#once I had a dream where I was on trial against the world and the only one who stuck w me was my bff…oughhh making myself cry again

[clambuoyance]

[DC] 🎵How I find myself without you that I’ll never know, I let myself go🎵

[ladyrijus]

Skyward Sword Zelda is such a tragic figure in my opinion. Just put yourself in her shoes and imagine this.

It's the best day of your life. Your dearest friend, dork that he is, has finally become a knight. It's what every kid on Skyloft works towards and he finally did it. You're so proud of him. When you fly together, you muster up the courage to tell him you love him.

You never get the chance.

Instead you're whisked away into a world you believed was left behind, and saved by a woman who declares that she is your guardian, chosen by you. You have never met her before. You didn't even know there were people like you who lived down here, in the Surface.

"You must purify yourself if you are to transcend time and hold the seal," the mysterious woman with the painted tear remarks as she shepherds you through strange destinations unlike anything your books have ever taught you, "it was your will." No matter how many times she tells you this, in every iteration the language could allow, it doesn't make sense. Why would a goddess need to turn human? What could you do, that she could not?

Where does divinity and humanity diverge?

Connection.

A goddess is revered by her people who pray, in spite of her silence, for her benevolence and guidance. She is their unwavering stone, a higher power to rely on. But a girl? A girl is loved. She is someone tangible, a figure who people will see, and know, and care about, and fight for.

And that's when it clicks. Your friend isn't really your friend at all, but a hero, a pawn, who was intended to be used against an enemy of yours you no longer recognize.

You're using him. You've been using him all this time. It's sickening.

With each prayer, with each goddess damned spring you rush to, you are faced with your own marbled reflection, a testament to the fact your humanity is only a pretense, carefully timed to ensnare your friend into a hero's fate.

He doesn't seem to understand that though. He keeps running after you like the fool he is, hoping to save Zelda, his precious Zelda, that you no longer are. The smile you wear becomes harder to hold. You were Hylia first, and that is all you will ever be.

You play into the charade anyways. After all, Zelda was the reason why he went through his trials. To tell him now that she was gone would mean to destroy everything you had worked for. So you tell him everything he wants to hear: that you're your father's daughter, that you're his friend, that you're his Zelda.

And when you close your eyes, smiling from within the amber and ignoring the dull thuds of his fist against its surface, you wonder if you look anything like the statue you and your love had stood upon on the best day of your life.

"Maybe all of this is a dream," you wonder while drifting in between millennia. Time passes like the waterfalls in Skyloft, rapid, yet everlasting. Maybe you'd wake up in your bed in the Academy again. Your love would have been sleeping in (again) and everything would be how it used to be. You could be Zelda once more. And most importantly, Hylia would be nothing beyond a giant statue for you to ignore for the rest of your days.

... There's something to be said about how you fall again once you wake up.

"What kind of goddess am I," you think crudely, "to sever my own wings?"

But this time, your love is there to catch you. And he does. In that moment you pray, in your own name, he doesn't let you go.

[starrystevie]

18+ | cw: somno, smut | crossposted on twitter

eddie's loud, he can't help it. in everything he does, he's big & dramatic & commands the attention of the room. it's one of the reasons steve falls for him in the first place. when they're fucking in a tiny trailer with thin walls however it becomes a problem.

it only takes getting caught once with wayne's all knowing stare the next day when steve comes to pick eddie up for a date. he snuck out the window that morning to avoid being found but it turns out eddie's loud mouth did the work for them the night before.

if anything, steve's proud that he can fuck eddie enough that he can't keep his mouth shut. turn his brain and limbs to mush as he rattles out curse after curse, praise after praise. proud that he can get eddie so thoroughly fucked that his name is echoing off the walls.

at first it was cute, bending down to smother eddie's mouth with a kiss to swallow yet another too loud moan. at first they'd giggle when eddie would shout steve's name as he hit his favorite spot that set his nerves on fire. at first steve would whisper filth in his ear hoping he'd take the hint and quiet down to his level, slowing his hips to roll in an agonizing pace. but nothing worked. steve would still pound into him and eddie would still yell like they had the world all to themselves.

"you should just fuck me when i'm passed out," eddie moaned as they took advantage of wayne's overnight shift. "it'll -fuck- it'll be like the best wet dream i could ever have."

steve's hips stuttered as he thought about it, and then picked up even harder when he pictured it. "yeah? want me to keep you quiet, baby?"

it didn't take long for them to finish, took even less time to start round two after they got hard again while planning out the details. turns out they both are a little too into the idea of steve taking him apart when he's asleep.

the first time, eddie wakes up halfway through while steve is blowing him and is too excited to go back to sleep so he resorts to biting into a pillow to keep quiet. the second time, steve's too afraid of eddie waking up again so he settles with fucking into his own fist and then coming all over his bare ass. eddie wakes up while the sun rises to the sheets stuck to him with his cock hard and red which gets them both going again.

they finally hit the sweet spot after a while of trial and error.

they fall asleep curled around each other like they always do, only this time eddie's ass has been thoroughly stretched and steve falls asleep with his half hard cock nestled between his cheeks. when steve inevitably wakes up, skin sweaty where the two are pressed together, the fun can begin.

it doesn't take too long for him to get hard again, it doesn't take too long for him to slip his freshly lubed fingers into his ass, it doesn't take too long for him to get his cock fully surrounded by heat as he slides fully into eddie.

eddie snuffles against the pillow and steve freezes, an excited panic thrumming through his veins, until his boyfriend quiets back down with one final small whimper. he rolls his hips slowly, listens to the ambient noise in the trailer for any signs of someone else being awake and gently brings his hand up to cover eddie's mouth. just in case. just like eddie asked for however many times ago.

fucking into eddie when he's pliant is everything steve could have dreamed up. nothing will compare to being able to fuck exactly how they like to, loud and electric and fast and perfect, but this? grinding his hips with his nose pressed into the back of eddie's head, every inch of him on edge as he waits to either get caught or succeed, is a thrill in and of itself.

he comes probably too fast, too turned on by the whole thing. he comes buried deep in eddie, twitching out every last drop, keeping his hips pressed close. he comes with his mouth wide open on eddie's neck, teeth skimming over sensitive skin, whispering out curses that even the best ears couldn't hear because they're only meant for eddie's.

steve pulls out, sleepy & sated, reaching down to run his fingers through the mess of come & lube that follows. eddie whimpers something quiet & sweet so steve gives him his fingers against his lips like a reward for being good. for being quiet. for trusting steve like he does.

eddie's sore when he wakes up in the morning. he grimaces against the pull in his ass as he goes to stand until he realizes what happens. reaches between his legs to feel how tender his hole his. looks on the sheets and sees where he came against them in his sleep.

he wakes steve up with his mouth. considers it a much deserved payback until he's squirming against the mattress & whines out eddie's name.

"you fucked me?" eddie asks as he pops off with a grin. it's not a question that needs to be answered nor is the next one. "did it work?"

steve groans as he tangles his fingers in eddie's hair, bringing his mouth back where he wants it. mutters out a few curse words as eddie trails his fingers over his balls. "what do you think?"

"i think you need to shut up before i'm the one who has to keep you quiet now."

they have wayne's schedule memorized and eddie uses his standard early saturday morning shift that day as an excuse to make steve get as loud as he can, his name echoing off the walls this time around, driving him crazy with his lips and tongue and fingers.

little do they know that wayne now has his fingers plugging his ears with a grimace, wishing he hadn't swapped shifts with gary for the day, contemplating going in to work anyway to escape his loud ass nephew and his loud ass boyfriend.

[lesbiansforboromir]

In a BoromirLives fanfic, Faramir must be forced to confront this line of his in particular; Whether he erred or no, of this I am sure: he died well, achieving some good thing. His face was more beautiful even than in life. It's vital to me that this is addressed. Because in Tolkien beauty is holy, they are intertwined inextricably, the holy will be beautiful.

Boromir did not live a beautiful holy life according to most, his life is not spoken of with uncomplicated worth by any but Denethor, Eomer, Theoden and Pippin (all either 'simple' or outwardly rebellious against god). But he did die a beautiful holy death, it is what most people praise him for and in Faramir's mystical dream where he sees Boromir's dead body floating down the river, this is his reaction. Boromir's corpse was more beautiful than his living body, because in death he was 'redeemed' and served his purpose in the great holy plan. He 'died well'.

This is horrifying right? It horrifies me when I read it. And I think it so concisely reveals how Faramir and many others viewed Boromir. I am essentially here to argue that this is all about piety, once again, yes I'm a one track record.

Gandalf, when hearing of Boromir's death from Aragorn, declares; It was a sore trial for such a man: a warrior, and a lord of men. Galadriel told me that he was in peril. But he escaped in the end. I am glad. It was not in vain that the young hobbits came with us, if only for Boromir’s sake.

Now, what is Gandalf saying here? Boromir did not escape, he died. Does he mean he escaped corruption? Well, no, since apparently this 'escape' had something to do with Merry and Pippin and Boromir shook off the pull of the Ring long before he was sent to find them. What role did Merry and Pippin play in this 'escape'? Well, Boromir died for them, he had too, there was no other way out of that ambush. So by process of elimination the only thing the 'young hobbits' did that was 'for Boromir's sake' was... to be there so he could die for them, right?

And remember, his death did not actually save them or really help in any way, the hobbits are still taken and the Uruk-hai's downfall has nothing to do with Boromir. In fact Aragorn squandered any time Boromir might have given him to catch up to the Uruk-hai by spending hours on his funeral. So, the death alone is what is being called 'good' here, what is beautiful. Boromir dies and that is beautiful and something to be glad for, according to Gandalf and Faramir.

But why do they think this? Faramir has his 'alas for Boromir, whom I too loved' and Gandalf laments 'poor Boromir', so they have at least some pity for him. What was 'good' to them about Boromir dying? Well we all know this one don't we, it's the accepted narrative of it all, Boromir 'redeemed' himself with this deed. He tried to take the Ring, and for this crime he needed redemption that he gained through vainly giving up his life to try and save Merry and Pippin.

But, in fact, Boromir himself has a slightly different way of phrasing it. Boromir says, of his own death; ‘I tried to take the Ring from Frodo,’ [-] ‘I am sorry. I have paid.’

He paid for it. To Boromir, in this cosmic exchange, he chose wrongly and paid for the offence with his death. This wasn't redemption, it was spiritual commerce, crime and punishment. Which is a perspective that once again demonstrates Boromir's enduring lack of 'faith' or spirituality. The powers of the west and Eru may exist, but they exist to him as forces of nature, some fact of the world we all must just live with, not something that fills him with hope or brings him nobility or meaning or a 'higher purpose'. Boromir does not want to be closer to divinity, he does not want to be beautiful or noble, he wants his people to be safe.

But of course, this is entirely opposite to Faramir's perspective, and if not downright heretical then at least unfaithful. So, when alive, Boromir cannot achieve 'beauty' in Faramir's mind, because he is unfaithful. It is only when he is dead, when 'fate' draws him into this spiritually good 'end' that sees him give up his life for a holy quest, when Boromir's life is no longer defined by him but by his death, that he can be beautiful.

And bringing this all the way back around, there are two ways you could do this in a boromirlives fic. Either, Boromir comes back but he does not look like he did in Faramir's dream. He did not pay, he is still alive to define who he is and Faramir finds himself slowly drawn into this terrible psychological horror as he realises he misses his brother's death more than he missed his actual brother.

Or Faramir needs to be confronted with a brother who looks dead to him. Boromir has come back and to Faramir's eyes he looks exactly as he did in the dream, but now this corpse moves and speaks and can no longer be confined to one perfect conceptual moment. And this also horrifies him. It is for authors to decide if this is just an aspect of Faramir's perspective, or if Boromir actually 'came back wrong' as it were, he did pay but somehow he came back anyway.

[lure-of-writing]

Where my soul can rest

Rhysand x reader

word count: 2.6k

Warnings: heartbreak

Authors note: Hii! this was heavily inspired by Ariana grandes song "I wish I hated you" but actor version. Let me know what you think! and as always your support is super appreciated! (I did write a little update on the reader if you would like that also)

You had been Rhysands first love and he, yours. You had spent the first hundred years of your life with him as friends, always dancing on the line of something more but never daring to cross the line in fear of what would happen if something went wrong. If it wasn’t for Cassian's and Azriel's timed intervention you would have never gotten the honor of being loved by your high lord.  

Deep down you knew that crossing that invisible line that separated friendship from romantic relationship was a terribly bad idea but when the opportunity had presented itself you couldn’t help but throw yourself into the whirlwind of being Rhysands lover. Something about it was so intoxicating. Loving him was like feeling the high of every drug and tonic that existed without ever having to feel any of the side effects or more importantly never having to come off the high that was loving him. 

There was a part of your mind that was constantly nagging you about how terribly this could all end. How in a moment's notice everything you had ever loved could be ripped out from beneath your feet and there wouldn’t be anything you could do to stop it. It truly was your worst nightmare but everytime you would voice your fears to Rhysand he would gently cup your cheeks and kiss along the path made by the tears that had rained upon your face whilst promising nothing would ever take him away from you, and each time you believed him. You had believed him because he was so convincing and his eyes were so full of love. How could you not believe him?

Over the course of almost five hundred years together you had been through every trial and tribulation and had always come out on the other side successful. That was until Rhysand was trapped under the mountain with no way of escaping for fifty years. In that time Velaris had been hidden away from the world and left to survive on its own. With Rhysand gone it was up to you and the rest of the inner circle to protect Velaris and keep it afloat. So without hesitation that's what you did. For years you took care of the people and city making sure to deal with any threat before it could make its way to the beloved city. 

