimes, but you breathed through the pain and got on with life.

One afternoon you are studying in a coffee shop on campus, not long before winter break. The essay you were working on was kicking your ass and you had decided a change in scenery would do you some good. Just as you take a sip of your drink, you realise it was a fatal mistake. Your eyes find each other instantly when he walks through the door with his buddies. You gulp down your drink and rush to return his grin with a somewhat confident look of your own. His hair is longer now, pulled back into a bun at the back but his bangs hang loose around his face, perfectly framing his deep eyes. He is more heartbreakingly beautiful now than he has ever been, It isn’t long until the moment you share is broken by a blonde throwing herself into his arms. She giggles and slaps at his biceps, chastising him about something you can’t hear. It feels like someone’s punched you in the stomach. Everything is too warm as you watch the way he basks in her attention, friends hollering in support of whatever’s happening. You don’t bother looking back at him as you pack your things away. That’s how you miss the way his smile faulters as he watches you leave.

Once home you abandon all plans of finishing your essay, instead reaching under your bed to pull out a dusty shoebox you hadn’t thought about since you’d put it there. You empty it’s contents on to the sheets. You stare at the remnants of your relationship scattered around you. Movie stubs, polaroids, and old gifts. You don’t realise you are crying until a droplet hits an image in front of you, smearing the handwritten caption on the bottom. You lift the picture to study it. Your past-self stares back, sat in his lap and folded in his loving embrace. His nose is scrunched, it’s the part of his smile that made you fall in love with him in the first place. The words at the bottom once read “Me and you forever baby” in his handwriting. Thanks to your tears, it now said “you forever baby.” In a sick way it made you laugh, now more accurate. You pick up the small pink bear he had once won for you out of habit, still finding comfort in its worn fur. Not pausing to tidy the items away again you curl into yourself and fall asleep.

It must be a few hours later when your awoken by someone banging at your door. You glance at the mess around you and try to make sense of what’s going on. Your alarm clock on the bedside table reads 00:00. That’s when you hear his voice through the wood.

“Y/N… let me in… please.” His words are a little slurred and he sounds upset, but there’s no mistaking the owner. You open the door and take in his puffy cheeks, evidence that he had been crying too. For a little while the two of you stare at each other, finally seeing the pain that had haunted you both for so long. It takes him shivering for you to realise you hadn’t let him in. you shuffle sideways, and he enters your apartment. You close the door and turn to face him, finding him leafing through the photos strewn across your bed he smiles fondly at the memories, lifting the same image you had been staring at a few hours prior.

“Do you remember this?” he questions, not wanting to get to the point of his surprise visit.

“Graduation.” You croak, voice still weak from crying. He collects the items and places them back into the box for you before sitting on the edge of your bed. You move to join him, careful to sit far away enough to enforce boundaries.

“Do you still love me?” the question catches you off guard, you’d spent months convincing yourself he had moved on. No one fucks half the campus without moving on from their past.

“What are you doing Kookie?” he cringes at the old nickname as you scold him. “Why are you doing this to me?” fresh tears form in your eye at this new form of torture. He reaches a hand to comfort you like he used to and then thinks better of it, dropping the limb back into his lap.

“I don’t know Y/N, all I do know is I can’t keep kissing strangers pretending they are you.” His eyes search yours for a response, but you are too shell shocked to react. “It hurts too much still. Every time I try to fill the void you left, I fail and end up hurting more than ever.”

“I… It ...It doesn’t work Jungkook, we tried, it wasn’t meant to be, it was too hard.” You try to reason with him despite every bone in your body demanding you do the opposite.

“Screw that! We should’ve tried harder. I will do anything to prove to you that we can still work… please just let me try.” This time when he reaches for you, he doesn’t hesitate, pulling you into him and kissing you passionately. You melt into his embrace, seduced by his words. Desperately clinging to every part of him you could reach. Trying to reclaim what you had lost. He falls backwards onto the sheets and you follow, straddling him, trapping him underneath you as you re-discover one another. His hands travel lower playing with the hem of your shirt before tugging it upward. You toss the fabric away from you and return to his lips, craving his taste. He takes you by surprise when he flips you. He had never been weak, but clearly his time in the gym was not going to waist. He leaves hot open-mouthed kisses from you chin to your cleavage paying close attention to the parts he remembers as the most sensitive.

You shiver under his touch as he pulls the lace cup of your bralette out of his way, nipping at the skin around your nipple. He plays with the bud for a while his hand absentmindedly playing with your other breast. Satisfied with his teasing he forges on, tugging the waist band of your pants with him. You lift your hips to help him remove the unwanted fabric and he makes quick work of it, soon returning to your now exposed core. He drags a finger up your slit before taking the wet finger into his mouth. Watching him savour the taste drove you insane. He let out a moan at the familiar flavour making you whine in response.

“I’m going to make you feel so good baby girl. So good that everything’s okay again.” You nod feverishly, wanting nothing more than to believe his words. He licks along your entrance collecting your juices on his tongue before sucking your clit into his mouth. You tried not to think about how he had gotten so good at what he was doing and focused on the pleasure. Soon he added two fingers to your dripping vagina, finding your most sensitive areas with ease. Whimpers tumble freely from your lips as you feel the coil in your stomach begin to stretch. The final straw comes when he ads the third finger, the stretch proving too much for you as he scissors the digits inside of you. You cum harder than you think you’ve ever cum before. He resurfaces once you’ve ridden out your high; his chin dripping with you. You don’t think he has ever looked better.

