#nothing particularly bad but I always feel bad when im unable to do anything

[randomravager]

dude I hate being antisocial whenever im overwhelmed like im avoiding all human contact sitting in a corner with all my work around me like some sort of demonic summoning circle getting up in the middle of class to “go to the bathroom” which is code for walk around in circles and go full on flappy hands and then I feel bad because ive been pushing off my friends but like socializing and being a blubbering whiner is NOT something I have any energy reserves available for

[plush-rabbit]

Mental Toll - Brothers.

Request: My mom kicked me out, her 15 year old daughter out of her house. And I've been staying with my aunt but everything is taking a mental toll on me . Can I get a Beel, mammon, Leviathan, or asmo comfort?

A/N: Sweetheart, I’m sorry for this. It can be all so difficult for you, but please take care of yourself. Remember that nothing is your fault, you’re a child, you’re gonna be okay. Please don’t keep these emotions bottled up (im also assuming this is comfort on your situation, so yeah)

-

Mammon:

You’ll always have a place with him. He’s taken on a guardian role for you and while he might have hated it at first, he’s grown attached to you. Your guardians in the Human Realm don't matter. They decided to leave you, so now you’re here with him and he isn’t going to abandon you anytime soon. Mammon may not know what to do when he finds you crying and unable to speak, but he cares and he’ll try to show that to you, telling you that you can bunk with him for the night- you get to take his bed and he’ll sleep on the couch, you don’t have to be alone.

He isn’t exactly the best at comforting, using a bit too many words only to come up short, but once that initial nervousness wears off, he’s comforting. He’s taken care of a child before- granted they were much younger, and was then put into the care of witches- he knows what a scared kid looks like. He’ll offer what he can to you and let you rest your head on his bicep as he listens to you ramble about what happened. He won’t ever push for you to talk, but it might help sort out all those feelings that are bubbling up inside of you.

Of course it’s difficult for the both of you. He isn’t too knowledgeable about the mentality and fragility of a human mind and emotions but he can assume to be essentially kicked out of a parent’s home can be rough. He’s dealt with it before even if he knew the risks. He remembers the nights of pain and agony, the silent suffering that was thick in the air, and the lack of self-care. He comes in with a small meal every day, grabbing random vitamins that he thinks might be good for you, and just lets you rest. You see a more hidden side of Mammon, the one that cares too much, that acts almost like a parental figure and have a comforting smile and gives nice hugs.

You aren’t free to rest forever. He’s also seen what that kind of damage that can do to someone's mental health. He won’t ever pressure you to go out and do something you don’t want to, but you do have to move from the spot on his bed. You can hide yourself in his room for as long as you want, but you can’t live your life stuck in a bed. He knows that that isn’t good for anyone. You’ll have all the space that you could want and need, but you need to also talk to him and take care of yourself.

It’s his role as your guardian to take care of you and make sure that nothing bad would happen to you- you being in the Human Realm makes no difference to that. You’re still under his protection and he’ll take care of you as much as he can. Mammon can be brash, and have his sin take over, but it isn’t all that he is. He can be selfless and take care of you and let you just relax around him. There’s no pressure put on you and he’ll protect you. He promises that- he’s a demon, he’s lived for a long time and he’ll live for an even longer time and as long as he’s around, he’ll protect you.

Leviathan:

Coming to Leviathan is certainly a choice. He cares- of course he does! But, he doesn’t know what to do. Of course he knows how it feels, but it was different and so long ago and buried under memories and the fictional world, that he chose to forget that. It’s different with you. You’re a child who’s crying and at a loss for a parent that left them and it must hurt. He’s awkward, but he’ll sit by you and have a hand on your back telling you to take all the time that you need. He’s always here in his room after all, so you can always find him.

In the beginning, he doesn’t know what to do. Surely, there should be words or tips online that could help him translate his words and feelings better than “that sucks.” An apology feels so fake and unsure and he doesn't want that for you. You deserve something real, an actual meaningful interaction that might help you but he comes up blank. He doesn’t know what exactly he should say, so he just lets you rest beside him as he tells you his own encounter with abandonment and what helped him.

He tries to make you feel better in a way that helps him- via distractions. It helped him and maybe it could help you. You like to spend time with him so you both must share some type of interest in common. He feels so proud of himself when he offers you to read his manga or play some of his games. It’s a nice distraction and depending on what you choose, it can be a great way to just open up emotions and see what could effectively help trigger just that blockade of emotions for the both of you. You don’t have to do it, but it proves to be nice to just immerse yourself in some fictional tale.

Eventually, he starts to read what you read once you’ve fallen asleep. You gravitated towards it for a reason and it’s easier to talk to you like that. You get to be the hero, the protagonist or whoever you want, and he knows the struggles that they go through. He can help through an outside glance. It starts off simple, just him mentioning comments, prying for information about why you like a certain character and then in just a blink of an eye, you’re crying. You opened up and he’s by your side.

Comforting you is a bit awkward, but what could he expect. He sits by you and lets you talk through your emotions even if it makes no sense- your words are garbled and out of order- but he gets the main point of it. Leviathan understands that you’re hurting and who wouldn’t be. You’re a child, and the love of a parental figure means a lot. He might not be confident to have that type of relationship with you, but he can certainly be a big brother who lets you come into his room and sleep in a futon that he has when you’re feeling particularly lonely.

Asmodeus:

His eyes are sad, the usual glow and glimmer dimmed and his smile once beautiful and stretched, it pulled into a soft frown. Even in sadness, he still looks beautiful. With a gentle pull, he brings you into his room, and lets you set your stuff down on the floor. Asmodeus holds your face in his hands and gingerly wipes away your tears. You’ve had such a long day and it’s no secret that he has the best bath in the house, so he lets you go use it in order to destress, just enough to clean yourself and have time to gather your feelings and thoughts.

The room is suited to him and to only him, but he figures that you wouldn’t want to be alone. He has to rid some of the extra pillows on the bed, rid of the stronger scents in the room in order to not congest you more, and just declutter his room a bit more. It’s suited for him, a demon who can and lives for the finer things, but for you, he needs you to be able to breathe. The sheets are replaced, the towel that he has set for you soft and fluffy and the clothes clean and smelling like the house, a much better scent than the stitched to your clothes. He sends it to you via magic, wanting you to come to him when you’re ready.

When you approach him, he gives you a comforting smile and pats the bed beside him. He grabs your hand and massages it slowly, telling you that he’ll be here for you if you need anything. You can talk to him or choose not to, and he won’t pressure you in the slightest. You can take your time to talk to him. He feels a bit bad that he can’t tell you that everything will be okay, he knows it will, so sure of it that he’d bet himself on it, but it isn't what you want to hear. You just need to know that he’s right there by your side.

For now, you’re okay. You’re safe in his room and he likes being an older brother- at least to a few. He likes to spoil people rotten, and he gets to do that with you. You get to have everything good and shiny. You’re going to be okay when you stick with him, because he won’t let anything happen to you. He’s going to be your new home, your new big brother.

The process is tough, and he doesn’t rush anything. It’s subtle with Asmodeus and being ever so careful with his appearance, he makes sure to take care of yours. Mental health is so fragile and he just wants you to be okay. He’ll offer substitutions if certain activities can feel a bit too difficult for you, but he doesn’t push too much. You still have to take care of yourself and it might feel overbearing, but he needs to take care of you.

Beelzebub:

Family means everything to Beelzebub. At the very end of it, it’s part of the core of who he is. He feels your pain and is empathetic when you tell him what happened and he holds you close, letting you rest on his bed as he sits on the edge with a comforting hand rubbing circles on your back. He’s a demon, he knows just how cruel others can be, and yet, to see someone hurt someone as young as you, it makes him sick.

Your tears hit him hard and he can only hug you as you cry into him about your situation. There are too many emotions inside of you and it must be so difficult for you to handle all of them and he wishes he could help take that away, but he can only hold you and make sure that you sleep in a position that won’t hurt your neck once the tears have tired you out. It’s the little things that he does for you until you come to him and explain everything to him, and he’ll listen and won’t interrupt.

During this time, he tries to not be imposing. He doesn’t want you to run from him so he’ll give you time to come to him when you’re ready. He checks up on you often, knocking on your door and entering with a few snacks. He’ll stay if you ask him and talk to you about mundane stuff. A part of him wonders if that’s really what you want to hear, but he can’t say anything different. He doesn’t know what it is that you want to hear and he doesn’t want to pressure you any further. Anyways, it seems like you like to listen to him during these moments. Maybe, he provides a nice distraction.

He’ll always make sure that he has his phone on him in case you need him. He’s told you before that you can contact him whenever you want, and that he’ll come running to you. He’s sure it’s his big brother instincts taking over. He may be the sixth brother, but it doesn’t remove the fact that he has a twin. It’s only by his power that he ranks sixth. With you, he can be a big brother and be the cool and caring type that takes care of you. You can always come to him whenever you need something and he’ll make sure to give you whatever you want.

It comes to no surprise that you two develop a strong bond and you start to stick to him and he welcomes that. He won’t leave you alone unless you ask him to and he always makes sure to include you in whatever activity he has. During lunch, he’ll sit with you and listen to you and he’s glad that you're starting to feel better around him. You’ve both grown quite attached and he tries to do good by you. Beelzebub will give you whatever you need because beside his twin, you’re the youngest in the family. He’ll reassure you that nothing is your fault, that you’re only a child and that you’ll be okay. You’ve been there for him and he’ll be there for you.

[simpcxty]

You said you needed ideas so hear me out-

Sfw- trans! Reader (ftm) with Tsukishima who gives tough love and hates it when you have really bad dysphoria days. Snaps at anyone who misgenders you.

NSFW- oikawa would be such a tease when you get needy and shit. Like this fucker would tease you after you beg because he told you to beg.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!! You have given me brain fuel, and for that. I love you 🧡

I have never written something in one day. Thank you, you have truly inspired me 😩👏

TW for Tsukishima: deadnaming and misgendering, deadname is your choice, but Y/n will be for your new name and Y/d/n for your dead name because no dads are mentioned here. Gets a little angsty but they figure it out.

I didn’t want to be disrespectful to anyone and choose a name that might be someone’s new name or dead name.

Also I’m sorry if my writing isn’t accurate for a ftm character. I did my best and I really hope you like it!

I did my best with the tough love but it does get a bit fluffy tbh.

Kei Tsukishima

Kei always tries.

He really does. You guys had started dating before you came out, and the switch from your dead name to Y/n had him caught off guard.

So did the sudden shift of pronouns.

But he didn’t leave, so he was trying to do his best all right?

But he’s already bad with emotions, these are a different kind that he doesn’t even know how to approach.

So he gives it the same energy he does with everything else.

Today though.

Something was very odd about today.

His normal words had you flashing him your best fake smile and turning away from him.

And trust me, he could tell the difference.

But for now, he chose not to comment.

Will it be one of those days today?

You didn’t like to talk about your Dysphoria but Kei always picked up on it.

Or at least he tried to.

He even had a custom made chest binder coming in the mail that should be here any day now.

But when you leave the room after Kei’s not incorrect but painfully blunt statement went straight to your very soul.

He replays the conversation in his head to see where he messed up.

He found himself doing that a lot.

‘I get that you’re trying Kei. It just sucks that other people don’t even bother.’

‘I don’t really think it’s that big of a deal. They’re stupid people who don’t even matter at least I’m trying. Imagine if I wasn’t?’

It made you question everything.

Did he even want to be trying?

Why are you being a nuisance?

Why are you putting him through this. He’s got much more important things to be focusing on as a senior in college this year.

You’re finally being true to yourself and putting him through unnecessary stress aren’t you? What is wrong with you?

All of these thoughts and more swarmed your head as you leaned against the bathroom counter trying to catch your breathing.

Stop it. Stop being such a big crybaby.

Kei Tsukishima doesn’t need a crybaby.

Why does it have to hurt so damn bad to just be a girl? He’d like you so much more as a girl.

“Y/n..?” His voice sounds so tired.

Damn it Y/n. Get your fucking shit together.

“Please talk to me.. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that babe.. I just-“ his eyes almost seem dull when you open the door, only to brighten when you open the door and he gets a good view of you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that, I just- I don’t, I don’t know how to handle this sometimes, but I don’t want you to think I don’t care. It’s just new, and I can get adjusted-“ he feels his heart clench a bit when your next words come out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t just stay who I was, I’m sorry I couldn’t just be a girl for-“ and he’s grabbing your face with his palms as tears start to well up in his eyes.

“Shut up. Shut up, because I love you however I can have you. I love you. I just want you, please don’t get confused and think I have a preference because I just want you Y/n. I love you, no matter who you are. Please don’t forget that.” The tears streaming down your face slow as he kisses your head and wraps his arms around you.

“Im sorry Kei.” He kisses your head again.

“Shh, stop it. Stop apologizing. You have nothing to apologize for babe, we do need to finish getting ready for class though okay?” You nod and he smiles.

———

When you get to school, he can almost feel the anxiety wafting from you.

But he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around you and pull you along with him.

“You have me, okay? I’m just as much yours as you are mine babe.” You nod and expect him to pull him arm away, and he does, only to entangle his hand in yours.

“Tsukishima!” No- because he recognizes that annoyingly high pitched voice, and he’s not in the mood for it. Nor will you be.

So he picks up speed. Keeping his hand tight around yours and pulling you in front of him, only to wrap his arms around you slightly and speed up even more.

“Kei what are you doing?” You think he’s going to ignore you until he speaks up finally.

“Don’t want to deal with her.”

“Y/d/n can you-“ he stops right in his tracks and turns around to acknowledge the blonde.

“Alisa is it? See how easy was that? I wasn’t even sure. You know for a fact that isn’t the proper name that he goes by. So correct yourself, or don’t talk to my boyfriend or me. Got it?” She goes to speak again but Tsukishima already has you two walking again and his ears are flushed.

“Tsuki-?” You’re blushing and he tightens his grip on your waist.

“It wasn’t right, I’ll correct anyone who gets it wrong. Even myself.” You smiled and he manages to crack a small one.

Kei Tsukishima always tries.

———————————————————————

NSFW CONTENT AHEAD

I didn’t know if you still wanted a ftm character so this one is just written female.

READ RESPONSIBLY PLEASE

Characters aged up 18+

“Beg.” You scoffed.

“I don’t beg.” Your hips are rising as he pressed his thumb harder against your clit and you whimper.

“I won’t do anything more until you beg.” You rolled your eyes and attempt to sit up. Only for him to wrap a hand around your throat and push you back down.

“Toru, I don’t beg-“ he tightens his grip around your throat and you whine.

“I said, beg.” The way he demands it in your ear has your thighs attempting to clam shut.

Key word, attempting.

“Are you gonna listen to a single thing I say princess? Or am I gonna have to leave you here like this?” You looked up at him desperately and his grip around your neck loosens a bit.

“Please, please just fuck me already. I need it Toru, it’s been too long please just do it already-“ you’re cut off with whines as his tip prods at your entrance, but the pressure on your clit is still hard and you know he’s waiting for more.

“Please! Please fuck me! I need you Toru please!” He chuckles and pushes in agonizingly slowly.

“Like you said babe, it’s been too long. I need to go easy on your pretty pussy.” You whine at that.

“Don’t want you to go easy- just fuck me rough please!” Tears of frustration pool in your eyes and he laughs.

“Awe, don’t cry princess, I’ll give you what you want. You begged so nicely.” The sudden snap of his hips has you unable to respond to his taunt.

Yeah so what you begged. You’re getting dicked down by this god of a man. I’d say that’s a win.

His hands were both on your hips now as he thrusted into as if his life depended on it.

“Missed you so much.” He whines and a particularly hard thrust has you reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.

The new position has you sliding down on his dick so much easier, and the way he can just lift you up and down quickly has him whining more.

“M’gonna cum. Off.” He whimpers as you tighten and start to lift yourself off and grabs your hips. He’s never cum so fast but you don’t mind.

“T-Toru-!” He gasps as you tighten more and his hips thrust up desperately.

“Nevermind, I wanna cum inside. Please, please let me cum inside. You feel so good, just wanna cum inside your warm pussy hnngh~ please!” His hips are starting to falter and you know he’s getting closer as his hands tighten around your waist, lifting you up and down to meet with his sloppy thrusts.

“Please!” He’s begging and you almost laugh.

“Oh god please, just wanna cream inside you please!” He has to stop thrusting and you’d almost think he did cum.

But you knew better. His nails digging into your hips and his ragged breathing against your neck has you melting.

“Did you even really have to ask? Just cum babe.” Your words are so nonchalant that he’s whining and picking up his thrusts again.

“fuckfuckfuckohfuckyes” his voice is messy and it’s almost gibberish.

But as you tighten around him and his hips falter he’s moaning and whimpering into your chest and neck.

“So tight, ngHh shit~” he moans whorishly as you cum around him and cum spurts out of him and into you.

“You fuck me so good. So so good Y/n.” His hips are still sputtering and you’re wondering just how long it’s been since he’s actually gotten off.

“Thank you, Thank you so fucking much baby.” His cum is already spilling out of you and he’s still finishing.

This’ll be a fun cleanup.

He finally lays you down on the bed and lays his head in between the valley on your chest as he catches his breath.

“You begged.” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer, making you whimper while he stays inside of you.

“Do I need to remind you how you sounded when you wanted to cum Toru?” His head shoots up at that and his cheeks flush.

“But you’re so warm. So tight and comfy. I didn’t and still don’t want to leave.” He whines and wiggles his hips upward and you whimper. You can’t help but clench as he thrusts up again and whines again.

He keeps up the occasional thrusts. Neither of you have the energy for a second round. That much is obvious. But the bliss is overwhelming.

“Don’t want to pull out yet. Please don’t make me.” He whines and you just clench around him to tease.

“Fuck. Don’t do that. M’still hard and I’m ninety percent sure if you keep doing that I’m gonna stuff your already full pussy again.” You hummed and he wraps his arms around you.

“Empty threats. We’re both too tired, you know we’ll just go again when we wake up.”

“I’m gonna get you pregnant.” He says it confidently, you couldn’t even laugh at the statement. Because he probably and most definitely will.

“I mean if that’s what you want, I wouldn’t mind having a little Oikawa running around.” Almost all his stamina is back in that moment.

Congratulations you have unlocked

Breeding King with Toru Oikawa 🔓

Neither of you ended up sleeping that night.

[caramelcal]

her favorite protector

summary: its been weeks since Luke and Bambi last spoke after their argument at the club, and everything seems bleak. things take a turn for the worst for bambi, but it seems only luke can save her from this one. 

word count: 3.25k

requests: Anonymous asked:Hope your doing well and Omg you cannot leave us like that with his favorite club :( my heart is breaking. We need more!! We need cute fluffiness where Luke can change some of those controlling ways. Maybe a kidnapping or something? His worst nightmare coming true that his rivalry is using Bambi to hurt him?

Anonymous asked:For the next part of bambi and Luke, maybe while bambi is at Anna’s, a rival of Luke finds her and she’s really scared and even though they aren’t on the best terms Luke somehow finds her and rescue her

this gif...wow. he’s so pretty <3

ALSO?? LUKE IS ENGAGED TO SIERRA??? I FOUND OUT AND SCREAMED FR AHDFGHBNJHGFD IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM OMG

ᴅɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ- ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ғɪᴄs ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ. ɪ ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴏᴡɴ ʟᴜᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏ ᴅɪsʀᴇsᴘᴇxᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ғɪᴄs, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ sɪᴍᴘʟʏ ғᴏʀ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋʏᴏᴜ <3

Bambi hadn’t had a particularly great few weeks. She needed space, she knew that, and she knew that time away from Luke would do her the world of good. Anna had been nothing but kind to her, hospitable, not asking too many questions about why she was there and why Luke hadn’t shown up. Anna knew of Luke’s more controlling ways, so it baffled her that he hadn’t even acknowledged the girl being away for so long.

