#there was no void or awareness of time lost or anything

[spade-club]

Im overwhelmed and im coming to believe theres a lot of shit going on. I feel really overwhelmed. Just learned in this exact moment that we got drunk recently. Allegedly was not a good idea. Theres a person in our life that if I knew more about id be ripping my teeth out in pain and embarrassment, I can just feel it. Our social battery is so full lately its been fueling some wild decisions. I want to lay in bed forever and rot away. My head is killing me. Trauma has been flying around us. Theres no good news. Nothing to console me. Just listening to music and calmly freaking out over it all because I dont know anything thats going on. I feel like im being subdued. I dont feel upset but I also feel awful. I dont feel anything though. Its weird. This bed isnt as comfortable as my old one...

[moafleco]

i hate that duality that your mind can be your safe heaven that helps you get through some difficult things, keeps you going and brings you happiness at the worst of times. and at the very same time it could be your worst tormentor that won't let you rest and won't let you breathe, literally for no particular reason at all. and you can't leave or silence it. can't get it to stop when it gets dark in there. can't get the light in when you desperately need to feel a respite instead of suffocation.

[sparklingchim]

game on | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.2k

genre: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: pg

warnings: koo gets scolded for sleeping around 🥺, playboy jk <3, hints of a threesome 🫢, oc fights w a laundry machine

summary: jungkook is in desperate need to polish up his playboy image, and naturally, he turns to you for help.

a/n: hii my pretty besties!!!! it's my bday😋 so i wanted to share this silly piece i've been having so much fun writing!!! love uuu n treat urself to smth nice for me today <3 mwah😙

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Jeon Jungkook is a charming man – and he is well aware of the fact. He plays that card effortlessly.

Most of the time, it works in his favour.

But sometimes, it backfires spectacularly and gets him into trouble.

Which is why he stands in front of his fuming manage, who is radiating enough anger to fill the entire office.

The sight isn’t foreign to Jungkook. He wouldn’t say he is used to it, but he has found himself often enough in this situation to recognise the signs of deep trouble.

Not only is Jungkook’s charm complicating things, but the fact that he is famous too.

Sometimes, he uses that as an advantage. Not in an obvious way — never by flaunting his own achievements or demanding special treatment.

That’s not his style.

His name alone carries weight, and he knows how to let it work for him, quietly bending the world to his will... until the world pushes back.

And right now, it’s pushing back hard.

One thing Jeon Jungkook does enjoy about being a pro footballer, though, is the way women obsess over him.

He knows they love him – sees it in the comments they leave on his ig posts, sees it in the DMs flooding his inbox daily, and experiences it firsthand at public events, where hordes of fans scream his name. Jungkook thrives on that attention.

However, something he doesn’t love, and what he was never prepared for, is the media. The way they scrutinise his every move, how his face ends up on every headline anytime he does something remotely noteworthy.

And now, thanks to his latest shenanigan getting caught by the press, here he is. Standing in front of his manager, Taesung, and his PR agent, Jiwoo, eyes downcast, bracing himself for the scolding that’s already begun.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Jungkook.”

His manager speaks in a flat, monotonous voice, void of even the slightest hint of disappointment, as if he’d long since given up expecting anything different.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean up the mess you leave behind?”

A sense of guilt creeping up on Jungkook, even though he knows if he were just a regular guy, none of this would matter at all. And he finds it a bit unfair.

But to survive in this business, you can’t complain about unfairness.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Taesung barks.

Jungkook remains silent. He forces himself to.

“If there was more involved than just alcohol-”

“No! Nothing like that,” he denies, his response firm and immediate. “It was just alcohol – and, well, just good vibes because we won the last match, and with the World Cup being next, everyone was just really excited.”

If he had known what kind of trouble a simple, innocent celebration of his team’s win at a club would bring, he would’ve gone straight home yesterday. He would’ve skipped the rounds of drinks, the flashing lights, the loud music, and definitely the attention. But hindsight was useless now.

“Good,” his manager says. “I’m glad you were happy.” Mock sympathy drips from his voice. “Perhaps the last time you are going to be happy this year.”

Jungkook nods, accepting the gravity of the situation. No more clubs, no more parties, no more girls.

At least, not for a while. His reputation had taken a few hits recently, and this latest mess wasn’t helping. He could almost hear the whispers: reckless, irresponsible, unprofessional. The kind of things that could ruin him if he didn’t get a handle on it.

He clenched his jaw. No more distractions. From now on, it was all about the game. He needed to remind everyone why he was Jeon Jungkook — the best on the field, not just the headlines.

“You’re no longer in for the World Cup. You’re out.”

His head snaps up at that. Did he hear that right?

“What?! What do you mean?”

“Myungbo doesn’t want you on the team anymore.” Taesung’s words sound heavy and final.

Jungkook’s heart pounds in his ears.

His world tilts. The room seems to spin, the edges of his vision darkening. This wasn’t just a setback — it was a disaster. The World Cup was everything to him, and now it felt like it was slipping through his fingers. The crushing weight of the news settles on his chest, making it hard to breathe. One silly night is all that happened.

He can’t believe that a single photo of him leaving the club with two girls clinging to each arm has cost him his spot on the national football team. He went home with two girls – so what?

But he doesn’t voice his frustration. He knows better than to add fuel to the fire. Speaking his mind now would only escalate the situation and make things worse. Jungkook knows from experience.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to stay calm. His pulse is still racing, but he takes a deep breath, focusing on controlling his emotions. He has to keep a level head if he’s going to find a way to fix this.

“There has to be a way to fix this.” His eyes move to Jiwoo, his PR agent. “Right?”

His manager fixes him with a stern glare. “Jungkook, remember the promise you gave everyone a few months ago?” Taesung reminds him.

Jungkook cringes. When he made a promise to avoid actions that might damage his reputation, he didn’t think it’d be that serious. He cut back on going out, made the effort to play the role of the “good boy” but really – come on. He can’t maintain that facade for an eternity. Especially after a triumphant victory like yesterday’s.

Taking away his spot on the national football team? He didn’t think that was possible.

“How many more times do we have to fix your problems, because you don’t care enough? How many times do we have to repeat this scenario?”

“I promise I’ll better myself,” he pleads desperately, looking back and forth between his manager and his PR agent. Someone has to believe him, help him.

“Do you genuinely believe this country wants to be represented by a 20-year-old boy, who can’t keep his personal life under control?” Taesung asks, eyebrows deeply pinched together. “This isn’t just about you, Jungkook. It’s about the team, the fans, and the nation. They need a role model, not a scandal waiting to happen.”

“I know. I know.” Jungkook scrambles for something convincing to say, desperate to sway their decision. This can’t be it. He won’t let his career take a hit because of something like this. “But – but this isn’t too bad. This is fixable. I can fix this.” His voice quivers with a desperation he barely recognises as his own. “Jiwoo.” Jungkook turns to her with pleading eyes. “You always know what to do. Please, help me”

“I did propose an idea but-”

“We’re not doing that,” Taesung cuts in. “It’s off the table.”

“What is it?” Jungkook’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. “I’ll do anything. This is – this is everything to me. You have to give me a chance.”

Taesung scoffs. “A chance? As far as I know, you have been given countless chances.”

Sweat coats the back of Jungkook’s neck.

Taesung understands just how much Jungkook has fought to secure his place on the national team. He’s well aware that it’s one of Jungkook’s greatest dreams, a pinnacle of his career that he’s poured countless hours of hard work and sacrifice into. That’s why, each morning, when he wakes up to the latest news of Jungkook’s escapades, he feels a deep sense of disappointment, texting Jungkook with a dejected shake of his head to visit his office first thing in the morning.

When it’s all he wants, like Jungkook claims, why doesn’t he act like it?

“If the head coach won’t give me a chance now, he’ll never do. This is my last opportunity to change his mind, make him rethink. I need to at least try.”

Jiwoo looks at the manager, waiting for his approval. He nods.

“Very simply put: you need a girlfriend,” she says.

For a second, Jungkook is at loss for words.

“A girlfriend? How’s that going to help?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. This is not how he thought Jiwoo was going to save him.

“You need a girlfriend to help polish up your image as a player. It’ll make you appear more like a gentleman, softer and nicer. We need to completely shift public perception and counter the negative image they’ve formed about you. It’s all about changing the narrative,” she explains.

“And that is not something we can easily achieve,” Taesung interjects. “Rebranding your entire persona is not feasible at this stage. You’ve been projecting what kind of boy you are to the media for the past two years. It’s going to be incredibly difficult to make a sudden shift look genuine.”

“No! We — I can make it seem real. This is my only chance,” Jungkook insists, his voice gaining a hint of determination. For a moment, breathing feels a bit easier again. “The World Cup is just a month away. That’s enough time to shift public opinion and prove I’m worthy of representing the country on the team.” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice as he speaks, clinging to the belief that he might not have to bid farewell to his biggest dream after all.

But his manager doesn’t look as hopeful as Jungkook feels.

“How are we going to find a girl who will agree to this? Someone who isn’t an obsessive fan, understands this is purely professional, and can keep quiet? You won’t be able to pull this off.”

“I was actually thinking-” Jiwoo starts, but she’s cut off.

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between them before speaking. “Actually... I think I already have someone in mind.” His voice is more measured now. “That’s not the issue.” Jungkook doesn’t need to think twice.

Taesung sighs while Jiwoo looks at Jungkook apologetically.

“You can’t rebrand your entire persona from a playboy to a lover boy within a month, Jungkook. This is over.” His manager shakes his head, a sense of finality glimmering in his eyes.

One thing that Jungkook forgot to mention is that he is an extremely competitive man, too.

~

“This is ridiculous.”

You kick the laundry machine in frustration, but all you end up doing is yelping and clutching your aching foot.

“That’s the third time this month,” you mutter under your breath. “What did I even spend all that money on if it’s just going to break down whenever it feels like it?”

You shoot a death glare at the machine, teetering on the edge of losing your mind.

“Guess I’ll have to use the public laundromat again,” you sigh, grabbing the overflowing laundry basket filled with your and your roommate's clothes, and heading out of the bathroom with a huff.

On your way to the front door, the doorbell rings.

Please, you think. You were hoping for some quiet, uninterrupted time to deep-clean your dorm on this peaceful Sunday with no one around.

But when you peek through the peephole and see Jungkook standing there, your frustration melts away. You swing the door open, the laundry basket tumbling to the floor beside you in your haste.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim. “You’re timing is perfect! Can you please fix my laundry machine again? It’s been acting up, and I’m getting frustrated.” You groan annoyed.

Jungkook doesn’t share the same excitement upon seeing you.

You grow smaller and take an indecisive step back.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, noticing the tension in his features. “Did you lose the match yesterday? I couldn’t keep up because I had too much cramming to do last night.”

While studying medicine had always been your dream, the reality is less exciting. Right now, it means sleepless nights and relentless pressure. You know that pursuing this path will offer you many privileges later in life, but you have to suffer first.

“I need your help.”

His dark eyes, usually bright and full of energy, seem clouded with worry, and his hair falls messily over his forehead, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times in frustration.

“Are you okay?” You study him closely, scanning his face for any signs of injury. Physically, he seems fine — still tall, muscular, and as fit as ever. But something is clearly off.

“You need to do something for me.”

“I can help,” you reply, your voice soft with concern. ‘But what is it…?”

“Can you be my girlfriend?”

You blink, repeatedly.

“Huh?”

You start giggling when he doesn’t add more. You expect him to clarify or laugh along, but Jungkook stays serious, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his. You look down at them, then back up at his face, utterly bewildered.

“You’re silly, Jungkook. If someone on the team made you do this, tell them you did the punishment and quit acting so weird.”

It’s too early in the morning for Jungkook’s nonsense.

“No, ___, you don’t understand.” He squeezes your hands when he feels you trying to pull them back. “I actually need you to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Fake date me.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Remy fic for @littlekidsteve

It has only been a little while since you and Remy had managed to escape the void along with Electra, Laura and Blade before biding them farewell, all the while you and Remy took a long walk as you both tried to figure out what you were going to do now that you were free.

Out of everyone you and Remy were the closet and so the idea of saying goodbye to one another after everything felt wrong, Remy had become apart of you as you became a vital part of him, so much so to the point neither of you could fathom an life without the other being apart of it some way or another.

‘Got any plans now that we’ve escaped the void?’ You asked him and he hums while shuffling his playing cards, a habit you noticed he had whether he was in need of a distraction or in deep thought.

‘I have been in the void for so long that I didn’t think I’d ever get out mon Cher, nor would get out so I made my inescapable prison a home, so all this is…rather new to me.’ Remy admits as he looked over at you with a soft expression before nudging you with his shoulder. ‘You have lived a life before the void, I think you’d be better suited for that question.’

You chuckled as you rubbed the back of your neck. ‘Yeah well I’m pretty sure they’ve pruned it by now, so I’m just as lost as you are and I haven’t been in the Void nearly as long as you have.’ You told him and Remy couldn’t help but chuckle as he went to grab your hand, intertwining it with his own. ‘Then we shall find a way to navigate our new life, together.’ He promised as he then brought your hand up to his lips before softly kissed it.

‘You promise?’ You asked.

