#minty writes

[emperor-palpaminty]

*taps mic* John Price but with kiss… *rolls dice* ten

UGH A DESPERATE KISS??? JSJISJKSJKS. i'm going with a lawyer reader again saying hi to john our pal our boy coming back from war hehe. not smutty just corny and cheesy

Kisses found here!

Every little noise had you on edge. The scratching of the tree on your window sounded like a key in the lock. The neighbor's kids racing down the hall were reminicent of excited foot steps, coming to seek you out. The candle you had burning smelled like his cigars, with traces of vanilla found in its scent. It was comforting. Warm. And so very John.

Of course, you knew he would be home soon. He had confirmed with you before he left about when the mission would be done- no information if its wherabouts or the target or the nature of the mission, but Captain John price had, no doubt, run off to be your hero once more. But as much as you loved that hero, the good-natured man being the natural badass he was, you were always happy when he came through the door. You were always happier to have your John back.

And he seemed always happy to come back to you.

Your shoes were abandoned by the door. You had spent too long standing in court, debating and presenting, and you were set to stand for just a little longer to finish dinner. A groan left your mouth as you turned your head. Tension pulled between your neck and jaw, easing it's way out and the muscle slowly becoming sore from overuse. You wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep, but your empty stomach was far more convincing.

You stirred the veggies in the pan, reaching back and turning up the heat. Your pasta and the sauce was done, now you were waiting on the vegetables. You made yourself eat them, really; your John was so good at cooking and it made you want to expand your cooking beyond your regular few meals.

Your heart bruised in your chest. Your John- it felt dramatic, always, to be standing at your door with bated breath and wrapped in your most comfortable robe, hoping that perhaps he would slip in during the night.

You could convince yourself that you heard his step. The scratching of his key at the door. You stared at it, longingly, watching it.

The knob turned.

You stared at it, heart jumping into your throat as the door cracked open and loving eyes looked in, the unmistakable grin coming to his mouth.

"Hello, love."

Your hunger abandoned you, leaving only shock and joy and want behind in your chest. You forced your legs to move and you rushed to him, and Captain Price met you halfway and dropped his bags at the door. He scooped you up, his face buried against your neck, facial hair tickling your skin. "Missed ya."

His palms flattened against your back and you nodded, all words becoming senseless tears and sobs against him. John turned his head, humming as his mouth kissed your face, lowering you. He was steadier than even the ground, one hand moving up to wipe away your tears as he kissed you, tenderly but somehow needing.

"'s alright, love. I'm here now." He said, between kisses, making up for lost time. "I'm home."

[cool-mint]

“Aw, Kiki, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he said, but Hifumi’s wide grin betrayed a childlike glee as Keqing presented him with a neatly wrapped gift. The shiny, blue and gold paper alone was worth more than a local harborman might have made in a month, and Hifumi admired the crisp folding that Keqing had done. Nothing short of perfection, as usual.

Hifumi tore along the seams and revealed a beautifully painted, custom container—for keeping food in, he realized, and he leaned forward to give Keqing a quick kiss on the forehead. “Fancy snacks,” he enthused, “you know me so well, lady Yuheng.”

“Just open it,” she said, trying to sound exasperated. Her smile couldn’t be wiped clean from her face, though, and she looked on with anticipation as he lifted the lid.

Uniquely designed, delicately made, and exquisitely packaged, there were six, koi-modeled taiyaki nestled in the box.

“I heard from the Kamisatos that taiyaki is your favorite,” Keqing said proudly, eager to show off her effort, “so I had these specially made for you. Each has a different filling that I picked myself. I hope you…” Keqing paused, opening her eyes and stopping short when she saw Hifumi staring at the treats with a pale face and a pinched expression. He struggled to maintain his composure like someone who’d been stabbed in the back. “Hifumi? What’s the matter?” Keqing placed her hand on his arm, concerned, and Hifumi remembered to breathe.

“…It’s nothing,” he lied, quickly shaking his head and holding back tears. “Just a little stomachache.” His voice was unusually quiet. Small, even, Keqing thought. His usual carefree air had disappeared, though he managed a small smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you for the birthday gift, Kiki.”

[a-mint-bear]

Comfort Object

Male Yandere x Reader

You see a really weird "job" post online, and the money seems too good to be true. But you aren't really in a position where you can turn it down...

You hope it doesn't get weird.

Parts: [ x / 2 / 3 ]

---

It was a very… concerning “job” posting.

But desperate times, and all that. 

It had shown up about a week ago, and it wasn’t hard to see why no one had taken the poster up on it as of yet. 

Bedmate Needed

● 11 pm to 6 am

● $25/hour up front

● Riverside Motel

● Room 44

● Not a sex thing

The last note seemed tacked on in a later edit, but it was still… not great.

You’d have to be either a gullible idiot or a desperate one to go for a job like this. Unfortunately, you were the latter. Very much so.

You couldn’t take another night on the street. It was getting so cold out. The promise of a warm bed was almost enough to lure you in on its own. But the money… 175 bucks just to sleep in the same bed as some internet creep?

Despite the clarification in the post, this had to be a sex thing, right?

You hadn’t gone that far, despite everything. It’s not like you hadn’t considered it… but the thought was too terrifying. Making yourself completely vulnerable to a stranger that could just decide you were less than a person and do whatever they wanted to you? You had to draw the line somewhere.

But at this point, you weren’t sure that there was a line you weren’t willing to cross anymore. 

. . .

The Motel wasn’t the seediest you’d ever seen around town but it wasn’t a place you would’ve voluntarily stayed at even two months ago. Back when you had options. 

Creepy post guy opened the door after a couple of knocks, with an awkward, pregnant pause between them. He wasn’t quite what you expected for an internet creep, but he was still a sight to see.

Really bad posture and dark, greasy-looking hair, with the darkest circles under his eyes you’d ever seen. He looked like he was about to pass out at any second, but he held it together long enough to gesture you into the room. 

“Hey…” His voice was low but he sounded nervous. And so, so tired. “You’re… You’re a little early. That’s…that’s fine. Uh, come in.”

You felt his eyes on you as you passed him, and it didn’t help your anxiousness. Not one bit. 

“Hey so, I-I really…I uh, need a shower.” He stumbled over his words with a breathy, nervous laugh. “Unless you wanna sleep next to a… fuckin’ sweaty mess all night. Do you wanna go first or…?”

You must’ve looked nervous because his eyes went wider, digging into his pocket.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to… Oh, uh…here.” He nodded, pressing the money into your hand. “Up front, just… just like I said. You just…just seemed like you maybe sorta needed one too.”

Some part of you must’ve still had an ounce of pride left because your whole body felt on fire with shame, embarrassment so consuming that you froze up. It had been a couple of days…

He just looked away, seeming like he was embarrassed himself. 

“I w-wasn’t gonna like… try to join you or peep on you or nothin’!” He tried to assure you, eyes darting in a panic and talking a bit too fast. “If I, like, go first? I won’t get mad if you change your mind and leave… I get it. I’m not gonna like… go after you or call the cops or nothin’ like that. I just…”

He stared at the floor, nails digging into his arm as he seemed like he was having trouble breathing.

“I really… I really need this.” He was so quiet, but his voice was so desperate.

You couldn’t really be considering this, could you?

He seemed more like a weird, awkward, sad guy than a real danger or some kind of pervert.

And you really did need a hot shower. 

It seemed like a safer bet to have him go first, if you were really going through with this. And it would give you a chance to look around the room for a spot to tuck away your pocket knife, just in case.

When he was in the shower, you did just that. The spot between the mattress and bed frame would be easy to grab at if things got hinky.

If things got all touchy-feely, as you suspected they would, him finding that on you or leaving it in your pocket when your clothes got tossed wherever would be really inconvenient. 

Steam rolled out of the bathroom when he stepped out, shirtless but with sweatpants and a towel around his neck. He was thin, almost alarmingly so, but you could still see muscle, enough to pose a problem should he decide to overpower you.

This was your last chance to back out, before you’d be vulnerable to this odd stranger.

But even if you left, the money wouldn’t last long, and it’s not like you had any other options. 

You were so grateful that the motel tub wasn’t disgusting, but you would’ve gotten clean regardless. Two days worth of sweat and funk was washed away and it felt so heavenly… But it was hard to relax when you were trying to stay hyper alert of any noise that could be that man trying to get in or even eavesdrop.

But…

Nothing. 

You finished your shower and brushed your teeth, doing everything you could to feel clean that a motel bathroom could provide. And there was no sign of the guy. 

But you had to go back out there eventually. You supposed you could lock yourself in here and get a full night’s sleep indoors, even if it was on the floor of a motel bathroom with your back against the door, but part of you just said “fuck it” and warily peeked around the doorway into the bedroom.

