#like i'm still stressed out. but. the concept? like now that i know i'm safe and none of that was real? i just think o-kayyyyyyyyy

[mishkakagehishka]

Me when i dream of lil Mika but it's another nightmare

[random-twst-things]

The Sweet Painter of Twisted things (Pt. 1)

Hi annon! Love the concept. It's no bother at all, I do love to write after all!! Ty for the request and I apologize for taking so long 😭✨🍬 (I hope you like it!)

Characters involved: Riddle, Leona, Azul pt.1 (Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus pt.2)

Pairings: Riddle, Leona, Azul pt 1 (Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus x Female reader pt.2) (Separate)

Warnings: Mentions of eerie/gory paintings

Word count: 1,630

Notes: you know what? I'm just gonna post it now and finish the rest in a different post, I don't want y'all to be kept waiting any longer 😭✨🍬

More notes: I'll be posting Pt.2 whenever I have time! I will say though, I have no idea how to write for some of the characters in Pt.2 😀✨🍬

When you said you painted and wished to show him your art, Riddle had to admit he was a tad bit (a lot) excited to see

So, when you showed him your art he was absolutely bewildered.

You, the sweetest person he has ever had the chance in meeting, paints things that could cause nightmares.

Obviously, he isn't going to say that aloud, he has manners, but dear seven, how unexpected it was for him.

He's seen art before. He's been to museums by his mother to teach him strictly of the arts and the "rules" she put in place for them to determine how well a painting is.

It's been years since his mother taught him such things, and she only did it so often, and after time, those rules of art set by his mother have dwindled.

He's been able to go to museums before with Trey as a way to calm down when things are too much. Luckily, Trey was able to explain to Riddle how there are many forms of art and how it art doesn't necessarily have rules itself.

So it's safe to say he's a bit more well-versed in paintings now, even though he still finds it a bit difficult when there's no rules to follow (a habit hard to get rid of)

Now, his reaction all depends on what painting and image your showing him

He will ask you questions about why you would paint such uncanny things such as:

Why did you paint this? What caused you to begin painting such eerie things? What Inspiration were you given to paint this particular piece?

And many more questions about technique and practical things.

He can't say that he's a fan of these types of paintings, but he can say that he thinks you're very talented to be able to make such paintings

He'll praise how well done or real your painting(s) looks.

He's going to be a bit concerned about you, though, and he shows that by (trying to) subtly asking if you're okay

"What gave you the inspiration to draw this?" Riddle asks, the worry in his tone being quite evident even through his attempts in hiding it. "Have you witnessed such things for inspiration?" He asks again, his voice laced with even more worry than before.

"What? No!" You stand up from your seat to get closer to Riddle. "It's not like that," you laugh lightly, shaking your hands in the air. "I just happened to see a rotting piece of meat in the cafeteria kitchen one time while passing by."

Riddle breathes a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding in. Bro was stressing and worrying.

I say this in the nicest way possible to us all, but this man does not care but-!

Leona doesn't care in a sense like "I wanna show you something!" "Alright hurry it up and show me".

Maybe he's a bit smug that you're showing him something you like to do.

Anyways, when you said you wanted to show him your painting(s) he was being smug.

He didn't have any set expectations to what type of things you painted or what your style was.

Him seeing the eerie or gory painting didn't surprise him as much as Riddle either.

He doesn't have much to say, but this guy is still smug and is definitely showing it now.

Why? The guys got weird motives and definitions of respect and pride so we'll never know.

His does wonder how you acquired such Inspiration to paint like this.

He's not too curious about it to the point where he'll try to find out or becomes worried.

Again, he is smug and prideful but it's for you

He feels prideful FOR you. He's smug about you being able to paint such gory or eerie things FOR you.

(Bros so smitten with you)

You set your canvas/notebook down carefully against one of the plants nearby, careful not to get it dirty or damaged.

Leona lays there, back towards you, unbothered under the shade of a plant, but not for long as you bring your finger near his cheek and begin to poke.

Poke.

Poke.

PokePokePokePokePokePokePoke.

Leona swats your hand away, but not harshly. His tail swings left to right faster then he was asleep, another sign he's awake.

He looks at you, irked that you disturbed his so-called much needed nap. He glares at you, but his eyes lack the malice in them to even consider it threatening. You look at him innocently, hands behind your back as to show it wasn't you. (He knows better, only you would ever try to wake him up like that)

He sighs deeply. "What is it herbivore?" He asks as he shifts slightly to get into a more comfortable position to get a better view of you. You turn your body slightly to grab the canvas you set down behind you, careful not to accidentally show Leona just yet. "I wanna show you something," you beam, you're more excited then you thought you'd be showing him, for the first time, your most recent painting.

Leona's tail begins to swish even faster, thumping against the leaves of the plants nearby. His tail gives away that his curiosity has been piqued. Yet his face remains unchanged, besides the slight quirk of his eyebrow in questioning.

You turn the canvas around for Leona to see.

And there it is

The smirk

The smug

The eyes of pride *sound effects*

His smirk seems to widen even more as he looks at the painting and then back at you. "Looks nice herbivore, ya got anymore?"

You excitedly nod your head, "yeah, I do. Wanna see them?", you ask, gripping your painting, even more excited then before to show him.

Leona nods his head languidly while slowly closing his eyes, "sure, but after I finish this nap", he brings his arms down and begins to get comfortable. He softly pats his stomach, "Come, sleep".

Azul knows you paint, he knows it's been a hobby of yours for a while now.

How does he know? Doesn't matter. Does he know what exactly the contents of your paintings are? No

His curiosity has been eating away at him. He was so very curious on what his darling was capable of

So, when you first told him that you wished to show him your paintings, he was elated. His curiosity will finally be quelled.

He may or may not have a set expectations of what you paint. Something sweet, something calm or maybe something like he'd find at a museum of old paintings.

What he saw was the complete opposite to say the least.

He's not disappointed, no, he's just shocked.

He's amazed. He's taken aback. He's a lot of emotions.

.....would you be willing to, perhaps, sell these paintings? Many people out there would be willing to buy, and the profits would be even and-

Old habits die hard, I suppose 🤷🏽‍♀️

You led Azul by the hand to your room/drawing room, much slower than he would like as he wished to see your paintings as soon as possible.

"Azul, i can feel you twitching in anticipation just by holding your hand," you laughed lightly. He sighed, bringing his free hand to his temple to calm his nerves. "I'm sorry, dear, but it feels as if you're walking slower just to build up anticipation," "Maaaybeee~". Azul chuckles at your antics.

Finally, after Azuls definition of agonizing seconds. He visibly relaxed as he saw the covered canvas. "My, you really know how to keep me on my toes", ",I most certainly do". You left go of his hand and stand next to the covered canvas. "Ready?", you put your hands on the sheet. Azul held his breath and nodded.

You clench the cover and quickly pull it off. You turn to face Azul to gouge his reaction. That reaction was him frozen in place, still holding his breath (you'd begun to think how he still hasn't passed out) "Azul?" You try to call out to him.

He slowly walks up to your painting, still holding his breath. He reaches out and touches the edges of the canvas delicately, scared he we're to break it if he put too much pressure. You watch his careful movements. You watch as his eyes rake over your painting as if he could take the painting and store it into his memory box. "Azul?" You try calling out again, only this time he responds.

He let's out a shaky breath, "it looks -" he turns his head to fade you. "It looks magnificent, dear," his words were barely above a whisper. You stand there absolutely frozen and shocked. Nobody has ever quite thought this kind of painting would be 'magnificent' before.

"Really?" He turns his head back at the painting."Yes, the detail is vert intricate, and it feels so eerie. It's as if you were truly there." You stare at him bewildered, mouth slightly agape.

He puts his hand on his chin in a thinking position. The gears turn in his head. He turns to face you so quickly that you'd think he'd have snapped his neck on accident. "Have you ever considered selling these?" He asks, with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Sell them?... No, I never really thought of that." You bring your fingers to your chin, now thinking as well. "Well, I'll say many would be lining up the door to buy these wonderful paintings!""Really?"

"Yes! With such talent and my business skills, we could -" and there goes the business man into his spiral of possibilities.

[old-daemon-farts]

Is daemonism safe?

Daemonism, when broken down to the bare minimum, is a mental and imaginative exercise. It's not meant to push yourself into anything potentially unhealthy. You are not forcing hallucinations and there shouldn't be any dissociation of identity or losing control of yourself.

Let's Start With Projection

Projection is applying mental images overlaid on your surroundings. It is using your imagination and relying on your ability to visualize outward what is being produced by your mind's eye. With practice, you can make your projections quite vivid, and after a while you may not even register that you are still seeing right through them. The apple exercise is a good example. Lets say you picture an apple on a plate in front of you, but the apple is fleeting and inconsistent. Its shape, colors, and size flickers rapidly or fizzles out entirely. You *know* it's not there. There's little presence or weight to it. If this was glass, it would be described as crystal clear. But, with practice, it becomes more consistent. You can now see one shade of red and the size remains the same. Perhaps you have even added details like a shadow. Now, if this was to be compared to glass it would be glass with a light tint added. You can still see right through it, but you also know something is there. You don't have to be a daemian to be able to project. Concept designers, artists, architects, althetes... projection is a type of visualization. It's a creative tool. It's not a hallucination, nor is it intended to be one.

Extreme vividness can be from hyperphantasia, but if you worry projecting may trigger or influence hallucinations then you are welcome to avoid it! Projection is fun, but not a requirement, and you should do what is most comfortable, healthy, and safest for you. Daemians who experience projection as hallucinations already have a history of them from what I have seen within the community.

Fronting and Dissociation

These are experiences usually seen within DID and other plural spaces. Daemonism doesn't focus on switching with your daemon, and you likely won't find resources specifically about it. Of course, you can switch who's in front, and some plural daemians may have advice for how to accomplish that, but again, that's not the point or focus of daemonism at large. They are usually hands off within our lives. We are the ones in the driver's seat while they are the backseat drivers giving us direction. They aren't expected to take the wheel from us. There isn't anything wrong with wanting to or being able to switch with your daemon, just to be clear. I'm only pointing out that getting daemons to front is not a priority like it is in other plural spaces. This is another reason daemonism is very easy to get into and something I consider much safer and easier to manage for the average Joe.

Dissociation isn't something that is associated with the daemon experience either. Dissociation *can* occur, but there are likely other reasons you would be experiencing these things and not just because you have a daemon. Dissociation from ADHD, stress, illness, or DID are just a few examples. Switching with your daemon could just be masking, or perhaps your mind is already comfortable sliding your daemon into front because you have DID. Again, if you are worried having a daemon could trigger dissociation or a loss of control then please do what is in the best interest for you. You know your health and history best. But, there a *many* daemians who are systems and quite happy and comfortable having daemons. Daemons have even been known to help with dissociation and sense of identity!

Talking to Yourself

Is 100% a normal, human experience. There's been a surge of exploration in self-talk and how it affects us, and talking to yourself in 2nd person even has proven benefits. You also don't *have* to talk out loud to your daemon; you can keep it all internal. Just know that splitting your own mental monologue into a dialogue isn't unhealthy and it's something many of you already do even without a daemon.

TLDR

You do only what you are comfortable with here. If something sounds risky, then don't do it. Daemonism is meant to be a healthy and fun activity.

You want to form find but not separate your daemon from yourself? Awesome.

You want to only talk to your daemon and avoid projection? Neato.

You want to project but not talk to your daemon? Perfect.

You want to learn how to switch with your daemon? We ain't really the community for that but you are free to if you are comfortable!

You do what's best for you. It's meant to fill whatever you need. Healthy mindset, growth, or just straight-up something fun to do.

Topic spawned from a question on Discord over the difference of imposition and projection as well as some differences between us and other techniques out there for headmate creation. Cleaned up and formatted better for Tumblr.

[yanderes-galore]

do you want something really fluffy? So what about a concept for Stuffy AU! Glamrock Freddy?

Well... I can't do 'fluffy' but I will admit this'll be cuter than other concepts I've done. Now, here's the difference between the Fluffy and Stuffy AU.

Stuffy AU - Biological anthro animals who can become plush toys.

Fluffy AU - Biological anthro animals but... includes zombies and is way less cute-

Here's another fic I've done in this AU, it's with Bonnie

Yandere! Stuffy AU! Glamrock Freddy Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Stalking, Freddy is some sort of magical creature/SCP (?), Murder, Overprotective behavior, Obsession, Vague relationship, Forced affection, Manipulation, Delusional behavior, Implied invasion of privacy.

In this AU Glamrock Freddy is one of the best choices.

This is due to him being very caring and parental.

Him being a magical creature that can become a plush toy for kids would make sense.

You had gotten Freddy when you were younger.

You thought he was just a normal plush toy and bonded with him.

You did everything together, every activity, every location... you never parted.

As you get older this could go two ways.

Glamrock Freddy continues to harbor platonic feelings towards you, treating you like a kid even though you're an adult.

That or as you get older he shifts his feelings to romantic, feeling as though he grew up and matured alongside you instead of being a parent.

Either way, he loves you very much.

He feels every hug...

He listens to every word...

As far as he's concerned he is yours until the end.

Glamrock Freddy retains a lot of his usual yandere behavior.

He's overprotective of you and is very affectionate.

It was easier for Freddy to show his true form when you were younger.

With kids it's easy to excuse it as their imagination.

Freddy adored playing with you.

He retains his usual appearance just not mechanical.

He's always loved you and respected the fact as you got older you didn't put him in a box.

You put his plush form on a shelf instead.

Freddy knows almost everything about you.

He feels guilty... but he promises watching you as a plush was to make sure you were safe!

There was one time burglars attempted to steal something of yours for example...

They were met with a bear-like creature staring them down, blue eyes predatory before they were attacked to the floor.

He made sure the blood was cleaned afterwards then went back to his spot.

Freddy is your guardian despite you not knowing it.

When you were an adult he really wanted to show you his true form.

How you end up finding out about it may be by accident.

Which certainly causes a heart attack for you.

You're panicking while Freddy blocks the door to your room, trying to explain the situation.

Once/if your hysterics die down then Freddy is happy.

He explains to you that he's meant to serve as your guardian ever since you were young.

He's kept you and your house safe.

He's even said he's meant to supply you with happiness and fun when you're down.

Freddy is trying his best to show you he wishes to help.

Explaining the fact he can become a plush toy is an... interesting conversation

Soon you grow to accept the fact you can summon a giant bear in your house through a plush toy and try to get used to it.

You barely can and he won't go back to plush form.

Freddy feels now he should help you even more!