From what Anna had observed previously, Luke could barely breathe without the girl by his side; couldn’t rest easy. Neither could his girlfriend...if they could even call each other that anymore.

Anna, in all honestly, just wanted to know what the hell happened. She knew her best friend well, and she hadn’t stopped looking like you had kicked a puppy right in front of her. Hardly even speaking, barely going out, a very small and almost unnoticeable frown on her face.

It was a miracle that Anna had managed to get her out to the club last night. Sure, the smaller girl didn’t have the best time, but it was far better than any plans that she had at the weekend. All she planned on doing was sitting around and moping, the girl was miserable.

Maybe it was selfish, but she really wanted Luke to text her. She wanted some sort of proof that he still cared for her, and compared to his normal overprotective nature, this was so...different. It was almost as if he didn’t care for her anymore, maybe he moved on. Bambi didn’t know. What she did know of, however, was that Luke had a history of sleeping around. What if he didn’t bother coming back for her and just went back to his old ways instead?

It made her feel sick.

Maybe that’s why she barely got through the first round of shots before she was telling Anna she was going to head home, not wanting to be too much of a damper on her best friend’s night.

It seemed that the plan had worked. By the next morning, Anna was nursing an awful migraine due to her hangover and was sporting many new bruises that she didn’t know where they were from. At some point during the night, she had broken a heel off of her shoes, the discarded heel nowhere to be seen.

Anna still demanded they were going out to run errands the day after, dismissing her hangover but demanding that the smaller girl drove her. Surprisingly, she had gotten used to driving after so long of not even having her hands on a steering wheel. It wasn’t her fault that Luke had always preferred that he or Jacob drove her.

Granted, the girl didn’t have a car yet, but Anna was chill about her using hers.

“Anna,” The girl called out from the room, putting her converse on and tying them up, awaiting her friend to reply to her shout.

However, her reply never came, making the girl sigh. Maybe the girl had fallen asleep or just didn’t want to shout back due to her headache. She quickly picked up her purse and walked into the hallway leading into the main front room, “When are we leaving for-”

The smaller girl cut herself off, looking up towards where Anna should have been by herself but instead was pulled against a man’s chest, tears streaming from her eyes, absolutely horrified. A gun was pointed at Anna’s head, making Bambi still in fear.

“One bad move and this bullet goes into her brain, kid,” One of the men’s gruff voices warned, making fear hit the small girl like a wave. She didn’t know what to do, she wasn’t exactly prepared for it.

Bambi stilled, eyes traveling up to meet the older man in front of her, he looked powerful, must have been their leader. He was older than her, but couldn’t have been much older than 30. Small pieces of stubble decorating his jawline and a black shirt covering his muscles, stretching across his wide chest.

“Good move, princess. You’re coming with us,” The next thing the small girl knew was that the gun was no longer pointed towards Anna, instead, it was directly facing her. One pulling of the trigger and a bullet was going to lodge its way between her eyes.

Bambi didn’t have any time to react or notice the person behind her before their cloth-covered hand was covering her mouth. She was pulled against their body, restricted, unable to scream. Her mouth was dry with fear, the strong smell of chemicals hitting her nostrils as she breathed in. Chloroform.

Bambi’s eyes meet Anna’s tear-filled ones, her figure shaking lightly with terror. Anna was pressed down against the counter now, cheek against the marble, hands behind her back, and gun pressing against her temple. She could only watch, helpless, as her best friend was being manhandled out of the house.

Bambi couldn’t do anything either -weaponless- defenseless against these guys but she knew exactly why they were there. They were there to get her, to use her as a bargaining chip against Luke, just about the biggest cliché in the book. The small girl couldn’t help but wonder what they would do to her once they found out that she was useless, and no longer affiliated with the tall Australian. Would they put a bullet in her brain? Send her in a bag to the bottom of a lake?

However, the girl didn’t get much time to question or worry about this as the chloroform from the cloth weakened her as she was about the be thrown in the car, slumping against the man behind her, eyes closed, legs collapsing from beneath her, her consciousness slowly ebbing away into nothingness.

  By the time that the girl had woken up, her vision was blurry, and she was tied to a chair, her arms behind her, legs tied to an individual leg of said chair. She was in a warehouse that looked to be completely abandoned, a hole in the roof allowing cold air to waft about. It was freezing.

“Looks like sleeping beauty had woken up,” A scratchy masculine voice taunted at the small girl, standing tall in front of her, blocking her from seeing anything.

“What do you want from me?” Her voice was also scratchy, maybe from the chloroform, she wasn’t entirely sure. She still felt disorientated, barely keeping herself from staying upright as she looked at the man who stood above her, a sinister grin on his face.

“We don’t want anything from you, kid. We want your boyfriend’s head blown off his body.”

“I don’t,” Bambi cut herself off for a moment, coughing, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

The man above her scoffed, rolling his eyes as he looked back down at the girl again, “Don’t act like I’m stupid, princess. All you gotta do is phone him, and Hemmings will come rushing to save his little girlfriend.”

Tears gather in the girl’s eyes as the reality of the situation kicks in. It isn’t a dream, this was her real life. She didn’t want to be trapped like this, in this chair or this life. Luke didn’t care for her anymore, he hadn’t talked to her in weeks, why would he come and save her?

“He won’t come.”

“Don’t play me, princess. I’ve never seen Hemmings ever with a girl twice until you,” He pointed towards the girl, sneering ever so slightly, “You are the key to us getting his gang wiped off of the map. starting with Hemmings, then Clifford, then Hood and Irwin.”

Tears choked up the girl’s throat, her mouth opening as she thought of the fight that she had with him, then the weeks of not talking. The loneliness, the discord. Luke hadn’t bothered to reach out to her, to check that she was ok. Her head shook slightly as the strong emotions continued to arise, “He doesn’t love me anymore, it’s useless.”

The man’s hand gripped the edge of Bambi’s shirt lightly, his jaw clenching as he spoke harshly, spit flying out of his mouth as he threatened the young girl. The gun, which had loosely been held in the man’s hand was now pointed at her once more, “Didn’t ask for your fucking sob story, kid. Open your fucking phone and call him.”

Bambi was frozen in fear, it felt like ice was going through her veins as her phone was thrashed harshly into her shaking hand. At her hesitance to call him, the gun was pressed harshly into the skin of her ribcage as the man ordered again, this time with his words even more clipped, “Now.”

She knew the man wasn’t asking, it wasn’t even an order, it was a threat. This man was dangerous, and she was defenseless against him, if she even wanted a chance of survival she had to comply and hope that he prayed mercy on her and let her go when she realizes she isn’t of use. Shakily, the girl found Luke’s contact, swallowing back her tears, she pressed the call button.

It was silent in the big room in the warehouse other than the few rings the phone made out as the man made her put the phone on speaker. Surprisingly, only a few moments of the phone ringing, it stopped, connecting onto the call with the tall Australian himself.

“Hello?” Luke’s voice sounded out and the girl felt the tears begin to roll down her cheeks at the sound of his voice. It was familiar, it felt like home but at the same time, she felt her stomach clench. His voice was surprisingly soft, the only indication that Luke knew that it was his Bambi calling.

She knew that he had been expecting her to call most likely. She just wished it hadn’t happened like this. She opened her mouth to talk, but the words didn’t form as the tears fell harder, his voice sounding through once more, this time sounding more concerned, “Bambi? What is it?”

“Luke I-” She cut herself off, forcing her sobs to stay silent as she felt the man press the gun against her in annoyance, rolling his eyes before stealing the phone out of the girl’s hand.

“Hemmings, you know when I found out you had a new girlfriend I didn’t think she’d be quite as soft as this,” The man taunted as he stared down at the girl in front of him, “She’s not your usual type, is she? Where’d you find this one?”

“What do you want, Andrews?”

“I want you to meet me at the warehouse, you know the one I’m sure,” The man had rolled his eyes, not that Luke could have seen and a smirk rose to his face, “I’d tell you to come alone without any weapons but I won’t. Bring Hood, Clifford, Irwin, I don’t care. I can just wipe out you all at the same time.”

It was silent for a moment, “What makes you think I will?”

“Because if you don’t I’ll make sure the next time you see your little love she’ll have a bullet in her head. Wouldn’t want me to mess up her pretty little face, would you?” He looked back at the smaller girl again, sending her a malicious smile that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, “You have an hour, Hemmings.”

With that, the man hung up, tossing the girl’s phone to the floor and crushing it swiftly with the heel of his shoe.

The next hour was taunting for the small girl. The man didn’t leave her side, almost as if he was afraid that she would escape. At that time, she tried to distract herself with anything, but the cold warehouse was bare apart from the chair she was stuck to and the clock that stood high on the wall in front of her, taunting her almost.

The time slowly went by, and the girl lost hope. Luke wasn’t coming for her. Soon enough, the clock struck the time that would have been an hour past the phone call. Then another ten minutes passed. Another five.

“He isn’t coming,” The girl had spoken up to the man, which most definitely wasn’t the smartest thing.

The man continued to look straight forward, scoffing, “Shut up girl. He will.”

He seemed so assured of himself, of Luke. For a man that hated Luke so much, he seemed to have a lot of faith in him. The silence, which had yet again filled up the room was broken by the sound of someone talking through the radio, yet it was too broken up to hear.

The man took the radio off of the side of his pants, holding it up to his face, “Jason? Tyson? Can anyone hear me?”

Only more crackling sounds were heard until it faded off into silence. The man’s face twisted into a scowl as he cursed under his breath, getting his gun out and marching towards the door. He wasn’t very smart, clearly, leaving the girl unguarded and alone; she was all of the leverage he had against Luke.

The sound of gunshots made the girl flinch, eyes screwing shut as she began to shake. She didn’t want to be here. She just wanted to be home, in her bed. Not Anna’s guest bedroom, but her own. She couldn’t deal with this anymore.

The fighting got louder and louder until she heard someone battering right against the walls of the room she was in. The door heaved open, but she couldn’t find it in herself to open her eyes, too petrified of who could be there if she did. Hands pressed against her skin as she jumped, trying to fight them away but to no avail as they untied her bound legs.

“Bambi,” The man breathed out, and suddenly the smell of a familiar cologne clung to Bambi’s nostrils, her tears going thicker.

Her eyes opened to find Luke in front of her, crouched down, throwing the rope away that she had been tied to. She threw herself into his arms, hands going around his neck, one hand in his curls. He held onto her like he was scared she was going to evaporate right between his arms, holding her close against his body.

“It’s alright dove, I’ve got you,” He whispered, trying his best to comfort the sobbing girl in his arms. His eyes were closed, thankful to have the girl back in his embrace, and had no plan to let go of her anytime soon, “I got you.”

Calum, Ashton, and Michael had covered his back, successfully eliminating all of the threats as he had raced to get his girl, to have her safe with him once more. They had entered the room to see their best friend crouched down, practically encasing the smaller girl in his arms as she cried, him comforting her. They deserved their privacy, even after everything that had gone on, but they knew they needed to get out of here soon.

The girl’s tears subsided for a moment as she pulled away from the man, eyes darting around and voice panicky, “You need to find Anna, she was-”

“I know, she called me. She’s safe. We’ve been trying to figure out a plan to get you back for three hours now baby,” After his reassurance, he used the hand that was on the back of her head to push her towards him slightly, kissing her forehead as he played with her hair.

Soon enough, he has his leather jacket off, leaving him in only his black button-up, splaying the jacket across her shoulders to keep her warm. The drive back to their condo is silent, but that’s exactly how it should be. Luke doesn’t take his hand away from Bambi for the entire ride, despite how dangerous it could be. He just wants to remind himself that she’s there; back in his arms.

Luke had to admit, the condo felt warmer now that she was back in it. She sat on the counter in the bathroom, hand holding onto Luke’s as if it was her lifeline as he ran them both a bath, helping her strip down and get into the bath before sliding in behind her, pulling her against him.

Bambi basked in the warmth that both the water and the person behind her gave her. They barely talked for the first ten minutes, enjoying the comfort that the silence brings with it.

“I love you,” Luke murmured, pressing a kiss against her shoulder, stubbly beard itching her shoulder.

“I love you too, Lu,” The girl twisted around to face the man, pressing her lips against his, bubble-covered hand getting bubbles on his face. She doesn’t mention the beard, far too tired to make unnecessary conversation. She, however, noticed the guilty and solemn expression on her boyfriend’s face, quietly stating, “It’s not your fault, you know.”

“I should’ve protected you,” He whispered, hand reaching up to cradle her cheek, softly tracing patterns on her cheek with his thumb.

“No, you were giving me space, as I wanted. You were being respectful of my boundaries, and I love you for that.”

“It put you in danger, Bambi,” His hand that was around her waist pulled her closer when he said that, “I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll protect you.”

“No, Lu. You can’t protect me forever,” The girl said, kissing him on the cheek before speaking again, eyes never moving from the gaze that she held with the blue-eyed man, “I wanna drive, go out by myself without Jacob. I wanna go to the club-”

“Absolutely not,” Luke scoffed, shaking his head, his protective side of the smaller girl coming out.

“Luke,”

She looked up at him, head tilted slightly to the side with an eyebrow raised. He stared down at her, holding his ground before he looked away, letting out a slightly exasperated and breathy laugh, “Fine. But you only go to the club with me and you never leave my side. And you’re taking boxing classes. MMA, whatever. I’m teaching you how to fight. You need to tell me where you’re going at all times and sometimes let Jacob drive you but you still need to leave when low-level gang members are here-”

“Luke.”

“Fine. But you need to keep your distance from them, ok?”

The girl smiled beamingly, kissing him on the lips. She knew that from a protective boyfriend like Luke, that was the best that she was going to get, “Thanks babe, love you!”

Luke grumbled something lightly that sounded like ‘yeah, love you too’ as he rolled his eyes, the girl starting to clamber out of the bath. Her hands were starting to wrinkle due to the water, showing her that she needed to get out. However, she nearly slipped, thankfully being held back by her boyfriend, who helped her get out safely.

Slipping a towel over her body, she sent her boyfriend a sheepish smile, “How’re you expected to defend yourself at the club if you can’t even get out the bath, Bambi?”

“Oh shut it, Lu,” The girl laughed, making the blond’s face crack out into a small smile, “You coming or what?”

“Yeah yeah, give me a minute,” With that, the girl left, leaving the man to shake his head with a smile on his face. They were both back, with each other, where they belonged.

[docholligay]

Tracer/Emily “on a scar”

Talk about stuff I've meant to write for ages, this moment is finally out in the world. ANYWAY THANK YOU 1600ish words, all of my OW universe is here.

Tracer kissed her shoulder.

It should have felt good. She wanted it to feel good. She was incredibly attracted to Tracer, who had been a perfect lady over the past few weeks. Tracer, who was handsome and charming and gallant, who had treated her to dinner and walks in the park and made her laugh with all her stories, brought her flowers and told her she looked wonderful in purple, who had never invited herself up even though her eyes clearly wanted to be invited up.

But instead, there was a sort of deep grim that lapped at the corner of her mind. Emily was not good with women. She wasn’t good with anyone really, over the age of six, she thought, quiet and shy and awkward, the way she’s been all of her life. She wanted this, and she was afraid of it. She was not a casual person. Sometimes she wished she were.

The hard part, for Emily, was knowing when to tell someone. When she had been younger, it had been easy to blame her being trans for every ounce of hesitation she felt in a public setting, for every stumble through a conversation, and every bad date where her calls were never returned. It some ways, it had made things easier, to know that there was an immutable reason for such things, but life is rarely so kind, and she had met so many other women like her who glittered and had full dance cards, who lived life loudly.

So her own hated timidness had to, at least in some capacity, be an organic consequence of being Emily McNair, rather than anything else. It was disappointing.

But because she was Emily McNair, and because she had no idea of what it meant to be casual, and because she, like the silly fool that she was, was dangerously close to being truly in love with Tracer, she had to tell her. She wanted to tell her. Because if she was going to love Tracer, she had to know that Tracer could love all of her, even her history.

She tried not to expect too much of people in that vein.

“Em?” Tracer pulled away from her, ‘Can’t ‘elp but notice you don’t seem particularly engaged. You,” she seemed disappointed, “you not want to?”

“Oh, Lena, I do, but it’s only..” She tucked her hair behind her ear, “I have to speak to you, first.”

Her eyes darted around the room. “What ‘ave I done? Or not done?”

“No, no, of course no. It’s only me.”

“Alright. All ears.”

Emily was sure there had to be a perfect way of doing this, but over the twenty odd years of her life, she had never quite found it. Words were, most people would agree, not Emily’s strong suit, and generally she was as content to listen to others talk as they were. The handful of times she had gotten far enough to want to tell someone, it had never come out the way she’d imagined, and as Tracer looked at her, she realized that new and better speech she kept planning wasn’t going to reveal itself this time either.

“I’m trans. I just--thought you should know, before.” She swallowed and looked off to the side, waiting.

Tracer rocked back on her heels and looked at Emily.

“Is that all? Doesn’t matter, I don’t care about that,” she stopped for a moment, “Sorry. You know,” she tilted her head quickly and leaned forward, trying to put herself back into Emily’s gaze, “it’s just now occurred to me why me Dad put it that way when I told ‘im I was gay, can’t really think of a better way to say it--suppose it didn’t urt that ‘e wasn’t the slightest bit surprised by the news--but wasn’t helpful to me then either.” She took Emily’s hand. “Thank you for telling me. I feel all the same about you as I did. I think you are absolutely beautiful, and I cannot believe me luck, sitting on the sofa with you. You ‘ave no reason to be shy with me. Still buzzing about being invited up, love.”

Emily let her shoulders relax a little. “I’m shy with everyone.”

“I ‘ope sincerely that it’s not that people ‘ave been cruel to you.”

“Not, I think I’m just a bit awkward, I mean,” Emily shook her head. “Most people haven’t known since I left school. But I don’t much,” she fiddled with the strap of her dress, “you know, see women.”

Tracer smiled. “Right. Let me show you something.”

She slipped her shirt off under her CA with a speed and grace Emily would not have guessed was possible, leaving only her CA and a sports bra. The first thing she noticed were the bright toucans on Tracer’s bra. The second thing she noticed was that Tracer was as spectacularly toned as she might have guessed given her quick strength, and she blushed.

The third thing she noticed were two deep and heavily puckered scars, right at the edge of her rib cage. Her eyes widened and she brought a hand to her mouth, without thinking, and then immediately realized Tracer must be seeing her, after being so kind to Emily, showing shock, and she might think it was disgust--

But Tracer gave that loud peal of a laugh that Emily loved so much. “I know! Terrible, innit? Man shot me.” She scowled a moment. “Thought ‘e was me friend, once upon a time, but ‘e did disabuse me of that notion, as Fareeha put it, you know, love, for all the times she pretends she doesn’t understand a bloody thing I’m saying she manages to put up quite the English vocabulary when it suits her, right? Right, absolute tosh--listen to me waffling on, me Dad always said I could talk for England--what I mean is, love, you ain’t the only one with a thing or two unusual. Say nothing about the machinery. I’m loads of things to get used to, right? So you and I are of a kind. Me more than you, even, ‘ave no doubt you look better with your clothes off than me, if you don’t mind me saying so, right? So you never need be shy with me, for I’ll always do me best. I ‘ave no doubt that I will say or do something unbelievably bloody stupid, and when that happens, I want you to say, ‘Lena, you bloody stupid cunt,” Emily laughed and shook her head, “--No love, I’m being very serious just now--Lena, don’t do that” and then I won’t.”

