#is there but also is a bit fainter now than when it was when she was younger and ESPECIALLY after five years of being where she was!

[suguru-getos]

fractures // geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 4

links: part 1 / part 2 / part 3

story summary: being a monkey is the norm except when you're captured by geto sama because he needs money from your parents. however, you may just have to suffer a little extra because of the forced thinking about the right and wrongs... you're putting him through. the affection you’re forcing him through…

chapter summary: only five more days left to finally be able to leave the geto estate, however with an environment so brutal & scathing… the reader is slowly losing her will to keep going, and her hopes with it.

warnings: depressed reader, geto is being a cunty bitch as always (but hes softened a teensy bit if you squint), trying to provide the resder comfort in his own way. degradation. not beta’d by me i’m a lazy ass bitch :33

you sat lonesome, devastated & absolutely crushed below the shower. the way the cold water drenched your hair, every hit of it against your skin reminding you of the fact that you were alive, still alive unfortunately. and will be alive, until geto suguru gets what he’s promised. the money. its been close to an hour and your skin has started to wrinkle apart, you are so lost in your thoughts that your mind forgets to register how cold you feel with the shivering. the white marble flooring of the bathroom against your bare bottom & the soles of your feet a constant reminder of the coldness.

“y/n.” a voice echoed from outside the expensive glassed sliding door of the bathroom. it sounds like a fake echo amidst the stormy thoughts you’re battling.

“Y/N!” the voice snapped louder, and you jerked at the shocking bellow. flinching and getting pulled from your mind to what’s real. “yes?” you answered meekly, getting up on your now wobbly feet with how long you had been sitting the same and twisting the shower nozzle to stop.

“just checking if you had died.” manami’s voice scoffs from outside the door, footsteps walking away from you and sounding delightfully fainter.

you want to kill everyone & yourself. these people were so beyond powerful that you didn’t know humans could… do that.

begrudgingly, passionately hatefully, you got up and wandered to wear clothes and apply any cream that could soothe your now dry & angry skin. that’s when you see the girls.

mimiko & nanako, peeking through the door and humming. “you are pretty.” one of them smiles, “shame you’re nothing but a monkey.” she pouted, the one with brown, whiskey-kin hair. you blink, unsure how to respond to something that sounded awfully unclear. “what do you mean when you say monkey?” you asked, sighing.

the girls invited themselves in, putting your food beside you. “geto sama wants you to eat.” the raven haired little girl numbly reiterated. you nodded, unsure why they respected the monster so much. then again, you also think he is insanely kind to everyone but you. oh how fun.

“funny he didn’t bring me an animal bowl since he called me a mutt.” you scoffed, you know the life within you brimming and enflamed could one day kill you. maybe it should. oh no… you’re starting to feel depressed. why else do you think so frequently that you should rather fucking die?

“mimiko, nanako, you both are excused.” the velvety hum of geto’s voice from the entrance of your door echoed. it sent instant chill in your spine, the color of blood & fear mingled into the reminding dark red that oozed from the word ‘monkey’. the girls listened to him as if he was all they ever had. conflicting, the tender tone he used for those teenagers was conflicting.

he walks in, hands in front with the gojo-gesa making him look even more majestic than he is. he is tall, bigger than you, and his cologne is perfect. you wondered if he dresses like this to hide the real him. the rotten, unemotional, sadistic bastard.

“did you like sleeping on the floor yesterday?” he hums, clearly in a mood to stab your barely healed psyche wounds. “yes, it was comfortable. i’m sure sleeping on the bed must have been quite uncomfortable.” your sarcasm is biting, you haven’t had a good sleep thanks to him. “get used to it, little mutt.” he shrugs, “get used to it until your pathetic parents can gather the money they are demanded.”

you sigh, right. money… “i am.” the fight within you is flickery, and you never know what might rub geto the wrong way & suddenly your whole body is chopped up. “you clean up bearable.” geto hums again, his eyes flickering towards how devastatingly gorgeous you look post shower.

“i know.” you respond again, waiting, bracing. he is here to hurt you anyway. he’s doing that everyday ever since you’re here. “the girls brought you food, eat.” he sounds demanding suddenly, breaking the chain of your vile overthinking.

“is it poisoned?” you snarkily replied. rolling your eyes. you have come to the delusional conclusion that this “geto” person wouldn’t kill you. until he has the money that is… that is the sole reason why your mouth hasn’t stopped.

suguru’s gaze almost softens, you look pale, having lost a lot of blood. he remembers how bruised your skin looked, and you look like you have easily lost a few pounds. he has come to a conclusion that he doesn’t like damaged goods. even when he’s returning them. that is a much better explaination than the other one that meekly whispers to his heart: he has a soft spot for a fucking monkey!

“it’s not. i am fully capable of stuffing that useless mouth full.” he answers, equal bite to his tone. oh his words scathe and burn you, but they do the same to him. they feel like branding on his skin. especially when the light in your eyes fades a little more at his sentences. you hesitantly take a bite, then another… and another. you didn’t know you were ‘this’ hungry, because you could swear the plates are finished in a few minutes. suguru feels a motherly joy upon seeing you like this, before he forcibly snaps himself out. “five more days, then you’re a free girl.” he hums, wanting to see the excitement in your eyes of finally ridding yourself off of him. to his surprise, there was none.

“if i am alive by then.” you hummed, there was no malice in your words, no ill-intent, no insight to piss him off. that’s what HURTS him. it feels like the wrath of a thousand suns is coming for him. you actually… feel that you wouldn’t survive.

for you, its because you want to give up. maybe kill yourself, maybe let him kill you. the idea of a ‘life’ after this whole ordeal seems draining. it would take so much to heal from it; and you’re becoming more and more unsure with every passing day.

suguru gets up, glancing your way once more. you are torturing him just by breathing. “if you had one last wish, what would it be?” he asks, partially to see any emotion apart from the numb on your face. be it fear.

you looked at him, “that you don’t tell my parents i’m dead. tell them i escaped & wouldn’t return.”

he widens his eyes, the frog in his throat unbearably tight. he clears his throat to sound the same distinct monotonous, unkind tone. “they should be happy their daughter is dead if you were to… stop… breathing.” he has to strain the last two words out of him. his jaw tightening.

“a-after all, what use are you to them? you are giving them stress while they try to collect money for you. to save you. and here you are, so okay with your demise.” there is a questionable vigor in his tone. as if he’s trying his best to stop you from killing yourself. “the only reason you’re still alive is because they promised the money.” and… not because suguru can’t bring himself to kill you. yeah, that’s it.

tears sting your eyes, your heart feels heavy. you don’t want to die either… you’re just tired god damn it! “what’s your full name?” you asked him, trying to deviate from the topic.

suguru is taken aback at that change, why do you want to know more about him? “geto suguru.” he hums, responding rather conceited.

“during sunset.” he begins again, unsure why he’s saying what he’s about to say. kicking himself for it. “the gardens… look exceptionally beautiful.”

you raised a brow, curiosity brinming within your bones. “if you don’t wish to die even one bit, a walk might help.” he gets up with that, leaving for the exit. before doing so, he stands at the entrance, “should you want to be a good daughter who is at least breathing when she meets her parents, i would be there in the gardens too. an unwelcomed and imposed company.”

you don’t have an answer to that. except a sigh of relief when he leaves, he didn’t hurt you today… until now. how relieving…

what you don’t know is geto is leaned against that very door, replaying this conversation over and over in his head like a stuck tape-recorder. almost choking at the way you were. maybe he needs to get back at it, killing annoying monkeys. that… should help?

[pasukiyo]

LEECH.

| a collection of one-shots. collection masterlist.

DISCLAIMER: this fic is simply a work of fiction and is in no way, shape, or form claiming to be a reflection of how leon kennedy is canonically portrayed as a character. this is an au, meaning it is an alternate reality written for fun, so please heed this warning and keep it in mind while you read.

— to join the taglist, follow the link here and choose “leon kennedy” in the character list.

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leon kennedy x fem!reader word count; 1,656 warnings; leon is a stalker, leon's also a bit of a loser!, themes of dark!leon, allusions to smut, mentions of oral (m & f receiving) summary; letting her go was easily the biggest mistake leon has ever made, and he's made more than he can count. so when he finds her again, he vows she’ll be the one thing he clings to, like a leech in skin.

 Leon never had a place to call his own, but he did have a home, once. 

 Home was a girl, home was a medic who, by patching him up that first time in the training grounds, prompted a rumbling from deep within his belly for a hunger he’d never had before, making him yearn for something constant, something domestic, something normal. 

 Because Leon Kennedy’s life was far from it. Years of being in all the wrong places at all the wrong times made certain of that. There was nothing normal about him to begin with anyways, even before that shitshow of a first day on duty at R.P.D..

 Although not many tried, many failed to truly understand Leon Kennedy. Before there was a top secret government agent, there was a cop and before there was a cop, there was a teenager and before there was a teenager there was just a child, mourning the loss of parents he never got the chance to really know. 

 But that was all just the surface-level shit. 

 Everyone, at least on a business standpoint, knew about Leon’s past, why he was so eager to be an officer in the first place. But no one gave a shit about the in between. Nobody really cared for who Leon Kennedy was at his core, beneath all the blood, sweat, gore, and tears. 

 Nobody did— except for her. 

 Leon’s home once looked at him with a tenderness so devastating, it was like its own cataclysmic event. Every time she looked at him with eyes so warm like a crackling fire in the hearth on a cold, winter night, eyebrows pinched and brow furrowed, it was like the Earth was collapsing around him. The world was caving in and Leon didn’t care because all he could see was her: listening to him, eager to know more, wanting to help him. 

 He could still see her eyes every night when he closed his and he could still hear her voice, her breathing, the little sounds she made in those moments they shared when they burned the brightest. His skin still buzzed where her lips once touched him, although each day that passed by, the burn her kiss left upon his flesh gradually faded, so faint now, he was holding on to cinders. Leon would toss and turn in whatever bed he ended up in every night, willing the memory of their last night together back to the forefront of his brain, clinging on to the dying embers left in her lips’ wake. 

 Her kiss felt fainter tonight than it ever had before. 

 The feeling was nearly painful. 

 Leon ripped the thin duvet off of his body, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress that was more like a box spring than anything. The motel room he’d ended up in after the last mission was small, the walls were yellow with grime, the curtains over the window thin and ripped, allowing the orange light from the lamppost outside to spill in. There were small, dark ovals on the floor in the corner that were surely cockroaches, but Leon didn’t spare them a second glance as he zipped up his jeans— he’d slept in far worse places than this. 

 He tugged on the sheepskin leather jacket that had since been draped over the top of the withering dresser, stepping into his boots and bending at the waist from the edge of the mattress to lace them up. The alarm on the nightstand read 4:00 in big, red numbers that blinked after him as he stuffed his room key into his pocket, slipping out the door. 

 The air was cold and fog rolled in the low-lit parking lot, curls of smoky air visible in the lamplight. Leon could see his breath in misty clouds with each step he took and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, disappearing into the fog. 

 She haunted his reverie as if she were a parasite, a sickness he couldn’t heal from. He still saw her the day she told him she was leaving, still felt the bile that bubbled in his throat, still saw the tears that fell in droplets of rain down her cheeks. He still felt the weight of the words he’d said, still remembered her shaking her head, could still hear her voice curling around his ears like a ghostly whisper, saying “you have to let me go.”

 He watched her walk away, let her go as she asked then, and perhaps, Leon should’ve tried to move on. Perhaps he should’ve let her go as she had asked, should’ve pushed himself harder in training, pushed himself harder in his missions so that maybe he could have forgotten her. 

 But he was still right where she left him. 

 Ever since she left, he’d been stuck as if he were in a time loop, reliving the day he let her walk away from him over and over again like it was some form of punishment, his own personal hell. He’d spent damn near every second that passed after that day trying to claw his way back to her, hanging on tooth and nail. He had to ask through virtually the entire medical team until he finally, finally found her. 

 He told himself he wouldn’t do this, told himself he’d wait until the morning where he could show up at her door, properly knock and engage in conversation. He tried desperately to resist the ache he now yielded to. 

 The place was caught in between a shithole and adequacy. It was a hell of a lot better than a vast majority of the places Leon had slept, at least. His footsteps echoed through the hallway as he neared her door, Room 210. He fished for his pocket knife in the front pocket of his jeans, unsheathing the switchblade before glancing around the hall. 

 Empty. 

 He leaned down to the lock and slowly, as to not make any more noise than necessary, inserted the blade, inch by inch until the tip reached the end. He twisted the hilt until there was a click, steadily sliding the knife back out and switching it closed, tucking it safely away back in his pocket. 

 The knob was cool against his fingertips as he twisted it, carefully pushing open the door, grimacing when it squeaked. He stepped inside the dark apartment, the shadows embracing him as if he were an old friend. Once he’d managed to close the door, he crept his way through the apartment, between half unpacked moving boxes and furniture. 

 The walls were bare for the most part, save for a painting above the television in the living room. Leon couldn’t quite discern what it was in the darkness, but through the sliver in the door beside it, he could just make out the shape of a footboard. 

 His heart pounded against his chest as he inched towards the bedroom door, palms against the wood, cautiously pushing open just enough to allow his body to slither through. 

 And there she was. 

 Leon’s home was a woman buried beneath the covers, turned on her side with an arm folded beneath her pillow. Home was the woman deep in slumber, lashes flush to her cheeks, oblivious to the man standing at her bedside. 

 Leon drew in a deep breath as he kneeled beside her, his fingers just itching to wipe the loose strand of hair away from her face. It’d been so long since the last time he’d seen her in the flesh and he’d counted down those long, agonizing days that eventually led him to this moment. The days were long and hard but finally, he’d made his way back to her. 

 The lips that used to kiss his, that used to part when she gasped, that wrapped around his cock when his fingers were woven through her hair were now pressed together in a line. The chest he’d sometimes lay on at night, the chest he’d knead in either of his palms, the chest he’d leave his marks upon rose and fell with her every breath. He wondered if any of his marks still tainted her skin, or if the time they’d spent apart had been enough to fade them away. 

 The eyes that still haunted him, even in this moment, were closed but still, their hue was forever ingrained in his memory. Leon’s fingers twitched as he raised a hand towards her face, shivering as he brushed the backs of his knuckles delicately across her cheek, the pad of his thumb just barely soothing over one of her closed eyelids. He swiped the loose strand of hair away from his face gently, the tip of his forefinger delicately tracing the curve of her ear. 

 The skin he’d been craving and yearning to touch was warm, a stark contrast from the cool of his own. Memories of nights that had passed with his arms wrapped around her naked body, with her breasts against his chest, their legs intertwined flashed in his mind. Memories of his palms soothing up and down her waist, his hands between the soft flesh of her thighs, his lips against her center made his mouth part in a gasp. 

 How he longed to shake her awake, to look in her eyes, to feel her again. How he longed to tangle his fingers up in her hair and push her lips against his in a searing kiss that would forever scar him but feel so damn good all the while. 

 But he wouldn’t wake her, not now. 

 For tonight, he’d settle on the fact that he’d found her, that he could see her once again. Seeing her again set that old flame in the pit of his belly ablaze once more, fueling that craving he had for something constant, something domestic, something normal. 

