#i just. the cat is not helping my depression or grief. i just want my dog back.

[mercurialsmile]

Maybe its grief. Maybe I'm just really depressed. Or maybe I'm just tired.

But I really do not think I am a cat person. I've had this cat for not even a week and she's driving me a little crazy. I don't get what the big deal is and do not understand why so many people go crazy for cats.

[dreamwatch]

Know When To Hold 'em

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #17 - Prompt: This One's For You | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: death of a parent, depression, grief, referenced drug abuse, alcoholism | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Wayne Munson, Eddie needs a hug, protective Steve, hurt/comfort

I'm sorry. :(

The first time it happened totally out of the blue.

It was their first big show in Indy, their home show, and of course Wayne wanted to be there, as much out of curiosity as anything. He didn’t hear a thing; Steve gave him a set of ear plugs and it was like he’d been handed a pot of gold. “I could have done with these years ago.” But he saw everything and he talked about that show to anyone that would listen, and a few that wouldn’t.

Eddie was over the goddamn moon about it so he told the audience, “My Uncle Wayne’s here tonight, everyone say 'hi Uncle Wayne!'” and five thousand people just— did it. Because Eddie asked them to. Even through the ear plugs Wayne heard it. Steve’s not sure he’s ever seen the old man blush before.

So it became a thing completely by accident. If Wayne was there they played The Gambler as the last song of the encore; like the flag at Buckingham Palace telling everyone the Queen was home: Uncle Wayne was in the house. The fans latched onto it straight away, and it was one of only a couple of songs that Eddie would sing. Wayne didn’t see the band play often but it didn’t matter where they were, the moment that song started up the crowd went wild; the roar of “Hi Uncle Wayne!” rolling through the audience before everyone sang along. And Wayne there at the edge of the stage shaking his head, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Eddie was in Germany when Wayne died. 

‘The best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep’, sang The Gambler, and that’s exactly what he did. Wayne would have got a kick out of that.

Breaking the news to Eddie was the most painful thing Steve’s ever had to do.

Tonight is their first night back after a two month hiatus. It feels too soon, but there are contracts, missed shows, obligations, and there’s only so much their manager can do to keep the label, promoters and lawyers away. 

Eddie’s dead eyed and lethargic; he’s started drinking again, Steve discreetly hid his pain medication when he noticed the bottle emptying faster than it should have. He sleeps with a belly full of Ambien and spends his day wrapped in Zoloft. Neither help.

But the show must go on, right? 

Despite everything, the grief, the fog of depression, when he walks out onto the stage he’s a supernova, the brightest of lights in the deepest of darks. He’s fucking dazzling. 

The crowd at the Market Square Arena are on fire, they explode when the band run on stage but Steve doesn’t miss the extra noise when Eddie gets out there. Eddie loosens up as the gig goes on, and by the end, when they take a bow together, he looks like a different man to the shell thats been haunting their home. 

There will be a crash later. Steve is already prepared for it.

The band come off drenched with sweat. Steve can see the pinched expression on Eddie’s face, the exertion after all this time lying around like a ghost has taken its toll on a body that has seen better days. But he still smiles at Steve as he hands off the guitar to his tech, his Sweetheart, only brought out for the encores now. 

“Was it okay?” Eddie asks him, towelling the sweat from his face.

“You were amazing,” is all Steve can manage right there, but he’s buzzing inside and there’s more he wants to say. But that’s for later, when it’s just them.

The band are handing off instruments, roadies scurrying around, breakdown already underway. There’s a lot happening, and you know, Steve’s hearing isn’t that great these days but there’s nothing wrong with his eyesight. He sees the little commotion over Eddie’s shoulder, the way people halt, ears pricking up like labradors. Jeff turns to Steve with wide eyes and Matt has stopped in his tracks. And then he sees the exact moment Eddie picks up on it, the furrowed brow, the soft tilt of the head.

The crowd are singing Wayne’s song.

Everyone stops. Roadies stand there like marionettes with their strings cut.

And Eddie…

He looks devastated, his hand flying up to his mouth like he’s trying to bury a sob, stopping the grief from breaking containment.

Steve can see the band over Eddie’s shoulder, heads nodding before they’re grabbing guitars back from their techs. He knows what they’re going to do, but there’s no way Eddie is up to it, they have to know that. Jeff slings an arm over Eddie’s shoulder, pulls him in, knocking his forehead against Eddie’s. And then Matty does it, Matty who doesn’t have a sentimental bone in his body, but Gareth is long gone, already running back onto the stage, crowd cheering at the sight of him, before Matty and Jeff follow him out. And they pick up where the crowd are and they play. Eddie usually sings it, but Jeff takes it tonight. 

Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “C’mon,” he says, pulling Eddie toward the side of the stage.

Steve loved Wayne, so fucking much. And maybe with all the help and care Eddie needed afterward, still needs, maybe Steve didn’t get a chance to grieve properly. He feels the ache in his chest, before he notices the calloused fingers wiping his tears away.

“He loved you, Steve.” He can’t reply, just nods, and Eddie holds him like he should be holding Eddie. And then he’s gone, out on to the stage, back with his band. No guitar, just sharing a mic with Jeff and joining as much as the tears will allow. And then the music cuts, Matty and Gareth joining them at the mic, and it’s just voices, nineteen thousand and four. Corroded Coffin, arms slung across shoulders, singing Wayne’s song. 

Singing to Wayne.

Yeah... I went there.

So, I had this idea months ago and parked it because I didn't know what to do with it. And then this prompt came along and BOOM!

[ceilidho]

Ok if this doesn't sound like an idea you'd be interested in then disregard, i don't want to bother you 🙂 BuT! It's been itching the back of my brain since forced throuple au and creepy-apartment!ghost has compounded it so:

Forced throuple but a sort of android verse with some body snatching horror thrown in for flavor. Reader's husband (Soapy boy) dies suddenly and in their grief a lot of stuff has gone into disrepair, so they mail order an android to help around the house and with crippling loneliness. The company sends Ghost, a refurbished security model now named Simon, and he ends up being pretty helpful despite the silent brooding. Hell, sometimes that even helps as scary dog privilege so you let it slide (big mistake dumby, that android is falling for you in the process of taking care of you ohhh no-).

But maybe Ghosts old security features make him super observant (obsessive) paired with his new "fix it" code make him come to the conclusion that, actually, reader could still use her husband and mail orders a Soap-bot-3000 without letting them know :O. Watch the horror unfold as Reader wakes up one morning to her VERY NOT dead husband in bed and both Ghost and Soap acting like nothing is wrong :)))), maybe some "Simon reverts fo Ghost" too as the story progresses

this is from awhile ago (apologies, anon) and so wickedly weird and cool :)))

androids that are so realistic and bodies so malleable that they almost feel lifelike, like they're flesh and blood. you never wanted to actually give in and purchase one because you have personal qualms with the idea of something so human-looking being programmable and subservient to you; it's just always felt wrong and borderline cruel, and johnny used to concur with you when you spoke about it. that was then though. years and months and weeks before the accident.

now it's midday on a tuesday and you can't even get out of bed. there are two weeks of dishes in the sink and the lawn is overgrown and the feral cats haven't stopped by in days because you haven't had the strength to get up and feed them. your voicemail's been full for days. your sister stopped by and insisted when she saw the state of your house. "at least for a few weeks," she pleaded with you. you can always return it when you're back on your feet. she's already ordered you one from 141 Labs before she's even out the door, making you promise to give it a shot.

when you open the box, you worry that you might've ordered the wrong model. the size of the android they sent you feels out of place, like he's meant for private military companies or as a bodyguard for celebrities. not depressed accountants who can't get out of bed because their husband died two weeks ago. but it's your name on the receipt, your address. so when his blue eyes flare neon when he's first activated and all six feet and four inches of him sit up in the crate (that had to be wheeled in by two delivery men, you recall with a small amount of horror), you wait patiently to introduce yourself.

maybe this one was sent to you because of the defect. he wears a mask because the only layer of skin on his face starts from the bottom of his face down. at first you roll the mask up only to shudder at the exposed wiring and metal where cheekbones should be. you roll it back down.

he comes with a name. Ghost. that's his model, you surmise from the lengthy instruction booklet you're provided. the whole situation feels weird at first; his presence in your house always catches you off guard, even though, you suppose, it's his house now too. you jump whenever you walk into a room and he's just there, silent, so large that you nearly always think Threat first before you recognize him. maybe it's not fully your fault. he makes no effort to signal his presence, moving silently from room to room when he helps carry out the garbage or swifter the living room. sometimes you catch him staring at the photos of you and johnny that still line the top of the fireplace.

you try to be equitable, insisting that he take the guest room as his own. Ghost won't hear of it, following you into your room when night falls; ominous. you have to lock yourself in the en suite to change, heart beating away because you know he's standing just outside the door, like a cat waiting to be let in. shaking hands drag your clothes down. you stare blankly at the door while you shower, fingers twitching when you pass a washcloth over your nipples.

you think there's something wrong with you. you're sick or something. you're sick or something worse because your husband died two weeks ago and the thing in your house isn't even a human and still your stomach clenches when you think of him waiting for you in your room, knowing that you're naked behind the door. it's taboo; it's not something that's done, at least not something that's spoken about. people don't sleep with their androids. recent widows especially should not be thinking about fucking their androids.

two weeks go by. you can't even think about johnny without wincing these days.

"he was your husband."

you look up. Ghost says it like a fact, not a question. you're in the living room sorting through insurance papers while Ghost vacuums under the sofa (he lifts the corner up with just a single hand; you swallow, throat already dry). neon blue eyes zip across your face when you look over at him. you wonder sometimes what he sees there, etched into the plains of your face.

"yeah." your smile is tight, pained. "johnny."

he looks back down to the framed photo in his hand, studying it. you wish you could ask him what he's thinking about, but you worry that would be just another privacy stripped. you can't ask more of him.

"what happened to him?" he finally asks, looking up again.

you feel it catch in your throat. "he, um - he." it doesn't come out. your nose stings before you can even try to get more out. you grimace, shrug instead. you try to smile again, but it's warped, unpleasant to form much less look at. don't ask, it says, whatever you do, please, please don't ask.

"you miss him?"

you blink at him, misty eyed. "ye - of course."

his eyes are so, so blue when he stares across the room at you. it's unnerving to look at; terrifying to find yourself under his scrutinizing gaze. what do androids even think about?

"I understand." he puts the photo back on the bookshelf and walks out of the room.

sometimes you catch him watching you too intensely; rare moments when he doesn't seem entirely mechanical. you wonder if one day you'll roll the mask up and there'll be skin there suddenly, a real flesh and blood person. it feels entirely possible some days. he moves too fluidly, has his own quirks and intricacies that seem newer each day.

you don't try it. the minuscule amount of professional space between the two of you is an absolute. you worry sometimes what you'll let happen if you ever let that distance collapse. already he sleeps motionlessly in the chair beside your bed, refusing his own room. he powers down with his eyes still open, the blue flickering away to a dark grey. it's only mildly reassuring.

when you open your eyes in the middle of the night though, he stares back at you, eyes dark and sightless.

you worry sometimes that you might have made a mistake, letting your sister talk you in to this.

it's the arm tucked around your waist when you're doing the shopping, freezing for a second before the hand on your hip squeezes and he pulls you towards the fruit and veg. it's the menacing stare from over your shoulder when a man approaches you in the checkout lane, offering his condolences (an old colleague of your husband's, he says) and an invitation to dinner. you open your mouth only for Ghost to answer for you.

"No." it thrums out of him, a different modulation. you stare helplessly as the man's face goes white and he makes an excuse to leave, offering you another lame apology.

it's the hand that tugs you out of the store by the back of your shirt, Ghost's voice rumbling like he doesn't know you can hear him. saying something about how you don't need another man in your house. that you had johnny and now you have him.

[messier-47]

My Unkept Man

As a birthday gift to both myself and you guys, I took on the challenge of writing a little bit of a brand new WIP that's been in my head for months.

Synopsis? Uchiha Izuna is dead, Konoha is/has been buit up and Madara is still in the deep throws of depression. Hashirama, who'd lost all of his brothers years ago decides to gift Madara with something to help take his mind off his grief, a cat. This story was gonna be one of those "Super depressed MC gets a pet and has to make a new resolve to get better for his cat."

Then my brain went, "What if this story was in the POV of the cat?"

When next I see the Silly Man I shall kill him.

Yes, that is what I’ll do, for he has locked me in here without a way to get out and it is too small a place for me. Let me out!

“Shuuu-shuuu-shuuush,” the Silly Man says out of his stupid mouth, “Please don’t be so loud, I’ll let you out soon.”

He is stupid. Has forgotten that he had stuffed me into this crate but I have not forgotten, so I shall remind him often. Let me out this insufferable box!

The Silly Man continues to gibber, but is easily distracted by something else - a doorway has opened!

“What is it, Hashirama?” ‘tis another Man.

“Madara!” exclaims the Silly Man, “I have a gift for you, my friend!”

“Gift?” is questioned, “For what?”

Ignored. “Do you remember when you told me that you wanted a cat?”

“I didn’t say that. I distinctly remember saying that I didn’t want a dog or cat.”

“But that Uchiha have cats.”

“Yeah, as summons. What have you done, Hashirama?”

“I got you a cat!” The box was opened and a great light blinded me! In the seconds of weakness, the Silly Man took ahold of my ribs and lifted my into the air! “Look! Ain’t he cute?”

Let go of me! I used my back paws to kick and claw at the Man paws around my chest but the Silly Man catches and clutches me closer to his chest and face. I have little room to move and be free, and I let him know my ire.

“He looks feral,” the Men say among themselves, too stupid to understand any sophisticated speech. “And is that…a domesticated house cat? Not even a neko nin!”

“And he’s yours,” said the Silly Man, “I thought he’d be good for you.”

I bat at the Silly Man’s face, my sharp claws extended; release me!

He dodges my powerful strikes but I catch some of his overlong fur within my grasp. Ugh! Now it’s stuck to me!

“Ah, yes,” gibbered the other Man, “He seems so nice.”

“He’s not always like this,” said the Silly Man. He’s talking about me. I always know when Man talks about me in my presence. Let me down! “He’s just upset that I put him in a crate for so long. Back in you go.”

No! Unhand me you fool!

“Ah!” the Silly Man cries out in defeat as I successfully escape his grasp. There is a long curtain by the window, I climb it to freedom! A tall shelf becomes my respite, Man may be bigger than I but not as tall as I now. They’ll never get me from here!

“Dang it!” says the Silly Man, “You never behave!”

“I don’t know, Hashirama,” says the other Man, twisting his arms over his chest, “Seems to me he’s got the right idea.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” the Silly Man whimpered, “I think you’ll grow to like him if given the chance. And he could help you!”

“Help me?”

The two blathered whilst I sat well above their heads, out of reach and in a superior position for any counter attack. Should the Silly Man reach for me with his soft, fleshy paws and naked arms, I shall shred him to pieces.

“It’s been little over half a year, my friend,” said the Silly Man, voice having lost its vigor, “I worry about you.”

“Didn’t know you were keeping track,” said the other Man, “and it’s been eight months, if you even cared enough to know.”

“Madara!”

The Silly Man sometimes wasn’t so silly.

The Silly Man is strong. He was dangerous. Foolish, to be sure, especially when in comparison to my greatness, but the Silly Man wasn’t someone to forget he had his own set of sheathed claws.

“I care,” he said.

It was an ambush! Vines of great strength caught and tangled me up as a spider does prey. I protest this loudly, for I am no prey!

“It’s been eight months and you’re still grieving,” said the Stupid Man as he would not release me! The vines carried me down from my vantage point. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself and…I thought that having a pet might cheer your spirits up.”

I am brought into the arms of the Stupid Man. I intend to eat his liver.

“You brought a feral cat to cheer me up?” the other Man questioned.

“He’s not feral,” said the Stupid Man with an absent wave of his hand, “He’s been in the family for years now, King of the Senju Compound. He’s just…spicy!”

“And you think I’ll grow to like him?”

“You’re both surprisingly similar,” said the Silly Man before dumping my entrapped body into the hands of the other Man. “I thought you’d either get along like a house on fire or the house would definitely be on fire.”

I looked at the other Man and disapproved of him. He was just so…unkept! The fur on his head was too long to manage with a tongue, puffed up fluffy but his face was the typical Man face kept naked.

I bat at his face.

He does not dodge my sharp claws, his instincts dull and weak. My claws do not scratch him as I am too close for a proper graze, but my paw pushes him away by the fatness of his cheek.

He grumbles, “Does this thing have a name or can I call him Little Bastard or Shiro-Oni?”

“Don’t be mean,” the Silly Man scolds. I do not listen to him because I refuse. “His name is Tobirama.”

“Tobi-? What a pretentious first name!”

“Better than calling him ‘Little Bastard’. Come on, at least try. I know you’ll come to like him!”

The Unkept Man looks me in the eye and I look back.

He is so very ugly and I tell him so.

“Yeah?” says the Unkept man, “Well I don’t like you either.”

His blood shall wet my claws.

“Ah! You little-!”

“No Madara! Not the desk again!”

The indignity that one such as I must endure! With fang and claw, I shall reap all their suffering henceforth!

[bettyfrommars]

the corner of Heartache & Jameson

18+only, cemetery meet cute, talk of grief and death, allusions to depression and alcohol consumption. Eddie is grieving and so is reader.

wc: 706

You hug yourself against the brisk, icy wind, flexing the collar of your coat up to cover your ears as you stand in the cemetery staring with wet eyes at the headstone in front of you.

“Sometimes I hate you for this, you know?” You scowl and shuffle your feet.  “For dying on me like you did, for leaving me alone here in this shitty world.  It’s not fair.”