Emily looked at her. Tracer’s eyes were bright and sparkling, but full of sincerity. Even now, she had that little resting smile on her face that Emily had come to realize just sat there, as unhappiness did on others. There was something about Tracer that drew Emily in, that made her feel safe, and suddenly it felt true, that someone like Tracer could not mind. Suddenly it seemed silly to Emily that anyone had ever minded at all. She had so many explanations planned out, ways to make it okay for Tracer and assure her that there wasn’t much different about Emily, but it all seemed completely unnecessary in the moment.

She had been honest, when she said she didn’t care.

Emily reached her hand out and brushed her fingertips against the deep crater on Tracer’s stomach, and Tracer did not flinch away from her touch, even for a moment.

“It must have hurt terribly.”

Tracer shook her head. “You know, actually, I lost a great deal of blood very quickly, which doesn’t necessarily recommend itself but I will say made the pain a bit of a non-issue.” She laughed again. “Honestly, Winston’s more traumatized by it than I am, I only remember little bits of the thing. Lost some of me liver though, and I am sore about that, as I make quite a bit of use of it,” she looked down, “ as you can see by the fact that I lack a bit in the definition department.”

“You’re very handsome, Lena.” Emily said, still looking at the scar, unable to look Tracer in the eye when she said it.

“Well, you’re kind to say so.” Tracer put her hand on top of Emily’s. “I still am keen to root about the cabbages, so to speak, and I want you to know I won’t be put off so easily in future,” she grinned, “but if you’d rather not tonight, I understand that, as well.”

“Oh, but I don’t want you to go!”

Tracer took Emily by the shoulders. “I can stay then, love. ‘Appy to ‘ear it. Can stay all night, if you like. But we don’t ‘ave to do nothing.”

Emily leaned forward and put her head on Tracer’s shoulder, letting herself fall into her embrace. Tracer kissed her forehead.

“We can stay just like this, love.”

I love you, she wanted to say, I love you, and I feel excited and happy and utterly terrified at the fact. But, she reasoned, she had tripped over her own tongue enough for one evening, and in this moment, she thought she would have plenty of other chances. Tracer would stay. She kissed Tracer’s cheek and settled into her arms as Tracer laid back against the couch.

“You know, the scars aren’t even the worst of it, with me. ‘Ardware neither.”

“Oh?”

“Right, there’s the entirety of me personality to deal with, as well. Messy. Can’t pay attention to save me own life, sometimes quite literally, depending on who you ask. Touch of P--well, honestly, just ask Fareeha, when you meet her, she’s got a list of me negative qualities, I think. Probably alphabetized. Maybe categorical.”

Emily felt herself melt into Tracer and allowed herself the joy of a laugh.

The cool wind of October shook the trees outside, and litter blew along the street next to her shabby little London flat, and Emily had never been happier.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

leaves

this started as a hc but turned into a long thing about geralt being a huge softie.  enjoy.

___

jaskier collects leaves that he thinks are pretty during the fall and presses them in his song writing notebook so he can look at them during the winter when all the leaves are gone. and, he'd never admit this to anyone, but he knows exactly where each leaf came from, and what he and geralt were doing when he found them, so they help him stay close to geralt in the cold months when he's away at kaer morhen.

geralt doesnt understand the fascination cause “they're just leaves jaskier” and gets kinda grumpy when jaskier walks extra slow during the fall to admire and inspect the leaves. but he secretly enjoys the way that jaskiers face lights up in front of their camp fire at night as he shows geralt each leaf he collected that day and tucks them safely into the pages of his notebook. 

jaskier used to show them to roach to inspect but after she ate a particularly beautiful one on accident he does not allow her anywhere near his precious leaves.

one year jaskier and geralt part ways a little earlier than normal, geralt deciding to begin the trek to kaer morhen sooner than he normally would due to a lack of contracts so jaskier goes to oxenfurt earlier as well. the leaves are just beginning to change color as they part ways. 

a few nights into the journey geralt is making camp for himself and roach when he sees a bright red leaf sitting on the forest floor, exactly the kind of leaf that jaskier would pick up and admire and wax poetry about before tucking it into his notebook. but jaskier isn't there, and geralt feels a little pang. he glares at the leaf the entire time he's setting up camp. 

the camp fire has burned down to the embers by the time geralt is ready to lay out his bed roll, but he can still see the leaf at the corner of his vision. he sighs and gets up, knowing that it will continue to bother him unless he does something about it. he picks up the leaf, brushes off the dirt far more lightly than he would ever care to admit, and goes to tuck it in to his saddle bag in the roll of parchment he keeps on the off chance he has to write a letter. 

roach snorts at him. “shut up,” he mutters back. “its just a leaf.” roach nuzzles his arm. “no, i don't miss him. im just...bringing him a souvenir. we had to part early this year.” another snort. “yes, i know you know. but he didn't get to see the leaves this year. i don't want him to be disappointed.” roach headbuts him as if to say, you dumb witcher. geralt ignores this, but gives her some nice pats before retiring to his bedroll. 

in the next town geralt buys a random book. he doesnt know what it is, he bought the cheapest one he could find. but he's not going to read it, he just needs something to keep jaskiers leaf in so it doesnt crumble to bits before the spring. he swears roach laughs at him for that. 

throughout his trip up to kaer morhen, geralt finds himself progressively walking slower, taking time to admire the leaves as the bard had once done. 

he picks up the second leaf a week later after a battle with some drowners. he’s heading back into the town, having come across his first contract in weeks, holding the head and covered in river muck and guts when he sees a perfectly yellow leaf on the ground in front of him. he picks it up gingerly, trying his very best not to get guts on it (and he nearly succeeds). if the alderman thinks its weird, a witcher coming back with a drowner head in one hand and a yellow maple leaf in the other, he doesnt say anything. roach does tho, whinnying the second she sees it in geralts hand. he ignores her, and presses the maple leaf into the book a few pages after the brilliant red one. 

after that he adds to the collection more frequently. an reddish oak leaf he finds on the ground outside of a tavern, a brilliant orange leaf he finds at his campsite, a yellowish orange leaf the size of his face that he finds along the road and so on. roach makes fun of him every time he reaches for the book, but geralt ignores her. they're merely souvenirs for jaskier, nothing more. 

collecting leaves slows him down considerably, but he cant bring himself to care. he's even disappointed when the last of the leaves disappear and the first snow sets in. 

but that doesnt stop him from collecting things to add to his book. he gathers different small pine branches, holly leaves and other things that he knows jasper has never seen before because they grow too far north. he becomes so caught up in his hunt for interesting plants that the snow is already falling thickly by the time he reaches kaer morhe, despite him leaving for the keep so early. eskel and lambert chide him for being late, but he ignores them, happy that he managed to fill most of the book with leaves for jaskier.

that whole winter the book remains in the bottom of geralts pack, wrapped carefully in his spare shirt. he thinks about it often, but doesnt dare bring it out for fear that one of his brothers will catch him and make fun of him for being a sap. he's not a sap, he just found some leaves for his friend. 

winter drags on far too long in geralts opinion and leaves as soon as the passes are clear, antsy to get back to his friend and give him the book. but on his way down he discovers yet another beautiful thing that jaskier would love: wildflowers. roach is slightly more appreciative of this because wildflowers are things that she is allowed to eat. geralt often feeds her them to see if she approves. if she spits it out or refuses to eat it, then it doesnt make it into the book.

in the space he has left in the book he fills it with wildflowers, sometimes going out of his way to collect them. there are buttercups, dandelions, little blue ones the color of jaskiers eyes, poppies, apple blossoms, daffodils, and even a few rose petals that he buys from a stall in a market. the book is brimming with nature now. he has to be careful not to lose any of his treasures. 

finally, he arrives at his and jaskiers meeting spot. he stables roach who gives him a headbut of encouragement and he grabs the book carefully wrapped in his shirt before he makes his way to the tavern, suddenly very nervous. 

jaskiers voice is already wafting out of the tavern as he draws closer, having beat geralt to the meeting spot for once, and geralt hesitantly steps inside, knowing jaskiers eyes will be on him the second he goes in. he’s overcome with thoughts, what if jaskier hates it? what if he thinks it's dumb? what if he laughs at him? 

he enters anyway, because he's a witcher for fucks sake and he can handle his friends scrutiny. immediately he sees jaskier, sitting in the corner, working a crowd. as always, jaskiers eyes snap to him the second he steps foot in the tavern and he winks. geralt gives him the smallest nod and heads to his table in the corner after ordering an ale. he tucks the book out of sight on the bench next to him. 

minutes later jaskier barrels over, eyes bright with the life of the crowd he had been entertaining. 

“geralt!” he exclaims. “finally. i thought you stood me up, you big oaf. i never make it here before you do, i thought you may have been eaten! although im not sure by what exactly, i don't know what species has a taste for witches, dragons maybe? well never mind, youre here now and you better have a good excuse for being so late, even im starting to get bored of this town and you know how i love towns...”

geralt smiles into his ale, he missed this, but he'd never admit it. his eyes flick over to the book sitting on the seat beside him, unsure whether or not he should give it to him. 

jaskier, being the observant fucker he is, notices. “geralt what do you have on the seat there? is it a monster head? you know what happened last time you tried to hide a monster head in a tavern, i thought the town would chase us out with pitchforks they were so angry! surely you wouldn't-”

“here.” geralt mutters, cutting him off, unwilling to listen to that horrible story. 

jaskier stares at the lump of black fabric on the table. “geralt, why are you giving me your shirt? its not really my style, i’m not one for black really, makes my skin look too pale.”

“open it.” he says into his ale. 

jaskier does, and stares at the book dumbfounded. “a history book? geralt you know that i am a master of the seven liberal arts, im a professor at oxenfurt! i have all these boring books in the library, i didn't need you to get me one, although it is very thoughtful of you to- oh”

geralt, tired of hearing jaskiers babbling, flips open the book, revealing the bits of nature he had spent their time apart collecting. jasper is silent, which geralt takes as a bad sign. maybe roach was right, maybe he didn't like it, maybe he'd wasted his time for nothing. 

“cause you....you didn't get to see...the leaves this year,” he mutters, looking into the tavern, unable to see the inevitable disappointment on jaskiers face. 

“oh, geralt,” jaskier whispers. “you collected all of these for me?”

geralt doesnt say anything, but his silence is enough. 

“this is why you were late. you were collecting these, for me.”

“its okay if you don't..like them” geralt bites out. 

“oh no no no no, geralt, they're wonderful.” 

geralt looks at jaskier and sees him touching the pine branch he took form the trees outside kaer morhen, tears brimming in his eyes. “you don't hate it?”

“no, love.” jaskier smiles softly. “i adore it. and i adore you. and id love it if you tell me about all of them, please.”

for the first time in years geralt feels something like a smile tugging at his lips and he picks up the pine branch from jaskiers hand, telling him how it came from the tree outside his window, the one that he looked at everyday as a kid growing up. the same tree that lambert once dared him to climb and he nearly did before being spotted by vesemir and scolded at. jasper laughs and sniffs the pine carefully before placing the branch back in the book. 

they pour over the book for hours at their table in the tavern. geralt cant remember the last time he's talked this much, much less about himself of all things, but jaskier is more than happy to listen. 

__

if you want to be tagged in future works of mine shoot me an ask !!

[cdroloisms]

more of the ghost!dream au!! still no good names for it, sorry (feel free to give me recs? maybe?) - picking off right where we left off here [x]. i’ve gotten quite a bit of this pre-written already as well as quite a bit planned - it’s definitely one of my favorite universes at the minute and something im really excited to show yall !! 

tw: death, memory loss (?), grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy relationship, grief, emotional distress, implied torture/abuse, aftermath of prison arc/pandora’s vault, dark(ish?) portrayal of c!sam (he’s one of the main figures of this au lmao but it grapples quite a bit w/ what he did in pandora)

Sam had only met Ghostbur once.

He never knew the former president well, had been busy with his own base during the Revolution and came back to the server in chaos after an ill-fated election and the man exiled. It hadn’t mattered, much, at the time; Wilbur was an imposing man, even in others’ recollections of him, and their words left very very little to the imagination. From what he knew, Wilbur was a smart man, cunning and silver-tongued, brimming with an unending fountain of belief that he could change the world with his words and his words alone; the server, overrun with memories of scuffles and battles and wars and countries Sam had not been around to remember, only seemed to serve as proof that he could. The few glimpses of the man that he managed to catch showed dark, tired eyes, a figure that stood almost as tall as he did, lips twisted in a perpetual tight-lipped smile.

Even as he spiraled, unexplainably, whispers of madness chasing the wind and landing in choppy fragments in the Badlands meetings held over Skeppy and Bad’s dinner table, those eyes never became less piercing, never failed to seem like they were burning through whatever and whoever they looked at. Sam hadn’t been the subject of that stare many times, but he remembers the bone-deep anxiety from having those eyes on him, even now.

Ghostbur, somehow, was the complete opposite; where his eyes had once been all-too knowing, belying their owners’ intelligence, a ruthless penchant for analysis that would split bone from marrow with a single sharp-edged glance, the phantom’s eyes were completely vacant. Instead of the glossy whites and rings of brown that would flicker warm to cool and warm again without warning, there was only an empty, all-encompassing blue.

He had floated over to Sam following a particularly difficult- session, with the prisoner, greeting him with an airy call of his name as Sam set off to his base for the night. He’d startled, then, still fresh off the adrenaline that was sent coursing through his veins each time he entered those blackstone walls, and started a sort of easy, unfocused conversation as they went along the path to the nether portal.

Ghostbur was - off, for the lack of a better word, even with Sam’s lack of familiarity of either side of the man - who he’d been before and what he’d become. His memories slipped through his mind like water seeping through fingers, and his attention span didn’t seem much better. Still, Sam listened to that echoing, otherworldly voice, nodded along as he eagerly recounted his day - or what he could recall from it, at least, until his feet had brought him along the same well-worn path to the nether portal, spitting purple sparks into the night.

“I’ll have to be going, Ghostbur,” he’d said through a thin smile, muscles aching under netherite as he pulled his shoulders back. The ghost’s head had cocked to the side, watching him with empty eyes, hands outstretched in front of him, palms up.

“Sam-” the ghost blinked slowly, “Are you sad?”

Sam froze. Ghostbur stared at him, face still kept in that same blank expression, eyes still an endless blanket of blue, but something - in his stance, perhaps, in the echoes of his words as they reverberated off of nothing, felt familiar, felt like looking up expecting a window and coming face to face with a shattered mirror - before the phantom’s face broke out in a weightless smile.

“Have some blue!”

The blue was dropped unceremoniously into his hands as he fumbled the catch and nearly let it fall to the ground; the clear, glassy surface of it tainted blue by his fingertips, the color swirling and darkening in his hands. He watched it, mesmerized, as blossoms of blue bloomed beneath his skin; his feelings, sharp-edged, became sea glass tossed in its shifting waves, smoothed, numbed, slowly sucked away in a pulsing chorus of blue blue blue-

“That’s quite a lot of blue,” Ghostbur chirped, and Sam blinked at the thing in his hands - navy, the same color as the sky above their heads clinging to the last remnants of twilight - “Would you like some more?”

“...no thanks, Ghostbur,” Sam looked back up, feeling through the new, blue-tinged fog in his brain, memories blurred at the edges but lacking the same burning sting of regret, “Good night.”

“Good night, Sam!” Wilbur smiled, blank blue eyes trained on his face even as Sam stepped into the portal and the world swirled away. “See you soon!”

---

“Sammy,” Dream walked - no, floated, forwards as Sam took a step back, unresponsive, “is there something wrong?”

Sam swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

He was a spitting image to Dream as he first knew him; the same tousled hair, freckled face, down to the ratty old jacket that he’d insisted on wearing at all times, made of a garish shade of lime-green and covered in customized patches that Bad - unable to resist his puppy eyes - had always ended up fixing the thing with. He had a gap in his teeth that had left him with a lisp for weeks back then, prompting Sapnap’s teasing much to Dream’s annoyance; his head tipped to the side, curious, familiar, and something deep inside Sam’s chest ached.

“Dream-” he tried, chest tightening further when the ghost’s face broke out into a brilliant smile, “why are you here?”

Why do you remember me?

He hadn’t talked to Ghostbur much, but he’d heard, to some degree, about how the ghost operated, how his memories were inconsistent at best, seemingly dependent on the emotions he’d attached to them while alive. How he went through the world in a state of unshakable bliss at the cost of his mind. Dream’s memories of him should’ve been anything but happy; why was he here?

“What do you mean?” Dream blinked at him, eyebrows scrunched, lips set in a small frown. His eyes, black and vacant, seemed to swallow all light, even with the sun streaming through the branches. “Where am I suppos’d to go?”

“Don’t you want to be with George and Sapnap?”

Dream’s face was blank, and the pit in Sam’s gut grew deeper. “Who’s that?”

“George?” Sam could feel his voice begin to tremble, eyes widening. “Sapnap? You know them, right?”

“No?” Dream drew out the word, looking at him like he’d grown another head. “Should I know them?”

“Should you- Dream, this isn’t funny- they’re your best friends! They were your best friends- Pandas? Do you know Pandas?”

“You mean like in the jungles? I haven’t been in a jungle before, Sam, d’you think we could visit one?”

“No- Pandas, do you-” Dream only looked at him with the same confused, uncomprehending expression, not even a flicker of recognition in his face; Sam could hear his heart thudding in his ears, a distant horror growing and wrapping around his throat, “How about Ponk? Alyssa? Calla? Bad?”

Each name did nothing to change the blankness on Dream’s face, the screaming thoughts in Sam’s head growing to a fever pitch when the ghost in front of him shook his head, hair whipping back and forth.

“Nope!” His hands tugged at his hoodie sleeves, the movement familiar in a way that had echoes of long-forgotten memories drifting to the surface, holding his heart in a chokehold and squeezing tight. “Are they your friends?”

“Dream,” he stepped forward - felt a shadow of a pickaxe held in his fists, the shape of the name in his mouth bringing forth the taste of iron and smoke and painting the inside of his eyelids red - and stopped in his tracks. The images melted away, left just a kid standing in front of him, rocking back and forth on nothing, and Sam was going to be sick.

“Who do you remember?”

Dream smiled as the question registered, directing a look of such open, unadulterated adoration his way that it stole all of the air from Sam’s lungs.

“You, dummy!” He laughed, airy and light. “Who else?”

---

He brought him to his base, because what else was he supposed to do?

Dream skipped behind him, entirely enamoured with Fran; he watched as she melted under his enthusiastic scratches at the tufts of fur at her neck. He’d always been a soft touch with animals, had brought home stray mobs more than a few times as a kid; Sam swallowed around his unease and trudged forward.

“Puppy!” He nearly screeched with laughter, and Sam looked back to see Dream with his arms wrapped around Fran’s neck, face buried in her fur as giggles made his shoulders shake. Fran gave him a sloppy lick on the cheek, making him break out into a new round of high-pitched wheezes, “Good girl! Good puppy!”

“Hurry up, Dream,” Sam turned away. “We don’t have all day.”