He no longer has to worry about being caught so he'll solidify his role in your life!

No matter how he feels you love him, he'll love you back the same.

The issue is he causes you stress.

You can't have company anymore.

No friends... potential partners... nothing.

Not when you know you have some sort of bear anomaly in your home.

Freddy is a bit oblivious to the stress he causes adult you.

Far as he knows you two are partners just like you were years ago!

Even when you sit the fluffy beast down to explain your troubles he still doesn't the extent of it.

"I'm just caring for you like I've always done!"

"I know- But I need to be able to function in my own home!"

"Am I being too much?"

Also, as a fluffy creature such as himself... he likes to hold you.

Freddy is overbearingly caring.

Freddy loves to hold you, nuzzle you, and cuddle you.

You don't have much of a choice in the matter.

You'll be heading your way to bed, only to see Freddy smiling at you eagerly while sitting on your sheets.

"It'll be just like the past! No need to be shy, I promise to take good care of you."

Having Freddy as some sort of guardian or companion would leave you with little alone time.

He's caring to the point of suffocation.

While he doesn't like to use violence... if your safety is threatened then he'll protect you with everything he's got.

No matter how his love is, Glamrock Freddy dedicates himself to you.

While you're encased in his furred arms with his wet nose nuzzling into you...

You start to wonder if you were ever alone with privacy all these years.

[streamsofstardust]

safe & sound | d.r.w x s.f.k

danny wagner x sam kiszka

word count: 8,315

content warnings: descriptions of violence, detailed descriptions of murder as a means to survive, severe depression, nightmares, danny is Not Okay, self isolation, attempt at suicide, sam has the biggest heart, tons of angst…. like so much angst and sadness, sam is reactive and hot headed but he feels bad about it, happy gay endings

summary: 5 years after the winning the hunger games, danny has moved on to a new life, one where he gets the creative freedom to create music in a band with sam, jake, and josh. but for danny, being outside the arena doesn't mean the fight is over.

a/n: so this came from a concept karou lovingly shared with me recently. we're both obsessed with it and i had so many ideas popping into my head when we talked about it that i decided to write something to go along with a specific part. I'm kind of in love with it and it might be in my top five favorite fics that i've written

that said, this fic is genuinely one of the saddest, most intense things i've ever written and i cannot stress this enough but if you're not comfortable with depictions of suicidal ideation or suicide attempts, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS.

Moving into a shared residence in the Capitol was moderately unsettling. Most of the people Danny encountered only saw him as the unlikely and unexpected champion. He didn’t feel like he’d won anything, sometimes even wishing he hadn’t made it so far. But there he was, in a new home with new people who only vaguely knew of what he’d gone through. The Kiszkas had spent an eternity together, one never knowing life without the other two by his side.

They hadn't been thrown into the Games.

They didn't have blood on their hands.

If Danny was closed off, more reserved, and quieter than the other three, it was because he no longer had a proper sense of how to just exist. He no longer knew how to truly interact with other people; he hadn’t for a few years now. It turned out murdering five people while they were unable to defend themselves had that effect. He tried to be normal, tried his hardest to go back to the fun, extroverted man he was before the Games. This proved to be extremely challenging.

Danny hoped one day someone would be able to bring him back to the world of the living. That one day someone would hear his story and understand he had no choice. That they wouldn't praise him for being a victor, but rather console him for what he had to do to get there. That they’d understand how hollow he’d become.

He hoped one day someone would be the reason his smile wasn't forced or fake. The reason he could feel whole again.

Most nights, Danny never tried to fall asleep. Sleep meant subconscious thoughts would come to the surface, visions of the horrible things he endured, the horrible things he did. He protected himself in that arena, saved his own life during the Games, but at what cost? He hadn't known peace since the night he left home.

When he sleeps he dreams and when he dreams, the nightmares replay. He’ll never forget it: the feel, the smell - metallic and horrendously pungent - of blood on his hands. How the warm, red liquid seeped into his clothing, trailed down his arms, splattered on his face. He had sat in the carnage for longer than he wanted to. While his brain had told him to run, to flee as fast as he could, his body was immobile. And so, the image of the bodies, the lives he took, resided permanently in his tortured mind. Danny saw it as instantaneous karma, as if the world was saying “you committed this atrocity, and now you’ll suffer the consequences.”

None of this had been shared with his new cohorts. Bandmates. Brothers.

– – 

A long day of band practice left Danny feeling drained, more so than usual. He loved playing and he enjoyed every minute he spent with the Kiszkas, but still, he was tired and ready to retreat to his bedroom - to solitude - for another night of restless sleep plagued by never ending loops of nightmares. Ones he could never truly wake up from because he’d actually lived through them. 

The Kiszkas rarely questioned why he constantly rejected their offers to hang out after practice. It wasn’t personal, he’d made that abundantly clear, but despite five years having passed, he still wasn’t comfortable letting his guard completely down. He was in the band out of obligation. Not that he would give up the opportunity, the freedom creating art gave him, but it wasn’t as though he’d volunteered to be thrust into the spotlight. He was thankful his drum kit remained at the back of the stage, out of direct light, furthest away from any crowd they performed for.

So, as he typically did, Danny went to his room and shut the door, not bothering to turn on any lights. He stripped out of his clothing, save for his boxer briefs, and climbed into bed. He still hadn’t gotten used to the comfort of it. How lavish it was compared to what he grew up with. There were many things he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to. Every day that passed was one he had to force himself not to fear.

It wasn’t particularly late, maybe around 11:30 at night, and he knew the others would likely be awake until 2:00 am at the very least. Even then, they’d be asleep before Danny. Tonight, though, he felt especially tired. As he crawled under his comforter, he found himself repeating the same motions he did every night: reminding himself of the times before the arena.

He recalled sitting by the fire with his father, listening to him recount stories of brave warriors who saved lives and slayed monstrous beasts. He thought of his sister, how they’d run around as children catching fireflies and picking flowers to decorate their house. And he thought of his mother and her sweet smile that lit up every room she walked into. He thought of the times he and his sister would help their mother cook meals, taking notes for each recipe to one day do the same with their own children. He thought of nights where the four of them would gather in the living room, staying warm by the fire and just enjoying each other's company.

Slowly, he felt the calm wash over him and his body gave into the slumber it so badly desired. 

Then, against his will, he was struck with the cruel reminder of how the three most important people in his life were mercilessly slaughtered for protesting Danny being selected to represent their district in the Games. He gasped as his eyes shot open, trying his hardest to catch his breath and calm his furiously beating heart. A stray tear fell from his right eye, the salty water feeling like fire on his skin. He quickly wiped it away, sniffling and shaking his head before closing his eyes.

That was another piece of information the Kiszkas didn’t know. Another look into his troubled mind and traumatized existence that he kept to himself.

Once more, he tried to calm himself down, and eventually he was able to fall asleep. It was peaceful for a moment, no dreams whatsoever, and that rarely happened. Of course, though, it didn’t last - it never did. 

Suddenly he found himself back in the arena, just barely 16, wide eyed and nervous, having no idea how he’d possibly survive. His training scores were embarrassing, but he was tall, naturally muscular, and incredibly broad. His facial features had him standing apart from the others in a way that brought him more attention than he’d ever experienced before, and then it didn’t matter how poor his scores were; the public adored him, dubbing him their favored gentle giant. 

It was that persona that allowed him to fly under the radar when the Games began. He hadn’t made any attempts at finding allies, instead focusing on merely staying alive as long as he possibly could. On the seventh night, he began noticing a distinct flower appearing around the arena- henbane. A beautiful and deceiving plant that had killed off several of his family’s livestock. He backed away from the plants, having no desire to fall victim to its effects. 

He found a place to hide and looked around at his opponents. At that point there were only five others left, and they’d gotten far because of their alliances. He watched the tributes huddle together in an open space not too far away from him, staring in wonder as they fell into states of delirium and hallucinations from the henbane that surrounded them, eventually passing out on the ground. 

Danny was familiar with the deep state of unconsciousness henbane caused. He knew there was little that would wake them up, and most, if not all of them, would fall into comas they’d never wake up from. It was too easy to take advantage of, so he did.

He quietly stalked over to the group, careful to avoid the poisonous plant, and reached for a dagger that had fallen from the hand of a tribute from District 2. The metal felt heavy in his hand, but the knowledge of what he had to do with the weapon weighed heavier on his mind. Back home, he’d helped his father kill cattle, but that was a necessity - a means to survive. 

Then again, he figured this, too, would be a necessity. Without giving himself another moment to reconsider his choice, he walked up to each of the sleeping tributes and slit their throats with the stolen dagger. Blood sprayed everywhere, covering his hands, his clothes, his face.

When he was done, and all five tributes were dead, Danny stood up and looked at bodies below him. He was shaking, barely able to catch a breath, and he felt tremendously dizzy. All he could smell was blood, and he felt sick. He wasn’t sure how much time passed while he stood there, completely immobile. In the distant parts of his brain, parts that were still able to process his surroundings, he heard the Canon go off. Each boom signifying the death of a tribute.

He had won. It was over.

But like it did most nights, the dream restarted, eventually only replaying the moment the blade in Danny’s hand sliced through the still warm flesh of those five tributes. It was too much, too much, too violent, too real too real too real too-

“DANNY!”

His eyes shot open, adjusting to the darkness of the room and witnessing Sam’s terrified face.

He wasn’t able to respond yet, his brain still replaying scenes from the Games. His mouth was dry and his eyes were frantically moving around the room as he attempted to ground himself with familiar sights.

Sam was hovering over him, one of his hands gripping Danny’s right upper arm. His entire body felt overheated, but somehow, the warmth of Sam’s hand felt different. A completely separate warmth. 

“Sam? What are you - How did you get in my room? Why are you here?” He didn’t mean to come off sounding so harsh; Sam certainly didn’t deserve any attitude from him.

“I woke up to the sound of you screaming. I didn’t even realize it was you at first, but when I did I rushed over. Your door wasn’t locked so I- I came in and,” His words trailed off as he took in Danny’s appearance. His curls were a mess around his head, the bags under his eyes were incredibly prominent, and there were beads of sweat slowly dripping down Danny’s tanned, bare torso. He stopped himself from looking at that part of his friend any longer; he needed to focus.

“Dan, you were thrashing around like a fish out of water, screaming bloody murder.”

Danny physically recoiled at Sam’s words. He had no idea how accurate they were, but Danny wasn’t about to tell him.

“I’m fine, Sam. Go back to your room.” Danny turned away from him, grabbing his blankets and pulling them up to cover his upper body, despite feeling like he was about to melt from the heat. 

“You’re clearly not fine. You know this isn’t the first time I’ve heard you, right? The twins might be too far away in their rooms, but I’m right next to you, and I’m not deaf. I know you don’t want to tell us about what happened, you know, back- back then, and you don’t have to, but at least let me be there for you.” 

Sam still hadn’t moved from Danny’s bed, and he had no intention of doing so anytime soon. He cared about the drummer more than he could put into words, and had for as long as he’d known him. And sure, maybe they’d only personally known each other for about a year, but Sam knew he was something special when he found out Danny won the Games. Admiration quickly turned into adoration, and feelings he wasn’t familiar with blossomed too fast for him to take a second to question them. The twins knew how Sam felt, but Danny didn’t, and given what could be at risk if the truth came out, they kept that information to themselves. They’d made that same decision when Josh had come out to him and Jake years prior. 

So no, Danny wasn’t fine, and no, Sam wasn’t going to leave him alone. He had too much love in his heart to walk away from someone he cared so deeply for. He still hadn’t received a response from Danny, and he nudged him, hoping to get his attention. When that accomplished nothing, his first thought was Danny had somehow fallen asleep again. He then realized he knew better, him and the twins being well aware of how little sleep their drummer got on a nightly basis, so instead, he mustered all the strength he had and rolled Danny onto his back.

Danny’s eyes stayed closed, but Sam watched as tears trailed down his face, into his unruly curls. He reached forward, softly wiping away the tears and cradling Danny’s left cheek in his hand. It was that touch that prompted Danny to finally open his eyes, and when he did, Sam felt his heart shatter.

“Oh, Dan…” Sam whispered. He felt tears of his own forming in his eyes, not able to help the reaction he had to seeing his friend in such a state.

“I don’t want to talk about it Sam, I can’t- I-” Danny found it hard to fully put into words what he wanted to say, stuttering over each one that managed to spill out of his mouth. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to. You don’t have to tell me anything, okay? I’m not going to push, Dan, I promise. If you want to be alone, I can g-”

“Wait!” Danny’s hand wrapped around Sam’s wrist as the bassist moved to stand up. “N- no. I-” He couldn’t bring himself to ask the question lingering on his mind, only letting out a soft “please?”

Danny looked up at Sam through his long, dark lashes. He’d stopped crying, but the red hue surrounding his hazel irises burned. He dropped his head and rubbed his eyes with his free hand, the other still firmly holding onto Sam.

When Sam looked at where Danny held him, his chest constricted. He didn’t need to ask Sam to stay, he would’ve made that decision on his own unless Danny explicitly demanded he leave. But in his own way, Danny did ask. Sam understood what that one word meant. He nodded, sitting back down on the bed before laying fully on top of the blankets. He didn’t want to risk Danny being uncomfortable when both of them were barely dressed. 

Danny, however, wasn’t ready to settle for that. 

“Sam?” He called out, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I know this might sound weird, but can you… can you hold me? You can say no, it’s fine if you do I wouldn’t blame you, but I just feel like I need-”

“Daniel, calm down. It’s not weird, come here.”

Sam fully expected Danny to turn his back to him, letting the bassist’s chest press against the soft skin, but he didn’t. He faced Sam, looking up at him for a brief moment before curling into his chest, one of his arms wrapping around Sam’s slim torso as he breathed in the familiar scent that was so unmistakably Sam Kiszka. Sam wrapped his arms fully around Danny, one of his hands coming up to cradle his head and gently play with his hair.

“Try to go back to sleep, Dan. I’m not going anywhere.” Sam spoke softly, fighting the urge to place a kiss to the top of Danny’s head. The drummer nodded in lieu of a verbal response, his arm pulling Sam even closer to his body.

– –

When they woke up, Sam noticed a few things. The first being that he was no longer holding Danny. At some point in the night, they’d switched positions, and now Danny’s muscular arms were wrapped around Sam’s body as they spooned. The second thing he noticed was that he was under the blankets, something he had no recollection of doing before he fell asleep. And while that wasn’t very alarming to him, what was was the fact that his bare body - save for a pair of shorts that could arguably be deemed too short - was pressed entirely against Danny’s bare body. Not only was every inch of them touching, their legs were tangled together, another thing Sam had no memory of happening. 