 Normalcy was hard, his line of work made certain of that. Nobody normal had seen the amount of shit he had, nor had the amount of blood on his hands that tainted his. Normalcy was practically a myth, normalcy sounded more outrageous than the outrageous did to him. 

 Normalcy may have been out of reach before, yes, but now— now it felt closer than ever. If becoming a leech, a blood-sucking parasite with its teeth sunken deep into skin was what he had to do to achieve it, then so be it. He was so tired of letting everything he’d ever wanted slip out of his reach— so when he sunk down onto the floor with his back against the wall, gaze still fixed on the woman slumbering upon the bed, he vowed to let this be the one thing he cling to. 

a/n; SO... SURPRISE! i got the idea for this while driving to work this past tuesday morning and couldn't stop thinking about it my entire shift lol i'm really excited to write more for this collection, so stay tuned for further one-shots! i just ask for your patience-- i'm a college student with a job! :) anyways, i hope you all enjoyed this little introduction to the collection :)

❕❕the next fic in the collection will be posted april 14th at 3 pm cst

💿 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the entire world to me 🫶

TAGLIST

@corruptcoder @chaoticevilbakugo @luckypurins @glovesandhorror @xoxostarlet @illsksm @echo1200 @d3adp00ls @woahhajime @leonkennedygvrl

[atinylittlepain]

Little Pinch

nurse!marcus pike x f!reader

she needs to get bloodwork done. one small problem, getting bloodwork done never goes well for her, especially not when she's distracted by the very kind, very handsome nurse doing it.

wordcount | 3.3K

content info | 18+ discussions of getting bloodwork that includes needles, fainting, nausea, mostly fluff, nurse marcus to the rescue, this is just a fun time, also an un-beta'd time so like, be nice pls

a/n | shoutout to the girls (gn) that pass out every time they get blood work done (me). I have to get new labs tomorrow morning, and writing this is how I coped with that prospect :') this one is for the fainters, the thin veiners, the "just do it in my hand"-ers - i see you, i am you, gawd bless

..........................................................................

Here’s the thing, this never goes well. It wasn’t always like this though. She has a vague memory of being a kid and taking it like a perfect champ, testing for mono after a rash of cases at school. But then, well, something changed. 

It runs in her family. Thin veins that are hard for even the best nurses to find, lots of oh, I just lost it, and well, let’s try your other arm, and always, ultimately, hands? Should we try the hands? No, the nurses never listen when she tells them to just start with the hands, and without fail, somewhere around the third or fourth time they try to get the needle in, a cold sweat breaks, and the room starts to filter through a fuzzy pinhole of vision. It’s embarrassing, she thinks, because, really, she has no problem with needles. Can watch it go in, no issues with piercings, et cetera, et cetera, but getting blood drawn? Yeah, forget about it. She usually comes to with paperwork around her feet that she had been holding, and a well-meaning nurse pressing a damp paper towel to her forehead and breathing the remnants of her lunch over her face and alright, hon? Usually a box of apple juice and an escort out to her car to make sure she doesn’t go offline again. 

The other thing is, unfortunately, she’s pretty sure her little fainting, fading thing has gotten worse over the years. A conditioned response, she thinks, that cold sweat starts the second she walks into the waiting room, already anticipating what comes next. And today, well, even worse than some of the others. Twelve hours fasted, and no, that certainly won’t help her case, no matter how much water she downed before she came here, no matter how tight she squeezes her fist in the hopes of pumping even one vein up enough to be tenable. She looks at the woman sitting across from her in the waiting room, reading a back-ordered issue of Cosmo, flipping and flippant and really, why can’t she be like that? Why can’t she be normal like that? Instead, her heel is doing a frantic tap, whole leg jerking with it, and everytime she checks her watch she feels her heart creep a little further up into her throat. 

If she’s being honest, she thought about canceling her labs. No, doc, all good, doc, don’t need to know, doc. And then a friend pointed out, frustratingly, that avoidance is only going to make it worse. Right, so, right, so right, so, here she is. And here’s the nurse opening the door and right, calling her name, and it’s a man nurse, male nurse, though she’s pretty sure she’s not being PC by making that specification in her mind because really, twenty-first century, and really, anyone can be a nurse. But not anyone, right? Lots of schooling, right? Right. She realizes a bit too late that she hadn’t responded to the nurse calling her name, jerking up out of her chair and trying for a smile that she thinks probably looks more like constipation. And that’s just great because now man nurse, sorry, just nurse, probably thinks she’s constipated and she’d rather not have the, actually, very handsome, just nurse, thinking that on top of whatever she’s got going on that necessitates lab work she also can’t take a shit. Right. 

“We’re going to be in this room right here.” Handsome just nurse has a nice voice too, deep but kind, and a strong jawline, and a patchy beard but she likes that it’s patchy, and he’s tan and he’s got one of those big watches that tells you how hard your heart was beating on your run and he probably runs in the afternoon after clocking out of the needle-in-arms gig and that’s probably why he’s so tan, probably has a golden retriever who runs with him too, because he looks like a golden retriever guy, dark flop of wavy hair and that smile and oh, oh, he just asked her a question and now she’s supposed to answer it. 

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?” He smiles, nods, being nice, at least, about her whole scared prey animal situation. She presses her palm down hard on her knee to keep it from bouncing any more. 

“It says on this order that these labs need to be taken fasted. Can you confirm to me that you haven’t had anything to eat or drink besides water in the last twelve hours?” Oh yes, yep, she can confirm that for you, Marcus, his name is Marcus, says so on his little lanyard badge. Thanks for the easy one, Marcus, pitch right down the middle, Marcus, with your nice smile and your clipboard and your, well, needles and tubes. But before he can get started with his, well, needles and tubes, she makes a strangled, sort of despondent sound because in situations like these, she comes with a warning label. 

“I should let you know I have, um, bad veins? Honestly, you can just start with my hands, I don’t mind it. And also, I’m a fainter, yeah, so, it happens every time, just so you know.” And usually, usually, her spiel is given very little notice, mmmokay, hon. Sure, they’ll lay her back, how merciful, so she doesn’t crack her skull open on the way out of conscious orbit. That’s about it, though. But this time, she thinks, might just be different.

“Okay, thank you for giving me the heads up. If you’re sure you’re alright with starting with the hands then it’s fine by me to get it done that way.” So, so fine, Marcus, and maybe, just maybe, she thinks she might not pass out this time. He sets the exam table at a reclined angle and she wills her rigid spine to settle against it, trying to find the balance between breathing so deeply she starts to get light headed, and not breathing at all. In case you were wondering, yes, she is on medication for anxiety, it just doesn’t seem to presently be working. 

“Just gonna feel around a bit here for a good one.” She only feels a little insane for the kick and clench in her heart when he takes her one hand in both of his, because he’s just palpating the back of her hand to find, as he said, a good one. Yes, the word for it is palpating, and there is certainly nothing romantic nor, hello, sexual about anything that’s called palpating. But, hey, taking wins where she can get them, and even through the latex gloves, his hands are warm and big and very know what they’re doing about the whole thing. And she’s no expert, obviously, but he’s got a very nice, very visible vein in his forearm, and she bets phlebotomists love him, bets that when he gets blood drawn, he’s in and out no problem, bets that even she could draw blood from him. Nope, nothing sexual about that, nothing weird about that, right? Right. Nothing sexual either, when he ties off the tight band around her arm and she watches his one bicep flex a little with the effort. 

“I can count you down, or you can look away and I’ll just get it done, whichever you prefer.”

“Uh, no preference, I’ll just look away and you can do whatever you want to me.” Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. She realizes exactly what she just said a bit too late, him, Marcus, nice nurse Marcus, letting out a laugh that fizzles out into a cough. Great, now she’s made her fucking phlebotomist uncomfortable, possibly one of the last people you want to make uncomfortable. But if that, whatever that was, lingers, he doesn’t show it, already swiping an antiseptic wipe over the back of her hand and pulling his little cart of tubes closer to himself. And she knows this part, she’s good at this part, letting her eyes sweep up and to the right, because he’s on her left, and willing whatever vein he decided is a good one to stay a good one. Little pinch, little prayer, she lets out a held breath when he says a quiet alright and keeps the needle exactly where it is. Hallelujah.

“This might take a little longer, just because we’re drawing from your hand.”

“I’ll bleed as fast as I can then.” At the very least, he laughs, even though she wishes she had kept that one to herself. 

“Do you live around here?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Sorry, I’m trying to distract you.” 

“Didn’t they teach you how to do that in like, phlebotomy school?” She still has her eyes turned up and away, only a little wince when he switches out one tube for another. He hums at her question.

“Not really, I could ask you about the weather, is that better?” 

“It’s cloudy. Not much of a conversation starter.” 

“Well, why don’t you ask me something, since you’re such an expert on starting conversations.”

“Do you have a golden retriever?”

“What?”

“Sorry, you just, you look like the kind of guy who’d have a golden retriever.” Another tube clicks into place, but she’s not paying any attention to that now. 

“Uh, no, no golden retriever. I do however have a very old, very deaf pit mix named Lucille.” Goddamnit, somehow that’s hotter than the golden retriever. 

“Great name.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. She came with it when I adopted her.” God. Fucking. Damn it. What next, is he a volunteer firefighter on the weekends?

“Alright, that’s the last one.”

“Wait, really?” She chances a skittish glance but, sure enough, the needle is out.

“Yep, just let me get a band-aid for you and you’re all set.” Is he? Is she? Really? Going to make it out of here with no blackout? She considers, very briefly, as Marcus is smoothing a band-aid over the back of her hand, whether it’s possible to put a phlebotomist on retainer. 

“If you want to sit for a minute and make sure you’re feeling alright before getting up that’s totally fine. I can also get you water or juice if you’re getting lightheaded.” 

“Oh, no, I’m fine actually. Which, hey, thanks for not making me faint and stuff– that’s a first for me in a very long–” Oh, oh, stops herself mid-compliment because oh, oh, maybe stood up too fast, because the room is going a little dark, a little sideways, cold prickle and nauseous and–

“Easy, easy, I’m gonna help you sit up, okay?” His voice is a little fuzzy around the edges. To be honest, he’s a little fuzzy around the edges, though she knows right away what happened. No, not her first rodeo, like she blinked and then came to in a strange sprawl on the end of the exam table. Marcus presents a dixie cup to her, holds it right in her line of sight because clearly, she’s still a little slumped, still a little vacant, and a little warm, actually, which is new, and a little pleasant, and, oh, it’s because his arm is curled around her shoulders, firm palm held there to help her sit up. Oh. He smells like clorox and something woodsy, and it shouldn’t, but it kind of works. 

“You feeling okay?”

“Mmmhmm.” She’s afraid of what might come out of her mouth if she doesn’t keep her lips pressed in a thin line, mmhmms again when he asks if she can sit up on her own, only a little despondent when he takes his arm away. 

“So, you really weren’t kidding about that happening every time, huh?” 

“Nope, wish I was. It’s– I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“That you had to deal with that.”

“You don’t have to be sorry about that, it’s part of the job. And actually, you fainted about as perfectly as I could’ve asked you to.”

“I didn’t know you could faint like, well.” 

“Right before you went down you said I’m gonna faint. That’s a lot better than getting no heads up and turning around to find my patient unresponsive on the ground.” 

“Oh gee, I bet you say that to all your patients.” Lord, if there was ever a time to put her out of her misery it’d be now. She probably still looks green from her little trip to outer space but sure, flirt with Marcus, handsome nurse Marcus who just watched you absolutely eat it. Kick your feet and bat your eyelashes while you’re at it. 

“I take it you’re feeling better then? Are you okay to walk out to the front desk?” And the rest is, mercifully, easy. He walks her to the front desk, squeezes her shoulder and gives her a good job today that she likes a little too much. She makes a mental note to herself to never come back to this clinic for any future bloodwork, lest she make a fool of herself all over again in front of a man who, with any luck, she will never see again. 

…

“Yes, this is she speaking.” This is she speaking in the middle of the cereal aisle with a half-filled grocery basket at her feet. She sets her gaze on a hyper-realized image of a granola cluster (now with real strawberries!) while the woman on the other end of the phone tells her that her lab results came in and were sent over to her doctor. 

“Oh, great, thank you for letting me know. Do you know– did things look okay?” 

“We don’t interpret the results, ma’am. Your doctor will go over that with you.” She doesn’t quite catch that, doesn’t catch the woman’s ma’am? either, a little preoccupied with staring down the aisle, because is that? Is he? He looks good out of the scrubs. 

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry, no, um, of course. Thanks again.” If the woman had anything else to tell her, it’s a little too late for it, already hung up, and she’s trying to decide if she wants him to see her, or if fleeing immediately is the best course of action. He probably wouldn’t even recognize her, she thinks. It’s been a couple of weeks since the whole ordeal. And actually, she’d prefer if he didn’t recognize her. Oh yeah, the one who, well, ate it. But it seems the choice has already been made for her, because he saw her, walking down the aisle toward her, with his chin tilted down and part of a smile like he isn’t sure, but he’s pretty sure. He says her name like a question. Guilty as charged.

“Marcus, right?” Like she forgot his name, ha. His smile stretches, a little brighter, palm to the nape of his neck, and while she got the golden retriever part wrong, she totally clocked the rest, watch on his wrist and nice-looking athletic shorts and just-right-tight t-shirt with the little swoosh on the chest. She thinks his hair might even be a little sweat-damp, curled ends nearly getting in his eyes. In other words, she’s a goner. 

“How have you been since we– you, well–”

“Since I passed out on you?” Yeah, that, he laughs out and yeah, she likes him, sue her. 

“Just for the record, I believe it was you who said I passed out perfectly, so.” Shrug, so, he takes a step closer, leans in a little like he’s going to tell her a secret. In the cereal aisle, of all places. 

“Just for the record, I really don’t say that to all my patients.”

“No?”

“Nope, just the nervous, pretty ones.”

“I was not nervous.”

“You weren’t?”

“Nope.”

“Are you just gonna blow past the other thing?”

“What thing?”

“The pretty thing.”

“Yep.” Something a little giddy, like being back in high school, shared, shit-eating and smug grins. He shakes his head and she rolls her lips back in her mouth to stop her smile from getting any cheesier. 

“So, you do live around here then?” 

“Mm, yeah, I do. And so do you?”

“I do.”

“Nice, nice.”

“Lovely weather we’re having.”

“Wow.” 

“What? I’m making conversation.”

“You’re still not very good at it.”

“I’ll keep working on it for you.”

“Sure, okay. What kind of cereal do you get?”

“What kind do you think I get?”

“You look like a Kashi guy, if I’m honest.”

“Somehow I feel insulted.”

“Well.”

“You’re not even right either.” 

“No? What do you get then?” He just smiles, steps away and reaches up to the top of the shelf and she is very grateful to General Mills for being located on the top shelf because his shirt rides up just enough to see a bare hip. In cheerios we trust. 

“Apple cinnamon, seriously?”

“What? It’s a classic.”

“Actually, you know what, that tracks.” 

“What do you get?” She waggles her basket in front of him in response, goods already procured. 

“Peanut butter chex, respectable choice.”

“Thank you, thank you.” 

“You know, I’d say we’re pretty good at this conversation thing.”

“Yeah, we’re not bad.”

“Do you want to do this again sometime? Not in the cereal aisle?”

“What, you mean like in the produce section?” He smiles at that, rolls his eyes, his basket lightly bonking against hers. 

