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sinistergooseberries · 4 months

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A Goodbye

Not beta read or anything. Literally the most self indulgent thing ive ever written. enjoy. inspired by @rambheem-is-real 's nsfw posts that got the horny wheels working.

Pairing: Varadeva

NSFW

*****

Khansaar, 2010

There it was. Laid out in front of them like an animal's carcass.

Love had never been easy for Varadha. Love had always been an enemy, a weakness and every other attribute that tainted that word. It ate away at him like a disease and spit him back out like phlegm. When love did not want him, it made him its weapon.

So he looked at its corpse. Beaten, ragged and dirty, as it was meant to be. He was the one who had ended its life, so why was he feeling like a gaping hole had been made in his heart?

And why did love look so alive in his eyes? Why did it writhe and dance and reach out and pull Varadha towards him? Why did it seem to want to live when he kept killing it? Why couldn't it just go?

"Varadha," said Deva.

"Go." A piece of his heart turned to stone as he said that.

"Varadha, listen-"

"Get out. If I ever see your face again, I'll put your head on a spike and hang it at Khansaar's doors. Go."

Well, it had achieved what he wanted it to. That writhing love stopped its dance in Deva's eyes. In its remains, all that was left was a rising anger.

Good. At least he would go out of this world in the wake of that love. No death would be more respectable.

But Varadha knew Deva more than he knew himself. That anger, so familiar to him, cooled down, replaced with another emotion

It wracked him to his bones.

Don't leave me, he wanted to say. I love you. Love me back. Please.

But he stood his ground.

Deva turned around, and walked out of the room. The entire place descended into silence. No one spoke a word. The sun set.

Varadharaja Mannar became King.

***

Khansaar, 2017

The corpses that lined the border of Khansaar reminded him of another time, when burning bodies were all you could see around you.

He could also see Deva on top of the cliff.

Love still felt like a punch to the gut.

How untamed could something be? How could it still be alive, with all of its guts spilling out? How could it be alive and fight to burn and writhe, when blobs of its blood had fallen for 32 years?

And why did it need to haunt him of all people?

Deva was just as beautiful as he had been all those years ago. Even as Varadha prepared for a proper death this time, he couldn't help but look at the one man who made him feel like he was at the heights of pleasure and in the depths of despair at the same time. How could he not when Deva looked at him with storms in his eyes?

Varadha wanted to ease them. Ease all of his worries away. He didn't care about that Aadhya girl, he didn't care about anything. He just wanted Deva to look at him with those eyes of his. He wanted to drown in them, lose himself in them and then kiss the man's head, caress away the lines on his forehead and love him like he had always wanted to.

"Get me his head," he said instead.

All the people at his disposal marched out, perhaps hoping for an intense battle.

Well, he had just sent a hundred men to their deaths. He made a silent prayer to Katteramma to forgive him.

It didn't take long for the men to be disposed of. Deva was quite singularly focused on murdering anyone involved.

As Varadha sat in his throne, the doors burst open, and in bulldozed the man.

He couldn't help it - he never could when Deva was near - he noticed Deva's minute details without even having to try. It was like a built in mechanism that couldn't be removed. A little scar there, a bit of rugged scruff here, a small mole that had been the highlight of his days during their childhood.

"Varadharaja Mannar," began Deva.

Varadha shook himself out of his little trance. What use was it being in cahoots with a dead love?

He lifted his hand to stop Deva - no, Devaratha - from continuing.

He looked at everyone else in the court. "Get out. All of you. This is between me and - Devaratha." His jaw clenched.

Everyone filed out in a few minutes. The court room, which had been filled with clamouring noise earlier, fell quiet.

Neither of them said a word. Both of them knew what the other was thinking.

Deva put his weapon down. He raised his arms up in surrender and walked towards the throne.

Varadha didn't move an inch.

His footsteps echoed in the courtroom as he made his way to the throne. Varadha's heart constricted just a little bit more with each step.

Deva stopped at the foot of the stairs. His gaze was laser focused on Varadha.

"Devaratha," Varadha said.

"Where is Aadhya?" asked Deva.

"It doesn't matter. She never did, did she?" Varadha smirked. "It was never about her."

"Then give her back." Deva's face contorted, fury radiating off him in waves.

Varadha let out a chuckle, humourless and dry. That fury would go back in again, simmer in his insides. Old habits.

"Come on, Deva. We both know how these things work. I can't give her to you, unless you give me something in return," he said instead.

Deva's fist clenched. "What do you want?"

"You."

Deva's expression went from fury, to confusion, to - something else, and then finally seemed to settle on a decision. Deva raised an eyebrow at him, as if he was asking something.

Varadha watched him squirm. In a twisted way, he felt a bit of triumph. He bet Aadhya couldn't decipher all these minute expressions.

"Come," he said.

Deva took a few cautious steps, wariness shrouding his form. Varadha, as usual, just watched.

One step. Two. Three. Four. Five.

The man was right in front of him. He could smell his sweat and the remnants of gunpowder. He could feel the heat radiating off of Deva.

Varadha's breath caught.

Deva seemed to register that, and a small smirk made its way onto his face. And Varadha, as usual, traced every movement that Deva made.

Eventually, their eyes met. They had to. It was inevitable for them to look at each other like the other held the answers to the universe. It was inevitable that they would search for the answers to their unspoken questions in each other's eyes.

Deva's eyes dissolved into something soft. Varadha - he was helpless. Even if he wanted the harshness of vengeance or past anger to take over his heart, Deva could simply look at him and he would forget everything.

That's just how it was.

God, he was gone. He was delusional. That was the only way he could explain - whatever this was.

How badly messed up it was that he was imagining Deva getting closer to his face, as if he was about t-

What the fuck.

***

Deva was kissing him.

Lips were pressed against his own, bearing down on them.

And Varadha's lips moved. He didn't remember it clearly. Perhaps it was the little bit of whiskey he'd had in the morning.

But Varadha moved. He put his arms around Deva's neck and kissed him back. He bit Deva's lips, opened him him up.

The sensation of his tongue felt sent a jolt through Varadha and heat pooled low in his groin.

He had longed for this. He had longed for it like a parched man in a desert for water. He wanted to be engulfed in Deva's scent, completely surrounded by it. He wanted to kiss this man to pieces, kiss him into submission.

He pulled Deva onto his lap, not leaving his mouth for even a second. The gasp that escaped his mouth just riled Varadha up.

He wanted the man to whimper. To moan and gasp and writhe against him. He wanted him to lose his control and give in.

Well, only one way to do it.

Varadha parted from his mouth. He pulled Deva by the ass and thrusted up, grunting as he did so. Deva gasped.

"Y-you fucking bastard," the other man gritted out.

"Mhm?" Varadha hummed as he rubbed their crotches once again.

Deva just kissed him again, forcefully parting his lips and biting down on them.

Varadha moaned, the pain mixing with the pleasure and making everything hazy around him.

That distinct smell of Deva clouded every other sense of his, and the only thing he could feel was the touch of his lips, the heat of his breath and that heady, heady pleasure.

Deva separated them, and a string if spit extended between their lips. Deva was breathing hard, and Varadha wasn't any better.

Deva's eyes were dilated, and the look in his eyes spoke more than he could ever express with words. Varadha's eyes trailed down to his lips, so plump and kissed. He caressed them and felt Deva suck in a breath.

God, he was beautiful.

He pressed a haphazard kiss to Deva's lips. He didn't move away after letting go. Instead, he let their temples touch.

It was a simple act, a simple touch. Yet it felt like he had finally come home, and had been laid to rest. The hand that had been on Deva's lips, now became intertwined with his hair, pulling them closer to each other. Deva sighed.

He didn't know for how long they stayed like that. Everything felt a bit hazy, and his cock wasn't in the mood for calming down either, throbbing as it was.

Deva seemed to have regained some of his senses. He leaned forward and kissed Varadha's temple. Then his eyes. Then the tip of his nose. The apples of his cheeks. The space between his upper lip and his nose. He peppered kisses across his jaw.

He reached Varadha's neck, and that is where he chose to stop. Varadha looked to the side, and caught Deva staring at him. A small smile came into Varadha's vision.

Oh.

Next thing he knew, Deva was kissing his neck, licking it, biting it, loving it. All he could hear around him were little gasps and moans. Deva was grunting as he played with the sensitive skin on Varadha's neck.

Varadha ground against Deva, craving that sweet release. He kept thrusting and rubbing, Deva's erection an acute reminder of his arousal. He wanted this just as much as Varadha did. A little bloom of possessiveness occurred in his heart.

His hand, which had been around Deva's neck, now made its way to his crotch. He palmed the man's erection.

Deva bucked up against his hand, and the moan that came out of his mouth went straight to Varadha's cock. He pressed down on Deva further, bringing out more of those.

Not once did Deva let go of his neck. At one point, he did something with his tongue that almost made Varadha come in his fucking lungi.

He pulled him away from his neck. Deva looked dazed and was about to dive back in, but Varadha pulled at the man's hair. Deva let out a moan.

He looked so fucked out. They hadn't even put each other's cocks inside each other. Something warmed in Varadha's heart at that.

Deva got up. Varadha stopped himself from whining at the loss.

Deva kneeled in front of him.

"What-"

"Shh. Let me do my thing." He placed a finger on Varadha's lips.

This is probably the last time I'll love you went unsaid, but they both understood it.

He took away his hands to work on Varadha's lungi. He untied it, and looked him in the eyes while doing it. Varadha didn't shy away.

Deva looked down at Varadha's twitching cock, the thin cloth of the boxers the only thing separating it from him. He licked his lips.

Varadha palmed his cock through his boxers, little moans escaping his throat.

Deva looked mesmerised by it all. It made Varadha feel a certain type of way.

He placed a hand on Varadha's. They moved together, touching where the other didn't, rubbing where the other didn't, caressing where the other didn't.

"Don't look at me," Varadha breathed in between gasps.

"Where else will I look?" Deva murmured.

Varadha didn't know what to say to that, so he concentrated on Deva.

Deva pulled down his boxers, and Varadha's cock sprang up. He hissed at the sudden sensation of cold wind.

His - whatever - seemed to notice and came to his aid.

"It's aroused," said Deva.

"Shut the fuck up and suck it," replied Varadha.

And Deva did just that.

***

Aftermath

"Did you just have sex with him?" asked Aadhya, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. She had the most incredulous expression on her face.

Deva, to save his ass and reputation, did not reply.

"You did," she said in disbelief. "Oh my god, you went and fucked your fucking ex. What the actual fuck."

Deva stayed quiet.

"Unbelievable," she said.

After a few minutes, though she asked, "Was he that good?"

*****

ummm so that was that. i just wanted an excuse to write porn yall. i hope its not all bad. i hope u find some alright things!

#salaar #varadeva #salaar fic #i had fun writing this lol #varadharaja mannar #devaratha raisaar

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takuyas-boyfie · 9 months

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Now go stand in the corner and think about what you did, pt 1 (Akkun x male reader)

Summary: "Hey, it's me, leave a message, make it hot"

High school, the perfect place to fall in love, some people say. Romanticism at its finest. Well you're WRONG, and this is the example why.

After (Y/N) and Akkun's breakup, Akkun is been sought after a blonde freshman, upsetting (Y/N), who in the process of getting to the bottom of the barrel discovers all techniques used by said blonde to trick Akkun into her hands. But she doesn't know, there's nothing that (Y/N) can't do better than revenge

author's note: ive been thinking of writing this for a long time (since speak now tv came out) and finally i've had the guts to put it in a word doc, and now i get to share a bit of it, as i am kind of proud of it.

as said in the tags above, this has been inspired by listening a bit too much taylor swift.

warning of a cringe breakup, viewers discretions adviced

“I need to tell you something…” Akkun asked, looking down with a pout, tears strolling down on his face and off of yours. He needed to tell his boyfriend what happened, how he now loves somebody else, another person, a woman.

“What’s wrong babe?” You inquired, genuinely wanting to know what your love wanted. He woke you up at midnight, telling you about how he needed to see you as fast as possible, and cited you in your neighborhood’s park.

It honestly startled you his sudden movement, as you knew he was partying with his gang in Shibuya. You first thought that he got into a fight and that he was injured.

When you arrived, you saw him in a swing, his head hanging low, sobbing, and you couldn’t see his face. Worried, you made your way to him, almost falling, you kneel in front of him. You cupped his face with your hands, now looking at his eyes.

You saw he was sobbing.

He hugged you.

And that´s where you both are now

“We need to break up” He said rapidly, trying to wipe the tears off his face.

Huh.

Huh

HUH?

“Wh- what?” you replied, confused and surprised. You looked back at him, eyes wide open and mouth agape from the shock. “R- repeat that” you demanded.

“We need to break up” He replied, in a more serious tone. He was now standing, you behind him, crying your eyes out in the ground. “I’ve found someone else” He deadpanned.

Akkun was now looking behind his back, in his signature pose, to you. You, a crumbled up mess, crying to your forearm, just asking what had happened.

“Did I mess up with something?” You cried, in between sobs that you were trying to control, but alas, the feeling broke through. “P-please tell me, did I fuck up?”

“It wasn’t you… it’s me” The redhead declared. Rage was now filling your body, standing, fed up with his bullshit. “THEN WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THIS, IS THIS A FUCKING JOKE” You grabbed on his t-shirt collar, shaking his body, waiting for a response.

Akkun pushed you forward, making you lose the grip on his shirt. Your fist was gripping harder by the second, and you catched in your glance he was still looking at the floor.

“DON’T JUST LOOK AT THE FLOOR YOU BITCH” You lost self control. All the rage, sadness, indignation, hopelessness consumed your body whole. Your brain didn’t think straight anymore, you just wanted him to feel the same pain you’re feeling.

Your right fist swung forcefully, aiming towards his cheek. The hit tumbled him, but didn’t made him fall down. You continued to punch him in the face.

The redhead was now in the floor, you in top of him, punching his face without mercy. Blood was staining your knuckles and sweater, but that didn’t stop you. In fact, nothing did. Akkun didn’t plead for you to stop, he just stood supine in the ground, taking all the punches in.

Hot tears were streaming down your face swiftly, sniffing and gulping were the sounds you made as the beating happened. After quite some time, as your punches weakened down, you stood up to leave, but your gaze stared at your ex’s face. Blood was all over his face, nose crooked and possibly broken, eyes swollen shut and violet, lips cut open, splurting blood.

As sobs fell down your crooked mouth, you quickly left the playground, leaving your ex boyfriend behind. Quickly, you made your way into your house’s balcony.

Tears were still coming out like a damn river, feeling overwhelmed and just plain sad. You made your way onto your bed, sitting on it. You still could not believe what just happened.

What you did to him

What he said to you.

You were still in awe, still processing what had just happened. So were not a couple anymore, you thought as you glanced at your bloodied hands. Those same hands that a moment ago were beating up… him, were now burying your face, getting wetter by the second and muffling your sobs. And that’s how you slept the night away, tears in your face, blood in your hands, and heartbroken.

3:21 a.m.

You woke up sore from all the things that happened last night. A glance was sent onto the alarm clock, seeing the time.

10:21 am

You rub your eyes and make yourself sit on the crook of your bed. You wanted to forget, you really did, but you couldn’t. All the memories came flooding to your mind, how you nervously confessed to him in the back of the school’s gym an April afternoon, on how you both went on that date out of town, secret of anybody who knew them both on that June summer night, your first summer festival together on August, the first time both’s carnally induced sentiments were shared on his bedroom an October morning, or now, December’s foggy mornings, filled to the brim with snow and cold, you were sitting in your bedroom, mourning the now non-existent relationship.

You heard someone knocking the door, and you wondered who could’ve been, as your mother left the city for a week for work purposes. You walked out to your tiny ass balcony, still half-asleep, and when you rubbed your eyes again, you saw them.

Takuya, Yamagishi, Makoto and Hinata.

“Hey uhh… we need to tell you something…”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x male reader #atsushi sendo x male reader #sendo atsushi #atsushi sendo #atsushi sendo x reader #still cant do banners for shit #may be ooc but its too late to put it on the a/n #Spotify

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pacifymebby · 1 year

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Do you have any advice for someone who's recently single? I split with my ex bf nearly 2 months ago and in the weird bit where I want to move on but also feel sad sometimes

Sorry i didnt answer this straight away, i just wanted to think it over before i answered but...

I think that theres this key part of "moving on" which is entirely about being sad. Like when u go through a break up u do lose someone and a lot of other things too and its a grieving process. And grieving is like a big wibbly line that goes up and down and also like a set of circles within circles (idk if u have ever seen that picture before of the circles?)

Basically that the way it works is that when u lose something, u have a gap in ur life and instead of filling that gap or replacing that person/thing/relationship, you just grow circles of other things around it, so u dont replace it but u build other things? Im explaining this god fucking awfully and im sorry about that.

But i think what im trying to say is that, if you try to force yourself not to be sad ever, you wont move on, you'll carry the saddness and it'll fester. So what u have to do is let urself be sad and acknowledge why you are sad (bc u lost something and u wont ever have that same exact thing ever again) and thats the only way u can embrace the new stuff that youre going to build and enjoy. Like u accept u wont ever have the same thing and that allows u to go out and find new things and enjoy those things.

And as for like moving on as with other people and stuff, if u meet people u think are hot or nice or whatever, dont feel guilty or any of that shit, but trust ur instincts? If talking to them makes u feel good then keep talking and go as far as you want to go that feels good for you. If it makes u feel sad or strange or not good, dont do it?

I know that sounds simple or like im talking down to u but im not trying to talk down to u or like ur daft. Im really not at all. I just think its like, its a thing ive missed in the past and done wrong. Like forced myself to date thinking it would stop the sadness but then it didn't. Like i think u should go out there and do whatever ur gut is telling u u need to do?

Im big into trusting my own instincts about things lately, like, have some faith in urself that you know what you need to do to be happy.

And also like, being single is fun if u dont put too much pressure on urself to go out and "be single" you know. Do u know the song pressure to party by julia jacklin? Thats like the perfect song to sum up the feeling im getting at, like that whole album is a wonderful break up album that id definitely recommend bc its got the moody sulky sad breakup shit and then its got some amazing upbeat tracks too.

I remember last time i was single the best bit about it was way more than "i can sleep with whoever i want" it was like i was presented with this whole opportunity to go out and claim everything i wanted and be whoever i wanted to be too. There was no one linked to me who had expectations about the girl i was, i didnt have to worry if something i wanted to do was going to break the image they had of me. I had so much fun just embracing all these things i wanted to do/be and like i really grew into myself and idk, i think the girl i am now is completely unrecognisable from the girl i was in my last relationship, and its because i had this time of being alone and being able to just do shit i wanted selfishly.

Like, if i wanted to go on holiday or travel somewhere i didnt have to worry about anyone elses plans or whether they wanted to come, i could just have my own agenda that completely pleased me and it was amazing and freeing and so fun. But even down to how i spent time at home too. I broke up with my ex just aroind covid and so alot of my time was spent in lockdown at my grandparents and like, even just the way i chose to walk down to the beach in the evening smoking a joint listening to the Waterboys, staying down there till midnight on the phone to B or another of my pals, or how when things began to open up again i went out with my cousin and we ate pizza in the park and shared prosecco and got smashed together dancing to rolling stones songs... Like it was just fun things i wouldnt have done had i been with that ex because he wasnt the kind of person who did that stuff.

Idk being single is such a nice opportunity to self reflect and look at what you wanna be and choose to grow into that person if that makes sense?

Idk if this has been at all helpful, i hope it has.

Basically go out and date, be a fuccboi if u want to, do whatever makes you feel good. Have a one night stand, be that person who doesnt text back in the morning (i did this once and have mixed emotions about it tbh, but the experience was ultimately good and best for me???) like go out there and do whatever you feel u need to do. And omg be brave about it!! Give people ur number, enjoy just flirting with people, enjoy making the first move, enjoy checking out dilfs in the park (jk) (or not u know) like theres a lot to enjoy. And when u feel the sadness let urself feel it, embrace it and sulk and wallow in it for a wee bit, all things must pass and over time the sadness will go.

I still look back at the time i spent with my ex and mourn that loss bc for a long time they were one of my best friends, and we went travelling together and we'd picked the names we wanted to call our kids and theres so many happy memories i had which all went down the drain and were lost. And im saying that now, when im in a happy relationship with someone i want to spend the rest of my life with, who i wouldnt trade in for anyone or anything u know. Im happy and 100% moved on, but every now snd then I'll remember walking back to our flat in seattle when it was warm but had that stuffy evening kind of feeling to it and it was a little bit too windy, but it felt kinda perfect, every now and then ill remember walking with him there and my heart hurts so much i want to cry. And the only thing u can do is let urself feel that sadness and know that yes, its sad you lost that, but you can go to seattle with someone u love and be happy again, and u can make new memories and be even happier and idk. I hope some of this makes sense and helps u?

Sending u lots of love xxx

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

Note

voice lines!!!

ok !!! here are nell’s voice lines (a lot are utc bc this got long)

▶ Hello - Pleasure to meet you! I’m Nell and I’m a reporter for the Teyvat Times. I heard you have a story for me? Are you willing to share? C’mon, please?