He smiled, his heart fluttering in his half awake state. 

Danny was still asleep, and when Sam looked over at the clock, he saw just how late in the day it was. He’d gone into Danny’s room around 2 am, and now it was the afternoon. Danny had slept for ten straight hours, and Sam couldn’t help but feel rather proud of himself for being the reason why. 

At least, he assumed he was the reason. He didn’t let himself think too far into that one. 

As much as he wanted to let Danny sleep more, he knew they had practice in a few hours, and Danny would definitely want to shower off the sweat that coated his body. He did, however, give himself a few more minutes to enjoy the feeling of Danny’s body encasing his own before waking him up. 

– –

Practice ran smoothly, as it typically did. Josh had presented a few new songs, and all of the guys loved the lyrics. He had a way with words that Danny envied and a power to tell stories like no other. Sometimes Danny wondered if he could take his past and put it to music, but then he’d be opening himself up in ways he never had, and that terrified him. For the time being, he decided to stick to keeping it all to himself.

Neither Danny nor Sam had talked about the night they spent together, especially ignoring the subject of how they woke up. Danny was a bit surprised to find out how long he’d slept, as well as by the position the two had ended up in at some point in their parallel unconsciousness. Yet, at the same time, he wasn’t. He’d always found Sam to be comforting, and he gravitated towards that feeling, chasing it as quickly as he ran from the demons that haunted his mind. 

Danny figured if Sam was bothered by it, he would’ve said something, and he probably would’ve removed himself from Danny’s grip, but he didn’t. That fact made Danny’s heart race, wondering if Sam had picked up on the feelings Danny had for him that he’d tried his hardest to keep hidden. He wondered, too, if Sam could possibly feel the same, but he wasn’t in the business of allowing his hopes to get too high.

Jake’s voice snapped him out of his train of thought. 

“Hey Danny, do you wanna help me with these riffs?” 

– –

That night, he gave in to the Kiszka’s persistent begging to join them for a few drinks in the living room. They all seemed shocked that he agreed to stay and hang out with them for once, and he didn’t miss the smile on Sam’s face upon hearing Danny say “okay.”

The more they drank, the more Danny felt himself loosen up. He’d taken one side of a couch, letting Sam drape his long legs over his lap without thinking twice. It was actually nice, spending time with the Kiszkas. So nice, in fact, that for a moment he felt guilty for not doing it more often. 

Apparently nothing killed a nice buzz quite like overwhelming guilt.

“I think I’m gonna head upstairs, get some sleep. Thanks for tonight, guys.” Danny spoke as he lifted Sam’s legs before placing them back down on the couch. Understanding how little socializing Danny regularly partook in, no one pushed him to stay longer, all three brothers being thankful he stayed as long as he had. 

Sam looked up at him with a questioning glance, one Danny wasn’t able to decipher the meaning of, so he didn’t try harder to. He figured the alcohol would help him fall asleep, and as tempting as it was to drink himself into oblivion and pass out face down on his mattress, he opted against that idea. He’d tried that a few times in the past; it never made him feel any better and it did nothing to keep the nightmares away. So really, there was no point.

It was a bit colder than usual that evening, so Danny threw on a pair of soft flannel pajama pants - still leaving his torso bare - and crawled into bed, his head feeling just the slightest bit fuzzy from the drinks he’d consumed. 

For a moment, he allowed himself to think back to the prior night, specifically Sam in his bed. It was the first time they’d intentionally shared a bed, and while it could’ve been awkward, it just felt… right. Part of him wanted to ask Sam to sleep with him, but perhaps that was pushing it. He still had no idea how Sam felt about everything. About him.

Eventually he was able to fall asleep, though, as expected, it didn’t last. Once again he was tormented by his memories on a loop, and once again, he was woken up by Sam shaking him.

“Dan…” Sam sounded just as out of breath as Danny was.

“Was I screaming again?” His voice cracked ever so slightly as he spoke, already knowing the answer to his question.

Sam simply nodded, trying his hardest to hold back his own emotions. He wanted so badly for Danny to tell him what was causing the nightmares. While he knew it was related to Danny’s time in the arena, he had a feeling there was so much more to it, and even though he knew he could look up the answers for himself, he refused to. If Danny wasn’t going to openly share the information, Sam wasn’t going to go behind his back to find it. He had way too much respect for his friend.

Danny’s hands wiped over his own face, pushing his curls away from where they’d plastered to his skin from sweating so much. 

“Sam, can you-”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask.” 

Sam crawled into bed with Danny, this time intentionally laying under the blankets. He stayed on his back, and as Danny curled into him, Sam stared at the ceiling, his own thoughts racing. He felt Danny shiver, but his body was warm. A single tear fell from Danny’s eye onto Sam’s chest and he pulled Danny closer into his body.

“I’m sorry Sam.” 

Sam took a deep breath, not out of annoyance, but because he was frustrated. Frustrated that someone he cared about was struggling, and there was little he could do outside of holding him. He hoped it was enough, at least for now.

“Get some sleep, Danny. I’m right here.”

– –

The same thing happened every night for the next two weeks.

Danny didn’t understand why his nightmares kept getting worse, more persistent. He didn’t understand why nothing kept them away. And he didn’t understand why Sam’s presence was the only thing that relaxed him enough to sleep through the rest of the night.

After a few days, Sam stopped going to his room to sleep. He assumed he’d end up in Danny’s room anyway, so that’s where he started. If the circumstances were different, he might appreciate it a bit more, having Danny wrapped around him and vice versa - which was how they always woke up. 

The twins caught Sam and Danny walking out of the latter’s room one morning and while Danny was rubbing sleep from his eyes, Jake and Josh gave Sam questioning looks. Sam said nothing, he just shook his head as a clear nonverbal response he knew his brother’s would understand: Don’t ask.

During that two week period, there were only two nights that Danny didn’t wake up screaming in a cold sweat, though they weren’t consecutive. His nightmares still attacked his unconscious mind, but for those two days, he’d wake up startled rather than terrified to his core. He knew it wasn’t an indication that things were getting better, that would be much too naive of a thought. Danny knew the severity of nightmares would inevitably return, and he was proven right when they did. 

There were nights where he tried to stay up as late as possible to avoid sleeping at all, something Sam quickly caught onto and gently reprimanded him for. Everyone could see how tired Danny was, how detached from reality he was. It had gotten to the point where it was impacting his ability to play. He missed cues, played the wrong notes, or sometimes forgot what to play all together. 

Jake had gotten annoyed for the slightest moment, but immediately backed off when he saw the state Danny was in. Sam was thankful Jake was relatively perceptive. If his older brother hadn’t stopped, he was positive he would’ve jumped over Josh to strangle Jake with the cord plugged into his bass.

Danny felt the shift in himself, too. He recognized things were getting worse for him mentally, and though he was aware he could’ve asked for help, he didn’t. It wasn’t like him to open up that much, not even to Sam. The rational part of his brain told him he was making a mistake, that nothing would get better unless he finally talked to someone about what was troubling him. But then he felt like all his confession would do was burden the Kiszkas, and he couldn’t let that happen. 

But he was tired. So incredibly, painfully tired, in more ways than one, and it had gotten to the point where he could no longer handle it. He just wanted it all to stop. He missed his family, his life before the Games. He missed feeling normal. And as much as he enjoyed Sam’s nightly company in his bed - perhaps a bit more than he wanted to admit - he hated that he’d become moderately dependent on it. 

If he was honest, he was ready for all of it to end. He knew it was dramatic, he knew he would hurt people, but what about the hurt he felt? He couldn’t take it anymore. It had to stop.

– –

That night as Sam crawled into bed with Danny, he noticed his friend was fully dressed for once, not an inch of bare skin to be found. He frowned a bit at that, having gotten used to feeling Danny’s warm skin pressed against his own, but he chose not to speak on it. He also noticed how silent and closed off Danny had been. Even when he was quiet when the four of them were together, he at least spoke a bit more the moment the two of them were alone. He was tired, that’s all it was. Sam tried to push away the idea that Danny was sick of him being there; that he wasn’t pulling away despite how much it felt like he was.

Then there was another difference.

“Hey Sam?”

“Hmm?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tick of his that Sam had picked up on. He was struggling to look at Sam as he spoke, and his words sounded quieter than usual.

“You know how we- when we fall asleep, you’re the one holding me?” Sam nodded, waiting for him to continue. “Can we- can I- just this once-”

Sam smiled at his friend, knowing exactly what Danny was trying and struggling to say. “You want to hold me, Dan? Wanna be the big spoon this time?” 

Danny could tell Sam was making an effort to lighten his spirits. He appreciated it, but it was making everything that much harder. He forced himself to crack the smallest smile. Sam had told him in the past he loved Danny’s crooked smile, and he thought about that compliment daily. 

“Yeah, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay. Come on over, I’m a bit chilly and you’re basically the human equivalent of a space heater.” Sam joked.

Danny waited for Sam to shuffle closer to him before wrapping his arms around him and holding him as tight as he could. He wouldn’t be able to do this again if he followed his impulses.

“Woah! You know I’m not gonna run away, right?” Sam was taken aback by the grip Danny had on his body, but had no intention of moving. He thought about turning around to tell Danny exactly how he felt about him, but with the hold Danny had, it was impossible to move.

Danny ignored the joke his friend made, burying his face into Sam’s long, chestnut locks. He breathed in the scent that he’d gotten so used to, the scent that was so unequivocally Sam, the one that brought him the faintest sense of peace. He thought back to the first night Sam came to wake him up, to protect him from the things only Danny could see - he still hadn’t asked Danny to explain what caused his nightmares. Danny thought about how quick Sam was to be there for him no matter what. He thought about how often he’d catch Sam staring at him with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes, though at first he was convinced he was imagining it.

He thought about how much he loved Sam, the boy who had so rapidly gone from a stranger to his best friend. 

He wanted to tell Sam exactly what was on his mind, at least when it came to his feelings, and even though he knew it would be his one and only chance to do it, he was too afraid. He squeezed Sam closer to him and hoped it would be enough.

“Goodnight, Sammy.” Danny spoke into Sam’s hair.

The bassist sighed tiredly, already being in the middle between sleep and consciousness.

“G’night Dan.” His words were slurred as they fell from his plump lips. “Love you.”

Danny’s eyes widened at his friend’s confession. Sam… loved him? No, he- as a friend, that’s all. Sam didn’t know major parts of who Danny was. He couldn’t actually… no. No way. 

He could feel Sam’s breath even out, this being one of the rare times he fell asleep before Danny. The drummer was thankful for that; it gave him an opportunity to appreciate Sam as much as he wanted. He’d miss him the most. He’d miss all the guys, but Sam… Sam would always be special.

After an hour of holding Sam, slowly trailing one of his hands up and down the smooth skin of Sam’s arm, Danny felt himself falling asleep. He so badly wanted to avoid it, to force himself to stay awake, but it was impossible. Even on nights where he didn’t wake up screaming, he still woke up from nightmares, and sometimes that movement didn’t wake Sam. This was one of those nights.

Against his will, Danny fell asleep. He wasn’t unconscious for long, maybe under an hour, but his nightmares once again wormed their way into his mind, and he woke suddenly with a gasp, struggling to take a breath. Instead of being scared, he was frustrated. He was so sick of being unable to sleep, unable to function the way Sam, Jake, and Josh did. He was officially done suffering.

Danny was still holding Sam, who was sound asleep. He carefully maneuvered his body away from Sam’s, trying his hardest to make sure he didn’t wake up. When he was successful, he stood up and walked around to the other side of the bed to face Sam. 

He knelt down, letting himself remember every detail of Sam’s face: His soft, plush lips, his smooth skin, the two small freckles on his left cheek. He brought one of his hands forward, gently lifting away a collection of stray hairs that had fallen over Sam’s face. Danny always believed Sam to be effortlessly beautiful. It was the first thing he noticed when they met, and that belief hadn’t changed. 

Tears formed in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He gently played with Sam’s hair, forcing himself to remember how soft it felt threading through his fingers. The longer he stared at his friend, the harder it was to keep the tears from flowing, and so they fell freely down Danny’s own freckled cheeks.

He stood up, placing one single, lingering kiss on Sam’s forehead. He whispered as quietly as he could.

“I love you too. I’m sorry, Sammy. I’m so, so sorry.”

Danny walked out of his room and into the bathroom down the hall, not bothering to lock the door; Sam was sound asleep, it wasn’t necessary. 

He sat on the edge of the bathtub, his head in his hands, and thought about his next move. He hadn’t really given much thought as to how to achieve his goal, and now that it was time, he wasn’t sure what to do. He thought about everything that was kept in the medicine cabinet. There were razors for them all to shave, save for Josh, who had insisted on growing out his facial hair. There was also an abundance of painkillers and sleeping pills, both prescriptions, the former for Jake’s left forearm and the latter, for Danny. He avoided them as much as possible, so the bottle was essentially full. 

He took it out and placed the bottle on the counter, staring at it as if it would do something for him on its own. Part of Danny expected that he’d be anxious about taking his own life, that when the time came, he’d be in a complete state of panic, but he wasn’t. He had no more fight left in him.

After filling a glass with water, Danny spilled the pills out of the bottle and into a pile on the granite. Twenty four pills would be more than enough. Once again, he found himself staring at them, hoping he wouldn’t have to be the one to make the final move. But the pills couldn’t do anything if he didn’t consume them, so he swept a quarter of them into the palm of his left hand, his right hand gripping the glass of water, the appendage shaking ever so slightly. 

He took a few deep breaths, feeling tears drop from his eyes again. He hadn’t even realized he started crying. Before he continued, he allowed himself to think back to happier times again, just as he did every night before falling asleep. That’s all he was doing - falling asleep.

He thought about his father’s warm hugs, his mother’s smile, his sister’s laugh. He thought about fireflies and cool summer nights with skies full of stars. He thought about spiced tea, crisp apples, and sweet pastries. All of the things he wished he appreciated more while he had the chance.

He thought about Sam.

It was the thought of leaving Sam that had his tears begin streaming down his face, but he forced himself to stay quiet. The last thing he wanted was Sam to wake up and see what he was doing. Slowly, he lifted his hand to drop the pills into his mouth. As he moved the glass of water to his lips, the door to the bathroom opened, and his head whipped in its direction.

“Dan, are you in here? I saw the light and- what the fuck?” Sam had been rubbing his eyes when he walked into the bathroom, not immediately seeing the scene before him. Once he did, he felt more awake than he had in a while, shutting the door behind him and fighting the urge to yell. He looked down and saw the remainder of the pills on the counter, finally putting two and two together, before ripping the glass out of Danny’s hand. “Danny fucking- christ, spit them out, now!” 

