#trying to cope with the state of things through escapism and humor

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Sebastian, watching MC study: I’d kill to see you naked.

MC: Sorry, what was that?

Sebastian: …I still need to eat cake soon.

Ominis: He said he’d kill to see you naked.

[iloveladybuglucy]

To be his strongest, people have to be afraid—does he want people to be scared? Or worse...does he need them to be?

introducing my first invincible oc! Caelum is a nursing student at Upstate University who works as a part-time paramedic and becomes the eventual boyfriend/husband of Atom Eve in my au :)

ref sheet and character bio under the cut

Hero Name: Reverie (pron. rev-uh-ree, a state of being lost in one's thoughts, a daydream, or a dreamlike trance)

True Identity: Caelum Somner (meaning "sky" and "sleep")

Origin of his Powers:

As a medic who had witnessed countless gruesome, untimely deaths and mass murders, Caelum began to feel the effects of everything weigh heavily on him. While doom scrolling through Reddit, he came across a post looking for volunteers willling to try out a cutting-edge neurological experiment meant to help people with PTSD, anxiety, or coma recovery. The experiment involved neural stimulants and exposure to dream-state frequencies, aided by the government. Caelum, desperate for an escape from his own head, decided to reach out and agreed to do the procedure. However, the experiment was botched and his brain was permanently altered; now he can sense emotions, enter dreams, and manipulate fear.

Powers:

Emotional Manipulation & Empathy Aura

Can sense and absorb emotions, particularly fear and anxiety, which make him stronger.

His Empathy Aura can be used for calming others, reducing panic, and easing pain, making him an excellent medic.

Dream Walking & Fear Manifestation

Can enter people's dreams and explore their subconscious fears and desires.

In combat, he can trap enemies in a nightmare-like illusion, forcing them to confront their fears.

The more terrified the opponent, the stronger he becomes.

Terror-fueled Strength & Reflexes

Gains temporary enhancements (speed, agility, durability) when absorbing strong fear or anxiety.

Weaknesses & Limits:

Emotional Dependence

If his opponent is fearless, rational, or emotionally numb, his power weakens.

Can be overwhelmed by chaotic or conflicting emotions, making him vulnerable.

Dream Walking Drawbacks

Entering someone’s mind leaves his real body vulnerable.

Some strong-willed individuals can resist or manipulate the dream space against him.

Empathy Overload

If exposed to too many intense emotions at once (like a disaster scene), he can experience emotional burnout, making him ineffective.

Requires Fear to Get Stronger

Against an opponent with a calm, strategic mind, he can’t gain any boosts, forcing him to rely on his physical combat skills.

Personality:

Calm & Introspective: Caelum is naturally reserved, preferring to think before he acts. He’s methodical and observant, which makes him a great medic but sometimes slow to trust others.

Cynical but Caring: His experiences as a medic and exposure to constant suffering have made him skeptical of the world, yet he still feels deeply responsible for others. He doesn’t always believe in hope, but he acts because he wants to be the hope people need.

Dry Sense of Humor: He uses humor as a coping mechanism, often making sarcastic or dark jokes. It helps him detach from the horrors he sees daily.

Loyal but Guarded: He will fight for those he cares about, but letting people in is a different story. Trust doesn’t come easily to him.

Flaws & Internal Struggles

Emotional Burnout & Detachment – Caelum deals with so much emotional distress from others that he struggles with his own emotions. He might not even realize when he’s suppressing things until they bubble over in unhealthy ways.

Fear of Losing Control – The stronger he gets, the more he fears what prolonged exposure to terror might do to him. Could he lose himself in the emotions of others? Could he become addicted to fear?

Struggles with Optimism – He admires Eve’s idealism but finds it frustrating. In his eyes, the world is cruel, and thinking otherwise is naive. This could be a point of conflict between them.

Sleeplessness & Overworking – Since his powers weaken with exhaustion, he constantly pushes himself to the brink, unwilling to rest even when he needs it. His body and mind often suffer as a result.

Dependency on Others’ Fear – A terrifying realization for him is that in order to be his strongest, people have to be afraid. This creates a moral dilemma—does he want people to be scared? Does he need them to be?

Relationship with Eve: 

Caelum is calm, introspective, and a deep thinker—opposite to Eve’s more emotional and idealistic nature. While Eve often feels conflicted about her powers and their impact on others, Caelum is able to show her that even in the face of difficult decisions, there are always other perspectives to consider. His quiet demeanor and rational thinking can help her make clearer choices without the burden of too much stress.

Their relationship is balanced—Eve helps Caelum tap into his emotional side and push beyond the logical, while he helps Eve regain a sense of grounding when she gets too idealistic or overconfident in her powers. Their differences complement each other—Eve is emotional, driven by ideals, while Caelum is rational and grounded. She helps him see that it isn't stupid or pointless to have hope, while he keeps her from overextending herself.

Caelum often struggles with Eve’s desire to “fix” things with her powers, as he believes not everything can (or should) be fixed. On the flip side, Eve finds his cynicism exhausting.

[ivelplum]

The Rise of Nihilism

The Rise of Nihilism  

Nihilism has emerged as a captivating philosophy for young adults. At base level, nihilism is the belief that life is meaningless, and nothing has any real value. Many people resonate with this philosophy nowadays since everything is so chaotic. Embracing the void of nothingness can bring comfort to many individuals. In this blog, we'll explore why nihilism has become increasingly popular among newer generations and how it can serve both as a coping mechanism and a destructive concept. 

The concept may sound like a sad, boring, existential movie you watch with your grandmother, but it’s interesting. Nihilism got popular in the 19th century due to Mr. Friedrich Nietzsche. Nietzsche both supported and criticized nihilism. He believed that our world lacks an objective structure or order and that the only order present is the one we create for ourselves. He argued that the rise of nihilism would lead civilization toward a catastrophe, as shown by the most destructive civilizations in human history. Nietzsche believed that by working through the breakdown of civilization, we could set up a new morality that drops prejudice and paves the way for a better future. However, he feared that nihilism might trigger another outbreak, as religion would no longer dictate what is morally acceptable (Mir).  Living in a world where everything seemed meaningless suddenly was not common among the people of his time. Nihilism rejects the idea that there's an ultimate meaning or higher being guiding us. However, there are multiple different types of nihilism.  

Some include political, ethical, and existential nihilism. Political nihilism is the idea that government and all social or religious orders need to be destroyed before we can move forward as a society. Ethical nihilism is simply the concept of rejecting all ethical and moral values and doing whatever you want. Lastly, existential nihilism is the main belief of nihilism, which is that nothing matters, and life is meaningless (Mir). While that might be slightly depressing, it can also be somewhat liberating. Believing that nothing we do matters can be soothing to people who get anxious about their impact on the world or if their moral choices will get them into whatever heaven-equivalent they want.  

Now, we shall delve deeper into why exactly young adults gravitate towards nihilism. Nina Cipriani sums Gen Z and late Millennials' reasoning up perfectly by saying, “When so many things happen growing up, and continue to happen in your adult years, there is a feeling of anxiety about the future” (par. 15). We live in a constant state of upheaval. We experience chaos in every aspect of our adult lives: economically, religiously, politically, climatically, emotionally, physically, and romantically. With everything going how it is, you can’t blame the younger generations for feeling like the traditional paths may not be the paths to success or happiness. Here’s where nihilism comes in. Instead of trying to force meaning where there may not be one, they simply accept that there may not be a meaning and move on. When every day there is something new going wrong, a “nothing matters” mindset offers relief. It almost serves as a shield against chaos the same way humor does. Dark humor has gotten much more popular in our pop culture. Pop culture is full of nihilistic ideology and jokes. In 2023, “Pop culture nihilism [was seen] as an enticing, dark-humor-driven coping mechanism” (Romaine). From dark movies to cynic Instagram reels, it is so easy to get drawn into nihilism as it is EVERYWHERE.  

While this ideology may not seem enticing to some, it is a powerful coping mechanism. Nihilism offers an escape from the pressures of life. It provides freedom from the weight of societal expectations. If nothing matters, then you are free to create your own path without that fear of failure holding you back, right? There’s a rebellious allure to nihilism which is also a reason why young people gravitate towards it. Rejecting all societal norms is an act of defiance, a way to carve yourself out from all the others. However, nihilism can also lead to feelings of existential dread and despair. J’Anne Ellsworth warns that “Existential dread poses a threat to adolescents' self-esteem, productivity, and life itself...reduce the amount of time youth languish in the throes of existential dread and lessen the threat of depression and suicide” (407). If taken too far, the belief can suck the energy and motivation from you, making it difficult for you to want to do things or find happiness. It’s a double-edged sword that could empower or drain an individual depending on how it’s perceived.  

Nihilism is popular but it isn’t the only way to deal with the chaos of life. One alternative is called “constructive nihilism” or “optimistic nihilism” which takes the idea that life that life no meaning and flips it into something positive. Instead of seeing the lack of meaning as a bad thing, it is viewed as a good thing, an opportunity. A blank canvas where you create your purpose (Perton). Existentialism, a philosophy closely related to nihilism, acknowledges life's meaninglessness but encourages individuals to create their own meaning (The Ethics Centre). Another alternative to nihilism is connection and community. By forming relationships and occupying yourself with activities that feel meaningful to you, you can counteract the pull of nihilism. These connections can mentally anchor us and provide us with a sense of purpose rooted in experiences and interactions.  

Nihilism can be both an enticing and dangerous philosophy. It offers a way to cope but could very well destroy your motivation. The key is finding a balance between acknowledging the uncertainties and seeking out your sources of meaning. Whether it’s through one of the ways listed earlier or another, there are ways to navigate through life without completely succumbing to despair. The struggle to find meaning is an important but personal journey that I wish everyone well on. 

Works cited 

Cipriani, Nina. "Opinion | Gen Z was destined for nihilism." UWIRE Text, 15 Feb. 2023, p. 1. Gale Academic OneFile, link.gale.com/apps/doc/A737302985/AONE?u=lincclin_pcc&sid=bookmark-AONE&xid=95abcde4. Accessed 3 Sept. 2024. 

Ellsworth, J’Anne. “Today’s Adolescent: Addressing Existential Dread.” Adolescence, vol. 34, no. 134, Summer 1999, p. 403. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&AuthType=shib&db=a9h&AN=2244632&site=ehost-live. 

Mir, Saida. “Nihilism: The Belief in Nothing.” What If Show, 18 July 2023, whatifshow.com/nihilism-the-belief-in-nothing/. Accessed 03 Sept. 2024. 

Perton, Victor. “‘Everything Everywhere All at Once’ Perfects Optimistic Nihilism.” The Centre for Optimism, 9 Dec. 2023, www.centreforoptimism.com/blog/everything-everywhere-all-at-once-perfects-optimistic-nihilism#:~:text=Marcelo%20Meneses%20puts%20it%20nicely,get%20to%20choose%20our%20own. Accessed 04 Sept. 2024. 

Romaine, Casey. “2023 Top Trends Spotlight: Pop Nihilism.” Catalyst, 23 July 2024, horizoncatalyst.com/top-trends-volume-2-2023-pop-nihilism. Accessed 04 Sept. 2024. 

The Ethics Centre. “What Is Existentialism? An Ethics Explainer by the Ethics Centre.” THE ETHICS CENTRE, 26 Oct. 2023, ethics.org.au/ethics-explainer-existentialism/#:~:text=Existentialism%20is%20the%20philosophical%20belief,governments%2C%20teachers%20or%20other%20authorities. Accessed 04 Sept. 2024. 

Grammarly was used to correct errors.  

[writingtoforgetreality]

Stockholm Syndrome (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: During the fight with the Dora Milaje in his safe-house, Zemo made an exit. But not alone. For inexplicable reasons, he dragged you along. Probably because he wanted to mess with Sam & Bucky. Would the Baron kill you? Or worse?

Words: 4,083

Warnings: language, angst, fluff (?), kidnapping, spoilers for TFATWS, (Let’s put the angsty shit in this part & the fun stuff in the second one.), (Y/E/C) = your eye color, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The fight in front of you held your entire attention. Eyes focused on moving bodies, kicking, punching their way through. While you were not inexperienced when it came to battling, you preferred holding back. Bruises were not necessarily your favorite. Not these kind of bruises at least. All your ears could make out was the grunting radiating from the combat. Hence why the movements behind you stayed inconspicuous. Only when a cloth pressed against your nose & you had no choice but to breathe in, did you notice the jeopardy of the situation. Darkness enveloped you. The last thing you perceived was a dark silhouette picking you up. As much as you wanted to fight back, to defend yourself, it was impossible. All strength had dissipated. Whatever was happening, you hoped you would wake up again. This could not be how you died. You would not die.

Pain woke you up. But you were not hurt. At least that was what you remembered. Then it came to you. Someone had kidnapped you. If your eyes did not open soon, you would regret it later. Heavy eyelids slowly opened. Though it took many attempts to keep them that way. You scanned the room. There were no windows, no light which would have made that task easier. It took a few minutes to adjust to the obscureness. And once you did, you found yourself as perplexed as before. No restraints were obstructing your motions. Technically, you could up & leave. But it was never that simple, was it? The door was opposite of you. Your muscles were still sore. The act of standing up & waltzing over seemed like too much effort for you. The bleakness of the wall your back rested against was a more welcomed sensation. Your knees scooted closer to your chest. Arms raking around them, you hugged yourself. Hoping it would bring you a bit of comfort. Your brain failed to work properly. Because you were stumped. Who could have possibly seized you? Walker was busy getting his ass kicked. Lemar imitated his partner, pretty much. Sam ordered Bucky to help out & went into the battle right after. And Zemo was… Yeah, where the hell was Zemo during all of that? If you recalled correctly, he held a drink in his hand. Like you, he kept away from the fight. And then? You were aware that the Baron was not a saint. Neither were you. But you did not believe he would pull something like that. Then again, it was Zemo. Nobody knew his next step. Nobody but himself. Your foot tapped a rhythm on the cold, grey pavement. Usually, when your anxiety acted up, you distracted yourself. Fiddling with your hands or bouncing your legs. Something you could focus on that was not life threatening to your mind. The unknown beat managed to calm you down the slightest. Whoever held you hostage would be back soon. Your gut feeling told you so much.

Maybe you dosed off again. Because your body flinched when a creak reached your ears. Quickly, you looked around for possible threats. The only thing that had changed was the door sitting ajar. Only a diminutive gap. It was noticeable due to the light illuminating the room. There was no piece of furniture which meant that nobody lived here. It resembled a cell. But even cells had a bed, a chair. Something. The room turned dim again but only for a second. A shadow, you figured. Your captivator was here. So close, in fact, goosebumps erupted. A chill ran down your spine. This single interaction could modify your imprisonment. You still needed time to consider a successful escape plan. Which meant that you needed to observe the person keeping you here. Movies displayed such situations more than once. It was manageable. If they decided to show themselves & reveal their identity. Your eyes fell to the boots first. Black or a dark brown that was not detectable due to the lack of brightness. Next were the pants. Black again. The end of a coat came into view. Dark grey, almost anthracite. Your thoughts instantly went to one person. You could be mistaken. He was not the only one with a coat like that. Your gaze flickered up to his hands. The leather gloves were proof enough. Your (Y/E/C) eyes locked onto his brown ones. There was no shock written over your features. After all, deep down, you awaited this sight to be met with. As much as you wanted to withhold it, your eyes rolled & the sigh that left your lips was one of pure exhaustion. Zemo never made a secret out of it. His dislike for you started off the moment he first laid his eyes on you. From then on, it only seemed to increase steadily. You were a simple person. If someone treated you like shit, you returned that favor with pleasure & ten times worse.

“You are awake.” he stated the obvious after his frame entered through the doorway.

“Pretty sure I’m still dreaming.” you replied sarcastically, your elbows propping onto your knees. A smirk formed at the corners of his mouth. Whatever you said, it was the wrong thing.

“You dream about being locked inside a small cell? And I make an appearance as well? This does sound problematic, (Y/N). Nothing I would not be able to help you with.” he enjoyed this. Disgust made itself shown onto your face.

“Yeah? How could you possibly help me with that?” it took you a second to fully realize what you said. Immediately, you corrected yourself. “You know what? I don’t even wanna know.” your head rested in your hands, slightly embarrassed by turning this conversation awkward. Maybe it would have been more convenient if you just kept quiet. Zemo chuckled shortly but did not comment on it again.

“I assume you wonder why you are here.” the Baron observed your small frame on the floor. It was easy to recognize how uncomfortable you were.

“Your assumption might be correct.” your head tilted upwards, trying to hide the fear. Burying it deep down. You needed to think clearly so you could escape him.

“Would you like me to declare your purpose?” he questioned, eyebrows raising.

“Enlighten me, Baron.” you wasted no time with your reply. Maybe you imagined it but you could have sworn that his muscles tensed up when you called him by his title. You were the weaker one here so you kept your jokes at bay.

“I have no desire to get involved with the Wakandans. A getaway is more enjoyable with a suitable associate.” his hands gestured & you fathomed the seriousness behind his words.

“Oh, so that’s what I am now? An associate? Could’ve sworn I was your enemy. Improvement, I guess.” you focused on a lighter spot that interrupted the evenly dark color of the cement wall.

“I never declared you my enemy. That is solely your imagination.” Zemo stared at you but you would not give him the satisfaction of holding eye contact with him. He did not deserve it.

“I prefer my imagination then.” you stated & earned another chuckle from the Baron.

“Our departure is soon.” he let you know & left you alone once again. Great, so he did have a plan for you. But it did not seem like he wanted to murder you brutally. Basically, you could do nothing. The lock of the door clicked. No way out of this room. And your cellphone was no longer with you. He probably removed it from you while you were unconscious.

The drug Zemo had you breathe in really affected you. Tiredness rushed through you still. Falling asleep once again was inevitable. A steady, loud noise stirred you from your slumber. When your eyes opened, the chair you were seated in felt familiar. Your surroundings were not new to you. It was Zemo���s private jet. No sight of him. No sight of Sam & Bucky. The only company was the engine of the small plane, creating a ringing in your ears. Surprisingly, you were well rested. Your sleep schedule was messed up. On a good day, you slept for three hours. On a normal day, though, you were lucky if the dreamland even invited you in. Did that mean that you should thank Zemo? For drugging you? Your gratitude could stay inside, for now. It was kind of embarrassing to admit that you had enough rest because of him stunning you. All it would do was feeding his ego. He had enough of that already. Would it be clever to hop out of a plane that was thousands of feet in the air? A clever suicide mission, maybe. Zemo would not harm you. If he truly wanted to, you would be a ghost already. Where was he anyway? Certainly, he would not leave your side after kidnapping you. A look down your lap confirmed what you had feared. The trembling of your hands was noticeable. Almost worse than usual. If push came to shove, you could defend yourself perfectly fine. The Baron did not strike you as a fighter type of guy. Sure, he could handle a gun. In reality, the one thing he could really handle was his alcohol. If you had been in a cell for almost ten years, you would not be able to cope with this world either. Now that you were thinking about it...when was Zemo not drinking? Ever since you guys had teamed up, he had taken every chance to get some liquor into his system.

