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valentinehorrors · 4 months

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Casey's Fears Part 2

(TW: transphobia, bullying, death)

Cave mouth.

Not something new he's heard, and to those who ask what happened, he gives a simple explanation, a hockey accident.

Not a lie, but not the full truth. And when one talks with an expert in in lying, that doesn't fly.

He almost says he doesn't want to talk about it, but something about those sharp, ice blue eyes that stare through any farce he could ever muster up compels him to open up once again.

His second true fear, being found out.

No one in the area knows of his original birth gender, he's learned his lesson.

While he doesn't remember much of the events after he was locked in his room, he remembers all too well the days following.

Casey's mom was, justifiably, very upset. His dad tried to blame the alcohol, how he was raised, that he just doesn't understand. Every excuse under the sun, he threw all of them out, attempting to stay afloat. But there really was no excuse to keep a whole garbage bag full of rat corpses and then spread said corpses on his son's bed.

"If she wants to be a man so bad then she has to learn to man up!"

That one earned him a firm slap. It was the worst argument Casey had ever witnessed. He slept in his sister's room that night, even she didn't fully know what had happened.

The next day, Casey's mom had told both him and his sister to pack up, that they were leaving. Going somewhere far away from that horrible old man that she herself had been to young and too in love to see how horrible he truly was. He had just woken up and was only taking about every other word but he got the memo.

"When you fall in love one day... Please... be sure you know who they are, who they truly are..."

Something like that at least.

Next thing he knew, he and his sister had turned packing into a game, distracted as what was once arguing turned to begging, Casey's father begging to stay afloat in the boat that he had started sinking in the first place. Casey's mom was going out because she had... something to do before moving them out, he struggled to remember, he was young and his sister even younger.

She said she was going to be back for them at ten.

8:00 AM

He made breakfast for his sister, she didn't really want to eat it, but he managed.

8:30 AM

Their father started... sobbing? That was new... and caused Case's stomach to churn, he didn't feel like throwing up again. He convinced his sister to listen to music, drown it out, that would work...

9:00 AM

He started banging at their door, begging forgiveness. A grown adult, a bumbling, crying mess. Casey might've considered it if he wasn't using the same breath to throw more excuses at him.

"I saw some shit back in my day! Every man needs to see some shit to toughen up! That's just how it goes!"

And yet...

"I can't have my girls taken away from me please!"

Yeah...

9:55 AM

Casey was hugging his sister close, seemed like the old man had gone bac to drowning his sorrows, he could vaguely hear him trying to call his mom again...

Just a bit longer...

10:00 AM

Any second now...

10:10 AM

His sister was worried, he swore she was coming back any second now...

10:30 AM

Any...

10:40 AM

Second...

11:00 AM

Now...

12:27 PM

...

There were lights outside...

After his mother's death, things changed drastically. His father went back to being quiet, but he was... overwhelmingly supportive. Legal name change, hormones, all paid for. He figures it's in the form of some kind of apology.

So they moved, brand new clean slate. Casey Jones, a punk kid, always getting into fights, blood running a bit too hot for his own good. Your average rebellious teen boy.

He had promised his mom that he would live as himself and be damn happy doing it.

"..."

Casey sighed as he finished his story, leaning back until he was now laying down on the cold concrete rooftop, staring at the dazzling night sky, stars glimmering as though they could see him and wanted him to know.

Mikey didn't respond for a bit, allowing the silence to rest over them. But his eyes never left the human, his cold gaze never left his human.

Eventually, those cold eyes appeared in Casey's vision as Mikey looked down at him, "And your teeth?"

Casey paused before nodding "oh, yeah, that was the whole point of that." He chuckled dryly, "So, few years later, I'm fully me... 'scept some assholes caught me changing after hockey practice... saw my binder..." He huffed as he moved his hands under his head, his own eyes moving from the vibrant stars to those frozen lakes the turtle had for eyes. He got quieter, voice a hushed whisper as he spilled secrets he had never breathed to anyone else before. "They called me a freak... They beat me... Doctor said I was lucky, didn't swallow any of the teeth..."

It was a subtle change, it's not like Mikey's eyes shifted dramatically or changed color, but the way he held them always changed when he let his mask drop. They got sharper, more observant, and cold, so very cold. Mikey's gaze could freeze the ocean, he almost would feel as though his blood was freezing, crystallizing, every time he felt those icy eyes on him, sending shivers through him.

"Humans truly do amaze me at times..." His voice was different too, his true voice lacked any actual emotion or indication of tone, it was also slightly deeper, as the turtle lightly raised his voice when he had his mask up.

No one else got to see this Mikey, no one else got to see those true cold eyes. Not even his brothers, all living with a lie.

The real Michelangelo was many things, numb, cold, observant, apathetic, curious...

And dark.

He wasn't an idiot, there's a reason that whenever he saw Mikey's true smile, it made Casey's hair stand on end, his gut saying one thing:

D A N G E R

Casey had two main fears, rats, and being outed.

Casey has three fears.

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt #tmnt au #mikey x casey #teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere mikey #obsession #sadistic mikey #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt casey jones #tmnt mikey #trans casey jones #unmasked Mikey

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sylphidine · 4 months

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20 Questions For Fic Writers

I was tagged by both @gretchensinister and @insufferablearchanist and am thus compelled by their charm and glamour to surrender my secrets! [grin]

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

93 at last count. It will probably stay at that number until 31 March 2024, which is when ROTG Hope Week starts. [I get a lot of mileage out of fandom events that are prompt-based.] My goal between now and the month of March is to complete or add to the chapter count of at least three of the multiple-chapter longfics I've got in various states of progress.

2. What’s your total word count?

AO3 says it's 220,945. I don't know if that counts chapters saved in draft on several of my works, which act as notes files for me. So I'm going to underestimate by a lot and say my word count is more than 200K and will leave it at that.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I'm most well-known for fics in the RISE OF THE GUARDIANS/GUARDIANS OF CHILDHOOD fandom and its subfandom Nightmare Dork University. in the last two years I've ventured into writing fics set in the milieu of DELTARUNE [the videogame by Toby Fox], but those fics are so far into the realm of AU country that I can't claim to "write for the DELTARUNE fandom".

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

A CITIZEN OF THE UNIVERSE AND A GENTLEMAN TO BOOT, which is the first fanfic I posted on AO3 and is still in progress. It's set after the ROTG movie and involves plot threads from the GOC books, as well as featuring several characters from the Rankin/Bass holiday specials.

"Fleecy Shining Streaming Gleaming/Gimme A Mare With Hair", a giftfic based on a prompt from the ROTG Kinkmeme on Dreamwidth from years agone. Still in progress; my giftee is ***extremely*** patient. [sob]

[[ATTIC]] [[NEST]] [[HOME]], my first DELTARUNE fanfic, set in an AU created by @penbwl and featuring the Swatchton pairing.

"A Temptation Averted", set in my Six Guardians AU series, and apparently everybody's favourite of my ROTG Blackice stories, probably because it's so schmoopy.

CALL SIGNS. Ah, CALL SIGNS. The mammoth fic that has eaten most of my current brain capacity, to the point where I have dreams about it. [and plans for sequels] It was supposed to be so simple. A "what if" story where two DELTARUNE characters met in a human!AU and at a different point in their timelines than they did in-game. Then it suddenly roared to life as a whole sequence of events lifted from my own experiences, spread out over an ever-increasing number of protagonists, not to mention featuring cameos from NDU characters. I wrote it to be accessible to people who haven't played the game and had no familiarity with the characters, and I've been told I've succeeded. I expect it will move up in the kudos count the longer it runs... so far it's the highest word-count work I have ever written. EVER.

5. Do you respond to comments?

99.9999% of the time, yes. [see the answer to questions 8 and 11]. I love comments... short comments, long comments, comments that are nothing but emojis and keysmashes, comments that are well-thought-out analyses. As long as the comment is offered in good faith, I'll answer it.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

If we're being strictly literal with the use of the word "ending", then it's a toss-up between "His Days Like Crazy Paving", "Exit", and "Making Fire".

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

So many of my stories are windows into my characters' "middles", rather than having narrative endings, and I tend to the fluph side of the writing scale. So here's a sampling of one-shots that conclude on a happy note... "Caterpillar", "Starmeadow", "Your First Memory Of All", "Bedtime Story", and "Centres Small And Still".

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've never gotten out-and-out hate on fics. I *have* had someone react negatively when they wanted to use my comment space to plug fics they had written in fandoms I wasn't interested in and I said as much in reply.

9. Do you write smut?

On occasion. I *enjoy* smut... a lot... but I read more smut than I write. "The Joy Of First Flight" is probably my most explicit work to date, and even that is not terribly steamy.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Again, on occasion. CITIZEN ended up being a crossover about halfway in, surprising me rather completely. CALL SIGNS features cameos from other fanon characters, but isn't technically a crossover. AND FEAR AS MY COMPANION is the only work I've written with the initial intent of being a crossover between RISE OF THE GUARDIANS and DOCTOR WHO.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of. I **have**, however, fallen victim to being fooled by AI bots writing what I thought were truly sincere and sweet comments, which I foolishly answered before realizing the truth. Still kicking myself for how gullible I was, but it was at a low point in my confidence as a writer and I was starved for reassurance.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Into a language other than English? Not that I've been informed about. However, someone did make a podfic of my drabble "Hope In A Storm", if that counts as "translation" rather than "transformation".

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I've collaboratively tossed ideas around with @ksclaw and @piratekingpitchblack that have made their way into character development and plotlines for more than a few Nightmare Dork University stories.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

HOW CAN I CHOOOOOOOOOOOOSE?

The one that started it all, that punched me in the gut not even twenty minutes after I saw RISE OF THE GUARDIANS for the first time, was Blackice. I devoured then and continue to devour now every Blackice shipfic I can get my little paws on. From there, once I found the NDU subfandom, it was NDU StageFright all the way, although it's now running neck-and-neck with NDU Nightmare Galleon as far as fics I've written. And currently, I have a very active Tumblr tag labelled "i have fallen down the swatchton sinkhole don't even try to rescue me", if that gives any hints.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

I am realllllllllllllllllllly hoping that I can get inspiration for "Sweater Weather" going again.

16. What are your writing strengths?

RESEARCH.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Falling into the timesink that research leads to. [sob]

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

That hasn't come up in any of my fics so far, other than throwing gratuitous Italian into dialogue for my OC Mama Michelina.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

If you don't count the self-insert novelization of YELLOW SUBMARINE that I wrote when I was fourteen, then ROTG would be the first fandom I've written for.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

That's a toughie. The most ***personally satisfying*** fics I've written have been "Deal The Cards", which is a love letter to one of my favourite relatives, now deceased, and "Which Witch", one of the few times a story came pouring out of me without needing to be edited to shreds.

I am hesitant to tag people because when I've done so in other ask games, it has often backfired on me. I love all my mutuals and don't want anyone to feel left out. Therefore.....

WHOEVER READS THIS AND WANTS TO PLAY, CONSIDER YOURSELF TAGGED.

#ask game #writeblr #the writing life #sylph writes #fanfiction has eaten my brain #rise of the guardians #nightmare dork university #deltarune

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parasolids · 3 months

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i miss doing hourly comic day so heres a summary of my day so far

12-1 am: sleeping

1 am: i wake up needing to pee. i do that and go back to bed

4 am: i'm slipping in and out of sleep, dreaming. i vaguely remember a strange but interesting mall. in my dream they shut down the paint line for an emergency and i have to hurry through it in the dark like a maze, sprinklers dripping poisoned water into my hair. another dream and i'm at a party, and a girl from my high school is dead from alcohol poisoning and her parents carry her out wrapped in a white sheet, sobbing. i'm outside on the beach and they set her in the water. the waves pull away her shroud and all i see is her tattooed legs and i wonder if i really know this person, and then i see her face and realize i do. a popular girl from high school cradles her face in her hands. i rearrange the shroud around the dead girl when she begins to stir. she sits up wordlessly, the tide swirling around her, eyes unfocused. my alarm won't stop going off. i literally cannot get out of bed no matter how hard i try. i curl up under the sheets

5 am: i'm running very late and i don't want to use the work bathrooms so i skip my morning matcha. i drive to work and listen to an audiobook. it's kind of slow but not too bad

6 am: i sit at my desk for a while and then go upstairs to deal with a camera system

7 am: i continue dealing with the camera system, which isn't working for some reason, i chat with an engineer whose phone charger i've borrowed for the camera system, the guy i need to talk to isn't at his desk so i briefly hang out with one of my friends from IT til he shows up

8 am: we finally get the camera working and try setting it up. i look at the underbody of a car and see how many parts i can name from the bottom (from where i am i can see the frame, rear axle, axle wiring, leaf spring, heat shield, transmission, steering knuckle, driveshaft, brake caliper and rotor, fuel tank, catalytic converter, heat shield. there's some things i can't find or can't name, which is embarrassing, but it's all suspension parts and fortunately i'm not a suspension guy anymore)

9 am: we all go test a bunch of random trucks because our boss decided that's what he wanted us to do today. i catch a ride with some coworkers and think about eating lunch

10 am: still testing trucks. i'm mad because i want to listen to music but nothing's clicking and also i need to check for the car making odd sounds so i can't really properly listen to music. it's cold so i check the heating system first and test everything else while the car heats up. i warm my hands in the engine bay

11 am: i get back to the plant and then realize... i lost my wallet! and i can't get into the building without my wallet! and i've been getting in and out of a lot of trucks for the past two hours! and i don't remember which ones! and some of them might have been moved to another parking lot! i panic, drive back, and individually check each truck in the areas i was checking. luckily i find the wallet. i drive back to work.

12 pm: i eat lunch at my desk while handling emails because i used my lunch break on the wallet hunt. it's pizza and it's really good. i'm planning to chill for the rest of the day and then i realize i have to run a meeting at 1

1 pm: a coworker i like asks if i'm free in half an hour to help deal with an issue she's having. i tell her about the meeting. i speedrun the meeting. i've gotten a lot done over the past week so i bring a lot of updates to the table. after the meeting, i go to my coworker and we trade stories about work misadventures, and then i try to navigate the procedure she was having issues with but manage to spectacularly mess up and fail literally every single part, and then the machine stops working so we both just give up

2 pm: i ask an engineer a couple questions about how we handle a certain part, i leave work and hit the gas station. my mom gave me a gas station gift card she was gifted (her car is an EV and my dad rarely drives). it has less money than we thought so i can't fill my tank all the way. i get a horchata smoothie at the convenience store (i like getting a drink with my car when i fill her up, we bond over consuming liquids) but it tastes bad

3 pm: i drive home and listen to an album i won't name, which is really good but also vaguely anxiety inducing because i've taken a guitar lesson with the guitarist of the band and want to take more but trying to email him for scheduling is deeply anxiety inducing. i also listen to everything in transit by jacks mannequin which ive always loved but today it just sounds like noise.

4 pm: quick nap in bed and then i have the most wack telehealth appointment with my doctor in my life. she asks about my mood and i don't know how to tell her i'm having a really wild one so i don't. i don't want to talk to her about the whole issue i scheduled the appointment for but i do it anyways, which goes poorly.

5 pm: i clean my room, do something on my mom's car, completely mess it up, make a cup of coffee, do a covid test (which is broken), start taking the dishes out of the dishwasher, and realize i really need to pee so i sprint upstairs to shower

6 pm: shower. come downstairs and also kinda pissed off because i ran out of hot water despite showering pretty quick. i think i have covid because my dad has it and my throat hurts. i order a covid test from target. i eat dinner (frozen wontons and shrimp + a lot of fruit) and fantasize about smoothies

7 pm: i start writing this post and i comment on a reddit post. cringe. i work on stretching a piercing that fell out yesterday. this h urts.