After a moment of hesitancy, a moment Sam believed to be way too long, the bassist repeated his demand. 

“Daniel, I swear if you don’t spit them out I’ll pry them out of your mouth myself.” He sounded angry, he knew that, but he was terrified and appalled and he couldn’t focus on sounding calm. He’d worry about that once he knew Danny was safe.

Danny complied, spitting the six pills into the garbage by his feet. He backed away from the sink and sat back down on the tub’s ledge, refusing to lift his face to see Sam’s face.

The two were silent for a few minutes, Danny not having any idea what to say and Sam having too many thoughts flooding his brain to know which ones to verbalize. Sam started pacing in the enclosed space, his hands tugging at his hair as he worked to form a sentence.

“What were you thinking? When did you even leave your room? You waited until I was asleep? You fucking- what, you were just going to kill yourself while I slept soundly in your bed? That was your plan? God, Danny what the fuck?!” He took a breath before continuing. “Is that why you wanted to hold me tonight? Is that why you were holding me so god damn tight? Because you thought it would be the last time you’d be able to? And what, you figured at some point I’d just find you lying cold on the bathroom floor? Or that Jake or Josh would? That’s why you were wearing actual pajamas tonight, isn’t it? Don’t answer that. Don’t fucking answer any of that, just… Danny what the fuck?”

At some point, Sam had started crying too, but Danny still hadn’t lifted his head to look at his friend, his own tears falling into his lap. Sam continued talking.

“You called me Sammy. You never call me that I- I should’ve known something was wrong. I should’ve-”

Danny figured it was the right time to speak up, not wanting Sam to start blaming himself for anything.

“Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t -”

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?!” Danny could see the rage in his friend’s eyes. “You were just going to leave me like that? Leave all of us? I know things have been hard for you and I get it but-”

“No you don’t!” Danny’s voice was raised, louder than he wanted it to be. “You have no idea what I’ve dealt with, no idea what I went through, what I’ve been going through for the past five years. You have no fucking idea how hard it is.”

“Because you don’t tell me anything! You never want to talk about it and I never push you because while I don’t know the details, I know it must have been horrific, and the last thing I wanted was to force you to relive any of that. But I can’t fucking help you the way you need to be helped if you won’t let me in.”

Danny scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I don’t need your help, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head and Danny’s words. “Really? You don’t need my help? Look at where keeping everything bottled up got you, Daniel. You were trying to kill yourself. You were… oh my god.” Sam fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands as he sobbed. “You were going to leave me. You- you can’t leave me Dan, you can’t just-”

Danny moved to kneel in front of his friend, quickly pulling him into his arms. Sam was right, Danny couldn’t leave him. Hearing Sam’s cracking voice snapped him out of whatever trance had brought him to that bathroom in the first place. All he could do was apologize over and over, hoping that Sam would believe him. 

The two cried while holding each other, both shocked that the twins hadn’t heard any of the commotion. Sam thought about telling Danny the rest of what he was thinking, about how he loved him. Danny was considering the same thing, but neither of them spoke. After a while, Danny pulled away and stood up, reaching down for Sam to grab his hand.

“Let’s go.”

Sam wiped his face and looked up, grabbing Danny’s hand and standing along with him. “Where?”

Danny opened the door and turned the bathroom light off, walking into the hallway with a tight grip on Sam’s right hand. “Back to my room. Back to bed.”

– –

Neither of them spoke as they entered Danny’s room, nor as they got into bed. Danny knew he had a lot of explaining to do, but he also knew Sam likely wouldn’t push him to start talking. He appreciated that fact, feeling as though he at least needed one night before spilling all of his secrets. Rather than stay in his pajamas, Danny stripped down like he normally would, his body feeling much too hot from the anxiety and adrenaline coursing through his veins. There was also the fact that he desperately craved the comfort of having Sam’s bare skin against his own.

But he didn’t wrap his arms back around Sam, choosing instead to wait for his friend to make the first move. He didn’t know if Sam wanted space or if he’d shove Danny off of him out of frustration the second he was holding him. Sam did, in fact, make the first move, and faster than Danny expected. He threw himself onto Danny, burying his face in the space between Danny’s neck and shoulder while his long arms wrapped around the drummer’s upper body. His legs once again found themselves tangled with Danny’s, and he did what he could to ensure all of his body was touching all of Danny’s. 

It was his attempt at being as close as humanly possible. His own way of comforting himself and ensuring Danny was there; that he was still warm and breathing.

“Dan, I’m not gonna ask you to go into detail about everything, you know, that prompted you to do… that. But I just want to know why. What made that become the most desirable option for you?” Sam felt like he was skating on the thinnest ice imaginable as he spoke. He didn’t want to risk saying something that would set Danny off or make him spiral, but he needed an answer.

He felt Danny take a deep breath, his chest rising from under Sam’s hold. 

“I was tired, Sam. I am tired. Always so fucking tired. I can’t focus, can’t relax, can’t do anything and I couldn’t keep living like that. So I just… decided I wouldn’t anymore. All of the shit in my head, the memories… fuck, Sam, the things that I did. It’s impossible to deal with. I know it’s stupid and I know you’re probably mad at me and I really am sorry.”

Danny didn’t want to cry again, he wasn’t even sure he had anymore tears left to cry, but he could feel his chest constricting as if he was about to. That was another thing he was tired of - crying. 

“Danny, I’m not mad. I mean, I was at first I think, but more than anything I was just scared. I didn’t - I don’t - want to lose you. I don’t think my heart could take a loss like that.” Sam shut his eyes, taking a breath of his own to relax his mind before speaking again, scared but ready to confess. “I love you too much to survive losing you. The second I realized what was going on I swear I felt my heart shatter. Just the very idea that you’d even consider… Danny, it wouldn’t have fixed anything. Maybe the nightmares would stop for you, but what about me? The twins? The hole you’d leave if you…” He shook his head, not wanting to utter the remaining words of that thought. “No one could ever fill that space, Dan. Not in the house, not in the band, not in my heart. You need to understand that.”

If Danny was shocked by what Sam said, he did his best to not make it obvious. He liked to imagine at times that maybe his feelings for Sam weren’t one sided, but with no strength to actually tell him, he figured he’d never find out the truth. But Sam loved him. Sam loved him. He said the words clear as day, and for the first time in a long time, Danny felt a twinge of happiness. He shifted his body, nudging Sam to sit up with him.

Before he could respond, Sam spoke again.

“Please don’t freak out over what I just said. I know maybe it’s crazy and I know you’re going to say I don’t know you well enough to love you, but I do-”

“Sam.”

“I do love you. And it’s not pity or some overreaction to what I just saw, so don’t say that either because I know you would-”

“Sam.”

“I can’t help it okay, I love you and I’ve been dying to tell you for so long and if you don’t feel the same it’s fine, okay, I’ll get over it but-”

Danny couldn’t help but roll his eyes and grab Sam’s face with both of his hands, surging forward to kiss him with everything he had. It wasn’t like the movies, where fireworks go off and everything is right in the world - because truly, most things in Danny’s life were not right - but it was still perfect. 

Once Sam moved beyond the initial shock of Danny’s lips capturing his own, he kissed him back, both of them pouring every emotion into the action. The hand that Sam wasn’t leaning on for balance moved up to hold Danny’s bare hip, the skin feeling warm to the touch. Despite how often the two had cuddled, Danny still shivered at the feeling of Sam’s hand on his body.

When they realized they no longer had enough air to continue kissing, they pulled away, one of Danny’s hands remaining on Sam’s cheek, softly rubbing his thumb over those two freckles he never thought he’d see again. Sam’s eyes were wide, as if he was scared that the second he spoke, the bubble would burst and he’d wake up, that everything that was said and done would be a dream. But it wasn’t, and he saw that Danny was staring at him with the same love and adoration Sam had looked at him with. 

Sam opened his mouth to speak, Danny’s name coming out in a hushed squeak. The drummer shook his head. He had too much to say.

“It’s not crazy. You’re not crazy. I didn’t know you felt like that about me. I thought… I thought you might, but I think I convinced myself I was imagining it, that I wasn’t deserving of it. But it’s not one sided, I promise.”

Sam’s mouth felt dry. He repeated Danny’s words in his head five times, ten times, just to make sure he truly heard him correctly. 

“So you-”

“I love you too, Sammy.”

Sam smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes. But then his brain focused on everything that had occurred that evening and he was confused, hurt. A frown took over his face and his lips quivered as though he might cry again.

“If you loved me, why were you about to leave me? Why would you- you weren’t even going to tell me?”

It was a valid question, but if Danny was being technical, he had told Sam.

“When I realized you were asleep, I did tell you. You muttered it when you were barely conscious, I didn’t even know if you realized you said it, and it was just loud enough for me to hear. I would’ve said it back right then and there but with what I was about to do, it didn’t seem fair to tell you how I felt and then break your heart.” His head hung between the two of them, the realization that he still would’ve broken Sam’s heart anyway hitting him once he finished speaking.

The room was completely silent for a few minutes, both of them processing everything that had been said, everything that had been done. Danny knew he’d have to rip the bandaid off and finally explain to Sam - and the twins - all of the information he’d been withholding, and he knew Sam wouldn’t rest until he did. But that wouldn’t happen tonight, and yet again, Danny found himself thankful for Sam’s ability to let him do things at his own speed.

“I think we should go to sleep.” Danny nodded at Sam’s suggestion. “But before we do,” Sam leaned forward, pressing his lips against Danny’s again. He’d never get tired of the way his stomach flipped at something as simple as kissing his best friend. “Please don’t let things get to that point again, Dan. I need you to talk to me about everything. Promise me you’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Sammy. I promise.”

Sam smiled and moved to hug Danny, the drummer’s arms wrapping around his friend’s slimmer body. The two layed back down, tangling their limbs together as they had on previous nights, and with the knowledge that his love for Sam was reciprocated, and the stubborn belief that things had to get better from that point on, Danny finally felt relaxed. 

For the first time in five years, Danny felt his broken pieces begin to merge, slowly but surely making him feel whole.

And for the first time in five years, Danny slept through the night, the demons of his past and his nightmares nowhere in sight.

-- --

taglist: @ageofnations @obetrolncocktails @greta-flanveet @doodle417 @mollie-gvf @hoeforstevienicks @infisonicosm @gretasmokerising @joshsindigostreak @jakewhorecore @sparrowofthedawnsworld @teddiie @sammiejane22 @gretavanbitches @skankforjakekiszka @fantazmagorical96 @gretavangroove @stardustgreta @gvfrry @myownparadise96 @richjaaasss @mywaykiszka @cyliegvf @dannywagners-chesthair @gretadanfleet @writingcold @gretavanfleas @stardust-jake @maddie-van-fleet @wingedgardener2000 @gardensgatedaisy @earthlysorrows @lvnterninthenight @gabyvanfleet @gretavanferal @sacredthefran @allieisacrybaby @gold-mines-melting @brinlygvf @captainjtk @alyssawatson2003 @malany-gvf @ageofhearingloss @bizzielisteningtogreta @fallonfatality @indigofallingsky @hyperfixated-gvf @twistedmelodies @the-starcatcher @gretavanfreaky

[grimmeghoulz]

Can i request male reader x Rain or Phantom (or both) where the reader is a very old ghoul, worked for the ministry since the beginning but always stayed in the shadows. Now that the ministry has a greater following the reader has to show themselves because they have to work more. The ghouls obviously would like to make the reader a part of their group, but since the reader is an older ghoul he hates being in groups, or with anyone in general (like a grumpy old cat).

But a few ghouls stay persistent and kinda adopt stay with the reader and worm their way to his heart.and soon enough the reader can be seen around this ghoul all the time, eating, sleeping and just spending time with him (again like a cat)

Angst to fluff where the ghoul(s) adopt this grumpy old cat (reader) and manage to melt his cold heart

I hope this makes sense and you can work with it! :D

Please don't stress yourself out

Thank you, dear anon! I absolutely adore this concept and I honestly think you should pursue writing if you don't already! I make sure to take the time I need to deliver quality fics for you guys <33 Absolutely loved writing this!!

------

DISCLAIMER: While drafting this I changed the POV from reader to third person as it was more effective for narrative purposes. I hope it's not too much of a problem.

TW: Mentions of violence & disturbing imagery, vomit and cursing. Nothing NSFW.

------

Dear Reader, I assume you know about Ghost, the metal band that skyrocketed in popularity these past few years. I'm guessing you've seen or even attended some of their Rituals, but I have one question to ask you; Do you know who really plans them behind the scenes?

The Ministry is home to a particular ghoul, one you've never seen before and one who'd rather kill you than let you lay your eyes upon him. A ghoul as old as the foundations of the Ministry itself, who has seen it built and rebuilt through hundreds of centuries, the forefather of the ghouls you know today. A ghoul whose mere presence causes priests to question their faith as he was the ghoul who drove the church to murder and traffic millions of innocents after it tortured and enslaved him, after it killed his Papa in cold blood. If you're ever wandering around the Ministry, you may hear the metallic sounds of chains swinging and a thurible hitting the ground in the distance, the smell of a strange incense filling your body. And if you're not a human from the ministry...run if you value your life. Even recent Papas are careful to stay on his good side.

The younger ghouls are but tiny kits beside him, yet they flocked around him curiously. Even Mountain looks like a scrawny teen near him. While he did growl and occasionally snap at them for coming too close, cursing at them in an ancient form of the Hellish language, they still tried to include him in their lives the best they could, even calling him "Grandpa Rose". Despite all this, they were, admittedly, still terrified of him. The Ministry sometimes broadcasted the band's performances, resulting in televisions destroyed on the floor with large gash marks on the screens. The ghouls, with their eyes all around the ministry, noticed that this hulking hellbeast didn't wreck the screens because of them, he actually seemed to have a fear of humans.

Rain and Phantom, the youngest amongst the ghouls took it upon themselves to search the Ministry's library and database to find out more about him. Why was his body covered in large gashes and scars, where's his left arm? Why was the right side of his face torn and scarred and was he missing that eye too? But most importantly, the question aching at their minds, if he's apparently a ghoul from the middle ages why hasn't he returned to Hell yet? Where's his Papa? The duo sneaked around the Ministry trying to find their hidden vault of knowledge without getting caught, eventually finding a large safe behind a hidden door in the wall. After failing repeatedly to open the lock, they reluctantly turned to mist and snuck inside the door, regaining their forms inside the huge vault.

