#the “and that's when you found me” bit it makes me DIE

[atzfilm]

— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [eight.]

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

— pairing; ot8/reader (mingi/f.reader & hongjoong/f.reader focused); 7.1k

— chapter warnings; death, death mentions, murder mentions, slightly gory

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)

FIC WARNINGS: murder, manipulation, blood, blood drinking, torture references, dark magic, kidnapping. this series is very dark, if you're uncomfortable with the subjects listed do not read. warnings will change but be listed in each chapter. there is no tag list for this series.

Chapter 8:

The heat is all consuming.

Your moist grip struggles against the metal chains digging into your skin, slipping as you attempt to get a firm grasp. The dried blood isn’t exactly helping you, chipping off each time you attempt to pull. You can feel Wooyoung’s eyes on you. He hasn’t stopped telling you that it’s nearly impossible for someone of your strength to break it, but you cannot help but try. You can’t let yourself succumb to whatever those creatures are planning to do to you.

“Solaris, you’ll exhaust yourself.”

You shake your head, hitting the metal against the floor. It does not make even the slightest dent, rattling. “We’re not going to die here, Wooyoung.”

“We will if someone catches you trying to escape,” he breathes, lids heavy. “Just sleep for a bit, I’ll throw something at you to wake you up if someone comes.” You look around the two of you, the cell completely empty. Not even a single rock decorates the floor. His chuckle is strained as he observes the confused look on your face. “Joking.”

You let go, attempt in vain. Your gaze roams over Wooyoung instead; body completely covered in tightened rope, feet outstretched but bound to metal hoops welded into the floor, arms lifted above him, fingers spread with smaller hoops keeping them from moving. Likely bound so tightly he is unable to even flick a finger. It is as if they have molded him into the wall, only his head free.

“You’ve never looked at me with such worry,” he notes. “Perhaps I should find myself on the brink of death often.”

“Did they hurt you?” You ask, though the answer is obvious.

They hit a blunt object against your temple as you entered the cell, Wooyoung already trapped when you arrived. His head was limp, hanging forward. Though now he is speaking, you can see the wounds on his body, clothing wrinkled and torn. The creatures barely touched you. Your fabric is slightly ripped, but it is meager in comparison to him.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he says simply, avoiding the question entirely. You lean yourself back against the wall, desperate to push the thoughts of San from your mind. You have seen too much death since knowing them. Seeing one of them die, though, that was the last thing you ever expected. Your own chest aches with the loss. You could only fathom how Wooyoung has fared.

“It didn’t look too painful, right?”

“Hm?” You look at him.

“San. It didn’t look painful when he died, did it? Do you think it hurt badly?”

You press your lips together. He looks exhausted, but his eyes never leave yours, flicking down to the movement of your lips. Swearing soon follows, head shaking softly. “He didn’t deserve it. He cared so much, so so much. All he wanted was to belong, to care for us. But we let him down.”

He closes his eyes. “I could feel it. His soul being ripped from mine. It felt like someone dug a dagger into my chest and pulled out each rib. It was so painful, I could only imagine what it felt like for him.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “I never saw San cry before.”

“I'm sorry,” you say softly. That's all you can say. Seeing someone you love so violently gone - You could barely hold back your own tears as he died below you.

He hums, a dry laugh leaving his lips. “Can't wait to kick his ass when I see him again. He promised he wouldn't die before me,” Wooyoung huffs, shutting his eyes. “They never explained how much it would hurt.”

You're unable to respond, comforting words lost. If you could at least hold his hand you would, but your restraints prevent it. All you can offer is silence.

“He did like you. Had an odd way of showing it, but he did. He talked about you while we were alone when you were gone. Sure, most of it was scolding and jabs, but he only does that with people he cares about. Did, that.”

Wooyoung’s head lifts, lips tight.

You follow his gaze, eyes widening as your head tilts up.

“Shouldn't a creature of Lilith be in the pits of hell torturing wretched souls?” Wooyoung spits, face distorting into disgust. “You decide to waste your time on the two of us instead?”

The creature's mouth opens, a foul smell scorching the air. “A burden that Lilith brought to me. Your bodies should have been disposed of long ago.” Its bulbous eyes shift to you. “Especially one of her kind.”

“Fuck you,” he hisses between breaths. A violent crack echoes through the air as you try twisting around the creature to see. Your heartbeat rattles against your eardrums, panic settling in. He can’t die, he can’t.

The creature stares down at you, his hand wrapping around your neck. It’s large enough to cover your mouth as well, strained breaths through the wrinkled skin that holds you captive. If you could tell Wooyoung to stop talking you would, but the hand seems to melt your lips shut as it snarls down at you, the tugging of your hands doing nothing to help. The touch her you die moment isn’t really one you’d prefer being in - the creature could easily snap your neck.

“Shit,” Wooyoung curses. There’s a bit of space between the creature's shoulder and head for you to follow the noise. Wooyoung struggles to pull against the metal, blood dripping down his restraints as he grunts. “You’re messing with a kumiho, you worthless cun-”

The metal prison door flies across the room, bending against the concrete walls. The creature turns around, but it is not quick enough. Its hand is violently pulled off of you, thrown against the same wall. You squint through the action, trying to catch who exactly has entered.

“Mingi?” Wooyoung says loudly.

Mingi shifts in and out of existence, wings tendons strained as he attacks the creature. The sounds are disgusting, flesh torn, bones cracking. Mingi’s thrown to the ground near you, covered in a blackened substance. His eyes shine, iridescent. His fingers sink into your flesh, and you gasp. He glances back at you briefly, an apologetic look in his eyes as he shields you from the onslaught. He grunts as his back is beaten. The sound of tearing skin is not unfamiliar to you. You cannot do anything but stare, this time completely defenseless with your hands tied. A brief reprieve in the attack allows him to move swiftly, his grasp on you gone. You see his hand sink into the creature before anything else. Darkened crimson coats his fingers as he pulls it back. He grunts, his free hand twisting into paws, sharp tendons cracking in the air. He grips the creature by its neck, tossing it through the open doorway. He glances between Wooyoung and yourself, running over to Wooyoung first. Mingi hisses when his hand touches the metal.

“Foxglove.”

“Why’d you think I've been stuck in here so long,” Wooyoung murmurs.

Mingi rolls his eyes, closing his eyes as he whispers a cantation. The strange glow to the metal seemingly dissipates. He pulls on the welded metal against the wall, ripping out chunks of the surface before doing the other.

“I didn’t need saving,” Wooyoung tugs on the bolts, relief spreading across his face once they drop from the wall. His bones crack as his once shapeshifted arm goes back to normal, fingers outstretched as he sighs. He takes a slow breath, before looking at the two of you. “Oh sh-t, your wings, Mingi.”

You can hear the dripping of blood as Wooyoung points it out.

“It’s nothing. Looks to me like you did need me,” Mingi crouches next to you, glancing over your restraints. He pauses as he touches it, a distressed look passing over his face. You expected him to flinch back as he did with Wooyoung’s, but his fingers wrap around it easily.

No foxglove.

“Mingi-”

“It’s fine, Wooyoung,” his tone seems final. Wooyoung stares at him before sighing.

“Hongjoong didn’t come?” Wooyoung’s voice is soft as Mingi grips the metal and rips it from confining you. He shakes his head slowly, hand brushes against the metal burns on your wrist. You wince at his touch, his eyes meeting yours briefly before looking back at Wooyoung.

“He’s been preoccupied as of late,” Mingi holds out a hand and you grasp it, steadying yourself on two feet. “But he informed us of your location. You can further discuss it with him when we arrive back. Can you create a path? The energy in here should suffice.”

“But…”

“They’ll find us if you delay any longer, Wooyoung.”

A grumble leaves Wooyoung’s lips but he nods anyway, quick whispers spilling from his tight expression. The air tightens then expands, a gust of wind nearly unbalancing your already unstable stance. Mingi grips your forearm, eyes flicking down to your lips before moving back to your gaze. The last time you were pulled through, San kissed you. It’s likely not too different now. Mingi opens his mouth to speak but Wooyoung interrupts, pushing himself between the two of you. Mingi’s grip on you is gone, gaze wandering for a moment before he enters the pathway, leaving the two of you alone. You only catch the gruesome look of his backside briefly before he’s gone.

“Ready?” Wooyoung asks, and you nod. His lips press against yours, and you’re pulled into the portal.

—

He’s pulled from you right when you leave the portal. A groan and laugh echoing around the house as he’s pulled into someone’s arms. Yunho’s grip is tight as he holds him, his body trembling. Teasing leaves his face as he sighs, pulling him closer. It is intimate enough that you look away, watching as the others greet him coming back. You feel odd, their attachment to one another something you yearn for. You spot Jongho amongst the spark, a relieved look on his face as he studies you. A pitiful part of you expects for him to walk over and embrace you but he does the opposite, leaving the room entirely. Everyone is occupied enough that you decide to walk around the others, making your way to your room.

You feel his gaze before you see it, eyes flicking down the long hallway. Seonghwa stands there, arms crossed against his chest. He barely glances at you but you can see how his gaze lingers on your wounds, lips tight and jaw strained. Once you blink he is gone. It leaves a strange taste in your mouth, your hand wrapping around the brass knob before pushing your door open.

Exhaustion swarms your body once you enter your room, slumping against the wooden floors, narrowly missing a wide crack. The chaos that was once in your room is now gone, the blood coating the floors nowhere to be found, wooden boards put back in their place. The only evidence of there being any sort of fight lies in the hole in the wall, wood piled beneath it. Likely to board it up temporarily. It looks like no one has gotten the chance to do much - nails and bolts piled along with it. It was likely Yunho or Jongho who cleaned up your room enough for it to be livable - you remind yourself to thank them at some point in the future. Once things have settled a bit.

The stench of sweat and blood still simmers in the area, nose wrinkling. Your eyes move over to your doorway, the final moments of San with you spreading across your mind. His death is not forgotten. A few painful swallows of spit later, you shakingly crawl to your bathroom, shutting the door behind you. The weight of the past few events almost cripples you, your eyes shut as you struggle to hold back your tears.

You’re not sure how much more you can handle. The isolation is getting to you - you used to have Soobin to grieve with. And if it weren’t him, it was your mother, your family. They kept you from spiraling, from sinking further and further into yourself. But you have no one. You look at the reflection of yourself. The bruises on your neck are darkening, deepening the longer you stare at yourself. The urge to call your mother vanishes the longer you stare at the mirror. Subjecting her to the possibility of this happening - you gag at the mere thought. You don’t want to involve anyone else. No one you care about.

It is a strange feeling, the amount of people in this home should be suffocating. And yet, you just feel so lonely.

—

The bowl beneath you distorts. Your vision blurs as you stare, fading in and out of focus. You can hear the birds chirp as they glide through the thickened forest in front of you. You look up, a chill brushing against the raised bumps of your arms.

No one has told you why Wooyoung and yourself were taken. The others have been busy. Hongjoong has not left his room, preoccupied. The horrid look in Mingi's eyes when he pulled you from your cell still haunts you. It was almost soul crushing as his nails dug into your flesh, the wounds are wrapped in gauze still.

Chopsticks slide through your lips, grains of rice mush. You haven’t the energy in you to protest as Seonghwa slid it to you, disappearing before you could thank him. The fear of hatred in his eyes stops you from ever meeting his gaze. He warned them all of what you being here would do. Of what was to come. The two of you haven’t discussed it amongst yourselves but you can feel the blame being spat at you whenever you are in the same room. Enough so that you promptly leave before a word gets out.

No one has really spoken to you since you came back. Even Jongho could barely muster a greeting, words murmured as he left you alone. All you’ve felt is alienation. Leaving was at some point an option, but now, after everything that has happened, it’s the last thing on your mind. San’s sacrifice would have been for nothing if you waltzed out of this home and into death a town away.

