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likecastle · 1 year

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Ronance Femslash February

OK, so . . . this is the first prompt I’ve gotten for Ronance Femslash February where I’ve significantly deviated from the prompt. The prompt was this: “nancy gets pregnant and robin steps in and helps nancy w her pregnancy and theyre great mothers.” Anon, I genuinely appreciate you sending this prompt, but as I turned over how I would fill it, I came to the conclusion that this scenario just isn’t how I see these characters. I’ve read and enjoyed fic where Robin and Nancy have kids in some way or another, but it’s just not my read on Nancy especially as a character. Maybe I should have just passed on this one, but it did get my gears turning to think about how I would take this subject matter on. I wound up writing something that was almost entirely the opposite of the prompt, and I’ll completely understand, anon, if it’s very much not your jam. I’m still grateful to you for giving me the chance to explore my understanding of these characters through this lens.

I’m accepting Ronance prompts all month for Femslash February. You can find previous prompts I’ve filled here.

Putting this one behind a cut, mostly for length. Content warning for non-graphic discussion of pregnancy and abortion.

Nancy shows up at Robin’s door soaking wet, with a bottle of vodka in a soggy paper bag. Robin thinks she’s been crying, but it’s impossible to tell with all the water streaming from her hair.

“I was in the neighborhood,” Nancy says, and her voice cracks in a way that instantly turns Robin’s insides to ice.

Robin was supposed to go out with some friends from work, but she immediately hustles Nancy into her room and calls to cancel while Nancy changes into dry clothes. Once they’re nestled under a blanket on the couch, with a glass of vodka in front of each of them, Robin begins the elaborate conversational ritual of finding out what’s bothering Nancy. The problem is, a direct line of questioning usually only succeeds in getting Nancy’s hackles up, and someone who tried to wait for Nancy to volunteer that information herself could easily wait forever. Robin’s gotten better, over the years, at restraining her own panicked instincts and slowly leading the conversation around to whatever it is that’s bothering Nancy, gradually drawing her out until she’s ready to talk about what’s on her mind.

Which is how it happens that Robin’s solidly tipsy by the time Nancy finally says, “There’s actually something I wanted to ask you.”

“Whatever you need, Nance,” Robin says, bumping their shoulders together. She can smell the product in Nancy’s damp hair, something sharp and sandalwood-y. “You know that. Anything, always.”

Nancy gives her a thin smile. “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment on Friday, and I was hoping, um, that you’d come with me?”

This isn’t exactly what Robin was expecting, but it’s hardly the most onerous thing Nancy’s ever asked of her. She and Steve helped Nancy and Jonathan move into their third-floor walkup in a 100-degree weather last year, so sitting in a doctor’s waiting room is no big deal compared to actual heat exhaustion.

“I know you don’t like doctors,” Nancy says in an apologetic rush, evidently taking Robin’s surprise for dismay, “but I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have with me. But it’s OK if you don’t want to, I can find someone else.”

Something about the way she says it gets Robin’s brain spinning off into paranoid scenarios. “Of course I’ll come, Nance, don’t even worry about it. But if you think you’re really sick, or something, you’re legally obligated to tell me. You’re entitled to your privacy and everything, but I will literally implode if I have to worry that you’re dying or something for the next week.”

“I’m pregnant,” Nancy says dully.

Later, Robin will blame the three glasses of vodka she’s had for what she says next. “Oh, shit. Or,” she adds too late, her brain catching up with her mouth, “sorry—uh—congrats?”

Nancy shakes her head, and sniffs. “I think you got it right the first time.”

“Does—” Robin realizes even as she starts saying it that she may be making a mistake, but she can’t stop now. “Does Jonathan know?”

Nancy shakes her head again. “No, and he’s not going to. That’s . . . how I knew I couldn’t go through with it. The thought of telling him, of—of having to have a serious conversation with him about what we were going to do, I just—I couldn’t.” She stares out across Robin’s living room, as if pretending Robin isn’t sitting right next to her will make any of this easier to say. “And I don’t just mean I couldn’t talk to him about it, I mean I don’t want to. I don’t want to make that decision with him, and I don’t want that life with him. Maybe not with anyone, but definitely not with him.” Finally, she picks up her untouched glass and takes a swallow, grimacing. “I told him I couldn’t see him anymore.”

Robin stares at her. This is classic Nancy Wheeler, burying the lede twice over. “You broke up?”

“Suddenly it just seemed so obvious,” Nancy says simply, and she seems almost relieved to be saying it. “It was like confronting the possibility of having a child with him—getting married and buying a house—just made it unbelievably clear how much I don’t want any of that. For such a long time, I’ve been telling myself—maybe when the time’s right, I’ll want those things, but having that life with him is never going to feel right for me. And once I realized that, I just . . . I couldn’t even sleep in the same bed with him.” She takes another swallow of her drink, and then her glass is empty. “I guess I’ll need to start looking for a new place.”