You grab at the top knot at the back of his head pulling the band loose and using the new length of his hair to your advantage. His face his back against yours in seconds. You can taste yourself on his lips. You tug at his long locks as he grinds himself against your leg, reminding you he is fully clothed. Suddenly displeased with his state of attire, your hands moved to undo the fly on his jeans. You slide one hand into his boxers, grasping at his length and pumping a little, trailing your fingertips along the underside. The bunny smile you love so much appears on his face as he pulls away from you, shedding his own clothes. You can’t help but let your eyes wander down his newly chiselled physique. The v at the bottom of his torso now much more prominent, a clear arrow to where you wanted to be most right now.

You make a grabby motion, and he chuckles, lowering himself back onto you. You try to gain the upper hand, attempting to flip the two of you back over so you could ride him freely. Unfortunately, he is prepared and stays firm, keeping you trapped under his weight. You pout at the inability to play.

“I want to make you feel good too.” He kisses your nose; it’d come off as patronising if it had been anyone one else.

���You can do that another time, right now I need to make you feel the way you’ve always deserved.” He punctuates his words by thrusting into you. He leans on one arm, using the free hand to rub at your clit as he sets a leisurely pace between your hips. You arch your back from the oversensitivity of your nerves, still recovering from the last mind-blowing orgasm. This only allows him better access to the most sensitive parts inside of you. The steady rhythm and assault on your clit have your second high appearing quickly. Unable to contain yourself you grasp onto his back leaving small half-moon indentations where your nails dig into his skin. The moan you let out is unearthly, making him moan in response. His grunts and the hitting of skin echo through the room as he speeds up in search of his own end.

It doesn’t take long for him to follow you to orgasm. Halting deep inside you, he releases and collapses on top of you. You let out a loud grunt at the weight and he laughs before rolling to the side and pulling you into his chest.

Masterlist

More from these prompts - closed

Holiday prompts - open

[gothamsglam]

Can I have Your Name? (a SamBucky ficlet)

for @samshield hope you enjoy 😘

(also on ao3 under @/the_fifth_marauder101)

---

“Thanks, can I have your name?” asked Bucky with a charming smile on his face, pulling out a sharpie. However, instead of writing on an empty class as the poor customer thought, he scribbled down “Tony” on one of those ‘Hello, my name is…’ stickers.

“That’s a wonderful name by the way,” Bucky compliments, because fck you Steve, he can be polite. 

He fcking told Steve going into customer service was a great idea. Idiot wanted to continue doing door to door shit, or, even worse, mope around forests for wandering travelers. He told him it wasn’t the 1400s anymore, and to grow up. Damn the supernatural council and their ‘hunt in pairs’ rule, he will go rouge and leave Stevie, he will do it. 

“I’m this close,” Bucky had hissed, holding his fingers in the air so Stevie could see, 

“Your fingers are touching,” Steve deadpanned. 

“Exactly.”

The man doesn’t look up from his flurry of typing, “Thank you, it’s a family name.”

“Sure,” Bucky replies quietly “Alright, your order will be right out,” Bucky grinned, replacing his name tag with the new one without looking away from the brown-haired customer. The second the tag sticks to his shirt, he feels a refreshing rush of energy. Kind of like what he imagines those ‘caffeine/sugar rush’ those damn teens keep harping about. 

“Thank y—” The customer—Tony—looks up from his phone to flash him a grin, only to have it fall from his face when he sees the name tag. 

This was the fun part. Bucky didn’t break eye contact, maintaining it with the same smile, only now he could tell it felt eerie to the human. Like something wasn’t right. 

The man’s brown eyes flitted up and down between Bucky’s face and the name tag, before he surged forward, “What di—”

“Have a good day,” Bucky bit out, still keeping the smile and cheery customer service tone. His eyes were blank, he made sure of it. Honestly, this whole song and dance was unnecessary. Stevie usually just wrote the name tags, and then stuck them on as he was making the drinks. Their shop was typically slow enough that there wouldn’t be people behind to question why the tender had a new name. But Bucky loved to fck with humans. What the hell else was he supposed to do? He’s been alive for 70 generations, let him have his fun. 

However, today was a bit different. Another two walked into the shop, Bucky didn’t see it as much as he felt it. Bucky kept his back turned, hollering “Welcome to Stars and Stripes, I’ll be with you in just a moment,” over his shoulder as he made the three drinks. What asshole ordered three drinks?

Bucky’s question was answered when he saw the two men walk over to Tony’s table. One of them kissed Tony on the cheek and the other just faux-gagged before giving Tony a hug as well. Bucky called out the order, eyes tracking the way Tony mumbled something to the two men and both reacted oddly, as they probably should. Bucky would expect no less. 

Apparently, he jinxed himself, because the man who hugged Tony came to pick up the drinks. 

“Nice name,” said the man.

“Thanks,” Bucky flashed his uncanny valley smile and offered nothing else. The man winked and then walked back to the table. 

Bucky did not look at his ass, he didn’t. 

---

The next day, the man comes in. Not Tony, but other guy. The cute one. 

“Hi my name’s Jacob, how may I help you today?” Bucky asks politely. 

The man, to his credit, didn’t bat an eyelash, “Hi I’ll have three—” And he rattled off the same order that Tony had. Bucky resisted the urge to frown, maybe it was just a two-time thing? This group has only come into their shop once before, what are the odds of it happening again, for a third time?

“Perfect,” Bucky slid the receipt across the counter, “Can I have your name?” Bucky asked, as he reached for a pen. 

“Nope,” the man replied. 

Bucky froze in his moments, “What?”

The man shrugged, face showing nothing but politeness, “I’m the only person in this store, you’ll be able to find me.”

Bucky was stunned as he watched him walk back to the spot the trio was in the other day. As he sat down, the man gave a nod of acknowledgment to Bucky, who was still staring. 

His brown—almost hazelnut with the light of the sun—eyes stared into Bucky’s own, and in them all he saw was mischief. 

Fck.