“Oh- m’sorry,” Dream’s voice quieted, almost seemed to wobble, and Sam bit down on his tongue as they continued to walk back. He- didn’t know what to do, not with this version of Dream, not the little kid he’d half-forgotten instead of the masked monster he’d become so accustomed to. It was so much easier to slip into the mask, let his voice drop cold and deep and empty, the role of the Warden heavy and comfortable like a set of netherite armor. He pointedly kept his eyes staring forward, looking for the edge of the forest they’d ended up stuck in so he could finally see.

A sudden, yipping bark came from behind, thoroughly startling him and sending a sword appearing in a flash of white. He huffed at Fran, looking at him with faux innocent eyes, really?

Unfortunately, both she and Dream had somehow fallen ridiculously behind, the ghost having lowered to the ground at some point as Fran sat and wagged her tail. He rolled his eyes, making his way back towards the duo, feeling irritation press in the form of a headache against the front of his skull.

“Come on,” he muttered, wincing at how clipped his words sounded, even in his own ears. Not the same Dream, Sam. You’re not in the prison anymore. He shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes narrowing as he came closer; Dream hadn’t just stopped because of some distraction, as he first assumed. The kid was leaning against Fran, hands twisted loosely in her fur, head tipped forward and leaning against her body.

“Dream?”

The ghost looked up at his voice, one hand going to rub at his eye. His hair seemed to be moving around less than earlier, lips twisted in a small frown.

“M’sleepy, Sammy,” he mumbled around a yawn, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He reached both hands up, palms facing the sky, as he stared expectantly. “Up.”

Aren’t you a little big to be carried? The retort came to mind as easily as breathing, echoed in his own head by his own voice, younger, exasperated but fond. His arms shook with the memory of a kid wrapping his arms around his neck and fumbling with his crown, with the feeling of a dead weight resting against the crook of his elbows, tall and lanky and far too light for its size, held in his arms one final time-

“Please?”

Sam shook his head.

“We’re walking to my base. Come on.”

[normal-thoughts-official]

I would have loved to see more interactions with the seelies- people who can’t lie but are crafty and secretive sounds fascinating. Think of the dialog! Alec going to magnus for advice since he has centuries of experience talking to them, Alec playing mental chess while trying to maintain peace. Would have loved getting more- but let’s be real, Cassaundra and the show writers weren’t clever enough to actually make any conversations like that of value.

SAME!!!!! honestly i would have loved to see so much more of the seelies. like bro do you understand that their culture predates the VERY EXISTENCE OF HUMANITY??? they are the ONLY kind of downworlders whose culture is completely detached from any human culture, not only because of predating it, but also because of the relative isolationism - which means human culture barely had any influence on their culture and history AS it developed

so like you can literally go fucking bonkers??????????? you can make ANYTHING. they have a whole ass society that doesn't have to have ANY ties to mundane concepts or history AT ALL. complete creative freedom. you could do ANYTHING! and don't get me started on the potential this has, within storytelling, to contextualize a lot of stuff modern western culture sees as natural or timeless as actually pretty fucking specific - like monogamy, cisheteropatriarchy, the gender binary, racism. all immortals have that potential of course since they can come from an array of different cultural and historical backgrounds but seelies in particular have SO much potential that is NEVER! FUCKING! USED! it all goes to waste and they are just a generic vaguely monarchic society that behaves literally exactly as modern western cultural standards. WHY. i'll never stop being salty, especially within sh where all this potential was there and instead they just villainized the seelies like no tomorrow for nO FUCKING REASON, and included a whole plotline about their ruler being a terrible power-hungry person and then proceeded to act as if that would have no influence on the seelies under her rule? thanks for nothing

like i know the seelie queen was so badly written that her own motivations even as a power-hungry wacko didn't make sense or were consistent (like why give simon the mark of cain for example, and for god's sake what kind of power-hungry crazy bitch gives their main enemy the power to literally kill her and destroy everything she has at the blink of an eye, like??? she literally tried to assist in her own genocide, it makes no fucking sense, i fucking hate it here) but if they are going to make her Terrible the least they could do was show how that impacted the people under her rule, especially if they are going to have meliorn be fucking tortured and either forced to display the marks of said torture or choosing to display them themself, like? please give your plotlines one singular thought

but of course it's easier to villainize seelies and reduce them to their obviously tyrannical ruler so they can go back to focusing on the shadowhunters and their issues. nevermind the fact that seelies are obviously equivalent to native ppls/third world countries resisting colonialism/imperialism in sh's stupid ass racial metaphor, which makes making their ruler a big bad unequivocally evil villain that is ruining everything A Choice. and a particularly choicy Choice considering they cast a middle-eastern man to play the most important seelie character. but if they are going to do that they could at least address how the people under her rule suffer and how that's a direct consequence of shadowhunter colonialism and interference, but why would we fkcnig thdo that!!!! when we can have love triangle drama or whatever

and tHEN there is the whole aspect of being unable to lie which is bound to have such an impact on their culture and history since they have to rely on other forms of communication to protect themselves - and considering the whole "tyrannical rule" plotline, to further the queen's agenda in the first place. and how telling the truth without preamble would probably be considered a huge display of trust in a society that has culturally developed so many ways of talking around things. like again the potential of the cultural and historic background for that society! it makes me go insane!!!

anyway all of that to say #JusticeForSeelies and #SeeliePlotlinesNow 2021 and forever. and YES i would have loved to see more interactions between them and other characters, particularly magnus because 1- admittedly i'm a hoe; and 2- magnus was clearly the one that had the most experience talking to seelies and that others relied on for that communication. he also seemed to be the most comfortable with them, which indicates there is either some sort of history there, or magnus just happens to feel relatively at home with the workings of their culture. which makes sense, because magnus also had to develop pretty similar defense mechanisms due to his, A- work as a warlock representative who has to interact with shadowhunters on the regular; B- history with having to deal with asmodeus, which required him to be very smart about what he disclosed and how, especially considering that he had to have been planning banishing asmodeus for a long time before he got to do it; and C- just history with abuse in general. we've seen the way he closed his heart off to new people; but at the same time, magnus is obviously an extrovert and likes to be around people in general. this meant that, in order to be able to both be in the kind of environment where he thrives and protect himself/his heart/his feelings, he had to learn how to interact with people while putting on a convincing façade, which requires pretty much the same sorts of wordplay and defense mechanisms that seelies use

magnus is good at wordplay, he's good at using talking to his benefit; we've seen that. he is also good at hiding and deflecting. he is notably not good at directly lying - every time he directly said A Lie such as "i am perfectly fine and not bothered by this at all :)" it was way less convincing than it was a clear display that he wouldn't budge. even alec, who has difficulty with social cues, noticed the lying and seemed concerned about it. so like. clearly his defense mechanisms were less lying and more dancing around subjects, directing conversation to safe topics, and guiding people to making certain assumptions and seeing sides of his that were safer and he preferred

so in that way it makes sense that magnus is somewhat in his element when dealing with seelies. i think "comfortable" is a strong word because this whole song and dance takes a huge toll on anyone's mental health and energy (which i think is something that could be very interestingly explored in seelies, their collective psyche, and their culture, the way they build relationships, etc. let meliorn have partners they feel 100% comfortable talking without preamble with 2k21), but it's something he is used to and a dynamic he can fall into without as much effort as others who would be second guessing themselves more and going slower, which clearly gives the seelies, who are used to it, an advantage

and like i know that i'm implying a confrontation or sort of situation where they are on opposing sides to seelies here, which i kind of am because i am thinking mostly about magnus' interactions with the seelie queen specifically, since she was the seelie he had the most meaningful interactions with. his interactions with meliorn were very few and almost never relevant, i barely remember them happening outside of generic downworld cabinet interactions tbh. but i don't just mean that because again, stop villainizing seelies 2k21

i also mean just generally that magnus would be in a more comfortable position talking to seelie strangers and slowly working into building a relationship and mutual trust. and just generally understanding them and the workings of their culture because he can empathize with the way they have built their social defense mechanisms. no one is 100% truthful to strangers, but seelies always seem kind of- analytical. and the cultural difference + anti-seelie racism makes them seem untrustworthy to most people, but magnus Gets It, so the potential for friendships! and the mutual understanding and the relative comfort around each other! and both parts understanding the enormity that is letting their walls down gradually and being more direct as time goes by. like.... aaaaaa

and yes magnus becomes a sort of reference on talking to seelies, mostly because he is good at "playing their game", but also making it a point to humanize seelies and making the other parts understand where they are coming from and how they feel :) and just improving their relations, particularly with other downworlders

im not going to get into alec because 1- the relationship between shadowhunters and seelies is already filled with oppression and a lot of complications, and particularly now that the seelie realm is politically fragile due to the loss of their ruler (however terrible she might have been), it would play into either white savior narratives or just straight up colonialism, especially given how alec as a leader already has a history of trying to build tutelage over downworlders (i don't care what his intentions were, it's still true, and although he's learning... well. he's learning, continuous action); 2- that would be more a relationship of opposition and i'm not that interested in that. but i would love to see seelies rebuilding themselves and their relationships and alliances with other downworlders particularly, and all the better if magnus is playing a part in that :)

in short:

more seelies

more magnus with seelies, especially friendships

more focus on the politics of seelies now that the seelie queen is gone

more seelies

more seelies

more seelies

[pumpkinpaix]

*waves* Hi! New(ish) follower, I followed for your posts about translation which are beautiful (especially the one about the imagery of "Zewu-jun") and thought-provoking; I don't have a good segue so here are some Salty Asks I'd like to know your answers to concerning MDZS: 5, 9, 10, 12, 23

oh, that’s so sweet of you!! thank you I’m really happy you enjoyed them 💛

okay salt incoming let’s see--all opinions are my own, no one has to agree with me, etc! and in true cyan fashion, this ask meme response actually needs a readmore  l m a o

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

fandom has not ruined any ships in mdzs for me, but it has made me way more critical of both wangxian and xicheng interpretations. not in the sense that like, I think they are bad! i love wangxian and xicheng, but I have very very specific feelings about them that I rarely see reflected in popular fandom interpretations. (because i am a picky bitch lol) 

wangxian tends to get the “they did no wrong and their love is righteous” treatment which I find disingenuous and believe directly contradicts the point of mdzs. i think that wangxian is fundamentally a very selfish relationship, and that that is, in fact, a good thing. i love that about them. i care so much about the assertion that your desires do not have to be perfect and righteous to still matter and be worthwhile. i don’t understand the impulse to make wangxian into a pure ship that triumphs and “deserves” a happy ending because they were right all along. I always felt like the entire point of mdzs was that--you can be the most terrible person, you can do unspeakable harm, and still be loved and deserving of that love. i think wangxian is compelling and moving specifically for that reason, and I often have to back out of interpretations that don’t acknowledge it in the way that i want them to. a lot of interpretations tend to idealize wwx and lwj in ways that I disagree with, and I’ve seen a lot of vitriolic pushback over anything that’s seen as even vaguely critical of either of them, when the point isn’t that “wwx/lwj is a bad person because he is selfish” the point is that “wwx/lwj’s choices are selfishly motivated” -- that’s not meant to be a value judgment, at least for me.

(i understand that a lot of this has to do with CQL’s influence, in which wangxian IS narratively rewarded for their righteousness, but as I’ve discussed at length, I think that positioning undermines what makes mdzs so powerful to me in the first place. not that i don’t love CQL!! i do love CQL--they have made a beautiful thing within the constraints that they had. but I think the novel is much stronger thematically.)

as for xicheng: i think that their relationship could be extraordinarily interesting if done in specific ways--I do not think they are well-suited to each other at any point in the canon timeline, but that they could be something really good maybe 10 years post-canon. I used to really like the idea of xicheng romantically, but as time goes on, I’m leaning harder into friendship. I think they have a lot of uniquely shared life experiences, and that it would be really good for both of them to have a person that they knew understood those experiences intimately: the pressures of leading a sect before adulthood, the grief of losing your family in a massacre and being unable to save them, the betrayal of someone who was once so close to you--that’s a lot. and i think there are very few people in their generation who could truly understand that. (for this reason, I also think lxc and xxc would be a very interesting relationship to see many many years post-canon, if xxc were ever revived) but during canon? no, absolutely not. i don’t think lxc has the slightest interest in jc, and i don’t think jc is particularly moved by lxc either, beyond a distant “yeah i mean, he’s the first jade everyone loves him sure moving on” kind of way. they both have their own shit to deal with, and before lxc’s seclusion and also before the core reveal, i think jc is too angry and vicious for lxc and lxc is too soft and toothless for jc. for someone to really convince me on xicheng, jc has to move towards some kind of self-forgiveness and peace and lxc has to move towards self-assertion. then I think they can meet somewhere in the middle of all that.

and like, it’s not that i won’t read silly fluffy aus or like canonverse stuff with them in a ship, but i admit that because it’s grown so popular but not at all in the ways that i personally want, I’m frustrated with and have retreated from reading it. unless it’s done in the specific way i like, it has too much of a pair the spares vibe for me to get behind it anymore.

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why?

jin guangshan, obvious reasons, next

ok well, i guess to elaborate even slightly: jin guangshan, to me, is the embodiment of the systems within mdzs that cause tragedy. he and chang ci’an are similar in that respect? like, the callousness with which they treat people they consider beneath them. what is nothing to them is ruinous for another, but why should they care? but jgs really had every advantage handed to him and chose to use that advantage to hurt others in really insidious ways and i can’t forgive that. jin zixun is also on this list, but like, still ahead of jgs bc he’s younger. -_- i suppose in that respect, i also very much dislike chang ci’an, but that’s a bit harder to quantify, given that we know almost nothing about him.

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

huh. uhhhh. i think i actually really like all of them? in the novel anyways. if we’re talking CQL, yin iron plot ugh.

12. Is there an unpopular arc that you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?

I think for similar reasons to 10, not really! I don’t see a lot of hate for any specific plot arc. Oh, maybe the incense burners? I completely unironically love those. people rag a lot on mxtx’s smut, but it’s very important to me for a number of like, personal mental health reasons lol.

23. Unpopular character you love?

xue yang! i think xue yang’s character raises a very interesting point about equivalent justice that kinda gets swept away in all the uhhhh murder. and it’s a point that has really big thematic repercussions, I think? but the way it’s worded makes it very easy to dismiss.

very briefly: xue yang is right when he says that 50 lives cannot pay back his finger, because there is nothing that can pay back that finger. no vengeance or sentence visited upon chang ci’an will ever be equal to the injustice that he visited upon xue yang. i think there’s a bit of naivety in the way xxc says “why didn’t you cut off his finger then? or his whole arm, if that wasn’t enough?” and the answer I think is very obvious--xy cutting off cca’s finger would not in any way be the same kind of trauma that xy losing his finger was, esp if chang ci’an knew who xue yang was. there would be an understanding in that: i am losing my finger because this man blames me for the loss of his finger. but to xue yang, a 7 year old? the pain he experienced was completely senseless and cruel and terrifying.

does that mean xue yang was justified? no jesus christ, but i do think it ties very neatly into the general themes of what it means to get vengeance, what it means to get justice, and how cycles of trauma eventually end. so i love him for that.

on a lesser note, but a similar one: i rather like su she, I think. there is something about like, jgy’s “all i had to do was remember his name and he was willing to die for me” that gets to me. there’s a huge tragedy in that somewhere.

wow i have no idea if any of that was coherent im very sleepy

salt asks

[izzyfandoms]

Sleepality - Inky Freckles

SHIPS: Sleepality, background Virmile and Thomgan, and mentioned Dukeceit (though neither of them show up)

WARNINGS: Remus sends one text message with an implied threat (not towards the recipient), very very background sympathetic deceit and remus (they aren't acc in any scenes), mild swearing

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread

Masterpost

Patton chewed distractedly on the end of his pen, tapping his foot on his bedroom floor as his eyes remained on his clock, watching as the seconds and the minutes ticked by.

Five minutes. Ten seconds.

Five minutes and ten seconds until the moment he turned sixteen.

January 15th, 1:46 am on the dot: the exact date and time of Patton’s birth. Precisely sixteen years after that moment, his soul would open up, and the bond between him and his soulmate would be formed, like an invisible string from one soul to the other. Any ink spilled on Patton’s skin would show up on his soulmate’s, too, and vice versa. Of course, nothing would happen if Patton’s soulmate wasn’t also sixteen yet, but it was still a big moment in his young life.

(If he even had a soulmate, that was. Most people didn’t, but Patton wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t hopeful.)

Four minutes. Thirty-six seconds.

Patton got up from his desk, pacing around the room a few times before sitting down on his bed, leaning back against the pillows and pulling his knees to his chest. Despite the coolness of his room, and the goose-bumps on his arms, he was dressed in a worn blue t-shirt and pyjama shorts, revealing as much skin as possible, just in case. His father, Roman, had gifted him a new pack of pens – the ones made specially to be safe for skin – and he’d picked out the glittery light blue one, his favourite colour, ready to write.

Three minutes. Twelve seconds.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Patton mumbled.

Three minutes. Seven seconds.

He yawned loudly, stretching and almost dropping his pen. It was late – much later than he usually stayed up. Patton was a well-behaved kid; he went to bed when his father told him to, never stayed out past curfew. He was usually fast asleep by 11pm at latest, so this was rather unusual for him.

Tonight was one of a kind, after all.

Two minutes. Fifty-one seconds.

The tick of the clock was maddeningly slow, every second seeming to take hours. Patton couldn’t wait for when he didn’t have to keep watching.  

He reached over to his bedside table, taking his phone and switching it on.

There was one new message, from his uncle Remus, sent a few minutes ago.

UNCLE REMUS

tell your soulmate if he ever hurts you ill rip off his dick and shove it down his throat

Patton sighed, switching off his phone and placing it back down beside him. He wasn’t sure why his uncle was so certain that he had a soulmate – he claimed it was because he was psychic, though his husband, Janus, had chided him and told him not to get Patton’s hopes up.  

It was hard not to be hopeful. Impossible.

One minute. Forty-nine seconds.

Patton chewed nervously on his lip, looking over his freckled arms and wondering what exactly he’d write to his soulmate.

Would a simple ‘hello’ suffice?

There was no point in writing a whole paragraph, especially when it was statistically unlikely that Patton even had a soulmate – and even if he did, perhaps they were younger, and their connection wouldn’t start until his soulmate turned sixteen, too.

One minute. Zero seconds.

A minute. A minute. A minute. Just a minute until Patton (maybe) talked to his soulmate for the first time. That was so little time – though it felt like so much.

Patton couldn’t help but burst into delighted laughter, and he was sure that if anybody was watching him, they’d think he was insane. The hope bubbled up inside him, like a cup overflowing with water, unable to be suppressed.

Fifty seconds.

He moved forward, and then lay down on his back, spreading his arms out like a starfish.

Patton tried to keep the hope down, tried to keep it from spilling over even more. Or maybe that was nausea, swirling in his stomach, but it almost felt too good to be that. Too happy. Too excited. Both, maybe.

Forty seconds.

Patton twirled the pen in his hand.

It slipped from his fingers, hitting the carpet with a quiet thump.

He bent down – wobbling slightly and nearly tumbling right off his bed – picking it back up and then sitting up again. He moved so his back was pressed against the wall, and tilted his head up to look at the pattern at the ceiling, counting each swirl.

He glanced back at the clock.

Twenty seconds.

His heart thumped loudly in his chest, and his eyes remained on the clock, watching it tick.

Ten seconds.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Zero.

Zero. Zero. Zero.

Patton sat up straight, squeezing the pen tightly, so tightly that his nails dug into his palm.

