#they were hollow. empty shells of a person that when I saw them all I could visualize was that awful static from the album just going on and

[snaililita]

♠️♥️ Lyney x Reader♥️♠️

Synopsis: Reader has some serious escapist tendencies, no friends anymore, and lives in a shell they are too afraid to crawl out of because they perceive reality as disgusting and mundane nowadays. What happens when a certain magician shows them that reality can still be beautiful as a way to thank them for the freedom they inadvertently granted him with?

!!SPOILERS FOR THE ARCHON QUEST!!

This is kinda long! I also made it at 1 AM so if there are any errors it's cuz of that ('□`) I personally have been going through some things and have been finding a lot of comfort in this goofy ol'magician. So sorry if this has some darkers tones than my usual stuff! I tried to keep reader as gender neutral as I could by not name dropping anyone and only referring to them as "You" variations. If there is a slip up please tell me!

You're hardwired to be an extrovert, but you exist in an environment and place that shuns you and forces you into a shell.

You've had your voice ripped from your throat one too many times and you've been silenced for nothing more than a mere giggle.

You were raised in an isolated world, away from humanity and it's harsh reality.

You didn't have any friends growing up except for the occasional child of a parent's friend who would visit.

Your siblings would hide away and your father would yell all the time. Your mother was always at work. Your friends were in your worlds of fiction and your books. The drawings you began to make to see these adventures you had with them.

You don't know how real people act or how to speak with them, treating everything like dialogue in a book.

Friends you had made at one point eventually coined you as toxic because of your inability to speak with any of them properly. Perhaps you should've tried harder. No, you definitely should have tried harder.

Perhaps they would still be here if you had made more drawings for them. Maybe if you had kept your opinions to yourself. Maybe if you had just smiled and nodded. Maybe they would still be here.

You became a shell. Hiding yourself away from any possible relationships. Keeping yourself away from anyone else you could possibly hurt with your ignorance. You had friends, it's not like you were lonely. The characters you read about and drew all the time were your friends.

Yet, they began to feel empty. You began to feel empty. Focusing all your time on honing your talent and living in a world of fiction reality became bland. Disgusting even. This only drove you to hide away from it even more.

You were lonely, craving friends and love you knew you couldn't let yourself have. It was like an addiction. You had it once and now you want it more. But nothing else ever hits like that first high does, right?

For the sake of everyone else around you, you cut them all off. You were stung once. Being shelter your whole life you didn't know how to handle it. You gave up on everything and everyone.

You felt hollow.

You met him after one of his shows.

The magician was so insistent you see his next one.

You supposed it couldn't hurt.

So you arrived at his next one.

And then the next.

And the next.

Until you began to see every show of his.

He would speak to you after each one, ask you how your day was. He would tell you about his.

Even after he was ousted as a member of the fatui you still saw his shows. You still spoke with him. It was as if you didn't even care.

Something about him and his magic, the reality bending of it all was beautiful. The most beautiful thing you had seen in ages.

It didn't feel real, yet it was. It was magnificent. He was magnificent.

Nothing could change that. Especially not something as silly as a title or affiliations.

As far as you were concerned, he was wonderful.

Even after he began to show you his true colours.

He had shown you something beautiful, and for that you could only appreciate every side of him.

Everything about him was addictive, every single part and side. Every nook and cranny. Both sides of the beautiful coin.

That's when you realised you became too attached.

You didn't want to ruin something so beautiful with your thorns, so you stopped attending his shows.

Stopped seeing him all together.

You couldn't tarnish something so glorious by hurting the person responsible for it. You couldn't hurt the majesty of it all. The majesty he showed you.

He noticed you stopped attending his shows immediately.

He sought after you for ages. Since you hardly leave you house only for food he didn't find you for a while.

However, once he did he wouldn't leave.

He followed you around, asking all about where you had been.

You wouldn't respond.

All though he wouldn't speak of it, you in a way provided him with a sense of comfort.

You didn't even question him once after he was revealed to be of the House of Hearth.

All though you loved him for being able to break reality, you weren't a monster. You never forced him to keep up his acts. You knew even someone as talented as he needs breaks.

So when he approached you, his hair unstyled and in plain wear with nothing more than a mere request of comforting silence or idle chatter not regarding his work you obliged.

He felt as if he could show both sides of himself to you, both sides of that coin. He could be as flashy or as monotonous as he wished. You granted him a sort of freedom.

He became very quickly attached to you.

When you stopped showing up to his performances he panicked.

Perhaps you were tired of his antics?

It took a long time, but you eventually did open up about why you stopped showing up.

He felt a side of him ache.

You were just about as alone in this world as he was, yet not at the same time.

He had his siblings to talk to, the blonde traveller to talk to. You seemed to have no one.

To learn his shows were a break from the world you viewed of rancid initially and how it brought you to love every part of him.

How ethereal he was to you.

And how you were afraid you would grow obsessive and toxic and how you didn't want that for him.

How he had been the closest thing you've had to a friend in years and how attached you had become.

How worried you were for him, how you adored him so much you were willing to cut yourself away if it meant keeping him safe from something potentially toxic. Even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness.

He wouldn't let you feel this way, no, he couldn't let you feel this way anymore.

He assured you that he would never run away, no matter what sides of yourself you were to show him. After all, you did the same for him.

He would understand and help you learn how to make friends, how to properly interact with others. Yet, he would want you to be the same around him.

In a way, he wanted to help you build a mask to wear like he does but still provide you with people you can be yourself around.

He thinks you are wonderful and misunderstood, yet he understands not all can see that. He wants to protect you like he does his siblings.

It's the only way he knows how to help, and you don't seem to mind either. He can't change everyone or anyone's opinion of you. Those are to each their own. But you can. And he can help you find a way to do that.

He doesn't want you to change who you are, but but doesn't want you to feel isolated and alone anymore either.

So a removable mask seems as if it's the best answer, no?

He also introduces you to his siblings and a blonde traveller along with their adventuring party. You meet a large amount of kind people including a young man who visually strikes quite a similar appearance to your friendly magician with a platinum blonde ponytail and bright crimson eyes and a young woman with a long, pink ponytail that fades to a blue and eyes that seem to have seen things beyond the scope of what a woman her age normally would have.

If you begin to feel nervous making so many new friends and with things changing so quickly, he doesn't hesitate to take things slower. He isn't afraid to make any adjustments for you.

He isn't afraid to return the feeling of freedom you blessed him with, so let him crack that shell of yours and help you spread your wings to soar out of that black abyss of isolation you've been drowning yourself in.

[cinememed]

₍ 🎞 ₎   revolutionary road   (2008)  rp  starters  ! featuring toxic relationships, mature themes, violent & explicit language . some lines have been slightly adjusted for rp purposes .

you'll leave me? is that a threat or a promise?

so now i'm crazy because i don't love you? is that the point?

you're not crazy, and you do love me. that's the point.

i just wanted us to live again.

i feel sorry for you. maybe we deserve each other.

how pathetic is that? to put your hopes in a promise that was never made.

i made a disgusting spectacle of myself, right?

you were just some boy who made me laugh at a party once.

you're not worth the powder it would take to blow you up.

you're not worth the trouble it would take to hit you.

is it supposed to make me jealous or something?

what the hell are you doing in my house if you hate me so much?

you are an empty, hollow, hollow shell of a woman.

is it supposed to make me fall in love or back into bed with you?

in other words, you don't care what i do, or who i fuck, or anything.

you'll have the time to find out what it is you actually want to do. 

that's right, i don't care. fuck who you like.

don't you understand that i want you to care?

our whole existence here is based on this great premise that we're special.

i saw a whole other future. i can't stop seeing it.

you heard wrong. it's all gone now.

i want to feel things. really feel them.

we were never special or destined or anything at all.

you think you can bully me into feeling whatever you want me to feel.

have i said i'm sorry enough times already? damn.

i'm just about the sorriest bastard i know.

i suppose i would care if i still loved you. but i don't think i do anymore.

i've got many questions to ask and i'm willing to pay for the answers.

how about doing everybody a favor? how about shutting up?

you've never tried at anything. if you don't try at anything, you can't fail.

i think you're the most interesting person i've ever met.

nothing's permanent, right?

are you still talking? isn't there any way to stop your talking?

you're the most beautiful and wonderful thing in the world.

i have the backbone not to run away from my responsibilities!

you just seemed.. special. of course, you still are.

sweetheart, what are you talking about?

we can be happy here. i can make you happy here. 

when i first met you, there was nothing in the world you couldn't do.

i don't mean how you make money. i mean, what are you interested in?

good to see your shining face.

no one forgets the truth, they just get better at lying.

if you come any closer or touch me, i think i'll scream.

i've never really been anywhere.

i guess it wasn't a triumph or anything, was it?

i just don't want you feeling bad about it. because it's not worth it.

it strikes me that there is a considerable amount of bullshit going on here.

haven't i made it clear i don't particularly want to talk about it?

you're always so definite on the subject of what you do and don't deserve.

this time you're not going to get away with twisting everything i say.

this happens to be the one time i know i'm not in the wrong.

you're sick. i really mean that.

you know something? you're lucky you met me.

why don't we go get some air, you and me?

i missed you all day, and i wanted to say that i'm sorry.

i think this whole plan sounds a little immature.

you really are being melodramatic about this whole thing.

all i know is what i feel.

i guess there isn't much more to say then, is there?

all i'm saying is you don't seem entirely rational about this.

can't leave, can't stay. no damn use to anyone.

you should value what you do. you're obviously good at it.

[oneshotnewbie]

Since when do you write for Emily Prentiss? But guess I have to request now; could you do something with readers failed attempt to kill herself after kidnapping, torture and not keeping up with life, Emily and jj visiting her at the hospital and talk to her?

⚠️Trigger warning!⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of a failed suicide attempt, blood/bleeding wounds, depression. The plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

Summary: There is a persistent ache that claws at you. What do you do when it all becomes too much and your hollow bones that hold yourself in one piece crack and let you sink further into the dark? What if the only way out of the living hell is to unalive yourself?

---

Blood trickled down your pale, slightly grayish skin in a couple of slow, red branches, creating a fascinating contrast to the bluish stinging veins in your arms. You were fascinated that the loss of this red, viscous liquid could weaken the body so drastically and minimize your consciousness.

As soon as the sharp metal had torn your tender skin apart, the elixir of life flowed more and more out of your body, leaving behind a strange, dull feeling of weakness and tiredness. The spread fingers of your hand, stretched out to the ceiling were tainted reddish and tiny drops made it onto your white shirt.

It was nighttime and you lay on your back on your bed, your eyes fixed on the stream of blood that sluggishly gushed from the oblong wound, making a mess around you. The silver blade you used to make the cut, lay long forgotten on the covers beside you; ruining them.

The wound was deep, deeper than the marks before; the large dark red stains on your white night shirt betrayed the enormous loss of blood. Your arm had become heavy for a long time, but you could still hold it up; close above your head where your dull gaze could follow the speckle as life dripped from you drop by drop.

You were hoping so badly that if you would cut deep enough, you would feel at least a glimmer of emotion. Some feeling. But instead, you only got a yawning emptiness, as so often lately. You felt as if all the emotions that a person feels in their life had left you and your body as dull, undriven and emotionless shell.

Your life has never been easy; you have had to struggle through it since you were a child. You did not have a hold that people around you could offer you. For your father, you were another disappointment in his life and your mother had not been interested in you since your sibling was born.

Suddenly, you were a glass child.

It amazed you, that you had reached adulthood at all and that you had achieved something in your life on your own. After all, not everyone made it into the FBI as a profiler at such a young age. Nevertheless, it would not have been surprising if your life force had already left you in your youth.

Excluded, laughed at, ignored. Pain followed. Inner pain.

Your arm had begun to tremble in the air and yet you felt no pain, just a dull and sluggish throbbing. You would not be able to hold your arm up for much longer.

Your thoughts began to grow heavier and foggy, almost as if they were pouring out with the blood from your slashed arm, and you saw this as the last opportunity to send Emily a single, final message while your declining strength and shaky finger still allowed it.

"Horrible things linger in the path of our life and sometimes, you are able to fight them off but sometimes you can not help but fall into those which take you apart piece by piece," you began to type when you managed to fish your phone off the bedside table. The blood smearing on the screen made it difficult for you. "Just know that after the dark, the light will always arrive for you. Always wait for it to arrive, even if the pain of sitting in the dark by yourself is too much. I love you, Em."

It was ironic that you had encouraged her to do what you could not bring yourself to do. However, it was important to you that she knew and understood how to go on without stopping and let things weigh her down.

You laid back again and waited for the moment when you would close your eyes forever and not wake up. Even the derisive ringing and vibrating of your phone did not bring you out of your rigid state. Your body was heavy and paralyzed, your mind long gone.

Emily´s desperate call went nowhere. It was too late.

Bright moonlight broke through the cloud, which has loosened and shone like a silvery glow through the open window of your bedroom. The drops of blood glowed like liquid rubies and the shadows in front of your eyes seemed to lengthen, merging everything around you into a shapeless black spell.

A strong cold shock enveloped you and your ever slow, flickering heartbeat slackened in your chalk-pale body.

---

For the first time in days, a feeling filled your chest, hidden beneath all the narcotics coursing through your system and pain: Fear. Something was not right here, the last thing you remembered was the feeling of liquid spreading over you and the smothering feeling just before the darkness claimed you.

"Emily, I think she is waking up," whispered a raspy voice, wrapped in creaking noises of wood.

You shuddered and with the last of your strength, turned your head to the side. There, in the chair next to you, someone was sitting. A form of slender statue, clad in the color of night. Her dirty blonde, wavy, long hair fell over her shoulders and her face was wrinkled with concern.

Heavy soles were quickly dragged across the floor and towards the bed you laid in; dark brown eyes fixed on you warily. You, however, were too perplexed to move, your body still exhausted from the loss of blood your body had to endure. "Y/n? Sweetheart, can you hear me?"

Relieved, Emily stood by your bed, her warm hand resting on your pale forehead. Unaccustomed to the sudden touch, you twitched under it. "Em.." you muttered in a voice so weak you were afraid she could not hear you at all. "Where am I?"

Words trailed off in the unusual bare room while a second hand gently caressed the bandaged wound on your arm. "You are in the hospital," the dark haired replied. "You tried to take your own life."

After your message, Emily felt so insecure and scared that she went to your apartment at 3am, used the spare key to get in after you had not opened the door and found you. That thought made it into your foggy mind momentarily and a spark of fear spread through you.

"Why did you do that?" blue, bloodshot, and tear-stained eyes fixed your injured body laying beneath the covers with a sharp glare. With a barely noticeable shake of her head, the blonde pointed again at your bandage, which contained some remnant of your blood after your surgery. "Why did you not talk to us?"

You stared glassy-eyes up at Emily and then JJ, wondering how to answer her. Anyone else´s words would have sounded reproachful or disapproving, but coming from her, it sounded like sincere interest. You could not remember the last time you had experienced something like this from someone other than your team.

Both waited patiently for an answer and the black-haired one slowly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The clammy feeling inside you grew stronger and with a slap in the face, clarity returned to your battered mind. And with it, the pain that stood out through the bitter burning in your arm.

In that moment, you welcomed the feeling. Even that was better than this helpless and completely destructive emptiness."I could not take it anymore," you smiled lightly to hold back your tears. Without success, as it turned out. You quietly fixed your gaze from Emily to the cool blue eyes on the other side of your bed. "There is this emptiness inside me that can not be filled with anything. I wanted it all to end."

The black-haired nodded, knowing exactly what you were talking about. She sat down slowly and carefully on the free edge of the bed and stroked your forehead forlornly. It was a gesture of attempted consolation and full affection, sending a chill down your spine. "Your life?

"No," you managed only a weak shake of your head and a soft sigh escaped the colorless and cracked lips. "I wanted this nothingness to stop. It is like I am frozen inside and everything is black and empty. I was hoping so badly that the pain I caused myself would wake me up, but nothing came."