Your grandmother’s name is spelled out on the cement slab, and there are fresh poinsettias just below it that will soon suffocate under the freshly fallen snow.  The sun is down and darkness crowds in around you, as if stumbling over shafts of light in its eagerness to be by your side.  You don’t avoid them like others might; you let them curl into you like stray cats and make a home.

You silently dare the gathering shadows to do with you what they will.  

You sniff back a sob and wipe tears from your eyes with angry yanks across your cheeks.  “I came to say I love you and I miss you and I wish you were here.  I don’t have anyone to spend the holidays with so—-”

Footsteps crunch in the snow and you hear a lighter flick.

You look up to see the small flame from a few yards away, and then, a face. 

“Did I scare you?” A man's voice asks, lit cigarette bobbing between his lips.

He sucks in a drag, and you scoff at whoever it is, irritated that he would dare to interrupt your therapeutic, sulking rant to your dead grandmother at her grave.  

“Quite presumptuous of you to think you’d have any effect on me,” you bite, wrapping your arms around your ribcage tighter, feeling for the pepper spray in your coat pocket, just in case.  

“I’m sorry,” he says softly.  He lowers the cigarette, and you can only see his silhouette against the falling snow.  “I’m just not used to bumping into people out here this time of night.”

“You hang out in the cemetery a lot? How hardcore of you.” Your tone is mocking, you want him to leave.  You wish to be alone with your misery and the several travel-size bottles of Jameson.

“These past few months, yeah,” he admits with a shrug.  You can see the outline of his hand and the bright cherry glow on his smoke.  “Since my uncle passed.  He’s right over there.”

He sticks his elbow out to the right, in a general direction.  As if he can’t look, as if it’s still too hard. 

“He raised me,” he offers, as if to accentuate the point that the man had not been just any uncle.  “So, I like to come here and get sad, too, you know?”

You relax your hand on the pepper spray.  You relax your jaw too, and for a brief second, you hope that he is the grim reaper coming to take you away from this earthly hell.

He takes a tentative step closer, and in the dim glow of the moonlight, you can finally see the gentle curves of his face.  “Names Eddie,” he shoves one hand into the front pocket of his jeans and flicks ash from his smoke with the other.  Other than ripped jeans and sneakers, he only has on a threadbare concert tee and a thin leather jacket.

You don’t tell him your name because you’re not sure if you want to know anyone anymore.  Being alone is better, being alone is safe.  

But you can’t help but notice: “Are you cold?”

He snorts a laugh. “I kinda am, yeah. I didn’t really expect to come out here.  It just…happened.”

You understood the compulsion.  You’d driven to the cemetery in your pajamas once in a fit of grief.  

You felt in your other pocket for the tiny bottles of alcohol and rolled them around in your fingers so that they sounded like crashing marbles.  You held one up to him by the glass neck.  “You want to come back to my car and get warm? Be sad together?”

“Well, it is the holidays,” he tried not to smile but couldn’t help the grin that crept up one side of his face like the Grinch with an idea.  “Sucks to be alone this time of year.”

[bluemoon1331]

Hello, hello! Welcome to my main blog, where the DCA fascination consumes! My alt blog is @sharetheartman, go check it out if you wanna see the amazing art this community has to offer!

My Ko-fi (if you're able to help a struggling writer, very much appreciated. Can request written commissions if you want): BlueMoon1331

Below is a list of all my current fics on A03 and planned AUs! Give them a read if you love fantasy and the DCA! (Updated to divide between the SFW and NSFW stories)

<<<<<First up, the SFW section!>>>>>>

Finished Works:

One Lost Star- You are a bit of a hermit, living solo off the land since the death of your grandfather. Until you draw certain godly attention, that is.

Scarlet Masquerade- The sole heir to your kingdom, you find yourself caught in the tangled web of the automaton emperor's plans. However, things are about to go from bad to worse when you catch the interest of the deadly automaton assassin sent to end you.

WIPs:

Cosmic Journeys- Trapped in the depths of depression, you seek an unfortunate out. The nearby land owner won't let that happen, though. Thus begins a journey of self-worth and finding hope in a world of madness and compassion, monsters, saints, and everything in between.

Come and Go- A Megamind-inspired AU with Sun as Metroman, Moon as Megamind, and Eclipse as Titan, while you are a delivery driver caught in the middle.

Unusual- An oceanographer, there is no place you'd rather be than scouring the depths of the seven seas, studying its plant life and creatures, in particular the infamous mers, beings most of your co-workers are quite wary of. They don't seem to mind you too much, though, a fact you try not to put stock in until an encounter on the beach near your house flips your entire world upside down. Strings of fate and a battle to rule the oceans with you as the key? Ridiculous. Right?

Of Metal Parts and Roadside Shenanigans- You are a trucker traveling home before unwittingly tripping headfirst into a giant mystery. (More of @deceptiveshadow's Blood Moon cause I love him and cannot help myself.)

One-shots:

Party Crashing 101- A piece inspired by the mafia episode from Helluva Boss. Badass, protective reader ftw XD

Blooming In Adversity- You and the princesses were great friends in your youth, until you had to move away. Years later, you return, your friendship blooming anew. However, dark plots turn in the background, and it may be up to just you to save them.

Phantom Tide- You are a siren, crushed under betrayal. Sun and Moon are brothers recovering from the throes of grief. Perhaps you may be just what each other need.

Connotations- Your duties as a druid are fairly life-consuming, but you have happily devoted yourself to them. Keeping the peace is not the easiest, but you do it all the same. Unfortunately, the arrival of contesting priests threaten your efforts, setting you on a collision course to meet three of the forest's most powerful caretakers.

Diamonds and Iron- Being a rather big-time mafia boss, of course Eclipse needs places to stash away his income. As an outdoor enthusiast, you love visiting the local motorsports arena when you can afford it. Oh, who's that standing in the middle of the track, where you can't see?

<<<<<<<<<NSFW area ahoy!>>>>>>>>>>

Finished Works:

Never Play Cat and Mouse With Vampires- Living alone is a necessity, your skills in hunting, magic, and evasion giving you all you need for contentment, or so you tell yourself. In your newest home you, unfortunately, find that your capabilities only draw the infatuation of three local creatures that are intent to finally capture you and make you theirs. Annoyingly, they may just get that chance.

Dancing In Orbit- The lunar vampire is the last of his kind, a deadly plague on the Earth that refuses to yield despite the uncountable years that have passed since the last of his kin and kind died off. You, running from your intertwined past, seek to finally put an end to that, with some help from friends old and new.

Familiar Constellations- The vampires get a bit quirky about you, especially when you egg them on. Mature. Very, very mature. Good gods they are rough, but you love it. After all, you can get a bit rough with them, too.

Gravity- Featuring another of @deceptiveshadow's lovely OCs, Nova. Normally quite the quiet and cat-like companion, you join him for a round of games in which his behavior becomes increasingly odd. That's nothing compared to when you strangely wake in the tower the next day, having no recollection of how you got there, and what comes after.

WIPs:

Embers and Ash- Ghost hunting is your profession, and you are damn good at it. Which is why you don't think twice when you're hired to cleanse an abandoned mansion of its otherworldly resident. Too bad this job is not the cake walk you thought it would be.

Burning Stars- You run your farm alone on a world teeming with aliens and humans, content with your animal family and helpful community, even if you keep the latter at arm's lengths. Until your peace is interrupted by a certain intergalactic bounty hunter, anyway.

Rosewood's Serenade- The eldest child of your kingdom, you have trained since birth to be all your home needs and more, intent to take the throne when the time comes, marriage or no. However, your parents harbor a secret, a deal struck when disaster threatened to destroy all they hold dear, and you soon find yourself meeting a most intriguing being...

Demonic- The saying of Hell is empty for all the demons are here has never been more apt. Caught smack dab in the middle of the infamous Hell-Day event, you come out with an unexpected passenger woven into your soul. Now, you secretly fight to preserve the fragile balance between mortals and the demons trapped on Earth, all while contending with the fact your new neighbors are the very ones responsible for sealing the gates, the infamous Celestial Graces. They also happen to be the mortal enemies of the one currently living in you. Fun times all around, especially with devil himself on your heels, seeking to reclaim what he lost.

Along the Akesh- Blessed with visions since your youth, you were taken and raised by the temple, becoming one of the highest-ranked priests, second to only the grand heijut himself. With an awe-inspiring festival and ritual that happens only once every five centuries under way, you are eager to meet the moon god, one of the many you have had the pleasure of conversing with throughout your prayers and oracles, in person. Things take an unexpected turn, however, when the temple must pay recompense for an accidental screw up with a gift left by an old friend. You are about to learn just how intrigued you and the moon god truly are with each other.

One-shots:

Bleeding Feathers- You weren't supposed to go into the exclusionary zone, but that's never been a problem for you before. This time, however, you might just get more than you bargained for. Fan piece for @deceptiveshadow's harpy au! (Not TSAMS)

Color Theory- Moving back to your late grandma's cabin, you pray for things to finally settle down. Unfortunately, her myriad of secrets seek to come back and haunt you, but hey, it might not be all bad this time. You could use the comfort of an old friend. Another fic inspired by @deceptiveshadow! Their god Blood Moon this time. (Not TSAMS)

<<<<<<<Lastly, miscellaneous potential AUs!>>>>>>>

Lich King AU- With the three realms in shambles, cut off from each other, it is up to the most powerful warriors of Earth to fend off the lich king and his Elite army, including his own brothers. You, whom offers them a secret safe haven and relaxation when they need it, cannot deny your love for Sun and Moon, nor they you, but with Eclipse hounding for any weakness he can use against his kin, is the danger really worth it? You find the answer may be coming sooner than you would like when the two go missing after a fight.

Spirited Away AU- You have moved to a more remote region in hopes of forgetting a troubled family life. Content to spend your time among the lush jungles of the land, you inadvertently stumble upon an obviously long-forgotten temple. Curiosity eats at you, and you cannot help get closer, initially unaware of the myriad of eyes watching you, until you spot...an icy blue leopard? It's a good thing you helped those snakes and that spider on your way here.

Harem AU- You saved them from certain death, and now the clan of vampire brothers serve you. For years uncountable, you have pulled the strings, quite happy to cause chaos around the world when it becomes too dull for your liking, going from hero to hero. On blood soaked ground, you are content with your helpful vampires, though can things really stay the same forever?

[formerheroeswhoquittoolate]

deep breath I've got thoughts about the daredevil show because I think they have the opportunity to do the most daredevil thing possible and I really really want them to do it. (edit: this post is about sam chung/blindspot by the way, sorry to anyone who reblogged it thinking it was about like. spiderman or whatever)

the thing about daredevil is that a lot of his really good stories (at least in my opinion) are tragedies. karen page's death. elektra's death. that whole thing where he has a great life being out as matt murdock And daredevil but it's actually shit and the purple children have to put the cat back in the bag. killing a guy and going to jail. becoming a catholic priest who runs a foster home and still never being free from daredevil. basically the entirety of charles soule's daredevil run. "unavoidably bad things happen to matt murdock/daredevil because he is matt murdock And because he is daredevil" is kind of the name of the game.

matt has depression. even when things are going well, there's a weight to daredevil stories. he -- and we -- are all just. waiting. for the other shoe to drop.

look at me. what if there was a young vigilante that daredevil was training. what if he was trying to help the kid become a hero, protect his neighborhood like daredevil protects hell's kitchen. what if matt grows to like the kid, starts looking after him, gets him a job when he gets injured. begins to trust him. the kid becomes a light in the dark story that daredevil always has. irreverent and determined and utterly brilliant.

but we know what's coming.

do you see what I'm saying? can you see the proverbial sword of damocles, hanging over the narrative? the unavoidable catastrophe that is just a few episodes away? the knowledge that we are going to watch this kid lose his eyes, lose his family, and get nothing in return for his intelligence and perseverance and loss.

the tragedy of daredevil is not in plot twists. it's in inevitability. the long fingers of grief, the anticipation of more trials to come. matt is job, ceaselessly tested to see if he is worthy of an imitation of what he once had. he is peter, drawing a sword to protect something he doesn't fully understand, something they will kill him for in the end. daredevil stories do not have happy endings, and the tragedy is contagious.

all this to say: I hope sam chung ends up in daredevil: born again, exactly as he is in soule's original run. I hope we get to see him fly as blindspot, and I hope the inevitable fall is foreshadowed. I hope the first time we see blindspot, he's saving three people. I hope he gets two black eyes in a fight. I hope there are tricks of the light that make his eyes glow blue or appear entirely gone. I hope he borrows matt's iconic glasses and makes a joke about going blind. I hope we are forced to remember his tragedy every time we see him.

put him in the show, cowards

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭

part two of do you feel my hand? it is there. | part one | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: veterinarian!minho (this includes a few of the skz members working in his clinic). client!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. strangers to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. minho is reader's vet. reader's childhood cat suddenly gets diagnosed with cancer, and she has to make a big decision about what to do. this fanfic includes heavy topics like: pet euthanasia, extreme loss/grief, depression, the problems with pet healthcare, and more. there will be some humor/fluff placed throughout, and also smut somewhere along the way. :))

18+ warnings: masterbation. sexual fantasies. kinda perv behavior but not really??

word count: 3.0k

summary: dr. lee minho is known throughout your area as the city's hottest veterinarian, and he's also the very man that's been taking good care of your two cats for the past three years. but one day, you're thrown down a dark path of heartache when the cat that you've grown up with - nyx - is diagnosed with an acute form of bone cancer. burdened with the hardest decision of your entire life, you come at a crossroads of what to do. and throughout it all, minho is the single most person who continually stays by your side.

a/n: i seriously contemplated on whether or not I should post this chapter, after all of the events of this week. I want to make sure that I am cautious and sensitive to everyone during such a painful time. but in the end, I decided to post this since perhaps, it might help a few of you out there who are dealing with so many emotions right now. I cried while I was writing this last week because it brought up so many feelings that I felt when I had to put down my dog almost 2 years ago. so if this chapter make you sad, please don't feel bad about that or think that you're alone, because I swear that you're not. next week's chapter will be a little bit on the lighter side of things (but just barely). take care of yourselves, okay?? take everything one day at a time. allow yourself to feel a plethora of things, or nothing at all. everyone is different and processes things at a variety of paces. this isn't a race, this is life. and as always, my asks/dms are always open if you just need to vent to a listening ear. I love you guys, and... stay strong, yeah?? ❤️

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. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ skz fic recs [sfw ver]! ࿐ྂ

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

You decided to schedule the appointment on a Sunday afternoon, that way you’d be off of work. Since the night you had spent with Dr. Lee in the waiting room after hours three weeks before, he had continually checked up on you throughout the weeks by way of numerous phone calls. And it felt like, with each one that passed, they seemed to grow longer, as the two of you talked about everything and nothing - all in hopes of trying to get your mind off of the imminent date. 

 From your daily phone calls, you had gleaned some valuable information from Dr. Lee - like the fact that he had been single since he opened up the clinic three years prior since it was pretty hard to keep up a long-term relationship when he was so busy with clients and managing a successful business. 

 You didn’t even know how the topic of romantic adventures came up in your daily wellness calls, but all at once, you were confiding in Dr. Lee about your most recent boyfriend which had broken up with back in university. But you didn’t go into too much detail about the relationship, and you skimmed over the… bad parts of it all. 

  You alluded to your horrible breakup with your ex during the conversation, and you briefly mentioned your ex’s awful treatment of you at the very end of the relationship - but you never crossed the line of professionalism and confessed to all the bitterness you still held for your ex. No, you didn’t think Dr. Lee needed to know such intimate details about your life. But also, he probably wouldn’t care. After all, the phone calls were only a means to an end… 

 And besides, no one else in the entire world knew the extent of your old relationship, so you didn’t see any point in telling a random veterinarian about such a dark part of your past.

 The calls seemed to help somewhat - if only to take your mind off of the looming date. But then, as soon as Dr. Lee hung up, your thoughts were clouded with the pain of losing Nyx all over again. 

 Slowly, you were watching her deteriorate. Dr. Lee warned you that things would go downhill quite fast, and fast they did - since Nyx hardly wanted to eat her meals anymore, even when you’d try to coax her with her favorite treat of a fresh sardine. She was incredibly lethargic and because of the weight loss that she experienced from the lack of an appetite, her thinness only caused more pressure to be put on her legs, which was where the cancer was located. 

 Throughout it all, Dr. Lee did a tremendous job of preparing you for the day - the day that you were expecting to take the place in your mind as the worst moment in your entire life. The two of you planned it so that his schedule was completely free for the procedure. Originally, he told you that he usually doesn't accompany his clients into the euthanization room, and instead leaves it up to the vet techs to take care of the protocol. But without you even having to ask him, he assured you that he’d be with you the entire time - that he’d be the administer of the drug. Because he already knew, that having anyone else there with you wouldn’t help, not in the least bit. Sure, Yongbok and Hyunjin and Seungmin were good techs, but nothing could compare to the utterly calming presence that Dr. Lee alluded… with his soft, brown eyes and his slight smile and- 

 You were thinking about him again- damn it. 

 Because besides being cluttered with the pain of losing Nyx, your mind was also full of so many thoughts about… him. 

 And how, ever since that night in the clinic, he had continued to call you by your first name. No honorifics, no pretense. And even though he felt familiar and warm to you, you still felt somewhat uncomfortable to drop the doctor title. You wondered if he thought it was odd, how he was addressing you informally, and yet you were still doing the ‘keep it professional’ bit.

 When you were busy working at your desk throughout the day, you found your eyes constantly moving over to the side to check your phone. To see if he had called you.

 While you were eating your packed lunch by yourself in your office’s break room, your mind kept replaying the way that it had felt, when he had touched you that night - with those slender fingers and warm palms of his. 

