#which. they know but a reminder never hurts

[gay-dorito-dust]

imagine Ford removing the tattoos Bill made him get and replacing them with something you designed, even if it’s just something you doodled one day and he really liked it

Ford promised that he would never get another tattoo, the ones he already had were both embarrassing and painful reminders of the man he use to be; a man who pushed everyone into leaving him due to his obsession with making himself a recognisable name to make up for the one he missed out on due to Stanley’s accident.

The tattoo he regrets the most was the one Bill made him get, which didn’t translated to what Bill claimed it did but something else entirely. Ford hated looking at it as it only reminded him of painful memories, memories of living in a constant state of paranoia and distrust of anyone and anything even his own flesh and blood. And while Stanley forgives him for acting the way he did when he came back, Ford only felt all the more guiltier for it.

So when he was honing through his journal, he stoped on a page when he spotted a drawing that was neither his, Dippers or Mabel’s but instead yours and Ford felt himself smile. It might’ve not been the best drawing of an axolotl, but the fact that you tried spoke volumes that touched Ford deeply as he rubbed his thumb across the drawing softly as though any harder and it would smudge. Ford had known for a while that he had become fond of you, and it wasn’t difficult to see why that was because who wouldn’t become fond of you?!

You were sweet, kind, compassionate, creative and never failed to help Dipper and Mabel within a moments notice should they call your name, you even got along with his brother Stanley and Fiddleford. You were just…well everything and Ford couldn’t help but wish he could be more like you in many aspects, but while he was looking at you through rose tinted glasses, believing you could do no wrong only to look at your axolotl drawing and was reminded that you were just a human as him: and to be human is to have flaws and complexity within their very existence.

And while Ford said he didn’t want any more tattoos, he decided that one more wouldn’t hurt and made sure to let the artist know he wanted this weird looking axolotl to cover the tattoo bill made him get, replacing something negative, obsessive and painful with something sweet, beautiful and goofy. And within the appropriate time, Ford walked out of the tattoo parlour with a funky little axolotl to remind him where his heart lied as he looked down at it fondly, with you and his family. Forever and always.

Mabel loved it.

Dipper was asking if it held any meaning and while Stanley did laugh at the tattoo, he was happy to see Ford get rid of the mark that Bill had left over him.

You? You immediately recognised the axolotl as one of your own drawings and smiled brightly at Ford, who only smiled back at you knowingly for that was all you needed to recognise his feelings.

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. 1.5 | Spencer Reid x Reader

Okay so, WOW. I am completely blown away by the response to my first fic on here, 120 followers in 6 days are you guys okay? Because I am definitely not :,). While accidents pt. II isnt quite finished just yet (thank you so much for being so patient with me<3 uni is kicking my ass already rip), I thought I'd give you all a small sneak peek, aka the first 800-ish words of the second part. I hope you enjoy and thank you all so so much for the generous feedback so far!! <333 I'll go rewatch my genetics lecture now yippie :,,,,)

here you can read the entire first part, please head the warnings! Same ones apply here. also, if you wanna get tagged in pt. II, let me know in the comments!

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Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

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oh spencer, you weren't quite as subtle as you thought. rip my boy. also whooops another cliffhanger? haha my fingers must've slipped my bad

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[evilminji]

You know my Crechelings Are Possessed post?

What if it was just the one? A SI-OC or OC?

Dying and going THROUGH the Force? I will attest, is GONNA have side effects. You're gonna end up... weird. Not Normal for a Force Sensitive. Kinda like Anikin tbh. A bit TOO in tune. A bit TOO aware. Connected.

As though your brain was cracked open 5+ dimensionally, to the Whole Of Creation that IS the Force and it kinda fucked you up a bit. Cause as A Luminous Force Being? You were fine! Energy and light! But as MATTER? Well...

Matter breaks.

Can withstand only so much.

We are LIMITED by our matter, crude and flawed as it is. Beloved as it may be.

Cause make no mistake! You aren't BROKEN. But you are CHANGED. There were a series of clear, monumentous, and "life" altering events back to back here! Death, a traumatizing thing no matter HOW peaceful it may have been. And in all likelihood? It was NOT a peaceful end. It probably? Hurt. Was frightening. Abrupt. There is grief and hurt there. Fear.

Then the trauma of being separated from everyone we have ever known. Without closure. For them OR us. Our empathy would remind us of their suffering. That they do NOT know we are okay. That we have no way to TELL them we are. This too, is trauma. But? Worse?

Is the Force.

We? Are no Jedi. Not yet. We are confused. Lost and do not understand. It is FOREIGN to us. An outside will that we cannot escape. Where are our gods? The death we expected? The afterlife we assumed we would meet? It's INSIDE US. It IS US. We are IT. We don't know where we are and everything feels?

E N D L E S S .

Can force ghosts even cry? Weep, terrified and overwhelmed? Afraid? Simply BRINGING us to them would not impart understanding. And imparting understanding? Well... we know it to be not OF us? To be inflicted. An invasion. The Force is not cruel. But! Importantly! It is not and has never BEEN? Mortal.

Blue and Orange morality is at play. How do you explain to a formless, infinite, all knowing, all powerful God Force? The concept of "boundaries"? Limits? There is GOOD to be done. It's helping you! Pushing love and comfort! Surely that should work? Why is that not working? It is... confused. Not MADE for such contemplations.

This too, is Trauma. Being held in the hands of a God. Benevolent does not mean SAFE. Does not mean you will not be unharmed. Just... that they do not MEAN to harm you.

Or have very Good Reasons for why they "Must".

The Force Ghosts help. They are patient in the way only old Master's could be. Kind. They understand. Have taught. And so? Though they are quite confused, they understand you struggle to release your fear. Explaining things helps. Talking helps. And you find peace.

Not the afterlife you EXPECTED, but not terrible.

Which... of course, is when once again things change.

Birth, Life, these TOO, are Trauma. You were FREE. No more pain. No aches. No hunger, no thirst, no exhaustion. Connection deeper then this broken and flawed matter could ever hope to achieve. The world has gone SILENT. Muffled. Like solitary confinement for the SOUL.

Only in meditation, are you FREE.

Your parents can't handle you. You grieve for them. For the child they should have had. Look around the nursery, so filled with excitement and love, and feel nothing but the urge to weep. You are a stillborn, brought to life. A child stolen. They deserved better then this. Even as you can not be anything but what you ARE? What of THEIR sorrow? Their confusion and futures now impossible?

You love them. They are not yours. Will never tryely be your parents, for all they brought you into this world. But oh, Oh, you love these poor grieving souls. Wish it had not been you. That they could have had the child they were so excited to love. You... you are sorry. So, so sorry.

They take you to the Temple. You guild them to a child in need, first. Hope they will be happy.

You do not look back.

They put you in a Creche with others just as "Unusually Strong" in the Force. Is that Grogu? Hi Grogu. Who are the rest of you? The room is quite. Everyone talking loudly in the Force, instead. It would be deafening for the more delicate younglings. They don't have the shields for it yet. The children here SHOUT without meaning too, like standing at a rock concert.

Visions are a constant thing. Unusual Force gifts and manifestations. Illirrrska can see auras. Doesn't know what they MEAN, mind you, and xe sees them on EVERYTHING that lives, but still! Xey are well on xeir way to figuring it out. (Xey have a holo document cataloging the colors, you see.)

You fit right in! With your Tiny Herald Of Death To Come nature. Your Creche mates believe you. The adults? Have grown numb. Used to filtering. Tiny younglings with Too Much Force flowing through them? Are horrors. Viscerally unsettling. Unnatural.

Even to the Jedi.

But! They REFUSE to treat children with such caution and distain. Hold them at an arms length out of FEAR. So they mentally filter. "That's nice dear, horrifying concepts and brain melting secrets, mmmhmmm. Eat your pudding. Who wants to play float ball~‽ Yaaaaaay!"

No one will listen. Future in motion. But really, of course it is. You are no fool.

However... tell me, Master Jedi. Does it matter? If we die one step to the right as apposed to the left? Because you would not LISTEN when the Force spoke? The future only changes when you ACT. Not when you REFUSE too. Out of FEAR. Out of IGNORANCE. Out of ATTACHMENT.

