#then ill probably have to realize its not real again and start crying but its better than just crying without the reality break

[rifualk]

On Mental Health and Cosmic Embarrassment

I don't usually make a post in the aftermath of one of my spirals, so I bet most people see some of the vent posts I make, and assume I am just off my meds or something. I am on them but I might not be on the right ones. This is a thing that happens to me sometimes. I have psychotic episodes, where it feels like the things I am saying are completely inconsequential and I genuinely believe no one cares what I'm saying or, worst of all, that it cannot scare anyone that cares about me. I get too tired to fight my intrusive thoughts and I just ride them out. Most of my thoughts are not ones I enjoy having. I have trouble parsing what is real sometimes. For most of my life, out of a kind of primal shame and terror of being perceived or judged, I beat myself into believing that I just roleplayed as a crazy person online because I wanted attention for it, but it finally clicked for me at some point in my 20s that I was, and am, genuinely very mentally ill, maybe in ways that make me not-entirely-functional in the culture I inhabit. Also, I want attention for it.

Life is very embarrassing. I think embarrassment, shame, et al. is probably the most cosmic feeling of them all, because being embarrassed, for me anyway, leads invariably to my OCD extrapolating the embarrassment, no matter how slight, into its natural extreme, becoming a full-blown existential meltdown and often manifesting in some self-punishment. Or a lot of self-punishment. Instead of saying "everyone wants attention, it's not a big deal", my brain will overwhelm me with shame and make me vow to be quieter about the whole thing next time. Good emotions are meant to be expressed, I tell myself, and Bad ones are not. I think it's very unhealthy for people to not express their negative emotions openly. Or maybe I'm psychotic. I mean, I am psychotic. But maybe right now, too.

Ultimately this feeling peaks with the realization - again - that I'm a eukaryote. I live on a spinning ball of stardust in the aftermath of what had to have been a colossal disaster and waste of time. But it happened, and so now there's a bunch of stuff floating around, and some of that stuff started moving for reasons I don't personally understand and the implications of which scare me. And the moving stuff that moved faster got to stay moving longer. And so a chain reaction escalated, and eventually there were very large moving things whose survival adaptations had evolved in such a way that they could conceptualize and communicate complex information about the world around them, but they were also able to conceptualize themselves. This gave them a lot of grief. They wanted very badly for there to be an answer to why they were able to do that. Surely it served some purpose. But we never found one, and here we are.

I don't have a god to turn to. I have tried - earnestly, sincerely, and desperately - to reach out; I never hear back. I don't want to be an atheist, it's heartbreaking. Honestly. I want someone to be up there, or out there. Knowing there isn't, is just... cruel. It's horrifying and it wrenches my heart. Look at us, look how much we're suffering, where the fuck did you go, what the fuck is your problem? Help us!

In spite of everything, I am still not sure what I believe.

Don't you ever just cry about the world? Like, broadly? Don't you ever just have to take off your glasses and wipe the brine from them because you caught a glimpse of what people, as a species, could be capable of? And I get angry at myself, too. What am I doing about it? What even can I do? I can barely hold down a job. I am barely an adult. I am often mired in this feeling. It permeates everything. I'm living in a tragedy - not just my own, but millions and millions of others'. This is a nightmare. It's a nightmare and I'm an embarrassment, and my brain doesn't work right, and I'm living in a terrible reality that is shared by everyone, and yet somehow equally isolating and alienating to all of us. Does it have to be that way? Aren't we all lonely?

When I am spiraling I really do think that the end is near, either for me, or for everyone, or for both. To be fair, my confidence about humanity's future is not promising even when I am at my most sane. But in this kind of emotional place, the stakes are too high for me to care that what I say might come off as upsetting. It is completely overwhelming. I see my life up to this point, and I see how long I've been alive and realize I'm very Not Normal and I look and sound different than everyone around me and I'm an embarrassment. It's embarrassing to exist. It's embarrassing to be transgender, too. It's really, really embarrassing to be mentally ill and fully aware of it all the time. It's shameful. I am ashamed of how my family likely sees me. How my peers see me. I'm just a walking disaster. I feel like this bars me from leading a happy life or finding some success in art - It doesn't seem like you're allowed to be quite this much of a problem and "get away with it", does it? There's a bit of social sanitizing at work there - you are only allowed to be a certain level of messed up and if you pass that you're sort of a pariah. I don't think I've ever done anything pariah-worthy, but I can only see things from the inside of my own head, and there's a lot of unwanted noise in here.

I painted this when I lived in Oregon. I don't know how. I could not do art like this again if asked.

I'm not in a good place, generally-speaking. It could be worse - and it was for a long time- but it's still just not great. The main reason is that I am very homesick. I grew attached to the Pacific Northwest in a way I've never really grown attached to any other place. It had a quality that exists nowhere else. It resonated with me immediately and I knew right away from the moment I first set foot there that it was my home. I grew to be a part of it, and it's the only place I felt I somewhat-belonged... I have been away from Oregon for 2 whole years as of next month. I feel like I'm a fish out of water, or a sapling in the wrong soil. I can't and won't say that the place I live currently is a bad place, but it isn't my place, and the disconnect has been maybe the nastiest shock to my system in all my life. Finding the place I loved, and living for over 12 years there, only to be wrenched away from it so suddenly, left a shock on me that I think has yet to surface in my work. I'm excited to see what form it takes when it does. Location is very important to my mental wellbeing, more than I think it is for most people. Maybe I am a plant. It's also very important for my art. I've struggled to find inspiration since I moved here. That said, I've had the very precious opportunity to just work on myself - on my transition, as well as my personal issues. I think I'm getting better, gradually, in some way. I have a job now, at least. So it's not entirely bad. I even grew sunflowers last summer.

Around this time I got banned from twitter, but I don't feel any shame about the reason why because I believe in my message. But it forced me to be a lot less active online for a long time. It also made me lose a lot of support. That's been something I've grappled with a lot these last 2 years - that people really don't like people like me, for reasons that are mostly not our fault. I will likely always be something of an outsider for being who I am now, but I was one before anyway. It's still worth it. I like the person I'm becoming. I feel like only recently did I allow myself to feel this self-love. I was too embarrassed of myself. It took a lot of patience and a lot of de-tangling my self-worth from a lot of trauma. So it's likely I would have needed to go through all of this regardless of where I was.

I still slip up. It's an uphill climb and it's slippery. I like to be transparent about these things. It's a relief - feeling like I need to hide things is my default state and it's lovely to just let go of stuff so I don't need to keep it in my head all the time. I have a lot of hangups still. I get discouraged about my art still - I fear I'll never build myself back up to where I was before, and that there will never be a time when I can really pay the bills with it. Or worse-still, that it just isn't special enough to last. That it isn't remarkable enough to survive after I'm gone. But I think a lot of people who make stuff feel that way, and it's not our fault. There's some relief in that. I'm happy to have even a few people that care about me and my work, and something I've been trying really hard to remember in recent years is to take time to appreciate them. I'm not actually alone. I have a lot of people that love me. I'm not an outsider. I'm very lucky to know the people I do, and I hold a deep regret for all the connections I've let go of because I was just too sick. Deep down I really do wish I could love everyone. I have no ill will towards anyone, not really.

I still don't know what I'm doing. I am just doing my best, I think. I'm really, really tired. I don't want to get any older. I'm scared of the passage of time. My memory is so bad, it feels like time is taken from me without me realizing. I am 33 years old. I do not have 33 years worth of memories. There are huge leaps. Gaps where suddenly I was just older and in more pain. Being adrift in time like this is horrific - one day I will blink, and the present moment may be completely forgotten. It can't go this fast. It just can't. Something has to be wrong. I don't want to die, I don't want to miss out on so much life or be unable to remember it. I don't want to find myself on my deathbed someday way sooner than I think and be unable to string together any kind of coherent thread from my memories. What is it all for? It has to mean something right? Why am I doing anything?

I think I finally understand that love is why. I don't know much more than that. Love is real, and it's the answer. If you find love, don't take it for granted, ever. No love is perfect. Take it with all its flaws. You don't have time to bargain with it. Love like you'll never love again, love like it's your last day alive, love like it will keep you alive forever, because it will. Every year closer to death you get, you will feel the regret of all the times you did not follow your heart. Life is short. I'm finding this out entirely too late. It goes by so fast, and what you have at the end are people and memories of being loved. To be loved is to live forever. It's the thing that connects us to everything else. It's the source and the answer to everything. It makes more sense the older I get. It used to sound cheesy, but I believe it with more sincerity every day.

I'll be okay, okay

I once promised someone that I would stop self-harming. They are no longer in my life, but I kept the promise anyway. There are no new scars on my arms, or bruises on my head or face. I'm keeping this promise for myself, now.

[just-some-random-blogger]

omgomg modern!daemon's nonnie's really lucky. i'm excited to see the thing you were writing. 'LOVE LETTER TIME' ANY TIME DESERVES TO BE LOVE LETTER TIME 'im sending brain cells your way' thanks hottie-cutie-meanie. actually, i'm pretty good at math too. the problem was that tasks were not hard but a lot. 'i cant believe you still have to study in the cold' well 'you're too old to be afraid of this weather' said one very kind deputy head. yes i've been living in such conditions for my whole life but?? girl?? have you ever heard smth about being ill??? thanks for the hug! i hope i'll see this girl alive TT and i do sleep during the day a little (imagine angry emoji) 'i shower you with compliments more like my cat' can i be your cat TT if i can't have one, maybe i can be one TT you know, pretend untilit's real. no but just imagine being allergic to yourself... 'i have two! yushi and his son jinjin' OMG aaaaaaaa such cuties TT omg i'm gonna cry again. i beg you to show your cats plspls i can call you master (as a cat) or big sister or hannah smith (as a matt smith's spouse) but plss TT my only goal in the whole life is to see the cats every person i know owns. (is jinjin after jinjin from astro or am i being crazy?..) and i have a really-super-indeed important academic competition(?) on the 19.12 so if you're going to post something i'll probably read it later but!! i will!! wait for me pls good morning!! take care! love you <з meow

HEWWOW!!

love letter time 😌

omgomg modern!daemon's nonnie's really lucky. i'm excited to see the thing you were writing.

lol i was writing for another fandom HAHAHH idk if you'd care for it it was my hob x endless!reader fic for the show the sandman lololol you don't have to check it out if it doesn't entice you lololl

'LOVE LETTER TIME' ANY TIME DESERVES TO BE LOVE LETTER TIME

lol well, realistically speaking i cant be sending you love letters any time lol HAHHAHAH

'im sending brain cells your way' thanks hottie-cutie-meanie. actually, i'm pretty good at math too. the problem was that tasks were not hard but a lot. 'i cant believe you still have to study in the cold' well

SLAYYYYYYYYY BESTIEEEEEEE WE LOVE A MATH WHIZZZZZZ

'you're too old to be afraid of this weather' said one very kind deputy head. yes i've been living in such conditions for my whole life but?? girl?? have you ever heard smth about being ill??? thanks for the hug! i hope i'll see this girl alive TT

DOES THAT DEPUTY MEAN OLD PEOPLE DONT HAVE FEELINGS this is why we cant have nice things T_T they want us to repress our emotions //: rat //: and yeah haven't you ever hear of being ill? yuck ALSO DAMN I HOPE YOU SEE THAT GIRL ALIVE TOO MY GOSH T_T HUGS HUGS HUGS

and i do sleep during the day a little (imagine angry emoji)

AHAHHAHAHAHAHAHH THATS SO CUTE HAHAHHAAH

'i shower you with compliments more like my cat' can i be your cat TT if i can't have one, maybe i can be one TT you know, pretend untilit's real. no but just imagine being allergic to yourself...

T_T lol sure you can be my cat AHAHHAHHAh im pretty sure if you were a cat you wouldn't be allergic to yourself T_T did you know theres actually a cat that people who are allergic to them can have because apparently they dont have that gene that makes people allergic. i show it on animal planet once but i dont remember what its called lol i researched it an apparently there was a bunch but i think the one i watched was about the russian blue cat HAHHAH fitting for you i think

'i have two! yushi and his son jinjin' OMG aaaaaaaa such cuties TT omg i'm gonna cry again. i beg you to show your cats

ok i went through my pictures to see show you some

this is yushi he used to have a brother named mochi but he got hit my a van and i will never stop mourning him. the right most pic is yushi (left) and mochi (right)

(i went into the depth to look for a photo of mochi and then i realized i didnt have any anymore, and then when i found some i started crying because i was mochi's favorite and he didnt deserve what happened to him i miss him so much im so sad i cant stop crying hold on) i found the last video and photo i had of him but he had a gaping wound in it so im not going to add it T_T

this is jinjin yushi's baby

the story of how we got him is pretty long, but i'll tell you to distract from my sobs. so we have a stray girl cat in our neighborhood and im pretty sure yushi got her pregnant lol thats so funny to say but its true.

this was jinjin when we got him (he fell from the roof and had a broken leg but we didnt have money to bring him to the vet so i just gave him a makeshift cast and prayed he'd get better (he did)) he was so skinny and touch deprived T_T im crying again but he's better now

this is him after a while and his leg was better and he's with ysuhi in the first pic. we though yushi would try to kill him at first but they're so sweet to each other T_T i cant stop crying

honestly i swear im not making this up but jinjin is so much like mochi that i think God sent him to ease my sorrows T_T its genuinely so crazy how alike they are T_T i miss mochi so much im so sorry mochi. when he got hit i was so scared to watch him die and i regret not being with him in his last moments so badly im sorry i had to tell you this i wont go on about anymore

this is jinjin now

he's such a prince

this is my neighbors dog brownie she is a good girl

plspls i can call you master (as a cat) or big sister or hannah smith (as a matt smith's spouse) but plss TT my only goal in the whole life is to see the cats every person i know owns.

you can call me whatever you want. i choked on the water i was drinkin when i saw hannah smith but im too sad to type that with excitement

(is jinjin after jinjin from astro or am i being crazy?..)

actually no but its so wild that you also know astro slay bestie. we actually thought jinjin was a girl so i named him after characters from genshin impact his full name was barbara jean ponyo (ponyo as in the anime) but then he was a boy so i was like lol jean is fine or gene in masc form then it became jinjin. my sister cringes everytime we talk about astro jinjin now lol HAHA

and i have a really-super-indeed important academic competition(?) on the 19.12 so if you're going to post something i'll probably read it later but!! i will!! wait for me pls good morning!! take care! love you <з meow

WOW MY BIG BRAIN CHILD IS AN ACADEMIC COMPETITOR SLAAYYY <3 i hope it went well i love you so much

ps if you apologize about making me cry cos i went through mochi's photos i will cry some more

xxx im luv u

[kunikame]

rant & slight idolish7 spoilers warning !!!!!

i verbally cannot describe how much comfort i7 brings me, genuinely. no matter how many times i watch it i just dont get bored of it, instead i notice new details and see new meanings behind certain words, scenes and actions. i love the characters so much ... theyre just so ... so adorable and relatable, you cant avoid them growing on you. the songs too !!!! the songs and characters make me so so happy, i adore them !

sogo and his violent impulses 😭 its always the quiet and composed people i swear. him collapsing from stress is very relatable. i admire his reasoning for doing music, i wish i had the same resolve HAHAHA except i vant even bring myself to tinker with my piano anymore :,)

tamaki and his childishness. it might be annoying to some, and he is very hard to deal with for sogo, but i think its endearing. hes self aware about being a bit on the dumber side but still tries his best .. i just wanna give him a hug and headpats and i hope he and aya get to be together again soon :( let the siblings be happy fr ...

yamato and his sincere want for the others to be happy and successful. what started out as a revenge mission became genuine affection toward the other 6 and i think thats amazing. he just gradually took on the role of the older brother/tired dad without even realizing and now hes stuck with them doing his best to ensure their happiness because he genuinely loves them :(

nagi and his comedic relief and wise moments ! i think nagi is reduced to simply comedic relief by most as he is just a silly pretty boy 80% of the time but hes actually very smart and theres so much we still dont know about him !! i sure hope we get some insights to him soon. and haruki aswell !!! i need to know more abt their friendship and the songs and everything !!

iori and his cute traits. he may be the youngest but he acts like the most mature (after yamato and sogo ofc) and his sincere want to ensure the success of i7 is admirable if im being honest. i adore his less composed moments though! makes me realize even picture perfect people have their quirks :) i love his friendly banters with riku and how he likes cute things and stationary and how he takes care of riku and mitsuki and and i love iori a normal amount i promise

riku and his sincerity. whatever hes feeling, you can just tell. hes so easy to take care of and while he might be insecure, hes really what holds them all together. he just shines as their center and hes so precious and his energy just makes you all warm n fuzzy and his smile just radiates joy and . i wish i could keep him in my pockets and carry him around.

mitsuki and the way i relate to him. the insecurities and being swallowed by them, running away from my problems and being the 2nd choice or not even a choice at all, not feeling good enough and just being average at everything i do, always being outshined and everything. hes so effortlessly funny and precious and i love his energy and his pretty smile and the way hes just so .. sunshine. yknow? i kin him can you tell

i could talk about i7 for ages but this is tumblr and not a fic so nobody will read it anyway HAHAHA i feel like im writing a diary entry or something. i could go on and on about how happy this show makes me even if i cry because of those specific mezzo n mitsuki insecure arcs but im gonna keep it short for this post haha

sorry i nerded out on the tl! if you read this i hope i piqued your interest in i7 (if i didnt still thank you for reading!) and if you didnt i hopr you have a great day after scrolling /gen

maybe one day when someone asks me abt i7 irl ill go on a longer rant and my eyes will sparkle and ill wave my hands around animatedly while talking about the show but then ill realize im rambling and im probably annoying and theyre not really interested but theyll be looking at me and asking me why i stopped talking except that wont happen bc fics arent real and i genuinely am annoying to most people HAHAHAHA !!!!!!!!!!

[starswallowingsea]

GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS OOMF.

I MADE A SHUFFLE UNIT AROUND THE FACT THAF HIMERU PROBABLY DIDNT HAVE A GOOD CHILDHOOD (LONELY FUCK)

I ASSOCIATE SO MANY HARUMAKI GOHAN SONGS TO HIS UGLY ASS

if shinobu was tje one who opened the door HIMERU FUCKING LOCKED ME IN GET ME OUT OF HERE

okay so i did make a himeru playlist a while ago. he makes me sooooooo mentally ill.

but i love the idea of a childhood/kids themed shuffle unit that himeru gets put in because they drew names out of a hat or whatever because he has no reason to be here and it's starting to make him uncomfortable and he's suddenly started thinking about his mom (who he has said he was close to before she passed) and the food she used to make and reading books together at bed time (a habit i think he has kept this entire time and its like kanata going to the sea for advice he will keep a stack of books on his night stand and pick one up at random and thumb through it until something catches his eye and thinks about how it applies to his current situation) and now he's trying to think about how normal kids are supposed to grow up because he ran away from home and tried to forget everything related to his father but fuck he can't admit that.

despite being a good actor, because its supposed to be something personal to his life, they all know very quickly that he's making most of it up. he might have included some vague details about his mom that are true and he smiles a little at them but the rest feels too cold and detached to be his real memories. he's trying to think of what kaname would say but realizes that he never got to grow up with kaname and never let him talk about his childhood and only knew who his mother was and well now he's crying again because otouto-kun was never a part of his life and might never be again and he cant change that no matter how hard he tries.

ends up saying that he doesnt want to talk about his actual childhood and just leaves it at "it wasn't good" and then everyone makes it their mission to get him to open up a little and have a little whimsy for life and :^) okay i'm done. i'm done i can't im gonna make myself too emotional hope you enjoy this

[buffalowingsfortwo]

3/16/23 10:35 pm

ash to faith

what a fucking day. 

today started fine, i guess. i fell asleep last night crying over the phone, discussing a probable last break up. i woke up to hozier announcing a tour and the reminder that he'd be putting out new music tonight. i was thrilled.

i did my hair and makeup for work for maybe the second time ever? my coworkers liked it but my two favorite coworkers werent there and id be lying if i said i didnt do it partially to get them to talk to me. ive never been very good at making friends in a normal way. i sometimes wonder if im cursed to never experience a real connection again. cursed is probably the wrong word. that makes it sound like someone elses fault. its obviously mine.

work was okay. i realized today/yesterday that one of my coworkers doesnt like me and has been making fun of me and i just didnt realize because i wasnt really thinking about it. i think theres more people that like me than dont there so its probably okay.

the news of marcus hit during my break. i feel like i have to acknowledge this here, and i have to say his name. i didnt know him really, and i barely have any memories left over from middle school. from what i do remember, he was funny and nice. i feel bad that i dont know how much more he was than that. i hope hes okay now, wherever he is. mostly i hope its not lonely there.

im very caught up on the idea of death and the way it makes people act. we hold so much back because we're scared of judgment or of being wrong, but when faced with the reality of it all too closely, we frequently act out too much and end up causing messes just to feel like we did anything at all. maybe there is no good middle ground. ive been thinking about it a lot and i think the only way to be okay is to do whatever, but to mean it every time.

i want to do everything like i mean it. i want to love you like i mean it. i want this to be rushed, because i want to make up for lost time, and we dont have forever. i want this to move slow and steady so i can hold on to every second of it and have the time to process and weigh every word you say. i want everything to move back in time and stay there so i can realize what i have while i have it. i want the future to get here now and keep pushing us forward so it can get better every day. i wont pick a medium. im not happy with how life goes. no one ever is. the most unremarkable wish is to be remarkable. ill say every thought i have because each one is so important, and not important at all. all we have is each other. i cant make sense of anything. maybe the point of you is to keep me looking straight. maybe the point of me is to make you go crazy. i hope we have forever. im scared we wont. ill follow you in every life, begging for more every time, a bad dog with abandonment issues, coming when called, biting the hand that feeds me.

i dont know what else to say. thats the thing with it. sometimes all there is left to do is waste what little time you have. theres always going to be words left unsaid. theres always going to be things we wished we couldve done. all the things we couldve done that we never will. these are my thoughts today. cut short. i wont waste all of your time, just some of it and all of mine. my thoughts, cut short. our friendship, cut short. this entry, cut sh

"we dont talk about it, we dont have the time. we thought love was something we werent meant to find. but now youre a stranger, and im still july, but do you remember? august, honey, you were mine." - august by flipturn

[rezzyromance]

Idk if this is how you request things or if it's just asking, BUT-

How would the Lords react to an S/O that's usually the chillest person that you will ever meet (not to be confused with a pushover because they are not), they've never seen them even mildly annoyed when something bad happens. But then something happens and, turns out, the S/O is utterly TERRIFYING when they're mad.