“I was thinking more like dinner, or drinks if that’s your thing?” 

“I might be free on Saturday.”

“I might also be free on Saturday.” 

“Well, sounds like we’re both free on Saturday.”

“Can I get your number?” His lockscreen is a picture of a dog. Lucille, he tells her, before she was very old and very deaf. She can’t help how big her smile gets at that. 

“Text me, and we’ll do this whole conversation thing again.” I will, he says, phone tucked back into his pocket, though he seems to think twice before asking her can I see something really quick. Not entirely sure what he means when she nods, but then his hand sort of hovers over her forearm, may I? He really does have nice hands, she doesn’t think twice about nodding again. 

“Oh yeah, we didn’t have to use your hand. I could have totally gotten it from here.” His hand curled around her elbow and his thumb lightly pressing into what she can only assume is a vein, and he says it so earnestly that she can’t help the incredulous laugh that rises up in her chest. 

“Really? You’re still stuck on that, huh?” He smiles something sheepish, pad of his thumb rubbing an apology into her skin before pulling away. She didn’t really want him to pull away.

“Sorry, occupational hazard, I guess.” 

“Kinda weird, you know.”

“Did I just ruin this whole thing?”

“Mmm, no, I kinda like it.”

“So, Saturday?”

“Looking forward to it, Marcus.” 

[idunnoficsorsumthing]

While you were sleeping

Bobby Nash x reader

Summary: Bobby makes a confession when he thinks you are sleeping.

Warnings: none, just a bit of fluff

The sound of the movie playing in the background as you were asleep on the couch. The laughing tape of the silly sitcom kept your subconscious awake. You knew you should open your eyes and go find your bed. Your body was too tired after the night you and the team had. You didn’t consider yourself the daredevil of the paramedics at the 118. Bobby did. Now paying the price, the shift wasn’t even over and your limbs felt like they were going to fall off, and the dull pain in your shoulder. The sound of talking from some people in the background stirred your deep slumber to wake you up. "She's wrecked.” You heard Chimney's voice in the distance. “ She was reckless.” You heard Bobby snap. Every word started to sound more clear, a sign of waking up. This also started a stream of thoughts. Recaps of Bobby being mad at you for pulling a stunt like that flooded your mind. You decided it would be best to keep your eyes shut in case Bobby wanted to give you an earful for falling asleep during the shift. “She should’ve just gone to bed.” Bobby huffed. You could hear the irritability in his voice. “Well, she’s stubborn.” Chimney argued. You heard the disappointed breath. The sound of footsteps got quieter. Someone walked away. Another pair of footsteps was heard, though these got closer. “Let’s get you to bed.” You heard Bobby say. You felt his strong arms pulling you up in his arms. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do. Wake up and tell him to leave or continue on pretending to sleep.

He carefully laid you down on one of the beds. You felt the fabric of a blanket slide up till your shoulder. You were sure he hadn’t realized you were awake. “You’ve got to be more careful, honey. I love you too much to have to bury you.” He said, you felt his hand move a piece of your hair behind your ear. It finally clicked the whole time he had been yelling at you earlier wasn’t because you were disobeying. But because he was worried. For a second you almost opened your eyes. However, you knew you shouldn’t. It would ruin his confession. His footsteps got fainter, it wasn’t till you heard him walk out of the room when you opened your eyes. Goddamn. Your mind was spinning as you stared at the ceiling.

Your pretend sleep time didn’t last long. Within a half hour the station's alarm bells were going off for an emergency. You quickly race to the truck with your gear in tow. “I can tell your beauty sleep did nothing.” Buck teased as you sat next to him. You punch him in his arm in retaliation. “At Least I got some sleep.” You said, the heavy gear weighed you down, and you played the pain off with a laugh. You didn’t realize how bad of a day you were having till that alarm rang again and you realized this wasn’t the end of the shift. The truck came to a halt, and the team jumped out. You run to do your task but get pulled back by Bobby. “Are you okay?” he asked. His look was stern again. “I’m okay.” you answered which might’ve been a lie. He also didn’t believe you. “I am” you lied. He let you go.

Thank god this was the last emergency of the shift. Your shoulder was now officially starting to become a real pain. You started walking to the door with your bag on your shoulder. “Y/n, let me take you home.” Bobby said also on his way out. You let him take you home. It was way better than taking the bus. The ride towards your home wasn’t quiet. It never was that you loved talking with Bobby. He was actually very fun if he didn’t have to boss people around.

He stopped his car near your building. “Hey, can I ask you something?” you ask. He nods, giving you a smile. “ I can’t reach my fire alarm and I know the batteries are going to run out soon. Can you take it off the ceiling?” you ask him. He wouldn’t have come in if you asked him in for coffee. It would go against his morals as the captain. “ Yes of course, “ he said after hesitating. He followed you up the stairs waiting in front of your front door as you unlocked the door. He was uttering to you that you needed a better lock on your door. You let him in, and he stood tall in your living room. “You want something to drink coffee? iced tea?” you asked. He looked around your living room, spotting the fire alarm in the corner. “I shouldn’t.” he said, as he walked over to the fire alarm. You turn on your coffee machine. It wasn’t long till the aromas filled the room. “You have batteries?” he asked. He opened a random drawer in your kitchen. Probably hoping to find a junk drawer. “It’s the other one.” you said, gesturing to the one near the fridge. You get some cups out of the cupboard and turn around to see Bobby working the fire alarm. He quickly put the fire alarm back on the ceiling and returned back to you. “I should go.” He told you. Instead you moved a filled coffee cup over to him.”please stay.” you ask. You gave him a pleading look. “I’m starting to think your batteries weren’t empty.” he said, you shrug. He got close to you. “I thought you were asleep.” he said, a worry washed over you. He put his hand on your side. “ You know we can’t, right?” he said, you nodded your head. You still moved closer, inching forward waiting for him to stop you. He didn’t stop you. He pressed his lips against yours. You felt a rush of excitement as his lips moved against yours. The kiss was soft and gentle at first, but it quickly became more passionate. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. He responded eagerly, his hands pressing into your back as he deepened the kiss.

He broke off the kiss. You looked into his eyes, it showed you the man he was. Restraining himself from what he really wanted. “I should go.” He said again. You didn’t let go off him. “Stay longer,” you said, you hugged his body, and placed small kisses along his jaw while he tried to make his decision. It took a minute before he even said anything. “This is unfair.” He said: “how much longer are we talking about?” You stopped, and looked him in the eye. “How about forever?” You asked. He chuckled. He tightened his grip on you.

[bloomed-night-flower]

DO YOU REMEMBER THE TIME, WHEN WE FELL IN LOVE?

DO YOU REMEMBER THE TIME ,THAT WE FIRST MET?

Twst :A. Ashengrotto

Tr: S. Sano

Reader: G/n!

Note:

Personal Note: Guess who’s back 😝😝😝My once in a year resurrection has come. I was originally gonna do mitsuya to but I knew in the end I wouldn’t + its 2 am when I’m finishing this up

For twst Y/n is not Mc in the game 👍 Also they might be reckless as hell💀🫡 I did not have my info notes on Azul’s personality so uhhh out of character probably but every fictional character is out of character most of the timing so hey🤷‍♀️

For TR you’re Keisuke’s sibling for shin’s part 😝

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Character: Azul Ashengrotto

When we first met

Such a nice normal day, the sun is slowly setting, people picking up their stuff to take back home from the beach. Some people are cleaning up trash. Kids running around, and a kid trying to eat a fistful of sand with some shells in them. Yep, the typical shit here.

You’re the kid who’s eating sand here. You tried putting the sand into your mouth before someone stopped you. It was one of the adults here with you. She was a supervisor for your class who was on a trip to the beach just looking at the sea animals and playing. I mean she it's your Kindergarten’s graduation to the Grade School… Your sibling has told you about it before and you weren’t going to enjoy it for sure.

The supervisor walks away from you to take care of some kids and focuses on the ocean. Suddenly you see about a few human bodies in the water. One of the bodies seemed to be more of a purplish tint than the others which seemed to have more natural colors. The natural colored ones kept pushing the purplish tinted one towards the shore. You observe them quietly till you pick up a rock and go into the water a bit to get a better aim. You aim the rock towards one of the kids bullying the other. You managed to hit one of the kids in the side which made the kid flinch in response.

The other kids quickly disappeared into the water leaving the kid they were bullying alone and frightened. You motion the purple tinted kid to come over to you but he seems too scared. You sigh and take off the jacket you had worn over your swimming outfit and try paddling your little feet over to him while keeping your jacket above you knowing your mother would be mad if it came back wet.

The boy seemed not to move, still probably shaken up but once you reached him you could kind of notice something about him. His lower half seemed to be fading into black and once you reached closer to him you could feel something slimy and squishy around your legs.He seemed a bit chubby, but you kinda found that nice though. If you’re chubby then there’s more of you to love. It seemed the boy snapped out of his shocked state because he suddenly yelped from your guy's sudden contact.

“AH! Don’t hurt me please!”

“Huh? Why would I hurt you, I don’t get it?”

“D-Don’t humans hate merfolks?”

The water around you seemed to darken a bit into a fainter black color now

“Huh? Why would we, I mean I know some people do but I don’t really mind. OH! If you’re a sea folk, what kind are you?”

“W-What do you mean”

The kid seemed to fumble with his chubby fingers a bit

“I mean what type are you? Are you those normal cool ones that have cool sea animal features?!”

The boy seemed a bit startled from your enthusiasm but answered none the less.

“I guess I’m the ones with sea animal features?”

“Oooo, what animal?”

“O-Oh an octopus”

The boy started to worry thinking you’d judge him but oh to his surprise your face lit up even more with excitement.

“WOAH! That’s so cool! So do you have tentacles? Can I see them? Oh wait! Show me what you can do please!”

The boy felt surprised from the amount of questions you asked and just simply nodded and showed you one of his tentacles.

“Can I touch it?”

He nods and to use one hand to poke at it.

“It feels so squishy, is that normal?”

“Yes, if it's out of water it gets dry and I can’t really move it around till it's back in water.”

The boy seemed to be getting comfortable with you, he even told you his name, Azul. You two continued to talk until yellings was heard.

“HEY! Y/N its time to go home with the other kids!”

You start to swim a bit away until the boy grabs you arm

“Wait, can we meet again, please. You’re the only person I can consider a friend.”

“Hmm? Sure, I’ll try to visit next week.”

“You promise?”

“I promise”

When we fell in love

Tenth grade is your literal personal hell. Well you hate school in general. But hey the upside is that it’s near the last day of school. And well hell wouldn’t you have guessed you’re going on a field trip again to the beach. You walk with your group that the teachers have assigned you but you’re a bit further away from them since well you don’t know them personally and don’t want to interrupt their little group talk.

Then the supervisor of your guys group taps your shoulder.

“Y/n, do you mind trying to at least talk with the group a bit?”

You shrug slightly and all the supervisor could do was sigh.

“Just stay close to them, okay?”

“Yeah”

You follow the group slightly but then slightly distracted when you spot something in the sand. You squat down and dig the sand off it. You had found what seemed to be a coin. It wasn’t a coin you’ve seen around before so there was no telling its worth.

‘Maybe I should give this to Azul. Oh wait, can’t I visit him right now? Wait but the supervisor said not to split away from the group.’

You pondered for a bit and finally thought it’d be fine for you to go. You look around and see that the group you were assigned with was busy getting some souvenirs so you took this time to get up and go to your usual meet up spot with him, which was surprisingly the same beach you’re at right now.

You go into a somewhat secluded cave though going deeper into the cave there’s a medium sized hole filled with the ocean’s water with a faint blue light shining underneath. Moss is slightly covered around the hole. You’ve been learning a bit of animal language so you’ve been putting thay to use for your and Azul’s communication. You called out for a fish to notify Azul to meet up with you.

As you waited a couple of minutes suddenly a lump of little purple hair was seeable.

“Azul!”

“Y/n, why’d you ask for me to come to our spot?

“Look what I found.”

You show him the coin that was slightly dirty. The coin had a beautiful design with vines circling a beautiful flower that had four petals on it. It looked as if the flower was planted in the sand and the flowers flowed up looking as if it was supposed to be underwater.

“It’s for your collection!”

Azul’s eyes widen in joy, but tries to hide it by grunting a bit, as he takes the coin from your hand, holds it underwater and starts trying to rub off the dirt on the coin. Not all of the dirt rubbed off but you can see the flower more clearly now.

“You like it?”

“Yes, I like it Y/n”

Azul slightly smirks as he fiddles with the coin a bit. Azul’s mind starts to drift off a bit with how you had thought about him and what he would like. His mind starts to think about ever since you both had first secretly met you’ve been one of those few people who genuinely care or find interest in. He starts to feel his heartbeat slightly faster when he keeps thinking about you, the way you keep yourself composed to the way you express yourself. He feels his cheeks slightly heat it up.

“Hey Azul~? You okay, you spaced out”

“Oh! Uhh, yes I’m just thinking about some contracts I made.”

“Really? Can you-“

“Y/n! Where are you!”

The supervisor’s voice was recognizable as ever as they called out for you. Their voice filled with worry.

“Oh, looks like it's my cue to go, see you soon Azul!”

You waved by quickly as you stood up hastily as you left the cave. Azul slowly sinks back into the water as you leave and holds the coin close to his chest as his heart beats faster. He stares at it in awe as a soft smile spreads. He lets out a giddy giggle as his tentacles wave around happily.

He swam back into the deeper parts of the water (Probably to tell his mother) as the sunshine slowly left as the sunset died down and the sky was covered in a blanket of stars and a crescent moon.

Character: Shinchiro Sano

When we first met

The sun shone brightly through your blinds as you still lay in your bed sleeping your ass off. Your door slams open, it’s your younger brother Keisuke. He runs over to you and belly flops on you. You’re quickly awoken from the sudden weight put on you.

“MOM! Keisuke belly-flopping me again!”

“Mom isn’t home, she went to work already (P/T) [Preferred title, Ex:Sib], so you have to take me to Sano's Dojo. Mom said so!”

You let out a groan of exhaustion as you hug your brother and roll him to the other side of the bed as you get out of it.

“Okay, let me get ready.”

You hear your little brother breath out a huff as you went to do your morning routine. You had grabbed a change of clothes before you had left and changed in the bathroom. You grab your phone and wallet and place them in your pockets.

“Keisuke, come on, let's go.”

You hear your brother's feet coming towards the door in his uniform as he puts on his shoes with you in front of the door. You grab the keys placed in a bowl as you left the apartment with him holding your hand because he’s just a ball of trouble.

“Keisuke, you want something from the convenience store before I drop you off?”

Your brother seemed to perk up at the gesture and nods his head, so you two made a pit stop at the local convenience store. Keisuke grabs a basket as he runs off to the snack section. You sigh and grab your own basket as you grab some items that you’ve noticed you’ve been running out inside the apartment. Soon Keisuke comes up to you and hands his basket towards you, inside the basket was filled to the brim with snacks, dorayaki, tayaki, rice crackers, and some daifuku.

“Really Keisuke? Eat all of this and you’ll get chubby.”

“Hey! These aren’t all for me, I'm sharing some with Mikey.”