The lights in the room were dim, but warm. He was sitting on the end of the bed, one knee tucked into his chest, staring at the tv as the bright colors of a nightly talk show reflected in his eyes, but something told you he wasn’t really watching. His eyes met yours and you froze.

“It’s almost eleven…” He mumbled, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His hand ghosted over the spot on the bed next to him. “… Will... will you stay?”

So many thoughts raced through your head. What would happen if you laid down beside him? You could probably deal with sex… even if it felt a bit wrong. But if he wanted to hurt you?

Your brain reminded you:

What do you really have to lose?

When you told him you would stay, sitting next to him, you could see him relax. Just a bit.

“If you still want to leave-”

But you cut him off, almost afraid he would talk you out of it after you’d made up your mind.

Avoiding his stare, you told him you had nowhere to go.

The bed was cold, it might take a bit to warm up with the two of you in it, but it was the least of your concerns at that moment. 

“So it’s...” He’d spoken up so suddenly, you hoped he didn’t see you flinch. He was staring at the ceiling, seeming just a tiny bit calmer. “... it’s fine if you just… lay there or h-hold onto me, or play on your phone or whatever, anything is fine. Just… just don’t leave ‘til mornin’. Okay?”

A worrying pause, but you told him you understood.

And that was that. He laid next to you unmoving for almost an hour before you had the nerve to move at all, shifting slowly to your side to face him.

His eyes were shut, his breathing even, but somehow you knew he was still awake. It was like he was trying to sleep but it just wasn’t coming to him. He looked so worn down, like he could just keel over any second. It definitely made him less intimidating, but you weren’t letting your guard down, no matter how much your body was screaming at you to just let go.

Despite your better judgement, you wondered if he really was being genuine about this not being a sex thing. It was a relief, sure, but it just raised more questions.

Why were you here?

. . .

You’d stopped looking at the bedside clock a while ago. It had to have been hours by then.

Your anxiety and dread somehow felt quieter under the lull of impending sleep. Despite everything, your body was at least grateful for a warm bed and hot shower, and if you didn’t sleep there now, you didn’t know when you’d be able to sleep somewhere warm any time soon. 

Every moment that ticked by, you felt your resolve slipping. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just to let go… This whole situation was weird, but you just wanted to sleep.

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

He hoped against everything that he would just fall asleep.

Just this once, he didn’t want to have to follow through with it. But he was so damn tired. There was this ache behind his eyes that he could feel in his bones, his mind never stopped racing… 

He could feel your body heat in the bed next to him. You had either been very scared or very considerate, you’d only moved once since you laid down with him. 

He hated that he had to do this. He felt sorry for you, he really did. But it was drowned out by the buzzing in the back of his brain. The constant whispers in his ear. 

There had been so many before now, it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten caught. But this was a huge, dangerous city. Everyone in it was just a blip to anyone paying attention. 

He could feel their skin under his palms buzzing at the back of his brain. How their eyes stared into his, burning with betrayal, fear, helplessness. How he saw them fade away.

How it was the only thing that worked to let him finally sleep. The only thing that quieted the whispers, at least for a little bit. 

Some booked it after getting the money. Some just showed up and straight-up robbed him. Some tried to leave in the middle of the night, thinking he was asleep. But if they stayed and fell asleep, that was that.

He told himself that he gave them all a chance. 

If you managed to stay up all night, you’d be safe. But he really needed this… It was already day three, and he’d never made it past day five without completely losing it. Trying to fight this, it was too hard. The longer he stayed awake, trying to avoid what had to happen, the worse he felt. The louder the voice got. The deeper the ache in his bones. But the more often he did it, the easier it got. And that was worse in a different way. 

It was wrong. He wasn’t so deep in it that he couldn’t see that. The morning after, he always hated himself and what he did. 

But as the days went on, it would all creep back in. And doing it again felt less and less horrifying to him. 

You were scared. He could tell. And you had every reason to be, he told himself. But it just meant it would take you longer to fall asleep. 

He could wait all night. And if you made it the full seven hours, you weren’t what he needed. You’d be free from him, from this. Hopefully you wouldn’t come back, no matter how badly you needed the money.

He wondered what you meant by having nowhere to go.

But he tried not to wonder too much. It would make this harder. 

He could hear your breathing getting slower, your body relaxing into the bed. You wouldn’t last much longer. 

His eyes shot open when he felt you suddenly touch him, tucking your forehead into his shoulder. You weren’t quite asleep, a cuddler? He almost laughed to himself when half-asleep you looked a bit frustrated, like it wasn’t enough.

You muttered something about being cold, lazily scooting your body closer to him up the bed. He felt his breath catch when suddenly, his head was pulled to you, tucked into your chest as your arm circled him. He was suddenly the little spoon, but facing you. He could hear your heartbeat. 

He wanted to say something, wake you up or wriggle free to make what he had to do easier on you when you fell asleep. He felt a hand in his hair, playing with it and idle gentle nails on his scalp. 

It was… nice. Everything felt calm, the buzzing and horrible thoughts were still there but they were being drowned out by the warmth of your skin, the thump of your heart in his ear.

You were mumbling something. He held his breath, trying to hear.

You told him, or whoever you were dreaming about, maybe even no one at all, that he was okay. That he was safe. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. Something was different this time. He felt all his control slipping away, and for once, he wasn’t scared. 

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

You woke to a sunbeam across your face, and the strange man in your arms, sound asleep. According to your phone, it was 10 am. You were grateful for the extra hours in a warm bed, but would he be mad? Did he have somewhere to be?

You couldn’t remember anything past drifting off next to him, but the two of you were tangled together, he seemed so comfortable.

Now that it was over, and your anxieties were much quieter, you really got a good look at the guy. He wasn’t… unattractive, you supposed. He was all elbows and ribs but laying against your chest made him look so soft and harmless. 

Wasn’t the worst way you’d ever made 175 bucks.

You wondered if he’d shell out the extra 100, or if that would be pushing your luck. 

Either way, it would be best to wake him up.

Gently scratching at his scalp, you told him it was getting late.

You watched as his eyes struggled to open, and for a few calm moments, he just laid against you. After a beat, he gasped and jolted up, head swiveling around the room in a panic.

“I…” He seemed really out of it, almost scared. “I actually…”

He stared at you, eyes wide. You told him it was ten in the morning, hoping everything was okay and if it wasn’t, that he wouldn’t take it out on you.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, and for a moment you were sure something bad was going to happen, but somehow, it was even worse.

He was crying.

Breaking down, sobbing hard as he just kept staring at you. Even with the odd night you’d just had, this was somehow the weirdest part. 

Despite yourself, you asked him if he was okay. He pulled himself together and you were startled again when he touched your face, his thumb gently grazing your cheek. It was tender and sweet, and it was freaking you out a little. Just a tad. 

“You… It was you…”

All you could think to ask was if you should get going, maybe trying to make it seem like you had someplace to be, or were at least trying to be considerate of his time. But it didn’t seem like he was taking the hint. 

He grabbed your hands in his, the sudden contact made you jump. He pulled them to his chest, he was too close. The way he was looking at you…

“Can we… Can we do this again? Like tonight? Please?” He was practically begging, the look in his eyes changing. That nervous, achingly tired gaze was hopeful. And so warm.

“You can have the room, if that’s what you need!” he offered, maybe somehow having picked up on your current situation. “I can pay more too. Just p-please…”

He held your palm to his cheek, staring up at you.

“I need you.”

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

a bit of a different one from me, but i kind of liked how it turned out

that feeling when your new yandere was totally gonna off you but you were just too comfy

he's never gonna let you go. you're the only thing keepin him from killing again, ya know?

i don't have a ton of yanderes that actually kill, as odd as that seems. but this guy is one of them

he's not supposed to be a huge commentary on any particular mental health conditions, i did a bit of "research" into psychosis induced insomnia (using that term VERY loosely), but like does he hear voices because he can't sleep, or can he not sleep because he hears voices? who can say? certainly not I, the dummy who made him

i wrote this one pretty much right after my last big deadline ended, but it got reworked a bit cause it just needed some tweaks:

the yandere started out as tired but crass, kind of a dick, and when he switched after that good night's sleep it felt off. It felt more interesting if he was a bit pathetic and creepy, it felt like less of a red flag for the reader to stick around

the reader was originally going to be a straight up s*x worker that got hired by the yandere for him to kill, but it didn't really feel like my place to make that commentary on violence against s*x workers or to more or less soften it with a yandere love interest. it just didn't feel right for something so unserious

but ive been having horrible writer's block lately, so i thought i'd finally put this one out. i need to read/play some yandere stuff and get inspired. let me know if you have any recommendations y'all ✌️

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #94

Danny falls through a portal to the DC world from a natural portal that opened up while he was in mid fight with Skulker a fight that began at Vlads where the creep put a collar on Danny that kept him in ghost form, Vlad thought he’d force Danny to reveal his secret to his parents by taking away his human form. Looking around he’s in a dark city with dark smog colored skies. Unfortunately he’s stuck here as the portal closed leaving him trapped. He tried to find help but no one can see him in his ghost form. He starts tailing the vigilantes of this world and eventually follows one onto this space station through this tube (possessing inanimate objects sure comes in handy). He wasn’t expecting for the random British guy in a trench coat to see him.