▶ Chat: Sidekick - Want to join me? I’ve always wanted a little sidekick on my adventures! All the cool heroes and stuff always have one! Granted, I don’t really have a secret identity that requires one...

▶ Chat: Truth - The world will reveal its secrets to those who are willing to find them. As for everyone else, well… they’ll just read the newest expose I post in the Teyvat Times!

▶ Chat: Leads - We can’t sniff out a new lead and answers if we’re just standing around. Just… give me a second to fix my Kamera.

▶ When It Rains - Rain or shine, the news must carry on! Just… Can you hold the umbrella while I take pictures? If the lens gets wet, it blurs the photographs.

▶ When Thunder Strikes - Haha, spooky! Hopefully we don’t get electrocuted… that would be rather inconvenient.

▶ When It Snows - It doesn’t often snow back in Fontaine, but I always enjoyed when the rivers would freeze over as a kid. I just wonder what happens to the fish. Do they freeze too?

▶ When the Sun Is Out - Beautiful weather makes the job easier! I’m usually stuck inside interviewing people all day, so I’ll gladly take this moment to soak up some sun… maybe even close my eyes for a few minutes… sit under a tree… sleep… *yawn* Oh? Was I dozing off? I can’t doze off now! There’s a festival today downtown. I should report on that instead!

▶ Good Morning - Rise and shine, darling! Evil lurks in the night and while you and I might not vanquish it, we can at least report on the aftermath! Oh..? I’m a bit too eager to find out what atrocities happened in the night..? Hm. Maybe...

▶ Good Night - Night time already? If you really insist, I suppose I can wind down. But, uh, wake me up if you hear any weird noises! If it’s any bugs though, you’re on your own.

▶ About Nell: Persistence - Growing up, my mother always told me that persistence is key to achieving your dreams! Therefore, if someone says “no” to an interview, you can ask them approximately 11.852 more times on average before they start threatening you with a restraining order! Never give up… except when the law requires it!

▶ About Nell: Reporting - Some say reporters are opportunistic fiends who only seek to further their own careers and line their pockets with Mora. Me? Do I lie? Well… my name isn’t actually Nell, it’s Eleonora… so I guess I lie sometimes, but I promise to only tell the truth and help others in my reporting! I swear!

▶ About Us: Interview - Wow, you can fight really well! Wait… you’re the Outlander? The one who defeated Tartaglia? The one who stopped Stormterror? The one who helped the Qixing fight against Osial? Oh my archons, Nell, contain your excitement! Sorry, sorry, I was getting carried away… could I interview you? Pretty please?

▶ About Us: Compatibility - Ah, you’re so cool, Traveler! With you, drama always seems to follow. I think that makes us a great pair! So, what do you want me to report on next..? Your missing sibling..? Oh. Of course! Who doesn’t love a good reunion story? I’ll gladly help!

▶ About the Vision - I bet you probably weren’t expecting me to have a Vision! Well… neither was I. A lot of people tend to have powerful reasons as to why they have their Visions and why they use them but I kinda just found mine in the way I find any other new story… by accident. Nonetheless, a great reporter uses every tool at their disposal and if a Vision was granted to me, then I’ll be sure to wield it with pride!

▶ Something to Share: Lineage - My family name is not one of great prestige, nor are my family members anything worth writing home about. I believe that the life of someone should not be dictated by who they are related to, but rather how they choose to make a name for themselves. People who hide behind the prestige of their names are often cowards and yet they often have the best sources for my news. You win some, you lose some, I guess.

▶ Something to Share: Fontaine - Want to know a secret? Don’t tell anyone this, okay? I’m not a very strong swimmer. I’m kind of scared of water, despite my Vision!

▶ Interesting Things - I break my Kamera a lot, but mechanics are expensive. If you ever break yours, I can probably fix it for you! You won’t have to pay me for anything. Just... please don’t charge me if I accidentally break it even further, haha.

▶ About Albedo - Albedo? Haha… He’s rather cute. Plus, he always listens when I talk to him! ... I think. I can never tell if I’m actually holding his attention or not… But, he thinks reporters are dumb, therefore he is dumb. I don’t care how many alchemic achievements he finds. Someone who cannot understand how important news is is someone that I cannot respect.

▶ About Amber - Outrider Amber is lovely! She’s one of the few people in the town who actually listens to all I have to say. It’s amazing, really. Everyone loves her, even standoffish Eula! If you ever need help from the Knights, Amber is probably your best bet!

▶ About Rosaria - Y’know, at first, I wasn’t quite sure if Sister Rosaria liked me. Now? … Well, I’m still not very certain. I’m nervous to talk about her. She seems like the type to have a weird sixth sense for this type of thing. She does save me when I get into trouble, though! For a while I thought she was the Darknight Hero, but I realized that Rosaria is… Ah, forget it! Let’s just say I owe her one.

▶ About Diluc: Darknight Hero - The Darknight Hero is one of the most interesting stories I’ve covered in a long time! It’s taken me down a long path of getting to know people, especially Master Diluc of Dawn Winery. Kaeya was helpful enough to point him out as a potential source on the topic. No, Diluc isn’t the Darknight Hero, silly. He just knows a guy who knows a guy, that’s all.

▶ About Diluc: Comradery -At first, I could have sworn Diluc hated me! But apparently, he’s just like that with everyone. Now, I’d say we’re pretty good friends… I think? I’m never quite sure where I stand with him. He’s both open yet awkward around me at the same time… But, he ultimately has been helpful with some of my reporting. If it was up to me, I’d say we’re the best of friends! Please don’t tell him I said that though, he’d probably say I’ve had too much to drink and cut me off for the night.

▶ About Diluc: Love - Love? Why are you asking me about Diluc and love? Gods, both you and Kaeya are insufferable about this. Wait, what? You think Diluc has a crush on me? There’s no possible way a guy like him would give me a second glance! You and Kaeya are awful about this… stop teasing me. Diluc is the type to have whole newspapers dedicated to him and me..? Well, I’m just a reporter, that’s all. Oh? You’re asking if I like him? Well, um… that’s classified information!

▶ About Lisa - Lisa makes me wish I ran a gossip column instead! Conversation with her is never dull and somehow she knows everything about everyone. Afternoon tea consists of tea in more ways than one!

▶ About Jean - The Acting Grand Master of Mondstadt is far more gracious to me than most political figures are. However, I can’t help but feel as if I’m intruding whenever I speak to her. She’s sweet, but she just seems like she has a lot on her plate and even I don’t want to add any more to that.

▶ About Keqing - The Yuheng is a very respectable figure, but if she’s at any Qixing press conference, you’re almost guaranteed to get no exciting news. She brushes off any pressing questions by saying they’re “off topic” and “irrelevant”. It’s frustrating, especially when she uses it to evade the things that really matter!

▶ About Xiao - Hey! That’s that dude that lives in Wangshu Inn! Well, I suppose he’s not a dude but rather an immortal adeptus. He’s hellbent on avoiding me. He hates my guts. I just want to interview him about his thousands of years of life! It’ll only take a few days! Why does he keep teleporting away from me? Ugh. Immortals are so haughty.

▶ About Kaeya: Trust - Oh? Captain Kaeya? He’s rather funny and is my closest drinking buddy in Mondstadt. However, don’t try to get any info out of him. He’s full of shi- haha, pardon me, I mean… Um… Kaeya likes to lie. He won’t even tell me the truth in truth or dare! You picked truth, buddy, now fess up! Sorry… I like him, I swear I do! But I guess I shouldn’t expect the truth when I ask him why he has an eyepatch. After all, even I don’t have a wild enough imagination to truly believe he was raised by pirates… although I could cross-reference this with Beidou and see if she has any information...

▶ About Venti - The bard that’s always in Dil- Master Diluc’s tavern? He’s a bit strange and, while his songs are informative, music of that style is a bit noisy and overwhelming to me. However, I do find it incredibly interesting that he looks exactly like the Barbatos statue in front of the cathedral, yet nobody discusses it. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?

▶ About Nell: I - I’m a reporter first and human second! Or… am I a human first and reporter second? I can’t remember what the boss said sounded less creepy… Well, at least I know I’m a reporter and a human!

▶ About Nell: II - Freedom of the press ensures that people always have a voice. Being a reporter can be dangerous, especially if you’re assigned to tempestuous regions like Inazuma, but it’s a job I take pride in. Information must be spread to all so the public can make informed decisions.

▶ About Nell: III - Home? Home is wherever my job takes me! Sometimes its Mondstadt, sometimes its Liyue, sometimes its Snezhnaya… oh. Fontaine? Even though that’s where the Teyvat Times headquarters are and it’s where I grew up, I wouldn’t necessarily call it home. At one point, I would have, but… things change. If I have to settle down anywhere, I would choose the wintry tundra of Snezhnaya before I even think about living in Fontaine again.

▶ About Nell: IV - Growing up, everyone always said I was a free spirit. I’m kind of like the seelies you see around Mondstadt… Yes, I wander, but ultimately I always return to the same path. Am I guarding a treasure? Haha, maybe… if you consider knowledge to be a treasure, that is. Ah, this doesn’t make very much sense, does it? I’ve never been the type to be good at poetry. I’m better off sticking to just facts.

▶ About Nell: V - My end goal..? I’m not quite sure what it is yet. I prefer to live in the moment and inspire others to achieve their dreams. News stories might not always be happy, but interconnectedness with the world allows people to discover what their true calling is. The feeling of the Kamera and notepad in my hands are comfortable enough. If I can help others understand this hectic world, then that’s good enough for me! I’m having a blast doing it, too.

▶ Nell’s Hobbies - Oh, would you like to look at my favorite articles? I have a book filled with articles and photographs of my own creation, including my very first headline article! Isn’t that exciting? It wasn’t too long ago, yet somehow it feels like it's been decades since then.

▶ Nell’s Troubles - I ran out of film again. You wouldn’t happen to have any on you, would you? Otherwise, I’ll have to go see if the gift shop has any in stock...

▶ Favorite Food - I really like spinach salads! It makes me feel like I’m a wild animal foraging for a nice summery meal. What? That’s weird? Sometimes it’s fun to imagine things, no matter how absurd they are.

▶ Least Favorite Food - Soup! I want to eat my food, not drink my food. If I wanted to drink my calories, I would just chug beer all the time like those drunkards who live in the taverns!

#//mail #axia.ocs

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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

Text

AN UNUSUAL YEAR (Part V/V)

Summary: After having little to no interest on girls for five years, Fred suddenly feels the need to nag the shit out of a certain witch, completely oblivious to the reason behind it.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Genre: fluff (+ enemies to lovers)

Tags:

An unusual year: @natural-hearts @manuosorioh @lumos-solemn @westyywifee @whiskeyn-rain @warlock--protection @gossip-girl-ecr @fandomscombine @birdy944 @28cnn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: a little angst, a little snogging 👀

A/N: maybe a bit longer than I expected but it's alright. Also I might write an addition to this story, not sure tho. I hope y'all enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it <3

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Y/n! Come sit with us?" George waved at me from the Gryffindor table as I entered the Great Hall, prompting me to sit across him and Angelina, and besides Fred. "Where's Mathilda?" He asked as I got closer, leaving my books on the wooden surface.

"She's feeling unwell." As I sat down, I noticed George's arm around Angelina and I couldn't help the knowing grin that tugged the corner of my lips. "The date exchange at the Ball turned out well, huh?"

"I could say the same about you." He wiggled his brows at me with the same grin I had.

I felt a sudden rush of panic going through my body. My eyes traveled to the boy by my side, who was oddly quiet, and I found him already peeking at me.

"Meaning?" I decided to play dumb, taking a bite of my golden slice of toast whilst ignoring the intending gazes of the couple in front of me.

"You two were having a great time last night." Angelina jumped in, leaning over her table. "Didn't see you coming back, Fred." She added, redirecting her eyes to the ginger.

"I did." His brother laughed. "I daresay you two had an intense night." I felt my cheeks reddening, not finding enough strength to meet George's look. "It was about time, really."

I was startled by Fred abruptly standing up. "See you in class." The curt reply he offered before fleeing shocked all of us; specially his brother, who, with a polite apology, left me and Angelina to go after his twin.

"I feel like I shouldn't ask." She spoke quietly.

"I don't have an answer."

I feared she would see through me. I hadn't lied, but my gut told me whatever happened had to do with the change of demeanor he had at the end of our night out.

I wouldn't say it out loud but a part of me began to worry.

The worry stayed throughout that entire week, guilt joining it at some point. Fred's attendance in Charms, Astronomy and Potions had decreased; I had only see him attend once to Astronomy. The only thing he did was play with his quill and, whenever he thought I didn't notice, stare at me.

Ironically enough, we started spending most of the time together; after the winter break, George had incorporated both Mathilda and me to their friend group, which, in different circumstances, would have been great.

Alicia Spinnet gained special interest on my best friend; Lee Jordan would joke about Slytherins and Gryffindors getting together, and Angelina— well, she seemed happier now that she could hang out with all her friends at the same time.

Fred was miserable. Everyone could see it, yet they did their best to cover it up.

George would overcompensate his brother's attitude by being louder and paying extra attention to me, but it worsened the situation.

I wanted to ask Fred what was wrong, but then again we weren't even good friends, so was it really my place to ask?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

George had proposed a trip to Hogsmade a couple of days ago and we all agreed on going, but the day came and Fred wasn't there.

His brother alleged he had a terrible headache and had chosen to stay in bed. We all saw through his excuse, and once more no one said a word.

It was that night that George came to look for me.

"—well then, go get her!" His shouts got into the common room when a second year entered..

"What's this about?" I inquired, coming out to the hallway to see the ginger about to throw hands at my prefect.

"I need you." He stated, quickly losing interest on whatever the prefect had to say. I only nodded and motioned him to move with me far from the Slytherin door. "You have to speak to Fred now." He almost pleaded, a frown of worry forming on his face.

"Sure— wait, now?" I stared at him in confusion.

"Sorry, I know it's late" his apology didn't mean he would ask me to do it in the morning instead.

I let out a sigh before inquiring, "Where's he?"

"The Astronomy tower, I believe." He replied.

"Alright," I said more to myself. "I'll go grab my jacket." He murmured another apology and a thank you before heading off to his House.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I came to a halt at the top of the stairs when I saw him sat against the wall, his knees pulled to his chest with his arms around them, and his face buried between them."Hey there, stranger."

He raised his head, letting his eyes and nose be seen."Who gave me away?"

"George."

"Tosser" he muttered, taking his gaze to the levitating bundle of newspaper on fire that was probably keeping him somewhat warm up there.

"Is it that bad to see me now?" I took a couple of careful steps towards the boy.

"It's always that bad to see you."

"Odd for you to say that," I let myself slide down the wall to sit by his side with my legs stretched out. "given how much you stare."

"Touché." He replied, the ghost of a smile breaking through his depressed demeanor. "What are you doing here?"

"What's wrong?"

"I asked first."

"I asked second." He raised his brows at me and it was my turn to avert my eyes from him. "I'm... Worried. About you."

When I shivered due to the wind flowing through the tower, he scooted closer and moved the little fire with his wand for it to be in the middle.

"You're all dejected and sulky," I explained. "You barely attend to our classes together, and if you do, you don't pay attention." I felt him shift uncomfortable by my side. "I'm... I'm gonna regret this— I miss you being a bloody nuisance."

"I knew you loved it." His teasing, though it was meant to be funny, sounded almost painful.

"now, what's wrong?" He shrugged, his chin resting over his forearms. "Listen, if you're not gonna tell me, it's fine, but at least tell George."

"Are you thick?" The bitterness in his tone took me aback. "Y/n, I fancy you." He hid his face between his arms. "quite a lot, actually." He added in a mumble.

"I figured that at the ball, you know?" This time it was me who scooted closer. "Tell me that's not the reason behind this."

"Would you like me to lie?" He questioned, shame slipping out with his voice. "I'm a very good liar you wouldn't even question it." He took a deep breath before looking back up, stretching one of his legs and leaning against the wall. "At the ball, I tried to start something." He began, fidgeting with his hands. "I... This never happened to me, so I wasn't- I didn't know what I was doing, but I thought I was making it clear." He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "But when I left you—"

"You know I fancy you too, right?" I tilted my head, searching for his eyes. "As in, more than a one time thing."

"That I didn't know." I felt a pang of guilt, realizing that unconsciously I had played a big part on this.

FRED'S P. O. V.

We stayed in silence.

It wasn't an unsettling silence, but the air weighed over us due to the tension floating on it; I needed to defuse it, otherwise it would crush me.

My heart hammered against my chest while I extended my arm to hold her hand on mine.

It's not meant to be nerve-wracking, I thought to myself as I pulled her hand away from her lap; we had already made clear we fancied each other.

The moment she put her head on my shoulder, the tension completely dissipated. I didn't notice the sigh that left my lungs when it happened.

"Didn't put you, Fred Weasley, in the I'm-a-bundle-of-nerves-with-girls category."

"Oh, shut it." I threw my head back, laughing for the first time in a couple of weeks.

"Never." She gave my hand a squeeze and I allowed my cheek to rest over her crown. "You could, of course, find a way to shut me up."

It wasn't her words that cracked me up, but the suggestive tone she used, which took me back to that night in the Duelling Room when I accidentally let slip my feelings for her for the first time.

I raised my head from hers. "Beg your pardon?" I played the fool, trying to hide the ghost of a smile when she shoot me a wide-eyed look. "What are you insinuating, woman?"

"Do you really wanna start the teasing now?" She gave me a warning glare.

"You've just said you missed it." I couldn't hold back the chuckle.

"I knew I was gonna regret it." She groaned, throwing her head back. My eyes, finally on her, traveled to her now exposed neck and collarbone. Though they weren't visible, I could see the trail of kisses I had left there just a few weeks ago. "Stop staring and kiss me."

It didn't take anything else for me to throw the levitating burning paper away and tug her closer by her hand.

The moment our mouths met, I slipped my hand away from Y/n's so I could led her thighs to straddle my legs.

A quiet moan escaped my lips when she rolled her hips against mines; my hands automatically traveled up from her thighs to her waist, pulling her flush against me.

The temperature in the high, cold tower had shot up all from sudden. Just as we were about to start discarding clothes, quick steps were heard climbing up the stairs.

"Fuck!" She whisper-shouted, practically pushing me away as she got up. "Move, move, move!" As she helped me up and we ran to hide, it dawned on me that we were way past curfew. That got me moving.

We waited for Filch to get to the top of the tower before running down as fast as we could.

"No time for goodbyes!" she warned as we rushed through the vast hallways with Filch after us. "See you tomorrow—"

Before she could sprint downstairs to the dungeons, I grabbed her hand and pulled her into a side hall.

"You won't make it to the dungeons." I stated between pants, glancing at the path we had taken. I wasn't able to see the caretaker yet, but his pants could be heard. "Take the other stairs I'll distract him."

"You'll get grounded." She observed, her breathing as heavy as mine, if not more.

"Worth it." I curtly reply, feeling the corners of my lips twisting up.

"You know?" She pushed herself off the wall she had leaned against to catch her breath. "Sometimes you're really sweet."

"Quick!" I tugged on her hand, seeing Filch finally turn the corner. "Gimme a good luck kiss!"

She pulled me down and kissed my lips briefly before taking off in the other direction. I had to tell myself to shake off that stupid smile and run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

The next morning I eagerly made my way to the Great Hall with two goals; having breakfast, of course, and checking if Fred had made it to his House without getting caught.

I soon spotted the group, this time sitting on the Slytherin table.

Soon his eyes found me too, and without saying a word to anyone, he got up and jogged to meet me halfway.

"Did you make it?" I asked, standing way too close to him and therefore attracting some nosey looks.

"By a whisker." He responded, taking a look around before looking back at me. "I was wondering if you'd like to go for a drink after class." I raised my eyebrows at him with a smirk. "We can use a passage to get to Hogsmade."

"Are you asking me on a proper date, Weasley?" I teased with my hands on my hips. "How cute."

He avoided eye contact, deciding to take another look around instead. "I swear if you tease me right now—"

"I'm free after four." I cut him off. "Now if you excuse me, I'm hungry." I passed him by, playfully bumping his shoulder, and made my way to our friends.

I didn't get far before his hands spun me around and cupped my cheeks, giving me a surprisingly deep kiss. "Are you gonna kill me?" He murmured, his lips still ghosting over mines.

"Oh, you know me so well." I replied, feeling my face heating up. We couldn't help but laugh when whistles and hollers came from behind me. "I might kill them too." I added, making fall into a fit of laughter as we pulled away in order to walk to where our friends sat. "I wanna have breakfast in peace." I warned them, sitting down with Fred by my side.

Everyone was giving looks at each other and trying to hold back the giggles, so I knew a comment was coming, but not from whom.

I could instantly tell I wasn't the only one shocked by the speaker. "But you just had him for breakfast." My best friend responded, faking confusion.

"I was just thinking about that!" Lee yelled, a bit too excited.

"Mathilda Foxglove—" I began, everyone cracking up.

