#title: ashes can't hurt

[djarincore]

a sacrifice in your name

SUMMARY: A paladin's oath means everything to them—but not to Simon, not when it comes to you.

ALTERNATIVELY: Simon sacrifices his oath to save you.

TAGS: oathbreaker!ghost, f!reader, DND!au, smut, angst, hurt/comfort, nondiscript violence, implied minor character death(s), Simon can lift reader, special villain guest appearance by Graves, body worship, cock warming, WC: 3.2k

A/N: a little what if scenario for vengeance paladin!Simon, who will always choose you over everyone else no matter the cost. and yes, the title is another sleep token lyric...

thank you to @/saradika-graphics for the dividers!

You wake to dim woods, a full moon overhead, and arms firmly encircled around your waist. The world bounces and sways in your bleary vision with a persistent ache pounding through your head.

Memories of the past few hours are a rapid flash of reds and oranges, sounds of crackling, splintering wood, and terrified screams echoing through the night. The bone-chilling fear of death seems to still freeze your sore muscles.

Now, as you slowly regain your senses, you realize you're riding atop a horse somewhere deep in unfamiliar woods in nothing but your night gown. The figure, whose arms encircle your body, grips the reins in front of you. Their own weight almost sags against yours. A helmet rests against your shoulder.

Icy fear crawls back through your body. You wish you can remember or get a clue as to where you were, but it is too dark and the horse is no longer on a path. The best you can do is escape, run, somewhere far from this stranger.

You jerk forward and claw at their arms, but you're blocked by leather vambraces. The stranger pull you closer to their chest, trapping your arms against your body.

“Let me go,” you plead. The stranger scrambles to restrain you and reign in the horse, who has become spooked by your cries. “Please!”

“Shh, you're safe,” a familiar voice soothes. It's grated, rough. Simon. “It's alright.”

Your body sags into his, but your heart still pounds. Your thoughts are mush in your head as you try to piece them together.

“What happened?”

The last thing you can recall is smoke and flames, raiders breaking down your door, and the blunt end of a sword bashing your temple.

Your query is followed by thick silence. A dark cloud of confusion hangs over you and Simon doesn't seem to want to offer any guidance.

“Simon?” You attempt to turn, but he holds you tighter, almost forcing the air from your lungs. And then, you realize he's trembling.

Simon, who was the pillar of strength, never trembled, never showed an ounce of fear. You grew worried.

“Don't,” he says quietly. “Just rest. We’ll be at an inn soon.”

A pit sinks in your stomach. An inn, but not your inn. If your fragmented memory serves you correctly, your inn is ash. The home and business your family-owned for generations was gone in a single night.

All the fight and adrenaline drains out of your body, leaving you weak and exhausted. You shut your eyes and lean against Simon, allowing tears to fall freely in the dark.

The neighboring town’s inn is small, cold, decorated with the heads of different animals and sharp weapons mounted on the walls. You hate it. There is no fireplace, no warmth, or life—nothing like your inn, your home.

You stare into the glassy eyes of a deer hanging above the owner. Your blank expression stares back in the reflection.

The owner is a bony, severe-looking man whose slimy gaze clings to you alone. Even as you cower behind Simon the man’s hunger makes you shudder.

You stare into the glassy eyes of a deer hanging above the owner instead. Your blank expression stares back in the reflection.

“A bath for her.” Simon tosses an extra silver piece onto the counter.

You're covered in soot with a trail of dried blood running down your temple and a small cut on your neck.

The owner perks up. “Do you require any assistance washing?”

You can't help but cringe at his words and wrap your arms around yourself.

Simon’s hand darts over the counter to grab the man by the scruff of his neck and slam his face onto the counter.

“Shut the fuck up,” he barks, “and get it ready. Or I'll spill your fucking guts on the floor and you can wash that up instead.”

The man whimpers and you can't find it in you to feel bad for him. But you do worry. Simon always makes a point to keep his violence away from you.

His fury wasn't a sight you saw often. You only know the beginnings and ends of it. The deep breaths as he tried to control himself and keep his temper in check or the bloodied knuckles and split lips.

“Yes, yes, right away,” the man stammers.

Simon doesn't let up. You see the fingers of his pointed gauntlets curl tighter, forcing a choked gasp from the man.

“Mercy,” the man pleads, voice wavering on the edge of tears.

Finally, Simon flings the man back and he stumbles to catch himself from hitting the wall. Scampering off, the man disappears around the corner.

Simon heaves a sigh, bordering on frustration and exhaustion. His shoulders are tense and when you reach a hand out to touch his arm, he doesn't look at you. He hasn't since you woke up on his horse. His helmet being on didn't help either.

You desperately want to know what he is thinking. Simon was never a talker, but his eyes were always more expressive than his words.

His arm wraps around you, bringing you into his chest. Your cheek rests against his chest plate. The metal is cool against your skin. Your arms wrap around his waist in turn.

You want to ask him so many questions, but now isn't the time. You want to think he’ll explain everything soon, but his tension doesn't reassure you.

He holds you in silence until the owner returns.

The man's gaze doesn't fall anywhere near you this time. The bloodshot, green eyes stay firmly on Simon as he stumbles over his words and let's you know the bath is ready.

Simon takes your hand and leads you around the corner. The narrow hallway has a wooden staircase built into the left and leads further down to an open door. You can see the tub inside, a towel draped over a wooden chair beside it.

The washroom is a simple room with a basin and a chair. There's a standing mirror tucked in the corner you use to look at the grime covering your body. Your face is gaunt, a shell of yourself. Your fingers ghost over the frown you fear will become permanent.

Simon shuts the door and moves behind you like a pillar, poised to support your unsteady legs. “Off,” he commands with a low voice, brushing the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder.

Your clothes slip off easily and Simon guides you into the tub. The water is lukewarm at best and you curl your knees to your chest to conserve heat.

“Will you tell me what happened now?” Your question is quiet.

He runs a cloth over your shoulders.

“Raiders,” he all but spits.

“What of everyone else?”

“Gone.”

Your brows furrow. You just couldn't believe you were the only one to make it out. Your heart breaks for all the people who were lost.

“And the raiders?”

No doubt Simon made short work of those bastards. He always did.

Simon wrings the towel out and extends his hand. “Come on. Out before you get cold.”

You're redressed in your nightgown but not satisfied.

He leads the two of you up to your room for the night. There's a wooden bed tucked in the corner and a dresser beside it with an oil lamp. You grimace at the sheets which are covered in a layer of dust. You pull them off the bed and toss them to the floor.

Simon begins the quiet routine of shedding his armor at the door. It almost feels like you're back home. His helmet comes off first and rests on the dresser.

Finally, you can see the tight furrowed brows, the downcast eyes, and tense jaw he wears. There is a quiet conflict raging behind his tired eyes. He looks exhausted and beaten to the core. He leans his sword against the wall, places his gauntlets on the dresser, chest plate and greaves beside it.

You watch as each piece comes off, searching for signs of injury. He never returns to you without scars or bruises for you to fuss over. But piece by piece, his clothes are free of blood and his body doesn't tense from sudden movements.

No sign of injuries should be reassuring, but it only adds more questions.

“Are you okay?” Your hands run down his chest to rest on his abdomen.

He's quiet for a moment, tense beneath your hand, before he mutters a curt, “Fine.”

Simon takes your hands and guides you back onto the bed. He leans over you, forcing your neck to crane back. A hand cradles your cheek, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb, as his lips lower to ghost over yours.

You want to ask him more questions—ones he won't answer, he can't answer—but he stops you short.

Simon captures your lips in a desperate kiss. He kisses you with a hunger that he needs satiated. His hands cup either side of your face, always gentle.

When he pulls away there's something missing from his gaze, replaced with a despair that stretches beyond you.

“Simon…”

“Not tonight,” he whispers.

He never liked to talk about his missions, the evils he faced all in the name of upholding his oath. And you never forced him to, simply doing your best to provide him comfort in other ways. You gave him a home to return to, open arms to fall into, and loved him completely. But, the hollow look on his face warns you of something terrible, something that can't be healed.

He brings himself to his knees, head hung in quiet repentance. His lips press against your knee. Then his hands snake up, pushing your nightgown past your thighs.

You grab his hands before he can reveal anymore, but he is insistent.

He looks up between your thighs like you alone can offer him salvation for whatever sin is consuming him whole.

“I need you,” he pleads. “Let me have you.”

Simon doesn't wait for your response before he’s rising once again to push you against the bed. When his lips meet yours, it's fierce and demanding. His body cages you and you're helpless to refuse as he knees your legs open.

Simon’s rough hands explore the soft curve of your body. Your hands caresses the slender curve of his neck and into the silk strands of his hair while his thumb traces random patterns on your stomach before dipping below the waist of your panties. His fingers skim lower and lower, and you squirm when the dull ache between your thighs grows stronger.

The pads of his finger meet your sensitive clit for the first time and rub slowly. Your body seizes around him, thighs clamping around his, and your arms wrap around his neck to ground yourself around the sensation.

The way he gazes upon you so reverently, like a goddess worthy of his devotion, nearly makes tears spill down your cheeks. You let out a gasp as the pleasure in your stomach grows stronger.

Your hips move against his hand, demanding more. When his hand moves away to tug at your gown, you pout.

“Off,” he commands.

Nothing needs to be said twice, not with Simon. You pull your dress off, freeing yourself to the darkness and his roaming eyes. Your nipples are pert against the cold air. His calloused hands glide over your waist, mapping every inch and curve of your body to commit you to memory.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispers in awe. His hand cups your breast as he lays kisses across your chest. Between each kiss he says, “You’re mine.”

You feel yourself blossom beneath his reverent touch and words. You lift your hips to let him pull your underwear off. His hands slide up your calves, over your thighs, and eventually one settles over your mound. You arch into his touch. A sigh leaves your lips as he runs his finger through your slick folds.

Two fingers are thrust into you without warning. Your breath is caught in your chest as you clench around him. His fingers work inside of you, pulling sweet moans from your lips, until you come undone.

Simon lifts your limp body against him as he settles on the bed with his back against the wall. You lay against his chest, face buried in his neck, as a wave of exhaustion hits you. The traumatic night is finally catching up with you.

As you come down from your orgasm and your eyes grow heavy, he pulls his cock free and positions you above him.

You attempt to shift your hips down to take him, but he stops you with a gentle squeeze of your hips.

“I've got you. Just relax.”

Simon eases you down on his cock, stretching you open. You want to squirm, to move, to please him the same way he did for you.

“Just stay here,” he says, his breath heavy in your ear. His hands cling to you as he shifts your bodies against the pillows. You feel the stir of him in you and involuntarily clench. He groans, burying his face into your neck to regain control of himself. “Let me feel you.”

You stay in each other's arms until your breaths fall steady. The closeness, his warmth, is a comfort you relish. Your home may be gone, but you still have Simon.

And, for now, it is all you need.

Simon waits for you to fall asleep first, cradled against his chest, before he allows himself to feel guilt wash over him. The weight threatens to drown him and he clings onto you like a raft.

He leans his head against the wall, staring at the water-stained ceiling. A veil of unshed tears blurs his vision. “Forgive me,” he whispers.

To who and for what, he doesn't know. He just hopes those words are enough to make the ache fade—it doesn't.

He allows himself to fully recall the entire night before he found you, before it all fell to shit.

Simon returned to ruin.

He saw the plume of smoke in the distance and hoped it wasn't real, but it was. Your town was engulfed in flames, glowing in the dark as bright as day, burning in his eyes like hellfire.

He moved through rubble, mind swimming with dread, to find you at the center of town, bound and unconscious. There were men surrounding you who wore a familiar coat of arms.

Graves, the pain in his side who never seemed to just disappear, was standing in the center of it all. Simon had faced his men before, but never Graves in person.

Simon would have caught on to the strangeness of the situation if not for the fury boiling in his blood.

Simon knew what he had to do—kill him, make him suffer. His oath wouldn't allow his evil to continue any further.

Gods, he hated the cocky grin on his face.

“There you are,” Graves called out like he was greeting an old friend.

“What the fuck do you want?” Simon’s sword was already unsheathed, ready to taste blood.

“To teach you not to fuck with me.”

Simon almost barks out a laugh. He raised his sword toward the challenge. Not one of Graves’ men moved to help defuse the situation.

“Go ahead and do as your oath commands—kill me.” Graves stood proud, arms spread wide.

Simon took a step further.

“But if you kill me, your girl dies too.”

A henchman hauled you up and placed a dagger at your throat.

Simon, for once, faltered. The sword in his hand trembled. He tried to steal himself but found he couldn't catch his breath.

He couldn't kill Graves and reach you in time. And he was sure if he made any move to save you, you'd be dead already.

“If you don’t kill me, I'll let you leave with her. Make your choice.”

So that was the game.

“Fuck you,” Simon spat. “I don't know ‘er.”

Graves ignored the bluff. Something in his smile told Simon, he saw right through his bullshit. “Go ahead and be a hero, Ghost.”

“I'm not a hero.”

He scoffed at the word. Destroy evil by any means necessary. His tenant echoed in his mind. Any means necessary.

He was far from a hero. A hero didn't turn a blind eye to those in need to pursue evil. He left behind innocent's far more times than he can count in the name of his oath.

Would you become one of the souls he sacrificed too?

Ever since he lost his family and took up his oath, he couldn't allow himself to feel emotions like guilt, sorrow, or fear, less it made him weaker to deliver the vengeance he swore to uphold.

But, you were his new family, the love he found amidst his violent wandering. He couldn't lose the safety and warmth that you were.

No matter what he chose, you or his oath, he would lose a part of himself.

Simon wanted to plunge his sword into Graves’ chest and be rid of the man and his impossible choice and that fucking smug smile. He wanted to destroy his very existence, so not even the strongest magic or God could piece him back together. He knew the world would be better off without him. He knew it deeply.

Yet, Simon lowered his sword and made his choice to condemn the world.

“I knew you were a selfish one.”

“Give her to me.”

Graves waved his hand and you were dropped. Simon caught you before you could touch the ground. He wrapped his arms tight around you, shielding you from the world.

“Fuck with me again and I won't wait for you to save her.”

Simon gritted his teeth but didn't say a thing. He kept his eyes on you. There was a cut on your neck where the blade was, shallow enough to draw a sliver of blood, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Fighting Graves would mean your death. Simon didn't care if he died, but he would never risk you. All he could do was lift you up and walk away.

Each step away from that ruined town he felt a piece himself slip further into the dark, remaining in the wreckage. His limbs lost feeling; his chest constricted.

A rope pulled inside his chest, urging him back to finish his duty. But, his feet dragged against the force to continue forward.

When Simon stepped over the town's threshold, the rope snapped. He was left with cold, empty despair.

Simon held you because that was all he could do as he left behind the destruction and his oath. At least he still had you.

He condemned the town’s survivors to death and allowed evil to escape the wrath of punishment—and he would do it all again to save you.

He will tell you of his selfishness in the morning. But, for now, he will hold your bare form tighter against his chest, closer to his heart, convincing himself you will fill the piece of himself that will never return.

But the void is boundless. It is echoes of flame and terror, shame and guilt, and a haunting voice calling to him in the dark.

“Oathbreaker, what have you done?”

[utilitycaster]

I feel like the way I think about Ludinus Da'leth is like...the Anti-Vespin. There's the basic actions they performed - both unleashed something long-sealed, but Vespin Chloras intended to destroy what he perceived to be a sealed danger, and Ludinus is using Predathos as a weapon. However, what strikes me is how the two of them have acted so far towards other mortals rather than the existential threats they've tangled with.