---

For the next two days, Bucky kept a—subtle, he wasn’t obsessed or anything—watch out for Tony or The Man. And for those two days, he didn’t see hide or hair of them. Bucky figured they must have been college students from nearby campuses, wandering in when Starbucks was too full, which happens often enough. Then on the third day, he returned. 

“Hey, Jacob” greeted The Man, his smile so bright—so bright that Nat would have burned like she does under the sun and threaten to bite the man in the jugular. Bucky, who was too gobsmacked to even deliver his customer service opening, stared at him. 

“Not Jacob,” Bucky said, his voice strangled. 

The Man chuckled, his eyes sparkling with the same look from the first day he ordered, “Ok ‘Not Jacob’, may I have—” And repeated the same order from the last two times. 

“Um, right, uh” Bucky stammered, face growing hot as The Man raised an eyebrow at him smugly, “Can I have your name?”

“Put Redwing,” The Man said, shrugging. The corner of his lips pulled upwards into a happy smirk—how can a person have a fcking happy smirk?—, not that Bucky was only looking at his lips or anything. 

“Redwing?” Bucky asked, stupidly. Because why ask, idiot, why ask for clarification? He read somewhere that the psyche is powerful enough to make the body do things, like fake pregnancies. Whether that’s something only reserved to humans is up for debate, but maybe, if Bucky doesn’t ask and lives in blissful ignorance, he can feed off of a fake name. But no, because he’s a bloody fool, he asked. 

“It’s my pet’s name,” The Man answered, then looked tilted his head, giving a sheepish smile, “Or at least, that’s what I want to name a pet, I don’t have one.”

“Right,” Said Bucky, suddenly feeling empty in ways that have nothing to do with hunger, “Your order will be right out.”

Their conversation was longer than normal, so when the man went to sit down, the couple came in moments afterward. All three sat in the same place as before. 

‘Oh no,’ Bucky thought in dawning horror, ‘Regulars.’ 

---

“Falcon,” grins The Man, now foregoing any attempts to be subtle and simply being a little shit.

Bucky looked at him, face void of any amusement. At this point, he’s shucked the polite customer service voice and snarked back and forth with the regular like there’s no tomorrow—only in this situation, there is a tomorrow, there always is tomorrow.

Their staring contest probably goes on for a bit too long, judging by the way Tony and his boyfriend—Bucky can feel comfortable calling the two a couple, based on how disgustingly affectionate the two get in the cafe—walk in. 

The Man flashed a smile and turned away to greet the couple. An audible ‘Rhodey!’ reached Bucky’s ears. Now, finally, he has a name for one of the dark-skinned men, the one who kissed Tony’s cheek and was currently walking in with said Tony, arm around his shoulders. Only Bucky doesn’t feel that familiar warmth pool in his gut, refreshing his energy levels. 

‘Oh,’ Bucky thinks, and watches as the man—his regular—laughs with his friends but also how his eyes flit back to peek at Bucky as names are spoken. ‘oh, loopholes.’

Bucky is so screwed. 

---

The names his regular gives become increasingly goofy, and Steve teases him about how flirty they get—Bucky absolutely didn’t have a favorite, and it absolutely wasn’t Angel. But Bucky only believed Stevie when he got a number instead of a random moniker. 

“What?” Bucky short-circuited. 

The man just sighed, “Come on, I gave you my number, work with me here.”

“You finally did it, huh, Sam?” Tony called out from where he was typing away on his computer, which rested on Rhodey’s legs. Rhodey, who was sprawled out in one of their chairs, nudged Tony with his foot, “Shush, let them have this.”

‘Sam,’ Bucky thinks,  and all he can come up with in his blue screened mind is, ‘Perfect’.

In his phone, the name Sam’s contact is under is ‘Angel’.

Steve heckles. 

---

“How did you know, Angel?”

Sam looks at Bucky, and Bucky’s struck into silence, The whole world falls around them in muted sounds and lights fade into balls of blurry color, because as they lock gazes all Bucky can notice is Sam’s eyes. Sam’s eyes—his wonderful, soul-deep eyes that shine with mischief and laughter, that glow so bright and rival the heavens when the sunlight reflects off it just so—are sad. 

“My friend,” Sam says quietly, “Riley. He was one of yours.”

Bucky nods, and reaches out with his metal hand—an injury from decades ago and a gift from a shapeshifter who hissed that his debt was repaired before slithering off into the night—pulling Sam closer to him. They watch the sun go down from the top of the roof, the stars revealed one by one, twinkling against the darkness of the dusk. 

---

(One day, Bucky will ask for Sam’s name again, specifically his last name. Only then, will Sam reply honestly.)

---

AN: This is a more bastardized version of faeries/fae, I just made up my own creature for what Bucky and Steve are. Simply because I just wanted to write a little ficlet about SamBucky and didn’t do much research. Don’t think too hard about it :)

(and the link to the Tik Tok I saw on tumblr that inspired this is also linked on my ao3 fic)

Hope you enjoyed! 

-vix

[yuriwarrior]

:(((

(Green Arrow 2023 #10)

[myundeadgayson]

DC Street Racing AU — Bart Allen’s Backstory

alright, i know practically nothing about cars. i’ve also never even seen a Fast and the Furious movie, but SOMEONE has gotta fill the void on lack of DC Street Racing AUs, and i’m gonna do it. (if there are some out there though, please let me know! i can barely find ANYTHING, and i’d love to see stuff for this kind of AU!)

so,,, i’m just saying,,, the Teen Titans and Young Justice Crews as Street Racers.

we’ll start off with the characters that sent me into this spiral in the first place: Bart Allen and Wally West.

again, i know practically nothing about this kind of stuff. i know nothing about street racing, or cars, but i’m just saying… i really love imagining Street Racer!Wally being Bart’s inspiration for wanting to race.

even though Iris was never approving of Wally’s racing (she’s supportive, but extremely concerned for his safety), Wally would occasionally bring Bart along to the races that he’d have with friends. sometimes Bart would sneak his way into going without Wally realizing, but either way, Bart would come along.

after years of growing up and watching Wally race, Bart decided he wanted to race too. (note: to save myself a headache since this is No Powers AU and Time Travel doesn’t take place, we’re just gonna pretend that Barry and Iris adopted Bart. i want to say that his parents were close family members of Iris and Wally. perhaps one of the parents was another cousin of theirs, but both Bart’s parents ended up dying in some sort of accident. since then, Bart’s been living with Barry, Iris, and their newly born twins.)

i have so much more to say about this AU, but i want to warn you because this is about to be a VERY long post. however, if you wanna know Bart Allen’s Street Racer AU backstory and more about Wally (and his racing group, The Titans), please read more!