It makes sense why you’ve been left alone. It just doesn’t make the feeling go away knowing that.

You force the last scoop of rice into your mouth, swallowing dryly as you stand. The eerie sound of the hallways greets you as you enter, your steps swift and sure.

You walk past Yeosang’s room. The others’ words ring true – it is shut, not a breath of sound escaping through the thin cracks around the door. You'd never attempt to open it. You grieved on your own even though San only began caring for you at the very end. Yeosang and San though, they were attached. Every room you walked in they were always in deep conversation, lightened with laughter. Yeosang's annoyed expression was often softened by the warm look in his eyes when they spent time together. They are all mates but there was just something special between the two. Something you noticed with Yunho and Mingi, Wooyoung and Hongjoong. A bond unlike any other. Your gaze lingers only for another second before you leave, hands wrapped around the rim of the bowl. Wooyoung hasn't left his room either, not even to mess with you, which was fine.

You just can't get used to the silent hallways.

The kitchen is thankfully empty. You waste no time scrubbing the bowl, praying that no one enters while you are alone.

A low groan as you place the bowl in the cabinet fills the silence. You turn, almost stumbling back at the sight.

A blue tint coats his fingertips as he grips the counter. You're unmoving, staring at the carcass of what he once was. A groan escapes blackened lips as he stumbles forward, falling to his knees. His fingers let go of the counter, instead gripping his grayed hair. You can see himself in him if you ignore the obvious signs of decay. His clothing is what he wore that night, stained with his blood and yours. You dare not squint to see if the hole is still in his body, stomach twisting.

“He is still not alive, not fully.”

It's no surprise that Hongjoong follows, his eyes trained on San's crumbled body. There's a strange gleam in his eyes as he watches him. As if he's proud of what he turned his dead mate into. You cannot see anything in San but horror. He oddly does not smell like death, but you dare not get closer to see if he… it… does.

“Do the others know?”

His gaze meets yours. “I wouldn't give their hopes up for something like this. He may turn up dead again.”

“Hongjoong…”

“He is quite marvelous, isn’t he?” Hongjoong’s hands brush his hair tenderly, warmth in his gaze. “He is not himself, but he will be soon. If it all works, this would help the others see reason. They won’t be as upset anymore. We all can be happy again.”

“This, that isn't San. San is dead–”

Fingers wrap around your neck before you can utter another word. His eyes are solid white as he tightens his grip, jaw clenched. You gasp for air, fingers clawing at his hand, desperate for him to let go. Your bruises throb against his fingers. He only tightens before loosening. You suck in a long breath, cupping your neck as you try to regain your sense of self. He seems to catch himself as he rests his eyes on yours.

“San is alive. Not fully but he will be. He must be,” Hongjoong looks back at him. “I'm taking him to your town. He is still a Seelie, unfortunately. He will need their positivity to gain enough strength to live again. I would have forfeited your life, but you reek of pessimism. Delicious for me, but repulsive for him.” He sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

“You aren't going to kill them, are you? The townspeople?”

Hongjoong laughs. You see his arm raise but your momentum isn't enough to stop his touch. He holds your chin between his fingers. “What do you want from me, girl? You hope for reassurance, for something other than this, than us?” his grip only tightens as his harsh words drip from his lips. His eyes seem to darken the longer he looks at you, steady on yours. “I will kill them all for San to live if I must.”

“Let me go.”

“I am not letting you go. You are not leaving. You will never leave.”

“Hongjoong–”

His eyes flutter close, a slow breath entering his throat. He opens them again, grin slowly growing on his face. “We will be your final hope, kumiho. You are ours. Not those soon-to-be-dead humans. Grow to care less for them, it will be better for you in the end once you see their graves.”

He leans forward, eyes steady on yours. “You are mine. Even if you yourself do not believe it. Come, San.” He reaches out his hand. San's hand touches his as Hongioong entwines their fingers. “Time to feed.”

He is gone with a blink.

—

Mingi's strikes are harder. He does not stop in his attacks, immediately swiping his opposing sword when you block one. Your breaths are rapid as you desperately try to keep up with his moves. They soon grow faster, your vision blurring trying to keep up.

“Mingi–” you grunt, dunking with another wide swing of his sword. It slices through the air, the sound audible. Fear grows as he continues, eyes seemingly glazed over. This is no longer a practice for you. “Mingi!”

He does not flinch at your shouting, sword raising again. This time you grab the pole he gave you, immediately throwing it against his chest. A loud boom surrounds you, your hands flying to your ears. Mingi's sword drops from his hands and to the mats. He’s thrown back several yards, body hitting a large tree behind him. Your eyes widen, stumbling to your feet. You leap over scraps of wood to get to him, panicked. His breaths are struggling as you crouch next to him, holding your hand against his chest.

“Mingi? Mingi, are you okay?”

He begins to laugh, head lifting. A bruised lip and swollen eye greet you, the pit in your stomach tightening at the sight. You cup his face, turning his head to the right. Cuts cover his skin from the splintered wood. All he does is chuckle as he watches your worried gaze.

“Fuck, I'm sorry,” you say.

“You did what you needed to do, nymph,” his hand encloses yours, lifting it from his face. He lets it go, touching his skin. He winces, sighing. “It wasn't your full strength, but it was enough. We might not be at a dead end with you after all.”

“You did that on purpose?” You stand, speaking slowly. “I thought you were losing yourself.”

His expression is aghast as he examines you. “Never. I have too much to protect to let my mind wander in a match.”

Frustration cannot help but rise in your body as you look down at him. The longer you stare, the longer your own mind wanders. The way San's eyes looked at you, slowly glossing over. The resigned look on his face. The blood. The Seelie dead beneath your fingertips. All of the blood.

You shut your eyes, taking a breath. You turn, leaving Mingi on the ground as you go back to gather your things. You hear him standing from his spot but you ignore him entirely, the horrible thoughts growing. The same face that has haunted you each time you've closed your eyes. Your own mind begins to mold it into the faerie just behind you.

“Are you truly this upset?” Mingi stops you from zipping your bag, hand covering the opening. Your hand wraps around his wrist to tug him away, removing it when a small grunt leaves his lips as you grip too harshly on a new wound.

“I hurt you, Mingi,” you say. “And you laughed.”

“You were supposed to hurt me. That's how you get better at fighting. It's what we do.”

“You should have told me.”

“You wouldn't have fought as hard if I did.”

You turn around, meeting his eyes. His wounds are slowly healing, but the ill feeling has yet to leave your body. “You should have told me.”

His eyes rest on yours. “I won't coddle you. Weakness will not help you, nymph. You saw the way San fell. I’m doing this to help you protect yourself, and to stop one of us from intervening when we see you being targeted. A few cuts and bruises shouldn’t stop you from practicing. We aren’t done.”

He will never understand it. It is his nature - violence, chaos, blood. For a time you thought there to be something more there. And maybe there is. But right now, as your eyes follow his movements, the empty look in his eyes, all you see is nothing. Eerily, the longer you stare, the longer you feel that same odd feeling as the last time you spoke to Soobin.

Like he is not entirely himself.

“I’ll practice with someone else.”

“Who?”

“Why are you so insistent with this, Mingi? We’re done for tonight,” You tug on your bag again, but he does not let go. “Mingi.”

“Do you think we do not think of San every waking moment? Do you believe us faeries to be so heartless that we do not grieve his absence?”

“I never said that.”

“But you stare at me as if it’s true. I am doing this for you, for us, kumiho. And if you were the least bit less selfish you would see what my intentions are. He died protecting you. Do you expect me to just stand back and watch each of us continue to die because we are shielding you? Do you think it fair that our lives are lost because of you?”

Your thoughts move back to Wooyoung, his hands cupping your face, head pressing against yours. It’s not your fault, solaris. Sometimes things just happen, and we cannot do anything to stop it. Don’t put this on yourself, please.

“I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“And yet here we are,” he lets go of your zipper, pushing the bag against your chest. You stumble slightly, and he grips the bag, steadying you. Mild disgust coats his face, “Take a reprieve. We start again after I feed.”

—

Sweat drips down your body, soaking your clothing as you heave against the mats. Mingi is not too far away, humming to himself as he packs the training gear away. He has not asked you once if you were alright and you do not blame him. You cough, blood splattering against the mats.

“Shit,” you mumble, hands roaming for your water bottle. You grab it with shaky hands, swirling fresh water in your mouth before spitting it in the grass near you. It’s fine, just a bit of dry mouth. Nothing alarming. Your chest tightens as you shut your eyes, trying to calm your own heartbeat down.

A hand appears in front of you, a small bottle. The liquid inside almost glows, thickened as you take it from him. “It’s revivify. It will only take a few minutes to help. One sip is enough for now.”

“Thanks,” you open the bottle, glancing inside. The stench is a bit sweet, though your nose does not quite agree with it. Swallowing it is a struggle in itself, your throat pulsing, threatening to regurgitate it back to the mats. But you force it down, a rumble echoing.

“Keep the rest.”

“Are you sure?” You struggle to your feet.

“We have no use for it since it cannot work on Unseelie. It wouldn’t work on us even if we desired it. It is supposed to work on humans, and although you are not one, it doesn’t hurt to try,” He glances at your bag sitting on the bench, grabbing it. “I will leave this outside your room.”

“Thank you.”

He looks at you. “I am doing this for your own good, you see it, no? It is destiny, just as it was for us to meet you, for San to die. It all was supposed to happen.”

“You believe in destiny?” You raise your brow. “You seem like the last person in your whole house to believe in it.”

“All faeries do,” Mingi shrugs. “It is fate for us to meet, just as it is for you to come to your city, to leave your partner, to be out here with me now. Even as we speak it is words that were already ingrained within us.”

“Makes it feel like we don’t have freedom of choice.”

His brows furrow. “How so?”

“If it is all predestined, how could we decide how things go? How this all ends? Why even try when we are forced along a linear path?”

“Ah…” he nods slowly. “You still have the simple mind of a human.”

“Doesn’t answer the question,” you frown.

“I said it is all fate, but I didn’t say that fate is linear. Each path we take is what we choose, but it is fate that brings us together, just as it is fate if we are brought apart. But that is too difficult for you to comprehend now.” He looks at you strangely. “How are your wrists?”

You look down, finger brushing against the forgotten wounds. It isn’t welted like before, but it’s scarring over, a deeper color contrasted against your skin. You’ve all but pushed that experience from your mind, too tortuous to dwell on amongst everything else. “I haven’t thought of it.” You admit, glancing at him. “Too many things going on right now for me to cry about something like this.”

His eyes rest on your wrists, before glancing away. “I pushed you farther than need be today. I overestimated how much strength you have in this human form.”

“I understand.” There’s an apology between his words, somewhere. You glance at his back. The pure horror that crossed Wooyoung’s face when he saw it in the imprisonment. Your quick glance was enough to see that it was painful. Horribly so.

“Are you okay?”

He furrows his brows, “I told you I was fine before.”

“No, I mean,” you hesitate. He closed off when Wooyoung questioned it, there’s no doubt he’d do the same to you. But you cannot help but try. “Your wings, your back. Are you okay?”

His eyes widen only minimally before resting. “Fine.” His steps are fast, not waiting for even a moment to hear what you have to respond. You stare at the potion in your hand, thoughts scattered. Perhaps he does care, in his own strange way.

Later that night, you find a small bag containing a potion hanging on the doorknob to your room with a scrawled note. The loneliness feeling shifts as you read it.

For your wrists. -M

—

Your gaze is unable to shift from your hands. Numb, cold from the breeze escaping through the gaping hole in your room. It's partially boarded up, a box of nails and wood slacks resting beneath it. Humorous given the situation – you don’t doubt the faeries you reside with have some sort of fix it spell on their roster. But you've insisted on doing it yourself. Splinters dig into the tender skin, your thumb rubbing against the risen surface. It is not enough to make you feel half of what the others felt, but it helps. You press your thumb into the small wooden splinters, pain ringing your nerves as you bleed.