‘I promise mon Cher.’ Remy echoed and suddenly everything felt like it was going to be okay, the void was long behind you both as the future was on the horizon, waiting for your both to take it

And soon enough with time and patience you and Remy found yourselves in your own little apartment -that was funnily enough not far from where Wade, Blind Al and Logan lived- and living a quiet, domestic lifestyle, just like you had wanted for a long time but couldn’t due to certain circumstances. You couldn’t help but smile softly upon first seeing Remy with an peaceful expression on his face as he slept, he looked beautiful and at ease with everything that you found yourself admiring him in silence, not wanting to ruin this moment by sneezing or shifting your weight and waking him by accident.

‘Wade is right. You are beautiful.’ You muttered lowly as you memorised his face and the way the light from the window made his skin glow an almost golden hue, making him look ethereal, as you took the time to appreciate the way his eyelashes kissed the apples of his cheeks. Remy was a handsome man and you were in no shape or form to deny it when you were more then aware of this face since the moment you met, but it wasn’t his physical appearance that drew you in but more or less his heart and his ability to light up anything that he touched, and soon enough you found yourself falling for the Cajun Frenchman more then you’d originally thought.

Remy has consumed your every waking and sleeping thought, claimed your body and heart as his own with how his eyes never seemed to leave you the moment you entered the room, smiling at you warmly before cross over to stand next to you for the rest of the day while occasionally showing off a new card trick he learnt. Even during combat Remy would stay close by to keep you safe when he felt that someone was getting too close for comfort by throwing one of his kinetically charged playing cards at them, and when you look over at him he just winks at you and continues the fight.

‘I can sense you watching me mon Cher.’ Remy said as he smiles cheekily, opening one eye to look at you as he brought a hand behind your head, pulling you in for a brief but sweet kiss before pulling away to look at you. ‘Am I really as beautiful as you say?’ He adds in a whisper as though he didn’t want anyone else to hear your conversation.

‘You can’t be blind to your own beauty can you Remy?’ You asked as you moved a hand to rest upon his chest, tapping your fingers against his skin in an unheard rhythm.

‘I’m not, I just want to hear you say it.’ Remy replied as he found his eyes wandering across your face with fondness and admiration. You couldn’t help but laugh as you rested your head against his chest, nuzzling into him. ‘You are indeed beautiful Remy Lebeau, the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on.’ You admit as you look at him, pressing a kiss to his chin as you felt his arms tighten on you, restraining you from moving away from him.

‘You flatter me Cher, but it is you who’s the most beautiful.’ Remy says as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, breathing in the shampoo and conditioner you used and closing his eyes, never having the luxury of experiencing peace before in his life but finding himself falling in love with it as fast as he did with you. Remy felt as though he could stay in this bed forever with you but knew with your plans for later today he wouldn’t, though that didn’t stop him from doing whatever he could to keep you in his arms.

‘Wade, Logan, Laura and their friends are coming over soon.’ You murmured.

‘I know.’ Remy relied.

‘We should get up soon.’ You continued.

‘I know.’ Remy repeated as he kissed your head again, cuddling you further into his chest. ‘We’ll get up soon, but for now can we just…stay here, please Cher.’ He adds in a plea and you couldn’t help but feel yourself slipping into sleep the longer you stayed in Remy’s comforting and strong arms.

‘I guess five minutes wouldn’t hurt.’ You said as you nuzzled yourself into his neck, kissing it. ‘Then we’ll have to…to…wake.’ Before you could finish your sentence you had found yourself fast asleep as Remy smiled down at you. ‘I’m sure they won’t mind Cherie, they’ll understand.’ He says before joining you in dream land.

Bonus:

‘Where the fuck are they?!’ Wade shouted as he, Logan, Laura, Al, dogpool and the rest of his friends stood outside in the hallway to yours and Remy’s apartment after banging on the door for the past five minutes.

‘They’re probably still asleep, best we leave them be before we fucking wake the rest of the apartment complex.’ Logan said, side eyeing Wade as he sifted the welcome gifts in his arms.

Wade pouts and just as they were about to leave, a rugged and scruffy looking you and Remy opened the door to greet them as Wade laughs. ‘You two looked like as though we’ve interrupted something between you two.’ Wade the leaned towards you to whisper. ‘Is the French dick that good?’ You glared at him as you flicked him on the forehead, watching him as he winced and rubbed his forehead with a pout.

‘We may or may not have overslept thanks to someone.’ You nudged Remy in the side as he smiles cheekily and brings an arm to your waist, tugging you into his side. ‘Guilty as charged.’ He said proudly as you both stepped aside for everyone to enter your shared apartment before joining them, happy to have known such weird yet beautiful people.

[konniesreality]

How To Get In The Void State With The Distraction Method Through Yoga Nidra

Welcome to another post! This is inspired @luckykiwiii101 but this is another type of method to enter the void state fast!

To all the people that told me “You don’t do your research” and when other blogs tell me I don’t do my “research” please just understand that even if I am wrong, I do my research. And I try to make things simpler for everyone but receive hate back. Anyway, let’s get on with it!

Yoga Nidra is an amazing meditation that can not only help you get in the void state, but it can help you with your physical state, as well.

Yoga Nidra will induce delta waves and the delta state of mind, which can help access the subconscious mind. And we all know once we have access the subconscious, things like the void state and shifting realities or whatever you want to do.

(Depending on how deep you are in the meditation, you could also be in the alpha state)

“We spend close to a third of our lifetime asleep, yet we don't know much about it, particularly the delta state. Science believes that thought processes disappear in this state and conscious awareness is lost.

For this reason it is believed that within this realm is the gateway to God, to Infinite Intelligence or the Collective Unconscious” mind.”

The delta state of mind is perfect for accessing your “godlike self” and other spiritual practices.

Here’s the method:

1. Do the Yoga Nidra Meditation, specifically this one: https://youtu.be/8mM5Oks8yZc?si=AM3ZZSD0wosTWATt This video is perfect because it’s 30 minutes and that’s long enough.

2. After you have finished the meditation, and she leads you out, don’t move and stay in this meditative state.

3. After that, you can play delta waves or brown noise or any subliminal/binaural beat of your choice. I recommend making a playlist so you don’t have to get up to change the video.

4. Then, time to begin the distraction technique. Daydream and let your mind wander. You can imagine anything you want, but for me I like to imagine my favorite songs (like Lana Del Rey) and just imagine scenarios to it that won’t make me focus on the 3D.

5. Then once you feel like you’re done daydreaming, you’ll be in the void state! If not yet, since your in the delta state, you can affirm for the void state while focusing on the black behind your eyes and focusing solely on your affirmations.

Try this method out!

[chvoswxtch]

Court baby i've waiting for this moment! I have this idea for a fic living rent free in my head. Its Frank x fem!reader. They were in a very cozy and confy moment when the snap happened and reader was blipped! You could write how Frank deald with those five years and with reader coming back. With a lot of angst moments and flufly and maybe spicy after she comes back. I would love if you accept this request! Thank you, I love you ❤️

i'm not gonna lie to you, the blip is my least favorite marvel storyline, but I love you so I put myself and frank through it just for you 🖤

I would say sorry that i'm about to emotionally wreck you but in my defense, you did ask for this so...enjoy or don't

warning: swearing, mentions of blood, violence, guns, & alcohol, heavy angst, very brief allusion to suicide (blink and you miss it) word count: 4.1k

the blip.

A split second. That’s how quickly Frank lost you. He turned his back for a second to refill his mug of coffee, and when he turned back around, you had vanished seemingly into thin air. At first he thought maybe you had gone back into the bedroom to grab a sweater or something. It had been a bit chilly in the kitchen, and you were always cold. But then a few seconds turned into a few minutes, and Frank didn’t hear any shuffling or soft footsteps. He didn’t hear anything at all. The crisp silence had an icy sense of dread trickling down his spine, and when he didn’t hear your sweet voice responding to his cautious calls of your name, he went into a full blown panic.

You were gone.

Year One.

This wasn’t happening again. It couldn’t be. There was no way he had survived losing Maria and the kids just to find you, to let your endless patience and irrevocable empathy fill the gaping void in his chest, only to lose you too. It had to be some kind of cruel joke. Frank didn’t consider himself a good man; he was well aware of and acquainted with his demons. But he didn’t deserve this.

Did he?

It was forty-eight hours before anyone even knew what happened. One giant asshole snapped his fingers, and half the universe’s population ceased to exist. Frank had stopped believing in God a lifetime ago, and he certainly didn’t believe in aliens or otherworldly creatures. He had seen first hand during his time in the Marines that mankind was the real monster. But it didn’t matter that he didn’t believe in it, because it happened, and not even the fucking Avengers could stop it. Hell, half of them were gone too.

Two weeks after the snap, news broke that Thanos had been killed, and that the Infinity Stones were destroyed, but the remaining members of the Avengers were trying to come up with a way to bring everyone back. For months Frank was glued to every news outlet, frantically waiting for even the smallest of updates. Anything was something. He refused to believe that the snap was permanent. The Avengers were going to find a way to bring everyone back. They had to. 

Your pillowcase had stopped smelling like your shampoo, and Frank found himself using it and your body wash just to keep your scent on the sheets. He burned your favorite candles and read your favorite books. He wouldn’t stay gone longer than fifteen minutes in case you finally came home. He wanted to be there when you did. Frank kept himself busy with little projects around the house, things that you had mentioned changing or updating that he had promised he would get around to and never did. Frank swore to himself when you came home, things would be different. 

He would take that trip you wanted to go on. He’d take you to the shelter to pick out a dog like you had been talking about. Maybe you two would finally start a family. Whatever you wanted, he’d give you. He’d find a way to give you the goddamn moon and every single star in the sky if you wanted them. 

As soon as you came home.

But then a year went by, and nothing had changed. The anniversary of the snap came and went, and everyone seemed to give up hope on bringing everyone back, or they just decided to move on and accept that no one was coming back.

But Frank couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He refused to believe you were really gone.

Year Two.

The worst part about the snap was that Frank couldn’t collect his vengeance in blood like he had with his family. The one who took you from him was already dead, and even if he hadn’t been, Frank had no way of reaching him. Thanos was a Titan, someone who was revered as a God to those that followed him, and Frank was just a man. A man poisoned with rage and an insatiable thirst for revenge. So, he did what he was good at. He punished. Even though half the universe’s population was gone, that didn’t mean there weren’t still monsters left on Earth.

Frank killed without mercy or prejudice. There was no sin too harmless for his wrath. His fists collided with skin and bone until there was nothing left but ivory fragments tainted crimson and torn flesh. He didn’t stop, not even when his destructive blows caused his own knuckles to crack. It had gotten to the point where he hardly reached for a gun anymore unless he absolutely had to. He preferred to use his hands or serrated steel. He wanted to inflict every ounce of pain that he felt inside on whoever was stupid enough to get in his way.

It was like he wasn’t even mentally present anymore. His conscience had been shut off somehow, and all that was left was a relentless killing machine. Whenever he ran out of targets in the city, he moved on to hunt in the next one, and the next one, and the next one. He lived primarily out of his van, or whatever dingy motel he came across on the road. He hadn’t stepped foot in your home in almost a year. He couldn’t. It was haunted by your memory, and he couldn’t desecrate the home you two had made together with what he had become.

You would be ashamed of him. You would be disgusted and horrified by the things he had done. That thought echoed in his head as he watched the water continue to run red while he stood under the weak spray of the shower head. He didn’t know what town or even what state he was in. He didn’t know what day of the week it was, or what month it was. He didn’t care. All he knew was that you were gone, and he had nothing left.

Nothing left but the white hot fury that infected his veins and had him seeking out blood like water in the desert.

Year Three.

Frank couldn’t visit you, not like he could Maria and the kids. He couldn’t even have the closure of burying you, because there wasn’t a body. There was no final resting place for you, and he didn’t think that was fucking fair. Today was your birthday, and Frank had been drowning himself in whiskey trying to dilute the painful memories that played in his head like a haunting home movie. 

The angelic sound of your voice as you read him whatever book your nose was buried in that week, your fingers slipping through his dark tresses while he laid his head on your chest and listened in pure content. The feeling of your soft lips on his heated skin and delicate noises of pleasure as your bodies connected like they were made for each other. Your melodic laughter, the silkiness of your skin, slow dancing in the living room with the moon acting as a spotlight. 

All the words he never said. All the promises he didn’t get to keep. All the dreams that wouldn’t come true.

Somehow Frank found himself in a church. He couldn’t remember the last time he stepped foot in one. Maybe it was Sunday school back when his parents still forced him to go. He had stumbled in, his heavy boots thudding along the aisle, the only other sound coming from the amber liquid sloshing around in the half empty bottle in his hand. He stopped when he got to the front, looking up at the stained glass depictions of angels, until his weary eyes landed on the savior that was nailed to the giant cross.

Frank glared at him for several minutes before hurling the half empty bottle right at the head of the statue, causing a firework explosion of shimmering shards of glass to rain over the altar and various candles that had been lit for loved ones that had passed on. His rough voice boomed throughout the empty space.

“You son of a bitch! Why didn’t you take me, huh? Why not me? She ain’t never done a goddamn thing wrong. I’m the one you want. I’m the one that deserves it. I’m the goddamn killer here, huh? I’m the fuckin’ Punisher. So you bring her back, and you take me!”