      (TW: small car accident — completely non-graphic, no injuries involved, everything is okay, but it does happen)     Bart’s been interested in racing for YEARS. ever since he was a kid, he’s always craved to know what it’s like — to feel the wind in your hair, the rush of adrenaline in your veins, the feeling of your heart racing as you watch the speedometer go up and up and up. the exhilaration filling your lungs as some part of you realizes “this is dangerous”.

he wants those feelings. he wants that experience that makes Wally’s eyes light up like there’s pure lightening rushing through his veins.

he wants to go Fast.

when Bart was thirteen, Wally let him sit in the driver’s seat for the first time.

Wally didn’t let him drive it, of course. Bart wasn’t tall enough yet to reach the petals even if he wanted to, but he was excited nonetheless. Wally had laughed at him as he grinned, asking how to work everything.

the car wasn’t on — Wally wasn’t dumb enough to give him even the slightest chance of trying to start it. it was a good choice. Bart would be a liar to say that he wouldn’t have instantly tried to drive it. instead, Wally let Bart mess with the gears and pretend he was in a race of his own. he’d adjust the mirror to try to see himself. he was too short to fully be seen in it, but if he sat up tall enough he could see his eyes.

years later, Bart would do the same. he’d look into his reflection and see his eyes, sparkling with that same determination that he had all those years ago.

Wally had explained everything to him. Bart started off by eagerly pointing at things (like the gear, the numbers, and all the weird symbols he could see) and ask questions, and Wally would answer every one. Wally explained other things too, like what made Wally’s special car better for racing than some random car. Bart hung on every word, trying his best to imagine all the pieces, even if he didn’t know what some were at all. he tried to commemorate every bit of information to memory bc maybe one day, he could make himself a cool car too.

the first time Bart actually drove a car was a disaster.

he was barely fourteen. it was hardly even a few months after Wally had verbally explained to him how to work a car.

no one expected him to put that knowledge to use so quickly.

somehow he got ahold of Iris’ keys. he would never explain how he got him (they were RIGHT THERE on the counter. how was he supposed to say no when they made it so easy?), but somehow it happened.

his joyride didn’t last long enough. for a short moment though, he was beyond excited to be beyond the wheel. after lots of adjusting the seat and awkwardly shuffling to sit as close to the wheel as possible to be able to see over the hood, Bart started to drive.

he managed to get down the street. he was a little slow at first. the car wobbled in an unsteady line as it trudged down the road at barely 10mph. Bart’s eyes flickered constantly between the road and the mirror, his small hands gripping the wheel like a lifeline.

the anxiousness he felt subsided as he reached the end of the neighborhood. there was no sign of Iris in sight, and he managed to drive just fine. stunned laughter bubbled from his lips as his eyes flickered back down to the road ahead— he was doing it! he was really doing it! he was driving!

with a newfound confidence urging him on, he turned onto a connected street to keep going. he started pressing on the gas pedal more, trying to gain some speed. the car started going from a slow crawl to a decently safe speed. Bart started pressing down on it harder and harder, going faster and faster. he remembered laughing in delight. the windows were cracked halfway, allowing the air to rush in. it tousled his hair, and for a moment he felt like he was flying.

until he wasn’t.

he hadn’t really considered the thought of other cars. he hadn’t considered a lot of things actually, such as the fact it was the middle of the day and people would be driving.

he didn’t crash into anyone, but it was a close call. when he started getting closer to the main road and noticed the cars zooming across, he panicked.

he hit the brakes. he did what Wally said. he didn’t slam them, but he was still going too fast. the cars were getting closer! Bart pressed his foot door harder and finally, stomped on the brakes altogether.

he yanked the wheel away from the road, shutting his eyes tight.

the wheels spun. he went off the road into the grass, tire skidding rough tracks across the grass and dirt. he didn’t hit a car, but he did hit the stop sign at the end of the street.

it was a miracle he didn’t get hurt, or worse. he ended up a bit banged up hitting the wheel and the seatbelt yanking too tight, but he was overall fine. unfortunately, Iris definitely wasn’t happy.

Bart didn’t drive for a long while after that.

occasionally, Wally would still take him on drives though.

some of Bart’s best memories are riding in the passenger seat late at night. along barren backroads and empty highways, Wally would race through the streets. with the windows rolled down, the two of them would laugh, voices carried through the wind that whipped their hair like reckless flames.

under the passing lights, Bart would grin wide and holler his excitement into the night sky without a care in the world.

the world would need to try pretty hard to catch them.

Bart would also get to attend a few of Wally’s races. it isn’t as often as he used to with Iris and Barry watching him more closely, but he still got to go some times.

he’d only really watch Wally race against friends.

they called themselves the Titans. Wally said the name wasn’t planned, it just happened to stick. Bart assumed it was more because as time went on, they really did become like the titans to beat if you wanted to prove yourself as a racer.

it was who made up the team that once surprised him.