8 pm: keep working on the post but i want to sleep now. i need to practice guitar. i was supposed to email that guy about guitar lessons... i work on music theory instead

#cactus.txt

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dorianslayyy · 9 days

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13 Books Tag Game

Tagged by @bubblegum-blackwood

1) The last book I read:

Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros - I absolutely devoured this sequel, omg. Obviously it’s nothing fancy or anything like that but hey what’s wrong with a smutty YA? Not to mention DRAGONS

2) A book I recommend:

Perfume by Patrick Süskind - when I read it I had no idea it was a whole entire modern classic, I just picked it up at Oxfam for like 3 for £1 or something but, wow, I can 100% understand how it earned that status! If you like an eery not-too-long horror story with the most beautiful imagery describing some fucked up gothic storylines and a lot of social commentary, you’ll love this book!

3) A book that I couldn’t put down:

Ahhh ok, im gonna say In Memoriam by Alice Winn. The ending was… idk I wasn’t really a fan of the ending, I thought it kind of disengaged and took away from the struggles and severity of war and sexuality the rest of the book portrayed but until that point the rest of the story was everythingggg, there’s a sweet forbidden romance/coming of age/found family in the 1910’s propelling into a story of the horror of WW1 and losing everything you know. All I can really say is that I read it all in one go (more or less) and it had me laughing and sobbing throughout

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more):

I mean… there’s an obvious choice here - The Picture Of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. HOWEVER I’m going to absolutely cheat and also say Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë, the drama, the trauma, the vast majority of these characters are awful and I love it 🤌🤌

5) A book on my TBR:

So many… so so many… I’m gonna say House Of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski tho because it was expensive and it’s cool looking and I’ve actually been meaning to read that for a while but boy howdy it’s huge

6) A book I’ve put down:

The Tale Of The Body Thief by Anne Rice UGHH I’m trying so hard!! It’s so many words with so little going on, and I do enjoy it, I really do, it’s so goofy, but it’s so.. i mean verbose isn’t really quite the right word but you know what I mean. Sorry mutuals :( I just need a break to read something short and silly - which I’ve almost finished the little series I’m currently reading

7) A book on my wish list:

Prophet Song by Paul Lynch - it sounds absolutely soul crushing and miserable, I know this completely contradicts what I just said about being in the mood for a silly read but <333

8) A favorite book from childhood:

Omg 10000x the Skulduggery Pleasant series by Derek Landy, guys you don’t understand, as much as I would love to talk about how my mum and I used to sit and read Anne Of Green Gables before bed or my Enid Blyton obsession when I was like 6, Skulduggery Pleasant was my absolute jam - I must’ve read that series (the original 9 + spin offs) a million times in primary school. I did keep up with phase 2 when that was coming out but I don’t know if I’ll bother with phase 3, I’m just too old now and phase 2 wasn’t all that imo - I think it’s sort of beating a dead horse at this point :( but the original 9 and Maleficent Seven/Armageddon Outta Here were my childhood and I definitely absorbed Valkyrie Cain into my identity as a child so that series probably shaped a big part of who I am and my hobbies as an adult

9) A book you would give to a friend:

Love On The Brain by Ali Hazelwood. Silly, nerdy, fun, a cute little Pride and Prejudice-esque enemies to lovers feat. women in STEM

10) A book of poetry or lyrics that you own:

Ok so anyone who’s seen my other poetry blog @apoemadaykeepsthehoesaway knows my obsession with The Complete Poems of Wilfred Owen (I have a lot of difference versions) AHHH by far my favourite poet - as you can imagine with such a young man, you can clearly see his changing mentalities, his growth as a person and a writer, his influences, and really gather a lot of context for what’s going on with him in general through his poems. And he grew up in all the same areas I grew up in and hung around as a kid/younger teen, which I think adds to my personal interest in him too. Idk ig we’re very close friends on a parasocial level lol.

And ofc there really aren’t that many poets around that give such visceral, truthful, and emotional insights to the First World War as Owen does (also a queer icon). He was my intro to war literature and I have tattoos relating to him, he and his work are just incredible to read about, would highly recommend having a look at Siegfried Sassoon’s war poems too; another very blunt poet who was a celebrity and war protestor at the time and happened to mentor Wilfred Owen, as well as being linked with other influential folks of the time such as Robbie Ross, Stephen Tennant, Rupert Brooke, and Ivor Novello. Ok Ill move on :,)

11) A nonfiction book you own:

Surprisingly I quite like nonfiction, mainly history and essays from philosophers and the like. Speaking of, Friedrich Nietzsche’s Beyond Good And Evil is a pretty solid one I own, I’ve never read anything where the author begins by calling himself and all his coworkers socially inept incels 🥹 but even though I don’t remember the specific reason I bought it (I was reading it to argue against some other philosophers in an essay in college and I really don’t remember who or what it was) I remember it being a really interesting read

Or yknow in a more traditional sense of non-fiction, I also have Notes On A Nervous Planet by Matt Haig. Really helped me get through some stuff, if you’re struggling with anxiety or feeling a bit down lately I’d very much recommend

12) What are you currently reading:

Omg ok, The Hitchhiker Trilogy by Douglas Adams, I’m currently on book 3 of 5 - Life, The Universe, And Everything. Really silly and nonsensical space bs but somehow also a bleakly satirical social commentary on the unseriousness of our ‘serious’ world. Really enjoyable, fairly political to some degree, really short (around or less than 200 pages a book), really fun. Martin Freeman truly was the perfect casting for Arthur Dent in the film of the first book. Full of that quintessentially British cynical humour and of course plenty of cups of tea

To give a little preview, the second book literally opens “The story so far: In the beginning, the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.”

13) What are you planning on reading next?

Books 4 and 5 of The Hitchhiker Trilogy, and then I suppose I had better carry on reading The Tale Of The Body Thief :D

Tagging whoever wants to have a go, it’s super fun, sorry if I went on a bit on some of these 😅

#tag game #books #13 books #book recommendations

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splishsplashyouropinionistrash · 2 years

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AFTG Fic Recs

After receiving several recommendations for AFTG fics, I decided to compile a list of my own favorites so far. All of these are on AO3.

1. it would have been you by thereisnothis ~

Jerejean oneshot

TW: major character death, suicide

“Jeremy should have known. He should have fucking known. All the signs were there. How could he have been so blind?”

Short and painful fic where Jean never recovers from the Raven’s Nest and Jeremy is left to pick up the pieces. I sobbed violently.

2. Scribbles and Sticky Notes by Fortheloveofexy

Andriel oneshot

TW: major character death

“It started soon after Andrew’s official retirement from Exy.”

A painful hurt/comfort fic after Neil is injured and forced to retire. Another one that made me sob uncontrollably.

3. Teach Me How To Heal by foundinthedark

Jerejean, 1/7 parts published, last updated 7-28-22

TW: panic attacks, mental illness, and all the fun stuff that comes with Jean

“After Jean Moreau struggles at practice, his therapist suggests he starts a seven-day self-esteem journal to get him back on track. “

Jean learning to be happy after coming out of the Nest (with Jeremy’s help). It melts my heart-

4. assorted cannon/post-cannon compliant aftg brainrot by mostly_maudlin

a series of oneshots about the Foxes, check out the TW for individual stories

5. In Which Neil Josten is a PR Nightmare by CoverYourEyes

Andriel, 16/? parts published, last updated 7-27-22

TW: None, surprisingly

“the one where Neil does what he wants, picks fights with reporters, discovers Twitter, breaks the internet, and really shouldn't be allowed out of his house. Andrew does nothing to discourage him.”

Post-cannon from an OC’s perspective (his publicist). Kept me up cackling at ungodly hours of the night.

6. never fallen (from quite this high) by crystalcrow

Andriel, 43/43 parts published

TW: All the fun cannon-typical warnings

“For most people, a problem is a matter or situation regarded as unwelcome or harmful that needs to be dealt with or overcome. For Andrew Minyard, it’s the word that fits Neil Josten with a capital P.”

It’s the series from Andrew’s POV, what else do I need to say? A must-read for AFTG fans.

7. Hoax by gus_47

Jerejean, 26/? parts published, last updated 8-01-22

TW: recreational drug use, all the fun stuff that comes with Jean (he deserves a break, oh my god)

“ Jean's first year with the Trojans / a recollection of his last year with the Ravens”

It’s a Jerejean after the Ravens fic, fairly self-explanatory (and fairly heartbreaking so far)

8. goodbye, family by queenDay05

Background Andriel oneshot

TW: mentions of death

“the day before his countdown ends, Neil films a video. it's an apology, a goodbye. for the foxes.”

Neil knows he’s dying, so he leaves a goodbye for the foxes. Utterly heartbreaking.

9. don’t say goodbye by queenDay05

Background Andriel oneshot

TW: mentions of death

“the foxes reaction's to Neil's goodbye video“

Sequel to goodbye, family after the riot when the Foxes realize Neil’s missing and find the video he left them. Somehow more heartbreaking than the first.

10. Innominate by Major_816

Andriel, Jerejean, Ichirou x OC, 17/74 parts published, last updated 7-24-22

TW: mental illness, mafia shit, and general aftg warnings

“An AU where Mary never got Nathaniel out. Instead, he became too invaluable of an asset to be killed off or 'gifted' to Tetsuji. Instead, he's raised with Ichirou and Jean as a part of Ichirou's inner circle. He'd always had a knack for languages and lying and all the 'messy stuff' came easily enough when your father is called the Butcher of Baltimore. So Nathaniel became the Wraith. He was untraceable, unknowable, infalliable; a criminal fairytale. When Kevin Day leaves the Nest, there's no better person to send.”

Neil is in the mafia (and he’s a total badass). Big found-family vibes, a good mix of fluff and angst. One of the best fics I’ve ever read, I am begging you to go read it.

11. Let’s make things interesting by Nico4undead

Andriel, background Jerejean, 16/? parts published, last updated 6-24-22 (might not be abandoned, author is slow to update)

TW: Nothing, I think (shocking, I know)

“Andreil, after they both join a pro Exy team. Neil suggests they make things a little more interesting and don't necessarily tell anyone about their relationship, just act as they usually would. Cue the Minyard/Josten rivalry and basically just Andrew and Neil being little shits and thoroughly enjoying making everyone think they can't stand each other.”

Andriel after Palmetto. You will laugh, you will cry, and you will laugh some more. It’s hilarious and fluffy and heartwarming (while staying cannon-compliant).

Well, there you go! A list of every AFTG fic I read and enjoyed since figuring out how to use AO3 five days ago (do I have a problem? maybe).

Hugs and kisses, my loves. Go read about our gays <3

#all for the game #aftg #the foxhole court #tfc #aftg fic #aftg fic recs #fic rec #andreil #jerejean #splishsplash originals #splishsplash recs

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a-pretty-nerd · 2 years

Text

Choose Me

Viktor x afab!fem!reader

Chapter 8

Summary: Your past tends to haunt you when you die.

Chapter 7

Warnings: VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED! Several discussions of suicide, death, description of a corpse, intense emotions, funerals, etc.

A/N: I am sorry this took so long for me to write, I've got some new hyper fixations and some big life changes. That being said, I didn't want this story to end with the last chapter because let me tell you, I have a bunch more planned. This is the point where canonn is going to be changed and tweaked a little bit, not a crazy amount. This chapter I tried to make it feel like the flashbacks of the character's childhood kinda like how the show does. Here's hoping we get a season 2!

Happy laughter filled the hallways of your family home. Your hands gripped the stuffed dolly you brought with you everywhere. It seemed so much bigger then, when it was half your size. Your small feet dressed in your house shoes padded gently across the carpet. Your smile stretched so far across your cheeks it almost hurt.

Elated, and excited you ran down the hall calling for your mother. Searching in every room, your happy little voice echoing throughout the home. Your bright eyes darted through rooms in search.

"Momma! Where are you? I wanna show you something! Momma!" You called. Your little hand reached for the door, throwing the door open as you had every other. Your mother floated within. "Momma! Look what Dadda brought- me-"

At first all you saw were her feet. Dangling. Her dress started just above her ankles, a bright but muted blue shade you would never forget. Her dress was new. Pressed and perfect, as if she had prepared to go somewhere. Your eyes followed up her floating figure as you came upon her blank and lifeless face. That was not your mother. It was her shell.

"Momma..." you called her in hopes of her springing back to life. Your father saw you from down the hall and slowly approached. Upon seeing his wife he threw the door closed and held you tight. You remember beginning to cry and asking for your mother. Asking where she was, demanding her. You were 8 years old when your mother passed away.

You stood there and watched them slowly lower the casket into the dirt as it began to rain. Your father's heavy hand resting on your shoulder. You didn't cry then. Still in a state of shock. The memory of her, hung over you like a cloud. Her lifeless body dangling there in thr darkness like a phantom. It would never leave you. Night terrors become frequent and relentless. You become compelled to visit her grave, but your father denied your request. He suddenly seemed, uninterested in you.

Being ignored gave you the freedom to sneak out for the first time as a child. Making your way through the dark foggy streets of Piltover till you came to the gates of the Cemetery. You wondered through the headstone like a ghost until you came upon her freshly placed grave. You laid down, and clutching yourself tight, you fell asleep. No night terrors came. Peacefully you slept under the stars in what felt like your mother's familiar embrace.

This became a regular occurrence when you couldn't sleep, you would run to your mother's grave. Like a toddler wanting to sleep in their parent's bed at night. It almost became routine, until a servant found you missing from your bed and a search party was set out for you. Your father found you, and snatched you away. A harsh wakeup prompting ungodly screams from the 8 year old child. You sobbed loudly, screaming for your mother.

Your punishment was a girl's correctional school outside of Piltover. The old brick building towered over you. At first you had it in your head that you would run away, but crushing failure after crushing failure only landed you more time. The teachers were old and bitter. The students were young and angry. You still have a vivid memory of a bully breaking your nose by slamming your head into a desk. You got in trouble for that one.

When father did send for you on holidays, you came home to an idealic paradise he'd prepared. Anything you wanted was yours. On the condition that you behaved and did as you were told. Be polite. Be sweet. Be still.

The years of conditioning peaked when you grew into a teenager. Finally you were allowed to attend school on Piltover, taking etiquette classes alongside your usual. You threw yourself into your studies. Not out of genuine desire but out of expectation. You excelled where you found interest, but generally kept good report all around in a bid to please your easily upset father. It worked. All your work was paying off.

Quickly you were swept into the circus of the media. Where your youth, beauty, and reputation took your position on the pedestal and firmly raised it to absurd proportions. Your father grew comfortable. Grew trusting of you.

Now, you're falling. Falling down, down, down, onto the cold brick road below. Your clothes are ripped and flowing in the wind reaches out alongside your trembling hand. Your father's face, his expression, burns into your eyes so that it is still there when you finally close them. It's true what they say, life flashes before your eyes before you die. You regret to see that Viktor is but a small part of your short story.

But the memory of his smile and the way he looked at you when the two of you were all alone is so sweet it's painful. It hurts, just about as much as hitting the ground does. The abrupt sound of your body making impact, the loud crunch of your bones signals your demise. And like that, the world goes black.

You didn't expect death to be so dark. So endless. So lonely. You feel like you're still falling. Falling deeper and deeper into the darkness. Floating even. Aimless. There are times when you think you hear voices, but it too drifts away as soon as it appeared and you never hear a recognizable word anyhow.

So you float.