Your new door flings open, nearly breaking off its hinges. You flinch, moving away from the sound. Hongjoong stands there, gaze scanning the room swiftly before resting on you. The once cocky Unseelie looks oddly haggardly, skin oily, hair no longer neatly styled. As if he just awoke from a slumber, clothing barely thrown on his figure. He sighs, fingers pinching his nose.

“You are not hurt.” He murmurs.

You raise your palm to him, before dropping it, picking up the tweezers near you. “Nothing a few hours of picking at my skin wouldn't fix. You almost broke my door, by the way.”

“I smelled blood.”

There's a light film of blood on your palm, but it's barely a teaspoon. “The wood pricked me.”

“Could you be even a bit more careful, kumiho?”

You laugh dryly, “No demonic creatures breaking through the walls again, if you were worried about that.”

His oddly concerned expression soon disappears. He grips your doorknob, ready to swing it back into its place. Just before he closes it, his eyes flick to you. “Caring for yourself shouldn't be such a feat.”

“It was a mistake, that’s all,” you murmur.

“Why lie? Remember where you are and what has happened. Unseelie may not care as Seelie do, but an ounce of sympathy would work wonders.”

The door shuts. You watch as the knob drops from its place, rolling against the wooden floor.

—

Your existence is not forgotten in the room. Body cemented into the loveseat as the discussion, fingers brushing against the potted plant San once cared for. Their words are heated, speaking in a language you cannot understand aside from names. Yeosang is not in the room as you predicted. Seonghwa paces back and forth, arms gesturing wildly, pointing at you every so often. Wooyoung’s tempered voice responded with a bit of annoyance, his presence far away from you not unnoticed. In fact, it seems that Jongho is the only one who could even stand your presence, passing you a novel before sitting on the armrest of your chair.

“Death is something we cannot overcome by merely forgetting it,” Hongjoong’s words ring, speaking in a language you can understand, looking at you briefly. Seonghwa does not attempt to hide the annoyance in his expression. “We must do something, or others may think we are weak.”

“They can try,” Yunho says, leaning against the archway. “Their attempts will be in vain.”

“Them trying is what I am actively avoiding.”

“We are Unseelie, Hongjoong. Someone attempting to take over happens every few centuries. They have likely found out about San’s death already, and Wooyoung being taken. It is only a matter of time before a group enters the meeting place. And they have questioned her presence already,” Seonghwa looks at you. “She should be removed.”

“And taken by Seelie? Is that the wisest thing to do?” Hongjoong scowls. “Once she is able to use her abilities without forgetting and they have control of her, we will all die.”

“She has already caught the attention of Lilith. We must kill her then.”

Your hand stills on the leave your brushing against, turning to Seonghwa. His back is facing you as he says it, waiting for Hongjoong to reply. He’s greeted with silence instead, a loud sigh escaping his lips. “What use does she have to live? We remove any chance of her growing to learn her skills and killing us, or leaving and finding herself in the hands of another group of fae. It is the best solution.”

“You would allow San’s death to be in vain, Seonghwa?”

All of you turn to the voice. Yeosang’s hands grip the doorway, eyes narrowing as he stares at him. Though the Unseelie is far, you can see the glimpse of a knowing smile on Yunho’s lips. Seonghwa looks pained as he meets his gaze, a slight step forward. “Yeosang.”

“Answer me.”

“It is the best solution.”

“You have not answered.”

“San would see reason in my choice if he were in my shoes.”

“You have endlessly criticized Hongjoong for his choices and yet make a selfish one of your own.”

“I am thinking of us. I have always thought of us. How can you not see that? Why don’t any of you see it? All because of this… thing?” He points at you. “It’s my fault for not killing her in the beginning. I allowed all of this to happen. We would have already moved on from this town, far away enough that even the thought of her would never be. But I have accepted that I made a bad decision. I wish that you all accept my words when I say keeping her around is a bad decision.”

Hongjoong shakes his head. “San’s death is not yours to take blame. It is not that simple-”

“I don’t want to see any of you die again.” The angst in his voice is palpable, strained. He grips the table near him, eyes glued to the floor. “I want you all to live. Please, please consider this. I won’t ask for a vote because I know where it would lead. Just, please.”

Hongjoong’s hand reaches out to touch his arm, but Seonghwa pulls it away from him harshly. “I’m tired of having these pointless fucking meetings when everyone dismisses my words. I am tired of it all. Do what you want, I don’t care anymore.” He leaves, shoulder harshly pushing through Yunho’s body as he exits.

Yunho reaches out a hand as Yeosang stumbles, murmuring words you cannot understand in his ear. He nods slowly, reaching an arm around his neck. The height difference is steep, but close enough for Yunho to help him out of the room. The others seem to leave not too long after, Hongjoong standing in the same spot once it's just the two of you left. The idea of being alone with him is uncomfortable enough that you begin to follow the others out. Until he speaks.

He never quite shuts up.

“We’re not killing you,” Hongjoong says. “We’ve decided on that already.”

“I feel so much better now that you say it,” you mumble. “I don’t fault Seonghwa for wanting to get rid of me. You’ve all been through so much since we’ve known each other.”

You exit the room, the soft steps of Hongjoong not too far behind. You expect him to stay behind when you walk outside, but he follows well. You stop walking, turning to look at him. “What?”

“I wouldn’t be able to kill you,” Hongjoong explains. “Many of them may hate me if I arrived without you with me. But if you made the decision on your own, it would be no fault of mine.”

“You want me to kill myself?”

“No,” he says after a moment. “I still cannot find the reason for their fascination with you. But I do not want that. Do you want to die tonight?”

You’ve been brave. Leaving them behind once before, dealing with that Seelie before San came to save you. Before, you thought you’d be able to survive without them by your side. But now? Even with the weapon that Mingi gave you, doubt settles within you. Your eyes flick up to the house. To the barely boarded up hole on your porch.

“No.”

“Then why are you not trying hard enough in your training? You have overcome danger before – we all saw the aftermath ourselves. Or, maybe…” he pauses, a strange look crossing his face. “Maybe your body knows that it is not a life threatening emergency, enough so that you would show your true form. Perhaps you just need a push.”

Hongjoong’s hand grips your arm, dragging you deeper into the forest. “I can test it now.”

“What the hell are you doing?” You grip his hand, but it is in vain. His nails dig into your skin as he pulls you, your pace struggling to keep up to the quickness of his. His gaze is lost as he paces through. “Hongjoong this isn’t funny.”

“Unfortunately I’m not trying to be humorous,” he glances down at you. “I will need to attempt to kill you in order to see if it works.”

The forest begins to dwindle, and soon you hear the sound of waves. You’ve been out in this area with Soobin before, know that your town rests near large cliffs. You visited it more often than not, standing at the treeline as you looked out into the ocean. He drags you to the edge, ignoring your pleas. Your hand digs into his sleeve, begging him to not do this. To realize what he's doing is wrong.

“Hongjoong please,” you say desperately, voice hoarse. He grabs your hand, ripping your grip off.

“I don't want you to die,” he says softly. “But this… this could help. This could show us your true potential, y/n. Don't you see it?”

Your name rolls off his tongue like a curse. The word is strong enough to stun you for a brief moment. But just the pause in time for him to dangle you over the ledge. His gaze is far gone, his free hand brushing against your cheek. Black pupils stare back at you, his brown hair a sheer white. His touch grows colder and colder as he touches your cheek, hums echoing around the forest. You grew unafraid of them all since you've been with them for months – thinking that your life was safe enough. But the blank gaze of his, the eerie tune that falls from his lips, it is not caring. It is not human.

“The others will know.”

“They will forgive me once you come back alive.”

“This isn't humane–”

“Neither of us are humans, kumiho. We do not need to follow the morality of human law. Can't you see it? I'm saving you. This is me saving you.” His lips brush across your cheeks, indecipherable Latin whispered into your ear.

He lets go.

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

firstly I LOVE your writing so so so much!!! so many of my fav jily fics are yours <3

#34 from the prompt list (“sorry, bad habit”) but it’s james fidgeting (messing with his hair clicking a pen idk idc u do u) and lily is annoyed with him with herself for finding it endearing & finally does something about it

from these prompts

It’s not that she never noticed it before.

Context, however, is everything and there is just simply a stark contrast between noticing it because McGonagall consistently points it out with a heavy sigh and a ‘for the last time, Mr. Potter, please wear your uniform with a sense of propriety’ and noticing it because Lily can’t physically make herself look away.

She’s not quite sure when her mind takes that sharp detour, though.

“Merlin, I’m knackered.”

Lily looks up from her book as he falls into the seat across from her. “You’re late.”

James grimaces apologetically. “Flitwick had me helping the firsties with—never mind. Sorry. Let’s get started, yeah?”

He wasn’t her first choice for essay partner, or her second or third for that matter, but he’s competent, which Lily supposes she should be grateful for. Honestly, she’s still trying to wrap her head around the fact that school has been back in session for an entire month and they haven’t gotten in a row even once.

James pulls his bag up onto the small table and begins haphazardly fishing through it for his own textbook and some parchment, then reaches up and gives a sharp tug on the knot of his tie, pulling it away from his neck. Lily’s gaze catches on the motion she must have seen him do a dozen times, but she’s never been close enough to notice the sliver of skin it reveals before and she’s certainly never found herself appreciating it.

She quickly files that away as information to never ever process and shakes her head.

“Yeah, let’s get…” She clears her throat and looks back toward her book. “Started.”

But once she starts noticing it—well. It becomes a bit of a problem.

The moment he walks into the common room, his hand moves to loosen his tie. As soon as he collapses onto the couch of their shared Heads’ Office. While he walks alongside her to Arithmancy. Every single day. Constantly.

“Blimey, the weather’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”

Lily purses her lips to keep from smiling at the childish way James throws his hands up toward the sky the minute they step into the sunshine. It’s been a gruelling day of revising for both of them and she found herself not even able to muster a half-hearted excuse for why they shouldn’t take a break to go for a walk on the grounds.

“There’s just something about October,” he continues, sighing happily.

Lily opens her mouth to agree, but then she catches the flash of his hand—they’re not even fifteen steps away from the castle, but there he goes, the scarlet-and-gold-striped fabric slipping through his fingers as he makes quick work of the knot of his tie.

“Why do you always do that?” she finds herself blurting out.

He glances quickly over at her, his fingers freezing their motion. “Sorry,” he says, wincing, “bad habit.”

Lily just nods in response, not trusting herself to say something normal, and tries not to watch as he tugs the tie completely off and shoves it deep into the front pocket of his trousers.

October passes and Lily feels herself relax, because the Scottish autumn is on her side on this (and only on this, really). Hogwarts students spend the month of November adding more layers to their wardrobe, not removing them.

Lily has never in her life been so passionate about scarves.

“Most prestigious school in the wizarding world and they can’t bloody insulate the halls,” James whinges, blowing hot air into his cupped hands and rubbing them together.

Lily looks sharply away from that and ignores the little flop her stomach does. “That would compromise the ambience, Potter.”

“Of course. How can Hogwarts expect to maintain its honour if at least one student doesn’t die of hypothermia?”

Lily’s laugh is halted as they turn a corner and begin their portion of the patrol colloquially known among the other prefects as The Polar Vortex. This section of the castle seems to always be particularly drafty, and honestly, if Lily wasn’t eager to extend her time with James, she’d likely suggest they just skip it and head back to Gryffindor Tower.

As it is, though, she shivers involuntarily, her teeth clattering loudly together, unbidden.

“Merlin, Evans, here. Take—”

“I’m fine!” she says quickly, because, Jesus bloody Christ, he was reaching for his scarf.

“That hypothermia joke wasn’t a personal challenge, Lil. Take my scarf and—”

“I don’t want it!”