And make no mistake, you ARE attached. Clinging so hard to your beliefs that you could not POSSIBLY be wrong. Could not POSSIBLY be fallible, be fooled by the Dark Side and lead astray, that you have turned your back on the very Tennants of the Code itself.

What is more important? Tradition or the Force? The innocent or the way things were? Tell me, what is the will of the Force... and what is Fear? Convenience? The little moral compromises that damn? Who do you serve, Master Jedi? And ARE you serving them?

Perhaps you should meditate.

Just???

This Tiny Cryptid Crecheling? That speaks like a wizened old Master? Feels like a tiny star in the Force? Not a cute lil ball of light. A FUCKING STAR. Giant ball of gas in space, a burning ball of light, THAT kind of star! But... small? Person shaped. It's like meditating next to a Force Nexus.

They just? Hand you things. Or sabotage random ships. Literally just FUCKING SHOT a knight once, for no clear reason! All they would say is "it's not like you'll actually listen. This is the only way." What? Of COURSE WE'LL LISTEN! (No. They won't. Just ask Sifo. Ask Obi-Wan. The Sith, fear, and hubris have eroded the Jedi from within.)

The full blown confidence of an adult? Combined with the creepy "oh god. They're in THE VENTS!!!" Nature of highly force sensitive Crechelings?

Magnificent~☆

They can see into your SOUL. Are holding a toddler that squirms around, wiggles up to whisper in their ear, gets a nod, only for YOU to be somberly informed that your second in command (a life long friend) has betrayed you. Avoid wearing red. You will die on a Friday. By the way, they can't reach the counter... could you hand them those snacks?

One of the other one speaks to trees.

The trees SPEAK BACK.

Prophecy. Fuckin Terrifying Prophecy EVERYWHERE.

Did YOU want to know that your grandson will grow up to kill his brother? No? Too bad! Not even married yet? ALSO TOO BAD! Have FUN with that knowledge! How about learning that there is horrific suffering planets away? No. No there ISN'T anything you can do about it. Just... here! Have some Deeply Cursed Knowledge. From a toddler. Now! They're gonna go eat grass~☆

The appear and disappear at random. Climb the walls. Fuckin FLOAT. The Force itself is their imaginary friend! They literally consult it over PUDDING CHOICES. Sometimes? They talk in perfect synchronization, like a hive mind. Stare without blinking. One moment they are perfectly normal children... the next? Like PUPPETS.

Tiny avatars. Through which SOMETHING GREATER speaks. They KNOW, not think, KNOW what they need to do. You can not convince them. Trying just makes you an obstacle to be overcome.

They are four.

Toddlers and children. Younglings. Initiates!

I just? Want there to be? A portion of Deeply Cursed/Possessed Crechelings? That are just LIKE that. Loved regardless. Nothing wrong with them. They're just too strong for their lil bitty baby brains. Once they learn to shield better? It'll balance out. Anikin would have gone there, had he been found young.

It'd be hilarious? If what saves the galaxy? Is someone finally REMEMBERING that? And thinking to themselves?

"Hey, you know what might be good for that Skywalker kid? Being exposed to more Force Sensitives that GET him. We should put him on Cursed Crechelings duty for a bit." And??

Anikin? Is in LOVE? They are all so SMOL an NORMAL? Finally! Jedi who aren't EMOTIONALLY DISTANT! Shielded? What do mean "Shielded"? No I'm not shouting all the time! This is my normal speaking voice! *Skywalker confusion as he cuddles babies*

Cause like? He too? Spoke in horrifying prophecy? Was vaguely Anti-christ-y? Did the (o.o) see into your sooooooul stare? So WHAT? That's just how babies ARE!

.....what do you MEAN "no"?

Every day, throwing open Obi-Wan's poor, slowly being destroyed, front door like "Master! Did you know I am AN OUTLIER!? And REALLY LOUD!? Other people aren't emotionally crippled psychopaths, they're just really REALLY quite compared to me!!" "Ah. Yes, Anikin, please. Maybe say that LOUDER. I don't think the ENTIRE temple quite heard you... -_- "

Just?? Anikin Skywalker! And his Hoard of Creepy Possessed Crechelings that are TOTALLY NORMAL, Guys! All kids are like this! He's a GREAT role model and baby sitting! Yeah, it's the Clone wars, and no, he has NO idea how the entire Creche got onto the ship... but hey! Enrichment! That's good for them, right?

(^-^) (o.o) (|o.o|) (o,o) (o-o) (|o,o|)

*clones look from their general, to the tiny unblinking magic jedi babies, back to their general* s-sure?

@legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @babbling-babull @hdgnj @hypewinter @leftnotright @starwarsblr

[syndrossi]

Now I REALLY WANT something where Ser Thoren DOES rescue the boys and reunites them with Daemon earlier, largely because I want to see what happens when the Volentenes attempt to kidnap them while they're with their father.

Oooh, that WOULD be spicy, wouldn't it? I imagine the way it plays out initially is:

Ser Thoren brings them back up north to catch a ship to King's Landing.

Allard dispatches his men in search/pursuit of them.

After a week of failed searching (Crayne convinces Allard to keep it on the down low), Allard finally informs Rhea via raven that the boys are missing. She reaches out to Rhaenyra to have a raven sent to Daemon in the Stepstones and sends out ravens throughout the Vale to be on the lookout for the boys. Ser Thoren and the twins set sail from the Fingers.

Rhea rides south to Gulltown chasing a rumor about the boys, accident (or is it?) occurs just before Daemon arrives in Runestone for answers. Ser Thoren and the twins arrive at Dragonstone, as he wants the matter somewhat discreetly handled. Rhaenyra is here, just as in canon, and sends a raven to Runestone.

Daemon confronts Rhea, forces the confession, and this time the raven that reaches him isn't of the boys' kidnapping, but Rhaenyra's that the boys are safe in Dragonstone, which he immediately sets out for.

The big meet happens there, and Daemon and Rhaenyra fly the twins to King's Landing. There is much fanfare, but none of the urgency of Resonant, because the boys were never truly kidnapped. Viserys is pleased that Daemon's a father, but there's no "hand in the hearth" debriefing, so he has no reason to believe the boys are prophecy children. There is no 24/7 knight rotation, and boys are far less traumatized (though Rhaegar is still mourning Rhaella and Rhea) and Jon's not hurt.

Probably a few weeks pass without incident. The boys settle in, Daemon escorts them around the Dragonpit, though without success. (To Rhaegar's utter heartbreak.)

Daemon has no catalyst to set him after Volantis, so he's trying to figure out what to do now that he's a single dad. He also feels fairly safe taking them out into the city.

Meanwhile, the Volantenes + Jephyro are already aware of the new circumstances and have sailed into King's Landing to set up an attempt there...

Here's part one of an innocent outing in the city that may be about to turn into something quite a lot more dangerous...

x~x~x

"What about this one?" Daemon pointed at the clasp that had caught his eye—and clearly Rhaegar's—against the dark velvet that held the jeweler's various works: silver shaped into a dragon curled around a deep red garnet. "Do you have another?"

"Another, my prince?" the man repeated, before comprehension dawned. He looked between Daemon's two sons. "I could fashion a twin to it easily enough."

Daemon stole a glance at Jon to gauge his interest. His other son had proven himself to be less enthused about the finery afforded him in his new station. Allard Royce and whatever passed for clothing in the Vale were partly to blame for that, he presumed.

Jon's gaze was on a different piece, however, that of a silver wolf's head with eyes of smoothly-polished sapphire. It had no relation at all to their own house, better suited to the houses of the southern Crownlands and northern Stormlands who bore wolves upon their crest. But the longing in his face was clear, along with an undercurrent of sorrow.

He does not know to ask, Daemon thought with a familiar simmering anger at the reminder that his sons had spent their childhood being denied all that they were due.

It would not have been his choice, but boys formed all sorts of fascinations, and although wolves were no dragons, they were worthy enough in their own way. "Would you like that one, Jon?" he asked, reaching for the clasp.

He was immediately met with a grey-eyed stare so filled with uncertainty that his own heart ached. "It is a beautiful piece," Daemon said.

"I—" Jon swallowed, gaze returning to the clasp, then flicking up at the jeweler. "Could you change the eyes?"

The jeweler, sensing a sale, smiled encouragingly. "Easily enough. What suits your fancy, young prince? I have some emerald stones that could be fitted."