You grab Keisuke’s basket as you went over to the cashier to pay, you hand the cashier money as you hand Keisuke’s bag of snacks to him. Keisuke happily takes the bag as he takes out a rice cracker and starts munching on it. Now you two silently walk towards the Dojo.

As you two arrive at the dojo someone suddenly bumps into your shoulder that had the groceries in your hand in it and the groceries fell out of your hand and onto the road where a car that was backing up crushed all the groceries inside the bag. The person who had bumped into you started to apologize profusely as he helped you stand up.

“I’m sorry, I had-”

“My groceries…”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“My groceries got ran over…”

You point towards the bag that was now crushed from the car that had already left. The man’s eyes slightly widened as he bowed in apology.

“I’m so sorry! I- uhh I can help you get your groceries again, I’ll pay of course.”

You nod as your mind still dwelled on the fact your money was just wasted away.

“Uhh, I’m gonna go inside now (P/T)��

The man suddenly turned his head towards Keisuke,

“Wait Keisuke? This is your sibling?”

The man then looked stunned again as he pointed at you, and Keisuke nodded.

“Shinchiro-kun I think you should comfort my (p/t) before you two leave.”

Shinchiro nods as he pats your back to try to comfort you, you want to get a better look at him so you slowly face your head at him to gather his appearance in your mind. His hair seemed to be gelled into a pompadour, there seemed to be a coat on his back, it was all black with some Japanese kanji symbols on the coat that were outlined in gold. He wore a white shirt underneath with baggy pants.

“Do you feel better?”

You nod solemnly

“Uhh, I’ll pay for all your groceries that got crushed if that can help you feel better?”

You quickly turn your head towards him hearing that you'd be able to get free groceries.

“Ya for real?”

“Yeah?”

You quickly take his hand and drag him to the closest grocery store, you grab everything you had bought earlier while also getting some personal snacks for later. Shinchiro could only chuckle a bit at your sudden eruption of energy. He follows you towards the cashier as he pays for you and you leave happily content.

When we fell in love

“No way! Like I’d ever go out on a date with a gang leader!”

The female quickly slapped his cheek and turned around angrily. Shinchiro felt heartbroken, he’s been rejected but I wasn’t brutal enough to be slapped.

20th rejection ....It didn’t make him feel any better that he's been declined 20 different times by 20 different genders.

A sad sigh was all that he could muster out as he sat on the old wooden bench in the calm park. The yelling of a few kids could be heard, and a few highschool students passed by him (probably in his school). Shinchiro knew that his friends would tease him relentlessly for this.

Shinchiro was so drowned in his own damn pile of depression he didn’t hear footsteps approaching him. You pull out a deliciously wrapped popsicle and place it against his cheek. Shinchiro was startled as he let out a yelp of surprise, a small chuckle was audible from your mouth.

“Calm down there, get rejected again?”

He only nods, you gently wave the popsicle in front of his face.

“You gonna take it or what?”

He takes the popsicle from you and starts eating away with it, biting off pieces with his mouth and letting the flavor sink into his tongue.

“Man, I don’t get why I keep being rejected. It's not like I have a bad personality, and personally I think I look decent”

“…You’re kidding, right Shinchiro?”

You could only stare at him in disbelief

“I’m sorry but the whole gangster vibe is not it, with the pompadour and shit I don’t think it’ll work out”

Shinchiro’s face only holds disbelief as you criticize him, his demeanor only lowers down. He gives out a sigh as he bites the popsicle.

“Maybe you’re right Y/n, maybe I might be unlovable…”

You can only give out a sigh as you start feeling guilty

“Shit, I’m not trying to bring you down. Look, think of it as this, maybe you keep being rejected because you haven’t found the right person yet. There is a right timing to finding the right person for you. You can’t just confess to every person you see and expect it to work out well. I’m sure you’ll find your other half one day”

You give him a small pat on the back as you nudge his side. Shinchiro’s mind takens in your tiny speech, maybe you are right. He just needs time to find the right person for him. He can feel himself smile a bit, you really know how to be meaningful when needed to.

“Cmon cheer up, I’ll help you fix that hair of yours if it makes you feel better”

Shinchiro can only chuckle as his heart beats faster a bit.

“I’ll take up on that offer, thanks Y/N”

You give him a small smile as you push his head down

“Man you’re such a dork”

Shinchiro chuckles, his cheeks heat up a bit. He looks at your smile, you pretty smile. When did he find it pretty, 1 minute ago. Though he knows he’ll be dedicated to liking you, but then loving you in the future. If you even would accept his flawed self.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Word Count:2753

[crows-of-buckets]

I have a theory about Neuvillette

Okay this screenshot doesn't show it very well, but in this scene as Neuvillette is walking down the hall the light catches on his face in a way that reflects prison bars

And when Clorinde walks past here, practically following directly in Neuvillette's footsteps, the light doesn't shine on her in the same way. Instead she stays cast in darkness.

So I have a theory that, for some reason, Neuvillette may end up imprisoned? Sure it may just be a coincidence, but hoyoverse rarely does coincidence tbh.

Besides, there's also this:

When Focalors is complaining about wanting to see a real twist, she holds up a burning picture which directly frames Neuvillette. This could imply that he was possibly framed for something?

I'm also wondering if the light in the hallways represents learning of something, as he goes from shadow to light. Perhaps he unearths something that Focalors doesn't want unearthed, which could be what lands him in jail.

Idk Neuvillette is really suspicious to me. I'm also wondering if he's possibly connected to khaenriah. Like for example

If you zoom in on his eyes here, his pupils look very sharp, almost cat like. They aren't exactly a khaenrian star, but he may only be part khaenrian

Here's kaeyas eye, where his star is much fainter than other khaenrians we've seen, implying kaeya MAY be part khaenrian instead of a full khaenrian

This is Neuvillette's eye (sorry it's so small I couldn't get it any bigger) I sharpened it a bit and it looks very similar to Kaeya's eye. The star isn't nearly as prominent as kaeyas, but it's still kinda similar

Also, Neuvillette's silhouette looks oddly similar to an abyss herald? This one is a bit of a stretch I won't lie, but I saw someone else point it out and it would make so much sense for him to be inspired by abyss heralds design, since kaeya, the only playable khaenrian character as of right now, shares similarities in his design with abyss mages.

Idk, I'm almost certain that Fontaine is going to have ties to Khaenriah, especially with how many times sinners and sin was mentioned in the preview. Along with all the khaenriah teasing we got in sumeru, id be really surprised if Fontaine didn't have anything to do with Khaenriah.

There's ALSO the fact that people speculate that Celestia is directly overhead of Fontaine. Fontaine and Khaenriah seem to be pretty similar in some ways, as they're both countries that push mechanical innovation (based on the machines we saw at the end of the 3.8 Livestream as well as the way other characters have referred to fontaine in the past- think Mikage Furnace). From what's generally told, Khaenriah was destroyed because of its danger as a technologically advanced society (I think that's bullshit and have my own theories as well), so it would make sense for Celestia to keep an eye on Fontaine. And idk having the head judge be part khaenrian would definitely push the similarities between the two nations.

Idk I'm very excited about Fontaine it looks so good :3. Arlecchino, Writhosley and Clorinde are all so cool and I want to try to get all of them. I also kinda want Neuvillette but it depends tbh rn I'm really wanting those three.

[femlesbianbarbie]

Oh Babygirl

Pairing: Tess x Reader x Joel

Warnings: Non-sexual Mommy/Daddy kink, Lactation kink, David,, canblism, Gore, Immune reader

Summary: Reader Takes Ellies place in episode 8.

Proofreading: Yes/No

Wordcount: 3.4k

Notes: I lowkey hate this but im going to post it anyways.

As soon as you saw Joel's wound you knew you were fucked. It was already beginning to fester Joel could barely talk as you and Tess bed down. There was a storm rolling in and this was the safest thing you could do right now. 

“What do we do?” You haven’t seen Joel like this. He is normally the one helping you or Tess. “Tonight we can't do anything but tomorrow. I will go and patrol the area” Tess explains. “We can’t do anything” Your eyes drift over to where Joel lies incapacitated on the floor. ITs hard seeming him like this.“No, I don’t know this area. I will go out tomorrow and you can stay here with Joel but until then you are going to get some rest” Tess has pulled out her domme voice and you know you aren't going to be able to convince her of anything right now.

After pulling out a couple of blankets from around the house. You cuddle up next to Tess No matter how cold it is outside she always manages to be warm. It's an unspoken tradition. Almost every night Tess feeds you until you fall asleep. It's comforting to have somewhat of a routine. It's a form of intimacy that you will never have with anyone else, not even Joel. 

“Here “ Tess pulls down her shirt and bra giving access to her breasts. You latch around one of her nipples and let your hand wander under her shirt to feel the skin of her stomach. This is the most comforting part of the day. When Mama just holds you close and lets you listen to her heartbeat. You can tell it calms her down aswell. Tess never wanted another kid but having someone she could take care of but who could also be capable when needed.

You let go as your hand finds blood. She had not lead you to believe she was injured at all. Your eyes dart up to Tess looking for any sign of pain. As soon as you see her face you know her wound is bad. “Mama is okay” Her voice is shaky as she pulls your hand away. She sounds more like she is trying to convince herself. “You need milk” She holds your hand and uses her free hand to push your head back to her breast. As much as you want to see the wound you know that She is done for the night. You might be able to push her on it tomorrow. Mama will not do anything mama doesn't want to. You slowly begin to suckle again and Mama pets at the back of your head in encouragement. 

 When you wake between Tess and Joel the first thing you notice is how slow Tess and Joel's breathing sounds. Joel is a mouth breather meaning you can usually hear breathing from the other end of the room. “Tess” You shake her gently hoping for her to get up. You have no idea where you are or how to help them. “Tess I need you to get up now” you shake her a little bit harder your breathing becoming more panicked. Her eyes flutter but other than that nothing happens. “Mama you need you to get up” You press your head down against her chest. Her heart is beating noticeably fainter than it was last night.

You need to head out and look for help. Maybe there are some people nearby that might have medicine. Its not really a good idea to leave them here by themselves but there isnt another option. “I'm going to patrol, I will come back as soon as I can” You press a kiss to Tess and Joel's foreheads before grabbing the rifle and heading out into the snow. 

You would do anything to keep them safe even if that means you are out here in the cold tracking this deer so that you can keep them alive. You level the rifle and pull your glove off. The bullet lodges in the deer's leg and it limps off at a fast past. You grab your glove and race after it. You can’t let it get away. They need this meat.

When you see your kill there are two men standing near it. There is no way you can let them take it.  You level the rifle and step out of the woods. “Back up or I put one right between your eyes” The words carry across the field quickly as the men stand and back away. “You are quite the hunter, we didn't even hear you coming.” There is something about the man's tone that sets you on edge. “Turn around and walk away” You shout trying to channel as much of your Tess's commanding town as possible. She is good at making people listen to her.“ We will but all I ask for ten seconds of your time.” you walk closer your rifle raised.

“My name is David, this is my friend James. We come from a large group of women and children and we are all very hungry.” This man's voice has hints of manipulation you recognize from your time in the Boston Qz. “My Friends are sick, they need this food” You barely recognize your own voice. “What kind of medicine do you need? We have lots we could trade you.” The man steps closer but you don’t move. “The kind for infections.”

“We have some back in our village, you could follow us there” “I'm not going anywhere with you. James can go and get it if anyone else comes I kill all of you.”  David turns and they begin to talk just loud enough that you can hear. You watch as James scampers off into the woods. “Back up” You approach the rifle aimed at his head. “Is that your Husband's gun he is the one who is sick” You don't answer as you unload their rifles. “It's a four-mile round trip so it's going to be a while before James gets back. We could have a fire.” You can already tell he is trying to manipulate you again. “Bring it with us” You gesture to the fallen deer.

“You really shouldn’t be out here on your own'' David's new found closeness sets you even more on edge if that's even possible. “From what I can see you really shouldn’t be out here alone”. “So what's your name? I know it's hard to trust a stranger but I mean you no harm and for what it's worth there is room for you in our group”. “Thank you so much for inviting me to your hunger club” You wouldn’t be going with this man anywhere. “We are hungry but we are still here. I'm just trying to take care of the people who rely on me.” He sounds power-hungry. Most men these days that's why Fedra has so many soldiers. “So you are their leader. “ The words barely leave your mouth before he is trying to justify his actions. “I didn't make that decision. “ 

“So you're a cult” You've heard about groups like this from Tess. “Well you kinda got me there I am a preacher. but just the standard bible stuff.” You roll your eyes. “I can't believe people still believe that garbage” “I actually started believing after the outbreak before that I taught math to kids” You tune him out as he continues on his garbage. You are not in the mood to listen to the rambles of a desperate man.

“Only three of them came back. The one that didn't was a father. He had a daughter a bit younger than you. Her dad was taken from her. Turns out he was murdered by a crazy couple. Get this crazy couple traveling with a girl about your age.” You jump up as the bushes move behind you. ”James lowers the gun”. “You're the one who killed Alec” His voice is filled with venom. “She didn’t kill anybody, lower the gun” James lowers his gun slowly but you hold yours as steady as you can. “Throw her the medicine” David orders. “David.” James reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wrapped package. “ Back up” He follows your command and you pick it up, securing it in your pocket. You turn and sprint into the woods. Not even worrying about the trail you are leaving.

As soon as you make it back to the house. You tear open the package to find two small vials as well as a needle inside. You tilt the vial and extract some of the liquid. You pull up Joel's shirt. You have no idea where to apply this. Near the wound has to be the best place. You inject it just above the wound before moving on to Tess You remove the rest of the liquid and inject it just above Tess’s wound. She groans and you watch as her eyelids flutter. You force sips of water and bits of rations down their throats. After that, there isn't much you can do until tomorrow morning. You cuddle up between them the rifle held tightly in your hands. Now that those men know you are here you have no doubt they will come looking for you.

The first thing you do when you wake up is give them both another round. After some water and rations, you grab the rifle and head out. You need to patrol the area and keep an eye out for those men no doubt they will have followed your trail. The sun blinds you as you weave between houses. They will be on the main street which means you need to avoid walking in the open as much as possible. You hear them first then they come into view trailing down the main road guns in hand. You can already tell they are here to kill them. Those are the faces of people who want revenge and they will not stop until they know that they're dead. You've seen it on Tess and Joel’s faces way too often.

You race back to the house and down to the basement. No matter what happens you need to keep them safe. They are your only family, the only thing that matters. “You two need to pay attention there are men coming here to kill you. I am going to lead them away but if anyone gets down here you kill them” You press a knife to each of their chests and sprint up the stairs. 

Your plan so far is to run to David and tell him that the medicine didn’t work; that they both died in the night. So smear some extra deer blood on you for added effect. It isn't hard to find them, the hard part is making yourself cry beforehand. Not silent tears, it needs to be ugly snotty tears. It has to be tears of grief. As soon as they start to fall down your cheeks you run out at them. He catches you and you can feel the surprise from the entire group. “It didn’t work” You sob clutching at him. “The medicine didn’t save them” You bite back a gag as David wraps his arms around you. Your tears sock into his jacket as he speaks.” It's going to be alright we have you now” You groan as something hard hits the back of your head.