[mintytealfox]

Holy CRAP GUYS!!! I JUST FINISHED WATCHING

HANGOVER SQUARE 1945 Thriller movie for Frederick!!

This one was W I L D OH MY GOSSSHHHHHHHHHHH 🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌

They POPPED OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOFF with this Deduction Skin FOR REALLLLLLLLLLLLL OH MY WORD

MASTERPIECE RIGHT HERE This skin is a 100000000000000000000000000000% times more tragic and beautiful to me now like HOLY

NOW~ BELOW are SPOILERS for the movie If you want to watch the movie before reading~ I just summarize:

So in the movie this guy has these blackout periods, that he has no recollection of, that are triggered by LOUD SOUND or LOUD RINGING

Normally he has a mostly calm demeanor with a burning passion for music as a composer, an extremely talented one~ He is soft spoken and horrified with the thought that he might have committed the murder, at the beginning of the movie, so he goes to the mental doctor to ask for help and to look into it, cause he had blacked-out for 24 hours this time, the longest period of time he has no memory of and thinks he could have done it during that time.

Anyway the doctor tells him to avoid music and to get his frustrations out and dealing with the stress in a different way, since music obviously isn't working, if he is reacting in such a dramatic way of blacking-out.

He obviously doesn't stop working on his music

But for a good portion of the movie he is being taken advantage of by this singer woman, that he thinks is in love with him cause of her purposeful honeyed words, etc. but she just wants him to be her composer monkey on a leash so she can climb the ladder to success.

ANYWAYS he finds out she has been using him cause he finds she is with another man behind the scenes after trying to propose to her.

SideNOTE: By this point he has already tried to strangle his friend, (a beautiful woman who likes him for him and cares for him deeply, who has been encouraging him to finish his great piece) cause she saw how poorly the singer woman treated him and she got mad that he is letting that happen. He was just gonna be angry and keep to himself until a load of pipes fall from a carriage and ring LOUDLY and that is the first we see him go into blackout mode!!

ANYWAY

He does lash out at the guy the singer lady was with but does leave without ending anyone, only to return after the loud crashing of his instruments after throwing stuff around his home. So in a blackout state he goes back and uuhhhhhh gets rid of the singer lady 🙃

ANYWAY he starts finishing his masterpiece and the doctor and police are on to him, despite him having zero memory of the events

then we get to the end, he has finished his music and is prepared to perform it but the doctor has found him out and wants to put him in a place where the composer won't harm himself or anyone else. But composer ends up showing up to his performance without the doctor PFF and its getting more obvious that he will do anything to finish this performance, and as he is playing he is remembering everything he did 🙃 and it gets to the point where he can't play anymore and the people are arriving and prepared to take him into custody (two dudes found the doctor locked in the closet so they let him out. So the doctor is there with the police)

Anyway he is at the point he can't play anymore and his lady friend takes over for him so the music is still going while he is in another room and he admits that he remembers now and they are all like "we know none of this was on purpose etc etc so you won't hang, we will just put you into a place where you won't hurt anyone else" but he realizes that they won't let him listen to the rest of the piece he created so he starts wiggin out and starts with chucking a lamp and stuff starts catching on fire as he runs out and locks the door behind him.

So now he is crying as he listens to the music until people start freaking out about a fire and the doctor and police that he locked in the room have gotten out and are trying to help evacuate everyone, so the music has stopped, this triggering the composer again and he goes running to lock doors so people can't get out (he doesn't get to all of them) and he is trying to get everyone to sit in the fire and listen to the rest of the music. Everyone is getting out anyway they can and he just runs to the piano to finish playing and won't leave despite his lady friend's pleading and the doctor.

So he dies in the fire playing his song til its very end orz

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

-does a checkmark- yup this has Frederick written all over it orz

-Issues with the mind -Music is everything -Good at heart but there is a side to him that is beyond his control -Taken advantage of -Is desperate -Loud Ringing plays a part with his mind state

Now with the skin I LOVE that red-ish fabric wrapped around his wrist and forearm cause he uses a curtain fasten thing for the strangling he does Then the hat he wears so he can hide his face and then the knife at the very beginning of the movie and he doesn't know where he got it

they even have the blood on the coat and the gash on his forehead aaahhhh

This is SUCH A FANTASTIC SKIN OH MY GOSH THEY POPPED OFF ON THIS ONE GOSH DANNNGGGGGGGG

I am still reeling from the movie so I am sure there is stuff my brain is still trying work out but DANG This skin is a 100000000000000000000000000000% times more tragic and beautiful to me now like FOR REAL FOR REAL

[tex-treasure-chamber]

Alexander Anderson x Santana Sangreal

🎨 artist is @mirthfulmoonshine ♡ please consider commissioning her, as you can see she is a phenomenal artist!!! She really brought this snippet of my fic to life!

The cathedral stood sleepy and silent as late-night London traffic growled and purred outside, abandoned by all save the Holy Spirit and the littlest of God's creatures scurrying undetected amongst the solemn, shadowy corridors. Whilst Santana and Alexander--- Alexander leading--- snuck in through the back door, the moon, full and heavy, peered inside the hallowed grounds with rapt attention via the stained glass windows to watch and bear witness.

Amongst the varying splashes of kaleidoscopic colour splattered precariously here and there as well as the crisp attention of the moon's silvery beams, motes of effervescent dust swirled dreamily, lazily, like refined ballroom dancers across the cool, cracked stone floors while the two carefully made their way inside and through its bowels to reach the heart of the building. Rows upon rows of winking, dancing candle flames, neatly aligned, stood watch by the front door, incessant in their mingling and dancing between whispers of wind within the confines of their ethereally glowing red glass holders, each born from meek entreating, each a living wish. They flickered violently with the draft of the door opening and closing before gentling and resuming their hypnotic undulating, their light casting Santana and Alexander's shadows along the far wall in one merged form.

They unanimously, silently, settled on a pew only a couple feet away from the confessional booths in the shadowy corner, the antique cherry wood creaking loudly under their combined weight but holding fast nonetheless before it's protesting cries mellowed out into a gentle groan before silence reigned once more.

Santana's throat tickled with a scratch they couldn't quite get rid of; they almost didn't want to speak in fear of whatever they would say being too croaky but it was clear from the way Alexander stared at their hands in their lap that he wasn't going to be the first if he could help it. Really, he looked halfway ready to spring up out of the pew altogether and bolt.

Several questions fought for dominance on the tip of Santana’s tongue, each as adamant as the next, some more confrontational than others-- why is your heart rate so high? Why are you acting so nervous? Why do I feel nervous? How do you know this place? Do you also think it's beautiful in here? Have you been here before? Have you snuck into a church with a vampire before, or is today special? Am I special?-- but finally, one took the plunge into existence.

"Why here?" She inquired breathlessly, flinching slightly as her own voice still sounded too loud in the heavy, reverent silence permeating the room.

Alexander flinched too and in the lowlight, Santana's slitted pupils grew round and wide as they noticed the skip of his pulse and the warmth blooming just under the surface of his sun-kissed cheeks, feline curiosity drawing them closer to him with a faint rustle of her dress and the gentlest groan of the hardwood.

Sensing her drawing near, Alexander turned his cheek to face her, silvery light reflecting into both of his glasses like twin moons. Santana stopped, fingers twitching as she stared at the reflection, irritated that he could see her eyes but she couldn't see his. Before she could give into her compulsion to pluck them off his face, he tilted his head and oh, there they were, those jungle eyes that never failed to make her think of home.

"I've a- a confession tae make," he whispered, voice a low rumble like that of the heavy lorries outside.

Santana tilted their head, enough to paint the side of their face in splashes of purple, red, and gold. "To God?"

"Nae." He corrected breathily, eyes dancing across their face, taking in every hue illuminating the inherent cinnamon warmth within their skin. "To ye."

Santana blinked and furrowed their brows, wine painted lips curling into a nervous half-smile. "I don't understand."

Alexander shifted closer, just close enough to feel the slightly rounded curve of her knee against the side of his thigh and when she didn't immediately pull away, he let out a brief bark of breathless laughter.

"I didnae understand it meself either," Alexander murmured, eyes never leaving Santana's face, "not for... well. Until recently, and when I finally did understand, it was too late to st--- no, I-" he bit his bottom lip and looked away, toward the row of prayer candles before whispering, "I didnae want to... to stop."