“How are you feeling?” a voice startled you. The cause of it was your dear captivator. His strut brought him over to you, taking a seat right opposite of you. Plopping down onto the soft cushion with a sigh, he intertwined his fingers in front of his chest. His chin rested on the back of them. The intensity with which he eyed you was unsettling. Your body curled together, shifting away from his rigid glance. The man in front of you frowned. Never before had you behaved that way. Usually, you were sarcastic, humorous. Your current state was uncommon. The fight or flight instinct kicked in. If you played by his rules, the cards were on your side. So the only natural thing was to answer him.

“Okay.” it was short but the tone held much meaning.

“Okay is not good.” he mumbled quietly, though you could still make out his words. The clouds outside of the window you were sitting next to looked like cotton. Smooth, soft. Perfect if you wanted to jump in. The sunset colored the sky in various, bright hues. A phenomenon. That was something that had always fascinated you. “Astonishing, is it not?” the silence broke when he spoke up yet again. You nodded, still gazing outside.

“We will arrive soon.” another voice joined you. The startle from your side could not be stopped. You hated how jumpy you were. Especially during such a situation. The strong, independent woman you usually were was gone. Right now, you were like a little girl, awaiting punishment for misbehavior. Apparently, the Baron was a mind reader because he soothed your worries immediately.

“You did nothing wrong, if that is one of your concerns.” he started. His eyes then flickered to the other man on the private jet. “Thank you, Oeznik.” small smiles were exchanged between the two of them. The assistant disappeared through a door again. Zemo being the only company left.

“Where are we going?” you had to know.

“Somewhere safe. Where nobody can locate me.” as his eyes met yours, he finished. “Us.” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His explanation was not helpful at all. You were still left in the dark. Your destination was unknown but he assured you that you would be safe. Zemo would never lie about something so significant. This bugging feeling was still present. If he did not tell you more about the location, maybe he could elucidate this.

“Why me? Why, out of everyone, did you kidnap me?” slight anger was behind your eyes but one could only notice if they looked precisely. The Baron’s head tilted. In amusement, you guessed. His forming smile held a hint of another emotion you could not quite identify.

“Kidnapping is such a harsh word, don’t you think?” was it mockery you could hear? “I believe there is no need for us to repeat our previous conversation. I told you why you’re here.” he stood up from his seat, dragging his body to the very end of the plane. There, he picked up two small glasses. The liquid of the half empty bottle of scotch poured a good amount in both of them. Evidently, one for him & one for you. His hand stretched out towards you & he offered you the drink. You eyed it suspiciously. While you were not one for drinking alcohol, maybe it would assist to calm your nerves. In the end, you reached for it, touching his hand in the process. The skin contact sent an unintended chill down your spine. Goosebumps were forming. The pit of your stomach felt odd. Never before had you experienced such a sensation. Though, & you had to admit that, it was everything but unpleasant. Your body language spoke louder than you would have liked. And it did not go unnoticed by the man in front of you. To avoid an awkward tension, he decided against commenting on your body’s reaction.

The first sip made you wince. A burning sensation washed down your throat. The Baron handled his alcohol way better than you did, that much was obvious. Unfortunately, the liquor did not numb your anxiety right away. The effect was awaited but luck was not on your side. Would it be rude to ask for another drink? The downside was not realizing how strong it was. If you got wasted then Zemo could take advantage of your state. Depended on how he defined taking advantage of you. The conversation that had died down for a while was resurrected. This time, it was you. This shocked not only you but also him.

“I don’t like you.” you stated monotonously.

“I am aware.” he chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“You don’t like me either.” one of your eyebrows raised.

“An incorrect assumption.” his hands gestured to emphasize his words. You rolled your eyes, throwing your arms up in frustration.

“A freaking obvious fact.” you breathed out, falling back into your chair. The softness caressed you tenderly. A hum left you & your previous desperation was replaced by some sort of relaxation. Why did your emotions change so quickly? One moment, you were scared. The next, you were furious. Then, you untightened. All in the presence of the man who had kidnapped you.

“What is going through your mind right now?” seemed like he was eager to talk to you. Comfortable silence with Baron Zemo was not possible. It was either awkward or not quiet at all. Your head snapped into his direction. He was deep in thought. Occupied with whatever his mind came up with.

“I-I don’t know.” you were being honest. Spending more time with him meant no lies. At least not about such things. The next question came naturally. “What about you?” one corner of his lips lifted slightly. The first step in the right direction. Deep down, Zemo was aware that you did not exactly hate him. Liking him would be too far but at least, you tolerated him. Accepted his presence.

“I am quite fond of bringing you with me. Sam & James are irritating. Helpful but irritating. You are a delight to be around.” he confessed & you had the urge to call him out on his ridiculous behavior.

“Sounds fake but alright…” your annoyance was audible.

“I beg your pardon?” he abandoned his glass, placing it on the small table nearby. Elbows propped onto his knees & his upper body leaned forward, closer to you. But not close enough to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Ever since we met, we’ve been arguing non-stop. This is the first normal conversation between us.” your fingers pointed to him & then to you, signaling what you were talking about.

“Arguments are not an indicator for antipathy.” Zemo explained.

“Oh, they’re not?” the sarcasm was more than obvious. “What then?”

“They are concealing true emotions, burying your urges deep within.” casually spoken, as if he had prepared this exact speech multiple times before.

“My urges?” you questioned, making fun of his statement.

“Indeed.” he wore a winning smile & you hated the effect it had on you.

“Sure.” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “My only urge is to punch yo-“ both of your heads turned into the direction of Oeznik who unknowingly interrupted your conversation.

“We’re here.” he claimed, nodding briefly, & left you alone again. By the way his face changed, he looked like he was sorry for bothering the two of you. Truthfully, you were glad that he joined you because without him, you would have said something regrettable.

Paris. He dragged you to France. If your situation were any different, you would have felt excited to be here. Before you exited the private jet, Zemo threatened you. If you had the glorious idea to speak up before you arrived at your destination, you would regret it later. Basically, you thought he would kill you. Of course you had no clue that the Baron would never hurt you in any way. After all, you were a victim of his kidnapping. Whether he called it that or not. The small alleyways were decorated with narrow buildings sitting next to each other. The cobblestone street underlined the atmosphere perfectly. Eyes wide, you were overwhelmed by the impression of the beauty of the sweet town. When one of his hands reached for yours, you did not even flinch back. Because, if you were honest, it felt good. Your intertwined fingers brought you warmth. A feeling that spread out through your entire body. Sparks, almost like the beginning of a firework, started forming. The sun shone brightly. Your eyes closed contently. Hence why you did not notice Zemo watching your every move. He reminisced your features closely. The sunlight brought out the beauty of you in a way that was worth remembering. Your body sensed something. It was in your nature when someone stared at you. Carefully, your eyes opened, showing the (Y/E/C) colors that glowed almost mysteriously in the light. Warm brown ones locked onto yours. The two of you exchanged an honest, almost shy smile.

“What?” your head tilted to the side, observing his face. Looking for a sign. Any sign. But Zemo was a clandestine guy. It was almost impossible to look through him. Something inside you took that as a challenge. Maybe you could make his walls come crashing down. Maybe you were the one to change him. Wait. Why were your thoughts running down that road? He was the person to take you away from your friends. The sympathy that started building up was wrong. That much you knew. Resisting felt like a tough task. What did he say during the flight? Something about pushing down your urges. This was the first time you understood the meaning.

If you thought the town was pretty then the apartment you entered was stunning. It was on the top floor. Spacious, furnished in a minimalist way. Overly white, accentuated with colorful artwork. Special pieces to complete the look of it. It screamed expensive. The process of taking everything in took a few minutes. It was overstraining. In the best way possible. You should screw down your excitement. After all, you were part of an incredibly dangerous situation. But you let his touch linger on your skin. Just for a fraction longer. If you really wanted to, you could have retreated. Something told you that Zemo would not have forced you to hold onto him. That thought alone calmed you down a little further. Technically, he was not a stranger. Throughout the missions you had performed together, with Sam & Bucky, you two had become acquainted with. You were associates, apparently. And associates were not supposed to fear one another. Then again, associates would not kidnap each other. Your body was overthrown with mixed signals. Unknown what was wrong & what was right. Your friends would probably describe you as insane, reckless. Maybe you were. Maybe the last few weeks had formed you into a different type of person. That type who sympathized with a criminal. With a criminal who broke out of a high security jail. Since when had criminals become your type? And why were you starting to think in a very friendly, almost amorous way? Looked like you really were insane.

Who would have thought the Baron to be an excellent chef? Definitely not you. But here he was, preparing a meal for you. This was actually pretty sweet of him. His body behind the stove & his eyes focused on the task. It was a sight for sore eyes. Only, of course, if he were not Zemo you were referring to. While he cooked, you set the table. He assured you that you did not have to but it felt like the right thing to do. It was the least you could do. What were you even saying? He kidnapped you, for God’s sake. Your body, your emotions, should be damned.

“Is this something you do often?” Zemo’s question caught you off guard. For a moment, you halted in your tracks. Cutlery was being put down. A deep breath left your mouth.

“What?” your bewildered expression made him chuckle. Funny to watch your perplexity.

“Living in your head more than in the present.” his proclamation cut through the tension.

“I…um, haven’t realized that, actually.” you answered awkwardly. Your hand raised to the back of your head, resting behind your ear.

“You do. When spending time with Sam & James. And now. It is quite entertaining.” he eyed you closely. It made you slightly uncomfortable.

“Why?” your curiosity got the best of you. That was nothing new. Even before he brought you here, your nosiness was on of your more obvious characteristics.

“Because the light in your eyes shifts. You are more at ease. Not to forget your smile…” Zemo trailed off at the end of his sentence, voice a little softer than usual.

“What about my smile?” you really were curious. Would it be in your favor or not? There was only one way to figure that out.

“It differs from when you are actively engaged in a conversation. The corners of your mouth lift in a softer way. No hesitation or restriction.” he finished, his sparkling brown eyes meeting yours. Due to the embarrassment, you could not keep eye contact. So you averted your gaze, facing the almost empty plate in front of you.

“You talk like you’ve known me forever.” your whispers were almost missed. The tone so quiet, even your racing heart was louder.

“I am simply skilled at reading people. You facilitate that process, actually.” every single word he spoke made so much sense that it almost did not make sense anymore. There was no other way to describe it.

“I do? How?” your constant short questions were amusing to him. On one hand, you wanted to distance yourself from him as much as possible. On the other hand, you inquired every single time he finished talking.

“I assume it is because you do not fear opening up to me & letting me in.” people who did not know your history would have believed you two had been friends for years. By the way he discerned the small, almost unnoticeable details about you. Details you did not even know existed in the first place.

“You assume an awful lot, Baron.” you teased, eyes moving to his face gingerly.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” but you could not. Because it would have been a lie. A smirk made its way onto his face when you did not give him a reply. Unintentionally, you mimicked his expression. He had you. Right here, he had you. And he was not the only one aware of the shift in the situation. You were just as deep in it as he was. It was a game with fire. Who would get burned in the end?

~to be continued~

Published (04/28/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @hiddlestoner-cumberbitch, @msmarvelsmain, @friday18eo, @crackerjackharkness, @waiting-for-motivation, @obsessedwithfandomsx, @friday18eo, @bibliophilewednesday, @princess-yuna, @trenton007, @pedropascallovebot, @your-lovers-heart, @stressedoutsteph (thanks for your support <3)

[yammoba]

Im not done actually. I wanna talk about the specific kind of catharsis that i have only really gotten from ranfren and like, the hazel video about Elfin Lied.

I grew up on the internet. I spent a good portion of my youth using the internet to try to escape all the things that sucked in my life, my shitty friends, my body, feeling like a powerless idiot. Feeling like a total outcast because no one knew what wolf's rain was. I wrote edgy stories about assasins and murderers because that kind of stuff felt cool. (Serial killer ocs were everywhere it was hilarious) It felt like a way to state my individuality. It felt freeing to think about that kind of stuff when i was supposed to be a "good" kid. I watched elfin leid and thought it was the most deep anime i had ever seen (seriously go watch the hazel video about elfin leid, on youtube, she does a better job characterizing being this age at this time than i possibly could). I watched all sorts of edgy problematic skits and shit on youtube.

And i cannot stress enough how much 4chan was a central part of internet meme culture. But also saying this, it doesnt really explain, 4chan was a lot different back then. Now i think most people on the outside equate 4chan with /pol/, and while /pol/ is a scumhole of a board that does polute everything else, it isnt and never was the only thing on that site. There was more cross over between the various boards, and gamergate hadnt happened yet so, while "edgy" jokes were the norm it wasnt nessecarily about the actual meaning behind the jokes. It was more of an arms race to see who could be the most shocking. Pedobear was a widespread meme. He would just show up, the joke was, its a bear who likes to molest kids wow. But the "comedy" came from using him to twist stuff that would otherwise be inncocent. Im not saying its a good joke, i think its more that people have forgotten or never known the comedy was "supposed to" come from the shock, the subverted expectations of normalcy. South park shit. Though id argue south park is worse at actually promoting and spreading harmful mindsets the internet had a lot more genuiene connection and wholesome moments that made it a little more valueble than south park. But the two do kinda go hand in hand.

Of course there is something to be said of how this culture of offensive shock humor became firtile ground for alt right fuckos to spread their fucko shit to people who's brains were still developing. Im not trying to say that this era was a Good Thing, im just trying to explain some context as to why folks are able to forgive and look past these kinds of things, especially in cases where people have shown themselves to be different, even if they never "apologized". Its easy to look back and say everyone should have known better, especially an "adult" at age 23... guys i hate to tell you this but you dont automatically gain level 10 pure sight on the eve of your 18th birthday and are instantly able to see all the ways in which the world around you is wrong and fucked up. Especially if the general cultural vibe in the spaces you're hanging out in is "lets be fucked up on purpose because it fun and no one understands us anyways so lets see who can be the edgiest." Like yeah, we "should have known better". The general online culture has made vast strides in promoting acceptance and justice, even though theres a bunch of fucks up and stuggles that we are all still dealing with.

As someone who lived through that time, and used stuff like elfin leid, and higurashi and tohou memes and weird 2chan and 4chan memes as a way to cope, to escape how i felt, to feel like i was "in" on something. To feel like i wasnt alone. Both in a cultural "weeaboo" way and in a direct way. where i had online friends and we did edgy wolf rp and talked about our psychic assassin ocs with heterochromia and purple hair but made sure to give them lots of "flaws" because these werent mary sues no way only loosers have self insert mary sues.

Im referencing all these specific things because when i read randal's friends it was like someone took that time in my life, both the aesthetics (of anime, of the internet) and the feelings and wishes, the alienation. The feeling like a fucking weirdo but having to learn to take some kind of pride in that because i didnt really feel like i had anything else going for me. Feeling simultaneously above everyone because I had Refined taste, and like sewer scum because i just was. It took all that and presented this story thats like, ah yeah, -me too-. That was a fucking time wasnt it. It was pretty funny that we were like that, it was fun to have so few inhibitions. It was a time which we lived through. and it can just feel... validating to see a story that makes you feel in some way "no i wasnt alone". And its also just like, nostalgic. I think about this a lot but theres a certain kind of nostalgia that one can feel for things that werent nessecarily good. Or for things that were difficult or troublesome. The fact that the comic is on a neocities website is kind of the perfect example of this. Every webcomic used to have its own site, and you have to have a bookmarks folder for your webcomic and everyday (since most of those bitches didnt stick to a schedual) you would go through and check every website to see if there was an update.

Ughhhg, what im trying to get at is there are reasons why both the more "acceptable" parts of ranfren and the "problematic" elements of the comic are like part of the charm, because its cathartic and "nostalgic" and validating for someone like me, a weeaboo who got memepoisoned at too young of an age. And because that appeal is so specific to a certain part of the past it isnt like shocking that captain howdie has some not great stuff in the past. Nor is it really shocking that they havent felt like "adressing it and apologizing" or what ever the fuck some people claim to want.

Ill go through some of the stuff more specifically bc someone said they were curious, (might take me a bit i think i have a lot to say about the rats) but i felt like i had to try to explain why people (me) value this work, despite or in some aspects because of some of the more problematic elements. i dont even think i really did, its a difficult thing to express in words.

Tl;dr ranfren is pure catharsis for weeaboo weirdos who grew up during the darker ages. The bad things and the good things are part of that. There is not much that does as good of a job at being that.

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Chapter 7

⚠️WARNING: Mentions of previous characters' deaths, swearing, mention of unhealthy coping mechanism

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You gasp as you wake up, your eyes attempting to discern anything in the dark.

What the…

Not even two seconds ago you were playing volleyball back in the Aoba Johsai gymnasium. It was a silly two on three game, Oikawa and Mattsun vs you, Makki and -

Oh.

Oh.

Tears well up in your eyes, fast and hot. They flow down the side of your face, into your hair and the pillow. You do nothing to stop them, crushed by the sudden wave of sadness.

It was a dream. It was a freaking dream.

You’re alone in your apartment in the middle of the night. You’re a college student at Sendai Uni. You don’t play volleyball.

And Hajime is dead.

The sobs come out unconstrained, as you were too heartbroken to try to stop them. How could you, as it was the only way for you to let out the sorrow and anguish coursing through your blood right now.

C’mon Y/N, get yourself together. You will yourself to calm down, getting the sobs to subside. The tears don’t slow though, as you sit up to grab some tissues from your bedside table. You clean yourself up, sniffling and grabbing your phone.

It’s only just past 1am, and you can’t fathom the idea of falling back asleep. Not when there’s the chance of you falling back into that dream. Not when you can be fooled into thinking that you’re playing volleyball, still trying to receive Oikawa’s serves and laughing when Hajime yells at Makki to take this seriously -

Your eyes well up with fresh tears and you clutch a tissue to your mouth to muffle the cries that want to escape.

The only thing you’re sure about right now is that you don’t want to be alone. You can’t be alone, you just can’t.

You unlock your phone but staring at your screen you don’t know who you can call.

Ok, that’s not true. You have a lot of people you can call. Your parents, Oikawa, Mattsun, Makki, hell even your therapist gave you her cellphone to call if you need her. And you know that all of those people wouldn’t hesitate to listen to you and help you.

But do you want to call any of them?

This isn’t a life or death situation, and you don’t feel like you are a danger to yourself so it would be irresponsible to call your therapist. It’s the middle of the night and your parents still work so you don’t want to wake them up.

That leaves your friends, the people who honestly could still be awake and maybe even wanting to talk to someone. But Makki has Mattsun, and vice versa. Which would leave Oikawa, but honestly? He’s been more than unbearable lately, and you’ve been walking on eggshells around him, scared that anything you say will set him off.

So you’re here, laying in your bed with no one to call. And the one person that you desperately want to call is dead.

Sniffling again and wiping the fresh tears from your eyes you pull up your texts. Maybe you can send a funny meme to Makki and start a meme war - it’ll take your mind off your current predicament at least. But your eyes fall to the chat you have with Osamu, close to the top of your messages.

Huh, you didn’t really think of him.

Not that you wouldn’t want to talk to Osamu. He’s actually very funny, with his dry humor and easy banter. Your friendship, despite its more than unusual beginning, has blossomed into something you’ve come to cherish.

But you can’t bother him with this, no no. You guys can, and have, confide in each other about your struggles and your complicated feelings and emotions. But it’s mainly been small bits and pieces shared over coffee.

But it couldn’t hurt to text him, no?

You wouldn’t say anything about your dream. Maybe you can find a funny meme to send him, or ask a question about lunch tomorrow.