It felt good, almost comforting, to be able to talk to someone you trusted about what was on your mind. It was the first sensible time in your life that you had confided in anyone. After all, nobody else was interested. But both JJ and Emily had become like a family to you over the past few months and showed their attention and caring towards you.

"If we had lost you..," Emily spoke with fear in her usually strong voice. Her fawn eyes looked thoughtful, as if she were struggling for words and the scenario of ´what if´ as playing on repeat in her head. "..you would have torn and left a huge hole in my life," she finally continued, tears glistening in her eyes that she could hardly contain.

With a sad look on her face, the black-haired profiler leaned over to gently enclose you in her arms. "Please stay here, I do not want you to go. Your nearness is so comforting and my smile near you is genuine. The warmth you kindle within me warms me even in the dead of winter," it slipped out of her mouth before she realized what she was revealing.

Surprise flashed in your bright but tired eyes and you gave her a long look. Her body reflected strong longing, sadness and unspeakable pain that made you tremble. "I am sorry," a breathless, gasped response split your lips and you could feel a twinge of regret in your heart. You wanted to kill that dull feeling inside you, but you did not want to hurt anyone outside with it. You did not realized that you meant so much to someone. "I am just a walking and living disaster that is waiting to be unleashed."

"Yeah. But you are our beautiful disaster and we would not have it any other way," replied JJ and tenderly kissed the back of the hand that she had previously clasped in both of hers; her thumb still circling soothing around it. "We are hear for you, baby cakes. Always."

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

Held through the darkness - Hannibal x reader.

A/N: Hello!! its bee a while. truthfully, im not doing so hot at the moment and this was written basically as a form of therapy but hey i felt like sharing. Enjoy!!

Warnings: None

Word count: 1781

Masterlist

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You sat and stared out at the empty world ahead of you. Well technically it wasn’t empty. It was bustling with life. You could see an endless row of headlights, streetlamps making the city below you glow. You thought about how there were thousands, if not more, people down there right now. Each with their own individual lives; with their own families, friends, lovers, exes. Each having their own background, a place they came from, a life they’ve lived. Every single person so full with complex emotions and thoughts from every walk of life. So why did you feel so alone? So utterly and painfully abandoned. Your chest felt hollow. There was a gaping whole where something once lived. It had been so long you couldn’t even recall what used to inhabit it. But whatever it was had been robbed from you, leaving you as an empty shell condemned to drift through life in search of a feeling you weren’t even sure existed anymore.

You didn’t feel sad. You didn’t feel anything. Just incomplete. Your mind raced with thoughts, scanning through your memories in search of something to fulfil you once more as you stared blankly ahead of you.

“You’re going to catch a cold if you stay here much longer” A voice came from behind you.

You swirled round, seeing the last person you expected to be in your home.

“Doctor Lecter? What are you doing here?” You queried as the man stood in the doorway that led from your balcony back into your apartment.

“I told you I would come to check on you. After that call we had, I didn’t trust that you were okay. Even if you tried to convince me you were” He stated, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly as he looked at you.

Your brow furrowed. You had called him? When? The last time you remember speaking to him was around 3 weeks ago where you decided to end your sessions with him. Not because you thought you were getting any better, quiet the opposite. But you just couldn’t bare to face him with it. Or anyone for that matter. You’d completely drawn away from the people in your life recently, not knowing how to function around them with such a weight on your soul.

“I called you earlier today, after Will said he saw you at the supermarket. He said you looked distressed, burn out.” He explained, sensing your confusion.

It came back to you as he spoke.

“Yes I remember, sorry. My head just feels a bit…foggy at the moment.” You replied, turning back to face the city in front of you.

The doctor took a few steps, coming to stand beside you.

“You are not okay y/n”

“I’m alive aren’t I?” You joked dryly.

“Being alive is not equivalent to living. You’re simply existing.” His words made your stomach drop, your throat feeling a little tighter than it was before.

“Tell me. What is on your mind?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t want to talk. You just wanted to rot away into nothing.

“I’m fine. Just tired. I’m sorry you drove all the way here for nothing.” The lack of energy behind your voice made it impossible to convince yourself, let alone convince him.

“Don’t lie to me. I can tell when you’re being honest and when you’re not.” His voice was stern, but with a layer of concern weaved in.

“Y/N”

He placed his hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. Your eyes dropped as to avoid his gaze. You’ d grown rather fond of Doctor Lecter in your time of being his patient. You found yourself craving his approval, craving his comfort and affection more than you probably should. The thought of him seeing you like this, seeing the lack of life left in you filled you with shame.

“Why did you even come here? I’m not your patient anymore” You muttered, his hand still gently resting on your shoulder.

“I care about you. Regardless of if you’re my patient or not, I want to make sure you are okay”

Your gaze finally met his, sincerity swimming in his eyes. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to accept his words and bare your soul to him. But you just couldn’t. There was a constant nagging in your head that he was only here because he felt he needed to be, out of professional curiosity. Nothing else.

“I am okay. Like I said, I’m just tired. I should probably go to sleep.” 

“y/n-“

“thank you for checking up on me Doctor Lecter. You can go now” You turned to walk away from him, heading back inside.

“No” He said firmly, causing you to stop in your tracks.

You turned once more to face him. “No?”

“No I am not going to leave.”

You were slightly taken aback by his words. “What? Look respectfully, this is my home. And I really just want to sleep so please can you just leave?”

“No.” He replied, taking a step towards you. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me. It is more than evident you’re struggling, and I’m not going to let you drown in this.”

His words were too kind, too caring. It hit you in your chest, sinking down through your stomach. You couldn’t handle this. You need him to go.

“Just leave.” You mumbled, trying to keep your emotions down.

“Talk to me and I will.”

You could feel your anger rising. You weren’t angry at him; you were angry at the world.

“I don’t want you here” You snapped.

“I don’t care” He stepped closer to you once again.

“Get the fuck out of my house Hannibal”

“Tell me what’s wrong”

“EVERYTHING” You shouted, throwing your hands in the air. “Everything is fucking wrong. I am so sick of everything. Waking up every fucking day with this crushing desolate feeling that completely weighs me down. No matter what I do nothing fills it. And if I find something that numbs it for a while, its only every temporary. I am so fucking tired. I am broken and there is nothing I can do to fix it.”

Tears began to flow freely as you continued to rant, your hands threading through your hair.

“I feel like I am going insane every moment of the day. I am so relentlessly burnt out and yet I have no reason to be because  I don’t do anything. I can’t do anything. I just want it all to stop, I just-“

You were cut off as a sob escaped your throat. You fell to your knees, crying harder than you ever had before. Months of pent-up emotion, of fighting down every urge you had came bursting out of you. Your lungs were on fire and your head pounded but you just couldn’t stop. You hadn’t noticed Hannibal sitting next to you until you felt his arms wrap around you, pulling your body against his. Your head crashed into his chest, your hands clinging to his shirt as if it was the only thing keep you afloat. He held you tightly, his hand rubbing gentle patterns across your back as he spoke softly.

“You’re going to be okay. I’m here. Let it out”

You had no idea how long the two of you stayed like that, curled up on the floor of your balcony sobbing into him. You cried until there was nothing left, and your eyes were dry. When you eventually calmed down, Hannibal pulled away from you gently cupping your face to meet your eyes

“I want you to listen to me y/n. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded stiffly as you gazed at him.

“What you’re feeling is real. It is too much for one person to carry alone. I won’t lie to you and tell you there’s an easy quick fix, that will take time. But you need to allow yourself to seek help. You need to share this burden, to allow someone in to guide you through this. It is so easy to let yourself get wrapped up, until your blind to everything except the pain. But my darling, there is so much more. And if you let me, I will be by your side walking with you through it all. Until you see just how fulfilling you can make your life. You will never be alone in this, not as long as I’m around.” His thumb gently caressed your face, the other hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

The earnest expression his face held, along with the genuine care laced into his tone was enough to make you want to cry all over again. No one had ever expressed such a care for you before. You never realised how much you needed it.

“Why do you care so much? I’m nothing but an ex-patient of yours” Your voice was quiet, if not hoarse from all the crying.

A small smile appeared on his face as his eyes scanned yours, as if he was trying to memorise every detail.

“You are so much more than that to me. Over the time I’ve gotten to know you, you have become a beacon in my life. You make me feel a way I have never felt before. I admire you more than you know. I care for you so deeply my darling. I won’t say its love, because truthfully this is all new to me, but it is most definitely close to it. All I know is that I want to be with you, I want to be the person you come to with everything – whether you’re happy, angry, or feeling the way you do now. I want to be the person you share yourself with. If you’ll allow it.”

Your heart swelled at his confession. For the first time in a while, you felt a genuine smile on your face.

“I don’t want anyone else Hannibal. Only you.” You leant forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him close to you.

His arms wrapped securely around your waist, one of his hands threading their way into your hair as he gently massaged your scalp. You melted into his touch, feeling relaxed for once.

“Aš niekada neleisiu tau jaustis vienišam, man brangioji.” He whispered against your hair.

You knew this wouldn’t be easy; even now with Hannibal by your side, this was going to be a hard journey to pull through. But for once, as you sat here cradled in him arms under the night sky, you felt a small glimmer of hope.

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i hope you enjoyed, sorry for the depressing return to posting<3

[sylvari-xiv]

Confession

Stormblood spoilers, I guess, haha. This scene is set during Ghimlyt Dark, right after Alisaie collapses. Ari and Sylvaire are co-WoLs and rivals, and have been working together for a few years now. It's no surprise that the first scene we wrote was when the rivalry took a turn for the romantic. VN and gposes: Blue Writing: both of us

The tent was silent, heavy with the shared pain of its two conscious occupants. Aritsune. Sylvaire. 

Sylvaire held Alisaie's hand gently in his own, feeling her aether waning and stagnating, and he hardly needed Krile to confirm what he knew had happened to her. He could feel the absence of a soul as he probed her aether with his own, and his heart sank. He couldn't imagine the pain Ari was feeling at seeing her like this. She was a shell. Hollow; empty. And perhaps soon enough he would be, too. And if he was, how could he protect the others? How could he protect Ari?

Ari moved swiftly through the motions of checking his weapons, refusing to let the fear of what was happening to his friends—what might happen to those who remained—overwhelm him. 

He flicked a glance at Sylvaire and then away, ignoring the tight, terrified beating of his heart. He'd felt the summons, knew that something was trying to tear him, and Sylvaire, from this plane. Whatever this was, it was aetherological in nature, and Sylvaire was the best person equipped to discover the means to reverse it. They'd been partners in this for too long for him to have any doubt of that. 

Stepping outside, he looked to Raubahn and his guards, standing nearby. "Alisaie needs transport to the Rising Stones. And–" he stopped the guard as he moved to follow the order. “Sylvaire doesn't leave this tent, understand? Keep him here. I'm doing this alone.”

Sylvaire stirred into motion when he saw Ari duck through the tent flaps. Wherever Ari was going, he was determined to follow. It was all he could do—to offer his protection, his healing magicks and what defensive spells he had honed over the years. This was not his fight alone—it was theirs, together—and he would be damned if Ari left him behind. 

As he exited the tent, he felt several sets of eyes fall on him, a weight he could not shake, and he attempted to brush past them in pursuit of Ari. When his path was barred, however, he stiffened his back, drawing himself up to meet Raubahn's gaze as best he could. 

“Let me pass. I refuse to stand idly by while he risks his life like a fool. I am the Warrior of Light as much as he is.” 

When no one moved so much as an ilm, and Raubahn replied with a rather stiff excuse as to why Sylvaire's talents were needed here rather than on the field of battle, Sylvaire felt his face burn hot, and Raubahn's words soon fell on deaf ears. 

“I don't give a damn what he told you, it is not his decision alone to make, not now, not ever. I'm going. Let me pass.” 

The moment Rauhbahn relented, Sylvaire shoved past him and took off at a frantic pace, his lungs filling with smoke and ash. His feet dodged rubble and fire as a single thought—a single person—consumed his mind. He could not bear the thought of arriving too late. Ari was an incredibly capable fighter—more so than he was, though he would never admit it aloud—but  Zenos, or whoever had inhabited his body, was out there, waiting to strike. And although Ari had survived battles with Zenos before, it had never been what one could truly call a victory. 

Sylvaire’s lungs burned more fiercely with each ragged breath as if they themselves had been lit aflame but he pressed on. He wouldn’t lose him, couldn’t. He’d already lost everyone else and if he lost Ari…

But before he could finish the thought, he saw him. 

Smoke hung in the air like an ominous fog, and Ari squinted through it to take stock of his actions. He’d tucked himself behind a barricade, hands sliding over his weapons, checking them. He was so far oblivious to Sylvaire’s approach, his attention clearly directed at the conflict taking place just beyond: Zenos tossing Yugiri aside and bearing down on Hien.

Sylvaire slowed despite how loudly his mind screamed for him to run to Ari and fight at his side, in exactly the place he belonged. Ari had tried to leave him behind, had tried to do this alone; never in all their time fighting side by side had he endangered himself like this, and Sylvaire’s head swam with mounting fury. 

Movement at the corner of his vision distracted Ari from his concern for Hien, and he turned to see Sylvaire stalking toward him, his expression harsh with anger. “Sylvaire. No…”

Sylvaire heard his name fall from Ari’s lips as he closed the distance and placed his hands on Ari’s chest, gathering the fabric of his coat and pulling him close before shoving him away with a sharp growl. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shoving him again for good measure. “How could you leave me behind? You selfish, reckless fool…never do that to me again! We do this together or not at all, do you hear me?” 

Ari growled, his long tail lashing as he regained his balance. Sylvaire had never gotten physical with him before. In all their years fighting beside each other, sharing the mantle of Warrior of Light, they had maintained a carefully cultivated distance between them. At first out of annoyance and distaste, but lately... perhaps out of fear of something else. Something that lurked beneath his skin, making his blood hum as the scent of Sylvaire, heated to a heady musk by his recent exertion, washed over him. 

“Hells take you, Sylvaire,” he hissed back. “You were supposed to stay and solve this.” A sharp gesture between their bodies made his meaning clear: the condition afflicting their friends, the condition that might at any moment take one or both of them, too. “Not risk your fool life out here with me. That's why we work, right? Division of duties, play to our strengths.”

Heat that rivaled the flames that surrounded them rose in Sylvaire at the insinuation that he could simply solve the problem of what—or more specifically who—had been tearing their closest comrades from them one by one holed away inside a tent in the middle of a raging battle that threatened to take Ari from the world…from him. 

“And what, pray tell, do you believe it is I’ve been doing since this entire mess began? If I could solve it so quickly, don’t you think I would have by now? You know as well as I do that I’m no use back there, not right now. But no, you have to do this on your own, have to leave me behind to rot in a tent while you risk your life instead!”

His breath came in heavy pants as he wiped soot out of his eyes with the back of his gloved hand. He tried to step in front of Ari, to block his path to the battlefield where Hien continued to struggle against Zenos. Ari responded by shoving him out of the way. “The hells do you think you’re doing? Someone needs to help Hien. Besides, what do you care if I risk my neck out here?”

Sylvaire hesitated for only a moment. The question—or rather, how readily the answer sprang to his lips— caught him off-guard, and before he could allow himself to think it through, he responded: “I care because I’d be lost without you, Ari; because I love you—gods know how long I’ve loved you—and you’ve simply refused to see it this whole time.” 

Ari froze, staring down at Sylvaire in shock.

It had been awhile since he'd considered Sylvaire an opponent, someone to be beaten. Though they bickered much as they ever had, recent moonturns had seen them become something akin to friends. But now Sylvaire was telling him he loved him. And something in Ari was responding. 

He remembered the feelings of unease. Frustration. The twinge in his chest whenever Sylvaire got too close. Or too far. Or someone crept out of Syl’s room in the quiet stillness of the early morning. Waking up in the arms of someone and thinking about that taunting little spark in Sylvaire’s rose gold eyes. His desperation to leave him safely behind in that tent. As the people he loved collapsed around him, he’d been fighting a mounting terror that Syl would be next. And losing Syl would hurt more than all the others. The thought surprised him, even as it settled over him, his body resonating with the truth.