Viktor sat at his desk as per usual. His head hanging low, the pain in his bones visibly taking a toll on him. His hand gently shook as he tinkered with a jammed gear, trying desperately to pull them apart. Jayce is nowhere to be found in the lab, it is just Viktor mindlessly tinkering. He can't focus, for once in his god-forsaken life he is wildly distracted. Your face. It flashes between his thoughts. Betrayal and hurt are written all over your face. Your voice, begging, pleading for him to do something. Instead, he just stood there and let Jayce handle it. It makes his stomach turn, and it makes his heart feel heavy. He resolves then and there that he should go to you and apologize. Perhaps, he would buy you something nice for once. A gift. Some flowers maybe?

As he pushes himself away from his desk, he hears the door to the lab open. Heimerdinger peaks in, his brow hanging firmly over his eyes. He looks glum. In his little hands, the morning paper hangs limp in his grasp. His eyes shift from the floor up to Viktor.

"Professor?" Viktor asks, concerened. He doesn't respond, instead, he steps forward and slowly makes his way over to Viktor. Upon closer inspection, Viktor realizes the tears in Heimerdinger's eyes. Viktor becomes confused. The short man offers him the paper in his hand, followed by a sad sniffle.

"My condolences, my boy." He mutters. Viktor takes the paper and looks it over. A picture of your shining face smiles brightly but disturbingly as he reads the article title:

Beloved Airess Commits Suicide

Viktor stares at the title and shakes his head. As he reads the article, his brow slowly scrunches above his eyes. His expression curls in horror and is quickly replaced by denial.

"This can't be right. I just saw her last night, I- This- This can't be true. Y/N wouldn't-" The words catch in his throat as he continues to read. His fingers grip the paper and begin to crush it in his grasp. He brings the paper to his head as tears begin to fall down his cold, pale cheeks. They fall onto the paper as he attempts to cover his face. Heimerdinger reaches a hand to place it on his arm, only for Viktor to swiftly move it, gently shoving him away.

"I'll leave you, then. But please, if there is anything I can do-"

"No. Thank you, professor." His voice was firm. Heimerdinger nodded and saw himself out of the lab. As soon as the door shut behind him, Viktor buckled to his knees. His head hit the floor and he began to sob, holding the picture of you printed all over the paper firmly to his chest. "It can't be true. Please, let this be a dream- please- Y/N-" he hiccuped. He didn't hear the lab door open, he was startled from his sobs when a familiar voice called his name.

"I see you've read the morning paper." Your father's dark eyes met his.

#arcane league of legends #viktor x reader #viktor #viktor arcane #arcane #arcane netflix #heimerdinger

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orchidyoonkook · 6 months

Note

My favorite fic of yours: Under The Willow Tree, which I know you know, but I never get tired of talking about it. Every word of this fic is written on my heart. 💘

5. A fic of yours I haven't read but want to: I had just barely started TWWWBAATTA just before heading into my stormy period where I didn't do hardly any reading or writing. It was lovely and your JK is such a cutie and a knock-out, and I'm excited to continue it soon!

8. What I most like about your writing: Firstly, your emphasis on nature and your use of it and its imagery to contribute to the feeling and setting of your plots and scenes. The way that you communicate beauty is really romantic and poetic and I DIG IT. Also, I feel like you are very confident in your characters and who they are - this comes across strongly in your writing and is something I greatly envy.

11. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PLEASE WRITE MORE SMUT IN THE FUTURE. Now that The Devil Wears Valentino is out there, the cat is out of the bag - you have an incredible gift for filth, my friend.

12. A fic of yours that I've reread: There are legit chunks of UTWT that I could recite by heart on command.

LOVE YOU BB 🥰🥰🥰

VIOLET HOLY SHIT???!!!??? Literally what did I ever do to deserve such amazing humans around me like??? What god am I in the favour of cuz I need to set up an alter for them rq:

Onto! (this is literally so long im so sorry)

DUDE. I'm on the ground 50 yards away from where i just was cuz thats how hard you've blown me away rn.

1. My favorite fic of yours: Under The Willow Tree, which I know you know, but I never get tired of talking about it. Every word of this fic is written on my heart. 💘

I love how much you love them. And I'm so very glad to have been able to have made something so special to you. It's truly my honour.

A stormy period??? Did I know about this and completely by accident flake on you??? I'm so sorry if I did. I'm always here I hope you know what. (And please pardon my god awful memory. Short term memory loss sucks so much.)

And never any pressure to read, but when and if you do I hope you enjoy!!! TWWWBAATTA is my brain baby. My first fic and by far the longest thing I've ever written. I love them so much and I hope you will to, but I also understand how daunting getting into a big series is, so literally no pressure at all. You've already been kind enough to me to last a life time <<33

WHY IS IT MAKE YOON CRY NIGHT???!!!!!! Im sobbing. I'm facedown in my pillow. A walking waterfall of tears. I dont even know what or where the hell to begin with this. So i'll do what i do best and let my brain vomit on my creative process a lil bit:

i dont even realise i do this until after, the emphasis on nature and imagery and setting plots and scenes. But for me to understand a story, i need a place where i can see the characters, i need to know their place in that setting, and i need a bit of background that sets everything.

-> For UTWT, that was the solace of the tree in the shitty hometown for reader, a reader who's desperate to leave, why they want to leave, and then i give them something. in this case yoongi.

-> for TDWV that was the bar. Why a bar? it's where creatures of the night can go to destress becuase even they aren't always "on." and then why is reader there as a mortal, oh shes a bartender, but that gives her special priveledges with the other species becuase now they cant do anything to her, so shes safe. except for the one thing that disrupts her night. the one thing that goes bump in the night for her. and so how do i take that a step further? I make him obscenely powerful, so powerful that the people who kill her kind for fun are scared of him. And then to seal the deal? I make the big scary man care for the one thing he's supposed to see as less than dirt. I make her special. And you learn this all early on in the story. It cements the who what where when why and you learn the how as you go.

and then when im describing a setting and using things to cement the reality of my stories i go into almost a trance and literally insert myself into it to pick out the details. Visualization is something i've always had "a gift" for. It why i usually dont draw with references, and can look at something crafty and just "know" how to make it. So i guess thats how i do that.

-> like in UTWT. I am the tree and the reader and yoongi. I'm the wind around them and the pond watching them learn to love one another. I'm the motorcycle and the books and the leather jacket shielding them from the rain. I have to be everything to be able to write it the way i see it.

-> and in TDWV i was the bar and the music notes and the black tiled floors. I was yoongi and the reader and the banshees on the balcony and the other creatures. I put myself into everything and think about what they see. what they hear. what do they look like. How do they feel. whats their background, and i think that's why they feel so confident to you. I just - know - everything about them. i need to. to fake it till i make it. to baffle with my bullshit.

as for romance and poetic-ness(?). I've said this before, but it makes me laugh in a good way cuz if you know me irl you know i am the least poetic person alive and i dont do romance. Like i dont even let my partner get me treats bigger than a chocolate bar. (I am learning to be better tho.) So the fact that my writing is two things I am very much not in my waking life, it just goes to show how many sides a person has.

11. (*Something I wish/hope you write) FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PLEASE WRITE MORE SMUT IN THE FUTURE. Now that The Devil Wears Valentino is out there, the cat is out of the bag - you have an incredible gift for filth, my friend.

dude i was so so scared for the smut. i told you in dms but like i was sweating BUCKETSSSSS. I followed the same process i just described, but then i also had to go over the scene with a completely unsexual, professional and almost sterile eye. I had to think about what would work here. what would work there, should i switch out this word. I should come up with a more creative way to say that, because everyone writes it that way (not that theres anything wrong with that, it's just personal choice.)

and so for example, I'll go with something you pointed out recently from TDWV:

*NSFW INCOMING*

That filthy line when instead of saying he cums, you wrote "as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white." Like, how DARE you?? No one talk to me. I'M NOT OKAY

I've seen this exact thing written as "he paint your walls white" and thats fine. that gets the point across, but i wanted this scene to hit different, i wanted it to show how engrossed he is and she is in this. And so i switched up my words to create a more sensually graphic imagine in the readers head.

and your reaction is all the proof i needed to know it worked the way i wanted it too. And these arent things i think of on the fly in my rough draft. These are things I sit with and brainstorm and tweak to make just right so i get the mental image i want.

*END NSFW PART*

12. A fic of yours that I've reread: There are legit chunks of UTWT that I could recite by heart on command.

Maybe one day i'll test you on this. (jokes) BRO THATS SO FLATTERING LIKE WHAT???!?!!!?!?! I CANT EVEN BEGIN TO COMPREHEND THAT.

LOVE YOU BB 🥰🥰🥰

I WILL BET MY ASS AND YOURS I LOVE YOU MORE <<<<<333333333333

#THE ABSOLUTE KINDEST OF SOULS #im so spoiled #yall like #i cant #i CANNOT #Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thankyou #yoons MUUUUUSHHHYYYYYYY #asks #violet!!#violetsiren90 #ms.mailbox📬#House of Yoon #yoon on writing #if you see spelling mistakes no you dont im not kidding when i say brain vomit.

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frodo-with-glasses · 2 years

Text

More Reading Thoughts

Shelob’s Lair

Ohoho, here we go, spider time >:-D

Tolkien spends. A LONG time. Describing how horrible this tunnel is. Right when you think he’s gonna run out of words? He doesn’t. There’s PAGES more.

Of COURSE it’s Sam who bumps against Frodo and grabs his hand!! Of course it is! My boy’s main love language is Physical Touch, how could he not??

“They struggled on, still hand in hand.” Heeheehee 8-D

tolkien-feels was right, this is fantastic

I wonder exactly how long they went before they actually stopped holding hands?? Tolkien doesn’t mention it. You just have to….assume they let go at some point. I’m going to assume it was later rather than sooner.

Sam!! Reminds Frodo!! Of the Vial!!! This is why we need Sam!!!!

“Then holding the star aloft and the bright sword advanced, Frodo, hobbit of the Shire, walked steadily down to meet the eyes.” YOOOOOOOOOOOO—

Dude it’s just Frodo walking towards a giant spider but DANG if it isn’t described in the most METAL way possible

“Stars and glory! But the Elves would make a song of that, if they ever heard of it.” Same, Sam!

Okay so. I’m noticing a Theme here of “Frodo Running Towards Danger”.

In a larger sense, that’s the entire plot of the book; Frodo is headed to Mordor, the very camp of the Enemy, to destroy the Ring.

But also, last chapter, we had him running towards Minas Morgul like a zombie, as if he was mind-controlled…

Just now, we had him approaching Shelob, but that was a moment of bravery, when he was in his right mind…

And now, as Sam puts it, “his master was in a fey mood, running heedlessly to meet” the red eyes in the tower at the head of the pass.

I dunno what point I’m trying to make with this, but it’s Interesting.

YOOOOOOOOO SAM SUPLEXED GOLLUM 8-O

AND THEN BEAT HIM WITH THE CANE LIKE A TRUANT CHILD UNTIL THE CANE BROKE!!! HAHAHAHAHA GO OFF, SAM!

You just know he was waiting to do that, all that pent-up anger, you just KNOW—

“[Sam] spun round, and rushed wildly up the path, calling and calling his master’s name. He was too late. So far Gollum’s plot had succeeded.” Oh dip.

The Choices of Master Samwise

“Frodo was lying face upward on the ground and the monster was bending over him…” Eeeeeeeheehee nOPE—

*mumble-sings* And if the devil doesn’t like it he can sit ooon a tack— *smash-cut to Shelob landing on Sting*

I love how the Vial just. Makes the hobbits speak Elvish randomly.

For a moment I thought “laid his head upon Frodo’s breast and to his mouth” meant that Sam was trying to give him ye olde CPR and no, Writer Brain, he’s just trying to tell if he’s breathing, stop it—

“Frodo, Mr. Frodo! Don’t leave me here alone! It’s your Sam calling. Don’t go where I can’t follow! Wake up, Mr. Frodo! O wake up, Frodo, me dear, me dear. Wake up!” nnnnnnnggg TT-TT

I am. just. gutted.

Like I know how the story ends but his grief here is so raw and excruciating.

This is how a man who lost all his closest friends in a war writes someone losing his closest friend in a war. I just…..

*ugly sobbing noises*

(Is it a little wish-fulfillment fantasy of Tolkien’s that Sam gets to rescue his “dead” friend from some dark secret place and bring him back alive?? Perhaps. But it’s okay, we’ll let him have that.)

I like how Sam speed-runs the five stages of grief here. Denial: checking vital signs and calling his name. Bargaining: “don’t do where I can’t follow”. Anger: running around hitting things and yelling at rocks. Depression: literally sits down and passes out from grief for a second.

Which, by the way, that last thing?? Huge mood.

Sam talking to Frodo while he’s unresponsive, asking his permission to take his things, “do you understand, Mr. Frodo?”, just like you’d talk to a gravestone. Tolkien, you can take my heart out of the blender now.

“He knelt and held Frodo’s hand and could not release it.” !!!!!! HEY???

First of all, ow. Secondly, Physical Touch. Thirdly, yo that’s exactly what I drew in the Rivendell flashback in the “I love him whether or no” comic—

Am I psychic or do I just remember details from this book that I don’t remember remembering??

Tolkien basically said “if Sam has his way, he’d hunt Gollum all across Middle Earth and kill him dead for this” and that’s hilarious to me.

Who is. Who is the other voice talking to Sam here. It doesn’t sound exactly like Sam does when he’s debating with himself. Doesn’t have his Sam-isms. Tolkien even puts it in separate quotations. I. Hhuuueehh??

Just this whole thing:

I SAID TAKE IT OUT OF THE BLENDER, NOT PULVERIZE IT INTO A PULP—

But also the stupid little writer-brain in me sees the forehead kiss and goes 8-D

Sam making plans to come back and bury Frodo, if he can, just gets me. Gosh, can you imagine how horrible it would’ve been if that had actually played out?? How much of Frodo’s body would have decomposed by the time Sam could get back??? What stage would it be in—the bloated purplish stage, the moldy rancid maggot-infested rotting stage, the dried-out sunken skin clinging to bones stage?? Can you imagine how disgusting and heart-rending the work would be just to carry what’s left of him to somewhere he could be buried?? Dead bodies smell bad, man!! It makes you wanna be sick! And it’s worse because that rotting hunk of meat in front of you used to be somebody you love, but now it actively makes you want to throw up, so now your heart hurts in addition to your stomach. Imagine poor soft-hearted Sam having to handle that alone. It would just be unbearable. Thanks for sparing us that, Tolkien. And you’re welcome to all the rest of you for that lovely mental image.

“But slowly, as if the weight became less, or new strength grew in him, he raised his head, and then with a great effort got to his feet and found that he could walk and bear his burden.” *resists making another spiritual warfare parallel*

You know, for all Sam’s talk of making the wrong choices, it really did work out the best that it possibly could. If he’d stayed by Frodo, they both would have gotten captured, and then the Enemy would definitely have the Ring. Sam stayed out of sight just long enough to keep the Mission online. That’s a worthy contribution in and of itself.

SAM PUT ON THE RING 8-O !!!!!!! I’d forgotten about that!!

Sam being grimly amused at the orcs’ descriptions of him as a big, string Elf-warrior is just. The Best.

(Okay wait now I wanna see Sam in the Modern AU playing an Elf Fighter in D&D—)

“This fellow isn’t dead!” Great! The worst best news ever!!

“Don’t trust your head, Samwise, it is not the best part of you.” STOP! CALLING YOURSELF!! STUPID!!!

Okay well if his brain is good then his heart is amazing, which means there is a part of him better than his brain by comparison, so he’s not WRONG, but he’s also not RIGHT.

Sam charges the door of the orc-tower. It slams in his face. He whacks against it and gives himself a concussion. Mood.