Rhysands return was abrupt and unexpected but certainly welcomed. Running through the house of wind you round the corner to see your lover standing in the living room surrounded by the rest of your family. Silently you watched from afar as everyone welcomed him home. Tears once again found the familiar route they’ve taken plenty of time in the last fifty years, down your face. Slowly you made your way to the center of the room where everyone gathered, not approaching too quickly in case this was a dream and he would be gone if you made any sudden movements. 

Once on the edge of the small crowd you could truly take in the male in front of you. One look at him and you could tell that whatever happened under there had changed him. But nonetheless this was Rhysand, your Rhysand. The man you had loved your whole life and finally after so long he was standing in front of you again. 

He reached for your arm and gently tugged you into his chest where you finally broke down and let the tears reconstruct the routes along your face and the sobs rack your body. He held you in his arms, face pressed into his chest while his arm wrapped around your back squeezing your body further into his and his other arm rested against the top of your back while his hand rested in your hair. Rhysand hoped you couldn’t feel his heart breaking with the knowledge that what the two of you once had would soon be no more, for he had finally found his mate. 

For weeks after Rhysands return you could feel that something was off but you had just brushed it off as anyone who had just spent fifty years trapped underneath a mountain, with a crazy dictator as a ruler,  would also be a little off. Unfortunately for you that nagging voice in the back of your head had reappeard and its confidence had grown since the last time it had paid you a visit. But it  was not the time to dwell on the unconfident thoughts your subconscious  had decided to hand over to the conscious part of your mind. Now was not the time for Rhysand to comfort you and tell you everything would be alright. No, right now you needed to be there for him in the form of absolute unwavering love and support so you fiercely pushed those thoughts back into the abyss in the back of your mind where thoughts go to die. 

If there was one thing Rhysand was, it was a hard worker. So it came as no surprise to you when upon his return he hit the ground running and had resumed his role as high lord. No one would have judged him for needing some time to heal from the trauma he had endured but he insisted now was not the time for rest. Now was the time to pick up the pieces from Amarantha. Each morning you watched as Rhysand left to fix whatever thing he had deemed broken and it never came as a shock to you when he left before the sun had even risen and returned when the moon had taken over for its daily shift. 

What did come as a surprise was when Morrigan had returned from the moonstone palace with tears in her eyes.  “Mor? What's wrong?” your questions hit her like thousand pound bricks that had been hurtled at her. The pure concern in your voice had made her want to cry. Never had she thought Rhysand would find someone who wasn’t you but she had just returned from meeting Feyre and it made her want to vomit. In the empty halls of the moonstone palace Rhysand had begged his cousin for her to be the one to tell you of Feyres existence, of her relationship to Rhysand. Never once had Rhys ever asked anything from her and without a doubt she would do anything for him but this was a burden that was too heavy for her to handle by herself. But Rhysand had been by her side in her darkest moments so she would be by him during his darkest moment. “Y/n I need to tell you something but first you need to sit down.” Mor watched as your face shifted from concern to fear. She watched as you took residence in the nearest set and looked at her expectantly. Morrigan made her way over to you and silently kneeled before you placing her hands upon your legs and prayed to the mother above that what she was about to tell you wouldn’t destroy you. Deep down she knew her prayers were not going to be answered. “I have to tell you something. But I need you to listen to me no matter how much it hurts to hear. No matter how much it breaks your heart, ok?” Mor moved her hands to yours and gently rubbed circles against the back of your hand. Heavens know you will need the support. 

“Y/n.” The tone of her voice had your heart thumping against the cage of your ribs. If you weren’t scared before then you certainly were now. With a shaky breath she started again. “Y/n. Rhysand found his mate. She's the girl who freed them from the mountain. Eventually” you heard nothing more as a loud ringing sound overtook your hearing and you practically collapsed on top of Mor while sobs ripped through your body. Morrigan held you as the sounds of your soul breaking rattled off the walls piercing her heart. She rocked you back and forth while smoothing your hair down until you fell asleep from exhaustion and heart break. The sounds of your heart broken cries will haunt her in her sleep. Morrigan refused to move from her spot on the floor where your body had curled into hers in fear of waking you up and forcing you to relive your heart break. Mor didn’t look up as she felt the presence of her cousin in the room. She didn’t look up as he crouched down and gently moved the hair covering your face to behind your ear. She didn’t look as he took in your disheveled appearance and tear stained cheeks that matched while he had a look of pain painted across his own face. She loved her cousin but a part of her knew she would never forgive him for the hurt he has caused you. There may even be a part of her that hates him for what he did. And Rhysand knew it too. 

From then on out you had made it a point to avoid your past lover. Morrigan had carried you to her room where you slept for the rest of the night and into the early morning. Silently you made your way to what once was your shared bedroom to find it empty much to your relief. Without asking, the house had helped you move your items into a spare bedroom where you spent the next three days hiding from the inner circle while packing what was important to you and getting rid of what wasn’t. By the fourth day you were ready to leave everything was packed and all you had to do was say goodbye. As much as it would pain you to leave the people you had called family for your whole life you knew you couldn’t stay, it would be far too painful. And you weren’t willing to torture yourself everyday for the rest of your life just to be able to be around your family. You could love them from afar. From a place with enough distance that you could not run back when the overwhelming sense of heartbreak became too much. 

Rhysand knew you were avoiding him and he couldn’t blame you. If he had been in your position he was sure he would do the same but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. If there was one last thing Rhys could do for you, it was give you the chance to have a peaceful goodbye with the rest of your family without him there. But he did ask that Azriel and Cassian inform him when you were done with your goodbyes. He had a lot of regrets in his life but not saying goodbye to you wasn’t going to be one of them. He was sure that he was the last person you wanted to see but after nearly five hundred years together there was no way he was letting you go without seeing you one last time. Even if it was the most selfish thing he has ever done. 

You could feel his presence in the room as you had gripped Morrigan in a bittersweet hug goodbye. Pulling back she takes in the unshed tears lining your eyes and it takes everything in her to be strong for you. “Go out there and make me proud, yeah?” There would never be a moment when she wasn’t proud of you but you knew she meant was go out there and do more than survive this heartbreak, thrive because you are more than capable. Nodding you quickly wipe the fallen tears “Don’t I always?” Morrgian gave your hands one last tight squeeze and reluctantly let go. Stepping back you take in the people who have made up your family for centuries, for one last time before moving to the balcony where Rhysand followed you out. For a while nothing was said, just the wind whispering quiet nothings as it brushed past your face while Rhys soaked up what he was sure to be his last moments with you. “I am so incredibly sorry it happened this way but I can’t let.” you refused to let him finish what he was going to say. “I know.” 

“You know that even with all of this, I still love you. There will always be a part of me that loves you.” slowly you pull your gaze away from the setting sun to look at him. “I know.” It was silent for a few moments, neither of you not sure what to say. Finally he got the courage to speak up. “I know you probably hate me right now. Hell, I would also hate me if I were you. You had always had your fears about what would happen should this day ever come and each time I told you not to worry because nothing could ever take me from you but I was wrong. I was so so wrong and it wasn’t right of me to pretend like this situation wasn’t a possibility. I know that no matter how many times I tell you I am sorry it will never make up for the hurt I have put you through. All I ask is that one day when you find the forgiveness in your heart and peace in your soul you come and visit us. Our family will never be the same without you.”  

“I wish I hated you. I really wish I did.” All Rhysand could do was nod at your confession as much as it broke his heart he knew he had no room to ask for forgiveness. “There was always some part of me that knew we weren’t meant to be but that doesn’t make it hurt less. In some ways it makes it hurt more knowing this end was inevitable. I can’t say that I will ever forgive you for what you have done but no matter how I feel about that I only wish the best for you. You deserve it. There is a part of me that wishes none of this happened, that I could keep you to myself and continue to live in that peaceful bliss with you but I would hate myself from keeping you from her.” Rhysand watched as the gold sun danced upon your face and reflected from your eyes and the tears lining them. 

“Our paths were never meant to cross like they have. We were always better off as friends. We both know that. So go live the life you deserve with the girl of your dreams.” Rhys' eyes tracked the rouge tear that gently slid down your cheek. Seeing you stand so brave in the face of heartbreak while refusing to yield to the waves that pummeled you relentlessly in overpowering emotions made a small part of him proud to see you so strong but another part was saddened by the fact he did this to you. “And what about you?”  shrugging you turn to face the fading sun. The irony was not lost on you, of the sun's departure along with your impending one. “And what about me?” you glance at him over your shoulder “Where will you go? What will you do? How will we know if you're safe?” for a moment you thought of an answer to give to your oldest friend but all the answers evaded you. “I will go where my soul can find rest and my heart can repair itself. Other than that I have no answers. I will find the rest as I go and figure it out along the way.” 

That was the last time anyone in the inner circle had seen you.

[mamirhodessxox]

Dead Witches Wish

Vampire!Cody Rhodes x Fem Witch!OC Reader

(Evara Barker)

Desc: Evara Barker has a family history of her family living in small towns right near the Appalachian Mountains which is a place known to hold mysteries, but one of the towns take place in Salem Massachusetts which is right by the mountains, she & her bestfriend Renna decided to move there after she started to have cryptic dreams of a woman giving her signs that she is destined to be in that exact town that is known for many disturbing things involving the Salem Witch Trials. (This story will be inspired by The Salem Witch Trials, The folklore & creepy stories on the Appalachian mountains.)

Contents: Violence, Death, Marijuana, Alcohol, Disturbing descriptions of certain paranormal creatures, Smut in later chapters, Arachnophobia, Stalking, Knife kink/play, Blood kink, masturbation, use of sex toys, ETC.

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Ever since Evara was a young girl she always had an eye on the spiritual world, she was strongly fascinated with the Paranormal, the spirits of others & the practice of witchcraft, she didn’t know why until the recent few months where she began having nightmares. Horrifying ones, mainly of her great grandmother who was dead way before Eve was born, She stood in a forest that was deep within the mountains as she wore a grey night gown covered in blood,

her eyes not to be seen in the dark holes of her eye sockets, her hair hung low around her face, her lips chapped to the point where her mouth was covered in dry blood & every single time Evara saw the horrific sight of her great grandmother in these nightmares she would always be pointing at a sign that had the words “Salem Massachusetts, home of the infamous Salem Witch Trials.” Engraved into the wooden sign before she awoke.

Every single night she had the same dream for months that she made the ultimate decision in late September to Move to Salem Massachusetts which was right by the Appalachian mountains that were known for holding dark secrets & hidden creatures behind the dark forests. When Eve had made this decision her best-friend Renna decided to move along with her and be by her side but once they got to the house they both purchased they had an eerie feeling crawling up their skin.

The Appalachian mountains were in view & many forests laid behind the eerie house. Renna leaned against the truck they both took turns on driving on the way to Salem. The sun was still up but yet the day seemed so gloomy & chilly, gusts of wind ran through Eves body causing a shiver to run down her spine as she looked around observing the neighborhood before turning to her best friend “Well, It’ll do for now.”

Eve sighed out while Renna quirked up her eyebrows sarcastically before unlocking the door. Eve has turned for a moment as she felt the sudden fear of being watched before rushing inside. “It’s not too bad!” Renna cheered out as she turned on the lights and looked around. The pair stood in the house in. Silence for a moment & looking at each other smiling before running off to pick out their rooms.

After spending the day unloading their moving truck and help furnishing up the place & decorating it the house soon felt like home, Renna had already went to bed meanwhile Eve had went to the bathroom still feeling the odd hunch that someone was watching her. She took off her clothes & submerged herself into the hot water as she scrubbed her body clean with soap and washed her hair, while she shut her eyes she had sudden images flashing through her mind imaging a dark brunette man was in the shower with her mumbling something.

Eve gasped opening her eyes and flipping open the shower curtain checking her surroundings before shutting off the water and wrapping herself in a towel. She lurked out of the bathroom and soon felt her feet slowly patter against the cold wooden floor “hello..?” She quietly called out making sure she wouldn’t wake Renna. She soon realized nothing was in the room with her and walked off into her bedroom, she had made the ultimate mistake of leaving her curtains open leaving no imagination to lurkers and creepers.

She had slid on her underwear and sighed as she was still naked in her upper body, she brushed out her wet hair and applied lotion to her breasts down to her stomach. She put on a large t shirt & laid in her bed sighing softly as she felt her stomach pit as the feeling of homesickness washed over her for a split second before she shut out the light & went to bed..

She opened her eyes & saw her great grandmother once more but even bloodier then the last dream, her grandmother stood outside of the house before soon turning to walk inside, the horrifying woman searched throughout the house & soon went into Eve’s bedroom standing over her bed giving her own self s clear space to see her own self but asleep.

The next morning she sprang up and heard chatter in the kitchen & ran her hand down her face before she walked out into the kitchen after putting pajama pants on & saw Renna standing in the kitchen speaking to 2 men, 1 with dark brunette hair that was short but also slicked back, the 2nd man with black hair a beard & a slight blonde streak passing by, Renna looked over towards Eve’s direction and smiled

“This is Evara! The best friend I had mentioned.” Eve blinked in shock and smiled nervously when her friend grabbed her by the shoulders showing her off to the strangers in the kitchen, The man with dark brown hair had took a glance at her with his sharp blue eyes before holding out his hand “Cody, me & my friend Seth here saw you two move in yesterday, another friend would be here too but he’s probably out and about town.” He introduced himself to Eve & smile in a charming manner while she shook his hand followed with her moving onto seth.