He didn't just tolerate Sylvaire. It was a whole lot more than that. 

Hien's pained cry wrenched Ari from the moment. It was a well kept secret that Ari and Hien had spent a string of nights together during their efforts to liberate Doma. Though both knew it would amount to nothing and had ended their relationship, Ari could not ignore the clarion call of his cry. Hien needed to live, needed to hold the fragile Eastern Alliance together. 

He tossed Sylvaire into the dirt behind the fractured barricade, the words leaping to his lips but remaining unsaid as he threw himself into the battle, blade screaming as it intercepted the killing blow meant for Hien: I love you, too.

Sylvaire hit the dirt with a thud, too surprised by the sudden change in position to do more than gasp. He and Ari locked eyes for an all too brief moment before Ari flung himself forward and into the fray. 

Godsdamnit, Sylvaire cursed under his breath, angry at himself for such a ridiculous display of vulnerability coupled with such terrible timing. What did he have to lose? Everything, clearly—his own dignity to start. He scrambled to his knees, careful to take stock of the situation before he ran headlong into the fight himself, and he saw Ari absorb and counter a blow that had clearly been meant for Lord Hien. His chest simultaneously filled with fear and swelled with pride as he watched Ari land blow after blow, but then; he faltered. His steps became less sure, and Sylvaire vaulted to his feet, throwing out a desperate but focused string of spells to both shield Ari and restore his strength before Sylvaire could reach his side. 

And, for a moment, it seemed to work. Ari righted himself on his feet, locking eyes again with Sylvaire as he did. Sylvaire breathed a sigh of relief. Just a few scant yalms to close the distance, and then…

And then, his worst fear came to pass. Ari collapsed on the ground in one swift motion, his sword falling from his hand as it went limp. There was an audible thud as his body hit the ground, and Sylvaire reached him just in time to feel a rush of aether leave his body, leaving it alive but empty, just like the others. 

No, no, not Ari, he couldn’t bear to lose him, couldn’t bear to think that was the last conversation they would ever have. He channeled his own aether into him, oblivious to those around him who kept him safe just long enough to chance a desperate, futile attempt at channeling aether back into him to reanimate him, to bring him back from whoever had stolen him from underneath Sylvaire’s nose. 

When nothing happened, and Ari lay as still as he had the moment he collapsed, Sylvaire’s cry pierced the air, and the tears fell hot and fast, threatening to sear his skin and his very soul with their relentless trails.

[another-shameless-fangirl]

Skin Hunger

In which Danny learns about another kind of hunger from Jazz.

Words- 3,151

----

Danny felt a hollowness inside of him.

His stomach never ached as Phantom. As a ghost he never had to eat or sleep so he never felt tired or hungry but something was off. He couldn’t describe it. Something bad was happening and it was not anything he could put meaningful words to. There was a weight inside of his skin dragging the flesh down thick and heavy and nameless. He could move through it. The weight did not make him sluggish but it made him ache in a way that was not quite pain.

He fought hard as always but there was less pride in his victories and less joy in the peace he found after. There was a stress and tension in his body when he fought and a vicious edge to his strikes. He did not talk as often to the combatants and there was an emptiness in his head, in his chest when he let the ghosts back into the zone when he was left in silence. 

It all felt like too much and not enough at the same time but why?

He felt like he could cry but for what reason?

When he transformed back to his human self it got better but not in a way that mattered. Human him felt warm and solid but that heaviness persisted like a dull weight in his body, like it pulled down through his skin and the tissue underneath in either form like his body was not sure if he was in the space he occupied or elsewhere. Why was this happening? Was it stress? 

He watched a stray spirit meander by him, more memory than substance and he wondered if there was a chance that would happen to him? What if he was losing himself? His humanity was a tricky thing on the best of days. What if Phantom was starting to separate from reality? What if this was the first evidence of him losing his mind? 

His mind swung with an anxious fragility and the ideas flooded his mind and would not stop coming. 

He was going crazy.

The ghost below walked through a wall and disappeared. Danny was too tired to follow. That type of ghost never caused any harm anyway, There was so little left of their minds they may as well not exist. 

What if that was going to be him soon?

Tears formed in his eyes and he scrubbed at them furiously because Danny Fenton didn’t cry and neither would his ghost.

“Danny?”

His head snapped up toward the voice baring his fangs at the voice before he could register his name. That meant the voice was friendly. He blinked tears from his green eyes. He was on the roof, the OPs center. The voice was Jazz. He snapped his mouth shut, mortified but the girl did not comment on the revoked threat . 

“Long night?” She asked and he scoffed. He was irritated in an instant. How could he go from having an existential crisis to annoyed at stupid questions at the drop of a hat?

“I’m fine.” He muttered, his voice echoed even more than usual with the sheets of steel lining the roof. Danny drew his legs against his chest pulling them tightly with both arms. He felt better somehow with that pressure around his legs but his skin still buzzed with something... 

Jazz closed the hatch behind her and took careful steps toward him across the metal. “I turned off the alarm when I saw it was you,” she started and she looked over the rooftops below them. “I texted mom and dad that it was a false alarm. Rogue frankenfurter.” She told him with a smile and a pleased note to her voice. 

It was an inside joke they shared about why hotdogs came in packs of 10 and buns in packs of 8. The two remaining sausages were doomed to haunt the Fenton house after being contaminated by ectoplasm in the fridge. 

He didn’t smile back, didn’t thank her for covering his careless mistake of coming to his house, his own home and triggering an alarm he helped his dad install years ago. He was so stupid and here she was having to make up for that. 

He was a stupid, hollow shell of a person and Jazz could be doing so many great things if she didn’t have to look out for her dumb little brother. 

Maybe she wouldn’t have to for much longer.

Tears leaked again and Danny hid his face in his arms instead. By design, the hazmat suit did not absorb any of the liquid. Were they even tears? Did ghosts cry or was that too human? He sniffled for air he did not need but it still came back out in a sob.

Something warm touched him and his entire body jolted. Arms wrapped around him and he was being hugged- Jazz was hugging him and the world stopped spinning out of control and all he could think about was how warm she was. 

Was he really that cold?

“You don’t have to do that.” He croaked. Even his voice failed him as if it was just another broken part of a janky machine. The arms just crushed him further.

“It looks like you need it,” concern laced her tone and he tensed but it was so hard to stay coiled like this. Now he was making her worry. Idiot. “What’s going on, little brother?” Jazz asked and something about the way she addressed him made him crumble but to crumble was to be weak and how could she ask him to be weak when he was already so fragile?

“I’m fine. Let go, I have school in the morning.” He snipped and squirmed in her grip but she only loosened her grip enough to look at him instead of releasing him. She looked at him so softly and held on like she would never let go in a way that left him truly alone. 

“You’re okay. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” 

Of course he could. She was one of the only people he could talk to freely. Lately Sam and Tucker were listening to him more and more until he shut them out too. When was that? Did he imagine shutting the door in their face last week? How could he be so tired and on edge at the same time?

“I think I’m going crazy.” He whispered at last. Danny half hoped she didn’t hear but of course she did. 

She didn’t deny it or tell him he wasn't, which was agonizing and comforting at the same time. “Why do you think you’re going crazy?” 

He turned his head into her shoulder and thought about it. All the sad and dreadful things he had been thinking about himself were coming back jumbled and twisted and he could hardly recognize the ones he had been thinking all day versus the ones he was coming up with on the spot. 

Freak. Loser. Dead.

“I feel like shit,” he admitted at last. “Or at least this body does. I feel okay enough during the day but as Phantom I feel…” He frowned unable to put the words out in the air. Whatever Phantom was, that manifestation of his suffering consciousness, it hurt more clearly. 

Jazz didn’t say anything but she did nuzzle her cheek against the top of his head and held him and he thought he could cry again as he made himself speak. 

“I’m angry at nothing. I’m so sad and I keep forgetting why until I try to think about it then there are so many reasons and it sucks.” He sniffled again and she just stroked her thumb over his arm. She was so warm. 

“You’ve been under a lot of stress.” She said and he groaned, shaking his head but not pulling away. 

“I’m always under stress. This is different from the regular superhero stuff. I feel like something’s wrong with me. I’m so tired,” he sniffled. “I'm getting mood swings. I yelled at Skulker today and I think I actually hurt his feelings.” He told her and while that was a hilarious thing to think about it just made him more mad because it was mean, not quippy or even original. He let out a wet laugh anyway. Like he owed the hunter artistic integrity. 

Jazz just stroked his arm and shoulder and she was so good at it. 

“It feels different from being a teenager?” She tried but the levity and jokes were fading. She was considering his feelings and Danny didn’t realize that was what he had been really needing. 

“Yeah. Like it feels like something new. And it’s worse in ghost form. I’m starting to get worried that I’m… That something’s wrong with me,” Danny blinked but tears started to pool and threatened to run down his cheeks as some dam inside him flooded over and he babbled. 

“I feel fine sometimes and other times I just don’t and I can’t explain it but I really wonder if something’s wrong with me like-” His voice started to waver and Jazz tightened her grip around his back and gave him a long moment to finish.

“It feels like I’m actually dying.”

Jazz did not tense around him, her heart did not skip a beat or hammer and thankfully she didn’t say anything to tell him he was wrong. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” She said and it was a complete statement. It was pity and sympathy but it did not make Danny’s skin crawl. He sniffled and turned his face into her shoulder.

“Why do I feel this way?” He asked as if she could give him a diagnosis on the spot- like Jazz could find a ghost bug on his back and yank it out of his spine and he could feel better in an instant but whatever this was he felt in his core. As such, she did not have an easy answer.

“There are plenty of things that could be manifesting,” she said sounding thoughtful as if remembering exactly what one of those psychology textbooks said and she going to recite it verbatim.

"Could you paraphrase it for me?" Danny sighed but listened for Jazz to continue which she did with an even, terrible patient tone.

“The brain is a dumb, beautful, electric jelly lump and anything you’re feeling is real. We just have to figure out how to fix it. Or at least make you feel a little better.” She said and it sounded honest enough. “Is it possible this is how your stress is manifesting in your body? Tense and mad at ghosts?”

He didn’t know.

“I was stressed before and I never had a temper like that. And I was never exhausted all the time, even in the beginning when I only fought ghosts once a week or so.” Because I was so weak stayed hidden on his tongue, bitter and disgusting. He turned his cheek against her sweater and he felt her shrug. 

“The human body isn’t meant to be stressed out for long periods of time. We’re meant to relax and hang out most of the time and be in run from the tiger mode just sometimes. This could be something biological. Your body might be overwhelmed.”

And that would be comforting except for that keyword--biological.

“That’s a human thing,” He snapped and pulled away. The grip broke and she looked at him with concerned eyes. Her hands still lingering on his waist and shoulder and he swatted them away. 

“I’m not a person, Jazz. I’m a ghost. A monster.” He said and his lips formed a tight line and he willed them not to tremble as he scrubbed tears from his face. She blinked at him. 

“Why don’t you feel like a person? Did something happen to your human half?” 

He shook his head frantically straightening because to be small was to be weak and he couldn’t handle that right now. He stood and walked away a few steps forcing himself not to pace.

“No! Yes… I mean I’m fine but I just feel like shit. It’s ridiculous- I need to be stronger.”

“Making yourself stronger won’t necessarily fix whatever is going on. You can get help-”

“You can’t help.” Danny snapped at her but the heat was lessened. 

“Then I can get you what you need to help yourself.” Jazz narrowed her eyes stubbornly pushing herself off the cold metal. She stood tall and crossed her arms. “You’re a human, Danny. You need all the basic things a human needs.”

“I get everything I need as a human and it’s not enough because something is wrong with me.” 

“Did you eat dinner?”

“It was glowing so no. I ate lunch at school.” Danny crossed his arms back at his sister. He was in ghost form but he fought the urge to fly off. If they didn’t finish this conversation she would just follow him downstairs to his room and text him all night when he didn’t answer the door.

“Slept?” Jazz asked, apparently just going through a check list and Danny bristled. 

“I dunno. I got home at 2 last night then went to bed.” There he stayed up scratching at his arms for hours then went to school. The answer did not impress her as if she knew that.

“Have you played Gloom recently?” 

“I played Doom on Saturday for like two hours.” He rage quit after being killed again and again and making no progress. The memory made him tense and he glowered at her. “Are you just listing stuff from that pyramid thing?” He was pretty sure safety and self esteem were somewhere on that list but he really might just jump off the roof if she asked a stupid question like Do you feel safe. 

“Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, Danny. It’s a real thing. In order to get to the top of the pyramid, you need to have the base which is physiological needs. Food and water, rest, relaxation, touch, and exercise.” Jazz listed like the walking encyclopedia she was. 

This was all so stupid. He had all of those things in spades- except touch. He paused, freezing a snide remark on his lips and frowned. He wasn’t clingy and he didn’t exactly have time for a dating life. Even those fleeting hand touches with Sam had long faded. His fingers twitched and he turned to look at his gloved hands. 

“Danny?” His head jerked up and Jazz was always too smart for her own good. She tilted her head and studied him as if she could read his thoughts and maybe she could. She could always read him so well. 

“When was the last time you experienced a human touch?” She asked concisely taking any ghost punching off the table as technically contact. 

He fidgeted under her gaze and shrugged but did not answer. What counted as human touch? He blushed and sputtered. 

“I passed a note in class today? Got handed change by the lunch lady…” He realized as he spoke that he was reaching. Those couldn’t possibly count but she just nodded slowly. 

“How about last time you had a handshake? Pet a dog? When was the last time you had a hug?” She asked giving him a second to process and Danny took a long moment to think and he really thought about it. He hadn’t hugged his friends in a long time, teenagerdom taking that casual action unless something really emotional was happening and one of them needed comfort. His parents had been wearing Specter Deflectors in the house for months as part of their uniform and hadn’t questioned, hadn’t insisted anyway when Danny stopped accepting offers for a morning hug. They chalked it up to teenage moodiness.

“The last hug I had was from you.” 

Jazz’s face fell and Danny wondered if he should have lied. The event in question was a quick, genuine thing. He remembered the fleeting touch as she left for school one morning and he had shrugged her off.

“Danny…”

“Forget it. It’s not a big deal, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“These are human needs, not just for kids,” she sounded distraught. “We’re pack animals and we need to be embraced and touched. It lets your body know you’re safe and you’re a loved part of your community.” Did she forget how he was often enemy number one, let alone the school loser? Whatever community he was a part of he wasn’t exactly loved. He smiled tightly at her.

“I think we’re pretty well past that.” 

She frowned and stalked towards him and the look on her face took him by surprise. He tensed getting ready to step back but she just grabbed him tight. 

Standing under the pale moon light, high enough where those below could not see them, Jazz held Danny Phantom and tucked his head under her chin all but enveloping him.

But then she didn’t let go.

“Uh-"

“30 seconds of contact, minimum.” She said with a voice full of authority. “That’s the bare minimum your body needs to release oxytocin- happy brain chemical. Come on, hug me.” 

He raised his numb arms immediately and obeyed squeezing gingerly around her back. 

“Are you seriously counting to 30 before you let me go?” He tried to be glib but even now that weight was starting to dissipate. It couldn’t be that simple could it?

“I’m very serious,” Jazz said using that glib tone he had tried. “But instead of counting, I figured I’d just hold on until it feels right.”

How long would that be? Danny had started to think that he would never feel better, never feel whole again but here she was draining that horrible feeling from his body like she pulled a plug.

They held on to each other tight and maybe it was all fake and Jazz was making it up to give him a problem to focus on. Either way he felt soothed. 

Jazz let him pull away after what must have been a full minute, maybe longer and he blinked at her feeling tired but not in a way that made him exhausted. 

“Any better?” She asked as if she didn’t know. He smiled at her tightly but it wasn’t pained.

“Yeah. Thanks, Jazz.”

“Now I’m gonna want you for that every day,” she warned but smiled back. “We can do this every day before school and after if there’s time but you gotta see me before any ghost fighting nights.” Danny smiled a toothy, teasing grin.