You methodically type out your message, finding a meme to almost perfectly capture your mood (but not too accurately.)

You send the text before talking yourself out of it. It wouldn’t surprise you if Osamu didn’t text you back - it’s late (or early, depending on your opinion) and he should be sleeping.

You sigh deeply, finding yourself back in square one. Square one plus a stuffy nose, aching head and absolutely broken heart. You close out of the messaging app and decide to find some show to binge while you wait for the sun to rise.

Your phone begins vibrating and you’re surprised to see what comes across your screen.

Osamu doesn’t text you back. He calls you.

You pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“I hope that photo isn’t a subtle request to have me come over and cook for ya.” The soft, calm voice coming through the phone makes your chest tighten. It brings a wave of relief because you’re not alone but drowns you in guilt at inconveniencing your friend.

You clear your throat and sniffle. “No, sorry.” Your voice cracks and you wince at how obvious it is that you were just crying.

Osamu picks up on your current state. “Hey, are ya alright?”

He sounds so concerned, the teasing lilt in his voice instantly dropped. Your eyes start to water again and you can’t stop the sob that escapes your lips in time.

“Hey, Y/N are ya okay? Where are you, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you croak out. Your voice sounds horrible, extremely hoarse and tight as you try not to let more sobs spill out. Gritting your teeth helps keep them at bay but it does nothing to stop the flow of tears. You sniffle, loud.

“Where are you? Are you in danger?”

“No, no. I’m at my apartment. I’m okay.” You take in a shaky breath, sniffling again and clearing your throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s okay,” Osamu replies. He doesn’t sound as frantic as he did before but you can detect the worry in his voice. “I was still up so it’s no bother. I don’t even know why I called honestly. I think I just wanted to see what ya were doin’ up.”

“It’s fine, you can call me whenever,” you reply earnestly. “I….just had a dream.”

A split second of hesitation is all you’re allowed to mentally scream at yourself for breaking the one condition you set when you decided to text Osamu. “A dream?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, and I’m sorry for bugging you because it’s not fair to you but I just have to tell someone or else I feel like I’m going to fucking suffocate. I know I should just call my friends but they don’t want to hear me go on and on and -”

“Hey, hey Y/N. Calm down and take a breath.” You listen to Osamu, taking a pause to breathe. Your head is now throbbing painfully and your throat feels wretched. “What was yer dream about?”

“I was playing volleyball with my friends and...Hajime.” You are silently screaming at yourself. You were not going to do this to Osamu, you were not going to burden your friend, who is already facing struggles of his own, with your problems.

But...he did ask what your dream was about.

“We were playing volleyball together,” you go on. “And it felt so real, like one minute I was in the middle of a play and the next I was waking up in my bed, searching for the ball. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was all a dream, and, and,” your breath hitches again and you feel more sobs bubbling out. Again you feel the grief take control of your body and you start crying.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay Y/N.” Osamu is trying to soothe you but it’s not doing much to calm you down. If anything the added reassurance was making you cry harder “It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s so far from okay that you can’t even imagine how you would get to okay.

“I’m sorry,” you sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Ya don’t hafta apologize,” Osamu replies. “Just let it out, Y/N.”

Oh boy, do you let it out. You cry and cry, curled up in a ball in your bed, lamenting the loss of your best friend and trying not to drown even more in your sorrow.

But you’re not alone, really. There’s not another person in the apartment with you, but you have Osamu on the phone right now. He’s reaching out to you, reaching through the dark and trying to get to you.

You’re not alone.

You feel the sobs subsiding as your breathing returns to normal. Your entire head is throbbing, you have no chance of breathing out of your nose and your eyes are painfully dry.

“Are ya alright?”

“Yeah,” you rasp out. “I’m sorry again, for that.”

“Ya don’t ever have to apologize to me,” Osamu says immediately. His insistence brings a small smile to your face. “If ya ever need to talk about yer dreams or anything, that’s what I’m here for.”

“Thank you,” you reply. Your voice is nasally but you try to get as much sincerity in it as possible.

“Of course, and ya can call whenever. I don’t sleep so there’s a good chance ya’ll catch me anytime.”

You pause in wiping your face with your tissues as you take in what Osamu is telling you. “You don’t…sleep?”

“Nah.” Osamu's nonchalant answer makes your cock your head in confusion. “I don’t think I can remember the last time I actually slept through an entire night.”

“So,” you pause, still not comprehending. “What do you…do?”

“I do my homework, I’ve got a job at the convenience store and I usually work the night shift. Sometimes I read or binge watch a new show.” He laughs. “Usually every three or four days I just pass out for 14 hours or so, and then repeat.”

“Osamu,” you chastise. “That’s not healthy.”

He laughs again but it’s not the light chuckle from before - it’s a hollow laugh with a hard edge. “Yeah, well it stops me from havin’ the kind of dreams yer havin’. The kind where I forget that my brother is dead.”

You’re taken aback from the harshness in Osamu’s voice. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound like that. It could be considered in the same category as his usual tone - dry, sarcastic and nearly apathetic. But his regular tone is part of his sense of humor and how you two converse. You’ve never felt unease from those conversations, but now you do.

“And ya know what's worse than those little dreams?” Osamu doesn’t wait for input. “The worst is when I’m not even asleep and my stupid brain will give me random reminders from when my brother was alive. Like ‘don’t forget to wake up early and shower before Atsumu uses all the hot water!’ Or,” Osamu takes in a harsh breath, the noise making your phone speaker crackle. “Or the reminder to grab another sports drink at the store for Atsumu because he’s a scrub but he’s my brother and I love him. Or to save the mushrooms from my dinner even though they’re gross but Atsumu will trade his broccoli for them.”

Osamu blasts on, speaking fervently. Someone listening in would think he’s mad at you, but you know his frustration isn’t directed at you.

“But then I remember that I live alone, and I don’t need two bottles of sports drink and my plate is full of fucking mushrooms for no god damn reason.”

“And then, after feeling like the world’s biggest idiot for forgetting that my own twin brother is dead, I remember how alone I am.” He lets out another laugh, but it’s not light nor is it bitter. It’s worse, full of self-deprecation and pain.

You wait with bated breath, waiting for any sign on life through the phone. But when Osamu speaks, a small, broken voice comes through the line and nearly breaks your heart.

“It’s like - finding a life raft in the middle of the ocean but when you get to it it’s just a bundle of seaweed - it gets me every time.”

You inhale quietly. You want to reassure him but you can’t find the right words to say.

You can’t, because you know exactly how it feels.

The cold hard truth is that Iwaizumi Hajime is dead. There is nothing in the world that can bring him back, and there is nothing you can do to change that fact. Some days you can accept this fact easier than others.

On the easy days you feel most like yourself carrying a small rock. The weight of Hajime’s death will be something you will always carry with you. But on those easy days you can slip the rock in your pocket or hold it in your hand and carry on through life.

On the hard days it takes way more effort to lug the boulder around. You don’t know if you should drag it, heft it over your shoulder, tie a rope around it and yank hard. Sometimes you’re left to your own devices, sometimes your therapist or your parents can tell you the best way to carry it. Even your friends have stepped in to help you carry it, despite their own rocks to hold.

But the absolute worst days are the ones where you lose the rock, but you haven’t realized it. Where are you going to find it? In your pocket? Your bag? Will you trip over it?

Or will it come crashing down on you like an asteroid hellbent on wiping you out?

And it’s not even the impact that’s the worst part! Sure, this asteroid comes down on you with enough force to kill you, but the shockwave is what really destroys you.

When you have those moments when you forget that your Hajime is dead, the realization of his nonexistence is the asteroid’s impact on you. The cruel realization that his nonexistence is permanent for the remainder of your life is the shockwave.

This cruel one-two punch is devastating. It knocks you down and out, merciless in it’s destruction.

For what it’s worth, Osamu’s solution to dodging that one-two punch is not terrible, although it will have major consequences for his body and mind that he will have to face someday. But you can’t blame him for doing something to avoid the heavy blow.

It does destroy. It does make you feel like you’re drowning. It does nearly kill you.

“Ah, I think she fell asleep.” You’ve been quiet for so long that Osamu thinks you’ve fallen asleep on the phone.

“No, I'm here.” You murmur. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Ah, a dangerous pastime.” Osamu jokes, but it doesn’t quite land. Could be from his full disclosure or from the strained laugh he gives at the end of the sentence.

“It is,” you agree. “But I was thinking about what you said.” He doesn’t respond, letting you continue. “And I just wanted to say...I get it.”

There’s silence on the other end. It’s so quiet that you fear for a second that Osamu has hung up the phone in anger, or maybe he’s drifted off to sleep. But then you hear another breathy exhale, a laugh from a person who is the furthest from laughing.

“Ya know Y/N? I think you’re the only person who does.”

You exhale and close your eyes. You find it hard to open them back up, pure exhaustion taking over your body.

“We’re still on for lunch tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” Osamu answers. “But ya gotta rest now if ya wanna wake up in time for it.”

A small smile crosses your face. “Sure. Promise me you’ll try to get some sleep too?”

A noncommittal hum is the answer you receive, not ideal but you don’t push him. You feel brittle and fragile, and you’re sure he’s the same.

“Osamu, thank you.” You want to convey how thankful you are, not only that he called you tonight but for coming into your life at a time where you needed a friendly face. You know your gratitude doesn’t come close to covering the vast expanse of your gratefulness but you hope you’ll have time to show him.

“No worries, get some sleep. I’ll see ya tomorrow. Good night Y/N.”

“Good night Osamu.” Your eyes slip close, and you let yourself fall into a dreamless sleep.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: 😔😔 y’all this story is making me Big Sad and I wrote it. 🥲 Thank you so much for reading!!! I should probably mention that the time stamps in the chat and on the tweets and such are accurate - the story is moving right along!

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito

[dnsbarbie]

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬┃𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

chapter one

warnings: cursing, mentions of death, season 4/manga spoilers ??? (that’s about it, think!)

word count: 2,705

notes: this is the first installment of wistful irises !!! i guess it would be a slow-burn fic that would contain 5 or more chapters. i wrote this to cope with the tragedy of AOT manga chapter 138 — that’s just fucked up tbh.  please give this one a like/reblog/feedback so i know whether or not you liked it !!

NEXT CHAPTER: H E R E

𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

It was quiet — so eerily quiet, a hand came up to soothe her ears bitten by the cold wind. Devon’s palm felt at the rough rubbles on the surface of which she was sat on. Everything she laid eyes on tugged at her heart, scanning at her surroundings as if she looked one more time, her vision would change. 

Alas, she gazed upon the damaged cities from her place atop Wall Rose, with no success. Devon threw her head back, opting to find comfort at the stars that laid peacefully on the sky. 

“They’re dead.” She asserted, nearly winced at the wave of overwhelming devastation rushing at her heart. 

However, she was unsure who or what she was alluding to. Was it the people of Paradis? Those she lost? Or even — the stars?

Nothing was clear, at the moment. Only hurt and confusion clouded her devices. She found her palms closing in on the small rubbles she had caught, clutching them tightly in her fist.

It had been four years since everything went into a complete spiral. Perhaps it was for her alone, considering a massive part of her died along with the hundreds of comrades who sacrificed themselves for the sake of the truth. 

She remembered the day they found out about the life that existed beyond these walls. The walls she had known all her life, was quite literally, made to imprison its people. It was unclear whether she was angry or sad that there was a whole world out there that hated their existence so much that they’d created monsters to attack them. 

“It’s late, Devon.” 

She recognized that sweet-tuned voice instantly but didn’t turn to look his way as she spoke. “It’s awfully cold, too.” Her voice came in a whisper.

Her new companions footsteps grew closer, making her glance to her right. “Are you here to wallow in despair with me, Armin?” 

The blonde simply sat down beside his friend, looking ahead the dark path. “No,” He answered. “I was just looking for you.”

The silence returned after that. Chilly air wafting at the night, Devon laid her hands on her lap, inspecting how they’ve gotten small cuts from the sharp stone she had held. Her ears felt blocked as her hands began to tremble. She clenched her teeth in the hopes to ebb away her impending emotions. She exhaled a shattered breath, pressing her hands against the skin of her face. 

Armin’s hand that intended to ease Devon’s cries, seem to have worsen them the moment it touched her. However, he continued on, rubbing small circles at the column of her back. 

“I — “ Devon started, her voice failing her as another ripple of pain pounded at her chest. 

An encouraging hand reached up against her own, gently coaxing her into a state of solace, just enough for her to be able to convey her emotions.

With a breath, Devon began once more. “I thought we’ll be close to peace, once we discovered what was in that goddamn basement,” She laughed, lacking humor. The back of her palm wiping at the tears that had fallen on her cheeks. “But — it was just another door to one more disaster.” 

“That’s true,” Armin agreed, but still mulled over her words. “It is a big step from freedom, though.”

She gritted her teeth, baring the headache that came with it. There was a part of her that knew it was the exact idea Armin had in mind. Regardless of her understanding, she couldn’t help but feel a whistle of displeasure crawling against her lips.

With a swing of her head, she finally flashed her attention to Armin. Devon gave him a once-over, noticing how his once shoulder-length hair, had been cut shorter, lips curled into a frown, dragging down a creases on his forehead. The main thing that always saddened Devon was the look in his eyes.

Armin was the last person Devon thought she’d see with those haunting wisp. He was the last shred of hope she had in this world, even before everything came tumbling down, Devon saw Armin as a beacon, that she could run to whenever it all became horrifyingly dark— staring at him now, Devon felt extremely helpless, loneliness grasping at her throat, catching herself reaching for Armin’s hand that was placed on her back, snatching it on her own.

“We’ve lost so much,” She mumbled, compressing her grip on his hand. “I can’t afford to lose anything anymore— Armin—”

“You won’t—”

“— If we go tomorrow, I will—”

“Devon—”

“No— we’re going into a lion’s den! Every single person in that goddamn land wants us dead!” She stressed, leaning in closer to Arnim as if it’s bound to improve his comprehension.

Armin halted, observing the panic flood in Devon’s sunken eyes. The usual brilliance of its green hue had faded over time. In it’s place were tired, dull irises staring back at him.

He swallowed the lump building up his throat, nodding in understanding. “I know— but we have to bring him home, Devon.”

With a quick dark chuckle, Devon faced the sky, leaning her head back. “I don’t even know if I want to see him,”

Huffing out a breath Armin was holding, he abruptly got on his feet, pulling his hands from Devon’s freezing ones.

The latter flashed him a confused glance, awaiting his next move. She watched as Armin shook off his Survey Corps jacket, soon hanging it on her shoulders.

Maybe it was the topic of discussion that made them neglect the air that had been a lot chillier than before. Devon felt warmth seeping back into her skin as she hugged the material tighter against her body.

“You don’t seem to have a choice for the matter,” Armin muttered, gazing down at her. “Whether or not you’re in good terms with him, Eren still belong with us.”

Devon grimaced, as if Armin had said something completely ridiculous— in her eyes, it was.

She recalled that painful night, about three months ago. The night Eren decided to sneak out and leave Paradis. He had been babbling about it for weeks prior to his escape. Devon made the mistake of thinking it was all that— mindless babbling.

She was wrong, of course. Eren had actually planned everything. He was going to see through his stupid plan.

“Are being fucking serious right now?” Devon hissed, distressed eyes were scanning Eren’s face, hoping this was some sick prank he’d gotten everyone in.

Eren cringed at the volume of her voice, hands putting up immediately to cup her mouth. “Devon— Please— Listen, yeah?”

His pleas were met by deaf ears, as Devon slapped his plams away from his mouth, glaring at him with the outmost disbelief.

“You’re being stupid,” She scoffed. “This is stupid— Eren— You want to go there?” Her furrowed eyebrows deepened the more she thought about it.

Eren bit his lip, nodding slowly, standing rigid in front of her, frozen at the fire in her eyes. He examined her, sitting on her bed, contemplating the information he threw at her face.

The light of the single candle in the room, illuminated the left side of her face as she turned to him again. “What ever you think is going to fix this, it’ll only call for another war—”

“That’s nothing new.”

“You selfish—” She had lunged at him, limbs acting before her brain. “—little brat—!” An echo deafening resounded in the small enclosed space, rearing on the silence it followed. Devon’s palm stung, eyes raging and barely seeing anything beyond her seething anger.

Before she had the mind to process anything, her head banged against a solid surface, a groan leaving her lips from the impact.

Everything was fuzzy, scarcely making out anything at sight. Only cloudy images filled her vision, almost not feeling the bruising grip pressing her down by the wrists.

The searing breath near her ear, felt uncomfortably cold, a pair of lips grazing at the tip, making her shudder.

“For your own protection— all of you— remember that . . .”

The words echoed, but she could barely hear the last ones, as her breath turned calmer, the last thing she saw were those turquoise orbs, looking back at her with an emotion she couldn’t quite read.

Devon shook herself out of the memory. There was more to it, she knew that — but she couldn’t seem to remember. When she tries, a huge headache always came crashing down on her. A sick wave slapped her as she thought about the dreadful possibility of Eren, messing with her memories. 

She hated the big gapping wall in her mind. It was always incomplete, left her nothing but empty guesses about what else he could have said to her that night before he left her hanging with a missing piece in her heart. 

He left them — and just like that, he gets to come home in the most unnecessarily brutal way possible. Eren was asking for a bloodbath, and unfortunately, that was what most likely going to happen tomorrow.

“He’s going to get us killed.” She muttered, voice thinning at the thought of her fallen comrades — endless blood — fire — explosions — “We’ll be lucky if we all make it out in one piece.” 

This time, Armin didn’t contract her declaration, having her look down. He was frighteningly aware of the fact that any of them could die at any given moment. It brought him peril at how Devon had smacked him in the face with the reality he was trying to avoid. A part of him wanted to believe it was all going to go smoothly, but the logical part of him had mulled over the dreadful alternative for a long time now.

He sympathized with the hostile feelings Devon had grown for Eren. Perhaps it was due to the puzzling relationship they possessed. If he was to base it on his observations alone, it was painfully obvious that they cared deeply for one another but never had the time or courage to say it. 

No one has ever pried about their relationship, since they both dismissed it as nonsense. It was perplexing yet as clear as day what they had for each other. 

They would always be found bicker when they were younger, Devon calling Eren an ugly airhead then Eren shooting back that they were the same. Back then, it was true. They were kids who thought they could do everything themselves. Armin could say, Devon grew out of that attitude as time passed by when he got to know Devon a little better. 

After the battle with Zeke, Reiner and Bertholdt, the amount of trauma everyone endured was terrible. The bloody aftermath of Paradis was engraved into their minds, never fading until their last breath. 

The guilt ate at Armin when he found out how he came to be alive. He often wondered why it was him. Why did Captain Levi give him the chance to live over Commander Erwin. 

On the other hand, remorse gripped at Devon’s throat at the unintentional betrayal that crossed her mind that day. She found herself opening her mouth before she could hide it away. 

“I was so desperate for peace . . .” She whispered, yanking down Armin by his hands, his behind slamming against the hard concrete as he was forced to sit down in front of her. “That I . . . For a long time — I believed that only Erwin could lead us there —”

“It’s alright — “

“It isn’t — it was meant to make me happy, for goodness sake — you came back from the dead after I stood there and watch you get burned alive . . .” She failed to realize she was crying until she felt droplets of her tears falling on her hands, intertwined with Armin’s.