Last words of the chapter: “He was out in the darkness. Frodo was alive but taken by the Enemy.” 8-C 8-C 8-C

*looks at the next page*

“The Return of the King”

…….

oh.

come.

OOOONNNNNN!!!

FRICK!!! TOLKIEN WITH YOUR CLIFFHANGERS! COME BACK HERE SO I CAN STRANGLE YOU!!!

*peeks at the next page*

First word: “Pippin…”

HAHAHAHA NOOOOOOHOHOHOHO AAAAAAAGGGHH *goes bouncing off the walls and tearing things up and crying into the book*

Your gonna make me sit through a dozen more chapters before Sam rescues Frodo??? REALLY???? I’m gonna be biting my nails for weeks! This is my bromance!! THESE ARE MY BOYS!! You can’t DO this to me!!!

……..

Screw it.

The Tower of Cirith Ungol

Yes I know this is halfway through Return of the King, yes I know I’m reading out of order, no I do not care, I won’t be able to SLEEP tonight if I don’t do this, so shush X’-D

(Okay side note from later but it is. Fascinating to me. How much of this chapter I remember. Like, word for word, I’m getting deja vu for entire paragraphs at a time. I must have been paying a LOT of attention to this chapter, or read it again and again and again, until entire phrases of the dialogue and narration were burned into my brain. This was probably Baby’s First Bromance Awakening and Hurt/Comfort Fic and honestly my fixation on it says a whole darn lot about who I’ve become today.)

(Y’know what, I bet this isn’t even the first time I’ve skipped ahead to the rescue. I probably did it the first time I read this book too. And you know what, Baby Me?? Same. You go. Ten years later, we’re doing the same thing, can’t judge. X’-D)

And of course the first thing Tolkien does is tie the story back to what’s going on at the same time in Merry and Pippin’s stories, which I skipped to get here. Thanks, Tolkien. I’ll understand that later.

But yeah Frodo and Sam think Merry and Pippin might be dead, and Merry and Pippin are also worrying that Frodo and Sam might be dead, and remember when these guys were all in the Shire sitting in comfy chairs by the fire and launching a conspiracy??, and uhhhhh ouch.

“His love for Frodo rose above all other thoughts, and forgetting his peril he cried aloud: ‘I’m coming, Mr. Frodo!’” *sobbing* HECK YEAH YOU ARE—

Gotta love Tolkien’s ability to describe cool nature things like spiders and volcanoes in ways that make it seem like they’re intrinsically wicked, freakish bastardizations of the natural order.

“Well, come on somebody! Tell Captain Shagrat that the great Elf-warrior has called, with his elf-sword too!” He’s doing this to hype himself up, you just know it.

“…when there came from high above a dreadful choking shriek.” Uh-oh.

“Yes! The Elf-warrior is loose! I’m coming. Just you show me the way up, or I’ll skin you!” He did it again!!

(I think Tolkien just thought this was funny. Which it really is! Sam, the short, round hobbit, the exact opposite of everything you’d imagine when you think of an elf-warrior. Hilarious.)

Sam: “Ha! There’s nobody left alive in the place!”

Also Sam: ‘0.0,

Also Sam: “NOBODY LEFT ALIVE??”

Also Sam: “OH SHOOT OH NO OH FRICK I JUST HEARD SOME HORRID NOISE EARLIER WHAT IF THAT WAS FRODO WHAT IF THEY KILLED HIM OH NO”

But he goes up anyway. I love Sam. I’m so glad he didn’t actually get up there just to see a dead body.

Also Writer Brain is just buzzing with all this angst.

Evil destroys evil. There’s that motif of Tolkien’s.

And this song, right here, is why in my fic “Roll Initiative!”, Sam is a Bard.

An orc comes out. He yells at some unseen “dung-hill rat”, because he thought it was Frodo who was doing the singing. Oh, thinks Sam, oh oh oh, a little blaze of hope, he’s somewhere close, he’s alive!! And then the ladder comes out, and up goes the orc, and suddenly there’s a way up!! There’s a path! Sam can work with a path! Maybe he can make it! But he’s gotta be careful, he can’t just rush in all willy-nilly, and right when he’s thinking that there’s a WHIP-CRACK and what I can only assume is a yelp of pain in a very familiar voice and Sam is like OH THAT’S IT, IT IS ON and he charges up that ladder completely ready to throw hands with whoever and whatever it is he finds up there because NOBODY HURTS FRODO WITHOUT HIM HAVING SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT IT and have I mentioned that I love this chapter??

SAM!! CUT OFF!! THE ORC’S ARM!!! Specifically the one holding the whip! GO! FREAKING! OFF!!!

He didn’t really kill the orc on purpose. He just kinda. Tripped. And fell down the ladder. That’s amazing.

“Sam gave no more thought to it. He ran to the figure huddled on the floor. It was Frodo.”

It was Frodo.

IT WAS FRODO.

IT. WAS. FRODO.

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHAHAHAHA *rolls on the floor in laughter and tears*

I LOVE THOSE THREE LITTLE WORDS!!!

I LOVE MY BOYS!!!!

GOOD JOB SAM

“‘Frodo! Mr. Frodo, my dear!’ cried Sam, tears almost blinding him. ‘It’s Sam, I’ve come!’ He half lifted his master and hugged him to his breast.” OF. COURSE. HE DID.

PHYSICAL TOUCH MY DUUUUUUDES

I LOVE IT WHEN I’M RIGHT

I have no more words anymore, I’m not coherent, I’m just soaking this up, I—mmmph

And Frodo leans in and shuts his eyes I just ahahahahaha leave me alone I can die happy now

"Sam felt that he could sit like that in endless happiness" ME!! TOO!! SAM!!!

MORE FOREHEAD KISSES AHAHAHA

“He stood up, and it looked to Sam as if he was clothed in flame: his naked skin was scarlet in the light of the lamp above.” Oh I remember this so vividly. It’s such a striking mental image. Time to bust out the color pencils again—

Baby Me did not like the part where Frodo yells at Sam because of the Ring. Present Me is LIVING FOR IT. The angst!! The heartache!! The immediate way that Frodo realizes what he’s done and is stricken with remorse and starts apologizing! The way Sam can only sit on his knees, defeated and betrayed, as tears stream down his face! The way both of them realize at once what a horrible burden this is on Frodo’s mind and the terrible things it’s doing to him and they can’t help it but they mourn it together and HECK YEAH THEM’S GOOD SOUP—

“You lent me Sting, if you’ll remember…” No, no he doesn’t remember, Sam, he was literally unconscious.

“The Shadow that bred them can only mock, it cannot make: not real new things of its own.” Okay so this is the closest thing to the “evil cannot create” quote that’s often misattributed to Tolkien. Definitely a theme in his work, but never more clearly stated than this, I think.

“Not until you’ve had a mouthful, Sam, I won’t budge. … The whole thing is quite hopeless, so there’s no good worrying about tomorrow. It probably won’t come.” You ever heard of optimistic nihilism?? This. This is it.

“We’re probably going to die anyway, so you might as well eat something.” “That’s the most depressing—” “Eat.”

The psychic barrier of the Watchers at the gate is very cool. I have nothing much to say about it, just that it's a really neat bit of magic.

Aaaaand they’re out! Nice!! Now I can actually go to sleep LOLOL

#frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #gollum #shelob #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #assorted thoughts #long post

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years

Text

The Answer

She knows now.

This is part 13. (13 is the best number, a very lucky number indeed. Definitely not a sign of anything foreboding, nope.)

***CONTENT WARNING: mentions of self-harm and suicidal ideation in the first segment.***

The Tale of the Cursed Raven:

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 I Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12

In a castle long since forgotten by time, two mysterious men met.

One was masked and sat upon a large chunk of rubble, taloned hands clutching onto a walking stick for support. The other man was hooded and had his back to the first, fixated on the shards of stained glass littering the floor. That day, the sky had been a brilliant blue—a color that promised endless possibilities.

“You have my thanks for the shelter,” cried the man seated on the remains of the past, “and for the company. I was worried that I would be lost and ever so lonely in the storm.”

But the other man did not respond. He only regarded his guest with a cool glance, black and gold shadowed by his hood.

“Do you live here?” the first man babbled, oblivious. “It’s such a grand estate—though time has made it worse for wear. With renovations and some staff, it could be a jewel of a rest stop for travelers.”

“I’m not keen on taking guests,” his benefactor interrupted.

“But you’ve welcomed me into your home. Does that not make me a guest?”

“I simply thought you pathetic. Shouting and sobbing, all alone in the woods... The wild wolves and the frost bite would have taken far too long to silence you.”

“B-Be that as it may, you’ve still saved my life—and for that, I am grateful. As barbed as your words are, your actions were certainly the selfless sort.”

“Do not be mistaken. This favor does not come without a price.”

“I was afraid you’d say that...” The guest sighed. “But, because I am so very, very kind, I will do the honorable thing and hear you out. How much madol do you require to house me until the blizzard tides over?”

“I require no monetary payment. What I want from you is a favor.”

“Oh, a favor?” He perked up a little at that. “And here I was thinking you’d bleed my purse dry. Tell me, what is this favor that you speak of?”

The hooded man placed a hand on a crumbling column. Ivy had found its way into the cracks, leaves and vines snaking up from the base. Time had not been kind to this place, nor to him.

“... I am a storyteller, you see—and I am currently in the process of seeking an apprentice, someone that can continue my legacy. And at last, I have finally found the perfect candidate. I plan to teach them for a while, but...” He closed his eyes. “You will look after my apprentice when I am no longer of this world.”

“What? Look after your apprentice? That is far bigger of an investment than any upfront payment you could ask for.”

“You must agree,” the hooded man insisted. “When I am gone, they will have nothing in this world but their work. It is no way to live.”

“For them to have nothing left once you are gone... What sort of piteous person have you chosen to assume your duties?”

“It is because they are piteous that I have selected them.” The hooded man’s words were more cold than the raging winter beyond the castle walls. “They are the only one who would be foolish enough to take on my burden.”

“Why do such a thing? Why not change your occupation, start anew?”

“I have no such luxury.” The words were bitter on the hooded man’s lips. “... Allow me to tell you a story, traveler.”

“What? A story, now, of all times?”

“Silence! The story is in session. The hooded man glowered, making the other shrink into silence. “... That is better.

“... Once, this was a magnificent palace. Servants resided in its halls, nobles and common folk visited—and at the center of it all was a young king, so narcissistic and brash. People surrounded him, yet he gave the cold shoulder, instead reveling in his riches and fine foods until the days stole away.

“He was a king only in title, not character, for he could not name a single one of his subjects or servants, could not tell you any of their tales. He had no friends or family to speak of. The one and only person the king loved was himself.

“There came a fateful dark and stormy night. The king was preparing for a grand ball, when a knock came upon the door. He found a feeble old woman in rags, wet and shivering from the rain. She asked the king for shelter, if only for the night... but he refused her.

“The woman tried a second time, but the king snapped, ‘What boon can you provide for me? Labor? Money? Knowledge? Even the most brainless of servants and the most brown-nosing of peasants can offer cheap labor or something of the sort—but you are well past your usefulness, you senile woman.’

“She looked upon him with scorn. ‘You are not a loving or a kind man,’ the old woman said in her ancient voice, ‘but it is not too late for you. You are capable of changing the course of your path.’ She reached into her ragged clothes and revealed a single, pristine flower, its petals as crimson as blood, and held it out to the king. ‘A rose. It is a symbol everlasting love, if you are willing to accept it into your life.’

“But the king refused her a third time. At once, the rose wilted and the old woman shed her skin, revealing the brilliant, shining form of a fairy enchantress. The king staggered back and fell to his knees, in awe of the power that radiated before him. He begged for forgiveness, offered the fae all of his gold and jewels—but his fate had been sealed. She had seen that there was no love or kindness in him, had seen his unwillingness to change.

“The enchantress raised a finger to the young king. ‘I curse you with immortality,’ she boomed. ‘You will exist simply to watch life pass by you. Your body will age, and you will suffer injuries and illness, but you shall never succumb to death. Yours is a story with no ending.

“‘Paper shall be your prison, and the quill and ink, your lock and key. You shall witness time passing, and the stories of those around you evolving, yet your own tale shall remain, forever unchanging.’

“‘You, who rejects the love of others, shall be without it for your eternal existence—for the moment your heart turns and you decree your love, you will turn into a speck of light and vanish. What’s more...’ She brushed her fingers against his lips. ‘You are forbidden from speaking of your curse to others. You will be seen, but not sympathized with. From this moment forth, this shall be your role.’

“With her curse cast, the enchantress left the castle. As for the king, he did not fully grasp the gravity of his situation. No, he only became more daring and cruel, thinking that his newly gained immortality was a blessing rather than a burden. The people that once surrounded him became fearful for their lives, and, one by one, they packed their things and left him. The cursed king was alone in his crumbling castle as time ticked forward without him.”

“... I do not quite understand why you are telling me this long winded story,” the masked man protested, an eyebrow raised. “Surely that... cannot be the true history of this place?”

The hooded man regarded him with a solemn stare. “The story is not yet over. Listen, and you might find the answer you seek illuminated.”

“There’s more?”

“... As I was saying,” he continued snippily, “Time passed. The king slowly became less and less happy—resources abound, yet no one to enjoy it all with him. Seconds slipped away from him, memories becoming hazy and hard to recall. To stave off boredom, the king recorded the days and events that passed on paper... thus bringing the ‘storyteller’s curse’ into fruition, just as the enchantress had said.

“It was then that he realized how truly alone he was, and what little was left for him.

“In his despair, he attempted to take his own life. Alas, no matter what methods he employed, he would always find his wounds mending, his heart beating. To confess his love to another was the only plausible way out—but to do so would be to relinquish his pride and grant the moral victory to the enchantress. He refused to choose that as his ending... and the king was, thus, unkillable in every sense of the term.

“And so, with his papers and his inks, he stowed away from the world, burying himself in his records, his stories, to distract from his new reality. All that he craved for now was the sweet embrace of death... and yet the world was so cruel as to deprive him for that, as punishment for his own cruelty.”

“A king turned into a storyteller...” The masked man’s eyes bulged. “Then you must be...”

“She was tricky,” the storyteller sneered, “but I am just as tricky. Curses have loopholes that can be exploited. That wretched woman forbade me from speaking of ‘my’ condition; she never forbade me from sharing the story of ‘the cursed king’.”

The masked man stood up, his walking stick clicking on the worn marble floor. “All this talk of curses and kings, love and loss... What does it have to do with the apprentice you wish for me to take under my wing?”

“Ah, a real riddle, that one.” The storyteller spread his arms, mouth twisting into a crooked grin. “I have found a way to make my wish come true, a means which transcends the confines of the curse. My role, my apprentice—”

“—you’re tricking them to accept it from you,” the masked man realized. “That is why you will no longer be here, why you are in need of a long-term guardian for them.”

“You are sharper than I took you for, traveler.” His laugh was low—not with wickedness, but with resignation. “... I am tired. So, so tired. I want to forget any of this happened, to be rid of it all. If this is the path I must take to find my conclusion, then so be it.

“... I haven’t the capacity to change whatsoever. I am still every bit as selfish as I was back then.”

“... Your method is underhanded, yes. However, you are being far more merciful than you realize. You could just as easily leave your apprentice without any sort of guardianship. It is no longer of consequence to you whether they are alone or not once you have passed on.” The masked man strode towards the storyteller and stood beside him. “But you don’t wish for them to suffer the same fate as you.”