“Are you giving me prescription hugs?” 

“Yep.”

The two of them looked at each other for a long moment but even as the smiles faded to something more comfortable, whatever happened here worked at least a little. Even if it was all made up or exaggerated, at least Jazz cared enough to try. 

In any case he wouldn’t fight the treatment. 

----

Ectober 22- Staff

[cjskribblez]

‼️DESERT DUO RANT AND/OR ANALYSIS COMING UP‼️

Ok so I told this to someone else’s blog but I’m telling you because I have too many ideas for my empty, hollow shell of a skull where my brain should be and u seem to also like desert duo so let’s get into it

People have been saying that desert duo has had a divorce but NAY!!!! I OBJECT AND DISAGREE UNTIL MY FINAL BREATH!!!

Grian and Scars divorce arc was more so double life but I’ll still defend that series too

So GET THIS,

I see Grian and Scar as high school ex’s / ex-best friends (I personally don’t like shipping them but I digress) who had a messy split up and are obviously spiteful towards each other, and can be seen glaring at each other in hallways(we all saw them staring at each other while the mansion burned down, right?) But in between classes, they talk by their lockers like they never hated each other. In their free time they “accidentally” meet each other and talk like they never had those horrible fights that lead them to dislike each other so much in the first place.

This might be a weird analogy but stay with me,

We know this dynamic right? It’s classic. We all know it. When they were best friends or partners, they were still a little toxic for each other. But they didn’t notice. Or maybe they did, they just didn’t acknowledge it. Maybe they did notice but they just swept it under the rug and refused to acknowledge it and stayed friends (coming from someone who was in a friendship like this before, that’s a lot more common than some people think). But now that they’ve split up, they see and acknowledge the other person for who they truly are because they no longer have those rose tinted glasses they have before when they were best friends. Now they actually see what the other person is truly like. When they were best friends, those dangerous or toxic traits weren’t usually aimed at each other.

The two had horrible fights that lead them to split up in the first place, but now a few months or weeks later, whatever you want to call it, they’re slowly coming back to what they used to be, or at least they’re not able to truly split up. Maybe they still hate each other, but they’re always near each other. Maybe they still hate each other, but they’re always seen talking every once and a while. They might hate each other but they can’t leave no matter how bad they want to. No matter how “moved on” they are, they’re still there.

Ok rant over sorry for doing all that I just have no life and watched the recent episode I have too much of the sillies 😋

"THEY NO LONGER HAVE THOSE ROSE TINTED GLASSES AND SEE THE OTHER FOR HOW THEY TRULY ARE" anon you've killed me!! I'm dead.

Not seeing the ugly parts of people close to you, (whether intentional or not) can be such a painful thing when you step back and have space from eachother and actually LOOK at them. and I think this is the first series where they're actually doing that and not really getting tangled up in eachothers messes. Scar especially (since I think Grian often likes to be a hypocrite and talk about how crazy Scar is) but yeah. Wow. U nailed it. I will be thinking about this for a long time now👍

[iamthemain-character]

The Stranger

Watching the person you love change into someone unrecognizable hurts, but what happens when they reappear- twice.

c!wilbur x reader, c!ghostbur x reader, c!revivebur x reader

gender neutral pronouns

TW: mentions of betrayal, destruction, mentions of canonical violence, death, angst

mcyt masterlist

i can’t remember the last time

we sat at the table, just the two of us

looked into each other’s eyes

and made the choice to choose us

These days, there wasn’t much to Wilbur. He was always pacing the halls of the base, muttering and mumbling to himself. It was concerning behavior to those who loved him, but any attempts to help him were quickly brushed off.

It was disturbing, seeing how obsessed he was with the idea of blowing up L’manburg. Once upon a time that nation had been Wilbur’s pride and joy, his masterpiece. Even when Schlatt had taken it from him, Wilbur had a fire and a determination to get it back. Now, however, he was an empty shell of a man who cared for nothing and no one.

It was stressful for Y/n especially; they loved Wilbur with all their heart, but they didn’t like who he was becoming. Between trying to continue with efforts to recover L’manburg and trying to stop Wilbur from completely losing it, Y/n felt stretched and strained to the max. Sometimes they wondered if it was all worth fighting for.

One such evening, Y/n came out of the potato farm in Pogtopia after working through the afternoon while Technoblade was away. As they wiped the dirt from their hands, they looked up and saw Wilbur sitting on a rock, muttering to himself.

For a moment Y/n just watched, unsure of what to do; it wasn't as if it was the first time they had seen Wilbur like this, but every day they were becoming more and more scared they were going to lose their lover.

"You alright there Wil?"

When there was no response, Y/n walked over, kneeling down in front of the motionless man. Gently taking his hands in their own, they offered a small smile. "Are you alright Wilbur?"

Slowly Wilbur's head lifted, eyes dragging across Y/n and meeting their's. A chill ran through Y/n as they saw how hollow and cold that gaze was, remembering how warm and comforting those eyes used to be.

Getting up, Y/n tugged a little at Wilbur's hands, encouraging him to follow them. "Come on; when was the last time we actually took some time for just the two of us? Lets go do something fun tonight, everything else can wait for just a little while."

Wilbur did follow suit, but he removed his hands from Y/n's, stuffing them in his pockets. Letting out an empty laugh, he just barely pressed his lips to Y/n's forehead, a ghost of a kiss. "Not tonight, not tonight."

And just like that, Y/n watched Wilbur leave again, feeling like they had lost something, something that would never be found again.

Let's trace the steps of where we've been

To make it feel like home again

They had won. The Pogtopian army had actually reclaimed L'manburg. Dream had surrendered, Schlatt was dead, and they were all free to reenter L'manburg and make it their beloved home again.

Y/n watched with pride as Wilbur finished his speech on the podium, effectively handing over the presidency to Tubbo. Tears shone in their eyes as they watched Wilbur shake Tubbo's hand, then turning and coming down the steps to Y/n.

A smile on his face, Wilbur grabbed Y/n and pulled them close to his chest, twirling around with them. Leaning back, he pressed a deep kiss to their lips; warmth flooded through Y/n's chest, feeling just like they did when Wilbur had first started dating them. Flushing, Y/n shyly smiled at Wilbur when they parted, just happy to have him back.

"I love you Y/n."

"And I love you Wilbur."

Pressing one more kiss to Y/n's lips, Wilbur gently guided them towards the direction of Tubbo and the whole army. "Go, greet your new president."

Confused, Y/n tilted their head. "Aren't you coming with?"

Wilbur pressed his lips to the back of Y/n's hand that he was still holding, then letting it go and allowing it to fall back to their side. "Not to worry, I'll be right behind you. Go, go! Enjoy your victory."

So with a skip in their step, Y/n went to help take down the festival decorations. Just as they were about to call out to Tubbo, however, Technoblade pulled out his crossbow and shot the newly established president, angry that the government was continuing. Various screams and yelling ensued, and chaos consumed the area. Trying to fend for themselves and find Wilbur, Y/n looked up as they heard a strange, yet not unfamiliar sizzling sound.

And then everything exploded.

And you play the stranger

I'll play the girl at the bar

The same place where this all got started

Sometimes I wish I didn't know you all

So we could do it all over

And fall all over each other again

As the warmth from the sun started to disappear, Y/n stood up and stretched out their back, looking at the hard work they had put into their farm. Rows of various vegetables and grains stood before them, proudly growing in the nutritious soil.

As Y/n began to gather up their tools and supplies, a rush of cool air rushed over them.

"Oh, hello!"

Whipping around, sword drawn, Y/n analyzed who had snuck up on them. As they looked at the face before them, their stomach flipped, the sword dropping to the ground. "Wil... Wilbur?"

There was no mistaking it, the intruder was Wilbur. Yet, he looked different; the air around him was cold, and it seemed as if he wasn't fully colorized, like someone had permanently placed grayscale on him. Wilbur was also slightly transparent in the sunlight, like if Y/n blinked he would suddenly evaporate into the air. Wilbur's eyes were half-lidded, an airy, dreamy look about him.

Wilbur turned his head to the side, thinking about Y/n's response. "I'm Ghostbur, but I think you must be thinking of Alivebur." Recognition flashed across his face, a large smile spreading across. "Oh yes! He knew you very well, I have lots of memories of you."

Scoffing slightly, Y/n took a step back. "Wait, I don't understand. Ghostbur?"

Slowly Wilbur, or Ghostbur, walked - though admittedly it looked more like floated- over to inspect the crops Y/n had just finished planting. "Mhm, I'm Ghostbur, I'm not Wilbur." Ghostbur's face scrunched up in disgust for a moment, before returning once more to his airy composure. "Though I suppose we were, or maybe are, connected."

"I see."

"Anyways, I've been introducing myself to everyone, so it's nice to meet you Y/n."

Taking a deep breath, Y/n considered how they might approach this new Ghostbur/Wilbur situation. For a moment, they wanted to run away or scream all their frustration at the man, but as they watched him gently run his fingers over a blossom, they realized he was nothing like the man who had betrayed them. Y/n had often wished for a fresh start, and while this was far from it, it was a new beginning.

"It's nice to meet you too, Ghostbur."

Ghostbur smiled widely, rushing over to Y/n's side as they walked back towards the house. "Would you like to meet Friend? He is my friend, and he is so very nice, I think he'd like you. By the way, would you like some blue?"

I know you remember that first night

I asked if you would wanna dance

You made me laugh in the neon light

With your two left feet telling me you can't

Strecthing out their arms, Y/n leaned back against the log behind them, pointing their shoes towards the campfire. Across from them, Tommy's face sat, knees pulled to his chest as he started at the charcoals. Ghostbur sat with them, occasionally drifting arounds as he got distracted. Y/n didn't know what to say, so instead they looked around Tommy's place of banishment. While nothing really seemed outrightly amiss, the whole area and Tommy's manner made a pit in Y/n's stomach, like they were in danger.

"Why aren't you dancing?"

Ghostbur's voice pulled Y/n out of their thoughts, and they turned to see what the ghost was talking about.

Ghostbur's eyes looked in Y/n's direction, but they seemed to look past the latter, as if he was seeing something entirely different. "You love dancing, especially after dinner. You and Alivebur used to dance for hours, didn't you?"

Y/n felt their throat get tight at the mention of Wilbur, Ghostbur pulling up one of their happiest memories.

"May I have this dance?" Wilbur's chair scraped the floor as he stood up, offering his hand to Y/n. "But of course kind Sir." Lightly laughing, Y/n allowed themself to get pulled in by their boyfriend, letting out a content sigh. Wilbur leaned his forehead against Y/n's, eyes shutting slowly as the couple took in the moment. The only music that played was the song in their heart, but that was of no concern to them. Tomorrow would come with its challenges and responsibilities, but for now, nothing else mattered as the lovers danced in the dying light of the fireplace.

"I don't dance."

Let's trace those steps 'til we can find

Where we got lost in love that time

Tears pricked Y/n's eyes, but they refused to let them fall, determined to remain strong. Early morning light shone down on the person in front of Y/n, almost making him look beautiful, but they were too consumed with the fact that he was standing at the door.

"H- um, Hello?" Smiling a little too brightly, Wilbur held out the boquet of flowers in his hands.

Coldly Y/n laughed, grinding their teeth as the shook their head in disbelief. "Hello? That's really all you have to say for yourself?"

For a moment, a flash of hurt appeared on Wilbur's face, but then it was gone, only leaving his cocky and devil-may-care attitude. "Well it was either that or good morning."

Done with the conversation, Y/n started to close the door. Wilbur's hand shot out, palm slamming against the wood in an attempt to stop it.

"Wilbur Soot, you have approximately 5 seconds to get off my porch before I singlehandedly send you back to whatever hole your sorry self crawled out of."

Taking a deep breath, Wilbur nodded his head. "Okay, maybe I deserve that. But Y/n, come on, can we at least talk?"

Y/n felt themself get hot at the sheer audacity of this man. "Oh yeah, for sure, lets sit together over some tea and talk about how my boyfriend ignored and betrayed me and effectively broke my heart."

Shaking their head, Y/n rapidly blinked as they tried not to cry. "You have no right, showing up here on my doorstep, living and breathing without a care in the world. I have spent so long, so many sleepless nights and never-ending days, trying so desperately to get over you, to figure out what I did wrong. And now you show up, thinking you're XD's gift to the server, with a bouquet as if I am some young, naïve person that you can just sweep off their feet. Well guess what Wilbur, I'm not; unlike you, I've worked and fought for everything in my life, and you are not about to screw that all up again."

Hot tears ran down Y/n's cheeks, and for the first time, Wilbur actually looked ashamed of himself. Setting the bouquet off to the side, Wilbur simply held out his hands, looking into Y/n's eyes. "I know I've messed up, really badly, but please Y/n; I want to give us another try."

so we could do it all over

and fall all over each other

again

[hyuukais]

Heavenly

Y/n was once heavenly. A divine guardian of heaven and earth, created to protect and serve humanity until a it’s dying breathe. Yet, when tragedy strikes, they find themselves condemned to a life of fire and emptiness. And all they wished they could do was go back and save him.

➤ Word count: 5.6k

➤ Genre: Angel! Jeongin x Demon! Reader, angel and demon au, slight fluff, whole lotta angst

➤ Warnings: depictions of death, trauma, self-hatred, memory loss, hell, and intense guilt. allusions to sort of imposter syndrome. incredibly loose interpretations of christian theology.

➤ Author: So, as the week wraps up and my matchmaker event comes to end, I want to thank everyone. All of the people who’ve liked my work enough to follow or reblog or even like, thank you. To everyone who sent in a match submission, thank you and i hope they're at least a little good. 300 followers feels so far from where I once started. To commemorate this, i guess, i’m finally sharing this fic that i’ve wanted to post for a while. Thank you so so so much @seung-scrittore for beta reading !!! leo, your little notes and suggestions made me so happy to see, thank you for all your help. With that, please enjoy the longest fic i’ve written !

➤ Playlist: here

As a Guardian Angel, one of the best things is to finally be assigned a charge, a human to protect and serve till their final breath. It is the ultimate honor and the ultimate responsibility. 

Y/n had still been a fairly new soul themself when assigned to Yang Jeongin. From the time his soul was first in creation, they learned to look after and protect him. Slowly, Y/n had found different ways to do so. Coming down to earth disguised as various creatures and people to look over his day-to-day life, the two grew together.

Every day they tried their hardest to keep him from hurt and pain and every day they kept to that oath. Though, there comes a time one has to realize there are some things even an angel can’t stop. 

He was still young, barely even 20. A growing man with a bright future. But everything seemed to happen so fast. The flash of blinding lights and screeching wheels. Pavement drinking in the blood of an innocent.

Why weren’t you there? Why didn’t you save him?!

As news spread that the one person on earth Y/n was meant to keep safe had faced a premature death, they were shunned; Cast out of the heavens to walk among the fires of hell. Darkness filled their mind and soul. It ate through the emptiness, leaving a feeling even worse. Hollowness. A shell of a creature, once bright and alive. 

An eternity of damnation and pain for their negligence and all they wished they could do was go back and save him.

If they were to be caught right now chances are the consequences would be grave. To be found in the overworld amongst humans was forbidden for those cast down, but Y/n couldn’t help themself. Being stuck in the sweltering hot sulfur was driving them mad. Fresh air and sunshine were things they had desperately begun to crave.

Walking through the streets, people simply passed by. Y/n was nonexistent to them, though that was probably for the better. Being stripped of their wings had been gruesome enough but the time spent in the humid underworld had sunken their eyes, drained the life force from their limbs, and covered the once silky, glowing, white robes they wore into torn, ash-covered, rags. Just being in the breeze seemed to breathe new life into Y/n’s soul. 

The bustling crowds shifted and varied through the places they walked. Some were lighter than others. Some were more fast-paced. Each face carried so much depth and emotion under the surface. How they wish they could openly live among them once again. To walk the crowds, greet the people, and have them greet Y/n back. To see their smiles and nods and waves. And the children, children who had much more imagination than faith. Children who truly saw. To see their wide eyes and dropped jaws as they were let in on a special secret between them and a stranger. They wished for their humanity back, or what little of it they’d had.