Frank started grabbing bibles from the pews and hurling them at the statue with all his strength. In his inebriated state, some of them flew right past the statue and knocked over other small figurines and candlesticks. He let out a guttural war cry every time he threw a new one, and by the time he ran out of steam, he was panting heavily, and tears had formed in his eyes.

Dropping to his knees, he looked up at the melancholic face of the statue that matched his own, and he did something he hadn’t done in years. 

He prayed.

“Please. Please, just bring her back. I’ll take her place…I won’t fight…just…just bring her back. I’m beggin’ you…I’ll do whatever it takes, alright? Just…you can’t…you can’t do this to me again. You can’t. I may deserve it, but she don’t…okay so just…just…”

Frank was tired. Three years without you was too long. He hadn’t been able to find the peace that he had found after Maria and the kids. He spent a year waging war on everyone, and it did nothing. He spent the last few months drowning himself in booze, and it didn’t help. Nothing helped, and there was nothing to keep him going. You were gone, and you weren’t coming back, so what the hell was he still getting out of bed every morning for?

Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Frank pulled out a revolver and stared down at it. There was only one bullet in the chamber, and it wasn’t meant for anyone but him. If God wouldn’t bring you back, then he would go to you.

As soon as he cocked the hammer, a familiar voice sounded behind him.

“You don’t wanna do that, Frank.”

Turning his head to look over his shoulder, Frank squinted his blurry eyes before turning back around, shaking his head with a dry laugh.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. Half the goddamn universe gets wiped out, and I get stuck with the fuckin’ altar boy.”

“Frank-”

“Mind your fuckin’ business, Red. Just cause there’s only one bullet in this chamber don’t mean I won’t handle your ass.”

Matt let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few cautious steps towards where Frank was on his knees in front of the altar.

“You’re drunk-”

“And you’re fuckin’ relentless. Go home.”

“Look, whoever you lost-”

“Whoever I lost? I lost everyone, Red!”

Matt didn’t flinch when Frank suddenly rose from his knees and stormed over towards him, his loud voice booming in the silence as they stood barely an inch apart. Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, his lips pursed as he grit his teeth.

“You think you’re the only one that’s lost everyone you’ve ever cared about, Frank?”

“Then what the hell are you waitin’ on, huh? You too much of a fuckin’ pussy to do it yourself, huh? That it? You need me to do it for you?”

Matt carefully reached out to place his hand on Frank’s arm, lowering the gun that was in his hand while he spoke in a calm voice.

“I don’t want to die, Frank. And I don’t think you want to either. You just want the pain to stop. But if you do this, it’s permanent, and you’ll never know if she came back.”

Frank shook his head and blew a puff of hot air out of his lips, his dark brows scrunching up in pure annoyance and frustration.

“She ain’t comin’ back-”

“You don’t know that. She’s not dead, Frank. She’s lost. Maybe she’s with Karen and Foggy. Frank, someone came down from another planet and wiped out half the universe. Is it so crazy to think that could be undone?”

The anger that was simmering inside Frank from Matt’s intrusion seemed to be burning through the alcohol in his system, and Matt’s question was igniting a tiny ember of hope that Frank wasn’t prepared to tend to. His body physically deflated as he dropped his head between his broad shoulders. There was a heavy tide of tears on his bottom lash line threatening to flood at any moment.

“Don’t do that.”

“You have to have faith, Frank-“

“I don’t, Red.”

“I do.”

Frank didn’t know when Matt managed to slip the revolver from his grasp, but he didn’t feel the weight of a permanent decision in his palm anymore. Matt had planted a tiny seed of hope, and what if’s were taking over Frank’s brain like wild ivy. 

What if there was a chance you could come back? Matt had a point, you weren’t dead. Not really. Even if the probability of it happening was one in a million, didn’t Frank owe you the same unwavering patience you had always shown him?

“Look Frank, just…give me a year. One year to show you things can be different. If you still want to make that call in a year, I won’t stop you. I’ll leave you alone. But Frank…you’ve gotten through this once before. You can do this again. If not for yourself, just try for her.”

A year. A year was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Frank had already been without you for three years now. 

What was one more?

Year Four.

Matt’s apartment was fucking obnoxious due to that goddamn billboard across the street, but it was better than the shitty motels Frank had been staying in. He still couldn’t step foot in the home he had shared with you. It had been three years now, and even though he wasn’t fully convinced you could come back, he couldn’t let it go. Everything that was you was there, and if he sold the house, that meant every trace of you and your existence was gone.

Matt had one rule for Frank staying with him; no killing. For a week, Frank lounged on the couch trying to figure out what to do with himself. He would start to read a book, but could never get more than a few pages because he remembered how much you loved to read, and then he would get stuck staring at the pages while memories of you played on loop in his head. There wasn’t a TV because Matt didn’t have use for one, and Frank didn’t care to watch anything anyway. It didn’t take long for Frank to go stir crazy. He had never been good at staying idle.

While Matt was out making the world a better place, Frank had managed to find a construction job. Busting down walls all day long allowed him to get his pent up anger out while not breaking Matt’s golden rule. Most days it felt like Frank was on autopilot. He woke up, went to the job site, smashed a sledgehammer through a wall until his hands bled, came home, tried to sleep, inevitably had a nightmare about losing you, and laid on the couch staring blankly up at the ceiling until the sun rose.

Every single day was a repeat of the last until they started to blur together. Frank didn’t speak to anyone at the job sites. He didn’t speak to anyone at all. Between Matt’s busy court schedule and his nightly patrols, they didn’t see each other often, and even when they were home at the same time, Frank still hardly spoke to him. He wasn’t sleeping, he barely ate, and on the days he had off, he didn’t leave the couch. He felt like a hollow shell of the man he used to be.

Matt knew what he was going through. Hell, he had been there himself after the second time he lost Elektra. He knew what it felt like to lose the person you loved most in this world, and that had happened to Frank twice now. He did his best to be patient, but after four months, he couldn’t take it anymore. Matt was fortunate that he’d had people that helped him combat his depression to find his way back to himself, but Frank didn’t have a soul in his corner.

Except for Matt. 

And even though Frank wasn’t shy about not wanting Matt’s help, Matt didn’t care. Frank could be stubborn, but he didn’t have the energy or the drive to match Matt’s stubbornness, and Matt used that to his advantage. He was relentless in pushing Frank to participate in life again. He purposely antagonized Frank, even if it meant being reduced to a human punching bag, because that meant Frank was still in there somewhere.

Matt started small in getting him out of the apartment, like guilt tripping Frank into joining him on trips to the grocery store.

“You’re not gonna help your blind roommate get groceries? You know, a lot of items don’t come with braille labels. So when I die because I accidentally put bleach in my coffee instead of creamer, you have to say nice things about me at my funeral.”

“You don’t need labels, Red. You got that goddamn bloodhound nose. Would you stop lookin’ at me like that? Jesus fuckin’ Christ, fine. Get your fuckin’ jacket and let’s go.”

After a while, he even managed to get Frank to join him at Fogwell’s from time to time.

“No wonder you became a goddamn lawyer. All you know how to do is fuckin’ argue, makes sense you made a livin’ outta it.”

“I’m not arguing, Frank. If we got in the ring, you would lose. That’s a fact. You don’t know how to box, you just know how to run at people and slam them into things. And you’re too bulky to move as fast as me. None of that is an argument, it’s a simple observation.”

“Why don’t you observe your ass in that ring so I can shut you the fuck up, Red.”

The more time they spent together, and the more Frank put in an effort to move forward one step at a time, the less empty he felt. The nightmares still came every so often, and there were days where the weight of your absence was too much for him to bear, but for the first time in four years, he didn’t feel so hopeless.

He could think about you without breaking down. He could see something that reminded him of you, and it warmed his heart instead of ripping it out. He had finally reached a point where he had slowly crawled out of the deep pit of grief that he had been digging for the past four years.

As much as he hated to admit it, Matt had helped him find a semblance of peace.

Year Five.

The sound of a dog barking caught Frank’s attention. He pulled his head out from under the hood of his truck, looking over at the grey and white pitbull that was standing a few feet away from the front door of the house you and Frank had lived in together that he’d finally moved back into six months ago. He glanced between the front door and the dog with his thick brows furrowed.

“What is it, Daisy?”

The dog turned her head when she heard Frank’s voice, the movement so fast it made her long velvet ears flop. She turned her attention back to the door and continued to bark. Something inside had caught her attention. Eyeing the front door warily, Frank rubbed his grease stained hands off on a small rag and walked over towards where Daisy was, kneeling down beside her to gently scratch that spot between her ears that she loved.

“Hey, shh shh shh. C’mon now, what’s got you so worked up, huh? What do you think is inside, huh? You smellin’ that-”

The sound of the front door opening caught Frank’s attention, and he instantly snapped his head in the direction of it. All of a sudden, his warm brown eyes went wide, and time seemed to freeze in that very moment. 

“Sweetheart?”

His quiet whisper was dripped in disbelief. There you were, looking exactly the same as the day you had vanished, looking between Frank and Daisy with an expression of surprise and perplexment.

“Frank?”

God, your voice. It had been five years since he had last heard it. That was all the confirmation he needed that this was real. You were real. You were really home. 

Without wasting a second, Frank stood and ran over towards you, tears filling up his eyes as he wrapped his arms around your frame and hugged you as tightly as physically possible. His heart was thrashing against his ribcage, and he was terrified this was just a vivid dream, but then he inhaled the scent of your shampoo intermingled with your perfume, felt your hands gently pressing against his back, and heard your soft angelic laughter.

“Frankie…baby…you’re crushing me.”

Frank pulled back only slightly, bringing his large hands up to cup your face to study your features, taking in every single inch of you. He caught the way you frowned softly, looking up at him in pure concern when thick tears streamed down his cheeks. You lifted your hand to delicately brush them away with the featherlight touch of your fingers.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“You’re really here.”

“Of course I’m here. Where else would I be? Baby, why are you so upset?”

As you ran your hands through his long grown out curls, a crease of bewilderment nestled in between your brows when you took in his appearance.

“Wait…what happened to your hair? It was just short five seconds ago…and you didn’t have a beard. How…how did you do that? And when did we get a dog? Frank, what-”

Five seconds ago. 

Is that all it was for you? Frank could see the visible disorientation on your delicate features, and he had a lot of questions of his own, but right now nothing mattered but you. He leaned in and captured your lips in a deep kiss, pouring every emotion he had felt in the past five years into it. He kissed you like the world could end at any moment, because for him it did the day you vanished.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and let out a deep exhale of relief.

“You…you were gone, sweetheart. You were gone a long time…a long goddamn time.”

“Gone? What-”

“I’ll explain everythin’, I promise. Just…just give me a minute, please. Just let me hold you for a minute, can you do that for me, baby? Please?”

Frank had always been able to read you like a book, and he could tell by the look in your eyes that you weren’t just confused. Hearing you had been gone for a long time infused you with a sense of panic and uncertainty. But you trusted Frank, and you knew whatever hard truth he was going to tell you, he wouldn’t let you go through it alone.

“Okay.”

As Frank embraced you again, you suddenly felt a pair of paws on your back. Glancing over your shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the happy dog wagging its tail while looking between you and Frank. Reaching down, you gently pet the side of her face with a soft smile.

“Hi there, precious.”

“Daisy.”

Glancing up at Frank, your lips parted slightly when Frank told you her name. A soft smile covered his lips, the first smile to do so in five years. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear slowly.

“You always said if we got a dog and it was a girl, you wanted to name her Daisy.”

Tears welled up along your bottom lash line as you looked up at Frank, a gentle smile covering your lips. After a moment, you glanced away from Frank to look at Daisy again, letting out a soft laugh.

“I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Daisy.”

Frank gave your waist a light squeeze, leaning in to press a soft lingering kiss to your cheek.

“And we’ve been waitin’ a long time for you. Welcome home, sweetheart.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[mizu0xox0]

Self aware hsr characters that are an expy of HI3 characters

This might be ooc as I'm not 100% familiar with HI3 and HSR characters entirely also mentions of Bronya x Seele and Raiden Mei x Kiana of sorts

Self aware! Welt who has felt your presence before in his world, so the captain has decided to board on a train instead of a ship this time round and he gladly welcomes you and your presence even if you don't know that he knows you're out there

Self aware! Himeko who is not entirely sure why your presence felt so familiar and what do you mean you'll protect her at all cost so she doesn't die in this universe? It's touching but she doesn't get it.

Self aware! Luocha whos wondering who is this Otto Apocalypse or Void Archives that you keep mentioning who's similar to him. He's just a merchant doing business, he has no ill intent and why does Welt keep avoiding him and why do you agree with Welt actions from sending him that book? He 100% does not carry any malicious intent and is hurt by your actions (or is he? /J)

Self aware! Acheron who finds your presence familiar and soothing as if this emanator has met you before in a past life or another universe, even after all her suffering she just can't bring herself to hate you even if that means she's lost her Kiana

Self aware! Bronya who mentions to her mother that she finds this odd presence yet you don't feel malicious. Even her mother says you feel familiar of sorts, and why does she hear you being so excited upon seeing her? And why do you keep squealing whenever she's with Seele? What do you mean you ship them together?