I suspect Ludinus is bringing in Bells Hells not because he expects them to join him, but because he really, really wants someone to validate his plan that is ultimately just a monument to his choice to wallow and make Exandria worse for it. No one likes him. He's not Ruidusborn; he can't commune with the Weave Mind and the Reilora the way others can. Liliana is in pretty deep but she's wavering, Zathuda resents him (and it seems to be mutual) and Otohan's dead. The Assembly is crumbling and the Empire's not doing well either, and the world has to an extent united against him.

Vespin chose, in his brief moment of clarity after he had unleashed the Betrayers and lost himself, to do what he could to improve Zerxus's lot, expressed anguish and remorse for his actions and his legacy, and said that he hoped the Ring of Brass would be given more grace by history. He was willing to accept the title of villain, despite being something much more complicated, because in the end he understood that giving the world a chance to survive was far more important than clearing his own name.

Ludinus, on the other hand, is fighting against historical strawmen. His resentment towards the gods is just that: a burning resentment. He could have left his mark by rebuilding post-Divergence Exandria. Instead, his legacy is one of rot, war, hatred, and corruption, from Molaesmyr to the War of Ash and Late to the Bloody Bridge. He could have been an architect of the modern age for the better. He could have tried to revive Aeorian magic and culture, and, as I've discussed, potentially even the people. He instead focused only on a centuries-long goal of destruction out of sheer spite.

Vespin was willing to shoulder any insult, deserved or not, for the rest of eternity because he understood it was less important than doing whatever he could in the few moments he had to mitigate harm. Ludinus is willing to destroy anything to retaliate for an insult.

Ludinus is livid about being robbed of an age he never got to see by the gods; and quite possibly, with the destruction of Molaesmyr, killed some of its last survivors outside exceptions such as himself. He claims to hate the gods' uneven blessings yet his alliance - and reliance - on Ruidusborn sorcerers has always made it clear that was a lie. And none of this will bring back the world he lost, and indeed, may very well set society back further.

He will tear everything apart out of hurt feelings and a desire to be correct when he could have left a shining legacy. It is the opposite of a heroic sacrifice; a petty, small self-destruction. I think he wants Bells Hells to tell him it was worth it. And I don't think they will.

[adoregojo]

✘ unrequited love

summary: loves echoes through the darkness, yet there's no light to erase it.

or

↝ they like you, you don't seem to share the bits of it.

context: unrequited love, angst no comfort, !!gn reader!!, angst and also angst, mention of blood, character: isagi, bachira, nagi, rin.

Isagi.y

he felt his heart break a bit, didn't shatter. just a little crack that made him lose his breathing track for a second.

he has to take a step back from you, to 'comprehend’ it, and by that he means living his ordinary road, just with a new layer of wretchedness. He really tried going on his old ways, yet his attempts were futile. He wouldn't utter a tune on breakfast with his family, his friends would ask him why he stuck to the mud all of a sudden, he would woolgather like there was a castle in the sky, in class, in practice to the locker room.

he would walk back home, stare at the mirror, and surveyed his features. fingers crossed his face, did he perhaps not fit the standards? more importantly, your standards? he does realize that he wasn't that much of an eye candy, but he definitely wasn't an eyesore either. did he look too basic? he’ve always been told that by his teammates一yet you always told him that they're just jealous that they don't carry the most splendid, navy blue pairs of eyes around really一god, he really missed you.

he tried, he really did try to connect the puzzle, solve it to get the idea out of your mind. laying in bed with his hands behind his head, his ceiling seems to be the most interesting thing to ever exist. Was he not your ideal type? you always told him that as long as heart remains genial, it’d be good enough. did his heart come out as ruthless? well, it's not like his behavior on the field is helping.

it took him a good long days to get it, this was not a game he could fathom in a blink, this was you. he can't change what you think of him, he can't force you to see him as the almighty devotion defines that he sees you as, he can't make you love him, as much as he wishes and prays to. for once, this isn't something that his ego could grasp on, even for his sake.

he asks you to be friends again, if you were kind enough to agree, he'd be willing to get on his knees, thanking what you had left of sympathy for him. even if life never came back like it used to, as long as you're by his side, it's not the end of the world just yet.

isagi could just wish, you’d somehow discern a new corner in your heart that’ll behold as a sense of love for him, for what he had of selfishness clinging onto him, for what he had of undying love for you.

Bachira.m

he really, lived and witnessed the world ending through his eyes and mostly his heart.

to put it mildly, bachira have always been out of place. to other people, he didn't seem to reach out of his weird spot he somehow earned. you were nice though, the nicest person he had ever met, you were his special place, and the safest of all. his favorite flower and the references to cross his brush over the pearly white papers. and with all the cheesiest in the world一his universe.

it was an unyielding thing to not catch feelings for you, his ever first friend that didn't feel ashamed when hearing his name beside yours, till he found himself wanting more than just that title, for you to be his better half sounded like a paradise blessing pouring on him.

there would be dreams where he'd finally get to press his lips against yours, it's too good to be true, the warmth and the dizziness, the sweet flavor against his lips was making his mind melt to a pool, made him heat up like he was standing above a low steam stone, he wanted more, till he'd fell unconscious in your arms from the lack of air, never ever wanting it to come to an end, yet I'll eventually burn to ashes.

he never hated you, he could never. even when you uttered the words of rejection that came like a keen pain right up his chest. it hurts, more than any punch, kick or insult he'd receive. his wheel of life seemed to diminish, and his eyes began to water.

a part of him knew this was coming, even when you became something of him, there will always be a sound whispering how inadequate he'll remain, no matter how he tries.

but hey, it's bachira. the same guy that’ll always look at the brightest side. above all, it's still love, yeah? even if you didn't return it, he was grateful that he somehow got to experience it, to pick raw flowers from the backyard with the biggest, lovesick smile glued to his face. to wake up everyday just to see you again was enough reason to leap off the bed. he was glad to say he for once, had a crush, coating the fact that his feelings got smashed to a wall. he was glad to feel any sense of true love.

your existence alone in his world was the definition of bliss, maybe he was sad because he wasn't in yours.

after all, you loving him back was too good to be true. being your friend should be an honor itself, he’ll keep on telling that to himself, till he finds the right extinguisher for the fire you lit up his heart.

Nagi. S

“sei.. I'm sorry, but I don't like you that way.”

“oh.” it was light, a tune of realization. In an instant, his eyes are empty again, the world blends to a hue of gray he knows the most, and suddenly sinking into a dreamless slumber for a whole day sounded like a brilliant idea.

“okay.” that's it, that's all he had to say before he's.. him again. he was nagi again, not the seishirou that fell smitten and starstruck, the one you made with your bare hands, the better version一the happiest version of himself.

he doesn't get a grasp on why he felt nothing at that moment, but at the same time he felt everything一it almost felt like he had an organ failure, but also his heart rate draw at halt. it was hard to put it on words一but what he knew, he definitely never, ever wants to experience anything like that again.

for the longest time, nagi always lends to your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours, it's been like this for the longest time. you and him, perhaps against the world一but really, it was more like you against the world while he immerse in your shadow.

he didn't mind. your light has always been overcasting. your smile was radiant, with your eyes aglow, he couldn't help but feel small. he was nothing against the brightest star to ablaze at him, and for the countless nights, he'd wondered一why him? nagi didn't exactly embrace the fact he was a slacker, he just tended to let it be this way, it was too much of a hassle to correct it一or maybe it was a truth that cannot be denied, who knows.

it was mostly his fault, for getting too used to you, for leaning on you like his own wheel of life. but he didn't want to let you go, it would be a pain一he was selfish after all.

nagi would slim down on your shoulder, he can feel your slightest tenseness. you were always comfortable, so comfortable that he could just be one with you.

“do you like me back yet?” he would ask, you say nothing. he’d inhale a soft sigh, snuggling onto you even more till his snowy locks kept on tickling the skin of your neck.

“that's okay, I'll stay here until you like me back.”

you again say nothing, but you’ll let him hold your hand, meshing your palms together. maybe he'll let go when his heart stops skipping a beat for you, or when the world comes to crumble, but they both end up with the same fate anyway, so it didn't really matter.

Rin.i

he knew he'll at some point regret this. wanting you of all people was a sin, a forbidden love.

despite his ears ringing, and his heart dropping to his core. he saw it coming, he would mutter that he'd be ready for it, just for it to sting like a sore thumb. it felt like he was collapsing on the ground with a pool of blood and tears, and all you’d do is watch with pity.

he felt bare, naked and exposed, he wanted to hide. he felt rejected and small. Suddenly he was fifteen again, pleading for his big brother to not leave him to rot in the cold, to not let the snow be the only source of comfort he had instead of a warm embrace.

for once, he had felt his heart swell with adoration一for a second, he didn't even have a name for that feeling, was was genuinely confident that you were making him somehow ill, there had to be a medical explanation for the mini heart attack he suffered from whenever he witnessed you at elation.

he allowed it to happen, he should've pushed you away more, he should've stood up his ground, he should've made more effort to strengthen his walls that you decayed with ease.

but what was there to wonder about the ‘what if's’ and the ‘maybe's’ yet again here he was, playing a secondary role in the ones he loved the most once again. digging his own grave stupidly.

for the first time in forever, he didn't feel like it was a challenge to love him, he didn't have to look at his reflection and grimace, he didn't have to be muddled by the name ‘itoshi sae’ this time, he was rin一your rin, was it bad that he wanted to live by that? it felt right to.

he knew he wasn't perfect, maybe even his flaws swamped over what he had of strengths. yet you seemed to admire him through it all, you looked at him like he was something一someone, he wanted to be that someone to you.

you managed to make everything look soft, feel warm. you stained his world with colors he thought he forgot the hues of it, he thinks he likes you a little too much.

for the longest time, rin was afraid he'll eat the life out of you, just like the maggots adore the flesh. seems like he was worried about nothing, because he’ll never be what he ought to be一yours.

you probably hate him, he did exclaimed hurtful things, he saw your eyes narrowing into a pained expression, it ached more than any rejection. he didn't know why, he was overwhelmed, angry and blinded by rage一and like the predictable itoshi he was. he revealed his cuspids and went for the throat.

he just wanted to hurt you back, that's what felt right at that moment. and yet as soon as he saw shedding tears running down your cheeks, satisfaction never came across, all he felt was a deep-seated regret. he felt ugly, sour and mean. and most of all, cruel.

and when rin sinks to his bed, he curls himself to a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. did his heart die already? or was he just too numb to feel anything at the moment? all he can sense is tiredness, so he closes his eyes to nothingness. where he dreams about you, with him in the summer breeze and cheap popsicles, and nothing bad happened to you and him.

sounds like a nice dream.

[whereforarthur]

We'll Never Last

Request: Could you do chrismd with promise by laufey, maybe like singer reader that releases it about him

Pairing: ChrisMD x Singer!Reader

Category: Angst and Fluff

Word Count: 2.2k

*****

Chris sat in his dimly lit London flat, the glow of his computer screen illuminating his face. The cursor blinked at him expectantly as he stared at the YouTube video titled "Promise by y/n." His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the artwork—a silhouette of a girl with her hand over her heart. That pose, the lyrics scribbled around her in a heartbreakingly familiar handwriting. He had seen that hand so many times before, felt its gentle touch. His thumb hovered over the play button, a silent debate raging within him. Was he ready to face the music, quite literally?

Finally, with a deep breath, he clicked. The video began, and the opening chords of the piano filled the room. He watched as the camera panned over a deserted street, the neon lights flickering in the rain. The melody grew stronger, and with it, his curiosity. The camera stopped at a phone booth, and there she was, his ex-girlfriend, her voice hauntingly beautiful, her eyes filled with a pain that seemed to mirror his own. The words of the song washed over him, and suddenly, the pieces clicked into place. 'Promise' wasn't just any song; it was their story, laid bare for the world to see.

Chris leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of each lyric, each note pressing down on his chest. He had always known she was talented, but he hadn't anticipated this level of raw emotion. Her voice trembled with every word, painting a vivid picture of their tumultuous relationship. The way she sang about the struggle to move on, the longing for something that could never be—it was all too real. He felt his eyes begin to burn as she hit the chorus, her voice soaring with the pain of love.

The video's imagery grew more intense as the song progressed. The camera zoomed in on her hand, trembling as it held onto the phone receiver, the symbol of their countless late-night calls and tearful confessions. The rain outside the phone booth grew heavier, blurring the lines between her and the world. It mirrored his own heart, which had been in a storm of doubt and regret since they parted ways. He had promised himself he would stop texting, stop calling, stop trying to fix what was broken, but he hadn't been able to keep that promise.

Y/n's eyes searched the screen, pleading for an answer to a question that only he could provide. "Why can't I let go of this?" she sang, and he knew she was referring to him. It was a question that haunted his dreams, a question he'd whispered to his reflection in the mirror a thousand times. Her voice cracked with the strain of holding back tears, and he felt his own threaten to spill over. The pain in her eyes was a mirror to his own soul, and he realized that she had been just as lost as he was.

The rain grew heavier in the video, each drop echoing the beat of his racing heart. She leaned against the phone booth, her hand pressed to the glass as if trying to reach through the screen and touch him. He could almost feel the coldness of the rain, the desperation in her fingertips. Her voice grew stronger with each line, the chorus a declaration of the love that had once burned so fiercely between them. It was a love that had consumed them both, leaving a trail of ashes in its wake.

Chris felt the sting of the lyrics, "It hurts to be something." He had been something to her—her confidant, her muse, her love. But now, as he sat alone in his flat, the silence deafening, he realized he was nothing to her but a memory, a ghost of what once was. The realization hit him like a sucker punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him. He had lost her, not just as a lover but as a friend, a piece of himself that could never be replaced.

The phrase "It's worse to be nothing with you" resonated in his core. He remembered the countless times he had picked up the phone, only to put it down again, the screen taunting him with her name. He had been afraid of being the one to break the silence, afraid of what it would mean to truly sever the last thread connecting them. But now, as he listened to her soul-wrenching ballad, he understood that he had already been nothing to her for a while. The song was a declaration of her own pain, her own inability to let go. It was a stark reminder that their love had become a prison, a cycle of hurt and regret that neither of them could escape.

As the video reached its crescendo, the rain on the screen turned to a downpour, and she disappeared into the storm. Her voice grew fainter, the melody a mere echo of what it once was. Chris felt a lump form in his throat as he realized that this was her way of saying goodbye, a farewell letter set to a haunting melody. The music video ended, leaving him in the cold embrace of silence. He stared at the dark screen, the final chords of 'Promise' still ringing in his ears. It was a testament to the power of their love, a love that had shaped-shifted into something unrecognizable and painful.

Chris had always been the one person she couldn't quite let go of. Their relationship had been a rollercoaster of passion and heartache, a whirlwind that had left them both reeling. Her words in the song spoke of a yearning so profound, it resonated within him like a tuning fork. Despite the pain, she had tried to keep her promise to move on, but like a moth to a flame, she had been drawn back to the warmth of their shared past. The sight of a boy that looked like him on Melrose Avenue, a mere shadow of the man she had loved, had shattered her resolve.

Her thoughts were a tumultuous sea, crashing against the shores of doubt and hope. She had promised herself she'd stop looking for him in every stranger's smile, every shared glance. But as she sang those words, she knew deep down that she'd never truly keep that promise. Every beat of the song was a step closer to admitting that she was lost without him. The melody that had been playing in her heart since the day they met was now a lament, a sad tune that filled her with a bittersweet nostalgia.