 When you were lounging on your apartment’s small sofa, watching tv before you went to bed, your thoughts drifted off to the sound of his voice, and the way that he always said your name so delicately. 

 But perhaps worse of them all, is what you would do late at night, when you lay wide awake wrapped up in your duvet covers in bed. Because instead of thinking about Nyx, your musings drifted off to him, yet again.

 And perhaps it had something to do with your exhaustion from the end of the day, 

 Or the fact that it was so very dark in your bedroom, 

 But more often than not, your imagination would get the best of you, and all at once, things were turning deeper, dimmer…

 Flashes of him, and that smile that he always gave you when he first saw you during a visit, danced across your vision, 

 As you imagined what he’d look like, staring you down, bright eyes glued to your exposed self. 

 You dreamed about that pretty, red mouth of his, lips turning kiss-swollen and sticky from your very essence. 

 You wondered how it’d feel, to have him towering over you, whispering sinful words into your ear with that sly tongue of his, as he pressed you further down into the bedsheets. 

 And when those thoughts came upon you, you just… couldn’t help yourself. 

 Hand playing with yourself- 

 Grazing over pert buds, 

 Tickling a sensitive waist, 

 Spreading swollen lips, 

 Brushing against a throbbing knot, 

 Pushing past folds and curving inward. 

 And every time, the only thing that crossed your mind, was him. 

 Him - and his smell and his voice and his built frame. 

 In those heated moments of twilight, you only ever made one single sound as you thrashed about between your thick duvet covers…

 “Minho.” 

 The name fell from your bitten-raw lips in whispers, cries, and pleas. 

 Maybe it was because you hadn’t been with a man in so long, 

 Or maybe it was because you were a grown woman and so naturally, you were extremely horny most of the time. 

 But all at once, as you delved into such fantasies late at night, you realized that the attraction to him had always been there. 

 You had just tried to mask it with honorifics and professionalism since you didn’t want to cross any lines. Since you figured that a man of his stature - of wealth and success - would never stoop so low to date a woman like yourself. 

 Even still, none of that stopped you. 

 Stopped your midnight explorations or the way that he seemed to inherently infect your very being with every breath that you took throughout the day. 

 But eventually, the crest of sadness took over everything again, as the day finally came to a head. To your relief, the weather outside on that Sunday afternoon was bright and sunny. You didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if it had been grey and drizzling. 

 You stopped just outside of the clinic’s doors, forcing yourself to take a good look at it all, as you held Nyx in her carrier at your side. It’d be the last time that you stepped through these doors with her in hand. 

 And that’s when the tears started. They silently traced down your cheeks, even as you shuffled through the clinic’s front doors slowly. The bell above your head signaled your arrival, and as if on cue, Jisung and Chan’s heads turned in unison from their computers at the front desk to where you stood at the entrance of the clinic. 

 In an instant, Jisung was getting out of his chair and flitting over to you. “Hi, Y/N,” he said in a soft voice, offering you a gentle smile. “Hi, Nyx.” He bent down in front of you, peering into the black carrier and cooing at your cat. 

 “How long is the wait time?” You asked, voice shaky as you clutched a little harder on the handle of the carrier. 

 Jisung peered up at you then, his big, doe-like brown eyes shining with compassion. “About ten minutes.” 

 You nodded without saying another word, as you began to make your way over to the front desk to check in for your appointment. The entire time you spoke with Jisung, Chan had been watching the two of you in silence, assessing the atmosphere and displaying a compassionate face.

 “Ji said it’s gonna be ten minutes.” Is all you said, as you stood in front of the wooden front desk. You couldn’t meet their eyes anymore, your vision too blurry with tears. And frankly, their pity just made you feel even worse just then.  

 “Yeah, that’s about right,” Chan began, typing away at his computer. Then he slid over a clipboard and had you sign your name at the end of the document. Signing away on the procedure. Signing away on Nyx’s life. “And… I’m so sorry, Y/N.” 

 “Me too.” You whispered before you were pulling away from them and taking a seat near the doors to the back of the clinic. Usually, while you waited for your appointment, you’d scroll through social media on your phone or pick up a nearby magazine and peruse the articles. 

 This time, you just sat there. You sat there in utter despair and silence, before deciding to pull out Nyx from her carrier. She was a little less warm than she had always been, and the thinnest you had ever seen her. Even still, she looked beautiful to you. You pressed your face into her midnight-black fur, taking in the sweet smell of her and nuzzling into her pliable skin. 

 “I love you so much, girl,” you muttered into her coat, before giving her a few kisses. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you…” 

 The minutes ticked by slowly after that, as you clutched on protectively to Nyx. As you kissed your childhood best friend. As you fought for the last seconds spent with the single most stable thing in your entire life. 

 And then, you heard the fateful call of your name ring out across the waiting room. You stood from your chair, muscles moving like they were trapped in a vat of sticky molasses. Your gaze was fixated on the ground at your feet, so you didn’t see who had called your name. 

 “Right this way,” it was Hyunjin’s angelic-like voice that graced your ears, as you walked through the threshold and into the back hallway of the clinic. You felt his hand land atop your shoulder, his slender fingers gently squeezing there in a soothing gesture. 

 Then he was leading you through the back hallways, past the examination rooms that you had sat in with Nyx countless times. Finally, he stopped just in front of a door that was painted in a baby-blue color. 

 “The doctor will be right with you,” Hyunjin began, his tone ghostly-faint and fading away behind you as your eyes locked with the room you were about to be left alone in. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.” 

 You didn’t even register the door being shut closed behind you, too focused on the decorations that were placed throughout the room. The walls were painted a sky-blue, with a beautiful stain-glass window in the center of the room. The scene depicted a magnificent sunset, bursting with colors that were burnt cayennes and violets. The room was quite small, but the bright, real flowers placed throughout the area helped to add life to the otherwise depressing atmosphere - with their brilliant yellows and reds. Just underneath the stained glass window was a small pedestal that was covered in a thick duvet and plastic rap, and off in the corner of the room was a sliding glass window with a curtain shielding the other side of the glass. 

 You sat down on the nearby bench, looking at everything around you. Looking at the pedestal that was before you - where Nyx would be laid to rest. And it felt like your heart was bleeding irrevocably inside of your chest, straining and pumping at the same time as you tried to come to terms with the situation at hand. 

 At least she was going to join the afterlife in a safe space - at least it was beautiful looking and- 

 Your thoughts were interrupted by the shutting of the door that you had originally walked through. Lifting your head from Nyx who was peacefully dozing in your arms, you came face-to-face with Dr. Lee. He was dressed in his usual garb of black slacks and a white doctor's coat. 

 “How are you doing, Y/N?” Was the first thing he asked, as he shut the door behind him and neared you. He knelt in front of your knees, taking both of your hands in his and giving them a gentle squeeze. 

 That’s when you managed to find the courage to look up into his eyes finally, and the heartache and pain that you found there just made it hurt a little bit more. You felt your bottom lip quake, as the sobs freely flowed from you. You didn’t even have to reply since he already knew how difficult this was for you. So he kept quiet, not moving from his position in front of you and holding onto you as you cried yourself to exhaustion. 

 “I-I’m ready,” you finally said, roughly scrubbing at your eyes with the palm of one of your hands to try and knock some sense into yourself. 

 “Are you sure?” He questioned, the concern dripping in his voice from the way that it deepened somewhat. 

 You nodded furiously, heart hurting so much that it felt like you were going to drop dead from a heart attack any minute. “Y-Yeah.” 

 Then his hands were slipping away from yours, leaving a fierce shiver to course down the length of your spine at the absence of his touch. He stood close to the curtained window and tapped on the glass once, and you turned your head to the side just in time to glimpse Yongbok pushing the glass aside before he handed over a metal dish that had a small syringe placed in it. 

 You swallowed around the huge lump that was forming in your dry throat. And when Yongbok offered you a sincere, comforting smile, all you could do was nod once before he was shutting the glass door again, pulling the curtain closed to give you and Dr. Lee some privacy. 

 Then it was all happening at once - too quickly for you to even grasp - as Dr. Lee was gently taking Nyx from your grasp and laying her down on the cushioned pedestal. She put up no resistance and nudged her little black nose into the palm of his hands, purring in satisfaction. She had always had a soft spot for the doctor. 

 You stumbled over to her, grabbing hold of one of her paws and squeezing it delicately. You peered up at Dr. Lee through hazy eyes, his face a blotch of color shining through your tear-stained vision. “P-Promise me it’ll be painless, doctor. You- you have to promise me…” Your voice broke off at the end of your words, as you leaned down into Nyx and pressed kiss after kiss into her silky fur. 

 “She won’t feel a thing, Y/N. I promise.” You heard Dr. Lee say before he was moving again, picking up one of her paws in bated silence. You felt his eyes on you, as you cried into Nyx’s warm skin for the last time. 

 “I love you so much, girl…” You whispered, voice barely audible to your ears. Cracking irrevocably. “I’ll see you again someday- so... just wait for me there, yeah?” 

 Then, almost like she could understand your words, Nyx moved her head over to your neck and nuzzled into you, purring lowly. The sobs wracked through your body, as you felt Dr. Lee leaning into her at the same time as you held her close. 

 You squeezed your eyes shut, like if you closed them long enough, everything would disappear. 

 The pain, 

 The loss, 

 The fear. 

And then just like that, Dr. Lee was sighing heavily, a metric ton of agonizing weight in just his breathing alone. “It’s done.” 

 In the blink of an eye, it was all over. 

 You clutched onto Nyx’s languid body, holding onto her for dear life. Perhaps, if you held her long enough, she’d come back. 

 But nothing happened. 

 There was no more purring, 

 Or meowing, 

 Or scratching. 

 Just… 

 Utterly nothing. 

 Silence. 

 And that was the worst part about it all. 

“It hurts,” you began, voice not even sounding like your own from all of the dryness and the crying, “it hurts so fucking much.” 

 You were shaking your head then, still clutching at one of Nyx’s little pink paws. Then you felt arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest. Hands clutched at your sides, and you all but turned around to bury your face into the warmth of Dr. Lee. 

 “I know,” he said in a hushed tone, his deep, melodic voice so close to your ear that it sent a ripple of shivers across your skin. “I know it hurts, Y/N, but I’m here…” 

 And then you could do nothing more, 

 As a new wave of grief washed over you, 

 Suffocating the very air right out of your lungs, 

 Drying out your entire being, 

 Causing the dull pain of a bad headache to bloom across either of your temples. 

 All you could do at that point was cry and cry and cry, your entire body violently shaking as you held onto Dr. Lee for dear life. And he made no point of pulling away from you. Almost like, he had planned to be there all along. 

To be continued...

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©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi how are you ? I was thinking if you could do a fic with dialogue 8: ‘’You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to, but I want you to know that I’m here for you.’’ with Marcus Baker.

Thank you

Have a good day <3

I drew a lot of inspiration from Nessa Barrett’s music for this one. When I think of mental health and all of that darkness, her songs are what come in mind. I relate to her music a lot - especially Dying on the inside, Lovebombs, Talk to myself and Die first. Check her out <3

Warnings: talk of self-harm and depression, dark thoughts, mention of grief/death

—

You met Marcus at your therapist’s office building. Although you didn’t have the same doctor, you were there, in the waiting room, at the same hour every Tuesday afternoon.

He was sitting on the chair opposing yours, his eyes more often on you than the phone he was holding in his hands. You didn’t notice, too busy picking at a thread on your hoodie. Therapy sessions were difficult and anxiety-inducing.

‘’Cool shirt.’’

You snapped out of your thoughts and lifted your head to see who was talking to you. The boy before you had a soft smile on his lips and was looking at you, helping you figure it was him who spoke. You thought he was just complimenting your shirt, but your eyes fell on his hoodie and saw there was a cat too — well, cats.

A psychotherapy office wasn’t in the top places to flirt — or even fall in love —, but you did. They say you fall in love at the most unexpected moments. You and Marcus were the proof of that.

After a few weeks of small talk in the waiting room, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet outside the psychotherapy offices building.

You texted everyday and met a few times on the weekend. You felt good in his presence and with the way he was smiling around you, you were hoping he felt the same. Marcus took you to Blue Farm for coffee and showed you his favorite park to skateboard…and drink at night. He left that part out though.

On your third visit in Wellsberry, you finally asked the delicate question. ‘’Why are you seeing Dr. Kelly?’’

Marcus’s eyes filled with tears and you regretted asking. ‘’My…my best friend died last year,’’ he said with difficulty and a heavy heart. ‘’He had cancer.’’

‘’I’m sorry. I should not have asked.’’

He shook his head in quick dismissal. ‘’It’s fine.’’

It wasn’t. His eyes were glassy and he was forcing a tight-lipped smile.

You reached out and pulled him into a hug, wishing you could take all of his pain away. Unfortunately, it didn’t work that way. You could feel his shoulders slump and you tightened your hold, rubbing his back in a comforting manner.

Marcus kissed you that afternoon. Right before you got on your bus home.

*

The following Tuesday, Marcus invited you over to his house after your therapy sessions. He snuck you in while his parents and sister were out to avoid them bombarding you with questions. Especially Max. She was a little much sometimes.

You were pleased to find out that Marcus was a multi-genre artist. He could draw and paint — as seen on his walls and the scattered papers on his drawing table —, play guitar, piano and harmonica.

‘’Is that…me?’’ you asked, seeing a graphite drawing of a girl sunken cheeks on the open sketchbook.

‘’No…’’ he lied, stepping in front of the sketchbook to block your view.

‘’When did you do this?’’

‘’On Saturday after you left.’’

You stepped over to him, grabbing the front pocket of Marcus’s hoodie and looking up. ‘’Why?’’

‘’Because I missed you,’’ he explained simply, biting a smile and looking absolutely adorable.

*

Although you had been smiling a little more lately, the darkness inside your head was still there. You tried writing in your journal the way Dr. Lily had advised you to, but the words on the paper were so heavy and dark that they scared you. You checked the time on your phone — 1am. Dr. Lily had told you to call her at any time if you needed, but your trembling fingers dialed another number.

After a few rings, a sleepy and groggy voice answered. ‘’Hello?’’

You bit your lip, already regretting calling him. ‘’I'm sorry for bothering you in the middle of the night—’’

‘’I was just resting my eyes,’’ Marcus brushed off, whispering so he wouldn’t wake his mom or sister. ‘’Is everything okay?’’ he asked, his voice of genuine concern. ‘’You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to, but I want you to know that I’m here for you.’’

Just by seeing your name on his phone screen in the middle of the night, Marcus knew you weren’t okay. But he wanted you to tell him.

‘’I don’t know.’’ You looked down at your sleeve-covered wrists, knowing what was hidden underneath, and shook your head. ‘’No. No, I’m really not okay.’’ The words burned as they left your lips. ‘’I called you so I wouldn't hurt myself.’’

It was your first time telling Marcus about your self-harm. It’s not a subject you slip between two laughs or bring up casually during a coffee date at Blue Farm.

You heard Marcus drawing a breath on the other side. He was cursing the distance between your houses and the time of the night, wishing he could get to you. His motorcycle was in the garage, but if his parents knew he had snuck out to dive to the neighboring town in the middle of the night, he would be grounded for months.

Right now, all he could do was listen to you on the phone.

‘’I'm glad you did.’’

*

Meeting Max did not go the way Marcus would have liked. She had found Marcus’s phone on the counter — he must’ve left it there by accident — and snooped through his messages. She had been suspecting that her brother was hiding something from her, and she was right. Invading Marcus’s privacy however, was wrong.

When you and Marcus came in an hour later, expecting to come home to an empty house, Max was sitting on the couch like a mom waiting for her kids who snuck out to a party. His smile fell when he saw his sister, his eyes mimicking the ones of a deer caught in headlights. Shit. What was she doing there?

‘’Hello, brother.’’ 

‘’S-shouldn’t you be at Ginny’s?’’

‘’I was on my way, but I saw your phone on the counter and what I found was much more entertaining.’’ She threw the device at Marcus and he caught it before it hit the floor. 

‘’You went through my phone?’’ he asked, outraged that Max had invaded his privacy like that. 

She ignored him and continued. ‘’Wait until I tell mom and dad what you've been up to. What you’ve been hiding from them.’’ The brunette glances at you over Marcus’s shoulder, giving you a nasty eye. ‘’Does mom know about her? She didn't pay for this expensive therapist outside town so you could flirt with the other patients and charm them to get in their pants. You really have no self control, you feral cat.’’ 

‘’Who I see and date is none of your business,’’ Marcus hissed in defense. ‘’So what if my phone was on the counter. It didn’t give you the right to go through it. You don’t understand boundaries.’’

’’And you don’t understand how terrified I was when I read that my brother thought of dying.‘‘ 

The mood suddenly turned.

The words had slipped from her mouth and she immediately regretted them.

You shifted your eyes to Marcus and saw colors draining from his face. You had never seen him this pale before. You almost thought he was going to pass out.

Was this why he was seeing Dr. Kelly? Because he was suicidal?

‘’The messages you sent to Lucas, I saw them. I've read them — all.’’

A tear slipped from Marcus’s eyes and Max continued, revealing more secrets she shouldn't have known of.

‘’One evening, Mom told me to come and get you for dinner, but when I came into your room, you were sleeping. You had left your phone open and I thought I was going to find some weird porn, but what I found was much darker.’’ Max paused, blinking tears as old emotions hit her. “I wanted to tell Mom and Dad, but I knew it would crush them so I kept my mouth shut. I’ve been keeping this secret, this burden, since that day and it’s so hard knowing that my twin brother was thinking of taking his own life. Every once in a while, I go to Lucas’ contact and see if you’ve sent him anything. I was doing that today, but I saw a girl I didn’t know had sent you a text and I ended up reading some of the messages.’’