Santana froze as Alexander reached out and cradled their face, helpless to stop him, helpless to prevent the surge of unexpected warmth and hope from blooming in their chest. This was madness- whatever he was doing, thinking, saying, it was madness---

"I- I.... I..." Alexander trailed off, simply marveling the colours splashing across Santana's face, the way she let him touch her, how she didn't flinch, the richness of her wine coloured eyes peering up at him with such vulnerability.

"Ye are... ye- ye are exquisite, do ye ken that?" Alexander murmured, lips curling into a soft, wondering smile, blond lashes fluttering as gentle as dove's wings. "I've never met a creature quite like ye."

Santana looked away as they ran their tongue over their fangs. What was exquisite was the exceeding gentleness of his touch; they couldn't count the number of times they had felt these same hands wrap around their throat, slam them into walls, crack their ribs, all in the name of his God.

Now he touched them like this, like they were made of glass. Incredible, how two years could change everything. "Yes you have-" Santana began.

"Nae." Alexander, perhaps picking up on her thoughts, or perhaps simply adamant, shook his head. "Never." He repeated reverently. "Look at me."

Santana obeyed readily enough, always ready to look at him, the sound of his heartbeat lulling them into compliance. He sounded so sure, so earnest- his heartbeat echoed his words in a way they couldn't deny.

When their eyes met once more, Alexander let out a small, shaky sigh. "I love ye." His voice drifted through the hallowed halls like the last few lines of a hymn.

Something cracked inside Santana. Something they thought they had learned to hide better over the last two centuries. They stared at him, dumbfounded. "Don't do this," they whispered, hands drifting to settle atop his own, neither pushing him away or pulling him closer. "don't do this to yourself."

Alexander laughed softly despite the thunderous energy coursing through him. "It's too late," he laughed again, thumb idly brushing against her cheek, "I do. What are ye gonnae do aboot it?"

Santana closed their eyes. "Anderson-"

"Do ye love me?" He pressed, hands beginning to tremble.

Santana turned their cheek away. "It doesn't matter if I do or don't; this is going to have major repercus-"

Alexander carefully turned her cheek to face him once more. "Do ye love me?" He asked again, voice dropping into a faint whisper barely strong enough to blow out a candle.

"We couldn't come back from this-"

"Open yer eyes."

Santana obeyed once more, lost in the familiar hue of his eyes. They knew he could see all their thoughts jumbling and knotting up inside their head, knew he could see the despair and heartache, the longing, the one thing they swore they'd never give to anything with a pulse.

Indeed, Alexander saw it. But he needed to hear it. "Do ye love me, Zyanya?" He inquired, Santana's true name rolling off his tongue with practicised ease.

Santana's heart clenched at the sound of it paired with that question, eyes swelling with uninvited tears. They would be no Peter, but they needed him to understand their tears, the weight of their name, to understand what love from a creature like them meant.

"Do you know what the name 'Zyanya' means?" Santana whispered. "It means- it means 'forever'; 'always'."

Alexander leaned in and rested his forehead against hers, never once breaking eye contact. "Please-"

"I love you," Santana took a shaky, deep breath. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

[mono-socke]

part 2 to the trans fips story, this time ft. zeke and rhun

Zeke starrte perplex auf deren Fund, welchen dey gerade gemacht hat, im Bad des jüngsten der Brüder. Warum hatte er…?

Nachdem Klaus dey über mehrere Tagen hinweg so gut wie stündlich genervt hatte, dey sollte doch bitte mal nach Fips schauen, da dieser ihm seit einiger Zeit nicht mehr auf jegliche Art geantwortet hat, hatte Zeke schlussendlich nachgegeben.

Zwar hatte dey absolut keinerlei Interesse, was denn schon wieder für ein Streit zwischen deren Brüdern abging, da es dey auch nicht wirklich etwas anging, und hatte erst versucht Klaus zu überzeugen doch selber vorbeizuschauen, jedoch war dieser, laut eigener Aussage, zu sehr im Weihnachtsstress um sich Zeit dafür zu nehmen, und Rhun war ebenfalls zu beschäftigt, weshalb Zeke nun dazu verdonnert wurde.

Fauler Sack. So besorgt war er dann wieder auch nicht, was?

Eigentlich hätte Zeke auch nie zugestimmt, da dey normalerweise Besseres zu tun hatte, aber nach einer unnötig langen Diskussion gab dey schließlich nach. Warum auch die Zeit mit Klaus’ Dickköpfigkeit verschwenden? Es brachte doch eh nichts.

Genervt machte Zeke sich also spät in der Nacht auf den Weg zu dem jüngsten der Brüder. Wonach sollte dey überhaupt schauen? Ob Fips noch lebt? Bock darauf, ihn auszuquetschen, warum er sich nicht meldet, hatte Zeke jetzt nicht unbedingt. War schließlich auch nicht deren Angelegenheit. Dey selbst hatte sich in all den Jahren vielleicht ein oder zwei Mal bei Fips gemeldet, ihr Kontakt miteinander war schon immer etwas brüchig.

Dass Klaus sich regelmäßig bei ihm meldete, war für Zeke keine wirklich große Überraschung. Immerhin bekam dey selbst öfters Nachrichten von den Älteren. Und, ganz ehrlich, wenn Fips einfach aus Genervtheit nicht mehr antwortete, hätte Zeke ihn auch gut verstehen können.

Als dey bei Fips ankamen, lag dieser schon im Bett am Schlafen. Wenig verwunderlich, da es schon extrem spät in der Nacht war. Zeke beobachtete ihn eine kurze Zeit lang beim Schlafen, fragte sich erneut wonach dey überhaupt suchte, bevor dey mit den Schultern zuckte und den Raum verließ.

Jep. Lebt noch. Job erledigt.

Da Zeke ohnehin den langen Weg schon für sinnlos fand, dachte dey sich, dey könnte sich zumindest noch etwas zu essen mitnehmen. Jetzt, wo Zeke schon hier war. Damit es sich zumindest etwas lohnen würde.

Zu deren Enttäuschung, jedoch nicht Überraschung, war der Großteil, den dey fand einfach nur Karotten. Karotten und Instant Ramen. Was auch sonst? Wenig begeistert von den ganzen Möhren, begann Zeke die Regale nach etwas brauchbarem zu durchsuchen, passte dabei jedoch nicht ganz auf wo dey hingriff und ließ versehentlich ein paar Eier auf den Küchenboden fallen. Scheiße.

Das war jetzt nicht so geplant.

Fips hatte einiges an Chaos in seinem Haus, zumindest in letzter Zeit, da er noch nie unbedingt Meister der Ordnung war, und Zeke bezweifelte, es würde groß auffallen, wenn dey einfach wieder gegangen wären, jedoch wollte dey mal kein komplett rücksichtsloser Idiot sein. Zudem war es ja deren eigener Müll, und wenigsten den könnte Zeke schon wegräumen. Ausnahmsweise.

Also sah dey sich um, diesmal auf der Suche nach Tüchern zum aufwischen, doch etwas wie eine Küchenrolle fand dey nicht. Leicht genervt ging Zeke ins Bad, um dort die Suche nach Papiertüchern fortzusetzen. Doch erneut, Fehlanzeige.

Hatte der Typ denn ernsthaft nichts da? Kann doch nicht sein.

Auf die Idee, einfach Toilettenpapier zu nutzen, kam Zeke in dem Moment nicht, weshalb dey begann, jegliche Schubladen im Bad zu öffnen. Wirklich viel war in ihnen nicht, und der meiste Krimskrams weckte auch kein großes Interesse in deren. An einem anderen Tag hätte Zeke vielleicht aus Neugier sich alles genauer angeschaut, um möglicherweise etwas zum drüber lustig machen zu finden. Aber momentan war Zeke nur danach, einfach wieder zu verschwinden.

Eine Sache weckte jedoch schlussendlich doch deren Aufmerksamkeit. In einer der untersten Schubladen war nämlich im Grunde genommen nichts, außer einer Sache. Verbände. Und zwar einige.

Was? Wofür zum Teufel würde Fips denn Verbände brauchen? Geschweige denn, gleich so viele?

Wenn er sich irgendwie verletzt, konnte er sich doch wieder heilen? Komisch.

Sollte dey aber erstmal nicht weiter kümmern. War, immernoch, nicht deren Angelegenheit, weshalb Zeke extrem froh war, endlich Taschentücher zu finden, die Eier vom Boden zu wischen und abzuhauen.

----

Im Nachhinein schienen die ganzen Verbände Zeke doch etwas mehr zu verunsichern, als dey gerne zugegeben hätte. Denn gerade mal am nächsten Tag fing dey erneut an, den Sinn dieser zu hinterfragen.

Waren sie nur aus Prinzip da? Als Vorsichtsmaßnahme? Falls doch mal etwas passieren sollte?