Dick Grayson, Wally’s best friend of many years and infamous son of Gotham’s Bruce Wayne, was the unofficial leader of the group. The Dick Grayson, with his car as dark as the night. the darkness of the car was only disrupted by a few brilliant blue decals. the most memorable one was always the striking blue silhouette of a bird on the hood. (“Nightwing,” Dick affectionately called the car.)

Koriand’r, an incredibly kind woman with hair that was almost more fiery than Bart’s own. her car was a vibrant purple with flames racing along the sides as if it’d caught fire. (“they call me Starfire”, she told him once when caught him fawning over the car, awed as ever. “i like to imagine that if i drive just fast enough, i can see flames.”)

Victor Stone, who indulged all his questions and answered every single one with the same enthusiasm. he’d lost an arm to an accident, but replaced it with an amazing cybernetic one. his designed his own car to have similar robotic style. incredibly futuristic and constantly updated with the best parts he could find. (“someone called me Cyborg,” Victor told him once while working on the car. he let Bart sit in the garage with him, occasionally offering whatever help he could. “i think it was an insult at first, but the name sort of stuck, kind of like with the Titans. so i made it my own.”)

and at last, Garfield Logan, the youngest of the group. with his dark green hair and toothy smile, Garfield was always quick to make him feel welcome and make him laugh with an endless amount of dumb jokes. his charisma and bright personality showed in his car. like his hair, it was a deep green. when he turned it on, the underneath glowed a neon green. black pawprints walked along the sides towards the end of the car. (“they’re actually tiger pawprints,” Gar corrected him once, looking excited as ever to explain. “there’s a few other animals too. i wanted it to look like the animals were really here, or like maybe i’m the animal? i dunno. i told everyone to call me Beast Boy, so i guess this would be my beast.”) they had another friend, Raven, that never raced with them. dressed in black with dark hair that he swore shone purple in certain lights, Raven was much more quiet and reserved than the rest of the group. Bart enjoyed her rare company, despite it being more of a companionable silence. he’d take it none the less. sometimes if Bart was able to hang out with Wally and the group outside of racing nights, he’d occasionally he’d bring along homework, a book, or a comic to read if Wally was meant to be busy at some point. he’d end up hanging out in one of their apartments while they were busy, and sometimes Raven would be there. they’d quietly read in each other’s company, never having to say a word. he’d asked Wally once why she didn’t race too. Wally had only laughed. (”we’re lucky that she doesn’t,” Wally told him, “if Raven raced, we’d all be doomed, trust me. you should never underestimate her.” Bart figured that meant that Raven was an undeniable part of the group too. he hoped he’d see her race one day.)

all of them were amazing, but Bart was a little stunned by each of them had their own unique style. they all had their own story and reason for being inspired to race. the one thing they all shared though was that same spark in their eyes Wally had.

needless to say, Bart would try to spend as much time with them as possible to try and learn from them.

his dream was to race, but his other dream was now to become just like them. he wanted to be a Titan.

he was too young at that time, but he would aim to prove that he could be good enough to join them one day. he would be a Titan.

or at least, he’d be close enough to being a Titan, he’d decide upon meeting a few other faces around his age, but that’s a story for another day.             ...and that’s all we have for now, folks!

if you’re wondering why i chose only those Teen Titans, i didn’t want to make the group too big. i originally considered the OG Young Justice group, but found that i really wanted to save Superboy (Conner Kent, my beloved) to be apart of Bart’s friend group later. (not to mention, i REALLY wanted to talk about Street Racer! Kori existing in this AU. Beast Boy’s another favorite that i just HAD to include, thus we have the animated Teen Titans team, just with Wally and Dick having the same kind of friendship as kids like in YJ.)

let me know if you want any more from his idea! i’d love to know what you guys think of all this so far. if you ever want me to talk about anyone in particular, please feel free to ask! i’d totally be up to come up with more ideas! i’d also love to know if anyone has any thoughts about other characters might be like from this AU!

i really just came up with all this on the fly, but i’m honestly becoming attached to this AU already, so i’d be more than excited to talk more about it!

thanks for reading!!

[gointothevvater]

Theme: The First...

I'm a day late, but that's okay! Better late than never, right?

For context: The first time Pickles and St. Cecilia met after the breakup of Snakes N' Barrels. It's been some time, and while things change, some things stay the same.

.

"St. Cecilia." Pickles's voice was soft, the name sitting strange and bitter on his tongue. He hadn't spoken it in years, though he thought it often. And here she was, right in front of him, her honey-gold eyes locked with his.

"Hey, love," she said, her lilting sing-song accent cutting right through him. It always did. God, he'd missed the sound of her voice.

He reached for her, stopped himself, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, where they could do nothing he would regret. "How ya been?" he asked lamely.

With a rueful smile and a shrug, she said, equally lamely, "Well enough, I suppose." She looked away, and Pickles felt a familiar void open in his chest, already mourning the loss of eye contact. When had he become this pathetic? God, he hated himself. "You?"

Pickles wasn't sure what to say. Things were the same as they had been for years. Dethklok was huge, bigger than Stiletto, bigger even than Snakes N' Barrels, but he was sure she already knew that. What was there to say? "Good," was all he could think of. His eyes slid over the other partygoers, but Nathan was too far to call for help, and Skwisgaar was too busy babysitting Toki to be of any use. No way in hell was he asking Murderface; He'd never live it down. "Just got back from a tour," he said, as if she wasn't aware of it. The whole world knew.

"Heard it was a raging success," she replied lightly, a bit of a teasing tone eking its way into her voice. When a suited caterer stepped past, she snatched a flute of champagne from the tray he carried. She lifted it to her lips, thought better of it, then offered it to him. Sounding almost like her old self, she said, "You look like you need this more than I do."