Self aware! Seele who finds it irritating that there's this sudden presence that seems to follow the Trailblazer and the Astral Express and yet you feel familiar despite not knowing you. She slowly grows fond of your presence and starts getting used to you overtime. She still questions why you keep squealing whenever Bronya and her are together, what's a ship?

Self aware! Silverwolf who first felt your presence in Hertas Space station but doesn't mention anything because well she knows that you know her 'counterpart' from another game aka Haxxor Bunny and she doesn't blame you that it's fun to feel familiarity that she receives just because of her counterpart

Self aware! Sushang who doesn't really notice your presence till the blonde merchant, Luocha brings it up and she enjoys your presence and even though it's weird that you feel so familiar to her yet not to the general or her best friend Guinaifen

Self aware! Yanqing who's first instinct is to bring it up to the general who chuckles and think it must be his imaginative friend or something which does piss YangQing off but he can't be mad at either you or the general as first of all you didn't feel threatening and second of all you didn't even know he exists but he's a little on edge and takes time for him to get used to your presence

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You finally manage to quell your sobs. A slight trickle stains your cheeks and falls onto Walter’s shirt. You sniffle and reach to wipe your nose with the back of your hand. As you do, your fingers brush against his chest. 

You hear his heartbeat, steady as you’re anything but. He’s warm and soft and sturdy. You feel a sudden rush of guilt for spilling all this out on him. You slowly sit up, pulling away as Walter gently, almost reluctantly, slackens his embrace. 

“I’m sorry, I–” you raise your head but find your words smothered.

You don’t realise what’s going on at first. Walter’s hand cradles your face as his lips press to yours, tilting your chin up as his thumb slides under it. You hum in surprise, eyes round as the scent of his sweat invades your nose.

You put your hand flat to his chest and push. You bring your other up and shove until he lets you go. His arm falls away and you turn, shifting and sliding off the step. You stand, dizzy and confused, clutching your splitting head.

“I… I’m sorry,” he stammers as he rises too.

You run past him up the steps, legs wobbling, skull pulsing from the hangover of your grief. You push the door inwards and clamour inside. You don’t stop. You barrel upstairs and down to your door, swinging inside with a careless snap of wood on wood.

You lean on the door and slowly slide down, knees bent to your chest as you hang your head forward and shield it with your arms. You hear shuffling and a set of hinges groan. Footsteps pad quietly outside your door.

“Honey, are you okay?” Your mom calls through.

“Yes,” you force out evenly, the effort further thumping in your temples.

“Oh, uh, I’ll be downstairs,” she says, her voice silty with sleep, “you in the mood for coffee?”

“No thank you,” you eke out.

You wait until she’s gone before you can breathe again. It can’t be real. That can’t have happened. You really didn’t believe it when your mother said it. Walter? Why would he ever think of you like that? And now? Of all times?

Your father is sick, your mother is in shambles, and life is already so complicated. It isn’t that he’s a bad guy, he’s nice and helpful and all of that. It’s just that you’re already scared and lost. It would only make things so much more complicated.

🌾

You stay in your room for the rest of the night. When your mother comes to check on you, you tell her you have cramps. Your period isn’t due anytime soon but PMS can be a bitch. Just as much as life can.

She leaves a plate on your nightstand regardless and you thank her. You’re not very hungry and only pick at it before giving up on the meal. You wallow in your restless discomfort. Your head pounds until you’re nearly delirious.

You fall into a sleep less than refreshing. Your headache follows you into the void and its shadow greets you with the daylight. You wake and roll over, unready for the day but knowing you must face it. You wash and dress and head down to pretend everything is okay. Again.

You start on breakfast as your mom has yet to appear. You don’t mind, it keeps you busy. You count out the eggs and strips of bacon, a few sausages too. You stack a plate with bread ready to toast and yawn over the percolator as you put it on to boil.

You hear tires and an engine. You go rigid, frozen as you stand at the counter. What do you do? Go get your mother? Help her with dad? Or Timothy? He can keep Walter distracted.

Too late. There’s footsteps on the porch then a tap on the frame of the screen door. You panic and clear your throat. Nothing happened. Nothing’s changed.

“Come on in,” you call and pull out a skillet to heat up.

The front door opens and your ears tweak as you listen to his movement. Deliberate and drawn out, as if he’s also avoiding you. You keep your back to the door as you work at the stove, adding a touch of oil to the pan.

He enters, his shadow flickering over the wall, and you sense him. Is he watching you? You refuse to look back and check in fear of being caught. You grab the sausage and the bacon and lay them out on an oven sheet.

“Good morning,” Walter says.

“Good morning,” you return in a small squeak.

He’s silent. Neither of you know what to say. Each time you try to think of something, the friction of your lips remind you of the feel of his. You hadn’t been thinking in the moment but you remember how soft but determined he was.

Why would he do that? After you were just bawling on his shoulder? Seeing you like that, a mess, vulnerable, half-broken? Your stomach knots as you keep your hands moving and eyes averted.

“How are you?” He asks in a strained timbre.

“Fine,” you answer sharply, taking a breath to ease your tone, “you?”

“Tired,” he says, “you need any help?”

He steps forward and you shy away. You stop yourself from going any further and shake your head, “I got it.”

“Right, I…” he begins.

“Alright, Patty,” your mom’s voice wafts from upstairs, “that’s it. You’re doing so well.”

“Oh, I gotta–”

You turn with the spatula and nearly run into Walter as he also moves towards the door. You stop as you face each other, wavering as you stare. His jaw squares and his cheek twitches, his eyes sparkling.

“You’re cooking. I’ll help.”

“Really, you do too much–”

“I know,” he agrees staunchly and turns away, “too damn much.”

He strides out and you stand there. What does he mean? Too much of what? Well, you can’t ask from him. He has helped more than he should, but is that what he means? Or does he mean… that? 

He wouldn’t just walk away because of that, would he?

[idkanymoreokay]

I have so many thoughts on the friendship between Flynn and Cassandra, I could write a million essays on it. But something that has really jumped out to me during my current rewatch is the way these two just easily understand each other without even trying.

They talk without having to verbally communicate most of what they're saying. They don't even seem to be aware of the fact everyone else in the room is looking at them in confusion because they can't hear the unspoken parts of the conversation.

They bounce ideas off each other so easily, instantly pick up on each other's trains of thought, and practically finish the other's sentences or ideas.

These two neurodivergent geeks, who never had anyone in their life truly grasp what goes on inside their head, suddenly found someone who knows and it's like they instantly latched onto that connection.

Cassandra also has her very close friendship with the other LITs, and Flynn has his relationship with Eve, but it's their friendship with each other that lets them both explore and indulge the parts of themself that other people just don't understand.

Cassandra is definitely the one out of the LITs that is most like Flynn, both in her skills as a Librarian and also in her personality and how her lightning speed thoughts tend to get translated into her words and interactions with others. (Which is a whole other topic I'd love to dive into another day.) But, yeah, it makes so much sense why they have no trouble at all understanding each other.

(Edit: Nope, that was supposed to be the end of the post but I have too many thoughts that need to be shouted into the void. Their friendship is very important to me. So...)

Jumping back to the very beginning - During the first two episodes, Flynn is perpetually annoyed by Ezekiel and just kinda ignores Stone. But Cassandra… He's absolutely fascinated by her from the moment they first meet. He takes a minute out of their incredibly urgent life-and-death mission to discuss her being a synesthete and geek out a little over the fact she has an eidetic memory like him. And Cassandra's immediate reaction of "Yes, wow" is like she can't believe someone is capable of immediately understanding what's going on inside her head and is 100% okay with that and not at all bothered by her being "different".

And then they get to Stonehenge:

And I think this is the moment Flynn really starts to appreciate how brilliant Cassandra is, and how very much like him she is. Flynn is a fairly competitive person with a genius brain like no other, but he doesn't get upset or offended when she takes over the calculations, and even carries them out faster than he could have. If anything, he looks genuinely impressed. He instantly understands what information she needs and readily gives it to her so they can continue solving the puzzle. They immediately settle into this easy back and forth, this rapid exchange of information and clues as they work at putting together the pieces. He's able to talk to her in a way he can't talk to anyone else. It's probably been a long time (if ever) since he's interacted with someone who can keep up with him.

Even after Cassandra has betrayed Flynn -- causing him to lose his home, the only family he had left, his best friend, and potentially his life -- he instantly accepts her back on the team and even sticks up for her when the others object. At this point, she hasn't apologized, shown any indication of remorse, or had a chance to make amends. And it doesn't matter to him. "She had her reasons" - and that's enough for him. He lets her out of the cell and immediately wants to hear her plan for stopping the Brotherhood.

And I think this is the moment when Cassandra -- similar to Flynn's realization at Stonehenge -- suddenly realizes that someone else can grasp her thought process. That someone understands the way her brain works. That someone is capable of following her trains of thought and not getting lost in the ordered chaos of her mind.

Just look at her smile!! She is trying to get across what she wants to say, and she's so used to having to break things down for others and still not being understood, and here's someone who instantly picks up what she's trying to convey. Look how utterly happy and excited she is when he gets it.

I love how much they appreciate each other's genius. I love how they can communicate on a different level. I love how much they genuinely care about each other.

And I absolutely love that it's through Flynn that Cassandra manages to have her moment for redemption, because he's already clearly demonstrated that he's the one member of the group she doesn't have to prove herself to.

I just... 😭😭😭

I love that Flynn has zero people skills and a very weak grasp on the concept of friendship and yet he meets this brilliant, weird, amazing young person and pretty much instantly connects with her. Because, like her, he also spent most of his life invisible and now someone actually understands him and is already so important to him, even if it's a while yet before he'll really fully understand the concept of friendship.

I love that Cassandra has spent most of her life feeling unseen and never truly accepted by the people around her. And then she meets someone who immediately sees her and understands how her mind works and appreciates and trusts her, and who introduces her to this life of mystery and magic where she can use her talents to save the world… and she already knows that he's important to her even if she doesn't realize just how much her life is going to change because of him.

There's SO MUCH more I could say about their friendship, but I should probably channel some of it into an actual blog post at some point. For now, here's some cute moments I grabbed while getting the screenshots for this post:

[m00nsbaby]

Clumsy.

Marc Spector + Steven Grant x F! Reader. (Ft Jake Lockley) Next part to Sleepwalking. (Or "Already over" part 3.)

Final part. Clumsy II.

Tags & warnings. Sensitive themes, mentions of emotional distress, mentions of mental health, angst but not as bad as the other parts lol.

Word count. 3.2k

Summary.

I flew too close to the sun, Fell back to earth like a stone. I got too high on myself, Too young and stupid to tell. I was bound to make a mess of things, Mixin' fireworks and gasoline, Never meant to make you fall with me.

Your definitive breakup with Steven marked a point of no return for all three involved in the situation.

Marc had to force himself to learn to live without crossing a word with Steven, and his solitary life suddenly felt emptier than it had ever been. All of a sudden, it felt as if there was a void in his chest that nothing could fill, not alcohol, not Layla's occasional company, nor missions that put his life at risk.

Marc's biggest fear came true when he realized he had lost his routine completely. His life had taken that 360-degree turn he never wished for.

"Steven?"

"Mhm?" He didn't even raise his gaze from his book to look at him in the mirror's reflection in front of him; he simply turned the page slowly.

"Did you tidy-up?"

"No."

The only thing that broke the silence for a few seconds was Steven's page turn, while the other observed the apartment that seemed slightly tidier.

The topic wasn't discussed further. In fact, nothing else was talked about, and Marc silently observed, as he had for the past month, wondering if he was going crazy, if Steven was lying to him for the sake of it, or if his chronic depression was clouding half of what he did during the day.

That day, he didn't claim the couch; as it started to get dark, he chose to 'disappear' rather than spend another night listening to Steven's sobs as he clung to the scarf you had forgotten in his apartment, the one that no longer smelled like you.

If broken hearts had a scent, it would probably be what was impregnated in the yarn of it, Steven's tears mixed with his own cologne.

And a hint of whiskey, from the nights when Marc would steal the garment while asking himself over and over again, 'What have I done?'

The next day, to the surprise of neither of them, more things seemed to have changed during the night. Steven had woken up wrapped in his bed's covers, not on top of them, wearing his favorite pajamas, and your scarf neatly folded on the nearby piece of furniture.

More organized books took their place on the bookshelf where they belonged before Steven had started piling them up on the floor.

"Steven?"

"No." His head remained on the pillow, his eyes still closed. He was tired of answering Marc's questions, which, in his eyes, never made sense.

Who cared if a book was here or there? He didn't even remember what he had eaten for breakfast the day before, if he even had breakfast at all. With even less reason, he would remember if he got up in the middle of the night to rearrange things in the apartment.

Steven didn't take long to fall asleep again. The only slightly bearable aspect of this situation was that, for the first time in their lives, both Steven and Marc were starting to sleep more, enough hours at night and a few extra in the afternoons. It turns out life becomes more tolerable when you're not aware of what's happening around you.

Even counting the vivid dreams, the constant dissociation that was nothing new for them, and the lost time that could be used for anything other than sleeping.

You were... better, all things considered, as it had been exactly 26 days since your breakup with the person you would forever consider the love of your life.