When you come to you are in a large cell. I started worrying that you were going to wake up” David's voice makes you push yourself up. You don't want to be in a vulnerable position with a man like that around. “Let me out” You use your softest little girl voice. “That is certainly the goal. Hungry'' You don’t want any food he could offer. “Why am I in a cage? '' You whisper, crawling towards him. “It's just a precaution. My people want to make sure that you are safe before we let you out after they say what your friends could do.Im sorry about what happened to them. I thought it would work.” He trails off as you stand up. You can tell he is lying and he wants them dead. “The others want you dead for what they did. But I stopped them” He sounds too proud of himself. As if he feels he deserves something from you

“Why don’t we start with your name” You need to get him to trust you even if that means lying to him about your name. “It's Veronica” You feel no guilt about lying to this man hes already lied to you. “That is a good start if we can keep this up I will be able to let you out soon” And with that he heads out of the room. Leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He returns near evening with a tray of food. He slides it onto the floor in your cell. You sit down near the edge and lean down your eyes darting around until they land on a strip of the floor a couple feet away. There lies a bloody ear you want to throw up. Sure you had heard the horror stories in the QZ but you never believed them. David follows your gaze and lets out a low chuckle when his eyes meet the ear. “ for what it's worth this is just deer meat” He gestures to the tray as you back away slightly. “Are you going to eat me too?” The words get caught in your throat? “I would rather not but if you can't find it in you to trust me.” This was a terrible idea.

“How could I you trust you, you are eating people.” You shout. “There are only a few that know but I would have told you. This was a last resort. You think it doesn't mean to me” You don’t know what to think other than that you need to get out of here. “What was I supposed to do? Let them starve these people who rely on me.” He shouts right back. “Yes this is inhuman I would rather starve then eat another person.” You scream grabbing onto the bars of your cell. “I'll come back for your sake I hope you can change your mind” He storms out his footsteps echoing around the room. 

 The next thing you know James is running into your cell and grabbing you. He grips one arm and David grips the other. You lean down and bit into his forearm. They drag you out and slam you onto the table. “Don't do it please” You shout as David raises the knife. This has escalated really fast. “You had your chance” He shouts. “I'm infected. I'm infected” You scream. “And now you are too” You look down to where you bit him. ”Roll up my sleeve and look at it” He slams the knife into the table and harshly rolls up your sleeve. You know the sight all too well the tendrils under your skin the outline of teeth. There is no doubt it's an infected bite.

“She would have turned by now this isn't real” He has to believe this is your only out. “It looks pretty fucking real to me” He isnt going to belive you wich means you need to take matters into your own hands. You rip the knife out of the table and slam it into James' neck before running away. You burst into what looks to be a kitchen. Before running out into a sort of dining room. You make for the doors but they're locked. 

You need to find a weapon and run back into the kitchen and grab a log from the fire. You wait as David's footsteps grow closer. You jump up and huck it at him before running away. “There is no way out.” You crawl along the floor trying to stay as far away as you can. “Those doors are locked and I have the only keys. Come out”  His footsteps come closer but there is nowhere left to go. “No one infected would fight this hard to stay alive.” You race back into the kitchen and grab a knife “You have no idea what I could have given you” You sneak back out of the kitchen the knife held tightly in your hand. You have to do this; it's the only way out.

“I changed my mind. I am going to keep you. Come out “You run out of the kitchen and tackle him to the ground. The first stab goes into his throat and after that, you just stab until he stops moving. There is no way you are letting this fucker come after you. You don’t stop until you can’t even recognize the body anymore.

You pull the keys from his belt and run towards the food. Your fingers slide as you try to unlock the door but eventually you get it. You can’t run but you walk as fast as you can away from the building. You need to get back to Tess and Joel. They can’t be doing well without you. You never should have left them. This whole thing was an awful mistake.

You let out a terrified scream as strong arms wrap around your chest. You use your nails to claw at their skin. “Oh, baby girl” You keep screaming as the person forces you around in their arms. “It's Mama it's going to be alright Mama got you” You finally look up to see the person holding you is Tess. “Mama “ You sob. “Yes it's mama baby it’s gonna be okay” You relax into her as your tears grow. “JOEL…” Mama shouts. “JOEL I HAVE HER” Mama shouts again. Then you see daddy stumbling out of a building. Looking almost as bad as when you left him. He sets both of his hands on your cheeks. “Daddy here baby girl” You only sob more. “We have got to get out of here. The horses are just outside of town. Can you walk” You manage a good and your three stumbles out of town.

Your tear has long since dried up by the time they are getting prepped for the night. The house itself isn't bad but it smells awful. “C'mere” Tess calls to you from where she is stoking the fire. You creep over and crouch down by her side. You are so tired after everything that happened that all you wanted to do was eat and sleep. The thought of eating after seeing what David was doing makes you want to vomit. You can’t imagen ever eating again the thought is revolting. 

Tess turns to you and takes your face in both of her hands. She has been trying to comfort you since you got to this house. She opens her mouth to speak but she gets distracted as Joel comes stumbling down the stairs. “I've got a mattress” He says panting slightly. A mattress slides down the stairs landing next to Joel.

“Let me help you. They begin to push the couches out of the way to make room for the mattress. You stand up to help them but Joel just pushes you to sit back down. “Relax baby”. They drag the mattress close to the fire and toss some pillows from the couch onto it. “I'll go find some blankets” Joel heads back upstairs. An overwhelming wave of exhaustion overtakes you. You want to lay down and never get up.

 Tess comes to rest on the mattress. She opens her arms and you crawl into them. You burrow close to her as the tears gather again. You have no way of explaining to her how you feel. If she trys to feed you real food right now you might just die. It’s almost as if she can sense your unease beacuse her next words calm your nerves.

“We saw the bodies we know that he was eating people. If that means you need milk and not real food that is perfectly okay.” Tess explains her hand rubbing large circles over your back. “We never should have let that happen. We are going to make sure nothing like that ever happens again” Tess runs her finger through your hair more to comfort herself then to comfort you. 

There are no more words spoken after that. She just lets you drink until Joel comes down to join you and even then her words are spoken in a rushed whisper. You are just so happy they both made it. The thought that they almost died because you didn’t know how to help them is an awful one. For the first night in a long time you fall into a deep sleep.

[ciltilladeltilla]

(edited sprint piece, 500 words, partly inspired by this book & paper)

The ice chest sat next to the hotel bed, covering a hole in the three layers of plastic wrap. He looked at it while the surgeon prepared, and hoped she wouldn't do any more checks to see if he was sure.

Even he'd assumed it was insomnia until he'd noticed mirrors had a color. It was a putrid color, at that - a higher octave of beige, only more damnably bright than the others.

"There aren't any medical texts for this, of course," she explained, shrugging off a layer of baggy casualwear and revealing full scrubs with plastic gloves taped to them. "It's a bit like those marriage drive-thrus in Vegas. Do they still have those? Anyway, you'll want to avoid doing any physicals from now on."

At night, stars had become suns again, while moonlight smeared the air and made it into fog. The moon itself didn't wane for him, but when its light was fainter it became almost tiger-striped with infrareds that rhymed with orange and green.

Next had come the clicking from the outdoors, a bomb or a loom hushed only by the rain. The sound of more letters being forced into his box in the lobby by someone cursing under their breath. Spiders became hydraulic and pistoning, snapped branches became wet telegraphs, and a universe of tiny, churning mouths vibrated the concrete under his feet.

The cravings had clarified the rest.

In the hotel room he laid back - sparing the details - and stared at the popcorn ceiling, thinking distantly of canopic jars. It was a wonder to him that this, this alone, should be so sensationless.

When the work has halfway done the ice chest was opened and gave a long, droning sigh as the surgeon lifted four containers and twisted four seals. For him it was hard to tell them apart except for size, but each smelled like mud or railroads or lifelong, prickling fear.

The group had already told him that rabbit, elk, pig and falcon were the traditional hearts for starting someone off. They'd also given him a warning, that his life depended on knowing which things kept and which would go sour. Which, he suspected, was just their segue to telling him he'd be paying in favors and not cash.

Rabbit, elk, pig, falcon. There was room for them, now, and as each was attached and resumed its operation he felt more - awake? The present contracted and expanded in the same motion, somehow - finer-grained but across a broader surface. All four beat in separate rhythms, syncopating in pairs and flirting in triplets until they joined in a crescendo on the half-hour mark.

"And - that's it?" he asked as the surgeon closed him up.

She placed the sewing needle between her teeth and made a 'so-so' gesture with her hand. "Reason these are standard is they go bad in about five years. Make nice with the right people and show you keep your favors and that won't be a problem. If that's not you, figure something out."

"Is stuff like this how you do it?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I made friends with the Order of St. Hubertus."

She declined to elaborate on that.

[thebluestbluewords]

Polyshipweek23 Day 4: Soulmates

A little bit of context: one of my favorite soulmate/soulmark tropes is “when you touch your soulmate for the first time, you both get a colorful mark in the shape of where you touched” I also love the idea of a soulmate being someone who has a profound impact (not necessarily romantic) on your life, so that’s what I’m rolling with here!

Mal

Mal gets her mark from Jay when they're both little. Like, the first day of what passes for school on the isle kind of little. It was hot, and they weren't wearing long sleeves like most of the adults do, and they bumped shoulders and marked each other. The soulmark is a smudge of dark red on Mal's left shoulder. 

Mal was marked by her mother as a baby. Maleficent's mark is on her back, a double handprint in deep eggplant purple (Mal heard the name for the color long before she knew there was a food that went with it) and it's so deep it looks like a bruise. Not that many people see it. It's fine to be marked by a parent, but showing soulmarks still isn't something that people do on the Isle of the Lost. 

Mal doesn't mark Evie right away. Their marks happen when Mal brushes her fingertips over Evie's wrist, and between Mal's bare hand and Evie's bare wrist, her fingers come away a saturated, brilliant royal blue. 

Mal marks Carlos once they're in Auradon, as promised. Because it's a planned mark, they have some freedom with it, and she puts her mark on him as a full handprint on his right shoulder. (her left hand is stained red in exchange, but it's worth it, to have her mark so bold and bright and undeniable on him). 

Mal marks Ben with her elbow, entirely by accident. On their first date together, she slips and falls in the water of the enchanted lake, and Ben unthinkingly reaches out to try and catch her (or maybe not unthinkingly at all - maybe he knew all along what he was doing) and Mal's elbow catches him in the bicep, and her mark blooms deep orchid purple on his skin, smeared from the broadest point of his arm down to near his elbow. Mal's own sharp, pointy elbow comes away stained with a deep, saturated gold. (It doesn't make the planned betrayal any easier).

Jay

Jay marks Mal when they're too little to know better. He shoulder-checked her on their grubby excuse for a playground, and then instead of a bruise they both had soulmarks blooming bright and unmistakable instead. Mal's mark on his right shoulder is bright orchid, and it's the second-deepest mark Jay has. 

Jay's deepest mark is from Carlos, which is funny in retrospect, but hadn't been at the time. Jay's gloves have a little gap at the heel of his hand, where they cinch tight around his wrist, so he's got a smudgy half-circle the size and shape of the gap on his right hand, bright red with a little smear leading down towards his wrist. It's funny now, but it hadn't been funny at all when the little kid Jay was scruffing to try and intimidate him had squirmed too far and turned out to be a soulmate. 

Jay's mark with Evie was intentional. A mark that would be easy to hide, at Evie's request, so they'd both thought about it and decided it would be funny to un-layer from their leather armor and bump the ridge of their hip bones together. The blue stain is one of Jay’s favorite things to trace over and over when he’s alone for the night.

Jay's mark from his dad is dark red, not nearly as bright in color as the one he has from Carlos, but not as dark as his own marks. It's high on his shoulder, in the shape of a hand catching him there, and it's fainter than most of the marks that parents leave on their children. A shadow of ruby-red, like a colored chalk stain that he can't quite wash off. 

Jay also has a mark from the oldest Hook boy - from a barefoot kick to the ankle when they were kids. It's stormy blue, like the sky outside of their barrier gets sometimes. They didn't realize the connection until later, which was funny when they were fucking each other stupid in the back corners of the docks, and less funny afterwards, when their crews fell out and they stopped speaking to each other outside of threats growled in the market.

Evie

Evie shares an intentional mark on her hip with Jay, his deep red color dark like a burn against her skin. She hides it from her mother, and doesn't let herself regret the choice. 

Mal's mark is absurdly bright on her wrist, a two-fingered smear of color that Evie hides under thick bracelets. Sometimes she wonders if Mal's mark on her is as bright as the one that she left in return. 

Evie doesn't share a mark with her mother, because Grimhilde is careful, and always, always wears her gloves. (this is a lie, and her mother’s mark is buried under Evie's hair on what was once the soft part of her head. Her mother's lips, always rouged or painted, hide the blue that Evie left in return). 

Evie marks Carlos partially by accident. She's not wearing gloves, and he's not wearing sleeves, and she trips over her own feet on a particularly hot day while trying not to pass out from the heat that's making them all suffer, and she smacks her hand into his arm. The mark blooms red and bright on the side of her hand, and the matching mark on his arm comes up so bold and royal blue that it nearly hurts to look at. 

Evie marks Ben, which is strange for both of them. It's an unthinking, casual gesture when it happens. Evie's hands are bare at her sewing table, Ben sitting on the floor with Mal nearby, and she drops her seam ripper near his hand. They're so comfortable together that neither of them thinks before picking it up, and their fingers brush, and oh, they're stained bold blue and gold now. 

Carlos

Carlos's first mark is from his cousin. Diego darts out a tiny hand to touch his baby cousin's bare leg, and leaves a bold orange handprint behind, near the delicate curve of his ankle.

His mother leaves a lot of marks on his body, but none of them are soulmark-bright. Her marks, the ones that she leaves on other people, a white, like a floury handprint, or an old scar on pale skin, and he can see them on the faces of her henchmen every day. For a while he would count the silvery-white burn scars on his skin and beg for them to fade, to prove that they wouldn't turn out to be soulmarks after all. (They aren't, and they do all fade in time). 

Evie marks him by accident, on a hot  day when she sways a little too far and catches hold of his arm for balance. The blue smear from her hand is pretty. A nice change from red and black and white. 

Jay marked him a long time ago. When they were too young to deal with what it meant. The mark is dark and vivid, but mostly hidden under the collar of Carlos's jacket. Jay hides his under gloves, and it feels safer that way, so it doesn't hurt to keep them hidden. (it hurts anyway). 

Mal is one of Carlos's last marks. She puts a hand on his shoulder, after they already know they have two marks in common and are pretty sure they'll share one too. Lifting his shirt for Mal's orchid-purple mark is one of the first times his back sees the sun, and it feels right. Her mark sits lower than Jay's, not hidden, but something just for the two of them. 

Carlos marks Ben. It's one of the first times he leaves a mark on someone, rather than the other way around. It's almost an accident. Ben reaches out his hand while they're in the forest behind the school together, like Carlos is a princess who needs help climbing over the fallen tree on the path. Their hands are bare, and they both know it. Carlos reached out to take his hand, and the mark on Ben's palm blooms red and bright. The gold he gets in exchange feels like a new beginning. 

[dinitride-art]

Lighting and Mike and Will and El - Full Analysis (pt.29.1)

Alright, so. There is so much going on during the monologue that I’m going to split it in to multiple parts- just before, the start, the middle, the end. But for each of those sections (pt. 29,30,31,32) I’m going to go over that part again in post like this where I analyze the lines spoken and how they relate to the lighting and symbols. This section will be going over the same part of the scene, but it’ll be like a different look at it. Kinda like I did in the van scene where I looked at some of their lines, but because there’s so much going on I’m making them separate posts. 