Without knowing much about her, you quickly tagged Max as the kind of person who made everything about herself. She was allowed to be scared and worry for Marcus, but what about Marcus' pain? Did she think of how much he must be hurting if he thought about the option of dying?

Your heart kept breaking and aching.

''Marcus, I’m sorry, I—’’ Max started with tears running down her face. She stepped in her brother’s direction, asking for his forgiveness, but you stepped in and you blocked the way.

Right now, Marcus needed space.

‘’I think you should go,’’ you said to Max, speaking up for the first time.

Max opened her mouth to speak again, probably to tell you to ‘mind your business’ or ‘this is not your house, you don’t get to tell me to leave’, but she looked at Marcus, assessing the damage she had done, and retracted. 

*

On Tuesday, Marcus didn’t come to his next therapy appointment. You texted him to ask why he wasn’t there, but he didn’t respond.

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1  @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup

[mamabearwonders]

I'm backkk! i had to take a break from ED Tumblr. too much grief in the community and been dealing with a lot. but things are kinda looking up! my friends have been angels.🐤 🐣

🐤cleaning my depression room is halfway done

🐤might reopen my depop

🐤got some energy back to cook + working on food stamps

🐤might be adopting a senior cat 😺

🐤looking for free cat stuff locally (it's fun)! 😺

🐤i eventually wanna adopt bigger dogs too so my roomie offered to look after hers for the summer for bonding + experience 🐶

🐤interested in baking homemade dog treats for him 🐶

🐤might volunteer at a harm reduction center (pro-autonomy)

🐤saving up for cute sanrio baking + dishware & things i actually want (hard for me to spend money on myself besides treats) like a cute phone case

🐣kinda wanna dye my hair

🐣putting myself out there for an accommodating job since they're hard to find

🐣in the process of making a Rover profile (dog walking/sitting) 🐶

🐣almost ready to cut my parents off completely (a good thing)

🐣i feel a lot better than i was, still not super high energy, but im okay

🐣those friends are helping me figure out what my fashion style is. we both wanna save up for new clothes. my style is very just survival based. not my true style

🐣one of those friends also wants to help with skin & face care

🐣felt social enough to talk with a small group on league

[coffeedepressionsoup]

Somebody Does Love | MYG - They Meet Again

Pairing - Yoongi x F!reader

Summary - "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Two people are in love but that is not enough because sometimes loving requires courage. This is the one where fate plays games and Sammy plays Cupid. Part 3 of Somebody Does Love.

Series Masterlist

Genre - fluff, strangers to lovers, eventual smut and angst

Word count - 2.2k

Warnings - lil swearing, SMOKING IS INJURIOUS TO HEALTH! nothing else I can think of

Ratings - 13+

Taglist: @majiiisstuff @starlighttaek8 @yoongrace @proudnoona

A/N - I have been in some of the worst times folks. Slipped back into depression. Lost people. Learnt lessons. Still very much in love with our honey boy though. The day I wrote this was one of the very bad days and I am typing this note through my hazy glasses because of these bloody tears. Excuse the typos, and grammar errors. Do not have the energy to proofread. Please be kind. Do like, comment and reblog. Thank you! Here goes nothing.

What was he thinking? Just how drunk was he? Why is he considering going? It’s just a jacket. He has dozens of those. Yoongi nervously bounced his legs as the rest of his body sat very still on the dressing room chair. Two different brushes - no one brush and a sponge - were being lightly tapped against his face now and a pair of hands were insistently tugging at his half-wet hair trying to style it. This was the last look for a magazine cover shoot. Even as he stared straight into the mirror, he thought back to a small cat and their rescuer. 

The next hour and forty minutes passed agonisingly slow. As soon as the director announced wrap, Yoongi was up and halfway out of the satin shirt he was in. By the time he reached the dressing room, he discarded it completely. Soojin, his manager, rushed in after him and asked as he shut the door, “You are really going?”

Yoongi placed the rings and earrings he had taken off on Soojin’s extended hands and nodded as he put his own t-shirt on.

“It is too public, Yoongi-ah…” the older gentleman tried to reason one last time as he saw the other scrub his face hastily off with a few makeup removal wipes.

“How will they know?” the rapper turned around, now having completed his outfit with a cap, a sunglass and a mask.

“They know you by the shape of your head and the size of your shoulder. You really want to risk it?”

“I am not risking anything. You are driving me there,” Yoongi said with a smirk evident in his tone. 

Soojin was left looking at the open door of the dressing room that now had the stylist and a couple of other members of the crew walk in. He handed over the jewellery he was holding from earlier, bid goodbye and jogged off to his car. 

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

You were sat at the cafe sipping on your second latte of the evening. Tapping on your screen to check the time, you let out a yawn. 6:53. Well, maybe you could excuse an hour’s delay. Weekend traffic. Maybe he overslept? As much as you were grateful to Yong-ho, you were also hoping to see his face today. There are not many things you know about him. He has a deep, soothing voice. He smells nice. He is rich enough to casually wear designer jackets. He is kind, helpful and polite. Thoughtful. He is also quite patient. And his eyes. His eyes were beautiful. Solemn but with a shine that could make someone comfortable. 

Comfortable. Why did a stranger you met for half an hour register as comfortable to you? Your phone chimed. A message from Sammy. - Done yet? “Still waiting” - Wtf

- I don’t think he will show up then - I told you it’s a perfect fit for me

- Let me keep it

You chuckled at the series of messages.

“I will wait till 7:30”

- Then meet me directly at Hajoon’s place

- I will put out food for Ash

“Thanks, man. See ya soon” You closed the chat and smiled down at your wallpaper. Ash fast asleep on Woolfie’s back. The kitten and the dog had gotten along exceptionally well. After Woolfie peed on the kitchen floor when baby Ash hissed at him from Sammy’s lap on the first night, there had been no major issues. Ash had tried once to drink from the dog’s bowl the next day and had fallen into it. You fetched her out and dried her up with a hand towel, and the rest of it, Woolfie had licked clean. That night was the first time they napped together.

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

Yoongi sat on the floor near the sofa where Yijeong and Hoseok were playing FC24. Hoseok was leading by 3 goals. Yijeong almost threw his controller at him in frustration, as the rest of the small group around them chuckled and watched the game progress. 

Yoongi also stared at the screen but his mind wandered far away from the game and his friends. His hands absent-mindedly tugged at the inseam of his jeans. 

As Soojin pulled up in front of the cafe earlier that evening, he could feel the sweat drip down his spine inside the air-conditioned car. He stared for a few seconds at the road in front of the car before turning his head towards the cafe you had agreed to meet at. As if it was an attempt to allow himself to catch a breath and just appear cool, just in his own head. A failed attempt at that. 

Even though he turned to look at the cafe from his car seat, he had not expected you to sit right at the window from where he was parked not even 4 whole metres away. Thankfully you were facing sideways, staring at something inside the cafe that Yoongi could not see. If only you were to turn towards the window to your left, your line of vision would directly collide with the tinted window of Yoongi’s car. 

Soojin coughed lightly from beside him. Yoongi only blinked a couple of times before he shut his slightly agape mouth and swallowed the breath that he didn’t know was stuck at his throat. He saw your face move down towards the table, presumably where your phone was. Phone. Why didn’t he exchange numbers back then? He knows why. Well, he could have given Soojin’s number at least. They could arrange for a more discreet pickup. 

Fuck the pickup. Yoongi had half forgotten that this meeting was about picking up the jacket he had lent you to wrap the rescued kitten in. Sure, that was the reason he gave Soojin that morning when he said he had to make a stop after the shoot. But for the whole weekend, his head had been clouded with your face. And your cooing voice at the kitten. And your bright smile as you introduced yourself. And the smell of your perfume and/or your shampoo that encircled you.

Looking forward to Sunday evening, he felt a tightness in his chest and stomach that could have been mistaken for trapped gas. But he knew this feeling all too well. It was anticipation. He has felt it for years ahead of each show or some big live interviews. He would also feel it once for someone he used to date. But that is what is odd. 

Sunday evening was not a date. Hell, he even felt creeped out by the fact that his feelings mirrored something akin to what he would feel like in anticipation of dates. Of course, it wasn’t even his intention to turn a simple transaction meeting into a date. But he had also not expected the sleepless nights that followed meeting you. And the half-written lyrics of a song on his phone. Nor did he expect the feeling of missing somebody he had exchanged less than 20 lines of dialogue with. 

When you had asked how to return his jacket, he almost wanted to say that you didn’t need to. Luckily, even within the first second, his mind deemed it too off-handed of a statement to make and he saw the cafe logo in his peripheral vision. Before he started overthinking and/or asked to exchange numbers, he pointed at the cafe and said, “How about we meet at that cafe on Sunday evening?”

And there he was. Outside the cafe. On Sunday evening. Almost having a panic attack in the safe confines of his car.

He could walk out of the car and into the cafe. He could walk up to you and say hello. He could make small talk for a couple of minutes. He could take back his jacket and thank you politely. He could then walk back out. 

He could. But he didn’t want to.

He did not want to make small talk with you. He wanted to know how you were doing. How your days have been. If you have spent the three nights just as sleeplessly. He also wanted to know how the kitten was doing. How the two of you were getting along. If you had any other pets. If yes, how many. If all of them were getting along. If the pets had another parent. He wanted to ask you so many things and he wanted to hear you say so much.

The cafe was not at its busiest. Even from where Yoongi was, he could see a few empty tables. He drew in a deep breath and placed his fingers lightly on the door, preparing to open it. 

It was at that very moment that you turned to your left, looking out of the cafe through the window you were sitting next to. You glanced down momentarily at what presumably again was your phone and looked back out the window. 6:18. You looked at people milling around the street outside the cafe. 

But to Yoongi, you were looking right at where he was. The concept of his tinted glass windows disappeared from his comprehension as he (seemingly) held your gaze and fluttered one of his hands over Soojin’s arm, urging him to drive off. Alert as ever, the elder man started driving promptly. Yoongi “held” your gaze for as long as he could till he bumped his head against the car window, closing his eyes, inhaling and exhaling in quick succession trying to even his breathing.

He slowly slumped back down against the passenger seat of the car and unclenched the hand that he did not realise until now was clamping down on one of his knees. He stared ahead at the Sunday evening Seoul traffic, shivering a little from feeling some of his sweat dry up. Soojin turned to him at the next red light and said, “Don’t worry, Joon will understand.”

Nothing more was said in the whole car ride up to his friend’s place. Soojin dropped him off and went back to drop the car off at Yoongi’s building before heading to his own place. Yoongi had planned to drive back home with Hobi. They lived in the same building after all. 

Joon will understand. Joon will understand?Joon will not even know that the jacket he gifted his hyung last year was missing unless Yoongi told him so.

He wasn’t thinking about Joon. Nor was he thinking about the jacket. Of course, he wasn’t.

He was thinking about your slightly impatient gaze. You bun sitting lightly at the nape of your neck. Your hands that you briefly rested your face on. Your face. You. He was thinking about you. Like he had for more than than the past two days. 

He was thinking about where you were now. What you were doing. What you were thinking. What you decided to do with the jacket. If you threw it at a random trash or kept it with you. If you were cursing him. If you were complaining about him to a friend. 

He felt a cramp in his stomach that is usually indicative of nervous diarrhoea. He felt like a dick. For having stood you up, yes. But he was also disappointed at having chickened out. Maybe if he had not waited in his car at all, it would have gone over smoothly. Maybe if you hadn’t looked out at him (his general direction) he would not have freaked out. He tried to tell himself that it was too crowded. He was too tired. And not a coward because of his stupid, random, huge ass crush on Y/N Y/LN. Someone he only met for half an hour. And spent almost all of it watching her bond with a stray kitten by her side.

He looked up as he felt a slight kick on his back. He realised he was staring at a static screen and that his friends had all gathered over the pizzas that had now arrived. He had not noticed when even though he was the closest to the door. He got up and was making his way towards the rest of the group when the doorbell rang.

Yoongi stopped and turned around. He was the closest to the door after all. None of the others seemed to bother reacting to it anyway. He walked to the door and froze as he saw the person on the ring machine. He knew he was supposed to press a single button to unlock the door. He knew which button it was. But his head and his hands refused to cooperate. He stood frozen for a couple of seconds, staring at the screen in front of him, until the bell rang again.

Yoongi thought he heard this ring in a more muffled way as if it was coming from far away. 

It wasn’t until the third ring that someone else left the group, half a slice of pizza stuffed in his mouth and half in his hand walked towards the door, that Yoongi could hear everything normally again. 

“Must be Y/N,” Hajoon called out, patting Yoongi on the back, and reaching over his shoulder to open the door.

After the small beep, you walked in, almost bumping into someone’s chest.

[ultralightpoe]

Bigger Than The Whole Sky - Ethan Landry

Authors Note: I have been trying to find any sort of energy to post and get out of bed. Got so close to giving up on life itself and I'm barely back, please bare with me as I try to find my way out of my depression hole I have dug for myself everyone. I know it's been a minute but life has been kicking my ass. Be patient with me - Ultralight

Word Count: 3405

Warnings: thoughts of su!cide, angst, grief.

Apart of my MIDNIGHTS EVENT. (Next Event is Sour by Olivia Rodrigo. Requests closed. Event following yet to be decided)

SOUR EVENT

MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy!

No words appear before me in the aftermath

Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

It all went numb at some point. 

You didn’t know when, and you weren’t really mad about it considering it helped with the stab wounds, but at some point after you found out you just…..lost it…….lost the spark. Every will to survive just vanished like smoke in the wind. You had no strength left. 

Police officers snapped in front of your face, desperate to get your statement on the events as medics panicked and tried to get your attention, yelling to each other that you were going into a state of shock as reporters filmed and yelled to get the scoop. You didn’t really think you were going into shock, no, shock was when you go frozen and cold from a traumatic incident. 

This…… this was just pure heartbreak. 

Ethan……….. Ethan had- 

And just like that you were leaning forward to spill your guts as the medic in front of you curses and backs out of the way, tears running down your cheeks hotly as you suck in a sharp breath. You had given absolutely everything to him, you had given EVERYTHING. 

And yet you weren’t angry or upset…… you were just numb. 

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You were bigger than the whole sky

You were more than just a short time

And I've got a lot to pine about

I've got a lot to live without

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you

What could've been, would've been you

That feeling of numbness quickly passed, and you were left with an unending sadness that just made you tired. 

The news had already published the story over and over, his face took over your phone every time you opened any form of social media and you had yet to clear out all the photos you had taken during your relationship. There was no escaping it, not that you truly wanted to. 

You would never admit that to the others, since they had gone straight to anger. 

They just didn’t understand…. You always thought, which would bring a bitter laugh to your lips because what didn’t they understand? Sam had her boyfriend betray her, Tara lost her childhood best friend from it, Sidney fucking prescott had lost so many people to it. It was a tale as old as time. One falls in love, gets betrayed and stabbed and moves on. 

But you couldn’t move on, you couldn’t leave him. Ethan had stitched you up when you scrambled your way into his life, broken and torn after losing your brother Wes and your mother last round. 

He had saved you. 

“-Yes Mindy,” You snap, reaching a hand to cover your face as you pass a group of kids with their phones pointed at you, the overnight bag carried on your shoulder weighing you down a bit as your boots scuffed on the floor. “I have my taser.”

“I just don’t understand why you decided to walk by yourself in the middle of the night.” She scoffs, the sound of doja cat behind her. “You should’ve called me-”

“First off, my roommate brought a boy over, I hadn’t planned on this. Second of all, you realize I can hear your sex playlist in the background, right?” You fake a laugh for her, trying your best not to let her know you were scared because then she would leave Anika and you didn’t want her to do that since she had worked so hard to get this date. 

“Just call me when you get there?” 

“How about I send you a smiley emoji?” 

“If you send me an emoji I will-”

“Oh, I see a 7-11, I’m gonna stop and get your brother a slushie to ease my arrival. Gotta go-” You rush to hang up, ignoring her disapproval and dashing into the light of the gas station. 

By the time you make it to Chad’s dorm you are shaking and trying your best not to have a panic attack in the middle of the hallway. Arms full with snacks and slushees as you use your foot to pound on the door. 

You prepare a wide smile on your face for when he opens the door, shimmying to ease the tension in your shoulders, doing your best to seem happy. 

But when the door swings open it’s not the cocky smile of Chad that greets you rather than the nervous expression of the curly haired kid in one of your classes, staring at you with wide eyes. “C-can I help you?”

“Oh. Sorry. I was- uh- maybe I had the wrong room?” You blush, stepping back to survey the hall for room numbers. “Crap-”

“Who are you looking for? I know everyones rooms.” He offers, leaning out the door to survey the hall himself. “Dylan? Right? He has a lot of girls come in so-”

“Chad. Chad Meeks.” You snap, blush deepening at the Dylan comment. 

“OH! Yeah, in here. I’m his roommate.” The kid explains, stepping out of the way and widening the door. He waits a second, staring at you as you stare back wide eyed, the room behind him pitch black. He looks confused for a moment before turning to see what the problem was, jumping a bit when he realizes and twisting for the light switch. 

“Sorry- I was sleeping- I wasn’t doing anything else I swear.” He rushes out, shaking his hands. “I am not a creep I swear.”

“You still have the lotion on the shelf-” He whirls to look and you try to stifle your laughter, turning to the bed on the right. “Where is Chad?”

“He went to check on Tara or something. Should be back in like…. soon ?” 

“Okay. Cool. I can go to a coffee shop until he gets here then.” 

“What? Why would you do that? You can wait here no problem.” He shrugs, moving to sit at his desk. You wait a moment before pushing the slushee out to him. 