Looking away, she continued, Armin watching her carefully. “Mikasa and Eren were desperately convincing Captain Levi to resurrect you — while I stared at both yours and Commander Erwin’s body , absolutely loathing the choice that had to be made.” 

Devon could no longer hold in her heavy sobs, as it broke through her completely. “I get why you thought that, and you weren’t selfish for doing it, were you?” She listened to Armin’s reassuring voice. “You thought Erwin should’ve had it because you believed people would follow him and would avoid getting hurt — “

“ — you’d be able to do that too, though . . .” Devon countered, sniffling as she glanced back at Armin’s oceanic orbs. “I was just blinded by fear to think straight back then.”

Armin smiled at Devon in a silent gratitude. “I thought about everything you did, too, and maybe you’re right, maybe I’m too blinded by my own fears to face another life that was given to me — but I promised Captain Levi and Commander Hanji I’ll do everything it takes to bring us the peace we’ve been seeking out for years.”

Devon winced at the sudden touch on her head, chestnut locks swishing from one side after the other as Armin ruffled her hair. 

“Regretting could only get you so far,” Armin stated, a small smile gracing his face. “What’s important is what you decide to do about it.”

Warmth flooded at Devon’s core, nearly bursting into tears at Armin’s comforting words. Her mind went back to Eren, his circumstances and living conditions on that island were mostly unknown. But seeing as he had the facilities to send a letter, hints that it must be at the least safe.

She started to fly over the scattered thoughts inside her head, mulling over how mentally drained she has been, yet the noise and dull of her heart seem to only worsen. The countless times she had to convince herself of the good things left in the world to bask the gift of life, but lately, she found herself sitting by the windowsill of her room. Eyes always glancing up the sky whether or not they were painted with shining stars. 

Devon often clutched her chest when the uncontrollable pangs in her heart refuses to remain still. Some days, the rejection of waking up rattles her tremendously, and the refusal to face the day ahead was stronger than anything. 

She wanted nothing more than to take a few steps back and reverse time to relish the tranquility of it all. It sounded ridiculously selfish, but she’d trade anything if it means she would awake to Eren and Jean’s loud voices arguing or to see Sasha pocket goods she had stolen from the kitchen while being chased down by Armin. And oh — what she wouldn’t give to replay the day they’ve all bonded together after Keith Shadis made Sasha run until she was in the brink of insanity. 

It’s those little things that made her nostalgic, bringing a sad smile on her lips that she wasn’t sure if she wanted those thoughts randomly popping up her mind. Sometimes, disbelief hits her harder than anything whenever she’d allow herself to scan the faces of what’s left of her teammates. 

When Erwin had told them, he knows “they’d one day go far and achieve great things”, if he was still here, Devon would surely make him look at what had become of them. 

Everyone was preparing for the expedition in Marley tomorrow. Devon had exited the room when she had heard the severity of the situation. Eren was going to wreck havoc in that foreign island and he gave them no other choice than to lend him aid. 

It was rather conflicting, Devon was worried for him but nonetheless, despised his living-breathing self. She often wondered about his whole motive, considering his adamant proclamation that it wasn’t for his own self-indulgence. 

It felt like it was, as she began to feel the shuddering screams of the impending battle that was set to take place. 

If another life of her loved one’s taken from her tomorrow, she fears that it might throw her in an unstable state and she had every right to blame it all on Eren.

[toastandjamie]

I have- so many feelings. I’ve been trying to write an analysis since last night but everything I wrote is incomprehensible so this is an attempt: advanced apologies. Originally I wanted to make a post about C!Quackity and C!Tommy’s relationship but then it got me thinking of talking about what makes Tommy so vulnerable to manipulation even incidentally which brought me to Wilbur and Techno. So I’ve decided to just make a mishmash comparing Tommy’s relationships to these three complicated people.

Starting with Quackity I think we can all agree, Quackity GETS Tommy. In a way others on the server(like Fundy or Foolish) just straight up don’t. Quackity treats Tommy a lot like he treats Slime, with this understanding that Tommy isn’t like everyone else and won’t respond to things like others would. Because Tommy in spite of everything really does act like a kid. He acts out because of boredom or frustration especially when he’s ignored. Often others get frustrated when dealing with Tommy, but Quackity has this odd level of patience different from say Sam, Puffy or even Foolish in that he puts himself at Tommy’s level. At the start I think this was just a genuine attempt at having fun with our chaos raccoon but at the moment it’s almost patronizing(a reoccurring theme). Quackity understands that pushing Tommy will only result in property damage, but he also knows that he can’t let him run around unsupervised(because property damage). When Quackity is unaware that Tommy is listening he sounds more than a little frustrated at his antics, but then Tommy throws on a pair of pants claiming to be called Trousers and insists that he is not in fact Tommyinnit. Quackity plays along, he doesn’t try and force Tommy to stop, he humors him. This is something Quackity does a lot with Tommy, and it’s why Tommy still seems to have positive feelings towards him. Quackity humors him the way adults will humor a child who’s insisting that they are a wizard. Through this lense(which I think Quackity is fully aware of) he’s able to get Tommy into a less aggressive state and get information out him. Like why he’s working with Wilbur, and Tommy’s feelings about it. Which also unfortunately makes him super easy to use. I think in the future as Quackity slowly succumbs to the inevitable power hungry corruption that’ll bury whatever soft spot he has for Tommy, we’ll see Quackity take advantage of Tommy’s blatant abandonment issues using the trust he’s built through these small appeasement based interactions.

Moving on; C!Wilbur Soot! This is a land mine let me tell you. Because Listen, Wilbur is obviously, severely traumatized and mentally ill. I don’t think Wilbur necessarily has any malicious intentions towards Tommy. But unfortunately this bad boy is backing a fuck load of unhealthy coping mechanisms and behaviors. Such as his possessive streak! We saw with L’manburg the whole “if I can’t have you no one can!” Mentality, which has now been transferred to Tommy. It’s a move to assert his control over a situation and unfortunately for Tommy he’s a prime vessel for this behavior because he has absolutely no concept of healthy boundaries! Since his backstory and relationships are a bit blurry we can’t make any definitive explanation for where this came from but for the sake of argument let’s say Tommy has known Wilbur since he was young, and Wilbur was always someone with a possessive personality(albeit less obvious due to the fact that he wasn’t traumatized yet). Being raised by or around someone who never sets boundaries with you can lead to a person growing up not able to do so themselves. And wouldn’t you know it Tommy has clearly never had a stable healthy relationship because all of them have been transactional or codependent. Which is, bad.(shout out to Tubbo and Ranboo though for trying to enforce healthy boundaries sadly though the timing of this separation couldn’t have been worse). Currently I think it’s safe to say Wilbur and Tommy have a codependent relationship. One with a very clear imbalance of power, comparable to a codependent parent-child relationship. In which Tommy excuses Wilbur’s bad behaviors out of a sense of responsibility, this feeling that because they’re “family” he owes it to Wilbur to stay by his side. Not to mention how Tommy obviously craves guidance and leadership from paternal/fraternal figures, which he originally found in Wilbur(later in Dream, Techno and Sam afterwards). Tommy very clearly desires a family structure in which he is loved and protected no matter what, and Wilbur fills that role easily and willingly. Wilbur wants someone who’ll be loyal to him and will never leave or betray him, and Tommy wants someone who’ll protect and care for and, say it with me boys, will never leave or betray him. There isn’t anything wrong with wanting someone to be there for you, but because of their complexes and traumas these feelings of fraternal affection are twisted into a relationship lacking boundaries and for Tommy, complete absence of autonomy. Only doing things because Wilbur wants him to me, because he wants Wilbur to be happy and Wilbur is never wrong. Not a good mindset to have when dealing with someone like Wilbur who is destructive as a means of coping.

Lastly another landmine, in the form of Technoblade! Ah yes, bedrock bros. We love them and miss them. But newsflash guys they ALSO had an unhealthy transactional relationship! But here’s the thing about unhealthy relationships, sometimes people are just not good for eachother. There’s no bad guy or good guy. No ones in the right or wrong. They just, weren’t good for eachother. Now whether this was situational or not can only be answered if they reconnect with healthier mindsets but for now we’ll say it’s situational. Obviously, Tommy was clearly in a bad place. Just barely managing to escape exile after a narrowly thwarted suicide attempt: now packing a whole slew of issues, from paranoia, depression, fear of abandonment, low self worth, and just general debilitating stress. Techno was ALSO in a bad place, he just hides it under a sense of self righteous justice: like guys, his only friend was put under house arrest because of him associating with him, and he was then executed under the threat of death of his faithful horse companion. Techno was angry and blinded by revenge. A bad mix when you toss in a traumatized codependent teenager desperately searching for someone to fill the empty void of fraternal leadership left by Wilbur’s death. Tommy really just wants someone to tell him what to do, like let’s not kid ourselves here. Techno offered Tommy protection from Dream, which yay! But also creates an unbalanced power dynamic(bringing that one back!). I genuinely believe that it wasn’t Techno’s intention, but the thing is, the relationship became transactional: a “I’ll protect you and take care of you if you do what I say and help me.” Type scenario. It was impossible for Tommy to really comfortably say no, at risk of being tossed out of straight up given to Dream to face whatever horrible consequences running away had. BESIDES that, they are just two very different people who had very different priorities. Techno wanted vengeance against L’manburg, Tommy wanted to be protected but always had the intention of returning to L’manburg one day(clearly believing getting the discs would be a catch all problem solver). These two priorities are in direct conflict with eachother; as a result they’re partnership would never have worked in the long term. Here’s the kicker to what makes this relationship so unhealthy though, because those things in isolation don’t make an unhealthy relationship but the fact that Tommy’s poor mental state fueled by Techno’s blood seeking revenge made him act in ways HE deemed wrong, makes it unhealthy. Tommy wasn’t lying, being with Techno made him become a person he didn’t want to be, and it’s NOT Techno’s fault. It was the unfortunate consequence of their opposing view points and unhealthy mental states. Perhaps in a world where the Butcher Army never existed the Bedrock Bro’s team up could have been a moment of healing for both characters; but alas that was not the world we are privy to in canon.

Yeah so that’s it for now I guess

[stopeatingwhales]

about a girl (pt.2) x kurt cobain

hi guys :) so sorry for my inactivity, but i’m here finally lmaoo, this is a part two to my kurt fic that i wrote about a month ago, due to school its been much harder for me to keep up writing as usual, but i will absolutely try my best to finish your guys’ requests soon! anyways, hope you enjoy this <3 Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing :)

Word count: 2.167

Requested by anon (the second part was my idea, but i felt like i should still credit the anon for giving me the idea for this x) 

༉‧₊˚✧

The wind exhales short, breezy waves as you lay there, engulfed in your dreams. From the night succeeding to your outstanding performance, you were requited to a favourable hibernation which by admiring you, was needed for not only the sum of a few hours. Your solemn features are painted still, the only movement stimulating from your body is heavy breaths accompanied by a light snore from time to time. I question whether it's righteous of me to allow my eyes to adorn themselves in your serene features, yet I simply cannot stop myself. I find it surreal to witness you in such fragility; for all the pain and sorrow you’ve had to experience in your life, it’s almost like you shouldn’t be sleeping in such a tranquillic state. I wonder if you prefer sleeping than being awake, I wonder if you think it’s a chore to get out of bed. Does the world haunt you? Every click, flash, snap of a camera, does it devastate you? The image you portray to the world is magnificent, yet flawed. It’s almost as if you’re hiding something, yet you don’t care what others think of you, so you do whatever you please. My heart skips a beat every time you shift slightly, cradling your body in the duvet. I advert my stare to your arms, sculpted perfectly in God’s chamber, the lankiness of your bones withering an appearance of discrepancy. You’re not like the rest of them. Your steady breaths softly ease in and out of your flawless torso, your hair so impeccable it looks untouched even when you’re shifting around in your slumber - the hair you willingly dyed and strained with a flavoured drink mix. As I admire you, sleeping beauty, it reminds me of how lucky I am to have you in my life - regardless of where we stand. When you’re awake, you’re the only thing keeping me sane during the day; spending even just a day without you would feel as if I had lost my legs, lost what’s kept me steady for all these draining years. In all my time of knowing and understanding you, have you never not known what to say, for you have such a way with words, it's unfathomable. You carry a sort of intelligence that no one can seem to obtain; you speak words out of a bible and it’s ironic I say that, Mr ‘God is gay’, but it’s true. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. You’re like a hard candy, sweet and delicate, although the texture is very hard making it a burden to get through to you. I want to taste you on my tongue every morning, if you would like me to be honest. I crave for things as little as your scent even before I’ve risen from the cushion. Your grace must be envied by the heavens; there is and will never be anyone as alluring as you, not that I’m surprised. 

As my eyes continue to wander on him, a sudden stretch of his arms and a small groan echoing out of his vocal chords results in my body almost instantaneously sitting up. I watch him as he blinks his eyes a few times, his vision still not clear enough. “Good morning,” he whispers, his arms thrown to the skies; he’s like a baby, reaching out for their mother in the early hours of daylight, moaning and whining for affection, warming my heart with soreful ease. Quickly taking note of the small clock situated beside him that I was aware of for the many hours I had been trapped in thought, it read a bright and early 11am. My stare continues to linger onto him as I watch him shifting around, the heart situated in my upper chest now beating as fast as drum solos in heavy metal songs. A short silence stood in between both presences; I assume that he hadn’t taken note of my pondering state adjacent to him, though was that idea contradicted by his light greeting. “Did you sleep well?” he chirps, now using both palms to rub his what-seemed-like itchy eyes.

Now what is humorous from this scenario is that he asks this as if it means nothing; a simple conversation starter it may be, though, to me it means so much more hearing those light words roll off his tongue, compared to if someone else had said it, even if it was in the exact same moment living right now. A whiff of bad breath hits my face as I laugh lightly, shaking my head in a sort of admiration towards the man lying down ahead of me. He again blinks a few times, now in attempt to adjust the bright scenery to his view. For a couple seconds the room is frozen, Kurt’s alteration in position to sitting up becoming the only sound ringing through both our ears. As I find my gaze glued onto him once again, I subconsciously repeat the question he asked me, this time directed for him. However, from what I’ve seen, I’m certain he slept wonderfully.

A tired chuckle escaped his mouth. “I asked you first,” he mutters, the morning rasp still prominent in his vocal chords. This makes me smile. The raw, genuinity forwards the idea of realism that this moment was actually happening, coming like a pinch snapping someone out of their daydream, though my thoughts will never be known to understand how I was able to spend time with such a man. “I slept well, though.” he adds, a warm smile playing on his lips. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” I answered, my face now being cradled by my palms. 

I now feel the stare of Kurt burn onto my face. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, a hint of annoyance laced in his words. “We could’ve stayed up together,” 

A small chuckle breezes out of my nose. How considerate, how caring must you be to, even when you have performed such an exasperating gig, stay awake with me because of one night of my mind’s continuous ambles? For all I know, Kurt wouldn’t sleep for days if it meant I would be in absolute glee. It’s those sorts of traits in those who are lost which draw you towards them becoming the significant other to stay with for life. It’s that sense of attachment, connection you hold with someone, so strong that you would give up the roof over your head if it meant a smile to be drawn on their face. ”You looked so peaceful in your sleep,” I replied, staring directly into his loveable eyes, the shade of blue brightening as the sunlight melted onto his face. His hair was now a little more messier compared to how it was less than ten minutes ago, and the urge of me running my fingers through his golden locks only seemed to grow even more as time passed on. For a moment I decided to hold back my words, inhaling sharply to gain composure to my fatigued state. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” 

Kurt sighed - knowing that he needed sleep more than anything, though a hint of sadness dwindled in his stomach, his mind conflicted from the idea of me drowning in worry as I tended to do when I couldn’t sleep. Reaching his arm towards the table sat beside him, his fingers got lost in between the opened packet of cigarettes that slept reverently on the white wood, grabbing a random one at choice before placing it in a loose grip between his lips. With the known information that you need a torch to light a cigarette, I threw the one I had on his lap, a small laugh escaping my lips for no apparent reason. Actually no, there was a reason. “Who the fuck smokes first thing in the morning?”

Before he torched the lighter, he stopped, his piercing blue eyes locking in contact with mine. “Me, I do,” 

Another laugh tempted to flee itself from my throat, yet I held it back. If you would’ve said that to me the first night I met you, in that small, cramped room, littered with amps that Krist had dragged me into going in to listen to your material, I would’ve scoffed at your blown attitude towards such a random question. Watching you now as you’re admiring the cancer stick with pure attachment, my mind begins to wander over such a topic. I look at you and see a troubled, young kid who just wants love and affection because he seemingly never got enough from the people who designed his childhood; for you haven’t grown up since then. Perhaps in size and features, yes (and definitely the fact that children do not smoke), but hidden inside you is the same boy that was hidden away all those years ago - following onto your parents’ divorce. You say you’ve never been happy since then, you’ve never been able to think optimistically, and maybe you haven’t. Maybe the smile you give to me isn’t genuine; with continuous assurance I’ll consider it to be. Maybe I’ll never heal those bruises that were once your only source of living, and that’s okay, if you’re able to cope with the imprints. If you’re the Kurt Cobain that prefers smoking than having a normal breakfast, so be it; I’d give up my heart for you, and if anything, you’ve already stolen it. Words merely brush the surface of my adoration for you, and sometimes I believe that I’m just lying to myself, that nothing I’m saying in my head is true. Yet, as every minute, every second passes throughout the day, even in silent, contented situations with ceilings bright as yellow from the smoke like these, everything I say to myself simply strengthens in morality. My sweet, you deserve more than one could wish for. You deserve things that this world cannot give you, yet all you believe is that you are worthless. If only you saw yourself in my eyes, maybe then you’d realise, realise the impact you’ve sincerely doused onto me and my mind, you’ve got the moves to empower a generation and perhaps hundreds more - even if you don’t see that yet. 

“Give me one,” He hands me one, the strong gusts of cloud escaping his mouth creating a want for the rough substance to coat my throat in brutal ways; even if it’s slowly murdering me. It was a murderous addiction, nicotine, yet it kills us all, our addictions; and we are too blinded by the goodness it seemingly overshadows what we force to neglect in our minds - the bad in it all. We become so unbelievably enthralled by the pain we choose to accept it; we believe it is favourable, not disastrous and catastrophic. Drugs are frowned upon dearly, as they should be, but once you’re stuck, it takes more than simple courage to escape out of the deadly grip it chokes you in. Placing the cigarette in between my lips, identical to how he had just done, I reached my arm out to obtain the lighter that was in my clutch merely seconds ago, swiftly lighting it with one hand. As I breathed out the first tar-filled cloud from my cigar, I fixed my gaze onto him once again, sucking in my top lip as I allowed the droplets of ash fall onto my shirt. “I know I always say this,” I began as I studied his features, trying to identify any solemn, unpleasant emotions, noticing that there was none at all for the time being. “You’re going to make it big one day, I’m now for certain you’re going to take over the world,”

His eyes now locked into mine, a short chuckle leaving his throat as he blew out an even bigger gust of smoke. “I don’t want that,” 

Smiling, I took hold of my cigarette and inhaled deeply, holding it in my mouth until my body was unable to carry on without oxygen for longer - not that the air in the room was even oxygen; it was more corrosive chemicals than anything else, yet we’ve become so dependant on a small roll of tobacco to guide us to a path of slow death, its unnoticable. I watched as Kurt’s eyes drifted on to admire the elusive sunlight gleaming through the window, the whiffs of grey contrasting the happiness that was attempting to journey itself into the silent room. No matter how many times I may tell, his belief that he will never be as big as acts like the Sex Pistols will empower over anything I endevour on to phrase. It was inevitable though, whether he dreamt of it or not, that they will be big, bigger than anything they’ve ever seen. The path bridging onto it may cause destruction, heartbreak, and even more addiction, but the future is never in our hands - only until it is close enough for the present to capture it. Time is simply a mantelpiece, the light eventually burns out when there’s not enough coal to keep it going. You continue to refill it as the days go by until you simply cannot any longer, which is what all youths fear and avoid. Surprisingly enough, Kurt wasn’t one of the many crowds in devastating apprehension; he wanted to burn out more than anything else, for there were only small things keeping him going, or perhaps he was waiting for a longer, more agonizing death, hence the many packets of cigarettes vanished in a day.