Hope this makes sense!

Aw man I'm gonna feel awful scaring Moreau and Donna :(

Alcina

You're relaxing on a beautiful morning. The sun is shining through the window just enough to warm the room but not hurt your eyes. You hadn't even changed out of your sleep wear. "How are you feeling, my dear?", a sweet voice rang from the doorway. You were sitting in your favorite chair near the window. You turn and smile at her. She walks over and rubs your face in her large hand before leaning down and giving you a soft kiss. "I'm feeling amazing. And you?", you grab her hand before she pulls it away and you place a kiss on her knuckles. "I'm feeling alright. There's a new maid here. She's a bit slow. I'm giving her until tonight to finish dusting the entire castle or else she won't see another sunrise." It was almost comedic how dark her words were as you both stared out the window and gazed at the beautiful scenery. "Come on Alcina.", you stand up and place your hands on hers, trying to hold them despite the size difference. "Give the girl a break. It's a huge castle AND it's her first day.", you knew your words would probably change nothing. Alcina was rather cruel, but you looked past it. You tried your best to make the nervous maids comfortable whenever they arrive.

"We'll see how she does." She gives you one more kiss before leaving the room. You sit back down in your chair, enjoying the warmth of the sun for a little while longer. You lose track of time, minutes maybe even hours go by. Suddenly, there's a crash not far from the door. You jump and stand up, no longer comfortable after being startled. "What in the name of Mother Miranda?!", you leave the room and look down the hallway. The new maid stood there with a terrified look on her face. In front of her was one of the paintings Alcina had on her walls, now with a broken frame and a hole punctured. Your blood began to boil. It was a painting of you, her, and the girls all together. It was your favorite. "How in the hell did you manage to do that?!", you begin to stomp towards her. She cowers and struggles to find her words. "I-I-I was just dusting! It fell and I-I didn't mean t-", you cut her off. "How the fuck did you knock such a large painting over just by dusting?! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE ALLOWED TO MAKE SUCH STUPID MISTAKES HERE?!", you unravel. "I-I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!", she almost begins to weep. "SORRY ISN'T GONNA SAVE YOUR ASS!"

"MISS DIMITRESCU PLEASE HELP!", she cries out. You freeze, realizing that the lady herself is right behind you. You turn to face her. Her eyes are wide with shock. She has never seen you like this before and never even knew you had this type of side to you. She was impressed as much as she was terrified. "(Y/N)? Are you alright my love?" She had no idea what to do as your seething slowed down. "Why don't you go back to the room, yes? Settle down a little and deal with her later.", she places a hand on your back helps walk with you back to the room. Once you're there, she bends down to whisper in your ear. "I don't know where this side of you has been this whole time, but I am so amazed by you. And also a little frightened."

Donna

The Beneviento house was usually a calm place despite its creepy aura. You and Donna are both quiet and chill people. Never once have you fought or even raised your voices at each other. It was pleasant.

You had planned a nice dinner for the both of you. You wanted to try out a new recipe and surprise her, so you made your way to the kitchen to get started. "Okay, what first? I guess I'll need a pot.", you go rummaging through the kitchen and you find the pots stacked within each other inside one of the top cabinets. You groan and stand up on your toes, grazing the pots with your fingers. It didn't take much to cause them to tumble down, crashing on top of you with a loud sound that followed. "Aw shit.", you sighed and picked up the knocked over pots. A small but annoying pain began to throb in your head from where it made contact with a pot. What you didn't notice was you forgot to pick one of the pots up. It remained unnoticed. "It's fine.", you say to yourself as you maintain your composure. Next, a cutting board and knife. You turn around and begin to walk forward to find the cutting board, but you slam your toe into counter. You wince in pain and grab your foot. "SON OF A BITCH!", you yell.

You calm yourself, still wanting to have a pleasant meal with Donna. "Alright. Everything's fine." You step forward and kick the pot that you had forgotten to pick up. It caused your freshly kicked toe to ache even more. "OH COME ON! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!", you scream and swear as you throw your arms up in pure rage and shock.

"...(Y/N)?", a gentle voice whispered from the doorway, causing you to whip your head in that direction. It was Donna. She looked absolutely horrified and almost looked like she could cry. "Is.. is everything... are you alright?", she worried. "Yes. I'm sorry. Just got a little pissed off.", you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, feeling bad for scaring the poor girl.

Moreau

You were sitting on the dock together, looking into the water as your feet swung back and forth above it. It was a sunny day and you two decided to spend it outside. Your hand slowly made its way over to his. His feet stopped swinging for a second as you entangled your fingers. "I don't know what I'd do without you, (Y/N)." his words were bitter sweet as a gentle smile formed from his lips. "Oh, Sal. You don't have to think like that. I'll always be here for you.", you kiss his cheek and continue to relax as you sway your legs.

"There it is! There's the beast!", a voice yelled from not so far away. You both look in the direction of the voice and see a few young village boys. Possibly between the ages of 13 and 16. Moreau had become some what of a scary story for the villagers. A tale that kids spread on school court yard and bring up during dares. But, you've never seen a kid brave enough to actually make it far enough into the reservoir to actually see Moreau. Now, there were about 3. All of them stood and pointed, shocked and terrified.

"Hey beast! Come get me!", one kid teases. You glare at the kids as a newfound rage begins to boil inside you. "Let's go back inside.", Moreau says before standing up from the doc. The sadness in his voice was heartbreaking. Suddenly, one of the children gathers the guts to pick up a rock and throw it as hard as he could. His aim was off, but not by much. It slammed into the wood near Moreau's feet, startling him. "Take that you devil!", he laughs. "THAT'S IT YOU LITTLE SHIT!", you begin sprinting in the direction of the immature brats. Two of them run from the direction they came from while the one who threw the rock was frozen in fear. You took the opportunity to grab him by the collar of his shirt. "Listen here you little waste of space. I'm gonna give you 3 seconds to turn around and run for your goddamn life. If you or any of your little snot-nosed friends come around here again, they'll be goddamn fish food. Do you understand?" The kid was too scared to speak and instead began to nod rapidly. You let him go and watched as he ran as fast as he could, screaming the whole way.

You walk back to the shack and find Moreau standing in the same place he was when you took off. His mouth was agape and he looked almost as scared as the kids. "You alright Sal? I made sure those little shits won't be coming around here anymore." "Yeah... I didn't know you could be so... scary", he says. "I'm sorry. But those kids were being cruel. I had to do something.", you say. "Well... it was awesome!", he smiled. "But also very scary!" You laugh which helps sooth him a little.

Heisenberg

"Screw driver.", is all Karl said with an outstretched palm. He was working on some type of mechanical heart for his experiments. He wanted you to lend a "helping hand" even though he could easily do it all by himself. He did this because he wanted to be around you, he was just too stubborn with too big of an ego to simply say it. So here you were, handing him every little tool he asks for.

"Do you want the big one or the little one?", you say with a hint of boredom in your tone. "Aw c'mon don't sound like that! Isn't this exciting? It's like you're working on it with me! Also, hand me the big one.", you do as he says and hand him the big screw driver. "I just don't get it. You literally have powers. You can easily do this by yourself and have been for so long. Why do you need me to help?" He pauses for a second and looks over towards you, his brow slightly furrowed. "I don't NEED you to help. I just thought it would be nice for you to help out. Plus, you're the one always bitching about me constantly working. Well, here you are! Helping me work! So, either suck it up or you can leave." His harshness had no real ill will in it. He was just confused and a bit too ignorant to consider his words. But, he was testing your patience. He continued to use the screwdriver until handing it to you without saying a word.

"Hand me a screw.", he demanded with his hand facing palm up again. "Which size?" "They're all the same sizes, dumbass." You feel your blood begin to boil. "They're different fucking sizes! This one is smaller than this one!", you hold up two screws that are obviously different sizes. This makes Karl angry. Not because you were right, but because you seemed upset over something that seemed so insignificant.

"If you came here just to yap in my ear, then I don't think I need your assistance.", he huffed. You put the selection of tools and supplies he was making you hold on the table he is working on and ball your fists. "You're the one who told me to do this in the first place!", you yell. "Yeah, because you won't stop bitching! Non-stop you're always compla-" you cut him off before he can finish. "SHUT UP!", you yell. The room goes silent. "YOU SAY I'M BITCHING? HAVE YOU HEARD YOURSELF? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST KARL YOU BITCH AND MOAN ALL THE TIME! I'M DONE TAKING SHIT FROM YOU!" He wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. He felt something much more overwhelming. Was he.. intimidated? He didn't move from his seat. All he could do was look up at you with a confused expression. What now? What is there to do? If he pushes you further, what would happen? He was actually too scared to find out.

You take a deep breath to calm down before speaking. "Now, if you want me to help with your shit, I'll stay as long as you keep your mouth shut. Can you possibly manage to do that?" He gulps nervously. "Yes ma'am."

[shelobussy]

ASH’S TMA HURT/COMFORT/FLUFF REC LIST 

For the gays. (And @damcrows who’s been dead for the past 24 hours. Rest in peace babe. Read some gay fic. Deny the inevitability of canon. <3)

___

the end, but the start (of all things that are left to do)  by @ajkal2

Jon wakes up.

aka. mag200 tore out my heart

(Very smol, very short, very spoiler. Def recommend for anyone who just finished the podcast.)

remind me how to smile by @tamerofdarkstars

Jon is probably fine, just hiding out somewhere while the whole murder thing blows over and that's... fine. Martin is fine with that explanation. Really. He's got plenty to distract himself - like listening through the entire What the Ghost episode library, for example. Or watching Georgie Barker's Instagram livestreams.

(Yea this was in the last rec list, but you don’t understand THE ADMIRAL GIVES CUDDLES)

Chamomile by Dribbledscribbles

Whatever the ex-tea was, if it really had ever been that last bag of chamomile Martin claimed he’d found tucked in the back of the cupboard, it was fast now.

Martin had tried catching it, chasing it, blocking its way with shoebox lids and plates and an upended footstool, but the thing was just too quick. Jon knew as well as Knew that he might have left off the attempts completely if not for the creature’s preferred game.

The game was, See How Many Times I Can Push Martin Towards Cardiac Arrest Before He Comes at Me with The Broom.

(Scottish Honeymoon Era. Adorable and weird. A vampire gets harassed.)

hey stranger by @ennuijpg

It’s a late night Tesco run, how eventful could it be? It’s not like Martin is going to run into his boss who’s wearing something absurdly different from usual and get the most acute form of whiplash possible from seeing him, right?

(Martin runs into Jon at the grocery store and has an existential crisis.)

roses roses, roses. by @judesstfrancis

Rose scented laundry detergent. Running into Jon in the breakroom. Running into Jon on his way back to his desk. Rose scented detergent. Running into Jon. Roses. Jon. Roses, roses, roses. 

(Canon enemies to friends to lovers au-ish. Martin POV. Very pining much sweet.)

go softly by doomcountry

And there is nothing else besides this. 

(More hurt/comfort than fluff. Scottish Honeymoon Era. Mild eye mutilation.)

Not Alone by @backofthebookshelf

After the coffin, Daisy and Jon are both fragile. They hold each other up. 

(Post-buried Jon&Daisy starter pack. Very hurt/comfort.)

trust my love by antlsepticeye

“you… you’re real, aren’t you?” jon whispers, the fog slowly dissipating from his mind. “it is not a trick?”

“i’m here,” martin says softly, reaching up to grab jon’s hand that was resting on his cheek, intertwining his fingers with jon’s and squeezing. he moves jon’s hand to martin’s chest, resting it over his heart. “you’re alright. i’m alright. take your time, love. let’s just take some deep breaths, okay?”

(TOUCHSTARVED JON HAS ENTERED THE CHAT.)

reaching out by Athina_Blaine

By the time things settled, when Martin had finally managed to crack through his cold shell, feel some of his old self returning to him in bits and pieces, they had found their little routine.

One that had the two of them sleeping in the same bed, making breakfast, going to the mart. Where Jon reached for his wrist while they slept, and Martin luxuriated in the gentle warmth of his fingers.  

But not one where Martin reached back. One that had Martin kissing Jon awake or taking his hand over the breakfast table, because ... Martin never had the courage to try. And then it never became a part of the routine.

And Martin desperately wanted it to be.

-

Martin and Jon have an important conversation.

(More Scottish Honeymoon Era for the soul. Hurt/comfort/fluff.)

Belabor by @janekfan​

Jon's given the position of Archivist and is falling apart at the seams. Tim and Sasha are upset and playing games. Elias is overbearing and manipulative.

And poor Martin is stuck cleaning up the mess.

(THEE first fic I ever read for tma. Season 1, hurt/comfort/fluff, and hints of Jmartin. janekfan is the absolute master of seasons 1-3 hurt/comfort. This is my favorite, but pls check out the rest of their fics.)

tea, blankets, and a damnable stubborn attitude by ivelostmyspectacles

“Are you really gonna stay here and pester Jon all evening?”

“I’m not pestering him,” Martin retorted, sounding vehement if not busy going through the cupboards. “I’m heating up soup.”

“Oh, you might as well make him another cup of tea while you’re at it.”

“Oh, good idea.”

Jon shot Tim a withering look.

(The one where Jon is ill, Martin makes tea and they watch doctor who together. Fluff 1000%.)

A Kind Hand by @voiceless-terror

Jonathan Sims was adjusting just fine, thank you very much.

In which a minor workplace spill causes Jon to realize that he might have friends.

(Ah yes, the other master of seasons 1-3 fic aka voiceless-terror being my other fav author in the fandom. This one is also season 1 hurt/comfort/fluff.)

A Weather In The Flesh by @cuttoothed

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

*

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

(More touched starved Jon! Much hurt/comfort!)

Something Old, Something New by @cirrus-grey

Months have passed, and everyone is doing better than they were. Daisy and Basira are getting married, Melanie is feeling her old self, Georgie is as much herself as she has ever been, and even Jon has stabilized on his wild fall away from humanity. Everyone is doing better.

Well. Almost everyone.

(Daisy/Barsira wedding! Melanie is a bitch and we love her! Jmartin dance! Post-canon (almost) everyone lives!)

The Weight of Love by @voiceless-terror

Jon is a restless sleeper. Martin attempts to adjust. 

(The fic where Jon is literally me and Martin attempts to sleep for 1k words.)

The Art of Conversation by @voiceless-terror

"Do you ever stop talking?"

Jon has a complicated relationship with words. Difficulties come and go.

(Jon has adhd and Martin is in love.)

Novelty by @backofthebookshelf

Jon experiences A Sexual Attraction; Martin has A Concern. They figure it out.

(Any fic that explores the ace spectrum is a 10/10. We stan all ace interpretations of jon on this blog.)

Half a Hug by Dathen

I know you weren’t going to hurt me, I trust you, he said again and again. And then a different kind of fear shone through, hollow and echoing: “Please don’t stop touching me."

-

Or: Life is hard when you're touch-starved but have trauma related to your closest friend.  Spoilers through TMA 132.

(Honestly bless every author who saw jon&daisy and was like. They’re siblings. No I will not elaborate.)

the loneliness never left me (but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company) by Athina_Blaine

It was about Martin making Jon feel safe, treasured, and loved. And it had been so, so long since anyone made him feel that way.

And, in the face of it all, Jon was starting to flounder.

(At this point I just need to make separate rec list for Scottish Honeymoon Era.)

you can watch me corrode by scarletfish

"So, how long have you been pulling this shit then?"

"I… excuse me?" Jon’s indignant, certain she can’t mean what he thinks she means.

"When was the last time you ate?"

(Georgie decides Jon and Melanie need a normal day off. Jon learns that he and Melanie have more in common than he thought.)

(Look, Melanie isn’t my favorite person in tma, but she and Jon are like THE SAME PERSON and I adore fics that elaborate on their relationship.)

Out of the Wind, In From the Cold by @ostentenacity

There are two bedrooms in the safehouse, and two beds.

For a moment, Jon considers asking to share, but decides against it with a wince. “I really loved you,” Martin had told him. Loved. Past tense. And Martin doesn’t exactly have a lot of choices right now in terms of company; it would be cruel to demand he play at feelings he no longer has just to make Jon happy.

(For a moment, Martin considers asking to share. But he dismisses the idea with a shake of his head. Jon has already done so much for him. Martin isn’t about to ask for more, especially not when it’s something he doesn’t really need. He has his right mind back, and he has Jon’s friendship. That should be enough for him. It’ll have to be.)

---

Jon thinks that Martin doesn’t love him. Martin thinks that Jon doesn’t love him. They do not, of course, discuss this. Unrequited love is already awkward enough, right? No need to dwell on it.

(THEE SCOTTISH HONEYMOON ERA FIC. IT’S ABOUT THE PINING, BEING MUTUALLY OBLIVIOUS AND FALLING IN LOVE. 10000/10.) 

I Do by @voiceless-terror

“I, um- this was supposed to be a lot more romantic, I swear.” Martin looks down at the dirty bar floor. “I had it all planned out, I-I was going to take you somewhere nice, and then we’d go for a walk in the square- I’ll still do it!” He hurries to explain, as if that’s the most pressing part of this situation. “It’ll be really nice, I’ve already hired a photographer-”

In a fit of protectiveness, Martin proposes to Jon.

(Everyone lives, Martin accidentally proposes and Jon is crying in public.) 

________

[smolcobie]

Hyunjae | Butterfly Effect

↪ Summary: After a dangerous fire, Hyunjae is unable to hide his feelings for you.

Word Count: 3,5k

Warnings: Suggestive | Fire | Friends To Lovers | Heavy Making Out

Genre: Hyunjae x Reader | HYUNJAE FIREFIGHTER AU | Female Reader

Dedicated to my fav deobi friend @santacruz-sand​ <3

Human beings are known for their daily mistakes. We used to say that every day we make a mistake, some don't make that much difference, others can change the course of your life, better known as the butterfly effect. Each action has its reaction, gradually shaping the path you will take in life.

Some say that this is fate, that no matter how much you try to escape, it will happen. Others prefer to believe that you create your own destiny. I didn't believe in any of these theories, in fact, I always preferred to think that it is easier to do your best every day than to be disappointed by the path you took because you thought that this was your destiny after all.

The greatest example that my theory was real, was seeing how my best friend lived. Every single day he left early, before the sun came up, and came back when it was night. Being a firefighter required perfection in his form, discipline, punctuality, courage to face his fears, and a lot of willingness to risk his own life for the benefit of society.

I watched him cautiously, analyzing his ways and manners. The way he slammed the gate hard to make sure it was locked, or how he sighed and gave a silly smile when he managed to do something he liked, but what I liked most was the way he struggled every day to cheer people's lives.

- ▪︎ -

"[NAME], do your best every day and no one will have the courage to speak ill of the way you live." He said with his red cheeks and heavy eyes from the soju he drank.

"What are you talking about? I live very well, you're the one who lives next to my house and keeps risking your life." I laughed, fixing up his fringe that was messy "You're already starting to get drunk, let's go home." I got up pulling on his shirt and he made a weeping face.

"[NAME], why are you so mean to me?" He said slyly and I lifted him up with all my strength hugging him around the waist "Hyunjae, come on, you need to rest." He sighed and started walking making a pout on his lips.

"Stop pouting, you know you need to rest. You work a lot and when you take a break you want to drink soju and philosophize about life with me." I commented while walking down the dark street.

"But you are my best friend, you have to listen to me." I laughed at his comment "If you paid me I could even quit my job, after all, listening to you is all I do." "That's why I love you." He chuckled and put his head on my shoulder as I opened the door to his house, after entering the password.

"I love you too, so go to sleep." I tossed him on the bed and he smiled happily hugging his soft pillow.