“Then here. You can have Chad’s slushee.” 

“Thanks.” He smiles, grabbing it softly. “You do the econ homework yet?” 

“We had homework?” You laugh, moving to grab the homework from him. 

Did some bird flap its wings over in Asia?

Did some force take you because I didn't pray?

Every single thing to come has turned into ashes

'Cause it's all over, it's not meant to be

So I'll say words I don't believe

Your court ordered therapist said that you might have relied on him too much, after being broken down from the last incident you had grasped onto the first kind soul you met. She believed that you were trying to fix the trust back, find the nice kind person you once had been. 

You believed she was just telling you anything to make you feel better, right before she stamped a red flag on your papers for ‘DANGEROUSLY DEPRESSED’ and prescribing you hundreds of pills that you would dump down the toilet and tell her you were taking. It was a fun game. 

But she might have been right about the relying thing.  Like walking around with a broken leg, relying on a crutch only for it to break and leave to tumbling down a hill straight into the knife of someone you completely trusted wearing a stupid mask because they were too chicken to face you-

“Y/n!” Chad calls, reaching a hand on your shoulder and squeezing as tightly as he could, which after all the nerve damage and stab wounds wasn’t really much. 

“I’m listening!” You rush, snapping to look at your four friends. 

“No you weren’t.” He laughs, pulling his hand back and keeping it close to him. “We were deciding dinner and if you were listening you would recommend what you always recommend-”

“Pizza.” 

“Oh. My. God.” He groans as Mindy reaches out to hug around your shoulders, pulling you tight. 

“Leave my sister alone.” 

“I’m your brother.”

“Chadward. Can you please just…..shhhhhh?” You ask, flipping him off. This draws a laugh from your friends and you imitate them, but your laugh isn’t the slightest bit real which leaves you feeling lost.  And a bit awkward. 

“You okay?” Sam asks, leaning closer to you so no one else hears. You nod, not trusting actual words to come out. She obviously does not believe it but you claim to be thirsty and leave for some water. 

“You’re actually telling me that you prefer Star Trek over Star Wars?!” Ethan asks, eyes wide as he walks beside you on the way to Econ, adjusting his shoulder bag so as to not let it fall.  “What is wrong with you?”

“More like what is right with me! You really like all that incest crap?”

“Oh…. you are going there?” he gasps and you shrug. “Then what do you think about the Targaryens, huh?”

He laughs when you stop short, thinking your reaction was due to his question, but in reality you had just seen someone design across the yard with a ghostface mask on, the football team laughing at the strangers antics. 

“What a jerk.” Ethan sighs when he finally spots it, moving to block your view as you both walk. 

It had been 2 weeks since you met Ethan, and ever since he had walked you to and from Econ which you found that you loved more than anything else. During these walks you got to argue over anything and everything nerdish, just easy and happy conversations. Plus you got to stand close to him which was always a plus since you loved how he smelled and his sweaters were always soft on your skin. 

“Did you do the homework?” You ask, changing the subject to get your mind off the douchebag in the mask. 

“Yes. And you can copy it when we get inside.” He laughs, shuffling past you to open the door quickly, holding it open for you with an easy smile. 

“After you, Spock.”

“Oh why thank you Han Solo!” You smile, flipping your hair as you walk past him. 

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You were bigger than the whole sky

You were more than just a short time

And I've got a lot to pine about

You spent your mornings in bed, the sheets tucked around you tightly like a butterfly in the cocoon, staring blankly at your wall.  In these moments you could barely muster the energy to lift your head from the pillow, eyes glazed with tears. 

What was the point of anything?  Why were you here when Ethan was……. Gone. Ethan, the brilliant kind soul that had an amazing future for himself was taken from the world while were wasting space. 

You were never as smart as him, not nearly as funny or great. You had no future, which was ironic considering you were the one here……unless. 

No. 

Don’t think about it, that was rule number one.

But it would make things so much easier. 

You wouldn’t do it. 

No one would miss you…..

For a second your body melts into the sheets as you think about it, all the possibilities and the freedom it would bring. No more getting out of bed and no more stares from people. No more ghostface -.

But you couldn’t, and you wouldn’t. 

So you stand, and force yourself to run a bath, sinking into the heat of it as you close your eyes, leaning back so you are completely submerged. Like the hot water could wash away your past, give you an entirely clean slate.

When your head hits the bottom, hands gripping tightly to the sides of the tub as you listen to your heartbeat under the water, the steady thump of it calming you down a bit while you open your eyes. 

And there he is, blurry through the water, leaning over the tub to watch you carefully. Almost as if he were scared……Ethan. 

Ethan was here, and he was scared. 

Ethan. 

“You were so nervous on our first date, remember that? And look at you now.” You tease, hitting Ethan’s shoulder with a twizzler while he fakes swagger, posing for you which leads you to cackle. “He said  ‘we’ll take the large popcorn AND the twizzlers.”

“You know it.”

“College boy has moneyyyyyyyyy-” For a moment you imitate throwing cash, making him dance under the imaginary paper, both of you humming out words to a random pop song. “Get it. Get it. Get it.”

“I’m rich…. And you suck!” He snaps, moving to walk off as you gasp. 

“And you are no longer getting laid!” 

“Wait- wait I didn’t mean it.” 

“Too late dork brains.”

“Gimme another chance here. I’ll splurge for a slushee.”

“You should have splurged for the slushee in the first place rich college boy.” You tease, walking past him. “I’m not cheap, you know. One of a kind over here.”

“Don’t I know it.” He blushes, moving forward to pull you close, walking with his arm over your shoulders. “You know I love you right?”

“I know.” You wink, smiling when he laughs at the Star Wars reference. “Now come on, we have a movie to watch.”

“Heck yeah.” He grabs your hand, leading you into the theater, checking behind him every couple of seconds to make sure you were still there and okay. Three months into dating Ethan and you were absolutely in love with the man. 

I've got a lot to live without

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you

“Y/n!” He shouts, muffled by the water, reaching his hands into the water to pull you up. When you break the surface you are gasping and spluttering out, hands clinging onto his sleeves tightly with tears streaming down your face. 

“You’re here….” You sob, leaning out of the tub to hug him tightly, your face shoving itself into your shoulder as he wraps himself around you, his sleeves wet against your back while you sob into his shoulder.  “I missed you, you ruined my life.”

“I’m sorry, believe me, that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“You’re not gonna leave again? Right?!”  

“No… no I’m here.” He whispers, moving to take his shoes off and climb into the tub, pulling you so your back was to his chest and wrapping his arms around you once more, his hoodie just as soft as it always ways and his cheek resting gently on your shoulder. 

“You need to focus.” You mumble, not looking up at Ethan as he stares at you. “We have a test.”

“Halloween is coming up.” He scoffs. “What’s the point?”

“Woah, what has been going on with you lately? Are you dying after halloween? Do you turn into a pumpkin when the clock strikes midnight?” You tease, looking up at him finally. “Seriously you keep talking like halloween is the end of it all.”

“I’m just stressed, that’s all.” He shrugs, moving to lay his forehead on your arm while you kiss the top of his head. 

“It’s date night tonight, what do you want to do-” Before you could finish the question his phone rings on the table, and he snatches it up when you look to see who is calling. 

“I’ll see you later, okay?” He rushes, kissing your cheek and leaving without another word. 

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you

(What could've been, would've been)

What could've been, would've been you

(Could've been, would've been)

(Could've been, would've been)

Silence fills the room as you both sit there, the heat from the bath calming you down as you twist to lay your cheek on the arm he had on the edge of the bath, closing your eyes. 

“What’s the plan, Y/n?” He breaks the silence, taking his left hand and rubbing the wet hair off your forehead. 

“To sleep here and forget the world.”

“I meant the life plan.”

“Don’t have one.”

“Yes….you do.”

“I plan on-”

“Be serious. Tell me your plan.”

“Do I really need one?”

“With the thought you were having this morning? Yes.”

“How did you know about my thoughts?”

“You have a future you know.” He whispers. “You have an amazing future ahead of you, without me.”

“I don’t think I can make it….”

“You can. I know you can.”

“I just want to sleep…….can you just hum for me? Like you always do?” You cry, reaching up to touch his hoodie. 

“I can do that.” 

He put you in his hoodie the night you stayed over, snatching it from where you had thrown it on the ground in both your rushes to get to his bed, pulling your arms into the sleeves as he kissed up your arms. His lips graze your collar bone before he kisses up your neck, smiling when you close your eyes. 

“Come on, I’ll tuck you in.” He whispers, hugging you close as you both waddle to the bed, shuffling in together until you were both lying down. Your head on his chest as he hummed softly, after a moment you can’t help but laugh when you realize what he is humming. 

“Are you humming me the imperial march?”

“No!” He rushes which makes you laugh even more. “It is so not funny-”

“No no no, I loved it. Keep humming keep humming.” You whisper, moving to look up at him with your chin on his chest. “It was great.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re gorgeous?” He whispers back, bringing a hand up to rub a thumb across your cheek. 

“You….everyday. Like 10 minutes ago when you finished inside m-”

“WOW!” He interrupts, blushing and laughing. 

“You’re handsome.” You answer, leaning up to kiss him before laying back down. “Now keep humming.”

“I can do that.”

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You were bigger than the whole sky

You were more than just a short time

And I've got a lot to pine about

I've got a lot to live without

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you

When you wake up you are alone, in his sweater and in your pajamas, the bath cold and the sun streaming in. He wasn’t actually here, you realize, he never was. You had managed to sit in a bath fully clothed, and fall asleep. 

There is pounding on the door, drawing your attention quickly, making you rush to jump out to answer it. 

When you open the front door Sam is standing there, taking one look at your tear streaked face and soaked clothes before she is diving in to grab you in her arms. She holds you tight as you collapse, rocking you slowly as you sob into her chest. 

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay.”

“He did terrible things to us- and I can’t fucking get it together.”

“You’re doing great. There is no correct way to go about this.”

“I miss him.”

“That’s okay.”

“I wanted a future with him.”

“You deserved one.” And when Sam says it there was no malicious hint to it, just a soft understanding smile. “But you deserve a future after him too.”

“I cannot believe we are actually doing this.” You laugh, rushing past your friend to snatch your shoe from the bookshelf, you had no clue how it got there. “Ohmygod! Hurry hurry hurry!”

She laughs, letting you snatch her hand and rush you out the door, both of you running as fast as you can to the train stop. 

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.” She mumbles, excitement written on her features as you both huddle together on the seat. While she panics you take a second to check your phone, smiling when you see that Sam had sent you the pictures from her wedding you attended months ago, both of you smiling widely.

The lights flicker on the train, and for a moment your heart stops, you take a second to look around……and for as long as it has been you are ashamed to admit you wait to see Ethan on the other side of the train. 

But he is not here and you were no longer there. 

You were in your future, living bigger than the whole sky just as he would want. 

Which meant Taylor Swift of course…….

[karolamurdock]

SpiderWoman 2099 Pt.4

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!Reader

Sinopsis: The year is 2106. By day, you work as the head of the Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology division at Alchemax. By night, you are the one and only Spider-Woman, fighting tirelessly to protect New York from the tyrannical clutches of crime and delinquency. Your days are spent in an ordinary, organized routine: it's just you, the only barrier between your city and oblivion, dealing with the violence and pain that comes with being a superhero.

Everything is just normal. Then your dead husband appears in front of you, talking about alternate universes, spider societies and canonical disasters, and you discover that all your sorrows, losses and failures were possibly always meant to happen.

What the fuck.

Notes: No excuses. Let this chapter, full of Miguel, make up for the long time I was gone. I will keep the reader's background rather ambiguous, but it is implied that they also speaks Spanish.

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, mild violence, subtle references to depression. As always, english is not my first lenguague.

Word count: 2.6K

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

Impassive white eyes stared back at you with disdain. You looked with abject curiosity at the spidery pattern on his red suit, the white glasses and the sharp claws, and you couldn't help but wonder...

Who makes a spider suit for a cat? 

Undaunted, the animal yawned loudly and stretched lazily over the railing before leaping onto the pristine marble floor, completely silent and oblivious to your anomalous presence. He waved his orange tail and stretched the red patterns that hugged his hind legs.

You did not have the opportunity to entertain yourself with her pretty pink pads. A gloved hand brushed your shoulder, and you turned your masked face to observe your guide's own grim expression.    

"Come with me." Miguel said. "I'll show you around before introducing you to the rest of Society."

Silently, you nodded. The man walked two steps ahead of you. His broad, imposing figure was like a bronze spur, parting the sea of arachnid entities that watched you with open curiosity. 

As he made his way through the crowd, you quietly followed in his footsteps. Grateful for the foresight to keep your mask in place, you analyzed the discordant structure of the building that surrounded you. You noticed the long corridors and open configuration: designed to facilitate mobility for your kind. 

Miguel moved forward, and you watched his impassive figure with stern eyes. You wondered if he too had become Orpheus in his willingness to claim you back, and now feared to look back and lose his Eurydice. Perhaps the anguish in his gaze would be enough to draw you into the shadows and lose you forever. Would he then be blessed to work and move the gods with craftsmanship born of his terrible grief?

Was it so for you? You could not claim that your deeds after his death were unselfish and sincere: you did not seek to soften the wind with your tender weeping, nor to drown the rushing waters with the song of your heroic prowess. The resolution of your vengeance was your reward: an analgesic balm to numb the turmoil of your burning soul. 

Together, you entered the lift... You watched the changing landscape. On the glass, you saw Miguel's ponderous silhouette, stern and rigid. The pattern of his suit resembled your own. But your own profile was outlined with sharper lines, and your web shooters were not exposed, but hidden in the webbing patterns on your wrists.

The door opened, and you followed him through large, well-lit rooms, through huge recreation rooms, and through small, immaculate, familiar laboratories. You carefully analyzed the information he gave you along the way: where to find the scientists in charge of certain labs, the optimum hours for accessing the training rooms, the menu in the main cafeteria (a burger with Miguel's mask on it? Santo Dios...). Finally, he took you to his own office. On one of the top floors, of course. Just like your universe. 

When the lift stopped in his office, your mask retracted. Miguel did a quick double take, pursed his lips and looked up; you followed his gaze to see a red light flashing rapidly on one of the screens above the platform. 

You heard Miguel's grunt as Lyla appeared over his shoulder, giving you a quick wink before turning to face the man:

"An anomaly is causing trouble on Earth-1048. Homeworld Spider-Man is already on the scene, but he's limited to minimizing the destruction around him."

"Copy that." Miguel said. He ran a hand over his face, holding the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut, and the gesture seemed so familiar that you almost let out the breath you were holding between your lips. "I have to deal with this. I'll talk to Jessica, she can show you the room you can use as your own."

"I can go with you." You finally spoke.

Miguel looked at you in surprise. But he quickly frowned and replied:

"No, it's too soon. I'll be able to show you how we deal with the anomalies once you're settled in and we know more about your universe."

Your universe. Like a wave crashing against rock, you felt heat coursing through your veins and burning in the pit of your stomach. You felt that in your rage, the marks on your suit might be burned into your skin forever. 

You blinked. Ignoring the fire in your chest, you responded:

"I could settle in better if I knew what I was dealing with." 

Miguel studied you. His red eyes scanned your face: your steel eyes, your unbending brows, your closed lips, and he said no more. Sharing a last look with Lyla, he nodded with finality, and she took it upon herself to open the portal for the two of you. 

"Let 's go, then."

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

It was a cold morning in Harlem. The white sky barely hinted at the day's pale rays, and the streets were shrouded in a thick, damp gray haze. As you and Miguel landed on a lamppost overlooking the East River and the small buildings lining the street, an ominous silence settled over the scene at your feet. 

You sat back on your heels, scanning the nondescript landscape, and Miguel followed, his back stiff and his hands clenched into fists as he exhaled:

"The signal seems to be coming from this warehouse." He gestured with his chin, and you peered intently at the gray silhouette of a building surrounded by tall grills and long containers. A cloud of gray smoke rose through the haze, and with a mighty leap you launched yourself in its direction, hearing Miguel's nets snap past you.

Soon you were perched on the railing of a neighboring building, with a clear view of the ruined courtyard. Sparks rained down from the ruined batteries; small fires burned and cracks in the concrete marred the once peaceful scene.

Rubble crunched beneath your feet as you landed in the courtyard. In the distance, you heard a muffled, heavy thud. You glanced cautiously at a large metal curtain to your right as a deafening screech pierced the jealous silence. Beside you, Miguel brought his knees to his chest and the two of you jumped away just as the door shot in your direction. 

A red figure flew through the air. With a start, you threw your nets around the man's torso, jumping just in time to catch him before his body slammed into a large metal container. 

"Nice catch." Gasped the Spider-Man in your arms. "Rhino's got an arm."

"Does he throw you often?" 

"Well, yeah." The young man cleared his throat, pulling himself to his feet with a little help. "But I don't usually get caught by..." He tilted his head to the side, curious.

"Spider-Woman." You conceded. 

Her white glasses widened comically as he whistled under his breath: 

"Awesome!"

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Miguel's orange nets wrapped around Rhino's massive arm, and you spun on your heels as the beast slammed into the tower Miguel was standing on.

"He's really mad!" Spider-Man exhaled as he rushed to your side. "I don't understand, according to my intel, Aleksei's transfer still hasn't been coordinated. He is still in the custody of the police."

"He's not Aleksei Sytsevich!" Miguel shouted. He had dodged a large stone and landed next to you. "His name is Alexander O'Hirn. He is the Rhino of dimension 26496." 

"Oh!" Spider-Man exclaimed. "I knew you weren't my Rhino! We've always had this connection, you know?" 