“This is my revenge on that accursed enchantress--my answer to her curse, defiance. In this way, she will never get the satisfaction of knowing she has ‘won’ over me. I will have the last laugh. It has nothing to do with mercy for whomever inherits this burden from me.”

The masked man chuckled. “In your own way, you are offering them a chance. There is a shred of kindness in you. I am a benevolent being myself, so I know kindness when I see it.

“As one that makes his living in educating the youth... I must agree with your mindset. To avoid a dark future, we must invest in the bright minds of today.” He produced a rectangle of cardstock from the inner liking of his cape. The masked man handed it over with a smile.

“This is...”

“My business card,” Crowley chirped. “Please ensure that you keep it in a safe and secure location for your apprentice to find when the time is right. I will be eagerly awaiting their arrival at our Night Raven College.”

In the dimly lit Crowley household, in the highest room of the tallest tower, something stirs.

Raven sits upon her mattress, crushing a pillow between her chest and her knees, staring guiltily at the wooden floor. Before her, the headmaster paces back and forth, his arms crossed and mouth fixed in a tight-lipped frown. Every step sets a loud clack ringing through the attic, and each time he turns, his cape of woven night changes the direction of its winds.

Raven had never thought of her uncle as a particularly scary man, but there were times when he drew frighteningly close to meeting that descriptor.

Times like now.

Crowley hadn’t been particularly pleased to find her on the doorstep so late—especially not with an eel at her side. The light pouring out from within the residence had made him seem larger than life, his accusatory eyes almost monstrous.

And yet he had taken her without another word, ushering her inside with taloned hands.

Crowley stops his pacing, his back to his niece. He spins to face her, starting to say something right as her own mouth opened.

“Raven—”

“Uncle—”

Both birds stare at one another.

“Please, you first,” Raven insists.

Crowley drums a gold-tipped finger against his arm. With a huff, he massages his pulsating temples with his other hand.

“... I’m very disappointed in you, young lady. Not only did you fail to come home on time—you know that worries your dear old uncle’s heart—but for you to show up with that Jade Leech-kun... What is a crow meant to think?” Crowley shakes his head. “Do you have an explanation for yourself?”

“No, sir.” Raven lowers her gaze to the pillow tightly gripped in her hands. “I...”

I did it because I wanted to. I don’t want to perish in a miserable flash of light. I don’t want to wander in the dark all alone. I...

“... don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

His expression is difficult to discern. “Was I wrong to think that you had started to move on from the past? You were finally enjoying your school life--but you are also repeating the same mistakes as your early days.”

Her head jolted up. “N-No, I...! That’s not it!”

I just want to survive, I want to live--

Crowley’s cold, gold-ribbed fingers suddenly yank on her chin. Sharp, jabbing pain shoots through Raven. She winces, but remains still under his dead, petrifying stare.

“This is...” He digs a finger into her skin and brings it back, revealing a black blotch upon his index.

Raven pales.

His fist closes, grinding the ink against his thumb--smearing the colorant around, dispersing its tacky miasma. “... You know your magical quill is not able to shoulder much blot. What were you attempting to do tonight?”

New guilt ripples through her. “I lost control of myself.”

It is the truth, but lacking details.

“You are aware of the consequences of pushing your body past its limits?” Crowley’s voice is uncharacteristically grave. His eyes, haunting orbs in the darkness. “What can happen to you--how it twists and corrupts and eats away at one’s spirit.”

Overblot.

“I know, Uncle,” she says quietly. “I know.”

“Raven...” Crowley inhales, holds his breath, tasting his words, then releases them. “When I assumed responsibility of you from your mentor, I did so with the hope of seeing you come to a different conclusion. As it stands, I fear you may be going down the same path as he once did. No, perhaps a path even darker and more deadly than his.”

“Defy the story, and the story will snap back, baring its teeth and claws to correct itself.”

To put you back on its path.

Her chest twinges, flooded by memories of the gnarled storyteller. The desperation, the hopelessness in his glassy, hollow eyes. Seeking an end by any means.

A release from the curse.

Were their paths truly one and the same? When he had gone through with the deal, what had he been thinking? What had he said to himself to pass the baton on to her, to one who had refused to continue the chain?

Something within her bristles, insulted by the comparison.

“I’ve seen Overblot with my own eyes. It is a frightening thing, a fate I would not wish upon my worst enemies. Nor do I wish to see you...” Crowley can’t finish his sentence.

He starts to pace again, muttering to himself. “This won’t do. This won’t do at all. If things continue at this rate... Oh, you’ll be reliving his tale...”

Anger surges anew.

Had the storyteller picked up his entire life and started anew, just for a chance at happiness? Had he been the one to take the hand offered to him? And had he picked up the pieces of what remained, tried to salvage what was left of his hopes and dreams?

No, he hadn’t—it had all been her.

The anger flares, magnifies. A single flame, its heat radiating outward in powerful waves.

“I-I’m...!! I’m not like him!!” Raven shouts, suddenly on her feet. Crowley startles, but she continues, seized by irritation. “My thoughts, my feelings, my decisions... They’re mine...! I’m my own person! Making my own choices!

“Even if they’re bad ones, even if they bring negative consequences... They’re still my own!”

She’s visibly shaking, digging her nails into her palms in an attempt to ground herself. The dark material and the flesh beneath it cave to her fingernails, so painful that it goes totally numb.

“A-As small and as insignificant as this story may be... it’s what I have, and it is no one’s but my own. Not the storyteller’s, not the students of NRC, but mine.”

Hot tears sting her eyes--and every attempt to chase them away by blinking only brews new ones. They trickle down Raven’s face, her chest heaving erratically as she does her best to hold back, to repress her sobs.

But her heart holds resolute, like a stone set in the earth.

“Raven...”

Crowley’s expression is unreadable as he approaches her. Golden eyes and silver moonlight streaking the darkness.

In the next moment, she is enveloped by a dark cloak and feathers. Keys gently clink against mirrors as Crowley awkwardly embraces her. It’s not so much of a hug as it is a half-hug, one arm slung around her and a hand on the back of her head, urging her into his shoulder.

Forcing her to look away from his grim face.

“........................... And here I was, thinking you wouldn’t be a little troublemaker like the rest of my students,” he chuckles sadly. “But no, I see it now. That strong will to fight, to be independent, that pride... It is the NRC way.”

“What...?”

He says no more, but his talons bite at her scalp. In the space between them, unspoken words flutter.

You’ve truly changed—here, at our Night Raven College.

“... It’s late.” He pulls away, resting his hands on her shoulders. “You’re riled up as well. Some sleep would do the both of us some good—stress is terrible for the feathers. We can discuss your punishment in the morning.”

“Uncle...” Raven sinks into him, soaking his suit with her tears. An anxious laugh slips out from between her lips.

You’ve always been terrible at problem-solving.

Bird song fills the morning.

Crowley hums a jaunty tune to himself as he peers into a full-length mirror, adjusting the brim of his top hat and dusting off his vest. His masked face bears a satisfied smile, and his beady eyes glint like unearthed treasure.

“Your brilliance strikes once again, Crowley,” he crows cheerily. “Good work with the pep talk last night! Hohohoh... Surely my words of encouragement have moved her!”

Crowley straightens, happily twirling his cane as he makes his exit and cranes his head up the stairwell that led up to the attic. Some of the steps had a tendency to creak from age--but oddly enough, he hadn’t heard so much as a squeak or a whine the entire day.

Strange, very strange.

Raven was often up before he was. At the crack of dawn, writing or preparing a breakfast for the two of them.

But again, no sounds of descent, no delicious smells or sizzles.

“Raven-kun! Dear Raven-kun!” Crowley calls out, “Are you sleeping in today, my little songbird?”

The response?

Eerie quiet.

“... Raven-kun?”

The headmaster hesitates--but slowly, he climbs the slope. As a fully grown man, Crowley is of a considerable weight, and the most worn of the steps shriek in pan as he comes upon them.

At the top of the stairs, the door to Raven’s room is slightly ajar. It inches open s-l-ooooooowly...

... revealing an empty room.

His eyes shoot wide open.

The window welcomes in a strong spring breeze, the curtains billowing amid it. Pale pink blossoms are scattered upon the floor, joining the papers and the ink stains.

A chill engulfs Crowley’s chest despite the sunshine spilling onto him.

He rushes inside, frantically scanning the tiny room for signs of life. No body in the bed, nor seated in a chair or hiding behind a shelf.

Panic grips his throat.

His mind spins.

The wind picks up, sending papers scattering at Crowley. He winces, bracing against them—the fabric concealing his skin, his suit of armor.

The window—

Crowley scrambles to it, intent on slamming the accursed thing shut. Leaning across the missing raven’s writing desk, he reaches out for the shutters.

A claw grazes one of many bottles of ink left out on the surface. The inkwell wobbles on a glass bottom, then falls onto its side. Black liquid oozes out, coloring the wooden desk.

Crowley curses, reaching down to right it.

That’s when he notices the letter.

Laid out upon the writing desk, weighed down with a bottle of ink in each corner. Almost like it has been patiently waiting for him to notice it all along.

He snatches it up, creasing its edges. One side is painted with ink from the fallen bottle, but it is otherwise intact. Familiar, elegant scrawl greets him as he runs his eyes across the parchment.

Dear Uncle Crowley,

Thank you for the talk last evening. It put a lot of the thoughts I’ve been having into perspective, and I realize what I must do now.

I’ve decided to go away for a while. Please don’t come looking for me. This is something I have to do alone, and by my own hand.

Uncle, do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?

Well, this is my answer.

Yours,

Raven

She shields her eyes against the sunlight and squints into the sky above. A brilliant blue, a color that promised endless possibilities.

Had the storyteller seen the same when he gazed at it?

Before her, a great forest sprawls out. The apple blossoms are out in full force. They are not quite mature enough to turn into heavy fruits, but juvenile enough to showcase their showy petals.

“It’s nice weather today,” Raven murmurs.

My magnum opus awaits... but there’s not much time left for me. I must make haste.

She takes a deep breath, and then takes her first step into the woods.

Not realizing that she is being followed.

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Raven Crowley #Jade Leech #Dire Crowley #Rook Hunt #Tale of the Cursed Raven #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #tw // suicide #tw // self harm #angst

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jschlattsbabydoll · 3 years

Note

how would Niragi and Chishiya react when they learned that s/o have a child in the real world? if they stayed together in the real world, how would they act as stepfathers?

A/N:

Hello! Sorry for the delay. But, as soon as I became available, I got to work on this immediately. This isn’t much, but I do hope you enjoy this!

I might do like a different story on how they would act as Step-fathers on the real world since this was borderland based.

Thank you so much for the request!

----------------+------------------

How would Chishiya and Niragi react if they found out that their s/o has a child in the real world? And how would they act as step-fathers?

-------------+----------------

CHISHIYA

As Chishiya approached you, he noticed that somehow you were sad, something is bothering you. To be honest, Chishiya didn’t know you well, he only knows whatever you have shown him during your time on the Borderlands. You would spend you time thinking on the roof since, Whenever your with Chishiya, he’s just calm and the roof is quiet and it’s far from the chaos that the beach has.

“Hey…” Chishiya called out to you, you were startled, but otherwise happy to see him, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m just remembering something important.” Then you went quiet, Chishiya looked towards the scenery of towers, “I… I haven’t been honest to you… We have been seeing each other for months now, but I haven’t told you something about me.”

His gaze went to you, curious eyes probing you for answers, “I have a child in the real world. I mean… Twins.”

Chishiya was taken aback, “I’m sorry, but what?”

“I have kids in the real world, one boy and one girl. I’m currently thinking on where they are now. I’m worried… because the last time we spoke, they were crying because they are being bullied because they don’t have a father that they can show and they are being bullied because of their looks as well.” You said, almost tearing up, “And now that I am stuck here, I don’t know how to reach them somehow. I could entrust them with my brother, but I don’t really know if he can give them the support that they need.”

Chishiya wasn’t the most caring person at all. He didn’t experience love from his parents at all, back when he was young. To see you like this, he admired you even more. To see a mother care for her kids even when she is in total danger because of the world that she is in is admirable.

“What happened with their father?”

You looked away, “He… cheated on me back when I was 8 months pregnant with my twins. He left me all alone to survive. I mean, I can’t really fend of the woman, since I wasn’t married to the father of my kids. I decided to take care of my kids myself. I took double jobs, one during the day and one at night. When they turned 3, I would send them to school and then get them in the afternoon, rest for a bit and get them to sleep, then leave for my 2nd job.” You told the man beside you,

Chishiya’s mind went dark, getting mad with your kids’ father, to leave you alone, pregnant with 2 kids and you worked 2 jobs, while the man was with his slut and they would just have fun banging each other. He can kill him if he could.

“I’ll be your kid’s dad.” Chishiya announced, which your eyes went wide, then your eyes went back to him,

“What?!”

Chishiya held your hand, “I can be your kids’ dad. I promise that we will get out of this world and I will take care of you and your twins…. Our kids. No need for you to work 2 jobs. I’ll take care of that. I know that I haven’t experienced a father’s love, but I promise to provide that in the best way I could.”

You smiled and cried. “Thank you.”

Chishiya smiled and hugged you.

Niragi

(Warning: Mature Scenes.)

You were awoken by kisses on the back of your neck, you felt an arm encircling your waist pulling you closer towards the person beside you.

You realized that you were naked and the bed that you were currently in wasn’t your bed.

“Baby, wake up… I need you right now… Or do you want me to rail you while your sleeping.” You heard Niragi whisper,

“Niragi… Stop…” his hands were going everywhere. But after the sex that you did last night, it was hard to commit to somebody who was this sadistic and somewhat a womanizer. But; the alcohol went to your head last night and you forgot to stop yourself.

You were reminded by you twins last night, and Niragi was taking you in without him knowing what he has got himself into.

You heard Niragi snicker, “Why stop now? I have been following you for months, wanting and needing you. I think I have to get the months for sexual frustration out now.”

“I have kids.” You said, suddenly Niragi stopped, as expected for a happy-go-lucky person, he would stop as soon as he hears that the person he is ‘committing’ with has kids with her, He just went silent,

“Are you married?” he asked, you can hear the irritation from his voice,

“No, I am not. And if you are wondering if I’ll ever get married, No… I won’t marry that jerk. H—He cheated.” You said honestly,

“Is that why for the months that I have been trying to get you, you were so adamant to be with me?” he asked,

“Yes.”

You heard him sigh, “How old are they?”

“3 years old.”

You faced Niragi, who was now laying down facing the ceiling, “Can you tell me about what happened?”

With that you laid down flat, facing the ceiling as well, You placed your left arm to cover your eyes to remember and give him the complete details, “I was pregnant for 8 months, when my boyfriend left me for another woman. I was left alone pregnant with twins without any support. I went back to my brother. When I gave birth, I decided to take in two jobs, when they turned 3, I would send them to school myself. Oh…” you suddenly got silent,

“What?” Niragi suddenly asked, when he looked at you, your hands were already covering your face, he saw tears falling on the side, “What’s going on!?” he sat up and then he grabbed your arms and pulled you up suddenly, you’re still covering your face, now you were a sobbing mess,

“I… I’m worried with them now… “, you removed your hands on your face, as Niragi let you go, you brought your knees up to your chin, “I’m helpless… the last time I spoke with them, they were being bullied and they cried for my help. They said that they were being bullied because they don’t have a father and also because they look chubby. I told them that I would protect them… But; now I’m stuck here.” You cried even more, “What do I do?”

Niragi looked at you, suddenly his heart hurts for you, as a person you has been bullied his entire life, he was used as a punching bag by others, making him as their target points, he felt the need to protect your twins from any harm. He realized on how impactful it would be if they experience the same as he did.