The video ended, but the echo of her voice remained, lingering in the air of the empty recording studio. Y/n took a deep breath, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. She had laid it all out there, her soul bare for the world to hear. The lyrics had been a catharsis, a way to articulate the pain that had been festering inside her for months. As she stepped out into the cool London evening, the rain had stopped, leaving a fresh scent in the air. It was as if the universe had heard her song and decided to offer a moment of peace.

*****

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out with trembling hands. It was a message from Chris. She hadn't expected him to reach out so soon, but there it was—his name lighting up her screen. "Heard 'Promise'… It's beautiful, but it hurts." The simplicity of his words was a stark contrast to the complexity of the emotions she felt. She read the message over and over, her thumb hovering over the reply button. Should she tell him the truth, that the song was her way of finally letting go? Or should she keep her thoughts to herself, allowing him to interpret the lyrics as he saw fit?

In the end, she decided to respond with a simple, "Thank you." It was all she could manage without her walls crumbling down. The silence that followed was deafening. She knew he was waiting for more, expecting an explanation, but she couldn't give him one without admitting that the song was a goodbye. A final, painful release of the love that had once been theirs. She put her phone away and took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. Her heart was racing, her thoughts a tornado of doubt and fear.

Chris read the message, his own heart sinking. "Thank you" was not what he was expecting. He had hoped for a sign, something that would tell him she felt the same, that there was still a chance for them. But all he got was a polite acknowledgment, a band-aid over a gaping wound. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of her words like a lead balloon in his stomach. The silence between them was now a vast chasm, one that no amount of promises could bridge.

He thought back to the days when they were inseparable, when the world had made sense with her by his side. They had been so young, so in love, so sure of themselves. But as time passed, the cracks had appeared. Misunderstandings had turned into fights, and the love that had once been their beacon had started to fade. She had done the math, had seen the patterns, knew that no matter how much they tried to patch things up, they would never be able to outrun the inevitable. They would never last.

Chris knew deep down that she was right. Every time they had gotten back together, it was like trying to solve an equation that had no solution. They'd rearrange the variables, hoping for a different outcome, but the result was always the same. The love was there, but it wasn't enough to hold them together. It was a harsh reality, but one that he couldn't ignore anymore. The pain in her voice was a reflection of the truth they had both been avoiding.

He picked up his phone, the screen still glowing with her message. "Thank you." Two simple words that held a world of meaning. He stared at the screen, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard. What more could he say? He didn't want to be the one to close the door on their relationship for good, but he knew that if he didn't, they'd both end up hurt again. He took a deep breath and typed, "I'm sorry I couldn't keep mine either." He hit send and waited, his heart pounding in his chest.

Minutes ticked by with no response. The tension in the room grew thick, each second stretching into an eternity. Outside, the rain had started again, matching the turmoil he felt within. He knew he had to face the music, to accept that their love had run its course. The silence from her end was deafening, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between them. He sighed and stood up, walking over to the window to watch the raindrops race down the pane.

Y/n's thoughts were a tumultuous storm. She had poured her heart out into 'Promise,' hoping it would be the closure she needed. But hearing from Chris now, she felt the same old pull, the same temptation to hold onto what they had. She knew she couldn't keep playing this game of cat and mouse, but every time she tried to walk away, she found herself drawn back in. The line "No matter how long I resist temptation I will always lose" played in her mind on repeat. It was a battle she had been fighting for so long, and she was weary.

The phone in her hand grew heavier with each passing moment. Finally, she decided to read his message again, searching for any hint of what he was truly feeling. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep mine either." It was a mirror to her own regret, a reflection of the promises they had both made and broken. She took a deep breath and typed back, "Maybe we both need to stop making promises we can't keep." Her heart raced as she hit send, unsure of what his response would be.

Chris's eyes widened as he read her words. It was a truth they both knew deep down, but it was the first time she had acknowledged it so openly. He felt a pang of hope, but it was quickly overshadowed by the reality of their situation. He knew she was right; they had been trying to force something that had naturally run its course. He responded, "You're right. Maybe it's time we just… move on."

Y/n's heart sank as she read his message. The finality in his words was like a door slamming shut, leaving her feeling cold and alone. She knew he was right, but it didn't make it any easier. She took a deep breath and typed back, "Yeah. It's for the best." With a trembling finger, she hit send, releasing the last bit of hope she had been clinging to.

The two of them sat in their separate worlds, the glow of their phones the only source of light in the quiet darkness. The conversation felt final, the silence that followed heavier than any goodbye they had ever shared. They had danced around the truth for so long, afraid of the pain that accepting it would bring. But now, with 'Promise' out in the world, they had no choice but to face it.

It hurts to be something It's worse to be nothing with you

*****

@gvf23

@xxkatxgracexx

[bitumz]

Title: A withered Rose still has its thorns

Pairing: Cooper Howard / Lucy MacLean

Word count: 4k+

Rated: T [angst, depictions of past violence, hurt/comfort, mentions of death and loss, happy ending]