S4:E9 - Ears and Eyes (Groundwork)

“El- El can you hear me?”

El starts choking and Mike grabs her hand (the one with Hoppers bracelet), she’s got the pizza goggles on and is in the water. Mike is asking her if she can hear him, while she has the pizza goggles over her eyes. She can hear him, but right now she can’t see him. 

“El, c’mon- wake up!” 

“Get her out” - Will

Mike keeps yelling at El to wake up, while Will is actually the first one to say that they need to get her out. It’s a bit hard to hear and I actually had to rewind it a few times to figure out what Will was saying. This would actually make sense that we don’t hear Will all that well because this seems to be El’s perspective and Mike is the closest and loudest in relation to her. This line also interesting because while Mike seems to be the one taking initiative here, it’s Will who’s pushing him to do it- multiple times. Even before ‘you’re the heart.’

“Wake up, El! Wake up!”

“She can’t breath” - Jonathan

Jonathan’s line here is also fainter than Mike’s. The Surfer Boy Pizza crew isn’t really doing much to help in this situation- no ones really said anything helpful other than Will. Mike is telling El to wake up and asking if she can hear him- she’s awake and she can hear him. She’s already doing that.

“El! El! El, C’mon get out of there”

Mike continues to say things that don’t help at all. She’s trapped and she can’t get out of there, her bodies still with them, and Max is dying. That isn’t really an option. It’s very clear that there is a lot that Mike doesn’t know about the situation. 

“Wake up! El, wake up! Wake up!”

Mike tells El to wake up and then throws off the pizza goggles. Actions speak louder than words, and what it seems to be saying here is that El needs to see not listen. 

“Help me, help me!”

Mike is the one asking the others to help him, but Will’s the one hitting Mike’s arm. Mike is doing what Will’s telling him to. 

“On the table. Get her on the table”

Will is the one that moves to hit the music player off the table- he and Mike are working very in synch. Mike’s just the one doing the talking. 

“El, can you hear me?”

“El, El!”

“Can you hear me? El, El!”

Mike again asks if El can hear him, and the vines tighten around her throat. She can hear him, she’s been listening to him the whole time, but she can’t speak.

“El?”

“Mike-” - Will

This shot seems to be from El’s angle/perspective. The goggles are off, and she can’t speak. She’s awake already, and she has been able to hear Mike the whole time- but now it seems that she can see him. And now she can see Will, and Will’s voice gets a lot clearer. 

El’s been listening to Mike since she met him. During their fight over the letters in El’s room Mike says, “you’ve seen it- I’ve been bullied my whole life.” And then El brushes past this- because she hasn’t seen it. She hasn’t been able to see Mike until this moment. 

Mike’s words in the monologue don’t mean very much- because El isn’t being struck with the realization of Mike’s words. She’s listening to him- and she can tell he’s lying. But it doesn’t matter what he’s saying. El is looking up at him (her eyes aren’t open but she’s looking- the angle of the camera and other shots and later when we can see her looking up point to that) and she sees everything written on his face. 

She sees him. 

And she sees Will right beside him.

Mike Wheeler she knows what you are.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 25.1 25.2 25.3 26 27 28 29 29.1 30 30.1 31 31.1 32 32.1 33 34 35 36 37 (To be edited)

[foundtherightwords]

Love in a Mist - Chapter 6

Pairing: Hellcheer Regency AU or Regency!Eddie Munson x OFC (for more info, see A/N of Chapter 1)

Summary: Christine Conyngham, a young debutante whose marital prospects are less than ideal, believes her happiness is secure when she falls in love with Joshua Craven, the handsome future Duke of Hauxwell. However, after her lack of a fortune prevents her and Joshua from marrying, Christine impulsively accepts the proposal of Edward Munson, the eccentric Baron Hurstfield, who is in need of a wife to obtain an inheritance. But with her heart still pining after Joshua, can Christine learn to love her husband and build a life with him?

Series Warnings: sloooooow burn (it's a fucking novel, I'm sorry), angst, suicide attempt, mentions of domestic abuse, some smut in later chapters. Also, my deepest apologies to the people of Yorkshire for the accent and any other details I might have butchered.

Chapter Warnings: mostly fluff, some mutual pining and a bit of anxiety toward the end. Smut is coming though!

Chapter word count: 3.7k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Chapter 6

At last, the dreariness of Hurstfield Hall lessened. Perhaps it was the bright summer sun that chased away the gloom, perhaps it was the garden that kept her mind and her hands busy, or perhaps it was simply the fact that she had gotten used to the house and its people, but Christine no longer felt that life was not worth living.

A sense of familiarity between her and Edward had replaced the awkwardness in the early days of their marriage, so now they could talk, or practice the pianoforte together, or simply sit in easy silence in the parlor. It was only late at night, when she was lying alone in her bed, that some of her old pains returned, though they, too, were more tolerable. With the ring hidden away and her mother no longer mentioning Joshua in her letters, his memories became fainter, like those of a lost love.

Sometimes Christine wondered if Edward would ever want to share her bed again, after their two dreadful failures. Though the shame had faded somewhat, the thought of those nights still made her tense up. What would he do if she was never ready to accept him? Would he fulfill his needs somewhere else? She had heard too many horror stories about unsuspecting wives being confronted by their husbands' mistresses and illegitimate children, or servant girls getting dismissed and farmers' daughters having to flee their home after falling victim to men's beastly "needs", but she knew Edward was too honorable for that. There were couples who had come to an "understanding" and lived separate lives, the husband free to pursue any woman he wished - just look at the Prince and Princess of Wales - but somehow, the idea of Edward having affairs was uncomfortable and distasteful to her.

She caught herself having these thoughts again while they were sitting together in the study, the parlor having been closed off for the time being so a door to the conservatory could be put in. Edward was bending over a drawing of some sort. He kept brushing his hair away from his face, and Christine found her eyes being drawn to his hand, which made her blush, then she got annoyed with herself for blushing.

"Would you consider having a haircut?" she said, after he had to brush his hair back yet again.

"What's the matter with my hair?" Edward looked up, sounding offended.

"Nothing, if you're a tragic hero in one of Mrs. Radcliffe's novels," Christine teased him.

"Perhaps I am," he shot back with a playful grin.

"You're as much a tragic hero as I am a damsel in distress," she said. As he looked down at the drawing, another careless curl fell over his forehead. Without thinking, Christine reached out a hand to brush it back, but before she could touch Edward, there was a crash from outside, followed by Henderson's voice shouting, "Watch it, laddie!" Christine drew back, crossing the treacherous arm across her chest. Her eyes fell on the drawing Edward was perusing and saw that it was a plant for a mill.

"Oh no, please tell me you're not thinking of building a mill as well!" she exclaimed.

"No. Mr. Clarke and I were trying to teach the children about mills, but they don't seem interested."

Mr. Clarke was the schoolmaster that Edward had finally found, an old gentleman born in Hurst itself. He had spent most of his life as an Oxford scholar, but in his late years, had tired of the world of academia and wished to give something back to his home. Now that it was the height of summer and work on the farms wasn't so busy, Edward could focus on his pet project again and spent a lot of time with Mr. Clarke, discussing ways to bring more children to the school. However, attendance was still low. The farmers didn't see much use to schooling, or they would only grudgingly agree to reading and some arithmetic, and the children themselves weren't so enthusiastic either.

"I've brought them some books from the library," Edward said, "but they don't even want to read them."

"Has it occurred to you that you may read too much?" Christine asked.

"Nonsense! How can anyone read too much?" Edward retorted, but he seemed thoughtful.

He disappeared for the rest of the day, though Christine heard him moving about in the attic and calling out for canvas and rods, amongst other things. Having gotten used to his eccentricity by now, she paid no attention to it, not even when Edward drove off in the gig the next day, with two old hobby horses and an armful of what looked like kites or sails on the seat next to him. She supposed they were toys to be given to the schoolchildren. Well, if he thought bribing them with toys would make them more willing to go to school, he would be sorely disappointed.

Later, as her daily walk took her toward the village, Christine suddenly decided to look into the schoolhouse to see if Edward's attempt was a success. She had visited it a few times since Mr. Clarke's arrival, but the children were always so stiff and carefully well-behaved in her presence that she felt rather sorry for them. However, when she arrived at the building, she found it deserted, much to her puzzle. Seeing the vicar outside the church next door, she asked if he knew where the children were.

"Last I saw, Lord Hurstfield and Mr. Clarke were leading them toward the mill," he replied with a sniff to show his disapproval of such unorthodox schooling.

Christine followed the stream that ran alongside the village's main thoroughfare, toward the gray stone mill standing at a bend on the road. Before she arrived, excited shouts and laughs had already reached her above the bubbling of the water.

A strange sight greeted her: on the green outside the mill, several children stood in a row, each holding a pair of sails in their arms and whirling them around, while Edward, riding a hobby horse and brandishing a long stick, took a run at them, followed by another small child with a hobby horse of his own.

"Upon seeing the windmills move, Don Quixote believed them to be giants attacking him," Edward was saying, "and, heedless of the warnings of loyal Sancho Panza, he charged at them at full gallop and drove his lance at them - thus!" At this, he pretended to thrust his stick at one of the sails. The child holding it staggered, but Edward shouted at him in encouragement, "Steady on your feet! And keep moving those sails, you're a windmill! The sail was moving so powerfully that Quixote's lance was shattered and both he and poor Rocinante were swept over the plain - thus..." He flung the stick aside and rolled around on the ground theatrically. The children playing the windmills - and Sancho Panza as well - crowded around him, shouting triumphantly, "We won! We won!" and Mr. Clarke tried in vain to restore some sort of order.

Christine burst out laughing. Edward caught sight of her and looked slightly self-conscious, but he quickly scrambled to his feet, regained his composure, and turned back to the children. "But of course, those were windmills that Quixote was fighting," he said. "This is a water mill. Now, if you want to know how it works, Mr. Clarke will show you..." The children, jumping up and down eagerly, followed Mr. Clarke into the mill, while Edward joined Christine.

"You are quite the actor," she said with a smile.

"That was your suggestion, in fact."

"Was it?"

"Well, you said I might read too much, so that gave me the idea of acting out the story and weaving it into the lessons to make it more interesting to the children. Traditional pedagogues may not approve, but I think it worked."

He was so animated, his eyes bright with excitement, his hair all tousled from tumbling on the ground, that this time Christine didn't hesitate to reach out a gloved hand to brush away the strands stuck to his sweaty forehead. Time seemed to slow as they stood there, her hand on his face, their eyes locked. Edward brought his own hand up to touch her wrist, as if to make sure that her hand was real. She felt his fingers brush the skin just beneath her glove, and shivered. Then Mr. Clarke poked his head out of an upper window of the mill, shouting, "Aren't you going to join us, Lord Hurstfield?", and the spell was broken.

Christine and Edward both dropped their hands and looked up with flushed faces, like two naughty children caught in some mischievous act. Mr. Clarke saw Christine and had the grace to look embarrassed. "Oh, I didn't see ye there, Lady Hurstfield," he said. "Of course, you're welcome to join us as well."

Christine didn't know if she should thank or curse the man.

***

It was almost Michaelmas, and Edward decided to give a feast on that day to celebrate the harvest. The whole village was abuzz with excitement. Christine, who had never attended any village fair, didn't know what to expect, but in the days leading up to it, she had a great time working with the women and children, decorating the village green. Tables were set up, cover with the finest linen cloths, and draped with garlands of wheat and corn and wreaths of Michaelmas daisies. Lanterns were strung between poles topped with more bunches of wheat. A platform was set at one end, hidden behind displays of other choice crops, to serve as seats for the musicians.

Despite being a little shy around Christine at first, the women soon got used to her and even taught her to make corn dollies (she was surprised to learn corn dollies were in fact made out of wheat straw, not corn.) Her dollies were clumsy and lopsided, but the women hung them up amongst the lanterns with all the others just the same. They even gave her a lovely spiral-shaped one. "'Tis for hangin' above th' marriage bed, m'lady, to bring children," they told her and laughed when she blushed.

It had been an unusually warm September, and the day of the feast was even warmer. The sunrise was an angry red. All day, low clouds covered the sky, trapping the heat like a heavy blanket, and the air felt closed. But the rain held off, and the heat didn't let up even as Edward and Christine set out for the village that evening. "Are you all right to drive?" Edward asked when he saw Christine wiping her face with her handkerchief.

"Oh yes." Edward had found an old mare called Starlight, so named for her silvery white coat, and had made another attempt at teaching Christine to ride and drive. Starlight was so gentle that Christine soon learned and now tried to practice whenever she could, though she still preferred walking. "Do you think it is going to rain?"

"Red sky in the morning..." Edward mumbled, looking at the bruised sky with a frown.

"Would it spoil the feast?"

"It's not the feast I'm worried about." He looked to the west again, but said no more.

The green was lit up by the time they arrived. Fire pits had been dug around it for roasting meat, and their flames added to the candles and lanterns burning amongst the decorations that Christine and the village women and children had crafted so lovingly, giving the whole scene the air of a medieval banquet. It was a very informal affair. They had all attended a Thanksgiving service in church that morning, so Edward only said a few brief words to thank everybody for their hard work and start the feast. Christine watched the villagers, all dressed in their Sunday best, as they walked about, talking and laughing, eating and drinking, and realized this was the first time she attended a party where everybody was there to enjoy themselves. There were no judging eyes, no malicious whispering, no ostentatious flaunting, no furtive scheming, just pure, simple pleasure, and she was delighted to be a part of it.

After people had had their fill of the roasted geese, the new bread, pies, cakes, and cider and ale, the tables were pushed further back and the dancing began. A violin, a fife, and a tambourine started up some lively song, and soon people were jumping and twirling and stomping with all their might. Again, Christine was struck by their abandoned joy. At first, not knowing the steps, she was content to just watch and clap along to the music, but then someone drew her into the circle, and she realized there was no need to know the steps. She simply moved to the music and moved with her partner, or partners, for there were no set couples here. Someone took the garlands apart and wove them into wreaths, and put them on all the women. In her sprigged muslin dress and her hair coming loose under its wreath of wheat and daisy, Christine felt like a harvest goddess, freer in her body than ever before.

Edward was also somewhere in that crowd of music and dancing and laughter. Christine almost didn't recognize him at first, for he, too, had changed. He had always been energetic in his movements, but something about the free and easy atmosphere of the feast seemed to make him come alive, and the nervous quirks she often observed in him were gone. It was as if he had to restrain himself to fit into the mold of society and his energy only escaped in little bursts, but here, he could be entirely himself and his vivacity was running free. At some point, the dancing brought them face-to-face, and he laughed and wrapped his arms around her and swung her in a full circle, leaving her breathless. The crowd surged forward, pressing them close together, close enough to touch, then drawing them apart again. She tried to catch sight of him amongst the dazzling glow of the candles and the fires and the frenzied dancing, but saw him no more. She felt like one in a dream, a wild and confusing dream, but exhilarating at the same time.