He accepted, of course, downing the champagne so fast he didn't even feel the bubbles. Fighting the urge to throw down the flute, he huffed, "You know me too well." When he looked at her again, she was looking back at him. She hardly looked like the same person. Fifteen years had passed since Snakes had broken up, but somehow she looked prettier now than she had then, dressed in a black suit far better tailored than his, her hair silvery blonde and hanging loose down her back, her heels high enough that she was almost at eye level with him. How was this even possible? Here he was, old and pudgy and balding, and yet she was still gorgeous. He said, "You look good."

She said, "You, too."

He repressed a shiver when her bright eyes slid over him, turning the champagne flute over in his hands, paying special attention to the place where her lips had touched the glass, leaving a little smear of dark lipstick. He swiped it away with his thumb.

There was a long pause, then St. Cecilia muttered, "Christ, this is awkward."

There was nervous laughter in her voice, and Pickles mirrored it, tipping his head towards the bar and asking, "Wanna get a drink?"

"More than anything!" Her laughter was genuine now, and to Pickles's surprise, when he offered his arm, she took it, murmuring, "What a gentleman." She sounded impressed, and Pickles felt his chest swell with pride.

They stepped through the crowd of record execs and singers and musicians to the bar set up against the far wall, claiming a pair of empty stools, and Pickles ordered them each a whiskey neat. While she sipped at hers, he downed his with a great sigh, saying, "Been way too long."

"Since you've had whiskey?" St. Cecilia asked, laughing when he shot her a deadpan look. The sound was like fire, warm and bright and blazing through him. He'd have blisters when they parted, he was sure of it. They'd hurt like hell.

"Since we seen each other," he said, feeling raw and vulnerable. Fucking gay, he scolded himself. He was the most famous drummer in the world, he had a different girl in his bed every night, why did this one make him so nervous? It was fucking ridiculous. Stupidly, he asked, "You got a boyfriend?"

Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and he felt his heart shudder, then shatter. Softly, she said, "I do, actually."

He said, "Shit."

He was immensely relieved when he heard Nathan shout, "Pickles! We're leaving!" When Pickles glanced in his direction, he saw Nathan supporting a thoroughly drunk Toki while Skwisgaar had his head tilted back and nursing a bloody nose. Murderface was nowhere to be seen, and that was the most worrying thing of all.

St. Cecilia asked, "Already?"

Pickles tried not to be comforted by how disappointed she sounded, but he failed miserably. "Guess so," he said. He reached for her again, and this time, he went through with it, pulling her into his arms, resting his forehead against her tattooed shoulder. The ink was new, but she smelled like jasmine and cinnamon and cloves, as she always had. Cinnabar, it was called. He'd recognize it anywhere. He pulled away, grabbed a cocktail napkin and a pen from the affronted bartender's shirt pocket and scribbled his phone number on it. "If the boyfriend breaks your heart," he said, handing the napkin over, "call me." As he did, their hands touched, and he pulled away, lest the sparks set him alight. "I'll break his neck."

Smiling, she scoffed, "You would, wouldn't you?"

"In a heartbeat."

"Pickles!" Nathan called again. "Now!"

"I'm coming!" Pickles hollered back, green eyes rolling. "God!" Then, without thinking, he pulled St. Cecilia close again, pressing his mouth to hers, reveling in the familiar taste of her lips.

When he pulled back, she whispered against him, "We can't do this." She wanted to, though. Pickles could feel her heart was pounding against his fingers where they rested at her waist. Her eyes were blown dark with want, and she looked away from him again, lifting a black-nailed hand to push a lock of silvery hair behind her ear.

She was right, he knew, and he slipped away from her, to where the boys were waiting for him. Murderface had appeared now, spitting congratulations at him, and Pickles gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs. Toki found this hilarious, but Pickles couldn't manage a smile. The void in his chest was a bottomless pit now, and he doubted there was enough booze in all of Mordhaus to fill it.

.

Did I just make St. Cecilia more important to Pickles’s backstory than she had any right to be? Yes. Did I make her a possible cause for not only his substance issues but also SNB’s breakup? Yes, I did that, too. Oops? Also points to anyone who guesses who the boyfriend is! Lol

[zodiyack]

Teenage Dream (II)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, little bit o’ fluff

Words: 1,003

(Series) Summary: A woman, in his life prior to the war, has suddenly reentered Tommy’s life, leaving him just as longing as she did when he were just a teen. A romance blossomed and wilted long ago, but the garden is being watered again. Thomas is falling for her, again.

Theme Song For The Series: Teenage Dream (cover?) by T. Rex

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever​, @matth1w, @fandom-puff, @simonsbluee, @redspaceace-writes, @stuckysslag, @marquelapage​, @peakyxtommy, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @psychkunox, @jenepleurepasbaby, @darling-i-read-it

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

Part I. Part II.  Part III.

The knocks at the door had gone unanswered for an annoying amount of time. Tommy sighed heavily, yelling for what had to be the twentieth time, but, like the previous calls, no one replied, thus prompting the incessant knocking to continue. He rose to his feet and paced to the door. Swinging it open, he prepared to yell at the guest who just wouldn’t leave.

But there she was. “What the fuck do you- Oh...Y/n...”

“Good morning to you too, Thomas.” A curt and polite nod was her greeting, just like it had been since he’d returned from the war.

“She’s, uh...she’s not here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ada. She’s out. At least, I assume you’re here for Ada?” He asked her with a raise of his right brow. To his surprise, she chuckled lightly and shook her head.

“Quite the contrary, Thomas. You see, ...I’ve come to see you.”

The emotionless mask he dawned almost slipped from his face before he caught himself and subtly pulled it back on. “Oh. Well, um, come inside.”

She followed behind him, examining the home after she’d stepped in. “It looks the same as when we were just two love-struck adolescents.” Her eyes were soft as they scanned their surroundings, a memory ghosting in her irises.