His next step falters and he turns slowly to face her, his face setting into a confused frown. “Why not?”

Lily feels her face begin to flush. “I just—I don’t want to be a…bother.”

James watches her for another moment, then a grin slowly spreads across his face. “Evans,” he says, unlooping the scarf from his neck, and turning to more fully face her, “you always bother me.” He gently drops the scarf around her neck, ignoring her protests as he tugs it snugly around the collar of her jumper.

Lily takes a breath, hating and loving the fact that the scarf smells exactly like him, but otherwise settles into a feeling of relief. That wasn’t so bad. Just because he removed his scarf doesn’t mean—

“Oh my God, are you serious right now?!”

James stops walking again, his fingers freezing in the midst of their mission to unknot his tie. “Er, what?”

Lily covers her face with her hands and tries not to scream. 

“Evans?” He asks, and that pushes her closer to the edge, because she can hear the concern in his voice. “Am I serious about what?”

“Nothing,” she squeaks, shaking her head, even as her hands remain covering her face.

“Ev-ans.”

“No, really, I—”

He gently tugs one of the ends of the scarf—his scarf—causing her to stumble toward him a bit. “What’s wrong?”

She allows her hands to fall and forces himself to look up at him. “Why are you even wearing your tie?” she mumbles.

“What? My…tie?” He frowns, deeply puzzled, then manages a half-shrug. “I dunno. Just forgot to take it off after lessons, I guess. Why?”

“You constantly mess with it,” Lily says. “Non-stop. Loosening it, untying it, taking it off, playing with it.”

“I told you,” he says sheepishly, “it’s a bad habit. I—”

“It’s infuriating!”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “I’m…sorry?”

“A Lily Evans torture device, really.”

He opens his mouth again, but she beats him to it.

“It’s like, if every person who’s ever hated me attended a…a convention. And they had a chat about all the things that drive me spare, devising a plan to slowly make me go completely mental. This—,” she knows she’s mad and that she’ll hate herself later, but she doesn’t care because she’s been wanting to do this for months,—“this is what they would end up deciding on.” She reaches up and, in one swift motion, tugs on the knot of his tie, watching in immense satisfaction as it separates from the collar of his shirt, hanging limply across the grey fabric of his jumper. 

James stares at her, eyes wide, body completely rigid as she, Jesus, manhandles him like a fiend. 

“Sorry,” she huffs out as she draws her hand back to her own person, but she isn’t even sure she means it. “You just—it really is a terrible habit, Potter. Promise me you’ll work on it.”

He blinks. “I…”

“Good.” Lily nods. “Thank you for the scarf, by the way. We should be good to head back down now, yeah?” She takes off walking down the corridor, before he can verbally question her sanity or she can do something else truly mad like use the leverage of his tie—stupid, bloody tie—to bring his mouth down to hers.

[sumicchin]

CHIMES OF THE HEART

❇ a wind breaker (satoru nii) reader insert.

CHAPTER 3

Sakura curses the world for not having the ability to teleport people in and out of his room.

content warnings: female reader, awkward teenagers, cussing

Cafe Pothos was a safe haven for the students of Furin, and much to Kotoha's dismay, it often becomes a makeshift meeting place for very rowdy delinquent business.

The girl found herself cleaning up the tables as Umemiya and Hiragi talked by the counter, glasses seemingly looking like alcohol but actually filled with water (for dramatic purposes, Ume says).

"You were lookin' at the girl strangely earlier, 'sup with that?" Hiragi asks, snapping his friend out of a daze.

Umemiya hums as he puts down his beverage, "She looked familiar, is all."

"But we just met 'er."

"Maybe she appeared in a dream," Umemiya laughs.

Hiragi doesn't dismiss his friend though...he knows better than to doubt Bofurin's leader. He never declares something he's unsure of.

"Well, we can fish out information once the girl's feeling better." Hiragi says as he takes out a gas-kun10, feeling his stomach flip again.

Why are you two making it sound like she's a wanted criminal up for interrogation, Kotoha thinks as she's wiping the tables.

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

Two of probably the most awkward people in Japan stare each other down as if they're relaying some passage about the secrets of the world. 

Sakura could only think of unintelligible phrases in his mind, never had he locked gazes with the opposite sex this long. He tried to open his mouth but clammed up immediately, not knowing what to say in the first place.

Should he greet her or something? Talk about the weather? Or what about asking about how she's feeling at the moment.

Nah scrap that, he'll do the most Sakura thing ever.

"Are you fucking done sleeping?"

He fucked up, he thinks.

He earns a weird glare and just wishes he could die in a hole. Well, it isn't as bad as he thought it was, imagine if Suo was here. The girl groans and musters all her remaining strength to sit up, stressing Sakura out for the nth time that day.

"W-what are you doing?! You're supposed to be resting!"

"Need to go somewhere..." She struggled but soon was able to stand up, now noticing the change of clothes. The top is fleece with long sleeves, and her pants are made of cotton as well as socks. She's unfamiliar with it, but she often sees girls of her age wear the same thing when she visits the market.

The boy immediately regrets his very poor choice of words and aggression, dragging the sluggish girl by her arm back to the futon. "You can't go out, I promised to look after you!"

The girl just looks at him with annoyance.

"I don't need a babysitter..."

Sakura for some reason felt like he was dealing with his doppelganger, and now he understands how big of a saint the people around him are for being patient with him.

He thinks to himself how would his friends respond in this situation. How were they able to show kindness and patience towards someone like him? He calms himself and looks the girl straight in the eyes...

Face us when you're talking.

Sakura takes a deep breath, clearing his mind of aggression. "Look...I don't know what you've been through, and I won't force you to talk about it...but I ain't an enemy." The girl remains quiet, but her face is now free from turmoil.

Not having the energy to fight back, she could only respond with droopy eyes and a bit of a slur to her words, "You look very kind to me...no need to prove it." The boy heats up and starts yelling incoherent sentences, saying he's a very violent delinquent who's far from nice. Was he really becoming soft?

She chuckled as she sat down, taking the futon to her hands and begins folding it, "Thank you for letting me stay here, but you don't want a criminal inside your house."

Sakura scoffs and scratches the back of his neck, trying to formulate a sentence that would make her feel better for beating up people the other day. "Those guys were traffickers, you just gave them what they deserved." And that cops barely do jackshit in this town, apparently. This earns him an audible 'Oh' from the girl, now plopping the neatly folded futon in place. Sakura could only hope that she didn't smell drool from the bedding.

He notices her form relaxing, body now facing his. Not that he thinks violence should be normalized, but he swore to himself that those scumbags had it coming.

The two just stare at each other for a while, waiting who's going to continue the conversation. Unlike his conversations with Kotoha who usually takes the lead (and embarrasses the hell out of him), the current situation is calling for him to take the initiative.

"Just, stay here until you feel better...I don't mind," he feels his face heat up when he noticed the girl staring at him like he's part of the seven wonders of the world. "Whachu lookin' at?"

She shook her head, and saw her smile for the first time, "You're the handsomest person I've seen."

Sakura almost went into cardiac arrest.

He clutched his chest, feeling his chest beating erratically. He might be the one who needs to rest rather than the girl.

After a few seconds, Sakura felt himself calm down and think clearly. He concludes that this girl is dangerous, physically and mentally.

Now regained his footing, Sakura clears his throat and politely (surprisingly) asks for her name. He sees her hesitate for a moment, but one look at Sakura's honest eyes reassured her.

"(F/n)."

I just asked a girl her name, Sakura inwardly celebrates.

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

Sakura sets up the rice cooker that Kotoha left earlier, (F/n) watching as he takes out the ingredients. "Sorry this is where you had to rest...it was the closest from where you fainted." He takes out the bag of rice and dumps it in the pot, obviously not knowing how this works since he forgot to ask Kotoha for instructions.

(F/n) watches in dismay, grabbing the ingredients from the struggling boy. "I can cook," she just saved the rice grains and bits of meat from being turned into a disastrous meal. The girl grew up in a very secluded area with little to no technology, so she too unfortunately had no idea how to operate the machine, but one can hope to work a miracle. She asks the boy where to rinse the rice, to which he points at the sink. Back home, she had to walk to a well to gather water for everything. Having everything in one room is very convenient.

Sakura watched as (F/n) worked in the supposed kitchen of his apartment (just a sink). He observed that she seemed very used to doing chores, and he remembered what Suo said earlier.

Perhaps she works at an izakaya...or even a brothel.

It would make sense that she ran away from...that establishment, but he knew better than to assume.

"Regardless of what you say, I think it's comforting and warm here," she says while rinsing the rice and vegetables found in the bag Sakura was rummaging a while ago, "I feel safe already." Sakura pouts, fiddling with the rice cooker.

The ingredients were for chicken congee, so she'll do just that. "What was it like in your home anyways?" He asks, watching as the girl returns with rice, ginger, and chicken broth inside the pot. "Old, to say the least," she replies.

They both fiddle with the machine, taking turns acting like apes and eventually, they get the thing working. "I hope this actually works, I only saw this in a magazine," (F/n) recalls a page she read before.

The rice cooker, an asian home essential!

She proceeds to watch the machine intensely like a caveman discovering fire for the first time. Sakura saw his phone screen light up next to him, seeing tons of unseen messages from everyone. He unintentionally ghosted them from being too nervous earlier.

Nirei

DID SOMETHING HAPPEN TO BOTH OF YOU?!

Sent a sticker [faint].

Suo

Is everything okay, Sakura?

You haven't answered our messages.

Umemiya

I know you get nervous around girls, but nii-san knows you got this! 😎👍

Kotoha

Don't break the rice cooker please!!!!

and lmk how she's doing!

Tsubaki

You better not be doing anything to her~

Kaji

be back tom to get my hoodie cuz they used it as her pillow

Sugishita

are u dead

Why the hell was Sugishita messaging him was his first thought, but he slowly replied to everyone's message and told them everything's all good, with the minor exception of his heart rate.

Sakura

everythingz fine sheesh

you guys can all visit tomorrow

were making congee right now

oh and her name is (f/n)

He decided to be brave today and use the camera function of his phone, taking a picture of the girl watching the rice cooker.

Cute, he thought while blushing to himself.

He sends the picture to his friends. Not even a second passed, he already received tons of replies.

Nirei

Cute!

Sent a sticker [love].

Kotoha

Ask her if she's feeling better!

Tell her the clothes I brought are for her btw!

Suo

She's like a child watching the rice cooker ^^

Tsugeura

TELL HER TO EAT TONS!!

Sent a sticker [eat].

Umemiya

Tell (F/n) I said hi!!!!

I will also bring her some of my special soup tomorrow!!!!

Hiragi

Make sure she's nourished well.

Kiryu

Sent a sticker [cute].

I left some medicine make sure she drinks it (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Tsubaki

CAN I VISIT RN???

PWEASEEE!!!! 🥺

Are these guys seriously gonna raid my house tomorrow?

Sakura feels (F/n) sit next to him and is now staring at his phone, letting out an audible gasp of amazement. "That's a real phone, right?" He nods, but more importantly, almost combusts from how close she is to him. This girl is going to give him a stroke.

"You haven't seen one?" Sakura thinks, but he's one to talk since he literally got his phone pretty recently. The girl next to him shakes her head, "Only in the magazines and books I've read."

"W-wanna use it?" He offers it to her, but she frantically shakes her head, "No no, I'm good with watching. I don't want to accidentally break your stuff..."

Socially challenged meets technologically challenged, the saga.

She's pretty cute like this...

(F/n) looks at him like a kicked puppy, "You're probably thinking I'm an idiot or something." Sakura immediately dismisses her and says he was basically the same before he arrived in town. He thanks the gods for giving him Nirei and Suo.

The girl mumbles an apology, obviously bothered based on the expression she's giving. "I'm just, overwhelmed is all...it's my first time out in a city, and I don't know anyone nor have anything on me."