"You are doomed." Fred finished, shoving a toast into his mouth to stop his laughter.

"It was worth it." She stated between giggles.

Fred gave me a side look with a half smile and I thanked Merlin no one could see the boy's fingers interlaced with mines under the table.

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well-its-not-human-anymore · 3 years

Note

Ok ok wait probs not the kinda request you expected but theres this movie called over the moon about a moon goddess losing her one true love and near the end she sees him again for a moment and they sing THE MOST HOPELESS LOVE SONG IVE LISTENED A MILLION TIMES ALREADY AND THEY SING PARTLY IN MANDARIN and im just thinking if the boys saw that with reader would they imagine theirselves in place? Would leo sing it mindlessly forever, would raph desperatley wish? I just gotta know bestie im desperat

Okay I'm definitely watching this movie tonight but for now I'll stick with the clip (bitch u got me crying on main) how am I supposed to maintain my emotionless personality now???

But I'm so hyped to write this now, buckle up my space children, and you might want to grab some tissues~

TMNT Headcanons

The boys reacting to the Yours Forever scene:

Leonardo

This was fine

This was totally fine

Holy shit it was a damn movie, why was it giving him feelings??

He'd been at your place for nearly 3 hours and you'd only started the movie halfway into his visit

You told him it was a kids movie

So why the hell was he getting teary eyed?

The Facade™ has been compromised

Leo didn't speak a lot of mandarin, just a few simple phrases that Splinter had taught him

But you'd clearly seen this movie more than once because he could hear you faintly singing along

Your mandarin was flawless

You didn't notice the way he was looking at you, too enraptured by the movie

His gut was twisting when he looked back at the screen

He knew he'd be humming this for at least a week

Andddd now you were sniffling

Shit shit double shit and then some

Leo awkwardly wrapped an arm around your shoulders, hesitant

You immediately snuggled into his side, pulling your blanket closer to your chin

"I've seen it like seven time and I know they're fictional but it just makes me so fucking sad" you were hiccuping between words

"I can see that, are you okay?"

You furiously rubbed at your eyes

"yeah- just gets me feeling stuff. I'm not a huge fan of that."

This man's eyes were boring into your skull

"I want what they have though, I'd give an arm and a leg for someone to look at me like they look at each other. That's some real shit, y'know?"

Leo stared at the tv screen, rubbing your shoulder, you couldn't see the flushed green of his skin in the dark

"yeah. Yeah I know."

Donatello

You had no idea that Donnie spoke mandarin

It really shouldn't have surprised you though

I mean come on, it's Donnie for fucks sake

He was excited to watch the movie with you, all of the ones in his collection he'd watched 100 times at least

Needless to say he jumped on the opportunity to watch something other than jurassic park

You'd brought your laptop and projector and settled down on the roof of an abandoned building, the same one you both usually stargazed on

You'd seen the movie twice before, this was his first time

So when the 'Yours Forever' scene came on the last thing you were expecting was for Donnie to join in

He had a very nice voice but you never knew he could sing like that

You stared at him in shock

The poor boy stopped the second he realized you were looking, leaving you singing solo

You nudged his shoulder and nodded your head at him, a way of saying "hey, don't leave me hanging here"

Now you were dueting a love song with a turtle on a rooftop

Best Saturday night ever

Donnie couldn't look at you for the rest of the night, not even when he walked you home.

But the expression you left on his face after kissing his cheek and ducking into your apartment made it all worth it

Raphael

Raph wasn't one for emotions

You weren't either

So the both of you did your best not to react during the movie that his brothers had invited you to watch with them

You were sandwiched on the couch between Raph and Mikey, Splinter, Leo, and Donnie sat on the opposite sofa

Splinter didn't miss the longing eyes that his son was giving you

Raph couldn't believe that a damn kids movie was making him feel things about you

You seemed oblivious, completely stone-faced, eyes locked on the screen

Internally you were waging a war against yourself, screaming at your own subconscious not to glance at him

No looking

Don't you fucking dare

That damn duet made you feel shit and you wouldn't be caught dead looking at your friend the way you really wanted to

Especially knowing that Splinter was watching you as well

You definitely felt the turtles eyes on you though

Raph was fighting the same battle with himself

He knew what he wanted to do, but he knew he didn't have the courage to do it

Not with you

Not with his family there

You were just a friend

So why was he looking at you the way the characters had been?

Damned if he knew

It wasn't until the end of the movie that he'd noticed his hand in your lap

You'd wrapped both of your own hands around his and held him there, you honestly didn't remember doing it

And he made no effort to pull away

Michaelangelo

Alright listen

You and Mikey have seen this at least 20 times together

The boy suggested it to you

And now you've both convinced the rest of the boys to watch it with you

So when that scene comes on you both already know the routine

You both start singing

You realize you're both singing

His brothers realize you're both singing

You both stop abruptly

He turns an even darker shade of green

You're screaming at your skin to stop turning red for fucks sake

He wishes that was him

You wish you were her

He's gonna be thinking about this all week

You're gonna make an impromptu phone call to your best friend to rant about it

You guys have done this 20 times now.

How the fuck have you not noticed

The boys opt not to point it out

They've got a bet on how much longer it will last

Donnie's been leading for the past three weeks

He's not losing this shit

I hope I was able to capture what you had in mind dude! I'm also forcing my best friend to watch this movie with me tonight. If you were thinking something different let me know. Other than that I hope you like it as much as I do! 🧡

~Mars 🌠

#tmnt x reader #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt headcanons

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teeth-and-tea · 3 years

Text

ANIME & MANGA I HAVE BINGED IN THE LAST MONTH: May 2021

I've Been Hunting Slimes for the Past 300 Years and Now Ive Maxed Out My Level: incredibly long name aside, cute af slice of life that suffers Same Face Syndrome. I'm still happy to watch it because of how feel good and fluffy it is though, Im probably gonna forget about it in two or three years tho. 8/10.

Don't Toy With Me, Miss Nagatoro: I found out this was a webcomic first and suddenly all the HORNINESS made so much more sense. A Femdom, Degradation, Humiliation, Dacryphilia Bullies to Lovers story disguised as a high school rom-com which, I'm not going to lie, misses SKEEVY CITY by mere inches on a regular basis. However, I'm a Dom/Switch and this entire relationship sets off my dom brain center like New York City just shy of midnight. So if you're into that sort of scene, this anime is for you. If not, it's still fascinating but you're probably gonna be a little put off by how mean the Girl!Bully is to the guy MC. Unless you find out something about yourself, in which case, congrats! Stay safe, sane, consensual, and learn about the traffic light system on top of safe words, I promise you'll have a better life in general after that. Still Ongoing, currently 10/10.

Fruits Basket: IM GONNA CRY I LOVE THIS ANIME SO MUCH???? The original anime came out when I was in... I think middle school and my parents were really strict on what I watched so I never got to experience the first wave and I never bothered to watch the show ever after I moved out of the house years later. However, now that I'm much older I honestly can say this is one of my favorite anime to date, and all the characters are charming, lovable, with their own problems that I can connect to or sympathize with, and I love the MC which is always a treat tbh. Except Akito. Akito can suck a sandpaper dick. I'm only on S2 tho so no spoilers! Anime 11/10.

Monster Girl Doctor: went in thinking it was gonna be a monster girl who's a doctor with a homoerotic assistant (her name is SAPPHY okay sue me for thinking it) and ended up watching the entire dubbed harem series. Honestly, I've seen worse and this one has consistent follow-through on interesting characters and backstory enough for me to shove aside the blatant under-monstrousness of the female monsters and the harem-ness of everything else. Dubbing is honestly really good, which is a treat, and the monster designs are not the worst and the MC is tolerable. Honestly, I don't mind having watched it! The mix of cgi and the traditional animation together work pretty strangely though, and it often doesn't flow super well. 7.5/10

So I'm a Spider, So What: Dubbed version which honestly isn't that bad. Took me a bit to get into it, but after realizing that it's got a mismatched timeline a la The Witcher, it made so much more sense. Heavily done in cgi, and you can definitely tell between the 2D and 3D animations, but not the worst in the world. I went in not expecting much but it ended up being an Issekai I can stand and even enjoy. On god has a decent story... with the spider. I'd be a liar if I didnt say I skipped some of the human parts just to get back to the best part of the show. 8/10.

Somali and the Forest Spirit: I'm so fucking nostalgic for this thing it makes me want to go and hug my dad. About a human girl under threat of being eaten with a monster-dominated world. Very obvious "humans fear what they don't understand" message but instead of the humans learning tolerance it's what happens when they get annihilated first so like, kudos for the mangaka for having the guts to do that. I cried like a baby regularly. It's really good, I watched the dub and ID WATCH IT AGAIN!!! 9/10.

To Your Eternity: Oh my god. O h my g o d. Fell in love on the first episode, ngl. About if an immortal being learned how to be a person from scratch. I love it. HOWEVER. Keep a box of tissues on you at all times because you're gonna need them. I'm only on EP7 because that's all that's out right now but just know. I love it. Not for everyone but certainly for my "what do we define as human and the human condition" ass. 12/10.

Those Snow White Notes: A sports anime without any sports. About shamisen playing which is cool because I never realized how cool this instrument was??? Its neat af. OP1&2 are by Burnout Syndrom so know theyre fire. Gonna be real, its pretty alright, but not extraordinary. You can tell they were using the characters as archetypes rather than actually characters which kinda kills a lot of the emotional value you could've had, but I'm still gonna watch it. It doesn't make me cringe as hard as other sports anime tho so I consider it toptier in that regards but if you're a big sports anime fan you might be bummed out by it. Every single musical performance is INCREDIBLE tho. A solid 8/10.

Toilet Bound Hanako-kun: THE ART OMFG IT'S SO GORGEOUS. Listen, if you took coptic markers and gave them an animation budget with some manga panel direction thrown in there, that's this anime. It's beautiful. Gorgeous. I'm in love with the aesthetic every second. Story? Really good. Characters? I love the MC and his evil little twin brother asshat. Demons? Not super imaginative but I'm carrying on happy as can be anyways. Dubbing? A bit shaky at times but I found the voices charming if a little off for some of them. I'm already waiting for the second season with popcorn at the ready. 10/10.

Prison School: I watched this directly after Hanako-kun and it was like I got slapped in the face by sweaty unwashed titties and some fedora wearing schmuck's piss kink. No character is likable or redeemable. I finished it, but at what cost? 2/10 and only because a character shit his pants and I laughed.

Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle: watched this right after Prison School and it was NECESSARY tbh. Its so CUTE and honestly, im not even kidding you, the fucking funniest anime I've seen in months. I watched the dub and the VAs are having the time of their lives working on this anime not just giving it their all but literally just going ham. Its great. If I read this im sure id be bored outta my mind but the VAs giving it a joyous performance make it an insta fave for me tbh. 9/10.

Sk8 the Infinity: i watched the dub with my bro and I can confirm that its a spectacular show because we both loved it and we have vastly different tastes. Incredibly SUSPENSFUL AND STRESSFUL for an anime about skateboarding but we finished it in a single sitting tbh. The last episode is not dubbed for some reason but we still loved it. Like if Free! was less obnoxious but the only fan-service here is Joe ♡ a beefcake who owns my lesbian heart. I think there's exactly one named female character tho and I legit couldn't tell you what it was if there was a gun to my head. So, over all, 9.5/10.

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime: I'm going to be entirely honest, I went in thinking it was going to be a boring isekai of no value. I was right about the Isekai part. It was honestly pretty interesting and focused on nation building like you're playing civilization rather than the usual "Get Stronger" narrative or "Get Some Pussy" narrative most isekais take which is delightfully refreshing. Granted there are flavors of that in this which means it doesn't alienate the big isekai watchers out there, but it's not the whole dish and it doesn't make me want to cringe the same way others do. You've got a slime MC just vibing and building a nation of monsters nbd. Does lose points for making the female monsters more humanoid than their male counterparts but makes them back by only doing perfunctory fan-service and nothing that makes me want to cry... except the butt sumo episode but in fairness it was all a terrible dream. Literally, the MC refuses to dream anymore after that. solid animation, decent voice acting, decent story, made me realize how HUGE this is in the Light Novel community???? There's like 18 fucking novels and that's WILD. 8.5/10.

MANGA:

Spirit Photographer Saburo Kono: a one shot special by the mangaka of The Promised Neverland! Honestly a really delicate touch of both super creepy and really touching, and I'm not gonna lie I'm bummed that this isn't a bigger project but the single chapter makes it a good taste for their style. I've been wondering if I wanna read/watch The Promised Neverland and now I think I will. 10/10

Deranged Detective Ron Kamonohashi: from the mangaka of Hitman Reborn comes this Sherlock and Watson derivative! Not even 20 chapters out yet with a sort of spotty schedule, I honestly love it even thought it's exactly as you expect. HOWEVER. Kamonohashi the "Sherlock" character uses mental pressure to kill all confirmed murderers and it's up to Toto the "Watson" character to save all those people before Kamonohashi kills them! It's just recently introduced a "Moriarty" family of crime lords (not a big spoiler don't worry it was obvious) so the tension surrounding Ron's past is amping up rn. Personally, I think the art is GORGEOUS, the characters engaging, and the story quick enough to keep my interest. Most mysteries are solved within a chapter or two so you're not stuck 20 chapters into one locked room mystery which is just peachy tbh. RN, 10/10. If this gets an anime, I anticipate a legion of fangirls who ship the two main characters along with their many friends. I've been alive too long to believe otherwise.

Don't Toy with Me, Miss Nagatoro: Yeah I read the manga after I watched the show. A slower build than the anime, but it works for the format, if theyd done the same with the show then I don't think it wouldve done as well. Honestly? Cuter tbh but just as horny. You dont start really LEARNING about your character until like, chap 65 tho and no real "drama" happens until like 75. A good chunk of the chapters are like 8pgs so its a breeze to get through. I love these slow burn idiots of the century. 9.5/10 because you can DEFINITELY tell the mangaka does hentai too.

Yugen's All-Ghouls Homeroom: one-shot by the mangaka for Food Wars, it's no wonder there's this constant perviness from the MC, a guy who can see and exorcise spirits. Takes place at an all girl's finishing school with KICK ASS monsters tbh, kinda bummed its not longer. The MC? Blatant monsterfucker who is also a CONFRIMED monsterfucker???? Idk i vibe with that single emotion. Everything else is hit or miss. 7/10 for monsters and cool concept, lost points for the MC very pointedly being okay with admitting he'd wait for the teenagers to be adults tho. Creepy af. Could live without that.

Hell's Paradise: I finished the entire 127chps in 3 days and I was really enthusiastic about it 90% of the time thinking about how deep it was and then I actually thought about it and I ended up being very neutral about the whole thing tbh. The art is fantastic tho, but DEFINITELY deserving of the M rating. Tits. Tits everywhere. But not tits to be ecchi over, no, monster hermit tits on beautiful women-ish figures. Now generally I give that a pass but a huge theme in the story is that men and women are "no better than one or the other" but like, lady tits are what you see 99% of the time. Men tits are few and far between. I call bullshit on most of the "deep" themes is what I'm saying, so it's like the mangaka was trying for those deep thoughts but missed the margin a little too far for my preference. That being said, the MC is a married man who loves his wife which automatically makes him my favorite character so like... idk so many good things, so many misses, but overall really spectacular themes and imagery. Unique but classic all at once. It's getting an anime and I have NO IDEA how much censorship they're gonna be doing but they're going to be doing SO MUCH. Oh yeah, and one guy is a plant/human hybrid who fucks a 1000 year old plant-hermit which makes him a canon monster fucker. And one canon non-binary character who I, a nonbinary, actually like. So like... gosh I've got mixed feelings. 8.5/10.

Choujin X: From Sui Ishida, mangaka to the mega hit Tokyo Ghoul comes this brand new manga!... Of one chapter, lol. Not really binge-y because it's just the one chapter out right now but I'm already keeping my eye on it. The grasp on anatomy in the art is PHENOMENAL and you can see Ishida flexing his art skill which is great. Can't give a true rating but I'm giving it a tentative 9/10 because I'm excited to see more.

Shag&Scoob: technically not a manga, its an ongoing webcomic I binged an subscribed to in one day and I just think it deserves more attention. Starts off funny with "what if Scooby Doo had a gun" and has been led to "what if all cartoons are aliens that survive and receive their powers by the humans that love them in an epic war with Martians." On god, its good. I finished the current series in a couple hours so it's a breezy read, highly recommend it. 9/10.

To Your Eternity: Yeah I watched the anime and then finished all current 143 chapters in like 3 days. GOD IM WEAK. I don't buy physical manga unless I know I want to remember the story forever and I'm already budgeting for the current books out. Yeah, this is a good series. That being said, definitely not for the faint of heart or those who suffer under common triggers like suicide, molestation, death, etc. It's all framed as bad and necessary to the story don't get me wrong, but it's there and has lasting affects on the characters. Incredible story telling by the creator of A Silent Voice. Keep tissues nearby at all times. 12/10.

#i've been killing slimes for 300 years and maxed out my level #don't toy with me miss nagatoro #spirit photographer saburo kono #fruits basket #deranged detective ron kamonohashi #yugen's all-ghoul's homeroom #monster girl doctor #so i'm a spider so what #somali and the forest spirit #to your eternity #jigokuraku #hell's paradise #choujin x #shag and scoob #toilet bound hanako kun #prison school #sk8 the infinity #that time i got reincarnated as a slime

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blarrghe · 3 years

Note

Hi! I'm going to go for a dramatic one for the cliché prompts: "You’re in a coma and I confess all my feelings only for you to wake up" for Fenders (or whoever you prefer) if that works for you <3

I’m on a bit of a Dorianders kick and can’t seem to stop, so thank you very much for the prompt but I went a bit off book with it... hope that’s alright w you.

I altered this a little to “Dorian’s father is asleep on his deathbed and he confesses all his pent up feelings only for Anders to walk in”

So that’s um, how modern au Resident!Anders and Politician!Dorian met. It got a bit long and is very very angsty.

Summary: Anders is a resident working rough hours at a hospital (in Tevinter?? look this is just going to be a series of ficlets I have not worked out the details yet), struggling with his medical debts and work-related sleep deprivation. Dorian is an idealistic politician working his way out of his recently deceased father's shadow. They meet when Anders is attending to his father on his death bed, and things go from there, I guess.

Anders took a deep breath. With it, the something hissing over his heart settled down to a whisper. The hospital always beset him with inner whispers; not a good feeling, but one that compelled him on, nevertheless. Pediatrics hit the hardest, the injustice of it all, but being there also kept his mind steady. Doing something. Critical Care was different. There wasn't usually a lot he could do, in the Critical Care wing. And his rounds today had him facing that patient, the one for whom there was nothing to be done, and who set his obsessively helpful spirit into split ends, because he was also an absolute asshole. When Anders was in a room with him, under steely eyes and the cracking whip of his tongue, the disease in him felt deserved, and some part of Anders burned like blue fire, so hot it took biting his cheek bloody to restrain his bedside manner from bad attitudes. The disease is never deserved, he reminded himself and the licks of flame that still remembered the patient's rude barkings from last time. Even in rich men who in life had been given much more than they ever did deserve, a death like this one was still a hard death, and people who are dying are allowed to die angry. So he took another deep breath, because dealing with some patients just needed that much more breathing, but he could still do his job. And that was the job; to be there, at the end, for anyone.

He was getting worse, sleeping more. It wouldn't be long now, and Anders tried not to be relieved. He checked his charts, his monitors, the IVs still barely holding him up. Increased the morphine, for his pain, and finished without saying a word. For a moment, he almost missed it; at least when the man was swearing at him and ranting in indecipherably bigoted tirades, he was lively. He sighed, staying the extra moment to offer the man's sallow cheeks a sympathetic glance. Death was a natural part of life, and he was old, and an asshole, and maybe he didn't deserve it but... soon the bed would be free again, and that would be alright.

When he turned to leave, there was a dark figure sitting on the bench in the hall outside. He was reading a magazine but not flipping the pages, one leg crossed over the other in the stiff posture of someone who is uncomfortably waiting for uncomfortable news. One of the family. Anders took another deep breath. He hadn't had dealings with the wife, but he'd overheard them well enough. An unpleasant woman for an unpleasant man, trying to buy off death and then trying to kick the whole hospital down with her complaining when she couldn't. If the man waiting outside now took after either of them, his shift was about to get a whole lot worse.

He stepped out into the hall, and the man looked up from his magazine. His features were striking, sculpted. Skin the deep, radiant bronze that Anders was sure his father's would have been, back in his youth before misery and disease stole its colour. And he was, unmistakably now, his asshole patient's son; same steely grey eyes, right down to the faint creases beside them, and just as unfeeling.

"Are you his doctor?"

Usually, that question, asked at this point in the process of losing someone, was croaked out. But the son didn't croak, he asked his question with a continued lack of feeling, and a bit of impatience.