- ▪︎ -

It was almost always like this. Hyunjae coming to my house to vent about life, I laugh while making some cards to post on my Instagram and the company. Being a calligraphy artist was a happy part of my life, being able to decorate bookstores, houses, gifts was something that gave me the strength to live.

Hyunjae was such an essential part of my life, that I only realized when our mutual friend asked why we lived so close to each other. My first thought was to think that it would be easier to go out, have fun and talk. My second thought was that I was completely in love with him, and I didn't want to admit it.

It was complicated, an old love that I knew had no way out, but nothing was going to change because I couldn't find any nice guys. I lived with Hyunjae and I had already accepted my condition. Romance went from something I dreamed of as a teenager, to something I value as an adult, but not as much as my sanity.

It was easier to live with Hyunjae than having to go on blind dates with bizarre guys that our friend Sunwoo arranged (probably from the deep web). And I keep ignoring my feelings, being inspired by its way of life.

That day was more beautiful than usual. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was clear and blue, the traffic seemed calm and the weather was perfect for an outdoor meeting, perhaps a date in the park. The subway was surprisingly empty, although it was very early, and I was completely rested.

It seemed like the perfect working day. I had made many cards at the company, sent some orders by mail, and placed new orders for a major literature event that would take place at the company. Lunch was great and our boss was in a good mood telling stories from when she was in college.

The day had gone well, my colleagues finished their jobs earlier than expected so we were able to go out early and eat fried chicken in a new restaurant near the company. I returned home happy and completely shocked at how perfect my day had been.

I got home and changed my shoes. I took a relaxing bath while listening to the news of the day through my radio hanging from the bathroom sink.

"URGENT NEWS! THERE IS A FIRE IN A BUSINESS BUILDING LOCATED IN THE GANGNAM REGION, MANY ARE THREATENING TO JUMP THROUGH THE WINDOWS. SOURCES CONFIRM THAT THE FIRE STARTED BY THE BAD WIRING THAT HAS NOT BEEN CORRECTLY REPLACED. THE FIREFIGHTERS HAVE JUST ARRIVED AND ARE PREPARING TO RELEASE THE PLACE AND REMOVE SURVIVORS. ”

I immediately turned off the shower, drying myself quickly, putting on any clothes, and going to the living room to turn on the TV and see the news.

All the channels were talking about the fire. It even seemed ironic, as I had a great day, and now a building near my company was on fire, and I had to see desperate people on the TV screen.

My heart stopped and my eyes lit up when I recognized Hyunjae running away with a long sheet and other men helping him from afar. This was apparently what he was supposed to do, try to stay calm and help people in a tragedy that could cost their lives.

“FIREFIGHTERS MOBILIZED QUICKLY AND SURVIVORS ARE GETTING TO THE GROUND SAFELY. THE FIRE HAS BEEN CONTROLLED AND WE HAVE NO NEWS FROM ANY VICTIMS IN SERIOUS STATE UNTIL THE MOMENT-” The woman turned and the cameraman filmed Hyunjae leaving the scene with a woman unconscious in his arms “THIS YOUNG BRAVE MAN REMOVED THE LAST VICTIM FROM THE LOCATION. AMBULANCE HAS ARRIVED AND WILL TREAT EVERYONE IMMEDIATELY. ”

I closed my fists tightly, my mouth dried and my heart sped up. Hyunjae had entered that burning building, risking his life, to save another one.

The fire subsided until it was extinguished. Reporters were still talking about how the police were already investigating everything and how fortunately no lives were lost and the victims had only minor injuries. I sighed with relief and sent a message to Hyunjae, congratulating him, but mostly asking how he was doing.

Me:

[Are you okay? I just saw it all on TV, I'm so worried!]

[I am proud of you, you were amazing.]

[I hope you're all right, send a message when you see this.]

Received.

I sighed and laid down on my bed covering my eyes trying to remember that he was fine.

"Nothing happened."

"Hyunjae is fine. No need to worry."

I was trying to convince myself that he was fine, alive, and doing his job, but my heart couldn't calm down. I decided to take a light tranquilizer and lie down again.

Maybe he would answer me in the morning, I would wait patiently and everything would be fine.

I turned on some drama on TV while I was busy watching cute animals on Youtube to pass the time. After a few hours and having a quick nap, I was surprised by the ringing of my cell phone and saw that it was Hyunjae.

I got up and answered quickly.

“Hyunjae ?! Are you okay? Where are you?" I hurried over and felt him give a tired laugh on the other end of the phone.

“I'm outside your house, please open it for me. It's a little cold here. ” He made a little joke like he always does, maybe, trying to calm my worried mood.

"Okay, I'll be right back." I hung up the phone and ran out to the door.

I opened the door feeling my heart racing, my joints tingling from suddenly getting up and automatically everything calmed down when I saw his face.

He had his bangs glued to his forehead, his face was dirty with some ash. He still had his work uniform on and was holding some bandages probably bought from the pharmacy near our homes.

"I came for you to heal me." He gave a sarcastic smile as I felt relief wash over my entire body.

"Come on, staying in this serene is bad." I pulled him inside, locking the door and putting his usual shoe in the doorway.

"Unfortunately I bought anything I saw at the pharmacy, so I hope you help me, I'm deadly tired." He started talking quietly trying to hide how he was shaken by that night.

"Hyunjae... are you okay?" I asked seeing him sitting on a chair in the kitchen taking off his uniform, leaving only the standard white blouse and pants.

"Yeah." He said dryly biting his lip and looking away. The habit he made when he lied.

"Stop lying to me." I walked towards him crossing my arms “If you were really well, you would have gone home, answered on your cell phone, and slept in peace."

He sighed and looked at me with a look that made my whole body tremble. He looked scared, anxious, but mostly nervous about something.

"What is it?" I touched his cheek and he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into my hand.

"I almost lost my mind today." He stood up scratching the back of his neck with a choked voice as if he were about to cry.

"What do you mean?" He looked at me so sincerely that I felt my heart soften.

"We were on the traffic patrol when we heard the call." He laughed, but it was sad. "When they said the address, and I realized it was on the same street as your job, I despaired."

My eyes flew open and he sat on the edge of the couch burying his fingers in his dirty, messy hair.

“I thought you could be there and I lost it. When I got there, all I could think about was you.” I approached and realized that in fact, his eyes were watery "I know I should be concerned with other people, but I could only think ‘What if it is her building? What if she is there? What if she is in danger? What if I can't save her?’ And I went into eternal despair.”

I felt my heart racing so fast it could come out of my mouth.

"I-I didn't care if other people were hurt, as long as you were fine..." He looked at me and I felt a huge urge to hold his face "And it scares me. The way I was afraid of losing you and I couldn't think rationally, on the professional side.”

I sat next to him listening to everything he had to say.

"Hyunjae, anyone would feel the same way, you don't have to feel guilty about it." I wiped away his tears and held his cheeks in the palm of my hands "I would have done the same, thinking about you all the time."

He gave a smile sniffing before holding my hands.

"But it's different this time." He said before looking into my eyes with an invisible force that made me nervous "I thought nothing would make sense if I didn't have you by my side."

I took a deep breath trying to follow his argument.

"I don't want to lose you." He whispered as if it were a forbidden confession "You are the most important person in the whole world to me." He touched my cheek with the palm of his hand "You know that, don't you?" He swallowed hard, leaning his forehead against mine.

I took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.

"I know Hyunjae, you are also the most special person for me." I said seeing how he had relaxed a little more "Now get up, you need to take a shower and put bandages on these cuts."

I stood up first, but I felt his hand close to my fist. He was taller than me, not so much, but his body was so strong that it made me feel small around him.

"What? Come on, you're very tired. ” I took the lead before I felt him pulling me again.

"[NAME]." He said hoarsely as I studied his face curiously.

Hyunjae was too different that night.

“What is it Hyunjae? Your face is dirty, you need to take a shower. ” I touched my hips trying to understand what he wanted.

Hyunjae approached pulling my wrist towards him before giving a kiss there.

"Come with me." He said making me petrified on the spot.

"W-WHAT?!" I asked nervously as I felt my heart pound so loudly that I was afraid he might hear "I-That's not funny, Hyunjae."

He released my fist and pulled me by the hip, staring deep into my eyes.

"I'm not kidding." I felt a shiver down my back when he admitted it wasn't a joke or a friend flirt "I got tired of pretending I don't feel anything for you."

I couldn't say anything, I was too shocked to reply.

“[NAME], you are the most important person to me and I don't want to live any longer having to treat you just like a best friend.” He touched my chin and raised my gaze to his “Please, be honest with me. Am I just a best friend to you? ”

I felt his gaze enter my soul and I knew I had no way to lie anymore, this was the only chance I would have to admit what I feel.

"No." I swallowed and stared at his mouth, which formed a small smile of satisfaction.

It was amazing the effect that Hyunjae had on me. Even if I wanted to run away, I wouldn't be able to lie because it was already obvious from the way I act.

"Great." I felt my stomach churn when I felt his left hand hold me tighter as his right landed on my cheek, making his thumb touch my chin, caressing it. "I hope you don't mind this."

"Mind wha—" I could barely finish the question and I felt his lips on mine.

I pulled away unintentionally from the shock and looked into his eyes that seemed to be staring at me with an indescribable fire. I swallowed and felt my heart racing as he just smirked sideways, as if he knew what I was thinking.

He approached me slowly, touching our noses and I closed my eyes feeling his breath warm my face. I felt my face heat up and my palms sweat when his lips brushed against mine again. I held on to his white blouse with the rest of my strength and waited for Hyunjae to close the distance that bothered me so much.

I felt his hand move and his fingers pulled my chin down, opening my mouth that was closed by shock. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding and felt him laugh through his nose before wetting my bottom lip with his tongue lightly, kissing me gently.

I lifted my hands to his hair where I pulled slightly, feeling my back against the bathroom door. Hyunjae took a quick breath, trying desperately to open the bathroom door, trying not to break the kiss.

I opened my eyes after Hyunjae got rid of me, feeling my heart stop at the sight of him focused on trying to open the bathroom door. His face was flushed, but his ears seemed to burn at how red they were. His dark eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was pink and inviting.

"Aish." Hyunjae said finally opening the bathroom making me smile slightly.

I held on to his blouse when I almost tripped over my own rug and Hyunjae grabbed my waist with his arm. He gave me a shy smile before leaning his body against mine, making me even more nervous.

His fingers played with the old buttons on my wool blouse. I held his neck intoxicating myself by his smell invading my senses. I felt a shiver down my spine when his fingers touched my skin gently, as if it were the most expensive porcelain that should be handled with care.

Hyunjae started the shower making me more and more nervous. He pushed me with some force making my back touch the tile on the cold wall of the bathroom. I felt his wet abdomen touching mine and tried to take his shirt off awkwardly making him laugh with amusement.

I looked into his eyes feeling my cheeks flush hard as I held his necklace in my hand. I smirked when I realized it was the gift I had given them for his last birthday. It was a sun necklace that was completed with another necklace, which was mine and was shaped like a moon.

I used to say that he was the sun that lit up my life and that reflected in me. I didn't expect him to wear it every day, because he is so critical of his clothes and his style, so I was surprised when I saw the jewel on his soft, wide collarbone.

"I-I like that necklace." He justified himself by making me smile as I felt my hair gradually get wet from the shower water.

I caressed his cheeks, removing all the dust and ashes from his face. He closed his eyes as I carefully wiped his face by raising my hands to his hair. My stomach churned when I kissed the corner of his jaw and he let out a long breath squeezing my waist.

"I like you." I confessed by kissing his neck, stroking his hair "Really."

"N-Noona." He said slyly in my ear making me smile. He only called me Noona when he was embarrassed "Don't do this to me."

"What?" I asked, acting like I didn't get his thoughts while looking at his beautiful body in front of me. I moved my hands down his chest feeling my whole body softening and looked him in the eyes hoping he understood the message I wanted to convey.

"You know." He responded by pinning me to the wall as he fiddled with the buttons on his pants, leaning his forehead against mine, chuckling through his nose.

I hugged him feeling slightly embarrassed when I felt him take off my bra and toss it on any floor in the bathroom. I closed my eyes tightly as I felt his lips kiss my neck slowly and lovingly.

"[NAME] ..." He sighed and kissed my collarbone "I-I know you like romantic guys, but the last thing I want to do now is to be patient and romantic with you."

I felt my whole body tremble and my thoughts were confused.

"I-Is this okay with you?" He asked suspiciously and I nodded, unable to speak, "Are you sure?"

I just answered him by kissing him again. He returned it immediately, deepening the kiss, holding me in his strong arms.

So, I closed my eyes and just let all those feelings accumulated from so long being satisfied without thinking about anything else.

- ▪︎ -

The truth was that love could come from anywhere, from a friendship for years, from a complete stranger, from a colleague at work or college. There are no limits to define where love should be born.

For Hyunjae and you, it was born out of years of extreme care. An affection that could not be limited by friendship, and by the undeniable attraction you felt for each other. There are people who spend years like this without the courage to declare themselves.

At that moment, a questioning is born within you. What if you hadn't declared yourself that night? What if you had run away? Hyunjae would probably walk away and leave your house feeling his heart broken. You weren't going to have the happy ending you wanted, and you could probably lose a precious friendship.

Ultimately, the butterfly effect has been proven and you should admit that your best 'mistake' was to have overcome your fear and admitted your senses. His best 'mistake' was sleeping with his best friend.

The question that remains is: Was that your destiny, or just the butterfly effect?

Ultimately, none of that mattered, because you both loved each other deeply.

▪︎

▪︎

MASTERLIST

[blue-pastel-cat]

Xiaobedo Fanfic Recommendation

Welcome to my personal “if you are new to xiaobedo peeps please read these” list. As said before this is my personal list so please feel free to reblog/comment/hit me for not including any gem here. I might miss a lot of them because I am drunk or blind. (mostly have them on my to read and then forgot as I am being assault by real life shit).

I would like to say first that so far there are 150+ Xiaobedo fics on Ao3. I can’t review all of them but I can say that I have read a majority of them. Most of them are just pure love and I would like nothing more than a thousands thank you for all the fic writers who spent their free time writting these gems for us to read for free. But these...these takes the cake as it finds a special landing spot in my heart that I would just thrust them into someone’s hand if they say “I am new to this ship can you recommend me?”

1. Orange dust by bobamilkteas (Wes)

In which Xiao learns to open himself up to the world a little more after the collapse of Rex lapis's contracts but it was not always easy for a soul doomed to eternal damnation. Meanwhile, Albedo liked to tempt fate where the extraordinary are concerned.

If only the traveler's comrades are made of saner bunch.

Comment: Long ago when I like both Albedo and Xiao as a character, I was wondering hmmm....will anyone actually even write about them lmao they never met each other. I am surprise to see this one as the 3rd fic in the whole 3 Xiaobedo fic on Ao3 (yeah back when there’s literally only 3 fic for this couple). I was like I’ll read it for the curiosity, I’ll probably won’t ship them. And that people is how I put my clown make up on my face upon finishing reading it. This ONE fic alone convert me into a devotee of Xiaobedo. Please consider joining me in this circus if you want to know what is Xiaobedo. I would put this as the first of my “Big 3″

Orange Dust also come with its compliation of short stories over the course of the game and a big sequel to it. Please also consider reading ALL OF THEM.

2. Solar Wind by birdpriestess (Sparrow)

For the yaksha, his duty was his life, and his life was his duty. No human could ever hope to understand the eternal war he fought out of sight and in silence.

So why, then, did he feel that Albedo would understand?

---

Finding himself at death's door once more, Xiao is saved by a surprising person, setting off the unlikeliest of adventures.

Comment: Do you like crying? Do you like the feeling of getting your heart ripped into pieces as the author destroy your emotions over the end of each chapter as the story picked up the climax? Yeah, this one is for you masochists. The action, the characterisation, the drama THE EMOTIONS OH WOW. I kid you not that it was so good I read this while workinng when I am not suppose to me. Also, this fic has my favourite characterisation of Gold ever. I love that dramatic queen Mad Alchemist. AND DAIN. I LOVE DAIN IN THIS FIC. Our dearest Sparrow manage to toy with our feelings like how I bully ruin guard for big numbers lmao. This is the secound of “Big 3″ of my Xiaobedo list.

Again, just like Orange Dust, Solar Wind comes with its own compliation of short stories of what came after that. Please also consider reading ALL OF THEM.

3. Castle of Glass by AlchemicalStardust (Morgie) 

A black shadow rises over Huaguang Stone Forest. Caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, Albedo flees the shaking ground and the crash of boulders tumbling form the sky. As the dust settles, Albedo finds a young man – an Adeptus – amidst the carnage. Despite the karmic agony ripping his body from the inside, Xiao’s only question is “How?” How did a human survive after witnessing his battle?

Comment: The last of the “Big 3″ of my Xiaobedo list. And it is still on going! Castle of Glass? More like I AM IN A GLASS CASE OF EMOTIONS! Have you read a fic about 2 people yearning, longing, reaching out for each other so damn well that you just want to throw your phone in the air as they both had their impending doom coming down upon them? Yeah this is one of them. You will like want to be stuck in the moment they express how much they just yearn for each other’s love and care that you want to shake the author for what comes next. Like...everytime Morgie update I am expressing my gratitude at the end of the chapter by writing on Xiaobedo discord “MORGIE COME HERE AND LET ME BONK YOU WHY ARE YOU ENDING IT THERE”

trust me when you read you will def feel the same. With just Big 3 and their compliation alone that would give you like a LONG list of reading already LMAOOOOOOO

4. Find a place to call it home  by yamajiroo 

Our room, he said. Xiao’s brow twitches. Zhongli never said anything about this. But then again, perhaps he should anticipate this from the beginning...

Xiao looks over at Albedo, who is now tilting his head, his look as innocent as ever.

“Are you not okay with sharing a room?”

Comment: College AU for Xiaobedo! One thing that I love this is the slow burn and what made me LOVE LOVE LOVE this fic more is how cute Klee is in this fic. Their relationship in this one is very simple, but that simplicity highlight why their chemistry work. Xiao is someone who was just very gentle, who was largely misunderstood by his lonesome nature. Albedo was someone who like peace and quite in his introvert bubble. And how they respect that bubble that each other has actually made their relationship work. I love it when fic highlight this and this one captures it.

5. I Can't See Your Face From the Other Side of the Classroom by MissWeaver  

When Albedo and Xiao unexpectedly start eating lunch together, they begin to find that they have more in common than anyone would have realized. They both struggle in their own ways with blossoming feelings, too many assignments, and annoying classmates as they navigate a relationship for the first time.

Comment: I’ll be honest, I usually hate high school au just because its so cliche. I don’t even watch and drama/anime surrounds high school student anymore LMAOOO (unless it’s very good). So if there’s an high school AU that I actually keep come back and read after a couple of chapters, it means that the cliche that I hate wasn’t there or barely was there at all. The pinning in this fic makes me want to bang their head together sometimes LMAOOO The tag wasn’t kidding when they said both Xiao and Albedo are bad at feelings. Also that’s a lot of heart broken caused by these two idiots XD

6. new world, same me, same bullshit  by  bobamilkteas (Wes)

At the belly of Dragonspine, Albedo lost control to the festering corruption that permeated his senses and watched, from the recesses of his mind, as his devoured body turned his allies into enemies. Before his rampage reached its climax, he is sealed in a crystalized confinement by the last hand of Reindottir, where he then reawakens centuries after, in a rebooted Teyvat.

Comment: Yeah I know it was list in Orange Dust but here me out. This sets out in an entirely different universe. And if you like Polyamory, this one has Zhongli joining the duo and I love it because I also love ZhongXiao with my life. Time Travel is my biggest kink. Especially when I am the person who love it when people explore Archon War era/ Alatus!Xiao. So this one hits double of my kink. Of course it is still on going and I will bully Wes whenever I can to see that new chapter. Albedo is a total fucking badass in this story and I completely agree from using him in Abyss so often. Everyone should write badass Albedo.

7. misplaced heart of mine by  inkburn           

“If you are ill, then you should be resting at home. In Mondstadt.” He emphasized Mondstadt with a pointed look in his direction.

“I assure you I won’t be troublesome, Adeptus Xiao,” Albedo said, “You’ll find I’m a rather low-maintenance traveler.”

“Travel,” Xiao scoffed, “without airstep?”

Albedo looked him up and down. “Are your legs just for decoration?”

(albedo is sent to liyue on mandatory vacation. xiao is his unfortunate bodyguard.)

Comment: Most of the time you will see Albedo and Xiao starting their relationship with one of them taking interest in another. But this one took another approach, they starting off by make them hating each other’s guts LMAOOOO and I live for every second of it. There’s only 1 chapter so far but wow it was SOOO GOOD. I am really really excited for next chapter and is waiting patiently ;w;

8.  Blossom of Grace  by birdpriestess  

One day in Liyue Harbor, Albedo watches a street performance by an enigmatic dancer named Xiao. And he becomes completely obsessed.

Comment: Have you ever look at Xiao fight and thinking that he’s one of the most beautiful deadly thing ever? How it was like he was dancing around the battlefield? How about actual dancer Xiao being so absolutely beautiful and perfect and that slow burn of Albedo falling in love with that beauty with a touch of Modern AU and cute Ganyu as the Wing woman. Yes, Sparrow delivers yet again another beautiful slow burn and while it’s still ongoing it is worth the read.