He pulled off the cap, dropping it on the bed beside him and holding the tip just above his wrist. His hand shook (nervousness or excitement? Both) as he pondered what to write for another moment.

He pressed the pen to his skin.

Hello?

Hopefully that was good enough.

Patton waited a few seconds, almost a whole minute, and then sighed, leaning back so his head hit the wall and closing his eyes. He was disappointed, but he knew that it was his own fault. He shouldn’t have let himself get so hopeful. Maybe he didn’t have a soulmate – that was alright, his uncles weren’t soulmates and yet they were wonderfully happy together.

(But his brother, Emile, did have a soulmate, and there was something amazing about the way he and Virgil could practically read each other’s minds, communicating effortlessly without saying a word. Patton wanted that. He really, desperately wanted that, more than anything else in the world.)

He wouldn’t cry.  

He wanted to cry, but he wouldn’t.

His lower lip trembled.

All of a sudden, Patton felt a funny sensation on his wrist, like someone else was writing on it – the non-existent pen so light on his skin he almost couldn’t feel it. Almost.

Patton’s eyes shot open, and he immediately lifted his wrist to stare at it, wide-eyed.

His breath stuttered at the words now written in black ink just below his greeting.

holy shit

Before Patton could truly process what was going on, before he could regain his breath, the sensation resumed, and more words began to appear below those first ones.

hi

guess im ur soulmate lol

Patton couldn’t help but giggle, practically vibrating with excitement.

He picked his pen back up, ignoring the slight stain he’d left on his bedsheets. He’d spilt enough juice and milk on his bed to care about one little stain, especially right now, when he had a much more important thing to focus on.

Oh my gosh!!!!!!

Soulmate!!!

Im Patton!

Patton Picani!!!

thats a lot of exclamation marks babe

Nervousness tinged the edges of Patton’s bubble of excitement, enough that he almost didn’t notice the use of the word ‘babe’, which made his heart skip a beat.

sorry

not a bad thing

its cute

Patton bit his lip, wiggling excitedly as his heartrate increased. He watched as the words continued coming. They were messy, but Patton was sure the handwriting was the prettiest he’d ever seen, though he could admit that he might’ve been a little biased. He would read a million books written in this handwriting.

im Remy

Sanders

my bdays acc the 16th lol

tomorrow

i turn 17

Its my birthday today!!!!

Only after Patton wrote that did he realise how obvious it was – of course it was his birthday – but he didn’t particularly care. The ticking of the clock had faded into background noise, and it was hard to believe it had ever annoyed him so much, though it was impossible for him to think of anything negative right now. He was floating on cloud nine.

happy birthday

were running out of arm space

id have to strip to get leg room

wanna gimme ur number?

Okay!!!

They quickly exchanged phone numbers, and Patton immediately grabbed his phone, creating a new contact labelled ‘Remy’ followed by seven colourful hearts – a rainbow of love. But before he could text Remy, Remy texted him first.

REMY:

what time is it for u

Patton glanced at the clock.

PATTON:

Almost 2am

REMY:

same

Realisation struck Patton, and his eyes widened with guilt and concern. He bit his lip, and quickly resumed typing.

PATTON:

Oh my gosh im so sorry!!!! Did I wake you up?

REMY:

nah babe dw bout it

i was already up

i always sleep late

PATTON:

That sounds unhealthy :(

Get some rest!!!

REMY:

ha

u sound like my dads lol

PATTON:

What are they like?

REMY:

my dads?

its just the three of us

their names are logan and thomas and theyre the sappiest motherfuckers on earth

gotta love em tho

theyre gonna be real thrilled when they find out bout u

bet theyll love you right away

wbu  

whats ur fam like

PATTON:

Oh! Well ive got my dad

His name’s Roman

He works in theatre!!! Hes so cool

And I’ve got my older brother Emile hes 22 and hes a therapist

He uses cartoons to help people!!

Hes also got a soulmate his name is Virgil and hes a florist

They got married last year and the wedding was so much fun!!! So many pretty flowers!!!

And I’ve got my uncle Remus hes my dads twin hes a writer and his husband Janus is a lawyer theyre also both so cool!!!

And that’s everyone!!

REMY:

if theyre all as sweet as u sugar then im sure ur all v popular

PATTON:

Well we do have dinner with our neighbours a lot!!!

Mrs Smith gives me lots of candy

Its often stale but I eat it anyway cos shes just so sweet!

Sweeter than her candy lol

Patton’s door suddenly swung open, and he jumped, his phone slipping from his fingers and landing right in his lap. His father, Roman, stepped inside, yawning and rubbing his eyes, wincing at the bright light that hung from the ceiling.

“You still up, Pat?” He asked sleepily.

He squinted, his eyes landing on the still-on phone in Patton’s lap.

“Who are you te- by the glittering horn of a unicorn! Is that writing on your arm?” He sat down, taking Patton’s arm and looking over the words. He then glanced back up at his son, his eyes shining excitedly. “You have a soulmate,” He breathed.

“I do!” Patton exclaimed, bouncing excitedly in place. “His name is Remy and he turns seventeen tomorrow and he’s just so cool!”

Roman beamed. “Wow, I’m so incredibly happy for you, Pat!” He said. Then, he chuckled, his smile turning a little teasing. “But... it’s late, and you really should be sleeping. And I’m betting that Remy should be, too.”

Patton pouted a little. “But it’s a Friday! I don’t have any school tomorrow.”

“But the family’s coming over tomorrow at 10 for your birthday, and I know you. You’re gonna be all grumbly in the morning, instead of our happy-pappy Patton, and that’ll be even worse the less sleep you get.”

Patton drooped, like a little wilting flower, but couldn’t deny that his father was right.

“Okay...” He frowned, picking up his phone, switching off the screen without looking at it, and holding it against his chest. “Can I at least say night to Remy, first?”

Roman smiled. “Sure.”

He leant forward, squeezing Patton’s arm supportively, before pressing a quick kiss to his son’s forehead. Roman gave him one last smile, affectionately ruffling his hair, before pulling back and standing up. He brushed the non-existent dirt from his pyjamas.

“Goodnight, Pat,” He said. “And happy birthday.”

In the excitement that was talking to Remy, Patton had almost forgotten that it was his birthday, and he blinked in surprise as Roman left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Patton then took a deep breath, before switching his phone back on to see whatever messages he’d missed.

REMY:

u rlly r an angel huh

PATTON:

Awwwww!!

Your making me blush

REMY:

thats the goal babe

PATTON:

Such a flirt!!

REMY:

im gonna be ten times more flirty when i get to see ur pretty face in person

PATTON:

How do you know Im pretty?

You havent even seen me yet

REMY:

i can just tell

im awesome like that

i bet ur the cutest person in the whole damn world

the whole damn universe

but while were on the subject of seeing each other

were waiting to meet naturally right?

PATTON:

Yeah!

Its good luck  

REMY:

yea

PATTON:

Welp!!!

Dad says I gotta go to sleep now!!

Night <3<3<3

REMY:

night xoxox

Patton switched off his phone, placing it on his bedside table and getting off the bed. He wobbled slightly as he stood up, suddenly realising how tired he really was, and quickly walked up to his fairy lights, switching them on before switching off the main light. He then climbed back into bed, settling in the soft nest of pastel pillows and blankets, and his last thought before he fell asleep was of his soulmate.

He barely knew Remy, but he already couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with him.

***

The sound of the alarm from Remy’s phone rang through the room, waking him up suddenly. His immediate reaction was to groan, shutting it off quickly and then returning to the warm comfort of his mattress and pillows and blanket. It was the weekend, he had no plans, so if his dads wanted him up, they could come in and get him up themselves. Remy wanted to sleep.

Then, the memories of the night before flooded back to him, and he shot up in bed, pulling out his arm and staring at it wide-eyed.

The words Patton had written last night had now been washed away – likely to leave room for new words and new conversations – whilst Remy’s words still remained, though now a little smudged and faded. The only sign that Patton’s words had ever been there in the first place was the new word on his wrist, just below his palm, in baby blue, like the ones before.

Morning <3

Remy grinned, jumping out of bed much more enthusiastically than he usually did, grabbing the black pen on his bedside table and rushing to the bathroom, thankfully not bumping into either of his dads on the way there.

He washed his arms as quickly as he could, leaving them a little sore and red, though he didn’t care, and uncapped his pen with his teeth, leaving the lid in his mouth.

mornin

!!!!!

Do you always get up this late?

Remy laughed. The handwriting was a little larger and a little neater than his, and each i was dotted with a heart, which made him even more convinced that his soulmate was probably the cutest person on earth.

what time is it

10:30

later usually

what time did u get up

8:30

oof

i could never

What do you do for school then?

suffer

Remy took the pen lid out of his mouth, pocketing it and twirling the uncapped pen between his fingers, watching as more light blue words appeared on his arm. The sensation was feather-light, barely there, but impossible to ignore.

Aww no!!

I don’t want you to suffer :(

dw babe ive got coffee

life saver

id die without it

100%

Well make sure you don’t drink too much!!!!

Its bad for you!!

dw my dad always tells me that

he keeps an eye on it

Which one?

logan

Okay

There was a brief pause, and Remy almost continued writing, but he got the feeling that Patton wasn’t done, so he just waited patiently, tapping his foot against the tiled bathroom floor.

Do you mind if I doodle on my arms?

I usually do when Im bored but I thought Id ask

I wont if you don’t want me to tho

go ahead

what do u doodle?

I usually just connect my freckles

Like little constellations!!!!

It was impossible to keep the grin on Remy’s face from widening – Patton's enthusiasm was adorable and infectious – and he sat down on the edge of the bathtub, crossing one leg over the other as he pressed his pen to his skin and continued writing.

u got a lot of freckles?

Yup!

Theyre everywhere

everywhere?

Yeah!

hm

one day  

im gonna kiss every single one of your freckles

(Perhaps that was a little bold for only their second conversation, but Remy was a natural flirt, and Patton was his soulmate, after all. He’d back down at any sign of discomfort, but so far Patton had seemed receptive.)

every single one

Thats a lot of kisses

not enough

but itll be a good start

A little, swirly scribble appeared just beside the words Remy had written – the universal key-smash equivalent for soulmates writing on their skin. Just the thought that he was already able to fluster Patton so easily made Remy very, very happy. He grinned.

Gtg! Presents time!

Ill talk to you later <3<3<3

later xoxo

Remy fished the pen lid back out of his pocket, capping the pen and pocketing it. He then strolled back out of the bathroom, down the stairs, and towards the kitchen.

His fathers were both sat at the kitchen table, eating breakfast and talking. Their legs were pressed together under the table, and it was clear they’d just been flirting. Both Logan and Thomas looked up when Remy entered the room, surprised.

“What kind of natural disaster got you up before midday?” Thomas joked.

Remy waved his arm, showing off the writing, and Logan choked on his coffee. Thomas patted his back a few times worriedly, and Remy waited impatiently for the conversation to resume, tapping his foot against the floor.

“Is that what I think it is?” Logan asked incredulously, once he was breathing again.

Remy nodded. “Yup. Can I make coffee?”

Thomas nodded slowly, but it was clear he was much more focused on the previous topic at hand.

“You have a soulmate?” He asked. “Oh my gosh! What’s their name? Aren’t you gonna tell us about them?”

“Well, his name’s Patton,” Remy began, heading towards the coffee machine and immediately getting to work to make himself a large mug. “It’s his birthday today – it was actually, like, 2am, or something – and he’s real cute. I think you’ll both like him.”

Thomas exchanged a look with his husband – the former much more openly thrilled, whilst the latter looked more confused, though undeniably pleased. He then stood up, opening his arms immediately.

“I think this calls for a family hug,” Thomas grinned.

Logan sighed, but put his own coffee mug back down, getting up obediently.

Remy groaned. “Really? Before my coffee? Do I have to?”

“Yup! Right now,” Thomas said, wrapping one arm around Logan’s waist and resting his chin on his head, keeping his other arm outstretched, awaiting their son. “This is a big moment! It calls for a family hug. C’mere.”

“There is no point refusing, Remy,” Logan said dryly. “I learnt that a long time ago.”

“Aww, you love me.”

“Of course. That is why we got married, after all.”

Remy groaned again. “Are you two really flirting, right now? Gross.”

“Well, if you want us to stop flirting, you’re gonna have to join the hug.”

Remy sighed exaggeratedly, dragging his feet as he walked up to his dads, reluctantly joining the family hug. Then, he pulled back as quickly as he could get away with, making a face and turning back to the coffee machine. He quickly made himself a large mug – with excessive amounts of milk and sugar, something his father would usually criticise, though he seemed to turn a blind eye for today.

Remy then sat down at the table, beside Thomas, sipping eagerly at his coffee and leaning back in his chair.

His fathers didn’t take their eyes off of his arm, clearly reading the words, and after about a minute, Remy rolled his eyes, placing the coffee on his table and crossing his arms.

“What are you looking at?”

“Attitude, Remy,” Thomas sighed. “Be nice. And we’re looking at your arm because we’re excited! You have a soulmate, that’s a really big deal! We should celebrate.”

Remy perked up. “Celebrate?”

Logan nodded in agreement. “Perhaps tonight we could have dinner at the Italian place that you like.”

“Ooh, the one with that fancy pasta?”

“Weren’t we planning on going there tomorrow?” Thomas asked his husband.

Remy blinked, surprised. “We were?”

Thomas blinked, and then gave his husband a slightly sheepish smile. “I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that.”

Logan sighed. “Well, I think we can put that off for tomorrow, then. Today... you may invite a few friends over.” Remy opened his mouth, but Logan quickly continued, interrupting him before he could speak. “Three friends, maximum. No parties.”

Remy pouted. “Only three? Lame.”

“If you complain, we’ll bring it down to two.”

“Three sounds great!”

***

Patton picked up his phone, holding it to his ear as he paced casually around his room.

“Emile!” He greeted. “How are you?”

“Happy birthday, Pat!” Emile greeted cheerfully, and Patton could practically hear the usual smile on his face. “And I’m doing great. Virgil invited his brother to dinner yesterday, so that was fun, and I had a real breakthrough with one of my clients, too. You?”

“I’m good! Hey, do you think this counts as Remy and my anniversary? I mean, I know we haven’t actually really met, yet, but it’s been a year since we first spoke, and we are soulmates. Does that count? Would it be weird to count it?”

Emile hummed. “I think that if you want it to count, it counts.”

“That’s a bit vague,” Patton sighed.

Emile laughed. “That’s just how it works, I’m afraid. How is Remy anyway? It’s his birthday tomorrow, right?”

Patton perked up at the opportunity to talk about his soulmate. “Remy’s great! He got a new job at the Starbucks near his house; he’s pretty excited about it. And yup, it’s his birthday tomorrow! He turns eighteen. It’s a funny coincidence, isn’t it? That our birthdays are so close?”

“It’s actually a lot more common for soulmates to have these similarities than you’d think,” Emile said. “Close birthdays, close locations, things like that. I mean, Virgil and I were both born in the same hospital.”

“Really? Oh, that’s cool!” Patton smiled.

He sat down on his bed, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged, and moving so his back was against the wall, half-sitting on one of his pillows.

“Yup! I’ve researched a lot about these things,” Emile said. “And- oh, Virgil, there you are!”

Patton heard rustling on the other end of the line, like Emile was temporarily putting his phone down, probably to greet and kiss his husband. He waited patiently, humming a song from the Steven Universe movie and drumming his fingers against his leg. His eyes scanned the various words written across his arms. Shiny black and glittery light blue. There were doodles, too – lines connecting the dots of his freckles, done by himself, and little stars and moons and hearts by Remy.

Then the rustling resumed, more movement, and Patton stopped humming.

“Morning, Pat,” Virgil greeted.

Patton smiled. “Virgil! How’s work going?”

“Not bad. I helped a guy arrange a hate-bouquet for his ex-boyfriend yesterday, so that was fun.”

“Sounds interesting!”

Virgil hummed in agreement, and it sounded like he was nodding. “I’m gonna hand the phone back to Emile, now. Happy birthday, kid.”

“Thanks!”

There was another moment of rustling, and then Emile returned.

“Okay, Virgil and I have to get to work,” Emile said. “We’re stopping by later for dinner, dad already knows. And, before you ask, no I will not tell you what your gift is, you’re gonna have to wait and see.”

Patton pouted. “Aww, okay. Bye!”

“Bye!”

Patton hung up the phone, before switching over to the texting app, and opening up his conversation with Remy.

PATTON

Hey im running out of space

So im gonna clean my arm

Can you too?

Remy responded almost immediately, as he usually did.

REMY

sure

one sec

Patton smiled, getting up and pocketing his phone. He headed over to the bathroom, quickly scrubbing away the words on his arms (he could leave the ones still remaining on his legs and torso, for now), and watching as Remy’s words disappeared at about the same time.

He then returned to his bedroom, sitting back down on his bed and fetching and uncapping his favourite pen.

The moment the tip of his pen touched his skin, a small black dot appeared just below it, like Remy was doing the exact same on his side – unintentionally trying to write in unison. All of a sudden, a wave of peace and happiness washed over Patton, but the emotions didn’t come from within himself. No, they came from an outside source, from somewhere else. Not from him.

From Remy.

At first, Patton was confused, disoriented, and then his heart skipped a beat, and he lifted his pen from his wrist.

The feeling stopped.

He then returned the pen to his wrist, creating another dot of light blue ink. For a moment, nothing happened, the feeling didn’t return, but then a small black speck appeared just beside his.

This time, the happiness was joined by an almost cautious excitement, tinged with something else.

What was it?

Love?

Love.

It felt like Patton was loving himself, except the love came from elsewhere, it came from Remy. Like a warm, comfortable blanket of love, wrapping around him and keeping him safe.

Patton beamed, wide and toothy and delighted, leaning back against the pillows and practically wiggling with excitement, careful to keep his pen tip on his wrist. A similar, thrilled feeling came back at him, and Patton quickly realised that whatever feelings he was getting from Remy, Remy was probably getting some very similar feelings in return from him.

damn babe

either something v weird is happening to me or thats ur feelings im feeling

I can feel it too!!!

Oh my gosh!

good i was worried i might be drunk

Have you been drinking?

nah thats why i was worried lmao

would be v weird to be drunk with no booze

Well that sure would be unusual!

The feelings from Remy weren’t constant, they only surfaced when both Patton and Remy were writing at once – flashes of emotions that were practically addicting. He wanted to keep feeling those feelings forever.

this is v weird

on and off

think itll get more constant the more we talk?

like we wont need to be both writing at the same time to feel it or smth?

Yeah!

I think so

Thats what happened with Em and Virge at least

cool

cant wait

There was a brief pause, and then Remy’s writing resumed.

can we doodle?

might make the empathy connection thingy better

Sure!

Patton giggled, unable to help himself, before pressing the tip of his pen to one of his freckles and drawing a thin line from it to another. Then another and another and another. Over and around the written words. He wasn’t making any specific shape or pattern in particular, just connecting the numerous dots. As he did this, Patton felt new shapes and doodles appearing on his legs, though he couldn’t see them through his trousers. Hearts and stars and moons and pawprints, most likely. The last one was new – Patton’s favourite.

He could feel Remy’s peace and contentment and love (love, love), like it was flowing through the air and seeping through his skin, filling him with happiness. Sometimes, it even increased for a brief moment, usually just after Patton’s happiness bubbled over into delighted giggles. It was a cycle – happiness creating happiness creating happiness.

Patton loved Remy. Remy loved Patton.

Love. Love. Love.