The man lunged at you, furious. You caught a glimpse of a crane with a container suspended in the air, and you pulled the arm of the crane just as the man was passing underneath the box. The container landed on top of his armour with a clatter that made your ears ring. 

"Watch out!" 

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you out of the way of a huge chunk of concrete.

"Not one, but three Spider-Creeps!" he growled.

"Hey, that's not very nice of you." Spider-Man landed a kick to the chest, but Rhino didn't move. He grabbed the hero's legs and slammed him into the wreckage of the crane. Taking advantage of the distraction, Miguel jumped up and punched him in the face, the only exposed part of his body.

Rhino let go of Spider-Man and took a step back. With a leap, you stood on a low beam and surveyed your surroundings. As the man jerked and rammed into Miguel, you activated your drones; small winged spiders that flew over the villain's head, firing electric shocks that immobilised him with a scream.

"His face!" you exclaimed, and Miguel leapt to your side to dodge the rocks Rhino dropped as he stomped on the concrete. 

Spider-Man, snapping out of his daze, noticed the same thing you did: the small visible part of his face was hyperemic and sweaty. "His suit must be restricting his ventilation!"

So this would be a battle of endurance. Good, you thought to yourself. You've been doing this for years. 

With a nod, Miguel and Spider-Man squared up firmly and jumped into the fray.

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

As the portal to your dimension closed behind you, silence fell. Michael's gaze was on the horizon, and yours was on him. It was not his red eyes that you caressed with your thoughts, but you could taste the sweetness of his cheek beneath your lips. His hair was shorter, but his curly eyelashes were thicker than yours: a feature that made you playfully envious in the past.

In the warm, brief light of the streetlamps, his face was just as beautiful. His bronze skin was a ghostly contrast to the impassivity of the bustling nightlife, a backdrop to his stern profile. 

He looked at you too. And his pupils wandered over the arch of your lips, your eyebrows and cheekbones, the slope of your neck and your bare ears. And you thought he was reflecting the same doubt that plagued you: because he is Miguel, but not your Miguel. And you were never his wife, but your smile is the same, and he only replaced your name with silence, and the space he occupied with you was filled with melancholy.

"You did a good job." Miguel said after a prolonged silence. 

"Thank you." You replied with a small smile. "You weren't so bad yourself."

"Hm." He snorted. With a hand on his hip, he arched an eyebrow and looked you up and down, half mocking, half stern. "Now you know what we're up against. You can run away now. We won't blame you. I certainly wouldn't."

You moistened your lips and took a slow breath. So close, your arm inches from his shoulder, you felt his warmth, the energy of his holographic suit, his solid build and musky scent. 

"You wouldn't reach me." You finally replied, and your heart skipped a beat as a grin revealed his sharp fangs. 

"I already did."

"I was distracted."

"Sure." 

He straightened up, and you took advantage of the brief appraisal that he was giving to the red horizon to revel in his presence... just one more time. 

In your solitude, his face is your guest. With his presence, an outdated image shatters beneath your feet. This new precision is yours. And even if he were to leave you that night, his voice muffled by the wind, Miguel would not leave you. His eyes would remain in the burning sunset and his posture in the steadiness of the stars. 

When he looked back at you, your expression was already composed. Silently, you tilted your chin in the direction of the busy streets, and when he raised a questioning eyebrow, you spread your arms wide and threw yourself into the void. 

Your mask returned to your face and your wings spread from your arms. Behind you you heard a faint scream and a short curse in Spanish. You felt, before you saw, his broad, imposing figure leaping from the edge of the building, and you used the air currents to move across the city with ease.

The buildings blurred at the edge of your vision. Though your mask filtered out the piercing whistle of the air, you still felt the pressure in your ears; and you didn't look at him, but felt his presence, imagining him dodging antennas, aerial surveillance and flocks of birds skimming skilfully across the crowded sky. 

You locked arms and landed in a somersault, legs cramped and right hand braced against one of the buildings, halfway across a complex of tall glass towers.

"Look." 

Below you, the city lit up like fireflies in the night. Thirteen hundred feet away, the cars and streetlights looked like tiny fiery wisps traversing the busy, colorful streets. And in the distance, the black silhouette of Alchemax stood out against the red horizon.

"I recognise this place." Miguel said, leaning over to stare in awe at a small purple-roofed shop on the side of the road. "It used to be a very popular artisan bakery in my universe." 

"It's quite popular here too."

"I still have fond memories of their vanilla cake. I would get it for all... my events." He finished lowly.

"I used to buy the orange bread," you hummed understandingly, shaking your head disappointedly. "And now I can't eat citrus."

He looked at you in silence... and then laughed, shaking his head in astonishment, "Neither can I."

In the privacy of your mask, you smiled back. And with the first dark brushstroke on the horizon came your resolution. 

"I can help you." You began, looking away from the night to stare at his cloaked profile. "But I will not be part of the Society."

He bowed his head, listening.

"I have work to do here." Your work at Alchemax; the company you were leading was just beginning to take a course that you could be proud of. Being Spider-Woman; a full-time job you couldn't give up: you were already the symbol of your city. An embodiment of hope, perseverance and goodness. "But... I understand that your work with the multiverse is an even more arduous and complex task, and I offer you my services as an advisor. If you ever need help... you know where to find me."

A hero must be impartial. And to you... his mere presence would be a constant challenge, an exercise in moral skill tested in the crucible of your everyday life. How could you not choose him? The strange man with your husband's voice. The friend whom you love the most, the one who lives in the moments of your delirium. 

Because, after him, living seems distant. You have no anger left... only pain. And although your better judgment led you not to get involved with the Society, you could not find the strength within yourself to ignore him. Even though this Miguel is not yours, letting him go is almost like losing him again.

His mask pulled back and you watched him run a hand through his hair, tousling his auburn locks as he nodded slowly. 

"I understand." 

He stood to his feet. He held out a hand to you, and you followed as he took one last, searching look over your city.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. He gave you a long look, and in the end he just said:

"Then I'm counting on you." 

You remained standing, staring at his silhouette, even as the portal swallowed his dark figure.

"What have I just gotten myself into?" you whispered into the empty air.

@alicefallsintotherabbithole @digipaw2-0 @sunshowernaps @qiaipia @luciiferian @saltyllamakidwombat @amnmich @autismsupermusicalassassin @miggyyyyohara @oscarissac2099 @songbirdlully

[beevean]

Since you like the character so much I must know:

Top 5 worst Alucard moments/scenes?

Big oof lol

A lot of them come all from S2 because he's at his cuntiest lmao

5) "Oh my God. I'm turning into Belmont." shut the fuck up shut your entire fuck up he is not as disgusting as y'all make him to be

4) Him replying to Trevor's very earnest request for help with a snarky "lololol good thing I didn't kill you", because god forbid the protagonist is taken seriously here. Oh but Sypha tells Trevor to grow up and stop falling for Alucard's "barbs" 🙃

3) This lovely barrage of insults of which I can't find the clip of:

Alucard: Well, well. Naughty Belmonts hunting all the terrible things of the forest, but sitting on a magic door opened by occult language. Trevor: I didn't know it was a fucking magic door. Doesn't make us black magicians. Alucard: But you know that the word, "Teloch," means "of death," right? Trevor: Shut up. Alucard: It's the magical door of death, Belmont. […] Trevor: No. The family's originally from the Kingdom of France. But we moved out of there a few hundred years ago. Alucard: Moved or chased? Trevor: Moved, thank you very much. Alucard: With people behind you waving pitchforks and torches? Trevor: No. No, we're professionals. We move where the work is. Sypha: What does that even mean? Trevor: All the dark things moved into the east. I think it was a Leon Belmont who entered the region first. And he built this house, and dug the foundations for everything under it. exhales My God. The memory of my family. All that's left of us. Sypha: Is it organized? ls there a way to find things? Alucard: I imagine one sacrifices a chicken, and divines the location of the book you want from the intestines. Maybe Belmont has a crystal ball in here you could ask. Trevor: Shut up. Alucard: It's an impressive tip, Belmont. But it is, nonetheless, a tip. Your ancestors were apparently mentally ill hoarders. I fully expect to find family cats mummified under some of these shelves. chuckles Unless your family preferred to eat them.

and it's all justified because his depression is more serious than Trevor's and he only wants to "test" him :^) fuck off grief can only justify you so far, especially when his only reaction to Trevor revealing he lost his whole family at age 12 was not a shred of empathy but "I'm disturbed to find that I had more of a childhood than you did"

2) Him using the dolls he made of his friends to shittalk about them and say genuinely horrible things behind their back. It's not funny. It's mean. And sure, those two were dicks in abandoning him to grieve alone, but you know he's not doing it out of anger, he's just a bully.

1) "It's like a museum dedicated to the extermination of my people." How to completely miss the point of the character, like you have to actively try to mess it up so badly. Bro really insulted Trevor's whole legacy because he feels sorry for bloodsucking tyrants and relates to them. your thirst trap, everybody!

[apotelesmaa]

I lovvvve thinking about dtk and black star like way past the manga (assuming black star is immortal here via him becoming a god out of sheer force of will) dealing with immortality and losing their friends it’s so fascinating to me (statements said by the truly deranged)…. Rotating it in my mind… Incomprehensible rambling under the read more

I think that like objectively kid would probably be the most prepared for it given he’s a literal death god but it would still be painful. He’s not really human but he had the very human experience of growing up with a tight group of friends and now has to deal with the very human emotion of grief and figure out how to navigate that. I feel like he would (shockingly) have a pretty healthy response after a few years of grieving because unlike with his dad he would actually get closure here. Idk if he would ever get another weapon partner again though like he would probably at least use whatever high ranking weapon at dwma was closest on the very rare chance he needed one but nobody could ever replace the thompsons. I feel like he would also just have little reminders of his friends everywhere just to keep them in his memory.

I see a lot of people saying he would withdraw completely and distance himself from humanity but like… I don’t think he would ever do that the thing about kid that really differentiated him from his dad was he was raised with humans and interacted with them frequently which fostered a connection that lord death didn’t really have. He in general has such a love for humanity and people I feel like he would be very involved at the dwma with the students and faculty. Lord death was kinda like… he Liked humans but he still viewed himself as something else first and foremost. Kicking the can of worms that was asura down the road for later never telling anyone anything because it’s a god problem not a problem for humans. He made zero effort to talk to the witches as well because he kinda just went “well they’re all evil and that’ll never change” & never confronted that belief. As opposed to dtk who went to the witches to help and put all his faith in his friends and relied on them heavily. He Likes People… He still would want to talk to the humans around him and help them. I cannot see him doing what his dad did and just locking himself in the death room forever and ever. Nothing will replace his friends but that doesn’t mean he can’t make new friends.

Black star however I think would handle it poorly for a long time I don’t think he knows what healthy coping mechanisms are. He’s very all or nothing. Only deals in extremes. Stuck in the anger stage of grief for a long time. I think he would fuck off into the wilderness for like 5 years and stew into his depression before eventually coming back to dwma like a sad wet cat. Kid knew where he was the entire time but knew he needed space so he just let him be. (Dtk voice) oh good you’re back (genuine) you are going to therapy if even if I have to drag you there myself & if you ever disappear like that again I will make you do paperwork for years (threatening). I think he would to some extent become as distanced as lord death was just because he doesn’t want to go through that again. Friendly with all the people around him but never really going past a surface level of knowing them. Also he would absolutely never get another weapon partner he would just pull a mifune and use a real non magic boring sword. Eventually gets better about the distance thing because kid mandated therapy if he wanted to keep doing missions. He kinda becomes the go to guy at dwma for dangerous missions because he thinks they’re fun and he enjoys bragging about it. Maybe trains some students on the side and makes suggestions about the curriculum. He gets absolutely no say in the day to day operations of the dwma though he would burn it to the ground. Black star lies and tells students he’s the second cooler death god. (BS voice) who cares about that stuffy guy who does boring paperwork all day you guys should be worshipping ME (dtk voice) that is because he does not know how to do paperwork. he just submits his autograph.

I ultimately think they would support each other and rely on each other because they’re friends first and foremost but also because they’re kinda the only ones who get what it’s like. They both keep the memory of their friends alive and it’s nice to have someone else who remembers them. Insert the panels of black star saying he wants to bring about a balanced world with kid or whatever he said during their rematch. Sharing the burden of both grief and also keeping the world’s balance in check. Excalibur also gets it but he and black star cannot be in the same room for more then 10 minutes before black star starts trying (and failing) to violently murder him.

As a side note I think dtk and Excalibur would become… not friends. But Excalibur was close to his dad and seems to feel some degree of responsibility over kid because of it. Functions as the annoying pop up window that tells kid to take a break and occasionally gives good advice when he isn’t acting Like That. Dtk forgives black star for ghosting him for 5 years but will never forgive being forced to spend 5 years with Excalibur by himself & so every time Excalibur comes by kid redirects him to black star like “black star was just telling me the other day he couldn’t remember your legend you should go remind him :)”

[taevbears]

Magic Shop - 06

He’s waited a long time to see you again.

⤑ pairing: (eventual) OT7 x female witch!reader; Taehyung focused  ⤑ genre: magic au, romance, hurt/comfort, slow burn ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 8.2k ⤑ warnings: minor character death, abandonment/loss, depression/grief, oppression against mages, a bit of self-deprecation, brief description of sexual activities.   ⤑ note: Happy birthday Taehyung! Your chapter happens to fall align with your birthday lol (at least, in the time I’m posting it. I seriously didn’t intend for it to happen, but it worked out this way!). For all my visual readers, the references I used for the shop are from the FESTA 2020 staircase photoshoot, BE concept photos, and of course, the 5th Muster: Magic Shop intermission clips. I also couldn’t decide if I wanted to make Taehyung a crow or a raven lol. But I’m happy to finally change gears from the dark and dreary with this story and into more light-hearted and fluffy moments. There are only a couple more chapters left until this first part of the series is done, so thank you so much for sticking with me and all the lovely comments ^^ I hope you all have a wonderful, warm, and safe new year!

Chapters:   01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 (final)

An awkward silence passes as the mysterious man smiles at you all. Then, hesitantly, after clearing his throat, Seokjin is the first to speak up. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

“Ah, that’s a good question.” The man rubs his chin, taking his time to think of an answer. Then, with a slight smirk, he replies, “You can call me whatever you want.”

“Don’t you have a name?” Namjoon tries.

He shrugs his shoulders. “My last owner called me Taehyung.”

“Okay. Taehyung,” you test out his name as he turns his full attention to you. His eyes are a dark amber, almost like honey. It’s a little difficult to look away from them. “H-How do you know who we are?”

His smirk widens as he quirks up an eyebrow. “Ah, that’s a shame. It sounds like you don’t remember me yet, darling.”

You blink. “Wait. What?”

“We used to be lovers.”

“Wait—”

“WHAT?!” the boys echo around you, nearly screaming, just in as much shock as you are. Maybe even more so.

The mix of confusion, disbelief, and panic causes Taehyung to burst into laughter. He claps his hands, eyes squinting to crescents between his fits of giggles. “I’m kidding! You guys are too funny.”

“That doesn’t answer… I’m…” you start, your brain seizing over the fact that a mysterious, handsome, possibly Wicked man is joking about you two being lovers once. You know it isn’t true. You’ve never seen this man before in your life. Yet, you feel so flustered.

In your arms, you feel Yoongi brush his tail around your arm. His dark eyes are trained on Taehyung, watching him carefully. It’s as if he isn’t sure what to make of him just yet either.

“Why don’t you all come inside? You seem pretty tired,” Taehyung suggests, gesturing at the old and broken building. He doesn’t wait for an answer as he spins around, walks down the short pathway, and leaves the door wide open.

“This is a bad idea,” Seokjin whispers as the four of you huddle together in a circle to discuss. And he’s right. None of you have ever met this man, yet he seems to know you quite well. The building is sketchy and in disarray, as if no one has taken care of it for years. The entire thing looks like it’s on its last leg and could collapse at any given moment. It’d be incredibly stupid if you blindly take his word and follow him straight into a trap.

“Let’s just hear him out,” Hoseok surprisingly disagrees. He’s usually more on the cautious side, especially when it comes to trusting strangers. “He might be able to help us lay low from the wardens.”

“Didn’t you see his eyes? He looks like he’s Wicked,” Namjoon argues. “He could corrupt our minds and devour our hearts.”

“And turn us into toads,” Seokjin adds with an affirmative nod.

The black cat in your arms meows, causing the boys to glance down at him before looking to you for a translation. “Yoongi said he’s not Wicked. He’s something else.”

“What? A mage?”

“A demon?”

“Familiar,” Taehyung answers right beside you, somehow joining your little circle without any of you noticing. There’s a brief glimpse of amusement in his golden eyes when you all jump back and yell in surprise, but the expression quickly changes. With a long, exasperated sigh, he tilts his head to the side and calmly reasons, “Come on. You guys didn’t mind me when I was with you in the forest. Do you dislike my human form this much?”

“He did help us out,” Hoseok points out, eyes flickering between you guys and the man.

“It’s not the best-looking place right now,” Taehyung admits, nodding toward the building as a piece of plaster falls off. He promptly ignores it and continues, “But the wardens won’t know you’re here. The shop will keep you safe from anyone troubling you. And you guys can stay as long as you like! There are enough beds for each of you.”

Namjoon sighs and rubs the back of his stiff neck. All of you haven’t had much of a proper rest since the night of the attack, always on the move and always on your guard. “That does sound better than sleeping on the ground for another night.”

“I’m not a good cook, but I can see what I have and get a stew going. There’s a marketplace in town with good meat and vegetables, too. Whatever ingredients we’ll need for supper, we can find it there.”