9. i think we could make this work (could get used to this) by outspaced               

“Xiao? What are you doing out here?”

“I—”

“It’s raining,” Albedo says, as if it isn’t obvious. “You could get struck by lightning.”

“What are you doing out here then?” Xiao does the only thing he knows how to do, he challenges Albedo. “It’s raining.”

Albedo just hums. “If I get struck by lightning, it’s for science.”

Comment: A short one-shot where I read the summary and went “This is it... this is their relationship.” I am sold immediately. Oh god Albedo why are you like this.

10. Ephemeral by criedprinz        

“It’s not for your investigation, is it?” Aether asked mildly.

Albedo traced a finger around the sketchbook, considering the question. “No,” he admitted finally. “I... I just want to see them again.”

He opened the sketchbook to reveal the drawing he’d just finished. Aether nodded, clearly recognizing the sharp golden eyes.

“Xiao,” he said. “You were rescued by an adeptus.”

When a visit to Dragonspine goes horribly wrong, Albedo is rescued by an unknown stranger, wielding powers he's never heard of. Led on a search to find out who it is, he finds himself in the middle of an unforgettable encounter..

Comment: A really really well written one-shot that I love. The yearning oh godddd the yearning from Albedo side is just so so much that I have to put it here. (I think you can see the trend here lmao. I am a sucker for yearning). And the moment they get to meet each other again is just chef kiss. MWHAA

11. Idle Yaksha, Brilliant Yaksha by Pit0fTheEarth

Alatus didn’t have a lot of responsibilities to keep. He spent most of his days dancing across the sky and eating away all nightmares that plagued a person’s sleep.

But one fortunate encounter led to too many unfortunate ones, taking his carefree existence and plunging it in darkness. His wings, stripped from him. His gentle touch, replaced by an unforgiving grip of destruction.

There was a lot of blood on his hands. With each passing moment, it became harder for Alatus to recall the last time someone gently held him.

Comment: This is one of the ongoing fic where I am very very much excited on the take of Naberius. And the way the author portray Xiao when he’s still the innocent Alatus is just *clench fist*. Baby ;w; Baby why do you have to lose all that innocence. Also the fic has long LONG flashback to Xiao past and his relationship with Naberius. We are unwielding more what happened to both of them and why perhaps does this have to do with Albedo.

That’s it for now, might add more later! Thank you <3

[pokemoncreepypasta]

Forever Mine

[STORY SOURCE]

I live in one of those small towns with a big community. It feels like everyone knows each other, and parents would visit their friends and leave their kids to mess around with each other. Classes in school weren’t very large.

So when there’s news about a kid dying, it travels at god-speed. 

Everyone at school kept talking about the death of this girl who was probably a year behind me.

I didn’t know her personally. I wouldn’t have even been able to tell you her name if everyone wasn’t talking about her.

I didn’t want to pick up gossip about how she died. I decided to attend her funeral myself. Not because we were friends or anything, but I did want to show my respect for this girl and her family.

The local funeral home was within biking range of my house, so I set off.

I sat awkwardly as I noticed her parents. I’m not usually very good at picking up feelings from people, but I could tell that beyond their grief was disappointment and maybe even hostility.

They made me wonder what she was thinking about before she died.

After she was buried, I hung around the cemetery. I’d wished I brought flowers with me, but decided I’d give her some the next time I stopped by.

Around this time, I had been aiming to get a Sky Forme Shaymin, since it was one of my favorite Pokémon back then.

I had caught a wild Shaymin using the "Pokémon Modifier" cheat code. I was terrible at coming up with creative names. But then, I remembered the name of the girl and thought it would suit a Shaymin rather well.

“Skye.”

Little did I know that this would invite strange things to start happening to my game.

I wanted to keep this Shaymin in its Sky Forme whenever possible, so I planned on keeping it in my team 24/7, only playing during daytime, etc. I was a dirty cheater who liked putting illegal moves on my Pokémon, so I taught Skye to use Fly.

At the time, I didn’t know you needed to catch the Shaymin in Flower Paradise to receive the Gracidea Flower, so when I talked to the blonde girl NPC in Floaroma Town, I had no idea why she wouldn’t give it to me.

So I was stuck with a Shaymin that knew Fly. It was weird, and I never really grew all that attached to it. Eventually I boxed it, forgot I had it, and released it without thinking.

The next time I booted up the game, I got this message.

“The save file is corrupted. The previous save file will be loaded.”

My first instinct was panic. I didn’t have any time to think or process the initial message, because all my hours were gone. With nervous anticipation, I started up the save file to see what the damage was.

To my surprise, I found myself on an incomplete Seabreak Path. The south path to Route 224 was cut off, with a featureless Shaymin staring vacantly over the edge.

I checked my party, and found none of my team members.

Only a level 100 Dusknoir with the move Follow Me.

Very useful, I thought. I’d have to boot up my Action Replay to teach this thing Fly in order to get off the island later.

Checking my items, I noticed everything was gone, save for a single PokéBall and an Escape Rope. Neither of which seemed particularly helpful for getting me off this island.

Out of curiosity though, I decided to see if Shaymin would be at Flower Paradise. I started my trek north, lamenting the loss of my bike.

To my surprise, Shaymin was there, despite never having Oak’s Letter or triggering the cutscene with it. Its face was obstructed by flowers, but it seemed like its pink flowers were missing just like the one I saw before.

I spoke to the Shaymin, and a message appeared.

“I remember you.”

“But… You don’t remember me, do you?”

The wild Shaymin attacked, and my heart stopped at its name.

“Skye appeared!”

Featureless, like before.

I felt a knot in my stomach, not even caring about the game. Something was very clearly wrong with it, and I wanted to stop playing. But I decided I was already taking pictures of the weird stuff that was happening, and I wanted to document it in full.

Steeling my resolve, I went about my options.

Dusknoir only knew Follow Me, so it was useless to weaken the Shaymin.

Remembering the PokéBall I had, I tossed it at the Shaymin.

Most people would be ecstatic to catch a Shaymin with full HP in a PokéBall on their first try, but I got the feeling that the game was rigged. There wasn’t any triumphant music playing either, which didn’t help my feelings about it.

I tried checking my newly caught Shaymin, but my game froze upon checking my party.

Upon restarting the system and starting the game up, this message appeared.

“My heart is corrupted. Please save me.”

My save file was gone for real this time. The trainer’s name was “SINNER”.

I live in a pretty religious community, so reading this made me ill at ease.

Starting up the game again, I found myself in the Lost Tower, playing as a featureless Shaymin.

My only Pokémon was the same Shaymin, named SINNER, knowing Fly, Scary Face, Fake Tears, and Spite.

A text box appeared when I tried to leave the tower.

“Today’s the day.”

It pushed me back, preventing my exit. The only option I had was to ascend.

No random encounters happened, and all the trainers wouldn’t interact with me.

It went this way until I went to the top floor. I’m pretty sure there isn’t supposed to be a man and woman NPC standing in this spot.

"There’s nothing left to say.”

Interacting with them just prompted this text.

It was here that I noticed a staircase that wasn’t supposed to be there.

I found myself on the top of the tower. I stepped into a scripted event, and the Shaymin faced the edge without my prompt.

"It's a long way down... Are you ready?"

Hoping for some way out of this, I wanted to say “no”, so I could cheat my way out of the tower and get my game back to normal. However, upon selecting it, this text appeared.

"You've held back for long enough. It's time to go."

“SINNER used the Escape Rope.”

A battle started against the same Dusknoir as before. I was intimidated to go against a level 100 Dusknoir, but then I remembered its only move was Follow Me, so it was harmless.

I realized that if I let SINNER faint, I could go to the last Pokémon Center and escape the tower.

I used Spite, thinking that if I reduced Follow Me’s PP, the Dusknoir would use Struggle and OHKO my Shaymin.

“The wild DUSKNOIR used Follow Me!”

“SINNER used Spite!”

“But there was no target...”

Dang it.

Deciding to experiment, I came to the conclusion that there was no harm in screwing around with SINNER’s attacks until DUSKNOIR ran out of PP. I chose Fly.

“The wild DUSKNOIR used Follow Me!”

“SINNER used Fly!”

“The wild DUSKNOIR used Follow Me!”

“SINNER kept going and crashed!”

Not the KO I was expecting, but I took it nonetheless.

The game, of course, crashed as soon as my Shaymin’s cry played, leaving nothing but pleasantly ear-grating screeching sounds.

I decided to take a break from playing for a moment to process what I just witnessed. I had a lot to digest.

The only conclusion I came to was that ghosts are real and this was the same Skye as the girl who died. Which would sound insane if I didn’t have the pictures to prove it.

I choked back tears. I was afraid. Why did Skye want me to see this?

I wanted to put the game down and be done with it. But if she had a message to give me, then I felt like I had to see it through to the end.

I guess I vainly hoped she’d pass on and find peace if I listened to what she was trying to say.

Another message when I started the game up again.

“I can’t fly. I tried to.”

I found myself at Spear Pillar. The staircase to the Hall of Origin was in front of me.

My exit was gone, so I just went straight to Arceus.

A level 100 Arceus stood before me.  

Instead of sending out my Shaymin, it stayed in the field. It was now bleeding. Its status said it was fainted, but it was still able to battle somehow.

I felt cornered. There was no way a level 14 Shaymin could take on something like this. I tried to use Fly, hoping it would give me the same result as before.

“Can’t use that here.”

It wouldn’t let me use the move. Instead, I just outright try to flee.

“Can’t escape!”

“ARCEUS used Judgment!”

I braced for impact...

“The wild ARCEUS’s attack missed!”

...But was pleasantly surprised to see it miss.

“I’m not ready yet.”

The game made me flee automatically.

The screen faded to black.

“I’m not ready. I’m not ready.”

“I’m scared.”

When the screen faded back to the overworld, I found myself in the Distortion World. The portal that takes you back to the main world was gone, so the only thing I could do was explore.

I found another Escape Rope while looking around.

It was the only thing noteworthy I could find, so I started trying to think of ways to get out of here.

I tried using Fly, since SINNER still knew it.

“There’s nowhere to fly to.”

Figures.

Trying to test my other options, I went to my bag and tried using the Escape Rope.

Of course, the “There’s a time and place for everything” message still appeared.

Deciding to mess around until I got results, I went to give the Escape Rope to SINNER.

“Don’t suppose you know what to do with this?” I muttered.

The game crashed again, and it assaulted my eardrums once more. I sharply inhaled, wondering if I touched a nerve.

I took a deep breath and started the game again.

My character’s name was now Skye.

I started in Floaroma Town. The first thing I did was rush to the Pokémon Center to check on my Pokémon in the PC. Of course, they were all gone.

I’d grieve for them later, though. Maybe Skye would be nice to me and give them back.

While I was in the center, I figured it might’ve been good to heal the faint status off of the Shaymin.

Sure it is. Glad you can tell when something is suffering, nurse.

Heading outside, I talked to the blonde NPC.

“You should always give flowers to someone who has passed away.”

“It’s rude not to.”

“You got the Gracidea!”

I was suddenly feeling very guilty for not leaving flowers before.

Wondering if I could fix the poor Shaymin in my party if I used the flower on her, I went to try it.

“It won’t have any effect.” 

Of course not.

The blonde NPC turned into my Shaymin. I spoke to her.

“That won’t help me.” 

Yeah, I thought not.

At a loss of ideas on what to do next, I absentmindedly made my way to Valley Windworks and walked around in the grass.

A wild Sky Forme Shaymin appeared.

I sent out Skye, of course.

I chose the fight option, and the battle continued without me selecting a move.

“The wild SHAYMIN used Reflect!”

“Skye’s rage is building!”

“Skye used Cut!”

“She hurt herself in her confusion!”

The Sky Form Shaymin was knocked out in one hit, despite the game telling me Skye had hurt herself.

Back on the overworld, I found the mangled parts of the Sky Forme Shaymin lying in the grass. I inspected them.

“Please put me back together.”

It gave me another prompt, and I chose yes.

The screen faded to black.

And then Skye appeared again in a black abyss, with Skymin ears and flower. My trainer was nowhere to be seen.

I checked my party to see that Skye had changed again. Her cry sounded like a distorted mix of Shaymin’s two forms.

I went back to the overworld and was unable to move. Instead, a dialogue box appeared.

“Can you hear me?”

"Thank you for caring about me.”

"I can fly now.”

“Because...”

“I love you.”

My heart skipped a beat. My hands began to shake.

“You must care about me too, right?”

“So... I’m going to stay with you.”

“I won’t leave, not without someone who loves me.”

“Will you fly away with me?”

My shaky hands went to say no. I didn’t want to be like her.

"...”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“I’ll change your mind.”

“You’re mine now.”

“You’re mine forever.”

With that last line, the game froze.

The first thing I did was take the game out of the system. I decided to drop off all my Pokémon games at the nearest GameStop. I didn’t want her talking to me anymore.

So why do I feel like she’s still here?

[ichorai]

cellmates ; five ; j.wy

pairing ; jung wooyoung x reader

summary ; stuck in jail after stealing a necklace off the princess, what happens when your new cellmate with an impossible escape plan comes along?

themes ; fantasy, angst, slowburn, action, adventure, medieval, pirates, magic, elves, mermaids, royalty

words ; 8.9k

warnings / includes ; character death, blood and grime and injury and everything in between, reader being tied/chained up :(, vulgar cursing, crying, rowdy pirates, "keep the love interests away from each other" trope <3, ✨pure confusion✨, me torturing my characters once again yikes, ateez cameos !!, cellmates to (future) lovers !!

a/n ; uhm. hi. first off, i apologize for taking so long with this series KWHJKSDFK and second, i am also so sorry for what you're about to read o.0 this one's a real angsty part folks :') i swear i swear it gets better don't be too upset :(( i love writing this series so much (it's prob my favorite original story) and im so excited to hear yalls thoughts :D

cellmates masterlist.

a map of this universe is included at the end of the chapter !!!

Cerulean beaches never quite looked like real beaches to you. The sand was as white as snow, the gentle lapping waters so bright they looked to be molten sapphires. It was all far too perfect to be naturally authentic. You were pleased to find that your boots left shallow imprints in the sand, disrupting the once pristine terrain.

Night was creeping upon you once again, and you were in desperate need for a good sleep. You were lucky that Yunho didn’t live very far off, also pleasantly surprised to find that you could even remember the way back (though admittedly, it took a considerable amount of backtracking).

The front of his little cottage was just as you remembered, albeit dark and somewhat dingy. None of the candles or oil lamps were lit and the curtains were drawn. The large expanse of his garden seemed somewhat unmaintained, weeds starting to sprout from between the wilting, once bright flowers.

You knocked against the door thrice, clasping your hands behind your back while you waited. How would Yunho react upon seeing you? What if he blamed you for losing Wooyoung? What if he didn’t believe you? What would you say then? Much like the first time you came to Yunho’s little cottage, tumultuous questions and irrational thoughts churned about in your mind.

It took a long while for you to realize that nobody had answered the door yet. You blinked, mystified, and raised a fist to rap on the wood again. You grew impatient rather quickly, knocks progressively becoming more frequent and hurried.

“Yunho?” You called out after about five minutes of waiting. By then, it was obvious that the man was either not home or avoiding you on purpose. And considering how friendly and sweet the pink-headed giant was the last you saw, you doubted it was the latter. “I’m coming in!”

The door opened in a fluid motion, knocking against the wall behind as you swung it open. You stepped inside tentatively, peering around with widened eyes. It was completely dark inside. So much so that it took you a few minutes for your eyes to properly adjust to the ill-lit hallway. Just as you had remembered, the small living room was to your left and quaint kitchen to your right, the winding staircase situated in the corner. The familiar scent of maple wood was still lingering in the air, although faint and almost imperceptible.

You shut the door behind you and toed off your boots, shuffling into the kitchen.

“Yunho?” Your voice eerily echoed in the empty cottage.

And so you made your way up the staircase, peering into the bedrooms. A heavy feeling gripped at your chest when you glanced into Yunho’s bedroom. That was where you and Wooyoung kissed… you could still remember the feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist, his warm breath on the back of your neck. You wondered what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped him. How far would the two of you have gone?

Shaking all thoughts of the past away, you bounded back down the stairs. There was no sign of Yunho at all. Just where could he be? You tried your best comforting yourself; perhaps he had gone out for a walk. Surely he’d be back soon.

Much to your dismay and gradually rising concern, Yunho didn’t show up at all. Not when the sun started to rise again, not when you passed out in sheer exhaustion on a kitchen stool (you couldn’t bring it in yourself to go back up to the bedrooms), and not even when you stirred back into consciousness, the late morning sun glaring at you harshly through the slivers between the curtains.

Your bones cracked and popped as you stood up and arched your back, rolling your stiff neck from side to side. From the pirate ship, you had brought little else than a knapsack full of gold you found in one of the cellars, food that could last you a couple days, water skins, and two sheathed daggers. Everything else on the ship was practically worthless, or too heavy to carry.

With a heavy sigh, you splashed water onto your face using the kitchen tap and patted your sleep-ruffled hair down. The skin around your wrists were still raw and stung when you rinsed away the crusted blood. You wished San had given you that coconut extract lotion; you couldn’t seem to find it anywhere on the ship. Guilt-stricken, you turned off the water and slung the knapsack over your good shoulder.

If Yunho was gone, then where else could you go? It seemed wrong to stay in his home without his knowing.

Air. You just needed air to clear up your mind.

Stepping outside felt like a mistake. Under the bright sunlight, you felt your head throb dully in agitation. The garden looked even more lamentable now than last night, the flowers drooping so far that their browning petals grazed the dry soil beneath. The air felt thick and heavy, and you huffed out several breaths to relax your tense muscles, shutting your eyes in the process.

“What are you doing?”

The voice was so sudden and unexpected, you couldn’t help but shriek, flinching back against the cottage door. You were met with an old man standing just shy of Yunho’s unkempt garden, his gaze confused and somewhat judgemental.

“W-What?” You muttered once regaining your scattered thoughts.

“I said,” the older man shot you an exasperated look. “What are you doing, waiting by that house? Nobody lives there.”

It felt as if cold water was dripping down your spine, and you crossed your arms over your chest, shivering slightly. “But… that can’t be true… Yunho lives here. He’s a, uhm, a baker, I think. This is his house.”

The old man regarded you like someone would look at a madman. There was something in his tone that told you that he wasn’t taking you seriously. “I’m sorry to say this, but nobody’s lived there for years and years. I’ve never heard of a baker named Yunho in this area.”

“No… but I was just here a few days ago with him…” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in thought. What was going on? Where could he have gone? What could’ve happened to him?

In your peripheral vision, you saw the old man hobble away, but not without stopping to glance back at you with narrowed eyes every few steps.

And then you remembered with a sharp intake of breath. You and Wooyoung were thrown into jail to fade away into nothing but legends… and now nobody believes you really exist… Wooyoung was thought to be dead by everybody… could the same be happening to his innocent, pink-haired friend? A dark, tar-slicked hand reached out into the confines of your chest and curled its slimy fingers around your palpitating heart in a steely grip.

They took Yunho. The realization had you slapping a palm to your mouth, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. It all made sense; the untended garden, the old man saying nobody’s lived here for years… it sickened you to think that the only reason you could remember him was because you weren’t in Cerulea when he ‘disappeared’.

“Oh, no. Oh, god, no!” You leaned against the door, overwhelmed. If they took Yunho, would they have Wooyoung, too? Did Wooyoung even come back to Cerulea? If he wasn’t here, then he’d be the only other person who remembered Yunho.

Just what the hell are you going to do now?

It felt wrong to stay in Yunho’s empty little cottage with your newfound realization. The pirate ship was the second best option, but even that was much too far for your trembling legs; you doubted you’d even make it to the beaches, much less get in a small boat to row back to the anchored ship. Besides, the memory of San jumping off the side was one that you weren’t very keen on reliving.

And so, that was how you found yourself in front of an inn, only two cobbled roads away. The heavy door whined as you gently nudged it open, shuffling inside. Your heart was thumping against your ribcage so loudly that you could barely hear anything else. For once, you were glad that your name had faded into legend. To them, you were probably just another nobody.

The inn held the thick aroma of cheap alcohol and spritzer perfume. You glanced around curiously, noting the few people poking away at their breakfast and chugging down their frothy ales.

What looked to be the owner of the establishment was standing behind a counter, looking bored. He caught your eyes, and despite your head telling you to turn around and walk back to the pirate ship, you found yourself shuffling forward.

“What can I do for you?” The innkeeper asked, eyeing your haggard appearance.

Feebly, you pulled out a handful of gold coins and dropped them onto the wood of the counter. “Can I just get a room for the night? Will this be enough?”

The man across from you stared at you incredulously, his gaze flickering from the gold to your wide eyes. “Where’d you get all this money from? You didn’t steal it, did you?”

You blinked twice, shrugging your shoulders slightly. “They’re my savings.”

He looked upon you dubiously, but accepted the coins nonetheless. “You can have breakfast if you’d like. It comes with the room.”