Y/n’s people watching continued, seeing new and old faces run through the crowds. Something caught their eyes in the middle of it all. A gathering of feathers raised above the bunch. Far too many to be a simple bird and far too large to be something of this earth. 

Oh heavens above, it was an angel.

They were screwed. They were caught in the act about to face a fate of horror with nowhere to run.

Soon a head of hair connected to the wings joined their vision. Blonde and fluffy, shaking in the wind. A face followed that caused them to freeze. 

There, Yang  Jeongin stood before Y/n in heavenly glory.  Pristine white coating his skin, still a glowing tan. Two otherworldly bright, large wings protruding from his back. 

He was just as shocked to see them there. A fallen angel in the overworld was forbidden, so how the hell did they make it this far.

A breathless whisper escaped Y/n’s lips, “Jeongin.” 

“How did you get here?” His voice commanded a feeling of authority. It told Y/n to listen but they sat there in shock.

“Y-you-you’re-”

“What are you doing here, demon?” The word stung. Y/n had never wished to be seen as a demon, always preferring the term ‘fallen-angel’. To hear it slip from his mouth broke their heart. The care they held for the young man hadn’t dissipated, in fact, it had grown stronger every day Y/n spent tortured by their thoughts.

“I-I came to...to get some fresh air.”

“You aren’t meant to be up here.”

“Yes… I-I know...that. I just...had to get out.” Y/n’s eyes never moved from Jeongin’s face. Taking in his every new movement, every new feature of what the boy had become.

“You’ve already had to have caused enough pain in this world to be what you are. It’s time for you to go back.” He roughly pulled on their arm, forcing Y/n to their feet. Thus began a forceful drag down the sidewalk. Dodging and twisting around the commuters, who remained undisturbed in their travels.

“Ow! Angels...aren’t meant to hurt people.”

“I have no remorse for a demon. You know nothing of what I’m meant to do.”

“Would you...please...stop calling me that.”

“That is what you are, isn’t it? You have caused humans anguish to be where you are. You are evil.”

Desperation and despair filled Y/n, spilling in their shaky words. “I’m already tormented...by the harsh words you have to say to me... every day. I do not need them to come true.” Tears breached their eyes as the angel focused his attention downward. 

“No...wait.” Cracks formed along the ground beneath their feet. Heat fizzled through the air and Y/n slowly lost their footing on the shaky floor. “I’m sorry...Jeongin.”

The grass fell through. Their body plummeted. Y/n caught a small glimpse of Jeongin’s bewildered face before the light faded above them.

Condensation stuck to every crevice and crack of the surrounding rocks. Screams echoed all over the cavern wall, each one imbued with its own sense of agony and suffering. Everything reeked of sulfur.

Here, Y/n once again found themselves trekking through hellfire and ash, along the rocky pathways carved out in stone. Around them rang the tortured howls of those sentenced to damnation. Every scream weighs in their heart, urging an action to stop the pain, but they know they can’t do anything. Instead, Y/n focused ahead. Climbing through the haze of smoke. Slicing their hands on the cavernous walls. Determined to see the sunlight once more. A foolish idea but one they can’t give up on, for it is this idea that keeps them going. So they push on, remembering the events of last time, but hoping to make amends with the earth and the angels.

Jeongin enjoyed his time in the overworld. Waving to little puppies he saw on the street, listening to the chattering of songbirds, basking in the sun's warmth with a breeze to cool him. He almost felt human again and maybe that’s why he liked it so much. Don’t get him wrong, being an angel wasn’t bad, he simply died too young to be content with his death. The sensation of it all was so excruciating and ultimately wrong. So, so wrong. And every day it played through his head like a broken record. The memory, the pain, the trauma, all of it. Again and again and again. It bruised deeper every time, getting worse as the nightmares continued. His only solace is the crowds; walking amongst them as he did a million times before. That’s where he was again today. Within crowds of people simply living their lives. People aware of others but so unconscious to their own living. People with humanity, humility, life, love, death, everything ahead of them. His pleasure of life was only second-hand, but satisfying all the same. Masses shuffled past Jeongin. He took it all in. Let the world wrap him in its cluttered arms and hug him close. Embrace him in the comforting chaos of what he used to know.  Colors shifted in and out of Jeongin’s peripherals with the swift pace of the herds. Out of all of them, a piece of black cloth slows to his side. 

“I-it’s nice seeing you smile.” A wistful voice by his side scared Jeongin, causing him to jump back. Standing there was a familiar body. His brain catches up realizing it was the demon he had found wandering above. The one who’d shouted his name before plunging downward.

Shock settled in his voice. “You-you’re, I-”

“I’m not s-supposed to be here? I know, you’ve told me before.”

“What are you doing here!?”

“I-I missed the sun.”

“Wh-why would you stop by me?”

They didn’t answer right away, gazing forwards. “Do you remember your life?”

“Excuse me?”

“Were you happy?”

“I-I...What are you trying to do, demon!?”

Suddenly they turned to him, staring down his eyes with their own misty pair, “Were you happy? N-no matter what happened in the end, were you happy in your life?” Tears now freely fell creating tracks in the pecks of soot.

Jeongin could barely process what was happening. This demon broke down asking if he remembered life before death and if he was happy with it. This person who apologized to him when he returned them underground, who just happened to know his name.

“Who are you?” the question slipped out before he could stop it. Probably not a good thing to ask someone crying.

The demon blubbered, still sniveling, letting out choked apologies. “I-I...you...I-” A hand gripped onto theirs suddenly causing a bout of whipping air past their ears.

The sight of vibrant green grass peeked through Y/n’s tear-distorted eyes. A clear blue sky filled with nothing but the soft sounds of songbirds. Rapidly wiping their eyes, shock fell across their face. This wasn’t the city they had been in a moment ago but a vast field full of flowers and greenery. Looking around showed a seemingly very concerned Jeongin.

“W-whe-wha-huh?”

“Are you...are you okay?”

“H-huh? Where are we?”

“You were freaking out and I wanted to get you away from the crowds. Sorry.”

“N-no. Um...Thank you…” An odd silence settled. Y/n was still curled into themselves while Jeongin stared off, a bit dazed.

“Who are you?”

They turned their head at the repeated question. “What?”

Jeongin carried himself to their side, sitting down but leaving a good amount of space in between. “You…I-I don’t get it. You keep apologizing, I sent you to hell and you told me you were sorry. On top of that, you knew my name. And there was just now, you crying over I don’t know what...I just…Who are you?”

“Ah,” Y/n wiped their face again preparing to speak. “I’m the reason you died.”

The statement rightfully took him by surprise. “Excuse me!?”

“I wasn’t always…” Solemnly, they gestured towards themselves. “This. I-I was a guardian angel, one meant to protect you until the end. Though I was still young, naive, and a bit overzealous. I tried my best for you, always. What happened that day…wasn’t right. I was supposed to protect you with my life. In the end, I was banished, and rightfully so. Every day I’ve been plagued by guilt, wishing I could go back and save you like I should have the first time. Sacrifice myself, say sorry, just see you one last time. That day in the crowd, my heart stopped when I saw you. All I could get out, in the end, was ‘I’m sorry.’”

They turned to look at the now stunned angel. “W-what?”

“T-that was probably-probably a lot. I’m sorry.”

“You...You were an angel?”

“…Yes.”

His eyes trailed them up and down, seemingly astonished that the gaunt, fragile, wingless figure in front of him had once been a divine being of heaven and earth. Someone so frail and pitiful was never made to be that way. 

“And my…my protector?”

They responded with nothing but a soft nod and cowardly gaze. Jeongin’s head reeled, looking off into the horizon surrounding the two. The world felt fuzzy, filling his head, leaving static across his skin.

“You asked if I was happy. I…don’t remember.” Jeongin couldn’t look away from the pristine white in the sky. For the sake of himself, he could not look into the hollow, hopeless eyes following him.

“What?”

“My life, I don’t remember it. Well, most of it. I remember my parents, their faces. My brothers are fuzzier, but they’re there. I know nothing of my friends or day-to-day life. The clearest memory I have…” His voice tapered off, soft and breaking. The words were right there, right atop his tongue ready to fly free. But would they come? To say it was to realize it in himself, to taste the sour, bitterness of his torture.

“W-what-what is it?”

“The clearest memory I have is of the day I died.” Finally, they met. Eye to eye, the dim and darkness of down below to the blue and bright of the sky above. Each swimming with the torment of a tortured soul.

“Oh.” It’s tiny. Almost inaudible to the untrained ear. Deep red regret flares through Y/n’s head; they lower their gaze under the weight of it all.

“Most of the day is as blurry as everything else, but the moments leading up to it. Every breath and movement a-and sound until the pain. It’s all I know of my life.”

“Jeongin…”

“I can’t recall the feeling of true happiness. I still feel, I still walk about the earth with emotions, but they are not real. All I have are fickle feelings melted in the molds of what fragmented emotions remain with my soul. The only thing that remains true is my pain.”

Words spilled from his throat in a waterfall. These words that had lived so long, trapped in the confines of his heart, free and reckless. He had not noticed the streams upon his cheeks or the shaky hand cradling his. Not until the sun swam across his skin; not until the wind lifted Y/n’s hand to his hair, petting down the shimmering strands; not until the last of the venom has left his tongue. For, after that, Jeongin allowed himself to feel it all. For the first time since that day, he sunk into the ink in his heart and reveled in the sincereness of his pain. The humanity it brought with fell heavy in his bones. It sunk through his body, traveling every crack and crevice downwards. And,  as the storm within him settled, the world weighed nothing but dust on his shoulder. Even coming to realize his confession to a total stranger, a stranger supposedly responsible for his death, Jeongin felt nothing but the breeze against his wings. He does not move from the hand atop his head, reeling in the unfounded comfort of their shaking fingers.

“I…I am sorry for your suffering. Your memories should not be as such.”

Jeongin finally arose from his slumped form, meeting eyes with the sun slowly moving towards the horizon. “What do you mean?”

“I may be wrong, of course, but those that pass are not meant to leave their memories behind as well. Especially not those of friends and family, so you may watch over them.”

“Then…something’s wrong with me?”

“Not with you, you did nothing to cause this discrepancy.” Word after word swirled around Y/n’s head. This tornado of thought danced about every answer they could think of until the words no longer made sense, “I don’t know…what it is that allowed this to happen, but it’s not your fault.”

“Could it be something with how I died?”

They swallowed sharply at the question but managed to choke out a response, “I-uh, maybe.”

Stillness permeated the air between them. A suffocating silence of unease worming itself into the previously comfortable atmosphere. Finally, Jeongin pushed away from the grass.

“Then, perhaps, it is not something meant to be fixed. I must live on as I am. As should you.”

“Jeongin, you can’t.” Their hands met his arm suddenly, shaking with tremors of thousands of unreadable feelings, “You are hurting, in pain over something never meant to happen. I-I know I can never go back and fix that day. Believe me, I’ve tried. But if I can help you heal, in any way possible, I want to. Please.”

He looked down upon Y/n’s shaking form, their teary eyes filled with millennia of knowledge and pain and fear. Jeongin looked at this poor creature and hated the sense of comfort he’d gained from their touch just moments before; he hated how his heart filled with hope that there was someone who’d cared for him all this time. He hated how easily he felt he could forgive them, but most of all, he hated how much truly wanted to accept their help and presence and embrace them for the rest of eternity.

Instead, he could only sneer, “You are a selfish creature. I will never want your help.”

The sob that left their lips at his words could only be described as excruciating. Cries and panicked breaths breached the floodgates of their throat. They huffed out his name in pained whimpers. Jeongin forced himself to turn from them, feeling anguish rip its way through his heartstrings. He scrunched his face up, fighting every urge in his blood to go back. With his back turned he did not see Y/n stumbling after him, crying in pain before reaching out for him once again.

“Jeongin, I’m sorry! Please, just don’t leave m-”

The moment Y/n’s hand wrapped around his arm everything was gone. Blinding white filled the void of their eyes, like millions of suns were blasting directly into Y/n and Jeongin’s coronas. Yet the feeling that whisked the two away was like standing among the cascading water of a steaming shower. When the warmth faded and the light dimmed, the two found themselves standing amongst hazy crowds. The people around them stood frozen. Not a soul breathed nor moved in this space, except the two wretched spirits in its midst. It was as if the two had been transported into an old movie right as it was paused. Like a film roll that had long since been abandoned and faded with the years gone by. This was not a regular human city, nor a time or place that truly existed.

Jeongin whipped around, “What did you do?! Where are we?!”

Y/n only responded in shock, looking across the motion blur surrounding them, “I…don’t know. Any powers I may have had were stripped from me along with my wings. Although…there…is something familiar here.”

They reach out, feeling the space that fills the clouded figures. Their hand falls through the misty bodies and swirls around the ghostly features. Pushing further, they only reach past the few figures near them before they can move no further. The wall they stopped at felt like gelatin, gooey and soft, yet it snapped back like elastic.

“What…are you doing?”

“Searching. There's something here we’re meant to see or find.” Y/n retreated from the rubbery wall, “I…I can feel it.” 

Returning to the area they’d arrived in, Y/n surveyed every bit of surrounding space. From the warped skies to the crunchy streets, everything was just the slightest bit off. Even now they found their voice warbled in the air without their doing. Only when they stepped into the middle of the open air, did something seem to happen.

 A gasp fell from Y/n and Jeongin watched their body become stiff. All facades of anger flew from his skin as he flashed to their side; his worried quips come out in seconds. Y/n doesn’t respond or shift from their spot. Seconds pass like minutes before Jeongin notices the white veil covering their eyes and the gentle movement of the ghosts around him. All sounds are muffled through the cotton air and he can only stare as the scene plays out.

A tiny stray cat weaved beneath the faceless crowd. Burning white fur glistening in the sun, yet unnoticed by most. No pedestrians paused to greet the kitten nor did street vendors toss it food. Its paws hit the concrete in silence and moved on just the same. The kittens’ path remained undisturbed until it slowly came to a stop atop the stairs of a rundown apartment building.  Time passed as it sat there looking to the door in wait before the metal slab swung open. A young man stepped out, face unfuzzy and sporting a small smile when he noticed the kitten. Jeongin’s hand reached down to brush its soft fur.

“Back again, little buddy?”

The cat didn’t respond, only leaning into the lean fingers stroking across its head.

Jeongin hummed, removing his hand, “I have to go to class, but I went out and got you some fancy cat treats last night.” He produced a bright yellow bag from his backpack, opening it to lay some food pellets on the ground. Ignoring the treats, the cat only blinked up at Jeongin, sitting patiently at his feet. 

The man in turn rose to his feet and sighed. “Not hungry, huh? Well, bud, I have to go. Stay safe, kitty.”

He pet the kitten once again before leaving his doorstep for the sidewalk. A minute passed as Jeongin’s body slowly faded into the faceless crowds and the cat jumped from the stairway to follow in his stead.

Black swallowed the world and Jeongin’s vision. His mind reeled and tripped through the memory of what he’d just witnessed. He had seen a moment from his human life, the familiarity of the scene tingling a resurgence in his conscience. Looking at Y/n’s still frozen form an idea clicked in his head. 

Had he just seen a memory of Y/n’s? Had that cat been them or a pet of theirs?

Before he could finish the thought, the black disappeared. The scenery shifted. Filling the once void was an empty restaurant. The world surrounded Jeongin as the few bodies in the memory began to move.

 Eight young boys all gathered around a stretched-out table. They laughed and spoke freely as the lone patrons in the diner. Each of their faces clear and smiling brightly, all eyes turned to Jeongin. He was younger than before, cheeks rounded and soft with age. A bashful look spread across his cheeks and braces poked from his lips when he spoke. Jeongin giggled along with his friends as a small cake was placed in front of him. Slowly, the sounds of singing faded into the world. 

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Jeongin! Happy birthday to you!”