“Those were good times.”

Y/n’s head turned back around. Her eyes met his and she nodded. “Yes, indeed they were. Young and innocent- ...Well, that depends on your definition of innocent...” He allowed a small smile to slip past his tough facade and chuckled a little at her suggestive joke.

“Do you think of those times often?”

That question. That fucking question. It was harmless when he thought about it, but then...

He could see it; the look in her eyes that screamed yes. Even if her answer was no, he could see through her. “I uh, I came here to deliver this... It was sent to my address instead. Sorry for the inconvenience, Thomas.” She averted her eyes and sucked in her lip. The tension thickened with an awkward feeling as she nodded slowly before turning and walking out the door.

He handled the letter carefully, fidgeting with it. What was she doing to him?

After drinking away her ignored feelings for Tommy, Y/n walked home. Unfortunately, she had been caught unaware on a rather void road in Small Heath.

A man had expected to mug her, undoubtfully, and upon realizing she didn’t have anything on her person of worth, he grew agitated. She’d explained to him a number of times that she didn’t have anything and yet he made her prove it to him. As she showed her point, he furrowed his brows and raised his gun.

“Stupid bitch!” The stranger fired at her, the bullet finding her stomach.

She keeled over, muttering curses under the shortened breaths living her parted lips. Her eyes clenched shut and her hands darted over her wound as an instinctive series of actions took autopilot. Though her eyes remained closed, she could hear the groans and hollers of her attackers. The pain they felt was audible yet she felt no empathy for them.

After it was over, there was silent. A nothingness stilled the air around her. It gave her time to suck in a sharp breath through her teeth as she attempted to rise to her feet, face contorting as she let out a moan of pain. Y/n made it to her feet, but not on her own. Her eyes snapped open as the pain seemingly calmed to an expectable sting.

“C’mon.” Tommy grunted beside her. Her arm was slung over his shoulders and his free arm cooked around her side, helping her move and avoid pain as much as possible. “Don’t you go dying on me today, Y/n.” 

“I didn’t need your help.” An accidental misstep elicited a yelp from Y/n.

“Sure you don’t. Just know,” another groan from Tommy with another step Tommy took, “you would’ve been dead had I not been around.”

“And you would’ve been better off, seeing as you would be able to stop hiding in private parts of the bar and in your office at the betting shop.”

He rolled his eyes, inhaling deeply with a new hint of frustration. “That’s enough, Y/n. I will not have you tear yourself down over my stupidity.”

“Stupidity?” Y/n halted in her tracks, forcing Tommy to stop and focus his full attention onto her. “I never said such fucking things! Fighting for your country is not stupidity!”

“I didn’t fucking think it was! But then suddenly, I’m back home, and you’re fucking gone!”

“Don’t make this about me. This is about you, and your fucking-” she slammed her palm against his chest, voice cracking as the water sparkled like diamonds in her eyes, leaving traces of desolate treasure as it streamed down her cheeks, “fucking stupid,” another shove of her hand, “stupid bravery, your bloody irresistible good looks, and that stupid, absolutely fucking stupid, beguiling smile of yours.”

“The only thing-” He grabbed her face, ignoring the erratic shakes of her head as she tried to flee from his grip. Patiently, Tommy waited until she’d subdued herself, then looked her in the eyes. “Listen to me. The only thing stupid is my actions. My stupidity is not worth this self destruction.”

“I don’t give a fuck about you thi-”

“Listen. I was dumb, I made a mistake... I made a mistake that took my world from me. If anything, I should be the one tearing myself apart because of it. Because I let you go.”

His words genuinely caught her off-guard, the cruel retort dying on her tongue. “W-what?-”

His lips slammed against hers, shutting her up almost instantly. It didn’t last very long, but it would memory-wise, the kiss leaving her bemused. What had her even more perplexed was when he dragged his thumb down her lips slowly, eyes trained on it as he bit his bottom lip, before flicking his gaze back up to hers and walking away.

[sevdrag]

i've lost 6 followers over this nonsense

i mean probably people don't want to see this shit every day? and that's fair

or maybe they're porn bots and i'm fuckin up their algorithm

ah, tumblr, where numbers don't matter because we're all just hollering into the void

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Oh please, yes!!! I am a lover of whump, and hurt comfort, and I definitely have idea in mind. Like Dr. Iplier and someone (Yan) like gets out of control (emotionally or physically) and they have to be sedated... and it’s just Dr. Iplier comforting them while they slowly drift off against their will...

I like your style, Anon ;) So much so that I already wrote something like that in Chapter 9 of Unravel. But since that fic is (very) long and you may not want to read eight chapters of context, I also wrote a little something here, as a treat :3c Hope you like it!

~

The building is silent.

All the egos, young and old, weak and strong, have shut themselves in their bedrooms, doors locked. Every important room is closed off. The greenhouse, the library, the control room, all of it locked and inaccessible.

The reason for this lockdown begins with Dark. He’s off on a business trip, but it’s been hours since anyone’s heard from him. All calls and texts have gone unanswered. The countless messages in his answering machine, if heard, have not gotten a response. He is probably busy with meetings, or the phone’s battery has died, or his phone has been lost or stolen. There’s any number of reasons for Dark to be ignoring messages, and him being injured or dead is the very least likely.

The reason for this lockdown ends with Yandere.

When he has no information to go off, he defaults to the worse-case scenario. His imagination is too active, his fear is too powerful, his rage is unstoppable. He staggers through the halls of Ego Inc., eyes blazing red, the tip of his katana dragging along the wall, alternating between giggling madly and weeping messily. He’s left Dark seventeen voice messages and texted him forty-two times. As far as he knows, Dark is dead in a ditch, and his mind can’t handle it. He’s out for blood, something to take his suffering out on. He’s already taken a slice out of Silver Shepherd for trying to talk him down. The other egos hide so they don’t suffer the same.