His mother was coward, she didn’t even do anything to save him at all and his father was useless, an alcoholic, who didn’t do for shit.

You felt Niragi hugged your naked body, you hugged him back and continued to cry.

“Hey… stop crying now. “, you heard him, you felt his hand patting you gently on the head. “Once we get out of this country… I’ll protect you and your twins… I won’t let them get bullied. I won’t be like your dip shit ex… I’ll stay with you. I promise that we’ll be a family.”

You got out from his hug and looked him in the eyes, “You promise?”

“I promise… I won’t let go of you and our kids.” He said, you saw the honesty in his eyes…

Niragi brought his lips with yours…

With that, you felt happy and protected again as you slowly melt into his kiss.

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sylverstorms · 3 years

Text

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch.10

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9

The day shift gives you ample time and opportunities to walk around the castle. Within a week, you come to know every chamber and pathway you hadn’t previously crossed, intimately.

At first, you pictured making your escape through a weak point in its fortification. The walls are ancient; You would have bet money on one of its parts having given out in the passing of centuries and gone unnoticed. Now, you know such a thing doesn’t exist. It doesn’t really surprise you that Alcina has made sure the exterior is in the same excellent condition as the interior.

But it is a problem.

The walls are too big for you to scale. If there are any stepping points, you can’t see them from within. You tried over and over to at least peak out into the back yard, but the shrieks and growls of monsters had you immediately changing course.

You don’t know what those things are and you’re not eager to find out. According to the older maids, there are more of them deep in the dungeons. It is only a rumor, of course, since nobody has ventured down there and returned to tell the tale.

Which, taking the window bars into account… leaves only one way out.

The front door.

You are aware that Lady Dimitrescu and the daughters all have a key on them. You know from Cassandra those are the only copies. Nothing enters or leaves unless one of them allows it.

There is not a snowflake’s chance in hell you’re getting Alcina’s key. She will murder you on sight. Bela won’t do anything to disappoint her mother, so that rules her out, as well. Daniela is the one most likely to misplace it or be persuaded to give it to you, but the girl is as unpredictable as she is sly and you won’t risk your wellbeing for a distant chance.

That means…

Cassandra is the only way out, isn’t she…

You lay low and await an afternoon where the cold is downright bone-piercing. As warm as the castle is, with fireplaces burning everywhere, you can still feel the stinging kiss of the outside frost every time you so much as go near a window.

And it all comes full circle right back to the start; You in front of Cassandra’s bedroom door, trembling with anxiety like the very first time. It is oddly fitting, in a way, that the story of the two of you ends where it began.

For a moment, you almost marvel at how long ago it feels, now. But there is no time nor space in your heart for sentimentality anymore. You stand at the point of no return.

And you cross it as soon as you turn the handle.

Cassandra’s bedroom is softly illuminated by the dying embers of the fireplace. You walk forward cautiously, slowly, almost as if you’re expecting a landmine to go off at a single misstep. Except –well. A mine would be far more merciful. Just an explosion and then nothing. If Cassandra wakes…

You try not to think about it, lest your muscles lock in place.

Underneath the heavy covers of the bed, you see her, cocooned, pale fingers clutching tight at the blankets. It is too early for her to wake. She is deeply asleep, you tell yourself, simultaneously praying she doesn’t open her eyes.

You make it to her vanity, soundless. Her amber-jeweled choker and the necklace she and her sisters wear are neatly arranged, yet the key you’re looking for isn’t with them.

Shit. You inwardly curse, your hand shaking from the nerves. It means she’s put it in the drawer of her bedside table. It means you have to go next to her, to literally put your fingers in the sleeping wolf’s parted jaws and hope they don’t clamp down.

Easy, right?

An unsteady exhale later, you move further in and carefully kneel by the small furniture. Keep your eyes on the prize. Keep—

But you make the mistake of looking to the side.

Cassandra’s expression is not relaxed in sleep like how you remember it from the time when you would wake her up. Instead, her brow is furrowed, the line of her mouth pressed thin. She’s shivering, you realize, either from the cold or a nightmare or both. Shadows dance across her beautiful face.

Your first instinct is still to reach over and soothe her. You hate it, but you’ve accepted you won’t be over whatever it is you feel for her in quite some time.

It is not your place anymore to touch her, you remind yourself. You cannot ease her through her fears now that she has become your own.

With a clenched jaw, you force your body through the motions of opening the drawer and taking the key within.

At last. Your freedom is in your grasp.

And yet.

Shouldn’t you be happier about it?

Cassandra’s voice nearly knocks the air out of your lungs when it reaches your ears, faint. “No… please…”

You forget how to breathe for a couple of seconds. When your wide eyes shift to her, though, you realize she’s merely talking in her sleep.

Leave. Leave while you can.

But your chest constricts when you hear her sob. “…don’t leave me here… please…”

And out of all the possible things she could say, she utters those words and smashes your glass heart with a sledgehammer into a trillion pieces. The shards cut into you and it hurts—

You pause at the door. The corners of your vision have started to blur.

And then the world snaps, sharply, back into focus when her tone changes;

“…Alexia…?”

Your eyes lock, hazel to amber-grey, for a split second.

You run.

You don’t think you have ever ran this fast in your entire life. But it’s different now that it is about your life.

Adrenaline rushes throughout your bloodstream. You’re not thinking, just acting. Just fleeing.

Death, in the form of a black swarm, closes in on you with every rapid heartbeat. Cassandra is faster –she can fly and you’re only human—and at this rate you won’t even escape the corridor, much less the castle.

Flies break ahead of the rest and attach themselves to you. The sting of their bite at your nape and arms nearly has you howling in agony. She meant it when she said she would kill you herself. Not that you doubted it. Not for a second.

Because if Cassandra can’t have you, she will make sure nobody will.

You didn’t want to hurt her back the first time, but the stakes are too high now. You grab the nearest solid antiquity in your panic and throw it with all your might against the nearest window.

Glass shatters and the temperature plummets with it. Over your shoulder, you hear her scream. More out of rage than pain.

The flies biting at you drop to the floor, grey and paralyzed. You hear her shout pierce through your eardrums like a gunshot as you dash towards the turn—

“You won’t ever get to that door, Alexia!”

From the corner of your eye, you notice a blur coming towards you and instinctively drop down. A heavy thump later, your frantic eyes fly to the wall to see her sickle embedded halfway through a painting. If you hadn’t reacted in time, that would have been you.

Still, she can’t cross the hallway now, so you scramble to your feet and run while she takes the long way around. Question is, will you make it to the front door before she does?

It becomes a race where the winner takes all.

You practically jump down entire sets of stairs in your struggle for survival and you have no clue how you do it. You just know you can’t slow down for even a second.

The castle feels ten times as large as it actually is. By the time you descend the last staircase and the sound of buzzing insects grows in volume, the entrance is within sight.

You reach for another decoration and smash another window. Cassandra slows down, forced to materialize out of the swarm before she can’t will her body back together at all.

You shove the key into the lock and turn it.

Cassandra fights through the rush of frozen air, taking step after weighted step towards you—

“I won’t…let you leave here…alive.” she hisses, her teeth bared at you, skin growing too pale yet eyes blazing.

“I’m done being your prisoner.” you say back, voice hoarse and raw…

And you open the door. Steps taken backwards carry you away from her faster than she can make it to you. You can see her pain and her frustration, but they cannot compare to your own.

Your wounds ache from the frost.

Cassandra seems just about ready to leap at you even if it will certainly mean something very bad for her—

Until a black blur shoves her a dozen meters back. Bela’s back stands between you and Cassandra’s cracking form. Daniela soon lands off to the side, looking between the two of them.

“Get out of the way, Bela!” Cassandra snaps.

“It’s over.” Bela replies, a grave finality to her voice.

Your breaths are coming out in harsh puffs of smoke. You still have trouble believing that you did it. That they can’t follow anymore. You did it.

“Nothing’s over!” Cassandra snarls and lunges for her elder sister.

The blonde, deadly calm, grabs her by the neck in a choke-hold and drags her closer to the nearly-extinguished warmth of the fireplace. The way Cassandra thrashes in her arms is downright heartbreaking.

Daniela looks at you, almost saddened, then back at her sisters.

“Shh. Calm down, Cassandra. Let go. Mother will be here soon. Don’t let her see you like this.” Bela says. “If you’ve any parting words to say to Alexia, say them now.”

You’re shivering. The cold nips through every layer of clothes you’re wearing to bite straight at your flushed skin. But you don’t move further away. You wait. Why am I even waiting, though?

Realization slowly sinks in, you can tell from Cassandra’s expression. Beyond the wounded pride of the apex predator losing a fight to a rabbit… she understands that she will never see you again.

Bela releases her and steps away, adjacent to Daniela.

“You’ve earned your freedom, Alexia.” Bela speaks under her hood. “Nobody’s ever managed to escape, before. Respect.” In another life, maybe her and you could have been friends. Maybe.

“So you’re really… leaving?” Daniela’s lower lip is slightly jutted into a little pout. “I… who will I use to get on Cassandra’s nerves, now?”

“I’d say it’s been nice, but.” you speak up between pants, birthing forth puffs of smoke. “I was taken from my home and sent here as a slave, so.” You can’t help the bitter grimace.

Cassandra’s chest is heaving, yet she isn’t looking at you. It doesn’t look like she has anything to say to you, either. But you have words for her, because you need to get this out at last, you need to be free of this weight or you will never really have escaped this nightmare.

“Even as your captive, you know what I fucking thought? You three can be so beautiful when you toy with the idea of basic human empathy. I don’t know what you saw our time as, Cassandra, but I was genuinely attracted to you. I wanted to be together with you. At some point, I was even happy!”

You’ve inhaled so much icy air your lungs probably won’t be doing great for very much longer but God, this is so cathartic. And so enraging that she’s not meeting your eyes now, at the very end of it all.

“Look at me! I care for you, deeply, but I can’t do this anymore! I don’t want to live in a cage as a pretty sacrifice, with you as my jailer. I can’t. You don’t know how psychologically destructive it is. You don’t know what it feels like!” you end with a hitched shout.

You hear the ominous sound of heavy heels hurriedly descending the staircase. “By Miranda! What is going on— Cassandra?!”

All three daughters freeze up for a moment.

Then Daniela touches her head as though she’s having a migraine and Bela shuts her eyes tightly, shoulders tensed. And Cassandra… drops on her knees to the floor, gasping for oxygen, clutching at her temples.

Bela shakes her head to snap out of it. Daniela still looks dazed and afraid… but Cassandra is nearly crying—

And then, in her panic attack, she whispers; “Don’t abandon me like they did, Alexia.”

You don’t know who she means or what you’re doing, until you’ve dashed back inside and gathered her chilled form into your arms, tight. You keep her there like you wish someone had held you during your storms. It doesn’t matter that you’re so much weaker than Cassandra, when what haunts her is too powerful even for her to face.

Alcina extends her claws as she advances on you.

You could probably still get away if you make a run for it, but where will you even go, when your heart is right here with the woman in your arms? The world beyond the village died for you a long time ago. The village died in a literal sense.

You wanted to be free. But freedom and being with her aren’t mutually exclusive. Why did it take me this long to figure it out…?

Alcina is too close now. You turn to kiss Cassandra’s hair for what may be the last time. You do not let go.

Bela and Daniela step in front of you.

Alcina gives them a warning, narrowed look.

“Uh— you know what, I just stepped forward because I saw Bela move. Haha, nevermind.” The redhead retreats once more. Maybe you’d roll your eyes at her if you weren’t bracing for your execution.

“Bela… step aside.” Lady Dimitrescu’s tone leaves no room for disobedience.

The eldest daughter lowers her head and hesitantly opens the path, as well.

Alcina casts a deep shadow over you in her massive height and giant claws. You lock eyes with her briefly, with the last, flickering cinders of your courage. Then you shift your face down into Cassandra’s shoulder and prepare to be skewered through. Her fingers clutch you almost painfully close to her.

“As for you…” there’s a growl in Alcina’s voice that makes you cower in terror.

Except...

The horrible pain you expected takes a little too long to come.

“…you have backbone, little human, I will admit.” Is that… is that a smirk you hear in her tone? “And my daughters do seem to want you around…”

…What?

Cassandra slowly pulls away from you to look up at her in disbelief and you dare to open your eyes. The claws are still uncomfortably close to your face.

“I will take responsibility for the damage, mother. Just, please, let her stay with me.” Cassandra says.

“…Hm. Very well. I expect the windows repaired by dinner.” Alcina gracefully pivots and just like that, takes her leave.

You and the sisters are left there, unbreathing, unmoving, wondering what just happened.

“Too cold. See you at dinner.” Daniela is the first to speak up. She rapidly waves and disappears like she’s being hunted by an army.

Bela glances at you, then at her middle sister. “We need to talk. But later. For now, defrost.” She, too, disperses in a swarm of flies.

Cassandra, uncharacteristically vulnerable, looks into your eyes and brings a crystalline hand to your cheek. The soft way she does it, it may as well be the apology she is too proud to voice. You both lean towards each other, resting your foreheads together.

You have a lot to talk about. But there is time.

#cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x oc #resident evil village #fanfiction #writing #we're almost at the end of this guys #thank you for all your sweet support #hope group therapy won't be needed

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N: hello, my loves! i am a senior in high school so the next two weeks are going to be extremely hectic for me with final exams and other senior stuff. i will try to get out chapters when i can but they may not always be on time!

Masterlist

Chapter 30

You returned home to see Spencer at the kitchen table with his laptop out and a bunch of papers sprawled out in front of him.

“What’s all this?” you asked.

“So you know how we were discussing moving into a slightly bigger house to have room for the twins,” Spencer said, “I found us a realtor and I have been printing out different houses that fit our requirements all day. You can go through them and I’ll send the approved ones over to her so she can schedule us a tour.”

“Alright, let’s see them,” you smiled, taking the seat next to him.

His hand immediately found its way to your belly and began his rubbing motions.

“This one is close to Jo's elementary school but she will only be there for 2 more years but the twins will be going there eventually. It’s just a little bit of a bigger yard than we have here. But, it’s pretty far away from your work,” Spencer stated.

He continued to go through the contenders, thoroughly explaining every pro and con that you wouldn’t even have thought of.

“This last one has the biggest backyard of them all. It’s about 8 minutes closer to your work than here. It’s even got a little sun room we can use as a book nook! It is farther from Jo’s school but it’s about a 3 minute drive to JJ and Will’s so we could start a carpool with them,” Spencer spoke.

“I think that one is my favorite as of now. And, I’m sure Jo wouldn’t have any arguments about being closer to her best friend,” you giggled.

“There’s also one more thing we need to brainstorm,” you began, “Names for the little ones. I honestly spent the better part of the day trying to think of some but I just can’t.”

“I have an idea,” Spencer smiled softly, “Ophelia.”

It was Spencer’s favorite song on your playlist that you played in the car. He even sang along to it sometimes, he actually had a nice voice when he wholeheartedly sang without caring about potentially embarrassing himself.

“Heaven help a fool who falls in love,” you grinned, finishing the lyric.

“I’m stuck on a boy name though,” Spencer huffed.

Jo came strolling into the kitchen to get her afternoon snack.

“Baby J, do you have any name suggestions for your little brother?” you asked.

Her face lit up and she ran back upstairs. She came racing back down with two books in her hand.

“Daddy, remember?” she held up a picture book.

“That’s the story I read you last night,” Spencer nodded.

“Name him ‘Oliver’ like the little baby elephant in the book!” she exclaimed.

“I actually love it,” you grinned.

“Ollie for short,” Spencer added with a smile.