Of course, you still cried at night… and sometimes in the afternoons, rarely in the mornings when the sudden realization of what had happened struck. But taking care of a pet proved enough to keep you distracted for most of the day. Thanks to your little ball of fur, you managed to get up in the mornings and took constant showers just to go out for walks with him.

The only contact you maintained with Steven was once a week when you sent him a photo of the kitten. You always picked the best one for him, and he patiently waited to ask you a thousand questions he knew wouldn't really have answers.

No matter how desperate he was to have you back, he would always respect your decision to want space. He'd sooner die than make you feel uncomfortable, and he genuinely preferred anything over risking the only contact he had with you. So, he never pushed much further, although he never forgot to make it clear how much he missed you.

He's beautiful! Looks so much like his mom. (You) How's he doing, apart from being really cute? How are you? I hope you're doing incredibly well because I'd hate it if you weren't. I miss you so much, and I know Marc does too. Do you think it's possible for us to talk one of these days? If not, I understand. It's not a problem for me to wait if you change your mind at any time. I'll always be waiting for you. ❤️ Have a great week.

Unfortunately, in every moment you assured yourself you were moving on from Steven (and maybe even Marc), you found yourself smiling at his messages, even when you weren't willing to reply.

Marc ended up losing his last remaining shreds of sanity when a month and a week had passed since he last saw you. He was doing his best to reassemble the pieces of his life that had fallen apart, but unfortunately, every time he tried to put a fragment back together, another seemed to crumble.

When Layla welcomed him, she didn't kiss his lips as usual, and mentally he thanked her for it. Physical contact with her hadn't felt the same for a while.

It's funny how at some point in his life he had found himself deeply in love with his wife's small but strong hands. Now, he could only think about how rough she felt touching him and how they didn't compare to your hands when you used to play with Steven's curls.

It was torturous realizing that there was nothing that didn't remind him of you.

"We need to talk," she said, turning her back to him. All Marc could see as he entered the apartment were her curls.

"What's going on?" He knew exactly what was going on, of course. He had been waiting for this for a while now.

"We can't go on like this, Marc."

In a horrible déjà vu, he could swear you had told him something similar, or maybe it was Steven, who was attentively observing the scene from the headspace.

"What do you mean, Lay?"

"You know what I'm talking about." It hurt him to realize his tears no longer had an effect on him. When did he stop loving her? "You're not the same after what happened."

The upside was that this was the most they had talked since they started their relationship, without shouting or either of them storming off.

"It's like you're not here. You come, we have sex, and then what?" There was that irritated look, filled with resentment that maybe he deserved. He had seen it in you, in Steven, and now in Layla.

Marc was so tired of fighting that he had no strength left to keep his pride up. He nodded silently and decided to take whatever she had to offer. Maybe receiving a bit of the pain he had distributed among different people would be enough to heal one of the million wounds inside him.

"Is it because of her, huh?"

'It's not about her, it's that I'm falling apart inside.' He thought.

After denying it for so long, he never thought that the first time he would acknowledge his feelings for you would be to Layla.

He nodded.

"You're broken, Marc." And he was, there was no denying it. "You're so shattered that you hurt everyone who tries to get close to you." If she only knew the pain he had caused Steven, she might turn the metaphorical knife she was stabbing him with. "You're going to end up alone, Marc Spector, completely alone."

When did she start hitting his chest accusingly? No idea. He had disassociated after hearing the word 'broken' from someone other than himself.

"Marc?" Steven's soft English accent called his attention from the other side of the room. His tear-filled eyes couldn't locate which reflection he was calling from. "Let's leave."

And that was another stab right in the heart. After all he had done to hurt Steven, was he still trying to protect him?

Maybe he really was the awful person life was trying to prove him he was.

"I'm sorry." It was the only thing that came out of his throat, his voice nearly inaudible due to the painful knot within.

Layla laughed at him, as was logical. How foolish he had been to think that saying sorry was enough to fix such a huge mistake.

"Let's leave." Steven's voice was so reassuring it gave him the strength to move his legs that seemed rooted to the ground.

"You understand that I'm breaking this up, right? I don't want you to come back here."

He felt like he was running out of breath when he nodded. He barely managed to clumsily leave the place; he was so confused. What hurt so much? As curious as it might sound, the breakup wasn't his main problem.

Maybe it was realizing everything he had caused through his mistakes, that everything could have been resolved if he hadn't been so stubborn.

The pain in his knees momentarily brought him back to reality. His body was giving up, and he could swear he was about to throw up in his now ex-partner's building. He didn't want to forcibly trigger a switch with Steven, but when the flashes of white and black appeared in front of his eyes, he knew it was better to just let it happen.

A week later, your hair was dripping as you rushed to open the apartment door, having just stepped out of the shower. You expected to find your upstairs neighbor, that sweet elderly lady who occasionally stopped by to ask for things like sugar or eggs. It was the highlight of your week, as it often resulted in desserts gifted to you a few hours later.

Ah, and she adored Sekhmet, who was already by the door acting as a second doorbell, eager for you to open up.

"You better not run off, silly," you said before swinging the door open.

You almost screamed curses until your lungs gave out when you found him on the other side. Holding a bouquet of yellow flowers and wearing black leather gloves you'd never seen before.

"Steven?" you whispered, more to yourself than to him, and almost immediately shook your head. He didn't have Steven Grant's perpetual shy or embarrassed expression.

Nor did he have Marc Spector's eternally furrowed brow, a look of constant stress. Although, right now, without any knowledge of what was going on, he was your best guess.

"Marc?" The only sound for several seconds was the purring of Sekhmet, rubbing against his legs repeatedly.

What a traitor.

He seemed just as surprised to see you, as if he hadn't been the one knocking on your door. You furrowed your brow when he offered his free hand.

"Jake." You took his hand to shake it. "Jake Lockley."

"Are you kidding?" That was all you said, not even annoyed or scared, just confused.

When he shook his head, you accepted that answer because you knew your boys well. Neither of them would joke about something like this. But what the hell was going on?

"Come in." You did your best to smile as you stepped aside to give him space when you noticed his intention was to enter your apartment.

"Ah, I… These are for you." He extended the flowers, and your chest tightened. It was like seeing Steven on your first date, but with an extra dose of confidence. "The yellow flowers are for an apology. They symbolize hope for a quick reconciliation."

You took the flowers in your hands and looked at them closely for a few seconds. They were beautiful.

"And why would you have to apologize to me, Jake Lockley?" You closed the door behind him. Being disoriented helped you take in this situation better because if it weren't for that, you'd probably be in the middle of a crisis.

You cleared your throat as you leaned your back against the apartment door. You studied him closely, and there was no doubt in your mind.

That wasn't Marc, and definitely not your Steven.

"Marc's foolishness," he commented. The yellow suited your complexion. He noticed when you brought the bouquet closer to smell it. When you closed your eyes and took a deep sigh Jake thought he fully understood why Marc and Steven's lives were now in pieces.

He would be too if he had lost you.

Thankfully, they had their protector, the one who didn't give up at the first obstacle, luckily for Marc since Steven seemed as persistent. And he seemed to have watched enough novelas to have the smooth talking of a 90s casanova.

His plan was trying his best, though, you were the first girl in Jake's life. And considering the circumstances, probably the only one.

"Marc is forgiven," you smiled with a weight on your chest as you placed the flowers on the central table in your small living room. The cat wouldn't leave Jake alone, and you knew it was because, to him, Jake was Steven, the one he missed so much. "When Steven and I…"

His gaze refocused on you. He wanted to let you know his full attention was fixed on you.

"Shouldn't you explain your presence first, Jake Lockley?" You questioned with that same smile that revealed how emotionally and physically exhausted you were. Still, he nodded, running his fingers through his curls to put them back in place.

An action that made you audibly swallow.

The hours passed quickly. It turned out that Jake spoke about everything that Marc and Steven seemed to keep to themselves. He knew very well that based on the memories of both boys, there was no one better than you to understand his situation.

You learned that Jake was a protector for both of them, and neither Marc nor Steven were aware of him until now. His priority was the two of them, and he knew you perfectly from both of their points of view.

It was surprising to you, but somehow comforting to know that there was someone to take care of Steven when you couldn't. Jake confirmed your theories that he was as hurt as you were by the breakup, that he missed you as much as you missed him.

Oh, and in the same vein, you understood that he had felt the need to take control more in the last few days. It seemed Marc wasn't in the best condition either. Ironically, you could believe everything Jake said, even though you had only known him for about three hours. But Marc remorseful? That part sounded like a fairytale to you.

"I'm here because I need…" He cleared his throat, his fingers playing with each other. A while ago, he had gotten rid of his gloves. "I would like to." He corrected himself. "I would like for you to give Marc a chance to talk to you, hermosa."

You wondered if he was trying to sweet-talk you or if the endearing nicknames rolled off his tongue so easily because he still shared a body with Steven and Marc.

"I can't do that right now, no, I hope you can understand why." You cleared your throat. Your nerves stood on edge when Jake got up to sit on the couch next to you.

He offered you his hand, and you looked at it doubtfully.

"Jake, no."

"Please."

Those stupid gigantic brown eyes were fixed on you, and beyond the expressions that differentiated Jake from others, all you saw was Steven's sweet gaze.

Your Steven.

You swallowed hard and reluctantly gave him your hand.

He cradled it between his palms.

"Marc is devastated." His fingers gently tightened around yours. "And don't get me started on Steven. I can see that you're not well either."

His voice was so soft. Velvety.

You allowed yourself to be fragile in front of him because how could you lie? You were breaking apart, and the loneliness, not having someone to tell every night how much you missed the love of your life, was killing you.

A pout formed on your lips slowly.

"Please, I need you to listen," he whispered as he leaned down to meet your sad, wounded gaze. "Would you do that for me? I'm begging you."

Your eyes were brimming with tears as you looked at him, for the third time, forced to face this awful situation. Once again, it was your responsibility to be reasonable and tolerant, to swallow your pride, and worse, trample your dignity.

For Marc, again.

"I can't. I won't."

He drew your hands closer and gently kissed them, your fingers, your knuckles, the back of your hand. All while maintaining eye contact.

"Hermosa? You don't have to do anything." You were breaking his heart. "Just listen to him, okay? Not now."

When you hesitated again, he knew he had to play a low blow,

his last card.

"For Steven, could you?"

With a sob, you nodded, and Jake didn't hesitate to encircle you with his arms, pressing you against his chest.

"Shhh, hermosa." You didn't have memories of yourself in this situation. You were usually the one offering comfort, not receiving it. It felt good, for once, to have support and companionship.

It didn't last long before you decided to regain your composure. With a red nose and teary eyes, you straightened up, and Jake let you go without protesting.

"Do they know you came?"

"I told you, they don't know about me, darling." He covered his hand with his jacket sleeve and wiped the tip of your nose. In any other situation, you would have refused and said that was gross, but at that moment, the gesture just made you smile childishly. "I'll call you, okay? So you and he can meet and… talk."

By this point, it seemed like a work arrangement, but you had no choice but to accept it. You nodded in silence and did your best to smile at Jake, who looked at you with compassion, although mentally you were confusing it with pity.

"I have to go; they think… they're sleeping." He elicited a very slight laugh from you. If you were confused, you didn't want to know what it was like for them. You just nodded and opened the door for him to leave.

You said goodbye with an almost awkward hug because while he wondered why his arms clung to you as if they were Steven's, you questioned whether this was just a formality for Jake. Whether he just wanted to go back to his normal life, and that's why he was doing this. Either way, you appreciated the gesture, or whatever it was. At least the company in the afternoon had been nice.

You had a lot to think about, clearly. Nothing was stopping you from ignoring Jake for the rest of your days and never clarifying the darned conversation he wanted you to have with Marc. However, deep down, you did want to lay everything out when it came to him.

Needless to say, you cried all night, confused, hurt, sad. Just like the previous nights, with Sekhmet in your arms, meowing because he missed the smell of Steven.

Just like you did.

i know i know this feels like we got nowhere but i have to get you ready for the end of this, ok?? from now on everything depends on marc so lol good luck for y'all

LOVE YOUUU thanks for following this thing that was supposed to have just one part lol the next one will finally be the end >:)

[peachdues]

The Great War (Giyuu x F!Reader Bundle of Joy)

Secret pregnancy fic!

I had this queued up before my hiatus so I’ll give you a crumb 😘

(y’all can’t yell at me for this)

CW: night terrors, trauma, strangulation (I swear fluff comes later)

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

It was Giyuu, only it wasn’t Giyuu.

Y/N didn’t recognize the cold black that had replaced the soft azure of her lover’s eyes. There was none of the familiar tenderness or quiet affection that she had come to know and love. No warmth; no mercy.

Y/N gazed only into an empty black void that had taken over her beloved as she struggled for breath, her hands weakly clawing at the hand he had locked around her neck, crushing her throat with rapidly increasing force.

“G-Giyuu,” She choked. Black spots danced across her vision and her lungs squeezed for air that would not come.

The world suddenly seemed to slow down, as though she were under water; her blood rushed in her ears as her hands lost their weak hold around her lover’s hand, and Y/N knew her end had come.

In one last, desperate attempt to recall the man she loved, Y/N limply moved one hand to rest gently on his face.

He flinched from her touch.

“I-I’m not…y-your enemy, G-Giyuu…” she managed before her hand felt limply to her side.

And then there was nothing.