"Satan's asshole", panted Rain. "I'm not doing that again."

Phantom almost vomited next to him. "I second that."

The two began quietly rummaging through stacks upon stacks of scrolls, books, notes and diaries in the hopes of finding more about Rose. After seemingly hours upon endless hours of reading and rummaging, Phantom in a drowsy state accidentally knocks one of the glass shelves over. Rain caught it before it could shatter and awaken everyone in the Ministry, especially Imperator. She was scary as hell. He was about to scold Phantom until they noticed a hidden, moldy chest was behind this shelf. Gently lowering the shelf so as not to absolutely obliterate it, they hoisted the chest (with a whole lot of strain, that shit was heavy) and as quietly as possible lowered it on the ground. Rain easily slashed the chain of the lock and opened the box, revealing a plethora of never before seen notes and even a painting of Rose done in someone's blood, how fancy. As they were taking piles of stinking brown notes and books, Phantom pulled out an old illustrated poster done in the middle ages. Rain turned around to look at his partner, seeing an absolutely horrified face that, with hands shaking madly, gave him the poster.

A portrait of a man's severed bleeding head, crying dark tears, silently screaming in agony was drawn in grand detail with unintelligible wording and a vague date written underneath. The man had markings similar to Terzo...

"That was the day they murdered my Papa."

The two nearly shat themselves and squeaked in fear.

Rose was towering behind them, most of his face shadowed due to the yellowed light directly above them. The duo scrambled away, Rain protecting his partner.

Rain's voice was tough, merely a facade to hide his terror. "I'm sorry Rose, we just wanted-"

Rose waved a scarred hand at them. He wasn't mad at all, rather he had a melancholic expression on his face. "Do not worry. I understand. Young ghouls are naturally curious, I was too." He sat down cross-legged in front of them.

Phantom popped out from behind Rain, indirectly reassuring him that Rose means no harm despite his tail clearly being between his legs. "What do you mean?"

Rose began fidgeting with his goat-like ear. "I had snuck into a human church as a kit. I was curious, wanted to know about them. I was discovered, and they splashed holy water at my face. I ran away before they melted me alive."

Rain flinched, holy water was to ghouls like acid is to humans. Phantom hugged his partner. Rose reached a hand out but the duo hesitated, so he continued.

"As I was Papa's Quintessence Ghoul, they could easily trace him." The corners of his mouth sunk. "They captured both of us and beheaded him in a huge ceremony, throwing a feast at his decapitated head."

The ghoul solemnly stared at Rain and Phantom. "I'm sorry for being so harsh on all of you, like that'll fix anything" His gaze sharpened. "But you cannot trust humans. I cannot lose you too."

"Humans have changed since then, Rose.", Rain's voice was solid. "They won't burn us or kill our Papa."

Rose stood up. "How can you be so sure-"

Phantom, a great deal shorter, stood up to him. "People love us, man! They love our Papa, they actually made him a flower crown!"

Rose's gaze softened...he couldn't believe it.

Rain stood up as well. "They love our music, Rose. People travel from around the world to hear us. They're happy when we come, saddened when we leave."

Rose's shoulders slumped over. "Music, hm." He turned his face away with shame. "I destroyed my lute...vowed to never play again."

'Bullshit, let's make you one!" Phantom's voice was extremely determined, surprising Rose. "In fact, Aether's old guitar is perfect for you!" He hesitated a bit yelling at the old man. "Maybe we could fix his humbuckers-OOF"

Rose hugged the two, tears running down his face like rivers as he squished them. His one arm was enough to surround them. "I'm sorry, so very sorry, please forgive me."

Rain sighed and smirked. "It's alright, Grandpa."

Rose looked at them. "Grandpa?"

"Wait, do you not-"

The old ghoul broke down in a shower of tears, crying 'I'm a grandpa!' as he squeezed the ghouls in the tightest bear hug in history, lifting them off the ground.

Phantom patted his back. "Hey, big guy? I know that it's a bad time but, can we get out of here before Imperator finds us?"

Rose sniffled as he growled, his tail waving like a mas cat's. "What would she do?",

Rain waved his hands to calm him down. "She'll just take away our guitars for the day, it's alright."

Rose huffed, steam puffing out his nose. "We can't have that, now can we?"

With his one arm he gently hoisted the shelf and with one snap of his finger placed all the notes back in their place as if they've never been touched. He lifted the chest with a bounce and carried it under his arm, turning to look at the ghouls. "Ready for mist time, boys?"

The two groaned but there wasn't much else they could do. Disintegrating again, the trio floated back up to the Ministry, just in time to see the waking ghouls. Rose used his calming energy to soothe the lethargic ghouls as the others emerged from their rooms half asleep. The group jumped, seeing the giant no longer skulking but now fully upright, smiling at them with tears in his eyes. He lightly lowered his chest as to not startle them. "I know this is all very sudden to you, but I'm so-"

The entire group launched themselves at him, yelling "GRANDPA!" as they covered the big guy with hugs, his eyes welling up with tears. He was speechless with joy hugging his little ghouls as if they were his own grandkits.

Sister Imperator shouted from the other side of the Ministry. "GET READY, EVERYONE. WE'RE MOVING TO SPAIN IN SIX HOURS!"

Rain smiled. "You ready, big guy?"

Rose wiped a tear from his eye. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"How're you gonna play with one arm?" asked Cirrus, curiosity spewing from her words.

The big guy smiled as he closed is eyes. Mist began forming around his shoulder blade, forming into his missing arm as the ghouls stared in awe.

"How in Satan's name did ya even lose it anyway?" jumped Ifrit, always so sentimental.

Rose beamed brightly at his honesty. "I was born without it, little Ifrit!" He flexed his mist arm. "I'll teach you these tricks someday, don't worry."

"BUS ARRIVES IN 15 MINUTES!" yelled Sister, still on the other side.

Rose turned to Rain and Phantom. "You ready, boys?"

The duo fist bumped. "Let's get rocking."

[sagau-my-beloved]

Share the suggestive sagau content please, if your writing/creating it I know its good!

-Rapid anon

You're all way too nice to me 😭

But I guess since I now have a general consensus I'm not gonna hold out, so warning it gets slightly more than suggestive a bit down the road, starts off pretty safe though

So I wasn't kidding that this concept, in one form or another, has been floating around in my head for like two years now

Obviously it didn't start out as sagau centered but it transitions so easily into that universe so I've expanded upon it

Basically the general structure is based off of how in sagau fics it's always kind of implied that the very land of Teyvat itself reflects the creators emotional/physical state

Like heavy storms/rain in imposter au where poor reader is getting hurt/killed by the characters, and the less seen counterpart where the day is just beautiful and perfect when reader is happy

Soooo, taking that, why don't we apply it to characters as well?

And by that I simply mean that the reader's emotions quite literally extend from themselves and can be felt lowkey by anybody close to them

So if the reader is happy then it's almost as if it's impossible to be anything else in their presence, happiness and bliss just permeates throughout the room lifting the spirits of anyone that comes in contact with

Then of course, if the reader is sad, every living thing near them suffers the same pain

It's also considered a universally good thing even if the reader is experiencing negative emotions, which are then also felt by other people in the general vicinity, because at least then all the acolytes know exactly what their beloved creator is feeling and the moment when they're feeling bad, it's not as if it can be hidden, which then allows them to jump right in and try fixing it

I headcanon that this sensation is obviously stronger the closer to the source, aka the creator, that a character is, the strongest of this sensation being felt when the character is physically touching the reader

I feel like there's just a very big variety of what you can do with this concept, like having usually sad/depressed characters finding relief in the creators presence, happy energetic characters instantly feeling waves of negative emotions and just booking it to where the creator is to calm them

You could even extend it further and have this happen in a less dramatic way with the creator statues, if the reader is still in their own world

Like it becomes a daily ritual to visit the creator statue to touch it and feel exactly what they're feeling, it's a sacred place of relief for tired fighters, stressed akademiya students, and sad acolytes who want nothing more than to just bask in the warmth of the divine creator, and if they're met with a negative emotion it's customary to leave an offering and a prayer for the creators wellbeing

Now, moving into the more suggestive aspect of it, and I'm sure you can see exactly where I'm going with this but—

All feelings are amplified for others near them, including pleasure and arousal

Sooo, just saying, there's a lot of potential for some fun drabbles where maybe a particular character quite literally gets addicted to the intense bliss felt from merely touching our dear reader

Or maybe something more like said character can get off on focusing solely on pleasing their creator and the effects of that (not as if they couldn't already, but now it's a bit more literal)

And, in a few things I've written, I've also extended this concept so that the previously mentioned euphoria gets so intense that it becomes something of a baseline, as in there's an actual feeling of pain or at least discomfort from being without it, cough character abandoning all dignity and begging to touch the creator cough

Taking the phrase "addicted to your touch" to a whole new level 😀👍

[bunnyreaper]

hello hello! its me again back at it with the babies bc i am insatiable and i cannot get enough of your writing 😭💕

would you be up for toddler and teenager phases with reaper/gabe? something about the idea of reaper trying to handle a moody teen who takes after him is just- i am going to EXPLODE 🥺🙏

notes: yes i'm living for your requests!! i kind of went off the rails with this, i'm so sorry ;__; i hope you like it though! warnings: f!reader, loose grasp on concepts of masculinity and parenting. Gabriel and Reaper with toddler and teen child HCs (+ bonus drabbles)

Gabriel:

Gabe with toddler is a real treat to see, as he gets to release his more lighthearted, goofy, and imaginative side.

The best storyteller going will do all the voices (but gets a little embarrassed about anyone at work knowing this.) 

Keeps up with the bilingual teaching and beams with pride when they start speaking Spanish.

Lets the toddler use them as a climbing frame, swings them around to their heart's content, and never gets tired. 

Takes it really hard if he misses a milestone because he's out on a mission. Often someone caught it on camera, but it's not quite the same 

Buys them their basketball jersey and baby hoop.

Would enjoy Bluey (because he's a man of good taste after all) and would hate Peppa Pig (same reason)—sometimes whistles the Bluey theme tune, and you can't convince me otherwise. 

Gets extremely stressed if they sustain any slight injury at all. 

Takes them into Overwatch for office days on occasion as a toddler. They love visits to Uncle Jack's office or when Ana lets them play fight with her.

Still brings them to Overwatch as they grow up, especially when they seem to be going through a tough time. They find everyone at Overwatch cooler than Gabe, or at least that's what they tell him (but they secretly hero worship him and all the others.)

Continues to teach them proper gun safety, takes them shooting and emphasizes the gravity of what guns can do. 

Understands Ana's opposition to Fareeha wanting to join Overwatch, and has to have you talk him down from stubborn overreactions when the subject is mentioned.

Does bond with them over sport. Takes one-on-one time with them at their favorite games, and if they play, he'll try his best to attend games around missions.

Teaches them to cook too, especially dishes he loved growing up. 

Struggles with the mood swings if they say hurtful things. If his kid ever said they hated him, his heart would shatter into a million pieces.

Tries to encourage openness and honesty, so they can feel safe discussing anything at all with him, even if he squirms like crazy giving "the talk".

Again, has to be talked down from being the stereotype of overprotective father when his kid starts dating, but he learns to trust their instincts and values. After all, you both raised them to value their own autonomy and to have good instincts about people.

But he almost finds himself crying with them the first time they get their heart broken, and he desperately wishes he could do anything to take the pain away.

Loves helping them pick outfits for school dances or other special occasions.

"You ready?" You ask your daughter sweetly, looking her over as she fiddles with the costume.

She frowns, a look you're familiar with indicating that she's feeling self-conscious and shy. "What do you think, mama?" 

You kneel down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You look perfect, don't forget to do your impression, okay?" 

"Okay." She confirms, yet still seems unconvinced.

"Can we show Papa now?" You ask, readying her for the reveal.

It's Superhero day at preschool, and she knew which hero she wanted to be the moment the day was announced. 

She hesitates, the uncertain expression still in her eyes. "Maybe..." 

"What's up, baby?" You stroke her sweet face, careful not to smudge the scars you just painted onto her face. 

"What if he doesn't like it?" She frowns, her eyes averted from your gaze.  

"He's going to love it, promise." You smile, and finally she softens. "Ready?" 

She nods, and you call out to Gabe. "Ready?" 

"Ready!" Gabe replies from the other room. He was hoping for something cool, maybe Captain Marvel or Wonder Woman, but he was about to get an even great surprise. 

You open the door for your daughter, and the two of you walk into the living room. 

"Ta da!" You call out, as your daughter crosses her arms over her puffed up chest and dons the most adorable, unconvincing scowl. 

"Baby..." Gabe drops to his knees, staring at your daughter with welled up eyes, and he toys with her black beanie. "Baby... are you dressed as me?" 

"Yes, papa, do you like it?" She asks, hesitant at her father's reaction. 

"I love it." He nods, tightening his jaw and willing away the tears. 

"You're my hero." She cries happily as she hugs his neck. "Don't cry!" 

"Can't help it." He laughs, and your heart swells as you watch the scene. "Don't tell the bad guys my weakness, okay?" 

"Okay." She giggles, pulling away to press a kiss to his cheek. "Te quiero mucho, papa."

"Te quiero mucho, baby." He whispers, casting you a look that shows you just how much his heart is melting. "So I guess once we pick you up from preschool, we better head to base. You've gotta start bossing Uncle Jack around now." 

****** 

"Vete a la verga, papa!" ("Go to hell, dad!") Your daughter shouts as she slams the door upstairs, a loud thud that echoes round the house. 

"Cuida tu lenguaje, jovencita." ("Watch your mouth, young lady.") Gabe calls back, anger in his tone as he admits defeat and storms down the stairs.  

When he emerges into the kitchen, he's still muttering in Spanish.

"What did you say now?" You sigh, exasperated at the way the two of them have been butting heads lately. 

"Ella tienen un humor de perros." ("She's in a bad mood.") He grumbles. "She'll get over it."

Reaper: 

Hates the terrible twos and tantrums (because no one is allowed to be dramatic as he is), and sometimes you find him and the toddler both pouting.

Doesn't sweat the small stuff like grazed knees or hands, as he knows it's how the toddler learns. He still keeps a fierce watch over them, though. 

His blood boils hearing kindergarten stories about other kids mistreating his child, doubly so if he senses an adult has taken a dislike to his kid.

Sometimes struggles with the high-energy moments of raising a toddler, but thrives when they're sleepy and just looking for cuddles. He makes a great pillow.