“And for sister, Pinkalicious!” Jo beamed, holding up the other picture book.

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry. I think we already decided on ‘Ophelia’ for sister but we’ll keep that in the back of our minds,” you told her, giving her a pat on the head before she went back upstairs.

“I don’t know Spencer, Pinkalicious Y/L/N-Reid has quite the ring to it,” you giggled.

Your maternity leave had officially begun the week before you were due. You were lounging on the couch watching a nature documentary with Jo when you felt the sudden urge to use the bathroom.

As you stood, you felt the rushing of warm water trail down your thighs, effectively soaking your leggings, followed by a searing cramping sensation.

You immediately sat down on the hardwood floor, cringing in pain and exhaling sharply.

“Jo,” you breathed out, “I need you to call Daddy and tell him the twins are coming and get me a towel please.”

“Okay, Mommy,” Jo nodded, hopping off the couch and grabbing your phone.

She pressed Spencer’s contact as she ran upstairs to get you a towel.

Spencer was in the checkout line at the grocery store when his phone started to buzz in his pocket.

He fished it out, seeing your contact pop up, “Hey, love. I’m already in line but if you need something, make it quick so I can go run and get it.”

“Daddy! It’s Jo,” Jo announced from the other side of the phone.

“Hi, Princess. Is everything okay?” Spencer asked.

“Mommy peed a lot,” she started to say.

Spencer then heard your scream of pain in the background.

“And she said the twins are coming,” Jo stated.

“Uh-um-okay Jo, tell Mommy I’ll be there in 10 minutes. And um call Auntie JJ to come pick you up,” Spencer frantically spoke.

“Next,” the cashier called out.

“Um hi, I just got a call that my wife is going into labor so I have to go. I’m so sorry.”

The cashier smiled, “No problem. I think your wife needs you a lot more right now than these groceries.”

“Thank you,” Spencer rushed out of the store, breaking every speed limit on the way home.

JJ was pulling into the driveway at the same time Spencer was.

“Oh good, Jo called you,” Spencer said, exiting his car, “Thank you for taking her.”

“It’s no problem. She can stay with us for as long as you need,” JJ replied as they both rushed into the house.

You were still on the ground, sitting on the towel Jo retrieved for you.

“Spence, it hurts so bad like really really bad. Worse than Jo,” you grabbed his hand with tears running down your face.

“I’m so sorry, love, that I can’t take some of that pain away but we’ve got to get you to the hospital with doctors and nurses who can help,” he spoke softly, wiping the tears from your eyes with his thumbs.

You nodded and Spencer held out his arm for you to grab on to so he could help you up.

“Hospital bag?” you questioned.

“Already in the car, love. You’re doing so good, look we’re almost at the car,” he encouraged you.

“I’m going to ruin your seat,” you huffed out, motioning to your soggy pants.

“Love, that is the furthest of my concerns right now,” he assured you, helping you into the car and buckling you in.

“My wife’s in labor!” Spencer announced as he helped you hobble into the ER.

Immediately, a nurse rolled a wheelchair over to you.

“I called in the car. Dr. Collins is supposed to be on call,” Spencer said.

“Yes, right this way,” the nurse guided you to a room in the delivery wing where Dr. Collins was already waiting.

“Ah, the Reids! I guess the babies decided to come out a week early,” she smiled as Spencer and the nurse helped you into the bed.

“I’m going to check to see how many centimeters dilated you are. You can start pushing at 10,” she stated, “...and you are somehow already there. These babies are very eager to meet their parents!”

“I’m going to check the ultrasound real quick,” Dr. Collins rolled the machine over to you and scanned the wand across your belly.

“So unfortunately, we aren’t going to be able to have a vaginal birth today like planned. The baby girl is ready to come out first but she is in breech position meaning she is flipped the opposite way we want her. We’re going to bring you up to the OR for a C-section, okay?”

You looked at Spencer panickedly.

“Scared, Spence” is all you could muster.

“I can be in there with her, right?” Spencer asked.

“That is correct,” Dr. Collins nodded.

“Love, you are the strongest and bravest person I know. You can do this,” Spencer brushed your stray hairs back, “I will be right by your side the whole time and then you can finally have Ophelia and Oliver in your arms.”

“Okay,” you nodded, wincing as another contraction intensified.

“I love you so much,” Spencer kissed the top of your head as they wheeled you up to the OR.

The nurse handed Spencer scrubs to put on over his normal clothes, “Love, I need to let go of your hand for just a second to put these on but then I’ll be right back.”

Spencer continued to give you words of encouragement and promises of all the things you were going to do together as a family with the new babies to distract you from the discomfort throughout the c-section.

When you heard the first cry, you started to get choked up.

“Oh god, she’s so beautiful, Y/N. We made that,” Spencer sobbed.

You squeezed his hand, “Go.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer asked.

“Ophelia is crying for her Daddy,” you smiled through happy tears.

Spencer stood and was out of your line of vision but you could still hear his occasional sobs and him calling out the weight and other things to you from across the room.

You heard the second distinct cry. You could already tell your babies apart from just their wails alone.

“Ollie’s here, love!” Spencer bawled, “He’s just as precious as Ophelia.”

You were stitched up and brought into the recovery room as the babies were measured, tested, and swaddled. Spencer rolled two bassinets into your room with the biggest smile on his face and watery eyes.

“I can’t believe they’re here,” you wept, “How are they so cute?”

Spencer gently lifted up Ollie and placed him into your left arm and then Ophelia in your right.

You held the cooing babies in your arms, looking down at them in complete awe.

“Spence, can you take one of them?” you asked, “I mean I would love to hold them both forever but I’m thoroughly exhausted.”

“Ollie seems to be on the same page,” Spencer smiled at the little boy snoozing in your arms, “I’ll take Ophelia for a little walk and make some phone calls to our families and the team.”

Sleeping didn’t seem to be on Ophelia’s schedule as she was staring around the room with her big wide eyes, trying to take in the whole world.

“Ophelia, that’s your Dada,” you explained to her even though you knew she couldn’t understand.

“Yes, I’m your Dada,” Spencer beamed as he accepted the baby into his arms.

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @rem-ariiana

#spencer reid fluff #dad!spencer #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer x reader #reid x reader #cm fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #cm fic

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venvensblog · 3 years

Text

Venti x depressed! reader oneshot

Before reading any further:

• This story contains: Venti x depressed! Gn Reader

• TW: depression, mentions of death

• Author: Kay

• This is my first oneshot, my first story and I hope you'll like it lol. I'm sorry for grammar mistakes and for some auto-correct words that I didn't notice. Enjoy the story~

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

As the cold breeze gently touched your soft skin and as the sun shone to your lost gaze before disappearing you sat lonely on the highest cliff of the city of freedom, your mind elsewhere but here, thinking, thinking and thinking, maybe overthinking. No known face around to be found, just you, the nature and the wind keeping you company while you endlessly fall into the depths of the dark thoughts, eating up the light you had inside you. Why....why...why..why..why? How many days was it? 3 or 5 or 8 or 10? Perhaps you were all by yourself for eternity, doomed to be alone, destined to be trapped in the void in your own head, that has been killing you slowly. Without your notice a tear or two caressed your rosy cheeks, wondering, what are you even feeling anymore? Your current state didn't let you to notice a fellow bard of Mondstadt approaching you with two apples and a tune just for you. "Ah-ha! There you are!" his joyfull voice ringing in your ears, but also being the sweet melody you enjoy to hear, bringing you back to the reality you grew in. A weak smile appeared on your face as you greed the bard with the wave of your hand. The bard however noticed your tears as your eyes told him, how you feel. Quietly he sits beside you giving you one of the apples he got from one of the apple trees. "What is that you're doing here? All alone by yourself, perhaps the stars and the moon got your attention before me?" Venti chuckled slightly, then took a bite to his apple, looking at the night sky full of stars and the moon. You took a second before responding "Oh, I was just thinking... thinking about things.." you knew you could trust Venti with your burdens, but you questioned yourself if perhaps you weren't too much to deal with already, if your feelings and cries weren't cutting the wings of the anemo archon. Sure, as a god, he can take and give more than a mortal, but still... is it okay to burden him more? Your train of these thoughts stopped when Venti placed his hand on yours and looked into your eyes, cupping your face with his gentle hands as he said " Your eyes told me the truth [Y/n]... fear not to tell me, I am here for you and I always will be." The more you stared into his aqua eyes, the more blurry your vision was, because of your tears blocking you from seeing Venti's worried face. As youblink finally, tears started to flow down your cheeks before Venti carefully kissing them away. He knew as you started sobbing quietly, that now is not the time to make you talk, instead he pulled you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around you, letting you cry into his shirt as he gently rubbed your back. You were lost, not a single thought but at the same time millions of thoughts running in your head, you felt awful as you once again had to be comforted by the only person, who lights your way in the dark.

'Apologize, apologize, apologize, suck it up or he will leave just as everyone, too much to handle, trapping his free spirit in the claws of your darkness..' you said to yourself.

"I'm so s-sorry...!" you said in between sobs, catching the bard's attention. Before he speaks you cut him off screaming against his shirt "I'm sorry, I always end up crying and dragging you down with my never ending depressed- stupid emotions! I wish I could be just normal, I wish I didn't have to ground you, tie down your freedom...!" the following part you said was not loud, but a soft whisper in your sobs, but Venti still heard "...I wish I could just... die..". At this very moment Venti just freezed. Hearing your wish to die just further proved him, how badly scared were you from life to wish something like this. He hold you tighter now, not letting you go. Tears started forming in his aqua eyes aswell, he felt bad for you and if he could he would just take all your negative emotions and make them disappear right here and now. "Oh [y/n]... if only you could see into my head and my heart how amazing of a person you are. You do not burden me, you never did and never will. Your feelings are valid and you know well how much I care about your well-being, right? I cannot tell you what you should do as this would go against the freedom I always wished for for everyone, but please know your death will not hurt only me, but many other people that care for you. You might feel like you're at the bottom of the world, but the good thing is that the only way now is up and I will always lift you with the wind once you need it the most..." as you quietly listened, you felt the wind getting stronger as it slowly lifted both of you up into the sky. Venti was holding your hands with his own, breaking the embrace so you see the world around you. He looks at you with the warmest and most sincere smile on his face, his eyes glittering in the dark telling you more than words can describe. His sidetails shining light blue from using his powers as the wind makes them swing slowly. This moment made you feel something you never felt before..... hope? You didn't know exactly, but it felt like the archon in front of you lit your candle again. "My dearest [y/n], my muse, my melody, my star, my moon, my world..." his voice was echoing in the sky as you watchem him silently, your tears being softly wiped away by the gentle wind, forming your tears into a small drop before falling slowly all the way down from the sky and the cliff to reach the ground. "... on the days when you find no one but yourself in the dark, your light fading, your vision blurring, your heart aching, remember that that the wind is always with you, when I will be too far away to reach you.... no matter where in the world you will be, no matter how weak the wind is gonna be, it will always be here to listen, to guide and to love and support you no matter what. Listen to the wind, speak to the wind for I will always listen and send you sweet tunes like this one.." he let go of your hands slowly so you won't lose your balance while you levitate as he takes out his lyre and starts playing a sweet gentle tune lulling you to sleep. Once he's sure you have fallen asleep, he puts his lyre away and gently graps your levitating sleeping body, adoring your face, holding you close as he makes you both return back to the cliff settling your head on his lap and brushing your hair off of your face. He stays with you till you wake, till the sun shines the day, till you open your eyes again and till he gets the chance to make you laughs and smile.

Under the night sky he thinks, how will he make you laugh and smile to make your negative thoughts say goodbye?

#venti #genshin #gi venti #venti genshin #genshin venti #genshin impact venti #venti the bard #venti x reader #venti x you #venti oneshot #venti barbatos #genshin oneshot #venti genshin impact #venti comfort #venti headcanons #venti fluff #Spotify

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woogyu · 3 years

Note

Can I please have 4,5 and 8 with hyunjae 🥺

4. You're staring again

5. Wow. You look stunning

8. Don't smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy

»»————-　♡　————-««

notes; MIGHT HAVE NEARLY SOBBED WRITING THIS, THIS IS SO CUTE, AM DYING, HOPE YOU LIKE. Tbz and royalty aus are just a perfect match in my brain.

Thank you for requesting!!

wc; 1633

Drabble Game Requests | OPEN | Drabble Prompts; fluff | angst | funny

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You’re staring again,” Younghoon elbowed Hyunjae in the side, nearly causing the prince to drop his drink. Hyunjae shot a glance at his oldest friend, eyes wide as he was caught watching the far door.

“Was not,” Hyunjae mumbled, his cheeks tinged a light pink as he quickly averted his gaze anywhere else.

“She’ll be here.” Younghoon told him, voice softening as he realized what the prince was doing. Hyunjae didn’t respond, his attention now very focused on the glass in his hand. He had already brushed off half of the ladies at the ball, wanting to save his first dance for the special one he was waiting for.

“We are late because you spent so long with those hair curlers,” you hissed at your friend, hurrying up the palace stairs. “Beauty comes at the cost of time, my dear y/n,” the girl responded, batting her eyelashes at you. A smile threatened to pull at your lips as you rolled your eyes.

You were honestly foolish for even coming here, for assuming that the prince would be expecting you. He had his pick of all the unwed ladies attending, there was no way he would want to waste his time with you. It was really a miracle you had even spoken with him at all, a chance of fate some might say.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were here far too late, but the head baker had left you with a seemingly endless number of tasks to complete before you could leave. Granted, the tasks had been left to your entire team of bakers, however, as the youngest of the bunch they had graciously left them for you as an ‘initiation’. You supposed that taking advantage of the new staff was nothing new.

You worked on rolling out the dough for rolls, your arms screaming in pain after being worked for nearly 16 hours straight. Part of you wanted to leave, quit this job and go back to your town. Forget about your dreams of becoming head baker at the palace and admit to your family that they were right. Blinking back tears, you shook your head, no, you could do this. You wouldn’t let them force you out.

“Gods! You scared me half to death,” a voice cut through the silence, your eyes darting to a figure in the doorway. It was nearly 3am, no one should be awake right now.

“Don’t the baker's shift end at 6? You are either here very late or very early.” The voice commented, walking toward you. As they entered the light you realized, to your horror, that it was the prince. You were very aware of the fact that you were covered in flour and probably had horrendous dark circles under your eyes. You quickly wiped off your hands and bowed, your shoulders tensing up.

“Your Majesty” you greeted, voice wobbly and uncertain. He waved a hand, leaning against the counter you were working on.

“No need for the formalities…” he smiled at you and you could have sworn your heart jumped at the sight. “I don’t believe I’ve met you before… and I am a frequent visitor of the kitchens” he hummed, reaching under the counter to retrieve a glass before filling it with water.

“I just started working here… my name is y/n, your ma-“ a quick glance from him cut off your honorific. You shut your mouth and relaxed a little bit. You had always heard wonderful stories regarding the prince, both in reference to his kindness and beauty.

“You can call me Hyunjae” he said smoothly, chuckling when you quickly shook your head, mouth open in shock. You could never.

“So Miss y/n, what keeps you here so late or early?” he inquired, his eyes fixed on yours, nearly causing you to choke when you began to answer him. Why did your name have to sound so pretty on his lips?

“I stayed late to finish the work assigned to my t-“ you quickly cut off your words, you couldn’t rat out your team to the prince, that wouldn’t look good on you. “Assigned to me today” you quickly finished, hoping he did catch your slip up.

“Hmmm, a bakers’ assignment shouldn’t take into the night to finish” he mused lazily, moving around to stand next to you. He was quiet for a moment, sipping his water, either waiting for you to explain further or giving you time to think of a better answer. When you didn’t say anything he simply smiled and set his cup down, you were thankful he didn’t press the topic further.