Aber warum dann gleich so viele, als würde Fips sie regelrecht lagern. Als würde er sie regelmäßig brauchen und benutzen. Aber wofür?

Hatte er Verletzungen? Woher denn? Dey bezweifelte, dass es etwas in Fips’ Leben gab, von dem dieser lang anhaltende Verletzungen davontrug. Noch mal, wenn er verletzt war, konnte er sich doch selbst heilen.

Natürlich machte Zeke sich keine Sorgen oder so. Warum sollte dey auch? Vorallem nicht um Fips. Als ob. Und selbst wenn, was natürlich niemals der Fall sein wird, würde Zeke es nicht laut aussprechen.

Dass dey in der darauffolgenden Woche ab und zu nachts vorbeikam, war selbstverständlich ebenfalls rein zufällig. Nur um sicherzugehen, dass Fips gescheit schläft, und um deren Job zu erledigen. Reine Routine. Nicht um nach offensichtlichen, potenziellen Verletzungen oder Wunden zu schauen, die Fips möglicherweise haben könnte.

Welche er übrigens nicht hatte. Und das, obwohl der Verband trotzdem von Besuch zu Besuch weniger zu werden schien.

Was Zeke natürlich auch nur rein zufällig aufgefallen ist. Und nicht, weil dey jedes mal absichtlich nachsah. Das wäre ja absurd. Warum sollte es dey auch interessieren? Sorgen machte sich Zeke sicher nicht. Mm. Absolut nicht.

Das dey wenige Tage später Rhun einen Besuch abstatteten hatte ebenfalls nichts damit zu tun. Zeke wollte einfach nur mal wieder mit xier plaudern, wie es denn so bei Rhun läuft und wie es xier geht und so. Dass Fips dabei als Thema aufkam war zwar wirklich nicht geplant gewesen, doch lehnte Zeke es auch nicht ab.

Neben den üblichen kleinen Sticheleien und Witzen, erwähnte dey ganz nebenbei etwas über die Verbände die dey gefunden hatte, was von Rhun jedoch nicht ganz so lässig abgewunken wurde.

“Bandagen? Für welchen Zweck denn?”

Zeke zuckte nur mit den Schultern.

“Seh ich aus, als hätte ich ‘ne Ahnung? Was weiß ich denn, was der Hase wieder anstellt.”

Rhun rollte mit den Augen und schwieg für einen Moment, doch an xiers Gesichtsausdruck konnte Zeke erkennen, dass xier gerade ungefähr hundert mögliche Antworten durchging.

“Hat er irgendwelche Verletzungen?” fragte Minty plötzlich, und erst dann realisierten die beiden Brüder, dass sie scheinbar schon länger bei ihnen stand und mitgehört hat. Rhun starrte sie kurz grimmig an, als wollte xier ihr mitteilen, dass sie sich nicht einmischen sollte, schüttelte danach aber leicht den Kopf.

Minty ließ sich nicht von dem Blick abschrecken, sondern blieb weiter standhaft neben den beiden Wächtern stehen und überlegte wohl ebenfalls.

“Ist er trans?”

Zeke und Rhun tauschten beide sofort einen raschen, verwirrten Blick aus.

Ja, war er. Aber Minty konnte nichts davon wissen. Woher denn? Es war eins der Themen, die so gut wie nie thematisiert wurden, geschweige denn, vor anderen Leuten. Und die paar Male, die Fips sie getroffen hat, war es unwahrscheinlich, dass sie es von ihm weiß. Fips hatte es noch nie jemandem von sich aus erzählt, außer seinen Brüdern. Damals, im Kloster noch.

Und vorallem, warum spricht sie das ausgerechnet jetzt an? Weiß sie etwas darüber? Hatte sie eine Vermutung?

“Warum fragst du?” hakte Rhun nach und blickte sie an mit reiner Kuriosität und Neugier, allerdings auch mit leichtem Zögern. Misstrauen schon fast.

“Naja, viele Transmänner benutzen Verbände, um sie sich um die Brust zu wickeln. Damit diese flach wirkt. Ist aber extrem gefährlich,” erklärte Minty, ignorierte Rhuns Augen die sie immer noch durchbohrten und entweder tat sie nur so als bemerkte sie die Reaktionen der anderen nicht, oder sie bekam die ernsthafte Verwirrung wirklich nicht mit.

“Was weißt du darüber?” fragte Rhun erneut, diesmal schon etwas drängender. Als hätte das Wort ‘gefährlich’ etwas in xier ausgelöst, eine ganz neue Stufe der Neugier, allerdings war auch kaum merklich Sorge in xiers Blick. Zumindest soweit Zeke es beurteilen konnte.

Minty wirkte ein wenig perplex, woher denn dieses plötzliche Interesse von der Zahnfee kam, gab ihre Antwort jedoch relativ schnell. “Äh, also, wenn die Verbände zu eng sind, können sie einem das Atem erschweren oder sogar blockieren. Und die Haut an sich wird anfälliger für blaue Flecken oder Infektionen im schlimmsten Fall. Außerdem kann es sein, dass-”

Zu diesem Zeitpunkt hörte Zeke ihr schon nicht mehr zu. Dieses rücksichtslose Verhalten klang extrem nach Fips. Einfach zu handeln, ohne sich groß Gedanken über die Konsequenzen zu machen. Typisch.

Und obwohl Zeke gerne so getan hätte, als wäre es dey egal und einfach das Thema zu wechseln, konnte dey nicht leugnen, dass irgendein merkwürdiges Gefühl in deren aufkam. Warum würde Fips so etwas machen? Dass er häufiger unüberlegte und spontane Entscheidungen traf, die im Nachhinein extrem rücksichtslos waren, war nichts Neues.

Aber das war nicht unüberlegt. Wenn man den regelrechten Vorrat an Verbänden bedenkt, könnte man meinen, dass Fips das geplant haben muss, dass er das voll und ganz absichtlich tat.

Aber wieso? Warum würde er denn freiwillig seinen Körper so beschädigen? Und das auch noch wissentlich?

Zeke schüttelte den Kopf. Sollte Gedanken wollte dey gar nicht haben. Sollte Fips doch machen, was er will. Wird schon sehen, was er davon hat. Rhun schien ebenfalls in Gedanken versunken zu sein, da xier mehrfach von Minty gerufen werden musste, um auf sie zu reagieren.

“Zahnfee? Alles okay bei dir?”

Xier starrte sie für wenige Augenblicke wieder intensiv an, bevor Minty aufgefordert wurde, sich wieder um ihre Aufgaben zu kümmern, wobei sie natürlich schnell gehorchte und verschwand. Sobald sie wieder allein standen, beziehungsweise saßen in Zekes Fall, murmelte Rhun, “Ich muss mit ihm sprechen.”

Obwohl Zeke sich relativ sicher war, dass xier mehr mit sich selbst geredet hat, antwortete dey trotzdem. “Ach was. Um den Hasen musste dir doch keine Sorgen machen. Wer sagt denn, dass das was deine Helferin gesagt hat, überhaupt eintrifft?”

“Ob es der Fall ist oder nicht, die Möglichkeit besteht dennoch. Und wenn da wirklich etwas dran ist, bedeutet das nichts Gutes.”

Zeke rollte nur mit den Augen und ließ sich etwas weiter im Sessel zurücklehnen, was von deren Bruder mit einem weiteren, grimmigen Blick kommentiert wurde.

“Selbst wenn, der kann sich doch selbst heilen. Wo ist das Problem?”

“Das Problem, mein lieber Bruder, ist warum Fips das überhaupt macht. Es muss ja einen Grund geben. Nicht mal er ist so rücksichtslos.”

Den Witz der Zeke auf der Zunge lag, dass er vielleicht heimlich Masochist geworden ist, brachte dey lieber nicht. Einen Streit mit Rhun wollte dey jetzt nicht unbedingt erreichen.

“Ugh… Okayyyy. Was hast du vor?”

----

Als Fips aufwachte mitten in der Nacht, war es um ihn herum noch dunkel, bis auf das leichte Mondlicht, das durch eins der Fenster schien. Warum genau war er aufgewacht? Ausgeschlafen war er sicher nicht, da er sich vor gerade mal zwei oder drei Stunden hingelegt hatte. Es war auch nicht so, als hätte er einen Alptraum gehabt, der ihn vom Schlafen abhielt.

Es fühlte sich an, als hätte ihn etwas, oder jemand, absichtlich aus dem Schlaf gerissen.

Zwar wollte Fips einfach nur sich umdrehen und weiterschlafen, doch als er leise Geräusche, die wie Schritte klangen, knapp neben ihm hörte, öffnete er vorsichtig die Augen. Es war gerade so hell, dass seine Augen sich so gut wie direkt an die Helligkeit gewöhnten.

Das Erste was er sah, war das Gesicht eines seiner Brüder.

Zeke?!