In the clinic, the two egos closest to Yandere discuss the situation.

“What now?” asks Dr. Iplier, keeping quiet lest Yandere hear him. “Everyone’s in a panic, and I’m reduced to texting King on how best to bandage Silver’s stab wound. He’ll hurt someone else eventually if we don’t stop him.”

“Maybe I could try talking to him,” says Wilford, only giving the situation half the gravity it deserves. “He’s just scared, I can help him feel better.”

“We both know the only person who could get through to him now is Dark,” Dr. Iplier mutters, thinking, “Unless he suddenly calls Yandere back, we’ll...we’ll have to subdue him somehow.”

“I can’t keep him in my void,” Wilford muses, frowning, “It’d tear him apart in an hour.”

“We could get him in his room and barricade it,” Dr. Iplier says, “But there’s no guarantee he won’t find a way out through the vents, or hurt himself if he can’t.”

They think.

“I think...” Dr. Iplier finally sighs, “That he has to be sedated. I can strap him down while he’s out, and he won’t be able to hurt anyone or himself. It should hold until Dark gets back to us.”

“Does that mean I’m on distraction duty?” Wilford asks.

“More like grabbing duty, if you can manage it,” Dr. Iplier replies. He moves to prepare a tranquilizer. “We only have one chance. Yan won’t let his guard down with us a second time.”

Despite suggesting it, and knowing it must be done, Dr. Iplier follows behind Wilford through the halls with guilt in his heart. He doesn’t want to think of shoving the needle in his hand into his boy’s neck. But he will. He has to. His job is to do no harm, and that means subduing those who would do harm, like Yandere now.

Before long, they reach him. His head snaps toward them, but he only looks at Wilford.

“What do you want, onii-san?” Yandere growls. He perks up suddenly. “Oh, did senpai call you? Or text you?”

“Uhhhhh...yes,” Wilford decides, “He did, as a matter of fact. He wants to talk to you, actually.” He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. “He texted me, you can text him back!”

Yandere laughs, loud and long.

“Onii-san, I can text him back from here,” Yandere chuckles. He eyes narrow. “That is, I can if he’ll truly respond. But he won’t. You’re lying to me, aren’t you, onii-san?”

“Name one time I lied!” Wilford protests.

“Just now,” Yandere snarls, before lunging at Wilford.

But Wilford is ready, and he sidesteps Yandere’s downswing, using a bit of quick teleportation to get behind Yandere. Dr. Iplier barely manages to get out of the way of Yandere’s weapon. Another swing would get him for sure, but Wilford grabs Yandere’s arms before he can try. Yandere screams and struggles violently. He screams louder when he catches sight of Dr. Iplier’s tranquilizer, nearly kicking the syringe out of his hand.

“Honey, honey, calm down, please,” Dr. Iplier begs.

“Fuck you, I won’t calm down!!” Yandere hollers, still twisting in Wilford’s grip. “Yami could be hurt, he could be dead! It’s been seven hours and thirty-two minutes and five seconds since he last said anything to me! Don’t make be calm!”

“Relax, sweetheart, it’ll be easier,” Dr. Iplier tells him, drawing closer.

“Don’t make me sleep!” Yandere cries. “Don’t you get it!? This is serious! You can’t tell me to calm down when you shouldn’t be calm, either!! You can’t do this to me!”

Dr. Iplier doesn’t reply, he only comes forward with the syringe, aiming for Yandere’s neck. But at the last moment Yandere kicks out, catching Dr. Ipleir’s leg, making him buckle. The needle goes into Yandere’s shoulder instead. Yandere gasps, Dr. Iplier curses, but an injection is an injection, so Dr. Iplier pushes down the plunger and unloads the sedative into Yandere.

“Fuck you!” Yandere yells, kicking out again. Dr. Iplier manages not to get kicked again as he removes the needle.

“Why’s he still awake?” Wilford asks, “You still gave him the shot, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but in a bad spot,” Dr. Iplier mutters, “It’ll take a bit longer for it to work.”

“I hate you! I hate both of you!!” Yandere wails, but already his struggling is weaker.

“You don’t mean that, love,” Dr. Iplier murmurs. He cups Yandere’s face in his hands. “You’re upset, and you’re scared.”

“Yami could be dead,” Yandere growls, standing but not moving.

“He isn’t, sweetheart.”

“You don’t know-” Yandere gasps, and his feet give out from under him. He slumps down, only in the air by Wilford’s hands on his arms.

“Give him to me,” Dr. Iplier orders, a rush of protectiveness running through him. Wilford obeys, and Dr. Iplier lowers Yandere to the ground, holding him close.

“No,” Yandere moans, “Don’t make me, don’t make me...”

“Shh,” Dr. Iplier whispers, one arm holding Yandere as the other hand strokes his cheek, “Go to sleep, love, it’ll be alright.”

“I want Yami,” Yandere whimpers, the red fading from his eyes as sleep overpowers his anger. A tear snakes down his cheek until Dr. Iplier’s finger catches it.

“I know, Yan,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, “We’ll figure out what’s going on, I promise.”

“I...I want...” Yandere’s eyes start to close against his will, he body starts to go limp.

“Shhhh,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, still stroking his cheek, “It’s alright son, I love you.”

After a few more moments of Yandere’s eyelids fluttering, his eyes finally droop closed, and his body relaxes into Dr. Iplier’s arms. Dr. Iplier sighs shakily as he stands, carrying Yandere and ignoring the hand Wilford offers to help him up.

“Doc, are you crying?” Wilford asks, bewildered.

“Let’s just get to the clinic to strap him down,” Dr. Iplier mutters, walking away.