There was nothing left to say in the room; there was no need for a response - it was only going to result in the same bicker as it resulted in many a time. The room, now physically undergoing a change in colour from the smoke, held a significant ambience, one so serene it left you more relaxed than the aftermath of a crazy high in drug use, though sometimes the relaxation is more pain than anything else. Even when my mind was so consumed in ideation earlier in the morning, my thoughts were louder than ever in this given moment. My mind was mulled over the concept of Kurt and stardom. He would never like it, nor does he even want it. It’s humorous to an extent; how much authenticity can one acclaim, to not even look up to the sugar-coated concept called ‘fame’? You’re not like the others. You don’t want fame, you want to create music. And in all honesty, I wish I lie through my teeth whenever I mumble those encouraging words of how you’re going to make it big; I can’t stand the idea of losing you, but like I said, it's inevitable, one day simple moments like these will just be memories to look back on when you’re old and laughing about your previous attachment to drugs. Maybe you won’t look back on times like these however, maybe you’ll remember the more vivid, buzzing moments like your first gig as Nirvana, and maybe I won’t remember this either, maybe these moments aren’t to be remembered, to be lived in instead. If only you knew how much I loved you, would you be surprised that I haven’t ruined my life because of it. You mean more to me than the stars mean to the night sky, more than a memory means to a person’s mind. It hurts my heart knowing I can’t heal you, though I dream that one day, you’ll wake up, just like you did today, turn to me and say, ‘I’m happy,’ because that’s all I ever dream of you to be.

[drpierceandmrhyde]

okay here’s me blathering about “Hawk’s Nightmare” for ~1350 words

I’m going to talk about Frank and Margaret’s conversation in post-op first because it doesn’t fit with the other themes of the episode that I want to talk about, but I still like that scene, so I want to talk about it anyway.

    Margaret’s “I happen to be an engaged person” is very Gender, but I also like her “I’m a one-man woman” because … well, she is. Sure, she had a long affair with a married man, but that affair could have been born from mutual loneliness as much as from attraction, and as far as I remember she is never in a relationship with both Frank and Donald. When it’s clear that Frank is never going to divorce his wife, Margaret calls their affair quits. And she commits to her relationships, even if the men with whom she is involved don’t share her commitment. She sticks with Frank through countless empty promises, and Donald leaves her, not the other way around. (Also, I hate to say it, but “I know God exists because you exist” is quite a romantic line.)

    Now for the on-topic stuff.

    From the opening scene we see the impetus for the themes of Hawkeye’s sleepwalking and dreams. The episode opens with Hawkeye lamenting on the age of his patient. This isn’t the first time this has happened; he and Trapper had the whole “I’d swear this kid is really a kid” scene in “Sometimes You Hear the Bullet.” But Hawkeye seems especially worked up about this patient’s age, even countering Frank’s claim that their patients are proud soldiers by saying that they’re babies. So it makes sense that this fixation on the youth of these soldiers would lead to dreams about people from Hawkeye’s own childhood.

    The youth of Hawkeye’s patient is further cemented in a later scene when Hawkeye is visiting with him in post-op. The patient hadn’t even heard of Korea before the war started. And when Hawkeye says that he’s from Crabapple Cove, the patient says that it sounds like a place where Winnie the Pooh hangs out. There’s something unnerving about a soldier talking about something as childish as Winnie the Pooh. It reminds you that he’s just a kid whose government forced him into this war.

    The episode is full of little moments that show the care that the 4077th has for Hawkeye. When BJ sees him asleep in bed without a blanket, he puts a blanket over him. When Klinger and Radar catch him sleepwalking for the second night in a row, they very calmly and gently get him back to bed without waking him up. When Hawkeye wakes up Radar in the middle of the night because he’s desperate to check on a friend back home, Radar places the call without hesitation, and Colonel Potter asks Radar to call Sidney but does so discreetly because he doesn’t want Hawkeye to know. Even Frank kind of tries to offer comfort depending on how you look at it. I know Hawkeye doesn’t take comfort from Frank saying that there’s nothing in the dark that isn’t there in the light, but in the right circumstances I could see how that sentiment could be comforting to someone. (And I have a weakness for Potter saying “Anything I can do, son?” while putting his hand on Hawkeye’s back and then encouraging Hawkeye to lie down for a while.)

    The episode has some good demonstrations of Hawkeye feeling like he has to be funny, whether the staff has imposed that expectation or whether he’s imposed it on himself. You have “Come on, don’t pull my leg. The shape I’m in, it’ll come off,” and he says “Frankly, I think I’m pregnant” when he’s talking to Margaret and BJ about his first nightmare. It could be humor as a coping mechanism or to keep up with his jokester expectations or perhaps both.

    But I also think it’s interesting that when BJ says there’s no need to make such a big deal out of a little sleepwalking and one nightmare, Hawkeye agrees with him and says that he wouldn’t if it were happening to anyone else. But wouldn’t he? At this point Hawkeye has a history of treating traumatized patients with compassion and taking their trauma seriously, even if he doesn’t always understand the trauma. “Mad Dogs and Servicemen” is perhaps a bit of an exception, but that was mostly because he was trying to follow Sidney’s advice when Sidney couldn’t show up to talk to the patient himself, and behind that firmness I think he still cared about the patient, and he thought that the patient probably didn’t like him because of his treatment.

    We get a taste of Hawkeye viewing his home and his childhood through rose-tinted glasses. He says that Toby Wilder was his best friend as a kid, but when he calls Toby to check on him after his nightmare, Toby only cares about the money that Hawkeye supposedly owes him. And then a few seasons later, Hawkeye talks about his love for his cousin Billy, who almost drowned him.

    I love the way that the writing describes trauma without using medical or psychiatric terminology. When talking about his fear of going to sleep, Hawkeye says “It’s one thing to live in a shooting gallery, but now I’m being attacked from inside. […] How do I defend myself from myself?” And there’s the conversation between Potter and Radar after Potter has called Sidney, when Radar talks about the fight against the war. When Potter says that the jokes aren’t working anymore and Radar says that the other side is winning, it reminds me of Alan Alda saying that Hawkeye doesn’t fundamentally change but rather that his coping mechanisms stop working. And Hawkeye openly says that he’s scared. I always love when characters express their fear outright.

    I love that Hawkeye and Sidney’s scene is framed as a conversation rather than a formal psychiatric appointment. Their friendship and mutual respect has been well established by this point, but this is the first extended scene of Hawkeye being a patient and Sidney being his therapist (we got a little of that in “O.R.” but not to this extent). Hawkeye is relieved that Potter called Sidney, and he quickly talks very candidly about his fear of falling asleep, and Sidney invites Hawkeye to share his own insight into his mental state without trying to twist Hawkeye’s words. “So you’ve been walking in your sleep. What do you think it means?” And as a bonus we get a taste of Sidney’s sense of humor with his “losing your marbles” joke.

    I haven’t seen “Goodbye, Farewell and Amen” yet and won’t until the 28th, but from what I know about Hawkeye’s arc in that episode, there is some foreshadowing/reversal in this episode. In this episode Hawkeye is worried that he’s going crazy and eventually asks Sidney point blank if he is crazy, but in GFA (from my understanding) Hawkeye doesn’t think he needs help. In this episode Hawkeye tells Sidney that he’s very reassuring and that he has a great warside manner, but in GFA he calls Sidney a son of a bitch. I’ll definitely revisit this episode once I’ve seen GFA.

    I also love and appreciate that Hawkeye’s sleepwalking and nightmares come from the trauma of the war without Hawkeye dreaming about the war itself. It’s a refreshing twist on war-related PTSD tropes. He dreams about childhood friends, and in the dreams they’re still children, and the dreams all end with the kids dying violently, and Sidney compares those dreams to the children that Hawkeye has had to operate on. And Sidney saying “But there’s a lot of suffering going on here, Hawkeye, and you can’t avoid it. You can’t even dream it away” is yet another indication of Hawkeye being fully, painfully aware of the war and another indication that Hawkeye is drowning in the war and cannot escape the totality of it.

    So overall it’s a great episode that presents it subject matter authentically and in ways that ring true to the characters’ personalities.

[waywardsons-imagines]

I’m Not Okay

Author - Admin Aingeal

Characters - Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Y/N

Pairing - None

Summary/Request - When Y/N runs off on yet another suicide mission, the brothers find her having taken down an entire nest of vampires. They are determined to figure out what has been driving her, before it’s too late.

Word Count - 1,960

Warnings - Angst, Descriptions of Depression, Mentions of Blood (from killing vampires) (If you spot any other warnings I should add, please let me know so I can edit this post to include them!)

A/N - Based on the song “I’m Not Okay” by Citizen Soldier

Story -

The rain was pouring. With everything I had been dealing with inside, it was as if the sky decided to cry with me and just let it all out at once.

I stood there in the parking lot with my arms out as if I was trying to catch the water with my bare hands.

Machete in one hand - blood dripping onto the pavement from my fingers & the large blade, more still running down my shirt and finding its way to the ground around me, mixing with the water to form unique artwork around me.

Tonight - the monsters that inhabit my brain are screaming so damn loud. I can’t ignore them any longer. The walls I built up so that I would never have to hear their voices couldn’t go any higher.

I hear the rumble of an engine in the distance. They are approaching quickly, sure, but will they make it in time?

The person that they see, day in and day out, is nothing more than a mask. A facade. A blatant lie.

But it’s also the only way to cope that I’ve ever known.

Being the real me - broken, scared, desperate for something I can never obtain - has only ever resulted in being more and more alone in this world.

I hear the purr of the engine a short distance behind me - the doors slamming shut in their hurry, and their booming voices carrying through over the din of the downpour.

“Y/N! What the hell were you thinking?!”

Their footsteps cause distinct splashes as they make their way to where I stand. I find the sound amusing for as morbid a moment this has become.

“Dean, chill,” Sam interjected, seemingly noticing my exasperation of their presence. “She’s fine; that’s the important thing.”

I am far more thankful for the water falling from the sky than I ever have been before. It is hiding the falling tears and making it that much easier to replace the mask I need for the interaction ahead.

“Sorry guys,” I keep my tone stoic and passively positive as always as I turn to face them. “I got a lead, and I took my chance before they could move again.”

“Sorry?” Dean bit out. “All you can say is ‘sorry guys’? We were worried sick, Y/N!” His voice was rough as always.

“Dean!”

“No, Sam! Not this time!” His hand was out, waving to dismiss his brother. “What the fuck is going on with you, Y/N!? Sneaking off, not telling a damn one of us where the hell you’re going off to. Taking on demons, werewolves, even a fucking wendigo - ALONE.”

I felt unattached from my body. As if watching overhead at the scene playing out below me. With a stoic blink, I heard myself respond, “I don’t see what the big deal is. I came out of each one alive and well.”

I sidestep the brothers and start the sadly short journey to my car on the other side of the vast open lot.

“Look, Y/N,” Sam said softly. I could just hear the resignation. “We’re just worried. Taking on those creatures is dangerous; let alone doing it without backup. And now you’re here taking out an entire nest of vampires?”

He tried to stay strong - not the ever tough soldier his brother was, but the solid rock we all came to expect. I could hear his voice break, though, despite his best efforts.

I turn back and lock eyes with each of them again, all while still taking steps back toward the vehicles. I could feel how dead my stare was; I could feel how painfully emotionless my face rested.

‘I’m not okay - can’t you see that?’ I want to shout at them.

I have so much to say, but no one to hear it.

Despite how much is at stake, keeping quiet not burdening the brothers - or their angel - with the battle inside myself.

I feel the emotions clash - the want and the need to tell them everything, right here and right now - the futility of it, seeping in and convincing me they don’t care.

So, I let the monsters win, silencing me once again. Lying to myself, they’d never understand why it’s so hard to say that I’m not okay.

“I’m fine, Sam. Really.”

“Then what is your excuse?” Dean cut in. “What is your reason for going out on these suicide missions? I mean, come on Y/N, let’s face it - you’re either hell-bent on destruction, or you’re just being stupid. And we both know you are smarter than Sam and I put together. So what’s the deal? What’s next? Trying to take on HellHounds?!”

I blinked heavily.

I wish I had an answer. I wish I had a scar, a bruise, something to show the proof of the battles I face, day in and day out. Something to show for the invisible abuse - faced with the choice to either be judged or hideaway in secret as I inevitably choose to do.

I let out a soft but long sigh. “I have no answer for you. Not one you’d accept anyway.”

Words may be my only option. The only visible symptom to show for the battle that wages is the sheer desire to end the torment that is my life.

I look at the two of them for a moment before finally breaking away to turn back - back to my car, back to my escape, back to a place where they can’t see the battle playing out in my mind. I can only hide so much. The tears were beginning to fall once again.

I hear the steps approaching. Their long strides make it easy work to catch up to where I am. Feeling a hand grip my upper arm and spin me around quickly - my face must have physically shown how distraught and angry I am. Unable to hide my emotions as I usually would - my gaze clashed with the glaring green eyes of Dean’s boring into me.

The reason I say my face must’ve revealed more than I wanted is because, after a long but instant moment, I saw his face drop.

In all the years we’ve been fighting together, he has never seen this side of me, and for a good reason.

“Y/N? Wh-” he releases his grip on my arm, running his hand down his face, contemplating. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, Dean,” I say, schooling my features. “Forget it.” Quickly I ground myself, now trying to turn my features to stone - removing any trace of the ever hidden emotions that were trying to pour out.

“Bullshit.” His voice stopped me dead in my tracks. “Talk to me,” he said and shared a silent look to his brother, almost as if to confirm he didn’t imagine things, “Talk to us.”

“What’s going on, Y/N?” Sam joined. “You know you don’t have to hide things from us.”

“I’m fine. Just -”

“No. You’re not, okay,” Sam interjected, joining Dean in speaking firmly. “Something is wrong; tell us.” Sam was quiet for a moment before adding, “Please.”

I felt guilty as I noticed his voice break.

Staring at the brothers, I felt a mixture of emotions — contempt, love, bitterness, relief.

“Fine,” I bit out.

Perhaps knowing it was a losing battle, I caved for the first time in my life. “I’m not okay. You’re right. But I don’t have the words to explain the hell that goes on within my mind on a daily basis.”

“Try.” Dean retorted instantly, seamlessly - I hadn’t even finished speaking. I knew he was trying to offer comfort, in his ‘unattached,’ ‘too cool for attachment’ way.

“Humor us,” he added after a beat of me not responding.

I looked at him with a pinched look, shaking my head. I could feel every emotion ripping through me like a storm.

“I am in a constant state of being numb, Dean,” I finally said. “Numb to emotions, numb to life itself. Most people survive because they can see that light at the end of the tunnel - but for me?” I shake my head. “There is no light. It’s all just a dark cage without a key, just suffocating darkness and weight, with demons screaming at me. I don’t control my thoughts anymore; they control me.”

Sam shook his head now. “Y/N, why didn’t you say something? We can help you get through whatever this is.” Sam tried taking my hand, trying to offer some sort of comfort.

“It’s not a phase, Sam.” I pull my hand free abruptly, ignoring the pain in my chest from seeing Sam’s hurt expression. “It’s who I am, all I ever have been. I’m never going to be safe, always inching closer to that final breaking point.”

Dean seemed exasperated. “That’s fine,” he said. “If you break, that’s okay. Just don’t hide, and don’t go running off.”

Dean wrapped his arms around me with a strength I couldn’t gently pull away from, pulling me in close but still speaking loud enough that Sam could hear, “We’ll help you pick up the pieces. We’re a family, like it or not, punk. As a member of this family, you’re not allowed to quit.”

My brow furrowed the moment he called me family.

Dean, holding me at arm's length, graced me with a small, awkward smile. “Look, this may be a battle you feel you have to face solo, and so be it,” he motioned with one of his hands as if dismissing the thought, “but don’t quit on us. Sam and I, we’re here, always. Even if you just need to sit in silence with someone, so you aren’t alone. We get it; we’ve all been through a lot.”

I couldn’t stop staring at him, conflicted and upset - his grip on my arms felt heavy. Itchy and uncomfortable, as the only place I wanted to be right now was in my car. The rain had long since stopped or lightened - I couldn’t tell - but I just wanted to start the engine — bake in the heater. Drive.

After a long awkward beat of silence, Dean rolled his eyes lightly in slight awkward annoyance. “This is the part where you say: ‘back atcha! We’re a team!’ Y/N.”

I took light offense to how he mocked my voice, but it didn’t matter.

With a light, honestly fake feeling laugh, I removed his arms from mine.

“You don’t entirely get it, Dean.”

Dean scoffed lightly. “What, are you saying we don’t have hard times too? I can guarantee we—“

In an outburst I couldn’t control, I snapped. “Stop! Okay?? I’m not dismissing that you two have had a shitty life! I’m saying you don’t hear what goes on in my head, Dean.”

Sam, raising a placating hand, tried to calm me. “Please, Y/N, we may not understand what exactly is going on, but we understand your reactions to it.”

I just stood still, breathing hard - trying so hard not to cry.

Sam took this as a sign to continue. “Y/N, we care for you. And honestly, we don’t think anyone should be alone with thoughts like that.”

I felt my face melt like paper catching on fire - every emotion displayed as I felt my chin tense, and my lips quiver as I burst into tears.

The brothers’ embrace was welcome, however wet.

The emotions were not as welcome, but it was unstoppable.

Dean was closest to my ear as I sobbed, and I heard him softly say, “You’re not okay, but you will be. We’re with you every step of the way.”

A part of me hated him saying that, but I couldn’t ignore the relief I felt.

Maybe I would be okay.

[plasticnightmaredoll]

(art commission by the lovely and talented @curious-menace)

It is a time where I would like to see what my followers think about various concepts I have in mind pertaining to alternate versions of one my fics. It may take some time to write out any alternate versions since I've been busy and stressed out so much lately, but I am very curious as to what others would find intriguing to read.

But first, some backstory so be patient. We'll get to the voting at the end of this post.

I've been having a lot of bad days lately, and my mood has plummeted to a major low. This includes my self-esteem, which has always been in the dumps but is now basically a dumpster fire.

However, I don't want to be entirely cruel to myself. I deserve some sort of happiness, some sort of reprieve, and writing can be a good coping mechanism. I put a lot of my own thoughts, emotions, struggles, opinions, etc. into my works, as they serve as a way for me to get things off my chest. Sometimes, it's just cute and funny stuff, other times angsty but eventually fluffy stuff, and other times it's quite depressing and dark.