She was brought back to reality by a flash of lightning which tore the sky apart, followed by a clap of thunder. A child screamed. The music came to a halt, to be replaced by the ruckus of people scrambling to clear up the food and drinks before hurrying home to see to their crops and stock. The fires bent under a cold wind that drove away the sultry air, the horizon lit up with an unnatural glow, and thunder boomed again and again, like the sound of an approaching army.

Christine was helping the women with the tables when she found her arm seized by Edward. "Leave those," he said, both to her and the women. "Take the children home, quickly." As the women went to gather their broods, he hurried Christine to their gig and took the reins.

The rain hit when they were halfway back to Hurstfield Hall, big, fat drops that hurt when they struck bare skin. Edward gave Christine the reins while he put up the hood. Soon the rain was coming down so heavy and fast that they could barely see in front of them, and despite the hood, Christine was getting soaked, from the puddles below as much as from the rain pouring down from above. She found herself having to cower to avoid the worst of the splashing. Without saying a word, Edward wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her close to him, while still keeping a steady hold on the reins with his other hand. Leaning against his shoulder, she looked at him as the lightning illuminated his face in brief flashes, and it seemed to her he had transformed yet again. He was similar to the quiet, calm man that had come to her rescue at Covent Garden, but also different, closer, warmer, and she felt she could trust him with her life.

When they reached Hurstfield, Edward drove around to the back so the horse and gig could be taken to the stable, and they ran under the covered walkway into the house, through the cascades of rain rushing from the roof. For a moment they stood in front of a fire in the hall, panting, water dripping from their hair and clothes, looking as if they had just waded through a flood. Then Edward's eyes traveled downward from Christine's face, and his breathing slowed. She was suddenly aware that her dress was clinging to her body and he was taking it all in, his eyes sending a wave of warmth coursing under her skin. There was no sound, except for the crackling of the fire, their quiet breaths, and the beating of their hearts. Then Christine tentatively lifted a hand, and they moved imperceptibly closer together, as if drawn by a magnet, until she could feel his coat buttons graze her breasts.

Suddenly, the door leading from the kitchen into the hall burst open and one of the footmen rushed in. "Sir, the Ure's risin' fast!" he shouted. "They say 'tis close to overflowin'!"

Edward sprang into action. "How many men do we have?" he asked, getting out of his sodden coat.

"Six, sir."

"We'll call more on the way. Tell them to saddle Warlock, and bring me a change of dry clothes."

"Aye, sir."

As the footman ran out again, Christine grabbed Edward's sleeve. "What's happening?"

"The river's flooding," he said. "The farmers are going to need help bringing their stock to higher grounds."

"Surely you're not thinking of going yourself?"

He gazed at her, conflict running across his face. His lips trembled with almost visible words, then stilled again. "Don't worry" was all he said, before hurrying off.

Christine stood in the hall for a moment longer, not knowing if the tingling of her body was from his touch or merely from the fire on her rain-soaked skin. Then she went to tell the kitchen to prepare some hot drinks and food, knowing the men would need it once they returned, before going upstairs to change her clothes.

***

It rained all night. Christine couldn't sleep, partly from the relentless drumming of the rain on the roof, partly from the fear that plagued her whenever she thought of Edward in the dark and the cold, battling against the unstoppable water. She kept her ears strained for any noise that indicated his return, but she couldn't hear anything over the roar of the deluge. She must have dozed off eventually, because when she opened her eyes next, the windows were gray instead of pitch black, and the candles had burned down into puddles of wax. The rumble of the rain had diminished somewhat, though when she looked out the window, everything was still obscured by a steel-colored curtain. She went into the kitchen, where she found the staff huddled by the fire, looking as bleary-eyed and worried as herself. Only the women and Henderson were left, the able-bodied men having all gone around to the farms to help.

"Any news, Mrs. Wayne?" she asked.

"'twas a fair heavy flood, ma'am," the housekeeper replied. "They said some bridges an' path were washed clean away. 'Tis fortunate th' harvestin' was done and th' crops were safe."

"Seventy years, an' I never seen th' likes," Henderson said, shaking his head still in its customary hat.

"Do you... do you think they will be safe, his lordship and the others?" Christine asked, her voice trembling.

"Aye. The water's high but slowin' now. There's naught to vex thysel' about, m'lady," Mrs. Wayne said soothingly.

"Aye, they'll be safe alright," Henderson chimed in. "If they could get to th' higher pastures in time, that is," he added grimly, ignoring Mrs. Wayne's glare.

Christine went into the parlor, but the solitude made her even more anxious, so she ended up staying in the kitchen with the staff, finding comfort in sharing her fear with them. Midday came and went, the rain lessened to a drizzle, and still there was no sign of the men. Mrs. Wayne tried to force some food on Christine, but her throat felt parched and she couldn't eat.

Around mid-afternoon, there was a shout from the stable. Christine was one of the first to run out. The men were returning, bedraggled and exhausted, but unscathed. Edward wasn't with them.

"Where is his lordship?" she called.

"We dunno, m'lady." It was Will that answered. "He were with us all night. But this mornin', on our way back, he said he'd check on th' Hoppers' farm." The Hoppers were an old couple living by themselves at the foot of the hills. Their farm was out of the way, so it was likely that others might have forgotten them in the chaos of the flash flood. "We thought he might've gone home ahead..."

Before he could finish, there was the sound of hoofbeats, and Warlock, Edward's chestnut stallion, came thundering into the yard. He was foaming and shaking all over, and his saddle was empty.

The sight of the empty saddle sent a shock through Christine. Her heart started pounding when she realized what it could mean, and she began to shake almost as badly as the poor animal. The stable hands, scrambling to hold the horse and calm him down, all turned to her, and the rest of the house staff had gathered around as well, drawn by the commotion. She saw her own fear reflected in their faces. Nobody knew what to do.

"Saddle Starlight for me," she ordered.

"M'lady?" Will piped up, bewildered.

"Saddle her. I'm going to find his lordship."

Chapter 7

[sapientiiae-a]

Zelda will be mad he's here. Since messing with other timelines isn't something that makes her happy. But, as a Sage, he knows when he's breaking the barrier a bit to much. Right now? He's fine. He doesn't technically, exist in this world so he can push the barrier a little bit before he breaks it. And all he wants, really, is a conversation with a version of his Princess--who used his identity as a disguise. Not that it's stealing his identity if he doesn't exist. Sheik drops into the office, wondering if she's good enough to sense him before his Zelda can. He'll measure her skills on how she reacts to him. He slides into the seat across from the Princess's desk and waits for her to look up, to see he's here, to awknowledge him before he speaks. "I'm Sheik." He greets, calmly. "Survivor of the Sheikah." @guideoftime

Head is tipped down towards her desk, attention focused on the paperwork and texts that are organized neatly into their own spaces. Time was of the essence, and she needed to work quickly if she intended to get the Gerudo to agree to the treaty they’d been negotiating for the past two weeks.

So when she hears the softest shuffle, fainter than paper lightly sliding across a desk, she cannot help but to hone in on it. She should have been the only one in the room, and the wind had not blown to move anything out of place. Then again, the wind would also not explain the new presence that she was detecting, ears twitching slightly at the realization that she is no longer alone. How the intruder got in, she is not sure, but that was irrelevant. 

And the treaty would have to wait. 

Discreetly does a gloved hand slide across the desk in one fluid motion, reaching for the letter opener that was resting at the corner. Fingers grasped firmly around the metal, her head lifts, eyes tracing the floor all the way to the chair where she finds quite the unexpected sight.

It was like looking in a mirror, only….different. The similarities were unnatural from the uniform to the near identical blonde hair and deep red eyes, but closer examination shows differences, not an exact duplicate of her reflection when she’d taken on the mantle of a Sheikah during those seven years. The face shape, even from behind a mask, is unlike her own — she can see the way the material fits to a more defined jaw and less-rounded cheeks.

But who was he? And where had he come from?

“Alright, Sheik, is it...?” An uncanny name given the one she’d used when training under Impa and guiding the Hero. “How did you get into my study? And what do you want?” Her own voice mimics his calmness, but that did not mean she would not be ready to strike at the smallest indication of danger.

[skinnyhedgehog]

goodnight angel [oc drabble]

little thing i wrote. it’s oc angst, whoops. i cried while i wrote this, and i also listened to al bowlly’s recording on “goodnight angel” so i could get the lyrics right whoops. i love al bowlly and his music so much and i love my ocs so much. this just seemed right.

summary: big sad sunshine gone

word count: 800

type: drabble

content type: angst (death tw i guess)

writing below

It was a quiet evening, with gentle rain pattering on the windows, and not much else sound. It was solemn, but only because it felt like it should be to some. Some people, they just didn’t understand what anything meant, what anything meant, what anything meant at all.

It was a tragedy, them.

I heard music playing, faraway in the distance, and the subtle sound gave me almost an ounce of comfort. I strained to focus on the sound, to focus on the calming classical symphony, but I couldn’t. I turned, still sitting on Sunny’s hospital bed, and now I finally met her gaze.

“Sunny...” I whispered, taking her hand in mine and intertwining our fingers the way she’d do to me when she was scared. She looked at me with half-lidded eyes, the tiredness she held showing in her expression.

“Yes...?” She said back to me. Her voice was weak and raspy, as it always had been, but especially so now that.. now that she was sick. I jumped down from the bed and stood near to her, beginning to whisper in her ear.

“Please.. D-Don’t go..” I said softly, and now I wished I had some way to.. to get this moment in a photograph, and I knew it would be the last recording of her before it was all over.

“I’m sorry, Victor. I think I did something wrong.. Why’ve you... Why’ve you... got that look on your face...?” She looked at me, and in the dim light and in her exhaustion, her blue eyes appeared more greyish and dull. She started to make an odd whistle as she inhaled and exhaled.

“No, no, you.. you didn’t anything wrong, Sunny...” I replied, biting my lip. I gently stroked her cheek a little, and deep inside my thoughts I was angry. I felt angry that nothing could be done to help her, and I felt angry that I couldn’t do anything to help her.

“Victor...?” She asked now, and her voice got even quieter.

I looked at her, giving her a melancholy smile of acknowledgement.

“Will you... Will you sing for me...?” She asked. Sunny liked music, she liked sound, quite a bit too. She was fascinated, fixated, whenever I started up the phonograph or when I helped her down to go see the orchestra play. She loved music dearly, and I had in fact noticed it. I glanced out the window, and I saw the moon. 

Heaven was a good place, higher than the stars, it was where you went to be happy, and with God, and then nothing would ever make you sad again. Heaven was a good place, and the world was a bad place, but so dearly I wanted Sunny to stay here, here with me. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure...” I knew it would be the best thing to do, I knew it would be. I took a deep breath, and while my voice shook, I began, and I began and went on for her.

“Goodnight, angel... Thanks for another evening in heaven...” I slowly began. I looked at Sunny as I sang to her, trying to keep her attention, because I thought if I had that, then she wouldn’t leave me, and that she wouldn’t leave me, and she wouldn’t leave me...

“Just one more kiss to end this perfect day, before you spread your wings and fly away..”

I held her hand a little tighter, squeezing it and trying to hold on to the life in her, and make her hold on too. She gazed up at me, and she gave a soft smile as I began to play with her fingers with one hand and stroke her hair with the other.

“Goodnight angel... Until we meet again here in heaven...”

I began to gently touch her wrist as I held her hand, too, and there was a certain horror in my expression as I felt her pulse grow fainter with every beat. I kept it to myself, though, because Sunny didn’t seem to notice, and I wanted her to go out happy, happy no matter what.

“And may you dreams be just as sweet as you, oh, goodnight angel, goodnight...”

I held the notes just the way I heard the real singers do, and I kept a firm, unchanging expression, even still while Sunny slipped out of my grasp for the last time. My voice began to shake even more, and now I realised there wasn’t any point in singing anymore. My tone took on a small amount of urgency as I kept at it, and now my song seemed more like pleading.

“The stars are blinking in the view, it’s time to say goodnight to you.. The moon is murmuring above, tomorrow is another day for love...”

I hardly stopped anymore, and my grip loosened just a little on Sunny’s hand. I slowly crossed her arms over her chest, but I allowed her to keep holding on to the little cat plush I had given her all that time ago. The happy times seemed far away now, and the happy times would be far away for long. 

I took a step back, and I walked out of the room, but then I didn’t. I hovered in the doorway, and uttered my last words to her, finishing the song with all the melancholy in the world.

“Goodnight, my angel, until we meet again here in heaven... And may your dreams be just as sweet as you are... Goodnight, angel... Goodnight.”

[a-wandering-imagination]

Chapter 38

I’m here.  

The words brought Anton out of his sleep immediately. He sat up and looked around the room. It was still dark, but he could see a faint glow away to the east. Niki was still sleeping soundly on her mattress and there was no one else in the room. Anton rubbed his eyes and looked around once more. He figured it had to be early, maybe three-thirty or four in the morning. He listened quietly for a moment and then, deciding the voice had been part of a dream, he was about to lie back down again when he heard it.

Now what?

But this time Anton was completely awake and this time he knew there was no one but he and Niki in the room. He also knew that even if there had been someone else, they wouldn’t have heard the voice because this time he was sure he’d heard it in his head. He sat still for a moment and his mind flashed back to the docks at Auke Bay and the voice he’d heard in his head when the man that tried to kill him had arrived. It had been the same experience, he thought. It was as if he was hearing the voice inside the other person’s head rather than someone talking directly to him. This voice sounded different, however. And yet familiar. The skin on the back of Anton’s neck began to prickle. He couldn’t place where he’d heard the voice before. He got out of bed and stepped quietly to the window and looked down at the street. It looked deserted. It was hard to see in the darkness, but he couldn’t see anything moving down there. His eyes scanned the windows of the building opposite, but still he saw nothing. 

Anton felt a prickle on the back of his neck once again, but still saw nothing in the street. Then, he closed his eyes and listened. The night was very quiet. He could hear the wind against the window and some distant bird calls. Then, at the very edge of his hearing, he thought he heard whispering. He cocked his head a bit, but couldn’t tell from which way it was coming. It was still very faint. He held his breath for a moment. He could hear his own heartbeat in his chest. And then he heard it.

She said to wait, so I guess I wait.

It was fainter this time, but definitely still the voice he’d heard earlier. He opened his eyes and looked at the building opposite once more. The windows were dark and he could see no movement, but he felt that someone was there, looking back. Anton’s eyes were drawn to one window in particular. The black rectangle looked no different than any of the others, but something had drawn his eye there. He stared hard for several minutes trying to somehow pierce the darkness and see what was hidden there, but still nothing moved. His eyes had just left the window when a flicker of light appeared there and he looked back. He could see a small pin-prick of red-orange light in the darkness. He crouched down and stared at the small light over the edge of his own window sill, trying to discern what it was. Suddenly the small light brightened and he realized it was a lit cigarette. The man smoking it had just taken a drag and the lit end of the cigarette brightened, softly lighting the man’s face with it’s red glow. Anton recognized the face immediately and backpedalled involuntarily away from the window.

“Shit,” he hissed in the darkness. “It’s that crazy old man! How the fuck did he find me?!?” He didn’t realize he was actually talking out loud until he heard Niki moan a bit and then sit up.

“What’s going on?” she said, seeing him sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. She looked around the room. “What time is it?”

“Late. Or Early. I think,” Anton whispered, his mind still preoccupied with the man across the street.

“Why are you whispering?” she asked, and she looked around again, now with a little panic in her eyes.