***

“Hey, Remy!”

Remy glanced up from his phone, straightening up as noticed and watched his best friend, Toby, approaching him. His foot tapped impatiently against the pavement, and his sunglasses were on to shield his eyes from bright midday sun.

“Gurl, what was taking you so long?” Remy complained, stuffing his phone into his pocket and crossing his arms, practically pouting. “I’ve been waiting here for, like, hours.”

Toby gave him a dry look. “I’m ten minutes late.”

“And that’s, like, ten hours in gay-and-in-a-hurry time.”

“In a hurry? What the hell are we even doing? Your text was very vague.”

“Well, it’s my dad’s birthday in a-”

“Which one?”

“Thomas. Bitch, stop interrupting me.”

Toby laughed, and Remy glared at him. He held his hands up defensively in mock surrender, and then gestured for Remy to continue.

“Anyway, it’s my dad’s birthday on Sunday and I’m supposed to get him a gift. I dunno what, though, so you’re gonna help me.”

“I’m pretty sure you know him better than I do.”

Remy shushed him. “Gurl, I am not letting you get out of helping me. So, we’re going to-”

He suddenly froze, going silent. Remy’s brow then creased, too, and after a moment of stillness he began to rapidly pat his arms and legs, like he was looking for something, though he didn’t seem to find it. Toby gave him a bewildered look.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

“I can feel Patton’s emotions,” Remy said.

He could, but only barely – just little hints of Patton, pricking the edges of his soul – much less than he was used to, but still impossible to ignore. He was used to these feelings by now, always recognising them immediately, though this time it was... different.

“Okay... so, he’s writing to you? Isn’t that normal?”

Remy looked back at him, looking just as confused as Toby. “No, he isn’t. He isn’t writing to me. No ink.”

“He... isn’t?”

“I can always feel it,” Remy explained. “Always. But not right now. Why... why-” He froze, his eyes widening behind his dark sunglasses.  

“What?”

“He must be close. He must- oh my god, he must be close!” Remy looked around quickly, at all of the surrounding pedestrians. None of them looked right – none of them were Patton – but he could practically sense him. He was so close.

Toby blinked. “Really?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes. Yes, really. I know what I’m talking about!” Remy exclaimed, perhaps a little harsher than intended. “The empath shit only happens when you write or when you’re close. Gurl, that’s, like, common knowledge.”

Toby held his hands up. “Right, uh... sorry.” He cleared his throat. “So, how are we gonna find him?”

Remy’s brow scrunched up in thought. “I don’t know.”

His best friend shrugged, even more lost than he was.

“Maybe... maybe...” Remy continued, trailing off, before he suddenly straightened up. “It’ll get stronger the closer I get to him, so I just have to follow where it’s stronger, right? Like... like getting warmer and colder.”

Toby nodded slowly. “That makes sense. So, uh, walk around, and we’ll go in the direction that makes it stronger.”

Remy immediately began to pace in circles around Toby, pulling a slightly panicked face when at one point the feeling completely disappeared. Then, it got stronger, a wave of anticipation and curiosity, nervousness and excitement.

It suddenly hit Remy that if he could feel Patton, then Patton could feel him, too.

Patton was probably looking for him.

The corners of Remy’s lips twitched up into a smile. He was practically oozing excitement, and it was contagious, as Patton’s also seemed to increase – even Toby began smiling, too.

Toby patted him on the shoulder.

“Go on, follow your gut. I’ll be right behind you.”

Remy immediately turned on his heel, sprinting in the direction the emotions seemed to be coming from, and Toby almost tripped over his own feet following him. The empathy got stronger and stronger and stronger with every step, until it was even stronger than it usually was, and as his excitement further increased, so did Patton’s.

He rounded a corner, and immediately ran right into someone running at a similar speed, and they both tumbled to the ground with two loud thumps.

“Ah, fuck,” Remy groaned, closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose as a jolt of pain shot down his leg.

“Oof,” The other boy winced.

His voice was like a bell, ringing through the air: suddenly the only sound that Remy could hear.

That was when Remy realised that Patton’s emotions were now equal to his own – mixing together in Remy’s soul until they were one and the same. It was almost like they were thinking and feeling as one, which was rather disorienting, to say the least.  

Patton... Patton was right in front of him.

Remy opened his eyes, immediately coming face-to-face with the most gorgeous person he had even seen – a wide-eyed and freckled boy, about a year younger than Remy, staring back at him with parted lips and an equally startled expression. He was wearing a blue and grey t-shirt, showing off his arms and the words Remy had written to him today, and all the constellations he’d doodled on his own skin. Now, Remy could see the stars that he’d been missing, and, in his opinion, they were even better than the ones in the night sky.

Patton.

Patton, Patton, Patton.

“Patton,” Remy breathed.

“Remy.”

Remy laughed, uncontrolled and loud and delighted, sitting up straight and taking Patton’s hand in his own, squeezing it. It was warm and soft, Remy never wanted to let go, and when Patton squeezed back, he felt... complete. Perfect. Heaven.

Patton smiled – like a shining sun, one that thankfully didn’t hurt to look at, as Remy couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

“Wow,” Remy laughed. “You’re... wow.”

“Wow,” Patton echoed.

People were probably staring at them – Toby included – but Remy couldn’t take his eyes off of Patton to check. Patton seemed to be doing similarly, his eyes slowly taking in every part of Remy’s body, before returning to his face, staring into his eyes.

Patton’s eyes were brown, like honey in the sunlight. Beautiful.

“It’s... it’s nice to finally meet you,” Patton said softly.

“Likewise.”

There was a beat.

“You are gorgeous,” Remy continued, the words coming out before he could stop himself. He almost regretted blurting it out, but then Patton’s face turned a particularly pretty shade of pink, and Remy immediately grinned.

Patton squeezed his hand. “You, too.”

“Oh, I know I’m hot, babe,” Remy said, making Patton giggle. “But you, you’re... you’re an angel. Like, damn, how the hell did I get so lucky? I must’ve done something really freaking amazing in a past life to have deserved you.”

“You’re even more of a flirt in person,” Patton smiled, a little teasingly.

Remy laughed. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I warned you.”

“You did,” Patton said, smiling fondly.

“Is it too soon to ask if I can kiss you?” Remy asked suddenly. His tone of voice was casual, like he was joking, but they both knew – Patton could probably sense – that he was serious.

Patton didn’t hesitate, answering quickly. “No. I mean, yes. I mean... no, it’s not too soon. Please?”

Remy didn’t waste any time, reaching forward, carefully cradling Patton’s face in his hand and kissing him gently. His lips were soft and warm and Remy never wanted to stop kissing him. Patton covered Remy’s hand with his own free one, kissing back a little clumsily, though it was without a doubt enthusiastic.

Then, he got a little too enthusiastic, and Remy tumbled backwards, pulling Patton along with him.

They broke apart, and after a moment of startled – slightly awkward – silence, they both started laughing loudly, and Patton climbed off of him. He finally stood up, holding out his hand and helping Remy up, too.

The pedestrians that had been watching them had mostly all moved on by now, leaving only Toby hovering awkwardly nearby. He had his phone out, trying to distract himself, give them some privacy, though he was undeniably still keeping an eye out. It wasn’t every day you saw a soulmate pair’s first meeting.  

Remy took Patton’s hands in his own, looking him over again and again and again.

An idea came to him – not a new one, one he’d thought about and talked about and dreamed and daydreamed about a million times – and he grinned in a way that he could feel made Patton’s heart skip a beat.

“Remember how I said I wanted to kiss every freckle?"

[mischiefandi]

the marauders in class at Hogwarts - headcanons (2)

A/N: here’s another headcanon because i just love these characters so much and im feeling very inspired recently. obviously this is just me describing what i picture when i think of the Marauders, but i honestly kind of love these headcanons and i feel like they fit quite well :)

if u would like to be added to my new Harry Potter taglists (either Harry Potter or the Marauders taglist, or both), please fill in this form !

headcanons below the cut <3

James

James’ favourite subject is Flying

nothing compares to the feeling he gets when he’s racing against the wind

flying above the grounds of his school

he tends to show off his skills

performing tricks for his fellow classmates

flying out of his teacher’s reach when she scolds him

he doesn’t really pay attention to her remarks, though he does work very hard

he trains a lot because he wants Gryffindor to win the Quidditch cup every year

he’s highly competitive and confident in his abilities

he’s not a bad student in other branches, but he often gets distracted by his mates

he’s always playing pranks on teachers and showing up late to class, tie not made correctly

he absolutely hates anything too mathematical, which automatically ruins Transfiguration, Ancient Ruins, and Astronomy for him

though he still gets rather good grades in those subjects

however he loves Charms and gets excellent grades in that class

he is very clever and he doesn’t mind shoving it in certain people’s *Snape’s- cough cough* faces

when he chooses to work hard, it usually turns out great for him

though he doesn’t often choose to

Sirius

he’s probably the worst student out of all 4 marauders

too busy making his classmates laugh or teachers fume with anger

he’s been to dumbledore’s office so many times, he couldn’t even count them if he tried

he often finds himself in detention with Mrs. McGonagall, who keeps a very sharp eye on him

they always end up chatting towards the end of detention though

he would never admit it, but she’s his favourite teacher

he finds her brilliant and he adores pushing her buttons

Sirius is smart, but he gets bored easily, and his love for adventure gets in the way of long hours of work

he only really enjoys one class which is Defence Against the Dark Arts, because it’s the only one in which he can actually do something

it’s also because it’s the only class he actually finds useful aside from Charms

he is however a gifted wizard and even though he isn’t a very devoted student, his magical prowess never ceases to amaze the staff members of Hogwarts

his favourite spell is Wingardium Leviosa, with the occasional Alohomora

they always come in quite handy

Remus

while Sirius is the worst student in the group, Remus is definitely the best

he loves learning about magic

he also loves reading, which explains why he enjoys History of Magic so much

he’s always sitting somewhere beside a fire or against a cool window, reading a book about mythical creatures or about unfamiliar hexes

he’s passionate about Defence Against the Dark Arts, and he’s oftentimes caught waving his wand at objects in the dormitory, practicing his spells

it’s no surprise he’s the one who’s always helping his friends out with their homework

he never complains about their lack of work or motivation

he’s always willing to help them, unless he’s in a very bad mood

when he has his off days, he pretends he’s got a lot of work to do

when really he just stares into the void, unable to concentrate on his books

aside from those days, Remus pays a lot of attention to his classes

he enjoys each and every one of them for different reasons, though some more than others

if he had to pick one class he really didn’t like, it’d have to be Divination

he doesn’t like its illogical and inconsistent characteristics  

Peter

Peter’s not good in school, but he isn’t bad either

he’s just average

in everything

he’s not particularly passionate about anything, though he really enjoys Potions

unlike most things in life, if you follow the instructions properly, you always get the result you were hoping for, and that’s why he likes it so much

Peter works a lot but his grades unfortunately don’t always match up to his efforts

he gets very annoyed when James or Sirius get better points than him, especially when they boast about barely studying for the test

he thought he’d enjoy Flying, but his first experience on a broom traumatised him so badly he got a special permission slip not to have to keep attending the class

James used to tease him about it but eventually offered to help him deal with his fear of heights, a proposition he gratefully declined

while he isn’t particularly talented or skilled, he’s a very good listener, and he enjoys listening to his teachers talk, especially when they’re passionate about their subject

he often asks Remus for extra help or explanations and Remus gladly helps him out

he might not be an exceptional wizard, but Peter always tries his best

tagging a few pals who might be interested and my forever tag <3

@duskholland @siriusly-harry @apatheticanvas67482 @teen–marvel@thegirlwhoimagined (u dont have to interact of course!)

forever tag:

@stixnstripesworld @masterofbluff @drakewalker04 @superapplepie @apatheticanvas67482​

if u would like to be added to my new Harry Potter taglists (either Harry Potter or the Marauders taglist, or both), please fill in this form :)

[ghost-ghost-baby]

Scales pt. 4a //yan!bakusquad fantasy au//

a/n: im so fuckin sorr this took so long lol, it was actually written but life was too crazy to edit/post. i had to make this angsty so it wouldnt turn out horny

Pt. 5

warnings: swearing, mature themes? mentions of past abuse/trauma

Things felt weirdly normal when you woke up, and despite the memories that flashed through your head you kept your cool. You needed to be logical, it was the only way you’d be able to get out of here alive. Denki was in your arms when you finally opened your eyes, and a weight lifted from your chest. Oh thank gods you were together. That made things easier. The room was… undoubtedly luxurious, Shigaraki sure knew how to play nice when he wanted. Horror shot through you when you saw the iron collar clamped around Denki’s neck. Fuck, you knew what that was. you’d seen it used before, and Denki wasn’t going to be able to help with it on. You’d need a diamond to get it off, unless you could get the key. Fucking Shigaraki, he’d be here soon to gloat. The fucker loved nothing more than being validated for what he’d done.

“I didn’t appreciate your little stunt.” Shigaraki finally showed his face, and your eyes narrowed as you stared at him from the bed.

“If you were bored you should have just told me. I thought you liked the solitude while I was busy, but obviously I was wrong.” He took a seat next to you and your skin crawled, had he gotten crazier? “But that’s all in the past now, and you have your own pet to keep you entertained.” Oh yeah he absolutely lost it while you were gone. You stayed silent as you watched his fingers trail over your leg to Denki’s sleeping form next to you. The threat was clear despite him staying silent. If you tried anything, he’d take it out on Denki.

“Thank you.” You had to force the words out, any feelings you had right now didn’t matter. You just needed to keep Denki safe, and that meant keeping Shigaraki happy until you could get away. It worked, his chapped lips stretched into a grin as he made himself comfortable besides you, showing no intention of leaving any time soon.

“They did WHAT?” Katsuki flung his sword across the room, the metal sending up a puff of feathers when it hit the bed. He’d just gotten back from a war meeting, and this was the first thing he had to hear?

“How dare that dry ass motherfucker send his cronies here, I’ll get Y/n and Denki back myself.” He snarled, and Hanta had to jump on him before he could leave .

“Katsuki, calm down, if you go rushing in it’ll only make the situation worse.” Mina crouched down, making sure she was in the blondes line of sight so he had no choice but to listen.

“Yeah man, Izuku can help, right?” Hanta added, still pinning Katsuki down. 

“And Shoto too, we have allies Katsuki, we don’t have to just rush in.” Mina glanced at Kiri, who nodded in agreement despite the fact he wanted nothing more than to bolt to wherever you were. He just needed to make sure you were safe. At least Denki was with you, the two of you could take care of each other for the time being, and it would be enough that the bond wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Fine, get them here, now! We need to do this quickly!” Katsuki gave in with a snarl, the more people he had to crush that extra, the better.

Fingers tapping your thigh made you jump, and you dropped the book in your hands as you turned to Denki. He’d just been…dozing, barely waking up to eat and drink.

“Oh, you’re awake. How do you feel?”

“Weird, kinda out of it… where are we?” Gold eyes darted around the room, horror growing in them with every passing second. “What happened to Mina?” Denki was starting to panic, and you had to grab his hand to make him look at you.

“She got away, I sent her back to Katsuki so she could get help.” You soothed, hand smoothing over his hair. “You know what they're like, I'm sure they're planning something right now.” He didn't look convinced, and you wondered how he hasn't noticed the iron around his neck.

“Why can't we just break out?”

“If there's a sure opportunity for us to escape I'll take it, but you can't fight with the collar on, and I can't get it off while we're here.” You grabbed his wrists to stop him tearing at it, there was no use.

“Don't try to use your powers, okay? I'm not sure what it'll do, but the ones I've had have never been good. Your powers will activate the selected gem, and depending on that the collar will do something. I don’t want to risk it.”

“How do you know all this?” Denki squinted at you, and you dropped his arms, hands folding in your lap as you thought about how to explain that.

“I um, always had a talent for magic, my teachers kept track and when I graduated Shigaraki noticed and I uh… didn’t exactly go along with him at first, so he chose a… harsher…? Way for me to learn and fit into his… role for me.” The words stuck in your throat on the way up, you never thought you’d have to tell anyone that.

“I know it might be… a lot, and I promise I’ll tell you everything when we get out of here, but you need to trust me, okay Denki?” You couldn't look at him, your whole plan needed him, you couldn’t leave him here alone.

“Okay Y/n, but I’ll hold you to that promise.” You couldn’t help startle when Denki surged forward, nuzzling your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist. This wasn’t the reaction you expected, he went along so easily?

“O-Okay, just follow my lead, he needs to let his guard down and I… know how to do that.”

“The meeting was awful, honestly that scum are lucky I have you to calm me down… so I don’t have to resort to more extreme methods.” You’d tuned out most of Shigaraki’s rant, Denki had fallen asleep and you didn’t see the point in waking him for this. The king had his head in your lap, your fingers carding through his hair with a familiarity you hated. Shigaraki turned so he was facing you, one hand coming up to caress your cheek and you were lucky he was delusional enough to think the shudder that ran through you was good.

“Hmm? What happened this time?” You forced the words out, pretending to care really fucking sucked. His answer was lost as Denki started to stir next to you, oh god why’d he have to wake up now? He was gonna say something bad and it’d be over for the both of you. Shigaraki was still mumbling on while your eyes were fixed on Denki, humming your acknowledgment at the appropriate intervals so he’d think you cared.

“I swear it’d be better if I just ripped their heads off, then I could just stay here with you.” These words were mumbled into your skin,, Shigaraki going from laying in your lap to straddling you and hiding his face in your neck before you could do anything to stop him. You hated when he got like this, it could last for days if he was feeling particularly insecure or clingy.

“But then you’d have nobody to do what needs to be done, and you’d be spending even less time here.” Denki spoke and your heart stopped, oh god oh god ohgod. Shigsraki pulled back to look at the blonde, eyebrows raised as he considered that option.

“You have a point.” The king shrugged before he went back to your neck as if nobody had spoken, lips brushing against your skin as he grew bolder. Unease surged through you at the contact, the force of it through the bond almost made Denki transform, but he remembered you needed him to be good so you could get them out of here, and so he settled for buying his face in your thighs. He really hoped you knew what you were doing, and that the others were planning something. A knock at the door had your heart jumping into your throat, and after a growled answer from Shigaraki, Dabi entered the room. His voice was bored as ever while he spoke, something about needing Shigaraki back in the war room because their scouts had spotted something. A grunt left the king as he started to get up, unable to stop himself nipping at your neck before he pulled away, the red already blooming had him satisfied enough to slink over to Dabi and, in turn, leave you and Denki alone again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry this is all my fault-“ your anxiety took over the second the door closed, throat clogging up and tears clouding your vision. Kiri should have just left you to die, then none of them would be in this mess.

“C’mon, you’re okay, come back to me now.” Denki pulled your chest to his, forcing your breathing to follow his as he focused on calming you down. Your eyes slowly came back into focus, gold was the only thing you could see for a moment before Denki pulled back.

“Is that better?” His hand brushed the tears off your face, a comforting smile on his face. How could he look so angelic in this situation?

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You wiped your nose, humiliation setting in as you realised how pathetic you must look, you needed to be stronger if you were going to get out of here alive.