"Not his attending, only a resident. I can page the doctor, if you'd like,"

"No, that's fine. Can you just tell me how long?" The man stood up, tall. Much taller than the way people usually stood in hospital corridors; poised and proud in his posture — not actually taller than Anders, but he felt it. Still a little stiff maybe, but anything uncomfortable was covered up by how well he fit into his suit; smooth and black and clinging to his body like it was made to hold him. Anders blinked, "how long he has," the son clarified unnecessarily, still coolly impatient, "I have places to be, you see."

His eyes wandered past Anders, hesitating over the window to the room where his father lay dying, then snapping back again. Not entirely unfeeling after all, but the sadness in them was troubled by something else, still indecipherable. Anders wondered what kind of relationship a son could have with a father — a father like that — for so many secrets to be buried in that glance.

Anders swallowed. No he didn't, he decided, but the thing that whispered care into his heart was wondering, catching onto the well-hidden glimpse of feeling in the man, craving already to comfort the rest.

"A few days, maybe." He answered, gentle with the news. The son nodded once. "You should say your goodbyes."

The son was looking past him again, back through the window at the sleeping form of his father, more unhappy secrets set into his jaw. Anders watched the jaw tense, and stay there.

"In a few days, maybe." Replied the man, though he barely moved his tense jaw to say it. "He's awake."

Anders turned to follow the man's eyes, landing his own gaze on a twitching hand and barely moving bedsheets. He didnt look back again before darting into the room to offer his patient care.

"Dorian?" Croaked the patient, steely grey eyes opening to scan his face, and then closing in apparent disappointment.

"Your son? He's right outside, I'll —" but he wasn't. The tall, statuesque man was gone, the magazine left lying open on the bench outside in an empty white hallway. "I'm sure he'll be back soon." Anders amended, attempting to offer a bright spot of hope. His patient grunted.

Anders took a step away from the bedside, but as he did a thin, wrinkled hand shot out, and grabbed him by the wrist. The cold, unfeeling eyes opened, except now they were sad. "A word of advice, if you don’t want to be disappointed in life, don't have children." Even breathy and hoarse, he managed to give his voice bite. Then his asshole patient's gaze fell on the little gold earring hanging from Anders’ ear, and he coughed. Anders took a deep breath in preparation for another insult, and to help him recover from the bit of unfriendly advice. "You're lucky they don't let you people have them."

Anders tried not to sigh. The dying are allowed to die angry. "I'm sure he'll be back." He said again.

----

Dorian. The name stuck to him almost as well as his tight black trousers, and Anders couldn't help but turn it over a few times in his mouth after he left the room. He made the rest of his rounds, and checked back in on father-of-the-year Pavus a few more times, lying to himself about what he was hoping to find. Dorian. He never did come back though, not during visiting hours of that day, nor the day after. On the third day things weren't looking well, and Bride of Asshole Pavus had alerted everyone on staff to the fact that it was their fault, even the poor janitors. The bed would probably be free again by the end of his shift.

He made his rounds, thinking as little about that particular patient and his particularly unpleasant wife as he could, trying to tell his inner whisperings that it wasn't worth being sad over, even if the son never said goodbye. Maybe he didn't deserve one, how could Anders judge? (Everyone deserves one). Under his breath, Anders told himself to shush. (If not for the father's sake, then for his own). Again, shush. Then, through the too-thin walls and slightly ajar door as he made his way down the glaringly white hallway, Anders heard muttering. Sad, broken, angry muttering. He stopped.

" —I don't want it." the phrase was repeated a few times, some utterings angry, others sad, all of them broken. "I don't want your life. I don't want to be you. I don't —" Dorian. Dorian choking on a sob. Anders took a step back, careful about the squeak of his shoes. "I don't even know why I —" he tried not to listen in (no you didn't), but the door was ajar. "Everything. I could become everything you ever asked of me and it would still never be enough, so I don't know why I— I —" there was another heartwrenching choke to a stop, then a gutteral sound of frustration that Anders could feel in his own gut. "Just once. You couldn't say it just once?" It sounded like the kind of question he wouldn't be getting an answer to even if the man were conscious. "I'm sorry." Anders felt that in his gut too, and the thing he was trying to keep quiet inside him wondered if the words were from Dorian to his father, or the ones Dorian was begging his unconscious body for, or both.

In hospital rooms, the sound of beeping monitors disappeared into the fray. Wheels on stretchers trundling down the halls, squeaking shoes on linoleum, ventilators whirring and monitors beeping. They only sounded like anything when they stopped, and let out that one long note to signify the end. Dorian choked out his apology several more times, once sad, once angry, always desperate, and then the monitor stopped beeping, drowning out his gasps for air with its ending, and Anders had to do his job. He walked in.

Dorian shot up. Hands swiping at his red eyes and posture somehow rising without even a hint of hunch, and Anders pretended poorly not to see any of it. The attending came, procedures were followed, and Dorian disappeared into the waiting room like he was supposed to, without a look back.

The wife was gone by the time Anders poked his head into the waiting room. It wasn't his job to tell the family, and the news had long been shared, but something told him to peek in anyway. He took another deep breath when he saw him — this family really seemed bent on messing with his breathing — sitting, one long leg crossed over the other, staring down a terrible cup of coffee, not drinking it. He sat straight, his skin shone, his suit fit him like a glove and not a hair on his head was out of place, but he looked tired. Dorian. Anders approached cautiously. It would be a while before the family could take the body, and he should go home, rest. He told him as much, to a response of slow nods. Then Dorian looked up from his coffee, eyes emotionless except for the fact that they were lined in watery red.

"I'm just waiting for my mother to finish hounding her lawyers," he said, and despite himself Anders looked about nervously, "she's not here, don't worry. She left for home an hour ago. If I wait another, she'll have tired herself out and passed out under a bottle of wine." He sighed heavily, "could use one myself, but to be honest with you I don't quite feel like going home." His eyes flicked up into Anders' with a dim light of mischief, and Anders wondered what his looks could do for him on a good day. Things Anders could never hope to achieve, no doubt.

Anders offered him the carefully crafted soft smile he reserved for these kinds of things, and said “sorry for your loss” with just a touch more feeling than most patients’ families received, since the man looked like he needed it.

“Can’t say the same to you I suppose,” Dorian replied, shaking his head, “though I am sorry.”

Anders opened his mouth, struggled to find anything to do with it, and then closed it again.

“For my mother,” Dorian explained as he put the coffee cup he was still holding down on the low table in front of the chair he was decorating, apparently giving up any semblance of drinking it, “I’m sure his care was better than he deserved, but she doesn’t do well in situations she can’t control. It won’t come to anything.”

Anders nodded slowly. Better than he deserved? A phrase Anders might have thought himself, over the past few weeks of dealing with the irate patient as he approached death’s door, but now that he’d gone through it, something about the sentiment irked him.

“Everyone deserves compassionate care,” he corrected with another careful smile, “the best chance we can give, and comfort when that’s spent. No less.”

The response did something odd to Dorian’s face; first a sigh, then it transmuted itself into a strangled sort of laugh, while he shook his head and regarded Anders with still-dull eyes. “Well, it can’t have been easy,” he muttered, eyes landing on Anders’ soft smile, which he hoped was still there. “Thank you.”

Anders left him then, offering one more nod and smile before turning away to finish the rest of his shift. Two hours later, changed out of his scrubs and into his tattered old jacket over his tattered old t-shirt and jeans, he walked by the waiting room again, on his way out. Dorian was still there, still staring down that same cup of undrunk coffee.

“Mr. Pavus, ser?”

Dorian started at the sound, and looked up from the coffee with an almost angry light in his icy eyes. “Please, Maker, call me anything but that.”

Anders swallowed. “It’s — it’s Dorian, isn’t it?” Dorian nodded, “Dorian,” saying his name to his face felt wrong, somehow, “it’s getting rather late, is there someone I should call for you?”

Dorian shook his head. “No,” he sighed. “Are there any bars nearby? A really terrible one, preferably.”

Anders frowned, but there was a pretty terrible bar just across the street, stuck into a hole in the wall of an alley, with grimy old barstools and floors littered in peanut shells, so he told him so. Dorian stood, always so tall.

“Thank you, Doctor…”

“Anders,” he attempted a smile, but there was a good deal too much worry in it, he was sure, “just Anders; I’m off duty.”

Dorian turned from him, then suddenly turned back. “Would you care for a drink, Anders?”

Anders blinked. “I uh —”

“You’ve seen the last of what was undoubtedly your worst patient today, haven’t you? Don’t tell me you didn’t plan to celebrate.”

His brows creased unhappily, all on their own, and something inside him whispered back the memory of that broken bedside apology. “I wouldn’t —”

“You should. I aim to. On me?” There was that light of mischief again, a little brighter, coupled with what could almost be a smirk. Maker, was he flirting?

“I don’t drink.”

Dorian frowned, and Anders almost wished he did. “A bowl of peanuts on me, then.” Dorian amended his offer with a shrug. And for some unknown reason, Anders nodded.

“Alright.”

#my fic #my writing #dorianders #dorian x anders #modern au #angst angst angst

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ajokeformur-ray · 3 years

Text

I watched Joker tonight and typed out my thoughts as they occurred to me. Unedited; typos are guaranteed. I did this a few months ago and really enjoyed looking back at my thought process and I wanted to do it again so that I can look back and know that what I feel is real and true in my darkest times.

You're welcome to skip this; it's under a cut for ease of doing so. Warnings for occasional sexual comment lmao. There’s no self shipping in this, I don’t think.

word count: 2, 575.

I’M SOBBING and I’ve only just pressed play.

Heart squeeze Chest much ow

THERE HE IS

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nooooo baby omg don’t pretend - let yourself hurt if it hurts. Don’t pretend.

Carnival Carnival Carnivalllllllll 😍😍😍😍😍

I am a Simp for one clown and his name is Carnival

Someone help him, I????

That sign hit Arthur as hard as my love for him did ksksksk

MY EYES BE LEAKIN💔💔💔💔💔

bb nooooo

Oh honey let me kiss those bruises and replace the marks of violence with love, hm? You’re safe with me.

Breathe, my love. Don’t fight the laughter. Let it out, let yourself go.

Screams into a pillow because????? much sad must kiss

“have you been keeping up with your journal?” LIKE HE HAS TIME

oHHHHH boi’s close to losing his shit

Do it, Artie. Give ‘em hell.

“I think I did” YOU TELL HER!!💖💖💖

I want to be his cigarette. Where’s Satan??? I got a new deal for my blackened soul which he took at half price😂😂😂😂

I’d have my hand between the door and his head so fuckin fast I swear

“I just don’t wanna feel so bad anymore” yep SAME

ohhhh peekaboo🥺🥺🥺

this makes me giggle ksksksk i watch this scene when i feel sad bc it always makes me happy for the time it’s on

he’s so good with kids; he doesn’t have to try and think about what’s funny, he just does it, he’s himself and it works

FUCK OFF LADY CAN’T YOU SEE HE’S STRUGGLING????

give

him

back

his

card

casually wrinkling my nose against tears lmao

ohhh the way he looks up at those stairs from the bottom

i can feel his exhaustion

me too, my love

step step step step

god i wanna get him the fuck outta gotham

and into my arms and a soft, warm blanket

“eat. you need to eat” LITERALLY WHAT I TELL MYSELF EVERY DAY IN HIS VOICE BC OTHERWISE I JUST WOULDNT EAT???? I’m losing so much weight asdfghjk its not enough tho

SUPAH RATS

Did Arthur come up w that joke or was it actually a Murray joke????

HIS VOICE IS SO SOFT IM CRY??🥺🥺🥺🥺

“I WAS PUT HERE TO SPREAD JOY AND LAUGHTER”

YOU DO BABY, YOU DO!!!! EVERY FUCKING DAY!!!!

go deepthroat a cactus randall - youre already a bit of a prick so🙃🙃🙃

“THE GUYS THINNK YOU’RE A FREAK BUT I LIKE YOU”

HOYT. YOU CAN GO SIT ON A CACTUS TOO

FUCK OFF

😡😡😡😡

“WHY WOULD ANYONE STEAL A SIGN”//”WHY DOES ANYONE DO ANYTIHNG?” HOYT YOU’RE SO FUCKING ILLOGICAL HERE IM????? ERIKA DOES NOT (ALSO WILL NOT LMAO IM A STUBBORN BIITCH) COMPUTE

Can arthur fuck me like he pounds the trash/????🥵🥵👀

those dark curls.... that crooked tooth... must kiss.🥺🥺🥺

pennys casual cruelty makes me so fucking angry

foreshadowingggggg ~ *JAZZ HANDS*

ugh the way he dances with that gun im👀🥵🥵🥵

he enjoys the power of it and his breathing gets deeper asdfghjk

clumsy baby omggggg i just COOED 🥺🥺🥺🥺

okay maybe im stupid but i genuinely dont understand this “senior who needs to graduate” skit i’m??? how is being an intro to western civ student funny im???? someone explain???

but also dont bc fuck that guy lmao arthur’s hilarious

true millenial humour (and brit humour lmao we’re dark asf)

THE WAY ARTIE TWIRLS HIS FINGERS AROUND HIS HAIR AND DANCES IN HIS SEAT IM???🥺🥺🥺

wanna curl up on his lap at night when hes writing and go to sleep with a

blanket around our bodies🥺🥺🥺🥺

when arthur wears a shirt at home you KNOW it’s a daydream

THAT CROOKED TOOTH IM WANT KISS.

WAIT IS IT CALLED STAND UP COMEDY BC YOU STAND UP... AND ITS COMEDY???

23 FUCKING YEARS, PEOPLE... TO REALISE THAT🙄

WHEN CARNIVAL CAME ON SCREEN I NTHE HOSPITAL I MADE A PORNOGRAPHIC NOISE LMAO I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

IF YOURE HAPPY AND YOU KNOW IT, SHOOT MURRAY

WOOPS WRONG LYRICS

😂

“doctor of laughter”🥺🥺🥺🥺

doctor i have a case of the Big Sad can you... do an exam? 😉😏

NO BB DONT BEAT YOUR HEAD UP THERES PRECIOUS CARGO IN THERE

in what world does chucking cold greasy chips in a girls hair being “nice”???

lmao fuck these guys

ohhh honey breathe. dont fight it, my love, just breathe.

my heart’s breaking for you, you sweet thing🥺🥺🥺

i love you so so so so so so so much ugh you’re an actual fucking angel

just breathe darling

i need to get you a cup of tea with honey in it, your throat must be so sore

ohhhh baby im so sorry

i’d take every single punch if i could

i’d die for you

i wish i could protect you

i wish i could look after you

and take all those hits

and kill those guys for you

im so sorry

sobbingggg

YES GOOD MAN THANK YOUUU

KILL THOSE ASSHOLES LMAO DESERVED IT

yeah i have a grey morality... im similar to deadpool in that way tbh

carnival comin’ to kill your insecurities

8 bullets in a 6 chamber???? mm-hm

DONT FORGET YOUR BAG THATS EVIDENCE

AND THE WIG

RUN BABY RUNNNNNNN

GO GO GO GOOOOOOOOOOOO

RUN LIKE THE WIND BULLSEYE

THE SOUND OF HIS FEET SLAPPING THE PAVEMENT IM👀

OOOOOH JOKER’S WAKIN’ UUUUUUP

fuck he’s so hypnotic

the way he runs his hand down his lower stomach asdfghj🥵

must kiss the inner tendons on his wrists and lick the blood off his face

must kiss

he moves like water

fuck hes so fluid

bathroom scene = the scene in which my heart and vagina clench at the same time

im WANT

T POSEEEEEEEE

“i still owe you for that, dont i?”

PUNCH OUT IS MY FAVOURITE THING E V E R

D O N T S M I LE

UGH I FUCKING HATE being told to smile if i don’t fucking want to so BIG mood

PLEASE SHUSH ME THE WAY YOU JUST SHUSHED PENNY IM???

but also dont lmao bc i’ll think you’re mad at me and i’ll hide in the bedroom for the rest of the day lmao i’m sensitive✨✨✨

i wanna sit on his lap and still his bouncing knees

“thats not funny”

fuck off penny yes it is

I JUST CHOKED ON MY COFFEE IM???

“but i do” god the P O W E R

ugh that fucking sexist piece of shit comedian can choke “women look at sex like buying a car” 🤢🤮🤢🤢🤮

chauvinistic pigs can die thanks

his lil trip upstage im cry🥺🥺🥺

ohhh baby. just breathe, darling. it’s okay to be scared. dont fight it. just breathe.

he and i both cover our mouths when we laugh/smile in the exact same way and it makes me feel closer to him

how can they think hes laughing at himself when hes literally gagging????

people only see what they wanna

the Penny imitation is👌👌👌

s m i l e

i remember when i came home from seeing this for the first time, i got home and dropped to my knees to cry in the bathroom. it was such an emotional release and so much love and i played smile to try to make myself smile but i only made myself cry harder lmaooooo ~

smile and thats life are my go-to songs if i gotta cheer tf up

danger sign = neither works

he looks so soft after his “date”🥺🥺🥺

“thats life” yeah but murray you dont even leave the studio so how do you know????

ngl arthur’s anger scares me.

anyone so much as raise their voice at me and i’ll cry really bad and i will shut myself away for the rest of the day and quiet anger terrifies me so his banging abt in the kitchen would freak me tf out😲

angry bb😭

he controls his anger so fast though omgggg ~

that soft please sends me

idk where it sends me lmao

down below probably

BARE FACED CARNIVAL OMG THIS SCENE IS SO CUTE

I LOVE THE MATCHING COLOURS ON ARTHUR AND BRUCE TOO ???

okay but the implication that arthur always carries a clown nose on him is🥺🥺🥺

hes such a good clown im?????

lmao im enjoying the show more than bruce is skskskk

arthur’s lil chuckle makes me🥺

his HUMMING im??? soft?????

his brows are so strong and dark omggg ~ he’s so beautiful

OKAY i’ll be honest i’ve seen this alfred/bruce scene and the thomas bathroom scene later on and the penny flashback scene a 100 times and i still dont fucking understand what did or didnt happen regarding arthur’s parentage im????

ive seen interpretations to say he is thomas’ son and some to say he isnt and i still cant decide so? im stupid i guess 🙃

“a clown thing?” the s a s s

“it’s exit only” yeah so’s my ass🙃

if i was there in the hospital room i woulda turned that tv off as soon as i realised what clip was gonna play

murray’s cruelty is d i s g u s t i n g

lmao hes an asshole

arthurs lil clap from joyyyyy ~ 🥺🥺🥺

did i say murray???

i meant m u r r a t

🙃🙃🙃

sneaky baby

wayne hall either has super bad security or arthurs v quick on his feet

🤔🤔🤔🤔

he looks so good in red omggg ~

f o r e s h a d o w i n g

arthurs smile when hes watching chaplin is how he smiles when we all gush to each other abt him and ourselves!!!

hes so cuuuuuute🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰

“told me what”

ohhhh honey🥺🥺 im so sorry. “crazy” is a trigger word for arthur; it made him start laughing in the bathroom with thomas

“touch my son again ill fucking kill you” yeah?? touch my arthur again and i’ll fucking kill you🙃🙃🙃🙃

^^^ that ones a joke do not come at me

the clerk in arkham was nice to arthur - he, gary and sophie are the good gothamites.

none of it was enough to stop his descent into joker, though, and i’d even say it was too late right at the beginning of the film, too...

his sock puppet thingy “they cut all those” is such a Joker thing to doooo ~

the way arthur’s laughing in the hall at arkham turns into sobbing is gut-wrenching omg the poor thing😭

i wanna hug him and protect him and help him to process this in a healthy way

sweetheart, if i could take all of your pain and put it onto me... i so would. i’d do it in a heartbeat.

i wanna get you into a hot shower, make you some food and sit and listen to you. we can either sit in silence or you can talk to me, my love, and you will be heard and understood and loved.

“i had a bad day”

IT’S OKAY I DIDNT NEED MY HEART ANYWAY OMG YOU POOR SWEET INNOCENT THING IM LOVE YOU🥺💔

THAT ENTIRE LATE NIGHT SCENE LAUGH/SOBBING GOT ME -

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

i just wanna hold you and protect you and help you and love you

I’m so fucking sorry, darling. i wish i could take it all away from you

“i havent been happy one minute of my entire fucking life”

NO ONE SHOULD LOOK THAT ANGELIC AFTER COMMITING MATRICIDE IM????

get

that

fucking

gun

away

from

your

face

boi dont test me ill fucking go feral or - no, tell you what, i’ll point the gun at me and see how you like it

im looking respectfully at the green speckled undies scene....👀👀👀

“coming” 😏😏😏

“my mum died im celebrating” and “i stopped taking my medication” and you STILL stayed in the apartment with Arthur????? dudes those are 🚨🚨🚨 signs

woe betide anyone who underestimates arthur fleck lmaoooo

randalls death scene makes me laugh every time omg i feel so vindictive

get WRECKED

i wanna lick the blood off his face. i really want to

ngl i think i have a blood kink...

“dont look just go” ME WITH MY ACNE WHEN I SEE IT IN THE MIRROR 😂😂😂😂

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKER

ASDFGHJKL

ERIKA.EXE HAS STOPPED WORKING

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERRRRRR

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 MY BABY MY MAN OMG THERE HE IS IM CRY???????😭🥺😭🥺😭🥺

my mind is literally blank rn im just staring and crying and smiling so hard my face hurts????? im love him so so so so much

sweet thing’s so used to pain he gets HIT BY A CAR AND KEEPS GOING????