“Well it was a pleasure meeting you ladies, but Cody & I need to start heading out. We’ll be sure to i bite you go social occasions.” Seth breathed out as he stood up making Cody move his stare away from Eve to his close friend before standing up aside him “I’m the house next to yours doll, feel free to borrow anything.” He winked before walking out the door as Renna snickered and looked over at Eva

“Talk about hot right? Did you see how Brody or whatever the guy’s name is look at you?!” Eve furrowed her brows and poured herself a cup of coffee “First it’s Cody, Second I’m not..following, No..?” Renna huffed and rolled her eyes as she hopped on the counter “He was giving you the fuck me eyes.” “The fuck are the fuck me eyes?” Eve questioned before taking a large sip of her coffee while her roommate entertained the question “It’s where someone looks at you in a way that shows they want you to fuck them.” Eve glared and set down her coffee “Your disgusting.” “I didn’t come up with it this time c’mon!!!”

Renna & Eve cleaned the kitchen & dishes that were used during this morning & Eve let out a quiet sigh as her roommate looked over in her direction and gave her a comforting hug “Another dream?” Eve frowned pulling herself away & nodded “Yeah, it’s strange, it’s like every time I do something I’m being watched but there’s nothing here.” Renna smiled and shook her head “I think your just freaking yourself out.”

Throughout the day the girls relaxed but eventually Renna went out to grocery shop & Eve stayed home decorating and hang up paintings & lights until she heard banging on the front door.

She turned her attention to that door & became a little scared when there was banging due to it becoming louder & louder.. eventually she moved out of the kitchen & opened the door only to find nothing but a piece of paper lying on the porch. She looked around & picked the paper up & saw rules written on it

“What the hell…?” She breathed out before looking around & quickly shutting the door and putting the piece of paper onto the counter before grabbing her phone dialing Renna but unfortunately no answer.

She waited & waited but recieved no luck on her best friend replying to her call or texts, and then got that feeling again, like eyes were on her, Eve breathed heavily & shook her head & looked around the house.

Eventually she noticed her best friend still hadn’t called or texted back yet so she made the ultimate decision.

Evara stared at her neighbors house from the window & soon looked at the paper as she snatched it and went out of the house all the way to theirs and started banging on the door until Cody answered “Is everything alri-“ she shoved the paper in his face glaring.

“What the fuck is this??”

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

[dutchess-of-fear]

Finally Together

Morpheus x Reader

As lady of the dreaming you watch over all dreams and Nightmares with your beloved husband, Morpheus,

It had been eos ago when you had meet, and you have loved him ever since, it has devastated you when your husband was captured, you had wanted to help your husband, but you are weak in the waking world and you wanted to make sure the dreaming stays much intact to which it sort of worked but was saddend by the damage the kingdom had fallen.

Once your husband came back throthe throne room where you stand, you were such overwhelmed with such emotions as you seen your husband, standing there,

you both passionately kissed each other as it had been so long since you both had been in each others arms,

But you knew Morpheus had a job to do to fix the kingdom and so he did, and through trial and errors, through heart ship and learning to trust, the kingdom had been restored to its beauty,

But through all this, the lack of your husband by your side weights you. You knew he needed to fix the kingdom, but it had been so long that you wanted to have some time with you're husband, and Lucienne notice this.

As Morpheus was busy in the throne room Lucienne in, clearing her throat to catch his attention to which Morpheus respond with a hum,

"My lord, it had come to my attention that your wife has been feeling lonely, as of late" Morpheus glance up from his work as he got out of his throne, Morpheus knew he must spend time with his wife but as of late his work had kept him away from his wife, he knew he needed to make up for all the lonely nights, "excuse me Lucienne but I am going to see my wife, would you mind looking after the place?" Lucienne nodded as Morpheus walked out of the throne room and went to there bedroom.

But to his surprise she wasn't at all in the bedroom, he then called to Matthew to looked for he as he began to wonder where she had went but realised where she would be.

((Y/N) POV)

I softly walked among Fiddlers creek gazing at the twinkling stars that shine across the dreaming, all the while thinking about my husband, he had busy as of late to which you understands but you miss the time spending quality time with your husband,

"My Love," I turned around and saw my husband standing there looking beautiful as the day I laid my eyes on him for the first time, I couldn't contain the smile that grew across my face as he walked up to me and held my hands before kissing my cheek, he lingered there for a moment before lean back and looking at me with such love and affection he has for me,

"I am so sorry, of neglecting you for such a long time, I shouldn't be doing that to my wife," I shook my head as I rest my hand on his cheek, and he leaned into my touch, "my dear husband, I understand you have a duty to serve, I completely understand"

"But I should be spending some time with my wife who I left alone when I was captured" I leaned closer as I kissed him softly relishing in the feeling I hadn't felt since he came back,

"But you are now here, so walk with me, let's enjoy gazing at the stars together Morpheus" he smiled as he lead me the way as we found a comfy spot to sit together as we held each other close looking at the beautiful stars that shined for us,

"I love you so much Morpheus" he looked towards me before treading his fingers through my hair leaning his head against mine, "and I love you, for all eternity my dear love"

[joelsgreys]

Moved On (Andy Barber x Wife!Reader)

A/N: Thanks for this request! I attempted an Andy Barber fic once but tbh I wasn’t happy with it and deleted so thank you for sending this one in so I could have another shot. <3 This fic takes place three years after the series. A few things deviate from the book/television series, but I you like this, anon.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Wife Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, Laurie Barber.

Length: 2.4k words

Andy crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the granite kitchen island as he watches you in pure adoration while you go about setting the table for dinner. He knows that he should probably be helping you out, but he simply can’t help himself as he stands there and stares at you in complete and utter awe—he never would have believed that this was the life he would be living. Sometimes he can’t believe this is the life he’s living, even after all this time. It often feels like a dream, a blissful dream he's afraid that one day he’ll wake up from.

If someone would have told Andy three and half years ago that one day he would be remarried to the love of his life, expecting his second child, and that his teenaged son would be healed, healthy, and happy, he would have scoffed right in their damn face. After everything that had happened—the murder trial, the near fatal car crash, and Laurie being put behind bars for nearly killing herself and their son, Andy could have sworn that his life was over. Laurie had been put in the psychiatric unit of a women’s correctional facility to serve her four and a half year prison sentence and shortly after that, Jacob had come out of his medically induced coma with an incredibly long and painful road to recovery ahead of him. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, Jacob had been wounded so deeply by everything that had happened and Andy feared he wouldn’t be able to be the strength his son needed to go on. He’d been left all on his own to pick up the shattered, jagged pieces of the world he once knew, with no idea of how to even start putting them back together again.

But then you happened.

Andy never saw this coming—never saw you coming.

When he first met you, from the first hello you two exchanged, Andy couldn’t have possibly imagined that you would end up being exactly what he and his son needed.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” You tease, smiling over your shoulder at him.

“Sorry, honey.” Andy chuckles and shakes his head, uncrossing his arms as he pushes himself away from the kitchen island. “What can I help you out with?”

“Can you pull out the salad from the fridge and bring it over to the table?”

He quickly nods and does as you request, bringing over the bowl of salad that you’d chopped up earlier to the table. He sets it in the middle of the table before taking his seat at the head of the table. “Where’s Jake? Let’s get him down here, I’m starving.”

“Jacob!” You call out loudly. “Dinner’s ready! Let’s go, shut off that video game!”

Andy frowns. “Video game? Isn’t he supposed to be studying?”

“It’s Friday, so I let the kid live a little.” You wink at your husband as you take a seat beside him and drape a clean white cloth napkin across your lap. “And besides, he’s been doing really well in his classes. His counselor e-mailed me the other day. Jake’s grades have never been better.”

“He has a good influence.” Andy reaches over and places his hand over yours.

At that moment, your seventeen year old stepson comes down the stairs and takes a seat across from you. He has a white envelop clutched in one of his hands.

“What do you have there, bud?” Andy questions suspiciously as soon as he sees it. He raises an eyebrow at his son. “You’re not in any trouble, are you?”

Jacob doesn’t reply, and instead, he simply shoots you a nervous glance.

“Go on,” You encourage him, grinning excitedly. “Tell him, Jake.”

Andy glances between the two of you, confused. “Tell me what? What’s going on?”

“It’s an acceptance letter,” Jacob informs him, handing it over. “My first one. It came in the mail earlier today.” He shoots his father a sheepish look. “I was going to wait for all three of us to be together to open it, but I couldn’t wait and neither could she,” he explains, tossing you a quick smile. “We figured we’d just tell you over dinner.”

Andy opens it and he beams with pride as his blue eyes glaze over the document in his hand. “Northeastern University?”

Jake nods. “I’m going to e-mail the school and commit first thing on Monday for the upcoming semester.”

Andy’s smile fades ever so slightly. “Commit? Already? Are you sure this is where you want to go? You’re still waiting on other letters, Jacob. Isn’t it a little too soon to make the commitment?” he asks, setting the letter down. “You still have a couple of months left in the school year. Don’t you want to wait?”

“Not really. This school is the closest to home, dad. I don’t want to move somewhere too far for college, especially since I want to be close enough come and see my little sister after she’s born.” Jacob turns from his father and his eyes meet yours. “I want to be a part of her life as much as possible. I can’t do that if I ship myself off too far for school.”

You place a hand on your growing baby bump. “He’s got a point, Andy.”

“Well, if that’s your decision, than you have our full support.” Andy puts a hand on Jacob’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “I’m so proud of you, Jake. We both are. We know you’ve got a bright future ahead of you.”

“Thanks, dad.”

After dinner, Jacob excuses himself from the table to watch television—normally he’s the one to help you clear the table and clean up, but Andy decides to give him a pass for the night and volunteers to help you himself. You’re in the kitchen tossing scraps into the silver, stainless steel trash can when Andy walks in, takes the plate from your hand and sets it down on the counter. He then grabs you and takes you into his arms, pressing his lips to yours in a long, slow kiss that sends chills up and down the length of your spine. As his hands start to wander, you break away from him ever so slightly, resting your hand gently on his chest.

“Mm, someone’s feeling extra affectionate today,” You murmur against his lips.

“I’m just really happy, is all. Ridiculously, deliriously happy.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Andy moves his mouth to your neck and starts to trail his way down to your chest.

You laugh, lightly pushing him away. “Let’s finish cleaning up first, lover boy,” You tell him, eliciting an impatient groan from him. “I cleared off the dishes for you, can you just load them into the washer for me?”

“Fine.” He playfully rolls his eyes. “But wait until I get my hands on you later tonight. I had dinner, now I want my dessert,” he smirks at you. “My sweet tooth is aching for you.”

“Jesus, Andy! Jake is in the room next door! Save it for the bedroom,” You remind him, blushing as your attention turn back to the trash can. You grab at the bag, tying together securely before pulling it out of the component. “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to go take this outside.”

Andy shakes his head and reaches out. “Sweetheart, let me do that for you—”

“Andy, I’m pregnant, not wounded. I’m perfectly capable of taking out the trash,” You tell him, shooting him a look. “I’ll be right back.” You make your way through the house and out the front door, stepping out into the chilly, evening air. You walk down the long driveway towards the black garbage can, lift the lid open and quickly toss the bag inside, letting the lid slam shut. As you turn and begin to walk back up to the house, you stop when you get the sudden feeling that you’re being watched by somebody. Furrowing your eyebrows, you slowly turn on your heel and let out a gasp when you see her standing there right beside Andy’s Audi.

Laurie Barber.

You and Andy have been hearing faint whispers around town about Laurie’s possible early release due to her improvement and good behavior. After the car crash, Laurie and her defense lawyers had taken a plea deal from the prosecution in order to avoid having to go to trial. While her sentence may have been light considering the serious nature of what she had done, the mandated court order to stay away from Andy and Jacob had been much harsher. She was not allowed to come into contact with either of them after her release or it would violate the terms of her probation. And yet, here she is, standing right in front of you, outside of your family’s home.

You stand there, frozen solid on the spot, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

Laurie stares at you, her eyes falling to your swollen midsection.

Instinctively, your hand goes to your stomach.

Her eyes flicker to the diamond ring on your finger. “You must be his new wife,” she says, rigidly. “I heard he remarried. But I didn’t know he was having another baby.”

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and you clamp it shut.

Unsure of what else to do, you give a small nod of your head.

“I’d heard the rumors that he’d completely moved on,” Laurie says. Despite the stiff, and cold tone of her voice, you can see that her eyes are brimming with tears. “Part of me refused to believe that he could forget about the life we had together, just like that. That he could move on so quickly.”

“Laurie, you shouldn’t be here,” You finally manage to say. “You need to leave.”

“How’s Jacob?”

“Laurie, please, you need to leave right now before Andy sees you—”

She ignores you, firmly repeating, “How is Jacob?”

You let out a small sigh, feeling conflicted.

One on hand, you can’t stand the woman for what she had done. But then, on the other, you can see the remorse in her eyes and you know that she’s desperate to hear about her son. “He’s doing great, Laurie,” You tell her. “Jake is thriving. He’s doing well in school, he’s been accepted into a good university. And most importantly, he’s healthy and he’s happy.”

“I need to see him.”

“You can’t. The judge ordered you to stay away from him.”

Laurie steps forward and grabs your arms. “Please! I need to see Jacob—”

“Get your fucking hands off my wife!” Andy’s growl comes from behind you, startling both you and Laurie. He snatches you out of her grasp and pushes you behind him, his broad shoulders squaring protectively. He speaks again, his tone venomous as he faces his ex-wife for the first time in over three years. “What the fuck are you doing here, Laurie?”

She lifts her chin, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I’m here because I want to see my son.”

“After you tried to fucking kill him?” He nearly shouts. “Are you fucking insane?”

“I made a mistake, Andy! I wasn’t in the right frame of mind! After everything, after the trial, everything was just falling apart and I couldn’t take it!” Laurie shouts back at him. “It was a fucking terrible mistake!”

“A mistake that nearly cost our son his life!”

You step beside your husband and place a hand on his chest. “Andy, please! You need to calm down before Jacob overhears and comes outside.” You look up at him, your eyes meeting his. You can see the anger, the pain, all of his emotions swimming in them and your opposite hand slips into his, lacing your fingers together. You give his hand a small squeeze. “Please, just calm down.”