One fic, in particular, stands out, and that is the Mortal Kombat/Batman Arkhamverse crossover, "Volunteer," (trigger warnings: mentions psychological torture and suicide...more about this fic in a bit for those who would rather not read it because of those triggers) which features Arkham Knight Edward Nigma and Jonathan Crane, as well as a lady friend for Edward named Sara. It also features Erron Black and Cassie Cage from Mortal Kombat (Cassie is only mentioned in the story a few times).

If you read the blog intro/self-introduction post pinned at the top of my Tumblr, you know very well how I feel about Cassie Cage (particularly in MK11) and the Erron Black x Cassie Cage (BlackCage) pairing. Those negative feelings are mostly due to a very bad experience with a pushy BlackCage fan who just wouldn't relent one bit on their stance and it was emotionally and mentally draining to try and talk to them, including providing counter-arguments.

I've come up with alternate versions for "Volunteer" recently due to the spike in stress, depression, anxiety, and insecurities I've been dealing with as of late. This is where my followers come in!

I would like people to vote on which alternate take on "Volunteer" they would be interested in reading. Now, I can't guarantee when I'd get to it because, as I mentioned already, I've got a lot going on. However, I really want to try and write at least one alternate version of that fic, just to get some insecurities and negative thoughts off my chest.

Now, for those who are wary of reading "Volunteer" because of the trigger warnings, here's my advice: Just read the first chapter, if you want to. Chapter 2 deals directly with the sensitive subject matter, although, you can probably guess what happens anyway just by reading Chapter 1 and if you know anything about Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow...well, he likes to mess with people...mentally. To put it very mildly.

Now it's time for the voting. I have three different scenarios I've come up with that are variations/alternate versions of the current "Volunteer" fic's concept/storyline. I'd like followers to select 1 (one) alternate telling of the fic. I will open anonymous asks again, so if you are shy or just want your vote to remain a secret for some other reason, then that's fine by me. Otherwise, you can reply to this post with your choice.

Edit: if you are turned off by the idea of a Mortal Kombat/Batman Arkhamverse crossover, I get it. I don't read crossover fics myself, and that's usually because the crossovers either make no sense or do make sense but the ideas are poorly executed.

This crossover I'm talking about, though, isn't a full-on crossover of MK and Batman. There's no world-building, no larger plot, and no other characters in MK even appear or are mentioned except Erron Black and Cassie Cage.

If anything, it's more of a Batman Arkhamverse standard AU with Riddler and a female oc, and Erron and Cassie are the only concrete elements of MK brought in. I mean, yes, the other MK characters exist, I guess, but they have no purpose in this crossover I've written, and won't make any appearances.

So, if you had any concerns about the crossover aspect, I hope this clears things up

Choices below the cut!

A) "Don't You Wish"

This version is inspired by a song from Pink, called, "There You Go." In this alternate telling, Erron manages to survive Scarecrow's fear toxin, and escape (most likely because Erron is out of his mind and panicking, thus not a threat, and he has no one to help him, so Scarecrow doesn't give a damn what happens to the dude). The first thing Erron does is go to Sara's place, having already broken up with Cassie after realizing dating her was a mistake, and Sara means more to him than he thought.

Well, it's been several months since Sara basically pushed Erron out of her life for his poor choice in women, and (Arkham Knight) Edward Nigma has proven to be a much better (and, wiser and more sensible -- yes, I know, but he's not a skirt chaser, Guys) friend to Sara. While Erron ran off with a blonde selfie princess, Edward offered genuine comfort and companionship, and now Sara has been in the process of moving on from Erron even further.

Sara humors Erron and lets him tell her -- while sounding terrified, confused, and conflicted beyond belief thanks to the fear toxin -- what happened to him. Now, Sara doesn't know Edward asked Scarecrow to take care of Erron as a means of getting revenge for her. Doesn't matter anyway. She's unsympathetic towards Erron's plight, feeling as if he didn't even give her a chance to confess her feelings towards him, nor did he even seem to notice how she felt; it was like he was too busy with thinking with his privates to realize he had someone in front of him who would have treated him better.

Sara tells Erron -- in a flat, disinterested tone -- that his situation is tragic and all but wtf is she supposed to do? Why not go to his dumb blonde gf? Oh, they broke up? Well, how predictable. And Crane is also a (sort of) friend to Sara, which shocks Erron and leaves him feeling worse than before.

Sara sends Erron on his way, and he wanders off in a daze, unsure of what to do with his life now.

Sara and Edward meet the next day, and they have a pleasant time, obviously moving towards becoming a couple. She chooses not to mention Erron as she is completely severing the cowboy from her life.

B) "I Don't Even Miss You"

This alternate telling is similar to the previous one, but this time it's inspired by a Miley Cyrus song, "WTF Do I Know" (Hey, her Plastic Hearts album is actually fantastic!), and Edward is with Sara when Erron arrives at her place in a distressed state. At first, Sara deals with Erron in the hall of her apartment building, unsympathetic to his plight and basically telling him, "I told you so," and "too bad." Erron is getting more and more upset, even angry at Sara's callous tone, and starts to raise his voice, demanding to know why she is being so cold at a time like this?

Edward overhears Erron raising his voice to Sara, giving her a difficult time, and he gets pissed. Edward steps out into the hall and not only mocks Erron in various ways, but demands that he leave immediately, or what Scarecrow did will seem like a trip to Disney Land. Erron has caused Sara -- who is currently moving on and growing closer to Edward -- enough problems and heartache.

Edward reveals he set up Erron, and while Sara is stunned to find this out, she handles it better than expected. Edward said it was his way of getting revenge for her, and he'd do it again if need be. Erron is sent away feeling so much worse, feeling lost, hopeless, and betrayed.

Sara and Edward talk and she admits she's upset that he did something like this without speaking about it to her first. However, he explains that he genuinely did it for her and he doesn't want her to feel pain at the hands of some "idiotic cowman," who doesn't consider the feelings of others and who behaves like a greedy, violent Neanderthal. (And yes, Edward does care for Sara, and he didn't send Scarecrow after Erron out of jealousy -- maybe a little jealousy but it was mostly rage over Erron causing Sara so much emotional pain)

Sara means more to Edward than he can express, and he may not be the best when it comes to emotions, but he does care about her and wants her to be safe.

Sara forgives Edward, understanding that, through his heartfelt but very nervous and shy confession that he is sincere about his feelings for her, and they make amends. She of course tells him to never do something so extreme without consulting her first, though, because what happened to Erron -- while she doesn't care what happens to him in the slightest -- was a bit too much.

C) "Listen When the Devil's Calling"

Another title inspired by a Miley Cyrus song, "Night Crawling," and this alternate telling involves Telltale Riddler and no Scarecrow. Almost a year has passed since Erron went with Cassie and Sara, out of bitterness and heartache, refused to speak or see him. This didn't sit well with him as she was his only friend, and his relationship with Cassie dies within a few months.

He goes looking for Sara, realizing she has moved out of her apartment. It doesn't take him long to find out where she is, and she's with The Riddler, a notorious criminal genius and one of Gotham's elite villains. Erron is worried for Sara and seeks her out.

Turns out, Sara's just fine. This isn't one of those scenarios where the girl is with a guy who just using her and taking advantage of her vulnerability. No, Edward does actually love her and takes good care of her. He finds people like reckless, selfish, and ignorant people like Erron to be a disgrace but also amusing because of how pathetically primitive they are.

Edward also doesn't appreciate how Erron pushed aside a good thing in Sara to pursue a girl who is a social media brat and has more selfies on her phone than brain cells in her, well, brain. It defies all logic to Edward, but he's also not surprised because of how much of a disappointment Erron is as a human being (hey, this is Riddler we're talking about, and he's not one to be sweet and gentle to those he can't stand). Edward doesn't say these things out loud, though, as it's a bit too vulnerable and personal for him to do such a thing with someone he doesn't know or trust.

Sara is upset that Erron has resurfaced and she remembers how heartbroken she was when he went after Cassie Cage. She wants Erron to leave her alone like she asked, so she can move on. She can't trust him anymore, because he's just a skirt chaser in her eyes.

Erron tries to plead his case, tries to apologize to Sara, and expresses how he really feels, but this just distresses her further. Edward steps in and tells Erron he's done enough to Sara, she clearly doesn't want to see him, and he needs to take his leave.

This isn't a request.

Edward pulls Erron aside, telling the cowboy that the only reason he's going to walk away from this alive is that Sara hasn't asked for him to be killed. Should she tell Edward to take care of Erron, well, you all know what Telltale Riddler is like.

And those are the three variations on "Volunteer."

If you could be so kind as to:

leave a comment with your choice or

send an ask (even an anon ask) with your choice or

suggest your take on this story.

I'd appreciate it immensely!

Thank you all so much for supporting me and my writing and being patient with my sluggish publishing schedule!

[aingealcethlenn]

I'm Not Okay

Characters - Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Y/N

Pairing - None

Summary/Request - When Y/N runs off on yet another suicide mission, the brothers find her having taken down an entire nest of vampires. They are determined to figure out what has been driving her, before it’s too late.

Word Count - 1,960

Warnings - Angst, Descriptions of Depression, Mentions of Blood (from killing vampires) (If you spot any other warnings I should add, please let me know so I can edit this post to include them!)

A/N - Based on the song “I’m Not Okay” by Citizen Soldier

Tags (Want on or off? Send a message/ask or add yourself here) - N/A

Story -

The rain was pouring. With everything I had been dealing with inside, it was as if the sky decided to cry with me and just let it all out at once. I stood there in the parking lot with my arms out as if I was trying to catch the water with my bare hands.

Machete in one hand - blood dripping onto the pavement from my fingers & the large blade, more still running down my shirt and finding its way to the ground around me, mixing with the water to form unique artwork around me.

Tonight - the monsters that inhabit my brain are screaming so damn loud. I can’t ignore them any longer. The walls I built up so that I would never have to hear their voices couldn’t go any higher.

I hear the rumble of an engine in the distance. They are approaching quickly, sure, but will they make it in time?

The person that they see, day in and day out, is nothing more than a mask. A facade. A blatant lie.

But it’s also the only way to cope that I’ve ever known.

Being the real me - broken, scared, desperate for something I can never obtain - has only ever resulted in being more and more alone in this world.

I hear the purr of the engine a short distance behind me - the doors slamming shut in their hurry, and their booming voices carrying through over the din of the downpour. “Y/N! What the hell were you thinking?!”

Their footsteps cause distinct splashes as they make their way to where I stand. I find the sound amusing for as morbid a moment this has become. “Dean, chill,” Sam interjected, seemingly noticing my exasperation of their presence. “She’s fine; that’s the important thing.”

I am far more thankful for the water falling from the sky than I ever have been before. It is hiding the falling tears and making it that much easier to replace the mask I need for the interaction ahead.

“Sorry guys,” I keep my tone stoic and passively positive as always as I turn to face them. “I got a lead, and I took my chance before they could move again.”

“Sorry?” Dean bit out. “All you can say is ‘sorry guys’? We were worried sick, Y/N!” His voice was rough as always.

“Dean!”

“No, Sam! Not this time!” His hand was out, waving to dismiss his brother. “What the fuck is going on with you, Y/N!? Sneaking off, not telling a damn one of us where the hell you’re going off to. Taking on demons, werewolves, even a fucking wendigo - ALONE.”

I felt unattached from my body. As if watching overhead at the scene playing out below me. With a stoic blink, I heard myself respond, “I don’t see what the big deal is. I came out of each one alive and well.” I sidestep the brothers and start the sadly short journey to my car on the other side of the vast open lot.

“Look, Y/N,” Sam said softly. I could just hear the resignation. “We’re just worried. Taking on those creatures is dangerous; let alone doing it without backup. And now you’re here taking out an entire nest of vampires?” He tried to stay strong - not the ever tough soldier his brother was, but the solid rock we all came to expect. I could hear his voice break, though, despite his best efforts.

I turn back and lock eyes with each of them again, all while still taking steps back toward the vehicles. I could feel how dead my stare was; I could feel how painfully emotionless my face rested.

‘I’m not okay - can’t you see that?’ I want to shout at them. I have so much to say, but no one to hear it. Despite how much is at stake, keeping quiet not burdening the brothers - or their angel - with the battle inside myself.

I feel the emotions clash - the want and the need to tell them everything, right here and right now - the futility of it, seeping in and convincing me they don’t care. So, I let the monsters win, silencing me once again. Lying to myself, they’d never understand why it’s so hard to say that I’m not okay. “I’m fine, Sam. Really.”

“Then what is your excuse?” Dean cut in. “What is your reason for going out on these suicide missions? I mean, come on Y/N, let’s face it - you’re either hell-bent on destruction, or you’re just being stupid. And we both know you are smarter than Sam and I put together. So what’s the deal? What’s next? Trying to take on HellHounds?!”

I blinked heavily. I wish I had an answer. I wish I had a scar, a bruise, something to show the proof of the battles I face, day in and day out. Something to show for the invisible abuse - faced with the choice to either be judged or hideaway in secret as I inevitably choose to do.

I let out a soft but long sigh. “I have no answer for you. Not one you’d accept anyway.” Words may be my only option. The only visible symptom to show for the battle that wages is the sheer desire to end the torment that is my life.

I look at the two of them for a moment before finally breaking away to turn back - back to my car, back to my escape, back to a place where they can’t see the battle playing out in my mind. I can only hide so much. The tears were beginning to fall once again.

I hear the steps approaching. Their long strides make it easy work to catch up to where I am. Feeling a hand grip my upper arm and spin me around quickly - my face must have physically shown how distraught and angry I am. Unable to hide my emotions as I usually would - my gaze clashed with the glaring green eyes of Dean’s boring into me.

The reason I say my face must’ve revealed more than I wanted is because, after a long but instant moment, I saw his face drop. In all the years we’ve been fighting together, he has never seen this side of me, and for a good reason.

“Y/N? Wh-” he releases his grip on my arm, running his hand down his face, contemplating. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, Dean,” I say, schooling my features. “Forget it.” Quickly I ground myself, now trying to turn my features to stone - removing any trace of the ever hidden emotions that were trying to pour out.

“Bullshit.” His voice stopped me dead in my tracks. “Talk to me,” he said and shared a silent look to his brother, almost as if to confirm he didn’t imagine things, “Talk to us.”

“What’s going on, Y/N?” Sam joined. “You know you don’t have to hide things from us.”

“I’m fine. Just -”

“No. You’re not, okay,” Sam interjected, joining Dean in speaking firmly. “Something is wrong; tell us.” Sam was quiet for a moment before adding, “Please.” I felt guilty as I noticed his voice break.

Staring at the brothers, I felt a mixture of emotions — contempt, love, bitterness, relief. “Fine,” I bit out.

Perhaps knowing it was a losing battle, I caved for the first time in my life. “I’m not okay. You’re right. But I don’t have the words to explain the hell that goes on within my mind on a daily basis.”

“Try.” Dean retorted instantly, seamlessly - I hadn’t even finished speaking. I knew he was trying to offer comfort, in his ‘unattached,’ ‘too cool for attachment’ way. “Humor us,” he added after a beat of me not responding.

I looked at him with a pinched look, shaking my head. I could feel every emotion ripping through me like a storm. “I am in a constant state of being numb, Dean,” I finally said. “Numb to emotions, numb to life itself. Most people survive because they can see that light at the end of the tunnel - but for me?” I shake my head. “There is no light. It’s all just a dark cage without a key, just suffocating darkness and weight, with demons screaming at me. I don’t control my thoughts anymore; they control me.”

Sam shook his head now. “Y/N, why didn’t you say something? We can help you get through whatever this is.” Sam tried taking my hand, trying to offer some sort of comfort.

“It’s not a phase, Sam.” I pull my hand free abruptly, ignoring the pain in my chest from seeing Sam’s hurt expression. “It’s who I am, all I ever have been. I’m never going to be safe, always inching closer to that final breaking point.”

Dean seemed exasperated. “That’s fine,” he said. “If you break, that’s okay. Just don’t hide, and don’t go running off.” Dean wrapped his arms around me with a strength I couldn’t gently pull away from, pulling me in close but still speaking loud enough that Sam could hear, “We’ll help you pick up the pieces. We’re a family, like it or not, punk. As a member of this family, you’re not allowed to quit.”

My brow furrowed the moment he called me family.

Dean, holding me at arm's length, graced me with a small, awkward smile. “Look, this may be a battle you feel you have to face solo, and so be it,” he motioned with one of his hands as if dismissing the thought, “but don’t quit on us. Sam and I, we’re here, always. Even if you just need to sit in silence with someone, so you aren’t alone. We get it; we’ve all been through a lot.”

I couldn’t stop staring at him, conflicted and upset - his grip on my arms felt heavy. Itchy and uncomfortable, as the only place I wanted to be right now was in my car. The rain had long since stopped or lightened - I couldn’t tell - but I just wanted to start the engine — Bake in the heater. Drive.

After a long awkward beat of silence, Dean rolled his eyes lightly in slight awkward annoyance. “This is the part where you say: ‘back atcha! We’re a team!’ Y/N.” I took light offense to how he mocked my voice, but it didn’t matter.

With a light, honestly fake feeling laugh, I removed his arms from mine. “You don’t entirely get it, Dean.”

Dean scoffed lightly. “What, are you saying we don’t have hard times too? I can guarantee we—“

In an outburst I couldn’t control, I snapped. “Stop! Okay?? I’m not dismissing that you two have had a shitty life! I’m saying you don’t hear what goes on in my head, Dean.”

Sam, raising a placating hand, tried to calm me. “Please, Y/N, we may not understand what exactly is going on, but we understand your reactions to it.”

I just stood still, breathing hard - trying so hard not to cry.

Sam took this as a sign to continue. “Y/N, we care for you. And honestly, we don’t think anyone should be alone with thoughts like that.”

I felt my face melt like paper catching on fire - every emotion displayed as I felt my chin tense, and my lips quiver as I burst into tears.

The brothers’ embrace was welcome, however wet.

The emotions were not as welcome, but it was unstoppable.

Dean was closest to my ear as I sobbed, and I heard him softly say, “You’re not okay, but you will be. We’re with you every step of the way.”

A part of me hated him saying that, but I couldn’t ignore the relief I felt. Maybe I would be okay.

[boomboomjaz]

𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕕

prince! kuroo x f!reader

summary: kuroo was cursed and has lived with it from a young age

word count: 3705

note: this is long overdue but ya girl was going through some stuff

Being the prince of Nekoma was not a blessing. It was the exact opposite for Prince Kuroo Tetsuro. It was a curse that he will never be able to escape. The day his birth was officially announced, a faerie visited at night which startled the royal family, causing them to throw insults. This angered the faerie that was respected in every other kingdom and decided to curse the young prince with limited shapeshifting abilities. He could only turn from a human to a cat.

When Prince Kuroo first transformed, he was napping in the crib. The queen had turned away for a second and when she turned back around, the newborn baby was replaced with a kitten. She let out a screech which caused the king to rush to his wife’s aid. Not long after, the two witnessed the kitten transform back to their baby. That is when they discovered that the prince of Nekoma was really cursed. This was a secret that both the king and queen didn’t want revealed. So only the select few that cared for Prince Kuroo were informed of this in hopes of preventing a scandal.