————————————————————————

With a gasp, Giyuu felt the world around him open.

His senses returned to him sluggishly, the smells and sounds of even his and Y/N’s quiet wing of the shared estate overwhelming to him as he struggled to regain his breath. His heart thumped wildly in his chest to the point of pain and his muscles strained from tension.

Another night terror. This time, the souls of his dead comrades and friends had tried to pull him beneath an endless oasis of murky water, the Infinity Castle looming ominously in the distance.

As he had been pulled below the lapping waters by the dead, he had shot out his arm, desperately clenching for anything by to grab onto, to help pull him back to the surface and away.

What had he been grabbing, anyways?

He could not remember, though, as Giyuu’s senses slowly returned to him, he became vaguely aware that he was indeed gripping something.

Still panting, he slowly looked down to inspect what precisely his hand had latched onto.

It took him a moment to process what he was seeing; below him, pinned between his knees, was Y/N, her arms limp at her sides and her eyes closed.

She was slightly suspended from her place on the floor near their shared futon, shoulders pulled up but her head slumped oddly back.

Giyuu distantly realized that she was half-pulled from the floor by the hand that was still wrapped firmly around her throat.

His own hand.

With a horrified cry, Giyuu released his grip. He had awoken from one night terror straight into another, only this one was real, and his fiancé was unconscious on their bedroom floor, with strangulation marks from his own fingers already blooming across her throat and neck.

“Y/N…” he said shakily, tears already falling as he leaned forward to check for her breath or for her pulse.

“Y/N,” the former Water Pillar sobbed again, hand shaking as he grazed her face, brushing her hair back. His arm trembled as it slid beneath her, pulling her motionless body up to his chest as he clutched his fiancé close, rocking back and forth.

“Tengen,” he cried, his tears making it almost impossible for him to see, to do anything that could help, as the panic within him built. “Sanemi! Anyone!”

—————————————————————————

(…..)

As the former Sound Pillar hoisted the sobbing raven haired man from the hall of the estate, Suma turned to Makio, her hand clamped over her mouth in sudden horror.

“Isn’t she pregnant?” She breathed.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Now wait til August!

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Stud.

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel x Reader (Spider-Verse).

Summary: Miguel wants a family. You don't, but he doesn't care.

A Grab Bag For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

TW: Trans!Miguel, AMAB!Reader, N0n//C0n, Overstimulation, Forced Breeding, Bondage, Themes Of Helplessness, and Unhealthy Relationships.

You almost wished that he would paralyze you.

It was an awful thing to think, an awful thing to want, but you just couldn’t help it. You knew what it was like to be at the mercy of his venom. You could remember how it felt to have your body stiffen against your will, your joints lock into place, your mind remaining clear and lucid and hyper-aware that you couldn’t do anything to get away from him, and still, you couldn’t help but think it’d be better than this – than the feeling of his webbing pulsing around your wrists and ankles, of your body going limp not because of anything Miguel forced into your veins, but due to just how weak you were, compared to him. Then knowing he’d given you a fighting chance, and it hadn’t changed a thing.

Not that he’d meant to. It was a matter of practicality, of limiting as many adverse variables as he could without pumping you full of aphrodisiacs and turning you into a brain-dead toy. There’d been tests, nights spent with his fist wrapped around your cock as he measured your sensitivity, your refraction period, your… output, for lack of a less off-putting choice of words. Paralysis made things difficult, dampened your reactions, made it difficult to get what he wanted out of you and into him, and therefore, it was off the table, along with sedatives, tranquilizers, or anything else that might’ve made the experience less excruciating. You’d fought back at first, kicked and screamed and clawed at him in hopes that he’d do something to put you out of your misery, but that’d only earned you your improvised restraints and a knot of soreness in your pelvis, where his hips beat into yours. He was straddling you, knees bent and hands wrapped around the bars of his headboard, his expression caught between concentration and empty-headed lust. You couldn’t imagine how he was still upright, still rational, still riding you just as violently as he has been when he first slid you into him. You hadn’t done anything other than moan and cum, and you were barely on the verge of consciousness.

Barely, barely, then not at all. Your eyes fell shut, your mind going blank for all of half a second before one of his hands dropped to your face, cupping your chin and tilting your head back, keeping you awake despite your best efforts to save yourself just a few minutes of suffering. His pussy clenched around your cock as your eyes met, but any semblance of pleasure was lost to the agonizing burn of overstimulation. You wished you were numb. You wished he would let you go numb. “C’mon, amor,” he panted, his voice raspy and a tired smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “I know that’s not everything you can give me.”

It was. It really was. He’d already taken everything he could, from you. Your cum was already spilling out of his cunt, already mixing with his slick and pooling on his sheets. Your sides were rubbed raw where his muscular thighs were slotted against them, and you couldn’t begin to imagine the pain you’d be in tomorrow, after the adrenaline faded and the ache set in and Miguel’s ‘aftercare’ proved to be a glass of water, a military-style shower, and more unwanted affection. That was, if he even decided aftercare was necessary, if he didn’t just leave you tied up and prepped for your next breeding session. You wouldn’t put it above him, knowing how he tended to leave his half-finished projects spread across any available surface for months at a time. Despite your immobility, you shuddered, imagining yourself staying chained to his bed and milked dry until he got the two little lines he was looking for. Until he had something to fill the empty void in his chest where his heart should’ve been, the one your exploitation alone couldn’t heal.

You forced yourself not to think about it. You forced yourself not to think about the future. You forced yourself not to think about anything as his pace sped up, as he took to grinding himself against you, as his back arched and his head dipped lower and he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His skin was damp and hot, but it wasn’t a feeling you’d have to suffer for long. With labored, jerky movements, he raised his head and forced his lips against yours. The kiss was messy, violent, all teeth and tongue and fangs. You didn’t kiss back – if you had the strength, you wouldn’t have wasted it on that – but that did little to deter Miguel. He wanted to use you. Your cooperation (or lack thereof) wouldn’t change that.

“That’s it, just— Fuck, I know you’re going to love her.” You could feel him clenching around you, his slick dripping onto your stomach. He was going to cum again, and judging by the tightness in your chest, the raw agony clawing at the back of your skull, you weren’t far behind. “Do it. Knock me up. Breed me.”

It was an order, a demand, and you were too exhausted to disobey. It was more pitiful than anything – barely the forced, rigid aftershocks of however many climaxes he’d forced out of you. Still, his tight cunt forced every last drop out of you, milking you for all you were worth as he clenched his eyes shut and convulsed around you. Finally, finally, he went still, letting out a breath of a sigh before straightening his back. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched his hazy features contort into a careless grin, felt something deep inside of your chest fall and crack as he rolled his hips, falling back into a steady rhythm before you could so much as start to hope he was actually done with you, this time. “Just a little more,” he muttered, as your vision blurred and, exhausted and in agony, you slipped out of consciousness and into a restless, dreamless sleep.

“Just a little more, then we’ll be a family.”

[mehbzz]

Mother's Day

Poly!Ghostface Billy Loomis x F!Reader Stu Macher x F!Reader

18+ No real plot as usual, more like scenes out of a relationship. AU with Billy's mom having left earlier in his life. Yandere vibes, insecure/unstable Billy and Stu, insinuated violence/murder if you squint, oral sex, abusive relationships, misogyny, unsatisfying sex.

There's an itch crawling under Billy’s skin. A violent cold itch that had started with a panic filled awakening from a nightmare. A nightmare where he’d lost you. You’d just gone. Your house empty and void of anything even remotely connected to you. He knew what was triggering it. He knew even if he wouldn’t directly acknowledge it. It was dumb, childish. His father had called him stupid for getting upset over it more times than he could count growing up. It was a commercial holiday, nothing to act like a pansy over. You’re a man now, act like it. But the dread from the nightmare had persisted. Like a toothache he kept returning to it, poking it, prodding it, letting the fear grow and the thoughts spiral until he was dragging Stu out of bed at 9am in order to go check on you.

"She's working."

"I know." He snaps, he can’t take his eyes off you as you talk to a customer at the counter. He feels stupid if he’s honest, embarrassed, but the dark thoughts are winning out over logic.

"Sooo dial it back a bit," Stu pokes at a couple of VHS tapes in mild curiosity, glancing at him out the corner of his eye. "You look like you want to tear someone's head off."

“She's-,”

"Working."  Stu finishes for him. “We’ve been here for nearly half an hour dude, I’m dying of boredom.” It interrupts his spiralling thoughts to see Stu so nonchalant, puts a little pause in his almost crushing sense of insecurity.  Billy finally tears his gaze away from you to stare at him, and Stu returns his stare with a look Billy was tempted to call concerned.

"Something going on I should know about?"

"No." He hisses and Stu holds his hands up in surrender, taking half a step back.

"Alright man, only asking." 

He's aware of Stu hovering, the constant glances. Instead of feeling annoying and adding to his bad mood it feels kind of comforting. He watches as you say something to the girl that makes her laugh. There’s an uncomfortable knot of something vicious growing in his chest, he feels like he’s about to do something he’ll regret.  You’re here. He repeats it in his head like a mantra, trying to control the lingering fear that he’d woken up with in the middle of the night. You’re here, you’re not gone, not like-, you laugh and it distracts him, his attention focusing in on you once more. You’d obviously been on cleaning duty before being interrupted; you’re wearing an old worn tabard and have dirt smeared across your cheek.

“She looks cute. Domestic,” Stu murmurs over his shoulder. He flinches but he doesn't move away from the heat of Stu's hands on his hips. "Shame she’s being such a little flirt right now." Stu's hand moves a little lower skirting over Billy's stomach and teasing the zipper of his jeans. “Flirt?” He repeats. Were you actually flirting? Now Stu has mentioned it he can’t stop noticing the curve of your lips as you smile, the way you’re holding eye contact with her. Are you usually this chatty with your customers?

“Yeah, look at her,” Stu leans forward until his lips brush over his ear as he whispers. “maybe we should drag her home and remind her who she belongs to?"

This was a bad idea, letting Stu be so brazen with him in public but he couldn't find it in himself to care right at that moment. The girl leans against the counter, her fingers brushing your wrist as she takes her tapes. Can you really not tell she’s flirting with you? You’re so damn naïve sometimes. He feels a little flurry of anger at you, his jaw on the verge of breaking from the tension. He needs to distract himself, distract himself from Stu’s attempt at riling him up.   “Domestic?” He hates that his voice comes out strained rather than the teasing jab he was aiming for. He watches you talk and he’s hit with a strong desire to push his fingers against your jaw, to press his thumb inside your mouth and feel the way your tongue moves around the words. His hands drop to Stu’s and tug them gently away. He can’t deal with it; he feels exposed, like Stu is brushing over raw skin and nerves. “You really have a thing for the housewives don’t you?”

"I have a fantasy, sue me." Stu shrugs, obviously disappointed that Billy didn’t rise to his bait, taking a step away from him and returning his attention to the tapes in front of them.

An oddly tame fantasy for Stu, almost romantic even, it makes him wonder if Stu thinks about his future with you more often than he would ever admit. Billy doesn't think much about the future aside from the fact that you and Stu are in it. Is it something you think about? He can't imagine you being a housewife. Did you want to get married? Did you want kids? Did you even-

"Billy." Stu snaps his name, exasperation written all over his face. "Day for over thinking huh?"

He shrugs. "Didn't sleep well."

"Uh huh that’s kinda obvious." Stu is watching him closely, and he tries to school his face into his usual blank mask. It's difficult, always is around Stu, and he doesn't think it works from the way Stu shifts a little closer. 

"I uh-" Stu clears his throat, suddenly awkward, fidgety. "If you wanna talk about it-," He trails off, he isn't quite making eye contact and Billy is briefly distracted from Stu’s attempt at comforting him with the thought of how fucking cute it is to see him flounder. "We should go?”

It’s phrased as a question but Billy doesn’t think it really is one, and he doesn’t answer, his gaze trailing after the girl as she finally leaves, the sudden urge to do some violent making his fingers twitch. “Let’s leave bunny to do her job and go back to mine instead. You can tell me all the gross gory things you want to do to that chick while I pound you into the mattress."

Billy’s lips twitch with the barest hint of a smile. He's not in the mood for that, he thinks his skin would blister and split if he was touched right now but the-

"Or just the gory things is good too,” Stu’s voice drops to a whisper. “Easy enough to find out who she is."

He stops staring at you long enough to glance back at Stu, startled. It always takes him off guard when Stu does that, when he reads him so easily, especially when he feels like he’s hiding his thoughts pretty well. “Bunny’s not going anywhere Bill.” He says it so softly that Billy is not sure if he imagined it. “Let’s go.”

"I need to-, should say bye first."

"Don't think she knows we're here dude, we've kinda been lurking." Stu huffs, running a hand through his hair when Billy doesn’t move, giving a quick glance around the store. “You’re-, fine whatever, be quick.” You look startled as Billy approaches you, but you smile. A smile that's too bright and too happy and he fights the urge to snap at you for it. You're too obvious sometimes with your affection, even as his heart swells and he feels a little calmer at your obvious joy at seeing him.