I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

hghhhhhhhhhhhhhh

euirrrrrrgkjbgkfbirsghigrbugr

*incoherent keyboardsmash to portray utter love*

ohhh baby no dont cry. oh honey😭 i wanna sit on your lap and kiss your tears away

“i love dr sally”

you have a WIFE at home

“DO YOU REMEMBER?” THAT WAS YOUR CUE TO APOLOGISE LMAO GET FUCKED MURRAT

he’s so CUTE

omgggg ~

my hearts gonna give out its SQUEEZING SO HARD IT HURTS

YOU MOCK THEM, BABY!!! THEY GOT IT COMING

“i wanna get it right” hes so passionate

my comments have deceased in number bc im just too starstruck and in love to even think clearly lmao

jokers all i know rn and this is the most peaceful ive felt in WEEKS

im sobbing

ugh fuck this hurts so BAD

youre speaking the truth, darling. im so so proud of you and i love you so much

“THEY COULDNT CARRY A TUNE TO SAVE THEIR LIVES” LMAO INSIDE JOKESSS

literally sobbing right now ugh what the fuck youre in so much pain and in the middle of a breakdown and no one saw you

ugh baby im so sorry, you deserve so much better

you tried so hard and you were gonna fall no matter what

IN THE WHITE ROOM

“hi” baby they cant hear you but im COOING 🥺🥺🥺🥺

you’re so fucking cute

say the word and ill burn gotham to the fucking ground for you

i wanna sit atop that car and cradle your head in my lap and wipe the blood off your face and help you stand up and be there for you and and and😭😭😭😭😭😭 i love you so so so much.

i’d be so much worse off without you in my life. you brought a splash of colour which has never dimmed or faded. it never will.

b l o o d s m i l e

im wearing my inside on the outside now and it still hurts

angel💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

i see you and your pain. i love you.

i see you, angel.

his genuine laughter is🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

that cute lil “ksksks” he does im🥺🥺🥺

i always laugh with him omg the two of us are laughing together ugh its the closest i will ever get to sharing in his joy

t h a t ‘s l i f e

i love the hallway daaaaaaaaaaaaaance ~

them hips dont lie😉😉😉

i love you i love you i love you i love you omg the sun’s like a halo ugh i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you im singing along to thats life while i type out how much i love you at 220am lmaooooo ~

i l o v e y o u

#erileck #<- ref tag #arthur fleck #joker 2019 #erika talks

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whiterbone-a · 3 years

Note

i wanna know what your take on the nanami / gojo relationship is ?? cause a big part of me is like nanami isn't someone who really talks , like you won't get inside of him and he'll make jokes here and there with the whole work is shit thing . but i think he lost his heart and happiness alongside yuu and i think he even said this wasn't a mission first years should be on and the fact that yuu looked up to getou and gojo so much and still got killed was like a fucking blade to the stomach.

i mean do you think there is a romantic possability , i do play around with it but at the same time do you think it would be comforting ?? like i know the big ship is gojo and getou because of how close they were but what is nanami to gojo , a tool and a function or a friend and possible lover ??? and how will his death effect him ???

also were gojo actively smiles , nanami only smiles when death is around the corner and i am like red flags here and there . but sorry this got so long and please feel free to ignore it .

hello and welcome. take a seat and thank you for joining me. if this doesnt make sense just pretend u know what im talking about, its the adhd for making my thoughts so scattered everywhere

so in concept the nanami and gojou ship in a romantic concept is rly cute in concept like u have an ex - salary man whos serious doesnt allow himself the luxury of acting his age but on the other end u have someone who still acts like hes a child and never takes anything serious even when hes fighting. they both endured the trauma being a jujutsu sorcerer entails yet they have nothing in common -- gojou dresses like hes a reflection with the moon and nanami, the sun. also the fact that gojou thinks that he, himself, is ascended above all he works with while nanami is just a human living his day to day, and lot of ppl use this as nanami to bring down gojou to his morality just like a nudge or a friendly reminder. he even tolerates and puts up with him a lot more than he should. hes very patient but very honest. a lot of the fanart of them is SO CUTE esp when theyre married and living happily with one another. i even ship them, its actually one of my top ships next to satosugu but like in reality its not so great unfortunately

honestly? theres a small slim of a possibility but due to the nature of the clash of personalities and what their job its like ... not rly possible

nanami, even out of being a salary man, fully treats being a jujutsu sorcerer as a 9 - 5 job and refuses to work overtime. he has small luxuries like he enjoys reading and eating left overs after a day of working hard like who wouldnt and not to mention hes the type to keep his relationships strictly professional. gojou has probably asked him several times to take him out for drinks after work (altho work never ends with gojou which is ironic) and has said no. it’s funny now that i think about it, shouko probably asks him for an occasional drink after hours and he accepts because at least he likes shouko and he knows theres no ulterior motive from her just a couple of coworkers doing some heavy drinking but nothing ever more than that -- hes even said that he wants to get married but when hes no longer a sorcerer

sucks tho, because like everyone else, nanami sees gojou as someone who is extremely powerful and only sees him for his techniques except more like hes a nuisance and extremely annoying, even to the point of having absolutely no respect for him. he realizes, yeah hes strong but as for the full package that is satoru gojou? there’s absolutely nothing to respect about that man

and while we’re talking about gojou, i’ll say it, he’s mentally unstable. i mean, we all knew that -- hes got a couple of “screws loose” as he puts it inside that rattling brain of his. on the opposite side of the spectrum, hes not capable of handling a romantic relationship. hes always always busy, its rare that that he gets a breather for himself. hes always being sent out on missions out of country and ive always portrayed gojou as the type of partner thats not even gentle on his partners in terms of being playful, childish, and being a nuisance. his mental health is absolutely terrible (i’m not saying nanamis is any better but) hes always acted much younger than what he is altho i do blame his upbringing for that.

and gojou treats everyone as good friends but does like to particularly pick on ppl who take themselves too seriously (nanami and utahime), mei mei and yuki are exempt from this. he also doesnt rly care for ichiji but like, that doesnt matter LOL.

i do see nanami eventually giving in for one (1) after dinner ‘date’ after work but when gojou is actually less himself, hes tolerable to be around which isnt saying much tbh. you should def listen to the nanami and gojou drama audio if u can! they’re so fucking funny as a pair, which solidifies them as being cute but were not talking about that rn.

in terms of being ‘what are they’ to each other, its hard to tell. i talked about it briefly as nanami reminding him of his morality and being his humility tho gojou doesnt act like it, he fully believes hes above all and everyone, lovers and close friends are included in this. i read a lot of nana/go fanfics and they portray nanami as someone to push down his ego; to remind him hes actually Not all that great, a child in an adults body, etc. he’s a brutality honest man and gojou can take critic and criticisms to his person but that doesnt mean hes going to listen (and he doesnt, hes even self aware that his personality sucks ass but does he bother to change? absolutely not and he wont start now nor for anyone else).

yuu did definitely help nanami change and shift his ideas about the world, esp hating the jujutsu society afterwards. like, i dont blame u king, it sucks ass. tho, i dont think nanami looked up or cared for gojou and getou that much. getou he looked up to more so because at least hes as a respectable guy, strong, good looking, and stimulates intellectual conversations. gojou? not so much. nanami probably thought that it doesnt matter if u have techniques that is extremely rare to acquire and even more so to master but u suck ass and u dont stimulate joy to be around.

nanami is a good friend and high school buddy to gojou and nanami would definitely call him ‘coworker’ or something along those lines when hes annoyed him too much or doesnt want gojou to benefit too much from simple acknowledgement. gojou thinks hes an ascended being but he definitely respects and finds nanami to be a strong sorcerer and was rather surprised when he took the 9 - 5 job but it was definitely safer.

death ... ah, i think about this all the time. it’s like losing suguru all again except he didnt go rogue and kill a whole village. hes absolutely confident in nanamis abilities to fend off curses and hes too stubborn to let himself die as well, so the idea of him dying doesnt ever cross his mind. thats a true stab to the gut to hear that nanami has died, maybe a moment of truly being unhinged and a darker nature but we wont rly know until it happens in the manga, which i cant wait. i mean, at least mei mei, utahime, and shouko are around but this is nanami were talking about. if this was in terms of a romantic relationship rather than a simple seemingly one - sided friendship of enjoying of being around that person but that person just tolerating him and hoping he goes away eventually. i can’t say, i can’t say! just take these thoughts with like a grain of salt.

also that last statement in the ask, gojous smiles are fake and a mask while the rare times nanami does smile, its genuine.

regardless of what i said, i think it can be a comfy ship! this ship isnt toxic but any means (unless u make it toxic then well, thats a you thing) so just enjoy it! i know i do i think as long as u recognize that maybe neither of them being a relationship would benefit the other then go stupid go crazy, i know i will.

#jupitersnake #tldr its cute in concept but reality they just dont suit each other but #im a sucker for opposites attract so catch me all over the nana/go tag baybe!!!!!!

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werezmastarbucks · 4 years

Text

c a r e

kai parker x reader brutal fluff oneshot

Kai’s bleeding out ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

word count: 1920

warnings: language, mentions of suicide, kind of au

You opened your eyes and winced, closed them again and decided to smell the room first. It’s been a while since you got hit on the head last. In fact, the last heavy blow that might have been dangerous for you, you received here, in Mystic Falls, five years ago. Outside this wretched town, danger was virtually non-existent. All the crap always happened here. Did you really have to come back, did you, really? There went your silent rant as your feelings were coming back to you, the tips of your fingers stinging, your limbs, sore, and the smell of burning curtains in the air. The sun was on your face, burning the cut somewhere on your forehead. You lifted your hand and touched it gently, still keeping your eyes closed, and put your finger in your mouth. Blood.

You sat up carefully, and looked around.

“Anybody alive?” you called. The house seemed to be empty. A slender streak of smoke came out of the fireplace. You pictured the last thing you saw before you blacked out: Liv Parker, her great mane of blonde hair waving and messed up, with her arm outstretched, screaming some latin shit in your face. All they ever said while chanting sounded like intricate swearing, honestly. Then, you got up on your feet and started assessing the room, sure that there’s supposed to be something else.

There he is! Another Parker, the psycho one, laying on his back, his white shirt soaking in blood. In a flash, his life ran before your eyes. You thought of the way he spoke to you and that article you read about the night he killed his family, and how there’s so much more to it.

You sprinted to him – well, walked, fast. He was going pale, losing the color, becoming like the shirt he was wearing. When he didn’t talk, and didn’t roll his eyes around, he looked almost like a child, almost quiet. You tried his neck – if there was pulse, you didn’t catch it, because your hands started shaking. After all he’s done, where he’s been and everything he’s seen and was about to see, that was not the way he’d go. Stabbed in the stomach with a poker? Please.

“Can you hear me?”

You looked around and took off your own jacket, pressing the wound in, and the blood started coming even faster, like you were squeezing a lemon.

“Shit”.

You felt for the phone and didn’t find it. You tapped his jeans and pulled his iPhone out, calling for the emergency services. The lady’s voice startled you because you got distracted immediately as you were trying to close that huge hole in his abdomen.

“What’s your emergency?”

“I- I’ve got a guy here who’s very stabbed, he’s like bleeding out”.

“What’s your address?”

You spat out the Salvatore mansion address, deeply surprised you had it carved somewhere on the wall of your skull; his blood was hot, which was probably a good sign, right? His face was glistening with sweat, and your palm was warm on his cheek. You bent over Kai, putting your ear very close to his face, and it sounded like faint breathing.

“Is he awake?”

“No, he’s out, and he’s getting very pale”.

“Okay, I’ve dispatched the car, they’re going to be there in fi-ive-minutes”, the girl said reassuringly.

“Thank you, what do I…”

“How much blood is there?”

You threw the phone on the floor and put her on speaker. The boy was dying. It was funny to think that! He’s died like a bazillion times back in his prison world, by his own confession. When you asked him which way to die was the worst, he said that was relative. The first might have been the most stressful because he really thought he was going to end it all.

As a suicide survivor, you knew what it felt like, and you thought, did I look like this? If someone stumbled upon me that day, would they see what I’m seeing now, a kid whom you want to save? You got such a dire desire to save his life, regardless of how he’ll pay you, you stopped listening to the 911 girl. Damon’s gonna be so pissed, you imagined with a smirk. He was dying, you should have just left him there! Such a convenient disaster which solves the Parker problem and takes out the biggest pain in the ass of all.

Then you looked at his face again, and realized that even through his morbid sleep, as he bleeds out with his arms outstretched, he knows no one cares about him. He knows he’ll die without making a single person ever care about him.

“Are you there, miss? Are you resuscitating?”

“Uh, yeah”.

You hit him in the chest.

“Wake up!”

His head moved as you pressed on the jacket again, like he was stubborn to get up.

“You need to do the heart massage, five times, then mouth to mouth”.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m doing that”.

Your wrists were hurting from how much you were trying to get him to breathe.

“Come on, you’re magical moron, you gotta help yourself”.

Aren’t witches supposed to die harder? Or is it already harder than normal? How much blood is Kai Parker supposed to lose until his headstrong soul finally decides it’s not worth it?

You hit him in the chest with two fists, trying to knock through the ribs and straight to the heart.

“What is that sound?” the girl asked. You puffed and hung up on her, threw his phone away. Kai’s eyes swung open and he stared up as his mouth opened slowly in the grimace of pain.

“Hey! Yes! Can you see me?”

Kai’s eyes shifted to you, irises huge like two black moons.

“Don’t die yet”.

“Am I?” he whispered.

You pressed the jacket again, and he moaned. Your hand twitched, fingers spreading in the gesture to comfort, and laid on his shoulder.

“Not yet. Don’t get me wrong, I still hate you”.

He took a very careful breath, like a sip of hot tea, with his mouth.

“Why?”

You thought for a second. Why? Is he stupid? Is he a child? Why? Why do people hate him? When he’s spread here like a fish, sweating through his clothes with freezing blood, white like a sheet, helpless like a kitten, human more than anybody else. Does loathing apply? Where’s the set of moral rules? Does him being a first-class Kai Parker apply?

“By default”, you offered. He looked through you, almost transparent, like a veil with eyes.

“Hold on, dude, this is too embarrassing for you”.

“Agree”.

You felt his hand move next to your thigh, and let your fingers crawl to his palm. It was losing heat.

“Heal yourself”, you pulled his hand and put it on his chest. “Come on, witch. If I had anything, I would help you”.

He turned his head to the side slowly, and the apple in his throat rolled grievously.

“It doesn’t work like that”, you rather read it on his lips than heard.

“Yes, it does. Heal yourself”, you squeezed his hand. There was the sound of wheels screeching in the yard.

He turned his head back and gave you a look from under his brows. The eyes refused to go unblack, and it felt like all the color from his body was draining right through them.

“Don’t let me die, Y/N”.

People were running through the corridor, certainly getting very hyped by spectacular destruction in the house.

“Over here!”

The doctors appeared in the living room, blue jackets and gloves, and you were pulled from Kai, letting go of his hand. You couldn’t see if he blacked out again as they surrounded him, velcros scratching and voices filling the space.

“Are you hurt?” a man appeared before you. You looked at him dumbfounded as he reached for you with a piece of white wool in his fingers. The cut on our forehead stung.

“What the hell happened here?”

“Family dinner”.

______________________________________________________________

“Is he going to make it?”

“If he’s strong”, the nurse replied. The doctor left the emergency room and raced past you, his hands covered in blood like in a movie. You sat on the chair prepped against the wall, and realized you had nothing to do here. It’s not like you’re going to sit here like a girlfriend while they operate on him, or call the time of death. Caring and solidarity is all sweet and good, but let’s not get carried away. This man tried to push you down the stairs like yesterday to create a distraction. He wouldn’t think a second before gutting you if he needed to. That’s how he made it so far, actually.

You left the hospital, walking slowly towards the bus stop and looking at the cloudless blue sky. Then your phone rang, and you realized it was in your back pocket all this time, and Damon was going to be real furious. For a second there you hoped Parker doesn’t make it so that you don’t have to go through mental beating. You tried to think of one way he can still be useful to the Mystic Falls folk and therefore eligible for preserving.

______________________________________________________________

They said, you saved that fucker, you babysit him.

You tried to explain that the majority of work was probably done by the doctors who closed his bleeding wound, and the said fucker’s impeccable will to live no matter what. The guy has that precious survivor’s gene that cannot be pulled out.

But while he’s in the hospital, he’s technically unmonitored, and somebody has to be there when he wakes up. To cuff him or whatever and let Damon know so that they know where he is. With too many Parkers still alive and running around it’s dangerous to let Kai just roam. It’s like, what was the point of all that fuss in the living room? you asked. Exactly, Y/N, Caroline said. Exactly. You were stunned by their bloodthirst. It’s all understandable though – and, at the same time, no. Klaus was free and happy living in Tyler’s fucking house. Katherine was alive and sleeping like a baby somewhere in the old Fell crypt. Rebekah was having the time of her life pretending to be a college student at Whitmore. These were all un-people who commited unspeakable things and hurt all of you personally. Everybody seemed to have come to terms with the fact that they’re here to stay. What made this one different, except eating too much?

You sat in a comfortable armchair in his hospital room like a disgruntled mum, waiting for him to wake up, but the little criminal took his time.

On the day he finally woke up you lost your patience and walked to him, laying in bed. He slept, and slept like a baby, like he was in a witch coma, face peaceful and open, almost good for conversation.

“Here’s one you missed on while you were kicking it in prison”, you said, putting your airpods in his ears. You found it personally quirky that you could torture him with your music while he was out.

You turned the volume down and returned to your chair, listening to the song in your head as the dot on your screen was crawling right.

Summer has come and passed The innocent can never last Wake me up when September ends

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries #imagine

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kookicat · 4 years

Text

Control the Storm

She's seen them all through an injury or two, from the minor to the holy shit life threatening accident that made her heart crawl up into her throat. She knows them, knows Casey gets nausea when he's shocky, knows Severide seems fine right up to the point where he crashes, knows that if the boys are bitching and complaining they're okay. It's when they go quiet that she starts to worry. Which is why something about the way Casey retreats to his quarters after the call set her spidey sense tingling.

She follows, slowly, in case she's wrong and he's fine and just taking a shower. The pinch in her gut is insisting otherwise and she wouldn't be half the paramedic she is without listening to it. They all know the drill but occasionally someone will try to slide an injury past the medics. It's not usually Casey though.

The blinds are drawn in his quarters and the low level anxiety she's been feeling spikes into something sharper. She taps her knuckles sharply on the door and waits, counting impatiently to ten before she eases the door open.

"Casey?" she asks and gets a groan in return. It sends a spike of ice through her and she has to swallow past it before she can speak again. "What's going on?"

He's curled up on the bed, one arm clamped over his eyes, the other gripping the pillow under his head so tightly that his knuckles are white. What skin she can see is pale and clammy, jaw clenched so hard she's surprised that his teeth aren't creaking. His shoes are in a haphazard pile by the bed and one socked foot is digging in the bed.

"Slyvie?" he mumbles.

"Yep," she says and eases down next to him. He looks worse up close, not just pale but exhausted, with shadows etched deep under his eyes. "Migraine?"

"Yeah," he grates out, and swallows hard.

They've been through this before, a couple of times, and they've found a routine that works. This is the worst I've ever seen him with them though, she thinks.

"Okay," she says and rubs his back gently. "Does the chief know? Did you get your meds?"

"Yes and yes," he mumbles and covers his eyes a bit more tightly. Even the dim light in the room feels like it's a blowtorch slicing straight into his brain.

She can tell that talking hurts but she needs to know. He licks his lips and swallows, gulping and she knows he's going to puke. There's a bag lined trash can next to the bed already and he rolls towards it blindly. She gets her knees on the bed behind him, supporting him, and feels his muscles get tighter with every dry heave. Beads of sweat dot his face, clinging to his eyelashes. His hands are fisted in the sheets, hanging on to them like he's in a storm and they're all that's keeping him from being washed away.

She rubs his back, knowing she needs to grab supplies before he gets any worse. But I don't want to leave him alone like this, either. The retching subsides and she reaches for the bottle on the nightstand next to the bed, offering it to him.

"Fuck no," he says faintly and pushes it away. "It'll set me off again."

"Just wet your mouth," she says and offers it again. Dehydration is one of his main triggers and usually he's good at staying hydrated. The fire had been a bad one and they'd all been dripping with sweat before it was under control. She'd pressed a bottle of water on him, even seen him drink it. His electrolytes are probably off, she thinks and stands, leaving Casey curled on his side.

"I'll be right back," she says and hurries to the ambulance, grabbing what she needs. Two banana bags, a dose of Zofran for the nausea, and a couple of ice packs. She fills her pockets with IV supplies and gloves and grabs a dose of Toradol. He normally manages without it but this one is bad, and the meds will help.