Sakura knows exactly how it feels.

"Believe it or not, I had nothing before coming to this town." He recalls his first day, saving Kotoha and the rest was history. "I just beat up some guys and suddenly, I'm surrounded by all these people."

"Then they probably saw something in you."

Sakura looks at her, "Y-you aren't the first person to say that."

(F/n) smiles, "I can tell you're willing to go through lengths for the people you care."

Sakura gasps, telling her she's not making sense while stuttering. Facing her companion who's seemingly cosplaying a tomato, she lets out another chuckle, "It's a secret power of mine."

"S-shut up. First you were a ghost, and now you're acting like a psychic." (F/n) laughs, having too much fun teasing the boy next to her. "What's up with you earlier anyways?"

The girl stops laughing, fidgeting in her seat. "Ah... it's a long story." Sakura raises his brow, finally having the leverage over her, "I-it's not like I killed someone! Those guys suddenly came at me...and stuff happened." She starts telling him about what happened afterwards with matching gestures— searching for shelter, admitting to stealing a few things, and the encounter with the Furin students.

"So... I'm really grateful that I get to recover before I set out."

Well...that didn't answer anything, Sakura thinks. Now impatient, he starts taking the lead to make the conversation fruitful.

"Where do you need to go?"

"Huh?"

"I said, where do you need to go? I'll help you out."

"Some place called—"

 

The rice cooker dings and (F/n) whips her head towards the machine. "Oh, the congee is ready!" 

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

After a silent dinner, the boy refreshed himself and prepared to head for bed.

But he can't.

Not when he keeps constantly reminding himself that he's sleeping in close proximity to a girl. Said girl also was feeling restless that night, back facing Sakura as she sat in front of the curtainless large window with the moonlight illuminating the room.

Sakura was very curious about her. The damned congee machine cut her off while she was talking, and he's still trying to grasp at straws on why she's such a capable fighter. For now, he's letting her have a moment of peace. She hasn't uttered a word since dinner, did Sakura offend her somehow? Consumed by his thoughts, he was suddenly pulled out of a haze once he heard (F/n) mention his last name.

"Do you live alone, Sakura?" He takes a moment before answering, letting out  a hum and saying that it's been like that since he could remember. When was the last time he spent the night with someone else's presence? "But you have your friends, right?" He pauses for a bit, looking at the girl's back as if she had two heads. It's exactly what plagues him, the thought of letting people see through him...but he's learning to grow past that. 

He had friends that constantly remind him that he belongs.

"How does it feel..." the girl trails, turning to face Sakura, "to have friends you can rely on?" He notices her watery eyes, yet none of her tears fall. Sakura thinks back to the time he felt like he had no place in this world. It was painful, having to reject the kindness that others have shown him before. But as time passed, he grew longing for this interaction and found himself enjoying everyone's presence.

When did he start to feel sentimental?

The boy answers with a small "It's ok," while avoiding her gaze, but his thoughts say otherwise.

They mean the world to me, is what he truly meant.

(F/n) smiles, "Will you...let me indulge in something like that too?"

He goes silent, not knowing how to respond at first.

Sakura gets up from his previous fetal position to sit next to the girl.

They both watch the moon in comfortable silence.

"Stop acting like a cryptic then." Confused, (F/n) looks at Sakura and asks what he meant by it. He clicks his tongue, muttering something along the lines of 'Are you slow?'.

The room is barely lit by the moon, but it's enough to see his cheeks that were dusted with pink.

"As your friend, you gotta let me know what's on your mind before I can help you. I can't read minds, unlike you." The girl chuckles at Sakura's words. "So, where do you have to go?"

"Oh, a town called Makochi, I think..."

Sakura stares at the girl, with the emptiest expression he's ever pulled.

"What's with the face?" (F/n) grimaces, all of her comfort thrown out of the window.

This girl's gotta be pulling my leg.

"Can't believe I got myself involved with you."

need to remind myself to make a masterlist ww

[dyns33]

The Big Nice Punisher

I never gave love to Frank and Frank only in a story so I decided to change that

Y/N should have gotten used to it, now that she was friends with Matt, Foggy and Karen.

It had happened several times that the devil of Hell's Kitchen had knocked on her window to ask for a medical kit since she knew his secret, even if the fool preferred to die in a trash rather than ask his friends for help.

It had taken everyone's intervention to force him to admit that he had a problem, and that he could count on them if he wasn't being chased by an army of ninjas.

More than stubborn, his priority was above all to ensure that he did not bring any danger into their home.

Karen wasn't Matt.

She didn't want her friends to be in danger either, but her moral compass was visibly broader, and allowed her to do more things.

Like coming to Y/N with the Punisher losing a lot of blood, asking if she could hide him for a few days and make sure he was still breathing.

Y/N had followed Frank Castle's trial on television, like the whole city. She had heard about all the people he had killed, but also the people he had saved. She had heard what happened to his wife and children. And above all, she had read in all the newspapers that he was dead.

“Can you explain to me or are you going to tell me it’s better if I know as little as possible ?” she asked as she helped Karen place him on her couch.

"Actually, I don't know. I found him like this when I came home from work. Your apartment was closer, excuse me. He doesn't want a hospital, for obvious reasons, and I was afraid he wouldn't manage to get to my place."

"Okay. Just promise me he won't jump on me when he wakes up."

“Frank is very nice, don’t worry.”

'Nice' probably wouldn't have been the first word Y/N, or anyone, would have used when talking about the Punisher, but Karen was pretty good at judging people, and that was out of the question to leave him to die anyway.

Even if she managed to see the good in him, it still seemed a bit exaggerated and even very optimistic that Karen would decide to leave Frank Castle unconscious in a stranger's house. She took the time to write a little note, telling Y/N that she could show him if he didn't trust her, but repeating that everything would be fine.

If he didn't have a reason to hurt her, he wouldn't hurt her. Really very reassuring.

Sure enough, the Punisher woke up in a panic as Y/N was making dinner, looking around with wary eyes and grimacing when he saw her. His first instinct was not to attack her but to try to flee, but his injury did not allow him to reach the door, his path ending in the middle of the living room.

“Karen warned me this would happen.” Y/N sighed, hesitating to put down her knife.

"Who are you ? Where am I ? Where is Karen ?"

“In order, I'm Y/N, you're at my house, and Karen had a job emergency so I'm babysitting for her.”

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” he groaned, holding his leg.

"Look, you don't want to be here, I'm not really happy about it either, but if you let me help you, you can leave quickly."

"I'm leaving now."

"Oh, no way ! I promised Karen I wouldn't let you die and I feel like you're just as stupid as Matt, so you're going to rest your ass on the couch, you're going to eat, then I'll see if you haven't reopened your wound !'

"… Yes Ma'am."

The terrible Punisher then began to look like a little lost dog, speaking little and accepting the plate that Y/N offered him, thanking her with a nod, his big black eyes following her as soon as she moved in the room.

He insisted that he could take care of his leg, but just one look made him shut up again, letting Y/N do what she wanted, since he obviously had no choice.

"I'm not a doctor, but between your broken ribs, the bullet that was in your leg, and the other marks on your body, I will say that it would be best for you to rest for a few days before you start punishing people again."

“No time to wait.”

"That wasn't a suggestion, doctor's orders."

“You just said you’re not a doctor.” he said with a smirk.

“I’ll tie you to the bed if I have to.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

In the end, his leg was causing him too much pain and Karen had forbidden him to move over the phone, it was decided that Frank Castle would stay with Y/N ​​for at least a week. He seemed to be the most annoyed by the situation.

Both women were right about him : he was nice, and he was like Matt. He didn't like asking for help, and he was afraid of putting innocent people in danger by his mere presence.

Yes, he had tried to find Karen when he was injured, but Karen knew how to defend herself, and he would have found a way to convince her to let him go. He didn’t know Y/N. He didn't like the idea of ​​intruding into her home, into her life, into her world, even if Red wasn't far away.

"I also know how to defend myself if necessary, Mr. Castle."

"Of course Miss. And it's Frank."

“I can do the dishes by myself too, Frank.”

“I have no doubt about that, but I’m squatting on your couch, it’s the least I can do.”

A week might not seem like much, but aside from her colleagues and the trio, Y/N didn't see many people. This daily proximity to Frank made the atmosphere strange.

He always spoke little, almost never about himself, hiding his wounds like a proud animal, but being interested in her, not missing an opportunity to help her around the apartment as a sign of gratitude, and listening to her talk about her days with patience and sympathy.

It was almost difficult when his condition allowed him to leave. They had gotten used to each other and the separation gave them as much pleasure as their meeting.

Still looking like a puppy who didn't know how to behave, Frank gave her his number, just in case, taking hers if he needed to check on her. He wouldn't call her for a favor, it wasn't like him.

Obviously, his style was to stop giving any news at all and to completely disappear from people's lives.

Y/N could try to understand. He was dead in the eyes of society, he had a complicated past, his main occupation was murdering criminals… But all the same, a little message from time to time wasn't complicated.

The worst part was that he was in contact with Karen. Her friend seemed surprised that he hadn't contacted her. According to her, Frank loved her very much.

"He's shy, that stupid man. I'll tell him to call you."

"No, that's not necessary. I'm glad to know he's okay."

"Don't be ridiculous, you want to talk. He also asked me about you, I should have known he would do that."

Y/N probably should have too, but because in hindsight she didn't see why someone like Frank Castle would want to keep in touch with her. She had been useful, nothing more. Next to Karen, beautiful, intelligent Karen who he had known for a long time, Y/N didn't stand a chance.

There was also his family, for whom he had sacrificed everything. If he was only "friends" with Karen, there had to be a reason and that was because he refused to betray his dead wife.

This enchanted parenthesis of a week had been nothing other than a parenthesis.

It was stupid to be so sad for a man she had only seen for a week. And yet, Y/N was sad. So sad that she didn't pay attention to the time while having a drink at Josie's.

No doubt she forgot that despite the presence of Daredevil, Hell's Kitchen remained a dangerous place. Matt couldn't be everywhere.

So it wouldn't have been a surprise when she was followed by two guys, who cornered her in an alley and threatened her with a knife so that she would give them her bag. Then one of them looked at her with a funny look and licked his lips, and she tried to run away.

Before they could touch her, the first one had his head smashed against the wall. The other screamed, trying to defend himself with his knife, but the weapon ended up in his leg, and he was knocked out with a punch.

Slowly so as not to frighten her further, Frank helped her up, checking her for injuries and returning her things.

"Are you alright ?"

"Yes. I was careless."

“Not your fault, sweetheart.”

"I guess we're even now." she tried to joke, while sobbing. Y/N hoped he would think it was because of the shock, and not because she thought she wouldn't see him again afterwards.

This didn't make him laugh. He looked at her with his sad, worried eyes, shyly rubbing her shoulder as he listened to her breathing, waiting for her to calm down.

Then still without a word, he took out his coat to put it on her shoulders before walking her home.

There, he only left her when she was sitting on the sofa, to go get her a glass of water, letting go of it when he was sure she was holding it well, and remaining kneeling on the floor right next to her.

"… Karen said you were angry. Because I didn't call." he whispered, his eyes stopping from staring at her for a second.

"Karen is talking nonsense. I'm a big girl, and you owed me nothing. Nothing at all. I was happy to help you, and stupid to think that… Thanks for saving me. You don't have to stay."

Silence returned, but Frank didn't move. He stayed until she finished her glass, then until she was done shaking and crying, his hand never leaving hers.

But he still didn't move. And in that moment, Y/N wondered if he too had been disappointed when their week together was over.

Maybe Karen was right, he was shy, and he didn't want to put her in danger by staying in contact with her. As stubborn and insufferable as Matthew. And also nice. Why else would he have been there to protect her ?

"It's not a good idea." he suddenly muttered, closing his eyes.