Andy nods in agreement and takes a deep breath before turning back to Laurie. “I don’t know where you got the nerve to show up at my door,” he says. He’s certainly calmer than before, but there’s still an angry edge to his tone. “How you can even show your face around here after what you did is beyond me.”

“I’m sorry,” Laurie whispered. “For everything. Andy, from the bottom of my heart, I’m so fucking sorry. You have to believe me, I wasn’t in a good place. Mentally, or emotionally.” At this point, the tears were now streaming down her face. “I love my son, and I live with the guilt and the shame of what I did every damn second of every damn day. I never meant for any of it to happen, Andy. You have to believe me. I love Jacob.”

Her apology doesn’t faze Andy, but it fazes you.

Perhaps it’s the pregnancy hormones that have you on the sensitive side. But you just can’t help but to feel some sympathy for Laurie Barber.

“Please. I just want to see my son. I want to tell him I’m sorry. At least let me do that,” she pleads. “Let me apologize to him, face to face.”

Andy is about to protest when you place a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Let us talk to Jacob, first. And if he decides he is up to seeing you, then we can contact our attorney. They can speak to the judge and perhaps we can arrange something if he allows it.” You glance between Andy and Laurie. “It’s a decision that Jake should make. And everyone will respect his choice as well as the choice of the judge. Can we all agree on that?”

“Okay. I can agree to that.” Laurie nods. “Andy? Do you agree?”

His lips press into a tight, thin line. “You’re lucky my wife is here to be the voice of reason. Because if it were up to me, you’d never fucking see him again. Not a fucking chance. Now leave my property before I call your probation officer.” He grabs your hand and starts pulling you towards the house. “Come on. Let’s go back inside.”

“Wait!” Laurie reaches for your opposite hand, holding you back.

Andy’s nostrils flare. “Don’t fucking touch her!”

She ignores him, her desperate eyes meeting yours. “If Jake decides that he wants nothing to do with me, can you just do me a favor?”

You nod slowly.

“Look after him for me, please. From a mother to a mother. Please, just look after my boy for me.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing all along, Laurie,” You tell her in a low voice. Before you can stop yourself, it slips out, “I’ve been the mother he’s needed for the last three years.”

Laurie releases you, feeling stung by your words.

“Let’s go,” Andy says firmly, pulling you towards the house.

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - XLVIII

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Rated Mature. Rating subject to change. Mind the tags. Chapter also posted on AO3; accessible to registered users only.

Within a few days, a note sealed with a Cryo crest accompanied your breakfast, specifically addressed to you. Your brow creased in confusion as you brought familiar porcelain to your lips, your morning coffee perfectly brewed.

Zandik mentioned nothing of his audience with the Tsaritsa other than a headache and a waste of time. As you ran an absent finger over the seal, you couldn't help but wonder if the two were related.

Pantalone’s words came back to you and you recalled the way he attempted to subvert power the other morning. No one, and certainly not an onlooker, would ever be the one to quantify whether you were good enough, whether you were genuine.

It wasn’t their place.

But some seemed intent on the idea that your place was not here.

Was the Tsaritsa of that mind, you wondered. Even if your initial meeting with Her was nothing but a facade, Her actions rang true to Zandik’s desire for privacy. Your face covering came from Her, no doubt as expensive as it was impressive in its craftsmanship.

Bitter coffee danced across your tongue as you took a final zip and broke the seal.

A single sentence requested your presence for morning tea to discuss upcoming events and discuss how you were adjusting to life in Snezhnaya. It was punctuated not by a stamp but by a scribble of a pen. Written by the Archon Herself.

You glanced at the nearby clock. Ten to the hour. You would just make it.

The sooner you met with the Tsaritsa, the sooner you could head down into the depths to meet with Zandik. Today would be your first trial to see if his reverse-engineering of Omega’s work was viable.

And you had no intention of being late.

A fire crackled as you followed a servant into the Tsaritsa’s study, the room exactly as you remembered it months ago. The sitting area, now that you had a better vantage point as you nestled onto a sofa, held a vista of its own from the tall windows nearby. From this angle, the mountains resembled not the teeth of a dragon but the sweeping spines of its back, like the peaks among the skeleton of Elynas.

The veil and mask did little to obscure your vision. Today’s weather was clear and you could, in the far distance, make out distinct shapes from your home country.

You stood at the sound of the doors opening and sharp heels clicking on marble. The Tsaritsa came into view and you bowed, hand over your heart, hoping that your precision made up for your previous meeting’s obscured gestures. Dressed in white, the red sash across the Tsaritsa’s torso looked like a wide gash caused by the shining crystal star. She wore her long platinum hair up in a braided bun, fringes framing her face in a pale blue chill.

Wordlessly, the Tsaritsa tugged once on a braided cord near the corner of the sitting area before she took a seat on the couch across from you.

“Thank you for accommodating my request at such short notice,” the Archon said, gesturing for you to sit. “I wished to check on you sooner but the Doctor seemed quite preoccupied, given the situation. How is he? The loss of his Segments has been...trying, I imagine.”

You were glad for the mask obscuring your eyes as you narrowed your gaze. Back in Fontaine, such words were bait, answered with an equally polite and vague response that held no substance. The right words to the wrong person held only two results: social speculation or a trial for broken laws no one kept track of.

“He is well, thank you, moya Tsaritsa. The Lord Harbinger is resilient, to say nothing of his brilliant mind,” you replied evenly.

Before you could continue or be offered another question, the same servant who guided you in returned with a cart. You observed them in silence as tiered stands with breakfast pastries were laid out on the table before you; instead of serving and fixing your tea for you, the entire service tray was placed down. The servant bowed and left without a single word from their lips.

The Tsaritsa reached out and poured two cups without missing a beat. She held yours out to you, pale blue fingers curled elegantly around the porcelain.

“My dear, do take off your face coverings. I’ve already seen your face and we won’t be interrupted here. No one comes barging into this office unless they wish for death.”

Her smile, kind, borderline motherly, never left her lips. On most people, such a smile never reached one’s eyes but the corners of Her snow-blue eyes crinkled. Genuine in both Her care of you and in Her threat towards interlopers.

You nodded before taking the cup and placing it before you, careful not to let neither cup nor saucer clatter. The fastenings of your mask and head covering were easy to find now and you made quick work of both, revealing your face with your hair still covered by the wimple that accompanied the veil. At first, the layers were tedious but you found that they were helpful in at least keeping the chill at bay.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” you murmured as you draped the veil across your lap.

“You are safe here. I’m aware that my Harbingers are ravenous vultures who pick at any weakness they can find but the Doctor has long been without someone at his side. Bear it in mind that I wish to see you both succeed in your happiness. It is why I gifted you your mask.”

The Tsaritsa gave you a pointed glance over the rim of her cup.

You felt your cheeks grow warm as you picked up your cup and took a sip. She never gave you a reason to distrust her or not believe her. After all, She admitted to not seeing a bonded pair before Her in an unspecified amount of time; although the Tsaritsa held no say in the pairs, it did not make sense that She would attempt to ruin such a union.

Not to mention She provided Zandik with a home, a place where his heretical ideas and desires to delve into knowledge beyond Tevyat were supported, valued.

He held the Tsaritsa in high regard.  She was an ally in this, you reminded yourself.

“Your music brings such life to these corridors. I haven’t heard that piano used in almost a decade but it is clear to any who hear that your skill lays with the cello. Few have the ability to make one as old as myself feel what your music invokes.”

“I compose most of what I play as of late, Your Majesty. That I’m able to reach such depths for you is quite an honor.”

After all, it was not as though you ever played for Lady Furina. Monsieur Neuvillette may have been present at a dinner party but never long enough to hear you play.

“That skill is the second reason I wished to speak you,” the Tsaritsa said as she settled against the back of the sofa. “As I’m sure you’re aware, I intend to hold a celebratory ball in a month’s time to commemorate the successes of the Doctor and the Knave. It would mean a great deal to me if you composed the opening waltz for the event.”

You schooled your face and politely took a small plushka from a tray, tearing off a piece and savoring the spiced warmth. Zandik had conveniently forgotten that little tidbit of information (and you were certain you would remember if he had mentioned it).

If you never performed or composed for a private affair again, it would be too soon. Even though you knew others could hear you play, you ultimately played for yourself. Some considered it compulsion when you described how you felt as if you might die unless you played, unless you gave the notes and rhythms in your head substance and a voice of their own. Playing and arranging compositions was as much a need as food or water and so many wished to take advantage of your needs…

“It would be a disservice for me to hoard your talents, my dear,” the Tsaritsa continued. “You are the soulmate of a Harbinger. That status comes with expectations regarding your own skills. I can think of no better way to challenge yourself while demonstrating you stand on equal footing with the Second.”

It took everything in you not to clench your jaw. You had nothing to prove to anyone. If others chose not to see you as your own person or to recognize your talents wholly separate from those of Zandik, that was their problem.

The overwhelming itch underneath your skin crawled and sat in your wrists and shoulders, sensations you thought were long gone. Validation, approval, to have your works heard by more than just passing familiar faces. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if Lord Pantalone would finally believe you if he heard the kind of work you were capable of with a piece that was beyond just yourself.

You never wanted to feel this again and yet it clutched you like a scared child, unable to let go.

But to have a proper audience again…

“I would be honored,” you said at last.

Once again, the Tsaritsa’s smile made her eyes light up. Your heart gave a squeeze, as if the literal organ could not believe your betrayal to its metaphorical cousin.

“Lord Pantalone is in charge of the event and budget planning; he’ll be able to provide you with the resources you require. He and the Doctor are...birds of a feather, my two closest Harbingers who manage to ignore rank in favor of perspectives. He would be more than happy to finalize details with you.”

Your fingers almost snapped the tiny handle of your teacup.

As you finished your tea and departed from the Tsaritsa, you hoped Zandik’s morning fared far better than yours.

You made your way down to the depths, the Tsaritsa’s words echoing in your ears. The note from earlier was clenched so tightly in your hand that the seal left an impression on your palm. Zandik’s fingers grazed your indented flesh when you brandished the summons as you walked into one of the workshops and he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

His mask was gone and he was dressed in his usual dark pants and boots, with a dark blue shirt with his usual harness worn over it. His cravat was missing, revealing the column of his neck. For the first time, however, he was wearing a proper lab coat over his attire; you found it much preferred to his stylized tailcoat.

"And here I was, hoping your mind would be clear," he muttered. "Impeccable timing, moya Tsaritsa."

"You neglected to tell me that there’s an upcoming ball. She blind-sided me with a request to create the opening waltz,” you said tersely.

Nearby, you recognized a similar set-up to the one in Sumeru; a large bundle of wires spreading out across multiple nodes on straps, machines to monitor physical responses and dangling bags of fluid. A gurney awaited you, the sheet pulled back.

“I preferred to tell you about after this initial session. Little to be done about that now.”

“You said your audience was nothing but a headache,” you replied, tilting your head up as he cast the note aside on a table. “Uneventful. And I’m in no position to refuse the request of a god, especially the one who…”

You gestured to him in a vague motion of your hand as he approached. A wry smirk played at Zandik’s lips as experienced hands unfastened your face covering and cast it aside.

“You act as if you do not like sharing your works with the world. We both know the need of providing something to the masses. But right now, distractions will not provide clear evidence and may result in more interference. We will discuss it after.”

You held his garnet gaze for a second longer than necessary before you complied and settled onto the awaiting bed.

“Omega gave you a powerful sedative but I would prefer to attempt this without it, if possible,” Zandik began. “A medically-induced coma is the easiest way, certainly, but precarious in other capacities. Too deep of a sleep for a preliminary attempt, in my opinion; instead, a lighter sedative will help put you to sleep but you'll be closer to waking, easier to recover from."

You recalled how, despite waking of your own volition by suicide in the dream, utterly brutally you came back into the world. Overwhelmed with panic, with emotions that words felt too small to describe.

"You'd rather not have me lunge at you, you mean," you joked softly.

"That too. It was well-deserved; after all, I shot first and as far as you knew, I was Omega. Arm."

You complied and he found a vein with ease, disinfected the area, and slipped the needle beneath your skin, taping it in place.

"You'll be hooked up to a similar network to the Akasha, one of my own developments that functions similarly without a wretched Gnosis to do so. It'll allow you to access your own memories similarly to how one searches through a filing cabinet or an archive of books," Zandik explained. "I'll be connected to it to watch you. Nodes for the EEG will be next, we'll establish a waking baseline, and then I'll release the valve for the anesthesia for you to sleep."

He wasn't asking for your permission, merely informing you, but you nodded nonetheless. The process was quick and you tried not to flinch at the sensation of the nodes being placed at your temples, the bands tightened to keep the rest of the wired crown in place. Zandik asked basic questions such as your name, profession, things that were undeniable truths before moving onto more abstract things that pertained to opinions and required various parts of your brain. Satisfied, he twisted a nearby valve to begin the lighter sedative.

Your face contorted as you felt a dull ache in your arm give way to fire. Tears welled in your eyes as you bit back a whine.

"Zandik—"

"Burning is normal. It'll pass. Sleep well, rooh 'albi."

The last thing you saw was the slightest crease in his brows as his red eyes narrowed, watching, observing, trying to catch every little change. The darkness at the edges of your vision overwhelmed as a gloved hand grazed your cheek.

Before you, the corridor seemed to go on forever, void space that reflected everything upon itself in an infinite loop. Looking left reflected yourself and everything behind you. Touching a wall resulted in a sensation not unlike disturbing still water and yet you could not pass through it. You never seemed to make progress in terms of traversal but you knew time had to be passing; you certainly weren't stationary.