Over time, as Prince Kuroo grew older and older, they discovered something about the curse. With each year he grew, the longer his transformation as a cat was extended. During the first ten years of his life, Kuroo would randomly turn into a black cat. But once he reached the age of 11, he started to transform into a cat during the day. It started with three hours of being a cat during the day and after that, he was back to being a prince.

Now at the age of twenty, Kuroo had to deal with being a cat during all hours of the day and being a human at night. This had caused wild rumors to spread across the kingdom that the prince of Nekoma was a womanizer. It was a widespread rumor to cope with the fact that the prince hadn’t shown his face during the day and could only be spotted at night. In reality, it was the exact opposite. He can’t do a single thing as a cat except for meowing, licking his body clean, and napping. It was making his royal duties harder to accomplish.

But, during the time that he is trapped in a cat’s body, he had managed to find something to do. Something that always washed his worries away. In his kingdom, in the town that his castle resided in, there is a merchant girl. Her name was Yn Bokuto from what Tetsuro could hear. And you always gave him treats and played with him. Giving him the type of attention that he didn’t receive in the castle.

“Meow.”

Kuroo walked in circles around his guardian Kenma. His cat eyes glaring at him before motioning to the window. He was starting to get fed up being stuck in a room all day and wanted to go out. To see you. It was his favorite thing to do to pass the time.

Kenma let out a sigh as he picked up the black cat with the red collar. A way to distinguish Kuroo as the prince cat.

“This is getting tiring Tetsuro,” Kenma stated.

Yet, he obeyed the cat. Kenma took off the collar from the cat and carried Kuroo towards the window. He carefully opened it and looked around, making sure no one noticed. His grip on Kuroo loosened, allowing Kuroo to jump out of his arms.

Kuroo stretched on the ledge and meowed once towards Kenma. His way of saying thank you. From there he took off on his four-pawed legs. Navigating through the outside of the building, following the paths he knew by heart to leave the castle grounds. Until he was on the buildings of the town that he’s been exploring since he figured out how to sneak out.

The busy noise from the morning market could be heard from where Kuroo stood. He laid down on the rooftop and watched. His eyes scanning the crowd trying to find the familiar figure. His tail swung left to right, waiting patiently. That is until the warmth of the sun made him sleepy. Kuroo was slowly falling asleep but was quickly awoken.

He heard it. Your laugh. It was the best sound he ever heard in his life. Quickly, Kuroo got up and made his way down to the streets and into the market. Having the body of a cat made it easy to slip in and out of the crowd without anyone questioning him. Because who would question a cat? Soon he found himself at your stall at the market. God, Kuroo loved watching you deal with your customers. Everyone always assumed they could get away with scamming you since you were a girl but you were always quick to prove them all. Your knowledge of different material, craftsmanship, etc was always shown when you spoke. You knew what you were doing thanks to your parent’s wisdom and you always made sure to show it off.

Once you were done dealing with a customer who claimed that a piece of fabric you were trying to sell wasn’t from Seijoh, you sat down. As busy it may have seemed in the market, it wasn’t a busy one. So you were thankful to have time to sit down and rest. You closed your eyes for one second and then felt something soft and slightly heavy on your lap. You looked down to see the black cat that always came to help you work.

You smiled at the cat as you stroke his back. He always did keep you company and you appreciated it. Humming to yourself, you reached into the bag next to you and pulled out a small bag with treats.

“Hey, buddy,” you whispered. You took out a treat and waved it in front of his face. You laughed when you saw his head following the movement of the treat. “Thank you for always keeping me company.”

You gave him the treat and continued to pet him.

-----

You popped your neck before you started to gather up your things. Your shift at the stall was over and it was time for one of your parents to take over. You grabbed your bag and whistled at the black cat.

The two of you walked side by side through the crowd until you made it to a less busy street. It was a routine between the two of you. Work until noon, head home, and two hours before it grew dark, the cat went home. You didn’t mind it at all. You actually enjoyed the presence of your cat friend.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Kotarou Bokuto, your brother yelled in the middle of the street.

Kuroo looked up at your brother and tilted his head. He had seen him around but according to your little rants. Kotarou is mostly coming in and out of the kingdom, transporting merchandise for your family.

“Kotarou, our parents are looking for you. They want to talk about your next travel arrangement with Akaashi.” your words were simple and straight to the point.

Kotarou nodded his head before he took off towards the market while you and Kuroo walked home.

Once the two of you were back in your house, you brought out the cat toys that your father brought back from one of his overseas trips. You used the toy to play with the unknown cat. It was insulting at first when you would treat him like a cat, but Kuroo ended up loving it. He loved the attention you gave him.

Having as much fun as the two of you were having caused time to fly by. Because soon, it was starting to grow dark outside. Kuroo woke up from his nap and realized this. He squirmed out of your arms and jumped towards the open window. He gave you one last glance before he took off back to the castle. He had to transform back in there to prevent Kenma and himself from getting in trouble.

Sneaking back in the castle was easier said than done. Since he wasn’t sure what entrances were open, he always had to jump from window to window and sneak around to get back inside. But luckily, the windows to his room were open, making it easy to get back inside. He looked around and found Kenma playing cards by himself.

Kuroo made his way over to him and meowed. Letting Kenma know that he returned.

“Tetsurou, that was cutting it close,” Kenma stated with a sigh. He got up from his spot and closed the window and shut the curtains.

Kuroo just walked in circles around his bed, ignoring Kenma’s words. He just wanted to transform back into his human self. It didn’t take long before he found himself sitting on his bed as a human. Lacking clothes, but luckily there were clothes waiting for him on his bed. He got up and quickly changed into them.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Kuroo replied with a smile.

He just loved spending time with you. It kept him sane through all of this insanity of a curse. He didn’t have to worry about anything.

“Yeah, yeah. She’s amazing. I get it,” Kenma mocked replied. “But your transformations are cutting it close. What if you transform while you’re with her? How do we explain that to her and your parents?”

“That my friend is a problem for another day,” Kuroo answered.

He was scared. Scared that his parents would find out about his secret because who knows what they would do. They are doing as much as they can to keep this a secret for no one to find out.

“Anyways,” Kenma continued. “Your parents want to talk to you.”

Oh. This wasn’t good. Kuroo could already feel his humor leave his body as he grew serious. His parents, the king and the queen, wanted to talk to him. All the stress from his royal duties could be felt on his shoulders as he straightened up and nodded his head.

Kuroo left his room with a determined look on his face. Talking to his parents wasn’t his favorite thing to do. Not with the way that they have been raising him. Keeping him locked up because they were ashamed of their mistakes. It was just all so frustrating.

Carefully, he opened the door to the throne room. And there on the throne, his parents sat with dignity and status. They quickly sent everyone out of the room, only leaving the three of them in that room.

“Mother, father. I was summoned?” Kuroo asked. He bowed slightly, trying to show some respect to his parents.

“You are correct son,” the king said. He looked at his wife and silently they agreed on something. “We have decided on what to do about your little… problem.”

They couldn’t even say curse. It didn’t feel right to them. They didn’t want to acknowledge it but alas they had no choice.

“We decided that once… you fully transform. That you should be relocated to the countryside,” the queen continued.

Kuroo froze. Relocated? To the countryside? It was far from home and he couldn’t help but feel even more cursed. He was basically being forced out of his home just because he didn’t fit into the human standards. Just because of his parents' mistakes. And it was all being taken out on him.

With his hands behind his back, he clenched his fists. He knew it would be pointless to argue with his parents. There was no point in it, so he agreed with them and left the room. The second he left the throne room, he fell to his knees. He didn’t care if the maids or the soldiers saw. He was frustrated, angry. He never wished for any of this. Kuroo just wanted to be normal. To be seen outside the castle during the day without looking like a cat. He couldn’t stand it anymore.

Quickly, Kuroo got back on his feet and rushed to his office. Once inside, he saw Kenma sitting in a chair looking at one of the documents that Kuroo was supposed to look at.

“Kenma,” Kuroo said. Kenma looked at Kuroo, confused as to why Kuroo was bothering him. Then he saw the frustration in the prince's eyes.

“You’re going to run away?” Kenma asked, looking back at the document. It wasn’t a surprise. This was a topic that Kuroo had a tendency to bring up.”There’s a hidden route in my room that leads to the village. If anyone asks, I’ll say you excused yourself to your room because you had a headache.”

Tetsuro appreciated his only friend in the castle before he left the cursed castle that he spent most of his life in. There was only one place he knew where he could go to. And that was your house.

----

Your ears perked up at the sound of knocking. You had just finished cleaning the dishes from dinner while the rest of your family went back to the market. So you were confused as to who could be at the door. Not many people came to your home. The more you thought about it, the more it seemed like it could have been Kotaro. That boy probably forgot his keys and something else in the house.

Quickly, you whipped your hands on a hand towel before you headed towards the door. You opened the door immediately saying disappointing words towards Kotaro. It took you a total of two minutes of talking to realize it wasn’t your brother. No, it was the prince of Nekoma wearing a really bad disguise.

Without a second thought, you slammed the door and stood there in shock. What in the world was the prince doing at your house? Were you his next hookup? No, it couldn’t be. You never have seen or met the prince before other than the royal pictures in the papers and announcements.

“Oh crap,” you cursed under your breath. “I just slammed the door on Prince Tetsuro Kuroo.”

You took a deep breath and regained your composer and opened the door and bowed. Showing your respect to the heir next in line for the throne. Oh man, if your parents saw how you slammed the door, no doubt you would be working full days at the market.

“No need for that. Can I come in, Yn?” Kuroo asked.

You nodded your head in confusion as you opened the door wider and allowed him in your small house. You were in bewilderment on how he even knew your name. There was never an introduction between the two of you. This was getting confusing.

“How can I help you today, Prince Tetsuro?” you asked while closing the door.

Kuroo took off his terrible disguise, walked towards your kitchen, and sat down. It had scared you by how well he knew your house as if he had been inside before. You followed him and started to prepare a cup of tea.

“I-”

Kuroo couldn’t form words on how to explain his situation. How do you tell someone that you’re cursed to transform as a cat during the day and turn back into a human during the night? That you have been hanging out with them this whole time as a cat? No sane person would believe him if he said these things. But Kuroo knew you were different. Maybe you would believe him.

“I’m the black cat that has been hanging out with you this whole time,” Kuroo stated. His face turning red. You were the first person ever to hear the closely guarded secret. It sounded so ridiculous.

Which was why you laughed, thinking it was a joke.

“I’m sorry your majesty,” you said in between laughs. “But how can you, a human, be the adorable little cat that I have been taking care of this whole time?”

This was Kuroo’s worse fear. You didn’t believe him and he didn’t blame you. It was far fetched. Could a cat really be a prince? What kind of fairy tale was that? Unfortunately, it was one that Tetsuro Kuroo was living.

“I promise you that I am telling you the truth,” Kuroo defended himself. He racked his head on ways to convince you that he was telling the truth. Until he remembered something important. “You want your parents to let you travel for work and not be bounded to Nekoma.”

You stood there with your mouth ajar. You never told anyone your true feelings except for the cat that came home with you. How was this even possible? There was no denying that the prince was indeed the cat you loved so much. Heck, it was hard to believe that the prince that you had a crush on when you were younger was standing in the middle of your house. There was so much to take in that you had to rub your temples. Until a memory resurfaced.

“Wait! Then you saw me change!”

Kuroo could feel his blood rush up, making his face go red. He could remember that day as if it was yesterday. He had escaped the castle and came to your house. He just didn’t think that while he was laying down on your bed in his cat form that you would change right in front of him. The only thing that he managed to see was your bareback before he jumped from the bed into a corner to give you privacy.

“I didn’t see anything!” Kuroo swore.

Oh, man. Why was this happening to him? He quickly took a few steps forward to try to explain himself but one of the cat toys that he used to play with got in the way. He had accidentally stepped on it, which took him by surprise causing him to fall forward. His eyes widened as he realized he was going to fall on you. Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around you and used the other to break the fall.

There on the floor, the two of you were inches apart. Both of you were breathing heavily. Looking each other in the eyes. You could see Kuroo’s hazel eyes and how they were narrowed-eyed. His pupils reminded you of a cat and you couldn’t help but think… that this boy really was cursed to be a cat.

Meanwhile, Kuroo was captivated by your face. He could see little details that he had never seen before. Slowly, he leaned, even more, trying to take in the small details of your face. Soon enough, his lips were deeply close to yours. He closed his eyes and decided to close the gap.

You were taken aback but closed your eyes as well. You relaxed under his touch as his lips met yours. It was slow and gentle. You could taste the toothpaste that he used to clean his teeth. It was minty and refreshing. Soon, your hands found their way on Kuroo’s neck and you pushed his head a little closer. Causing your teeth to cling against one another as the kiss was deepened. You couldn’t help but enjoy it. A small smile formed on your lips.

There was a loud noise that caught both of your attention. Both you and Kuroo pulled away and looked towards the direction of the noise. At the doorway stood your older brother Kotaro with his best friend Akaashi. Apparently, Kotaro had dropped his keys from the shock. Quickly, you and Kuroo got up and awkwardly coughed.

From there, the two of you tried to clear up the misunderstanding. Thankfully, the two boys were understanding and let it slide.

“So what are you doing in our house?” Kotaro asked.

At that moment, Kuroo explained his situation. How he was cursed from birth, how he would sneak out of the castle in his cat form and hang out with you, and his parent’s recent plans on relocating it.

“We have to help him,” you stated.

What was happening to Kuroo was unfair and wrong. It shouldn’t be something that anyone should experience.

“Well, we can probably smuggle him out of Nekoma and take him to Karasuno. At least until his curse is lifted?” Akaashi suggested.

Everyone nodded their heads in agreement and came up with a plan. Through it all, you held onto Kuroo’s hand. Assuring him that you were there to help him. There was a slight problem with the plan that Kotaro didn’t like and that was that you were going to go with Kuroo. With a little arguing and Akaashi’s help, all of you were able to convince him. It would be better if you went with Kuroo to keep him company when he was in his cat form. Your family either way had a small market in Karasuno that you could run in order to support both you and Kuroo.

It didn’t take long until you had your things packed. Along with some of Kotaro’s clothes for Kuroo and left the place you grew up in. And that’s how it went. You and Kuroo moved to Karasuno. It was a small and peaceful life. Overtime, Kuroo’s curse grew weaker and weaker the more he fell in love with you and learned the commoner’s life. His duration as a cat was getting shorter until it completely disappeared.

It had been two years since the two of you moved when it was decided that you would return to Nekoma. It shocked the whole kingdom at the sudden return of their missing prince. Especially when Kuroo exposed what his parents kept hidden. His grandparents were disappointed upon hearing this and pressured Kuroo’s parents to step down from the throne.

The same day of his conination, it was Tetsurou’s wedding day. The day he got to marry you. Rule by your side. With the knowledge that the two of you shared, you ran Nekoma depending on one another. The people loved you and it made Kuroo happy. To know that you would be by his side and that you cared about the people that lived with in the kingdom’s borders and beyond.

gen taglist: @panda-saurus @aditiot @haikyuu-fics-and-aus @ex0ticgrxavity @haverlingus

[peachfaeryy]

Hi 🌙

It's my birthday right now. I'm 26 now.

1. What is my fondest childhood memory?

My fondest childhood memories definitely consist of the lovely people who I grew up with and derived my sense of humor/silliness from: my cousins Anna & Emily, Savannah -- my childhood best friend, and Kaleb, my eternal crush. These memories consist of them in elementary school, camp, and my grandma's house in San Antonio.

2. What is my favorite comfort food?

Probably nachos/chips/chips & queso.

3. What’s my favorite way to exercise?

Uh...DANCE.

4. Am I a morning person or a night owl?

I lean more towards night owl but I try to avoid both.

5. If I could have any superpower, what would it be?

The currency of youth.

6. Do I prefer cooking, baking, or neither?

I love both cooking and baking :) I find both extremely rewarding and cathartic.

7. Am I an introvert or an extrovert?

Ambivert strongly introvert-leaning.

8. What superhero do I find most relatable?

None, I detest all superheroes.

9. What is my favorite season of the year — and what do I love most about it?

Winter because it provides me with the most amount of physical comfort. I love sleeping in a very cold room, opening my windows with no AC on. Sitting in my car listening to music/eating with engine off. Less humidity. Food is tastier. Style is better.

10. Do I believe in the existence of angels?

Not particularly? Well, yes but I believe they have absolutely no role or effect on our world.

11. What are my favorite TV series?

American Crime Story (OJ & Versace), Fleabag, Atlanta...90 Day Fiance, Game of Thrones

12. What was the last movie I watched (or the last movie I enjoyed)?

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (let's gooOoo)

13. Am I a tidy person or a messy one?

I used to be very messy but not I'd consider myself pretty tidy. My nature is messy though.

14. Am I afraid of the dark?

Nah.

15. Am I more of a coffee person or a tea person?

Mostly coffee.

16. What talents do I possess that I’m proud of?

I don't have any natural-born talents but I suppose my ability to teach myself a new skill over time.

17. Do (or did) I like school?

I loved school and literally work at a school.

18. Did I go to the prom?

Unfortunately, yes.

19. What is my idea of a perfect date?

Definitely grabbing pizza at a nice restaurant.

20. Do I enjoy DIY or crafts?

Not at all, sounds awful, lol.

21. Do I forgive others easily?

Yes. But not so much anymore now that I'm older and more experienced. My instinct/nature is very forgiving.

22. Do I have a nickname — or did I ever have one?

None.

23. Do I have any phobias?

I'm scared of most anything anything everything...I'd say my daily fear is mistaking my razor for my toothbrush in the shower.

24. Have I ever met one of my heroes? If yes, who was it, and how did it go?

No?

25. Do I speak any other languages?

No, but I told myself I would learn Spanish before I die.

26. Have I ever traveled outside my native country?

Yes! I have been the Mexico and Ireland.

27. If money were no object, what would I want for my next birthday?

Maybe a trip to South Korea/Germany/Rhode Island

28. Have I ever been addicted to something?

Yes. But as far as substances? I'm addicted to Nsaid.

29. When I was a kid, what did I want to be when I grew up?

I wanted to be a wildlife photographer when I was a kid-kid.

30. Have I ever won something?

$75 with scratch offs

31. Have I ever narrowly escaped death (or serious injury)?

I'd say so, yes.

32. Do I prefer baths or showers?

Showers.

33. How am I feeling right now?

Changed.

34. Have I ever played any sports?

Soccer, Basketball, and cross-country

35. Do I prefer the beach or the mountains?

Beach, but I feel connected to both.

36. Do I prefer a Mac or a PC?

Uh...PC?

37. Do I prefer dogs or cats (or some other pet)?

Cats...I honestly do not like dogs at all.

38. Do I have any piercings or tattoos? Would I like to get any?

I have three tattoos: three rune, a sword, and a butterfly. All of which are on my arms.

39. Do I have kids?

Not right now.

40. Do I have siblings?

None.

41. What do I do on a typical Friday night?

Same thing I usually do: practice dance/choreo for a couple of hours. Read, cook, watch Youtube. If I’m going out, I’ll maybe grab dinner/hang with my friends. I MAY go to ~the club~ in a blue moon.