His laugh rang out as he extinguished the candles. It shook the world into brightness and light, emerging from the crevice between the booth seats. Y/n hovered above the colored cushions, looking upon Jeongin’s smile in reverie. Two elephantine wings sat tucked against their back. Feathers of a dove coating the white draped across their body. Their eyes so full of youth and pride, wisdom beyond the years of their face, it was a completely different being than the demon they’d become. No one looked towards the beaming creature or even noticed that they were there. Jeongin’s friends were busy doting on the boy and cutting up his cake. As the group chatted and ate and handed out presents, Y/n simply watched from afar. They dare not interfere with mortal events, but the look in their eyes spoke of a desperate longing. With a sigh lost to the wind, Y/n reached for the table. Their hand pulled back to reveal a small golden box housing a shiny, silver bracelet. A single heart charm, almost split down the middle in a fissure. Leaving the birthday gift in their wake, Y/n faded from the restaurant taking the scene with them.

The world changed far quicker this time as if the memories were coming on faster and faster. Jeongin could only glance down at the limp, silvery, chain hanging from his wrist; His head soon swarming with the familiarity of the memories Y/n shared.

The bathroom mirror blinked back at him; this warped twin following every movement the teen made. Swishing with the strokes of his toothbrush and staring down the hollow lines traced beneath his eyelids. Another sunrise had pushed him from the comforts of his mattress. Maybe for the best, as the sun beat away the last remaining bits of the sweat-inducing terrors that played across his mind's cinema. The flashing white and eyes and wings and tears. Everything on the precipice of familiarity yet pushed just out of reach of his memory. Jeongin shook the nightmares back as they resurfaced and leaned down to spit out the toothpaste filling his cheeks. Standing back up, their eyes finally met. Through the tricks of his mirror, they stood there whole and grown, just as him. The ghost from his past, as old as him and smiling in his bathroom mirror. A heart still hanging from their wrist. Yet, turning around, proved there was only the bathroom wall for company. It was simply a figment of his dreams carted in the bags swelled below his eyes.

A young child sat upon his bed. Curled amongst the mess of sheets came his whimpers, his sobs. No matter the comfort his poor mother tried to provide the tears wouldn’t stop. Nor would his sobs.

“They’re gone!”

“Who, sweetie?” A mother trying her best.

“My friend! I-I called for them but…they didn’t come to our special spot! They’re gone!”

The woman could only sigh at the words, she knew what she must say. The things she’d been avoiding at all costs. “Sweetheart, this ’friend’ of yours didn’t go anywhere. They’re just imaginary, sweetie. You can bring them back whenever you want.”

Then came the screams, “No they’re not! They’re not imaginary! They’re real and my best friend, mom! And…and they’ve left me! I’ve lost my friend!”

Jeongin cried to the skies that day. How he wished, hoped, prayed to the stars in the night to bring back his childhood friend. But that Y/n would never return.

Thin, sun rays danced in the oak leaves. Littering the bark, the tiny stars they left behind; stars decorating the two pairs of legs dangling above the ground. Sitting amongst the sky, the 9-year-old looked off into the setting sun. A hand planted on the trunk to stay steady and the other rested gently atop theirs. Y/n sat quietly beside Jeongin, watching the boy’s brown eyes in the dying light. 

“Jeonginnie,” The child spoke up, “Are you happy?”

His face turned to catch them looking; dimples sinking into his cheeks with a smile, “With you here? Always!”

Y/n’s young eyes cast down to their wrist and the heart hanging upon it, “I mean, like, just by yourself. Are you happy then?”

Jeongin nodded almost vigorously, perhaps trying to impress his friend, “I make myself happy! Especially when I answer questions right in school! Oo, or when mommy trusts me to help her make cookies because I’m a big boy!”

“That makes me happy.” Y/n looked back up, smiling just as bright. “That you’ll be happy, even if I‘m gone.”

The change in Jeongin’s face was immediate; dimples falling away, “Why would you be gone? Are-are you leaving?”

“No, no…I don’t think I could ever leave you, Jeongin.” Y/n’s hand fell atop the boy’s to hold it tight, “Not in a million, bajillion years! You’re like the little charm on my bracelet, my heart! No one can live without a heart!”

The two children joined in a rhythm of laughter. Giggling within the cavern of nature in pure happiness. A valued slice of a childhood now dead and forgotten; preserved only by the eyes of two, young hearts.

The void around Jeongin popped. Vast fields he had teleported to filled the world again. In a chain reaction, Y/n gasp sounded once again. Looking towards them, Jeongin saw Y/n stumble until their knees hit the dirt and a thousand memories swarmed his thoughts. He rushed to their side, kneeling, grabbing tight to their hand like he once did. The fallen angel looked up to his eyes, seeing the disappearance of any anger previously in them.

“Why…why did you leave?” His words were soft, scared.

“I had to.” Their brow tightened, “The others weren’t very happy about my influence. You were growing up, almost 10, deemed too old to know of my existence. I tried to stay around for as long as I could, but…eventually I could quell their anger no more. It was better for the both of us if I left as if I never existed to you in the first place. I tried my best to make you forget; to make it all the imaginary friend everyone thought I was. Yet, you never forget. No matter what I did or how I did it, your memories of me stayed still.”

Jeongin’s hand fell to their other one. “I don’t think I could ever forget about you.” He let out a soft chuckle, heavenly and warm, “Except, of course, if I lost every memory I ever had.” Y/n couldn’t help but join the laughter, gravely and hard.

“Even then, I guess I could never truly get away from how I felt for you. I’m…I’m still a bit weary of all the things coming back to me, but every memory of you, it’s-they’re all so…happy.” His eyes fell and hands tightened, “You asked me if I was happy, content with the life I lived, and now I see that…my truest happiness came from you. It broke me when you left. Eventually, I grew around the pain until I could forget it in those freeing moments, but I could never stop myself from wishing  you were there for my birthday or graduation or-or even my funeral; just to see you…before I forgot about you forever.”

His words made them pause, looking for his down-cast eyes to meet. He didn’t return Y/n’s gaze. “Did…did you know you would forget?”

“Listen-I…Y/n when I died, all I wanted was to forget. I was in pain; my heart, my head, my hands, my legs, everything felt like it wasn’t mine anymore. Like everything I ever did was no longer mine to attest to. I was just the soul of some dead kid. The friends he made, the family he loved, the life he had, they weren’t mine. Yang Jeongin was dead and I couldn’t pretend to be him anymore.” A shaky sigh broke through his lips, “So, I wandered. For weeks, months maybe? I was nothing but a broken ghost upon the earth. Then, one day, I was approached by a man. This man…he-he wasn’t alive but he wasn’t dead. I don’t even know who he was or how he knew me, but he made an offer. He said…he said that he would make me an angel, free me from my wandering and pain but in exchange I had to give up my memories. It wasn’t just the memories though, it was every emotion they accompanied, it was every person that meant anything to me.”

“Jeongin…”

“I was hurting, broken, not thinking. So…I accepted. I wasn’t lying to you earlier Y/n. After accepting, I forgot I made the deal. Looking back, I regret it. I thought not remembering would set me free. I realize now, I was wrong. Because along with all the anger and sadness and pain I let go of, I also gave up the happiness and love and freedom I needed. I gave up you. Even though I still loved you.”

In that moment, the world released Yang Jeongin. As he was pulled into the grass and the warmth of the sun, weight no longer existed. His heart was soaring with his skin in the arms pulling him down. Sweet smoke filling his lungs like candy on his tongue. Pushing into the warm rushing through him, Jeongin buried himself further into the embrace. Y/n’s arms curled around him, tighter by the second. Pulling closer and closer to his chest, taking in every breath of fresh flowers held in Jeongin’s heart. Holding onto every smile and laugh he’d been returned. Huddled together in renewed happiness, the two breathed in every sense of the other; refreshed the feelings once lost forever. Heavenly feelings that came in the rush, and pulsed in the air; broke the dirt away from Y/n’s soul and brightened Jeongin’s eyes. 

“I will never leave you again. I promise. On all the heavens and earth to the deepest pits I have walked, I promise you, Jeongin. And every time you call out, I will help. I will not let you get hurt anymore, despite my punishment-”

“Y/n, Y/n,” His fingers danced across their cheeks, “You saved me from the worst mistake I ever made. I believe in you more than the divine sky above and the rains which it holds. You are the most heavenly creature I have ever met, and I trust you with all my heart.”

They pulled on each other once again. Tucking in the crevices of necks and living in the joy pumping with each breath. Two creatures, divine and rotten, find each other time and again; running back to their shared heartbeat and swimming in their joined soul. Breathing in the cascade of that heavenly feeling of love once more.

© HYUUKAIS 2022

[phoenix-downer]

Make This Right

~1150 words. Sora/Kairi. Set during KH2. Sora and Kairi POV. Angst, Romance, Longing, Pining, Introspection. For SoKai Week 2022, Day 3: KH2 or Days.

Summary: Sora blames himself for Kairi getting kidnapped, and Kairi blames herself. But the prospect of seeing each other again motivates them to continue on their journeys. 

Kairi was gone. Missing. Kidnapped because Sora wasn’t there to protect her. He’d taken too long to find Riku and bring him home, and this was the result. 

He stumbled a little on the cobblestone streets of Twilight Town and had to brace himself against the brick wall of a building. Teeth gritted, he asked himself the questions that he’d been avoiding ever since Hayner and Olette had given him the news. Why couldn’t Kairi be safe? Why did his enemies always target her? Would they be after her forever because of him?

“Sora!” Donald and Goofy’s voices called out from behind him.

He plastered on a smile. “I’m going on ahead, meet you there!” he said, then took off for the Gummi Ship. He just really needed a moment to himself, and he didn’t want Donald and Goofy to see him break down. He felt weak and helpless enough as it was. 

He kept the smile on as he ran past the residents of Twilight Town and waved to them. But the moment he was safely inside the Gummi Ship, the “keep it together, Sora,” mask came off, and he sank into his chair and buried his face in his hands. 

He never knew how much helplessness felt like… felt like rage. What he was feeling now, it was exactly how he felt when he transformed into that Heartless-like thing. The loss of control, the burning anger, the desire to kick and claw and crawl and scream. He wanted to blame someone, anyone for what had happened. 

But the only person in the cockpit was himself. He never should’ve left Kairi alone on Destiny Islands. He thought she’d be safe, but how could she be with both him and Riku gone? With no one left to protect her?

He pulled out her lucky charm, and hot tears welled up in his eyes. All his anger and frustration and shame dripped down his cheeks and landed on the thalassa shells. Stupid, stupid, stupid, was the mantra going through his head as he banged his fist agains the chair. Axel was stupid, the Organization was stupid, but most of all he was stupid. Stupid and weak and helpless for letting Kairi get kidnapped like this. 

Once that was out of his system, he felt worse than ever—hollow and empty with a dull ache in his chest. He missed Kairi more than ever. Wanted to see her and hold her hand and maybe even give her a hug. But he couldn’t, and even if he could, he didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve any of that. 

He heard rather than saw Donald and Goofy come in. Time to clear his throat and wipe his eyes and pretend he hadn’t just been crying like a useless weakling. But he couldn’t bear to look his friends in the eye and clutched the arms of his chair instead. 

“Sora?” Goofy said, his voice really gentle as he took a seat next to him. “What’s wrong?”

Somehow Goofy being nice like that made him lose it all over again. “The King, Riku—” He hung his head, his voice breaking. “—and now I’ve lost Kairi again too.” 

Fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. The King’s loss and Riku’s loss hurt, but Kairi’s hurt worst of all. What good was traveling around and seeing all these worlds if she was kidnapped and he couldn’t even see her? 

“Don’t be sad!” Donald said, but his words didn’t really help. Until Sora found Kairi again, he was gonna be sad. That was just how having a heart worked. And no amount of faking a smile and hiding his pain could mask his sadness forever. 

“Donald’s right, you know!” Goofy said. “Why, you’re the key that connects everything!” 

Sora’s heart sank even further. “So it’s all MY fault.” Donald and Goofy blamed him too then. Well, they were right. He deserved the blame. He deserved it for not finding the King and Riku, for letting Kairi get kidnapped—

“Gawrsh, I didn’t mean that,” Goofy hurriedly replied. “Just do what comes natural to ya and we’re sure to find ‘em.”

Oh, so that was what Goofy meant. Not that it was Sora’s fault they were all missing, but that he would be the key to finding them. Was Goofy right? Maybe. He wanted Goofy to be right. He wanted to be the key to finding his friends. To rescuing Kairi. He wanted his heart to guide him along the right path.

“You said it!” Donald added, and Sora’s spirits lifted a little more. Goofy might downplay stuff to make him feel better, but Donald was brutally honest. If both of them thought he’d find his friends again—that he’d see Kairi again—then maybe they were right.

How was it that they always knew how to cheer him up? 

“Thanks, guys,” he said, then lifted his head. There was no point in moping around anymore. Sometimes a guy just needed a good cry, but now that it was out of his system, he felt a lot better and was ready to continue his search. 

He had to find his friends, no matter what. And when he found Kairi, he could apologize for what had happened. 

That would be how he’d make this right.

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Kairi shivered in her cell, hot tears burning her eyes. She’d escaped Axel, only to wind up captured by Saïx. It was cold and dark and she was all alone. Didn’t know how long these people planned on keeping her here, and without the sun it was hard to tell how much time had passed.

If only she had a Keyblade. If only she could fight. Then maybe she wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden to Sora, and now—

She wiped her eyes and sniffed. How would he feel when he found out about this? Angry at Axel? Upset with Saïx? Frustrated with her? Or would he blame himself? 

He shouldn’t. He should never blame himself. This was her fault for being weak and stupid. 

Would he come for her? Her stomach churned at the thought. What would they do to him if he did? He’d already stabbed himself in the heart to save her. What else would he endure for her sake?

“No,” she said softly. “No, I won’t let them use me to hurt him. Not ever.” 

She sat up straight. There had to be a way out of this cell. Sora shouldn’t have to come save her. She should save herself. She’d either sneak out of here or sweet talk her way out, but she was escaping either way. Then she could find Sora and they could be together again. 

He hadn’t come home, so she’d bring home to him. Give him a big hug and hope it would make up for forgetting him. 

That would be how she’d make this right.

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A/N: Sora crying in the Gummi Ship after Kairi gets kidnapped in KH2 is such a powerful but understated moment and always really stuck with me. I enjoyed delving into his thoughts and feelings about the whole thing, and then as I was writing I wanted to deal with Kairi’s thoughts and feelings about being kidnapped and her resolve to find a way to escape. 

Thank you for reading!

[bbnibini]

Love

formerly published as "Evidence" on AO3 somewhere around 2021

A name that means peace.

From the day he was born, he would be a child of love; an evidence of forgiveness and atonement from his parent’s sins. A child blessed by God, given his gift of friendship—with a new name to commemorate it. ▇▇▇: king of Israel. A friend of God. A wise ruler. A man destined for greatness.

He could not wish for anything more. Yet with his myriad titles, he couldn’t help but feel like he did not know himself at all. Was he truly wise? Would you call his friendship with his Almighty Father true if it bore consequences and ultimatums? Is he truly a child of love if he was only a means to an end?

In the many names he had…what could he truly call his own?

He built temples, showed his faith and loyalty—committed to his fated role in utmost perfection; he lived up to the many names given to him, hoping, wanting…to find a name that he can truly call his own.

“If you aren’t careful, the love you would feel from your discerning heart would be your downfall, young one. Commit to your path and faith. Use His gifts to you with discretion. Lead His Kingdom to the greatness it was destined for.”

“Love?”

He couldn’t understand Michael’s words then, as well as the reason why he looked at him with such pitying eyes. “It would be cruel to tell you it is best for you to never know. But I trust you, ▇▇▇. With the way you are now, your prophecy will never come to fruition.”

…he wished he had known—before everything was taken from him. Before he had become unworthy of the names they had given him. 

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

“You really wouldn’t tell me your name?”

“…you’re one to talk. You’re not really who you say you are, aren’t you?”

…Michael was right.

“If you won’t give me your name, then I’ll make you a new one.”