“You can stay here,” Robin says, without hesitation. “If you want.”

“You’re sure?” Nancy asks, turning to look at her for the first time with such a tentative expression that Robin wonders if Nancy was expecting Robin to hate her—if Nancy doesn’t know that nothing she could do could ever make Robin turn her back on her.

“Of course.” Robin bumps their shoulders together again, and this time neither of them quite pulls away. Nancy is warm against her, and all Robin wants to do is draw her into her arms and never let go, so that’s what she does.

On Friday, she holds Nancy’s hand in the cool white quiet of the clinic, and she keeps holding her hand for as long as Nancy needs.

#ronance #robin x nancy #robin/nancy #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #ronance femslash february #honestly i don't even know if i should tag this as ronance #in my mind it's extremely pre pre pre ronance #but i'd need like at least 60k words to do right by that slow burn concept #so . . . here's this instead

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notstilinski · 2 years

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They Both Die At The End Starters !

Taken from the 2017 novel by Adam Silvera, They Both Die At The End! Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit!

“They’ve even been drilling into my head that I should pretend I’m the main character of a story that nothing bad ever happens to, most especially death, because the hero has to be around to save the day.”

“I guess what I’ll miss the most are the wasted opportunities to live my life and the lost potential to make great friends with everyone I sat next to for four years.”

“No one should spend their last hours second guessing people.”

“I think I’ll get a twelve to three shift where I do nothing but tell people their lives are over.”

I’m a ticking time bomb, and even if you’re not blowing up when I do, you might get burned—maybe literally.”

“You’re not invincible, dumbass!”

“It’s mad pressure to do all my living in one day.”

“I read our love wrong, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

“I know no one lives forever, but you should live longer than others. You matter more than other people. That’s life.”

“I’m dying and we can’t trade lives.”

“I lived through my funeral, but I wish I was already dead.”

“No. The chance you might have to watch me die.”

“Surviving showed me it’s better to be alive wishing I was dead than dying wishing I could live forever.”

“Bucket lists are pointless. You’re not gonna get everything done. You gotta go with the flow.”

“That’s a pretty dark bright-side.”

“Sorry if I pressured you to leave. You asked me to get you out of there, but I’m not sure you meant it.”

“I just don’t think I should be the judge of who actually needs my help or not, like they should do a dance or sing me a song to prove they’re worthy. Asking for help when you need it should be enough.”

“This is my spot. I come here once or twice a week. I get to say stuff like ‘I’ll have the usual.’”

“Don’t waste your breath on a question like that. Just come out and say whatever you want.”

“Nah. Leaving means living before you die. Let’s bounce.”

“It sucks how we’re all being raised to die.”

“I keep my photos in black and white because my life lost color when they died.”

“I felt unwanted, frustrated, lost, and I needed to take it out on someone. But that’s not me. It was a glitch.”

Yeah, but I wanted every possible minute with them, even if it meant being left with the memory of watching them all die in front of me.”

“Okay. I’ve signed away my right to bitch I die.”

“I feel like Indiana Jones right now.”

“Anyway, I hijacked your moment. Sorry.”

“We never act. Only react once we realize the clock is ticking.”

“Could’ve been at the cemetery sooner if a hearse carried us.”

“Weird question: Do you believe in the afterlife?”

“There’s only really room for one. Get your own grave.”

“I’ve spent so much time being pissed at my family for leaving me, Mateo. Everyone’s always running their mouth about survivors guilt but…”

“I was nine when I bothered my dad about love. I wanted to know if it was under the couch or high up in the closest where u couldn’t reach yet. He didn’t say that ‘love is within’ or ‘love is all around you.’”

“How do you know when love is love?”

“I don’t want you to see me die, but I can’t watch you die either.”

“Why can’t we have a chance?”

“You really think you can beat Death in an arm-wrestling match?”

“And you don’t need the same blood to lose a part of yourself when someone dies.”

“I wish this had some kick to it. I can’t be sober when I loose you.”

“To smiling while we can.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I know there’s no time to waste, but I had to be sure you are who I thought you were. The best thing about dying is your friendship.”

“Affection from millions and intimacy from one special person are completely different beasts.”

“I don’t know every detail about his past. But what I’ve gotten out of him in one day is more than I feel like I ever deserved. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“You’re begging for them, right? You don’t give a shit about me.”

“Are you critiquing how I saved your life?”

“The suspense of everything is killing me. I can’t take being out here.”

“But if for some reason this plan doesn’t work, we need to promise to find each other in the afterlife. There has to be an afterlife, (Name), because it’s the only thing that makes dying this young fair.”

“I would’ve loved you if we had more time.”

“Come on, (Name), it’s me. You hear me, right? It’s (Name). Wake up now. Please wake up.”