"What ?"

Frank sighed, seeing that she might cry again. He could have left right away, because he didn't think his presence was a good idea, and probably he was right. No doubt it was ridiculous to love the Punisher.

But continuing to mutter, he stood up slightly, pressing his forehead against hers. Now he held both hers hands, looking desperate, opening pleading eyes.

He couldn't stay, but that didn't mean he didn't want to more than anything in the world.

"It's not a good idea." he repeated, however, as if to force himself to move, to remember his course of action, and he was quickly on his feet, ready to leave.

“Frank…”

"No."

“Frank…”

The door was closed as quickly as it had been opened and in an instant Frank was there again, kissing her like a thirsty man who had just found an oasis in the middle of the desert.

But the moment was furtive, almost a mirage, because the soldier quickly shook his head, swearing and saying again that it really wasn't a good idea, before fleeing the apartment.

Y/N could have been mad at him for that. But she was too busy touching hers lips, thinking that if he had kissed her against his principles, maybe Frank Castle loved her enough to come back.

This idea stayed with her, after she received a message just before going to sleep. Simple message, which made her smile.

"I was happy too. You're not stupid. Good night."

Yes, they would probably see each other again. In secret, at times when she wouldn't expect to find him in her apartment. But she was a bit used to Matt, Foggy and Karen. This wouldn't be a problem at all.

[stinkrascal]

Breanna: It don't hurt, does it? Vladislaus: It is healed, mostly. I am grateful you only took one bite.

Breanna: [ slurping ] You want some of this? Vladislaus: No. Thank you. Breanna: Uhuh. Hey, so is cannibalism a thing with vampires?

Vladislaus: Of course. Cannibalism is found within many species. It is only natural it occurs in our kind as well. Breanna: Oh. I bet that's a big problem. Hey, what about restaurants?

Vladislaus: What about them? Breanna: Do vampires got restaurants? I bet that would help with the cannibalism thing. Vladislaus: There is an entire city at our disposal. There are many such opportunities for fine dining experiences.

Breanna: Huh? Oh. You could've just said yes, but okay. I bet you read a lot.

Breanna: Hey, so do vampires have libraries? Vladislaus: Yes, Breanna. We have libraries. Breanna: Yeah, you sound like you read a lot. Vladislaus: Thank you. Breanna: That wasn't a compliment.

Breanna: Hey, by the way, where are we going? Vladislaus: To the headmaster. She wishes to meet you. Breanna: Oh, right. Hey, so I got another question. Vladislaus: Yes, I'm sure you do.

Breanna: What's that supposed to mean? Vladislaus: Nothing at all. Breanna: I feel like you're making fun of me.

Vladislaus: What is your question, my dear?

Breanna: It was—uh—oh. Yeah. About when I bit you. You were bleeding. And last night, when you cut your hand—you bled then too. How's that work? How do you bleed if you're dead?

Vladislaus: You are mistaken. We are not dead. It is the opposite. As vampires, we are made to live. We experience life in its most concentrated form. Food tastes better, music sounds sweeter, and my God, Breanna, the sex.

Breanna: ...

Vladislaus: ...

Vladislaus: [ clears throat ] My point is, we are not dead, we are more alive than any other. Breanna: That's... good? Right? Frankie: Hey! Heyyyyy! HEEEYYYYYY! HEYY VLADDY DADDY! [ coughs ] ah shit, HEY VLAD! C'MON LITTLE MAN, I KNOW YOU SEE ME!!!!!!! HEYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Vladislaus: Of course. If you pay no mind to the minor setbacks. Breanna: Huh? What setbacks?

Vladislaus: The part where we eat the flesh of innocents, my sweet summer child. Breanna: Oh. How'd you know my birthday's in the summer? Frankie: C'mon peepaw! Get some fuckin' hearin' aids! [ whistles ] Yoohoo! Over hereee!

Breanna: Who's that guy over there? I think he's calling for you.

Breanna: Hello? Mr. Straud? Are you listening to me?

Breanna: Do you know that guy? Vladislaus: [ clears throat ] No. Vladislaus: [ in Frankie's mind ] Leave me alone. Frankie: Aww, c'mon, you don't gotta be like— Vladislaus: [ in Frankie's mind ] I SAID LEAVE. Frankie: Agh, get outta my head ya pervert.

Breanna: It kinda seems like you know him. Vladislaus: [ clears throat, louder this time ] As I was saying--our powers come at a great cost. You will do well to remember that. Breanna: Huh? Oh. You're still on that. I don't really care to be honest.

Vladislaus: You should. You were human not 24 hours ago. Would you turn your back on your people so quickly? Breanna: Who's my people? They're lucky I'm nice enough to stick to blood packs. Vladislaus: The blood packs are a byproduct of our sin.

Vladislaus: For every blood pack you consume, someone must die. Someone must be slaughtered. Breanna: Get off your high horse dude, you're a vampire too. If you think it's so bad you shouldn't have asked to be turned. Vladislaus: Is that what you believe?

Vladislaus: [ sighs ] Forgive me. I am being haughty. Truthfully, I envy your nature. You are suited for this life. This world was not made for me, and every interaction I have reminds me so.

Vladislaus: You, however, seem very good at enjoying yourself. You seek decadence, do you not? Vampirism is a decadent lifestyle. You will thrive. I can already tell. Breanna: ...Oh.

Breanna: [ giggles ] That sounds fun.

Breanna: You make me sound like I put some thought into it.

[eazy-peazy54]

My problem with the Will Wood fandom, (a.k.a touch grass, a.k.a stan culture can suck it) (an essay.)

This one is LONG and a DOOZY, so buckle up if you like to read.

just want to clarify, i do NOT hate the will wood fandom in itself. AT ALL. I love you guys (/p)

i just dislike the people who say weird and creepy shit. if that doesnt apply to you, cool! but tell the people who do that shit to knock it off.

NO DISCOURSE IN THE REBLOGS I WILL ATTACK YOU

One HUGE gripe I have with the Will Wood fandom is how some of you guys treat Will Wood like (and this is literally the only way I can put this that isn't too serious) some all-powerful deity of knowledge that you would kill AND die for. In this essay, I will explain why [some of] you are fucking creeps.

Will Wood. Where do I begin. For the very few who are unaware, Will Wood is a singer-songwriter who makes very strange avant garde whatchamacallit evil jazz/swing music. He has been known as Will Wood since 2015, where he released his first album, Everything Is A Lot, under the name Will Wood and the Tapeworms.

Me personally, I first heard of him from the song Dr. Sunshine Is Dead, from the good old days of 2018 animation meme Youtube.

Ever since the inevitable Tiktokification of the song I / Me / Myself, from The Normal Album, the Will Wood fandom has become... well.. full of children. I have no place to speak, of course, because I myself, am a teenager, but I'm talking like. 11-14 year olds.

11-14 year olds who are all fucking INSANE.

Will Wood has been put in what I like to call;

The Holy Trinity.

This being the big three artists who the mentally ill queers (like me) listen to.

Lemon Demon, Tally Hall, and of course, Will Wood.

Being in this holy trinity has both done him good, and bad. On the positive side, yay!! More streams, more plays, more people to appreciate the craft, and more people who like the music! On the negative side, now you have an army of children listening to adult music, interacting with adult music and music videos, who are willing to do ANYTHING to get your attention, because they are young and don't know much better.

And here, stuck in the middle of it all, is poor William.

Stuck as a straight "gay icon," in a sea of twelve year olds.

Well shit.

---

Leading to the second part of my half-essay.

2020. The year shit changed for Will Wood. The Normal Album was released, and people found themselves relating to I / Me / Myself, as stated before. Then this "new," unheard of fandom was kind of birthed upon Tiktok. They were treating him like fucking jesus.

Which is weird.

They were sad, gay, looking for answers, and found them in Will's music. Which is like. Cool!

But when people were saying that he was trans, and then switched up and said he was making fun of trans people?

Yeah. Not that cool actually.

Coming back to the present now, Will has stated how weird these kids are.

In a response from a AMA for In Case I Make It on the official Will Wood subreddit, (I know. Ew, gross, Reddit, but this post was what inspired me to make this in the first place, so,) Will says this:

---

"When I was living in the sticks along the Delaware during the pandemic, I had this weird sort of mystical thing going on inside my head that was trying connect dots in my life and turn meaningless nothing things into signs that I would die.

This was happening around the same time I was dealing with getting actual public attention for the first time, and was living in an area where nobody wore masks, and was living with people who were at risk of serious covid complications if they caught it. Also for most of it I was the dreaded 27, and having been a bit of a junkie in my younger years and an idiot with a barely-treated psychiatric wreck in my brain for most of the ones following it, it was not unlike me to assume I'd die young.

It just seemed too perfect.

As I was dealing with the reception of the normal album (my first truly scathing reviews, I/Me/Myself "discourse," being the subject of conversation on a larger scale) which was beyond what I was prepared for psychologically in terms of its scope and type, my anxious rumination started to veer toward genuine paranoia.

I started thinking that I would die by my own hand or be murdered by one of these crazed Will Wood fans in the dead of night. So I didn't sleep like ever, I lost a bunch of weight and couldn't gain it back for a while, I freaked out a whole bunch and I'm surprised looking back I never lost my sobriety or whatever.

Since it started to look more and more like cosmic fact that I was doomed, I started to feel greater and greater desperation to get out these songs that I had been quietly writing over the previous year or two. Songs I'd written while going through a big breakup and wrestling with rotten parts of me that were finally accessible due to my finally being properly medicated and dealing with the real shit in therapy. And then songs I'd written as I went through these changes."

---

Obviously that is a lot to unpack for a Tumblr essay, but since you’re this far, you probably read it all already.

“Stans,” as most would call them, and “Stan Culture” as a whole, is just a huge wreck. Everyone is always fighting someone. We know this. We all do. Stans scare artists. 

I want you to think. Think of the artists who are inspired by Will Wood. The ones who want to cater out their music to the Will Wood fans. Imagine if you will, those artists seeing that AMA post, seeing the crazed fans, seeing the relentless sexualization, the jokes about serious issues, like Will’s past drug use, seeing all of this and thinking:

“Is it really worth it?

Is it really worth all of this to make music and put myself out there?”

Now, that may make you uncomfortable, but it's the honest truth. And it's happened to so many people, and so many artists. 

---

And now a message to the disgraced kids who managed to latch on to Will Wood’s music.

Treating a musical artist like a god is not gonna help anyone. I’d know. I’ve seen it happen multiple times, to multiple artists. 

I guess what I’m trying to say is think before posting on the internet. Think to yourself; would I say this to the artist's face? Could someone see this and think differently of me? Is this just weird to say in general?

Remember that these people are real people. Will Wood is a real person. With real thoughts. real feelings. a life to live. He's not just some music making machine. He’s not just some silly character. He’s not just some whimsical guy who we can all project onto.

Will Wood is a real person, and everyone should treat him that way. 

Thank you for reading.

(I will edit this essay if I think of anything else to add. That or I'll just reblog it.)

[doraambrose]

When it comes to the Victim Blaming Grief coping one of the big things that makes it an issue is that he actually did it to Jason's face (in Hush as it was retconned to be Jason he said that too).

And, when Jason comes back it stops being grief for the dead, it becomes grief for the wounded. And people victim blame people who were hurt too. This is how they cope, however this coping mechanism always hurts the victim and is a genuinely bad coping mechanism that shouldn't be used. It's harmful. It's harmful to the victim and it is harmful for the other people who might be grieving. It's probably one of the most selfish coping mechanisms.

I've experienced people using this method in real life and it's rough. And it's toxic. Saying you can't criticize the way someone grieves is flawed because you are rarely the only one grieving and I personally have been harmed during a period of shared grief. And I am sure other people have been too because grief brings out the bad in people but that doesn't mean all is forgiven.