Does have to try harder to maintain his patience, and understand the lack of malice in the actions of a toddler. Sometimes he finds it hard to keep his cool when toys are being thrown or bedtime is being avoided.

Tears up more than he likes to admit at milestones and small moments, gets really sentimental and insists on keeping baby teeth, locks of hair, etc.

Keeps their drawings, even if they're just colorful lines and splotches.

Gets a family dog, and thrives seeing the bond between his kid and the dog.

Doesn't like wearing tiaras, drinking pretend tea, or the smell of play dough (deals with it all anyway.) 

Feels parts of his soul repair when his kid says "I love you" for the first time. 

Regrets teaching his kid sarcasm, because holy shit, do they have it in spades.

Is the overprotective father suspicious of everyone who wants to date his kid, regardless of gender. He might not show it outwardly, but he's often sharing his worries with you and prone to forgetting how scary he can actually be. 

Both loves it and hates it when gun lessons show his kid to have an aptitude with shotguns.

Offers to drive them anywhere and everywhere, as it means he can keep tabs on them and keep them safer.

Teaches them self-defense, takes it very seriously.

Gains major cred with his kid for using the correct pronouns for trans/nb friends.

Curses them out in Spanish when they do something especially dumb.

Tries to pick up video games to help relate, finds FPS games annoyingly difficult, definitely grumps if he gets called out on it.

Cries at the high school graduation, begs you not to tell their kid.

Gets called "old man" by his kid, makes his eye twitch 1000%.

"Papa?" Your son's sweet voice interrupts the silence as you and Gabriel sit on the couch reading. Your son climbs onto his father's chest and pokes at his face.  "Grumpy."  He comments simply. 

"I'm not grumpy." He says, yet his brows are knit. 

"Papa grumpy." The toddler comments once more, mimicking the frown before fiddling with his face some more. He prods his fingers into Gabriel's cheeks, forcing them into a smile. 

"Papa happy." He says with a grin. 

"Papa happy." Gabriel responds, finally cracking with a genuine smile.

*****

"I don't know Mom, can I?" Your son responds, completely exasperated. You don't even need to look up to know he's rolling his eyes. 

"You can do it yourself. You usually do anyway." He groans and makes his way to leave the kitchen. 

His exit is blocked by your husband's heavy frame, his eyes glaring down at your son. 

"Don't speak to your mother like that." 

He comments, a quiet sense of rage filling him. "Your Abuelita would have your head for that." He growls. 

"Good job she's not here then, isn't it?" Your son responds in an instant—the cruelty sounding strange even from his usually sharp tongue. 

"Go to your room." Gabriel snaps, his voice raising as he steps aside yet puffs out his chest, unable to look his son in the eye. 

Your heart clenches, knowing how the words would cut Gabriel so deep. They already hurt you, but his mother's memory was a sacred one, and your son had crossed a line. Despite his usual teenage ways lately, this was a step too far. 

"When did he get so moody?" Gabriel comments gruffly, as you approach him and attempt to soothe him with a comforting touch. 

"Hmm, wonder who gets that from." You whisper, pressing a kiss to your husband's cheek. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." He pouts, going rigid with annoyance. 

You laugh lightly. "Sure you don't."

Gabriel pulls away, the stormy expression still on his face. 

"He's been struggling lately. I didn't mean to, but I overheard him talking to one of his friends." You sigh—now was the time to tell Gabriel the truth. "I've been meaning to bring it up." 

Gabriel's attention is caught. "Bring what up?" 

"You're so hard on him all the time. He thinks you hate him." Once more, your chest hurts. You know it's the furthest thing from the truth, but all your son craves is his father's approval, and your words haven't done anything to soothe him. 

"He does?" Gabriel's eyes darken, as a piece of his past self bubbles up inside him—that same feeling he once had to always prove himself. The one that drove him to the police, the army, to the SEP, and beyond—ending in his near death experience and everything that follows. 

Gabriel swallows deeply, his anger abating as he turns and heads upstairs to his son's room. 

After a knock or two, he's greeted by a disgruntled "What?", before he announces that he's heading in. 

"Hey." Gabriel offers casually, yet his boy doesn't meet his eye.

He sits on his bed, swirling the butterfly knife Gabriel got him for Christmas round and round. Gabriel takes a seat beside him. 

"You can talk to us, to me, if something's bothering you." He offers, trying his hardest to sound even. He loves his son with everything he has, and he doesn't want him to grow up like him, constantly pushing things down. 

His anger most days might be exacerbated by his physical condition, but the experiments only exaggerated what was lurking underneath. 

The boy's knife play stops, his expression softening, yet he doesn't turn to face his father. 

"I know dad." He sighs. "There's nothing to talk about, though." 

"Then why are you acting out with your mother?" Gabriel asks. 

"I'll apologize to her. Sorry." 

"It would be better if you just explained yourself." Gabriel says, but his son now just falls quiet. 

Gabriel studies his son's expressions, sensing his quiet softening and yet his clear reticence to open up at this time. 

"Suit yourself." He replies, yet resolves to make a greater effort in the future to change things for the better. "I know you can take care of yourself." Gabriel's words finally have his son looking at him, the validation and approval clearly working. 

He slings his arm around his son, pulling him closer. "But we're always gonna look out for you, your mama, and I. I'm proud of you, though." 

His son looks sheepish and embarrassed, turning his face away yet not moving from his father's touch. 

"Talk over?" He mumbles, his voice higher pitched than usual.

"Talk over." Gabriel nods, pressing a kiss to his son's head before making his way out of the room.

[herotome]

Special Informal Devlog

Hi-ho, Wudge here! Aaaa. I missed the update last week... as we crawl closer and closer to release, it's become harder for me to write devlogs. I'm making progress every single day, and that makes me so frustrated that it isn't done yet, you know? 😭 Something something curse of perfectionism...

Anyway.

I thought I'd try something a little different with this post by chronicling a specific screen I've worked very hard on, from start to finish!

(Pictured: a preview of where we're gonna end up)

It all began on... August 2021?! Yowza, two years ago! When I posted a poll on tumblr and on itch about how I should handle flirt indicators. The votes were split 50/50 between two popular options, and I was able to surmise that yall would really, really love an option to toggle between the two.

It didn't take me long to figure out how to implement the toggle itself.

The following year (September 2022), I came up with the idea of putting in an illustrated tutorial on how my flirt indication system works - after all, poll participants had told me that they loved the idea and had never seen it before in other games. I was on a treadmill at the time, so I quickly doodled the idea on my phone. It looks like this:

Then when I got home, I did a rough pen draft to solidify the idea...

I worked on the digital version over the next 2-3 weeks, and asked my friends for help with editing the text to ensure clarity.

.... Then I took a looong break from the infographic to, uh.... write, edit, playtest the game, draw expressions for Griffin CG, draw expressions for the landlord, work on a new Clammy Lady sprite, playtest the game again, make all the characters blink, make the first glowing animation for Jade's powers, code in Griffin's CG expressions, stress about paypal making changes in my country, do concept art for upcoming npcs, write some more, playtest some more, draw a birthday picture for Dart, write devlogs every single week, make sure all my files were safely transferred to my new laptop before my old one completely died... etc.

So it was February 2023 by the time I came back around to try implementing the infographic in code :')

... It was functional, but no matter what I tried, I didn't like how it looked with everything crammed into one page.

... Then I got really sick... but after I recovered and did some more work (drawing, writing, playtesting, etc) I came back to the infographic with the intention to learn how to code pages in renpy.

Still didn't look phenomenal, but there's a whole lot more breathing room! This was in April 2023.

I took another "break" (worked on a million other things) and then... FINALLY... in late August 2023, just a few weeks ago, I had an art breakthrough!

I had garnered a better understanding of color and poses, and as a result my chibis became a LOT cuter! I was able to redraw most of them without too much hassle - whereas when I first started, it would take me all day to draw a single one.

I also drew custom heart icons (a plain heart, a golden heart, and a broken heart), figured out how to make text buttons look more fun and intuitive..

And here's where we're at now!!! I still need to draw eyes for Dart.... but I researched and absorbed a lot about screen compositions, and had a rather late realization that I could re-use backgrounds and assets I already have in the game.

That's it for the special edition. I'll update with more soon!

Stay safe and keep warm,

Wudge.

[l0nar1]

Feelings

Pt.3 to "Why You?" (1) and "The Wind" (2) ^^

Genre: Fluff

DNI: NON-MLM/NBLM, fujoshis, mlm/nblm fetishizers

Character(s)/reader: Kazuha and Male Reader

Ever since the day Kazuha almost left, you guys have grown closer to each other. You had been showing Kazuha a bit more emotion since then too. You'd randomly smile at him or even show how upset you were. These were rare moments, but it was a step up from completely hiding them from him.

However, Kazuha still wasn't used to you expressing yourself. Every time you'd smile his heart would skip a beat, and the first time he heard you laugh he lost it on the inside. It was a short laugh, but it didn't fail to make his heart speed up and face flush red. Ever since he heard that beautiful sound he's been trying to make you laugh more often. He's succeeded just once so far, and it made him feel euphoric.

Kazuha was definitely your best friend. You only felt comfortable around him. You appreciated that he didn't make you expressing yourself a big deal, it made you feel safe and free from judgment.

Kazuha was, to put it simply, amazing. He was so kind, so smart, so calm. He was a skilled fighter, but rarely chose violence. He was so kind to you despite your lack of expression. You admired him greatly.

Sometimes when he'd watch you battle, you'd do some cool tricks to impress him. You couldn't resist trying to impress him, his compliments and smile were like a reward. It made trying your hardest to make him impressed worth it.

....That isn't a normal way to think of your friends is it? You've spoken about it to Beidou because you thought it was normal, but the look she gave you said otherwise. Yeah his smile and compliments make your heart race, but that happens sometimes right?

You were currently discussing your confusion with the traveler. They explained that it's normal to want to impress your friends, but your heart racing when they compliment you or when they smile is something more than just friendship. You weren't stupid, you knew about the concept of love and having romantic feelings for someone, you had just never experienced it before. The possibility of liking Kazuha did cross your mind, but you brushed it off since you weren't exactly sure how romantic feelings felt.

Now, you were sure. You liked Kazuha, romantically. It explained the fuzzy feeling you got around him, and why you didn't want him to leave so badly. It explained why your chest ached at the thought of him not being by your side one day, and why you wanted nothing more than to just hold him in your arms.

So, what do you do now? You could tell him, but it would be awkward if he didn't feel the same. Though, not telling him could ruin the chance at a relationship. Did you want a relationship? Would you even be good at one? Does he want a relationship?

You had never overthought something so much in your entire life. You had barely come to terms with the fact that you liked someone and you were already over it. Is it always this stressful?

You said bye to the traveler and made your way back to the ship, seeing Kazuha looking out at the sea as you got back on. You walked up to him and sat next to him on the edge.

"Did you have a nice day?" He asked while sending you a small smile. All you did was nod, too caught up in your thoughts to speak.

"Are you alright?" His gentle and smooth tone made your heart skip a beat.

"I'm fine, just thinking about something."

"Is it something I could help with?"

'Yes' you thought to yourself, but all you did was shake your head. He nodded and went back to looking out at the scenery. You both sat in silence for what felt like hours to Kazuha, but had only been a little less than 20 minutes.

"Kazuha." You spoke nervously, breaking the somewhat tense silence between you two.

"Hm?" He turned his head to look at you.

You took a deep breath before asking, "Have you ever liked someone before? Romantically."

Now it was Kazuha's turn to overthink. Did you know he likes you? Did you like someone? Perhaps you're just curious?

"Um...yes I have." A light pink blush dusted his cheeks as he responded. "Have you?" His eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"Not until recently no." You shyly looked at your hands at your indirect confession. This was so nerve racking, how could you actually tell him?

"So, you like someone currently?" All you did was nod and keep your attention on your hands. Kazuha felt his heart drop at your confession, but quickly brushed off the nerves and spoke again. "May I ask who? If that's okay with you."

You froze as you felt yourself get unusually embarrassed. Kazuha noticed and felt his mouth dry up, what if you did like someone else? What if it was someone he knew and that's why you were embarrassed.

"U-um.." Your voice cracked making you pause, you felt so embarrassed. You had never felt this way before. You had never felt so awkward, so...nervous. You mustered up the courage to look him in the eye and wiped your sweaty palms. "...I have feelings for you." You confessed quietly. He barely heard what you said, but when he processed it he froze.

You liked him? You liked him? Romantically? Kazuha felt like he was dreaming, doubting that this was at all real. All he did was stare, completely forgetting that it was a bit rude to not say anything.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." You whispered as you moved away from him.

Kazuha started panicking and quickly moved closer to you. "I'm not uncomfortable. I...I have feelings for you too." He blurted, staring at you lovingly.

Your eyes widened as you stared back into his. "You do?"

"Yes, of course I do." His voice was gentle as he spoke, his words full of truth and love. The glow of the setting sun made him look absolutely ethereal in this moment, all you wanted to do was kiss him.

You glanced down at his lips, and he glanced down at yours. You quickly went back to staring into his eyes, using them to hint at what you wanted. Luckily, he caught on. He leaned forward and closed the space between you two, kissing you passionately. You returned the kiss and felt him lean into you more, so you pulled him onto your lap.

You both had completely forgotten that you were out in the open, and that anyone could see you two. Honestly, neither of you cared, both too caught up in the way the other felt. His lips were so soft and plump, they were addicting. Sadly, you had to pull away because of your need to breathe.

"Does this make us boyfriends?" You asked as you caught your breath, placing your hands on his hips. He nodded, and gave you a small yet sweet smile before kissing your cheek.

Anyone could see you showing emotion right now, but you didn't care about that. All you cared about was what's right in front of you.

Kazuha.

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

I AM SO PROUD OF MYSELF FOR FINALLY FINISHING THIS! My motivation and ideas have just disappeared recently, so hopefully this isn't bad :[.

Ty anon for requesting this series! I plan on having this be the last one for this series, but it's been fun to write it ^^!

[mamuzzy]

Okay, my temporary-brainfuckery is over, I'm kind of hyped now about the new year and can look back at 2023 with much more contentment. So I jumped on the train of doing Art Summary too :))) (template HERE)

Yeah, what the fuck did I do in the first half of the year... honestly, I don't remember. No, really, I can't remember...

My sketchbook can be dated back to 2021 with some old Touken Ranbu and merfolk sketches, but I don't remember actually opening it this year until june...

...and guys, I actually have only a few pages left to fill!!!! I kind of proud of myself. Joining into TCW fandom really did wonders with my creativity and productivity.