"What about the red stone in the dragon clasp? Do you have more of it?"

"The garnet? I do. I also have ruby, should that be more to your preference." The jeweler disappeared into his work room, emerging after a moment with a small cloth of both garnet and ruby gems, some rough and others worked, that he laid out on the table.

Jon looked between them. He seemed drawn at first to the ruby, touching a finger to it, but his mouth firmed with decision as he pulled back. "The garnet." He glanced at his brother. "So that we match."

"I shall have the modifications completed by tomorrow," the man said with a bow, before turning his gaze back to Daemon. "Is there anything else that you seek, my prince?"

"I have been told you have experience working with dragon scales."

The jeweler's expression brightened, this time with interest. "I do. I have done work for Princess Rhaenyra, and even Queen Alysanne herself, many years back."

His sons watched him with nearly identical expressions of curiosity as Daemon withdrew a thick red scale from his pouch, partly split by a glancing blow from one of the Triarchy's small ballistae that they lugged onto the shores of the Stepstones in hopes of a lucky shot before their inevitable destruction by dragonflame.

"What can you make of this?"

The jeweler took the scale from him with a hushed reverence, examining it from various angles. "I can shape it into smaller pieces and fashion a fetching pendant. Several, even. A gold setting would be striking, or--" He glanced at their silver-and-garnet selections. "Or silver, if that is more to your liking. If my prince cares to return in half an hour, I can make some sketches for your review for the pendant itself."

"Can you design one of a dragon's head?" Rhaegar asked. His look at Daemon held an uncertainty not unlike Jon's earlier. "We could have one apiece."

"The three heads of the dragon?" Daemon kissed the two heads within reach. "That feels fitting to me."

"I shall focus my efforts on dragon designs, then," the jeweler said with another bow, and Daemon could not tell if his enthusiasm was from the opportunity to work with such a rare material, or the growing purse he anticipated receiving.

Even if Viserys weren't cheered enough by his return and meeting his sons to see it paid directly from the royal treasury, Daemon had spent very little of his own allowance these past few years. There were scant opportunities in the wastes of the Stepstones.

It was getting past midday, long enough since breakfast for hunger to make itself known in the growling stomachs of growing boys. The taverns at the base of Aegon’s Hill catered to visiting nobles and rich merchants of the area, their fare a good deal finer than would be found just a few roads further south, near the harbor.

A royal visitor was not uncommon in these parts, though it still afforded them a quiet table away from the small pocket of knights well on their way to a drunken stupor not even halfway through the day. He would have numbered among them once, Daemon mused. Not the knight part, of course. But he had drunk his way through most of the taverns in the city in his youth, often dragging Viserys along. His brother had been a more exuberant drunk then, prone to wild capers he would not otherwise consider when sober.

I wonder if he might consider stealing away some night. Even a king could wear a cloak, and if any tavernkeep were to notice, he would wisely pretend otherwise. It would do him good to remember life outside those walls.

And it would scandalize Otto Hightower, which was reason enough in itself.

Daemon turned his attention back to the twins, both of whom seemed comfortable enough in the tavern, though he imagined they would not have seen one growing up isolated in the Gates of the Moon. “I take it Ser Thoren brought you to a few inns along the way,” he said.

“Only a few,” Jon said. “On the road north through the Vale.”

A carafe of wine was brought to the table, along with bread fresh enough from the oven to be steaming. Slices of cold meat and cheese were brought out soon after. Daemon limited himself to a single cup, and let each of his sons try a sip, taking in their mutual nose crinkles at the taste with fond amusement that turned faintly bittersweet. There were many expressions he had still to learn, to discover which emphasized their similarities and which their differences.

Each delighted him, though he had a special fondness for when they mirrored one another. It spoke to an extra bond between them that comforted him somehow.

A special treat of warm, gooey raspberries served in a bowl with a generous heaping of cold cream atop it had been sent to their table, and both his sons had eagerly devoured theirs before turning faintly envious eyes to Daemon’s own half-eaten portion.

“Is there anything else you would like to see before we return to the jeweler, and then the keep?” he asked once they had finished off his dessert.

[mythicalninjas]

Hi! Idk if you’re requests are still open but!

Could you do a Donnie getting mad/having a bad day and he kinda explodes (with no reason/gratuitamente) with reader (she)? And they stay away from the lair for a while, and happy ending! (Just want heart-crushing angst with happy ending hsuahs)

(Tbh the prompt I actually thought was “Donnie was stressed and tired of being different, reader who’s autistic says they relate, so he explodes saying they don’t, how could they?” But idk if you’re ok with writing that, so I simplified it! ~I’m autistic, that’s why I thought of that~)

If my ask is to complicated or didn’t inspire you that’s tots ok! I understand! (Sorry this ask was so big too!)

Have a good day/ night! ☺️

It's okay, your prompt is amazing ☺️ Sorry for keeping you waiting for too long... I had to deal with college in the past several months.

I hope I did write the way you asked. Enjoy 💜

It was a quiet night in the lair, but that didn't reflect Donatello's internal state. The laboratory was plunged into darkness, save for the dim light of the monitors that cast dancing shadows on the walls. The frantic sound of the keyboard echoed, the only sound apart from the hum of the machines at work. Donnie was exhausted, physically and emotionally. His brain was burning with data overload, with formulas and calculations that didn't fit together as they should. It had been days of incessant research, of failed experiments, of trying to find solutions to problems that seemed to multiply.

Every mistake, every failure, was a nagging reminder that he needed to be better. He had to be better. There was no room for weakness. His brothers depended on him, the world depended on him. And the constant pressure to deliver results was starting to implode inside. Exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he kept pushing, ignoring the body that was crying out for rest, ignoring the accumulated stress.

She entered the laboratory, as she had done so many times before. Her steps were soft, as if she were trying not to interrupt, but her presence always brought a sense of comfort that Donnie appreciated, even if he never admitted it out loud. He was so focused that he barely noticed her coming until he felt the soft touch of her fingers on his shoulder.

"Hey, Donnie..." Her voice was soft, a gentle touch to his swirling mind. "Are you all right?"

Donatello barely lifted his eyes from the monitors, trying to recalculate a complicated sequence. "I'm busy now," he muttered, his fingers still running across the keyboard.

She waited for a moment, watching the tiredness on his face. She knew that he threw himself into his work when he was frustrated or anxious, and she had learned to give him space when necessary. But now, there was something different in the air. He seemed more tense than usual, more closed off.

She let out a little sigh, hesitating before speaking again. "I know you're busy, but... maybe it's time to take a break? You've been at it for hours..."

Her touch should have been a comfort, but at that moment, something in Donnie snapped. The pressure, the frustration, the accumulated tiredness - it all blended together in an explosion of emotions that he could no longer control.

“I said I'm busy!” His voice echoed louder than he had intended. He stood up abruptly from his chair, his eyes blazing with anger, anger that wasn't hers, but which ended up being directed at her. “Don't you understand? I can't stop! If I stop, I'll fail. If I fail, everything falls apart! And you here, distracting me with… with your unimportant things!

She took a step back, shocked. The impact of his words had hit her like a punch in the gut. Never, in all the time she had known him, had he spoken to her like that. Always so calm, so controlled… but now, he seemed on the verge of collapse. Her eyes filled with tears before she could control herself, but she refused to let them fall. She didn't want to show how much it had hurt her.

“I'm sorry for… bothering you.” Her voice was low, broken, almost inaudible.

She turned quickly and left the lab before he could say anything else, before the tears flowed. Donnie stood there, his heart racing, the echo of his words still hanging in the air. For a few seconds, he remained motionless, trying to process what had just happened. Then the guilt began to set in, slow and corrosive.

He had hurt someone who had never been anything but kind to him. He had hurt her.

She walked aimlessly through the streets of New York, the cold of the night beginning to bother her, but nothing compared to the tightness in her chest. The emotional pain was much stronger than any physical discomfort. She couldn't stop thinking about his words, the tone of his voice. It was as if the Donnie she knew, the one who always cared, who listened and understood, had disappeared, replaced by someone she barely recognized.