“…no thanks.”

“To commemorate your beauty, I shall call you—”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Naamah!”

“Well, that’s most unfortunate. I’m afraid there’s little we can do for them now.”

Love was poison to someone like him.

“That’s not true. You’re Barbatos after all. Isn’t there anything you can do?”

What is he now? 

“Not with the way you are now.”

The way he is? Isn’t that the same words Michael had told him? 

“Is there anything funny in what I said? Or are the consequences of summoning me finally sinking into you?”

In the end, he had never known himself at all. Names? What use are the names he hadn’t chosen for himself? Did it truly reflect who he really is? Was he even himself at all? 

“They were everything to me.”

His loyal spouse. The only person who saw him for who he truly is—an empty shell, barely even resembling humanity, embellished in pretentious titles and monikers to hide the hollowness within; and despite it all…they loved him. Believed in him. Died for him.

“Be it so, it matters not. You are wasting your time summoning me.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Your curse is determined. Irreversible. He never even approved of your union in the first place.”

“Then have it that way.”

“Pardon?”

…it was the right thing to do.

“If being with me means they will suffer, then have them not meet me at all. That was what He wanted, wasn’t it?”

The bearded demon laughed. “Even without summoning me, that is the way things are now. What do you want me to do?”

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

What is love to a child of love, who had never felt love?

What is wisdom to a king who had lost his kingdom? 

What is friendship to a friend of God, when God had abandoned him?

What is a discerning heart to a fool who walked into his own downfall?

.

.

.

.

“Solomon!”

…the only peace he had left is the name that he had in the aftermath. 

In his best days, he could actually feel nothing when he smiles at them back—a them he could never have. A them who will remain blissfully ignorant of the cruel fate they had.

“Simeon was looking for you. Hm? Is there something on my face?”

…and a them whose happiness he was determined to protect, even if it meant they will never cross paths again.

“Mhm. It’s nothing. I can say the same to you. The brothers wouldn’t be pleased to see you wandering alone this late at night.”

“Oh shoot—”

But even so, in the small amount of happiness he could grasp with his hands…

“I’ll walk you home.”

“Really? But you’re going the other way.”

…in stolen moments, without anyone else’s prying eyes…

“If it’s for you, I’m willing to do anything.”

“!!!”

…he can feel like himself again—his own self he had found with them many many tragic years ago.

“…just kidding~”

“Solomon! Quit joking like that!”

…or not.

0 days left

[chartreuseschaos]

Dear Dad

Thanks to you I have no idea what it feels like to have a father, because you decided to leave when I was a baby. My mom cut your face out of all the pictures so I had no idea what you looked like for a long time. When I was a little older, you'd try to visit, but my mom forced me to hide in the hallway with her and pretend no one was home. My mom tried to instill fear, she said that you were abusive and unreliable because of your mental illnesses. I remember visiting you in prison once as a child, I think that might have been the first time I ever saw you actually, I said bye daddy as I left because I felt forced to do so, but I think it made you happy at least. Around my early-mid teens you were suddenly there, in the flesh, visiting me, giving me gifts, but it all felt empty and surreal because you were a stranger to me. Having my mom go from forbidding me to even see your face, to nonchalantly have you over for a visit is extremely confusing. Within that time period, I really wanted to go see Rammstein in concert but my mom didn't have money for the trip, so she told me to ask you, I told her I didn't want to do that, but she insisted it would be okay, so I did and we did have that trip, but low and behold years later you used it as excuse to get mad at me over, insisting that I was a leech, when it wasn't even my idea. You also got mad at me for never visiting you, and on my 18th birthday you send me a petty card expressing this, which I happened to read out loud to the family, as we do, do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me that day? I spend my entire birthday crying in my bed, boiling with mindnumbing rage. One father's day a couple years ago, I tried to find you a present in the store and planned to visit you, to try and rectify our relationship. I walked through the aisles at least 3 times and realized I had no idea what you liked, and decided not to go through with my plans at all. Sometimes I do wish I could just talk to you. I could explain that I am autistic and struggle interpersonally, communicatively, and emotionally, and that I wasn't nearly as self aware as a teen as I am now. Despite my own shortcomings, it was still really unfair of your to expect me to just treat you like my dad when you never showed me what a father was supposed to be. It was unrealistic of you to assume that we could begin any type of relationship, without you apologizing and explaining first. You don't even know that I am a different gender than you thought. I don't know how you will react to any part of me, because I don't know you, and that's what scares me, not your mental illnesses. In fact I think we have some of them in common and it would be nice to talk about them. I can understand how frustrating this whole situation must be for you, but I do think you made a lot of poor and unfair choices. You can't just leave your child alone for 14 years and then return as if nothing happened. I was overwhelmed and disoriented. I didn't know what I was supposed to do in this situation. Not to mention the other stuff I was dealing with. Depression, bullying, high levels of stress, an unstable and unsafe home environment which yes, you did contribute to, by bashing our window in once, because I quote, you wanted to sleep over, you know we have a doorbell right? And yeah, my mom had tons more of those types of boyfriends over weekly. I was, and still am deeply traumatized by all of what has happened to me, stuff which I would be too long and too gruesome to get into right now. I grew detached from reality, and parts of me that were supposed to form just didn't, like my ability to form attachments to other people, my emotional capacity, my trust. I am a hollow broken shell of a person, and you had a part in that too. So congratulations to you, happy Father's Day.

[thedriftedheart]

Rain..

It's 4am and still raining from where I am.

May mga taong giniginaw sa kalye, yung mga walang bubong, house to shield them from this kind of weather.. Mahirap isipin, mahabang debate ng mga kasagutan, kung bakit kailangan hindi pare-pareho ang estado ng buhay, pero sabi nga ni tatay, lahat ng bagay may malalim na dahilan, minsan nakakagulo lang ng isipan kaya bibitiwan muna kita, at hahayaang lunurin sa realidad ang mga tanong ng isang isipang magaslaw....

...

I saw a post that somehow brought sadness to my heart, for it reminds me ; there are things that no matter how hard you try, you can never bring back to how it used to be...

A hollow chest, like an empty shell...

A cup of hot coffee or tea for this kind of weather is perfect but not an invitation outside, the rain is still falling heavily, a little later maybe, as still need to go outside anyway.

The rain, it gives a comfy and calm mood to pour out your mind in here, in this collection of pages where it's like literally floating on space and only a destined soul to find it can peek, tho would never know the author behind it...

May 27, 2022

______________________

As I passed by our neighbor, sabi ko parang may naiba, parang may kulang, and then I saw the pieces of big logs at the side corner of their lot, ah, it was the big tree that used to stand so proudly at the side of their fence. Cut down, uprooted, killed, without the need for it's replacement…. The air is bad now, weather becoming too hot than usual, soils are damaged, too much wind especially when there's storm.. Isang nakakalungkot na katotohanan, yung paligid isang normal na larawan ng pang-araw-araw na buhay, walang nagbago, "puno lang naman yan". One who cut down, should find a way to find it's replacement, sana ganun. As we live and embrace innovation, we often neglect the natural resources, source of raw materials, they are essentials. Nalulungkot ako, pero wala din naman akong ginagawa na, so I'm one of them. It's been a long time since I joined the movement of protecting the environment, we planted trees too, but even those that we planted, some of it were uprooted too now - for innovation, and I'm not an active advocate anymore, too busy with what's all going on in my personal life, kaya wala na rin akong karapatang mag-question. Sure we're not obviously feeling the effect yet, and won't be, at least in my lifetime I guess, and who knows which generation will start to evidently feel the great suffer of what we do now..

June 22, 2022 11:49 AM 

_____________________

[smaptain-smerica]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: {Y/n} Was at the top of her class at the Red Room Academy. Sought after for her expertise in the field by Dr. Zola, who purchased the widow for his Hydra Program. {y/n} Excelled quickly, and began teaching the new recruits using her previously taught skills. All was well until a James Barnes entered the program. His presence turned the entirety of the Hydra program on its head. Rules, hearts and trust broken time and time again.

Maturity: This book is rated mature for graphic descriptions of violence, foul language, and sexual content that may be sensitive to readers under the age of 18.

a/n: This story was originally posted on wattpad and will be updated there first. Follow there for quicker updates! https://www.wattpad.com/user/smaptin-smerica

Master List

Chapter 4

I could feel the lump in my throat that came with tears threatening to erupt from my eyes. My breath was rapid from the adrenaline and almost being strangled to death more than once. I licked my dry lips, tasking a metallic tang. I felt the corner of my mouth with my finger and brought it down. Blood.

There was no telling who's blood it was, but I quickly wiped it away from my mouth.

I felt in a trance, unable to move or think for myself. I looked at Zola and the Winter Soldier that had watched me take this man's life from him. His eyes were a comforting blue color, drawing me into them. The life had been gone from his eyes, the life that I saw leave his eyes the moment that they strapped him into the brainwashing machine. They were now hallowed and empty, filled with memories of a past that never truly existed.

I was drawn away from his eyes towards the clicking sound of the door unlocking. My heart thudded in my chest as I swallowed hard on my sorrows and left the door. I jumped down from the platform and left the box, afraid to look back at the mess that I had created. I approached Dr. Zola and the Winter Soldier. I stopped just before they got to me, squaring off my shoulders and placing my hands behind my back.

"Wonderful job, I knew you could do it." Dr. Zola praised me. I did not react to the praise, I didn't deserve praise for this. This was meaningless. At least when I went on assassination missions, I knew the story behind the person's life I was taking. I killed that man just to prove I could, even though I already knew I was capable of doing so. Dr. Zola must have thought so too if he made his newest project watch.

I made it a point to purposely hold out my left hand towards the man so he would have to shake mine with his mechanical one. Which, he did so. I grabbed the cold and shiny metal, feeling the smooth material and the flexible joints before releasing his hand and returning to my position before. I avoided eye contact with him, not wanting to see what shame or fear he might hold in his eyes. "Subject X, this is our Winter Soldier who also happens to be your first trainee, do not disappoint me, either of you."

With that, Zola was gone. I finally brought myself to look up into the blue pools of this mans face once again. I frowned to myself, he could never again be able to remember what his life was like, the guilt of knowing his name even when he didn't and not being able to tell him broke my heart.

"So what's your name?" His voice finally broke the silence, dark and rough. "Names are strictly forbidden. Dr. Zola says that it makes things too personal." I felt like a robot, a cold, metal, hollow shell without one thought process of my own. "Come on, we have to get to work."

I walked over to the water fountain, pushing on the spout and collecting water onto a towel. I brought the towel up to my face and began to wipe the blood off of it. I could hear footsteps approaching me from behind as I continued to clean myself up. I turned around to face him, "Alright, our session will-"

"You missed a spot." He remarked, I only assumed he was talking about the blood. "Oh," I muttered. "Thank you."

"Here let me," Before I could protest, the Winter Soldier took the towel from my hands and approached my face with it. A tender and kind smile was on his face as he reached his hand up. He gently rubbed under my nose just at the top of my lip. He looked concentrated, looking down at that patch of my face while I looked hopelessly up into his blue eyes. I hadn't had this intimate of touch before since my parents died, even if it was just simply cleaning my face. He pulled back his gaze and looked into my eyes, smiling gently. He took his fingers and placed them underneath my chin, lifting my head up so he could gently stroke my neck with the towel. I felt a feeling I had never felt before, a lightness in my chest and the feeling of nervousness in my stomach. His non-metal hand was rough in texture but warm and inviting, the kind of touch that makes you want to lean into it for more.

"What am I supposed to call you if you do not have a name?" He asked quietly. My heart ached for this man, his touch was so gentle and kind. I could tell he had a good head on his shoulders and a heart full of love, and it broke my heart knowing that he was going to be destroyed by this program. "Subject X."

"That's not a name."

"I am not allowed to tell you my real name."

"Well why not?"

I thought for a moment, looking around to wonder if anybody was going to be able to hear this, surely there would be deadly consequences if there was. I never knew who was listening at the moment. It could be everyone, or no one at all. Still, I did not want to find out. I pulled him down by his collar, bringing his ear to my mouth. I could tell he was taken back by my sudden force. "I can't tell you here, Someone might be listening. Pretend I said something threatening."