“There’s nothing to apologise for, this is a tough situation.” Denki shrugged, he didn’t want to pressure you into talking about your past, but something big had obviously happened. Your unease was still flooding through the bond, easily alerting Denki to the fact you weren’t fine, worse, you were lying to him about it. He just wanted to help. Maybe he should try and distract you? Opting to cheer you up any way he could, Denki cuddled into your side, making sure he was monitoring how you felt though the bond. Your gaze shifted as the blonde rubbed over your skin, making a noise you could only describe as a croon while his face nuzzled against your neck. The noise was… weirdly comforting, and it wasn’t long before you felt some of the anxiety leaving you. Denki was over the moon, you were responding so well! His crooning picked up at how happy he was, and you let your head rest on his shoulder, your own hands finding his and intertwining with them. You were almost asleep when the door opening had you jumping awake, Denki slowly blinking as he figured out what had spooked you. Confusion was all that remained when you saw Dabi there, Shigaraki nowhere to be seen as he closed the door behind him.

“I talked to Shoto, I’m gonna help you out.”

“Dabi agreed to help us, but in return he wants Shigaraki alive, for himself. It’s the best chance we have, he’s the kings right hand.” Shoto deadpanned, completely unbothered by the snarling warrior being held back by Kirishima next to him.

“I wanna rip that bastard to shreds, fuck Dabi, we can do this without him.” Katsuki finally managed to get out after he’d been calmed down, a task that took several minutes.

“It’d take longer, you really want to sacrifice Y/n and Denki so you can kill someone?” Hanta had to help hold Katsuki back at that remark from Shoto.

“Katsu, Shoto’s right, our priority needs to be getting them quickly, not killing Shigaraki.” Mina placed her hand on Katsuki’s shoulder, the thing that finally calmed him down enough to mumble out a fine and get on with the actual planning.

“Finally, now what we’re going to do is cause a distraction on the battlefield, during which Dabi will knock out Shigaraki and get Denki and Yn to a safe destination we’ll go to after the battle. Now, onto the details…”

“You’re what? No way, it’s a trap right? Shigaraki is testing my loyalty? I’m not falling for something like this again.” You shook your head as you paced the room, Denki still sitting on the bed and Dabi lounging on a chair next to the desk. It was exactly the kind of thing that bastard would do.

“Bakugo told me to tell Denki about the dandelions.” Dabi ignored your rant, instead turning to Denki and raising his eyebrows at the blonde. Lower lip between his teeth, The blonde slunk over to you, grabbing your hand tightly before he spoke.

“It’s not a trap, Y/n, he’s telling the truth.”

“You don’t know that, what if they captured someone that told him?” You hissed, eyes darting over to the nonchalant figure in the chair.

“Hey, you asked me to trust you before, I need you to trust me now. Okay?” He presses a kiss to your cheek when he was finished, and despite your best efforts that smile got to you, made you relax and squeeze his hand.

“I-Fuck. Okay, I trust you.”

Taglist under the cut (let me know if there are any problems/you want to be added)

@averydrearydiana@wolfygecko@baby-snart@ssnaketongue@that-one-piece-oftrash@emilysimaginesblog@generousdigitalartartghost@slowly-gently@toffee1812@izzys-complete-insanity@sexisquid@icecreamguru03@tessamarie22@peculiar-faerie@lunaralpha270@max7500@graduatedmelon@everstrange1@saltytocrusade@dark-side-blog2@tinyspacesaurus@shimyshimyagustd@teacaku@shinethesensational@yooalicee@radnickeltoadbat@superrllama@trinshappyplaces@kai-iaa@mini-kunoichi-universe@estellegladiolus@kirapholia@lemonmaim@skylerstorm2@phantomfunguschild@naked-canadians@meaper112@cute-cotton-tail@xxnatashahicksxx @elektraeriseros@alpacalunches@a-mistake-tbh@evienorville@kirapholia@lemonmaim

@skylerstorm2@naked-canadians@degenerate-yandere@cute-cotton-tail@xxnatashahicksxx@artificially-chill@brbgettingchocolates@redvelevetdog@zaboomanyoom@alpacalunches@bad-boquet-of-emotions@tokyohealth@okthensherlock@imlosingmyshit@smallangrynerd@cherry-mariss@frostfox382

[christopher-the-cube]

Whumptober 2020

No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY “Pick Who Dies” | Collars | Kidnapped

AO3

There’s a mission. 

There’s a mission, and everything is perfectly normal because they are the Umbrella Academy after all, and there are always missions. Everything’s perfectly normal.  

It’s a bank robbery.  

It’s fine.  

It’s normal.  

Luther goes in first, signals the rest of his siblings to come in after making sure the coast is clear, and once they’re all inside they start dispersing. He puts Klaus on lookout duty, sends Allison and Ben to scout the perimeter, figure out where the hell the hostages are being held. 

Then it’s just him, and Diego, and they split in opposite directions, searching for the thieves they were promised. 

It’s fine.  

It’s normal.  

They’re not even fifteen minutes in when things start getting ugly. 

The thing is-  

The thing is, they’ve been in the public eye since they were thirteen-years-old. They don’t really hide their faces, or their names, or their respective abilities.  

Criminals learn.  

Year, after year, after year, it seems criminals learn to expect them, to prepare for them, to figure out every single little detail that they can about them. They really haven’t been able to rely on the element of surprise in a pretty good while.  

The first goon Luther runs into is covered head to toe in black kevlar, which means Diego’s knives are going to be completely useless in this one mission.  

And it’s- fine.  

It’s annoying mostly, but Diego’s good at hand to hand and Luther’s pretty sure he’s not going to let a bullet proof vest stop him. Still, he starts feeling uneasy, gets a weird feeling low in his stomach, because- really, if they prepared for Diego, then who the hell knows what else they prepared for? 

The goon, as expected, charges towards him.  

But it’s whatever.  

Luther’s got superstrength.  

He deals with him, keeps marching forward.  

The bank has marble floors that look disturbingly similar to the ones back at home, and Luther keeps getting distracted whenever he catches sight of them. Between that, and the wood panels, and the occasional gold light fixture, he feels right at home.  

And that’s-  

Not particularly a good thing.  

It makes him jittery, makes him a little nervous.  

It’s eerily silent, too, just like home.  

The only sound he can hear is the squelch of his own shoes, his breathing, slightly agitated.  

It puts him on edge, the thought that something bad is supposed to be happening but there’s nothing at all. They were told there was an active robbery in place but he can’t spot a single robber save from that one guy he got rid of, and there are no other people, either, no hostages, no stray civilians waiting things out.  

He keeps walking. 

He keeps walking, and he keeps walking, and he keeps walking.  

He starts edging and edging towards the back of the bank, a maze of hallways and strange little rooms. Everywhere he looks, everything’s deserted, until- 

Until it isn’t.  

Luther takes a sharp left, walks into a random room, and thinks oh , oh there they are.  

The robbers.  

The hostages.  

Three men, all black kevlar, guns the size of their heads nestled a little too comfortably in their arms, pacing the room, walking left and right.  

At least a dozen hostages.  

It just doesn’t look good.  

Luther’s likes to think he’s got enough experience to be able to tell when someone’s just waving a gun around for the sake of it and won’t likely use it, and- to tell when they will, when it’s just a matter of waiting , and waiting , and doing their best, and fervently hoping the casualties will be kept to a minimum. 

It’s something about the way they stand, he thinks, about the way they carry themselves.  

These men are not afraid to spill some blood.  

And- 

If it wasn’t bad enough already- 

Between it all, Allison.  

Between it all, Ben.  

And, oh, they truly did prepare for them.  

They’ve got Allison with tape over her mouth- around her entire head, really. Sticky gray holding her jaw still, going around her lips and her cheeks and her hair, a job messily done, probably while she struggled and tried her best to squirm away.  

It’s gonna be stupidly painful to remove.  

Then Ben. Innocuously sitting. No restraints. No tape. No anything. But he’s immobilized all the same, unable to use his one strength against the robbers.  

They’ve got him sitting right in the middle of the hostages.  

If he were to release the Horror, they’d all be dead in a matter of seconds.  

So- 

No rumors, no eldritch.  

It’s- 

It’s fine.  

It’s fine.  

It’s not ideal, but it's fine.  

Luther takes a breath, waits to be spotted.  

It happens easily.  

He can see that Ben and Allison spot him the second he walks through the door, but they don’t really do anything. That’s good. Best not to make any sudden movements.  

Then it’s one of the goons, freezing where he stands, “Hey!” he barks, and his gun is suddenly pointed towards him.  

But that’s fine.  

Luther was expecting that.  

The others point their guns, too, and then it’s a standoff, Luther against the three men, the three guns. He remains stoic. He does not make a single move.  

“Which one is it?”  

“The strong one. I think.”  

“Don’t let ‘im get close then.”  

They know who he is.  

They know to use his strength against him.  

It’s fine.  

It’s fine, really.  

“Gentlemen,” Luther says, his voice carefully level, “I’m afraid I don’t like what you’ve got going on here. I’m gonna have to ask you to let these people go.”  

He receives a snort in response.  

“Not happening.”  

They stare at each other for a long, long time.  

Enough time that Luther thinks maybe they’re put at ease, maybe they won’t see him as such a blatant threat, maybe he can make a move, maybe, maybe, maybe-   

He takes a step forward.  

“Hey!”  

He takes another step.  

“Stop moving!”  

He takes another step.  

“You fucking- fucking stop moving!”  

He takes another step.  

“I said stop, damnit!”  

And- 

One of the men, the one closest to the hostages- 

“Stop! Stop! Fucking-”  

He sounds desperate, he sounds willing to do just about anything. Luther keeps getting closer and the man keeps stepping back, and he’s waving his stupid gun around like it’s some toy or something, and he’s not shooting Luther , so that’s good, but then-  

He turns around and puts a bullet in between a hostage’s eyes.  

Just like that.  

Blood and brains and bits of gore go flying, splattering all over the walls and the floors and- on Ben, on Ben’s face, and his chest, and his hair, and his eyes, and his mouth.  

Ben takes a sharp breath, snaps his eyes shut.  

There’s a wave of reactions from the hostages, whines, and cries, and disgruntled sounds, and Allison snaps her eyes shut as well, looks away.  

Luther doesn’t look away.  

He can’t look away.  

He can tell the man who fired grows agitated, holds the gun impossibly tighter, gains a crazed edge.  

The blood is strikingly bright. 

Luther can’t look away.  

“Step back,” the man barks at him, gesturing with his gun.  

Luther doesn’t really move.  

He-  

He doesn’t really handle it all that well, every time someone dies in front of him. It doesn’t matter how many times it’s happened, how many times he tries to convince himself he did all he could do and the one to blame is not him but the one who pulled the trigger.  

It’s still a life lost. On his watch.  

It’s still his fault.  

“Step back,” the man repeats, louder this time, and another one of them takes it as his cue to all but throw himself at Luther, to try and- tackle him or something, restrain him, and Luther-  

Well, they did warn the guy not to get close.  

He’s got superstrength.  

He pushes at the man’s shoulder, twists his arm until he’s dropped his own gun, kicks at him, pushes him down , makes sure he stays down , and- 

“Hey, hey, hey!”  

It’s the other guy. 

And Luther thinks he can probably reach him if he moves fast enough, but then there’s also the other guy to worry about, and- 

And suddenly- 

Suddenly-  

Suddenly that man, the trigger happy one-  

He reaches for Allison.  

He grabs a fistful of her hair and tugs harshly, pulls her towards himself, and she whimpers , and she’s got tape over her mouth but her whimper is stupidly loud, anyway, crystal clear, and the man holds her close with one hand, pushes his gun against her temple with the other one.  

Luther freezes.  

The man laughs.  

He laughs, and he laughs, and he laughs, “So that gets you to slow down, huh?”  

Luther doesn’t like the way that man is holding his sister, the way he’s holding that gun.  

There’s blood all the room, there’s chopped up meat, a cooling body. There’s Ben, splattered with sticky warm red, his eyes open wide, his hands balled into fists, shaking minutely.  

Luther doesn’t like the way that man is holding his sister. 

“Let her go,” he says, barely a whisper.  

“What was that?”  

“Let- let her go, you don’t know what you’re doing.”  

The man considers him, “How about you walk away and I’ll think about it?”  

But Luther shakes his head, “I- no, no, I can’t do that.”  

“You sure?” the man barks, and then he’s yanking forcefully at Allison’s hair all over again, and-  

And Allison doesn’t make a single sound this one time.  

She just stares right at him, her brown eyes full of something heavy.  

“S-Stop!” Luther says, and he’s stuttering , and he doesn’t know what to do, and he ends up searching for Ben, and Ben’s not really in a vantage point at the moment, either, in between civilians, unable to use his power, but he ends up searching for him all the same, desperately , urgently , “Ben-” he starts, but then-  

“Oh, no,” the man says, and he smiles big, all teeth, “No, no, no,” then he’s- walking towards Ben, five short steps, and he’s dragging Allison with him by the hair, and he’s stepping over the dead body like its nothing, and he’s pushing past the civilians without a care in the world. He looks at Ben in the eye, lifts his chin up with the barrel of the gun. “You’re not gonna try anything funny, are you?”  

And Ben shakes his head side to side, sits painfully still.  

“Leave him alone,” Luther says, and he’s taking a step forward without really meaning to.  

“Stay where you are!” the man barks, waving that damned gun around, “Don’t fucking move or I’ll fucking blow his brains out!” 

 And- 

God, god, god, Luther does stumble to a halt, he does, he absolutely does, but the momentum of his previous steps throw him forward, leaves moving still, for another second or two.  

“Alright, that’s it,” the man says, and he raises his gun, pushes it into Ben’s forehead with enough force to send him tumbling backwards and scrambling to lean on his elbows to try and straighten up, and the man goes to push the trigger, but-  

“No!” Luther yells, at the exact same time that Allison squeals something out as well, unintelligible, a jumble of words.  

“No what?” the man barks, “I’m fucking sick of you freaks, you’re so fucking-” and then, he stops. He stops, twists his lips into a smile, something wretched. “Tell you what,” he says, looking at Luther in the eye, and his casual tone clashes against the horrible words that leave his mouth, “Pick who dies.”  

Time slows down.  

“What?”  

The man looks stupidly smug, amused, like he’s enjoying this, “Pretty boy or pretty girl,” he says, gesturing at Ben and Allison respectively, “One of ‘em is dying. Your pick.”  

That’s more or less the moment in which Luther realizes if he doesn’t play his cards right, they’re not all coming out of this room in one piece.  

He likes to think he’s got enough experience to be able to tell when a person’s just spitting out threats for the sake of it and won’t go through with them, and-  

To be able to tell when he’s genuinely being asked to choose between the lives of his brother, or his sister. Two of the people he loves most in the entire goddamned planet.  

This guy-  

He seems the type that wants an answer.  

Seems the type that wants pain, that revels on it, that won’t stop until he’s made his victim suffer.  

And-  

Luther realizes, with a petrifying panic, he’s the victim here, in this scenario.  

He’s the one who interrupted whatever the hell these goons where about to do, he’s the one who made them mad, made them angry, he’s the one this man in front of him is placing all of his wrath in and now he wants to make him pay, to make him suffer, and the way he’s gonna do it is not by hurting him, but by hurting his siblings.  

“Take your pick.”  

Luther takes a breath, shaky, unmeasured. “Why- why don’t we calm down for a second? There’s no reason to-” 

“I’m not repeating myself,” the man hisses, angry, angry, angry, “Take your fucking pick already,” and-  

And his grip on Allison’s hair tightens, and he pulls at her hair, nearly lifts her off the floor by her hair, and she cries out, and she whimpers, and- 

“Shit, Allison,” Luther blurts, going to step forward but not daring to. 

And the goon smiles, “Ah, this one?”  

And suddenly the gun’s right by her head and- 

Luther realizes, horrified, that he said her name, that this man asked him which one of siblings to murder on cold blood and he said her name, “No,” he says, now, sharply, urgently, “No, no, no, that’s not what I-”  

And the man stares at him, and- 

His smile.  

His smile is the stuff of nightmares.  

“The other one, then,” he says, letting go of Allison, dropping her down like a ragdoll, “Good to know,” and then- 

In the blink of an eye, he turns around and he shoots Ben in the chest.  

Just like that.  

Bullet, after bullet, after bullet.  

Three times.  

It’s funny, but- in the blink of eye, in the blink of an eye , Luther has enough time to understand exactly what’s going to happen and why, he’s got enough time to understand it’s going to happen, whether he wants it or not, and it’s going to be his fault, always.  

He manages to catch Ben’s eye right before it happens, see panic and understanding sweeping his factions, turning his expression into something devoid of emotions, numb, something reigned by fear and nothing else.  

“Luther,” Ben mouths, right before the first bullet hits him.  

He drops down hard against the marble, and Allison screams.  

The thing hits him front and center, and they’ve all taken enough anatomy lessons to understand there’s no coming back from that, but still, in the blink of an eye, Luther gets the urge to kneel down by his side, to push at his wound, to keep him alive -  

And Ben gurgles, and coughs up blood, and chokes out a pained noise, and-  

And another bullet hits him. 

And then another.  

And then-  

He stops moving.  

He just stops moving, stops breathing, too.  

Times slows down.  

Time stops existing.  

The man with the gun starts laughing hysterically, mad cackles echoing all around them.  

Then Allison’s starts screaming and doesn't stop, her cries intertwined with sobs, and Luther has the distant thought that maybe she should try and avoid crying with the way her mouth is covered. Doesn’t she know she could choke to death like that?  

Times slows down.  

Time stops existing. 

Ben’s not moving. Ben’s not breathing.  

There’s blood pooling around him, a sea of red.  

Ben’s-  

Ben’s dead.  

Ben’s dead.  

(“Pick who dies.”)  

Luther took his pick, didn’t he?  

Luther was a bad leader, and a worse brother, and he couldn’t handle a simple mission, couldn’t handle that responsibility, that duty , to keep his family. 

It’s-  

It was a simple question, wasn’t it?  

Pick who dies.  

He should've said me , should’ve said  me, me, leave my sister alone, leave my brother alone, should’ve said, should’ve begged, kill me, let them leave, kill me, please.

[neptunesnxpple]

Shigaraki Tomura x gn!reader

Summary: you and Shigaraki go to the cherry blossom festival together.

Minors Do Not Interact

At eight in the morning you heard a knock,

“Coming!” you yelled, throwing your sloppy attempt at a bento into a warm whicker basket with red and white checkered blanket sneakily poking out from the top. You put on a light jacket, grabbed a hat, and shimmied into your shoes, not bothering to untie them. After a valiant effort, the shoes were on, you grabbed your keys off of the brass hook and opened the door.

 “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to answer,” Shigaraki voiced dryly, carrying a plastic bag with two sodas clinking together. He reached toward the basket,

  “No thank you, I can carry it,” you assured, unable to hide your smile. The most you could do was pin your lips together while the warmth filled your cheeks and the corners of your eyes crinkled happily. You could tell Shigaraki had tried. The cracks on his face were softened, indicating he was using the moisturizer you had left him. His hair looked brushed at the minimum, and there was only one new scratch appearing around the scabby strokes decorating his neck. He continued to reach forward, trying to grab at the basket while you moved it behind your back, “come on, I want to make sure we get a good seat.” The door clicked behind you.

 On the subway over, Shigarakis’ leg bounced as it pressed against yours, watching the way his fingers fidgeted in his gloves. He still refused to touch you with his hands, but he’d press against you whenever applicable. His hood cast a shadow over his face. When the two of you got off, the air was much different then when you went in. There was a chilly breeze, clouds looking less than happy. The two of you were determined, the mounting wind threatening to take your hat and your exposed calves getting cold. You kept your shivering to a minimum, picking what would be a shady spot underneath a tree with beautiful pink cherry blossoms. A welcoming sight in a graying environment.