Shaking your head slightly, you replied, “thanks, but I just want to get settled in for now. I’ll come down for luncheon.”

“Suit yourself,” the innkeeper quipped, sliding over a rusty key with eight engraved into its dull metal. “Head upstairs, turn left.”

And so that’s where you went, the wooden stairs creaking under your weight. You slotted the key into the lock of a door that had a large metal eight clearly displayed, and heaved the door open. By now, it felt as if your muscles were on fire. Everything seemed to be aching.

The first thing your eyes laid upon was a small bed, a thin, lavender-hued fleece wool blanket draped over the lumpy mattress and a single measly pillow propped up at its head. It took everything within you not to dive into the warmth of the woolen layer, but you managed to bide your time, even if it was just a couple minutes.

You toed off your boots, the soles of your feet practically numb. The pack that hung on your shoulder was next to come off, sliding down your arm and onto the bedside table. There was an unlit candle by the windowsill, but still more than enough light streaming in, seeing how it was still quite early in the morning.

The air smelled of breakfast from downstairs; consisting of, from what you saw, honeyed oatcakes and fruit tarts and rations of fried eggs and sausage. Your stomach was still quite empty, but you didn’t have the heart to go back. You needed time to think, time to rest.

After you nursed a few sips of water from a bottle in your knapsack, you finally allowed yourself to sink onto the bed, sighing out in contentment.

Everything felt so quiet, so still. This all felt like one of the stories you’d make up back when you were still in the cell. Perhaps it was all a bad dream, and you’d wake up in Wooyoung’s arms in Yunho’s little cottage, his lips littering soft kisses down the column of your throat until you stirred back into consciousness. A shiver ran through your spine and you sluggishly tucked the blanket up to your chin.

But since this wasn’t a dream, you found yourself at a loss.

“Oh, Wooyoung,” you whispered. “What should I do? Where are you?”

It was so quiet that you could imagine Wooyoung’s voice in your head saying, “Don’t worry about me. Just go. Get back on the ship and sail away and never look back.” You frowned at the thought, curling onto your side so that your knees were pressed up to your chest.

“I love you,” were the last words imaginary-Wooyoung murmured, before your mind grew blank. The silence that followed was what ultimately lulled you into a tranquil slumber.

You were awoken partly from the light from outside angling directly into your shut eyes, and partly from the agitated growl emitting from your stomach. Blearily blinking the sleep away, you glanced around the room, fumbling for the bottle in the knapsack. After gulping down enough to quench your thirst, you slid out from underneath the purple blankets.

And following digging your knuckles into your eye sockets, you stumbled towards your boots, shoving your still-sore feet in. You didn’t bother lacing up the loose threads. After all, you were just going down for lunch, anyway.

Downstairs, the inn seemed far more crowded than it had been in the morning. A twinge of paranoia sang its trill song in the back of your mind, but you pushed the thoughts away, moving to sit on a dark stool in the corner.

“Slept well, I presume?” The innkeeper grinned slightly, raising an eyebrow at the state of your rumpled hair. “What’ll you have for luncheon, then?”

“Anything you have, I suppose,” you replied in a raspy tone, clearing your throat slightly.

A bowl of steaming rice and battered fish cubes slid across the counter, along with a side of warm bread and a slab of light canary-hued butter melting off the top. You were quick to tuck in, eating at a pace that would most probably have your stomach complaining in the near future.

The innkeeper looked like he wanted to ask you something, but ultimately didn’t get the chance as an influx of customers poured through the doors. You barely glanced upwards, wanting nothing more than to finish up your meal and head back upstairs to properly plan out what you were going to do. The growing crowd’s noise was starting to make you feel a little antsy.

A solid five minutes later, your bowl was already empty, save for sticky rice kernels stuck to the bottom. You dropped a gold coin next to the half-eaten buttery bread as a token of thanks for the innkeeper.

And when you hopped off the stool and looked forwards, you could practically feel your heart lurch into your throat. The sight of him was one that you never thought you’d see again, nor did you want to. You’d recognize him anywhere. He looked unchanged, the same roughly-shaven beard covering the expanse of his squared jaw, the jagged scar that trailed over his sallow cheekbones. Those damned stormy eyes, the same color as the princess’ silver necklace.

The man that had guarded your cell for God knows how long surveyed the chatting crowd with an ugly scowl imprinted onto his features, nose upturned as if he misliked being amongst the common folk. He moved away from the door, shoving past the common civilians milling about. The innkeeper was the first to notice the burly man’s presence, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Hello, sir. How can I help you today?”

Completely skipping over any need for niceties, the guard held up an unfurled scroll, “We’re searching all nearby premises for a dangerous criminal. Looks like this.”

From your position, you couldn’t see what he was showing the innkeeper, but it was quite obvious that it was some sort of rough artistic rendition of you. Dread trickled into you as you watched his face morph into one of slight recognition.

You needed to leave. Right now.

The busy throng of civilians were used to your advantage as you silently weaved through the crowded inn, people you bumped into ranging from deliriously drunk to slightly tipsy. Your heartbeat was thundering far too loudly, to the point where you couldn’t hear what the guard was growling out. You were a couple meters behind him now… if he so much as looked backwards, you would be a dead person standing.

Shit. The knapsack. It was still in your room. You probably wouldn’t last two days without it. And so, you set off for upstairs, pace steadily growing quicker, in tandem with your palpitating heart rate.

Grab your pack, leave from the window, repeated itself over and over in your head, a mantra of panic and dread. Downstairs was too much of a risk.

You were running so quickly that your boots caught onto the wood of the stair steps, and you just about face planted against the bunt of the hard surface. Pain blossomed across your nose bridge and temple. Slightly disoriented, you pushed yourself back onto your feet and rushed away. No time. There was no time at all to get hurt. You needed to leave. What good were you to Yunho, to Wooyoung, if you were thrown back into a cell?

Utter relief sank its greedy claws into you as you burst into your room. No time, no time, no time, your own voice echoed in your head. You grabbed the knapsack and pushed at the window and—

“Shit!” You cursed angrily when the window didn’t budge, the cold panes wedged tightly against the wooden slats. It was then that you noticed the bolted lock clipping the window pane and wooden framing together. “Oh, fuck.” Your breaths came out as tight, staggered pants.

Before you could decide on what to do next, you heard shrill screaming come from downstairs, the terrible sound of steel against flesh reaching your ears. There was nowhere to go from here. You were trapped.

Practically hyperventilating at this point, you scurried back to the door. Perhaps if you went downstairs and blended into the crowd, you could get out without anybody else noticing.

But alas, you never got the chance. Because just as you turned into the hall, you were met with the horrendous sight of the stormy-eyed guard, the very same one that you saw every single day you were in that rotten cell, an appalling look of triumph splayed across his rugged features.

A leering grin twisted his ugly features in such a horrid manner that it took all you had in you not to retch. You noticed the way his sword was unsheathed, a ripe shade of carmine trickling down its sleek blade. No doubt that’s the innkeeper’s blood, you thought solemnly.

Before you could react, the guard’s calloused hand shot out to grab your forearm, pulling you along with him so roughly that you stumbled onto the floor, hands and knees scraping against the wood in a manner that had your skin torn and bleeding. Feebly, you attempted to grab at anything to hit him with, to hold on to out of desperation. With no remaining patience, the monster of a man yanked you upwards by the throat. Choked gasps left you as your hands darted up to claw at his clenching fingers, but you immediately stiffened when he snarled out something that had your blood running cold.

“The Gods have been kind to you today, girl. I would have you speared right here… have you bleeding out until all the life has been drained right out of you.” His putrid breath fanned across your neck as you struggled in his iron-clad grip fruitlessly. “Lucky for you, the princess has personally requested you be brought back alive.”

It was dark outside when Wooyoung cracked his eyelids open for the second time. Through the window across from him, he could see a plethora of stars speckled across a blanket of raven black, glinting and winking at him through the glass. The room he was in was beautifully decorated, stone arches elegantly curving just below the ceiling and intricate flame holders spaced out on the pristine walls. The candles bathed the room in a gentle honey-like luminescence; calming and tranquil, almost a sedative. All of his previous aches and pains were now dulled to gentle numbness.

Where am I?

“Glad to see you’re back awake. You’re not going to pass out on me again, are you?”

Wooyoung nearly screamed at the sudden voice from beside him, flinching so hard that the crown of his skull knocked against the bed’s headboard. He hissed in pain, face contorting into a grimace.

The elf (Yeosang was his name, Wooyoung faintly recalled) muffled a snort underneath his breath before swiftly pulling up a chair and sitting beside him, “Does it still hurt anywhere? I tried to heal your wounds with sarcio essence, but seeing that you’re human, it’ll take a bit longer for you to recover. You took quite a beating, you know.”

Wooyoung tried to speak, but the dryness in his throat made it hard to speak.

“Oh, here.” The attentive elf poured cold water from a pitcher into a small cup, handing it over to Wooyoung. He gingerly drank, swallowing with great effort.

“Where… where am I?”

After pursing his lips in thought, Yeosang bowed his head slightly, glancing at the tight bandages wrapped around the dark-headed man’s torso. “You’re in Nymaeden.”

“Nymaeden?!” Wooyoung just about shrieked. His bruised features twisted in agony. Perhaps he shouldn’t have shouted. Then, in a much softer tone, he mumbled out, “how did I get here?”

He was, most likely, all the way across the world from you. Although his mind was still heavily clouded, you were still fresh and prominent in his mind. He hoped you were okay… left tied up on that pirate ship… Gods, this was all his fault… What a fool he was, thinking you’d be okay after all that you’d gone through. You probably thought that he was dead.

The blond elf arched an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?” When Wooyoung shook his head in hesitant denial, Yeosang continued on patiently, leaning forward.

“It was just three nights ago…”

The waters were cold, seeping into his flesh and bones, filling every one of his orifices, the salt trickling into him like sand down an hourglass. He could feel it drip into his lungs. Bubbles of his life slipped past his cracked-open lips and Wooyoung, with what little energy he had left to spare, lifted his fingers and tried to catch the small globules of air. The sticky blood that clung onto his skin like honey dissipated into the ocean, staining the waters a darker, sinister hue.

Wooyoung closed his eyes. His limp body sank further and further down. This was the end.

But was it?

Mermaids, being curious and spirited creatures they were, watched the injured handsome man drift across the ocean, crimson blood seeping out of his wounds. They had seen how he was thrown off the ship, how he had fought when he was onboard. They took pity on him. Even unconscious, a pain, far deeper-rooted than his physical cuts and gashes, was quite obviously splayed across his features. It was the face of a man with an utterly broken heart. He had just lost something very dear to him, that was made abundantly clear.

The small group of mermaids glanced at each other worriedly, almost immediately reaching a mutual consensus. In a swarm of colorful scales and wispy locks of hair, they swam towards the unmoving body.

One of them shamelessly prodded at him, ogling him with widened eyes, and they waited with baited breath. Wooyoung did not awaken. And so, two of the elegant creatures wrapped their arms around his leaking torso, and jolted into a brisk swim, carrying him across the oceans. Wooyoung’s raven hair pulled away from his face, revealing the deep gashes across his paling skin. A thinning trail of his blood followed them. They had to be quick; this man was just on the verge of greeting death.

They were taking him to Nymaeden, the land of the Elves. The elvish folk were the best healers they knew, and they were rather fond of the mermaids. Perhaps they would be willing to heal this unfortunate soul.

“We found you on the beaches,” Yeosang said in a discolored tone. “You were… you were practically dead. It was a miracle we got your heart rate back up, really. You’re either an incredibly thick-skulled fighter or… you’re just a coward afraid of death.”

Wooyoung winced at the elf’s stinging remark. Which was it? Was he running away from what was inevitable? What was he fighting for?

Y/N, the small voice in his head chimed. Wooyoung swallowed heavily.

“These mermaids… could I speak to them? Maybe they saw where the pirate ship went!”

Almost immediately, Yeosang shook his head. “I’m sorry, the mermaids are long gone now. They’re due up North, and I doubt they’d come back anytime soon.” There was a whicker of sympathy hidden behind his molten hazel irises. “Do you have any other plans? We can’t exactly keep you here in the medbay for all eternity.”

For a second, Wooyoung’s ragged breathing stilled.

“Pirates,” he murmured under his breath unsurely, just loud enough for the elf to pick up. “Where can I find them?”

Rearing back, Yeosang hissed out, “you must’ve hit your head harder one too many times, human. You were almost in death’s bony grasp, and now you want to go back?”

“I don’t care!” Wooyoung erupted, flinging his hands upward, despite his muscles screeching in agony. “It’s not about me anymore. I left her on that ship… and I have to get her back. Please, Yeosang. Please.”

There was a beat of tense silence. Yeosang was no longer looking at the pleading injured man, but his head angled towards the window, gazing at the pale moon that decorated the night’s horizon in deep thought.

“You mustn’t tell anyone,” the blonde elf warned, narrowing his eyes. Wooyoung nodded vehemently. “Elves and pirates don’t mesh well together, I’m sure you know. Pirates are nowhere to be found in this country, they know well enough to steer clear of our waters. However… if you head westward past our nation’s border, you’ll find yourself in Cinisia. It might look like a small, harmless country, but I’m afraid you’d be gravely mistaken. Cinisia is perhaps the most dangerous country on the maps. Along their west coast, there’s an illegal trading market. Pirates swarm the coast like ants would spilt honey. If you’re looking for pirates, I’d bet all my silvers they’re there.”

Wooyoung took a moment to contemplate this. “How do you know of this market?”

“I’ve got into muddy territory with pirates myself,” he uttered with a stormy expression. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I have said this before. Elves and pirates? Not the best of friends, I can tell you that.”

Releasing a shuddering sigh, Wooyoung asked one final question. “Do you think I’ll find them? Do you think I’ll get Y/N back?”

Yeosang leveled a cold gaze with the dark-haired man, before gracefully rising to his feet and striding towards the door. “I’ll get you a map and traveling clothes and rations. You can leave at first light, so get some sleep. You’ll be needing it.”

A sinking feeling weighed heavily in Wooyoung’s stomach. He hadn’t answered the question.

Right before he left, Yeosang paused by the arched doorway and spoke once more without even turning to look at him. “And just so you know… if you make it out of that market alive and empty handed… I want you back here in Nymaeden. There’s something I want to offer you.”

The elf left in a blur of sage fabrics and soft flaxen locks. The honeyed flames of the candles withered inwards with his departure, faint tails of smoke dissipated into the air. The room faded into darkness, but Wooyoung was far too afraid to shut his eyes.

He was scared of dreaming of you.

That morning was one of the toughest he’s ever had. Yeosang had handed him a pack of traveling rations and equipment, bidding him adieu with a stout nod of his angular face. His muscles groaned and screamed with agony with his every step. The trek to Cinisia took hours upon hours, with hardly a break. Wooyoung was far too jittery to stop. He had to keep going. Creeks babbled with glowing water and the trees whispered poems in the wind, their alluring shadows offering a tempting sanctuary.

The contrast between Nymaeden and Cinisia was startling. Whilst the former was a luscious country of opals and forestry and pale elegant fortresses climbing to the sky, the latter was… well, it was quite hard to tell what anything looked like past the thick red smog lacing the horizon. The air stank of ale and smoke.

Definitely pirate territory, Wooyoung surmised grimly.

The shrill noises of whistling and hollering was a telltale sign that he was close. Wooyoung stepped over weather-beaten rocks, peering around the rocky cliff ledge to see hundreds, perhaps even thousands of ruffians gathered together in a colorful flurry of stolen fabrics, foods, and riches that seemed all the more glorious under the sweltering sun. Now, it smelled strongly of stale fruitcakes and gunpowder and sweat. Not the best of aromas, that was for sure. There were also pirates yelling out indiscernible prices that seemed to climb with every shout. He was pretty sure he saw a couple of them scuffling in a fight, some landing a couple square punches (most missed because they seemed to be too drunk to aim properly) on the nose before brushing their injuries off as if it were nothing.

What an awful place. Wooyoung could only hope you weren’t here. Well, no, that was a blatant lie. He’d do anything to see you again.

After digging his knuckles into his eye sockets to wipe his weariness away, he blinked the colored spots away from his vision with a melancholic sigh. Gods, he was tired. Unfortunately, he had little time to lament, so he pushed himself onwards.

Wooyoung seemed to blend in just perfectly; he was thankful Yeosang decided to pack in a tattered cloak. The rest of the pirates didn’t seem to bat an eye. Standing in the middle of a throng of filthy seamen, it was hard for Wooyoung not to double over and retch. His roiling stomach didn’t aid his precarious state one bit.

Though everything seemed to be a cacophony of rowdy pirates and the clattering of illegal trade, Wooyoung picked up on a particular chunk of dialogue exchanged between a gaggle of men.

“Have you heard of the siren incident? Yeah, it happened near the Isles of Odralle! Can you believe? Ship was fuckin’ headed to the capital of Odralle, but they had a sudden change of plans; suddenly wanted to go to Aurecia. Cocky bastards think they can sell anything to anyone nowadays, yeah? Good thing the sirens took them. Wonder if they were tasty, though. Stupidity fouls the meat, my father used to say,” one of the pirates rambled as he slurped on his ale.

“Your father was a jackass,” another snorted, pounding on his chest with laughter. “What the fuck is a ‘siren incident’? I swear you lot gossip ten times more than me wife does.”

A third pirate shoved at his shoulder, a look of incredulity painting across his tanned features. “How have you not heard? A famous pirate ship - maybe one of the most famous ones in history - got lured into siren territory! The whole crew’s gone. Ship wreckage hasn’t been found. Nobody’s heard or seen them at all. My guess is that they made a calculation mistake and went off navigation charts once switching from Odralle to Aurecia. Then the sirens… got the best of ‘em.”

This elicited a gasp from the fourth in the group. “Wait! The big ship with the peg-leg captain with just one eye? Damn, just hearing stories about him gives me the creeps. Legend had it that he defeated not one, but two fuckin’ krakens during a storm! His ship flag is, er, the red and gold one… with a skull, right? And the skull’s laying in blood and swords?”

Wooyoung felt his blood run cold.

He knew that flag. The flag they were describing… was exactly the one he saw before they took you… before they threw him out for the sharks…

And before Wooyoung could even think it through, he found his body jerking forward, pushing past the bystanders and throwing himself into the gossip circle with all but a mangled growl escaping his throat. He yanked the last pirate to speak forward by the collar until the tanned man’s face was so close, his nose brushed against Wooyoung’s. The rest of the gang immediately quelled their incessant yammering, eyes growing wide in interest. Some placed their hands onto the hilts of their curved swords as a precaution, but they didn’t want to do anything hasty. After all, they loved a good fight.

“WHEN WAS THIS?” Wooyoung was glad his voice didn’t crack as he yelled, shaking the stricken pirate by the collar. “There was… there was a woman on that boat. She can’t be gone! She can’t be dead!”

They all looked at him as if he were crazy.

And after a second longer, Wooyoung’s grip loosened. It seemed he was a little rougher than first anticipated, because the fabric around the tanned pirate’s neck was crumpled and one of the pearly buttons came loose, dangling by a thin thread. He staggered backwards two steps, painfully sucking in lungfuls of rancid air.

Were you… were you gone? Was that it? Had you succumbed to the siren’s sweet song of death?

“Mate,” the tanned pirate spoke up with a lilt of sympathy in his tone. “There was never any woman on that ship. And besides, the ship hasn’t actually been found yet.”

The fire of hope that once burned brightly within the hearth of Wooyoung’s chest, was now but a dying ember. However, the man’s words gently blew on the warm ash until a new flame ignited. This was a different kind of hope. Who knows, maybe you had managed to escape the sirens. For all that was good on this planet, Wooyoung hoped you were still alive.

It was then that the most peculiar thing happened.

A man (if he could even be considered a man) - perhaps one of the ethereal beings he’s ever set his eyes upon - strode up to the circle of pirates, leveling his stormy gaze with Wooyoung. His hair was a shocking shade of pink, laying in loose strands across his forehead. A dirtied tunic hung over his shoulders in tatters, ripped and frayed in too many places to count. The belt that cinched around his waist was lopsided and unbuckled, dangling to the floor. The trousers he was wearing, a dusted shade of raven’s wing, was in the same state of disarray as his tunic. He was a mess, and Wooyoung could see a thick film of distraught glazing his eyes.

“My name is San,” he rasped. “And I was on that pirate ship.”

The marble was cold beneath your scraped knees. Your eyes studied the golden rivets decorating the pale white floor, splintering off into branches of aureate, though it was quite difficult to see through the bruises and unyielding blood obscuring your vision. If your hands weren’t bound behind your back, you would’ve at least tried to staunch the crimson seeping out of the fresh cut you sported across your temple. The guards had thrown kicks and punches everywhere they could reach until you had stopped struggling, every fibre of your being felt nothing but raw pain and the kind of anger that left you completely and utterly exhausted.

You just… you wanted it to all be over.

However, with the King and Queen sitting tall and proud just meters in front of you, you highly doubted things would be resolved at the snap of a finger. Beside their majesties sat the rest of the royal bloodline, dainty crowns of lustrous tawny and glinting silvers resting upon their regal heads.