“Someone’s out there. In the building across the street.”

She jumped up and grabbed her gun. “Who is it?”

“Not sure… but I think I can hear him,” Anton replied, scratching his head a bit. 

Niki looked at him for a moment with concern. “What do you mean ‘you think you can hear him’?” she asked.

Anton looked at her for a second and then continued. “It’s kinda like with you and the girl. I can hear him in my head.”

Niki stood stone still for several moments. “I don’t hear anything,” she said. “What did he say to you?”

“I don’t think he was talking to me,” Anton replied.

“What?”

“I think I heard his thoughts. What he was thinking to himself.”

Niki stared at him again, long enough that it started to make him feel uncomfortable. “You telling me you can read minds?”

Anton shrugged. “Not sure. It has only happened once before and the last time it happened, the guy I heard was killed almost immediately after. But I don’t think this fellow knows that I heard him.”

“Well, what did he say?” Niki asked again.

“He said he was here and ‘now what?’. Then he said that ‘she’ had told him to wait so he was gonna wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“I’ve got no idea,” Anton replied. “But I think he’s the guy that kidnapped me in Ketchikan.”

“What? Can you see him too?” Niki looked more than a little worried now.

“I saw him in the window of the building across the street. He is smoking a cigarette and the light lit his face for a moment.” 

Niki crept to the window and peeked over the sill. “Which window?”

“Third floor, I think it is the third or fourth from the left.”

Niki stared out the window for a few moments and then crept back to Anton. “I don’t see any light in there now. And I think that is pretty far for you to be able to identify someone’s face from the light of a cigarette.”

“Well, it wasn’t just the cigarette. I recognized the voice, first. I just didn’t know where I recognized it from. Then when I saw the face, it clicked. I don’t know how he found us, but this can’t be good.”

“I know how he found us,” Niki replied.

“How?”

“‘She’ told him to come here.”

“But we don’t know who ‘she’ is,” Anton replied.

Niki tapped her right index finger to her temple and gave him a sly look.

“What? You think the girl told him?”

“What other girl knows we’re here?” Niki asked, and stared at Anton waiting for an answer.

“Why would she, and remember--you think *I* am her, why would she bring him here?”

“That I don’t know. But there is only one way to find out,” Niki stood and walked back over to the window. This time she didn’t bother trying to hide. Not that anyone could have seen her from outside anyway, it was still far too dark. 

“What are you talking about?” Anton hissed.

“We have to go talk to him.”

Anton jumped to his feet. “Ain’t gonna happen. That guy almost killed me last time. I do NOT want to repeat that experience.”

“If I remember correctly, *he* got the worse end of that encounter. Didn’t you say you thought he was seriously wounded when you left him? I rather doubt he wants to tangle with you again either.”

“Then why is he here?” Anton stood with his hands on his hips.

“I don’t think he knows it’s you he’s here to meet.”

Anton cocked one eyebrow. “What makes you think that?” 

“Think about it,” she said. “Did he ever see you with the girl before he kidnapped you?”

Anton thought for a minute. The girl had gone missing right before he spoke to the native woman in Ketchikan and it was right after meeting her that he had been kidnapped. “But if it was the girl, why would he believe a kid.”

“She is rather convincing,” Niki stated flatly. “Especially when you hear the voice of a…” she looked him up and down, “thirty-something-year-old man inside your head when she speaks.” She smiled and knelt next to her knapsack and grabbed her gun vest. She strapped it on and slipped three extra clips into the pocket below the holster on her chest. 

“What? You’re going out there now?” Anton’s face registered a little panic.

“No time like the present. Or did you want to sit here stewing about what he’s doing over there for a couple more  hours?”

At this point, they heard a soft rap on the door. Anton opened it and found Ben standing there in full gear. “Everything alright in here? I thought I heard voices…” His voice trailed off as he saw Niki standing behind Anton. “Oh, sorry, didn’t know you were up here Niki.” 

“Glad to see you, Ben,” Niki replied. “I was just about to come looking for you.”

“What for?” Ben asked.

“There’s a man in the building opposite waiting for Anton and I. We’re gonna go over and have a chat with him. Wanted to make sure somebody here knew we were going out.”

“What? Who’s over there? What’s going on? Does Jake know about this?”

“Nope, you should probably let him know as well,” Niki responded. “I don’t imagine we’ll be very long.”

She slipped past Anton into the hall as Anton grabbed his jacket. Ben looked at him with suspicion as he passed. Anton shrugged. “I’m just tagging along, this is all her idea.” 

Niki was headed for the stairs, Anton and Ben followed. As they passed the 12th floor, Ben peeled off. “I’ll go tell Jake what’s going on.” 

Niki waved him on and continued down the stairs to the fourth level with Anton right at her heels. She paused in front of the elevator shaft, pulled the .45 from the holster and checked the action and fingered the safety off. 

“That won’t do you any good against the guy we’re going to meet. Trust me.” 

“My daddy always told me it is better to have something and not need it than to need it and not have it.” She smiled and kicked the rope ladder into the shaft and slipped over the side, climbing towards the lobby below. Anton paused a moment, shook his head and then followed her down. 

All was quiet and dark down at the street level. Anton and Niki made their way out of the east end of the breezeway towards 1rst Avenue. They stopped at the entrance and glanced up at the windows of the building across the street. They saw no movement but both were pretty sure someone was watching them. Niki stepped out into the street and casually looked both ways before walking across with soft measured, unhurried steps. Anton was at her hip the whole way, his eyes scanning the windows and the street for any sign of movement.

 

“Are you always this nonchalant when approaching a superhuman, homicidal maniac?”

She paused and looked over her shoulder at him. “Only when I’ve got a beast that has already kicked the shit out of him watching my back.” She smiled again and continued into the lobby of the dilapidated red brick building where Anton had seen the man waiting. The door had been busted off the hinges and the lobby was in shambles. It looked like it had used to be a gift shop of some sort. Niki was looking for the stairs when they heard movement at the back of the shop. 

“I think you two are in the wrong place…” a voice said from the shadows. It was low and gravelly and seemed to come from nowhere. 

“I think we’re here to meet you. We think someone sent you to find us,” Niki responded.  There was no answer. “I think you’ve already met my friend here.” Niki jerked her thumb at Anton. There was a sudden rush of air and the little old man was standing in front of Anton.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” the man hissed. 

“I could ask you the same thing… seeing as how the only reason I am here is because you brought me here,” Anton replied. Even in the dark, Anton could see the old man stiffen as if he were about to strike, but somehow Anton knew he wouldn’t. He stood staring at the man. 

“Who told you to come here?” Niki asked. 

“Why in the hell do you think someone told me to come here?” 

Niki ignored this response. “Was it a little girl?” Again the man stiffened, but Anton sensed fear rather than anger.

“She’s with us,” Niki continued. “She told me yesterday that someone was coming to meet us. Is that you?” Anton was impressed with how deftly Niki controlled the conversation. He imagined she was probably a very good field agent. She knew how to give just enough information to gain the trust of her subject without divulging everything.

“Why is a kid telling you what to do?” the man responded, with a wary tone.

“She is rather compelling, is she not?” Niki waited for a moment. “I mean, you’re here… on the word of a little girl, correct? We could ask you the same thing. But that would just be a waste of time because we both know that little girl is not like any little girl any of us have ever met before. Did you recognize her voice?”

Again the man stiffened a bit and this time, he turned to look at Anton with suspicion in his eyes. “Was it you? What are you up to?” the man hissed.

“Not sure yet. I’m trying to figure this out just like you two. Niki here thinks I’m linked to the girl somehow. She says the girl sounds like me. The girl has never spoken to me, so I have no idea.”

“She sounds like you, alright… but that’s not the half of it. I don’t think I even made that connection. I knew it was a man’s voice, but that wasn’t why I followed her instructions.”

“Why did you?” Niki asked.

“Because of what happened when I tried to kill her” The statement hung in the air like a poisonous cloud. No one spoke for several minutes.

“What happened?” Niki continued at last.

“I went to wring her scrawny little neck to get that damn voice out of my head. Mind you, I’m a strong fella. I may not look it, but your buddy here can attest to my abilities…” He looked at Anton and Anton nodded, watching the man warily

“Anyways, I grabbed hold of her…” the man made the motion of grabbing a small child by the throat with both hands, “and she didn’t move.”

“What?” This time it was both Niki and Anton in unison.

“She didn’t move. Her throat felt like it was made of cast iron and when I tried to lift her it was like she was bolted to the floor. I about cracked my own forearms with the exertion. And all the while, she kept talkin’, inside my head, calm as can be, tellin’ me that she needed me to come and get you and take you with me.” He stood staring at his hands. “That’s when I saw her shadow.”

“Shadow?” Niki whispered.

“Yeah. We were in the basement of the court building a couple blocks up. There was no lighting except for the emergency lighting. I had my back to it and she was in front of me. I was blocking the light from her, but her shadow grew. Even though she wasn’t in the light. As I was struggling trying to choke her, the shadow grew and I could see the outline of that thing…” His voice trailed off.

“What thing?” This time it was Anton.

The old man turned to face him. “The thing that saved you. The thing that almost killed me. I’m pretty sure my skull is fractured and I most likely have a severe concussion. I was unconscious for more than an hour after you left.”

Both Anton and Niki stood silent staring at the man. It was several moments before he spoke again.

“When I saw the shadow I almost blacked out from fear. I nearly pissed my pants and that’s no lie. But she just kept talking. She told me to come down here and wait. She didn’t say who I was waiting for or why I had to do it, she just said I had to take someone with me.”

“Where are you going?” Niki asked.

The man stared at her for several long seconds. She was about to repeat the question when he spoke. “Utah. Dugway Proving Grounds.” 

Niki was back in investigator mode, “What exactly is ‘Dugway Proving Grounds’?”

The man looked at her and rubbed his chin for several moments. “Fuck it!” he finally exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “It’s a top secret military installation and home to the last remaining Echelon listening station.”

“Echelon?” Anton asked?

This time it was Niki who answered. “According to rumor, Echelon was a system set up in the late seventies or early eighties to eavesdrop on international communications. The countries involved are the member states of the UKUSA Security Agreement… the U.S., Great Britain, Canada, Australia and New Zealand. Each of the member states has laws governing the interception of their own citizen’s communications, but they allow the partner states to eavesdrop on each other and then share the information amongst the member government intelligence agencies. Legal way to spy on your own people. The system was rumored to have the ability to scan all global telecommunications.”

“The rumor is true,” the old man replied nonchalantly.

“How do you plan on getting there?” Anton asked. 

“I’ve got a jet. Same one I used to bring you here.”

“So why do you want to go there?” Niki asked. 

“To find someone.”

“Who?”

“Someone that may even give your girl-beast a run for her money…” The old man’s voice trailed off again as he stared at Anton. “I need a cigarette… “ he said absently and patted his pockets until he found the pack of Lucky Strikes. He tapped one out of the pack and lit it with a worn zippo lighter. He took a long drag and clicked the lighter shut before pocketing it once more.

“Who is this person?” Niki asked.

“I’m not totally sure yet, but I think he may be the one that is responsible for all of this?”

“What? You mean everything? The pandemic?”

The old man nodded. The three stood in silence for a long time. Anton noticed that the room was getting lighter. The sun was coming up. 

“When do we leave?” Niki asked.

“I’m here waiting on you folks.”

Niki looked at Anton. Anton stared back at her and then looked intently at the old man. He turned back to Niki and nodded.

“Let’s do this,” she said and headed for the door.

[unforestalledreturn]

First Priority

closed starter for @alvcrd

It had been some time since a true vampire had been made. Ghouls were aplenty, lessers and thralls spoke a big game, but ultimately fell lackluster. For the longest time, Genesis could claim that the last true vampire was made far before he was born, one collared lock and key as a personal assassin by one Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, the Iron Maiden, Lady Babylon. She bore the Hellsing name as ruthlessly as her predecessors, and if one wished to live long, they steered clear of her and members of her organization. 

So, as to why a certain Genesis lurked about the manor grounds amidst a raging battle was something of a shock, even to him. 

But when the Valentine brothers, a new set of vampires claiming to be something special rolled into his shop with demands of weaponry, ammunition, and blood, Genesis knew it was an opportunity of a lifetime. While he was not keen to have any sort of traceback to him as a supplier, the cost-benefit analysis proved compelling enough. As a professional vulture, the allure of product he could procure made him near delirious. 

And when the battle began, it took everything in his willpower to stay rooted on his hill, binoculars in hand to steer clear of any conflict but also mark his targets. He quite liked to follow the strongest, noted how one or another paved their way through Hellsing forces all until they were felled themselves. The stronger, the better. And the closer to the manor they got, it was clear who the stars of the show were. An army of ghouls and undead against the living, silver bullets flying, claws and teeth cutting to bits-- brutal, in every sense. That was all until the invaders breached, and the show was spoiled. As much as Genesis wanted to see it end, however, he had a job to do. 

Vampire products were extremely valuable on the black market, elixirs, poisons, collector’s pieces, and more could be extracted from an intact corpse. By popular demand, due to their limited window of availability, fangs, blood, and eyes were Genesis’ ideal treasures. But as Genesis went about his gruesome work, the targets he had marked before were often gone, nothing more than piles of ash. Perhaps it was Hellsing technology, that blue fire he saw from time to time. And as the battle, booms, and gunshots inside grew fainter, Genesis found himself with quite the disappointing haul. But, there was a chance that all that had fallen outside were the lesser fodder anyway, the more valuable corpses inside. 

Now, Genesis knew that while not meeting his expectations, what he had collected would last him a long while. But as he grit his teeth together in debate, he could not help but feel disappointed. Being a businessman was only his second priority, afterall. His first was, and always has been one thing. . .

So, he slipped into the dark unknown of the breach, skulking around corners, careful to avoid any hint of footsteps or shouts. But the further he traveled into the manor, the less corpses he came across, while there was an abundance of ash. Was.. he really going to have to scrape unknown smears from the walls, just to be disappointed that it was useless human blood? Or did he collect as much ash and hoped it was something significant? For all he knew, he could be standing on a Valentine brother. Was harvesting a full corpse here something feasible? 

Suddenly, nearby footsteps caught Genesis off guard, forcing him to press his frame tightly into a dark corner, breath held as Hellsing forces swept the halls. It seemed they were the unsurprising victors. Only when they were out of earshot did Genesis quietly sigh. The decision was made for him. 

He needed to leave before he was detected.

[gardenofgods]

Not only can Lunala make her bones glow from the radiation, but she can also make all of her scars glow too. Her scars are numerous in number, taking an appearance of glass when it’s shattered, but not broken into pieces yet. It is as if her skin itself was cracked, though wasn’t shattered, after taking Ultra Necrozma’s Light That Burns the Sky. They are much fainter now than they were before in the past. One needs to be close to her to really see the scarring.

Like her bones, she can make these scars glow too in the same color - a soft, golden light. This radiation is much more surface level, and is something she will only show other people who have a resistance to it, or when her psychic powers keep the harmful affects nullified. It’s also something she’s a bit more self-conscious about, as she at least does find some humor in having glowing bones from time to time. The scars are much more noticeable. Should she ever get all of the radiation sorted out and removed from her body, at least her bones wouldn’t be able to glow anymore, but the scars will always remain, no matter what she does.