Like, imagine if Jason was just comatose and all the victim blaming happened and then Jason just woke up and found out all Bruce had been saying about him? Would Jason's feelings be justified then?

Also, saying the deceased person doesn't matter when they die disregards a lot of religious and spiritual beliefs around honoring the dead.

I feel like Jason is as justified as any other person harmed when someone copes with toxic way in being upset. Jason's death is also a traumatic thing that happened to him. Centering Bruce's feelings while disregarding Jason's as unjustified doesn't feel fair. Especially considering the incident where Bruce took Jason to Ethiopia to try to trigger Jason's memories of what brought him back without his consent.

(Sorry if this was a bit much, I've experienced a decent amount of the bad sides of grief in my life and feel strongly about it)

Okay, so I feel like I need to re answer my previous post because I was struggling to find the right words and also at work, but I think I've figured it out.

One thing to keep in mind is when we talk about feelings, grief, and emotions, there's not a set right or wrong. I also mentioned that I don't like the word justified in this case because it sounds like right or wrong. I did use it at the end, but I'll get into that here. This is a very gray area subject matter and that makes it tricky and you're never gonna find an answer that everyone agrees with because it's not really as fact based as if I said "batman wears a cape sometimes" or "dick grayson is nightwing".

The first thing that comes to mind for me is what my therapist tells me when I feel guilt over feelings. She would tell me "anything you're feeling is valid, you're allowed to be upset, angry, sad, jealous, etc. It's how you act on those feelings.. something I can't remember atm lol". So when I say jason isn't justified, I'm saying that he's allowed to be upset and angry and his feelings are valid, it's not right to actively take it out on the family and hold it against them and be sort of malicious or harmful. And i know theyve done that plus some towards him, but its important to remember that you can only control your own actions and even if someone is being toxic and harmful, that doesnt mean you should too. I think I didn't explain that right and there was some miscommunication. I also wanted to explain why I felt that jason would be angry.

As for this comment, both of these asks were right. Grief can be harmful and toxic. And before I say what I'm going to say next, keep in mind that I'm discussing grief alone and not any of the stuff post utrh that Bruce has done to jason that's harmful and abusive. This toxic kind of grief doesn't make the person a bad person. They can't help it. It's your brain going crazy to try and cope with something traumatic. When my dog died, I wanted to sue my vet, even though they didn't really so anything wrong. It's easier to have someone in front of you to blame. I'm not saying it's right or okay, but it does happen and it can be harmful, but you're not a bad person for it. (In Bruce's case, he's a bad person for all the other shit he's pulled outside of this)

I think these two asks are like at the opposite ends of this topic and I think it's something that you can meet in the middle with. So basically

Yes, grief can be toxic and harmful, but it's also very much a subconscious phenomenon and it's extremely personal and different for everyone and alot of times, people are unaware of what they're doing.

Because of that, jason can be hurt by it, he can be angry,etc. His feelings are valid, But it's not fair to activey hold that over Bruce forever, which he doesn't, this seems more like a fanon thing btw. But it also doesn't hurt to apologize afterwards.

I think when you say that the idea of not critiquing the way someone grieves is flawed, it comes off as unempathetic. Because as someone who has had to grieve alot of the past few years, it's the worst feeling. And your brain is literally scrambling to cope with it so you don't actively lose your shit and sometimes it ends up with some unhealthy Coping mechanisms. And you're usually unaware of what you're doing. I feel like you're not thinking of how the other person is feeling or what they're going through. And fair is fair, they need to see what you're feeling too and actively try to remedy things at some point, there just needs to be more patience and empathy all around and trying to remember that this person is not always intentionally being malicious.

I'm a religious person. So I see where youre coming from, but nobody said the deceased doesn't matter. I think the point was more that you don't have to worry as much about how that person is feeling or thinking because they've moved on to a better place, you should focus on self care and doing what's best for your mental health.

I am also 100% not trying to center around Bruce's feelings and discredit jasons, in fact, the last post was 100% about jasons feelings.

In summary, there's not "justified" or "right" or "wrong". It's super complicated, varies from person to person, and is a tricky subject matter. Everyone's feelings are valid and there definitely needs to be more empathy and patience on all sides, but there are still actions that have been made on both sides that aren't the best and can be hurtful or toxic. I hope this all makes sense and I worded it right :)

[ghoulysaphomet]

An exempt from my newest Chatfic

Sharing this on Tumblr because I actually think it's funny, and because I'm considering making this into a mini-comic scene.

Chatnames:

Abel: Jason

Cain: Cass

Dickiebird: Dick

*Eggplant Emoji*: Stephanie

NotDamian: Damian

Queen: Barbara

Stoplight: Duke

Timber: Tim

Chat Room: Is that a bat? no. Is it a bird? Also no. We don’t know what that is.

Stoplight: what was that 

Cain: you should be asleep

Stoplight: well yeah i was asleep

Stoplight: ?? 

Stoplight: is someone crying?

Timber: It’s fine nothing’s wrong, Stephanie was just overreacting 

Stoplight: it doesnt sound like steph crying though

*Eggplant Emoji*: i thought a fucking demon was in the kitchen excuse me for freaking out 

*Eggplant Emoji*: what did you want me to do? conveniently drop onto the floor with spread legs saying ‘oh no step-monster i tripped and cannot get up pls help me’ huh tim? is that what you wanted? 

Timber: Uhm. 

*Eggplant Emoji*: no tim that’s not what you do in that scenario. no you find the first fucking thing you can find and you hurl that shit. do you understand

Timber : Yes? 

*Eggplant Emoji*: i dont believe you

Timber : But also, why is that your example? 

*Eggplant Emoji*: you know why.

Abel: lol

Dickiebird: but did it have to be my cereal

Stoplight: woah wait a minute

Stoplight: back up a bit. i feel like y’all may have glossed over something

Stoplight: what was that about a demon in the kitchen?

Timber: There was no demon. 

Timber: It was just Jason. 

Stoplight: ..okay that doesn’t really clarify anything? 

*Eggplant Emoji*: yeah well i didnt know that! how was i supposed to know his eyes glow in the dark like some analog horror creature?

Abel: rude

Dickiebird: :( my cereal 

*Eggplant Emoji*: dude you were sitting on the counter (alfred is going to murder you. was the rat not enough?) in pitch blackness eating a soggy bowl of cereal 

*Eggplant Emoji*: thats on u.

Dickiebird : its perfectly normal to eat cereal as an adult, its an easy meal and i was tired

*Eggplant Emoji*: uh-huh sure and next thing you'll say that you pour milk before the cereal too

Timber: What's wrong with that? That's clearly the superior way to eat cereal if you’ll eat it with milk. 

Stoplight: are we sure jasons the demon

Abel : don't drag me into this

*Eggplant Emoji*: tim. no.

Timber : Uh Tim, yes?

Timber: Soggy cereal is disgusting. If you pour milk on top of dry cereal it’ll all just get mushy and gross! If you pour milk first though you can strategically eat parts of it so it’ll retain the maximum capacity of crunch. 

Abel: it’s cereal.

Abel: only you would be overthinking, planning and ‘strategizing’ the best way to eat cereal. 

*Eggplant Emoji*: why are you surprised this is coming from the guy eating oats like its cereal 

Timber: ?? It is!! Oats with milk and cocoa powder on top is a valid meal? 

*Eggplant Emoji*: you dont even like oatmeal 

Timber: Oats are delicious. Oatmeal is gross. 

Abel: lemme guess. you hate tomatoes but like ketchup? 

Timber: Ew. no. 

Timber : I hate tomatoes and ketchup both, thanks.

Timber: I love tomato juice, though. 

Abel: bruh 

Stoplight: wait if dick was in the kitchen…

Stoplight: why didnt he react to jason/a demon breaking in to rob the fridge?

Timber : He probably recognised him?

Dickiebird : what if the demon had a family at home to feed. huh. what then?

NotDamian: Grayson likes to take stupid risks when he’s tired and hungry, especially when he’s both. I doubt he recognized the apparition as Todd and deemed the cereal worth it. this is backed up by the emotional outburst of brown taking his meal away.

Stoplight: ahh he’s the one crying 

Dickiebird: it was good cereal ok. 

-Cassandra and Jason's usernames are linked and sorta puns, in that Cain was Cass's last name (She goes by Wayne now) and that Jason was the first sibling to die.

And that's it! This is from the 2nd chapter of my newest chatfic "'Cus everytime we touch I get this feeling (That I want to kick your ass)" which can be found here on ao3.

There's no strict plotlines or anything. It's honestly just me having fun with these characters. It's not based on social media usage, because I don't have any other social media accounts aside from my tumblr (nor do i look at stuff from there) so it's just going to be fun scenarios and references to other fandom media by either inside jokes or very vague references lol.

I made this fic because I wanted to do something fun, so this is completely self indulgent.

Just fun tidbits on the batfam in this verse, which is probably more or less aligned with the WFA canon.

-It's an AU where Bruce is a good parent and went to therapy. He didn't revive the joker when Dick killed him.

- Jason wasn't revived as a Wayne and is usually referred to as a family friend in public. He has tattoos from the all-caste, which I believe he has canonically in one of the webcomics.

- Tim isn't UwU soft baby boy who needs help and someone to save him. He's unapologetically unhinged. So there's a lot of references to him knowing things or saying things he's not supposed to know. Let him be creepy, fanon, dammit.

- Damian has a snake, her name is Sting, because she'll sting you if you don't treat her well. She's of the species Bitis Rhinoceros and I love her.

- Tim and Barbara can and often will insert themselves in private conversations because they're nosy, bored or because they think whatever is being discussed could have important information. Jason can do this sometimes too, which he learned from Barbara. He mostly does it to mess with people.

- Duke's chatname is a reference to him being a robin once. I feel like his character is often either boiled down to him being either a tech-dude or moral support, but he was Robin canonically as well, just as Steph was, and he deserves acknowledgement, dammit.

- I'm not really a fan of romance, like, at all. There's very, very few ships/pairings where my mindset is "oh yeah they're in love" because usually it's just "they fuck nasty/they're obsessed with each other lose boundaries that way" - not saying that's a healthy relationship, but it's basically my sort of disclaimer that romance isn't going to be featured heavily if at all. However, Cass/Steph is in a relationship. It's not really mentioned so the reader can interpret it as romantic or queerplatonic, whatever they wanna I ain't a cop.

- Damian's chatname comes from Dick telling him not to put his real name online.

[lxdystxrdustt]

so, this is it! sorry if it’s quite short, i’d just like to start slow to make sure i like what I write. hope you like this!

warnings: nothing, pure fluff. no use of y/n.

there has never been a minute in her life that ellie had ever spent away from you. you two have been best friends forever, thanks to your mothers mutual friendship. you’ve met at the ripe age of three months, and then you never got separated again: you two were a perfect duo: where ellie was awkward and introverted, you were social and friendly. where she was harsher, you always found a way to smooth down her sharp angles. so, when ellie realized she was in love with you, she couldn’t help but think that it was destiny: who better than her best friend to be completely head over heels for? who better than the person who had always supported her and had always stuck to her side? and of course she was scared of telling you. what a fucking cliché, falling in love with her bestfriend and not wanting to tell them to not lose their friendship. except, she wasn’t sure she could hold her feelings for much longer. not when you looked so lovely, making some stupid joke in the middle of class, and giggling behind your hand. not when you knew her like the back of your hand, and you could predict her thoughts just before she’d say them, just like ellie did with yours. so, the night before the start of your senior year, while you were sprawled out on ellie’s bed, with your head in her lap, watching some shitty film that neither of you was really following, too caught up in sharing gossips and hopes about the next day, she just felt it was the right moment to tell you. “i love you” she blurted out, interrupting your passionate rant about some guy who neither of you could stand. “what?” you asked, removing your head from your friend’s lap, and moving into a sitting position. ellie felt her cheeks burn, and she was sure she was turning extremely red, but she repeated what she had just said nonetheless: “i love you. i’ve known about it for a bit now. and i know this could ruin our friendship, and i mean it would be fine, because then at least you knew how i felt about you. well okay maybe it wouldn’t be so fine because you’re my best friend and i would die knowing that i was the reason for which our friendship ended but i couldn’t just hold this in, it was starting to feel so heavy and we’ve always shared everything with each other and i just…couldn’t. please, say something.” she pleaded, and you just stared at her with wide eyes, at a loss of words. then, a slow grin spread on your face, and a warm sensation flooded your belly. “you love me?” you ask, almost dumbfounded. ellie just nodded, still looking at you with her big hazel eyes, almost begging you. so, slowly, you moved towards her, getting so close that your noses touched, and your breaths blended. you put your cold hand on ellie’s warm cheek, stroking lightly with your thumb. “i love you too, ellie.”. and then, without giving her the time to say anything, you put her lips onto hers, and melted into the softness of her mouth. she replicated the kiss with such a care that made you fizzy, hands moving to bury in her hair, and her warm fingers closing around your waist, grounding you. and right there, you understood that, as long she’ll be near you, you would always feel at home. 