“Was zum Fick?!”

Fips rutschte schnell weg von deren, und wäre Zeke nicht von sich aus direkt weg gesprungen, hätte Fips dey wahrscheinlich aus Reflex geschlagen.

“Dir auch guten Morgen,” meinte Zeke gelassen, wartete nicht einmal auf die Reaktion des Anderen bevor dey die Türklinke unterdrückte um die Tür zu öffnen.

“Was zum Teufel machst du hier?!” schrie Fips ihn fast an, immer noch verdattert und verwirrt. Seine Frage wurde gekonnt ignoriert, als Zeke sich schon bereit machte zu gehen. “Bin nur der Weck-Service. Viel Spaß euch,” antwortete dey, wobei der letzte Satz wohl an jemanden gerichtet war, der sich noch außerhalb von Fips' Sichtfeld befand.

Bevor er etwas erwidern konnte, war Zeke bereits verschwunden, und um die ganze Situation noch komischer zu machen, tauchte Rhun an deren Stelle auf.

“Und was machst du jetzt hier? Wollt ihr mich verarschen?” Langsam wurde Fips genervt. War das alles ein Traum? Schlief er noch? Was wollten die beiden denn jetzt von ihm? Dass Klaus ab und zu mal vorbeikam, ohne jeglichen Grund oder Ankündigung, war er schon gewohnt. Aber die zwei? Die meldeten sich doch sonst nie bei ihm.

“Auch schön dich wieder zu sehen,” sagte Rhun in kompletter Gelassenheit, und stellte sich neben das Bett, um den Anderen besser betrachten zu können.

Fips rollte nur mit den Augen. “Wenn das irgend ‘ne blöde Verarsche sein soll, hab ich da jetzt echt keinen Bock drauf.”

“Keine Verarsche. Keine Tricks. Ich wollte mit dir reden,” stellte Rhun fest, und bevor Fips widersprechen konnte holte xier etwas hinter xiers Rücken hervor. Verbände.

Wo zum Teufel hatte xier die her?? War xier seine Sachen durchgegangen? Was wollte xier damit? Oh fuck. Hatte Rhun etwas mitbekommen? Bitte nicht. Xier konnte doch eh nicht wissen, wofür er sie brauchte. Dann wiederum, was sollte er xier denn sagen? Wenn Rhun den Vorrat gesehen hat, wird xier ihm definitiv Fragen stellen. Oh Gott, nein.

Auch wenn Fips nichts sagte, um sein Erstaunen und seine Überraschung so gut es geht zu verbergen, konnte Rhun trotzdem die Bedeutung seiner geweiteten Augen deuten. Etwas so gut für seinen Geschmack. Rhun gab ihm einige Momente, um selbst ein Gespräch anzufangen oder eine Erklärung abzuliefern, an welchen Fips jedoch offensichtlich kein Interesse hatte.

“Wofür brauchst du die Bandagen?” fragte xier ruhig.

Fips gab seinem Brüder die erste Antwort die ihm einfiel, die auch einigermaßen logisch klang. “Wofür braucht man denn Bandagen? Schon mal was von Schnitten oder Prellungen gehört?”

“Ausgerechnet du brauchst doch dafür keine Verbände. Und wir wissen beide, dass du lieber Wunden durch Magie heilst, statt sie natürlich verheilen zu lassen.”

Shit. Hatte xier recht.

“Ja und? Ne Notation kann nie schaden,” versuchte Fips abzuwinken. Leider ohne großen Erfolg.

“Ich bezweifle, dass ein halbes Dutzend an Verbandsrollen als ‘Notration’ zählt.” Rhun hob leicht eine Augenbraue, wechselte aber schnell zurück zu einem neutralen Gesichtsausdruck. Fips beruhigen tat dies allerdings nicht.

“Warum juckt dich das überhaupt? Kümmer dich doch um deinen eigenen Kram,” kam von ihm zurück und er verschränkte die Arme, seinen Kopf lehnte er an die Wand hinter sich.

“Fips, ich frage dich das nicht, um dich zu ärgern. Ich möchte nur sichergehen, dass du keinen Mist anstellst. Sag mir bitte, warum du diese Bandagen brauchst.”

“Geht dich ‘n Scheißdreck an.”

Rhun starrte ihn nur böse an, was als Reaktion mehr als reichte.

Für eine Weile weigerte Fips sich zu antworten und saß nur stillschweigend da. Warum zum Teufel mussten seine Brüder ihn um diese Uhrzeit schon auf die Nerven gehen. Basierend auf Rhuns erwartungsvollen Blick, wusste xier doch eh schon, was xier hören wollte. Warum sollte Fips es dann noch aussprechen? Als wollte xier ihn foltern…

“Aus… privaten Gründen,” murmelte er irgendwann, und seine Augen wandte sich ab von Rhun, nicht mehr fähig xiers Blicks standzuhalten. Und erneut ein Zeichen, wie schwach er doch eigentlich war. Hatte er denn vor überhaupt irgendwas keine Angst?!

“Haben diese ‘privaten Gründe’ rein zufällig etwas mit dem Abflachen deiner Brust zu tun?” fragte xier nach und Fips hätte xier gerne geschlagen. Warum fragte Rhun ihn überhaupt?

“Wenn du's eh schon weißt, frag doch nicht nach.”

“Ich möchte deine Bestätigung hören, um keine unnötigen Vermutungen aufzustellen.”

Mit zusammen gebissenen Zähnen und eng gekreuzten Armen gab Fips eventuell nach. Wenn auch extrem widerwillig und nicht im gewünschten Wortlaut.

“Und wenn's so wäre? Warum interessiert's dich?”

Rhuns Blick wurde sofort sanfter, und hätte Fips hingeschaut, hätte er möglicherweise sogar Anzeichen von Sorge erkannt.

“Warum sollte es mich nicht interessieren? Du bist immer noch mein Bruder und ich möchte nicht, dass du dich selbst diesen Schmerzen unterziehst,” fing xier an zu erklären.

“Mir geht's gut, keine Sorge,” wies Fips xier schroff zurück und warf endlich mal die Decke von seinem Körper, da es langsam warm wurde. Ob wegen der Temperatur oder aus in ihm brennender Scham, konnte er nicht definieren.

Rhun setzte sich langsam ans Ende seines Bettes, um Fips genügend Platz zu lassen und ihm trotzdem vorsichtig näher zu kommen. “Hat dir schon mal jemand gesagt, dass du kein guter Lügner bist?”

Normalerweise hätte der leicht amüsierte Ton seines Bruders Fips ebenfalls zum Schmunzeln gebracht, aber in dem Moment war ihm einfach nicht danach. Er wollte über dieses Thema nicht reden. Weder mit Rhun, noch mit irgendwem anders. Und der Fakt, dass Rhun auch noch so interessiert tat, machte es nicht besser. Die hatten sich doch noch nie für ihn groß interessiert, warum jetzt auf einmal?

“Musst nicht einen auf möchtegern besorgt machen, mir geht's wirklich okay.”

Doch Rhun blieb standhaft, und je länger xier ihn so intensiv ansah, desto mehr kam Fips das Gefühl, dass Rhuns Sorge möglicherweise doch echt sein könnte.

“Geht es dir wirklich gut? Wenn alles in Ordnung wäre, würdest du nicht willentlich leiden,” stellte Rhun fest, und setzte xiers Erklärung fort, nachdem Fips’ Gesichtsausdruck leicht verwirrt wurde. “Deinen Rippen und Lungen geht es sicherlich nicht gut, mit wie viel Druck du auf sie ausübst.”

“Mir passiert schon nichts, ich trag schon keine heftigen Schäden davon.”

“Dass du dich selber heilen kannst, weiß ich. Was ich nicht weiß ist, warum du dass überhaupt machst.”

Fips rollte erneut mit den Augen, der Drang, sich diesem Gespräch zu entziehen, hatte ihn nicht verlassen, war aber nicht mehr ganz so präsent. Seine Priorität war gerade, Rhun abzuwimmeln, um seine Ruhe zu bekommen.

“Was glaubst du, warum ich als Mann meine Brüste verdecken will?" fragte er nach, eine Spur Ironie in seiner Stimme, als wäre die Beantwortung dieser Frage so oder so unnötig und offensichtlich.

“Deswegen musst du dich allerdings nicht rund um die Uhr mit diesen schädlichen Methoden quälen. Zu lange die Verbände zu tragen ist extrem schädlich, außerdem gibt es ohnehin bessere Optionen.”

Fips traute seiner Stimme nicht, nicht zu brechen, weshalb er erneut nur schwieg. Aus welchem Grund auch immer, schien der Gedanke an seinen Körper allein, ihm schon zuschaffen zu machen. War ja klar, dass Rhun da keinerlei Mitgefühl oder Empathie hat.