Eventually, you began to see other images in the reflective surfaces. Some were recognizable but not memorable: your parents' faces as you reached tiny hands up to them; quick steps with little feet on unsteady legs; the first time you touched an instrument (your father's violin).

A boy on the edge of the forest, bloody and disheveled.

"Zandik?" you whispered.

"There you are. I was growing concerned I had the dosage wrong."

You jumped as you heard the familiar voice and caught movement out of the corner of your eye. He appeared the same as he did in the lab, except translucent, not quite present. You recalled a novel you once grabbed from a bookstore in Fontaine that described the phenomena of hallucinations created by heat waves, mirages in the desert seen by the desperate and the dehydrated. Curious, you reached out a hand only to find it passed right through him, distorting his image for a brief second before it became clear again.

"How…I thought you said you would be watching?"

"I am. This is merely a projection of myself within the framework," Zandik waved a hand casually. "Disembodied voices work poorly on those who aren't conscious. Several patients who underwent the testing for the Samsara Cycle were driven to the depths of their mind and never returned. Not the outcome either of us want, no?"

Your grimaced. "I much prefer living externally, thank you."

Zandik opened his hands in a gesture that said, 'Well, there you go,' and then nodded his head to the surfaces around you.

"This framework simply provides a visual to interact with. Thinking about particular scenes and memories should be enough for you to begin to retrieve specific moments. Fairly intuitive for the attentive and astute. Beyond that, I'm merely an observer; unless I need to communicate, you will be entirely alone," the Harbinger explained.

"I wouldn't mind if you—"

If you stayed. You never stay, my Zandik…

"I might influence the process. These are your memories and only you know whether they're correct or not. Even just having an illusion here might be enough to throw something off."

Your disappointment must have shown on your face because the mirage tilted its head in the exact same way Zandik would have. His expression was a little stony, resolved; he couldn't directly help you, even if he wanted to, and staying wouldn't make much of a difference.

"You're capable of this, rooh 'albi. Just like I started to let go of my previous perspectives. You've always resolved your own problems; this is no different. Try two memories for now."

His last words were teasing and in the depths of your mind, you swore you felt sand between your toes and a tide at your ankles, the night bathed in brilliant moonlight.

You nodded and turned your attention back to the reflective walls as his visage disappeared.

If all you had to do was think about a particular memory…

Your eyes traced the surface as you focused on a summer day, sweeping green mountains behind you as you ran through a field of tall grass, basic notes and scale progressions ringing in your ears. That first summer was hard. School only finished the week prior and already your parents sent you far from home to hone your skills with the best of the best.

Instead of a single coherent scene, however, it skipped around and fractured itself. Sometimes, you saw a young Zandik stumble through the forest across the water and other times, you only saw tall grass as you tried to make your way back to the chateau. Parts of it jumped right from the field to the headmistress who scolded you for being too independent.

The truth was somewhere in the middle.

Omega’s technique, as you recalled a long conversation in the branches of the Divine Tree, was not as invisible as it seemed to be. Looking closer, you noticed cracks, fine and well-hidden. They outlined Zandik entirely, framed you as you moved. Like a fractured teacup assembled from parts of a different set.

And now that you saw them, it was impossible to miss them.

Your fingers found the lines, felt the split in the crystalline surface. As your nail settled into the groove, you pushed a little and the shard came free, like old flaking paint. It fell to the ground with a clink, its image still, crimson eyes frozen in time.

Beneath it, another image.

One piece after another, you picked and plucked and pruned. Your fingers ached, your nails chipped. Slowly, you revealed the proper memory beneath it as the visage of the boy with blue hair gave way to nothing but grass and trees.

The memory seemed to recognize its proper parts and the scene filled in, mending itself. Without the inciting incident, the moments beyond it faded and you were left on the riverbanks alone.

You did come across the river that summer but no one had been there, you recalled, since you wandered off too far to be easily found. The only living things that greeted you were swaying blades of grass, a stray bird, maybe a hungry field-mouse.

You shifted your weight and the shards at your feet scrapped and tinkled against one another, a sea of glass. Before you, the memory unfolded and came to life like a moving picture.

Seamless. No interruptions.

It looked right; it certainly felt right. Nothing seemed contradictory before or after, no gaps. And yet a dull ache settled in the pit of your stomach as a ghost made its home in your heart. These memories were not truly with your soulmate, you reminded yourself.

Emboldened, you sifted through until you found another moment in time. Over a decade later, you climbed the edge of a cliffside after managing to slip away from your patron.

Who had made a trip to Sumeru when you were under his thumb but you had not gone. He never would have let you leave the city, let alone the nation. Hell, you were lucky to have been allowed off of the property some days.

Not-Zandik teased you as he pulled you up and revealed the vistas of Liyue’s Chasm, Avidya Forest and the Akademiya, and the far distant waterfalls of Fontaine from your shared perch.

Your stomach lurched at the sight of him watching you as you gazed out and around. His eyes never left you, not even when you remarked how stunning all of it was.

That ache in your gut worked upwards, into your arms, into the very fibers of your muscles, as hands brushed and he spoke of rewriting one’s fate. The veins in this one were too obvious, too fabricated; it was a bad collage with mismatching elements. But despite that, doubt snaked its way up your leg and gripped you, its fangs poised and dripping.

You wanted it to be real.

By then, Zandik had already become The Doctor, had been the Doctor for at least three centuries, if not four. Neither of you knew about one another, not then. Question after question popped into your mind but you silenced them as you slammed a fist into Not-Zandik’s face as he spoke of not changing your presence in his life.

It not only wasn’t plausible, it wasn’t possible.

Because if it had been, surely he would have…

The memory cracked with a sickening crunch and the image fractured, cracks splintering throughout the image. Another punch and the surface gave way entirely, a hole in the fabricated memory where your fist was. You pulled away and the rest of it fell unceremoniously, glass clinking as it showered the floor and buried your feet.

In its place came distinct relief and joy. A familiar view of the Court of Fontaine, rainy and dreary. Most hated the rain. But those two weeks were some of the most productive moments of your patronage. Your body was certainly happy for the reprieve, even if your hands screamed by the time you finished for the night. In that short span, you hadn’t missed your patron in the slightest and you recalled slipping out of the house to feel the chill of the rain on your way to a performance at the opera house.

“Mon rêve.”

The words echoed in the void. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a flicker of light, the translucent image of your soulmate watching, waiting. The shards and dust didn’t move as Zandik’s placeholder moved closer to inspect the memory with you.

“A fine breaking point. Too much and we won’t know how efficient your actions were,” he said at last. “Your readouts look as expected; we’ll discuss it when you wake up.”

Around you, the framework fell away like autumn leaves blown by a heavy wind. Your stomach dropped as gravity took hold and you swam among the stars again.

Your eyelids felt heavy as you blinked, your vision slowly clearing as you caught sight of flagstone walls and glowing screens. A rhythmic beeping pierced the silence behind you. Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, dry as sandpaper. Better this than the overwhelming sensation from months ago, you rationalized.

When you sat up, a gloved hand offered a glass of water; you didn’t so much drink it as inhale it, wanting nothing more than to be rid of the sticky dryness as your head pounded.

Curiosity barely tempered danced in Zandik’s eyes as you handed the glass back with a hiccup. He took your vitals as if on autopilot, scribbling down your pulse and blood pressure before he spoke.

“Your brainwaves were as expected. Almost exactly the same as they were when Omega had you under,” Zandik shook his head as he removed your IV gently; you were concerned at the amount of animation in his hand gestures. “No alpha waves and inconclusive beta waves; the former are only present when a subject is awake and sedatives can cause fluctuations in the latter. Gamma and delta waves were present. Indicative of problem solving, memory access. No delta waves, also as anticipated; this wasn’t a restorative nor restful sleep…this does not, however, mean that the process worked.”

Sleep still clutched at the depths of your mind and you were not about to pretend you entirely understood what Zandik was talking about. He’d once explained how the energy of thoughts was literal waves passed between the synapses of nerves and brain cells; that had been enough for you to roughly understand functionality.

“How do you feel?” he asked, wrapping the line around the IV hook, out of the way.

Head still throbbing, you searched for words to describe what you could only consider to be far beyond exhaustion to the point of numbness. You recalled nothing out of the ordinary and your earliest memory of Zandik, or at least The Doctor, was that ridiculous party in which your fingers threatened to burst.

Funny how you considered such moments to be a corruption of yourself; without them, your life felt mundane in hindsight. Only those moments and memories untouched by Omega managed to dredge up such sentiments, touches that stole parts of you never to be regained.

“Hollow,” you said after a beat. “The illusion the false memories kept things interesting. By comparison, so much seems dull in hindsight. Mundane. Funny how that’s normal in a nation based on justice...”

“Elaborate.”

A command you would not heed. He was your soulmate, not your keeper.

“I’d prefer not to.”

“It could prove useful—“

“Not right now, Zandik. Not today.”

He inhaled slowly, eyes never leaving yours as you looked directly at him. You watched his hold on his pen tighten, his glove squeaking in the silence. He was eager for answers, for data, for knowledge, understandably so; although he worked with Omega on the initial plan for Sumeru, or so he said, Omega was the one who perfected the memory grafting.

And there was still so much to learn of one another.

“What, exactly, did you do? Documenting your actions might provide insight into circumventing an unfavorable emotional impact the next time.”

Zandik’s hand was poised over the notepad in his lap. From your vantage point, you could only make out vague scribbles beneath your blood pressure and other vitals. Observations, no doubt.

“The memories, at least the way I saw them, looked like a collage. Or the very amateur special effects people use for moving pictures. There were outlines around the manipulated images, what Omega wove together,” you began, intertwining your fingers for emphasis. “I removed the grafted elements...the reverse of putting a mirror back in one piece, I suppose.”

You went through detail by detail and answered Zandik’s questions as best you knew how. Some elements and sensations you did not have words for and were difficult to describe. When he was, at last, satisfied with his findings, Zandik turned off the machines and set his notes face-down.

“That’s more than enough for today,” he said, “Plenty of data to consider for the next session. Now, back to the matter at hand from this morning...you mentioned that Her Majesty told of you of the upcoming ball?”

His words were intended as less of a question and more of a confirmation. He picked up the discarded summons from earlier and turned it over in his hands, frowning when he realized there was nothing of note in the words written.

You rose from the bed, your legs stiff and uncooperative. Hopefully that would wear off soon. It wasn’t as if you could have Zandik carry you throughout the Palace, after all.

“She wants me to compose the opening waltz, specifically,” you replied. “I dare not assume anything about attending...of course, I want an audience for my work in some form but I am not a wind-up toy for an Archon to play with.”

“Were you truly hoping to never perform publicly again?”

The question was so blunt that it took a second to register, as if he’d stunned you with the pommel of his claymore. Before you could answer, he leaned forward in his seat and continued, eyes burning.

“Wouldn’t only playing for me do nothing but put you exactly where you were all those years ago, stifled and hidden away, only brought out like a pet? Would that satisfy you? To stagnate, to not be known in your own right?”

You broke eye contact first, the raw reminders from your adjusted memories clawing at the inside of your eyelids every time you blinked. It went without saying that you wouldn’t be satisfied locking yourself away in the Palace’s music room, playing only for those with enough clearance to pass through.

“As I thought,” Zandik said, cocking his head. “Do you just not wish to attend? Your public appearance need not entirely be attached to me but I would be lying if I said the idea of dancing with you does not appeal.”

Music was your only soothing companion in life. Zandik was an exception in many things and while he did his best, there was a quality and power to music, to playing, that would never be displaced.

In much the same way you imagined he felt about knowledge, about learning about the world and the boundaries he could break.

“Everyone would know, even if I never show my face, that I’m not a Harbinger; the choice is taken from us if I attend. It’s like the very air around us changes if we’re around each other too long in the company of anyone else,” you said, crossing your arms.

Zandik was quiet for a moment as he looked up at you from his perch before he stood. He crossed the short distance to you and placed his hands on your elbows, silently willing the tension away when you instead placed your hands on his chest.

“It’s not the first time a Harbinger has had a companion or a soulmate though, is it?” you asked. “The Tsaritsa said something to that effect when she met me the first time.”

“It has been several centuries. So yes, you will be the center of attention in particular. And undoubtedly, many will try to earn your favor to obtain mine. Nothing remains a secret forever, rooh 'albi. Hiding your face brought us much needed time, as I suspected it would, but the Tsaritsa knows, and Pantalone all but knew with one look at you. Others suspect.”

“If people are to know, then it should be in a way that establishes my autonomy without sacrificing…”

You gestured with your pointer finger between the two of you, indicating your bond.

“Precisely,” Zandik replied.

For a moment, you played with a stray piece of lint on his shoulder, smoothed out his collar. Composing in and of itself was not the problem. You could study waltzes, watch dancers at a local dance theatre, learn the nuances. But it had to be remarkable, memorable...worth the challenge…

You looked up at Zandik, hands poised over his chest, a determined smile on your face.

“Then I should get started, shouldn’t I?”

[darkscorpiox]

Analysis on TWST’s time loop theory

The time loop theory is popular among TWST fans. As I was trying to find similarities between Yuu and the protagonist(s) of each movie, I noticed how certain things about the latter and the order of the TWST chapters could support said theory.

Alice – Beginning

Among the main characters, she is one of the youngest and remains so till the end of her movie (along with a lack of character development), so it makes sense to have her at the beginning of the cycle. Her wish for a world of her own creation is what started her story, her venture into Wonderland.

Simba – Awareness

Like Alice, Simba wanted things to go his way and he thought being king meant no one would tell him what to do. He got a taste of the hardships of life first at the hands of the hyenas in the Elephant Graveyard (powerlessness) and next, by the death of his father (loss). Unable to face the trials and tribulations ahead of him, he exiled himself in a paradise-like location (his Wonderland) where he found contentment, but only on a superficial level. Eventually, his past caught up to him and told him to come back to reality, a life which consisted of more than just him, himself and he.