She walked for hours, wandering around the city, trying to find some clarity amidst the confusion of feelings. Part of her wanted to understand why he had exploded like that. He was overwhelmed, that was obvious. But did that justify what he'd said? The sharp words still echoed in her mind, and she wondered if he really thought that.

While she was lost in thought, Donnie was back in the lab, but his focus had completely disappeared. The screens flashed in front of him, but he could barely see what was written. Guilt was consuming him from the inside out. He knew he had made a mistake, that he had said horrible things. The frustration he felt wasn't her fault, and yet he had taken it out on the person who least deserved it.

Finally, he got up from his chair and left the lair. He needed to find her, he needed to correct the mistake he had made. He didn't know exactly what he would say, but he knew he had to apologize, he had to make amends.

After some time, he found her. She was sitting on top of a building, her gaze lost in the horizon. The evening breeze swayed her hair, and Donnie felt his heart squeeze at seeing her so far away, so hurt. He hesitated for a moment before approaching. Each step seemed heavy, weighed down by guilt and regret.

“Hey,” he called, his voice softer than before, almost fearful.

She didn't turn around immediately, but he knew she had heard. Donnie sat down next to her, keeping a respectful distance. The silence between them was thick, full of unspoken words, but he knew he needed to speak, needed to break through that wall he himself had erected.

“I'm sorry,” he began, his voice low, sincere. “I… I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. You didn't deserve that. None of it was your fault.”

She remained silent for a few moments, and he almost thought she wouldn't answer. But then she sighed, her eyes still fixed on the city.

“Why did you do it, Donnie?” her voice was broken, and he realized how much his words had really hurt her. “I just… I just wanted to help you. And you pushed me away.”

Donnie closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his own failings. “I know. I know you were only trying to help. And I… I was an idiot. I was frustrated, tired, and lost control. But that's no excuse for what I did.”

She finally turned her face to look at him. Her eyes were watery, but the anger had given way to a deep sadness. “You didn't have to hurt me like that, Donnie. I'm always here for you, you know that. And yet… you blew up at me, as if I was part of the problem.”

Her words dug deep into Donnie's heart. He had been the cause of her pain, and now he could clearly see the impact his actions had had. It wasn't just the momentary explosion, but what came after - the insecurity, the doubt. He needed to fix that.

Donnie swallowed, feeling small in the face of what he had caused. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice full of regret. “You're… the last person in the world I wanted to be cruel to. I was just so overwhelmed, with all the pressure of being the brains, of having to sort everything out for my brothers… And I ended up taking it out on you.”

She sighed, looking at the horizon again. “I understand that you have this responsibility, Donnie. I know how much you carry. But I was also there, trying to share that weight with you. And you pushed me away, as if I wasn't important.”

Her words pierced his heart harder than any physical attack could. She was right. He had spent so long concentrating on his own burden that he didn't realize how much she was trying to help, how much she wanted to be there for him.

“I was wrong,” he said, with more conviction this time. “I was wrong about everything. I know I can be controlling and stubborn, but I need you. I… want you by my side. You're important to me. More than I can express.”

She remained silent, absorbing his words. He moved a little closer, reaching out hesitantly and placing his hand gently on hers.

“I promise,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I promise I'll try to be better. I'll work on myself, on how I handle things, so that this doesn't happen again.”

She looked at him, her eyes finally meeting his, assessing the sincerity she saw there. And she realized that, although he had made a mistake, he was willing to do whatever it took to make it right. It was a long road, but she knew Donnie was committed to walking it.

“I want to believe that, Donnie,” she murmured, her voice still tinged with a slight pain. “I just… need some time.”

He nodded, understanding. “I understand. And I'll give you as much time as you need.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, side by side, watching the city lights. The noise of life below continued, indifferent to the emotions that filled the top of that building. But there, between them, time seemed to have slowed down, making room for reconciliation, for forgiveness.

She leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder, a small concession. He felt relief run down his spine, as if that simple gesture was proof that things would eventually be all right. He knew he was lucky - lucky that she was still there, by his side, even after everything.

Donnie wrapped his arm around her, gently pulling her closer, as if he were trying to protect her not only from the outside world, but also from himself. His heart was pounding, but this time, not out of guilt or anger, but out of gratitude. He knew he had a second chance, and he would do his best not to waste it.

They stayed there for a while longer, the silence now less heavy, more comforting. The cold night wind blew lightly, but Donnie felt the warmth of having her close again. She was still hurting, and he knew it would take time for everything to heal completely. But he was willing to wait, willing to do whatever it took to win back her trust.

Finally, she stood up slowly, and Donnie followed her. She gave him a small smile, still shy, but which warmed his heart. “Let's go home,” she said, and those words were all he needed to hear.

Together, they descended from the building and headed back to the lair. The walk back was silent, but the tension between them had eased. She didn't hold his hand, but she didn't push him away either. For Donnie, that was a start.

And he knew that, in time, they would find a way to heal - together.

[dreamsky-sapphi]

Nanamahi brainrots

All my comments on each point below <3

Template by @ustfile (twitter)

Note: I mainly focus on Nanamahi here ⬇️

• Easily Jealous / Too Careless

Even with Nana i think Mahiru would easily still be jealous.

Not in the same way she was with Karen, but in more of a "i have a special relationship with Nana" so she can't help but feel a bit of jealousy when she sees Nana with someone else, except if it's Junna. Despite this jealousy, she wouldn't do or say anything about it, but I think Nana may guess it and find it a little amusing and tease her about it in private.

For Nana, no matter if we consider that she is still not over Junna or not, I think she would still feel possessive over Mahiru, and wouldn't hesitate to show it more than Mahiru would, things such as just approaching from behind with a bright smile like she seems to do everytime she feels threatened.

• Destroys everything to have you / Kills you to save the world

Mahiru would lean more towards sacrificing Nana for the sake of everyone. Of course she cares about Nana but she cares about everyone more, bc she knows that at this point it is almost impossible to convince Nana out of her mindset. She knows how Nana thinks so she would know what would be best in the end.

Nana probably would lean more on sacrificing everything else if she was at a point where she feels like she lost everything, but I didn't put her to the extreme bc Mahiru isn't the one in her heart, and she still cares about everyone else.

• I don't deserve any of this / I deserve to be with you

Nana thinks of herself as some kind of monster, even if she craves love like anyone else. But I don't think she'd ever think she deserves any sort of sympathy.

Mahiru just has terribly low self-esteem and would rather put others before herself in any situation.

• Would revive you if you died / Leaves you to die anyway

I'm not entirely sure for this one, I just think that above everything else, they are both too caring to just let the other die.

At least they would not let the other die without them...

• Clings onto others (especially the other) / Cold exterior

I'd say they both just like physical contact, Nana more than Mahiru.

Mahiru wasn't exactly a physical person except maybe to Karen, but I think she would like the proximity Nana would provide her, like a sense of security. Isn't it comforting to melt into a hug. Idk I just think she would like being hugged by someone taller as well.

Nana would like the contact as some kind of reminder that Mahiru won't leave her anytime soon, so more of a possessive motive.

• "This is fate, isn't it?" / "It was a coincidence, that's all"

This doesn't really reflect whether they believe in fate or not.

I wouldn't be able to tell for sure for Nana, but I think Mahiru does believe in fate, but it just never turns out the way she wished it would (first example obviously is Karen and Hikari, but also anything related to others getting the lead roles she would have loved to get).

Specifically in a Nanamahi setting, I'd say they both think this just happened to be when they needed it the most, just pure coincidence.

This wasn't meant to be but it's convenient for both of them.

• "Let's leave this place" / "I can't just leave everything for 'you'..."

Nana doesn't have much to lose anymore and would lean more on not caring about leaving everything behind to keep this relationship, bc even if it hurts both of them, the pain brings her comfort and will have trouble thinking theres any other way to feel better, at least in the present. It's easier to indulge in this temporary comfort and cut yourself from the outside to fully enjoy it.

As for Mahiru, despite her loneliness, she has too much to lose compared to Nana. Mahiru's loneliness is not the same as what Nana feels because she still has and had so many friends and a loving family who support her. She still want to achieve things and she can't just leave everything behind for this comfort which she knows is only temporary. This is where it would make more sense for someone like Claudine to bring her comfort instead, since she would push Mahiru forward more while Nana would want to stay in a constant cycle of pain.