Severide is heading into his quarters when she starts back with the supplies. He stops, eying them and the closed blinds on Matt's side, one eyebrow lifting. "What's going on?"

"Migraine," she says and bites her lip. "If this doesn't help, it might be a hospital job."

Worry creases his face. "That bad? What can I do to help?"

"Grab some blankets? And ask the chief to take 61 out of service for a couple of hours?"

Taking Ambo off duty is a lot to ask, and she knows that. She also knows that Casey needs her help and there are plenty of other paramedics to pick up the slack for a bit while she gets him over the worst of the migraine. None of them want him to end up at the ER.

"Sure thing," Severide says and ducks past her, heading towards the laundry room where they keep a stack of freshly laundered supplies.

She opens the door, eyes fixed on the bed. Casey hasn't moved, still curled on his side, breathing a little strained. Just looking at him makes her hurt in sympathy. The lines of pain on his face could have been carved from stone. His shirt is a little damp where he's been sweating and he's shivering a bit in the cool air.

"Hey," she says, pitching her voice low, and kneels by the bed. "If you can roll on your back for me, I've got some stuff that'll help."

He blinks, visibly gathering his strength and eases over onto his back, one hand flexing at his side. His head feels like it's going to explode, and part of him wishes it would, put him out of his misery. Saliva floods his mouth and he knows he's going to throw up again. He's helpless against the wave, can barely turn his head before it swamps him and he's losing what little has remained in his stomach.

Brett turns him just in time, pressing a sick bag to his mouth, rubbing soothing circles on his back. He's chalky pale apart from the bright spots of colour on his cheeks and his pulse is racing with the effort. His stomach convulses one last time and he turns his head, one shaking hand coming up to rub his mouth. There are galaxies stampeding through his brain, tearing him apart and he needs it to stop before there's nothing left of him.

"Here," Sylvie says and activates a cold pack, wrapping it in a drape and presses it into his hand. "See if this helps." She seals the sick bag and drops it in the bin.

He fumbles the ice pack up to his forehead. The cold is instantly soothing and it takes the edge of the pain enough for him to crack his eyes open, watching as she lays out the supplies. Aura makes the room swim in his gaze and he swallows miserably as nausea starts to churn in his stomach again. He's pretty sure there's nothing left to come up.

"This is going to pinch," she warns as she slips some gloves on and opens the IV kit. He needs fluids and she's picked a larger bore than she'd normally use.

"Just do it," he mumbles, tugging the ice pack down so it covers his eyes and blocks out the light. He shivers, suddenly cold, suddenly wishing that he was at home in his own bed. He can't remember a time when he was this miserable.

Sylvie squeezes his arm. "Hang in there, Matt. I got ya." She deftly places the IV in his forearm, wincing when he flinches, then tapes it down and disposes of the needle. She hooks up the first bag and gets it running. "Okay, here comes the good drugs," she says and injects them both through the IV. "Just some Toradol for the pain and Zofran for the nausea."

It's a cocktail he's had before and he knows that it works. Some part of his brain is grateful that she's remembered, because he's in no state to tell anyone anything about his medical history.

The meds wash through him, already blunting the pain. A wave of lethargy follows it and he gives into it gratefully, letting it pull him into a doze. It’ll take real deep sleep to shift the migraine entirely but he’s not there yet, as much as he longs for the oblivion it would provide.

The door to his quarters opens and he fights the urge to open his eyes, sit up, to see who else is seeing him in this state but the pull of the drugs wins out and he lets go, floating somewhere between waking and sleeping.

“Here,” Severide says, keeping his voice low, and passes a couple of blankets to Sylvie. “How’s he doing?” The other man looks like hell and it hurts that he can't do anything more to help.

“Better than he was.” She takes them and shakes one out over Casey. The room is chilly and she knows that if he’s cold, he won’t get the sleep he so desperately needs. The sight makes something catch in her chest and she covers it by unfolding the other blanket and putting it over him too. “He had me worried, this time.”

“He’s got us all worried.” Severide rubs his face, then shakes his head. “Damn man has more lives than a cat.” He sighs, unable to keep his eyes from drifting to his best friend’s face. “Boden has cover for you and Casey for the rest of shift. He says to finish up any outstanding paperwork.”

The ball of tension in her gut eases slightly now she knows she won’t be pulled away from her patient on a call. “Thanks.”

Severide nods. “No problem. Matt makes sure we’re alright. We owe him the same decency.” He pats her shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything.”

"I will," she says and gives him a brief smile as he ducks out of the door, closing it gently behind him.

Matt's eyes are closed and his breathing is slow and regular but she knows that he's not asleep. There's enough tension in his jaw to crack walnuts and she'd put good money on his neck and shoulders being the same. It's where he carries his stress and it isn't helping his migraine to go away.

She rubs her hands together, debating whether a back rub would cross any boundaries.

He shifts on the bed, the movement dragging a pained breath out of his chapped lips and she decides that she doesn't care. She lifts the chair and carries it to the bed, setting it down.

"Hey, Matt," she says and touches his arm.

It takes him a few seconds to open his eyes and when he does, they're slightly dazed as they track to her face.

Whoops, she thinks maybe he was more asleep than I thought.

"Sylvie?" he makes her name a question, voice rough, and she gets that strange pinch in her chest again.

"Everything's okay." She smiles at him. "I just want to try something new and didn't want to spring it on you because it means kinda getting in your face."

It takes him two tries but he eventually manages to pat her arm with his free hand. "I trust you," he says, eyes meeting hers, open and startlingly honest.

It dries her mouth in a wave of emotion that she can't quite manage to name. It fills her in a rush of warmth, bringing a lump to her throat. It's affection, more, much much more than she feels for any of her other colleagues and the implications behind it terrify and intrigue her in equal measure.

"Okay, here goes," she says, reaching towards his face with both hands. Stubble scrapes under her fingers, rasping against her skin and she suddenly wonders how it would feel against other parts of her body. The thought shocks her, brings a rush of heat to her cheeks.

"You're blushing," he mummers, sounding faintly puzzled, but his eyes are heavy lidded and he blinks, then just lets them close, too exhausted to even try to figure it out. Her fingers move in small circles on the big muscles in his jaw and he yawns, the aching tension there suddenly releasing.

Her hands move to the back of his neck, working on the long muscles there. She's leaning over him, close enough for him to pick up the subtle scent of her perfume, something soft and sweet and a little musky.

He's never noticed it before and now he has, he likes it. The tension is draining from him and he's on the edge of sleep, head still throbbing but in a distant, disconnected way that's much more bearable.

"How are you doing?" she asks, fingers working away at a knot at the base of his skull.

Between the migraine and the drugs and the fact that if she keeps the massage going he's going to be asleep in about ten seconds, he can't find words so just hums in approval.

The stubborn knot finally gives under her hands and she moves on to his shoulders, feeling his breathing change as he finally gives into sleep. She eases back, not wanting to disturb him, and checks the IV bag, slowing the rate now that most of it is in him.

His body is relaxed in sleep and she knows he's likely to be that way for a while. It's been a long shift so she toes her shoes off and props her feet on the bed next to his hip, tipping her head back to rest against the chair back, intending just to rest for a moment before she gets up and finds her paperwork. Sleep steals over her before she knows it.

Minutes or hours later, Severide eases the door open, having been sent by Boden. They're both still asleep and he backs out, retrieving another blanket before returning to throw it over Sylvie.

The sight of them napping is precious and he takes a quick pic on his phone before leaving them to it.

Shift change rouses Matt and he blinks, spreading a moment catching his bearings, mouth quirking into a smile at the sight of the sleeping woman.

"Hey," he says, and tweaks her foot, waiting until her eyes open. "Thank you."

She smiles, still sleepy, and it's the cutest thing he's seen in a while. "You're welcome."

#whump #migrane #matt casey #Chicago Fire #slyvie brett #whumptober2020 #no26 #fanfic #fic #hurt/comfort

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halfblood-fiend · 4 years

Text

On Humans and Nightmares - Star Trek TOS (with ST: Discovery lore), pre-relationship Kirk x Spock

Taking place shortly after the episode, The Conscience of the King, Kirk grapples with his dredged up trauma and Mr. Spock offers a solution taken from his own past personal experience with his adopted sister.

Words: 4,792

Rating: General Audiences

Warning(s): some hinting to the murder fate of Burnham’s parents, maybe some PTSD if you had annoying/irresponsible older siblings

Read it on AO3

Jim Kirk sat at the desk in his dimly lit quarters and tried to focus on the words swimming in his vision as best as he could. No matter how stubbornly he stared, the words refused to stay put, to stay sharp. In fact, they seemed rather hellbent in proving this to be an exercise in futility. The reports on the PADDs blurred together in his mind until he couldn’t remember which he had read and approved and which he hadn’t. His itchy eyes and heavy lids were all but begging him to go to sleep. Just get some damn sleep, you miserable fool!

Funny. His inner voice of reason sounded an awful lot like Bones. That thought distracted and amused him for a moment and Jim tried to stretch out his neck and shift in his chair to keep himself awake. Because no matter how badly his body or that inner voice of Bones wanted him to sleep, he couldn’t listen to either.

Or wouldn’t listen to it, as was more the case.

For three days now, nightmares had plagued him. It was silly and childish, and very much not befitting of a captain, to be so afraid of the dark—of sleeping—but Jim thought that if he had to relive Tarsus IV again one more time it might just be the death of him.

Maybe he should have gone straight to Bones for help after the first. If he went right now, maybe he could cajole his friend into giving him some sleep-inducing hypo-spray. Jim considered it…and then dismissed it. The risk of Bones pouring him a glass of whiskey and sitting Jim down to make him “talk it out” was just too great. That was the last thing Jim wanted to do, no matter how good a medically induced death-like sleep sounded. No, he couldn’t risk Bones deciding to do his job this time around. Jim already knew, definitively, whiskey or not, that he did not want to talk about this. What else was there to say about Tarsus that hadn’t already been said before?

Kodos had murdered thousands of people, and then Jim just let him get away with it. Twice. He hadn’t listened to his old friend or his gut and then the murderer was allowed to just…die. All those souls who could never rest easy… Jim had let them all down. Four thousand souls sitting heavy on his shoulders. Like ghosts, they haunted him, plagued him with nightmares as penance for not extracting their justice in their name.

There wasn’t enough whiskey in the galaxy to numb that, let alone in Bones’ stash.

So his perfect and flawless plan to avoid the nightmares? Avoid sleeping.

Jim massaged his eyes with his fingers until black dots popped in his vision. He sat back, yawning, and then the door chime rang. For a heartbeat, he stared at the bulkhead and considered pretending to be asleep, until a nasty thought occurred to him:

Jim had already shirked his duty as a survivor, it would be shameful to avoid his responsibility as a Captain too.

He set his mouth. “Enter,” he sighed.

The door slid open, revealing his first officer in the hallway. Mr. Spock glided inside, his eyes glued to his own PADD. He was already speaking before he had made it fully through the threshold.

“Captain, there seems to be minute inconsistencies in the computer’s analysis of the geothermal data we collected on Al’her V. I wonder if—”

The Vulcan glanced up at Jim for the first time and stopped dead. The look in his eyes made Jim wonder what an awful sight he was, to give his first officer such pause. He tried to give Spock a smile, hoped it wasn’t more of a grimace. “You wonder if?” he prompted.

“Sir…” Spock cocked his head to the side. Jim had hardly known Spock to hesitate when he had something to say, and something in the timbre of the other man’s single syllable made him curious. Jim felt it teetered on the edge of something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He stared at Spock’s mouth for a moment, fascinated by it. Waiting.

No, he was thinking too much into it. He was delirious. Jim rubbed his face again and said a quick prayer to anyone listening that his exhaustion wouldn’t give way to impropriety.

At least, not today.

“Captain,” Spock said seriously, appearing to make up his mind, “are you well?”

To tell the truth or to tell a lie? To tell or to lie? There were merits and downsides to both, and Jim attempted to weigh them all quickly in his sluggish mind.

“No, Spock, I…” Jim began… and then lost his nerve. “I’m just tired is all.”

“Tired,” Spock echoed. His dark eyes flicked to the bright green letters of the chronometer beside Jim’s bed and then to the neatly tucked in sheets. Been that way for days. “If you have not slept since our last full shift on the bridge, I calculate that you will not have slept for nearly thirty-six hours.”

“Oh?” It was thirty-eight, actually. If one counted the two hours before their shift that Jim’s last nightmare had stolen from him. But who was counting?

“That is unsafe for a human, and more so for a starship captain. You should consider seeing to your needs for the greater benefit.”

Jim could only find it in himself to nod. He knew that already. He had given the same sort of lecture to himself, but the consistency of the nightmares made it difficult. Even if he did fall asleep, the snatches of rest he got were fitful at best. So, what did Spock know about it? Jim didn’t have the patience right now to listen to this.

His displeasure may have shown on his face, for Spock’s brows knit. He approached Jim’s desk and sat gracefully on the other side of it, laying his PADD aside. When the man spoke again, his voice was gentler, and made Jim’s heart ache in his chest.

“It is something else, isn’t it? Something, perhaps, to do with the travelling theatre troupe? I do realize how the loss of Govenor Kodos must have affected you.”

“How could you possibly realize that?” Jim spat before he could stop himself.

Spock may have appeared unmoved by the venom in Jim’s voice, but he felt immediately guilty anyway. Spock didn’t have anything to do with it, he didn’t deserve to be snapped at. He was even, quite unexpectedly, trying to help Jim.

His heart shriveled up in his chest. He backtracked. “I’m sorry, Spock. I… yes. Kodos or Karidian or whomever he was… his end was…dissatisfying to say the least. I’ve been unsettled ever since.”

“You are dissatisfied with his death?”

“I am dissatisfied with the lack of justice in it.” Jim considered saying more. He considered telling his first officer that it was unfair and frustrating and made him feel like the useless child once again, watching the horror unfold from behind the stands. Powerless once more. But these were all feelings, just raw emotions and Spock would never, either by his nature or by his own desire, understand any of those.

And Jim refused to unburden himself by burdening this Vulcan with his humanity.

Besides, Jim was sure that Spock was sure there was more to it anyway. It was hard to put anything past him. The other man’s interlaced fingers pressed to his lips; Spock’s lovely, deep-set eyes regarded him.

“One would assume you wouldn’t lose sleep over mere dissatisfaction. “

“They’re just nightmares, Spock,” Jim said quickly, realizing that he had to act fast if he wanted to wriggle out of the same impromptu therapy he had wanted to avoid in Bones. “Old faces. Old nightmares. Nothing to be very worried about, but still. I don’t sleep well.”

“Ah.” Spock nodded, more to himself it seemed. “And you hoped that staying alert for as long as possible would—”

“Make me too tired to dream, yes,” Jim finished for him. “That was the idea, anyway. I wish there was a guarantee it would work…”

Spock was quiet a few moments, his brows knit a little while he thought. Jim found himself sleepily taking advantage of the vulcan’s downturned gaze. He hadn’t been this close to Spock for some time, trying to give him the distance he deserved, even though Jim wanted very badly to be near him. Constantly, inexplicably. Vulcans, he knew, didn’t appreciate that. But maybe if he drank in Spock’s face now, Jim could replace his nightmares with far pleasanter dreams. Filled with long steepled fingers and black bangs and dark eyes, curving pointed ears and high cheekbones—Spock suddenly looked up, brightly, for a Vulcan, and took Jim aback. “If I may…Jim, offer something of a solution?”

His name! Jim didn’t think Spock had ever used his name before. He was surprised that he had used ‘Jim’ and not ‘James.’ It was more proper, more expected. Overwhelmingly curious, Jim indicated that Spock continue.

“It has been my experience that humans, as social creatures, garner direct benefits from social interactions. I…knew of another human who often had nightmares in the first several years that I knew her. These dreams went away with time and mental discipline, but a temporary solution could be found once she was no longer alone in a room. It is…an imperfect solution, and perhaps it would make you uncomfortable, but as an integral member of this crew with so many lives at risk, I hope you give it proper consideration, Jim. So, it is by this logic that offer my company in your room tonight so that you may get some clearly much needed rest.”

Jim stared. He couldn’t believe his ears. Spock was offering to—what? —stay the night with him? Keep him company? That couldn’t be right. That seemed...so out of character. Not that Jim claimed to know his first officer very well beyond a spotless service record. Did he make a habit of keeping nightmare-having women company in their quarters? That wasn’t something that was on his file.

There is nothing else for it but to ask, Jim supposed.

“And…just what are you intending to propose? I am…afraid it’s unclear. Forgive me.”

Spock nodded as though there was nothing amiss and Jim wasn’t sitting across from him having an audible heart attack while being prodded with jealousy. “Not surprising given your sleepless state. I am offering my presence for whatever comfort you might take from it. It is my estimation that I may just as easily analyze reports in your quarters as in mine. Only here, I hypothesize I would aid in putting your mind to rest.”

Ah. So…just offering to stay over to be another body in the room. Jim tried to ignore the way his heart shrunk in disappointment.

He didn’t know what his imagination had been on about. That, all-of-a-sudden, Spock would crawl right into his bed was ludicrous.

And yet.

Rubbing his face again, banishing impure thoughts mingled with disappointment, Jim agreed. “It’s worth a shot. Better than what I’m doing, anyway, if I’m being honest. Though I will request that you don’t tell Bones. About the nightmares, I mean. He’d have my head if he knew I wasn’t reporting sleeping problems again.”

“It is my experience that our dear doctor has ‘had men’s heads’ for less, but I will comply.”

Jim smiled. “Bones is just a staunch believer in tough love, that’s all. I…appreciate what you’re doing, Spock. You will…wake me if—”

“I will keep an eye out, Captain, and wake you if anything seems amiss.”

Jim hadn’t missed the way Spock had switched back to his formal name-calling. He wasn’t upset about it. He wasn’t.

With a final lingering look, Jim rose and drowsily made his way to his bed. His heaviness hit him all at once. He had really managed to stay up for a long while, hadn’t he? He hadn’t pulled such a stunt since all-nighters in his academy days. But it wasn’t just his finals he was risking anymore. Spock was right about becoming a danger to his ship, of course. Jim was putting all their lives at risk with his fear.

He had half a mind to crawl into bed in his clothes, both for ease and to protect Spock’s eyes, but Jim knew he could never get comfortable like that. So he stripped down to his briefs and dove into bed as quickly as he could manage. He blushed, but made sure not to glance back at Spock, presumably still sitting at the desk.

Don’t think about him watching you undress.

Closing his eyes, Governor Kodos’ face swam into Jim’s vision right on time, but it didn’t bring with it the pangs of anger or regret. This time, the half-shadowed memory hardly bothered Jim at all.

This time, Jim didn’t have to face his demon alone.

Spock resumed his previous manual calculations and noted that Jim was quiet for several hours. It was just as well.

For a moment after he made his offer, Spock experienced a fleeting pang of regret, a sudden nagging at the back of his consciousness that he was being far too forward with the Captain.

Obvious, to put it bluntly. He was being obvious.

Whatever base attraction he had to the captain had to be controlled and ignored. He mustn’t let him know. Not because the Captain would be cruel or make an ordeal out of it—he wouldn’t, Spock was certain—but because Spock would never be able to live with the soft pity he could vividly imagine in Jim’s eyes if he learned of Spock’s infatuation.

Tonight, he had nearly given himself away.

While logical for a human to require the comfort of another person in the room with them to sleep, Spock had promptly assessed that his offer was being taken in a more physical direction than he had originally intended. Jim’s blank and uncertain surprise had all but confirmed it.

Spock caught and corrected his behavior, as he so often did around Jim, but decided not rescind his solution.

The offer, after all, had been genuine, and from genuine experience.

Since her arrival in their home, Michael Burnham had been plagued with nightmares.

At first, her shouts in the dead of night from down the hall were irksome to him, disturbing Spock either during his late meditation or his own slumber on numerous occasions. When it became apparent they would be a regular occurrence, Spock found himself uniquely concerned. Not only for himself, and how being woken through the night might affect his days in the Learning Center, but also for the affect it had on his mother, who was most often the one who would go to Michael and console her. He never spared much thought for the wellbeing of the new intruder, Michael Burnham until some time later.

After Michael had lived with them for a few months and his concern now included her, he got up the nerve to ask about her nightmares. It was a particularly cool afternoon, late in the year, and they worked together on assignments in a sunny spot on their kitchen table.

“Why do you have nightmares every night?”

Michael turned furtive in her seat across from him. She pulled the textbook they were sharing nearer to her PADD and pretended to be engrossed in it.

“What are they of?”

Shrugging, she mumbled, “I dunno. Just...bad dreams, I guess.”

Spock could tell she was lying but could also tell that pressing the issue outright would yield him no new results. He judged a new tack of lending helpfulness would fare better. Humans, generally most people, responded well to being helped by their peers.

“When I have bad dreams, father cautions me to meditate on them. Being afraid of them gives them power. He says it’s better to face it outright—”

“I guarantee you that we don’t have the same bad dreams, Spock.” Her voice was cold and hard, and her eyes did not move over the text in any attempt to appear she was reading anymore. “Can’t you just drop it?”