I pushed him back by his shoulder, causing him to stumble back. He looked at me with a curt nod, squaring off his shoulders and folding his hands in front of his body. I nodded back, a way to say thank you for understanding the situation.

~~~

The training schedule for Hydra was very precise. Wake up at 8am, Breakfast at 8:15 am, Into the training center by 8:30 am. Four hours of physical conditioning which could include; running, swimming, weight lifting, and the occasional flexibility exercises. After a 30 minute lunch break, the training moved to two hours of scheduled combat and then two hours of specialized combat. The scheduled combat all depended on the trainer. I got to decide whether we worked with guns, shields, staffs, or hand to hand. Specialized combat, the trainee got to decide what they wanted to improve on and eventually, choose their own specialized weapon. Finally, an hour of language. It is required for the program to teach German, Russian, Swedish, and English. Anything learned after that was at the choice of trainee. After a 5:30 pm dinner, the soldiers had their choice of free time up until 10:00 pm, when all had to be back in their rooms for the night.

Weight lifting was no problem for the Winter Soldier. His military background meant he knew the drill when lifting weights. We basically left each other to our own devices, doing our own workouts at our own pace and weight. I will admit, it was refreshing to have a change in regime. I was left alone to so the exercises I wanted with the weight I wanted. Although, having the slamming sound of heavy weights on the floor of someone else lifting gave encouragement for me to also do powerful lifts. This had given me time to think about the events of today. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. One thing I couldn't seem to understand, is why I refused to call my new trainee by his name, Bucky. I haven't been able to bring myself to say the words to him. It could be my own guilt or possibly fear of punishment for doing so.

Hand to hand combat went better than I expected. If I had to guess, he had done some type of mixed martial arts or boxing in the past. It was not hard for him to pick up on the basic movements and he packed a pretty good punch. My sides would definitely be bruised for sure. Although, with the effects of the serum those bruises went away in a matter of hours. Winter Soldier apologized after every time he hit me. I had to remind him that it was part of the program and that I was tougher than he thought. "It still doesn't feel right to hit a girl." I would keep having to remind him to put his feelings aside, but the actions would still make me smile. It had been a long day, dried in sweat and physically tired. I led the two of us down the hallway and into a decent sized library. The library was the most lively place in the entire Hydra facility. The bookshelves were a dark brown color, books filled each empty space inside of them, lining on every single wall in the room. The floor was carpeted a deep forest green color. It was not lush carpet by any means, but it was a nice change from concrete. The doors latched shut behind us, locking us in for the hour we were required to be there. I took a deep breath, taking in the surroundings.

"Have a seat at that table over there, rest your legs."

He seemed grateful for the offer, plopping down in the chair and stretching his body out with a long groan. "Were you this sore starting out?" He asked, trying to strike up conversation. I smiled, humming a chuckle as I walked over to a specific section in the library where the language books were. "Would you believe me if I said probably more?" I retorted back with a pitiful attempt at a joke. "So what do you want to learn first? German or Russian?" I questioned, taking the two books off the shelf and holding them up on display.

"Sprichst du Deutsch?" (Do you speak German?) he replied to me, a cocky undertone to his voice as he raised one eyebrow. I raised my eyebrows, impressed with the response that I had gotten from him. He seemed rather proud of himself as well until I began to speak as well.

"Ich mache! Ich habe es gelernt, als ich dreizehn Jahre alt war." I put the Russian book back on the shelf as I talked, turning around to see his completely confused face. He shook his head gently, showing he had no clue what I said. This made me laugh as I set the book down and sat across from him. "I said, I do. I learned when I was thirteen years old." I translated for him.

He smiled across the table from me, watching as I sat down in front of him and opened the books cover. "How come I don't remember you from earlier in my training?" I felt a ball drop in my stomach, my facial features falling into sadness with his question. I racked my brain with what to say, something smart, anything at all. Although, I didn't know what memories they had placed into his head. I met his gaze, his smiling expression falling to concern as he saw my sadness.

"Because you aren't from here. I am not supposed to be telling you this, but you had a life before Hydra captured you. They brainwash every soldier that joins their program to make it easier for them to train." I spoke in a low tone, pretending to read the book in front of me as I explained the situation to him. I looked up through my brow at him, seeing the confusion knitted on his expression. It looked like he didn't want to believe me, like I was trying to trick him. For a moment, I think, some things clicked in his mind that maybe didn't make sense before. With the new information he learned things might be falling more into place. 

"Is that why I can't remember my name? I have been trying so hard to remember but every time it is so far out of reach."

My heart ached, nodding my head while pursing my lips together. "Your name was James Buchanan Barnes. But you were better known as Bucky."

He looked at me with lost eyes, like a puppy in an abandoned alley. Thankful to finally have someone rescue him. His eyes alone told me just how much this had been bothering him, how thankful he was to finally learn this information. "Thank you." he muttered, reaching his hand across the table and resting it on top of mine. I felt my heart skip a beat, looking at his hand and then up at his face, shock most likely plastered all over my face. "Did they do it to you too?"

"No. Dr. Zola sought me out through a secret underground program and then purchased me from them. I do not have a past that needs forgotten." This seemed to sadden Bucky. His eyebrows moving up and together showing concern for my situation. I pulled my hand out from underneath his, leaning back in my chair to put more distance between us. "{Y/n}."

Bucky raised his eyebrows, tilting his head in question. "{Y/n}?"

"My name. You cannot use it anywhere near any of the guards or doctors, nobody can know that I told you this." I said sternly, fearing for the outcome that this decision would bring me.

"Well {y/n}, it's nice to meet you." "It's nice to meet you too, Bucky."

Next Chapter

[barzyyy]

I’m hella in my feels. Break my heart.

one too many.

a/n: prepare yourselves for this one. TW: includes mention of death, alcohol/heavy drinking and self-depricating thoughts. it is heavy. please read at your own discretion. my dm’s are open if anyone needs to talk!

italics = flashback.

read this first, if you haven’t already.

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mat could feel the alcohol meeting his stomach. when did he become this way? he knew that he was not in a condition to be drinking as much as he was. he hadn’t eaten in at least a day. somehow the simplest tasks have become the most difficult.

it didn’t help that it was the offseason. all of his teammates were off on vacation. the jealousy quickly turned into resentment. he deleted all of his social media apps because he couldn’t bear to see anyone else happy. he locked himself inside your once shared house, alone. what used to feel like home now felt unsafe. with every corner he turned, there was something that reminded him of you. lipstick on the counter, your shoes kicked off next to the couch, he left them all in the same spot, praying that this was all a dream and that you would come walking through the door again.

he couldn’t get himself to come to terms with reality.

he drunkely stumbled to the couch, mindlessly turning on the tv and surfing through the channels. he landed on a random channel because his thoughts were overtaking him once again.

mat dreamed of being a dad. you both used to talk about starting a family of your own. would your kids have mat’s hair and your eyes? which one of your personalities would they adopt? he wanted so badly to look through the glass at a game and see you standing on the other side with your baby. he wanted to raise a son and teach him all he knew about how to play. he wanted a little girl to put makeup on him and make him sing the songs of all of her favorite disney princesses.

now, he didn’t want a family at all. you were going perfect mother. no one could ever compete with you. and now that you’re gone, he promised himself that no one would ever take your place. sure, he could have kids with someone else, but they would never be the kids he would have had with you. he didn’t want it.

it was easier to put up a wall and block out the feelings. his grief of losing you was too much for him to handle. he would rather just push everything out, experiencing nothing rather than experiencing everything all at once. every time he thought of you, another part of him was taken away. he was a shell of who he once was.

things would have been different if he had went home to you. had he not gone out to the bar with his teammates after the game, you would have never been in the accident. there would have been no reason for you to go over to your friend’s house. now, instead of remembering the celebratory reason why he went out, his memory was plagued by the phone call he received as he got the worst news of his life.

mat could feel the alcohol meeting his stomach. who was he to turn down free alcohol? getting the game winning goal in game 7 made him feel like he was on top of the world. fans in the bar were covering mat’s tab, and he was partying with all of his teammates. out of the corner of his eye, he saw his phone light up with your caller i.d. and his favorite picture of the two of you. he picked it up and started walking through the mass of people to find a quieter place as he answered the call.

“babe, you won’t believe how many people are here! everyone is buying me drinks and-“

“hello?”

the manly voice was unrecognizable. mat stopped in his tracks.

“who is this?” he questioned.

“this is tom haltford, i’m a paramedic with the long island fire department. do you have a relationship with (y/n) barzal?” he asked.

he immediately sobered up. “she’s my wife, what is going on?” his heart was beating out of his chest.

“sir, i regret to inform you that your wife was in an accident. she was in a head-on collision with an impaired driver. she is currently being transported to nassau university medical center. do you have a safe way of getting there? i can send a police officer to pick you up.”

mat could only muster one sentence.

“is she alive?”

silence.

“i am sending an officer to your location. i am so sorry.”

what brought him out of his trance was the feeling of tears hitting his hand. he had not realized that he was crying, but did nothing to stop the onset of emotions that were to come. he buried his head in his hands, taking in the weight of the fact that you would have still been here had he not decided to go out. his shoulders heaved, but he stayed silent. he sobbed for a half an hour straight.

silence was something mat was becoming all too familiar with. he could no longer listen to the radio because every song he heard remided him of you. he didn’t dare go outside, because he couldn’t stop the jealousy that arose when he saw a couple out together. the best he could do was stay at home. his interaction was limited. when he did eat, all he did was get it delivered. even then, his options were scarce because he didn’t want to eat anything that felt significant to your relationship. he no longer ordered take out from your shared favorite thai restaurant down the street. he avoided anything that remided himself of you.

he would have teammates, family and friends text him every now and again to check in. he made it a point at your funeral to promise that he would reach out if he needed help. deep down, he knew from the beginning that those promises were as hollow as the newly-formed void in his heart.

maybe the irony of it all was that what killed you was the same thing he was using to self medicate. over time, one beer turned into to three, then six. he felt as if it was his only escape - alcohol only solidifed the numbness that he had been feeling. but tonight, he knew that he had gone overboard. there were freshly-chugged beer bottles on the table, and the only thing stopping him from taking some of your sleeping pills was his hope that you would come back for them. in addition to the beer, he was down a glass and a half of wine when his body finally began to reject the liquid. he tried to run to the bathroom, but the closest place he could make it was the kitchen sink. his stomach uncontrollably emptied itself, and he was left gasping in between his heaves. when he was done, he ran his hands under the sink and put water on his face. pulling the kitchen towel from the oven to wipe off his face, he looked up and his eyes were met with the picture on your counter from the wedding.

he was in immediate tears as he saw you walking down the aisle. your dress perfectly hugged your curves and your smile had been the biggest he’d ever seen. he felt a soft nudge from behind him.

”stay strong man, stay strong.” beau whispered, trying to help mat preserve any ounce that was left of his ego.

“bro, i can’t.” he whispered back, tears running down his face. at that point, you began to cry, and then the whole room was crying.

you both struggled through the tears to read eachother your vows. you were so impressed with how heartfelt his were.

“you helped me learn who i was outside of hockey, and i still fall in love with you every single day. ...and you’re a smokin’ 10, too. so that’s a plus.”

the after party was absolutely insane. you danced and drank the night away with your closest family and friends. you were talking to your best friend when mat came stumbling over to you, hugged you and said “can you believe we’re fucking MARRIED BABE?”

that was it. he couldn’t give up on life anymore. who he was becoming was scaring him. he knew that this is not what you would want. with a shaking hand and a breaking heart, he haphazardly picked up his phone and dialed the first number he could think of. there was an answer halfway through the first ring.

“hey man, you all good?”

inbetween sobs, his words slurred together. “beau, i need you.”

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[intimidating-fettuccine]

BEN - Character Analysis

Welcome back to the third installment of me ranting about the creeps and getting depressed for two hours while I write these, today, best boy BEN

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, Physical and mental abuse, Psychological torture, Drowning, Self harm, Depression and anxiety

Name: BEN Drowned, prev. Ben Jacobs

Age: 28

Height: 5′5″

Weight: 130

Sexuality: Pansexual

BEN is an interesting character for me, although I'm not quite sure why. I just find myself drawn to his character, I dunno, maybe because I was raised on LoZ games, but he's always been one of my favorites. I was always conflicted about how others would portray BEN- a game addicted boy that only cares about doing drugs and smashing the leaderboards. That's fucking boring to me, and awfully shallow, and yet most people seem to agree to that version of him.

I decided not to make BEN like that for a few reasons. Firstly, I have personal trauma relating to drugs (although even before my trauma I never saw him as a druggie), and secondly, because I feel like his character can be so much more than a lazy pothead. Like all the other creeps, I wanted to make him have dimensions, I wanted him to be an in-depth character that I could explore and expand upon to my heart's content. I wish BEN got more in-depth requests than he does so I could expand upon him more, but I'm aware that's not everyone's cup of tea.

BEN is a master at hiding his own emotions on my blog, in fact, he's the best out of the mansion. He's also, next to Slender, the most intelligent resident in the mansion. He's smart and calculating and good at hiding things when he needs to. He likes being there and supporting others, hiding their secrets and bearing the weight of their issues and trauma, allowing them to vent their own issues so that they can live happier lives and move forward. BEN does not follow his own advice. He doesn't vent to people, doesn't talk about his trauma with others, never lets on about the feelings he's got buried deep down inside of him.

I stated in the Toby post that Toby is only truly the happy, bubbly, smiley Toby about 30% of the time. If that's the case with Toby, BEN is only ever truly happy a little more often, teetering on 40-50% of the time, depending on the time and seasons. BEN is generally feeling pretty empty on the inside. He feels like a hollow shell and just wallows in his melancholy emotions and bitter resentment for his life and how it's turned out. He just... Exists. He doesn't like games nearly as much as everyone thinks he does, and only plays them so often so he's filling up the time in the day, not left alone with his thoughts.

If I had to relate a song to him, it would be "Therapy" by All Time Low. Alex himself said that "“Therapy” is about every kid’s nightmare. When people are telling you to get help, but all you really want is a hug." That is how I view BEN. This song is dripping with the essence of how I see BEN as a character. He doesn't want help, doesn't want therapy, doesn't want all the pain to go away. He just wants someone to be there for him, to love him, and to support him.

I have mentioned bits and pieces of his past before, but I don't know if I've ever concretely written it out. BEN was an only child, born into a happy household. For the first few years of his life, there were no issues or problems, and it seemed he was on the way to a bright future. That was, at least, until his mother began to get sick when BEN was around the age of 4. That was the start of a steady, sloping decline that led to BEN's eventual death.

His father, unable to cope with his wife's rapidly declining health, had turned to alcohol. He had been getting angrier and angrier, and he'd drink himself into violence. Berating his wife and screaming at her as if it was her fault, and then turning to BEN when he was bored with that, although BEN's mom always tried to protect him. Although she was sick and weak, she'd shield him from harm, wrapping him tightly in her arms as she endured the brunt force of her husband's anger. Eventually, when BEN reached the age of 11, his mother had finally died from her illness. BEN had lost the only person in his life that showed him kindness.

For a little while, you could say things got a bit better for BEN. His dad had turned to isolation for a few months, not even bothering to look at BEN, although that didn't last long. His father soon returned to his violent ways, although this time, BEN didn't have his mother to protect him, to shield him from his father's blows. There wasn't a single day of BEN's life leading up to his death that BEN didn't have a bruise or scar or welt of some kind dotted across his skin. At the age of 13, BEN's dad started mock drowning him.

He'd drag him to the bathroom, hold him in there in a chokehold as he filled up the tub or the sink, and he'd hold his head under the water for as long as he could without actually killing him, only to yank BEN back up and allow him to breathe, before plunging him back under again. Sometimes this would go on for a few minutes, sometimes a few hours, however long it took for his father to get bored. BEN learned the best way to survive was to just avoid his father, in a never-ending game of cat and mouse where BEN would do whatever he could to dodge him. Sometimes he'd sleep outside the house, or sometimes he'd crash at someone else's place. However, if he had to be at home, he did whatever he could to stay as quiet as possible and avoid his father.

Eventually, that was how he'd turned to games. He'd sit in his room, alone, and play games. He'd imagine himself in a different world, where he was the hero of the story, and not a lonely, beaten 14 year old boy with a rapidly growing fear of water, and a developing habit of self harming himself when he got too bored, just to feel something. That was how he'd made friends for the first time, and how he'd find people he could crash with on particularly awful nights. That continued for a few years until BEN had reached the age of 17. He was so close to finally escaping his father, so close to turning 18 and being able to fully run away.

BEN had been saving up cash from doing odd jobs and selling shit, and he'd gotten quite a good amount of it too. All was going as planned and well on its way, until, at least, his father had found his hidden go bag when BEN was out of the house one day. When he'd gotten home he'd found his father, wasted out of his mind, his go bag in his hand, and BEN had frozen in absolute fear in the middle of his house. Before he could even speak, the screaming and yelling had started, and BEN felt real fear for the first time in a long time, as he had never seen his dad quite so angry.

Screaming at him for going behind his back, for trying to betray him, for trying to leave. Yes, that was what he screamed most- "You're going to leave me, just like she did." BEN tried to run, but his father had been faster, grabbing him, and dragging him up the stairs to the bathroom, closing them in there and locking the door, filling up the tub. He'd beat BEN nearly to a pulp trying to get him to stop struggling, and BEN was crying, screaming, trying to do anything to get away. But, then, his father plunged him under the water, but instead of eventually pulling him up, he'd left him in there. He'd drowned him on purpose.

BEN doesn't know if his father ever got caught, and to be honest, he doesn't care. He feels conflicted enough trying to decide on if he hates his dad or if he just wants to let go of that and move forward, although that's a hard thing to do with all of his trauma. BEN's biggest point of trauma is, of course, water. He can shower okay at this point, although for a long time even that was a struggle, but he can't submerge himself, too scared of flashing vivid memories from his life.

As I mentioned in another post, sometimes BEN gets the strong urge to drown himself again. As sick and twisted as it is, that was the most emotion he'd ever felt in his life, the moment he was drowning for real, and sometimes he craves the emotions he felt in that moment, the high of it, he wants to feel something that strongly again, although he knows he'll never seriously do anything. Every now and then, he still self harms. He can't actually kill himself because he's a ghost, so there's no risk of death, although that doesn't stop Slender and EJ from trying to help him quit for real.

All of the creeps are aware of his fear of water. It's just that nobody knows quite why, except for Slender. Jeff has come the closest to figuring it out, but BEN always manages to redirect the conversation somehow. The second worst part of his trauma is his touch repulsion. Sometimes he can still feel his father's hands around his throat, his fist pounding into his flesh, and BEN can't stand the thought of anyone else touching him in those moments. They all have the feeling that something is clearly wrong with BEN, but he just keeps on blindly smiling on, telling them he's okay, just having a bad day, he'll be fine.

It's not that he can't open up, or that he's scared to. He just doesn't want to. He's been bottling it in for so many years now that he just doesn't wanna talk about it. Deep down, the thought of spilling all of that out makes him wanna throw up, so he just keeps it locked deep inside of him. He busies himself with gaming to keep his mind distracted. He buries himself in work, working as a spy and a hacker so he doesn't have to go out and kill. The thought of ending another person's life makes BEN sicker than anything else, and he gets anxious about it just from living in a house full of killers. The dried blood on their knives and boots doing little to ease his worries, causing him to reach up and clutch at his neck where he had been held under the water.

BEN is a carer and a protector. He looks out for those around him because he doesn't want anyone to suffer in the same way he did. After all, he wants them to be happy because he doesn't want them to feel alone. BEN has just felt so stagnant for so long that he's decided he's fine with going on the way he is now. Maybe someday he'll feel different, meet someone that can make him change his ways, but for now, BEN is fine. He's content with the way things are, content to be in a house mostly filled with smiles and laughter. For him, there's nothing else he needs from the world.