They made you sick.

“I must say,” the Queen purred at last, placing her chin on her palm while gazing at you with a malevolent smile, irises of amethysts glinting in the cold light. “It’s impressive how you managed to escape the dungeons in your condition. Even got yourself a pretty little boat and everything.”

You could feel yourself blanching. How did she know about the pirate ship you left by the beaches?

“As I’m sure you’re aware by now, Y/N is only but a legend. Though nobody truly believes you’re real, you are still very much respected throughout the nation. And since you’re regarded so highly amongst the common folk,” the King rumbled, clasping his hands together with a smug leer tracing his lips. “You’ll be made a lowly servant for the lovely Princess, Amarelia.” He gestured further down the line, to a sweet young girl barely of age. The Princess was a frail thing, with skin of dove’s wings and lips of sweet peaches and lashes that kissed the apples of her cheeks. She somewhat resembled a fawn, what with her large eyes and innocently placant features. Her curled sienna locks were gathered into an elegant updo, showcasing the glimmering silver laces on her dainty neck.

The very ones that you tried to steal so long ago, and the entire reason you were even here. That necklace was what made you a well-known myth in Cerulea.

Anger broiled deep within you, but you kept your mouth clamped shut. There were guards ready to strike if you moved even a centimeter, and you decided to play it safe for now.

There was something you were practically dying to ask, though.

What did you do to Yunho?

“To welcome you into servitude,” the Queen surveyed you with hooded eyes. “Crawl to Amarelia and kiss her shoes. Thank us for not having you executed on the spot. Perhaps it shall give you an idea of your rank in this castle. You are nothing to us.”

“Mother!” The Princess gasped in protest with something akin to pity and horror melding into her soft complexion. It was clear that the sweet dove wanted nothing to do with this. In a way, you felt sorry for her as well.

Nobody paid her any mind.

With a heavy heart, you started shuffling towards the Princess. Pain and humiliation blossomed across your skin like flames crawling over oiled wood. A part of you considered standing your ground, lifting your head high, refusing to obey any of her commands. And you would’ve, truly. But… Yunho. If there was even the slightest chance he was alive and kept hostage because of you, you needed to remain on your best behavior. For his sake and even perhaps for your own.

Once in front of her, you dipped your head to quickly brush your lips against her fine cream flats, immediately straightening your spine with a grimace afterwards. Amarelia regarded you with a sympathetic look.

The guards stepped forward to roughly drag you back to your original spot. Your mind barely registered the cold sensation of metal clamping around your neck, the rattling of chains a ghostly echo in your ears. The Queen was grinning so widely it was a wonder her face didn’t split in half. It took everything you had in you not to spit onto the floor in defiance.

When they started tugging you towards the grand double doors, you realized that you couldn’t just sit around and allow them to throw you around like a ragdoll. You kicked out your feet in resistance, ignoring the cinching pain of the metal around your neck, boots thudding against the smooth marble surface. The guards swore under their breath, pulling you along ever harder.

“WHERE’S YUNHO?” Your hoarse voice ripped across the throne room. “DID YOU KILL HIM? DID YOU KILL YUNHO?! LET GO OF ME! YOU MURDERER!” The small quirk of the Queen’s perfect eyebrows had you spouting out obscenities, rage bubbling over your struggling form.

Double-doors swung open, and with that action brought the largest crowd you’ve ever seen in your life. There must’ve been thousands - no, hundreds of thousands of people out there. And they’ve all come for you. The myth and the legend. Y/N L/N.

It was all so sudden. You didn’t even remember how you got to the front of the highrise platform, being forced back onto your knees with a grunt. There were common folk and wealthy lords alike littered about the ocean of heads. Some looked to be terrified, others watching on with hanging lips of awe.

You swallowed heavily.

“Behold!” The King bellowed from somewhere behind you. There was a sneering lilt to his tone that made you want to spring upwards and knock his teeth out. “Your beloved Y/N!”

The crowd in front of you erupted into pandemonium. It was a strange and overwhelming cacophony of displeased boos and excited screams.

“A legend and a hero to some of you, I’m sure,” the Queen hummed, somehow instantaneously quieting the buzzing mass of people. “Now diminished to a mere servant. Y/N L/N is nothing, and acting like they are worth any bit more than scum will lead to treason. I’m truly sorry to disappoint some of you.”

She didn’t seem sorry at all. The crowd practically roared at that, most especially the commoners at the back, yelling curses until their throats were raw as they threw moldy apple cores at the guards.

You hung your head in shame, gaze trained to the wood slants of the stage. Hushed murmurs travelled about the rest of the crowd like waves gently crashing against shore. You were alone on this beach, it seemed.

Truly, utterly alone.

You must’ve had the worst luck in the world.

No matter how much you’ve fought, struggled, resisted, it always ended up the same. With you kept captive. That musty jail cell because of a damned necklace, then bound on the pirate ship to be sold off in Aurecia (a part of your heart sunk at the memory of the friendly fairy-pirate San jumping overboard)… and now a different cell, your wrists chained to the cobbled wall behind you. Your arms were sore yet numb, almost having lost any feeling in them, but that was the least of your concerns.

It was bright here, unlike your first cell. Back then it was always dark, and always cold. There was a crackling fire across the room, licking hungrily at the burning wood, casting amber phantoms across the expanse of your place of confinement. It wouldn’t be long until the fire died out and you’d be shivering once more. There was also a small window, but it was far away from your reach, and you wouldn’t even bother to try, considering your arms were laced above your head.

Being back in the castle had your mind racing. Everything had been so loud outside. But now that you were alone with only your own thoughts to accompany you, it almost felt suffocatingly quiet. The silence was deafening, roaring awful things into your ears.

You missed Wooyoung. What would he do in your position? You hoped he wasn’t here, truly. He deserved to be happy elsewhere. But you couldn’t deny that a small part of you wished he was back here with you.

Face it, he’s not coming to save you, the snarky voice in your head spat out. Nobody is. You’re on your own. You have to save yourself.

It was at that moment the door creaked open. A man with silver hair slid in, grimness splayed across his defined features, like the wiry shadows of tree branches marring the warm light of the room. You spotted the medical kit he clutched in his sure hands.

He was the royal healer. It somewhat surprised you that the King and Queen sent him. Perhaps it was Princess Amarelia’s doing; she seemed to have a pure enough heart. Her parents, on the other hand…

“Are you alright?” His voice was a soft thing, a mere whisper, almost lost to the loud snapping of the fireplace. Hesitance was evident in his tone, accompanied with stinging sympathy. “I apologize, that was a foolish question. Of course you’re not, that’s why I’m here. My name is Seonghwa, I’m the royal healer for this castle. May I?” He brandished a bottle of strange blue ointment and cotton patches. You had just been humiliated and degraded in front of thousands of people, and now a royal healer was apologizing to you? He was certainly giving you whiplash.

After pausing for the slightest of moments, you dipped your head just slightly, still waiting for something bad to happen.

“Sarcio essence,” Seonghwa murmured gently as he doused the patch with the blue liquid. “Ceruleans steal it from the elves of Nymaeden. Its healing abilities are unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Ever since magic, of course. But that’s a thing of the past now. Magic is illegal in Cerulea. Not sure if you heard while you were down there in your cell.”

That made a frown flicker across your face. Cerulea, the ever-perfect country, needing to steal things from other kingdoms?

And with another stout nod, Seonghwa leaned forward to swipe at your fresh wounds and bruises, cleaning away the dried blood with nimble movements. It stung at first, restrained hisses escaping your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. It felt like your skin was burning, and everything was on fire and the silent monsters were screaming your name.

“It’s a good thing if it stings a little. That’s your body working to put itself together.”

It was silent for a long time. You had to clamp your teeth down on your bottom lip so as to not let him hear your pathetic winces of pain.

The healer seemed to notice this, brows furrowing. “You don’t have to try to be strong around me, Y/N. You’re hurting, and it’s okay to show that. I won’t think any less of you.”

You eyed him with somewhat of a dubious aura, before bobbing your head for the last time. “Thank you,” you muttered brokenly.

Seonghwa hummed softly in response, screwing the cap back onto the sarcio essence.

The familiar creak of the door swinging open floated across the rooms, and you snapped your head upwards. Even the healer appeared to be surprised, bowing his head low at the newcomers. Also known as, if you had to put it eloquently, the true and utter banes of your existence. If you were the single flickering candle, they would be the tornados constantly whispering your flame good night.

It was the King and the Queen, draped in a waterfall of golden lace, diaphanous silver silks, and striking tones of mauve matching the hue of their angry irises. They held their heads high, looking at you as if you were the shit stuck on the bottom of their fine shoes.

“Leave us,” the Queen commanded Seonghwa without even glancing in the direction of the medic. She kept her gaze trained on you, and only you. Silently, he left the room with not another word, shuffling out of the door, unable to spare you one last sympathetic glimpse.

After surveying you, the Queen graced you with what seemed to be a smirk, and beckoned towards the guards behind her.

“Bring him in,” she said, practically dripping with delighted malice.

What happened next had you choking on your own gasps, tears immediately rimming your eyes like frost sitting atop tree branches on a harsh wintry morning. It had your stomach curling into itself, nausea climbing up your throat, begging to escape. A scream, so disgustingly raw and broken that it didn’t sound like your own voice echoed throughout the room.

They threw a peach-haired man in front of you, and he crumpled to the ground as if he were nothing more than a stringless puppet. If you thought that you were hurt, it was absolutely nothing in comparison to the sweet baker that you were so very fond of. He looked to be half dead already, bruises mapping the expanse of his pallid skin as abundant as there were stars in the sky. His once-bright pink strands of hair now looked a sullen grey, as if all the life had been seeped out of him. Dried blood crusted his cuts and gashes, littered all over his shivering form. You swore, with every fiber of your being, you were going to kill whoever hurt him.

“YUNHO!” You cried, heart lodged in your throat. The soft giant who had once been so boisterous, laid unmoving on the cobblestone floor. Kicking against the wall, you yanked away at your manacles fruitlessly until your wrists grew raw, wanting nothing more than to fall to your knees and crawl to him and ask if he was alright. It didn’t matter that you were hurting yourself in the process, you just… you wanted to get out of these chains, out of here, away from everything.

How dare they?

Tears were rolling down the apples of your cheeks, conjoining at your jaw and dripping mercilessly onto the ground. A constant drip, drip, drip of your pain made loud and clear to everybody else in the room.

You were so furious, so heartbroken, that you had forgotten anybody else existed for a short second. It was a shame that you were only reminded when one of the guards stalked up with the King’s nod of approval, gripping Yunho by his faded locks and yanking him upwards. His face didn’t seem to even flinch, numb and desensitized.

Was Yunho gone? No… no, he couldn’t possibly be…

A confusing concoction of sobs and desperate pleas and hiccups tumbled past your lips far too quickly for even you to understand yourself

The events that transpired rushed by in an indecipherable blur. You could barely pick up what the Queen murmured.

“This beloved baker friend of yours…” she cocked her head to the side in mock-thought, purple eyes flashing dangerously. “He is strong, I’ll give you that. However, he seems quite adamant not to give us any information about the other prisoner, Wooyoung. They were childhood best friends, no? I’m sure you remember him, don’t you?”

Your heart stopped at the sound of his name.

How dare you? How dare you? How dare you? The mantra reverberated in your skull until it was all you could think, staining your mind with an inky, poisonous black.

The mocking sympathy evident in her tone had you thrashing against your bonds all the more. “And alas… I’m afraid we no longer have any use for him.”

Just like that, the guard holding Yunho upwards drove his longsword clean through the gentle baker’s abdomen, dropping him to the floor. An ungodly wail tore from your vocal chords, resonating across the room and painting wicked smiles across the two royal leaders of Cerulea. Much to your horror, Yunho uttered no sound, merely dropping onto the stone with a thud. Crimson pooled at his wound so quickly, that the rose-hued ichor grazed against your feet in a matter of seconds. You stopped struggling, the drumming of your heart loud in your ears.

Since your gaze hadn’t left Yunho’s unmoving body, you didn’t even noticed the Queen sidestepping the puddle of blood, forcing your eyes away by gripping your slick face with one of her cold hands. You tried to pull your cheeks away, but it was as if her fingers were steel. Her purple eyes were so close to yours, you could see the flecks of aureate gold embedded within the enticing lilac. The Queen flashed you a charming smile, as if she hadn’t just murdered your friend in cold blood. It seemed she noticed your pounding heart rate, because she murmured an incantation in old Cerulean that you couldn’t quite pick up. In an instant, you could feel yourself relaxing in her grip, wrists going slack in the cuffs, the muscle in your chest thumping slower and slower. A part of you was afraid it would grind to a stop.

Her pearly whites flashed as she grinned evilly. The lavender in her eyes darkened drastically, to the point where any trace of gold disappeared completely.

“We didn’t kill Yunho,” she leaned closer and whispered into your ear, her tawny locks tickling the side of your face. “Killing is barbaric.”

There was an old story of a gingerbread man and a fox crossing a river you often heard retellings of during your childhood. The fox swore up and down that he wouldn’t eat the gingerbread man whilst helping him cross the river. As suspicious as the gingerbread man was at first, he eventually climbed onto the sly fox’s back, naive with hope. The fox arrived at the other side of the river alone and with a full stomach.

It seemed you were the foolish gingerbread man and the Queen was the fox. The Queen’s magic seeped into your being, clouding your mind in a dangerous haze you could no longer fight.

You believed her.

[good-things-do-happen-dean]

and the moment passes | 9x06 fanfiction gap because i’m basic | 4K

“Where to, Cas?” Dean asks, as if that’s a simple question, as if Castiel is supposed to have the answer ready to go.

But it isn’t a simple question. And Castiel certainly doesn’t have an answer ready to go. Where to? He could ask Dean to drive him back to the Gas-n-Sip so he can curl up in his thin sleeping bag in the supply closet. But the thought of spending the night on that hard floor surrounded by the sharp chemical smells of cleaning supplies and nacho cheese is suddenly revolting. He can only look at Dean and be mindful of his wrist as he climbs into the front seat of the Impala. After a long moment, Dean climbs in after him and the still-familiar creak of the driver’s side door opening and closing is somehow comforting. Dean smells of dirt and wood smoke from burning Ephraim’s vessel, Castiel notices vaguely, cradling his wrist in his good hand.

Dean clears his throat. “Let me get you patched up at least, okay? Then I can drop you…wherever.”

Wherever. Castiel nods once, gaze trained on his hands. The cloth he has wrapped around his cut palm is tacky with blood, although the cut itself seems to have stopped bleeding. There’s a dull ache in his palm and a sharp one in his wrist. He doesn’t know what a broken bone feels like. He remembers that Jimmy broke his arm once as a teenager, but then doesn’t know what to do with that. The memory was dulled by time and Grace even when Jimmy still inhabited this body. Castiel’s body now. Castiel’s wrist, which might be broken, except he doesn’t know what that feels like.

“Cas?” Dean says, sounding…worried?

It’s then that Castiel realizes he’s crying. He wipes at his face with his good hand, but still can’t find it in himself to say anything. An uneasy silence stretches between them, broken only by the quiet hitching sounds of Castiel’s breath.

“Okay.” Dean starts the Impala, which roars to life and startles Castiel, who flinches, jostles his wrist, and flinches again. “Let’s just – look, I got a motel room. I’ll clean up your hand.”

“My wrist,” Castiel says, voice thick from crying, and it takes a monumental amount of effort for him to lift his head and look at Dean. “It’s – It might be broken.”

Dean looks back at him for a moment and Castiel doesn’t recognize the expression there. “Okay,” Dean repeats. “Right, yeah, I’ll look at your wrist too, okay?” He doesn’t wait for Castiel to say anything, which is probably for the best, and pulls away from the curb in front of Nora’s house.

The corners of Dean’s mouth are turned down and there’s a hard set to his jaw. Fresh tears prick at Castiel’s eyes. Dean must be angry with him, Castiel decides. For being so fragile and useless that he can’t even tell whether his own wrist is broken. He looks away, stares down at the bloodstain on the cloth wrapped around his hand, memorizing its shape. He squints into the headlights of an approaching car. He watches as he rolls the hem of his shirt between two fingers, worrying at a loose thread until it falls away, then pulls his hand away when he remembers there are only two other shirts tucked neatly in his sleeping bag in the supply closet. He doesn’t look at Dean again. And Dean just drives them in silence.

***

Castiel watches the lazy drip of the showerhead from where he sits on the closed lid of the toilet, breathing carefully through his nose. Dean is perched on the edge of the tub, bent over Castiel’s hand with a pair of tweezers.

“Almost got it,” Dean says, then lets out a breath. “There. Big fucker.” He holds the tweezers up so Castiel can see the long hooked thorn he pulled from Castiel’s palm. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dean sets the tweezers down and reaches across Castiel for a clean washcloth. The bathroom of Dean’s motel room is cramped, especially with Dean crowding into Castiel’s space. Their knees knock together in a way that Castiel vaguely recognizes as something he would have enjoyed some other time in some other place.

There is a streak of dirt on the back of Dean’s neck just below his hairline, like he wiped at it with the back of his hand. Probably when he was burning Ephraim. Ephraim’s vessel. The body of a man who believed in angels.

“Do you know what his name was?” Castiel asks, startling himself with the question.

“Who?” Dean maneuvers Castiel’s arm to rest on the lip of the sink so he can run cool water over the gash on Castiel’s palm. “Let that sit. I’ll get a brace for your wrist.” He stands and rolls his neck, letting out a pleased sound when there’s a pop.

Castiel hears Dean’s retreating footsteps, the door of their room open, the familiar creak of the trunk of the Impala in the parking lot, but only vaguely. The water that swirls down the discolored drain is tinged pink with Castiel’s blood and then runs clear. The man’s name could have been Noah or Christopher or Michael. The man’s name could have been Jimmy.

“Here,” Dean says, turning off the faucet. He dries Castiel’s hand, careful not to jostle his wrist, and rubs antibiotic ointment around the ragged edges of the cut.

When he started at the Gas-n-Sip, Nora showed Castiel, well, showed Steve, the first aid kit on the shelf in the supply closet. And the first night he spent there, he lay awake, staring at the glossy white cross on the front that was just visible in the darkness, unable to sleep until he got up and turned the plastic container to face the other way.

“Okay, Cas,” Dean says, taping down the end of the gauze wrapped around Castiel’s palm three times, over his thumb, under his thumb, over it once more. His hands are gentle on Castiel’s wrist. “I don’t think it’s broken,” he says finally. “Ice it for the next few nights, couple of ibuprofen, keep the brace on during work, and you should be good to go in no time.”

Castiel nods once and fixes his gaze on the showerhead while Dean maneuvers his hand into the brace. A drip forms as if in slow motion, stretching, oblong and misshapen, until it detaches and falls, splatting against the drain. Castiel swallows, feeling slightly ill, and looks away. Still, it’s been a long time since his last real shower.

There isn’t a shelter in Rexford, or a YMCA, so Castiel bought a portable shower at the combination hardware and sporting goods store after his first week at the Gas-n-Sip. Every few nights, he locks up promptly at eleven, fills the bag with tepid water from the bathroom sink, and goes into the small patch of woods behind the store to quickly scrub himself down with a rapidly shrinking bar of soap and hose himself off. And he carefully washes his face, underarms, genitals, hands, and feet with paper towels and hand soap early each morning before slipping out of the store to be seen unlocking the front door from the outside.

The showers in the shelters in the cities before Rexford seem ages ago. His shower at the bunker, a millennium. Longer. Castiel had spent centuries, millennia in Heaven without a second thought, watching civilizations wax and wane and fall into oblivion, and now each month that passed was an age.

“Dean,” Castiel says, surprising himself. “May I shower?”

Dean is fiddling with the straps on the brace. “Uh,” he says and looks down at Castiel’s wrist. “Sure, but I’ll have to undo all this.”

“I can do it myself,” Castiel says, already reaching over with his good hand. The bathroom suddenly feels too crowded, even with the door open. Dean is too close to him, and Castiel can feel words bubbling up in his throat: that he can’t remember his last shower because he doesn’t have a shower, doesn’t have a bed, doesn’t have a home, doesn’t have anything except a jacket, two shirts, one pair of pants, two pairs of socks and underwear, a cellphone charger, a toothbrush, toothpaste, disposable razor, deodorant, and a portable shower bag with a nozzle rolled into his sleeping bag in the back corner of the supply closet. He has the cellphone Dean slipped into the pocket of the jacket he gave Castiel at the door of the bunker, but the 80 odd dollars from Dean are gone, mostly spent on the Enochian script now inked onto his side. He has the clothes on his back and the Gas-n-Sip vest Dean tossed carelessly into the backseat of the Impala and a name that isn’t his, but he doesn’t have his Grace or his wings or his brothers and sisters or Heaven. He has his pain and his failures and his guilt, but he doesn’t have the Winchesters. He has Dean with him now in this cramped motel bathroom, but he won’t have Dean in the morning, or the next day, or the day after that.

Castiel unwraps the brace, unwinds the gauze, sheds his clothes after Dean closes the door behind him. He turns on the hot water and tries not to think of falling.