“I want to help you,” Spock insisted, leaning forward in his chair. “If you don’t do well in the Learning Center—”

“I’m doing fine!”

“No, you’re not. Your productivity is declining by 2.3 percent a week and your response times are most likely inhibited by—”

Michael clapped her hands to her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, crying, “Just STOP IT! Can’t you see I don’t want to talk about it? Just STOP ASKING!”

This was not going as well as he planned. “I only want to help—”

“My parents were murdered by Klingons right in front of me! I have to hear it every night! You can’t help that! NO one can!”

Spock's mouth snapped closed and he stared across at her. For a long time, he couldn't think of a single thing to say. What could be said?

And before he realized an apology should be tumbling from his lips, Michael had scooped up all her study materials and rushed from the table, tears streaming behind her.

Sybok slouched into the room just as Michael pushed past him. He looked up at Spock with bleary but accusing eyes. “What did you do now?”

“Nothing!”

“They might not have as much control over their emotions as our kind, but even humans don’t cry for ‘nothing’.”

“I wasn’t doing anything. I was trying to help!”

His older brother’s lean face was impassive, but Spock swore he saw the glint of mischief in his eyes. “Of course,” Sybok scoffed. “You did a great job.”

Scowling, Spock shoved away from the table and collected his own things.

Don’t be mad. I don’t feel anger. The way his human eyes pricked in the corners were in direct contradiction to his thoughts.

Spock was trying to help. And what did Sybok know about that? All he did was stay shut up in his room, sometimes for days on end, until Amanda lured him out with food. Spock didn’t think he had ever thought about helping Michael.

“Where are you going now?”

Spock ignored him. He kept his head low, intent on pushing past Sybok if he tried to stop him. But he met no resistance.

“How about you try not to make it worse this time,” Sybok called after Spock as he reached the stairwell.

Without glancing back, Spock took them two at a time.

He would speak with Michael again. He would apologize. He would—

But he never did get to that day, or any day after. The next time he saw Michael, she acted as though nothing had transpired at all. Spock had been forced to let it go.

Until one night, when both Sarek and Amanda were out for the evening at a dignitary’s gala.

Spock had nearly fallen asleep when a scream—Michael’s scream—echoed through the house.

Turning over, Spock pressed his pillow around his head and attempted to go back to sleep. Sybok was in charge. He would handle it in his parents’ absence. Likely in the same indifferent way he had handled “dinner”, but he would handle it all the same. Michael’s wellbeing wasn’t Spock’s problem tonight. Their parents had said…

And then a small, timid knock on his door roused him from the edges of a hazy dream.

Rubbing his eyes, swallowing his annoyance, Spock threw himself out of bed and stomped across the floor. He yanked on the handle, and there Michael stood, with tears in her eyes. Sneaking a glance down the hall, Spock saw Sybok’s door firmly closed and Michael’s thrown wide open.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, struggling to keep irritation out of his voice. “Are you hurt? Do you require a healer?”

Michael shook her head, but still the tears ran silently down her cheeks. “M-may I enter?”

Without a valid reason not to, Spock stood aside for her. She wiped her nose and tried to gather herself in the dark room as he waited. He focused on keeping perfectly still to keep his foot from tapping. It helped to busy himself counting the seconds of lost sleep in his head and attempting to calculate the impact they would have on his marks at the Learning Center the next morning. In the end, it was impossible to be accurate because his data was incomplete without a single important variable: how long this interruption would take.

“I can hear them, Spock,” Michael said finally. She was quiet and her voice sounded raw on the edges from crying. “Have you ever heard a Klingon growl before? My dad, he shouted at them, but he couldn’t stop—my mom—” Whatever else she might have said choked off in a sob.

Spock’s eyes grew wide and his body became tense. He was not equipped to deal with…this.

Suddenly, Spock understood. Sarek had informed him and his brother before she arrived of the fate of Michael Burnham’s real parents and warned them against asking Michael about it.

“Humans don’t often wish to discuss such things,” his father had said. “They find these emotions difficult to process and attempt to avoid them. You should respect that desire until she is ready.”

Sybok yawned in a way that felt very purposeful, but Spock had diverted Sarek’s reprimand by asking, “How long should we expect that to take?”

He pressed his mouth in a line as he stared at his eldest son for a moment before answering his youngest, “It is impossible to approximate. Perhaps she will never choose to speak of it, but we must maintain that it is her choice to do so.”

How he wished he had made the connection between this and Michael’s nightmares. It seemed so obvious now.

To his surprise (or maybe relief) she didn’t say any more, though neither did her tears subside. Spock wondered if he should attempt to comfort her somehow, but found he was ill-equipped to do that either. Spock couldn’t even raise his arms to offer a hug. He just stood there motionless, mouth glued shut, tongue like lead.

Helpless. Useless.

Michael finally spoke. “Would.. would it be okay if I slept in here with you? I could get my blanket and stay on the floor? Usually Amanda comes and stays with me until I go back to sleep, but… but…”

But his mother wasn’t here, he finished for her.

Spock licked his lips and tried to speak, but still nothing would come. The request didn’t seem outlandish, through his mind pricked with a strange desire to do more. But what, he didn’t know, so he nodded.

As Michael dashed away to grab her things, Spock tried to reconcile what it must have been like to relieve the loss of your family over and over again in your dreams. Being tortured by the other children was one thing. The vague monstrous shapes of his imagination that haunted his own nightmares was one thing. But a memory that wouldn’t leave you? He tried to imagine his mother screaming, his home burning, his father fighting the hulking shapes of Klingon warriors wielding fierce glinting bat’leths, and Spock understood. His heart ached terribly, and he felt his own hot tears prickle at the corners of his eyes.

Inappropriate, as Vulcans do not cry. Shaking his head, Spock bid the imaginary specters to leave him alone, assuring himself that the only danger threatening his mother and father tonight was an overabundance of champagne.

By the time she had returned clutching her duvet and pillow, he’d regained control of himself.

Michael closed the door behind her and followed him back towards his bed. She stopped short and tossed her pillow on the ground by the thick rug protruding from under the bed’s feet.

Pausing in pulling away his covers, Spock made a quick and logical decision. “That is unnecessary,” he said, finding his voice at last. Maybe he couldn’t describe his empathy to her, or fully realize how awful it must have been to relive your parents’ final moments, as he still had his. Maybe he couldn’t quite give the Terran the exact comfort she might have needed, but Spock was convinced he could still do something. “Your dreams have already deprived you of hours of restful sleep tonight. I see no reason to spend the rest of your time in discomfort when my bed is plenty big enough for the both of us.”

Michael, wide-eyed and disbelieving, looked from her pillow on the floor to Spock’s large bed. “Are…are you sure?”

Admittedly, he swam in it most nights. “Yes. It’s logical.”

She blinked at him a moment more before scooping the pillow up and climbing up onto the bed, dragging her own duvet behind her. She wriggled to the far side as Spock clambered in after her.

“Good night, Spock,” Michael whispered as he gathered his own blanket around himself.

He hoped it would prove to be now. “Good night, Michael.”

They both quickly fell back asleep and did not wake the rest of the night.

It was the first of many such encounters in their youth, and eventually, she stopped asking permission at all. It came to be that whenever Spock heard his door open, rousing him from sleep, he rolled over to the side to make room for his sister.

There was a marked difference, she informed him objectively, in the consistency of her nightmares when she had his presence beside her.

Spock was satisfied he could similarly aid his captain, now.

Just as he decided to settle in for a meditation, Jim’s rest took a turn for the worse. He began to pant and to moan piteously as he shifted in his bed. Then he thrashed, a twist of limbs and blanket. The only intelligible words that could be discerned by Spock’s ears was “No.” The single syllable left his lips in a string and ended in a final, barely audible, “Not them.”

Spock crossed to Jim and deliberated a moment. The Human’s handsome face was scrunched as though he were in pain, lovely mouth open and gasping for breath. Spock reached a hand towards Jim’s forehead, but paused. No, that seemed like a severe breach in manners. Many humanoids did not appreciate their minds being invaded without permission. He didn’t know the Captain quite well enough for that.

Yet.

Spock pressed the thought from his mind with vague irritation and considered alternatives when Jim suddenly rolled over away from him towards the wall. The new position exposed an ample amount of space on the mattress, ample enough to—

With hindsight, Spock realized he could have—and perhaps should have—wakened Jim and let events unfold from there. But in the moment, with Michael’s ordeal still on his mind, and wanting Jim to have a full night’s peace, Spock did what he would continue to argue was “perfectly logical” for days later. Even when he knew, deep down and with burning shame, that it very much was not.

He dispensed himself of his polished black boots and carefully tested his weight on the edge of the mattress. Spock watched Jim closely, searching for any indication he was waking. All he saw was Jim’s broad back heaving, his head twitching minutely on his pillow. It appeared to be safe enough. He was not disturbed.

Spock climbed into bed behind the fitful captain and when that alone did not appear to ease Jim’s heartrate, he snaked his arms around the other man’s waist. Michael had found this comforting in their youth, he reasoned, and most, if not all, Humans gained distinct benefit from touching others. He would ask forgiveness later, he decided, closing his eyes. He listened to the erratic patter of Jim’s heart and labored breathing, counting the beats and noting their rhythm.

Jim’s relief with the pressure of his arm was very nearly instantaneous. Tense muscles in his back and neck relaxed, a long sigh parted his lips, and, slowly, minute by minute, the frantic heartbeat settled. As Jim relaxed into a deep sleep, he pressed himself into Spock’s chest and the Vulcan noted that he fit snuggly. Almost as though it was where he belonged.

Spock roughly shoved the thought from his mind before it could have the chance to plant itself and grow.

This is logical, Spock thought firmly, settling his head onto the Captain’s second pillow. This is necessary to protect the rest of the crew.

His own fluttering heart was the only thing brave enough to call him a liar.

Thank you for reading! <3

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

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All Is Found:Anastasia!AU

Part VI – Learn To Do It

Fandom: The Witcher Word Count: 3,035 Rating: G Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @jill-makes-art @mynamesoundslikesherlock @kemmastan @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @amirahiddleston @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @mycat-is-mylove a/n: A retelling of Don Bluth’s Anastasia (1997)

{prologue}{part i}{part ii}{part iii}{part iv}{part v}

Despite a harrowing start, the journey continued without much ado. When you crossed over from the other side of the mountain into Sodden you all took a deep breath of relief. Well, all of you but Geralt who was still on high alert after the attack. You and Jaskier were nearly giddy, though. You noticed that his grin was a bit wider and his steps a bit lighter and when your eyes met every now and then he gave you a beaming smile.

“Is it like this every time you come here?” you asked.

“Oh no, we never really get to keep going. We get about as far as the bottom of the mountain and then usually Geralt has someone ready to meet them to take them into town and on their way. This will be the first time I’ve actually travelled farther away in ten years,” he answered, pulling the lute around to the front of him.

“Why do you always come back?”

Jaskier considered the question as he absentmindedly strummed chords on the instrument.

“We’ve never really made enough to survive is part of it. Another is that Geralt here has an honorable streak, believe it or not, and wanted to keep around in case more needed help out,” Jaskier explained.

“For a fee,” you clarified.

“For a fee,” he agreed with a nod and not a scrap of shame which you found oddly refreshing. There was a great deal of moral posturing at the Home but very little action to support it. You preferred a frank and honest mercenary than a false saint and Jaskier was certainly no saint.

He was, however, a pain in the ass.

“Recite back to me the last four ruling houses of Toussaint,” Jaskier demanded. You groaned aloud and he stared at you, unmoved by your irritation.

“Y/L/N… Thyssen… Halford…”

“Nope,” he said, cutting you off mid-sentence, “The last four ruling houses have been House Y/L/N, House Thenadier, House Agnor, and House Toussaint, the founders of the land.”

The rest of the walk was much in the same vein and it got to the point where your fighting grew so frustrating that Geralt forced you to walk on either side of him. You joked about having to say “a witcher apart” but only Jaskier giggled, Geralt stayed stony faced and alert. The tension that settled over you reminded you of the risk you were taking and the wind felt a little colder and the snow crunched beneath your feet went from pleasant to scary, every footstep possibly echoed by an unseen assailant. You set up camp under the sweeping boughs of a willow tree and when you woke you were all in better spirits. Jaskier eased off on the history lessons and focused on what he felt were more practical matters. He strummed an easygoing melody and Geralt took your hand in his and rested his other hand on your waist. The witcher looked so grumpy you nearly laughed.

“Come now, Geralt, you’re dancing with a lovely lady – a princess no less! Do try not to look like you’re about to be disemboweled,” Jaskier called. The tune continued and Geralt danced you around in a basic rhythm, your feet taking to the steps better than expected and before long, his stony face cracked a little smile of enjoyment. You’d never danced with someone taller than yourself, much less a grown man, and you found it exciting. Jaskier’s eyes went from assessing to proud… to unsettled. You enjoyed the dancing with Geralt, it was clear. Jaskier wasn’t sure why that should bother him so. Maybe it was the way Geralt seemed to enjoy it too and the way his amber eyes met your Y/E/C ones as he pulled you back in from a twirl. Whatever the reason you’d only danced through a few songs before the music stopped so abruptly you smacked into Geralt’s chest.

“Right that was splendid, shall we be off?” Jaskier asked, suddenly impatient.

“Yes,” Geralt said swiftly. Though he had enjoyed himself more than anticipated he was nervous about losing time and wanted to put more distance between you and whoever was hunting you. Jaskier walked next to you as you traveled, far closer than a witcher apart, so close your knuckles lightly brushed against each other’s and neither knew how much the other’s hand tingled at the touch.

The next few days were spent much the same way.

Geralt taught you both how to forage for food and while you’d expected Jaskier to grouse about the quality, he always complimented it and made it sound like a sumptuous feast instead of some berries and nuts that were half-frozen from the snow. Geralt also continued to work on your knife throwing and would watch you and Jaskier, who spurred each other to practice more, competitive as you both were and determined to be the better knife thrower. Geralt would have preferred you be motivated by a basic desire to survive but he wasn’t going to argue the point as long as you were practicing. You warmed up to the history lessons as Jaskier found ways to ground it in things you would care more about. The more personalized it was, the more closely you listened, hungry for any connection with the people whose blood ran through your veins and had once, presumably, loved you very much. Jaskier did not have you practice dancing again, to your disappointment, and if Geralt shot him some very pointed looks about this, Jaskier simply pretended not to notice.

Though it was still very much winter, everything seemed better on this side of the mountain. The sun was out more often and though there was snow all around it was the pristine snow that’s left untouched on a field, not the discolored slush that covered New Nilfgaard. By the time your trio reached the first town you were all eager for a warm meal and a night away from the snow, no matter how picturesque. As you walked through the entrance of the town you heard music in the distance and you and Jaskier both perked up, Jaskier from excitement and you from confusion.

“Why is there music?” you asked.

“There must be a festival or a celebration of some kind!” Jaskier exclaimed. You gave a little ‘oh’ of understanding. You’d never been to a festival before, the closest thing to a celebration being the annual fundraising for the Home, and Jaskier could see a lack of expected excitement in your eyes.

“Wait, Y/N, don’t tell me you’ve never been to a festival or a party of any sort before,” he gasped.

“Well no, I did. I just can’t remember it and the last time it happened apparently my whole family died,” you answered glibly. Jaskier looked over at Geralt who tried to pretend he didn’t see the entreating gaze. The bard shuffled a bit closer, trying to weave into view but Geralt kept finding something in another direction to stare at.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said in a sing-songy winning voice.

“Hmm.”

“Geralt this will be the perfect chance for her to practice what we’ve been studying,” he cajoled.

“Hmm.”

“You could go get our room at the inn and sit up nice and toasty with an ale, resting your weary frame, as Y/N and I engage in the splendor!” Jaskier continued, gesturing grandly as you entered the town square. A few local musicians played and children danced to the music while most of the adults chatted, happy for the chance to catch up without other obligations. The well in the center of the town served as the focal point, covered in bright streamers and bits of holly for decoration. The smell of roast meat on the air made your mouths water and you saw Geralt eye the tavern.

“Geralt, please?” you asked, giving him the widest puppy dog eyes you could muster. He sighed heavily and you and Jaskier shared a grin of triumph behind his back.

“Back at the inn by nightfall,” he insisted. Jaskier had already seized your hand and run off into the crowd and he shook his head and trudged towards the inn.

“Oh gods, alright, what shall we do first?” Jaskier asked, sky-blue eyes sparkling with excitement as he looked to you for direction. You gazed around and your eyes fell on the musicians playing.

“A dance?” you suggested tentatively. Jaskier’s smile broadened and he magnanimously held out his arm. You looped yours through and both of you laughed at the ridiculousness of it as you walked closer to the men playing. Jaskier took you in his arms the same way Geralt had but differently as well. Geralt had been stiff and distant but Jaskier’s touch was warm and leaned into you. Not in a way that made you feel stifled or crowded, just so you felt the warmth of his body near yours and his eyes gazed into yours in a way that Geralt never had. The butterflies you felt as he began to walk you through the dance were new and almost made you want to stop dancing but there was a light in his eyes that beckoned you on and like a moth to the flame you followed him as he moved, a natural rhythm between the two of you as you danced.

From his seat in the window Geralt watched and the closer Jaskier pulled you, the deeper his frown creased. Jaskier had never fallen for the people that they aided across the mountain. There was light flirtation at best but there was no time for long lasting attachments. In the days you’d been traveling he’d watched as you and Jaskier’s squabbles had grown less bullheaded and more playful. He’d seen how you went from walking three witchers apart to nearly moving in tandem, as close as you could be. He didn’t know if Jaskier even realized what was happening but Geralt felt a sour twist of guilt in his gut as he watched the bard dip you low, your noses brushing as he paused and just held you. Your arm was clutching his shoulder, surprised by the muscles you felt beneath the doublet, and his eyes flitted to your mouth. Geralt watched this all in breathless anticipation along with you, fearful where you were hopeful that Jaskier may bridge the slight distance between your faces and press a kiss against your lips. He seemed to recover himself and pulled you upright again and Geralt took a little sigh of relief. A short lived one, however, because he knew that was just the first of what would be many near kisses. And one day, if you didn’t get to Cidaris soon enough, the line was bound to be crossed.

-----

After the dance you’d gone to the tavern to join Geralt in eating some food. You sat across from the two men and Geralt tried not to notice the fleeting smiles you gave each other, glancing away quickly as your eyes would meet. He tried not to notice the soft expression in Jaskier’s eyes, much less the slightly puzzled but happy look in yours. He would pull Jaskier aside later to discuss it.

They’d all walked to the room together, only renting one to save the money, and when the door opened and you and Jaskier walked in Geralt stood in the threshold for a moment.

“Fuck.”

“What is it Geralt?” you asked, surprised by his outburst and a little startled, fearful that he’d seen someone’s face in the window. Geralt’s stare was pointed at the bed in the room.

The one bed.

The three of you then turned to look at it and there was a moment of quiet before you unceremoniously pulled off your boots and lay in the middle of the bed. You looked at them both expectantly and then, when they didn’t make a move, you sighed exasperatedly and leaned up on one elbow.

“We’ve been sleeping together for the last several nights,” you said.

“Not in a bed,” Geralt muttered.

“Let’s be sensible,” you argued, “We all need the rest and we all can fit if we snuggle close which we need to anyway to keep out the cold. Now, is this acceptable or would one of you rather be in the middle? Geralt? Are you secretly a cuddle enthusiast?”

Your eyes twinkled teasingly but Geralt’s brows furrowed for a moment before glancing over at Jaskier, sending him a look that was a question that he answered silently in turn. You marveled at their ability to communicate through look alone and wondered, with a bittersweet twinge, if you’d ever have that with someone one day. Jaskier pulled off his boots and shrugged off the doublet. His undershirt was half undone as usual but for some reason your stomach did a little flip at the sight of his dark, hair covered chest as he moved closer and you realized it would be pressed up against you soon, and all night. He climbed over you and your heart leapt into your mouth and then he pushed you, wriggling under the blanket (though the sheet remained a layer separating your bodies).

“Rude,” you muttered as you pushed back a bit, pressing up against more of him than you’d expected. His hand rested against your arm and you craned your neck back to find his face closer than expected, your mouths a breath apart again.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. There was the sound of armor falling to the floor, startling both of you out of your reverie, and you turned to find Geralt moving towards the bed.

“Y/N sleeps by the wall,” he said.

“Well hey now I don’t think we can just tell her where to sleep,” Jaskier protested.

“She’s safer by the wall,” Geralt insisted, shooting Jaskier a look that dared him to push further.

“I don’t mind,” you said and you boldly climber over Jaskier’s frame to the other side of him, his eyes on you the whole way. Jaskier turned to face you but he was yanked roughly aside and Geralt planted himself between the two of you on top of the bedding.