• A bloody marriage / "I still don't feel a thing"

I'm not sure what a bloody marriage is, but I think Nana would believe there isn't any sort of "love" between them. Ofc it isn't just a random friendship (I don't think that friends just casually kiss all the time), but she would lean more on believe there is nothing worth calling "love".

As for Mahiru, she's more sensitive when it comes to romantic feelings, and might develop a little something, but definitely not a cute kind of love. More of what would be seen as emotional dependence.

Even so, she'd keep thinking to herself that it isn't love and would try to think there's nothing between them despite her growing feelings.

• Self-sacrificial / Would give you away for nothing at all

I don't think neither of these people pleasers would even care about themselves enough to sacrifice the other for nothing.

• "See you in the next life" / "This will never happen again"

They hope such a situation won't ever happen again in the future, but Mahiru would lean more on wanting to meet Nana again in another lifetime where they don't feel so sick and can have fun like they did in highschool (not that Nana doesnt want it but she might think that if they met again, things would end up the same).

• "I don't feel a thing" / "You make me feel alive"

Honestly the entire reason they're together.

When they're by themselves, it's just their thoughts and themselves. They wouldn't feel comfortable enough to open up to anyone about their feelings: they're supposedly getting better now.

I can easily think while they can act normally around others, they'd be like walking corpses once alone when their moods aren't at their best.

By finding each other, someone who can understand their ugly feelings, they can find comfort in each other's arms.

• Would go back in time to save you / Things like that are impossible

We mentionned this with Risse earlier but if Mahiru was given the ability to timeloop, she may have done it.

But my nanamahi setting is leaning towards the future where the revues are over, so when it isn't even possible anymore. Mahiru isn't aware of the timeloops.

Mahiru wouldn't even believe that is a possibility.

Nana would do it again.

• "I need anyone by my side" / "I don't need anyone anymore except you"

In a time where loneliness overtakes her mind, Mahiru would probably be fine as long as anyone could be here for her or at least make her feel needed in a way that isn't like her family needs her or her regular friends need her.

Her love and interactions with Karen have left a scar in her that doesn't heal properly and made her feel the need to find someone who can make her feel needed in a similar way again.

Nana on the other hand has given up and only wants one person by her side.

• "We're friends, right?" / "I wished we were something more"

Between Nana and Mahiru, Mahiru would probably be the one yearning for something more concrete than a weird special bond, while Nana views this more as just mutually helping out.

[bonezone44]

In a Throuple with Ezra & Frankie:

Frankie has a bad day--comes home from a gig and his hands are shaking. He tries to sit and focus his mind, but he can't. He wants to run. Wants to fight. He wants to freeze himself into something and someone new.

Ezra's learned the signs. He knows how to coax Frankie out of his head and back into his body. He brings Frankie into the bedroom and gets him on the bed. He ties his arms to the headboard and leaves his legs free. Ezra's good at talking and taking up space and Frankie's good at following along.

You come home, tired after your own long shift at work. You see Ezra's hung the "Busy" sign on the bedroom door. It's your cue that... yes, they're busy and yes, you're welcome to join.

You knock on the door and wait for an answer--which Ezra provides.

You walk in and--poor Frankie. Whatever troubles you had in your head have disappeared at the sight of him. He needs you and he needs you immediately. Anything to comfort him and soften all the tension in his body and the fearful voices in his head.

You and Ezra take turns massaging his arms, his legs. Kissing him all over. And his arms are tied--he can't shrug you off like he wants to. But he knows he needs this--he wouldn't submit to you and Ezra otherwise. It's been a long journey between the three of you to understand one another and meet each other's needs.

Ezra appeases Frankie with is voice, his sturdy grip and controlled touches. He knows how to pinch and soothe. How to hurt and heal.

You scratch your nails up and down Frankie's legs. You kiss him on his hairy knees. You lick along the skin of his pelvis--not yet touching his hardened cock or his aching balls.

Ezra's the first to start sucking him off. Dirty words mixed with his dirty mouth. You both take turns pleasing Frankie with your tongues and lips and salivas. Frankie's so desperate to come, but Ezra talks him down. Reminds him of the journey--reminds him that it's okay to slow down.

Frankie comes too soon anyway. But it doesn't end the night. You and Ezra keep going. Keep soothing him with your words, your touches, your mouths. Eventually you both take turns riding him. First you, then Ezra. until Frankie's so overstimulated he shouts out "yellow!" and you both immediately slow down, separate. You don't want to push him too far. He's the most delicate out of the three of you. It would truly kill you to harm him in any way.

And when the scene is done, and Frankie's hands are untied. He pulls you both into his arms, clinging desperately and crying. Catharsis. In the hands of his two best friends. In the hands of two people who understand a side of him that he's never shown anyone else. Safety and security in a way he didn't realize was possible--not in all the dangers he's faced in his life. And not in the way he's faced with his fellow soldiers. This was something different--no more or less personal than his time with Santi and the rest. Just different.

And he regrets keeping you close and letting the cum dry on his skin, but in a way, he doesn't. It was worth it to be near you and Ezra's warm bodies at the time. It gave ease to his nervous system to feel the heartbeat of his two partners. His forever companions.

----.

@perotovar THE BOYZ

[stellocchia]

Killer being incredibly touch-starved is something I've been thinking about for a while. We know very little about monster biology, let alone Killer's who's something in between, so I'm gonna base this on the effect of touch deprivation in the real world (which, yes, is a very real and highly studied thing. And no, the people using it as an excuse for why they're 'owed sex' are still full of shit, because to the human brain the kind of touch, as long as it's positive and well received, doesn't make a difference).

Killer, for his whole time with both Chara and Nightmare, is deprived of any positive touch. Nightmare stabbing him and forcefully manipulating his soul certainly doesn't count as positive, and most Chara did was cut him up for fun (and out of curiosity).

There is a chance for him to receive some affection in an expanded Nightmare's gang situation, as I refuse to believe that people stuck in such awful conditions together would not develop a certain degree of closeness. Still, they live under Nightmare, so they probably cannot afford to indulge in any form of comfort too much. And I don't doubt that, in such a tense situation, fights would also break out often. Meaning he'd most likely get more gaster blasters to the face than pats on the back.

With that out of the way, here are some of the symptoms Killer may experience:

Overwhelming loneliness

Strong cravings for affection

Feelings of depression

Anxiety

Heightened levels of Stress

Difficulty sleeping

Attachment avoidance patterns

He'd also most likely do things to emulate the feeling of touch like cuddling his cats a lot, laying under whatever heavy thing he can find, and taking hot showers/baths. After all, this is Killer we're talking about. These are a lot of feelings and uncomfortable sensations that are entirely out of his control, he's definitely gonna try and reign them in.

I do think that, of course, this would affect every Stage differently. And they'd probably go about dealing with it differently.

Stage 1 would have a conflicted relationship with touch. On one hand, it's hard for him to keep from showing the discomfort he's feeling due to the touch deprivation. On the other, he also always struggles with feelings of guilt regarding the fact that, in his mind, he put himself in this situation. He probably wouldn't think he deserves to feel better. And definitely wouldn't outright ask for a hug or to hold hands unless he was desperate.

He'd probably try to deal with it quietly. Probably running the shower as hot as it can get and hoping it gets rid of the itch in his bones. He has probably begged both Chara and Nightmare for affection before, though I doubt that ended well. I think Chara just pushed him away in Disgust, Nightmare probably made him regret asking.

I feel like later on with Color he's probably gonna need constant reassurances and frequent gentle reminders that he can ask for a hug whenever. And, if that feels like too much, he can sit close to Color, shoulder to shoulder. They can hold hands, and, when that feels like too much, they can interlock pinkies. There are ways for them to navigate around this. And I think Color would be happy to help from the get-go with him.

Meanwhile, with Stage 2 I've always felt like they probably dislike touch (something something they don't allow themselves to show any degree of vulnerability and never let go of control. Both things that would happen if they indulge in any amount of physical affection). To be clear, this does not mean that they're immune to the consequences of touch deprivation, it just means that dealing with them will be even harder for them.

During their time with Chara and Nightmare they'd probably use a lot of the good old "gaslighting themselves into thinking that everything is okay" method. Similarly to how they did with convincing themselves that they actually enjoy being hurt on the regular, eventually, they'd probably start believing it. Also, they'd be highly reliant on their cats if they have any around. Cuddling them does soothe a lot of the symptoms for quite a while, and those little balls of fur at least are not gonna backstab them.