I'll get sappy with this probably, but the existence of this blog, a filled up sketchbook in my hand is the very proof that I exist. When bdick fucks me in the brain, I can't remember having these wonderful memories of creating but when my mind clears from the fog, I come up here, looking at my little fortress, looking at my silly doodles, I don't feel that I have to build up everything from the start, and I actually managed to create a safe-place for myself that welcomes me back when I return from those dark places. My art maybe not visually pleasing, my anatomy is shit, but they are mine and most importantly THEY EXIST.

❀ My artistic plans for the future in this blog... ❀ ❀ To continue creating: daily doodles. Not sure about uploading it daily but maybe making compilations from my sketchbook from time-to-time. I'm expecting to have a more relaxed job time-wise, also I'm on a medication now due to my migraines, maybe I won't spend half of my year sleeping just escape from the pain. ❀ Creating character bios for my OC's. ❀ Participating in events/doing challenges: The whole concept is scary for me because deadlines are stressing me out, and I'm a slow artist.

❀ One of the self-made challenge: Redraw my sketchbook from 2012-2014. I probably mentioned that I've found it some time ago and actually chickened out from uploading them because most of the sketches in them are quite... hmm... bpd related without me knowing I had bpd back then (also i don't want them to hide under cut because then what's the point of uploading???). But it would be interesting to redesign them and make a comparison post about it.

❀ be more authentic with my art: my original plan with this blog was to use art to heal myself, and while drawing funny stuff is great, I still believe I'm self-censoring myself both in art and both in personal posts just like I'm masking in real life and it's. fucking. exhausting. My mental fuckery is a part of my life, part of me.

❀ Writing short stories: TCW, TBB, RepComm, million ideas in my head.

❀ Getting started on my Deadshot story: A multichaptered longfic starting from Umbara arc (I wrote ARC again), following the canon events but will deviate at some points.

❀ Getting started on my urban fantasy Coruscant Guard Story.

I could go on but I don't want to set unrealistic and unachievable goals either. YEAR JUST STARTED AND IT'S ALMOST OVER!!!

Thank you for hanging out with me in 2023, thank you for giving me a chance with those prompt-games and requests. I love you guys.

[miracledarling]

Hey Renna I hope you're doing well...

I'm sorry if this might come off as trauma dumping but I really just need someone to talk to....

I'm really frustrated with myself since I lack persistence...Like I'll wake up one day and be like I'm gonna manifest my dr but after like a day or two I'll start wavering and eventually I'll go back to my old state. This cycle has been going on ever since I found abt the law.

I was really REALLY behind with my school work (I attend online school), I didn't study for my exams and everything was just piling up...So I decided that I'd just manifest being up to date with all my school and acing my exams despite not studying...Now my school break is over and as you can guess none of these things have manifested...Why? because I persisted for like a day and let my negative thoughts win...Now here I am even more stressed and desperate...

Ik that this is something no blogger can help me with, I've read all your manifesting posts plus other bloggers, I've listen to Edward art and I've read some of Neville's books, I know everything there is to know about the law...But I keep on going back to my old state...I don't even know why I do this to myself tbh cause it SUCKS here, like there's nothing to look forward too, yet I keep on going back to the old state...

Rereading this ask just made me realize how stupid I am... Like I'd rather stress about the 3D then persist in the new state...starting from now on I'm just gonna work on my self concept because my core beliefs abt how life works are still pretty f'd up and I'll stop giving myself stupid deadlines...

I will be back with a success story soon...

This post is kinda all over the place but I hope you understand what I mean...I love your blog btw

hi darling, i am so sorry for the late response(left tumblr for a bit🥲) i hope u can see this answer 💕💕

first you are not stupid honey, its okay to feel stuck. bear with me alright, it will be okay

Like I'll wake up one day and be like I'm gonna manifest my dr but after like a day or two I'll start wavering and eventually I'll go back to my old state.

ik how that feels, but you have to understand that YOU are the only one that can make the change for yourself. break the cycle is the first step, break the cycle or it will loop tomorrow.

getting into a new state is like moving into a new home. it may feel unfamiliar, unnatural, different at first. even uncomfortable. but as you return and accept it, keep living in it, it will feel natural. you will learn to accept it as true. your reality is what you are aware of as a fact. aka assumptions.

you are not the past. you are not the old story. you are not your thoughts. you are not your feelings. you are not your state

what are you being right now? what are you aware of as a fact? what are you assuming as true?

I AM happy, I AM safe, I AM healthy, I AM loved

if there are mistakes, let go of past mistakes. you can revise even. stop clinging onto the past, stop clinging onto the old story. be who you are now.

Ik that this is something no blogger can help me with, I've read all your manifesting posts plus other bloggers, I've listen to Edward art and I've read some of Neville's books, I know everything there is to know about the law...But I keep on going back to my old state...

trust yourself honey. you will help yourself more than any of us can ever. you will thank yourself so much once you start trusting yourself for guidance. asking yourself for clarity

truth is, most of the answers are within us. we have them. everything is here. so you don't need more outside guidance.

yes it can be scary to stop looking for outer confirmation. it might feel like you're doing it wrong, that you're missing out on something helpful. keep trusting yourself to help you.

try your best to resist the urge to go back to the old story. i've once heard someone say: you must get uncomfortable to get comfortable. you may feel discomfort in the new state but focus on the end and the end only. it will all be okay. you don't need to force anything, allow yourself to surrender to imagination and feel the end as true. you don't need to be positive 247, a mental diet is not forcing thoughts to be good. rather, pay attention to your inner world and place your awareness on what matters ⭐️

whenever you feel frustrated, always go back to the END. live in the END in your head. always take care of yourself out there though. stidy if you must, but you are the perfect student in imagination

you are free in imagination. trust your imagination and free yourself in imagination

i don't know much about your circumstances but i just want to let you know that you can get through this. you can do it dear. i know you might have been through a lot but as long as you trust yourself, it will be alright honey. 💕

yes you will be back with a success story soon. and i know you are succeeding. you are successful. you have succeeded

ily and hope i could help you🥹🤍✨

[doodle-pops]

Hi minaa

First off: thank you for answering my "what if an elf has sex before marriage" question, (its been on my mind for some time now and it has also been stressing me out because I'm trying to write my own fics so ty) 😭❤️

-

But that doesn't matter now because I have a new question that has been on my mind which is:

Do elves masturbate? Like would they do it differently or the same as we would? would they own toys or something? (This goes for both male and female elves btw)

You're most welcome and good luck with your writing!! 💕💕

Right off the bat, nowhere in LaCE states elves being physically intimate with each other or on their own before marriage, whether it be mutual masturbation or not. Furthermore, from Tolkien’s Catholic point of view, both parties should be pure and holy in the body before unifying in the eyes of Eru, which in layman's terms is, 'no form of sexual acts until marriage'.

This question has also been on my mind ever since I’ve been reading and writing smut for the elves. I’ve concluded that elves are curious folks by nature. As much as they have self-restraint to control themselves and whatnot, there are moments when feelings like desire can strike in powerful forms by simply looking at an attractive person. Now, according to LaCE, elves aren’t sexually active in the manner that humans are, but they did love the act with their spouse. Their sex drive plummets as children come along until the act is of no interest and they cease entirely to be intimate. This is why we say elves only desire their spouse/soulmate and no other, so if they’re gonna masturbate, it’s for their crush/spouse who happens to be the love of their life.

I’m unsure if you wish to write your pieces keeping true to LaCE, so I’ll give you an answer that mixes canon and non-canon.

If elves were to masturbate before marriage, they’d perform the act in secrecy while keeping it simple. Since sex equivalates to marriages and from the Catholic system back then, the tearing of the hymen signified being deflowered and consummated, any form of masturbation would not have involved penetration of foreign objects for the female until marriage occurred. So, before marriage, the females would keep it simple using their fingers while the males would jerk themselves off.

Mutual masturbation wouldn’t be any different, it’ll be hosted privately and either party would pleasure each other using their hands (no fancy gadgets like us). It is also essential and lovely to note that acts of intimacy change the physical behaviour between couples. They become more open and relaxed to touches from each other, so it's an interesting aspect to look at and remember if you wish to be detailed. After marriage, it would be safe to welcome the use of inserting foreign objects; they obviously didn’t have dildos like us, probably some safely designed phallus-shaped object could have been created (if you want, you can write the first dildo being created and used in a fic lol).

Honestly, the idea of the elves masturbating is a great concept to delve into because it also shows that both parties were aware of their bodies and what they liked, instead of waiting for marriage to roll around to discover.

If you wish to discard all of this and write elves masturbating as we humans do, you are welcome to do so (it’s still good to know the canon details). At the end of the day, it’s all about how you wish to portray the elves and the story. You can portray them as sexually active or stick to LaCE, it’s your story and no one can tell you otherwise.

[laudsimogen]

If you're still taking prompts: how bout once Imogen and Laudna are alone after the resurrection. Like, I know being brought back makes you very tired, and they're both gonna be emotionally exhausted as well.

Also, at the same time I'm sure Imogen now might have some sense of urgency to tell Laudna how she feels? I'm sure she would be conflicted about telling her so soon BUT

she thought she had time before, and no one saw the fight with Otohan coming. And now Otohan is out there somewhere and could possibly pop up at any second? Or in Imogen's dreams?

It has been a very, very long day. A long week. Adrenaline and desperation had been keeping Imogen on high alert for days, and now that they’d done what they needed to do, now that Laudna is alive and safe, she feels more exhausted than she’s ever been in her life.

But she’s sure she’s not as exhausted as Laudna, who had been in that place for just as long, cornered and caged by Delilah. And she must have spent all of the energy she had to come back to her body, too. So, of course she needs rest. And of course, after all that, Imogen isn’t willing to leave her side.

They lie entwined in the bed Pike had offered them, Imogen propped against the headboard with Laudna curled up against her, head in her lap. Imogen absentmindedly runs her fingers through Laudna’s hair and hopes it feels as soothing to Laudna as it does to her.

They haven’t spoken yet. Not really. There’s plenty to talk about, but Imogen is almost afraid to break the silence, some part of her terrified that this is all a dream and that she’ll wake up and Laudna will still be gone. But Laudna breaks it first, and nothing shatters. It’s just her beautiful voice, its pleasant tone reinforcing to Imogen that this is real. Her heart skips a beat at the sound.

“Thank you, Imogen,” Laudna says. Imogen almost forgets to actually hear the words, she’s so enamored by simply hearing that voice again.

“For what?”

“For…” Laudna snorts. “What do you mean, ‘for what?’ For coming for me, of course. For freeing me.” She pauses. “For loving me enough to go through hell to do that.”

Imogen stares down at Laudna. She really has no idea, does she?

“You don’t gotta thank me for that,” Imogen says quietly. “That was your hell, Laud. My hell is a world in which you’re not here.” She tucks a lock of Laudna’s hair behind her ear. “I don’t know what I woulda done if we couldn’t get you back.”

Laudna’s big, dark eyes peer back at Imogen. “I don’t know what I would have done, either,” she says. “I think…I think I wasn’t going to last much longer there.”

Imogen nods and grits her teeth as tears form in her eyes. She knows very well how close Laudna had come to being lost forever, and it would be haunting her for a long time. “I know,” she says. “I know. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

“Yes.” Laudna fiddles with a loose thread in Imogen’s skirt. The chiffon is full of cuts and holes from the last couple of scrapes they’d had. Laudna always liked to fix their clothes when they’d been torn and soiled, and without her, Imogen had simply ignored the damage. “I’ll patch this up later,” she says.

Imogen doesn’t know why that statement is what breaks her, but suddenly tears stream down her face and she can’t stop them. Laudna notices and immediately props herself up on her elbow to wipe Imogen’s tears with her thumb.

“What’s wrong, darling?” she says. “Is it something I said?”

“No.” It doesn’t help that Laudna is so close now, their faces just inches away. Imogen should have known she would have to deal with this. Her feelings, while always present, had seemed so unimportant while faced with the task of bringing Laudna back. And now that she’s here in front of Imogen, breathing, safe…those feelings crash back down onto her like a tidal wave.

It would be insensitive to tell Laudna now. She’s been through so much, and she has such a complicated relationship with the concept of romance and love. It would only add more stress to her shoulders to find out, but Imogen is gripped with the urge to tell her anyway. She does deserve to know, right? It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t feel the same way. She deserves to know how deeply and unconditionally she’s loved, how she’s the best, brightest thing in at least one person’s life.

Imogen had always intended to tell her eventually. It wasn’t going to be a lifelong secret. She just wanted to give Laudna some time to process that part of herself after Yu, and she wanted to wait for the right moment, and hell, maybe she had been looking for excuses to feed her cowardice. Whatever the reasons for waiting, she’d thought she had time. She wouldn’t be so naïve again.

“Laudna,” Imogen starts, and her voice already cracks through the tears she’s shed. “Can I tell you something? Something kind of…kind of big? I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

Laudna sits the rest of the way up to give Imogen her full attention. “Of course,” she says, and she takes one of Imogen’s hands in both of her own. “You can tell me anything, Imogen. You know that.”

“I know,” Imogen says, but her heart beats so fast and loud in her ears that she can hardly think. She clasps her free hand around Laudna’s and meets her eyes. “I just—I love you,” she says. “You know I love you.”

Laudna nods hesitantly. “I love you, too,” she says. “What—”

“I’m in love with you.”

The words fall out of Imogen’s mouth so quickly that she isn’t sure Laudna actually understands them, but then her eyes widen and Imogen suddenly feels like a nervous schoolchild.

“You’re in…in love with me?”

“Is…that okay?” Imogen is sure her face is beet red by now, and her heart feels like it might burst. “I know it’s not really your thing. I just thought you should know. I thought—in case I don’t get another chance—”

Imogen has never seen this expression on Laudna’s face before, and she doesn’t have time to decipher it before Laudna lunges forward to pull her into a tight hug.

“I think—” Laudna’s voice is muffled by Imogen’s shoulder. “I mean, I’ve never—I’ve never felt that way for anyone else, so I don’t really know. But I think I’m in love with you, too. I don’t know how else to explain how incredible you make me feel.”

It takes Imogen a moment to realize she hadn’t misheard Laudna, and that the best possible outcome of this scenario had actually happened. She’d daydreamed about it, sure, but she’d never have thought…

Imogen hugs Laudna back even tighter and presses a kiss to her cheek, the top of her head, anywhere she can reach. She doesn’t know how much time they really have left, not with the dangers lurking around every corner, but Imogen wouldn’t waste any more time. Never again.