Seokjin’s stomach growls at the mention of food and he curses under his breath. Ears red, he mumbles, “Maybe we should stay for dinner at least.”

You watch as your companions are won over with the promise of a hot meal, Hoseok and Namjoon immediately agreeing to Seokjin’s suggestion. Throwing caution to the wind, the three of them enter the suddenly inviting abode.

That just leaves you and Yoongi.

The cat’s dark eyes have Taehyung in his gaze since he appeared before you all. Suspicious and weary, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to think that the man intends to harm any of you. And while he observes the amber-eyed brunet, your gaze is fixed on the building before you.

It’s odd.

You were so young when you were taken to Blackstone Castle, you don’t remember your parents or the town you were born in. You don’t know if you’re from the countryside like Namjoon, who helped his family pick ripe tomatoes and other crops in the summer and grew up in a tight-knit community. You don’t know if you’re from the seaside like Seokjin, who’d go on fishing trips with his father and older brother and help his mother at their family restaurant. Like Hoseok, who was born in the castle, you’ve never been outside those walls until now.

Yet, you feel like you’ve seen this place somewhere before.

Taehyung’s gaze is intense as he stares at you, drinking you in. Almost like he can’t believe you’re real and standing before him. Your attention is pulled away from the building when he inquires, “Aren’t you curious?”

It’s an innocent question, but it draws you toward him all the same. Taehyung, with his hypnotizing eyes and alluring voice, extends an arm like a gentleman for you to take. Your determination to seek answers falls right into his hand as he leads you through the threshold with a smirk and shuts the door behind you.

Once upon a time, when the trading town of New Haven was just beginning to develop, a mysterious shop seemingly appeared out of nowhere. The first settlers, exhausted and burnt out from working nonstop, stumbled through the large doors and were pleasantly surprised to find exactly what they were looking for: a table with a delicious feast, soft beds for a good night’s rest, warm shelter against the grueling cold night. After spending some time to refresh themselves and heal their tired hearts, they were able to head back to work the next day happier and with rejuvenated energy. However, just as strangely as the shop arrived, it vanished just as quickly, as if the shop itself was made of magic.

Some people claim that the shop only appears when you need it the most; when the days are hard and difficult and you’re in need of comfort and love. Others would say that the shop didn’t exist at all, and that the settlers were just dreaming of their heart’s desires after they built the town. Either way, the story has become a legend.

Over the years, the type of shop it was has changed. Some stories say it’s a teahouse and pub with brewed teas, coffees, and homemade alcohol that have healing properties or a bakery with bread that always tastes freshly-baked and buttery, no matter how long it’s been put on display behind the wooden shelves. Some say it’s a quaint inn with the softest beds, guaranteeing the best sleep of your life. Some say it’s an entertainment lounge with musical instruments that play on its own, and the sounds of laughter and dancing can be heard long after the building is empty. Some say it’s an actual shop with oddities from foreign lands and objects that symbolizes luck, wealth, protection, or love.

What is consistent, however, is that the shop is almost unnoticeable upon first glance, seamlessly blending in with the surrounding neighborhood wherever it pops up. And once it’s fulfilled its task, it disappears as if it were just a dream. Like magic.

Stories like this have become forgotten when the teachings of the Devoted interfered with the whimsical and wonderful curiosities of the masses. New Haven, built upon by hard work and dedication, provided a safe place for weary travelers coming from the ominous forests and long, worn-down roads. People come and trade goods for coins, share stories of wild tales from their quests, provide information with fellow travelers, and recruit help from the growing guilds. The story of the settlers and the first discovery of the shop is kept alive through word of mouth from the townsfolk, but not many people believe it anymore.

Magic, after all, is forbidden. Even in a town like this.

Thus, without a purpose, the shop begins to deteriorate. The vibrant colors within the shop fades, the displays of artifacts and souvenirs collect dust among the untouched books, the breads are stale and the drinks are not as tasty, the instruments are out of tune and the equipment for other hobbies are broken, and the building itself becomes an empty shell of the liveliness it once had.

People pass by the shop all the time, but no one ever stops by to look inside. It’s become abandoned, haunted, left to rot with the elements.

And the only living thing near the old building is a lonely raven, whose unwavering belief and magical affinity keeps the shop on its last leg, long after its previous owners have left him all alone.

Inside the old shop are remnants of what the place used to be.

At the entrance is a small lobby with a check-in counter and a seating area. Behind the worn-out leather couch is an antique shelf collecting dust and cobwebs among its books and decorative pieces. On the other side of the entrance is a mysterious dark-painted door that seems to be permanently locked. A light above the door with a strange symbol of mirrored parallelograms doesn’t seem to work.

To your left is a faded teal-colored parlor room with an upright piano that is out of tune and an easel by the window with spots of colorful painted residue. Oddities collected from travels are displayed in this room, from dolls with inhabited spirits to scales and fossilized eggs of a mythical beast. They’re decorated around a round wooden coffee table with a fancy red sofa and white chairs pulled around it, inviting and cozy for long talks, playing music, and hanging out. At the back of the room is a reading nook with several books off its shelf, untouched for years with paper yellowing over time. And just above the reading nook is a loft that overlooks the entire parlor and entrance, where a fortress of blankets and pillows have been made.

To the right is a cozy tavern with a long bar separating the kitchen from the seating area. Bottles of wine and ale are aging behind the bar, as well as jars of half-empty coffee beans, tea leaves, and other herbs and aromatics. Various pots and pans are in the kitchen, as well as a huge cauldron that sits on the hearth of a fireplace. Mixed chairs of different colors and designs are gathered around the tables. Though, the one that stands out is a long table by a window with a long bench on one side and five different chairs; an arrangement perfect for a big family or a group of friends.

There are stairs between the entrance and the tavern that seem to lead to the bedrooms that Taehyung promised. From the outside, the floorplan of this building doesn’t make a lot of sense. With such limited space, it feels like you’ve entered a rundown shack and crossed the threshold of a hidden mansion.

“What do you think?” Taehyung asks, observing each of your reactions.

Namjoon is already thumbing through some old books on a shelf, eyes sparkling when he seems to find some he hasn’t read before. Seokjin looks puzzled and curious at some of the runes and artifacts on display, as Hoseok picks up one of the jars of pot pourri and observes the ingredients inside. Even Yoongi leaps from your arms and finds a spot on the couch he feels comfortable in.

“This is amazing, Taehyung,” you breathe, taking it all in. It’s weak, and the place could use a good cleaning and fixing, but there’s a whimsical feeling that you know all too well.

This is a building full of magic.

“I’m glad,” Taehyung replies warmly, eyes squinting to crescents and cheeks rising as he smiles. “This is the Fate Reader’s Requiem. At least, that’s what my old owner called it. The shop has had many names over the years, as it’s served different purposes. Lately, I’ve been calling it The Raven’s Nest, but it could use a new name.”

“What do you mean by that?” Hoseok asks, looking over his shoulder at him.

“Come on! I have to show you upstairs!” he urges with a flash of a boxy smile. Your arm is still linked with his as he pulls you along, and the others stop what they’re doing and follow after you two, a bit worried that he might hurt you with his eagerness. The wide, creaking steps lead to a single white window. There isn’t a hallway, but along the diagonal walls are eight doors. Four on each side, facing each other. All the doors look identical to each other except for one. That one, you assume, leads to Taehyung’s room. The two of you stop in the middle of the narrow room – the steps barely wide enough for three of you to stand side by side – as he beams down at the others. “See? I told you there are enough beds. Go ahead and pick one.”

You exchange looks with the others, all who seem more curious than anything else. Then, curiosity bubbles to anticipation as each of you stand before your own door.

“There’s even one for you, Yoongi,” you note with an excited smile, seeing as the room next to yours has a cat door. Though, you’re not sure if the previous owners happened to have small pets, or if the building itself put one for him.

Regardless, the excitement is hard to contain as you grasp the doorknob and push it open. You hear Hoseok and Seokjin shout in awe, and Namjoon gasp as they enter their rooms. But you stand, silently stunned at the room before you.

It’s a simple room with basic furniture: a bed, a bureau, a mirror, a wooden chest, a simple table, and a reading chair. There’s an ensuite bathroom with scented oils and essences already in stock. It’s much bigger and nicer than the dorm you shared with Mina and your other roommates in Blackstone Castle, and even more so than the tiny bedroom you moved into in the enchanter’s quarters.

What gets you is the wave of nostalgia you feel upon seeing it. Even though it’s your first time being here, you’ve seen this room before. You’ve dreamt of it so many times, even during your Harrowing.

“You picked that room last time, too,” Taehyung quietly tells you.

You turn around to face him, not sure if he’s just messing with you this time. “Taehyung…”

“Wow, pretty girl,” Hoseok interrupts, coming to peer into your room with the others. He wraps his arm around you with a cheerful smile. “This one suits you.”

“I don’t think I want to leave,” Seokjin admits with a bashful laugh through his chosen door. “The room I have is perfect!”

“It’s definitely better than just sleeping anywhere else, I think,” Namjoon confesses, not sure if he’d be able to give this place up after what you’ve all seen. You’re sure he, Hoseok, and even Yoongi could feel the faint, protective, magical aura this place has as well.

“I’ll give you some time to settle in while I get the stew started. The rooms should have everything that you need,” Taehyung tells you all, though his amber eyes don't leave your gaze. He offers a small smile. “We can discuss it after we eat and rest up, yeah?”

“What do you make of all this?” you quietly ask, sinking deeper in the warm bath water. The white foam from the soaps and shampoo are your favorite scent, filling the bathroom with the distinct aroma.

Yoongi sits on the edge of the bathtub, seeming tempted to pop some of the foaming suds covering the bath water.

“I don’t know if we can trust him,” he says, sounding distracted. He raises a delicate hand, eyes focused on a particularly big bubble by your leg.

“Should we stay the night?”

Yoongi hisses when you move your knee the second he strikes, causing him to miss and nearly fall into the tub. You bite back a snicker as he grabs your thighs to keep his balance, glad that he’s in his human form so he can’t claw you. 

“We could,” he replies, coolly, calmly, as if he isn’t half-drenched in your bath water. “He’s a bit strange, but Taehyung doesn’t have any malicious intent.”

“His eyes are of a Wicked man, though.”

“Your eyes were almost Wicked too,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, casually dropping a shocking revelation to you as he wipes his wet hands on his pants.

You sit up straight in the tub. “What! When?!”

“It was when Seokjin got hurt. When you were fighting Adriel,” Yoongi answers, refusing to look at you. His cheeks distinctly turn red as he turns his gaze at a random tile on the wall.

You’re in shock, not realizing you almost turned Wicked. You just remember feeling so angry. When you found Seokjin, he was at the brink of death. And at the time, you couldn’t help but think of the what-ifs: what if you hadn’t gotten there sooner, what if Miss Eunjeong stayed behind with the children, what if he didn’t make it that night. Once you were certain that Seokjin was alive, you just attacked. You didn’t hold back as you cast spell after spell at the beast, not realizing that Adriel was the monster.

The only reason you stopped was because—

“Don’t think about it,” Yoongi cuts in sharply, snapping you out of your thoughts. You blink rapidly. You’re hugging yourself so tightly, your nails are digging into your skin. Your heart is racing so fast, your breath is short. As if the outrage, helplessness, and fear back then were just beginning to resurface again. “It’s in the past now. Seokjin and the others are okay.”

You stopped because you heard Seokjin call for you. You stopped because, when he could’ve sworn he saw a flash of golden amber in your eyes, he looked terrified of you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, sinking down in the bath water again. He’s right. Seokjin is probably asleep in his room, or helping Taehyung with supper. Hoseok and Namjoon are freshening up and resting around the shop as well. “I didn’t know… I thought he…”

You feel Yoongi place his hand on your knee, trying to comfort you. “Taehyung… he has an innocent aura to him. It’s almost child-like,” Yoongi tells you, and you try not to shiver when his thumb rubs your skin. “He must have lost someone important to him to have turned Wicked. But he must have found something within himself that gave him reason to hold onto his humanity.”

A heaviness fills your heart. Taehyung mentioned a previous owner, but it looks like no one has entered this shop for a very long time. Has he been here all alone all this time? When he appeared before you and Hoseok as a baby bird in the castle, and as a raven in the forest, was he trying to seek you out?

I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.

We used to be lovers.

You picked that room last time, too.

Does Taehyung think you’re his previous owner?

“Yoongi,” you ask, thinking about how both Adriel and Taehyung managed to regain their humanity after they’ve turned. “What exactly makes a person Wicked?”

It’s a bit funny what humans deem as magic and what they think is entertainment. In the Fate Reader’s Requiem, the shop was just that. Entertainment. Bells and whistles and illusions as the owner, known as the clairvoyant, pulls wool over people’s eyes for a pretty penny and a good laugh.

“It’s not real,” they would say, eager to see what trick she has up her sleeve. Eager to break the illusion and find out how she does it.

To many mages, it’s almost a mockery of what true magic really entails.

But to the beautiful and mischievous clairvoyant, it’s just as entertaining for her to have them believe they know better.

“Oh, you got me again!” she would say with a perfect smile, promising to find a better way to prank them next time. And Taehyung, her raven familiar, would wonder why she dabbles into silly tricks and games in the first place. When the clairvoyant is actually a proficient fortune teller and potion master. “It’s just for fun, and the customers are happy when they think they’re right. If they walk out of this shop feeling happier than they did coming in, that’s all that matters to me.”

She was selflessly kind, as charismatic as she was beautiful. Found him during a particularly harsh winter, and called him the greatest and warmest gift.

And Taehyung was in love.

It was just the two of them, aimless wanderers as they traveled the roads together by carriage, helping curious adventurers with vague advice for their journey or playing a game for trade during their quests. While she enjoyed pranking the skeptics, she also genuinely helped a lot of her clients as well: selling handmade lucky bracelets with protection spells, adding essence of magic in the baked goods, giving accurate and helpful advice to those who truly want to seek answers. And in their travels, the shop would appear at every stop, providing them a home they can settle into before they must pack up and disappear again.

New Haven was the town she liked most. It was a bustling town, full of fellow travelers and stories. It was the place she and Taehyung spent the most time in, a place that they could settle together, a place that they called home.

She told Taehyung that’s all she ever wanted for them. A place to settle down, a permanent residence for the shop. While it’s nice to travel the world and take in new sights and experiences, she’s always wanted to find a place she could always come back to. And New Haven, to her, seemed to be that place.

Despite how often her abilities teetered between magic and illusion, she was always so careful. After all, real magic was taboo. And her foresight has always been reliable, letting her know when it’s time to move to a new place, when people are becoming too suspicious.

“I’m tired of running away all the time,” she confesses to Taehyung one day, petting his feathers as she looked out the window, into the town she loved so much. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could stay here for a long time too?”

They didn’t leave as baseless gossip around the pubs spread about her and her affinity to magic. They didn’t leave when some of the townsfolk threw stones at them, trying to drive them out of New Haven. They didn’t leave when they tried to burn the shop and almost killed them.

They should've left when the hunters came.

They’re a ruthless, violent group. Persistent as they knock on the doors and demand to know how the clairvoyant does her tricks and illusions, forcing her into revealing her secrets. They drove all the customers away, turned the once beloved regulars against her, creating more hearsay as they called her a con artist and a scammer.

Taehyung doesn’t remember the reason why they took her and tied her up against the wooden pole, throwing stacks of hay and easily flammable foliage around her feet. He doesn’t remember the reason why a preacher from the Devoted stood before the rowdy crowd, calling her a sinner as he riled them up more. He doesn’t remember why no one stood up for her when all she wanted to do was make people happy.

He does remember the hurt and fear in his owner’s eyes before the anger started to seep in. Taking over him completely, until he saw red. Until all he could feel was something pure and foreign. 

Hatred.

Black feathers sprout from his arm and his nails sharpen into talons. He gasps and tries to hide it, to shift back into a full human. Among the outrage, the terror, and the betrayal that weighs heavily in his broken heart, he can feel something fighting against it, trying to keep him from transforming.

“Taehyung, don’t lose yourself,” the clairvoyant pleads as the smoke rises and the embers grow. Although she’s being made a spectacle, he can hear her voice as if she’s standing before him. “I have one more prediction. It’s about your future. Won’t you listen to it?”

There’s too much going on. The clamor of the crowd, chanting like a cult. The fires grow steadily as smoke fills the air and goes into her lungs.

Physically, he starts to change. As he blinks, his eyes become a little more golden. The suppressed darkness and negativity start to taint veins, coloring them black against his skin and spreading from his chest to his neck.

“One day, Taehyung, we’ll meet again. You’ll be happier then. More than you’ve ever been at this point. You’ll fall in love again. You’ll be surrounded by good people who will keep the shop alive, who will give comfort and joy to people better than I ever could by myself. Those people will be your family, Taehyung. And they’ll love you so much.”

Taehyung doesn’t realize he’s crying. He feels so small. He feels so helpless.

It isn’t fair. Why her? Why did they all turn against her? She did nothing wrong. She only wanted to make others happy.

“Don’t lose yourself, Taehyung. Keep holding on. I’m sorry I won’t be with you much longer, but take care of yourself. Take care of the shop. Remember, no matter how harsh the winters are, you’re a person full of love and warmth.”

Taehyung sobs as her screams pierce the smoky air.

When you come down from your bath, you see Seokjin cutting some vegetables in the kitchen and Namjoon dutifully stands by the cauldron and stirs the pot.

“I thought Taehyung was cooking the stew.”

“He’s playing with Hoseok,” Seokjin says, nodding toward one of the small tables where the two of them are laughing together and peeling potatoes. It seems like they’re trying to see who can make the longest peel without magic. “All he’s doing is boiling some meat, so I’m adding more ingredients to make it tastier.”