“Blow out the candle, Jaskier,” Geralt said, closing his eyes and threading his fingers together on his chest. You smiled at Jaskier, a little amused and somewhat regretful look in your eyes, and he shot Geralt a final, grumpy look before blowing out the candle and climbing back into bed. You lay in silence for a bit, none of you asleep, and when you shifted to the side and tried to oh-so-casually extend your arm to rest against Geralt’s chest Jaskier was at first struck with jealousy. Then you wiggled your fingers a bit, catching his attention, and he grinned as he turned towards the witcher as well and entwined his fingers through yours. You fell asleep like this, hands clasped on Geralt’s chest and the witcher, who was very much awake for this, realized for the umpteenth time that no matter how much they received from your grandmother, it wouldn’t be enough.

-----

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up suddenly at the sound of your mother’s voice, your heart leaping to your throat and more tears coming to your eyes, hopeful and desperate.

“Mama?”

You shrugged off the heavy blankets that tried to conceal you in the wagon, tripping over the materials in the cart but finding your balance again as you climbed to the edge.

“Y/N…”

You climb to the top of the wagon’s edge and you stand there, staring out into the world that rushes by you. The voice is so familiar, you know her but you can’t see her face.

“I miss you,” the disembodied voice calls and you feel a longing like none you’ve ever felt before and when you reply that you miss her too your words are swallowed by the cold winds but you hope she knows it’s true. You hope that wherever she is she feels your love, for that’s the only thing that this painful feeling could be. Love and its constant companion grief.

“Come here, love,” the voice calls again and your legs wobble a bit as you climb again up to the edge of the wagon. You know she’s there waiting for you if you can just take the leap. Your knees buckle and you sway and then arms grasp you around the waist and pull you back. You flail and fight but another voice breaks through.

“Y/N, Y/N stop, Y/N come back.”

The voice is desperate and scared, not comforting and warm like the one that beckons you. But that is part of why you open your eyes. It feels more real, this fear and desperation, and when you open your eyes you find yourself perched on the ledge of the well. You fall back and someone breaks your fall, the same someone who’d pulled you out of your nightmare.

“Y/N?” the voice says again and you turn to find Jaskier slowly rising up to a sitting position, hands reaching out to steady you as you sit on the snow covered cobblestones, hand rising to your mouth.

“Oh gods Jaskier…” you whispered, fear as biting as the cold winds.

“What happened?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

“I don’t know… I heard someone and I just… It was like sleepwalking but Jaskier, I didn’t have any control over it. I didn’t have any control over my body,” you whispered. Jaskier helped you to your feet and tried to give you a confident, reassuring smile though there was fear in his eyes as well.

“It’s ok,” he said, “I got you.”

“But what if you hadn’t,” you argued.

“But I did,” he insisted, “Y/N, I’ve got you.”

He reached out to brush the snow out of your hair, hand grazing the curve of your cheek as he withdrew it slowly.

“Jaskier, who is doing this?” you asked, your voice calmer but now edged with anger.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. He took your numb fingers in his hand and he fixed you with a steadying, determined look, “But I intend to find out.”

#All Is Found series #Anastasia!AU #The Witcher!AU #fanfiction #Jaskier x Reader

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 5 years

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Unforgettable Memories ( Daryl Dixon x Reader )

Summary: Y/N Grimes is Rick’s younger sister. You used to be in the military and have enough PTSD to last a lifetime. With Shane’s help you created the quarry camp and came across the Dixon brother’s in the woods. You bought them back to camp, but after that everything changed and you were still trying to figure out if that was a good thing or not.

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Rick’s Sister!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Blood, guts, language (just usual twd warnings), slight reference to suicide

Chapter 13-

Your brothers were frozen in shock as you sprinted towards Carl, not even caring about who or where the shooter was as you dropped to your knees beside your nephew. Shit. Shit. Shit. The bullet had hit his stomach and there wasn't an exit wound. Fuck.

Your hands quickly covered the bullet wound, blood seeping through your fingers as you tried to keep pressure on the wound. Suddenly Rick was right beside you, his shaky hands hovering over his sons body and you knew that Rick didn't know what to do. Hell, you didn't know what to do either. Carl had just been shot, what the fuck were you meant to do? You couldn't take him to the hospital.

"Oh my God." An unfamiliar voice called out as the sound of Shane's shotgun cocking filled the air.

"Drop the gun. Hands where I can see them." Shane yelled from somewhere behind you, but your attention was purely on Carl, trusting that Shane had the situation under control as you zoned out their talking.

"Here. Keep pressure on the wound." You instructed, grabbing Ricks hands and placing them over the wound as you quickly pulled your tank top off, not even caring that you just had a sports bra on underneath. You wrapped the material around your nephews stomach, lifting Ricks hand slightly to do so before instructing him to keep the pressure over it.

"He says he's from a farm, about a mile north. They have a doctor." Shane explained and for the first time you looked away from Carl to find Shane with his hand wrapped around another mans arm. You had never seen the bigger man before, but he was clearly a hunter if his camouflage outfit was any indication. Shane's eyes quickly flashes down to your stomach, taking in all the scars you had gotten from Afghanistan and you only just realised that Shane had never seen them before.

"Let's go. Now." You responded, turning back around to Carl, but Rick had already picked him up as the four of you began running in the direction of said farm. The hunter could barley keep up as Shane practically dragged the bigger man to keep him moving, but you were running out of time. Carl was losing a lot of blood. You needed to get to the doctor quickly.

"How far? Hey, dickhead, how far?" You yelled, glancing over your shoulder towards the man and Shane.

"Another mile, that way!" He instructed breathlessly as he pointed straight ahead and without hesitation you began sprinting past Rick, knowing if you got to the farm first then the doctor could have everything prepared for when Rick gets there. "Hershel, talk to Hershel- He'll help the boy." You heard the man yell, but you didn't bother to respond as you sprinted through the tall grass.

Within a few minutes you could see the farm coming up in the distance as you reached the front gate. Your first instinct was to jump the gate and keep running, but you quickly thought better of it and opened the gate so Rick could easily run through.

"Hey! I need help!" You yelled, spotting a woman standing under the front veranda of the farm house as you continued running towards the building, the last 500 metres feeling a 1000 as you forced your legs to keep moving.

"Who's Hershel? Which one of you is Hershel?" You questioned, quickly coming to stop by the front steps as you stared at five people now standing on the porch while you tried to catch your breath.

"I am, who are you?" The old man asked taking a step forward as he stared at you cautiously.

"Your man shot my nephew. He said you're a doctor. My brother is bringing him here now, can you help him?" You asked desperately, leaning against the stair railings as you fought to get air into your lungs.

The mans eyes went wide in shock as he stared at something over your shoulder and you turned around, spotting Rick running towards the farm. "Patricia, I need my full kit. Maggie, painkillers, coagulates, grab everything. Clean towels, sheets, alcohol." Hershel began instructing as they all rushed inside and you quickly followed, mentally taking note of all the rooms, doors and windows in the house in case you had to escape quickly.

You followed Hershel into some bedroom as he began stripping the bed and getting it ready before you rushed back out the room satisfied that you knew where to take Carl as you walked back out onto the porch.

"Hershel?" Rick questioned breathlessly, as he began climbing up the steps towards you, Carl's unconscious body dangling in his arms and you quickly lead him back through the house towards the bedroom.

Rick quickly placed Carl on top of the bed as you took a step back to give Hershel room to work. Your hands were starting to tremble as you folded your arms over your chest, only just realising that you were literally standing around a bunch of strangers shirtless, but you didn't even care.

"Is-is he alive?" Rick asked, his voice shaky as he kept his hands pressed against your shirt around Carl's stomach while Hershel grabbed a stethoscope and pressed it to Carl's chest.

"I've got a heartbeat, it's faint." The doctor declared and you sighed a shaky sigh of relief as you watched an older woman walk over to Hershel to help him and you knew Rick was going to be in the way. You quickly took a step forward, placing a shaky hand on your brothers' shoulder as you gently pulled him away.

"Carl's in good hands, give them space to work." You said, your voice thick with emotions as you fought back tears. Your adrenaline from before starting to wear off as you felt tears starting to rise in your eyes. Rick nodded reluctantly as he turned around to face you, his own eyes glazed over with tears as he pulled you into a tight hug.

"What's your names?" Hershel asked as you pulled away from Rick slightly, his arm still over your shoulder as you both looked at the older man.

"R-Rick. I'm-I'm Rick." Your brother stuttered, his body trembling from beside you as you forced yourself to calm down. You had to be the strong one now, Rick needed you to be strong.

"Y/N." You answered, trying to keep your tone from wavering as you stared at your nephew lying on the bed, his shirt now pulled off exposing his bloodied skin. He was just a kid, this couldn't be happening.

"Rick, Y/N, we're gonna do everything we can, okay? You need to give us some room. Now." The older man instructed and you hated the idea of leaving Carl alone with these strangers, but they needed space to work, it was his only chance.

But to your surprise it was Rick who began walking away from the bed first, his shaky hand clasping your bare shoulder as he directed you towards the door where you guys could stand and still watch Carl without getting in the way.

Neither of you spoke as you watched Hershel inspect the wound, Shane and Otis arrived a few minutes later. The bigger man still mumbling apologises as Shane stood between you and Rick, his arm wrapped around both your shoulders as you stared at Carl.

"You know his blood type?" Hershel asked, glancing up from Carl as he looked towards the three of you.

"A-positive, same as mine and Y/N's." Rick answered and you nodded, completely forgetting that Carl had the same blood type as you.

"That's fortunate. Don't wander far, I'm gonna need one of you." The older man replied, turning his attention back to your nephew as a younger woman with short brown hair set up an IV drip. "What happened?"

"I was tracking a buck. Bullet went through it. Went clean through." Otis explained, shaking his head in disbelief.

"The deer slowed the bullet down, which certainly saved his life, but it did not go through clean. It broke up into pieces. If I can get the bullet fragments out... and I'm counting six." Hershel began to explain before Rick began to speak.

"Lori doesn't know... She- my wife doesn't know... my wife doesn't know." Rick stuttered, tears falling down his cheeks as Shane tightened his hold around Rick's shoulder, but there was nothing either of you could do about it, the only thing you could do was be there for Carl.

You all stood back and watched as Hershel began digging the fragments of the bullet out the gunshot wound, but he only managed to get one out before Carl woke up and the tears you had been so desperately trying to hold back now come pouring down as you listened to your nephew scream in pain.

"Rick, he needs blood. You hold him down." Hershel began instructing and you didn't hesitate as you rushed around the other side of the bed and held your hands over Carl's body to hold him down, trying to ignore his pained cried as Hershel continued working.

"Shhh, it's okay. You're going to be fine, kiddo. It's okay." You whispered, unable to stop the silent tears falling down your cheeks as you heard Rick shout in the background somewhere, but Shane had quickly shut him up and helped Patricia set up the blood transfusion. And as quickly as it all started Carl had passed out again, allowing Hershel to get almost all the fragments out.

You stayed crouched down beside Carl for a few more minutes, your fingers brushing his dark hair out of his face as you watched Hershel work.

"Hey, Y/N, is it?" A woman suddenly asked, breaking the silence as you lifted your head to find the short haired woman standing behind you with a friendly smile and you nodded. "I have some spare clothes that you can borrow, follow me." She said nodding towards the door, but you quickly looked back towards Carl before glancing over at Rick and Shane on the other side of the room as Shane gave you a small nod.

"I'm Maggie by the way, Hershel's my dad." She explained as you followed her down the hallway until she opened a door to another bedroom which you assumed must be her room as she walked in. "Your nephew is in good hands, I'm sorry for what happened though."

"Thank you." You replied, not entirely sure why this woman was being so friendly towards you, you were a complete stranger to her, you literally had an assault rifle slung over your shoulder along with a handgun holstered on your belt, yet she seemed comfortable being alone with you. Maybe she was just a really friendly person?

"You can wash your hands in the bathroom through that door. There's soap on the sink." Maggie explained pointing towards the open door to the left and you nodded your thanks and walked into the room. You wasted no time scrubbing the dry blood from your fingers under the water, hating just looking at your little nephews blood stained to your hand.

"I have some of my friends clothes here, I think they will fit you." Maggie said, opening up her wardrobe as she pulled out a few shirts as you walked back into the bedroom and she held them towards you. "Take your pick."

You stared at the clothes in her hand for a few seconds before you pointed towards the grey tank top and Maggie nodded, handing it to you before she put the rest away. "Why are you helping me?" You asked curiously as you pulled your assault rifle off, placing it on the edge of her bed as you put the tank top on before slinging the rifle back over your shoulder.

"Because if I was in your position, I'd hope someone would help me. Were you in the army before this?" She asked curiously, motioning towards your army pants and rifle causing you to chuckle softly.

"Didn't realise it was the obvious. But yeah, military." You replied, adjusting the gun strap over your shoulder.

"Well between you and your brother with his Sheriffs uniform, you guys are very discrete." Maggie responded with a small laugh and you smiled, but nodded in agreement. You had a feeling that you two were going to get along just fine. "C'mon, let's go see if my dads finished yet."

The two of you walked back down the hallway, spotting Shane and Rick sitting on a couple of chairs outside Carl's bedroom. Rick still had the needle in his arm, wrapped with a bandage in case they needed to take more blood and his uniform shirt was stained with blood, but he didn't seem to be in any more distress than what he was early so you knew that meant Carl was still fighting. Damn, he was one tough kid.

You walked over to your brothers while Maggie walked over to Otis who was sitting on the other side of the room, but before you asked Rick and Shane what the latest was, the door to the bedroom suddenly opened and Hershel stepped out.

"He's out of danger for the moment, but I need to remove those remaining fragments. I need to go deeper, but his belly's distended, his pressure's dropping which means there's internal bleeding. A fragment must have nicked one of the blood vessels. I have to open him up, find the bleeder and stitch it. And he can't move while I'm in there. I mean, at all. If he reacts the same as before, I'll sever an artery and he'll be dead in minutes. To even try this, I have to put him under. But if I do, he won't be able to breathe on his own. Same bad result." Hershel explained as you stared at the older man in shock, trying to contemplate everything he had just said.

"What'll it take?" Rick asked worriedly, doing better than you at processing what the doctor had just told you as your eyes flashed between Rick and Hershel, hoping like hell that he could do it.

"You need a respirator." Otis suddenly said walking over to the group of you and you mentally punched yourself for not even thinking of that. You had done numerous first aid courses during your military training, you should have known that, you did know that, but your brain just wasn't working fast enough.

"You need the tube that goes with it, extra surgical supplies, drapes. You need a lot of stuff." You spoke up, looking back towards Hershel who looked at you in surprised for split second before he nodded.

"If you had all that, you could save him?" Rick asked, a hint of hope in his voice as he stared at the older man.

"If I had all that, I could try." He answered and you nodded grabbing Rick's shoulder in reassurance before Otis began talking.

"Nearest hospital went up in flames months ago... The high school." Otis suddenly said in realisation, but you were still confused. A high school wouldn't have all the medical equipment, would it? Honestly your head was not thinking straight, not after watching your nephew get shot and now on the verge of life and death. God, he was just a kid, Sophia was just a kid. Neither of them deserve what has happened.

"That's what I was thinking. They set up a FEMA shelter there. They could have everything we need." Hershel explained and you began to feel a flutter of hope in your chest, Carl might have a chance.

"Place was overrun last time I saw it. You couldn't get near it... Maybe it's better now." Otis responded, but you didn't care if it was overrun. Carl's life was on the line, you were gonna do everything in your power to save him.

"I said, leave the rest to me. Is it too late to that back?" Shane joked with a hint of a smile forming on his lips as he tried to lighten the mood and Rick shook his head.

"I hate you going alone." Rick responded, but now it was you who was shaking your head.

"He won't be alone. If that place is still overrun, he's gonna need backup. I'm going, too." You spoke up for the first time, Shane giving you an appreciative nod as you turned back to Rick his expression even more worried, but like hell you were letting Shane go by himself. "Rick. I'll be fine. Doc, can you write a list and draw a map for us?"

"You won't need a map. I'll take you there." Otis stated catching your attention as you gave him a questioning look. Why would he want to risk his life to save Carl?

"Otis, no." His wife began to protest before he cut her off.

"Honey, we don't have time for guesswork and I'm responsible. I ain't gonna sit here while this fella and lady take this on alone. I'll be alright." Otis said trying to calm his wife's nerves down as Shane raised his eyebrows at the man, clearly asking if he was sure about this. "I know these roads like the back of my head, we get in and we get out real quick."

"Sounds good to me." You responded and with in 10 minutes the three of you were on the road in Otis' old pickup truck. Shane driving and Otis in the passenger seat while you sat in the bed of the truck, your assault rifle resting across your lap as you watched the farm disappear in the distance.

Otis was right. The school had been overrun, you guys had only just been able to get the medical equipment before you got trapped inside the main building. The only way out was through a small high window that Otis wouldn't fit through, so he decided to make a run for it out the back door while you and Shane covered him before making a run for the windows yourselves. However, as you dropped your backpacks out the window you only just realised how high up it was. It was over a story high and you knew it was gonna hurt like a bitch, despite the bushes along the ground to break your fall.

"There's gotta be another way." You commented, panic evident in your voice as you sat on the window ledge, your legs dangling over the sides as you looked over at Shane sitting in the other window.

"Hold onto the window ledge and lower yourself down as far you can and then let go. You need to trust me, Y/N." Shane shouted, but you shook your head. You trusted Shane with your life but this was just crazy and you knew there was no other choice. You watched as Shane began lowering himself down, but even then the drop was still huge.

"Shit!" Shane suddenly shouted as a walker leant out his window, grabbing his arms before he managed to pull his handgun out shooting the walker as he dropped to the ground.

You could hear more walkers inside the building heading your way, so you quickly did what Shane did, lowering yourself down the side of the building. Your hands holding onto the window ledge before you let go, you tried landing on your side to try break your fall, but as soon as you hit the ground something cracked in your right knee as you let out a pained scream.

"Y/N?" Shane's voice suddenly called as you glanced over your shoulder to find him half sitting half laying on the ground, a pained expression on his face and you knew he hurt something too. "My ankle, must have rolled it or something. You alright?" He questioned, grabbing his backpack and shotgun off the ground besides him as you shook your head looking down at your knee as you pulled your pants up to find your kneecap twisted around to the side of the knee. Fuck that isn't good.

"How the fuck do you pop kneecaps back in place?" You questioned looking back over at Shane as he limped over to you in confusion until he saw your knee.

"Shit." He muttered, crouching down beside you with a wince as took in your knee before giving you an apologetic look, but before you ask what he's doing he suddenly slammed his hand against your knee. You quickly covered your mouth with your hands, trying to muffle your pained screams as your kneecap popped back into place.

"I'm sorry, but we gotta go, get up." Shane responded after a few seconds and you nodded grabbing your backpack along with your rifle before you gingerly stood yourself up unable to put much pressure on your right leg.

Within five minutes you managed to find Otis, but he had also injured his ankle and between the three of you, it was clear you weren't all going to make it. A herd of walkers were close behind you guys, but with school fences on either side of you there was only one way to go and that was straight, but the walkers were gaining on you quickly. You were the slowest, your knee stopping you from putting barely any weight on it.

"I'm out of rounds!" Shane yelled as you threw your now empty rifle over your shoulder and pulled out your handgun as you checked the clip realising that you only had one bullet left. You slowed down a little bit, letting Shane and Otis get in front as you continued to limp in the direction of the truck, your eyes glued to the handgun.

There was no way all of you were going to make it back, the herd was gaining on you too quickly. You wouldn't be able to reach the truck in time and there was too many of them for just the three of you to take out with melee weapons. There was only one way the supplies were getting back to Carl and that was if one of you didn't make it back. If one of you stayed as bait, the walkers wouldn't follow the other two, they'd be too focused on the bait giving the others a chance to escape and get back to the farm. It was the only way. It was the only way Carl might survive. It was either all three of you die and Carl doesn't get the supplies and dies too, or only one of you die and everyone else lives, and Carl lives. That wasn't even up for a debate, Carl comes first.

"I'm down to my last." Otis shouted above the loud groaning of walkers as you glanced over your shoulder towards the herd that was clearly getting closer. It was now or never. You'd never let Shane be the one to sacrifice himself and Otis had a wife, you couldn't let him do it either. You knew it had to be you and if it saved Carl's life then you'd do it without hesitation.

"We're not going to make it. Shane take this." You called out, handing him your backpack as you guys continued limping in the direction of the truck and Shane took the bag in confusion.

"The only way we get those supplies back is if one of us doesn't." You explained and it took Shane a few seconds to process what you just said, but the instant he realised what you were talking about his eyes went wide as he frantically shook his head.

"It's the only way. Get those supplies to Carl, it's the only thing that matters. Tell my family I love them." You said and you stopped walking, giving Shane a sad smile as you pulled the slide back on your handgun and lifted it towards your head.

NEXT CHAPTER

A/N- Link to Masterlist in my bio. I will reblog with my Daryl Dixon Tag List, if you want to be added to the list just comment below.

Another cliff-hanger, I swear I don't like torturing you guys it just happens, but the next chapter will be up soon so stay tuned. Anyway, until then stay safe everyone and have a great day xx

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon x Reader #The Walking Dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #Norman Reedus #Rick Grimes #Shane Walsh

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