If we compare his young self’s idea of the position of king in his song, “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King”, and his ascendance to the throne at the end of the movie, we see his growth, from a child presenting his status of heir with great fanfare to an adult solemnly accepting the responsibilities of a ruler.

Ariel – Inquisitiveness

While Simba came to term with his purpose in life, Ariel was dissatisfied with the one given to her. Not only was she aware of a world beyond hers, but she wanted to be a part of it as well (reference not intended). Even with her father trying to extinguish her interest in the surface world, it didn’t waver, but instead double in intensity. As Aristotle said in Metaphysics (book 1, chapter 1): “All men by nature desire to know.” In other words, he could have never changed her nature.

Aladdin / Jasmine – Change

Going against a parent is one thing, but it’s another when the opposing party is the law. Aladdin and Jasmine may not come from the same social circle, but they both wanted more than what everyone around them said was their lot. The former was playing the system by disguising as a prince, changing himself (like Ariel) into what he thought was socially suitable, but the latter wanted to take it down because it wasn’t suitable for her.

Snow White – Hope

Snow White had also been trapped by circumstances outside of her control (she was supposedly 14 in the movie, barely a teenager), forced to be a servant in her own castle by the person supposed to provide and care for her. Despite said lifestyle, she remained steadfastly optimistic about her chances of getting (the change for) a happy ending.

Hercules / Meg – Deprivation

Sadly, not everyone, no matter how much they hope and pray, gets the happy ending they want easily. Hercules wanted a place to belong and thought he could find it among the gods of Olympus, but Zeus told him it can’t be given to him just because he had accomplished great feats. As a result, he had no idea on how to reach said goal. Meg had once been one of those girls who believed in the power of love and said belief got trampled by her own lover. As a result, she believed love brings you nothing but pain. In short, their optimism about the world they live in was dying.

Aurora – Withdrawal

Aurora was another character who had been denied what they wanted. She had dreamed of someone to spend time with and had found said person in Phillip whom she had met just shortly before she had learned the truth from her fairy godmothers (her royal status and her betrothal to a prince). Obviously, she didn’t take the revelation well.

And who else didn’t like the idea of being in an arranged marriage?

And what did she do?

See the similarities?

It was mostly the doing of Maleficent, but I want to believe Aurora pricked her finger on that spinning wheel out of her own volition on some degree. Just because she had accepted the title of princess along with the expectations and the duties attached to said position didn’t mean she mustn’t have felt some degree of trepidation in the face of such burden. A part of her had longed for the simple life of a peasant girl, when her dream had barely become true. So if said dream couldn’t come to reality, then she would retreat to the safety of her dream world (Wonderland) till the real world would conform to her wish.

So if Twisted Wonderland is the dream world created by Yuu based on and / or caused by events from their past, then that means they can go back to their world (or reality) only after they get what they want (or are forced to face the truth). Otherwise, they’ll be stuck in a time loop for the rest of their life.

[lively-potter]

— trials of athena ; five

— genre ; enemies to lovers, kinda slow burn, friends to lovers

— warnings ; a hella lot of cursing, some typos ( of course 🙄😬 ), mature themes, smut, athena doesn’t like feelings, fluff, smut, angst, some violence, a teeny bit of blood and gore, JK’s a dick fr

— intro, teaser, part one, part two, part three, part four,

— find me on Wattpad ; LivelyPotter

— 2024 © LivelyPotter all rights reserved

— word count ; 2k

— taglist ; @ahgasegotarmy116 @jk97bam

chapter five ; “athena and the fortress of trust issues.”

June 2nd, 2023 10:45 AM

Ten fuckin' days had had passed since I met that bumbling shit muffin at the store – and shit had gotten so much worse since then.

For one, that little beech nut next door was cozying up with my family (mainly North) and that shit had been coming to dinner (which I had made sure to miss – and begged Grams and Gramps to let me crash at their place during dinner). Two; my entire family seemed to love that little creamed face loon.

I just don't get why they won't just adopt that fucker; with the rate their relationship is progressing.

A frown came upon my lips.

Okay. I am a little jealous of their attention on him, but still.

He's a complete dick. Why can't they just see that?

I sucked in a sharp breath.

What if he's getting closer to them to take me down?

Shut up, Athena. Not everything is about you, I scolded myself, feeling guilty by being bigheaded.

I sent another text to Sawyer, begging him to come home as I listened to North laugh loudly downstairs and rolled my eyes.

Yes, my enemy is downstairs, if you were wondering. At ten forty five in the morning, no less.

I rolled my eyes, and wondered why my eyes haven't just got stuck back there at this rate. I've been rolling them too much, I really got to stop doing that.

I got up from bed and scurried to my desk, where my laptop was sitting opened. While I confined myself to my room while the rat shit is downstairs, I reckon I should be getting some work done. I cracked my knuckles and pulled my hair back with a clip and got to work.

An hour must have passed, and I was completely stuck in my own world when the doorknob rattled and opened. My eyes never left the laptop screen when a figure stepped past the threshold of my room, figuring it was just Mom or Dad.

But I froze and clenched my teeth when that familiar mocking melodic voice spoke up.

"Hey, princess." he greeted, more than likely holding those delectable lips in a amused smirk.

"Fuck off." I snapped, not in the mood to go and forth bantering with him. I blinked and continued to tap the keys on my laptop – hoping he got the memo and left my fuckin' room.

I never once glanced at him. Honestly, I didn't feel like being hypnotized by his otherworldly beauty.

But that little bitch didn't leave.

I waited (patiently, might I add), for the fucktard to leave, only he didn't. Feeling his glare burning into the side of my face, I huffed loudly and slammed my laptop screen gently closed and snapped my head towards him.

And there he was.

Leaning nonchalantly against my doorframe, JK (as he prefers to be called, but I preferred to call him dickwad) kept his gaze solely on me, and never once wavered. His eyes held a slight glare, warning me to keep mouthing off to him.

I wanted to challenge him just to see what he'd do. Would he put me in my place?

He wore his baggy white cargo pants, held up by another designer belt, and an oversized black shirt with a large white Nike swoosh across the front, and chunky black Prada combat boots. He wore chain bracelets on both of his wrists, chains around his muscular tattooed neck – and as usual, his sexy tattooed hands grappled multiple rings on his long fingers.

Was it nasty to admit I wanted him to grab me by the neck, choke me a little, and leave some marks so I know it wasn't a dream?

My gaze lingered slightly on the dozen roses tattoo on his neck.

Gosh, he was absolute perfection.

But all people had their flaws, and his was his dickish personality.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked through clenched teeth, eyeing him dangerously.

JK smirked at his effect on me and pushed off the door frame and swaggered inside my bedroom.

I watched him, outraged, as he pursed his pierced bottom lip and looked around my girly room, wincing at the amount of pink.

Man, I would spray paint his precious little motorcycle pink and add some bling if only I could...

I smirked at the thought – and side eyed the Nair powder on my nightstand.

I'll have need of you soon, precious.

Patience is a virtue, I said inside my head, eyeing that beautiful hair of this.

It was styled to perfection, his black hair shining in the light when his tattooed hands came up to ruffle the longer strands on top.

Soon, that luscious hair would be no more if I played my cards right, and kept the Nair powder close to me.

"Nah," He shrugged, looking effortlessly handsome as his tattooed fingers grabbed the back of my heavy as fuck reading chair, picked it up and set it across from where I was sitting (with one hand, mind you).

I watched his display of strength with an open mouth. I hated to admit how impressive it was.

If Sawyer were here, I bet that little bitch would have already confessed his undying love for him and perched his tiny ass on JK's muscular solid thigh.

I leaned away from him and crossed my arms across my body. I was only wearing a pair of frilly boy shorts and a matching floral top. It didn't leave much to the imagination when I wasn't wearing a fuckin' bra.

Which I wasn't.

I blushed heavily when JK's eyes flashed to my tits and darkened significantly when he took in the indentations of my nips pressing against the tight fabric.

I cleared my throat when his adam's apple bobbed up and down when he forced his eyes to leave my body.

Wut the fuck...just happened?

"So?" I asked, raising my brows, wondering why he decided to come inside my bedroom and bother me.

JK licked his glossy lips as they pulled up in a smirk.

"No reason. Just came to get you. North and the others wanna talk to you downstairs, princess." He smirked wider, acting like he knew something I didn't.

Even if he did admit it; I probably wouldn't believe him; I got some serious trust issues after Sawyer didn't catch me in a trust fall back in the second grade and i got minor fracture in my skull. That fucking twerp. 

My face paled. "Huh?" I squeaked, "Did they find out that I put food coloring in your pool? —"

"What?" He asked, head flying up and shooting me an accusing glare. "Wait, that was you? You put that fucking red dye in my pool?"

Man, he was hotter when he was mad. He looked ready to punish me.

A shiver of fear ran down my spine as his intimidating presence multiplied. 

"No, dickweed." I scoffed, lying outta my ass, "Your old age must be getting to you – hearing things already." I giggled nervously before stopping in my tracks.

What.

Did I really just giggle?

Me; Athena Jayden Green just giggle?

I've never 'giggled' in my entire fuckin' life.

Well, I did'nt until this fucker came into my life.

Sweet baby Jesus in a comfy manger, just what was this man turning me into?

JK towered over me with a glare and clenched his hands like he wanted to reach over and choke the life out of me (which, knowing my fascination with his sexy hands, I would let him). He licked his lips slowly and backed away.

"I'm only four years older than your little ass." He spoke, a smirk dancing on his lips when I glared up at him for calling my ass little. I wanted to bend over in front of him to prove that my ass, in fact, was not little. "Now get downstairs, princess. I gotta get back home to Bam." JK said.

His dark beautiful doe eyes followed my form as I stood up with an eyeroll and left my bedroom. Hearing his heavy footfalls behind me, I trotted downstairs and entered the kitchen without a further word to JK.

He shot a cheeky wink in my direction and shouted his goodbyes before turning to me.

"I'll be seeing you soon, princess."

There it was again. A hidden message underneath his words.

What in the ever-loving earth was going on?

I also hated to admit his little nickname was growing on me.

Mom and the rest of my family, who had watched our exchange with hidden smirks, gestured for me to enter the dining room, where they were all waiting for me.

I swallowed nervously, wondering what this was all about, and settled into my own assigned chair and bit my lip nervously.

"What's going on? Wait—" I panicked, "Did I do something?" My anxiety was taking hold as Mom snickered into her palm.

"No, baby." North laughed, his burly body shaking as he chuckled. "We just need to go over a couple things before we leave."

Oh, right. I almost forgot about them leaving for Europe in two days.

I gnawed on my bottom lip and nervously nodded.

"Okay. What's up?"

Mom and Papa exchanged looks.

Papa took in a deep breath and pushed his glasses up his nose with a single finger.

"Now, Athena. We have been discussing leaving you alone for so long...and JK so graciously offered to house you while we're gone."

Huh?

Say what now?

"I beg your pardon?" with my brows near to my hairline, I coughed loudly to get past the lump growing in my throat. "You refused, right? I'm an adult, Papa. I can take care of myself."

And I can make my own fucking decisions. I get that they're worried, but I'd have to get used to staying alone, right?

Mom exchanged a look with Papa, "We agreed."

"Without consulting me first, Mom?" I squawked, "I'll say this again – I'm nineteen years old. I'm capable of staying by myself."

"But with the recent robberies happening around the area, Uncle and Dr. Roberts don't have enough people to spare to watch over the house." Papa explained patiently eyeing me sternly, "JK mainly works from home and graciously offered to watch over you while we're gone."

He may murder me while you're gone.

I sighed and banged my head on the table.

"You have to be kidding me."

"Sadly, we're not." Luke said, cheerful eyes dimming, "We just worry, peaches."

I stared at him and felt my resolve crumbling.

I hated making them worry so much. But staying with JK? That's like asking Klaus and his dead beat dickface of a stepdad, Mikael to stay in a two story home together. It would only cause chaos and disaster.

"But what about Grams and Gramps? Can't I stay with them or the Toma Team?" I asked, desperate to find a loophole.

Silas shook his head slowly, "Your Grams and Gramps had a couple things come up and they left early for New York this morning."

"—and the Toma Team is working with Dr Roberts to find a pattern with the robberies, so they're busy. Plus Raven and Sawyer are still in Russia on holiday." Victor chimed in, running his gentle hand over my head.

My shoulders slumped.

Fuck my life.

For real.

Everything is so fucked.

I'm going to be surrounded by a man who arouses feelings I've never felt before. And he was a dick, with a scary dog, and I was going to have to live with him. LIVE WITH HIM. How would I survive this?

...Wait. That was why that beaver nugget was smirking.

I clenched my teeth and made myself stay still, when all I wanted was to march next door and fuckin' strangle that handsome bastard.

Fuck him.

"Fine." It's not like I had a choice. 

A/N

hiiiiiii... thanks for reading. love u ♡ question; what are you most excited about that you think will happen in this story?

[whyiseverynametakenpls]

Shallow emotions

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

Genre : angst

Tw : character death

Pairing : Ivan x Till

Characters : Ivan, Till, Mizi (but not that much)

Story : Thank you for being the victim of my shallow emotions

Info : the story is in Ivan's perspective

In the dimly lit corridors of the anakt garden, where shadows flickered and danced like ghosts in the night, I found myself entangled in a web of shattered dreams and unspoken desires. Till's anguish filled the stale air, a reminder of Mizi's disappearance. The competition that had brought us here felt more like a cruel twist of fate, binding us to this desolate place.

We walked in silence, the air hung heavy. Memories of happier times flooded my mind, fragments of their laughter and joy from days gone by. Till and Mizi, their bond unbreakable despite the trials they faced, their laughter a distant echo in my mind.