***

The water pressure in the motel shower isn’t nearly as good as at the bunker, but Castiel stays there for a long time, revelling in the constant spray, the tiny bottle of shampoo. He washes his hair twice, digging into his scalp with his fingers. His palm stings from the shampoo, but he doesn’t care. He scrubs his skin with a rough washcloth, then again with his hands, until he is flushed pink. For the first time in months, Castiel feels clean.

Castiel turns the water off with a squeak and is surprised to hear silence coming from the motel room. He had expected the low rumble of the television, or perhaps the muffled sound of Dean’s half of a phone call to Sam. But he can’t hear anything at all. Maybe Dean left him here in this motel all alone, he thinks suddenly. He doesn’t know how far away the Gas-n-Sip is from here. He doesn’t know how he would get back. Is there a bus? Perhaps another guest at the motel would give him a ride if he paid them, although he wouldn’t be able to pay them until he got to work and retrieved his small stack of bills from inside one of his clean pairs of socks.

Drying himself quickly and pulling his clothes on over his still damp hair, Castiel wrenches the door open in a panic.

Dean is still there, sitting on the edge of the bed with a grim expression, staring at his hands folded in his lap. He looks up as the bathroom door bangs against the wall. “You okay, Cas?”

“I thought -” he pauses, swallowing his fear, and the anger and sadness underneath. I thought you left me here alone. I thought you drove away and left me behind to fend for myself. Again. “Yes.”

They look at each other for a long moment, longer than Castiel has managed all evening since Dean dropped him off in front of Nora’s house, until Dean coughs and looks away. “Uh. Good,” Dean says to his hands. “Need any help with your wrist? I got some ice.”

“No.” Castiel turns back into the bathroom to hang his towel neatly on the rack and retrieve the brace from the edge of the sink. “Thank you,” he adds when he catches sight of himself in the mirror.

“Then, uh, do you mind?” Dean asks from the bathroom door. He gestures vaguely to the shower.

“Of course not, Dean. It’s your room.”

“Right,” Dean says, still not looking at Castiel. He doesn’t move from the doorway, so Castiel has to squeeze by him, angling to avoid brushing against Dean to avoid making things even more awkward, if that’s possible.

Castiel sits at the tiny table where Dean set the first aid supplies and the bucket of ice to dab more antibiotic ointment on his cut and wind the gauze around his palm, a little clumsily. He discovered early on that, as a human, he was left-handed. Handedness was another inconvenience that took some getting used to. Now he would have to adjust again. And how would he explain his wrist to Nora? He had hidden his cut palm wrapped in a cloth from the trunk of the Impala behind his back when she walked him to the door. But there was no hiding the brace, especially since he would have to use his weaker hand for - how long did Dean say?

“I fell,” Castiel says aloud to the quiet room, swallows. “In the shower. I slipped in the shower and sprained my wrist. I can still work.” He tightens the last of the straps on the brace. “I slipped and sprained my wrist. I have to wear a brace, but I can still work.”

The shower is still running, so Castiel looks around the room for the first time. When they arrived, Dean had shepherded him into the bathroom right away, so he hadn’t gotten a good look.

Oh.

Besides the tiny table and chair, there is an equally tiny kitchenette with a sink and a hot plate, an old floral couch with a noticeable dip in the middle cushion, a nightstand and lamp, and one bed. Of course there is only one bed. Dean came to Rexford by himself, after all, and he thinks Castiel has a... wherever to go back to, a wherever that isn’t this motel room, and definitely isn’t Dean’s bed in this motel room.

But that means Castiel will have to go back to the storage room of the Gas-n-Sip tonight. He will have to unroll his sleeping bag and fold his shirts and pants into something like a pillow and set an alarm on his phone for 5:00 to give himself enough time to pack everything away again before Bill the delivery man comes by. He will have to turn the first aid kit to face the wall.

Castiel’s gaze rests on the twin mounds under the blanket at the head of the bed. The blanket is rucked up in one corner, exposing the worn white sheets. He can’t sleep here, that much is obvious, but he can make the bed neat for Dean. As a thank you. To prove he isn’t useless. Castiel isn’t sure which.

He tucks the corner of the blanket in neatly, smoothing it over the mattress. He smooths the other corner too, even though it’s already neat. He rests his good hand on one of the pillows.

Dean opens the bathroom door, towel slung low around his hips, and Castiel freezes in place. Perhaps it’s because Dean caught him coveting the bed. But perhaps it’s because Dean is standing in front of him in a towel, holding it closed with his hand at his hip and Castiel is human now, despite the hurt feelings between them.

Castiel has not been aroused since his night with April. He has been hungry and thirsty, cold, tired, and unclean, angry and afraid, proud and hurt, but he has not been aroused. He swallows, tracking a drop of water that slips down Dean’s chest to his stomach to the edge of the towel. “I -” he starts with no idea what to say.

“Forgot a change of clothes,” Dean says without moving toward his open duffel bag on the floor between them.

“Yes,” Castiel says. “I mean -”

Silence stretches between them. Castiel has seen Dean naked before, has re-formed every inch of Dean’s body with his own hands. But that was the Angel and the Righteous Man. Here, in this cramped motel room in Rexford, Idaho, there is the human Castiel with his sprained wrist and a beating heart that belongs to him, and there is his friend Dean Winchester fresh from the shower. They have survived the Rit Zien and the Fall, Purgatory and the Leviathan. Lucifer. And yet, Castiel thinks if Dean were to bridge the space between them now, he might shatter. It would be unbearable to have this, something, anything now, just this once before Dean goes back to Kansas and Castiel goes back to the Gas-n-Sip. It would hurt too much.

So when Dean steps toward him, Castiel steps back. Anger? Disappointment? flashes across Dean’s face momentarily, but he smooths it over and reaches into his duffel bag for a clean shirt and underwear. “Here,” Dean says, pulling out another shirt and tossing it on the bed. “I’m beat. D’you have work in the morning?”

Castiel nods, unable to speak.

“I’ll drop you off. You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” Dean shuts the bathroom door behind him without another word.

***

The bed is the most comfortable thing Castiel has ever experienced. It probably isn’t, not really, but it certainly feels like it after months of his sleeping bag on the concrete floor of the supply closet and before that, hard, thin mattresses in shelters, the bed in Dean’s motel room is frankly luxurious. And yet, Castiel still can’t sleep.

Across the room, Dean’s breathing is slow and even, but Castiel can see that his eyes are open in the dim glow of the streetlight through the curtain. Castiel looks at his arm instead, the careful stack of pillows under his wrist to keep it above his heart. For the swelling, Dean had said. He’ll have to use his small stack of clothes for his arm instead of his head for the next few days at least. Then maybe he can just sleep in the brace with his wrist resting on his chest. Castiel burrows deeper into the mattress, the sound of the covers shifting around him loud in the stillness.

“Cas?” Dean says it so quietly, Castiel thinks he might have imagined it. “You awake?”

Castiel wants to say yes, to whisper secrets and shame into the darkness between them. He thinks of another motel room, of his filthy trench coat and his beard speckled with dirt and Leviathan ichor. He thinks of the spark of Grace that cleansed him. And he thinks perhaps this is not so different.

But Castiel also wants to say nothing, to feign sleep until he drops off and to return to the Gas-n-Sip in the morning like nothing happened. To greet Bill the delivery man, then Nora, then each person who comes through the doors for gas or a lottery ticket or a bottle of water, as Steve. To wipe the slate clean. And, for the first time in a long time, Castiel thinks of Heaven.

“Dean,” Castiel says, staring pointedly at his arm in its brace. “Naomi ordered me to kill Samandriel.”

There is a creak from the couch, like Dean is turning to look at him. Castiel keeps his eyes trained on his wrist. He remembers the easy weight of his blade, the warm wetness of the vessel’s life force slipping away, the cold blast of Grace collapsing in on itself then exploding out. The charred imprint of Samandriel’s wings on the asphalt.

“You mean Alfie?” Dean asks, which is somehow even more horrible to know.

“Samandriel and Alfie, it seems,” Castiel says. He swallows. They haven’t discussed this. There wasn’t time, not after the crypt, not after the Fall. “I didn’t choose - I wouldn’t have chosen, not after -” Not after the massacre in Heaven by his own hand. Castiel’s stomach churns.

“Cas,” Dean says, and it almost sounds like pity. It almost sounds like disgust. “Why are you telling me this?”

Because I remember too much, Castiel wants to say. I am a human with an Angel’s memories of eons, but the only ones that matter are after I met you. Because my head is going to burst from it all if I don’t say anything. Because I murdered Jimmy Novak and ripped his family apart. Because I laid waste to Heaven, because I caused the Fall. Because I remember each way Naomi made me kill you, hundreds upon hundreds of times until I snapped your neck without a second thought. Because I agreed to a date with Nora so that she might invite me to spend the night in a real bed. Because I sleep on the floor of the supply closet, and because I don’t have a pillow to put underneath my wrist at night and I will have to steal ibuprofen from the first aid kit when my wrist aches.

Because I don’t understand why you sent me away, but I think I deserve it.

“I don’t know,” Castiel says, instead, and they slip into uncomfortable silence, broken only by the couch groaning as Dean flips onto his stomach and buries his head under his pillow.

***

It doesn’t occur to Castiel until the morning that Dean probably wanted to say something. He says, “Dean,” but when Dean looks up at him from packing his duffel, Castiel can only finish with, “may I use your toothpaste?”

Dean just says, “sure,” but it feels forced and overly bright in the light of day. Castiel is grateful that he can close the door of the bathroom between them.

They don’t speak again until they’re in the Impala. “Cas,” Dean starts, fiddling with his keys, still in his hand.

The parking lot of the motel is quiet. Castiel sees a bird, a robin, land on the roof of a minivan a few spots over. The robin cocks its head, then takes off. Castiel tracks its path up, over the motel, away from this place until he can’t see it anymore. He looks back over at Dean who is watching him watch the bird.

Dean opens his mouth, closes it, looks away. He puts the key in the ignition. “Gonna stop for breakfast on the way,” he says to the steering wheel.

Castiel tries again at the diner, but he is overwhelmed by the sheer number of options on the menu, and the smells. Dean orders bacon and eggs for both of them, when Castiel finds he can’t speak. He reaches across the table and flips the mug in front of Castiel right side up.

Around them, the diner is noisy, the low murmur of conversation, the scrape of utensils, the bell dinging in the kitchen. A woman comes by the table and fills their mugs, then their plates a few minutes later. “Dean,” Castiel says, watching Dean scoop his eggs and bacon onto his toast. He hasn’t touched his own plate, other than to pick up his toast and turn it between his fingers, before putting it back down to stop it from crumbling away.

The diner feels too public for the conversation, yet the Impala was too private. There are too many people, or too few. There is too much space between them, or not enough. They are two pieces that used to go together, but one of them is worn down too much to fit correctly anymore. Or perhaps it’s both of them. “Could you pass the sugar?” Castiel asks, and finally, eats.

***

The drive to the Gas-n-Sip is just as quiet as breakfast. Castiel expects it to stretch on for ages, but it doesn’t. They pull up to the curb in front of the store. Castiel expects his departure to be simple, without fuss, but it isn’t. Dean apologizes. Dean tells Castiel he is proud. Dean tells Castiel that he is human now and not to worry. Dean looks at Castiel through the open window and every unsaid thing from the night before, from this morning is laid bare on his face for a moment, then he lifts his fingers in something like a wave, and Castiel turns away.

There are Angels Falling on the news. There is a human in a gas station in Idaho with an ache just starting up in his once-borrowed wrist. There is a ding from the bell above the door as Bill the delivery man backs in, swinging his hand truck around with a, “Morning, Steve.”

“Good morning, Bill,” Castiel says, and the day begins.

tagging: @joharvele | @contemplativepancakes | @fluffiestlou | @never-forever-more | @emblue-sparks | @tearsofgrace | @prayedtoyou | @chaoticdean | @teamfreewll let me know if you’d like to be added to/removed from my tag list 💖

[blxetsi]

Hi! Can I please request modern au hcs for Armin?

tysm for requesting !!

modern armin arlert dating headcanons

lowercase intended !

college!armin arlert x gn!reader

- okay so

- i think in a college setting you and armin hit it off really well

- i think you guys wouldve just accidentally kept bumping into each other, whether it be around campus, at some coffee shop, in the library

- it gets so frequent you dont even know if its a coincidence at this point, yet you cant help but hope that you seem him whenever you go out

- after ALWAYS bumping into each other and apologizing before making small talk, armin makes the first move

- mf just says "are you following me ?" to which you reply "are YOU following me ?"

- that night ends in you two exchanging numbers 🤩

- you find out that hes a humanities major, and wants to be a psychologist some day

- you also find out he has a paid internship at a research facility near the university you attend

- hes super sweet but also super humble, so he tries not to keep the subject on himself for very long, just wanting to know more about you

- as you two get closer he gets more touchy (not in a weird way)

- he starts greeting you with hugs now, and likes to have a light grip on your wrist when hes leading you through crowded hallways of the school

- he introduced you to his bestfriends and roommates, mikasa and eren, and they were really accepting !! (they already could tell armin liked you even if he didnt know himself)

- you start developing feelings for him about two months after you exchanged numbers, and you honestly felt really weird

- because this beautiful boy whos so sweet and kind and intelligent is like,, wayyyy out of your league

- armin thinks the exact same thing

- he thinks youre so cool and fun to be around, you always have the best stories to tell and are so welcoming,, its HARD not to fall for someone like you !!

- finally he gets up the courage to ask if you can come to his apartment

- and there he confesses 😳💥‼️

- you sit there shocked for a couple seconds too long because now hes freaking out like "im so sorry i didnt wanna seem creepy i just wanted to tell you how i felt you can leave or i can walk you home- wait you probably wouldnt want that but-"

- you just kind of grab his shoulders and start shaking him. before you tell him you like him too.

- the apples of his cheeks turn pink before he smiles and gives you such a tight hug !!

- hes immediately planning a date with you for when youre both free

- takes you to the local aquarium 🤩 and kisses you in front of the moon jellies (u know those big tanks with the jellyfish that are like glow in the dark ?? and the whole hallway is pitch black except for the lights from the tank ?? yeah ❤️ he kissed you THERE and it was beautiful)

- has chapped lips 😐 sorry i dont make the rules

- has a habit of picking them when hes working or lost in thought

- doesnt mean you stop kissing him tho

- is the kind of guy that will genuinely get worried if you send an "sos" type message. gets out of his own class just to speedwalk (he isnt gonna break the rules and run in the halls 🙄) and come to your class just to see if youre okay

- looks at you like 😐 when you explain you just need him to get you an iced coffee from that shitty coffee place in the cafeteria

- does it anyway even though hes annoyed 😌✨

- will grumble about paying him back for the five dollars he just spent on you while you kiss him over and over again in thanks

- doesnt let you pay him back though smh 🙄

- loves to give back hugs

- will do it while youre working, or while youre doing the dishes

- if youre shorter than him he'll rest his head on your and just smell your hair

- if youre taller than him hes shoving his face inbetween your shoulder blades

- is such a lightweight drunk its not even funny

- none of his friends are tbh 🙄

- the first time you saw him drunk was when eren dragged you guys out to a party their friend was hosting (literally interrupted your cuddle time in armins bed to THROW OFF THE BLANKETS and say "you guys are coming with me 😁👍" and when you two said no he TURNED ON THE LIGHTS and ruined the vibe 😐 fucking asshole)

- anyways you two had to change back into your clothes at 9pm just to go to a shitty party that was gonna get busted by the cops anyways 😔💔

- you couldnt find him through the sea of people, and u got really worried until armin called you

- it was not armin on the other line 😁👍

- he said his name was reiner ?? and he said he was with armin bc he puked while playing beer pong

- the guy tells you where they are and you go to find them. theyre sitting on this couch in a backroom and theres only like,, five people in total there ??

- armin is SOBBING while reiner is trying to get him to drink water

- "reiner you dont get it,,, theyre so beautiful. i cant compete. i dont even think theyd wanna be with me. and you have to see them talk about their major. theyre so smart you dont understand." "okay buddy lets just finish this water okay ?"

- armin is leaning his shoulder on this GIANT of a man just going on about how much he loves you and how amazing he finds you. until you tap his shoulder. and then he realizes youve been listening this entire time. and then he starts crying because he doesnt want you to find him weird. and then you have to explain to him that you two are dating. where he doesnt believe you still.

- eren ends up giving you the keys to his car and saying "ill just call you when i need a ride back" and reiner CARRIES armin to the car 😭😭😭

- hes a real gentleman 😁👍

- that morning armin remembers EVERYTHING and is MORTIFIED

- calls reiner immediately like "did people see me puke ? oh god am i gonna be talked about ?"

- has very vivid dreams and remembers all of them ?? will literally tell you about a dream he had when he was five and WILL NOT forget a detail. its weird

- his family actually doesnt seem like they like you 😳 not because they dont theyre just very,, quiet people...... except for his grandfather

- doesnt even care who you are to armin, will pull you down on the couch with him to tell you about all his research and findings as an archeologist (before he retired)

- if youre ever feeling sad about anything, whether that be stress, family problems, or body image issues, armins taking you to his place 😁👍

- he'll cuddle you and whisper how much he loves you while you two are watching something on his laptop

- has acne scars on his shoulders. dont make fun of him for it pls

- loves getting back scratches though, the tingles make him feel really calm

- if you have like,, makeup brushes and stuff he likes it when you brush his face with them, no product or anything but the tingles he gets from it 🤤

- over time his parents warm up to you quiet a bit, and when his mom shows you baby photos and from him as a kid youre SHOCKED.

- he had this little bob cut from when he was ten to his teens 🥺🥺🥺🥺

- when you two are walking back home or wherever you cant help but go on about how cute he was and how healthy and pretty his hair looked (not that its not healthy or pretty now) and he just giggles before pulling you into his side and kissing your cheek while saying "okay baby, ill grow it out just for you then"

- also loves the petnames baby, angel, and love

- will gladly let you steal his sweaters. has a really nice knit one that his grandma made him before she died. that ones off limits.

- doesnt like to fight, but when he feels like hes in the right he wont hesitate to yell back when youre yelling at him

- just dont yell at him pls, it makes him sad

- it takes him a while (and by a while i mean like 30 minutes at most) before his texting you asking if you guys can talk about it

- its really easy for you two to make up, and immediately hes hugging you and just asking if you wanna do something with him

- also, cuts his own hair ?? and would cut yours if you asked. mikasa vouches for him "yeah he trims my hair all the time. why ?"

- every year on your anniversary hes taking you to the aquarium. and he always kisses you as softly as he did the very first time, in the dark hallway of the moon jellyfish tank ✨

a/n

THATS ITTT !!! thanks again for requesting !! i hope you all enjoyed. remember asks are open !! u dont have to request headcanons either !!! go crazy friends !!

[marinetteplztakeabreak]

okay now that we’re in the middle of a hiatus and the fandom is mostly calmed down

I’m one of the very few people who’s actually hoping for a Lila redemption arc? I don’t want her to be friends with Adrien or Marinette or anyone she’s really really hurt, but she is still like 14 and we don’t know her full story and I honestly want to see her grow and be a person and make some actual friends and get some hobbies. Again, I think she’s burned the bridge with a few characters, but that doesn’t mean she can’t ever be friends with anyone else

and anyway, my ideal takedown/ redemption arc for Lila is one where she unknowingly lies about having several disabilities that other students in the class actually do have

BUT I don’t want it in a “oh actually, Lila, you dumb fool, I have real medically diagnosed tinnitus, so I know that’s not how it works, haha everyone look at Lila the stupid liar” kind of way

I want them to be like stupid levels of understanding and try to bond with her

(detailed explanation of my Lila arc under the cut, obviously don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with the idea of Lila being redeemed)

Lila is like “oh... actually... I can’t participate in the PE final... I have scoliosis... that I just found out about right now” and Juleka is like “oh! I have scoliosis too!” and Lila is panicking because she’s about to be called a fraud, but instead Juleka just happily sits with her for the entire PE final and rambles about stuff and is super happy to have a bench buddy

Alix mentions that she has tinnitus and Lila is like “wait what? why aren’t you in front of the class?” and Alix is like “oh, for me it’s kind of a waves thing? on good days, I can hear her from anywhere in the classroom, and on bad days, nothing can really help me hear? so Ms. Bustier just gives me lecture notes that I can read and it works for me.” And Lila is completely expecting to be called a fraud but Alix is just like “it’s super cool that it does help you, though! everyone’s different! If you ever want to compare notes about what helps, you can text me!”