Even once they're with Color, I still feel like Stage 2 would rather cuddle with animals than with other monsters or humans. They'd just be far more free to do so without the threat of Nightmare killing those little critters hanging over their head. Also! A lot of types of dance and stuff like theater can help stave off the touch starvation in a way that may feel more comfortable to them. In a lot of those situations, there's a ton of touch involved, but as they'd be able to remain professional about it, it would probably feel less like giving up control and showing weakness than the alternative of being physically affectionate with Color.

Stage 3 is an interesting one. I feel like it would be the most open to admitting (at least to itself) that they have an issue. However, to solve said issue would mean putting the body in danger and that's not something it's willing to do.

Still, it would try to mitigate the discomfort as much as it can. Trying to find soft things to wrap the body up tightly with. Trying to find small places where it can feel somewhat compressed. It would never try to ask either Nightmare or Chara for help. Ever. It hates them with a burning passion and, besides, it's fully aware that, whatever is wrong with them, is most likely the fault of those two.

It probably also would regard Color with distrust at first, but, eventually, as it comes to trust him, it probably would be more than happy to get some cuddles in with him. I do think its favorite thing would be to sleep all curled up around one another in whatever safe den it has built. And, of course, as it builds trust with more people, those people are gonna be let in too. Though that's gonna take time, because for Stage 3 to trust anyone, Stage 2 and Stage 1 have to trust them first.

Stage 4 my boy... it's suffering. Not only can it not remember any instances of kindness, however rare, the other 3 may have received, but it is also the one that would struggle the most receiving any kind of genuine help even after running away with Color. And, before that, it basically just gets treated like a dog. Though, no matter how much he'd want it, the treat for a job well done is never a hug or a pat on the head for it. Usually, it's just it being allowed some basic necessities like water, food, maybe even sleep if things went particularly well.

And it wouldn't try to soothe any of its needs by itself. Just like it doesn't eat, drink, or sleep if it's not explicitly allowed. If Nightmare or Chara wanted it to get a hot shower or some cuddles from its feline friends, they would have said it. Since they didn't clearly it's against the will of the Players, as they're the Players' mouthpieces. The same would go for Color not saying anything.

And, here's the thing, Color would struggle to show kindness to Stage 4 at first. Both because it starts off as hostile as it doesn't initially recognize him as an owner and because there is something fundamentally unsettling about a being so divorced from humanity and monsterkind wearing the face of his friend. Stage 4's biggest downfall is the fact that it is so other that even the kindest souls would struggle to not dehumanize it. It was created to be a tool and it doesn't recognize itself as anything more than that, so others often fall into the trap of doing the same.

Anyway, Stage 4 would straight-up weep the first time it gets a hug. And, seeing that, Color would undoubtedly feel like shit for ever thinking that Stage 4 wasn't just as lonely, hurt, and deserving of kindness as the other Stages.

[natasha-in-space]

✦ In The Dark ✦

Pairing: Suit!Saeran/gn!reader.

Summary: Power outages are never a pleasant hurdle to deal with, especially in a thunderstorm. Having to keep an eye on an annoying toy like you on top of that is a disaster waiting to happen. But Saeran is stubborn, and so are you.

Notes: 'Realizing you've reached the point of no return' promt for anon! Some heavy kissing and lots of conflicting feelings involved. You and Saeran have a rocky dynamic.

AO3 Link - 4k words.

Credit: dividers by @/saradika-graphics.

"For God's sake, will you just shut the hell up already!?" 

Saeran's voice rang out harshly, the high-pitched tone bouncing off the walls of your room and hurting his own ears with its volume. The deafening rumble of thunder rattling the entirety of Magenta to its very foundation right after felt almost like a wordless retaliation of Mother Nature herself in response to his outburst. He certainly interpreted it that way. Right now, it felt like everything was purposefully trying to get under his skin. And it was working. 

Despite his full intention of hopefully scaring you off enough to finally make you go silent on him, his voice came out way harsher than he intended. Which only added to Saeran's steadily growing restlessness and frustration as he turned away from you, raking a hand through his tousled hair for the upten time already, his fingers shaky and his knees weak. 

He never liked rainstorms, and he especially did not like thunderstorms. No matter how old he got and how strong he grew, one boom of thunder would instantly send his heart flying up into his throat, making it hard to breathe. He wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and slither away into some faraway dark corner where it's safe. And that's no way for the strongest member of Mint Eye to think or feel. 

Saeran hated rainstorms because they were a cruel reminder of a weakness he couldn't overcome, no matter how hard he tried. 

He never liked you, either. Not one bit. In fact, he despised you. You were a damn thorn in his side, nothing but stubborn and infuriating since day one of his introduction to you. Always having way too much to say and refusing to back down no matter how hard he pushed. It was like the two of you were always at each other's throats, bickering and fighting over the smallest of things. And, really, that would be fine with him. Hell, that would be great, actually. Saeran would love nothing more than to laugh straight in Ray's face the moment his precious innocent angel turned out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. 

No, what he hated the most about you, was how, despite all your senseless squabbling with him, you were never truly cruel to him. You would throw his harsh words and insults right back into his face, but you never put him down. You would get smart with him for the sake of nothing but getting on his nerves, but you never kicked him when he was down. He couldn't understand you. How you could be so damn assertive and cocky without having to be cruel like him.

Much like rainstorms, you were a constant glaring reminder of his weaknesses. It goes without saying that putting the two together would leave him on edge, to say the least. 

So the fact that he was now pretty much stuck alone with you in the cramped space of your room for God knows how long? With nothing but your annoying presence, your petty comments, the stupidly pink colors of your room, and your maddening scent to keep him company?

To say that Saeran was in a sour mood would be like saying nothing at all.

Of course, no one was making him stay here. But he wasn't naive enough to let you out of his sight during a power outage. Like hell he would. He just knew you'd try to do something stupid and annoying, as you always do. Like escaping. Or making him look bad in front of the Savior on purpose as revenge for everything he put you through. Or sabotaging their paradise by seeking out that cursed liar that was like a cockroach you couldn't kill no matter how much you stomp on it with the heel of your boot. Just because you never tried doing any of that before didn't mean he would let his guard down for you. He knew you'd take advantage of that as soon as you could.

Not on his watch, you won't. He was going to sit right here with you and watch over your every move until he could continue to do so from his cameras like usual. Even if the sight of you was as irritating as a fly buzzing in front of the screen. 

Though what he truly hated the most about this entire predicament was how you somehow managed to make him look like the more anxious one between the two of you. 

Because he wasn't anxious.

Not one bit. 

And the booming sounds of thunder rumbling through Magenta had no effect on him. 

Nor was he on edge because of the storm outside throwing long branches of surrounding trees against your window with every gust of wind.

It was you.

It was always you.

Everything was your fault.

“-No, I will not shut up,” you grumbled, pulling him out of his angry spiral. Your arms were crossed over your chest defiantly as you huffed and shifted in the chair you were seated in, your eyes following his every move as he paced around your room like a lion in a cage. The chair creaked and groaned under your weight, the sound only irritating him further. A small part of him thought of stealing that damn chair from you and making you stand just for the sake of it, but that was way too childish even for him. At least he could see that it was kind of uncomfortable for you. The back wasn't tall enough to reach your shoulders correctly, making your back a bit stiff. Or maybe it was his presence making you tense up so much. He could live with that. Though, that self-assured look you were giving him was really getting on his nerves. “It’s not my fault you guys forgot to schedule a thunderstorm into your plans. And I'm not forcing you to stay here, either. So quit yelling at me already.”

Did you have to always talk back to him like that?

"Well, it's not my damn fault either,” he snapped back at you as he moved away from the wall he was currently leaning against, stomping up to your bed, a heavy sigh escaping his lungs, betraying the exhaustion he was feeling on the inside. God, he hated how soft and inviting that bed of yours looked. Like a forbidden fruit calling out for him to give in and try a taste of its promise of rest. He hated how you could snuggle up under those plush bedsheets comfortably while he was left to sleep, sitting at his desk for thirty minutes at most. Suffering from nightmares more often than not on top of that. So, he falls back onto your bed unceremoniously, feeling the soft material welcome his added weight as it dips under him.