42. If I could go anywhere in the world with unlimited funds, where would I go?

SOUTH KOREA

43. What do I do to relax?

Shower, listen to music. Do my makeup for fun.

44. What do I do to wake up or boost my energy levels?

Blast Stray Kids

45. Would I rather have unlimited energy or unlimited money?

Unlimited money

46. Am I a collector of anything? If yes, how big is my collection?

I collect Kpop bullshit...(albums, photo cards, posters, etc.) essentially merch from my favorite artists.

47. What sort of gift would I want from my significant other on Valentine’s Day or on my birthday?

JUST flowers. All I care about it getting flowers on both of those days.

48. Which would I rather avoid — excess heat or extreme cold?

Excess heat.

49. Would movie genre would I rather watch: action, romance, fantasy, or horror?

Of those choices: horror. I also like a solid journey story.

50. Have I ever been on a diet? If yes, how did it go?

More like a mini eating disorder, lol? I went through phases where I only consumed 1500 calories.

51. If I could live anywhere for a month with whomever I choose, where would that be?

Greece with I suppose...someone I get along with.

52. Have I ever gone camping? Or do you look at a tent and think, “I feel like that’s the wonton wrapper, and I’m the filling.”

Yes, several times. I actually thoroughly enjoy camping.

53. What’s the last song I listened to?

Ribs -- Lorde

54. What’s my current obsession, and how much have I spent on it?

Anything kpop...hours. I’m talking hours and hours.

55. What’s a favorite book of mine?

We Need to Talk About Kevin

56. What should I be doing right now?

Sleeping.

57. What’s my best feature?

Physically? Boobs.

Personality? I would say kindness but that’s basic. Witty? Self-discipline.  

58. What’s the most expensive article of clothing (or shoes) that I own?

Damn...shoes...? $100?

59. What is one thing I could not live without?

Music. My one coping mechanism and literally the reason I’m alive and functional.

60. What’s one thing I can’t leave the house without (other than keys and my wallet)?

Phone... BC packet?

61. What’s one of my pet peeves?

Slow walkers

62. What wild animal would I love to have for a pet (as long as it didn’t eat anyone)?

Maybe like...a toucan?

63. What’s my favorite drink?

An ICE COLD fizzy SODA boiii

64. What’s my spirit animal, and do I own anything featuring that animal?

I guess I’m very cat-like. I used to have a lot of cat stuff, but not anymore...

65. What’s my favorite restaurant, and what’s my favorite splurge order?

I like basically any fast food joint. I’m also a sucker for Chili’s. I’m really basic. A splurge order for me would be ordering a margarita with my meal.

66. What’s my favorite movie — or the best one I’ve seen in the last three years?

I’ve been obsessed with We Need to Talk About Kevin, Pirates of the Caribbean...I’ve been wanting to rewatch Little Miss Sunshine

67. What’s a favorite hobby of mine?

Dancing :)

68. What’s my favorite go-to snack?

Health-wise: apples and peanut butter. But if I don’t care: chips

69. What are my must-haves for watching a movie in a theater?

True interest in the film

70. What’s my favorite kind of competition to watch (sports, cooking, etc.)?

Not really into competition shows.

71. Would I rather get an electric shock or get an intramuscular shot (tetanus, etc.)?

Electric shock?

72. What’s my dream car?

Bella’s shitty red truck let’s gooooo

73. What are the must-haves in the home of my dreams?

LOTS of open space, sunlight, heated bathroom floor

74. What’s my favorite sandwich?

Chicken salad, BLT, plain peanut butter

75. What’s my favorite kind of dinner? (comfort food, four-course, take-out Chinese…)

Comfort food

76. If I could change my eye and hair color, what color/s would I choose?

I would DEF change my eye color to a warm brown and my hair to very dark brown. I’m growing my natural hair out. I’m going dye-free right now.

77. Who is my favorite fictional character (or one of them)?

Jack Sparrow

78. What’s my longest relationship so far (other than family)?

4 years...

79. What is my star sign — or do I usually avoid that question?

I DO NOT care about this but I’m a Leo

80. What is my lucky number, or what is a favorite number of mine?

Uh? N/A

81. What city do I live in now, and what’s my favorite thing about it?

I still live in Denton and I detest it.

82. What state do I live in now, and what do I love about it?

Texas, its diversity.

83. If I had to move to a different state, where would I rather go?

New Mexico

84. Have I ever colored my hair? If yes, what’s my favorite hair color experiment so far?

Yes, most of my teen and adult life. But my “crazy” hair experiment right now is going dye-free and wearing my natural color.

85. Whom do I miss right now?

My 14-year-old self

86. Have I ever made a mistake that someone else refused to forgive me for?

Apparently.

87. Do I have a celebrity crush? If yes, who is it?

JOHNNY DEPP and all of Stray Kids lol. Jungkook?

88. If I could meet any celebrity for coffee/tea and a chat, who would it be?

Marina Diamandis

89. As desserts go, would I rather have ice cream or cheesecake?

Ice Cream

90. Would I rather live in a house or an apartment, and why?

A small house.

91. Would I rather live in a treehouse, a cave, or a submarine?

Treehouse

92. What is one big goal that I want to accomplish this year?

Move out of D*nton.

93. What do I want to do for a living?

I’m happy being a teacher, but ultimately I’d like to counsel kids.

94. When I feel sick, where do I usually feel it first or most noticeably?

My head.

95. What sort of smartphone do I use, and what made me choose it?

Uh? Android?

96. What’s one movie that I’ve watched repeatedly? What do I love about it?

I watch signs pretty frequently. Midsommar? I connect with its characters because they seem like real actual people? I’ve been wanting to rewatch the Lovely Bones.

100. If I could afford one, would I rather hire a chef, a personal assistant, or a housekeeper?

Housekeeper!

97. What is one food that I refuse to eat?

Liver

98. What exotic food would I be willing to try?

I’d be open to trying most any food.

99. What is one item on my bucket list, and what made me choose it?

I’m kind of working on it now. I want to put a few years in while I’m young and able to become a very good dancer. I know that to obtain that it IS going to take years. It’s something that’s really important to me because I’ve always wanted that for myself but never made actual steps to obtain/execute it. And ultimately, I want it because it allows me to feel like my true self.

[justsomefluff]

Hiiiiii ! Do you write angsty stuff too? Cuz I love your writing and I was wondering if you could do an ATEEZ reaction to their innocent s/o naively forgiving them after they cheated? Please and thank you !!!

Angst you shall receive, my dear... I hope you enjoy!! I wrote this one in the regular fanfic style instead of the bullet points just to flex the writing muscle a little bit. But if you guys prefer one style or another, lmk!

Also, just putting this out there so no one gets upset, this is purely for entertainment purposes and nobody is saying that ateez would ever act like this.

Hongjoong:

“Baby, please, I didn’t mean it,” Hongjoong pleads. You just shake your head though, tears streaming freely down your face. 

“You didn’t mean it? What does that even mean? Whether you felt something when it happened or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you made the choice to lie to me and hurt me like that.” He doesn’t argue. He can’t really. He knows you’re right. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he knew that he actions would cause you pain and he went through with them anyway. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. He knows it’s not enough, but he can’t really think of anything else to say. You just scoff at him and wait for him to speak up again. You had nothing to say about it, especially if both of you knew he was the one in the wrong.

You couldn’t say that you hadn’t been completely shattered by the news that he had betrayed you. You would never have thought that he was capable of such a thing. Even though your heart was broken, it also longed to forgive him. Even if he hurt you, it would hurt even more to separate from him forever. So, in those few moments of silence as you waited for him to try another apology, you decided that you could let it go this time. 

You began with a sigh, “Okay.”

He looked at you, confused. “Okay?”

“I’ll forgive you. Just this once. It had better not happen again or I swear to god-”

“I know,” he cut you off. A smile broke out onto his face. Even though he was overwhelmed with guilt at the fact that he managed to get you to stay, he was still incredibly relieved. He stepped towards you and enveloped you in a bone-crushing hug. You hesitated, but eventually hugged him back. He tried to seal the deal with a kiss but you drew a line. 

“Not yet,” you said. You didn’t need to explain to him that the thought of his lips on someone else’s was not going to fade anytime soon. A look of disappointment crossed his face but he covered it quickly. He nodded and smiled sadly at you. 

He had a lot of work to do. 

Seonghwa:

It had been an hour of screaming and another hour of quiet tears before Seonghwa approached you with another apology. This was about the hundredth time you would hear it, and there was a numb feeling that accompanied it. 

Seonghwa sat on the end of the bed and placed a gentle hand on your leg, waiting for you to look at him. You sat up and pulled away from his touch, curling into a ball against the headboard. He frowned, but understood nevertheless. He watched as a few more tears rolled down your cheeks and felt his fingers twitch with the need to wipe them away. 

When you finally looked at him, he opened his mouth to speak but before he could get the words out, you shook your head and placed a finger against your lips. He nodded and waited for you to make the next move. “Give me time,” was all you said. “I trust that you won’t do it again. But I need time, okay?” Your watery eyes burned holes into his very soul as he realized for the first time truly how much pain he had caused you. 

He nodded quietly, not sure he could speak without crying. Guilt was coming over him in waves now, and he could feel his eyes watering. The magnitude of the situation finally settling on him. He knew he didn’t deserve to cry, and apparently you did too, because you told him so. “You don’t get to do that,” you stated simply. 

He choked back a sob and whispered, “I know.” You reluctantly crawled over to him and pulled him into a hug. But when you touched him, he couldn’t hold it back any longer. The tears came full force as he berated himself for allowing himself to convince you to stay. He knew it was manipulative and he didn't deserve your forgiveness. But it felt too good to know that no matter what he did, you’d come back to him. 

He vowed to better himself from then on, for your sake. 

Yunho:

Three days had passed since the article had come out, releasing pictures of Yunho’s infidelity. It had also been three days since he had heard from you. Halfway around the world, you lie in bed for the 48th hour in a row, not able to bring yourself to sleep though you desperately wanted to. 

Friends had made their way to your place and stayed with you when they could,   forcing you to eat the meals they continuously brought to you. It really felt like they were delivering their respects after a death had occurred in your life. In a way, it had. Your longterm relationship had broken with one 500 word article and a picture of your boyfriend with his lips on someone who was noticeably not yourself. 

Yunho had yet to attempt contact, fearing that if he tried to make the first move, it would push you even further away, if that was possible. You, however, couldn’t bring yourself to reach out either. At least, if neither if you talked about it, you couldn’t break up, right? But when your phone finally sang out his designated ringtone, you scrambled to answer. 

You hated that you sounded so desperate and relieved to hear from him. But, at this point, you were. “Hey...,” he started. 

“When are you coming home to me?” You couldn't stop yourself for asking. You hated the way you had emphasized your claim on him with that single question. Little did you know, it made your boyfriend smile to know that there was still hope. 

“Soon,” he said. You could hear his happiness in his voice and you felt as if you retreated into yourself even more at his obvious joy. You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “So, I’m still allowed to come home?” He laughed awkwardly.

You felt a small smile split across your face at that. “I guess,” you stated simply. “You’ll be on the couch for a while.” He laughed at that, and said he understood. 

You hated that neither of you could handle this with anything other than humor. But it was a coping mechanism you had both grown accustomed to. They say laughter makes you live longer right? Hopefully that logic will save your relationship too. 

Yeosang:

Dating Yeosang had been a breeze until now. Until Dispatch unveiled a photo they had apparently been waiting to use. A picture of Yeosang being rather close with someone around the time of your first anniversary. It was about to be your third. 

Of course, after the news had broken, he had rushed to find you, apologies ready on his tongue. Of course, you knew him well enough by now that you had correctly guessed what he would do. As soon as he turned up at your house, prepared to beg for forgiveness, you had already prepared your response. 

Just as the first hint of an apology escaped his lips, you cut him off. “It’s okay.”

That short sentence alone washed away all of the words he had prepared for you. “I-it’s not though,” he said, the statement sounding more like a question than anything else. 

You nodded. “You’re right. But it was too long ago now for me to be upset.” Yeosang just stared at you, mouth ajar. You giggled and gently tapped his chin, and he closed his mouth. “I trust you’ve ended whatever that was?” You questioned him, and he nodded furiously. “The I also trust that you’ve grown since then. I’m moving on from it now, and I don’t want to think about it so nothing else needs to be said.”

He still stood just gaping at you, completely shocked at your entire response to the whole situation. Though he was grateful that you forgave him so quickly, he was also highly unsettled. Not by you, but because of his own actions. His stomach knotted and he felt tears prick at his eyes when you smiled at him. Guilt made his knees wobble and his chest constrict. 

He knew that there’s no way you should forgive him, especially not this quickly. This is something he would forever be insecure about, as he now identifies himself as manipulative and disloyal. But he also feels that he deserves it for such an incredible betrayal.

San:

You and San had been on the rocks lately, arguing at least twice a day about trivial things and then making up later with the promise that both of you would do better. All of the fighting came to a head the day someone called San while he was in the shower. Throughout your entire relationship, both of you would regularly answer each other’s phones just as a a way of passing messages along if one of yours busy. 

This time, however, you answered a call from an un-saved number. Upon greeting the stranger on the other end of the line, the caller demanded to know where San was and explained that they were calling to confirm a date for later. You hung up immediately after informing them rather aggressively that he would not be attending the date. 

Storming through the house and into the bathroom, you yanked back the shower curtain and demanded that he finish quickly. San could immediately tell he had messed up somehow, though he was unaware of what had just happened. 

Once he finished in the bathroom, he found you sitting quietly in your bedroom, waiting for him. Upon asking you what he had done, you burst into tears. Despite all of the fighting you two had been doing lately, this is the first time he had seen you cry. He sat next to you and asked you again what had happened. 

Your voice cracked as you explained the phone call and watched as his eyes grew wide with understanding and fear. You stared at him as he floundered, desperate for an explanation that would amend the situation. But he couldn’t find one. He was busted and he knew it. So, he hung his head and apologized so quietly you could hardly hear. 

You nodded, tears flowing slower now. “I know we’ve had it hard lately,” you began, “but I’ll fix it.” You hated that you willingly accepted fault, even though it was most certainly his. 

He shook his head at you and grasped your hands in his. “It’s not you that has. to fix anything,” he admitted, more loudly this time. “It’s my fault.” A single tear escaped and you followed it as it trailed down the side of his nose, catching it with your thumb and brushing it away before it could reach his lips. 

You nodded at him and apologized. “I don’t want to drive you away.” 

“You don’t, I’m just-” he cut himself off. He didn’t really have an excuse for what he had done. “I’ll be better, okay?” And you nodded. There was some healing to be done.

Mingi:

It’s been almost an entire week since you had last spoken to Mingi. The news of his “extracurriculars,” as the media had so gently put it, had broken a while ago. But you still haven’t managed to contact him since your last fight about it. Frankly, you were sick of crying about it and completely numb to all of his apologies. 

Despite all of that, though, you missed him. So much that it almost hurt more than what he had done. Almost. So, you decided that it was finally time to call him after so many days listening to sad music and crying over happy pictures that you had taken together before all this happened. 

The phone had barely completed its first ring before Mingi’s voice came through. He sounded hoarse and his voice cracked as he greeted you. “How’ve you been?” You asked, tentatively. A silly question, considering the circumstances, but you couldn’t think of any other way to break the ice. 

“Miss you lots,” he muttered, sniffling at the end of his reply. 

“Me too,” you stated. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you could tell he was about to cry. 

“I know. Do you want to come over for a little?” you asked gently. He responded with a confirmation and you ended the call. You couldn't help feeling a little jittery and excited at the idea of seeing him again. All you wanted was to fix your relationship. 

And as Mingi made his way over to see you, he thought over and over about how sorry he was, and how he could possibly make it up to you. And, in addition to feeling guilty about cheating in the first place, he could help feeling like he was taking advantage of your forgiving nature. 

So, from then on, he vowed to himself that he would never do anything that hurt you again, and he would never put you in a situation where you would have to choose whether or not to forgive him. 

Wooyoung:

Wooyoung had been acting rather strange and secretive lately, which was strange considering you two normally willingly shared everything with each other. Soon, you discovered that it was because he had been having some pretty “friendly” conversations with one of the new stylists. The only reason you found out is because Hongjoong mentioned it to you. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. He’s my friend, but you are too and I think you deserve to know.” Of course, you were thankful for his honesty, but still hurt that no one else bothered to mention it to you. 

So, one day, you decided to visit the company. Disguised as a surprise lunch visit, you were really there to spy on Wooyoung’s interactions with his stylist. When you arrived, you met all of the boys in the practice room. All of them were present except for your boyfriend. You dropped off the lunch you’d brought for everyone and made your way to the makeup room where Wooyoung was apparently getting fitted for a new outfit. 

Upon opening the door, you witnessed your boyfriend kissing the stylist in question. You cleared your throat and watched, slightly amused, as they jumped apart and Wooyoung stuttered, trying to make up an excuse. You held your hand in the air, and politely requested that the stylist leave the room. She bowed lowly and whispered an apology before scurrying away as quickly as she could. 

“Hongjoong told me you’d been getting friendly with her but I never thought he meant you’d gotten this close,” you stated calmly, feeling ice spread through your veins. Wooyoung just hung his head, unable to look you in the eye. You scoffed and nodded, “Nothing to say?”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, collapsing onto his knees as you turned on your heel and walked back towards the practice room to retrieve your things. As soon as the door to the makeup room shut behind you, your heart unfroze, tears beginning to squeeze themselves out of the corners of your eyes. Walking quickly to the practice room, you only stopped when someone caught your wrist. You whirled around to see a very repentant looking Wooyoung.

“Let go,” you commanded. He shook his head and you yanked your wrist away. “I still love you but what I just saw is just-” you couldn’t finish the sentence before a sob lodged itself into your throat. He reached for your hand again and pulled you into his chest. 

“I shouldn’t have let it happen,” he whispered, “I’m sorry. Really.” You nodded. You knew that he was sorry, you could see it in his face. And you could already feel yourself caving. 

Wooyoung knew your forgiveness would come quickly though, and even though he hated himself for using such positive quality against you, he couldn’t let your relationship end here.

Jongho:

Jongho knew that winning your forgiveness wouldn’t be easy. But he also knew that you weren’t ready to break up, no matter what he had done. So, he bombarded you with apologetic texts and voicemails, even getting some of the members to check in on you when you didn’t respond to his own attempts at communication. 

When you finally decided it was time to respond to the never-ending onslaught of alerts, your heart was more open than it had been before. Even though you hadn’t responded to a single message, you read and listened to each one. The voicemails all sounded incredibly sincere. And the boys informed you that Jongho had no intention to give you up. 

You slowly felt your resolve breaking after every message you listened to, and when you finally answered a call, hearing his voice in real time dissolved any more anger you had left. “Come over,” was all you said before hanging up again and Jongho knew he had won you over. 

As he rushed to see you he mentally praised himself for his persistence and for knowing you so well. But the praise eventually turned to self-deprecation as he berated himself for manipulating your emotions. He hated that he was becoming someone who was so willing to fix his own mistake by doing another immoral thing to win you back. But he couldn’t let you go, and he needed you to know that. 

Upon seeing you again, you both cried and hugged and you both spewed apologies. But Jongho would never tell you why he apologized more than he ever had before. He couldn’t let you know he manipulated you, and he would let you stay in peaceful naivety to avoid hurting you even more.