“What’s up?” You follow him without question when he beckons you over, down an empty aisle until he can’t resist the temptation any longer and reaches out to grasp your wrist but the touch of you doesn’t ease his rising need for violence like it usually does. He’s spiralling out of control, he’s aware enough to know it but even as he tries to calm his racing heart it feels like he’s fighting a losing battle. He needs you to say something, to ground him but he doesn’t know how to ask, or even what he wants you to say.

“You’d never leave me, right?” he blurts, fingers tight around your wrist.

“I-, what?” You look so completely bewildered, it’s kind of adorable. “No, course not.”

He nods. You’re speaking, he’s watching your mouth move, probably asking him what’s wrong but he’s not listening, getting too lost in his thoughts. Sometimes it feels like his entire existence revolves around you and Stu. He doesn’t think you realise how much he needs you to survive. It was unhealthy, he’d been told so but he didn’t agree. His therapist had used words like overly-reliant and co-dependent and he’d learnt pretty quickly not to be honest about how he’d really been feeling. Not that he had to listen to their bullshit any more, as soon as his Dad had stopped asking him about his sessions he’d stopped going.

“I thought-,” He cuts himself off; he doesn’t know what he thought. Not really. It’s a whole jumbled mess in his head. You watch him quietly as he closes his eyes, emotions flicking over his face so quick you can’t follow them all. “I love you.” His free hand slides up your arm to hold you loosely by the nape of the neck, resting his forehead against yours as takes a deep breath. A little shiver of arousal down your spine as his thumb traces down the side of your neck before his palm slides gently around your throat. It takes you by surprise, a small whimper slipping past your lips and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his fingers flexing into the side of your throat.

“Bunny,” he whispers, leaning in to graze his lips over yours. “I-,”

 “Bunny! What an absolute surprise to see you here.” Stu appears behind him, throwing an arm over Billy’s shoulder and practically yanking him away from you. It takes you a second to remember where you are, blinking a few times before you focus on Stu.

“Hey. I- uh-,” you clear your throat awkwardly as you glance between the two of them. “You’re both up early.”

“Our moody boy here wanted breakfast,” Stu grins and you can’t help but return it, despite Billy’s offended glare. “Dragged me out of bed so early this morning. Didn’t even get chance to jerk off.”

“Okaayyy,” You draw the word out as you grimace, eyes closing briefly. “Gross Stu, I really didn’t need to know that.”

“But it’s a problem you can help me with. I’m backed up, achy –ow.” Stu whimpers as you smack him, a little too hard if his wince is anything to go by but he doesn’t retaliate.

“Well too bad I got to work,” You tug at the end of Billy’s shirt as you push him gently towards the door, hoping he doesn’t get upset at your attempt to steer them out. “Would have totally dropped to my knees right here and now.”

“Don’t encourage him.” Billy sighs and you stick your tongue out at his exasperated look.

“What? No, encourage me bunny,” Stu turns back to look at you, walking backwards as he grins. “Encourage away.”

Billy shakes his head and you relent. “Ok Ok, sorry. No encouraging while at work.” You raise your hands and Billy snorts.

“You two just-,” He shakes his head, lips twitching as he tries to resist the urge to smile.  “Idiots.”

“Charming. You said it yourself remember? We’re soulmates. You’ll join us in idiocy eventually, it’s inevitable.” You glance at Stu, his cheeks are faintly pink at your words but you know better than to mention it even though the satisfaction at taking him off guard with your affection never got old. “I finish at 1 today. You have plans?”

“Al-,”

“No,” Billy cuts him off quickly and to your surprise Stu doesn’t try and say anything else. “Come over?”

You nod, giving them a final gentle push toward the door. Billy’s reluctant to leave, you can tell, only taking the step through the door when Stu gives him a little jab in the ribs. Stu blows you a kiss as he follows, and you flip him off in return, a gesture that seems to have evolved into a sign of affection between the two of you and the way you two departed ways more often than not. He returns it, but not before he tugs the promo poster off the window as he goes.

“You’re a child.” You mouth and he cackles at your unimpressed look, shoving the door closed behind him quickly when you make a move towards him. You can hear him still laughing as you pick the poster up off the floor but you can’t find it in you to be genuinely annoyed by him, cursing at him half heartedly under your breath as you try to stick it back up.

The slow rhythmic creaking rock of the mattress wakes you. Its pretty light in Stu’s room, so it must be pretty early but it still takes you a minute to register what you’re seeing. Stu is laying next to you, a pillow between his thighs as he rock his hips down against it slowly. Oh. Your gaze flicks around the room in search of Billy but he’s nowhere to be seen, you swallow hard, eyes drawn back to Stu as he makes a quiet breathy sound in the back of his throat that turns into a whine. It’s hard to tear you gaze away from him and your thighs squeeze together in response as he rolls his hips faster. “Shit,” He breathes. “You like watching bunny?”

You’d been so focused on the rhythm of his hips that you hadn’t noticed his eyes open, his eyes fixated on you as he continues to grind against the pillow. You’re momentarily speechless and he huffs as he turns over on to his back, his cock resting heavily against his hip and you bite your tongue to stop the little noise that threatens to escape as you watch it twitch.

“Fuck,” He groans as he palms himself, bucking a little into his hand. “Come here bunny, want you to sit on my face,” His groan turning into a hiss as he runs his thumb over the head of his cock. “Let me eat that ass.” You shake your head as you watch him stroke himself faster, his hips jerking as he fucks his fist. When you make eye contact with him again he mutters something harsh under his breath, his hips bucking as he suddenly cums hard over his hand. He chokes out your name, cum splattering over his stomach and abdomen in thick streaks of white. He's panting as he wipes his hand across his hip, leaving a smear of cum across his skin that you have the urge to lick up.

“I-, uh,” You panic, face hot as you stutter. “Need to pee.”

He opens his mouth to respond but you throw back the covers and are moving towards the bathroom before he can say a word. You just need a minute.

He gives you maybe two before he follows you, stopping in the doorway of his bathroom to just stare at you. You’re in his t-shirt, nothing else, but his stare makes you feel as naked as he is.

“Where’s Billy?” You can’t think of anything else to say, not with him standing there so brazenly. You can’t meet his eye for more than a second, embarrassment still strong.

He shrugs. “Dunno. He couldn’t sleep, probably gone for a walk.”

“Oh.” You nod, trying and failing not to let your gaze drop. You couldn’t help it. He’s still half hard and there’s a glossy sheen of hastily wiped cum smeared across his abdomen. “Uh…”

A smirk crept across his lips. “Everything okay?”

“Yep.” You bite your lip, unsure why you feel so flustered. It’s not the first time you’ve watched him jerk off, but you feel like he’s just caught you doing something you shouldn’t have. His smile grows wicked as he watches you flounder, taking a step towards you.

“I was dreaming about you,” He shifts his weight, one hand dropping to curl around his cock and you watch as he gives himself a quick squeeze. He doesn’t explain further, doesn’t need to, your sudden refusal to meet his eye has him know you’re thinking something dirty. He shifts closer as he lets the dream replay through his mind. It had been violent, at least the flashes he could remember were. Bloody fingers, the taste of blood in his mouth and an all consuming need to get his hands around your heart that he can still feel nipping at him. It’s a dream Billy would love, would hit that morbidly romantic side of his and Stu tries to commit as much of it to memory as he can.

Dreaming of you. The easy admission makes your face heat even more, and he moves in closer, his hands sliding up over your hips, pushing you backwards until you take the hint and let him help you up to sit on the counter. You sigh as he slots himself between your thighs, gently poking you on the nose before one hand cups your jaw and he kisses you gently.

“Let’s go back to bed.” You murmur against his mouth, but he tenses slightly and pulls back. “Or not?” You feel like you’ve just said something wrong.

“You fuck him up you know. You’ve had him acting odd all day," Stu ignores your request, his hands resting on your thighs and squeezing lightly as he stares at you. “Think I’m a little jealous.”

“Yeah? Is this you jealous? It’s kinda hot," You try not to let the mood change, not rising to his attempt to bait you even though you’re taken aback by his slightly accusatory tone. "And I've definitely got you fucked up too buddy. I've seen the way you look at me." You reach up, flicking him on the forehead, relieved to see the small twitch of a smile on his lips.

"I was fucked up way before I met you bunny, but you're not wrong." Stu lets his hands slide up under the edge of your t-shirt, nails slightly scratching over your skin. "You do mess with my head."

You do. You mess with his head something fierce, in a way he hasn’t even told Billy about. Sometimes he doesn’t even know what to call the things that he feels for you. Emotions that seem to flick from one extreme to the other. He remembers the first time he had felt that odd little flutter of something that had felt a little too much like hate towards you. A group meet up at some coffee place and you’d had the audacity to sit next to Randy instead of him. It had stung, jabbed at him so hard that he’d felt blindingly angry for a split second. Had wanted to drag you over by your hair, sit you down and make you watch as he showed you what Randy’s insides looked like. It had shaken him a little, not the sudden influx of violent thoughts, he was used to that, it was the fact that the urge to be violent had involved you, that it had been directed towards you. He’d forced himself to joke to Billy that you’d replaced them already and Billy had looked at him in that annoying knowing way that he has and Stu knew he wasn’t being as subtle as he thought he was. Billy had been extra attentive for the rest of that day much to his annoyance. So yeah you fucked him up. Was that love? He didn’t know. There was something there, amongst the random bursts of resentment towards you, of jealousy over and of you, of feelings that he doesn’t always understand, but it got mixed in with this obsessive want and yearning of mine, mine, fucking mine into something volatile. Was it normal to want to hurt something you loved? You’re an endless pool of confusion to him but he wouldn’t give you up for anything.

"Stu-," You speak quietly. He’s zoning out, eyes fixated on your shoulder but not really seeing you. One warm palm spanning across your ribs as he holds you, his thumb tapping an odd rapid rhythm on your skin.

"Can I suck on your tits?”

His abrupt question throws you off and you pause as you stare at him. He doesn’t usually ask, usually just dives right in. He’s avoiding your eye as he cups your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples over the thin cotton, like he’s waiting for your permission.

“Take it off then.” You raise your arms and he raises an eyebrow. You wait. Wait for him to say something, do something, anything other than just stare at your chest.

“Go on,” You arch your back a little, pushing your breasts closer to him and trying to keep your voice steady. You’d gotten better at this, better at reading him and better at toeing the line between being dominant and submissive with him, but it still made you nervous, the payback for getting it wrong was usually pretty exhausting. “Take it off for me.”

He doesn’t say anything as he pulls the shirt up over your head, throwing it over his shoulder, and you take that as a good sign. You can’t help rolling your eyes as he cups your breasts, giving them a squeeze and then a bounce. He grins and you bite your lip to stop yourself returning it.

"You're such a perv."

“You got no fucking idea." Stu mumbles as his mouth latches onto your nipple, it makes you jolt and you wince as his gentle sucking turns almost immediately into a sharp little bite.

"Jesus Stu, watch the teeth.”

"Sorry," He doesn’t sound it but he doesn’t bite you again, instead kissing his way across your chest. He’s being deliberately messy, licking wetly across your skin between each kiss. It feels slightly uncomfortable but he’s obviously getting off on it, humping against the inside of your thigh, cock smearing wetly across your skin with every grind of his hips.

“Bunny these tits I could cum like this, fuck-,”

“You-,” Your breath hitches. “You can. Want you to cum for me.”

He hums, leaning up to lick at the corner of your mouth and you take the opportunity to curl your hand tightly around his cock. He grunts and hunches forward, hiding his face in to the side of your neck as you squeeze and stroke him.

“Stu?” You murmur into his scalp, tracing your fingers over his shoulder as you stroke him, his hips jerking when you scratch your nail lightly over the tip. “Cum for me.” 

He shudders hard then swats your hand away with a hiss. The sudden press of his cock between your legs makes you flinch but he doesn’t wait. With one slow push he was halfway inside and you gasped his name as you clung to the edge of the counter to keep yourself steady. Stu moaned low in his throat, pulling back an inch before sliding back inside until he was full seated inside you.

“You’re perfect,” He moans your name, his lips brushing your ear; “Made for me weren’t you? Mine, bunny.” He’s hit with a sudden rush of possessiveness that knocks him off kilter, he doesn’t want to look at you, doesn’t want you to know just how much of an effect you have on him. It makes him feel sickeningly vulnerable and he really doesn’t want you to realise just how much power you really have over him. He shoves his face into the side of your neck again as he tries to calm the sudden influx of emotions. It has him slamming into you with a force that has you crying out in surprise, or pain, he’s not sure. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t care, he knows you’ll take it regardless as he starts to move in earnest, gripping the back of your neck with one hand and your hip with the other, fucking into you harder on each stroke.

He draws back enough to watch where his cock continuously rocks up inside you. The little fission of self-conscious you feel at his rapt focus doesn’t last long as he fists his hand into your hair, forcing your head back so he can press his mouth over yours, his tongue licking over your teeth in a sloppy kiss.

It’s frantic; a quick rough fuck that was a big switch from how gently he’d kissed you at the start. He’s trying to force your orgasm from you with clumsy fingers stroking across your clit, but it’s not enough. It’s too awkward, his sudden desperation making his movements to uncoordinated to have you reaching your orgasm anytime soon.  The scratch of his nail across the sensitive skin has your whole body tensing and shuddering around him and as he groans your name you can feel him pulsing inside you, his hips slowing to a languid grind as he rides out his orgasm.