He was only able to lie back for a minute, though, your scent quickly assaulting him stronger than ever before, making him get up again and start pacing around your room, agitation rolling off of him in waves. His irritability was increasing by the second, and you were the only one he could turn his anger towards. As you often were.

“But you're still pissing me off.”

“-Oh, I’m pissing you off, am I?” 

His head snapped in your direction, watching you stand up from your seat, crossing your arms again. Deep down, he knew he was being unfair to you, really. Of course he knew that. Saeran wasn't an idiot, nor was he naive. In a way, that was the point of it all. And he sure hoped you would finally break and prove him right. Give him something he could throw back into Ray's stupid face next time he whines about you being this devoted and perfect angel that cares for them in a way no one else did. 

That was just a load of bullshit.

So, he let you walk up to him, a heated glare to your eyes that rivaled his own. Some part of him was expecting you to hit him, his muscles tightening up under his tight suit like a coiled spring, fully ready on jerking away and covering his face in a movement that was way too familiar to him. Instead, you simply leaned towards him, backing him up against the wall until his back gently bumped against the smooth surface, your hands now resting on both sides of his arms, caging him in. Though, there was still a significant distance between the two of you. You weren't necessarily looking down at him, nor were you trying to make him shrink away from you. 

A big part of him wished you did.

“You’re the one who came here, Saeran. I told you I wouldn't do anything. You just never listen to me." Your annoyed voice practically hissed into his ear, your breath fanning across his skin in warm puffs of air, contrasting against the anxious chill overtaking his body. He suppressed a shiver. He figured it was a shiver of disgust. It must have been. He sneers, his nose scrunching up in displeasure as he returns your heated glare with one of his own, his shoulders squared and his chin raised up high, refusing to show any weakness. 

“What, and listen to you? Don't make me laugh." Saeran mocked, pushing back against you, his eyes narrowing with simmering frustration that was just waiting to spill free, like a bubbling cauldron slowly coming to a boil. He leaned in so he could be eye-to-eye with you, not being intimidated in the slightest. Because that's what you were doing to him, surely. Trying to intimidate him. Scare him off. Break him. Well, he wouldn't let you. He tilted his head to look at you, his gaze filled with a silent challenge. “Forgive me for not taking orders from someone who's only good enough to be a helpless prince/ss and a useless toy."

A cocky smirk pulled at the corners of his lips as another teasing comment flew off the tip of his tongue with ease, fully intent on getting under your skin and riling you up further. Although his tone was mocking, his body was tense, his palms sweaty as he balled his hands up into tight fists. You backing him into a wall with your face so close to his didn't help at all with the rising tension in his muscles whatsoever. If anything, it made it worse. 

He was struggling to gather his thoughts, which only made him feel even more angry. Both with you and himself. He was usually very in charge of himself when he was in front of the other believers, but having you here—being pressed right up against him like this—left him completely unprepared. He had to struggle to stop himself from staring at your lips, a notion that scared and confused him all the same.

Much to his frustration, however, your lips only tugged upwards with a slight smirk of your own in response to his attempts at getting back at you. The fact that he almost had to look up at you in order to even glare at you properly pissed him off quite a bit. He did not like feeling small. He wanted you to think that he was big and imposing. Not someone who could be backed into a corner and looked down at. But you kept him firmly against the wall, preventing him from walking away without you directly letting him. It was supposed to be the other way around. And, in a way, he recognized that this was not the first time you were like this. Only your roles were reversed. And now it was you making him feel smaller than he really was. 

As his head tilted back, your own leaned in even closer to him, the smirk on your face only growing bigger. He'd like to say that it was cruel and mocking, but it was really more playful and amused. Which wasn't much better, considering the circumstances.

“...You sure have a sharp tongue, I'll give you that.”

He was making a genuine effort to ignore you now. He really was, but he felt his control slipping through his fingers like sand as your face got so impossibly close to his. He shifted against you, his jaw locked in place as he stubbornly looked away from you now instead of holding your gaze, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of seeing him break. In part, because he was breaking. His breathing was starting to get a little labored as he tensed, his arms twitching with the need to either pull you closer and pin you against this damn wall to show you who's really in charge here or grab you by the waist and shove you away so that his heart stopped beating so impossibly heavy in his chest. He didn't know which one of the two he would choose when push comes to shove, and that indecisiveness was making him more anxious than he was willing to admit. 

“And you're acting like you're in charge, stupid toy. Again.” His retort wasn't nearly as sharp of a response as he was hoping for, but his brain was far too jumbled to come up with anything more coherent. 

Your smirk faded and a frustrated frown took its place. Despite his initial glee at your annoyance with him, he really didn’t like it when you challenged him or disrespected him like this. Then again, he didn't like you no matter what you did. The main reason your presence was so damn infuriating to him. You looked like you really wanted him to shut up. A sentiment that was mutual on his part. But before he could muster up some other cold remark to crush that spirit of yours, you suddenly placed one of your hands down on his hip without giving him much of a warning. His breath stuttered slightly in his throat, his fingers twitching at his sides as he looked down at your face, eyes widening. The force with which he was clenching his jaw was causing it to ache slightly, but he refused to relax.

What were you getting at here? And why did your touch feel like hot iron being pressed up into his side? Or was it his body that was suddenly far too warm for comfort?

What were you doing to him...? 

You leaned in even further until your face was almost level with his, your breath mixing with his and fanning against his skin gently. 

“...Watch it. Or I might just shut that sharp mouth of yours up myself.” Your voice lowered into a low whisper as you spoke, a quiet warning. Or a promise. He couldn't really tell. Being so close to you made it more difficult to think clearly. He opened his mouth to say something, to protest against your audacity to speak to him in such a bold manner, yet nothing but a shaky exhale came out. His mind felt too empty and full at the same time, his eyes subconsciously darting down to your lips for the second time. A notion that you definitely took notice of, judging by how intently those eyes of yours were watching him. When the thick silence between the two of you remained unbroken for another long minute, you continued, your thigh now gently and slowly sliding between his legs to rest your knee against the wall behind him, bringing your body that much closer to him. Your scent hit his nostrils like a hurricane that made his head spin. "Or maybe... that's what you want me to do...? To make you stop thinking for a while?" 

He knew you wanted him to shut up and let you win this. But he was not going to let you. And this ploy of yours, whatever it was, was bound to fail. So, he was quick to open his mouth to retort with some sort of insult that would hopefully put you in your place. That’s when he saw it in your eyes. A sort of 'screw it' look, one you'd get when you felt like you had nothing to lose. And then you leaned forward just a tiny bit further and took hold of his chin with your free hand, making him look at you directly. He was prevented from doing or saying anything more by you practically slamming your lips against his, making him gasp sharply against your mouth.

It killed any words he had on his tongue. It took Saeran a second to process what you were-

Oh.

It was like a switch got flipped off inside his head. One part of him was utterly stunned and lost. The last thing he expected was for you to go and kiss him. Without him prompting for it or you pleading for your sweet Ray to return. Was this what you meant when you said you were going to shut him up? He knew of screaming at someone or hitting them to do that, but kissing? There must be something seriously wrong with you. 

And what's worse is that you were not kissing him like you kissed Ray out in the garden. This was rougher, more fervent, and raw. This was a memory being created between him and you. Not a recreation of something that already happened. And Saeran did not know how to deal with that. How to accept that you were kissing him. As Saeran. The same Saeran that did everything he possibly could to make you break, to hurt you, to use you to feel strong and invisible. 

Your lips were warm and soft against him, even as you pressed them against him with more force than he expected. There was no pain in this action. He didn't know much, if anything, about kissing. What to do, or how to reciprocate. But a big part of him expected you to sink your teeth into his lip and draw blood. You didn't. You were simply brushing your lips against his, the hot touch making his blood boil in his veins. You didn't go any further than that, starting to pull back from him all too soon. Maybe because he just stood there, frozen as a statue.

He didn't want that. 

He didn't want to confront what you just did or what it meant. 

He didn't want to admit to himself that he wanted more—to explore what this connection between you would bring. A connection between him and you. Between Saeran and you. He refused to admit that he wanted to know what it feels like to be Saeran, and not a tool or a shield.