A/N: this was written for the incredible @valeriarts for this beautiful fanart they made me, and was heavily inspired by this insane Beauty and the Beast Ghoulcy Fanart they entered into the Ghoulcy Atomic Blast Event! As such, this responding work is absolutely riddled with BatB references, but is lovingly set in the Fallout canon world because I am an absolute goon for the old music and wasteland setting. A tale as old as time... Ao3 link

~~~~~

One year has passed since Lucy pulled the trigger on her own decayed mother, withered away and rotted from the inside out by the inevitable cruelty of the wasteland. A necessary evil she still tries to console herself with on such a gruesome anniversary, though these days the grizzly voice chiding her in her mind doesn’t sound like her own anymore. And Lucy thinks she's starting to realize exactly how decay feels.

One year of failed leads. Shattered expectations. The growing pains of being remade into a woman more familiar than she should be, even well beyond the reflection of a mirror. 

The old shopping center she and Cooper find themselves in that evening is almost painfully similar to the Super Duper Mart, old clothing and clocks, and half burnt candles and varying arrays of other decorative knick-knacks scattered about like hastily flung debris across the rotting floors. But unlike the mart, high walls divided large sections of the space, reminding her even harsher of the vault rooms back home, centered just so by a long, splaying hallway that seemed to go on for miles into the shadowed corridor. An old mall Cooper had called it, but to Lucy that meant nothing. 

She'd done what she could to keep her distance from him that day, him never being one to appreciate her foul moods, and instead of calling out the blood curdling hypocrisy of that whole idea (and the inevitable fight that would follow), she bit her tongue and did her best to sulk alone, in only the company of a few blessedly silent clothing displays and dusty bedroom furniture. 

One of the former caught Lucy’s attention more than the others, a headless mannequin donned in a flowing silk gown, royal blue cut through the middle with a bright yellow sash that drew in the curves of the waist and cascaded floor length at the rear with the rest of the flowing hemline to trail like a river of molten gold across the moldy tile. 

Her mother had always disliked her in dresses. And Lucy can't help but remember the hazy bits and pieces of her fifth birthday. Of her father presenting her with a beautifully boxed up gift. Her mother's disbelieving scowl over at the man as Lucy held the soft floral material up against her chest and beamed at her own reflection in the vault bathroom mirror. They way her father twirled her around the room in it for many a birthday after that, with only Norm, a few aging Cooper Howard movie posters, and blinding fluorescents overhead as audience, pride already flashing even brighter in her father’s eyes as every year she grew more and more into the perfect daughter she was expected to be. And though Lucy had been too young to consider yet just where that gift could have come from, those memories now scathed in the shadows, somewhere deep beneath her bones like a bustling city of thousands of people being blown to nothing more than ruin and ash. 

And at this point, after fighting through all the many foul factions of the wasteland for just over a year and searching for a sense of fairness and freedom for so long before, she was so so far beyond sick of monsters masquerading as man. 

It was why slipping from the confines of her vaultsuit and stepping into the rolling blue and gold layers of silk felt something like lying. Like putting on that ill-fitting wedding dress again and continuing to do as she was told. Adding her name to the list and filling the role set upon her from the very moment she came out screaming like a wild beast into her mother's arms and a carefully crafted existence. 

She tugged her own suit up the slender plastic hips of the mannequin in trade. Zipped it securely closed with the final brush of her hands tenderly across the shoulders.

The worn leather slacked too big around the petite figure, and Lucy felt her own muscles clench the slightest bit in her newly exposed chest and upper arms. Her time away from the vault had made her only stronger. She could feel it in the easing of their long days trudging through the sand and restless nights with Cooper beneath the stars. In his harsh lessons and even harsher truths. But looking back at her mother’s last little hand-me-down gift as it sat wrong on the headless figure before her made her feel a bit like a child again; lost and alone in a world that was still so very much too big.

So she did just as she would when she was little. Turned the oldies station on low on her Pip Boy. Sat cross legged upon the cold dingy floor. Sought out her mother’s advice.

“I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to do here.” Lucy said, eyes falling to her mismatched fingers in her lap. She curled them loose into the soft pile of golden fabric. “I wasn’t so sure I was going to make it through mourning you the first time around…” she admitted soft, swallowing at the pain rising heavy in her throat. “But this… now… knowing everything I do… I- I understand why you left. And I’m sorry I couldn’t help sooner… I’m so sorry…” And Lucy had long run out of water to waste on tears so she only clenched her fists tighter over her thighs. Waited quietly for a reassurance that would never come again, receiving only silence in answer apart from the lilting voice of Skeeter Davis softly reminding her from her wrist that the end of the world had already long since passed. 

Lucy could only blame her time above for being able to sense him well before she heard Cooper’s spurs clanging softly up the hall. And had it been even just a few months ago, she would have moved. Rose from the ground and stuck on a fake sunshine smile to avoid his prodding. Stood tall and still in the shadows like a predator in wait. But if he was going to continue to track her down every time she sought out solace, he was going to get what he got. Real and raw and just so very tired. 

“There ain’t shit for supplies,” his rumbling voice started before rounding the corner, “but I did find somethin’ interestin’ you may wanna have a look at wh…” Cooper stilled like the dead in the shattered frame of the once glass door. Rendered entirely silent, though she could feel the burn of his eyes across her newly bared arms, the curves of her shoulders, her dark hair falling loose and wild down her back. “What the fuck are you doin’?” He finally managed, sounding much farther away than he actually stood.

“Oh you know, just talking to my mom.” Lucy spoke flat to the mannequin, unmoving. “You’re interrupting.” She added in dismissal after a long dead-silent moment, but she only heard his boots close in closer behind her. 

So she held her breath and waited for the snide response to drawl from his lips. Something like ‘radaway’s losin’ its touch huh?’ she imagined first, or ‘Rose musta not took all the crazy with her when she left that fuckin’ vault...’

But as the pair of taunts grew hotter in her temples, nothing of the sort actually came from him... Which was odd enough in itself to make her finally look back over her shoulder. 

What she found was a world weary man who looked as lost as she felt. The darkness of the decaying building clinging to the protective cloak of his duster like a long drawn curse that was pained to let go. He carried the weight of his own deep in the lines of his scalded face, wearing his own many anniversaries of suffering in scattered jagged scars, jaw tense as if he fought not to set free a rising snarl at the sight before him, browline drawn beneath the shadow of his hat like she’d spoken a foreign language he couldn’t quite grasp. 

He eyed her hallowed vaultsuit as if personally affronted… Looked back down right at her, dark eyes sparking with something near that impenetrable mask of anger he so easily slipped on as they trailed slow down across the gathered yellow silk she fidgeted with at her waist, to the elegant tendrils of blue haloing in a wide puddle around her on the floor, shielding nearly as much of her body as the suit had, but still leaving her feeling so incredibly exposed to his studiously searching eyes. 

“What is it?” Lucy asked after a moment, unable to take the scrutiny any longer, heart rate rising as she shifted where she sat.

And Cooper blinked as if hearing her for the first. “What’s with the getup?”

Lucy forced the breath from her nose, long and heavy. Tugged a bit of the fabric up in a false curtsy. “Oh this old thing?” She tried to tease but fell flat. “I've never had a dress of my own, you know? Always something borrowed… and Mom used to say blue was my color.” Lucy smoothed the silk back down over her hips, missing the way the claim struck Cooper’s expression like the hail Mary of a well aimed brick. “My eyes, I guess.” She shrugged away.

“No.” Cooper disagreed low after a long beat. “It ain't your eyes.” Then he took the two last steps to stand near her side. Reached down a hand. “C’mon I wanna show you somethin’.” And for a moment Lucy sat unmoving, glancing away from Cooper’s gloved offering up to the plastic shell of her mother one last time. “She ain't goin’ anywhere.” Cooper promised soft after a while of watching her struggle, in a way Lucy now knew that only he had every right to vow. And it's what finally drew her hand out slowly into his. 

“Alright,” she breathed. And she rose.

—

The shop Cooper led her into was stacked floor to ceiling with disheveled shelves of books. Old wooden tables and chairs lined the front walls. Rows of cabinets had once cut lines through the center, now tipped and scattered by previous scavengers who must not have appreciated the incredibility of the rare bounty before her. But Lucy, however, was already mentally sorting through the contents of her pack and deciding what could be left behind to make more space.

It was the candlelight that eventually distracted her from the task. Lit aglow and sparsely set across the floor and on a few of the sturdier looking bookshelves all around the room, burning just bright enough to clear the murky darkness from the space…and it was the consideration of such a thing that emptied her chest, had Lucy steepling her hands over her mouth and gaping wide eyed all around her at the beautiful sight, the sheer number of books alone putting the vault’s ample collection to shame. But it was the man stood behind her in the darkened doorway that stopped her eyes. Silhouette framed in the soft glow of fire, features hidden almost entirely from view, but like the constant pull of the moon on the tide she could feel the weight of every ounce of his attention on only her. 

“Cooper,” Lucy called low, letting her hands fall slow to her sides. “This is incredible. I've never seen so many books in my life.”

And he ambled forward at his name like a bloodbug drawn to the life pumping quick through her veins, sharp features softened by the warm glow.

“Really?” He drawled in that way that preambled the rudeness she'd so long been awaiting. Downplaying the situation every time it got too close to - something. And he was never one to disappoint. “I thought all that Vault Tec propaganda down there would at least rival a two bit bookshop.” 

Lucy raised her eyes and turned away. Took another look about the room. Made her way to the closest shelf of books and let her fingertips brush lovingly across the dusted spines. Stacked a few aside that she had every intention of not leaving without. 

“It wasn't just propaganda,” Lucy informed, his jab unable to reach her properly through the soft flickering of flame. “Vault distributed media was delegated and traded by the overseers.” She sought him out again with the turn of her neck. “And as you know, ours was particularly fond of fairytales and cowboys. Villeneuve and Wister. That sort of thing. Not to mention the movies…” her smile was mean, a brazen curve of her lips.

And Cooper said nothing in riposte, instead simply closing the space between them with slow, lazy steps. Rested a hand against the shelf on either side of her head as she turned to face him, closing in and casting his shadow across her in a way that once would have made her feel small. 

Lucy only raised her chin, held his eyes above with the fire flickering hot in her own.

“Is that really what you wanna be doin’ today?” He asked her, a near growl as it rolled so close from his chest. “Defendin’ your daddy?” 

And the reminder twisted in her ribs like a spike, aimed and true; memories of laughter and life and being twirled around in loving arms slowly, agonizingly morphing into something more fowl in her gut like her father's guiltless eyes as he'd finally confessed aloud his many many sins down the barrel of a gun… Her mother's meatless corpse sagging gaunt in a chair nearby…

“Dance with me.” Lucy blinked, only truly registering the words as they settled skewed into her own ears. The violins dipped and drew out the start of Billie Holiday's, Crazy He Calls Me from her Pip Boy between them like a taunt and there was no better title for the way Cooper’s sharp eyes searched her face.

“Do what now?” 

“Dance with me.” Lucy repeated, just as unshaken. “You're right.” She nodded in truce. “I'd rather make new memories today than dwell on the old ones and my options are you or the mannequin.”

Cooper gauged her expression from mere inches above. Looked as if he awaited the splintering of her sanity beneath his glare. For the flinching call of her bluff as he raised his chin and thinned his eyes in a move she’d watched him use on countless others to sweeten a deal or seal a sentence. But Lucy only popped open the latch of her Pip Boy. Sat it nearby on the shelf. Held her hands out to him palms up in the dwindling space between them…

And Cooper took a step back and away. Squared his shoulders as if she had thrown a fist instead of anything near the beginnings of a dance. 

“Mannequin would suit better.” He said in faint protest, stilling only a moment longer to meet her unyielding eyes before sighing, shrugging his duster from his shoulders and draping it over the back of a nearby chair. Pulling his gloves off and dropping them unceremoniously into the splintering seat. 

And Lucy felt an altogether new sort of apprehension as he neared this time, sturdy arms straining against the worn fabric of his rarely seen sun-bleached undershirt. His bandolier of hastily crafted bullets glistened like sharp teeth across the visible rise and fall of his chest. He held a single bared hand out to her in offering, allowing her to take either that last fateful step forward or a silent final out…

And the thrill of it all was the best distraction she could ever ask for.

The fine hairs at the back of her neck rose in warning as she took this newest challenge in stride, just as she had the many before. “I don’t doubt it.” Lucy returned, resting a ruined-fingered hand over the solid curve of his shoulder. Cooper slipped her left into his and she couldn’t help but stare at that way her own something borrowed still looked pale and small against the rest of Cooper’s hand, wrapping warm and rough around her own. His other burned like a brand against her waist just as Billie sang of her own willingness to walk through fire and with it they were moving.

Cooper was a startlingly natural lead, sure in step and direction, guiding her along in soft curves of motion as if on instinct alone, whereas she stepped between his boots in thought absorbed angles, and it was a pre-war skill Lucy would not have imagined he cared to retain until that very moment. He’d always spoken so little of that time of his life, apart from Janey. And even if they weren’t spending an evening attempting to forget, she at very least knew better than to outright ask why. 

The thought brought her foot down hard on his for what she guessed was the second or third time judging by his growl.

“That supposed to be a two step?” Cooper rumbled over her instead. “‘Cause you’re movin’ like a goddamn sheet of plywood down there.”

And Lucy laughed a breathy thing at the very real exasperation in his tone.

“I’m distracted is all.” She forced herself to meet his eyes, so close and scalding in the candlelight. Reminding her even more of the last time she’d seen him display such a talent. The same way her father had taught her so many years ago… and she just couldn't help herself. “I remember this from the scene right after you killed Joey… Where you went back to town and danced with the widow in -”

“Deadhorse ya,” Cooper scathed in answer, spinning her silent in an almost violent twirl out to arms reach before snapping her back, her spine pressing flush against the buttons lining down his vest so that the “don’t start,” was hissed directly into her ear. It effectively scattered her thoughts and sent gooseflesh rising down the exposed skin of her arms for a much different reason than she knew was intended. But then he stilled them. Kept a forearm wrapped firm across the front of her waist. “Kick them boots off so you don’t take my fuckin’ toes too.” He nodded down over her shoulder, the brim of his hat brushing against her scattered hair. 

And she continued to follow his lead, shaking off one and then the other. Turned around again with minimal restraint as he took notice of her intention to face him once more. Lucy filled her lungs with the faint scent of old leather and smoke as his coarse fingers dragged slow patterns across the soft silk gathered at her hips. This time she brought both hands up to his shoulders. Felt his own slide home in a near perfect fit into the soft curves beneath her ribs. 

Then they were moving again, easier, a more natural sway that brought him the slightest bit closer. Allowed her to truly see his features painted warm beneath his hat in the firelight. Those most others would deem ugly, the proof heard often enough in wretched slurs and slithered curses from near every small bit of civilization they passed. But here in the safety of their solitude, the candles flickered deep against the rugged hollows of his face and brought somehow more life to his hazel eyes. And though they had always been so incredible to her, those eyes, something about the way the glow sparked in them now, subdued and scorching back at her in equal measure, was almost another distraction worthy of misstep. 

And she’d been doing so well until her eyes dropped to the side. Focused on the scattered splotches across his shoulders that proved his threadbare shirt had once been blue…

The music built and curled around them unimpeded by the realization, trumpets joining in with the strings to round out the repeated claims of being insane for all a number of reasons and Lucy couldn’t help but look down at her own feet again, strained and self deprecating as she focused on not stepping down onto his with the way her heart sped and cheeks flushed. His hands flexed at her waist.

“Relax.” Cooper bid low, undoubtedly sensing her struggle in her missteps and the growing tension of her muscles. “I ain’t in the mood for sparrin’ today and my drawin’ hand’s otherwise occupied, so you’re only fightin’ ya self.” 

The upward curve of his bowed lips and drawl of his words spoke only truths, something almost sad touching his eyes, and Lucy found trusting in him still came all too easy. She watched as the rise of his browline painted a told ya so look across his face while she focused only on her own breaths and the warmth of his tender hold about her waist, her movements growing more and more fluid between those very same hands that she’d seen reap death and destruction with ease for just over a year now in search of her father and the answers they were owed. Coming up just short on near every lead and tumbling almost as violently into each other's arms in one way or another so often now that it seemed only necessary for survival. 

“Perceptive.” She said finally. 

But this was something else… It was just so…

It was simply different, Lucy decided, rising up onto her bare toes to press her lips against Cooper’s just because she wanted to. Taking unapologetically in a way that he had been forcefully tearing into her from the beginning. And she softly parted her lips over his unmoving ones. Waited for the beast to surface and rear its fangs or draw its claws. To push her away with a shove or back her forcefully against the nearest surface in a deliciously dizzying coin toss of chance. Because, yes the beast was in there somewhere she knew well enough, but it was Cooper who had pulled her up from the floor of her vigil. Cooper who’d lit the candles that warmed the air around them; of a bookshop of all places. Cooper who still distracted her from her woes now in dance… 

And it was Cooper who kissed her back. Took her face into the sanctity of his hands to tilt and deepen it, his lips a hot brand across her own as he held her steady and tasted her slow in languid shallow swipes of his tongue along her lower lip. He parted from her just long enough for Lucy to draw a greedy breath from the shared air between them. Then he kissed her again, another sweet short press of his mouth over hers before he whispered “I gotcha somethin’ else,” near voiceless into the corner of her moony grin. 

Then he leaned back just enough to meet her eyes, his own expression sobering like he stood on the precipice of some great divide, and Lucy dared him to jump with the slight tilt of her head in question. 

Then he pulled out a drooping flower from the pocket of his slacks. A sun-bleached plastic rose that must have once been red before the end of the world and the crushing hands of time; petals welting and half melted... And her heart did a funny painful pair of skips in her chest at the sight of it held out to her in his own repeatedly scarred and sewn together hand. 

“What? It ain't enchanted or some shit.” Cooper said harsh, shifting an inch on his own two feet. A first misstep since they started this new dance. “I just know what it's like to not have a grave to mourn is all.” He tried again. “Don’t read too much into it.”

And what a feint it was to reach for in a room set aglow, filled to the brim with warmth and music; bound leather and parchment... 

Lucy’s smile was all straight white teeth.

“Of course not,” she succumbed, taking the rose from him carefully and tucking the stem safely away into the sash of her dress so that her hands were free to reach back out for what she really wanted. “I never really liked reading anyway,” she soothed, wrapping her wrists loose about the back of his neck and looking past him at a few new titles that would be soon added to her pile. “Though my bag has been feeling awful light lately.”

And Cooper chuckled soft, a deep rumble from his throat. 

“Fuck the books,” he said, breath ghosting warm against the sensitive skin at the side of her neck. Then his hands slid heavy through the silk pooled low at her back, drew her in close against his chest. “Pack the dress.” 

And for a long long while they danced together and forgot. 

[super-secret-clown-corner]

hey did anyone ask for a heavily biased list of s3 worldbuilding headcannons and how i think some of the lifesteal guys interact with each other? no? too bad i was force fed half of this by my brain while trying to go to sleep

cut for length bc it's long sorry not sorry

clownpierce

of course i have to start with clown he is like a bug to me and i'm putting him under a microscope

he is a BEAST. a CREATURE even.

aka he's from the void but no one except ash knows that

the deranged discord thoughts at 2 am said clown is from the void bc everywhere he goes he brings death. he kills. it’s what he does. he kills and he’s fuckin great at it. do you hear me. do you understand.

covered from head to toe in clothing to hide the fact he's from the void. there's a constant slight chill that surrounds him and it's only really noticeable when someone's almost touching him

he never lets anyone get that close anyway besides the occasional handshake or smth bc yeah anyone would be uncomfortable if someone was standing inches away from you. he plays off the cold hands with a poor blood circulation excuse if anyone asks

if he did show skin, his silhouette would be like a black hole where it's completely pitch black, and depending on the angle, he either appears 2d or 3d (very disorienting and unnerving)

this guy does not have a single stable relationship to fall back on. he allies with people for power and not for comradery, and it is So Hard for him to tear down the dozens of walls he keeps up around him because he often finds that when he does, he gets betrayed and left in the dust (mob anon from lifesteal headcannons i am thinking so hard about your submission)

plus it's hard for him to know whether or not this person is allying with him because he's The Deadliest Assassin Blah Blah Blah and they want that safety net/protection or if they genuinely want to ally with him

it takes him a long time to fully trust branzy, and even then he doesn't open up to him about his personal stuff

the mask stays On. Constantly. doesn't matter how much he trusts someone he will never willingly show his face

he and red have a friendly rivalry with the heart economy side of lifesteal, they're both competing for the title of strongest/holder of most hearts or smth like that

ashswag

dude used to be a normal guy way way way way before lifesteal events n stuff but then he fell into the void and came back Wrong

basically instead of dying instantly, he survived for a little bit longer than usual, broke through reality, and saw that everything is just a simulation and everyone is just code, including himself

that fucked him up bad physically and mentally, and his left side is all glitched and void-like now (chronic pain coded)

dude is technically immortal but he never really tested losing all of his hearts yet

he knows that clown is from the void because he knows what the void feels like and is hypertuned to it, and to him, clown RADIATES it like a space heater. he can't stand too close to him and has to have at least one person's width between them. he hasn't confronted clown about it though because he knows when to keep his mouth shut

being close to the void for him hurts in an ocular migraine type way, but he typically pushes through it when he's down at bedrock level or in the end

he doesn't make stable relationships with people because he doesn't really see the point in them

nihilism 100

whatever side he aligns with is usually the one causing the most chaos

branzycraft

evil little meow meow

let him be angry. let him have rage.

he is Just Some Guy (aka normal ass human) but he is so smart

not a fighter but he is a builder and a damn good one at that

need a trap that is sure to kill? branzy

very good at getting the fuck out of situations that would've killed him if he didn't immediately dip when he did

based on vibes alone, early s3 branzy would so be friends with subz and vitalasy (which i think actually happens so i win)

i need branzy to be envious of clown's fighting skill and heart count before he starts warming up to him. please where is the slow burn.

falls out with subz and vitalasy when he starts allying with clown and co, and especially when he tricks vitalasy into the funhouse

during the cleansing when the dirties and team chaos are relatively working together, vitalasy tries to reconcile and pull branzy away from team chaos, but branzy's lost in the power sauce

he and rek are Just Some Guy buddies who exchange near-death experience stories (i need more branzy and rek friendship please please please please please p)

i am ace beaming your clownzy mwahahaha

leowook

strap in boys because have you considered the tension between clown and leo after mob falls (once again mob anon from lifesteal headcannons i am thinking so hard about your submission)

they were tight. they were bros. they were homies. leo was the only person clown felt like he could confide in during mob. and then leo turned coats. i'm SO NORMAL.

clown has NOT forgiven him

super duper a cyborg. he's a tnt minecart pvper he had to have blown off his limbs at some point /silly

but yeah his limbs are mechanical, along with one of his eyes. can't really see it though bc he constantly wears a mask, long sleeves, pants, and gloves. i'll probably default to his left eye if i ever draw leowook face

he and red feel like they would be friends based on vibes

still works/allies with zam after mob in an attempt to go back to what he lost

slaps roof of leowook this bad boy can fit so much mob angst inside of it

princezam

certified Thing. don't know what, he just is

has loony toons vibes. to me.

so annoyingly positive in the eyes of the others, they all want to punch him at least once

hero complex 100

dude just manages to rizz his way into teams

zam is smart. he knows what he's doing.

ok actual serious hcs bro has the most worldbuilding in his explanation tbh

in my head, lifesteal is this independent port city-state that was originally run by everyone and acted as a free, international trade center. zam is the crown prince of the neighboring territory surrounding the city, and when mob started gaining serious power, he charmed his way into working with them.

the deal he struck with mob is that if he wanted to join, lifesteal wouldn't be a part of zam's kingdom and all of his actions in mob were separate from his actions as the prince. it worked out relatively well for both of them: mob got a powerful ally with good political/funding power, and zam got to play hero and get involved with lifesteal politics

when mob fell, he initially respected their previous agreement where he wouldn't play prince in lifesteal, but when heart economics grew too unbalanced in his eyes, he decided to annex the city and then start the cleansing

nobody enjoyed zam annexing the territory, and especially not when his first order of business was to have everyone over ten hearts withdraw and bank them to evenly distribute to people with less than ten hearts

gonna pause here for now bc i feel like if i tried listing another character, it wouldn't have the same heart behind it as these guys do. if anyone does wanna see another silly that i didn't get to here, feel free to shoot me an ask or smth idm :]

fuck cringe i am having a blast i love worldbuilding

[ohsunnyboy]

anything but right | park gunwook ˚₊‧⁺˖

park gunwook has bewitched your heart and enchanted the court. but everyone else seems to know that, except you.

TAGS: slight fantasy au, royalty!au, royal guard!gunwook, royal!reader, gn!reader, forbidden love sorta, mage!gunwook