Verhätschelt oder bemitleidet zu werden, wollte Fips erst recht nicht, aber diese komplette Emotionslosigkeit und Ignoranz fühlte sich einfach nur nach Abweisung an. Als wäre es xier scheißegal. Dass xier mehr auf Logik als auf Gefühle fokussiert war, war ihm ja bekannt. Schließlich war das schon immer so. Und dennoch wirkte es in diesem Moment besonders kalt.

Entweder das, oder Fips selbst war zu emotional. Konnte natürlich auch gut möglich sein. Ein weiterer Aspekt, den Fips an sich nicht leiden konnte, war, dass er seine Gefühle oft nicht so unter Kontrolle hatte, wie er es gerne hätte. Aber auch dafür schien er zu schwach zu sein. Konnte er denn irgendwas?

Und obwohl er jegliche Andeutungen von Tränen direkt weg geblinzelt hat, in dem Moment, in dem seine Augen anfingen zu brennen, schien Rhun doch irgendwie etwas bemerkt zu haben. Xiers Stimme wurde sanfter als zuvor, fast vorsichtig.

“Fips, wenn dir das so zu schaffen macht, hättest du uns Bescheid sagen sollen.”

“Wieso? Damit ihr euch drüber lustig machen könnt? Ne danke,” blaffte er xier angespannt an.

“Das hätten wir nicht getan. Nicht bei so einem ernsten Thema.”

Natürlich wusste Rhun auch, dass dieses Gerede eher Wunschdenken als der Realität entsprach, da Zeke sich herzlich wenig kümmerte, wann Witze und Kommentare angebracht sind und wann nicht. Allerdings wusste Rhun auch, dass es zumindest von xiers Seite aus, ein ehrliches Geständnis war.

Nach ein paar weiteren Minuten, die in drückender Stille vergingen, forderte Rhun xiers jüngsten Bruder auf, “Komm. Nimm bitte die Verbände ab.”

“Wieso sollte ich?” kam von Fips zurück.

“Deine Rippen haben eine Pause verdient. Und wenn du sie nicht abnimmst, nehm ich sie dir eigenhändig ab.”

Allein, dass Rhun ihm diese ‘Drohung’ machte, zeigte, dass xier es ernst meinte. Und xier würde nicht davor zurückscheuen, die eben genannten Worten in die Tat umzusetzen, so viel war sicher.

Fips seufzte, gab sich aber geschlagen. Überraschend schnell, für seine Verhältnisse. Auf einen Streit hatte er keine Lust. Dafür war er dann doch noch zu müde.

“...Guck weg,” murmelte er nur, achtete genau darauf, dass Rhun auch ja wegsah, bevor er sich die Verbände langsam abnahm. Und Rhun hatte Recht, sein Brustkorb fühlte sich tatsächlich direkt besser an. Kam wohl davon, diesen unzählige Jahre am Stück durchgehend viel zu eng zusammen zu schnüren.

Rhun war mindestens genauso perplex wie Fips selbst, über die Geschwindigkeit seines Einverständnisses, war aber respektvoll und schaute mit nach unten gerichtetem Blick auf xiers eigene Schuhe, bis keinerlei Bewegung mehr von Fips bemerkbar war.

Und tatsächlich hatte er den Verband abgenommen. Der lag nämlich nun vor ihm auf der Decke und wurde mit Verachtung von ihm angestarrt. Wenn Blicke töten könnten, wäre der jetzt definitiv tot, obwohl es nur ein Gegenstand war. Fips Blick hätte alles und jeden umgebracht, so sicher war Rhun sich.

Bevor Fips auf dumme Ideen kommen konnte, nahm xier die Bandagen schnell an sich und stopfte sie in eine von xiers Taschen.

“Besser?”

“Mh.”

Körperlich war es eine Art Erleichterung, klar. Allein seine Atemwege waren freier und er konnte sich auch um einiges leichter bewegen. Aber gleichzeitig spürte Fips jetzt auch wieder dieses ätzende Gewicht an seiner Brust, das er seit Jahrhunderten verabscheut.

Rhun meinte es nur gut, und das wusste er auch. Aber das hieß nicht, dass er sich nicht unwohl fühlte. In seinen Augen wirkte seine Brust so viel bemerkbarer und Fips hätte sich am liebsten unter der Decke versteckt, um nicht von irgendwem gesehen zu werden.

“Falls es dich glücklich macht, in meinen Augen wirst du immer mein Bruder sein. Egal wie du aussiehst,” versuchte Rhun ihn aufzumuntern. Und dieses Mal schien es zu wirken, denn irgendwie schafften es diese Worte, ein Lächeln auf Fips’ Lippen zu bringen. Mehr als das Wort ‘Danke’ stumm zu formen, brachte sein Mund allerdings nicht heraus.

“Trotzdem bitte ich dich, mehr Rücksicht auf deinen Körper zu nehmen. Diese Verbände sind sowieso schädlich, den ganzen Tag damit herumzulaufen ist keine gute Idee. Wenn du reden willst, kannst du immer zu mir kommen. Wenn ich aber nochmal mitbekomme, dass du diese Dinger nicht rechtzeitig abnimmst, sorg ich persönlich dafür, dass du's bereust. Oder ich hetze Klaus auf dich.”

Kurzzeitig war Fips davon überzeugt gewesen, wenn Rhun und Zeke schon da sind, wäre Klaus auch keine Überraschung mehr. Allerdings war er nicht da, was Fips daraufhin deutete, dass ihm überhaupt nicht Bescheid gesagt wurde. Wahrscheinlich wollte Rhun in Ruhe mit ihm sprechen, und Klaus war jetzt nicht unbedingt die Ruhe in Person.

“Ich pass schon auf,” antwortete Fips, und obwohl seine Stimmlage nach wie vor leicht genervt klang, verriet seine Körpersprache, dass er nicht mehr ernsthaft genervt war. Nur, dass er dieses Gespräch ungern weiterführen wollte, was Rhun jedoch einigermaßen verstehen konnte.

----

Als Zeke deren irgendwann zu ihnen ins Schlafzimmer gesellt und prompt auf Fips’ Bett fallen gelassen hatte, legte dey einen Arm um Fips’ Schultern um ihn zu deren zu ziehen und ihm grob die Haare zu verwuscheln. Zwar waren deren Handlungen nicht gerade sanft, aber ausnahmsweise auch mal nicht von Hass oder Sticheleien getrieben.

“Na, kleiner Bruder?”

Fips versuchte relativ schnell sich aus Zekes Griff zu befreien, welcher ihn aber nicht losließ und einfach näher zog.

“Was für ‘kleiner’? Ich bin größer als du,” gab er dey als Antwort.

“Ja und? Ich bin älter.”

Zeke war schon immer stolz gewesen, diese paar Minuten älter zu sein als Fips. Somit war dey nämlich nicht ganz der Jüngste. Der kleinste von allen fünf war dey trotzdem.

“Ne Nervensäge, das bist du.”

“Tja. Immerhin bin ich der Einzige von uns, der eine Frau hat.”

“Wie viel du der gezahlt hast, das die bei dir bleibt, ist mir immer noch rätselhaft…”

Als er das halb beleidigte Gesicht seines Bruders sah, konnte Fips nicht anders, als zu grinsen.

“Hey!”

[marbarmars-arts]

YEAHHH NEW BANNER MOMENT

Do you think Fawful has any piano skills or is he just mashing the keys?

[emperor-palpaminty]

könig with kiss #7 or #22 is making my brain go djsvsishahwh

🫠 i am delusional

Hehehee, I did #7 for another fandom, but I think 22 looks fun especially with feral battle Konig!! It's very much like Konig to have an adrenaline high after a battle and rush in for a kiss. Konig x GN reader (Call sign Banshee because that's what I've been using and my brain won't give me another name lmao)

List 'o smooches found here!!

(TW for mentions of guns, fighting, wars, all the typical COD things)

His whole body was on fire and it felt good.

The guns, fires, yelling of orders, it was all a soundtrack Konig had become used to. Despite his large body he moved easily and quickly, even stealthily. He could feel his heart rate spiking and had long since lost his own sense of self, and gotten lost in the fight.

Banshee lived up to the callsign. They moved rapidly in the darkening day, eyes set on the end battle, the war-cries from their mouth a sign, a foreboding, of death. Konig fought alongside his team mate- hand-in-hand, death-in-death.

Despite his spiking of adrenaline and the burning of his lungs everything felt slow. Especially when he caught sight of Banshee. The molten rage in their eyes melted into smooth but aggressive movements. Confidence was in their every step. They were danger, wrapped in it, cloaked and welcomed by war and blood and savagery.

It made some part of Konig choke up- his heart skipped a beat, he admitted. The firing of guns ceased for a moment and Banshee turned to him, ready to follow the Colonel's orders.