There’s a mumbled apology against your mouth and you shake your head gently in response. “It’s ok.”

He’s completely out of breath but his hips keep rocking against you. “You feel so good bunny, so good.” He hisses. He won’t keep still, the wetness between your thighs growing as he starts to soften, his grunts turning into soft whimpery puffs of breath. “Shit, hurts so good.”

You lean back a little so you can peer up at him, the glass of the mirror cold against your back. His eyes are closed, a light frown across his face as he humps against you, pushing himself into over-stimulation. You cradle his face, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone and he shivers, leaning into your touch and finally stills, forehead resting against your shoulder. You don’t say anything, you don’t know what’s wrong, why they both seem so amped up today but you want to try and help. Billy talks, Stu doesn’t. This was probably the best way to give Stu the comfort or reassurance he probably didn’t realise he wanted.

“Bunny?”

You hum quietly in response, not wanting to break this calm little moment, letting your fingers scratch lightly through his hair and down the back of his neck.

“You know I-,” He tenses as he trails off, swallowing hard. He lifts his head slightly, and you’re not surprised to see the mischievous little glint in his eye. Whatever momentary invasion of emotion he’d had is gone, or more likely forced back down. He gives you a grin, fingers fluttering gently between your thighs. “I’m gonna make you cum pretty girl.”

"You don’t-," You began, jerking against him as he brushed two fingers down your stomach, brushing over your bellybutton before sliding between your thighs. 

"I don’t what?" He rests his hands on your thighs as he drops to his knees. 

“Nothing.” You sigh, hooking one leg over his shoulder and leaning back against the mirror. “You do have to actually.”

It’s his turn to stay quiet, just grins up at you as he dips between your legs, kissing along your inner thigh and licking one firm stripe up through your folds, his nose bumping your clit as he dipped his tongue inside you.

Stu grunts in response to your moan, replacing his tongue with one slender finger and stroking up inside you over a spot that had your back arching. 

"Stu," Your heel dug into his back and the hand you had in his hair was probably painful for him but he was making almost as much noise as you, moaning loudly as he lapped at you. He curled a second finger inside you as he began to suck lightly on your clit, his free hand gripping the top of your thigh to keep you from moving too much.

It was awkward, the angle not allowing you to move your hips like you wanted to, grinding roughly against Stu’s face as your orgasm built quickly. He may get a little lost in his selfishness when he fucked you but fuck was he good with his mouth. Your eyes closed as you came, the hand in his hair pulling him in as close as you could as the waves of pleasure rocked through you until you couldn’t take anymore and pushed at his forehead in an effort to get him to stop.

He does, for once not seemingly inclined to torture you and stands slowly, pressing several kisses over your stomach, breasts and shoulder as he rises. The smile he gives you is sleepy, blinking at you slowly as he wipes the back of his hand over the wetness smeared across his mouth and chin.

“Why is it,” Billy starts and Stu jolts in surprise, a quiet curse falling from his lips. It makes you giggle and he glares at you in return. “Every time I leave you two alone for 5 minutes I come back to this exact scene?”

Stu shrugs. He’s not moved, still standing between your thighs and keeping you pinned on the counter.  

“I’m irresistible,” You say and Stu nods enthusiastically in agreement, his fingers drawing idle patterns across your hips. “It’s a burden I have to bear.” You pout and Billy rolls his eyes.

“You’re definitely something.”

“Hey.” That felt like an insult. “I’m not so-,”

He reaches you before you can finish your complaint, his mouth pressing against yours in a ravenous kiss. Lips moving desperately against yours like he hasn’t seen you in years, it’s a little intimidating.

“As hot as this is,” You break the kiss, breathless. “I’m kinda cold. And sticky. I really need to shower. Join us?”

Billy pauses, his gaze flicking between you and Stu, who seems to be spacing out again, his fingers tracing what feels like letters across your knee. “I just showered.”

You look him over, only just noticing the dampness of his hair. “I thought you went for a walk?”

“Sure, I mean technically I did. I walked home.”

“You went home at 5 in the morning to shower?” You frown, you’re confused and a little distracted, half of you trying to decipher what Stu is writing on your skin. “And you just walked back? That’s-,”

“I needed a breather bunny.”

You bite your tongue and just nod. There’s that dismissive defensive note in his voice that means he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. If you push it he’ll spiral.

“So that’s a no on the shower then? Suit yourself.” Stu finally speaks, startling you as he moves away, grasping your hand and tugging you not so gently down from the counter. You curse him out, which he ignores of course and only make it two stumbled steps towards the shower before Billy is wrapping his hand around your other wrist.

“Can we play tug o war later? I’m sticky,” You point out. “shower.” That rare horrid feeling of being out of place is starting to creep in again as Stu reaches out to flick a stray lock of hair off Billy’s forehead. You hate these moments, where you feel a little like they’re forgetting you’re an actual person and not just their favourite toy. Selfish assholes the little voice in the back of your head helpfully provides but you shut it down quickly.

“Guys.” You let the exasperation leak into your voice, you don’t want to interrupt whatever silent conversation is going on but you’re naked. And cold. “Starting to feel a little awkward here with the no clothes thing going on.”

They both ignore you as Stu plants a quick, chaste kiss on Billy’s mouth then abruptly lets you go, grabbing a towel and shoving it into your arms. 

“Fine. you two shower, I’ll wait,” He grabs his own towel, slinging it around his waist as he heads for the door. “I’ll order some food.” He pauses, turns back and points at the two of you. “Then you’re sitting on my face.”

Billy makes a noise of surprise and you busy yourself with tugging your towel tighter round your shoulders.

“You talking to me or him?” Your face feels flushed, your mind suddenly invaded with images of the two of them together.

Stu shrugs. “You can fight it out between yourselves.” He sticks his tongue out, curling the tip in an obscene gesture that has Billy’s breath hitching. “See you losers later.”

Billy seems frozen for a second before he turns back to you and you can’t help your grin at the eager expression he tries to hide behind his usual indifference.

“Seems I get dinner and a show,” You drop your towel, enjoying the way Billy’s gaze immediately rakes over your body as you step into the shower. “Aren’t I a lucky girl?”

[teatraps]

Every time someone says “Edgar showed Vera a bloody painting to freak her out!” An angel looses its wings

Because that is NOT how that went down (at least not exactly). The reason it freaked her out wasn’t specifically because of blood or something, it was because it reminded her of the past. Specifically, the aristocracy and how it sucks.

This sets her off because Vera’s main goal is to forget her past and bury it. She doesn’t want to confront it at all, and Edgar’s painting makes her do that. That’s why she says he’s as dangerous as Patricia. They both pose a threat to her by making her confront her past (again, not exactly a physical threat, but a mental one)

The reason she’s so shocked and off put by Edgar isn’t because of anything inherently violent, she was mainly shocked that he was so aware of the way the aristocracy is

She thought he’d be unaware of the way the aristocracy is greedy and full of awful people because she assumed he’d just be another coddled rich kid.

I am BEGGING y’all to stop misquoting this letter, PLEASE

(Edit: and that’s not even considering the parallels between the two of them both being gifted artists in the family, one being respected and praised for their craft while the other being ignored and unfavored. Edgar experienced the death of a sibling who died due to neglect and being forgotten, like how Vera [or better Chloe] was, and was deeply hurt by it. That being one of the formative moments that set up his resentment of the aristocracy. Contrastingly, Vera already resented the aristocracy for trying to leave her behind and was deeply hurt by losing the one person who did care about her. In a way, they almost fill the sister void for each other which could be why Vera feels a sense of familiarity with Edgar. Because for both of them, at its core, they wouldn’t have lost their sisters if the aristocracy actually cared about people)

[reddamselette]

"Have you lost your marbles, Valdez?" Jason whispered a bit too loudly, prompting Leo to cover his mouth with the palm of his hand quickly as he heard footsteps approach for several moments.

His heart pounded against his ribcage like a hammer, blood rang through his ears as a void opened in his stomach and the temperature of the closet rose exceedingly high. Burning.

As they waited in silence, soft and short cool breaths brushed Leo's palm. Ever so slowly, Leo tore his gaze from the shadows beneath the door and to the boy in front of him. Goosebumps rose on his skin, his hair stood on the back of his neck and for the first time, he was speechless.

There wasn't much light aside from the rays of the sun peeking through the cracks of the doors yet Jason looked heavenly. Blond strands fell over his eyes and gave him a sleepy look, as if he just woke up from a nap that lasted for days with startling clear and blue pools that reminded Leo of the skies.

Jason's hand reached up to remove the other's from his mouth to speak lowly, in a hushed tone, "Do you want to tell me what this is about?"

"Your eyes are really pretty up close." Leo swallowed, his lips moving ahead of his thoughts and his mind as anxiety flared in his chest and his hands. Electricity tingling underneath Jason's fingers where they remained wrapped around his wrist. Not pretty. Hypnotizing.

Brown irises fell to lips parted in slight shock and shivers ran down his spine. "I, um.." He tried. He truly tried to explain but he couldn't. Jason always made him too nervous to speak and locked in a closet for something Leo had done made him all too aware of his feelings.

Jason released his wrist and his hand fell back to his side, his eyes flickered around the closed space as he softly sighed. For the first time, Leo felt overwhelming cold.

"Did you mess with Clarisse again?"

Leo shook his head, quietly clearing his throat and glanced off to the side. He could find the words if he wasn't staring so intently, so...interested in whatever Leo had to say. "Nico."

"Ah." The son of Jupiter understood a little too quickly, like he could read the other's mind easily. "What's so bad you had to drag me with you?" He teased and a heart of fire skipped a beat, flames stuttered.

Leo weakly managed a nervous laugh but if Jason caught it, he didn't say a single thing. Instead the blond tilted his head and waited patiently.

"I think it's best if you didn't know honestly."

"I know you think my eyes are pretty up close."

His gaze snapped to Jason's in the time it takes for lightning to strike. Leo raised a hand to his head and scratched his head, then his cheek shyly. But then he caught it.

The shine in blue eyes, twinkling with something longingly and too lovingly to be considered anything friendly.

"Leo."

"Hm? Yeah? What's, uh, what's happenin'?"

Jason smiled sweetly, reminding the son of Hephaestus of cotton candy sweet enough to cause a toothache, and pale, scarred hands cupped his cheeks almost hesitantly. He pressed their foreheads together and shut his eyes, inhaling as if to calm his nerves. "Kiss me."

[beesfairlyland]

Dₒ wₑ ₕₐᵥₑ ₜₒ bₑₗᵢₑᵥₑ ᵢₙ ₒᵣdₑᵣ ₜₒ ₜₐₚ ᵢₙto ₜₕₑ ᵥₒᵢD ₛₜₐₜₑ??

NO NOT AT ALL!!

We tap in the void state every time we fall asleep....we are just not aware. Remember when you wake up and can't remember your dream all you remember is that blackness! Yup that's the void.

Honey do you have to believe in sleeping in order to sleep huh? That's a fact just like even if you don't believe you can tap in the void state you can!

Let's talk about what the hell void is and make you believe in it (ofc you don't have to but just bare with me!)

Void is just shifting our awareness to the 4d plane..."umm okayy we know that but what tf that actually means?"

Right now in this moment we are aware of our body, of our surroundings right? When we sleep are we aware of our body or surroundings? We lose all of our senses! We are not at all aware of wtf is happening around us. Do you know what you did? Yesss you guessed it right....you just shifted your awareness sweetheart. We don't need our body to tap in the void state coz void is within us not outside of us! "Okay bee we already know this what's new in this?" Exactlyyy there's nothing new in this but have you actually think about what it means...did you try to know it's actual meaning? I guess no coz if you knew the meaning you wouldn't have questioned if it's real or not!

"Okayy soo explain us what it is?" Ofc i will🍯

Have you ever lost soo much in your day dreaming that you lose the awareness of your surroundings? Yup! You just shifted your awareness again and yes it's this easy. The reason why many of us struggle to tap into the void state is we focus on the external things ....we look for the symptoms. THE VOID IS WITHIN US! You know what that means....we have to focus within us not on the surroundings not on our body not on our symptoms.

Affirming, counting or focusing on your breathing don't take you to the void it's your focus on the affirmations and counting that detach you from the symptoms...from the physical 3d dimension!

Day dream honey without giving a fuck about your environment until you realise you can't feel your body or hear anything and bam you got into the void! Easy right?

(Ohh and now some of you gonna come at me saying you didn't enter yet how can you say it's easy....baby i got these realisations just few days ago and now im sharing this with y'all)

Noo i won't tell you the methods to tap into the void..there are plenty of them.

Now the actual question do i have to beleive to tap into the void??

Love you are smart enough to answer this question now but anyways I'll tell yaa!

OFCOURSE YOU CAN TAP INTO THE VOID STATE WITHOUT EVEN BELIEVING IN IT!!

Methods and techniques do help you to enter the void but they are not necessary at all. Believing in the void helps us to persist long enough to enter the void even if it takes us an hour or two.

If we don't believe in it sure we can enter but may be we won't persist long enough and give up easily thinking that it's just an another cap. Believing in the void keeps you going on your beautiful void journey.

Soo this is all i wanted to share with y'all guys🫶🏻

Hope I gave and understandable answer!

-lots of love,bee💗✨