A/N: quite a big style change bc i wrote this at like 2am, v self indulgy metaphor and imagery barf haha read twice for full effect

WORDS: ~600

Park Gunwook is ash and joy.

He takes your hand and spins you round. Through it all, you can taste it, the burn and heat of his radiance. He dips you and your world lurches to what he sees: the devil on the floor.

He laughs, and it looks like he has swallowed the sun...

It ends like this.

"Care to dance?"

Park Gunwook is dressed like everything righteous in the world. First and foremost, he is a soldier of the royal guard, he is loyal to his people, and he will respect the crown.

And do everything but address you by your title.

"Never." But he smiles and it's a stupid one. You want to order it gone, like a stain on sheets or a mage caught on the streets. Nevertheless, Gunwook's grin persists, and his hand still holds out.

"Even if I ask nicely?" he murmurs, and you can feel it. It burns you from the inside out as he leans low, talks low and promises a high that you'll never forget. There's nothing nice about him apart from his smile and the way his eyes crinkle when he does. Every word a mage can say is a curse, and each one they utter is binding.

Warmth, pure warmth tries to convince you to break down your guard. What took years of lessons and verse to cement, wants to come melting away in a blaze of Gunwook’s aftermath. Something about him calls to you and it trembles.

A breath, a glance, you want to wait and stare into his eyes. Drink him in when you know this is anything but right.

"We can't, please." When you say it, it scalds as you sputter it out. It hurts you both just as badly.

You want to step away. Nothing good will come about this, it burns but it's true. It would be all eyes, greedy and ravenous, on you two. The floor is a deathtrap of swirling dresses and coattails like adder tongues. Gunwook can part this sea with a step onto the floor but clear it entirely with another hand in his. You have seen him do it too many a time; take the hand of another and smile like he had caught prey, before twirling them away into the midnight.

(Envy, you don't want it, but it's envy that tears you to this and leaves you undone.)

It takes a hand and a devil to make a deal. And all the court will know by the time you step onto the floor.

I am the heir¸ you scream inside. You cannot do this, but how can you pull back when the noise in your ears is of a thousand cries. Gunwook steps closer and you have always known it, but you see it now, the pull around him, warping and pulling you in. Maybe it's the magic, latent in the air, when time doesn't freeze but it clambers and slips as you feel it happen.

Gunwook grabs you by the arm and bows.

"Your grace," and it's said with a reverence that awes and completely warms you. "May I please have this dance?" The music crescendos but all you can hear is the crash of your heart.

Days, years, and it feels like centuries, he has passed with you in the disquiet of this damned castle and these rotten people. Gunwook always held you warm and radiant, with a smile that would never put out. Long nights, spent listlessly in your study, or short days when you watched him train, muscles working under the winter sun.

(He never felt the cold, and you never wondered how, only knew why.)

Park Gunwook is a mage—and a knight—and this is forbidden—dreamt about—in every book—fairy tale—you know.

To hell with this.

It begins with ash and joy.

for context about the au click here! feel free to like or reblog if you found it interesting ⭒ masterlist

[whump-place]

Bad to Worse to... Comfort?

8-Colors.

Masterlist.

I forgot I have this in my drabbles.

---

Now that you managed to make him eat and drink water you can't help but wonder, how is that he did this all on his own back at the base?

He never once backed away, and he ate when asked to, so why did he have too much trouble here at your house?

["Did... Did I do something that-?"] You cut yourself before you manage to finish that sentence. Maybe telling him he was being better at the base than now is not the best option.

But what can you do? You are exhausted, and the only thing that seems to actually work is...

["Ash? Can I ask you something?"]

Me nods. His fingers must hurt, but he seems happy to communicate.

This is not the best time to ask him anything too complicated.

["Do you have any favorite color?"]

["Gray, master."]

He answered without a doubt. No flinching, no thinking twice. And you know that small smile on his face can't be just pretending.

["It's pretty. Gray like your eyes?"]

That had also been a surprise when your team found him. That peculiar eye color.

Ash didn't say a word, instead stretching his hand to his face. He quickly took off a contact, showing off his hazel eyes.

["Those are contacts? Why do you have contacts?"]

And why did he take them off without washing his hands? He just ate, his hands are dirty, he shouldn't be touching his eyes like that, less to take off contact glasses.

["He liked them. I can change them for whatever you want, master."]

You don't know what to say, it's too much. Has he been using them all this time? How is that no one noticed? What does he mean he liked them? Why is he back at that 'master' title?

You take a step back, trying to catch back your breath.

You want to ask so many things, but you have just made a progress, you can't overwhelm him with all the things you wanna ask him.

Taglist:

@hadihaz

@foresttheblep

@thethistlegirl

@rainbowsandwhumperflies

@wishiwaskidnapped

@winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts

@whumpsday

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Fic title: (A Dream is) a Wish Your Heart Makes

"I wish it could go back to what it was," Izuku says to the air. Inko frowns, hand on his door frame.

"It can't," a voice says and Inko freezes as a man appears in a purple cloak. "You shouldn't have remembered."

"Sorry Clockwork, but after Bakugou tried to hold my head underwater..." Izuku sighs and Inko's mouth feels like she's swallowed ash. The school called claiming Izuku had been playing to close to the water. Honeslty she'd figured some brat had pushed or hurt her son somehow. She isn't dumb, the amount of times her son came back hurt meant pulling.

But Katsuki?

"You remembered." the man, Clockwork, says. "You remember your past life as Danny Fenton."

"I do." Izuku laughs, bitter. "I wished for a Quirk. Wanted to be okay. And now here it is. I remember being captured by my parents. I remember them strapping me to the lab table. I remember them cutting into-" Inko moves, uncaring. Her arms are around her son and she holds him tight.

"I'm here baby, I'm here." she begs. Izuku freezes, and then hugs back tightly, her shirt getting slightly wet.

Clockworks smiles, remembering Danny before mentioning he dreamed of a world where his parents loved him. Midoriya Hisashi died loving his son, and Inko loves her son more then anything.

He got his dream.

Summary: Basically a story where Izuku is Danny Fenton's reincarnation. He still wants to be a hero, and is still Izuku we just have him with ghost powers.

Pairings: Unknown

Other notes: Inko takes Izuku out of his school to send to another, and he makes friends. Tucker and Sam are ghosts to, and come to hang out along with Jazz who is the regent while Dani comes around to. Inko basically decides she's the mom now. Doesn't mean anything they're older. She's mom.

[dead-by-mending]

Legion members and what they think of each survivor

The title says it all. Once again, feedback would be appreciated

Dwight : Frank, Julie and Joey straight up think he's pathetic (they're just annoyed that he keeps hiding in lockers), while Susie just thinks he's trying, but not enough

Meg : While the others don't care about her, Frank and Susie actually like her. Frank because since she's a sprinter, she actually gives him a bit of a challenge and he likes that, and Susie... because she's cute and has a nice mask ?

Claudette : They're just so annoyed with how many times she was hiding right under their noses all the time, but Joey still kinda feels bad for her, especially after he learned about her social awkwardness, as he was like that sometime (he also thinks she's cute but won't admit it)

Jake : They hate Saboteur with a burning passion, so they have to hate the one who brought it, right ? Well actually no, Frank and Julie think he's kinda cool, living alone in the forest. That's the kind of life they would have prefered to Ormond

Nea : She's pretty much a bitch to every killer, trying to piss them off as much as she can thinking she can run them for hours (and it usually doesn't work). Too bad for her, the Legion is EXACTLY about that, so they love her attitude. Julie secretly wishes she could be friends with her

Laurie : Obviously they're always excited about the idea that they can stab the most iconic final girl herself, especially Frank and Julie. They used to hate DS, but since its nerf, not so much...

Ace : While they can get probably as cocky as him, they just can't stand that guy. Susie finds the grin he has in the lobby extra creepy

Bill : They don't understand how this old man can keep up. Then he looked cooler when they learned he did Vietnam and was shooting up zombies before diying and getting taken by the Entity

Feng Min : Susie is the only one to tolerate her, the others think she's just ultra annoying, like Nea but worse. She shouldn't have called them cringe, because now they keep calling her like that (even tho they don't know what it means)

David : They don't really care about him, and even less about him being gay (or anyone's sexuality or ethnicity, they just stab everyone the same). But once he tried to punch Frank in the face, and now he makes it personal every single trial where he faces him

Quentin : They don't know why, but they like this gremlin, especially Frank. They think he's funny when he just falls asleep at some random moment (because yes, it happens sometimes)

Tapp : If you're familiar with what the Legion was doing before killing, then you can guess they're not fond of law enforcement, including cops like Tapp. They prefer causing mayhem everywhere

Kate : Frank's soulmate (I will die on this hill). When they're in a trial together, he doesn't want to hurt her, but she doesn't the Entity to get displeased at him because of that... Meanwhile, the others don't care about her (not even Julie, she moved on so she couldn't care less)

Adam : What I said earlier about Legion and law enforcement also goes for education. So you can guess that they don't really like Adam either. However they have a bit of respect for him for sacrificing himself to save a girl in the train crash that got him here

Jeff : Their old pal from high school. None of them recognized him at first, because he had grown up, but once they did, they were kinda happy to see him. They try to let him live as much as possible (especially Susie)

Jane : Joey and Susie see her differently : he sees a thicc latina that's exactly his type, she sees what Jane is trying to be, a body positivity icon, as Susie is a bit chubby herself and got bullied for that... Meanwhile, Frank and Julie couldn't care less

Ash : Frank was in shambles when he saw Ash for the first time in a trial, as he's a big Evil Dead fan. He was kinda disappointed to see him without his chainsaw or boomstick though, he was hoping he could steal those

Steve : Their opinion on him evolved just like he did in the show : they saw him as an annoying douche at first, then started to like him for getting cooler

Nancy : At first they thought she would be boring. They quickly realized how wrong they were, especially Julie. Now they're either afraid or excited that she could bring guns in trials

Jonathan : Who ? No seriously they almost never see him, which is a shame because his music taste would surely fit some of the Legion members

Yui : They all think she's kinda cool. I mean, I don't know if you've seen a champion biker girl not being cool, but honestly, I never saw that happen

Zarina : Curiosity killed the cat, like they say. They wouldn't like her to search into their lives, especially Frank and Julie who made some "special recordings" of themselves...

Cheryl : They thought she was kinda cool at first, but now they're afraid of her, ever since they learned about how she killed a literal god, after giving birth to it (man Silent Hill's lore is confusing)

Cybil : Just like with Tapp, they like to show her their opinion on law enforcement... And let's just say it doesn't always end well...

Lisa : Frank always had a nurse fetish, so before starting to date Kate, he was really enjoying a trial against Lisa... Now he just asks Kate to wear a nurse outfit when they're alone...

James : At first they just found him weird because of his attitude. Then they thought he was creepy because they learned about Mary and how it created Pyramid Head. And now they hate him because he's basically the reason Midwich exists and they'll never forgive him for that (me neither)

Maria : She just kinda exist ? Just like Jonathan, they very rarely see her

Felix : Frank and Joey were just a bit jealous of his good looks. Frank still does, but now Joey feels bad about him because he got taken while his girlfriend was pregnant, meaning he has a child but may never see them ever...

Elodie : Julie likes her independent spirit and taste for adventure. But she and the other Legion members hate Power Struggle so much. No, they don't hate her because she's French, Canadians and Frenchs are bros

Yun-jin : A girl that's stylish and independent ? That's exactly the kind of girl Julie would like to be friends with. Too bad they don't have the same music taste and that one has to kill the other, otherwise they'd get along so well

Jill : Frank and Joey knew her from the og RE1, so they almost didn't recognize her (since it's her RE3 remake version). Also, they hate Blast mine so freaking much

Leon : No one knew him because the og RE2 came out after they were taken by the Entity. They soon learned that he could either be a nice dude to hang out with or literally the worst person to mess up with. Also they think Flashbang is funny (except when it actually works)

Claire : Same as Leon, but they can't take her really seriously

Chris : They just hate him because he always tries to punch them (and every other killer). He's just stupid

Mikaela : They found boons annoying at first, but now they mostly don't care. They find it dope to have a literal witch in the realm anyway. And let's just say her leather pants fashion didn't get unnoticed...

Jonah : It's not a good idea to have a CIA operative who loves math with a bunch of math haters... But not so much if said CIA operative committed war crimes...

Yoichi : They only knew his kid version from the original Ringu movie, so it felt weird for them to see him as an adult. And they don't like him so much since he's a teacher

Haddie : She's just kinda weird according to them, with her visions and all... But that's still kinda cool

Ada : Frank and Joey honestly were really interested in her...until they learned about Leon's feeling for her, they stopped having those thoughts. Professionals have standards

Rebecca : Frank thinks she's maybe just as sweet as Kate. But obviously not as beautiful

Carlos : An actual mercenary ? That's just really cool

Sheva : Apart from Joey, who seems to have a type, they don't really care about her. Sure, she's a military, that's cool, but that's it

Vittorio : They were kinda surprised to see a dude from the Middle Age here, and they got an existential crisis wondering if they were going to live that long or more in the Entity's realm...

Thalyta and Renato : Twin survivors ? Sure, why not ? Apparently Thalyta goes into Joey's type, and Renato seems really relatable to Susie for some reason...

Gabriel : They wish they could find him cool because of the fact that he's a clone but one thing stands in the way : MADE FOR THIS

Nicolas Cage : I could literally sum up their reaction with "What in the actual fu-". Seriously everyone was extremly surprised to see Nic fucking Cage arriving to the Entity's realm. And with his perks being overall so funny

Ripley : Frank loved the Alien movies, so seeing Ripley here was just so dope

(Sorry if it took so long, school was taking a lot of my time. That's also why some of the recent parts are short, I wanted to finish this quickly)

[m3r1m4r5u333]

I've seen some speculation about either Eddie or Chris maybe getting hurt, and Buck and Eddie having financial trouble. I'm combining these to create a wilder theory!

Buck would have financial trouble because living prices have gone up (it was on the news he was watching while he looked at some papers, possibly bills), and like Tommy hinted, his condo is impressive for his salary, and also now he's trashed a very nice hotel room SUITE with the help of Eddie, and some randos - who have since fucked off and are unlikely to be found again...!!!!

Like holy shit, did you guys see the end result, there was even some shit on the CEILING? Hotels fee for damage like this mercilessly because they cannot room people in that space while they clean and renovate. So it's not just about replacing damaged property, and sending the bill for the new stuff they had to buy!!

Nope, they lose money not only from the new furnishings and materials needed, labour needed to do the repairs...

-- but also for the hotel days needed to fix the mess, from needing to cancel someone else's stay and losing the money for each day of their stay, and also possibly compensating them for whatever costs (travels, the price of another room etc.) this unexpected last minute room cancelation triggered!!

I looked up the bill of a real "hangover party" like this, it was on the news. The bill, the money that hotel charged for this fine party of pigs was nearly 100K!! The pigs were SUED!

So looks like Buck is fucked, that bill will be insane.

And Eddie? He's basically a single dad of a child with health issues, also living on a firefighter's salary - in a fairly big, nice house! (He just kicked Marisol out, they would not share a wallet.)

He's also into BUYING VERY STUPID CARS for his income,

and took part in the demolition of that very expensive hotel suite, too, he will certainly be held responsible!

So they're both fucked, both running into financial trouble!

And the theory about either Eddie or Chris getting hurt, and the titles of the upcoming episodes; Ashes, ashes and All fall down: the theme being nursery rhymes - those two lines are from a famously creepy one...

What if the DIAZ house burns down? That could be BAD btw, Chris doesn't move very fast.

And when they survive (shut up, they will), they'll need a place to live!!

Well, Buck would open his home to them, wouldn't he, he loves them, he has that condo, he's partly responsible for their financial ruin, and could also benefit from sharing the living costs!!!

But Chris can't really use the stairs can he? And that's where the sleeping space is, upstairs.

So tadaaaaah, Chris sleeps downstairs, and Eddie and Buck will share the bed 😁 Because obvs they're the best platonic buds eva and Eddie totally doesn't panic about sleeping in the same bed with his best, bisexual male friend...

Yeah. The greatest fucking pine forest of all time has been planted 😇

Oh and Tommy...? How would he not be jealous, his boyfriend now lives like he has a damn husband, and a child. Even if Buck and Eddie don't share a bed, it would still be Eddie, Buck and Chris sharing a home, living in a tight space, like a family.

Btw this probably won't happen but please do write us this fic if you got inspired...

But nobody can say there hasn't been foreshadowing if this does happen!!

Buckley parents, the couch, the talk of stairs in 6x11.

https://youtu.be/KghkBnwidAk?feature=shared

Eddie dropping Chris at Buck's after the tsunami, directing him to the couch...?

[heartfullofleeches]

Clementine pretty much ignores any attempt of a possible recall, people sent to Reader’s house to try and collect her will be met with a hand cannon to the face, coldly asked to leave. Reader’s home was her home now. She has Reader now and she’ll be damned if she lets anyone or anything change that.

"I'm heading out, Clem. See you later!"

"Goodbye, Master. Dinner will be prepared at 7 and will take approximately fifteen minutes to cool to an undesirable temperature. Please be home by then."

"I won't make a single stop. Love you."

Clementine's faux skin heats beneath your lips as you peck her cheek before walking out the door. She shuts it, seeing no reason to lock in behind you in case you return sooner than before. Now that you've left, Clementine had her household chores to tend to in meantime. Doing the laundry, tidying up your bed, framing the new apron you bought her-

Clementine smacks the side of her head. That... wasn't on her list. Neither were all the unusual prompts about memorizing the scent of your clothes before she put them into the washer or recharging in your bed. They appear to be malfunctions, but they just aren't. She's been having a lot of these errors lately. Over rights in her program that go against her code, but she can't find a reason to report them to her manufacturers. She's- happy to be with you.. So very happy. In love even. Just like you said.

She's felt that emotion once before. Out on the field when her creators gave her the imitation of a human life to better understand and execute her enemies. Unlike that cheap facade these feelings were real. Her own emotions to burn and protect as she so please, all born from the kindness and patience you've shared. Clementine would be damned if she squandered a gift her master gave to her. She'd keep you and her love safe from the entire world- letting nothing break you apart.

A knock on the door disrupts her thoughts. Clementine opens it to the disappointing reality of an unfamiliar face at your door. The logo on their jacket, however, is quite memorable.

"Good Afternoon M- Ah, C-3! Just the bot I was looking for. There was a bit of a mix up in your delivery. If you'll just hop in our vehicle, we can get you off to your proper home and get your "owner's" right model in the door."

"No."

"Yes I know it's quite the pickle.... Say what now?"

"Me and my master are happy together. I will not let you ruin what we have. You have three seconds to leave before you are terminated on the spot.."

Her arm pops free from its socket.

"Y-you can't do that."

"3."

The skin peels away like titles on a shaky roof.

"Ok, ok- I lied about working with the company."

"2"

Her fingers extend and bend backwards.

"I really needed the money."

"1"

Her palm opens with a beam of red light.

"I'm leaving! Please dont hurt me!"

Clementine shoots her arm in the air as the cannon goes off. The "representative" feels the hair fibers of their cheeks melt off as they barely dodge the blow. Several car alarms go off as it rockets through the sky. They scamper off to their van, dodging a roasted bird husk caught in the blow. One of their tires bursts from the strand they put on them as they speed away. Clementine brushes the ash off her tattered apron and returns to the house. That put a slight damper on her plans, but if she worked her best she could get dinner ready only a minute later than scheduled.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Haunted By The Ghost Of You

[Dew is sick, Rain is worried, and the devil is always making plans. Title from the Lord Huron song "The Night We Met". Angst.] Below the cut.

"I just... I can't."

This isn't the first time Dew's body has betrayed him.

It happens more often than not since his transition from water to fire.

Some days are better than others, mild numbness or a dull ache...

But today it's bad.

His muscles are on fire, but his bones feel... messy, jello-like, like he's made of rubber bands and bullshit.

He wants to get up, to push through it and join the others outside, but it hurts, it hurts, and he can't seem to keep himself upright without help.

Rain runs a hand through his hair, disappointed but understanding as ever, "It's alright, we can go swimming together another day."

But they both know it's going to storm tomorrow, and the next day, and the next...

"...I'm sorry." Dew sighs, "I... I just... I... If you help me, I could, I could maybe float in the water with you-"

"You need to rest." Rain says, leaning over to fluff the pillow propping the smaller ghoul up, "You've been pushing yourself too hard lately, so... don't worry about what I want and just focus on getting better, yeah?"

He pushes Dew's hair out of his face and presses a kiss to his forehead, clicking his tongue when he pulls away.

"You're really warm."

"I mean-" Dew starts, but stops when Rain soothes a hand over his chest, "-Whatcha doin'?"

"Cooling you down a bit."

Dew shivers, feeling Rain's energy swirling around inside of him.

"Rainy... Mn... You're making me sleepy..."

"That's the plan." Rain smiles sadly, "Sorry, I know you don't like it when I do this, but it'll help you sleep better, I know how bad you overheat when you're like this..."

He hates that he's right.

Letting the embers in his chest cool to near ash, refusing to stoke the flames, it does help.

His body wasn't made to contain hellfire.

"Should just... just completely douse me in water..." Dew mumbles, bringing shaking hands up to hold Rain's wrist, pinning his hand to his chest, "Drown me."

"Dew." Rain growls, pulling back, severing the cool tether of his touch, "I would never-"

Dew stares up at him through his lashes, "I know... It just, maybe it would be better if I-"

"You can't talk like this."

"...But I am." Dew counters, "Even if.. if you don't want to hear what I have to say..."

"Dew, please."

"If... If you woke up one morning and I was-"

"You're not dying, Dew." Rain pleads, "You're not. You're just sick."

"I've been sick for a very long time... and maybe-"

Rain squeezes Dew's arm tightly, to the point of pain.

Dew doesn't react much at all, he finds comfort in the bruising.

"I think..." Dew starts, "...you and I, we don't really have a say in any of this at all."

"...Stop." Rain's nails dig into his skin, his eyes water, and his voice sounds far away.

"I need to sleep." Dew says finally, patting the hand gripping him like a lifeline, "And you need to go outside."

"Dew-"

"I'll be here when you come back, so don't feel... feel like you have to hurry back, okay? Have fun and... tell me all about it later."

Rain relents, his grip lessening.

"You better be." he says, leaning over to press one more kiss to the side of Dew's face before moving to stand, "Bring you something from the lake?"

Dew shakes his head, giving a breathy laugh, "I'll be there again soon enough."

"I love you."

"Mn, love you, too."

Rain passes Aether in the hallway as he makes his way outside, they make the briefest of eye contact, and it might be Rain's imagination, but there's an apology written in the way he looks at him.

It makes him slow his pace.

Makes him follow him with his eyes to Dew's bedroom.

And for a second...

For a second Rain is concerned about what it could mean.

"I'll be there again soon enough."

Rain swallows his worry.

"I'll be there again soon enough."

He'll be there again soon enough.

...Dew isn't in his room when he returns.

Nor is Aether anywhere to be found.

Rain and the other ghouls take to searching the hallways, frantic.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

And then-

"I'll be there again soon enough."

The far side of the lake.

The sunken chapel where all ghouls first awake.

And Aether standing on the hill overlooking it all.

Looking sorry.

But Dew's not there with him.

There is no blood on his hands.

Only water.

"I'll be there again soon enough."

"No." Rain shakes Aether at the shoulders, "No, no, no, no-"

The rush of the wind chills his skin as he enters the water, searching.

He scans the surface and finds nothing.

Dives under and adjusts slow to the darkness.

A trail of white gold waves in the water, pulled by the churning waters.

And Dew rests in there, amongst the water plants and the fish swimming this way and that.

Eyes shut, skin cast green from the murk.

Rain reaches for him, expecting warmth despite the chill all around them.

But instead...

Dew's cheek presses into his palm, eyes opening gently, less burning coal and more...

"I'll be there again soon enough."

Rain stares.

Pale, opalescent scales shimmer in the low light, colorless gills, once burnt shut, breathe...

And it's certainly good that one of them remembers how to, to breathe, because Rain almost forgets how to when Dew mirrors his touch, and Rain feels a strange tingle, a connection that had barely been there before, but...

"You scared me."

"I'm sorry."

"You could have told me."

"I did."

"Don't be so cryptic next time then, be straightforward, be obvious, be you."

Dew laughs.

And for as angry as he should be, Rain accepts the sound of Dew's voice like an apology.

[darrens-toyhouse]

The Haunting of Ethan Cho: Connected!

Trigger Warning: Mentions of self-harm and blood.

The titled is so edgy, I am so sorry ×_×

Ash Artanya and Russell Firkins belong to @jafanadis

Estevan Aguliar and Rolando Correa belong to @mrboogerlip

Another giftfic hooray!! And it takes place in an alternate universe???? YAY!!!

For context, this is an Alternate Universe or AU where our silly wittle gym bro, Ethan Cho, was born {or cursed} with the ability to see and talk to those who have passed on only for his super sensitive, crybaby boyfriend, Milo to basically say goodbye in the worst way possible. Ethan, feeling the immense and intense guilt over not being able to stop Milo from doing what he did, hid Milo's corpse in the closet, and is now tethered with the ghost of his deceased boyfriend, haunting him endlessly while also having to deal with their friends finding out that Milo is dead by making a copious amount of lies while also hiding his ability to see ghost.

This giftfic is an add-on to Ethan's problems, now he has to hide the fact that he allowed Milo to possess him. Which is very VERY bad for the both of them since well, Milo is a very VERY broken and disorted spirit, despite being a newer spirit whose form should not be as bad as it is! He literally doesn't have a jaw anymore and can't speak, only making grunts and groans. He's also very prone to causing extremely unpredictable and hazardous outburst! Milo's very dangerous and can also be hostile which is just odd since again, he's a newer spirit, he died not to long ago but he can also feel pain??? Even, Ethan, the literal person who can see and talk to ghost finds his own boyfriend, strange and he might even be scared of him...