“Do you need help?”

“Yeah, grab a spoon and let me taste the broth,” he instructs, hands full as he continues to chop cabbage and carrots into chunky pieces. You pick up a ladle, scoop up a spoonful from the cauldron, and carefully take it to Seokjin. You watch a little too intently as he leans toward you, puckers his plush lips, and blows gently on the liquid before tasting it. HIs lips smack a little as he nods his head. “It’s better.”

“Really?”

“I want a taste too,” Hoseok tells you, pouting playfully when he sees you and Seokjin.

“Me too!” Taehyung chimes after. Even cat Yoongi hops on the counter and meows at you that he’s hungry.

Thus, somehow, you end up going around and feeding each of them. Even Namjoon, who could perfectly get some himself as he’s supposed to keep an eye on the soup. He smirks as you glare at him, muttering, “I hope you burn your tongue.”

“Behave, baby,” is all he says, voice deep as he raises an eyebrow. You ignore the skip in your heart as you maintain a straight face and flip him off.

Taehyung smiles as he observes your interactions with each of them. “You know, this is the liveliest this place has been in a long time. It’s really nice.”

There’s a tug in your heart when you recall what Yoongi said. How he must’ve lost someone important to him. How quiet and lonely the shop was in all these years. Quietly, you ask, “Can you tell us more about the previous owner?”

“Ah, she was a lot like you. Pretty. Kind. Brave.” He trails off a bit, and you can see the lingering love he has for her in his voice and his face. The fond expression is clouded with sadness as he continues, “She passed away a long time ago, though. As you can see, her magic is fading from this place and the shop needs new owners to keep it alive.”

“New owners?” Seokjin repeats, carefully dumping the cut vegetables into the stew. He glances over at you, and you meet his gaze for a brief second, shocked.

“That’s right. The shop runs through magic. Without it, it’ll just deteriorate and collapse upon itself,” Taehyung explains, looking at the current state of the shop. “Actually, I wanted to ask if you’d want to be the new owners.”

“Why us?” Namjoon asks, a bit hesitant. Only because it seems too good to be true. You and the others need a place to stay, and the shop, although falling apart, feels more like home than Blackstone Castle ever did.

“Destiny,” Taehyung simply replies, glancing over to you as well. “I think there’s a reason that we met, and why I found you guys again in the forest. I think there’s a reason why the three of you have all dreamt of this place.”

Your eyes widen as you look at Namjoon and Hoseok. “You guys too?”

“It was only once or twice,” Namjoon admits from behind you, “but after dreaming of running and being chased, I sometimes ended up here. Whenever I dreamt of reaching this place, it didn’t feel like a nightmare anymore.”

“I saw it in Divination class,” Hoseok says, a bit bashful. “There were lots of people living with us, cooking and eating together, playing music and dancing, laughing and having fun. We were a family. I didn’t think it would come true at first, but I wanted it so badly.”

“Me too,” you murmur, looking at Seokjin. You’ve told him your prediction about the shop that fulfills many needs and comforts. “I didn’t think it’d come true either.”

“I’ll give you some time to think about it. I think there’s still enough magic in this shop for three more days. Then, once it runs out, it’ll disappear for good,” Taehyung explains as he holds up three fingers. Then, his face lights up when he suddenly remembers something. “Ah! But I do have one more question.”

“What’s that?”

There’s a glint in his amber eyes as he asks, “Do any of you need a familiar?”

It feels like the world moved on too fast after she left.

Sunlight peeks from a heavily curtained window, shining some light into a dark and gloomy room. But Taehyung has long since been awake, hand touching the side of the bed where she would’ve laid. Sometimes, he doesn’t bother to get out of bed at all, even when the shop provides him all the things that would’ve made him happy: instruments like trumpets, trombones, and saxophones playing a jazzy tune, a new canvas upon an easel with vivid colors of paint to use, fresh strawberries and cooked meat already waiting for him at the dining table. Eventually, the music stops, the muse to create remains untouched, and the food becomes cold.

The hunters leave after tearing the shop apart, only finding a lonely raven hiding in its nest.

One of the hunters gives a young boy a dagger. “Take care of that animal, boy.”

The young boy nods and approaches the loft where Taehyung hides. He raises the weapon, sharp tip pointing right at him, but Taehyung doesn’t move. Perhaps this is better than having to spend another day without her.

But the boy has a change of heart. When the other hunters aren’t looking, he carries the raven to a window and sets him free. “Go. Before they notice.”

So, Taehyung flew off to start anew.

Years passed, and day by day, things got a little easier. He still feels so small and fragile, and it shows in his form as a baby bird. And while he wishes he could put everything behind him, the magic shop still follows him. Whether he’s in an eastern temple, a southern desert, a northern snowscape, or a western forest, the shop is always there to comfort him.

And then, one day, when he feels numb enough to forget the pain, he enters it with the intention of releasing its contract with him. With dead, amber eyes, he stares at the dark-painted door by the entrance. 

A door that leads to the heart of the shop.

Beyond it is a small, empty room with white walls, but it can transform into whatever the owner of the shop desires: a banquet, a loft, a studio, a game room. As Taehyung enters, it's a séance room. One that the previous owner held many of her readings, whether true or not.

Sitting on the table is a crystal ball. To his surprise, he sees an image inside it.

He sees her. The old owner. She smiles and waves at him, keeping her promise of meeting him again. Taehyung grabs the ball in his hands, looking into it with disbelief. “Clairvoyant!” 

The image changes. An ominous fortress. Blackstone Castle.

Is he meant to go there?

As a small raven, he flies across a thick forest until his wings are exhausted. But like most familiars, he can sense magical auras nearby. It gives him the strength to keep going. Many animals are attracted to mages, including dangerous predators. It isn’t uncommon for wolves, bears, and big cats to lurk near the castle. He does his best to avoid getting attacked by any of them.

By the time he reaches it, he collapses from a tree, dizzy, tired, hungry.

“Hoseok, look!”

When Taehyung opens his eyes, he’s being carried by warm, gentle hands. He feels the tips of fingers carefully rub his feathers, and two faces peering down at him. Yours and Hoseok’s.

Contracts between a mage and a familiar tend to be straight-forward. For Hoseok, who is still considered an apprentice, it’s simple.

“Defeat me in battle, and I’ll become your familiar,” Taehyung dramatically tells him. 

The two stand across from each other in front of the shop. Hoseok seems nervous as he holds onto his wand, glancing around as if anyone would stumble upon you guys at any given moment. Even though Taehyung has assured you all that he’s put up invisible portals to prevent any human from walking into the match, turning them around if they happen to walk through it. The rest of you sit on the porch steps with Yoongi on your lap and Seokjin passing some snacks over your head to Namjoon.

It’s the second day. Dawn barely breaks through the horizon before flashes of bright colors emitting from Hoseok’s wand light the dark skies. After supper together and wishing each other good night before breaking off into your separate rooms, all of you feel more rejuvenated than you had in days. Fed, well-rested, safe, and sheltered. You can’t quite imagine a better place than this.

Yoongi purrs in your lap, his eyes darting back and forth between Hoseok and Taehyung with interest. Effortlessly, Taehyung becomes a raven and flies overhead, dodging the bullets of light that shoots from Hoseok’s wand. Neither of them are holding back as Taehyung would swoop down and peck his ear, tug on his hair, or scratch his shoulder.

This is how it should be, Yoongi seems to tell you. No need for Harrowings or unnecessary deaths. Just a good, ol’ fashion duel between magical beings.

Twenty minutes later, Hoseok lands a hit on Taehyung, who dives down and rolls on the ground, shifting into his human form. “Ow. You win.”

“I won?”

“He went easy on him,” Seokjin scoffs, munching on his snacks.

“Hoseok knows how to make ambrosia. That’s the hardest concoction to make,” Namjoon points out, not only because of how rare the ingredients are, but because of how difficult and time-consuming it is to get them. And even then, it is very easy to mess it up. “We can let him pass this one.”

“Hoseok! You won!” you cheer, running up to him as Hoseok screams in triumph. He catches you in his arms and spins you around in glee. 

Taehyung, voice hoarse, dramatically rolls to his back and looks up at Hoseok. “You have proven your worth, apprentice. No, enchanter. I shall be your familiar and help guide you through your magical journey from now on.”

Hoseok laughs as he extends a hand to the raven. “I’m looking forward to having you by my side, Taehyung.”

A connection between them is instantly made. A special bond between familiar and mage. You look over at your own familiar, sharing a knowing look with him.

“We should celebrate,” Seokjin suggests as he stands up with a proud smile. “I’ll cook something nice for all of us.”

“Maybe we can look around town as well,” Namjoon adds, seeming curious about what's in New Haven. The rest of you agree, in need of new clothes and supplies since everything has been left behind at Blackstone Castle.

Before heading out, Namjoon warns you and Hoseok not to use any magic. Even if the people seem friendly, they could easily turn you to the hunters if you warrant enough suspicion. Taehyung is eager to help you guys blend in, transforming your enchanter robes into casual attires.

It feels a bit strange. You’re not used to wearing something so pretty. In comparison, the enchanter robes are so plain and simple. One bland color without design or appeal.

Taehyung takes a step back to admire his work once the illusion spell is cast on your old clothes. There’s a sincerity in his voice as he murmurs, “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you reply back, a bit flustered. Perhaps it’s because Taehyung himself is so handsome, or perhaps it’s his honesty that makes you know he means what he says, but he has a way of making you feel so shy.

The boys have changed their robes and armor for suits, and at the entrance where you’re all gathered, it’s like you can’t stop looking at each other.

“Wow! Jin, you’re so handsome!” Namjoon loudly exclaims, causing Seokjin’s ears to turn red as Hoseok touches the fabric of his suit. Even though he and Namjoon are wearing something similar.

“You don’t look bad yourself, Joon,” you comment when Taehyung brings you in. Hoseok’s jaw falls open as the redness from Seokjin’s ears spreads to his face and neck. In the tiniest, quietest voice, you think Namjoon compliments you back. But Hoseok is already all over you, openly admiring how nice you look in your new outfit. Even Yoongi stares at you so intensely, you almost want to ask your cat if anything is wrong.

The five of you enter town and spend the day exploring. 

You and Hoseok feel like children, fascinated with everything around you. He excitedly points at horses pulling a carriage or some of the funny hats some people wear on their heads. At a clothing shop, the two of you try on some of the silly hats you guys saw, bursting into fits of laughter the more flamboyant and ridiculous they are. When he hears music from street performers, he pulls you along to dance with him, both of you giggling as one song blends into another and another.

Seokjin has your arm linked around his when you enter the famous marketplace. It feels like a place that’s easy to get lost in. Merchants have set up stands, selling everything from armors and weapons, common and rare artifacts and accessories, and daily ingredients for home-cooked meals. He sees you eyeing one that sells flowers and buys a small bouquet for you. His whole face turns suspiciously red when the old merchant smiles at him and says, “You make a lovely couple.”

For lunch, Taehyung shows you a place by a river that instantly becomes Namjoon’s favorite spot. The five of you sit by the grassy bank, admiring the way the sunlight shimmers off the reflection of the water. Yoongi growls at him in disdain when Namjoon rests his head on his spot – your lap – but proceeds to climb on his chest and glare down at him menacingly. Seokjin and Hoseok finally share a drink together, clinking bottles of alcohol. You giggle when Hoseok gives a curious Taehyung a sip of his, and laugh harder at the utter disgust on his face that follows afterwards. Namjoon smiles when he feels you absently run your fingers through his hair. He tells you that he’s happy, and you admit that you are as well.

By sunset, when all of you finally return back to the shop, you and Seokjin immediately prepare a celebratory supper for Hoseok and Taehyung. Although you were all gone most of the day, the place suddenly seems cleaner. Brighter. You hear Taehyung playing with the piano and it doesn’t sound out of tune like it had before. Even the food tastes more delicious, and you’re not sure if it’s because Seokjin has an eye for high quality ingredients and impeccable cooking skills, or if there’s a bit of magic that’s poured in from the shop.

“Taehyung,” Namjoon begins as dinner begins to wind down. “I think we’ve all made our decision already. About the shop.”

After meeting you and Hoseok, Taehyung can’t get you out of his mind.

Perhaps it’s because you really do remind him of his previous owner. Even if he isn’t completely certain you’re her in another life.

For days, Taehyung would watch you from the crystal ball, seeing little glimpses of your life. He sees that you’re a hard-worker, serious about your studies, and self-motivated in learning new things. He finds you really admirable, and knows that you’re very kind with the way you took care of him until he got better.

He sees your relationships with the other boys, and how easily drawn you are toward each of them. Namjoon and his admirable intelligence and gentle nature. Seokjin and his witty humor, playfulness, and consideration. Hoseok and his fervent passion and unyielding optimism. Yoongi and his calm, comforting aura and constant assurance.

He feels a bit envious, wishing he could be a part of that too.

The shop, once a place of painful memories, suddenly gives him a bit of hope. It isn’t every day that he is able to look into your life. Sometimes it’d take weeks or months for a new vision to appear. But every time it does, the warm and optimistic feeling of hope resurges within him.

Taehyung sees visions of darkness, flames, betrayal, loss, and terror that occurs during that fateful night. He sees how it’s ripped you all away from everything you’ve known and everything you’re used to. But a smile appears on his face when he sees something else.

You, at the shop, helping Seokjin cook for everybody and sharing quick kisses when he passes by you to grab a utensil or an ingredient. You with Namjoon at the reading nook, noses stuck in your own books and heads resting on big pillows on the floor, but you’re reading the same lines over and over as his fingers absently massages and trace patterns on your leg. You and Hoseok dancing together at the parlor room, even when there isn’t music playing, and he’s incredibly smitten as he spins you around and dips you before slowly bringing you back up for a kiss. You and Yoongi napping together in the afternoon, seemingly innocently, had it not been for the fresh bite marks against your thighs and neck.

Then, he sees you and him. 

Taehyung gifts you pretty things: coins, jewelry, bottle caps, buttons, polished rocks. He sings to you while you work, pecking your face with teasing kisses before pressing his lips against yours. At night, he shows you his nest at the loft and has you lie among his collection of pretty, shiny things. There’s an alluring look in your eyes as his hands tugs on the strings of your corset. His eyes seem to glow with desire as he drinks you in, watching your reactions as he tenderly kisses your neck, your collarbone, your breast, your torso. He sees his large hand pin your wrist down as he brings your hips to him, and how your hand clenches the fabric of a blanket beneath you as your lips part open.

There’s more that the crystal shows him, but Taehyung is already gone. Determined and flustered to see you again.

On the third day, all of you have gathered around the dining table with the deed to the shop sitting before you. It feels like an easy decision. 

Of course, all of you had to treat it like a business and figure out ways to make profit. Seokjin and Hoseok like the idea of keeping the tavern and providing warm meals and cold drinks to customers. Although none of you have experience in owning a shop, Namjoon is good at numbers and offers to take care of the back-end of the business, such as bookkeeping finances and sales. Taehyung is adamant about the mysterious room in the entrance, selling you to the idea that it can have many uses in both the professional and personal sense. And all of you, including Yoongi, like the idea of providing entertainment at the parlor room with music, dancing, and games.

“Is there a catch that we should know about?” Hoseok asks as he reads through the contents of the deed one more time. All of you look at Taehyung for confirmation.

“It’s not a catch, per say,” Taehyung begins, shifting uneasily as the room falls silent. “I just want to reiterate that the shop is driven by magic.”

“So, is the shop going to drain our magic or something?” Namjoon asks, hesitant.

“No, nothing like that,” he assures you all. “One mage alone can power the shop by casting spells, doing small rituals, and crafting potions. Three mages and two familiars living here will make the upkeep easy.”

“What about non-magical beings? What can I do?” Seokjin nervously questions, seeming to want to contribute as well.

A slow, boxy smile appears on Taehyung’s face as he locks eyes with you. “Do you know what the most powerful kind of magic is? It’s love.”

Seokjin snorts in disbelief. “Isn’t that a little too cheesy?”

“He’s right, though,” Hoseok defends, sighing as he thinks of Miss Eunjeong’s parting words to him. “It sounds simple, but loving yourself, loving others, sharing that unconditional and mutual feeling with someone can be difficult.”

“You have to face the ugliest parts about yourself and accept it. Find ways to choose love when things become tough. It’s a constant effort,” Namjoon adds, and it feels like all of them are looking right at you when he says, “You can love someone so much, and never know if they truly love you back.”

“It’s a little scary,” you admit quietly. Even now, you feel so vulnerable opening up like this. Are you even a person worthy of being loved like that? Although you know that you love the boys, are you deserving of theirs?

All of you fall quiet again, thinking about it. With all of them, you had to hide your feelings from them in one way or another. With Hoseok, it was because he was in love with someone else. With Namjoon, you were both rivals and had a reputation to keep. With Seokjin, it’s because an affair between a mage and warden is forbidden. Even you and Yoongi stay strictly in the lane of mage and familiar.

“But you’re willing to try, right?” Taehyung asks, looking between you all as if he already knows the answer. “As long as we all love each other, as long as we’re together, the shop will become more than just a business. It’ll be a home. We can settle down and continue to have happier days from now on.”

“We give the best of each other,” Namjoon says with a soft smile toward you, being the first to sign. “I’ll show you.”

Hoseok signs as well. So does Seokjin. Yoongi dabs his paw in the ink and presses it on the paper. Taehyung’s name is already on the paper. That just leaves yours.

You pick up the quill and draw in a breath. It feels like all your dreams are coming true. A new home, a new family, a new life.

Ink spills into your signature and seals the deal.

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated! Taglist: @natalie-rdr​; @scentisterror; @aloneatpeace ​ To join the tag list, please read [here].

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