“Would you like some help? I haven’t been able to fall asleep so perhaps a little bit of work might be good” he explained, causing your eyes to widen. You quickly shook your head, struggling to find out how to respond to such an offer. What sort of prince offered to help those working in his castle?

“I simply couldn’t… It wouldn’t be fit… You…” you struggled to supply, mind reeling with how close in proximity he was to you. This prince was going to be the death of you if he kept this up, your heart couldn’t handle it.

Hyunjae merely smiled at your weak protests, rolling up his sleeves and dousing his hands with flour. “An extra set of hands will make the work go faster” he offered, pulling off a piece of dough you had been kneading and began working it on the table.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You had been in shock that night, and the weeks after only showed you that the prince would not run out of ways to shock you further. Your nightly rendezvous in the kitchen became nearly a daily thing, him helping you with your tasks and the two of you chatting about everything and nothing.

You hadn’t planned on attending the ball, unsure if you would even be allowed to do so. Then Hyunjae asked, and you were learning that it was impossible for you to say no to him. He looked at you as if you weren’t a baker and him a prince, but as if you were just another lady and him just another gentleman.

That being said, you knew how foolish it was to come here tonight. Stolen moments in a dark kitchen were one thing, but a ball where there were dozens of other ladies in beautiful ball gowns… you wouldn’t stand a chance in your simple white lace dress. And yet, you found yourself utterly excited about the event, about the possibility and of course, about the prince.

“Thank you… for attending with me” you told your friend before the two of you stepped through the doors. “I don’t think I would have been able to do this alone” you admitted, sheepishly looking down at the floor.

“Don’t let the other ladies intimidate you y/n, you look absolutely stunning” your friend said with absolute certainty before pushing the large doors open.

You stepped through, the bright lights filling your vision before the ball came into view. Many eyes snapped up to yours before retreating, but as you slowly descended the stairs you found a pair of eyes focused entirely on you. Your cheeks flushed as you focused on not tumbling down the staircase, the prince maneuvering through the crowd to meet you at the bottom of the stairs.

Upon reaching the bottom you took Hyunjae’s outstretched hand, your eyes focused on him as the rest of the guests faded into the background.

“Wow.” He swallowed, his eyes momentarily flashing down to your feet and back to your eyes. “You look stunning” he breathed as your heart raced. You smiled softly, nervously glancing down at your gown.

“It was my mothers,” you said softly, unsure if why you had even said that as if he would care. He simply smiled at your words, leading you out onto the dance floor.

“She must be proud to have such a beautiful daughter” he commented, his eyes sparkling in the brightly lit room. You flushed once more, allowing him to lead you onto the ballroom floor.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, his eyes trained on you as he held out his hand. You nodded a little too quickly, not trusting your voice to provide him with a verbal answer. When he pulled you in close, you could have sworn that time itself paused around you. You were entirely unaware of what was going on outside of you and the prince.

“I saved my first dance for you… I am so very happy that you decided to come” he admitted, his lips close to your ear. Your breath hitched and you nearly tripped over your own feet. Not only had he been waiting for you, he hadn’t danced with anyone else… If your heart hadn’t been racing before it certainly was now.

When you didn’t answer he leaned back a little bit as he looked down at you wearing the most dazzling smile you had ever seen.

“Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy” you breathed before you could even register what you were saying. You flushed and his smile only grew… gods you could have sworn there were stars in his eyes.

“Like what?” he promoted, amusement swimming in his gaze. You look a steadying breath and brought your eyes back up to his, getting lost in the depth of them.

“Like I’m the only girl in the room” you answered, voice barely above a whisper. He let out a breathy laugh, his arms tightening around your waist.

“In my eyes, you are” he stated, the sincerity in his voice washing over you.

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hacked-by-jake · 3 years

Note

Hi yes hello I just got away from someone who I think was stalking me and I am freaking out and know I will continue freaking out for several days. Would you kindly write something where MC is in the same situation and Jake helps them in some way? He doesn't have to physically show up if it doesn't make sense storywise he can just talk to MC and tell them to go someplace public or whatever and help keep them calm. I don't know. Thank you.

Take you home.

>Part 2

Summary: Jake helps you when you’re being followed by a stranger on your way home at night.

Words: 2,3k

Warnings: MC is being persecuted and the person has no good intentions / Light swearing.

⚠️A/n: Okay, first of all, I’m really sorry you had to experience this. I very much hope that you are well / that you are better and everything is okay. If you want to talk to someone you don’t know, feel free to write to me.❤️

>>So, then, of course, please take all care of yourselves! Be careful and when you get into a situation like this, find someone who can help you quickly. People on the street, ring a bell even if you don’t know who lives there. Ask for help and draw attention to yourself. If you are alone, there are almost now numbers everywhere you can call if you happen to be on your way home or wherever. Save this number to your phone and get help there. Or call the police, even if it seems exaggerated to you, but at such moments it is not exaggerated.<<

To the Story: I started writing this but realized in the way I wrote it that I didn’t feel good about it. So I decided to write another alternative. Alternative 1. I have left both alternatives there, it is marked. The beginning and the end of the story are for both alternatives. However, Alternative 2 is a little more fictional, while Alternative 1 is a little more serious (if I can say so). I just felt Alternative 2 wasn’t serious enough for this really serious subject. Nevertheless, I left alternative 2 inside to maybe / hopefully leave a little bit more good (more cute etc.) feeling.

So, and at least: In this story, the perpetrator is a man. But I would like to point out that it is not only men who do this. This can happen to all genders and all gender can be perpetrators!

Now, I hope you will like it and I can help you a little bit with it or that it will calm you down a little. Thank you for your request and always be careful. Stay healthy.

Sorry about the mistakes.

"See you tomorrow" you call laughing and wave goodbye to the others once again. You put both hands deep into the pockets of your jacket and make your way home in a good mood. You and the others have all spent a nice evening in the Aurora. Actually, the others wanted to drive you home but you said that the fresh air will do you good because it is always very warm and stuffy in the bar. "Good night, MC" says a friend of Phil who is coming toward you and only now enters the bar. "Bye" you smile.

You breathe deep in the fresh night air, which is more than good for your body and your mind. You close your eyes and enjoy the silence for a moment. Nothing can be heard far and wide. No cars, no people, not even ravens crowing. A beautiful and clear night in Duskwood.

Your way home is fortunately not so far. From the Aurora about 15 to 20 minutes walk. Quietly you mumble your favorite song and whistle the music in some places. Until you see a black shadow across the street.

You turn your gaze there and see a man, dressed in dark, looking around. His eyes are flashing in the light of the street lights and you quickly turn your gaze away again. From the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s moving across the street to yours. You’re twisting your eyes, not pleased. Of course, you don’t want to say right away that this man is a bit weird just because he changes sides of the road but nevertheless you have a queasy feeling. It’s no secret you have to be careful.

Just for your own safety and to calm your mind, you turn left on the next street. It is not really a shortcut, the way remains the same, but enough to avoid him. But when you notice the quiet steps behind you also turn into the alley, you become really uncomfortable. You are getting closer to your apartment and thus to the edge of the forest.

Not many people live here anymore. After Hannah was found and the case solved, many people moved away from here and when you moved to Duskwood, you found your apartment in the edge of the forest.

Since there are really not many people living here, you also know that the probability that the man has to go exactly this way is low. You try inconspicuously, turn your head backwards to look over your shoulder. It seems to you that the man has accelerated his steps, which automatically makes you run a little faster too. Of course he notices your look.

"Wait a minute," he calls and your heart stops for some knockers. Quickly you look straight again. Speed up your pace again. Don’t want to get panicked and hectic, yet you can’t resist your mind that immediately tells you 'run' "You don’t have to be afraid," he shouts behind you. A goose bump spreads on your body and a wheeze leaves your lips.

Your mind goes crazy and your body immediately enters survival mode. You’re starting to go faster, panicking of the strange man.

You thought Duskwood left those dark days behind.

"You don’t have to run away!" he calls again and you tighten your jaw muscle. It’ll still take a little to get to your apartment. Again you look back, see that the man has come even closer, also runs very fast. The houses and apartments around you are all dark, people are sleeping, no one would wake up. And then you get the idea.

Jake, the only one of the others who lives near you is Jake.

When he moved here, he moved into an apartment about four blocks from you. Further downtown, it has become difficult to find anything. You pull your phone out of your pocket and open the phone immediately. You always have Jake on speed dial, so you can call right away. Afraid, you press the phone against your ear. Your other hand wraps tightly around the pepper spray you own since there was the Man Without a Face.

'Pick up, pick up, pick up'

"I just want to talk to you!" calls the creepy man from behind and this time you can not hold back and the first sob leaves your lips.

"Hello, MC?" you hear Jake’s astonished voice. Of course, he doesn’t expect you to call him at 2:00 a.m. "Help me" you whisper quietly, your voice is a squeak, panicked, anxious, desperate. "What’s going on?" Jake immediately sounds alarmed. Immediately notice that the situation is serious. "A man has been following me since the Aurora, he wants me to stop," with deep sobbing you explain the situation. "How much distance is between you?" Jake asks calmly. "About 7 or 8 meters, but every time I run faster, he runs faster too!" you answer. You hear loud rustling from Jake. "Okay, MC, you just have to stay calm, don’t hang up, I’m already on my way" You agree, mumbling. "It won’t be long before I’m with you," insured, and you hear fast paces echoing through the phone.

"Stay now!" the man shouts loudly and you flinch. He sounds much more aggressive than he just did, impatient and annoyed.

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

>>Alternative 1

"Hurry up, please," you beg Jake.

"Stay calm, okay, MC? Put me on speaker" he orders and tries to keep his voice relatively quiet so as not to make you more nervous.

You do what he says and unlike what you expected, he makes a request for a video call. You take the call and put it on speaker.

His face appears and you immediately feel a little more safe. You keep the phone further away from your face so that the man behind you can also see that at least someone is there who can see you." I’ve got your location, I’m on my way to you. It’s only two streets away," Jake says aloud, briefly holding a second phone in front of the camera where your location is displayed. Even if your pursuer may not be able to see it, the gesture counts.

Carefully you turn back and take a look again. For your joy, his steps have already slowed down and a little more distance is between you.

"I don’t need a minute until I’m with you, MC," Jake informs you and you nod relieved. You wipe the tears from the cheeks that have calmed down a bit and breathes trembling deeply before you look behind you again.

The man changes sides of the road.

"It works" you breathe and nod wildly with your head, in relief.

You see the man walking the other way, in the opposite direction of you. He has given up, seems to have noticed that you're safe now.

"Stay there," demands Jake, "I can see you," he informs you, and you look to the right, into the street next to you. In fact, you see the hacker running towards you, but now also slowing down his steps.

"Oh God," you croak relieved, lowers your phone and run towards him. From afar he stretches out his arms and you throw yourself into his embrace. <<

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

>>Alternative 2

"Hurry up," you plead. You’re accelerating your steps more and more. Jake answers something, his voice is blurry, choppy and distorted.

Quickly you look at your screen. No signal. Your phone has no signal. It’s a dead zone.

You hear as Jake asks about you, also difficult to recognize. The first tears run down your cheek and burn into your skin.

Slowly everything starts to turn, from the panic in you. It all feels blurry, imaginary and not real. But unfortunately it is real. "Shit!" you hiss as your screen turns black. Jake has to hurry!

"Stop!" the man calls again and suddenly you hear firm and fast steps behind you. Without looking, you know he start running. And without hesitation you start running as well. It feels like there’s a loud sough in your ears, like an old radio is losing the signal.

Your surroundings become blurred, out of focus and you feel as if everything is pulsating around you. The houses are getting closer, it feels like it’s getting darker around you, It’s like the sky is getting even blacker. And the only thing booming in your head is 'run, run for your life' You can’t prevent a weepy whining from coming out of your mouth followed by a loud sob. You try to blink the tears in your eyes away to see something but it doesn’t work. The more you try, the worse it gets.

Your lungs are starting to burn. Stitches in your sides make this run unbearable. You lift your legs higher while running to reduce the risk of stumbling. Just focus on running and breathing. The steps behind you are not to be heard, like this mute everything feels. "MC" you hear it calling from somewhere, can not arrange the voice, your mind imagines that your persecutor knows your name. But then, suddenly, you see, out of the alley next to you, an arm coming out fast. He’s reaching for your upper arm. It’s so fast, you don’t even have time to scream. You get ripped around and hit against a back hard.

In the first moment you want to fight back, defend yourself, to kick around you but you quickly recognize the voice as Jake’s when he says "I’m here, MC, everything is good". Full of pure relief, you wrap your arms around him from behind, "Thanks God" you sigh and press your face into the soft material of his sweater. Jake’s hand reaches for yours and puts it on it calmly as he builds up tall in front of the man. You don’t want to look at this guy, you don’t want him to see you.

"Can I help you?" Jake asks in a deep and dangerous-sounding voice. You never thought he could speak like that, so angry that his voice is almost shaking. You hear how the other man’s steps have finally stopped, "No, everything is fine," he grumbles.

"Then fuck off now" Jakes hisses aggressively and takes a step forward. You will be pulled along and wrap your arms even more tighter around him.

"It’s all right, man," the other one grumbles and really seems to turn around to leave. Jake doesn’t move a bit, his whole body is tense, he is under high tension, you feel how tense his muscles are. Feel how trembling his breath escapes.

When your persecutor finally disappeared, Jake takes your arms off his belly and turns around. Without a word, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you tightly against his body. Your mind finally realizes that you don’t need to be afraid anymore, you start crying again, but this time out of relief and happiness.<<

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

You start crying hard, crying against his chest, his arms holding you tight, protective.

"It’s all good, MC," he whispers, and his voice sounds like he’s about to cry too. You’re pressing so tight and close against him that you’re afraid you might crush him, but you have no control over it. And he doesn’t seem to mind.

"It’s all good, MC, I’m here now, you’re safe, I take care of you. He can’t hurt you anymore, and he’ll never be able to hurt you," he whispers, pressing his lips on your forehead.

"You’re safe," he keeps confirming that everything’s okay now. Does not let go, holds you and gives you stability and safety.

"Thank you" you whimper and bury your hands in the fabric of his sweater.

"Don’t thank me, there’s no reason to thank me, everything is fine," he easily walks away from you to look at you. Lovingly and carefully he puts his hands on your cheeks to wipe the tears from your cheek with his thumbs.

"You’re safe, okay? I’m here"

You nod, try to calm down and stop your tears." You’re coming with me, all right? You’re sleeping in my apartment today. You don’t have to be alone right now. And you can stay as long as you want," he suggests, and You exhale with relief, glad you don’t have to be alone.

"Thank you" you croak again and again he kisses you lightly on the forehead.

"Shall we go?" he asks cautiously and you agree.

Jake takes your hand into his, and slowly you start on the path that luckily is not far.

"You never walk home alone again, all right? You can always call me and I’ll pick you up. And if you want to walk, then I’ll come and we’ll go home together"

You don’t contradict him, you’re happy about it. Never want to walk alone again.

"I got his data from his cell phone, and we know who he is. Tomorrow we’ll see what we can do," he tells you, and you try to smile a bit.

When you two gets home, he picks out some of his clothes for you, a shorts and a T-shirt. You take a warm and soothing shower while he makes you a cup of tea.

Together you lie down, he holds his arms open for you and holds you tight and takes care of you until you fall asleep.

🌹🎭❤️

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood Jake x mc #everbyte #everbyte studios #everbyte duskwood #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #duskwood hacker #iamjake

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