[itgr]

Early ROS season 3 Kodya thoughts (aka here's my excuse to ramble)

I'm only on episode 180. I have thoughts on a lot of things but rn I just wanna talk about Kodya?? Idk ever since we've seen him again in episode 159, he's been a lot more stoic and and standoffish than he used to be? (at least compared to his season 2 counterpart, which yeah he spent most of that outside his body but he wasn't this standoffish to Gyrus before). He's a lot more similar to his season 1 counterpart in some ways which I found interesting. Originally, I thought it would be a temporary thing just from the shock of seeing Gyrus again and recovering from the fact he genuinely thought they'd never meet again, but then he kind of stays that way and he's kind of snarky and defensive which I find interesting. I really like when characters are flawed or are tangibly impacted by things that have happened to them. Anyways here's like multiple reasons I headcanon (some of these are just straight up stated or heavily implied) there's such a big character shift (at least to me):

Um. Yeah he literally thought he'd never see his on and off boyfriend of several years who he literally fought so hard to keep around. That's going to fuck you up regardless of if it ended up not being true

^ Also I feel like losing Gyrus again definitely brought back some old pain and trauma from the time he, yknow, watched Gyrus lose himself over the course of years and eventually had to be the one to kill him ^^ so. YEAH (he has abandonment issues to me)

This is more of a minor point but we should talk about how fucky it would be to spend several years with people from the future and then be plopped back into your time period and expected to just. Keep existing like nothing happened and like you don't know at least hundreds of separate things and concepts that are, quite literally, ahead of your time

Look me in the eyes and tell me he didn't 100% face or see homophobia after returning to his time period. You know that would mess with him a bit (I find his defensiveness near Iro, while partially justified, really interesting? because it's the first time I can think of we get any implication that homophobia explicitly exists in the world of ROS <- which makes sense and it also makes sense to assume that the room of swords itself was probably pretty queer friendly because of the amount of different people there. Anyways Kodya's defensiveness near Iro just reads to me as someone anticipating homophobia because of firsthand experience with it)

Gyrus self deprecating about not as strong as Masiosare, who's essentially like if you took BB! Gyrus's inability to open up and ask for help and his tendencies to do morally fucked up shit for his version of the greater good and then maximised it(/hj), probably made Kodya feel worse. Like he already spent years watching Gyrus lose himself to those ideals and I feel like at this point, the amount of trust issues and general abandonment issues of having a partner who used to hide things from you constantly until it literally destroyed him, combined with that same partner now self deprecating and faintly implying he wants to be like that again, would 100% trigger the shit out of his trauma and probably make him feel like history's going to repeat itself

I don't know if this was intentional but (oversimplification) CPTSD symptoms tend to show up after the person's left whatever stressful environment they used to be in and it starts flaring up because the brain can't process or understand that its in a safe environment and is still in a very defensive protective mode even when it technically shouldn't be. Kodya's likely CPTSD from, yknow, EVERYTHING in the room of swords probably could've started flaring up because of the fact he finally managed to escape, which could also partially explain his mentioned thoughts of feeling cursed and like he'd never be happy before Gyrus showed up (it's a common thing to struggle to feel happy or safe after not having experienced either feeling for a long time)

In conclusion, Kodya Karevic is a well written mentally ill little guy who's literally done zero (0) wrong in his entire life/j. Jokes aside, I wanted an excuse to ramble and get my thoughts out and also just talk about how pleasantly surprising it is to have them actually acknowledge the flaws in Strawbarrow's relationship and show Kodya have tangible problems with trusting Gyrus again. Idk I really like how well and complexly they're written

[plainemmanem]

Omg okay if you're comfortable, could you write something slightly dubcon-ish for tasm!peter parker with a gf who's really mad at him after an argument or something

ok ngl i love this concept, srry this is so long, i really love writing dark peter 18+

TW: slight dubcon / jealousy / heavy smut, basically pure filth

It was stupid. The whole argument was stupid. It all started from a stupid unwashed dish in the sink.

"Peter..." you gave him an exasperated sigh, holding the dirty dish slightly up in the air. "I asked you to clean these dishes last night before you left. What happened?"

You knew you sounded like a whiny girlfriend, but this had happened ten times over in the last few days and your patience was slowly wearing thin. You had no idea if he was even listening to you anymore.

"Oh, hon, I'm sorry," he slowly got up from the couch and started towards you with an apologetic smile. "I completely forgot let me do em now."

You extended the dish towards him, frown still on your face, as he took it to the sink to wash it. Once he finished he dried his hands and took a step towards you. He stepped behind you, trying to wrap his arms around your middle, but you pushed him away, annoyance creeping into your movements.

"What?" he asked, face pure confusion. "You can't tell me you're this worked up over a singular dish I left in the sink?"

"It's not just that, Peter. It's everything."

"Honey," he said taking another step towards you, arms out seeking your embrace.

Typically when you got stressed or annoyed like this, you would let it go quickly, admitting the real reason behind your frustration. Typically, Peter was never the root of the problem. Chemistry finals or a problem at work were usually to blame. But not this time.

You noticed his arms out, waiting for you to cave, but you turned the other way, heading for your bedroom instead.

"No, Pete, I... I just wanna be alone right now."

"Honey!" he called out after you. "It won't happen again, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well you wouldn't have to be sorry if you were home to wash the dishes in the first place," you mumbled under your breath as you neared the bedroom door. As you turn to close it, you felt a solid hand stop you half way.

You knew he could hear your muttering, what with his enhanced hearing and all, but subconsciously, you were looking for a fight.

He pushed the door open further, giving you a slightly angry, slightly annoyed look.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I mean you're out all night doing god knows what-"

"Saving the city... I'm out there protecting the people of this city-"

"Ah yes, of course, you and your fucking city-"

"I'm out there protecting you. You know that. You know all of this is to keep you safe-"

"Yeah, well I would feel a lot safer with you here, with me, and not out nearly getting yourself killed every night. Every night, I'm worried sick about you. Worrying if you're even going to make it back alive!"

Your emotions were taking control of your words now. You didn't even mean half the things you were saying, you were simply lashing out over your concern for Peter and his dangerous lifestyle.

"I- I can't just leave the people without a protector, they need some one-"

"Yeah? And what exactly are you even doing? I still watch the news and see a new tragedy every day! Who are you saving?"

You knew it was too far. You knew it was wrong. You didn't even mean it.

Peter's face was stone cold. His knuckles were white. You could tell it was taking a lot of effort for him not to lash out.

But you just wanted to twist the knife that little bit further.

"Do you even want to be here? Huh? In this relationship? Because to me it seems like you'd rather be out fighting crime."

His rage quickly flashed into hurt, but it was gone in an instant. His jaw clicked slightly and he looked down to the ground.

"I mean, hell, if you want to end this, just tell me now," you let out an exaggerated sigh turned towards the bed. "I can give Harry a call."

Harry Osborn was a touchy subject, but when you got like this, it was hard for you to stop. You and Harry had been on a few dates before you and Peter became official, and there was always a small rivalry between the two.

Mentioning Harry was not smart. Not at all.

You felt a strong grip on your forearm before you were spun around to face him. There was fire behind his eyes, and you knew you fucked up royally. He gave you a light shove and you fell to the bed, legs still hanging off the edge.

"Peter wha-"

Next thing you know, he's towering over you, hand on your mouth preventing you from finishing your thought. He leaned down right next to your ear, hot breath fanning your face.

"You're going to shut up and take it," he whispers through gritted teeth. Your whole body shivers at his tone, that extra bit of anger in his voice sending a thrill right through you.

He pulls back slightly, unbuttoning his pants quickly, before moving to your own. His movements were harsh and succinct, no trace of his usual loving manner. Once he had removed both of your clothes, he stopped almost completely, getting a look at the pretty pink panties you had on. They were the silk pair Peter had gotten you for your birthday last year, and you loved them dearly. His fingers played gently with the little, white bow at the front, his eyes glazing over slightly. Your muscles relaxed slowly, finding comfort in the return of his gentle actions.

Both of his hands went to your hips, feeling the soft, silk material, before he fisted the thin fabric and tugged. It took almost no effort as the undergarment fell in shreds against your thighs.

"Peter! Wh-"

Before you were finished, you were being flipped onto your stomach, legs spread wide. Peter stepped in between your thighs and grabbed your forearms, wrapping them around your back and holding both in one of his strong hands.

You felt helpless as you lay on display for him.

"Wait, Peter, wa-"

He slowly leaned down, lying on top of you with his front pressed against your back. His hand slowly traced up your side before reaching up to wrap around your mouth, silencing you. He was still pressing you into the mattress as he made slight shushing sounds in your ear.

"Shhhh, sh sh sh, pretty girl," his tone was dripping with sarcasm, "You're gonna take what I give you like a good girl, and you're not gonna complain. Can you do that for me?"

His mocking tone has you mewling slightly against his hand at the filthiness of it all, and you nod your head lightly. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he pressed his face into your hair, taking a slight inhale of your scent.

You'd never seen Peter like this before, but you couldn't deny the wetness forming between your legs at his dominant demeanor.

The hand around your mouth slowly retracted and found a new home at the apex of your thighs. Ever so gently, Peter's nimble fingers swiped through your folds, another chuckle coming from his lips.

"So wet and I haven't even touched you yet."

All you could do was whimper as you pressed your head into the mattress. He was teasing you, working you up at an agonizingly slow pace.

"I love seeing you like this," his fingers still swiping gently through your folds. "All pliant and ready for me. I could do anything I wanted to you and you couldn't do a thing about it." The pad of his index finger caught lightly on your little bundle of nerves, causing you to thrash beneath him. Peter held your wrists tighter together, stilling you, before removing the hand from your pussy completely.

You could hear a slight ruffle of his boxers, so you peaked over your shoulder, coming face to face with his rock solid cock. It was leaking slightly and he ran his hand over it once, twice, before lining up with your entrance and he roughly slamming into you all the way.

You let out a strangled cry, never having taken him before without any prep, and you could feel Peter's hand come up to fist your hair, pushing your head down into the mattress to muffle your cries.

"Shhh, pretty girl. I know, I know."

Small tears had formed in your eyes, but you also loved the delicious stretch he was giving you. You started swiveling your hips slightly, looking for more friction, but the hand in your hair quickly came down to halt your movements.

"Ah ah ah, sweet thing. This isn't for you."

Suddenly, you felt him pull out completely, leaving you empty and waiting. There was a beat of silence, tension filling the air. You lifted your head to look over your shoulder again, when you felt him slam back into you all the way to the hilt. You tensed slightly at the intrusion, trying to muffle your noises with the mattress once again, but it was no use.

"God, she's squeezin' me so tight, fuck."

Peter's hips started to rocking into you at a quick, unrelenting rhythm, pulling all the way out then slamming all the way back in. You were practically seeing stars, and the few times he brushed against your cervix, you tried flailing about, much to Peter's annoyance. His grip on your hands was brutally tight, but you loved every second of it. Him taking anything he wants from you turned you on immensely and you could feel your high slowly approaching.

Each thrust pushed you up the bed, your nipples - now hard and erect - brushed against the sheets and against your top. Your toes had started to curl, and you had no thoughts in your mind besides Peter's thrusts. The sounds coming from you were incoherent, a mess of garbled moans and "please" and calls of Peter's name. If you got too loud, Peter would release his grip on your hip and push your head into the mattress once again, telling you to "shut up or I'll stop."

Your thighs were aching from slamming into the mattress's edge, but you hardly noticed, focusing in on each ridge and vein of Peter's cocking rubbing inside you.

"Think Harry could fuck you like this? God, I'd love to see him try. Tell me. Can he make you feel like this?"

You shook your head, unable to form words. Peter pulled out completely, giving your ass a sharp smack.

"Tell me? Can he get you there like I can? Huh? Can he have you dripping down onto the sheets?"

"No- no, no n, Peter! God no, only you can! Only you can make me feel like this-"

Your voice cuts out from the snap of Peter's cock thhrusting back into you. He leans down once again, placing all his weight on you and keeping your arms locked between your bodies. Now with both hands free, he reaches one into your hair, pulling your head back so he can suck hickies into your neck as the other reaches under your hips to rub circles into your clit.

"There we go, baby. Squeeze me tight, fuck." He was out of breath and his hips were rutting and you felt so helpless and full beneath him. Your climax was so close you could feel all the muscles in your body tighten, waiting to snap.

"Fuck, honey, I'm coming-" Peter's hips rutted one last time, impossibly deeper, and you could feel the hot liquid filling you to the brim. You were so close now, somehow feeling even more full, when Peter pulled out of you completely, standing up and giving you another smack on your sensitive ass.

You whole body was trembling and you jolted slightly from being so close to cumming but losing it in an instant. You whined lowly into the mattress, hot tears coming to your eyes upon the loss of your orgasm, but Peter just chuckled and flipped you onto your back. His cock was covered in mix of your juices and still stood tall and at attention. He couldn't look away from your pussy, now pink and abused and dripping with his spend. He knelled down slightly to get a better look, and ran his fingers through your wetness. His lip was caught between his teeth as he had his way with you, you lying helpless and weak on the mattress, desperate for any kind of attention. You pussy squeezed at nothing as he stimulated you and all he did was wet his lips and give you a small smirk.

"She squeezin' at nothing. That desperate, huh?" he tutted at you as he pushed a finger slowly into you. It was nothing compared to his sizable length, but you were just so sensitive, it made you squeal anyways. You rode his finger, rolling your hips hoping for him to put pressure on your clit, but he never did, instead his eyes raked over your whole body as you put in as much effort as you rolled and squirmed, chasing your high. He watched your face contort and your eyes plead with him as your chest rose and fell.

You were close now, one swipe on your clit could send you over the edge. You reached your hands down to help yourself get there, but Peter quickly snatched them up, holding them to the mattress. He gave you a mischievous smirk, keeping his steady, slow rhythm as he pumped your pussy slowly, enough to keep you right on the edge, but never send you over. You threw your head back, frustration and need sending you spiraling, when Peter pulled his finger out completely and stood up, staring at your spent body. He stuffed his finger into his mouth, groaning at your taste, making you clench again with need.

You look up at him and shiver at your situation, him holding all the power above you and you lying helpless and unsatisfied beneath him. You reached your hand out weakly, as he stuffed himself back in his pants, ignoring your pleas.

He looks away, grabbing his pants and tugging them on, pulling up the zipper and securing the button. Speechless, you lay there taking in deep, shaky breathes trying to hold onto your high in case he decided to give in and let you cum.

He gives one last look to your used body, still spread out for him on the mattress, before walking back out to the kitchen to finish the rest of the dishes.

"Bad girls don't get to cum," he calls back to you.