Konig felt a low hum escape him as he strided over, long legs easily moving over carnage and darkness. The hood on his head fluttered in the wind.

Power. Death. Beauty. It was all here right in front of him.

He grasped the back of Banshee's neck with one hand and shoved the edge of his hood up with his other hand. Through the glove, the smaller operator was hot boiling to his touch. Konig yanked them in and leaned down, mouth pressing against Banshee's.

His ears rang, tongue pressing against theirs on the dark battlefield. A noise mangled in Banshee's throat as their fingers grabbed the front of Konig's shirt, grasping him. He could taste their pulse, smell the sweat. Adrenaline poured through them, open and honest, and Konig grunted into the kiss, deepening it as much as he could.

He pulled away after a moment that felt too long, keeping the hood raised. He couldn't see Banshee, but he felt warm and deep breaths fanning his face. "When this is done, liebling," Konig huffed, his thumb digging into the back of their neck. "You will be mine."

He dropped his hold. His low voice reverberated in the air as he walked, the hood brushing his mouth as he moved away. "I will see you at base."

His heart pounded. Those lips, those sounds, somehow made him feel more alive than a battle ever could.

[sexynetra]

It's Breaking My Heart (To Keep Breaking Yours)

"You do still love me, right?” “I don’t want to,” Minty repeated stubbornly, curled in Marina’s arms despite her own protests. “But you do.” Marina’s lips curled into a wry smile. “I love you too. For the record.” Desperate, Minty surged forward, pressing Marina against the stall door as she kissed her like she was her oxygen – like she would die if she pulled away for even a moment.

~~

AKA the overly dramatic exes to lovers cheater fic that nobody asked for but all of us deserve

(read on ao3)

[a-mint-bear]

Yandere that is menacing, threatening and ready for violence to get you to love them. Keeping you locked away, reliant on them, the whole shebang.

But you're just smitten. They're very suspicious of how damn agreeable you're being, but they're just delusional enough to want to believe it.

Them: "There's no escape... You're mine forever, darling."

You: "Promise?"

Them:

[ikeafinley]

I really love getting in to the deep stuff with gorillaz. I love going deeper into the meaningful albums, like demon days..

If you ever wanted to know.. demon days is a dystopian reflection of the world. a few of the songs really make you think...

i will now explain the meanings of each song.

last living souls - sort of self explainatory, depicts the theme of few survivors of an apocalyptic world..

kids with guns - the real problem of children bringing weapons to school and such.. damon was inspired to make this song because when his daughter was in kindergarten, a boy brought a knife and showed everyone..

o green world - a theme of alienation to the world, like you don't fit in, but there's still a glimmer of hope..

dirty harry - not too sure honestly, but i'd say it's somewhat about children soldiers. this would probably reflect on the character noodle, as she was a child soldier.. definitely some themes of an ongoing war..

feel good inc - a critique of the marketing industry, especially how corporations often prioritize creating commercially appealing, "feel good" products that lack substance, essentially manipulating consumers into mindless 'entertainment'.. including manufactured 'happiness'

el mañana - (it means 'the future'. most people get confused with 'the morning, but that's 'la mañana') pretty much the theme of overarching grief over an empirical threat.

every planet we reach is dead - how humans don't fix large issues like global destruction, instead trying to find a new planet (or anything similar)

november has come - the light of the world has been extinguished. there is nothing anyone can do when the world ends.

all alone - when everything goes wrong, all humans think to do is live in their head, in their dream world.

white light - the need to seek drugs or intoxication. basically, addiction. (kind of how if you do too much of either you probably begin to see, well, white light)

dare - i'm actually not too sure. it's hard to tell, but all i know is that shaun ryder is actually saying 'there', but his thick accent makes it sound like 'dare'.

fire coming out of the monkey's head - i think we all know. how people only want to see the good things in life, and ignore anything that makes things complicated or depressing.

don't get lost in heaven - explores the idea of being so focused on the concept of an ideal afterlife or "heaven" that you don't fully appreciate and live in the present moment, basically missing out on the beauty and experiences of life on Earth.

demon days - i;m also not really sure about this one.

In these demon days, we're so cold inside It's so hard for a good soul to survive You can't even trust the air you breathe 'Cause Mother Earth want us all to leave When lies become reality You numb yourself with drugs and TV Pick yourself up, it's a brand new day So turn yourself 'round Don't burn yourself, turn yourself Turn yourself around to the sun

this is kind of a description in itself. just talking about, well, personal 'demons'. it's like a summary of the story that belongs to the album demon days.

i really do enjoy going into the deep end when it comes to this stuff, and I kind of want to do this with other albums...

(this felt like writing an essay for school but in a much more fun way)

[chibittore]

Another amazing commission I got from @chknhero of my ocs Sasha and Rhia!! Thank you again for your stellar work! <333

[mintytealfox]

I finally drew the character that Norton helped inspire back in like 2020 so that is why he kinda totally looks like Norton still PFF cause I can't view him any other way yet pff

But here is Bryer

@nightwonder7 asked about him and now he is finally back AH

There is a reason he has been shelved for so long HE SCARES ME LOL (and the fact he looks like norton in my head oh my gosh)

[mintea-in-space]

Nihil and Sister Ghoul Clergy Au:

Detailed descriptions and some art under the cut, mostly their young selves before the other Papas came to power. I just felt like rambling

Nihil: Air/Water Multi (until the failed transition)

Born into a higher ranking family in hell, Nihil has always been the black sheep of his family. His lineage has served Satan and the throne for eons, but he never really lived up to his father’s expectations. He’s found by Sister after being cast out, and desperate to reclaim some of his honor, begs her to take him with her to the surface. Taking pity on him, (and seeing the perfect ghoul for her to manipulate) she agrees. He, Sister, and Psaltarian form a tight knit pack.

Still a stickler for tradition! Sometimes he fears that’s all he has left. The moment Secondo was born there was no doubt in his mind who his favorite son was. His little guppy is his best friend, and the two were two peas in a pod for a very, very long time. Swimming with Secondo in the lakes of hell are some of his fondest memories.

Air is his primary element and culture, but Nihil has one hell of a siren song on him. It’s been his undoing on more than one occasion, he often doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

Covered in short soft fur, with little bursts of fluffy feathers on his ears, elbows and shoulders. His fins were sharper. Almost everything was burned away in the failed transition ritual. His horns cracked and fell off, and his tail was so terribly mangled most of it had to be amputated. His gills charred and closed. This irreparably damaged his relationship with not only Secondo, but all of his sons. Primo angry that once again he had to step up to do what Nihil should’ve, Secondo angry because his father removed any and all commonalities they had, and Terzo would only take on his brothers’ pain and grief, and become angry that Nihil did that to them.

Sister Imperator: Fire/Quint Multi

Imp is one of the highest ranking ghouls in all of hell. She was an advisor before taking a leadership role, and was summoned by Satan himself to embark on an unholy mission on the surface. She is calculating, every step she’s ever taken has brought her here, and nothing will get in her way of spreading His message.

Or so she thought. Nihil was not her first choice, really. But it had to be someone. And he was swayed so easily, it would make her job that much easier. She and Psalitarian agreed on the end that he was perfect.

And then she realized she was falling for him. What started as manipulative seduction was quickly turning into real, true affection. It throws her for a loop at first, knocks her off kilter enough that all of a sudden they have a relationship, a real one. And one she’s fiercely possessive over.

When the events at Whisky A Go Goat happen, it takes everything in her to not burn the whole stupid bar down and spit on the ashes. She’s angry, of course she is, but as pathetic as Nihil’s groveling is she can’t help herself. Copia’s (and his twin’s) conception throws her for another loop, and both kits are sent back to hell, raised in separate families and in ignorance. Copia himself was raised by a fire pack, chosen by Imp herself, but none of them really know where he came from. It hurts her to send her sons away, and in her grief she isolates. That’s where Nihil’s failed transition comes in, and she realizes she can’t count on anyone but herself. At least Primo seems promising.

Is genuinely a good Mother Superior. She cares for mankind, in a slightly twisted way. Belief and awe give power, and as the ministry grows, so does Sister’s reputation. The humans of the abbey, her abbey, are under her protection. The outsiders…not so much. She doesn’t take kindly to disrespect, and the humans that she keeps close, (and one…special ghoul) are loyal to a fault. You make an enemy of one, you make an enemy of them all.

Has no fur. Her fingers and feet are blackened, like ash. Her horns and paw pads glow an eerie green. Fire is her primary element and culture. Can change her form to become pure light, a trait Copia inherited, often looking little a wisp of green flame. In the early days of the ministry, she and Psaltarian would hunt in the woods together, and Satan help any poor soul that was led astray by flickering colored lights after dark.

If you’ve made it this far, my ask box is open! I have so many thoughts about this concept that I can’t wait to talk about!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

winston my quant of billions