[canirove]

Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 3

Previous chapter | Next chapter (coming out on Thursday)

Masterlist

"Liv! Liv, wait!"

"Madders?" I say, turning around.

"So glad I found you."

"Did something happen? You look a bit out of breath, you have to work on your fitness" I tease him.

"Ha ha ha" he replies, rolling his eyes. "I need your help, Liv. It's an emergency."

"You are starting to worry me, James."

"Today is my anniversary and Kennedy and I are going out to celebrate. The twins are staying with my parents, but Leo's nanny has called in sick."

"James…" I say, knowing what he is going to ask me.

"Please, Olivia. He adores you and we trust you. And you don't have anything else to do today, do you?"

"What if I do?" 

"Liv, it's Wednesday. You know you don't" he chuckles. 

"Ok, fine. I don't" I sigh. 

"Then will you take care of Leo?" Madders pouts.

"I will take care of Leo. But" I say, stopping him as he is about to hug me. "You owe me one."

"And I won't forget about it. You are the best, Liv" he says, now properly hugging me.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"You gotta be kidding me" I say when I check the security camera and see the person who just rang Madders' doorbell.

"Liv?" Declan says when I open the door.

"Hello."

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question" I chuckle. 

"Madders told me to come pick up a jacket I let him borrow over the summer and that he found doing some cleaning."

"Today of all days?" I ask.

"Yeah" he shrugs.

"Well, he isn't home. He and Kennedy are out celebrating their anniversary."

"He didn't say anything about that."

"Yeah, wonder why… Anyway, come in. Maybe he left the jacket upstairs in his room."

"Thanks" Declan smiles, making me feel funny things on my stomach. Yep, the crush still is there. 

"If he isn't home, what are you doing here?" he asks me as we go up the stairs.

"Their nanny canceled and they couldn't find anyone to take care of Leo, and since I've done it before…"

"Barista and nanny?" 

"I'm a woman of many talents."

"Interesting…" he smirks. "Oh, careful" he chuckles after I miss a step. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's just that I'm not used to these stairs." Because saying that my brain had stopped working after seeing him smile at me like that, sounds a bit weird, doesn't it?

"Liv?" Leo calls as we walk past his room.

"Oh, looks like he woke up from his nap" I say. "Do you mind going to look for the jacket on your own?"

"No, it's ok" Declan smiles, leaving me standing in the middle of the corridor.

"Liv?" Leo calls again.

"Coming!" I say, finally moving. How can someone's smile affect me so much?

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Declan!" Leo says, running towards him.

"Hello, little man" he replies, picking him up and throwing him in the air, making him laugh.

"And the jacket?" I ask.

"Nowhere to be found" Declan says, putting Leo down. 

"Maybe he didn't tell Kennedy about it and she put it back in his wardrobe."

"Maybe. But it's ok, I'll come another day."

"Are you leaving?" Leo asks him. "We were going to the park. Do you want to come with us?" 

"Leo, Declan probably has things to do."

"Not really" he shrugs.

"Then you are coming with us!" Leo says while hugging his legs.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Someone please help me! The dragon is coming!" I say from the top of the toy castle in the park.

"Wait for me, princess!" Leo says, swinging his stick as if it was a sword.

"No, she's mine! Rawr!" Declan says from the floor, trying to catch my ankle.

"Is that how a dragon sounds now?" I laugh.

"That's how this dragon sounds, yes" he says, sticking out his tongue.

"I'm here, princess! Let's go to the sledge!" Leo says, grabbing my hand while Declan follows us.

"You are not going anywhere!" he says, standing at the end of the sledge as we go down. Leo manages to escape by running between his legs, but I am stuck. "You are mine, princess."

"I…"

"No! Die, dragon, die!" Leo says, hitting him with his stick.

"Oh, no! No, no!" Declan says, slowly and very dramatically falling to the floor while I just laugh. 

"Princess! He isn't a dragon!"

"What?"

"He was under a spell!" Leo says. "He is a prince, you must kiss him to bring him back!"

"Leo…" I say with a nervous laugh.

"C'mon, princess. Hurry up."

"Yes, hurry up. I'm dying" Declan says, trying really hard not to smile.

"Ok, fine" I sigh, kissing his cheek.

"That doesn't work, Liv" Leo says. "You have to kiss him like mummy and daddy do."

"What?"

"You heard him" Declan smirks, my brain collapsing once again. "C'mon, princess. Save me" he says while closing his eyes and pouting.

"I can't kiss you if you are making that face, Declan" I laugh.

"Better now?" he smiles.

"Much better."

"Liv, kiss him!" Leo insists.

"Ok, ok" I say, giving him a quick peck.

"That's not how mummy and daddy do it."

"Because mummy and daddy are boyfriend and girlfriend, and we aren't."

"You are now. Kiss!" 

"What?" Declan and I say at the same time.

"I've made you boyfriend and girlfriend. Now kiss" Leo orders us.

"I'm afraid we are gonna have to do it, Liv."

"Yeah… He is as stubborn as his dad" I say. "Ready to have your life saved, Prince Dragon?" I ask him, finding the courage to do what I'm about to do God knows where.

"Ready" Declan laughs before I cup his face and kiss him, Leo cheering behind us. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" he whispers when we break apart.

"No" I whisper back, my hands still on his face.

"Liv, I'm hungry. Can we go home?" Leo says.

"I just saved the prince. Aren't you going to say anything about it?"

"I'm bored, I don't want to play anymore."

"You… kids" I say, rolling my eyes while Declan just laughs. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I thought he would never fall asleep" Declan says, letting himself fall on the sofa.

"Same" I sigh, doing the same next to him.

"Should we order something to eat? All that running around has me famished."

"Don't you have anywhere else to be?"

"Liv, are you kicking me out?" he asks with a teasing smile.

"No, no" I say, feeling my cheeks on fire. "It's just that… You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

"But I want to stay."

"Really?"

"Yeah" he smiles, that funny thing in my stomach throwing a party.

"Are you sure? Like, maybe you had plans to meet with your friends or… your girlfriend."

"My what?" he laughs.

"That girl I saw when I stopped by your house the other day."

"Her? Nah, she isn't my girlfriend."

"Oh, sorry. I just thought that… you know" I shrug, nervously playing with my hands.

"I'm 100% single, Liv. You?"

"Uh?" I say, finally daring to look at those stupidly gorgeous blue eyes of his.

"Are you single?"

"I am, yes."

"Nothing with that guy from work, then? Can't remember what he was called."

"Alex?" 

"Yes, that was his name."

"Nah. We've known each other since we were kids because our parents are friends, but that's it."

"Oh, good. Then I can do this" he says before leaning forward and kissing me.

[starrynightsxo]

she laced crack in this or sum idk

[yeonban]

Send me ✔ and I’ll bold what my muse would do with/for yours.

@effigist asked: ✔ ash for tobias 💪

Acquaintance:

hold the door for them | help them carry something | let them borrow something | let them use their (primary) phone (that has all of Tobias' important contacts in it) | smile at them when passing in the streets | shake hands with them | flirt with them in a bar | share a taxi with them | give them a ride home | lend them money | sit next to them on public transportation | offer them some food | help them find something they lost

Friendship:

let them stay the night | listen to them complain at 4 am | help them get over a break up | go out shopping with them | pet sit for them (or alternatively, babysit Ash's gang/allies) | help them move houses | help them find a lost pet | go on vacation with them | stay up all night with them | help them hide a dead body | provide an alibi for them | take their side in a break up | talk about their future plans | be maid of honour/best man/etc. at their wedding (Tobias just laughed at this one I'm sorryadhyuasgdsahd) | share food with them

Lover/Fling:

let them stay after sex | gentle sex | rough sex | experiment | handcuffs | bdsm | whips | orgasm denial | aftercare | cuddles after sex | tea/coffee/etc. after sex | gentle kisses | rough kisses | passionate kisses | sloppy kisses | lazy kisses | hang out without sex | hide their relationship | cheat on them | cheat on someone else with them | dirty talk | loving talk | gentle touches | rough touches | nervous/shy touches | say “I love you”

Married/Dating:

take them on expensive dates | pay for dates | make them pay for dates | go to the movies | put out on the first date | get an arranged marriage | stay at home most nights | cuddle in front of the tv | propose first | drop hints until they propose | give a big/expensive/elaborate proposal | have a quiet proposal | say yes to a proposal from them | have a big wedding | have a small wedding | elope | get married in Vegas | go on an expensive honeymoon | go on a cheap honeymoon | have kids | get a pet | move in together (Tobias with his dozen houses: :) ADHASDHSAJD 😭) | laugh during kisses | laugh during sex | tickle fights | fight over who’s cuter | make them sleep on the couch after fights | make up sex | angry sex | no sex | let their parents/siblings stay over | let their family visit often | tell them “I love you” every day

Sibling/Platonic:

fight (SPAR! SPAR! SPAR!) | hug (Tobias isn't against properly hugging him but boy does he think it'd be so awkward the first few times he'd do it. so typically Ash would instead get those half-hugs/half-lounging on the other's shoulder kind of embraces that men always love to give each other) | laugh at them when they get hurt (for the minor/stupid injuries) | help them hide a dead body | provide an alibi for them | tell them they’re annoying at least once a day | share food with them | help them move houses | walk them down the isle | try to sell them online | set up an online dating account for them | set them up on blind dates | try to set them up with your friends | listen to their problems | help them cook | cook them food | make them watch shows they don’t like with them | tell them they’re an idiot/loser/dork/nerd affectionately

Enemy:

fight them | take petty revenge | kill them (thank GOD Ash isn't the type to betray him for no reason so this will never come to pass 🙏) | try to smother them in their sleep | hire an assassin | work harder to beat them at something | follow their social media just to get mad about it | make passive aggressive remarks towards them | spread rumours about them | laugh at them when they get hurt | take pleasure from them being upset | ruin their life

[im2tired4usernames]

I hate that I literally just do not trust any of the older folks in my family to do right by anyone

[frostbite-the-bat]

remembering old fandoms and rps and aus i had and im realizing this isnt the first time an au version of frostbite interacted a lot with someone who at least in text had a quirk that does something to the letter s which is ironic considering their name

[cloneboywonder]

I looked at my dads phone today bc I’m nosy and he was texting a guy abt fobbie tickets and he started it with “my daughter is the biggest fallout boy fan in the world !!!!!” Like I’m literally going to cry I’m so glad me and my dad love each other again :-(

[came-out-of-the-coffin-desisted]

my haaaaaands are still fucked uuuuuup but when they’re unfucked up i’m gonna draw smth so sexy and delicious for my new skyrim oc i can see the comp in my mind’s eye it’d just make my hands fall off if i tried to draw it