That's a wish he couldn't allow himself to fulfill. And in some backwards streak of desperation to avoid dealing with all these feelings that were about to swallow him whole, he refused to let this end.

He switches immediately, his hand moving to the back of your head as he pulled your body flush against his and chased after your lips before you could pull back from him completely. He didn't give his action much thought. It was clumsy and desperate, his movements making it crystal clear he had no idea what he was doing, teeth clashing together and lips smacking at an awkward angle. He hated that you had the upper hand on him even here. You seemed surprised by his rather intense reciprocation, a muffled noise of surprise escaping you, but you don't push him away. You kissed him back, your own hand raising to cup his cheek, and he did his best to follow your movements, copying your motions the best he could. 

His hand on the back of your head grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging on it slightly, making you emit a brief hiss into his mouth, one that he hungrily swallowed, his heart left stuttering in his chest for a completely different reason from before. It made him feel alive. He wanted more of it. More of you.  His other hand found your thigh on a primal whim, and he grabbed at it absentmindedly, to which you lifted it up to wrap it around his waist, the increased closeness between you two making him shudder against you, something between a whine and a growl rumbling at the back of his throat. He was not thinking clearly at all; he just knew he wanted you to be as close to him as possible right now.

To make the deafening thundering of his heart against his ribcage draw out the roaring of the storm outside that kept him so on edge in the first place. To stop him from thinking. He wanted his head blissfully empty for once in his miserable existence.

Only you.

Your touch.

Your warmth.

Your smell.

You.

He pushed you backwards, breaking the kiss for just long enough to stumble you both to the bed, pushing you down onto your back without a word being spoken, and climbing on top of you immediately.

You managed a quiet grunt, your eyes widening as he climbed on top of you. Feeling your shared weight dip the soft blankets and bedsheets of the bed, he let out a small noise of protest as you wordlessly rest your palms against his chest, preventing him from diving for another kiss with you. Your lips were parted as you finally regained your breathing a bit. Whether that was from the kiss itself or the sheer emotional intensity of what this all meant for you both from then on, he didn't know. A soft, slightly shaky exhale escaped you both almost in unison, and he was now left to stare down at you as your chest rises and falls slowly. Your expression was a mix of surprise and desire as you looked up at him, stunned and mesmerized. And that... scared him. It scared him because he hadn't expected you to like being close with him like that. He wasn't Ray right now. He wasn't even trying to pretend to be Ray for you. He was just... Saeran. In all his messiness and ugliness. 

And, most of all, it scared him because it felt so goddamn good. Because your warmth made all the buzzing thoughts that were constantly screaming at him at the back of his own skull quiet down. You were crumbling his fragile facade into a thousand pieces. And you were simultaneously making him feel more at ease with that than he ever felt.

He definitely was not expecting you to be so bold, either. It goes without saying that his goal of making you terrified of him has failed rather spectacularly. 

Your hand found its way to his waist again, resting just over his hip. Surely you could feel just how thin and boney he was under this tight-fitting suit. The truth of him being far weaker than he let on. But you didn't grab at him, nor did you push him off. Your fingers just squeezed him enough for him to feel the heat from your palm seeping through the multiple layers of clothing, soothing his cold skin.

“...What happened to the snarky comments? Feeling a little speechless now, are we?” you flirted, breaking through the silence, your voice coming out in a breathless murmur. The hand on his hip moved and settled over his stomach, with your thumb tracing a small circle against him. He shivered, his breath hitching sharply.

He had a hard time overlooking just how good you looked sprawled beneath him like him. The sight alone was making his suit feel a bit hotter than it should. You looked almost ethereal like this. Nothing but the faint light from the window eluminating your features, an occasional flash of lightning giving him just the briefest of glimpses of you as a whole. Your lips parted just slightly, reddened in color from the heated kiss you've just shared with him, your cheeks a noticeably deeper shade than they were before. Your eyes half-lidded and twinkling as they looked back at him. Seeing him. Not Ray. Him. 

He made you look like this. 

Saeran swallowed, his hands shaking as they rested against the plush mattress on either side of your head. He knew, in that singular moment, as he tried his damnest to even out his breathing, that there was no coming back from this. You saw his weakness, and he did nothing against it. 

And he liked it. 

"You... I hate you," he muttered, his voice hoarse and shaky, barely audible over the sound of rain drumming against the window.

"No, you don't," you simply responded, your free hand reaching up to cup his cheek, your thumb swiping just under his eye. He grabbed at your hand, keeping it there. He did not argue with you.

"...Kiss me again." 

[aakaneeee]

new luka content! you know what that means (from luka fan number one tm)

trigger warnings!: this is more or less coherent, I tried my best to tie my ideas togheter though. physical violence mentions, heart attacks mentioned? idk if these are valid tw's

pointing out the obvious, we have earpieces for both Luka and Till, which means they'll probably use their hands!! a lot!! I wonder what that means...

also, on the topic of earpieces, a lot of the times, rock singers use them.. does that mean they'll have that kind of performance? it could be, since we do know that bl8m DEFINETLY has the ability to sing that way!! I would love to see Luka just.. snapping. A lot of people say that Till will rage, but I'd like to see the opposite.

If you look close, you can see a heart rate.. at first glance, it's.. a little faster than usual? It looks a lot like Tachycardia. I looked closer and noticed the heart rate chart is kinda.. shaky?? I wonder if this is foreshadowing.. maybe I'm reading too much into it, but I know that sometimes, your heart rate can slow down during a heart attack?? (I just talked about tachycardia what am I saying.)

considering his fingers' placement, I realized that chronic migraines usually hurt on the side of the head.. I dont have chronics, but my migraines usually hurt behind my ear, so I was wondering if that's why they are there...

onto his appearance... his hair looks put up, right? At least, half put up, and that reminds me of:

top 3 luka... when he's standing on a throne all alone... foreshadowing much huh

i personally believe "Never come back again" is the name of the song, since CURE was "delivered" to us in a similar manner. for me, it could go 2 ways:

"Never come back again", as in, never participate again.. as in, either Luka losing and not participating again.. because he's dead?? or not participating again because the aliens got bored of him and Heperu gets another pet for his whims...

"Never come back again", as in, "She'll never come back again", I was thinking of the song possibly being Hyuna dying and so, never returning, which would make sense because Ruler of My Heart, Luka's other song, is also about her.

No matter the outcome, I am so excited for this! Luka is.. obviously my favourite character and he's been since the first time I saw him, so any outcome will have me.. quite interested :3 if this goes into Luka dying, I will feel the grief of Ivan fans (I hope not though.. sorry Till..)

just akane fangirling under cut:

OH. MY GOD RAAHHHHH HE IS SOOO BEAUTIFUL😭😭 I can see the long hair... it's longer than in round 6... AND THE PONYTAIL TAKBHHHH HES SO BEAUTIFULLLL THE WAY I STARTED JUMPING WHEN I SAW THESEEEEEEEHEJDJSH

[televisionenjoyer]

Wanting my dad dead is not enough for real

[pois0ncandy]

i still miss you. i don’t think i’ll ever stop.

[kenanda]

arthur: ok, this argument is getting heated. let's pause and take a minute to breathe and calm down.

john: alright. thank you.

me: awww they're becoming more self aware for the sake of each other, talking things out, that's so nice 🥰

*arthur and john barely 5min later literally beating the shit out of one another and saying horrible things to the other*

me:

NOOOOOOOOOOO

[sysig]

Special Counseling (Patreon)

[booksandpaperss]

Listen I understand why some bylers still have doubts, but for me personally, I’m so 100% sure and it’s honestly thanks to Finn Wolfhard.

Like. He literally would not be playing Mike as in love with Will if Mike isn’t in love with Will lmao. I don’t even need to say anything else, like I just gotta trust common sense and acting 101, we’re in the clear guys 🫡

[nightlight-stardust-and-rain]

Hm....... What about Vash having platonic hanahaki almost his whole life bc he loves humans but they don't love him.... And when he meets good people who accept him the hanahaki calms down but then someone tries to hurt him because of the bounty on his head and it flares up again....... And it's not lethal bc he can't die.... At least not like this... But it's a perpetual reminder that he loves humans and they don't reciprocate it's alright it's okay it's fine