 “It didn’t say anything about rain,” you murmured, handing Shigaraki one half of the blanket. You looked around, noticing an absence of other couples, “I thought that the cherry blossom festival was usually more packed then this.” Shigaraki shrugged. Then, a spitting of rain started, causing panic to wash over, “do you think we should go?”

 “We’ll be fine, we’re probably on the outskirts of it. It’ll pass soon,” Shigaraki sat down, seemingly unphased by the increasing weather. You joined suit, unpacking the box and laying out the assortment of octopus cut hot dogs, tsukemono, kamaboko slices, sweet mochi, and strawberries. On a particularly rough gust of wind, you held onto your hat and now empty basket. You couldn’t tell if the rain was increasing or if the wind was just pelting all of the newfound moisture your way.

 “Are you sure?” you shouted over the whipping wind, hardly able to hear the sound of your own voice. Before Shigaraki could offer a response, a loud roll of thunder sounded overhead, the rain was definitely increasing.

 “We just have to wait it out,” he shouted back, his words accompanied by a downpour of rain. You shielded your head, looking up to see Shigaraki frantically putting away your prepared lunch. You thanked the gods above, rolling up the blanket and shoving it into the basket. You ran towards the closest store, standing under the awning and breathing heavily as water dripped down your nose.

 “It wasn’t supposed to rain today,” you reiterated to yourself, still in shock. Shigaraki stood quietly beside you for a silent minute. The rain beat down at the earth audibly, a swarm of water pulling on the sidewalk. You heard an unzipped of Shigarakis hoodie, holding it over both of your heads,

 “Let’s head down the street, there’s a ramen spot nearby.”

 You nodded, huddling close under the faulty protection of his thin jacket, yanking the restaurant door open and a soft bell ringing above. The two of you absolutely drenched. You watched the window as Shigaraki secured two menus, leading you to the tall stools facing the street. What normally could be a comfortable silence between you had an unspoken layer of tension. Shigaraki had brought the festival to your attention weeks ago, it had been a source of easy conversation for you. Planning what to bring, when to meet, possible activities. And now it was all washed away. This wasn’t according to plan, and you were completely lost. Your nerves loosened a bit once the steaming hot bowl of ramen was placed in front of you, the warm broth curing your wounded ego.

 “I’m sorry,” you started, staring down at your bowl, “I should have double checked the weather, I was just so excited,”

 “You have nothing to apologize for, I could have just as easily checked,” Shigaraki interrupted, “getting ramen with you can be fun, too.” You breathed a heavy sigh of relief,

 “I feel bad, we’ve been planning this for weeks.”

 “I don’t see how that’s your fault. Unless you have a weather quirk you didn’t tell me about,” Shigaraki answered, unbothered and not breaking his concentration on eating. You smiled softly, giving him a gentle nudge. You felt him looking at you out of the corner of his eye, focusing back down at your ramen. You jumped when you felt an arm sneaking behind your back, hand pressing into your side, “Rain or shine, you’ll always be my player two.”

A/N: the cherry blossom festival near me is only a month away! as you can tell im getting antsy. If you’re near a location with cherry blossom festivals, I definitely recommend going :)

[writingbakery]

Can I request a Bakugou scenario where he's got a soft spot for the reader and everyone teases him about it. On the day he wanted to confess he couldn't find them. But it's getting really late, almost curfew and the reader just comes in, an absolute mess. Somehow everything that could have possibly gone wrong in a day did, especially getting lost. And then they tried to avoid Bakugou because they didn't want him to see them being a hot mess because they like him too?

[of course bb anon! we all need soft katsuki in our lives 💓]

“Soft For You”

pairing —> katsuki bakugo x gender neutral!reader

genres —> fluff, light angst, mild pining

warnings —> cursing

to say that bakugo katsuki had a crush on you would be a slanderous, bullshit lie. a crush? pathetic. he didn’t do crushes, certainly not on loud, annoying pains in the ass like yourself. a crush. what a load of crap. no, bakugo didn’t consider what he felt for you to be a measly, half assed crush.

he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you.

it took a stupidly long and painful amount of time for the hotheaded blond to come to this realization, sleepless nights spent staring at the ceiling in his tiny dorm room, wondering what you were doing four doors and one hallway over. his palms sweat tenfold whenever he’s near you, fingertips sparkling with uncharacteristic nerves - he’d nearly lit the new curtains in the common room aflame because you’d smiled at him sweet, soft all the way to your eyes.

pathetic.

he couldn’t even control his quirk around you, let alone his racing heart and mind. he hated feeling like this, so completely out of control, unable to focus on anything that wasn’t your laugh, the way your eyes scrunched up when you were concentrating, how your nose twitched right before you smiled-

yeah, he’s got it bad. and he’s going to do something about it before it eats him alive. or before kirishima and sero die by his hand.

the pair were relentless in their teasing of him, always right at his heels everytime he so much as breathed in your direction. sero was particularly fond of leaving tape hearts with both of your initials on all of his training shit and notebooks, a sly wink shot bakugo’s way every time he found another “tape-sterpiece”.

the lanky bastard’s just lucky he runs fast.

kirishima is at least a bit more helpful, trying to coax bakugo into spending more time with you - he’ll ask you both to study and then mysteriously disappear, or invite the group to dinner and send the two of you to the wrong restaurant accidentally.

he’s trying to be a good wingman. bakugo still wants to drown him in a shallow pond.

no matter what he tries, however, you still seem as hopelessly oblivious to his feelings as you did when you started at U.A, and he’s slowly starting to lose his mind. he pulled out your chair at dinner, paid, let you borrow his limited edition engraved metal all might pen when you’d studied together - nothing.

so he’s doing something about it, once and for all.

the night before, he’s up till the sun rises trying to write a letter that doesn’t make him seem like the lovesick little bitch he is, tying it hastily to a bouquet of flowers and making sure no one touched the brownies he’d made you in the fridge. he’s a mess and he knows it, crimson eyes near bloodshot and his temper even worse. kaminari nearly loses a hand trying to steal a brownie, and mina has to drag everyone away from bakugo’s personal space as he waits for you after classes are over. he saw you during them but barely, only flashes as you raced from place to place - just his luck that the one day he needs you, you’re everywhere but pestering him.

back at the dorms he’s wearing a hole in the carpet of the common area, pacing and stressing and pacing and stressing - he hasn’t had a chance to talk to you all fucking day, and the nerves are snapping his resolve. everyone else is giving him a wide berth - mineta sneezed in the kitchen and bakugo already had a palmful of explosives ready to launch right at his face.

it’s not till nearly curfew that you stumble into the dorms, soaking wet and looking more miserable than he’d ever seen you. today had absolutely not been your day in the slightest, rushing from one exam to the next that you weren’t feeling very confident on. aizawa had given you extra time to finish, but then ordered you to do double training in exchange - your poor legs could barely hold you up, and you were a sweaty mess under your uniform. to ice the misery cake of your terrible day, it had started pouring on the way back to the dorms, and you were too tired to run through it. instead, you had trudged sadly through the awful weather, finally making your way into the common room and face to face with the one person you really didn’t want seeing you like this - bakugo katsuki, the boy you were head over heels for.

immediately you duck into the kitchen, offering a hasty wave to the fed up blond as you desperately try to avoid him - you looked like absolute garbage, you couldn’t have him seeing you like this. but clearly, bakugo has other plans, one burning hot hand reaching out to yank you back by the elbow.

“like fucking hell im gonna let you run off again, (y/n)! what the hell, dumbass! i’ve been trying to talk to you all damn day!” he growls, and for a second you think your day’s gonna go from bad to worse - an angry bakugo was a normal one, but a sleep deprived, raging one? you mentally hoped momo would pick nice floral arrangements for your funeral.

instead, he lets go of your arm to shove the half singed bouquet and letter into your hands, shifting awkwardly in front of you as he waited for your reaction. open mouthed and completely confused, you pry open the burnt letter carefully, attempting to read past the char marks and his rough handwriting.

clearly you’re not moving fast enough for him, an irritated groan escaping him as he runs his hands through his disheveled hair. “i like you, idiot! i’ve liked you for a long fuckin’ time! so i’d appreciate it if you would just hurry up an-“

you cut off his angry rambling by placing both hands on his chest, tiptoeing up slightly to press a kiss to his lips. they’re warm like you’d thought they’d be, soft and gentle against yours - you’ve caught him off guard for once. pulling away a little shyly, you hug the burnt flowers to your chest. “i’ve sort of wanted to do that for a while,” you admit, a flush to your cheeks. “dinner tomorrow? we can go to that one place you like.”

for a good minute he’s completely silent, mouth opening and closing a few times as though you’ve completely reset his brain.

error 404, bakugo katsuki not found, send assistance, backup requested-

and then he’s pulling forward by the waist, pressing his lips against yours with a rough sort of urgency that leaves you breathless.

“dinner tomorrow. but we’re going to that cafe you like, idiot,” he says quietly as he pulls away, a hint of red tinging his cheeks.

you can’t find it in you to complain.

[i made myself laugh with “tape-sterpiece! feedback is always welcomed, i hope you enjoyed this lil scenario!💓]

[ratisnotcrying]

first words

Summary: should i give a fuck who you are?

Pairing: pre slash sebastian moran & jim moriarty 

Warnings: mild violence but otherwise just a soulmate au

Word count: 2.5K

A/N: this is crossposted on AO3

~~~

In a neat, cursive script, running smoothly around Sebastian's left wrist were the words 'Do you know who I am, Tiger?'

He can't remember the first time he was told what it said, or even who told him, though he suspects it was his mother. She had always loved the idea of soulmates and destiny; Sebastian had never understood how she could feel like that when she had been 'destined' to marry his father - her mark read 'who the fuck do you think you are?' The earliest memory he has of his own mark is from when he was seven, two days after his mother died and his father drank so much he still reeked the next morning. He had grabbed Sebastian's tiny arm, leaving thin red marks sitting over small purple bruises, and just stared at the words - obviously they had reminded him of something because, thirty minutes later, Sebastian was left to drag himself to bed and unable to move without feeling a soul-deep pain radiating from each and evey place his father had struck him. From that day on, he covered his mark with plasters, long sleeves and ratty brown leather bracelets.

As he grew up he decided that he really didn't want to think about what kind of situation would warrant someone asking if he 'knew who he was' but then he started to think that his habit of getting into fights is what would be the exact reason for someone saying that. He had honestly been a well behaved child, and then a snotty prick by the name of Cyril - fucking Cyril - had made a snide comment about his mum and it all sort of went tits up from there on out. Four years and three schools later, he got kicked out of school altogether. And kicked out of his house because he got kicked out of school, and because his dad was a bastard. He didn't cover his mark anymore, not overly bothered by who saw it.

Living on the streets turned out to be a lot harder than sixteen year old Sebastian had expeted so he decided that building a reputation for himself was the best way to survive, and he was still a kid so at the time beating the shit out of people seemed like a good idea. Until he got arrested for assult. He's not sure what happened but somehow he ended up leaving the police station the next morning with no charges against him and a not-quite 'discussion' about the pros of him joining the military.

"Listen, mate, I get you've had it rough but I have to make sure that you get fighting isn't the answer. You got lucky this time but next time you won't. You need to take control of your life and make something of it ,yeah? I got you this leaflet and I want you to read it, alright?" The officer was barely older than him and the idea of actually accepting life advice from him was laughable so he just grunted as he walked out.

Four years later, at aged twenty-one, he was one of the most skilled snipers Her Majesty's Armed Forces had ever seen, and one of the luckiest too. It was sort of a running joke in his unit that he could get away with anything because good god did that man know how to push his luck. His superior officers had never met anyone who could talk back like Sebastian could and they had definitely never met anyone who could go from nought to a hundred with his fists so quickly, either. But, if being an asshole and getting away with it wasn't proof enough of his luck, the story behind Sebastian's soon to be nickname is a true testament to it.

It was mid-afternoon, the sun was hammering down and Sebastian was just trying to do some exercise when he heard a quiet noise above the hum of the heat and when he looked around, he saw a tiger making it's way cautiously into the encampment. It's stripes seemed distorted as they hung off of it - it was too skinny, he didn't need to be a genius to know that, but it was still a big fucking animal that was slowly approaching the sleeping form of Benny. If asked, Sebastian would tell you he had no idea why he did what he did next, because he truly does not know what possessed him. Picking up a hefty rock from beside him, he hurled it towards the tiger and, obviously, the tiger turned to him, moving faster now, gathering speed as it pounced.

When he opened his eyes he saw the tiger, limp-running away and Benny coming to drag him to his feet - all the others who had gathered around him still seemed shocked by the fact he had fought off an actual tiger. He didn't stay standing for long though and slumped back to the floor, wiping blood repeatedly out of his left eye and spitting some into the dirt next to him. He went to wipe his face more but a firm hand gripped his wrist, pulling it away before tugging at the open wounds on his face.

"You're lucky - it just missed your eye but you're going to need a lot of stitches. You will have some nasty scars, too," he said, guiding Sebastian over to the medical tent and getting to work.

Over the next few weeks he started to find his nickname very fucking annoying, particularly when his mates chorused 'tigers don't care about the opinions of sheep' every time one of their superior officers gave him a talking to and singing Eye of the Tiger at every opportunity. And the worst part was that he couldn't even get away because he wasn't allowed to do shit. So, really, if you took into account all of this, it was only logical that he would end up breaking his lieutenant's nose and find himself back on the streets with nothing to his name except a dishonourable discharge and three scars running from his left temple to the right side of his jaw.

---

'Should I give a fuck who you are?'

Jim had always worn his soulmark like a badge. No one ever told him what it said, for obvious reasons but he was a clever child, he could read and articulate way beyond his years so when seven year old Jim walked into the dinning room, looked his mother in the eye and stuttered out, 'should I give a f-fuck who you are?' before grinning at her, no one should have been surprised. That had been an interesting and pointless conversation because despite his mother telling him, 'Good boys shouldn't use such bad words,' he still continued to say this well into his early teens.

He was thirteen when he pulled off his first heist. It was in a corner shop, he lead a team of four and they got away with a new box of ready salted pringles, a case of red bull and, of course, a box of own brand chocolate bars because they're way better than the expensive shit. They so very nearly got caught, a brawl in the pub opposite bringing two police cars screeching to a halt in the road, but they somehow managed to slip away and made a fairly good profit on their goods. His second one was a year later and went a lot better. Him and four others again, this time a small shop in the high street from which they successfully took two cases of cigarettes to sell; two boxes of lighters because he was a good businessman and knew how to make a good sale; three cases of wine carefully stacked in a shopping trolley, and a nice new set of knives for himself.

By sixteen he has heard the phrase 'should I give a fuck who you are?' several times - not surprising when you looked at his life. He had the beginnings of a small network, maybe twenty or so people in place around his neighbourhood and it was slowly growing. Whilst those on the outskirts of his web mainly just roughed people up a little or pulled off the robberies that Jim no longer did himself, those higher up dealt with anyone who tried to take over Jim's patch. They would find themselves face down on the concrete, a muddy black boot on their neck until Jim sauntered over and crouched down, saying in a teasing voice, 'do you know who I am?' He started giggling childishly every time they responded with the words inked on his wrist.

Two days after he turned seventeen, his second in command got arrested for being a stupid prick who deserves everything coming to him - who would leave a gun in the front seat of their stolen astra? And who would steal a fucking astra? He almost grassed but somehow the evidence against him got lost so he walked - Jim has no idea how that happened, and when his second was found bloodied and bruised in an alleyway, well, it certainly couldn't be traced back to Jim.

The first time he killed a man was a week after his mother had died - or been murdered during a break in, to be specific. It had been a rough week to say the least. The police had been poking around, working off a tip some fuckwit had decided to bestow upon them. He's sure that if he spoke to the many councillors he was directed to they would say something about having time to grieve or process or 'work through it'. But he didn't speak to them because he had his own way of 'working through it', which was good for Jim, but wasn't quite as good for the imbecile who had not only come into his town, but had hurt his mother. He got a call late on the Thursday.

"We've got 'im, boss." "I'll be five minutes. If he has so much one broken bone, I will make you regret it." "Yes, boss."

When he arrived, two of his men were standing a little too rigidly whilst the third was stood with a foot on the neck of a crying prick.

"Hmm, a broken finger. Too bad. I apologise..." he trailed off, crouching down and looking expectantly into teary eyes.

"David," he choked out.

"David. Do you know who I am, David?" The look of horror, the colour visibly draining from his face and the way he physically gagged caused Jim to laugh sardonically before he continued.

"You might know my mother too - you were acquainted just a few days ago. Do you remember that, David?" he hissed as he used one gloved hand to pull a knife from his inside pocket.

He managed to avoid getting blood on most of his clothes, only a few drops landed on his coat but he would still have to burn it. He threw the knife on the floor and tossed his coat to the man closest to him, the gloves shoved in the pocket.

"Burn this. Do not touch that knife - it's going to get the cretin who snitched arrested. The only reason I'm letting you off today is because you're not worth the trouble it'll take to scrape you off the pavement."

In the following years his business expanded to include blackmail, kidnapping and assassinations. The only problem was there the unfortunately small pool of assassins to choose from - something about not wanting to kill innocent people or kill for money or other equally boring excuses.

And that's when he discovered recently discharged - sorry, dishonoably discarged Sebastian Moran.

---

Sebastian was not having a good week. It was nothing specific, really, it was just that being homeless is fucking shit and all of his stuff was set on fire; now all he wanted was to treat himself to a new pack of fags and maybe a drink. The route was familiar, the shadows, the dripping of the drains, so the two, quiet sets of footsteps he heard on his way back sounded loud and clear as an alert he was being followed, which was not doing anything to elevate his mood. He stopped walking and rolled his shoulders.

"What do you want?"

He spun around, arms raised in defence when he heard them run forwards, blocking the initial attack before launching himself forwards. He managed to knock one bloke on his arse just as he heard two, maybe three more approaching from behind. So, yeah, over all it hadn't been a great week but seeing all five of his attackers unconscious on the ground made it a little better. That was until he heard a sixth person approach, clapping slowly. Sebastian growled and pivoted, grabbing the condescending fuck by his collar and slamming him up against the damp brick work.

"Do you know who I am, Tiger?" the man said, eyeing the scars on his face and the bodies on the floor, and Sebastian very nearly punched him in the jaw because he sounded like he needed it and no one had ever obliged. Sebastian's eyes scanned the body in front of him, taking in his short, almost wiry frame, his vey expensive looking suit, and his shit eating grin. Sebastian put a cigarette between his lips, ignoring the sting of his split lip, and blew the smoke into his face.

"Should I give a fuck who you are?" he said through another exhale.

"The names Moriarty, and you should really show me more respect. You can start by letting go of me." The man - Moriarty - looked pointedly at where Sebastian still had his arm firmly pressed to his chest and Sebastian shrugged, letting go and taking half a step back.

"Much appreciated, I do hate wrinkling my suits. You'd do well to remember that, when you work for me."

"When I work for you?" Sebastian laughed incredulously.

"Naturally. I know all about you, Sebastian Moran. You have a skill set that I can use and, in return, I can offer you the opportunity to not be homeless." Moriarty slid his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels, which seemed to be his equivalent of twiddling his thumbs in boredom.

Sebastian flicked his fag butt away. "Suppose I don't want this job, what then?"

"Seeing as you do want this job I think it best not to waste my time. You'll soon learn that I'm not a very patient man." He turned on his heel, walking back the way he came, only pausing briefly to call out, "Come along now, Tiger. Work to do."