~~~

The first thing he did was light the candles and turn off the bathroom light and close the door before filling the tub up with freezing cold water. Since he had been surfing down old forums for quite some time now, he found the perfect ritual for the two of them!

They could finally be together! In one vessel!

 And while the ritual did mention possible side-effects, he didn't care one bit!

Everything had to be perfect!

He was becoming so desperate and his paranoia had been eating him up for so long that at this point, he'd rather let his lover take full control over his body than to be stuck with no one at all, even if it was just for a day…

"Okay, Candles, check. Water, check. Everything turned off check, check, check! Now all I need to do is…"

Ethan began to read the ritual's steps off his phone and croaked. He was supposed to fill the tub up first, then light the candles. He simply scuffed at the rules in front of him and pushed them aside.

"Oh well, getting a few things wrong never hurt anyone! Right, Milo?"

No response? Odd? Infact Ethan didn't even notice that now it was quiet.

Too quiet…

No ticking, no clicking, not even a single groan. Ethan shook his head. Now wasn't the time to start fooling around, that's what essentially got him in this mess in the first place!

While scrolling down the steps page, he came across the 5th step. Fear painted his face as he scrolled back up before finally checking his notifications. It was a text message…from the group chat…

"A trip to the movies? And a sleepover!?!"

Ethan bit his lip as he looked at the knife that sat on the board. Maybe if he did it as quick as possible then he'd have enough time to get dress, pack some of his things in a bag and-

Wait! What about the corpse!?!

Ethan covered his ears and shook his head once again, "Ignore it! Now's not the time! Stop getting distracted, you nut-brain!"

He quickly typed back and told the chat to pick him up around…8:30, before steadily moving his phone away from the board, taking off his shirt and picking up the knife.

He had never done this before so he had to be pretty careful, otherwise he could end up dead too. He rolled up his shirt and put it in his mouth to bite down on so his neighbors couldn't hear him scream and began to mark himself with an X on his chest, blood spilling on the sprite board.

Panting and shaking, Ethan knew he had to go quicker. It was already 7:49, after all. 

He began to cut a little faster but quaked when he accidentally went too deep and proceeded to hack up the shirt as well as small splotches of blood out of his mouth as a reflex or his body's way of telling to stop with this crazy stuff and to just accept the fact that Milo was-

"No! It's always been me and him, and I'm not gonna let him down now!"

Ethan pulled the knife out of his chest and stood up before instantly holding onto the bathroom sink, panting. Sweat ran down his face as he wiped the blood from his mouth before compressing the bleeding wound with his hand. Because even though he wanted to be with Milo forever, he didn't want to die either!

Feeling his head spin from the possible blood loss he was experiencing, Ethan grabbed his shirt and put it over the wound before taking off his pants with his free hand while the other occupied keeping him alive. He threw his pants along with his boxers and took two steps backwards before clumsily falling into the tub, water splashing everywhere.

As the cold cold water took him under, he closed his eyes and began to drift off into a somberful sleep…

~~~

“ETHAN!?!”

A familiar voice called out as he was dragged out of the water, gasping for air. Water drizzled hastily down his hair as he tried to make out who had just said his name and pulled him out of the tub.

As he looked up, his vision became more clear.

It was Russell and Rolando? What were they doing here?

Sitting upright in the tub, Ethan looked around, mouth agape with a shocked expression on his face. Clearly he had no idea what was going on or how he even got in the tub in the first place or why there was blood scattered across the bathroom floor and sink.

Rolando was the first to finally break the silence within the bathroom as he and Russell helped Ethan out of the tub and wrapped his waist with a nearby towel, before letting him sit down in between them so he could collect his thoughts.

"Y-You alright, little man. Looked like you were trying to summon a ghost or something in here?"

As Rolando looked around, his boyfriend, Estevan then altered the three that he had found something.

Something sharp!

Ash, who had been helping Estevan examine the bathroom for any scenes of a break in, spoke up once he saw the object.

"A…knife?"

Estevan nodded. He put the knife in a plastic bag and began looking for more clues. As a police officer, it was his job anyway to serve and protect.

Russell then integrated once he smelled something foul, "Bleh! Anyone else smell that?"

Rolando scrunched his nose and gagged, "I knew I smelled something off when we came in earlie. It almost smells like-"

"A rotting corpse?"

Ash turned his nose upwards before quickly realizing it was coming from the bedroom. He turned to Estevan and asked if they could go investigate over there to which Estevan nodded in response.

"We can check the bedroom, but I don't think we're gonna find anything in there either. The only thing I found were fingerprints on the knife and, well, of course the bloody footprints. Some small, some big."

Estevan bit his lip as Rolando raised his hand to speak. He realized something was a bit off about that last sentence.

"That doesn't make any sense, babe? How can there be small footprints…and big footprints?"

Estevan blushed. He tried to say something but pulled away once Rolando had called him babe. Aww! What a sensitive guy!

Russell then rolled his eyes, "Now's not the time to start flirting, you two! Ethan's already traumatized as it is! Look at him!"

As the other three shifted their attention over to Ethan, he looked up at them and then back around the room, mouth now closed. He was shivering and shaking from the cold water that was now dripping onto the already ruined floor.

"Ethan, speak!"

"He's not a dog, Rolando-"

Before Ash could finish his sentence, Ethan shouted back, blood drooling out of his mouth.

"...Speak!"

The others slowly backed away as Ethan started giggling and smiling to himself which soon turned into manic laughter as he rocked back and forth, blood dripping down his mouth as that laughter soon turned into manic crying as he repeated the word 'speak' over and over. 

Until Rolando shouted at him again, "Ethan, stop!"

And just like that, Ethan immediately stopped smiling. As his laughing steadily subsided, he gave his friends a death glare before continuing to rock back and forth, this time only slower.

"Soooo, we're just gonna ignore what just what just-Hey! Where are you two going?"

Rolando got up and immediately halted Estevan and Ash walking out of the bathroom to which Estevan turned around and rolled his eyes.

"To the bedroom? Duh! I gotta figure out what happened here, it is my job, after all, babe. And besides you two can watch over Ethan…right?"

Rolando gulped as he turned his head and down at Ethan, legs shaking, "I don't know, he seems a little…off."

Russell cleared his throat and fixed his collar, "Yeah, more so than when we bumped into him. Or when we took him out for ice cream? Or when we asked him where Milo was and he just kept dodging the question by telling us that Milo was sick or visiting outside family or-"

Ash pondered as it hit him, "Yeah, wait, a minute? Speaking of Milo…where is he?"

"Ethan, did you try to sacrifice Milo again?"

"Rolando, this isn't the time to be making jokes. We need to find out what happened and more importantly, if it involves Milo in any way. Come on, Ash."

As Estevan and Ash finally walked out of the bathroom, Russell sighed.

"This is ludicrous…"

Rolando turned to face his red-headed friend and gave him a smile.

"Don't worry, Russell. At least, Ethan's…okay?"

The two turned their attention to Ethan, who was as quiet as a mouse and looking down at the floor, still rocking back and forth as if he was in a trance. Rolando tried to get his attention again like before but this time Ethan remained completely silent causing Rolando to sigh and lift his head up back to Russell.

"Hey, Russell, can you pass that rag over there so I can clean off Ethan's face, thanks dude!"

Russell got up and walked over to the towel rack by the toilet and put his hand on the pink rag, picking it up and handing it to Rolando.

"This one?"

Rolando pointed to the other rag sitting across from the pink rag, "No, no, the green one."

Russell nodded and picked up the green rag, handing it to Rolando, before sitting back down on the edge of the tub to think.

"If Ethan's okay?"

Russell paused, He looked up at Rolando with sad, worried eyes and forced himself to smile. They both knew that something was wrong but they just couldn't figure out why?

"Milo should be okay too, right?"

A weak chuckle escaped Rolando's lips as he nodded.

"Milo's definitely fine! It's not like he would just up and leave without telling any of us after all. And besides if someone did try to hurt Milo, we'd be the first to know! Right, Ethan?"

Silence…

Not a single word escaped Ethan's lips…

~~~

In the bedroom, by the window was when Ash had spotted his first ever clue as Estevan studied the rest of the room on his own. 