Lila starts to say the beginning of a well practiced and overly researched speech about how she can’t go on a field trip because she has a super rare medical condition and Max just pulls her aside and is like “hey, I know it can be scary and you feel like you have to justify yourself, but you really don’t have to give super personal information all the time. It’s totally fine if you are comfortable, but really, I know from personal experience that Ms Bustier and this class are super understanding. You can just say ‘personal reasons’ or something and we’ll all leave you alone. You’re allowed to have privacy.” and Lila is like “huh”

this is getting long but basically, eventually she talks to someone in the class with ADHD or anxiety, I’m going to say Alya for now, so she literally catches Lila lying about knowing some celebrity, and instead of being angry or judgemental she’e super discreet about it, she pulls her aside like “hey, I know it feels hard to make friends, but I promise you, people do think you’re interesting as you are, and we care more about you than the people you know.” and she doesn’t even call Lila out for lying? she’s literally just like “u dont have to know celebrities”

and then Lila actually finds out that there’s at least one actual compulsive liar in the class. And, if you didn’t know, Lila’s not an actual compulsive liar, and I’m not going to get into a rant about that now but... She lies on purpose, and tells planned lies with an agenda, whereas compulsive liars don’t usually plan to lie or have a reason for lying. So anyway, Lila gets actually caught lying, and someone, lets just say Nino for the sake of picking a character, is like “hey i know its hard but you do still have to apologize, even if you did your best, you still messed up and you’ve got to own up to it. I believe you that you’re trying to be better but you can’t just use mental illness as an excuse.” and Lila pulls out the fake tears and is like “you don’t understand-” and Nino is (not in a rude way, just trying to be kind) like “I can’t understand you exactly, no, but I literally did have a problem with compulsive lying and I have a therapist, so if you want to talk about it I probably understand more than you know” and Lila is like “oh.”

and anyway, Lila’s arc doesn’t come through someone she’s harassed trying to defend her, and it doesn’t come from her being traumatized into being nice, it just comes from her classmates treating her like a human person, and doing their best to understand her while also actually finding ways to make things accessible to her so she stops being able to get out of things. And then it turns to “hey Lila, just so you know, you don’t HAVE to give explanations for not wanting to go places, you can just SAY if you’re uncomfortable.” and she starts getting called out on it a little bit more, but in a friendly way. Her classmates are just like “Lila please just tell us what you want, I don’t need your medical history, I’m not going to do a background check, just, say you want to borrow a jacket and I’ll let you borrow it. I literally have an extra hoodie”

But simultaneously, everyone with a disability “in common” with her starts latching on to her and opening up, and they actually hold her accountable for listening to their needs. And Lila, who already has the mindset of “oh u are legally required to help Disabled Person or everyone will hate you,” which is literally the basis of half of her plans, is now surrounded by classmates who are asking for her help with reading things because they’re dyslexic, or asking her to grab a textbook from across the room, and asking her if she has any heating pads, and, well, Mylene actually bought her some heating pads when she was faking having cramps earlier, so she might as well lend those out so that she can get more credit with her classmates

And it’s not because she *cares* obviously, she’s just doing it to get them to rely on her, and to get on their good side

and then she’s invited to join the disabled students activism club, and it would look suspicious if she didn’t join, so she agrees, and then whoops, she is now working to do actual charity work-- because it’s really nice to have such solid evidence for her claims, and some charity work that she can actually point to solid evidence for if she ever gets called out-- and honestly it is pretty stupid that its so hard to get accommodations on tests for students with anxiety, because aren’t those the students who are the most afraid to talk to the teachers-- not that Lila cares. And it’s super dumb that no one even knows proper etiquette for helping people in wheelchairs,, and people keep Leaving Things in the Hallways that make it too narrow, and-- Lila doesn’t care at all though, and she definitely doesn’t care about her “friends” in the club because they’re not her friends, and she totally does not cry when she finds out that most of them are literally self-diagnosed, and then it turns out that Mylene was actually wrong, and she probably doesn’t have Lyme disease like she thought, and no one judges her or treats her any different? they’re all just like “oh thats great! glad you could keep getting new information!”

and Lila realizes that literally no one will be mad if it turns out she doesn’t have any disabilities. Except also, she’s starting to become more and more sure that she Does have several things wrong with her, because apparently it’s Not Normal to feel constantly on guard when she’s around other people, and apparently it’s Not Normal to just have days where you literally cannot drag yourself out of bed in the morning and then get hit with terror that if you tell anyone about how numb you feel they’ll immediately think you’re unworthy as a human being, and she’s like, oh, huh, i should  look into that

and anyway Lila doesn’t even try to be a good person at first she just wakes up one day and is like “what the heck when did i get actual friends and passions and hobbies,, i did not sign up for this” but she does start making an effort to be worthy of them and she ends up growing a whole ton once she’s given a support system

and anyway i know lots of people are uncomfy with Lila and that’s fine, but i’m continuously a sucker for “evil devil child is actually a pretty decent human being once their basic needs are met and they feel safe” trope

[spencerhotchner]

Alternative {spencer reid}

Chapter 2

summary: Since quarentine was announced, Y/N decided to rewatch all seasons of Criminal Minds. On a lonely night she wished she could be in that universe instead of this. What happens when she wakes up in 2008 in Quantico?

warnings: angst, a very confused reader, regular cm stuff and my grammar (if you find anything else pls lmk) 

word count: 2.1k

a/n: ok, i am really excited about this series. and really thankful that y'all are liking it. also, i hope you will enjoy this chapter as much as y'all did the last one! it didn't end up as long as i wanted it it but ig its ok right.

series masterlist

part 1 | part 2

You could hear some familiar voices on the background as you began to regain conciseness, voices you could identify anywhere. You kept your eye shut for a while, feeling the tiredness and dizziness your body was screaming at you despite the fact that you have been unconscious, and on the floor apparently. Even though you're head was still too slow to think straight, you noticed that your face mask wasn't on you anymore. 

“Who is she?” you heard the familiar voice of Shamar, or Morgan, given the circumstances. 

“Apparently she knows me.” that was Spencer’s turn to speak. 

“I met her this morning.” JJ states, you could only imagine the faces they would be making at her, wondering how and why. “I bumped into her walking on the street, she seemed pretty confused but yet she still knew who I was.” 

“Well, that’s weird.” Emily said.

When you finally decided to open them, you felt like you were still dream. Once again you found yourself asking what was going on. Why was the whole cast of Criminal Minds standing there simple staring at you and why were they acting like their characters? Out of the two explanations that came to your mind at the moment, only one made any sense. I was a tv prank, it could only be. There would be no other logical reason to it, other wise. 

“Are you ok?” Hotch asks, offering a hand. 

You stared at him trying to figure out what to say, but without saying a word you took his hands and got up. The whole team was looking at you, with weird expressions. You felt almost like you were an unsub, you hated being stared. 

“Yes, I mean, no!” you say. “Is this a prank of something? Because, damn, you guys went too far down with it. Fuck!” you say, finally snapping. 

“I’m afraid I don't know what you are talking about.” Rossi said. 

You tried not to but as soon as you realized you already had a big sarcastic expression on your face. How wouldn't they? They were tv stars and they were clearly acting, you've seen it. 

“Oh, you're not?” you said, as sarcastic as you could be. “Ok, let me enlighten you all, since you ‘don’t know what i’m talking about?’. I woke up in this freaking random apartment by myself wearing the exact same thing I was wearing the night before.” 

“...and where is the part we fit in there?” he replies. 

You ignored him, sighing and trying to push your anxiety down. 

“As I was saying, I was wearing the exact same thing and I was in Bellevue, in Washington state. I have no idea who decided to pull this off but as much as I love the show, I am not enjoying this.” you say, looking around trying to find cameras. 

They all kept staring at you, Rossi was the only one who didn't seem worried about, it was like he thought you were on drugs or just delusional. You were even starting to believe in that. JJ and Spencer kept staring at each other, possibly trying to figure out what was going on, and how you knew them. 

“You believe you were abducted, then?” Hotch finally says something. 

You sigh again, trying to be patience. All you wanted was to go home, when you said you wanted to meet the cast - all the hundreds of times you said it, you didn’t mean this. You closed your eyes, because suddenly all you wanted to do was cry. You couldn't count how many times you imagined this happening and it was being just awful. You hated being confused, lost and being pictured as crazy. 

“No, Agent Hotchner” you spilled his name, sarcastically. “I am sure.”

He looked at you without much expression - as usual, but you could tell he was superseded you knew him, just as much as the team. Morgan step forward, walking towards you. You stared at him, trying to remain calm. 

“Listen, we can't help you if you don't let us.” he said. “Can you tell us your name?”

God, don't they realize this is funny? I do not wanna be acting, some pictures would do the job just as fine. 

“Y/N Y/L/N” you say as you watch Rossi give Garcia a look making her nod and direct herself to her ‘cave’, certainly to search you up. 

“Alright, you have someone we can contact with?” JJ asks. 

You nodded, yes you did. But they wouldn't pick up the phone, as you tried multiple times this morning on the old cellphone. What if something happened to them? This was all so confusing. 

“But she won’t pick up the phone, I tried.” you said.

Once again, you caught yourself wondering what was going on. And that was the moment you kind of got what was happening. Would it be possible that you shifted to this universe? Maybe this wasn't all a prank and your wish had just became true. You probably should've thought about it before asking for it. At once it hit you, what you said to your friend just last night. 

“What is something you would want to do right now?” your best friend asked you, leaning a bit towards you, laughing drunkly.

“Um, I’d really like to be in Criminal Minds right now.” you say laughing as you best friend rolled her eyes. “No, listen! I’d love to meet Spencer Reid and I don't know, it just sounds better than quarantine.”

“Yeah, sure, because serial killers are just not bad at all, huh?” she laughed. 

Maybe this was true, maybe you did shifted. And if you did, you sure sounded like a crazy person, and probably a stalker. You looked around trying to figure out if you could sit somewhere, it all became took much for you mind at that moment. 

“Can I sit... Can I sit somewhere?” you asked, probably looking as ill as you sounded.

You watched as Reid rushed to bring the chair. You set down trying to figure out how you'd leave there, and how you'd shift back. Staring at them you felt your heart warm a little, you dreamed about this for so long - as it was all it was, a dream, until now, at least. 

Before you could say a word you watched Penelope come back and whisper in Rossi’s ear, probably what she found out about you. Which, maybe was everything, since you had no reasons to hide a thing about your life, which was quite boring, in fact. 

“Who are you?” Rossi says, like he’s ready to arrest you.

“I-I already told you.” you answer. “I’m Y/N.”

If you needed any proof about what was going on that was it. It was like you did not even exist, like you weren't real. She probably didn’t find anything because you’re not from this universe.

“Alright. What can we do for you, Y/N?” Morgan asks.

“I need to go home.” you let it out. “I don't know how I ended up here in Quantico.”

Garcia stares ate you, almost like she felt pity about your situation while the rest of them kept a suspicious look at you. It’s not like you blame them, anyways, you would think it’s weird for somebody to come out of nowhere knowing your name and claiming to be pranked. 

While you were sitting there, with all those eyes at you, you thought that maybe giving up and trying to figure it all out by yourself maybe would be better. How would they help you, anyways? It is not like they could send you back. And it is also not like you didn't actually wish for this. 

There are some wishes that are entirely rhetorical. 

“You know what? I’m good.” you fake a smile, obviously. “I’m just gonna go.” 

You stoop up fast, not giving them much time to contest you. Spencer looked confused, more than any of the others, for some reason. Maybe he was just curious on how you knew him, or JJ. Either way, you wouldn't know. 

Hotch looked at you, wondering your action. Why were you so desperate at one time and tried to pull off as if it was ok? It was definitely not ok. Your smile looked fake, your body seemed tense and your eyes looked as lost as he could think someone could be, as he has seen a lot of lost eyes. 

“Thank you, for your attention, though.” you say. “I’m sorry for taking your time agents.” 

You stormed out of there, not even realizing that you left your jacket in there. How could you? Not when you ran out of there as if your live depended on it. You let a sigh out as you got out of the building, not even noticing when the tears started to come down at your cheeks. 

At that moment you didn't care at all about where you were, you set on the floor, letting the tears roll down and the sobs come out. You never wished to be away from your reality, it only seemed nice in your dreams. Right now, all you wanted was to go home and hug your parents, or even just see them. You felt lost, as lost as a five year old who can't find his mommy at the park. 

You got scared as you felt a big hand touch your shoulders. As your turn, to see who was it, Spencer looked as nice as you could ever picture him to, or see on the screens. His face resembles worry, like he was actually wondering what happened to you and why where you there. 

“I believe this is yours.” he hands you your jacket. 

You stare at him before.

“Yes, thank you.” you wipe the tears away. 

“No- No problem.” he said, sitting by your side. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah.” you answered looking away. 

“You don't have to lie to me.” he said, as you looked back at him. “I wanna help you, but I can only do that if you cooperate with me.”

Why would he?

“I don't know where I am. I mean, I do know but I don't know how I ended up here. I understand what is going on, I did after a while but I don't know how to change this situation. I don't know how to go back home.” you said. 

Not like he’ll understand, anyways.

"Maybe... Maybe me and my team could help you figure it out?” he tries. 

“I doubt it.” you shake your shoulders. “I know that you guys are awesome at your job, don't get me wrong, to be honest I’m quite the big fan.” you laughed a bit. “But it’s just out of hand.” 

He stops, looking at you. Gave up offering help, you were not accepting he felt it. No, he knew it. It was his job to know what body language was telling him, anyways. He didn't want to stare at you, but he felt like he needed to. He was stuck at your looks, so pretty, yet so lost. 

“If we can't help you, is there anything I can do for you?” he asks. 

You looked right into his eyes. Thinking, if you should say it. Maybe so, it wouldn't kill you, it was not like it was the real world of something, well maybe it was but you couldn't care less. All you wanted was somewhere to stay this night and figure out how to get back.

“I do need a place to stay tonight.” you say, smiling little at him. 

He had a weird look on his face when you said that, like he wasn't expecting it. Because he wasn't. That moment he considered himself a crazy man, because he knew the risks and yet was up for it.

“Uh, ok.” 

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[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Mice in the Walls

CW: stalking, implied parental abuse, implied victim cutting ties with abuser, captivity, “it” as a pronoun meant to demean, choking, hitting, implied delusions, angry whumper, controlling whumper. 

Please read the CWs on this one. I’ll be more than happy to give you a general summary if you need (will probably do so anyway) let me know if you want a specific tag, and I’ll tag everything with this topic “Bernard tw” as he’s the culprit. 

Stay Safe loves, and do what’s best for you. 

[First Part] 

The doorbell rang and Bernard took a breath. As he opened the door, he put on his smile. The friendly smile, the inviting smile. The one he used at work and for the cashier at the checkout lane.

The mask. 

“Steven! How the hell are you?” he asked cheerfully, reaching out for a firm handshake. 

“Doing well, life’s just a joy.” The body smiled back at him, cheap wine in its hand and absurdly  ignorant of how pedestrian and mediocre its life was. Bernards eye’s skimmed over the man’s obnoxious shirt pattern, its ill filling slacks and cheap shoe polish before opening the door wider and gesturing it in with a smile. 

“Well, I didn’t invite you over just to stand on my porch! Come on in, lunch’s almost ready.” He had prepared some simple things, mostly store bought. He had no intention of trying to impress this pawn. 

“So Bernie, what’s new in the Wright household?” Steven asked lightly, setting down the bottle of wine and peering at the others displayed. Perhaps it would spark some recognition of how abject of a gift that had been. 

Bernard doubted. 

“Nothing much, Steve. Just livin the good life,” he recited as he ventured into the kitchen. 

“How’s Adam doing?” 

Bernard kept his back to the man, dishing out the potato salad. 

“Oh good, getting ready to graduate.” 

He could feel Steven pause behind him. 

“Oh? I thought something got jostled when he moved schools?” 

He bristled. Adam had moved, again. Always moving, blocking his numbers, spreading lies about him. How did he not realize that he just wanted the best for him? That he could help, that he could be a resource? The world wasn’t what Adam though it was, it was dangerous and hateful and-

The plastic container cracked. 

“What was that?” Steven asked, popping its head over Bernard’s shoulder. 

“Damn cheap plastic. Good thing I already got some out, eh?” His voice was pitched light and jovial, softly concealing his rage.  He put the now broken container to the side and picked up the bowl to set on the table between them. 

Bernard ate almost in silence, the body across from him droning on and on about the most inconsequential, mundane things. Its wife, its car, the remodeling of its house. It was pitiful. Nearly fifty-years of existence with only the most boring of conversations to show for it. Surface level, meaningless accolades that only made it seem more pathetic for how much it cared. 

The only time he found himself truly paying attention was when the conversation turned to the man’s daughters. They were also highly inconsequential, but they were the link that he had been searching for. 

They knew Adam. 

“Kesly is doing great, just about to finish high school. Man, can you believe it? Feels like just yesterday she was playing princess and pirate and now my baby’s going to college. Maddie’s just made varsity at her school.” 

Steven took another sip of its drink and winked conspiratorially at Bernard. “If Adam still plays then maybe they’ll face off some time, eh? She used to to whip his butt when they played in middle school.” 

Bernard squinted slightly with a toothy smile. “Only because he let her. And he’s gotten far better over the years.” He hadn’t seen Adam play since then, but he could only assume that his skill had improved over time.  

He took another bite of his lunch and made a mental note to find Maddie’s school and locate what colleges were in the district for lacrosse. 

Irritatedly, the conversation shifted to something pointless again and Bernard was left to wait until it could be useful. As the time dragged on, there was a dull thud from somewhere higher in the house. 

“What was that?” Steven asked, turning around its chair to look behind and above him. 

The fork bent under Bernard’s hand. 

“I didn’t hear anything.” 

Steven shook its head, wiping its mouth with its napkin. “No, no there was definitely a noise.” 

“Oh, that,” he replied casually, taking an even breath. “There’s mice in the attic.” 

A huff. “Sounds like pretty big mice to me. I can call a buddy out if you ever need anyone to do something about it. He’ll do it real cheap, too.”

Bernard waved him away, keeping the utensil under the table and bending back to its correct shape. “No, no need. I’m handling it myself.” 

They continued to chat uselessly, meaninglessly, until Steven finally decided it had wasted enough air here and would go be pointless somewhere else. Bernard watched him leave, said the expected this was great, we need to do it again soon, see you later before locking the door, finally free of such a useless creature. 

Teddy was hiding. Or at least, closest that he got to hiding with the chain giving his location away. He was between the bed and the wall, in the small space where the roof met the floor. 

He had been reading, laying on the bed trying to get lost in the book he had already read a million times. Maybe it had worked, considering that he had fallen asleep. The book fell. 

Now he was shivering in his only hiding place, desperately hoping that no-one had been home. He wished he knew what day it was, he wished he knew the man’s schedule, he could tell went it was safe. But no, there was no safety here, no regular pattern for him to latch onto. It was hell. 

The locked clatter and the ladder slunk down, filling him with fear. He was here, he had heard it. Teddy curled a hand around the bedpost. 

“Come out.” 

He didn’t, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to go back in the coal shed, didn’t want to be punished. It was an accident, and even then he was afraid that the nearly-memorized books would be taken away. 

“Now,” the man growled. Teddy shook his head and held on harder. 

Bernard groaned and wrapped the chain around his hand once, then twice, then pulled. The boy was still holding on so Bernard pulled again, harder this time. There was a small cry and a dragging noise as Teddy was pulled from behind the bed. 

Bernard looked down at him and only one thought screamed back in his head. 

Adam moved. 

Adam had moved again. 

He had moved, and blocked his number, his profiles, ever way that Bernard could contact his son were shut down, forbidden from him. He cut him out, disrespected him, shamed him left him to suffer through hours of meaningless conversation just for the smallest bits of information. 

Looking down, Bernard couldn’t contain his anger any longer. 

“You switched schools? Again? Without consulting with me? You ungrateful bastard,” he sneered, kicking the boy in his ribs. He yelped, eyes wide with fear. Good. He should be afraid, he should be ashamed of his pathetic behavior. He had been taught better than to disrespect him like this.

Teddy coughed and froze, tears starting to pour from his eyes. No, no no not this again. “Please,” he coughed, rolling onto his side. “Please I’m not Adam.” Every cough hurt, sending little bolts of pain through his chest and side. Still, he looked up to the man, staring into the steel cold eyes. 

“M-My name is Theodore Ramirez,” he rambled quickly, not for the first time. “My parents are Diana and Jonathan, they live in-” 

“NO!” The man shouted, pinning it down and wrapping his hands around its neck. No! No, no no no this! Stop! He squeezed, putting more and more weight on it’s thin throat. He would make it stop. 

Teddy wheezed, shoulders pinned down by the man’s knees. He was on top of him, he was choking him, he was killing him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Struggling was useless, the man being so much larger than him. His clipped nails left practically no marks, drew no blood. 

“Don’t. You. Ever say that again,” growled, lifting its neck to slam it back into the wood. “Never. You are Adam, and you’re going to stay this time.” He loosened his grip the slightest bit. 

“Understand?” His question only had one correct answer. Teddy knew it, didn’t have enough air left to deny it. His head still spun from the blows, a loud ringing obstructing some of the words. 

“Y-Yes,” he managed, only the ghost of a noise. “Yes, I’m Adam. I’m sorry - I’m Adam.” The pressure let up more and more as he complied. By the end, the man was only resting his hands over the boy’s throat. 

Bernard signed and raised a hand to brush it across Adam’s cheek gently. “There. See, things are so much better when you stop lying. Let me take care of you, keep you safe.” 

The boy coughed and cried underneath him, never leaving him again.

~~

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