Amidst the haunting shadows of the stage, a vivid memory surfaced—a memory of a time long past, when Till and Mizi had been lost in their own world, their laughter echoing through the fields as they played beneath the trees. And there, hidden behind a trunk, I had stood as a silent spectator, my heart aching with a longing I dared not acknowledge.

But now, their laughter was but a memory, a reminder of what once was. Till's eyes held a sadness I could not bear to witness, his pain a mirror reflecting my own.

We reached the stage, the competition looming before us like a ghost in the darkness. Till's resolve wavered, his strength faltering as he stumbled in his pursuit of victory.

In that moment of despair, as death loomed large before us, I knew that the time for reckoning had come. With tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat, I turned to Till, my heart heavy with sorrow.

"You won't really care about me, but I'll tell you this, just in case," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for being the victim of my shallow feelings."

Till's eyes widened in shock, his gaze meeting mine for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

And then, without another thought, I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his, a fleeting moment of connection in a world consumed by darkness. His lips were warm against mine, a bittersweet reminder of what could never be.

As we pulled away, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness, a gnawing sense that Till's acceptance was but a facade, hiding the true depths of his resentment towards me.

And with one final glance at Till, I stepped forward into the abyss, letting the darkness consume me.

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

<- MASTERLIST

-> this is basically what I thought when I read the thing Vivinos posted 🔥

-> I'm trying like new borders instead of using the normal colored themes I use 😭

[dc-and-arfrona]

Once More

Nightwing x GN!Reader

It was a fateful night, as the moon shone brightly overhead, Nightwing found himself standing before you once more. This time, however, there was a fire in his eyes and a steadiness in his voice.

With newfound resolve, Nightwing reached out to gently take your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. His voice, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and determination, broke the silence that hung in the air.

"I've been holding back for far too long, letting fear guide my actions," he confessed, his gaze unwavering. "But tonight, I want to change that. I want to take a leap of faith and ask you something I should have asked a long time ago."

A soft smile graced your lips, a mix of curiosity and anticipation lighting up your eyes. Nightwing took a moment to gather his thoughts, ensuring that the words he chose carried the weight of his emotions.

"I've admired you for who you are, both as a crime-fighting ally and as a person. Our connection runs deeper than I can put into words, and I can't ignore the feelings that have been growing within me."

His grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if seeking reassurance. "I want to know if you would be willing to explore something more, to take a chance on us. I understand the risks involved, but I believe that the bond we share is worth the leap."

Time seemed to stand still as Nightwing waited for your response, his heart beating in anticipation. The world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you in that moment of vulnerability and truth.

A gentle smile graced your face as you looked into Nightwing's earnest eyes. With a voice filled with warmth and affection, you replied, "Nightwing, I've felt the same way for quite some time. I would be honored to explore what lies ahead, to see where this journey takes us."

Relief washed over Nightwing's features, his tense shoulders relaxing as a sense of joy filled his heart. The weight that he had carried for so long began to lift, replaced by a newfound hope and excitement for the future.

As your hands intertwined, Nightwing couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the moments that had brought you both to this pivotal point. The battles fought side by side, the laughter shared, and the unspoken understanding between you had laid the foundation for a love that was now ready to bloom.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Nightwing leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender and promising kiss. In that moment, all doubts and hesitations melted away, replaced by a deep and abiding connection, forged through years of friendship and the courage to embrace the unknown.

Together, you embarked on a journey that would weave love and heroism into a remarkable tapestry, knowing that as long as you had each other, no challenge would be too great. And so, Nightwing and you set forth, your hearts entwined, ready to face whatever trials and adventures awaited you, hand in hand.

But it wasn't just the battles that defined your relationship. In the quiet moments, when the weight of the world seemed too heavy to bear, Nightwing was there to hold you, to be your anchor in the storm. His arms provided solace and safety, a sanctuary from the chaos that surrounded you.

Nightwing's vulnerability became a source of strength, allowing you both to lean on each other during the toughest of times. You became each other's pillars of support, reminding one another that love could conquer even the darkest of nights.

As time went on, Nightwing's love only grew deeper, surpassing his wildest dreams. He marveled at the way your presence illuminated his life, bringing warmth and light to the shadows that haunted his past. Together, you built a future filled with hope and unwavering devotion.

In those stolen moments of quiet intimacy, as you lay tangled in each other's arms, Nightwing couldn't help but marvel at the profound connection you shared. The universe seemed to align, allowing your souls to intertwine in a dance as old as time itself.

With each passing day, Nightwing's love for you became more evident, shining through in the little gestures and words of affection. And though there were moments when the weight of his responsibilities threatened to pull him away, he always found his way back to you, recognizing that his heart belonged in your embrace.

As Nightwing gazed into the future, he knew that there would be challenges ahead. But he also knew that with you by his side, he had the strength to overcome anything. The almosts and the hesitations were a part of your journey, shaping you into the couple you had become.

So, as the moon cast its gentle glow over the city, Nightwing held you closer, grateful for the path that had led him to you. With every beat of his heart, he silently vowed to cherish and protect the love you had found, never again allowing fear to cloud his judgment.

In your arms, Nightwing found solace, peace, and a love that knew no bounds. Together, you would face the future, embracing the joy and the challenges that awaited. For Nightwing had finally discovered that love, true love, was worth every almost, every hesitation, and every moment of uncertainty.

Masterlist

[rabbitblackx]

Can you do The Trickster x Autistic fem reader Soulmate AU scenario fluff: When reader has a tattoo of a red or blue rose with Ji-Woon's name at bottom of the tattoo on her wrist, and had it ever since when she was a teenager. Each time when she looks at the name, it always makes her wonder of who her soulmate could be. One day, the reader got taking to The Entity's realm and meets the survivors who also has soulmate tattoos like her. After a few trials went by, the reader ends up going against The Trickster, and can you do a cute ending when the reader finds out that the killer is her soulmate after discovering his name and has the exact same tattoo as her, expect with her name at the bottom?

(If your having a hard time writing this type of AU, here's what i know about Soulmate AU's that i've been reading from other people's scenarios of Soulmate AU's on Tumblr. So, for some strange reason, the world had decided that there would always be only one great love that he or she meant to be with. Of course, it would be so difficult to find one another. But when they turn sixteen years old, a tattoo will magically appear on their wrist and has their names at the bottom of the tattoo.)

Sure thanks for the cool request! This is set out pretty differently from how I did things on wattpad. Here on my blog, it’ll be more to the point instead of a full blown one shot! If anyone is interested in said one shots though, check out my wattpad story: Dead by Daylight One Shots by rabbitblackx :)

Trickster with a Fem!Autistic!Reader (Soulmate AU)

When you were sixteen, a rose tattoo appeared on your wrist, followed by the name, Ji-Woon. You were always teased by your peers. They told you that you would never find this ‘Ji-Woon’. They all seemed so sure that they would meet their own soulmates. You on the other hand, were not

When you looked down at the rose on your wrist, butterflies would flutter around in your belly, causing you to shake your hands and giggle in excitement. Ji-Woon was such a pretty name. You daydreamed about this unknown boy all day. Alas, you were skeptical, and so was everyone else.

Others often took you for granted. But when you wound up in the Entity’s realm, that all changed

Your fellow survivors of course had their soulmates’ names tatted on their wrists as well. They all were much more kind and supportive to you than people from the past. You found yourself to do well in trials. You worked wonders on repairing generators, and were a team player

It wasn’t until a few weeks of being in the realm where you met the Trickster. He was cold and mean, taking you for granted like everyone else in your old life. You didn’t like his attitude towards you. You fought back like a feisty cat, showing him what you were made of

The Trickster swung his bat, and you slapped him in the face. That was when he gripped your wrist, violently yanking it towards him. His whole world came crashing down when he read the name adorned on your wrist, Ji-Woon

His kneecaps quaked as he sputtered out your name

You furrowed your brow. How did he know that?

That was when it hit you. His glowing complexion, his Korean features… his beauty, it almost matched your soulmate’s name perfectly

“Ji-Woon…?”

Just like that, his teasing and cruel demeanour dropped. Tears pricked his yellow eyes as he cried your name, throwing his arms around you and spinning you in a tight hug. You gave a shocked squeak, gripping onto his shoulders for dear life

“My one true love! Oh, how I’ve searched for you!” The Trickster carried on

You couldn’t seem to bring your mouth to say something. You stared at him with big wide eyes, and for once in your life, were completely dumbfounded

It was like a dream, or nightmare—it depended on who was asking. Your whole life, others teased you and didn’t understand you. There was nothing wrong with you, of course there wasn’t. But nobody cared about that. They took their hopelessness and desperation out on you, telling you how you would never find your soulmate. But in all realness, they were just telling you what they thought on the inside about themselves

None of that mattered. Because now years later, this handsome, young, famous man stood before you with his toned chest and heavy heart exposed. As you were pressed flushed against him, you couldn’t help shaking you hands in excitement

Ji-Woon hardly even gave your autism a second thought. To him, it was a gift. He thought it made you all the more special. Special for him and him only. You were his precious little angel and he would protect you at all costs

Was slightly offended you didn’t know who he was back in the real world. It also made him feel a tad insecure. Like, duh! Of course she didn’t know who you were! Look at her! She’s perfect! She has way more important things to do than listen to your dumb music

However, you couldn’t disagree more. You adored it when he sang to you, and it made your heart melt when he danced with you

Ji-Woon was sickeningly sweet, but also viciously overprotective. He never let other killers or even other survivors near you nowadays. You were his and his only. Hell, it said so right on your wrist

You were his perfect little rose

[corporatefrog]

↳˗ˏˋ loose change ˊˎ˗ ↴

level 3 - nightmare fuel

featuring: yn getting a rude awakening from Liane's son

notes: get ready for lots of cartman slander. he makes it too easy

series masterlist

previous level | next level

In my dream, the world was bright with life.

I rode through the fields of Hyrule with the wind rushing past my ears, making the fabric of my loose tonic ripple like a green flag. A triangle glowed gold on the back of my hand. The mark filled me with courage for the difficult trials ahead.

In the distance, Death Mountain rumbled as a cloud of volcanic dust burst into the air. 

To my right, a group of Zora leapt up a waterfall with a gorgeous grace. 

Everything was peaceful. 

Everything was perfect. 

“Oh HELL naw.” 

The ground began to shake as a voice echoed across the planes. Death Mountain continued to rumble, the once standard noise becoming aggressive. Volcanic rocks flew into the air as the mountain began to abrupt. The Zora were thrust from the waterfall as the quaking grew more intense.

“Mam, I get you’re lonely and sad and depressed but YOU CAN’T RENT OUT MY ROOM!” The voice bellowed, pushing against my skin like the wind of a tornado.

Thunderous thumps vibrated through the ground like invisible steps imprinting giant feet into the earth, seeming to sprint in my direction as the noise grew louder until everything burst into a bright light.

Outside the dream, the bedroom door burst open. The slam of the doorknob against the wall cut through the silence of my sleep. I felt myself get ripped from Hyrule and thrust back into South Park like a newborn, gasping for air as my eyes shot open. I sat up in the bed and looked towards the door where the sound which startled me came from. 

“What happen- where…” I sputtered through the delirium of being between sleep and awake.

A man stood in the open doorway, pudgy face twisted in an expression of furious disgust as his hand gripped the doorknob with white knuckles. Labored breaths looked nearly like steam as he huffed and puffed from the other side of the room. On his head sat a familiar blue hat with a yellow puffball I’d seen in the picture hanging on the wall downstairs. Brown hair peaked out from underneath the hat and stuck to his forehead as though the act of rushing up the stairs had been a tiring task. 

“Oh hells naw. You need to leave now.” He declared, pointing out of the door with his other hand. 

—

Name: Eric Cartman

Age: 22

Status: New Business Owner, Old Asshole

Fun Fact: This is the third business Eric has tried to start this year. Hopefully it’ll stick so his mom doesn’t have to take out another mortgage on the house to pay his rent.

—

Still half-asleep, I tried to rub the bleary filter out of my eyes to see the man more clearly. What the fuck is going on? 

We’re getting evicted a few hours after we moved in. Very on brand for us. 

“Eric, no! You are not kicking out our guest.” Liane’s voice joined the fray as she appeared in the doorway. 

“But mam.” Eric whined, “They’re in my bed and this is my room!”

“You told me you never wanted to sleep in this ‘stupid, gay ass’ room ever again when you moved. And that was almost a year ago!” Liane protested, “Now get back downstairs. We can talk about this in another room.” 

Eric didn’t budge from his spot in the doorway. If looks could kill, I’d be burned to a crisp. My senses began to return as the room came into full focus. The digital clock on the nightstand showed 11:49 in bright red LED. I’d gotten about three hours of sleep but it only felt like five minutes. 

I met Eric’s gaze, trying not to flinch from the intensity of his glare. Liane continued to try and coax him out of the room with promises of various rewards but Eric stood firm. I guess I was right about her son being an asshole. 

I wasn’t sure of what to do at this point. I was sitting in a stranger’s bed with said stranger standing in the doorway clearly unhappy about it with my face still puffy from sleep. 

I need to use the bathroom. 

Choosing the instinctual urge over the potential stressor of trying to talk to this man, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. I raised my hands to the ceiling in a stretch with a loud yawn echoing through the room. I started to walk to the doorway, not acknowledging the raging bull standing in my way. 

“Morning, Liane.” I mumbled, voice raspy from sleep.

“Who the fuck do you think you are-” Eric started, changing tone when I turned sideways and slid past him, making my way to the bathroom across the hall. “HEY! Don’t you ignore me!” He shouted, following behind me with spit flying out of his mouth. 

Do you have a deathwish?