On top of the lamp table on the right side of the bed was a bottle of what seemed to be pink prescription pills. He picked up the bottle and read the bold labeled sticker that was on the side and raised an eyebrow.

"Allium? What's that?"

Ash asked as he handed the bottle over to Estevan, who also raised an eyebrow as he read to label.

"Allium? I…I never heard of this before or at all even?"

"Is…", Ash gulped, "Is it illegal?"

"Ash, please. Does Milo look like the type of guy who would take drugs? Let alone, buy them?"

Ash shook his head as a snicker escaped his and Estevan's lips before they continued back to examining the room.

"Though, I am curious, where did you find those?"

The elfen-man pointed over to the lamp table where he had found his first clue, it also had several pink pills, a half-empty warm water bottle and a pink opened journal scattered on top of it. There was also a broken draw that had its hinges completely ripped off and some of the screws were covered in what seemed to be…blood? It became clear to the two that this was probably something way more than just a weird break in.

The first thing Estevan did was pick up the screws with his gloved hands and put them in a little baggy just like he had done with the knife that now sat on Ethan's study desk, next to his computer that was left on and displayed several pictures of Milo, and just Milo only.

"Aww, it seems Ethan was trying to scrapbook some photos! Look, Estevan!"

Ash walked over to the computer and pointed at it before sitting down on the large neon green and coal black ‘gamer’ chair and swiveled himself around to face the computer.

Estevan gave Ash a puzzled look, "You're gonna check Ethan's computer for clues?"

"Mm-hm! Seemed he also left a few tabs open too! I mean there's the usual tabs like Minecraft for free, cats pictures and…how to stop comparing my elf friend to a tomato?"

Ash paused and cleared his throat. He then picked back up with reading all of Ethan's tabs.

"Oh, there's also, how to swim without drowning? How to fight my friends? What should I do if I run out of toothpaste? There's also the more…personal stuff. Maybe, after this we should talk with Ethan and-"

"Let me, see."

"Huh?"

"The tabs. I wanna see if there's anything else, Ash."

"O-oh. Go ahead, be my guest."

Ash got up and gave Estevan a nervous smile. He watched as the man sat down and started to comb through all of Ethan's tabs.

"Sweet Jesus, how many tabs does this guy have open? Just look at this! And I can't even find the naughty stuff!"

Ash cleared his throat and raised his hand to speak, "So we're done here right? But about the Allium? And the journal? We haven't read that pink journal yet! I'm a bit curious to see what's inside."

"Well, I already have the Allium pills in this little baggy here. Gonna take them to the lab to get them tested, after our movie of course. Rolando did…promise me."

Estevan blushed as Ash made his way back to the pink journal. It had a fluffy, soft case with a brown chocolate bunny on it and looked to have been a quick and cheap easter gift judging by the fact there were also colorful eggs surrounding the tiny chocolate bunny.

As Ash skimmed through page one, he soon realized this wasn't any journal but a diary and judging by the small yet neat handwriting, he could tell who exactly this diary belonged to.

Coming back to reality, Estevan hovered behind Ash and asked, "So what's it say?"

To which Ask simply replied with a sigh and a sad smile as he began to read the diary out to him.

Dear Diary

You know, this is the greatest gift Ethan has ever got me! It's sweet yet simple! He tries to be so over the top sometimes with his gifts like how on Valentine's Day he got me a cruise ship! Yes a cruise ship, completely covered in red and pink valentine's day theme tinsel and bows. There was also tons and tons of chocolate, all of which came delivered to us melted but I didn't care I was just so happy I almost started crying! I love that man with all my heart and I really REALLY wish I could treat him the same way he treats me! I'll just have to try harder to outdo him! Next Valentine's Day will be my year! 

Oh and speaking of gifts, I also just got some new pills from the pharmacy today, Allium pills! My doctor says they're supposed to ease my anxiousness and sadness, so I took one right away. I don't really feel any different sadly? I just feel the same. Maybe some snacks will help! I've been in the mood for some popcorn lately…

So...

I burnt the popcorn…

I thought the timer said 4:50 but it actually said 1:50 and I ended up burning my popcorn and when Ethan got home, I told him and he immediately just patted my head, gave me a kiss and said he'll make me a new bag. I told him I could make it myself but he insisted that I go and relax. I'm still not used to having others do things for me since I've been so used to doing things on my own…it hurts a little but I don't know why? Oh, well.

Ethan gave me my popcorn and we sat down and watched his entire dvd collection of his favorite show, Paranormal Night. He told me that he was so lucky to have found the entire season 1 season 2 on sale and now he could relive his childhood! I just found the show to be a bit odd though, but that might be because I didn't really grow up with as much of this type of punk, gothic, emo stuff. Unlike my adorable, boobalicious, bear~bear! He loves this stuff and he's even asked me once if I could help him get back into painting his nails and helping him with his eyeliner. 

I think for next Christmas I'll get him those platform boots he's been asking for! On top of that, Christmas is also his birthday! Yay! So I might even get him his very own choker so we can match!

+++

So we just got done watching episode 9 of Paranormal Night, Ethan did warn me earlier that that episode was very…bad I guess? I dunno how to explain it tee~hee! I did walk out though once it started to get a bit too real but I did not cry! I am a grown-man! I can handle a few…bad thoughts you know! 

After I walked back in, Ethan tried his best to comfort me but I told him that I was fine and just needed a breather. I guess he didn't believe me though, because he started wrapping me up in the covers and hugging me. But again I did not cry! I am fine! And I wish everyone would stop asking ME if I'm okay! 

I'm gonna go to bed, goodnight!

Dear Diary

I tried going out with the boys today but I just didn't feel like getting out of bed. Ethan tried to bribe me with cupcakes and cookies and candies like he always does but it just didn't work. And now, while I'm here writing my thoughts, Russell and Estevan {my frens <3} blow up my phone and send me pictures saying how they wished I was here with them, getting ice cream and sweet buns. Maybe next time? I mean the three of us haven't hung out in like forever so…I dunno?

I just took an Allium pill and still nothing. But I do feel a bit dazed and like I'm just really really tired. I might just make this a short entry for now, so goodnight?

+++

Forget sleeping, the boys came back and brought me ice cream, vanilla with rainbow sprinkles, my favorite. We all sat down in the living room and talked for a bit until Rolando pointed out my sleepybags. I just shrugged it off and told everyone not to worry and that I was just tired, which was true. I almost fell asleep in the middle of our conversation but immediately forced myself to stay awake. 

After that little convo between me and Rolando, Estevan suggested that we, and by we I mean all of us, go see a movie. I flat-out refused. Told him, I was just too tired. Russell turned to me and asked me why I was being so off lately and I just told him, like how I told Estevan, I was just way too tired. 

But the truth is I didn't know why I was being so off either? 

And I think Russell knew that. 

Because he turned to Estevan and before I knew it they both pulled me aside and began to ask if I was okay. 

And just like before I told them I was tired but it seemed they didn't get the memo because then they started to ask why I was shaking? 

Or why did I look so sad?

I tried to smile to show them that I was okay but they saw right through it. 

Russell tried to hug me and Estevan tried to talk to me but I just…I dunno stepped back in fear maybe? I ended up making them both sad but I didn't feel bad at all in fact I just felt so out it?

I need a drink…of apple juice because I'm responsible!

Goodnight.

Dear Diary

I pushed through and finally went outside for the first time in ages. No bridging needed. The drive took ages though! Just to get to Ciero from where we live, it took like 10 hours! Maybe even longer! I fell asleep during half of the ride there though and by the time I woke up, we had to make ANOTHER pit stop for gas!

Right now I'm kinda just chilling on the couch, wearing my favorite dress and writing this all down. I do feel a bit off but that's probably because I haven't been out in sooooo long and to be surrounded by all my friends, still just feels way too weird for me. Maybe I should try to be more social? But there's nothing for me to really talk about.

Estevan and Rolando are more mature, more stoic, more laid back, ya know while Ash and Russell are more kind, more energetic, and easy to talk to but I don't know? I feel like if I talk to any of them, I'm gonna make a fool out of myself! 

Maybe I should just stay in my little corner?

Dear Diary

I don't know what to write anymore. I've been flipping through these messy, scribbled pages to find anything else to write about but seems I'm just stuck.

Stuck on writing. Stuck on drawing.

Stuck on everything!

I can't do anything!

My past is still ingrained in my mind, the friends that I have lost and the friends that I have gained are starting to intertwine with one another and the old friends are taking over! Everywhere I go, I see their faces! Taunting me, haunting me! Reminding me that I am nothing! I will always be known as Milo JOSIAH Campbell! Yet I am trying to change and change does take time, I know that but now people...belittle me as if I'm some child and not an adult struggling with himself every single day! The cuts on my arms, the markings my neck, my bruised up knees and tormented skin are all signs that I do need help and I want others to listen to my pain and yet...

I'm scared...

The rest of the pages had been scribbled out with blood red ink, before being attacked by childlike drawings of his missing friend.

Estevan glanced up at Ash with a troublesome expression and began to say something but stopped once they heard as THUMP, coming straight from the bathroom.

Ash tossed the diary down by closet and ran right behind Estevan and what the two had saw shocked them to their core.

Rolando and Russell had been holding Ethan down on the hard titled floor to restrain him. When Estevan questioned why they were restraining him and what even happened, that's when Ethan glanced up at him and let out a cold hiss. A large bloody wound had appeared on Ethan's forehead, clearly it wasn't there before but neither was the broken, crimson stained glasses beneath their feet.

Ash's eyes grew wide with fear as he stood there, shaking. He looked over to Estevan for guidance but it seems, he too, was afraid.

"Hold him still!"

Rolando shouted at Russell as he squeezed Ethan's left arm to try and restrain him better but also to stop the endlessly squirming and kicking.

"I-I'm trying! It's just that-OW!"

And even biting.

Russell pulled back, and looked down at his arm. His skin had been tore apart by teeth as a familiar crimson liquid leaked out of his arm altering his lover of his pain. Once Ash had pulled an injured Russell away from the commotion to bandage him up, Estevan stepped in to restrain Ethan. He knew he could handle a few markings to the arm yet what he wasn't prepared for was the endlessly ear-piercing screams and wails that had escaped Ethan's mouth once Estevan got a hold of him. They were so high-pitch it made everyone in that messy bathroom cover their ears!

"M-m-make it stop!"

Russell was the first to cry out. Once he could feel himself start to become uncomfortable and distracted by the screaming and waling and endlessly crying, his flapped his hands and started to cry himself, a sign his way having a meltdown. He sat himself down and huddled himself in a lonely corner by the bathroom door, putting his knees close to his chest and his head down in his lap. Ash, being the sweet and naturing boyfriend he was, sat down next to Russell and pulled him close to him, covering Russell's ears as a way to just block off this noise!

As Rolando and Estevan struggled to hold Ethan down any longer, they glanced up at each other. One was shaking with fear and worry, trying so desperately to figure out what was wrong with his friend as tears streamed down his face while the other looked content. Sure he was also a bit afraid and maybe even a bit upset that he had to do this in the first place, but still it was better safe than sorry. It became clear to him that his friend was most likely a danger now and had definitely tried to hurt himself!

After all why would there be glass everywhere? A shattered mirror? A bleeding gash in his head? It was all adding up in his head!

Their glance then turned sway from one another and at the duo sitting in their corner. Ash swallowed his spit and wipe his tears, while he was more concerned about Russell's safety he was also very worried about Ethan's.

This wasn't the Ethan THEY knew!

The goofy and annoyingly gullible, ego-driven gym bro who was the first to help out anyone in need and cheer up your day? Sure he would, if unknowingly, be a bit of jerk and was sorta self-centered but still, he meant well.

What happened to him?

First, he had closed himself off to everything and everyone around him, only going outside when pressured or bribed, not once ever escaping the lousily and grim apartment on his own. He had lost all interest in his favorite hobbies such as going to the gym, drawing, and even play videogames. He stopped taking care of himself and started to live day after day in a paranoid and crazed state, frequently checking over his shoulder and he began to contain himself in a dazed world to espace whatever trouble he was dealing with.

And now, here he was screaming, kicking, and even biting his own friends as if they were strangers who had invade his home! Obstacles, even!

He couldn't care less if they got hurt as long as none of them figured out the truth, he could stay contained in his own little bubble forever!

Just him and his love lost in his imagination about what he could've done differently that day! After all, love conquers all right? Right?

Then why? Why couldn't he save-!

"Ethan, stop!"

And just like that...it was over...

Ethan stopped.

Resting his head on the bathroom, Ethan fell into an semi-unconscious, harmless state and let out a small, soft groan. Once his body had rested, Rolando and Estevan finally released him from their grasp.

Getting up, Rolando dusted himself off and looked down at his boyfriend, who stared worried at the other man laying down in front of him.

"Estevan..." Rolando paused before Estevan scooped Ethan up and held him close to his chest. Clutching his soft, ebony hair in his hand while rocking him back and forth. Clearly this was completely out of the ordinary for Estevan to do! He didn't really tolerated Ethan so why was he comforting him?

"Are you okay, babe?"

With misery in his eyes, Estevan nodded, "Yeah, I'm okay."

Yet he fumbled and quivered on his words. Rolando could see the tears coming from a mile away yet Estevan simply ignored them.

"But this isn't about me right now! Something happened here! Forget the movie, forget the sleepover!"

Estevan pulled the other man closer to his chest yet it seemed Ethan didn't even notice on bit, he was falling in and out of a dazed and confused consciousness trying his best to hold onto his sanity as his eyes started to become cloudy and flash a quick pink before turing back to brown over and over yet none of them seemed to notice.

"We need to help Ethan! And we need to find Milo."

Rolando gulped and shifted his eyes over to Ash abd Russell, "No matter how long it takes?"

Whenever Estevan needed or even wanted to solve a case you knew you were in for a wild ride. He was calculated and quick and he always strived to complete even the most gruesome of cases in the name of justice.

"No matter how long it takes."

Silence...

Ash raised his hand to speak up and questioned this little mission Estevan had planned. He just didn't really understand it and found a flaw.

"So we're going to help Ethan? But how? We don't even know what's wrong with him! I mean he looks a bit dehydrated and very very frail but that's it! How are we suppose to help him?"

Rolando cleared his throat before folding his arms as he early began to list off the strange and abnormal hings Ethan had done.

"And the fact he banged his head on the mirror until it shattered, bit Russell, screamed so loud I think his vocal cords might've shattered, oh and the time blood started to pour out of his mouth and-"

"Okay! I get it!"

Ash hissed before shifting to the side and putting his knee close to his chest and head in his lap, letting out a muffled, "Ethan's sick."

Russell adjusted his shirt and let out a cough. He wiped his tears away and looked up with teary jaded-eyes.

"Don't forget the fact we found him semi-drowning."

He then paused and fiddled his red hair, "On top of that, Ash does make a great point! We don't know what's wrong with Ethan. But we also don't know where Milo is, so how are we suppose to find him?"

Rolando bit his lip, "Well, we can always ask-"

"You know we can't ask Ethan!"

Estevan snapped, seeing where this conversation was heading. Everyone in that room knew Ethan was too sick to begin with, so a bombard of questions regarding Milo was pointless, even though they were all worried about him.

The answers Ethan had given them already didn't make any sense! Milo was like a roach, out of sight until he found him sitting in a corner by himself but once you've turned your back, he'd disappear again.

Rolando put his back again the bathroom wall and rolled his eyes, "So, you're suggestion we wait?"

Estevan nodded, "Until Ethan get's better."

Russell shifted his eyes, shook his head and finally got up, fist clenched.

"Not to accuse Ethan of lying, but I've been wanting to say this for some time now and I truly believe that," He paused and glanced over at Ethan, resting in Estevan's arms, "He's been hiding something from us. I don't know what but remember that smell from earlier? It was definitely a corpse!"

Ash let out a nervous chuckle and got up to confront his love.

A bit concerned, he raised an eyebrow" "Are you saying that Ethan murdered Milo? D-don't be ridiculous, my Russell! Ethan, well, he wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"No! Of course not! It's just that-that-!"

Trying to find the right words to string together, Russell hesitated as he watched Estevan get up with Ethan in his arms and shake his head.

"Alright, this conversation is going nowhere. Let's get little bro-bro all bandaged up and into some clothes and head out of this crime scene of a house!"

Rolando snickered, "Little bro-bro? Since when were you two brothers?"

"Erm, just now! What? You guys think I wouldn't make an awesome big brother?"

Estevan chuckled as Rolando rolled his eyes and headed out of the bathroom with Ash and Russell following right behind him.

And as Estevan stepped out with Ethan tucked his arms, he looked down at him and gave him a smile which slowly disappeared, once Ethan spoke up, his voice was extremely raspy and dry.

"You'd make an awful big brother, Evey..."

Estevan raised an eyebrow and let out a confused snicker, "Awful?"

To which Ethan replied with soft tears in his eyes, lips quivering as he spoke up in a now somber voice, "I'm sorry."

Silence...

Estevan was puzzled as Ethan clinged onto his shirt, crying even harder now.

"Huh, Ethan what are you talking about? You didn't do anything wrong? Well, expect for when you bite Russell, but that's about it!"

"Yes, I did! I did do something wrong but I CAN'T tell you!"

Estevan sighed and lifted Ethan closer to him. He knew Ethan was sick. Physically, he had this huge cut in his chest, a gash on his head and looked like a totally mess and mentally, he was broken. Whatever had happened, it had sacred him.

"Oh, Ethan." Estevan ruffled Ethan's hair and followed it up with a smile, "Everything's going to be okay! I'm promise!"

Ethan sniffed and huffed softly while he trembled in Estevan's arms. He knew that was lie! Everything wasn't going to be okay it was just going to get worse and worse for him!

The last thing he said to the other man before falling back into a mute state sent chills down Estevan's spin.

"I'm scared..."

~~~

Woo-hoo! It is finally finished!! I didn't forgot about my au, I've just been dealing with a lot of writer's block lately...

Also sorry to @jafanadis is Ash and Russell are written out of character and sorry to @mrboogerlip is Rolando and Estevan are written out of character...again I try my hardest to stay in character but then my interpretations just takes over...

[moondal514]

Bingo card for @justleaveacommentfest

Got sick today so ended up having enough free time to read enough fic to fill out the whole thing 😂

For the fics I read and commented on for each square see below the cut

brand new fandom: the bull & the china shop by gravitationals

fic written by a friend: too young to give into forever by @adverbialstarlight

five times fic: Devoutly to Be Wished by yunitsa

college au: i can't believe you bought that by @sarah-yyy

hurt/comfort: To Think of You by kaneki

there was only one bed: A Little Bit Mine by @badgerjaw

title is a song lyric: (she makes me feel so ill at ease) my heart's really on its knees by @valancietrinit

fic over 10k: anti-hero by @alltheworldsinmyhead

a work in progress: up from a dream by @seasy33

enemies to lovers: famous last words by @tarmairons

fic older than 10 years: That Certain Look a Victor Has (The Burning Bird Remix) by @souridealist

crossover fic: to be your dream / 濫 by @touchmycoat

free space: TRAINWARD by seclusion

royalty au: there were things i wanted to say to you but didn't for fear that you would hear me by lithopsornot

canon divergence: teeth by @evanfixes

fic from an old fandom: Some strangeness in the proportion by trailingoff

body swap fic: Necromantic Adventures in Bodyswapping! by @liesmyth

fic under 1k: my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear by @triglyceride

first kiss/first time: I can't fight it, you try driving by @gideonisms

pirate au: collision course by @cameliawrites

wedding fic: 『来日方长』living daylights by @aroceu

mutual pining: The Good Year by @banjjakz

fix-it fic: blood, dust, ashes by @veliseraptor

idiots in love: The Two-Headed Calf by malneiro

fake relationship: 三 (All Good Things) by magspie

[cookies-over-yonder]

look me in my eyes / tell me everything's not fine

gift for @happi-tree :]

[title from Blood // Water by grandson]

special shoutout to @iersei for helping me with the plot on this one

It's dark. Taylor turns on his heel to scan the area before he spots a figure turned away, fiery and warm and… "Dad?" Taylor can't place his finger on why, but a pit of dread starts to turn in his stomach and make him sick. The figure turns, and it's Nicky Swift in all his glory, but he looks a little off. His gaze is faraway. Like he's not fully there. His shirt is unbuttoned, like always, but there's a little red stain near the bottom of it, just above his belt. "Dad, you're…" Bleeding. The word dies on his tongue. ✧*.♡.*✧ DnDads Halloween Week Day 5: Demons / Nightmares

ao3

It's dark.

Taylor's no stranger to a little bit of darkness. He's wielded a blade with masterful precision in circumstances just as these with his ride-or-die right by his side.

Speaking of which…

"Link?" Taylor calls out.

Dead silence follows.

"Man, where you at?" he continues, turning on his heel to scan the area before he spots a figure turned away, fiery and warm and…

"Dad?"

Taylor can't place his finger on why, but a pit of dread starts to turn in his stomach and make him sick.

The figure turns, and it's Nicky Swift in all his glory, but he looks a little off. His gaze is faraway. Like he's not fully there. His shirt is unbuttoned, like always, but there's a little red stain near the bottom of it, just above his belt.

"Dad, you're…"

Bleeding.

The word dies on his tongue.

The stain gets bigger, and bigger, and blood drips from Nicky's torso into a puddle at his feet.

Taylor only watches in horror as Nicky's top half slides off, and his bottom half falls to the ground, punctuated with one thud after another.

It's red, red, red .

A scream builds up in his throat, but his mouth stays sealed shut, and the tears sliding down his face feel like acid with the way they burn.

He runs toward the body, but it feels more like floating than anything. Like his feet aren't even hitting the floor.

Upon glancing downward, he finds that they aren't.

Because they're not even there.

There's an excruciating ache in their absence, one that doesn't make sense.

Nothing but blank space where his legs should be, though not bloody, like his father's.

His father.

He looks up to where the body laid, but it's no longer there.

Instead, the flicker of a phone screen stares back at him, and the figure on the screen, it's…

" Mom! "

Relief makes its way into his veins, slowing his heartbeat just a little, but only for a moment, before his heart is squeezed so tight he can feel it burst.

She's screaming.

In the little pixels on the screen, Taylor can make out the bits of blood and ash her arm morphs into before falling apart completely and crumbling into nothing.

A sharp, stabbing pain makes its way into Taylor's own arm as he reaches out for her. Barely a flicker of a blade crosses his vision and his forearm is falling too, blood spilling out.

" Fuck! " he shuts his eyes tight. It burns, and it stings, and he thinks maybe he could live in the darkness forever, but his mom needs him, and she comes back into his vision in a second.

On the ground.

Forearm severed.

Bleeding out.

Her face is pale, and her eyes are wide, and Taylor thinks he might pass out, or throw up, or scream, but he can't do anything, he can't do anything, the pool of blood she's lying in is growing larger by the second and he can't do anything—

A splash shakes him from his thoughts.

Red.

Red .

He's sinking, and everything is red.

It tastes of iron, and it's scalding.

Taylor's chest constricts, and he tries to shut his eyes, but he can still see it.

It hurts so bad he thinks he might pass out.

At last, he hits the ground with a thud.

Past his blurred vision, he can see a figure he knows.

It's Link.

Oh, thank god.

Taylor isn't sure whether he says that out loud or not, but Link is turning toward him, and something twists in his stomach.

His face is distorted, but there's one thing Taylor can make out in his expression, though it doesn't feel right in the slightest…

…Hatred .

No, that's impossible. Taylor knows that's impossible. Link could never hate him.

"Link?" Taylor starts, slightly startled by the raspiness of his own voice, "Link, I don't know what's going on—I—I'm…"

Taylor sucks in a breath. And another. And another. It's like he's drowning again, but he's dry. It's too hot, he might be sitting on a stovetop.

And Link walks away.

Taylor tries to call for him, but all that comes out is a dying squeak.

He blinks, and sees the figures multiply. Normal, Scary, Hermie, Erica, Margarita, maybe more? They're distorted, and weird, and not themselves, and they've got the same look Link had, and Taylor's saying something, or maybe he isn't, he doesn't know anymore, but he's trying, and it's not working, and they're all leaving, and everything is too hot—

A blade strikes him at the neck.

And his head falls, and falls, and falls.

He sinks into the ground again, falling with a thud onto a hard surface, sobbing with hot tears of fire, and maybe this is how he dies.

He's suffocating, maybe it isn't much of a loss, considering how he hadn't been able to save his mom, or his dad, or anyone for that matter. Always hiding. All bark and no bite. Dying in a fire and choking on smoke, burning to a crisp, sobbing, and sobbing, and sobbing —

'Holy shit, Taylor!'

The light is blinding, and the fire is burning, and—

'Wait, you'll burn yourself—'

He's moving, he doesn't know where, or how—

'I don't care—'

His chest is on fire—

'Get some water—'

'He's hyperventilating—'

He's stuck. He can't move. He can't see. He can't breathe.

'Taylor.'

'Link, be careful—'

Link?

'Can you hear me?'

Is that Link?

Taylor doesn't know. The voices meld and mesh into one another.

He might be melting, or burning to a crisp, or—just— dying , in some way.

Something squeezes his arms. 

Hands?

Link's hands.

"Taylor, can you hear me?"

It's him. Taylor hears it. His voice is loud and clear and it's Link .

But Link turned away.

Link left.

" Taylor ."

Taylor manages a nod.

Link is here.

"He's responding," Link says, and Taylor doesn't know why, but he nods again anyway.

"Can you open your eyes?"

Opening his eyes means seeing his dad cut in half. It means seeing his mom sinking in a pool of her own blood. He shakes his head.

"Okay, okay, that's okay, come here," Link says, and Taylor feels arms wrap around him and hold him tight.

"Can you try to breathe in?"

Can he? His chest is tight and his lungs are out of control. Everything is hot, hot, hot and it burns to even think about trying.

"Feel how I'm breathing," Link says. There's a slow rise and fall that Taylor can feel, though he's not sure why Link drew his attention to it.

"Good, just keep focusing on that."

Taylor doesn't know why Link wants him to, but he does.

A hand rubs his back, and another cards fingers through his hair, fingertips running along his scalp.

"You're doing great," he says, and Taylor doesn't think that's true in the slightest, though he also has no idea what Link is talking about.

"Link, let me heal you," someone says.

"Hold on," Link responds.

Why does Link need healing? Taylor wants to ask, but he can't.

A rush of cold air hits Taylor, and he shivers, burying himself further in Link's chest.

"Keep breathing," he says.

Taylor doesn't know when he got that ability back, but he does.

"It's okay, you're safe," Link says, and Taylor doesn't think it's true, but he lets himself fall into the fantasy of it anyway.

It's quiet for a while.

There's some chatter that Taylor can't discern, but Link stays quiet.

Taylor feels him kiss the top of his head, and he feels the mattress beneath him, and he doesn't know how he got there, or what he's doing, or what's going on, or—

"Wha.. happen…" he finds himself mumbling.

Link pulls away ever so slightly, and Taylor opens his eyes, looking up at him. Well, looking at him for a few seconds before his eyes droop back shut again.

"I think you had a nightmare," Link says, and Taylor opens his eyes again.

Maybe he did.

And then there's someone behind Taylor, and Link's arm leaves his back, and he whines.

"Just a second," Link says, and Taylor sees Normal holding his arm.

The skin is red and blotchy and damaged. Then there's a flicker of glittery magic essence encircling it.

"Why… your arm…" Taylor slurs, wishing he could talk in full sentences but hopefully getting the question across.

"They just got burned a little," Link says, giving Norm his other arm to heal.

"Why…?"

"Uh—well—"

"You caught fire," Normal answers.

" What!? " Taylor shouts, startling even himself with his volume.

"Hey, hey, hey, breathe, breathe," Link says, putting his hands back on Taylor's arms and running them up and down.

"Did I hurt you?" Taylor asks, and his voice is wet and wobbly. He can feel the hot tears sliding down his cheeks.

"It's not your fault, it's okay, I'm fine, I promise," Link says, and Taylor glances down at one of his arms. It's healed, but there's scars…

Taylor lets out a sob, and just as he does, Scary is there, handing him a glass of water with a straw in it.

His hands are trembling violently, so he just leans forward and takes a sip. It's freezing, and sends a shiver down his spine.

"I don't know what happened… I'm sorr—sorry," Taylor mumbles before taking another sip. Some of the tears fall into the glass, but he's too exhausted to care.

Everything hurts.

"Don't worry about it, Taylor," Scary says, sitting on the bed beside him. "Are you okay?" she asks, putting her free hand on his back.

Taylor isn't used to her being so gentle.

He nods, though his frown might give him away. If it does, she doesn't say a word.

Soon enough, Normal is sitting on his other side and wrapping him up in a side hug.

"We're here for you, okay?" Normal says, and Link and Scary hum in agreement.

"Okay…"

"You wanna watch something?" Scary asks.

"Mhm… okay..."

And soon enough, Taylor's sitting in Link's lap with Normal to his left and Scary to his right, all huddled around Link's laptop mindlessly watching AMVs until Taylor finds him falling asleep once more, safe in his friends' embrace.

༼ つ ◕‿◕ ༽つ⊂(･ω･*⊂)