No, I just need to take a piss. I’ll deal with him after or something. 

“That’s my bathroom! You can’t just walk around here like you own the place-”

I shut the bathroom door in Eric’s face, muffling his complaints. He continued to shout at me but didn’t try to enter. Looks like he’s just someone that likes to be a little bitch and make a scene. A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips at the realization. Anyone who’s that cruel to Liane has to be an asshole anyway. 

The bathroom was pretty large for a two bedroom house with a fuzzy rug running alongside the sink. My toes sunk into the tassels and the sudden change in texture woke up my senses. A few charms sat on the windowsill next to the toilet. An air freshener with a similar smell to the rest of the house and a little rubber duck with a cowboy hat. 

“You better enjoy that shit because it’s the last one you’ll take in this house!” Eric threatened. I could see the shadow of his feet under the door meaning he stood directly outside the bathroom waiting for me to leave.

It may be too early to begin hating someone so vehemently but something about Eric just boiled my blood. He continued to shout through the bathroom door as I went about my morning business. I waited for him to finish the current string of complaints before opening the door. 

Eric’s face had turned bright red from the shouting. I could see Liane over his shoulder, still trying to calm the raging bull that blocked my way. 

Let’s just get this over with. 

With a flat expression on my face, I met Eric’s gaze, not shying away from his harsh stare. He returned the glare with force as if daring me to act. 

“Get out of my house. You will respect my authority.” He spat, a droplet of spit landing on my cheek. I held back the urge to laugh at how he pronounced ‘authority’. Who the fuck taught this kid how to speak? 

I raised a hand to his forehead, flicking Eric above the bridge of his nose. Instantly, he stumbled back with an aghast expression. His mouth hung open in a silent gasp with his hands clutching his forehead as though he’d been shot. We stood staring at each other for a moment, sizing up our opponent in the hallway of this small house. 

Eric’s expression changed, eye crinkling as an exaggerated frown pulled at his lips. A high pitched cry emanated from his mouth like an emergency siren. He began to cry to Liane, words intelligible through his crocodile tears. Liane rushed to his side, consoling him with soft words and promises of ice cream. She herded him towards the stairs, flashing me an apologetic smile over her shoulder as she led the crying boy out of the hall. 

So my landlord isn’t mad I flicked her son on the forehead? 

Serves him right. He was a little bitch for sure. 

I stood in the now empty hallway. Eric’s cries echoed up the stairs but he seemed to have calmed down a bit from the initial wail. How does a grown man cry like a 6 year old? It would be impressive if he didn’t annoy me so much. 

Clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth, I looked around the hallway aimlessly. What should I do now? I was far too awake to go back to sleep but the thought of starting my networking search sounded like a slow, fiery, death. I walked back into Eric’s room- my room- with my feet dragging against the carpet.

The comotion had woken up my mind but my body still seemed dragged by tiredness. The alarm clock read 11:57 meaning the war of the bedroom had only lasted twelve minutes. I’m sure Eric wouldn’t like to know that I kicked his ass in less than fifteen minutes. 

But it would feel so good to tell him just to piss him off. 

Being tired makes the hater in me so much stronger.

A yawn stretched my mouth as I scratched an itchy spot on my back. It was too early to do work but too late to go back to sleep. What was a young professional with too much time on their hands to do? 

I could definitely use some coffee. 

The idea popped into my mind accompanied by the rush of serotonin that an iced coffee would definitely bring me. I could sit in a local cafe and read a book! Or just people watch and get accustomed to the new town! The possibilities invigorated me enough to find an outfit in my suitcase and quickly change, putting any necessities into a tote bag before I left my room. 

When I walked downstairs, Eric was gone. Liane had returned to her spot on the couch. A pair of knitting needles sat in her hands and the ends of what looked to be a blanket trailed across her legs. She turned when she heard me coming down the stairs. 

“Oh, yn! I thought you’d go back to bed.” 

I shrugged, adjusting the tote strap on my shoulder, “Once my mind is awake, I’m stuck up until it decides to shut off for the night. I was just going to get some coffee.” 

Liane nodded, “That sounds perfect! I’d recommend Tweek Bros Coffee on Newton St, they’re a local favorite. Oh, also,” she put down her knitting to face me fully, “I’m sorry about Eric. He was so adamant about moving out and he hadn’t visited in the past few months for more than dinner so I thought you’d be alright in that room. It seems I was wrong about that.” 

A breath caught in my throat. Am I seriously getting evicted on my first day?

Noticing my change in expression, she quickly continued with hands held out towards me, “Not to say that you aren’t able to stay! You’ve been such a delight to email with before and it’s been wonderful to meet you so I refuse to let someone so kind be without a place to stay. Eric will just have to wait until your trip has finished if he wishes to come back to his room.” 

I let out a relieved sigh, hand raising over my heart. Getting kicked out of this room probably would’ve killed me. I looked back at Liane to return the assurance. 

“It’s all good, Liane. I’ve met a few people like Eric in my life and I understand the hassle of it at times. He’s no bother to me at all. Thank you again for having me!” I gave a small curtsy at the end. 

Why the fuck did you just curtsey?

It felt like the right thing to do in the moment.

Well you looked like a fucking idiot in the moment.

If Liane noticed the action, she didn’t acknowledge it. She instead nodded at my words, “Yes, that’s right, he’s always been a bit needy but he’ll always be my boy. But you won’t need to worry about him while you’re staying here!” She said with a smile.

I returned the smile, “He’s no worry at all, Liane. I’ve handled much worse than him, believe me. But I appreciate it nonetheless.” We shared a silent look, finishing the conversation with a quick nod to each other before returning to our previous activities. Liane picked up her knitting once again and I turned to exit the house. 

A brisk breeze brushed my face as I exited the house. I took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of clean air in my lungs. The sun shone down on the street from a clear blue sky, washing out the brightly colored houses along the street with its light. No one walked alongside the street or drove in a car, leaving the block peaceful and still. Another breeze brushed the green grass and shook the dandelions which weaseled their way out of the ground. As rambunctious as the last hour had been, I couldn’t help but be glad for waking up so that I could enjoy this one moment of peace. 

Taking a last glance at the street I’d now call home for the next few months, I headed over to my car and set my GPS for Tweek Bros Coffee. Trying the local iced coffee sounds like the perfect way to begin my exploration of South Park.

I wish I’d known that it would be my last quiet moment for a while. I would’ve stood there for a moment longer. 

taglist [reply to be added]:@n0tangeliccc , @valstarroz , @kenanonsthoughts , @axteroiid , @hand-writxen , @that-kid-fromtheplayground  , @woahnotmecryingoverafanfiction, @h3artilly, @sula0kin, @ryenwritess

[ofmermaidstories]

dancing (with the windows open)

(‼️📍18+/MDNI — content/trigger warnings for: dark/problematic content, yandere izuku (and all that being a yandere entails), smut but it’s dubious consent/non-consent, kidnapping, suicidal thoughts, vague horror themes—look, Reader is not having a good time in this, and that is the point!!! even through a mermcore filter, this is very much dead dove, babies!!! dead dove: do NOT eat!!!!!)

In your dreams you are fourteen years old again: riding your bike lazily through the summer heat, sweltering and wet. The cicadas scream around you and the sky expands before you, the road to your grandmother’s house rising up to meet it, like it could lead you to freedom—to the bright, bright blue of a sunlit world you will never see again.

“I love you,” Izuku whispers. In the low light of the room, his eyes glimmer—wide, flickering over your face, waiting.

Your heart twists. In another life, you might’ve laughed and tried to squirm away from him, tell him it was impolite to talk with his mouth full—instead you swallow, nod, watching as he sucks on his bottom lip, the glossy smear of you on his face shinning.

“I love you too,” you whisper. He breathes against your belly; hot and deeply against the give of it—grateful, his eyes closed like he’s savouring the words, like he believes them.

“I love you so much,” he says, lips trailing over your skin and your stomach twists, under them. He follows the curve of your body to the wet heat of you, pressing his kisses deeper when you gasp, unwillingly.

His hand curls in yours; pinning it down. You try to focus on that, on his grip, pressing down into the flesh of your palm to the bird-like bones underneath. The threat of that is better, more honest than the sloppy glide of his tongue—the press of his face against you, where he murmurs his I love yous, his you’re safes, his you’re okays.

In any other lifetime you could have done this: rolled with him, breathed in the saltiness of his skin, kissed him willingly—loved him, fiercely.

Instead you only have this lifetime. The one where you let him touch you as you tremble, let him spread you apart and devour you, his hot breath at your neck as you lay there and hope he’ll do you the favour of snapping your neck one day.

You’re alone, a lot of the time. Gulping in sleep like a cursed princess, ensnared in a tangle of briar thorns. Curling into yourself as you nest in the blankets and pillows Izuku surrounds you with, the warm glow of the little porcelain lamp he brought you—a flimsy fairy-ring of protection from the cold, empty space beyond it.

Izuku has tried, you think, in empty acknowledgement.

It’s a room of concrete. You think it might’ve been a bunker once, or a basement—somewhere deep underground, the concrete unable to hold back the mildewing rot of pooling water, dirt. Izuku’s tried to make it homey, in a clumsy, earnest way: trial and error in the early days, when you would rip out your own nails clawing at the walls. He’d bring you a rug, one day—thick and soft in bright colours the dankness of this place eventually sapped. New blankets, constantly. New pillowcases—frilled and soft, a picturesque girlishness you don’t feel. He brings you soft sweaters that feel like duckling down and flimsy little nightgowns and his own shirts, warm, still smelling of him. One day he even brings you paper stars.

“Kacchan and I visited a nursery class!” He tells you, excited and soft-eyed, like he’s come home to find you on the couch, waiting for him—instead of sequestered away in the dark, hoping you’ll die. “They’d been working on these all week—I thought you would love them.”

Your heart was a lump of rotting flesh in your mouth as you had watched him tac them up on the wall—stars of clumsily coloured purple and orange and green and yellow and gold glitter. A mockery of the real sky—a mockery of your excitement when you were still in the real world, pinning up the most earnest of the fan-letters that Dynamight’s offices received, pinning up scowling paper-cutouts of him. Crayon portraits where he’s flying through a field of orange stars. Painstakingly written notes on school paper, saying he was their hero. Every time Izuku had come into the agency, there had been something new—Izuku impressed, his eyes warm when you would laugh at him, pointing it out.

And now—

Now you turn your head from the wall, looking at the glow of the lamp instead as he moves over you, his breath hot and moist in your ear as his fingers dig into your hips, the strength of his Quirk threatening to snap you in half as he takes what he wants.

“I love you,” he whispers against your hair, afterwards. He likes you puddled in his arms—skin-to-skin, the both of you flushed and damp and breathing hard, cradled in a bed that will smell of sex; the overripe stink of salt and skin and the rot you emit, now—of blown-out, browning roses, left to languish in the dark.

Izuku breathes in deep, relaxing in it. “You smell so good,” he says, softly, and you wish and wish and wish that it could follow him out of here and into the daylight where it could out him to everyone he knows—the powdery, sickly decay of this trap.

You stay awake in his arms, even when he sleeps. Palming over the scars on his arm, his body. Wanting to claw them open and crawl into him, tear him apart. He’d probably be able to pull himself together, afterwards—the golden gift of his Quirk, his life, pulling him into a constant cycle of rebirth no matter his failings. But at least then you’d be carried out of here—at least then he would have to take you with him out into the fresh air, the sunshine. You would take feeling the sun again—the open sky—even if it was secondhand.

Sometimes when he comes to you he still smells like the open air—like the waiting world and you will snuffle into his neck, against his shoulders, hungry for it, tears absorbing into his uniform.

He will croon to you, then, a big hand on the back of your head—holding you close, peppering you with kisses, whispering, “I love you, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m here, it’s okay, you’re safe.”

(He likes you like this—sad, clingy. His eyes will reflect your tears and he will kiss your face, kiss your mouth, kiss down your neck and your breasts even as you gulp back sobs.)

And then one day he doesn’t come back.

“Kacchan’s suspicious,” he tells you, hushed, his brows knitting together. “He hasn’t let the investigation close—he’s been turning everything upside down. He won’t understand.”

You try not to let your hope show, the kindling of it glowing in your chest as he kisses you goodbye, promises you you’ll be safe. You let him go and try not to think of Kacchan, out there somewhere, refusing to believe you had just quit and walked out, walked away from the wall of letters and drawings. Hope tasted a lot like fear, these days—stale in your mouth and you do what you can, you sleep the day away, the curled up princess in her nest.

Izuku has odd hours; you’re used to waking up to his hands on you, gently bringing you back tot he world of the living. But you wake up on your own, drink some water, sleep again—wake up again. The cycle continues and you realise, after awhile, that it’s been too long. Where is he?

Where is he?

You wait, and you wait, and you wait. Locked into the fairy-ring glow—afraid of the dark beyond it. Your bed becomes a casket. I love you, Izuku had said, soft-eyed and gentle—but his love was bloody, came with chains, had buried you alive. You curl into yourself and cry. You stay like that and sleep—sometimes you dream of being fourteen again, the day before you. Sometimes you dream of Izuku, his hand on your face as he whispers you’re safe, that you’re okay, that he loves you. You’re going to die in this place—with nothing to witness it, to witness you, but your dreams.

Your tears are hot against your face and you close your eyes.

(When you open them again, you’re in a room with wide, open windows—the curtains moving with the breeze. It’s daylight; a bird is singing, somewhere outside. You shift, stretching out in cool bedlinens that smell of sunshine and detergent and there’s a warm chuckle behind you, a strong arm tightening around your waist as someone presses their face into the curve of your neck and murmurs, “You okay?”

You feel sick with the lightness inside you, like you’ve swallowed the sun. “We’re okay,” you whisper, and the tears on your face are cool)