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #sentence meme #starter sentences #ask meme #ask prompts #inbow memes #inbox prompts #novel sentence starters

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zinniajones · 1 year

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“Extremely strong atheism”

(tw death, fear, life-threatening danger, anxiety, drug use, war, cancer, car accident, near-death experience)

(copied from Twitter)

So "dread of ego dissolution" is a measure of an adverse psychedelic effect where you are terrified your self is being destroyed (similar to what I saw when I almost died?), and having this happen from psychedelics is associated with worsening depression (frontiersin.org/articles/10.33…)

I feel like when you've seen what actually happens when you die and your self is erased into nonexistence (speaking from my actual experience of almost dying, not a hallucinogen) it's almost impossible to stop being aware of it at every moment and freaking out about it constantly

I think my awareness of this may be an absolute contraindication to ever trying psychedelics again. There isn't ever going to be a "set and setting" where I'm not constantly aware and terrified of death, and you aren't supposed to give someone psychedelics when that's going on

Drugs like psilocybin and MDMA are also used to treat traumatic stress and PTSD, but even if that does anything (the overall effect might not be all that impressive), there's just something about this particular experience I had of seeing what death actually consists of

It's not like any drug I ever happen to take is going to change anything about our fundamental situation as decaying material beings trapped for a finite span in a physical universe before we're killed and erased like an animal dying. How is hallucinating supposed to fix this? I didn't have an out of body experience at all when it was happening, and actually, since HRT made me stop dissociating, it's possible it helped keep me grounded inside my body as it was being killed and my perception stayed completely fixed in place as everything was closing out

There's also some positive version of this apparently experienced under psychedelic use called "oceanic boundlessness" associated with better outcomes and improvement in depression symptoms. There's an entire history of calling it "oceanic". Why does it have to be that :(

But yeah, when you know that reality is actually a fucking horrifying nightmare you're trapped in and your body can literally die and wipe out your entire self forever, taking a drug that generates more apparent altered realities of an unclear nature seems extremely dangerous

And if there were a drug that did anything to fix this, it would have to be some kind of hypothetical drug that actually changes beliefs and values, something that makes you acquire a belief in an afterlife or postmortem "survival" even when there's still no evidence of this

Which would also be a really worrying effect for a drug to have and it's probably really good that drugs can't do that

I wish this was something that could be more conventionally addressed like depression, or like a specific phobia of water, but there's not a way to exposure-therapy yourself about the fact that death is still always there and waiting to finish the job of erasing you at any moment

Nobody understands why that experience isn't something I can just get over. I could spend however much money on therapy and still come out the other end as a body that knows it's going to die

A lot of "bad trip" experiences with psychedelics involve reports of something like fear that one will be trapped in a place for eternity or will experience something going on forever. Not the fear and certainty that everything is actually about to end in the next few seconds

I wish I had a subjective eternity to be terrified of, at least you'd still exist at all

I've been extremely angry since then, more than usual, at Christian religions claiming there is a hell, because I don't consider this a threat, I consider this a bogus promise they'll never make good on

It's "hell"? Who cares about that part? The point is they're telling people you get to keep existing after you die which is awful and untrue and a disservice to everyone

I have actually screamed at campus preachers about how this is worse than hell and how dare they even promise us hell? I'm hopeful that going through some studies of what is happening during "ego dissolution" in psychedelic use may provide some information on what my brain was doing and perceiving while I was drowning, although it should be specific to the the "dread" part (pharmrev.aspetjournals.org/content/74/4/8…)

I'm still very confused about how being dunked underwater for less than 5 seconds, and not having my body physiologically die or even come close, caused me to acquire that significant of an experience and apparent knowledge in what seemed like one key moment

Previous thread on how, at least on paper, this suggests cocaine is something that reinforces your sense of self and increases your confidence in a way apparently opposite of ego dissolution. I can't confirm that because you can't just be doing cocaine

That scale above was able to, for instance, show that cocaine use has an almost opposite effect of "ego dissolution" seen with psychedelics. Cocaine and psychedelics are tapping on the same slider there. So that's like saying doing cocaine was a life-changing spiritual experience (https://twitter.com/ZJemptv/status/1589853648074727424)

But does cocaine make you stop being afraid of death all the time? I really hope that when I do die I'm so out of it at that point that I have no real lucidity or comprehension at all of what's happening, because being completely aware that it's happening is the worst thing ever

I've had to stop describing it in so much detail because it was starting to give a couple people frequent ruminations about death after they read what I was saying and they hadn't even had a near-death experience, so just, going into death suddenly with eyes wide open is so bad

It also completely upends your life when you survive, there is so much now that I just don't care about anymore, because I can't force myself to consider it important enough to be worth spending my limited time on

I mean I completely understand now why my paternal grandfather absolutely lost his shit and went off the rails after serving in the Korean War and why my dad did the same twice after almost dying in a car accident at 18 and almost dying of leukemia in his early 30s

It has a way of absolutely arresting your attention, although in their cases it also led to an incredible amount of egregiously erratic and sometimes uncontrolled irrational behavior that was dangerous to themselves and others

As in problematic substance use, violence, unaddressed severe mental illness, a ton of destructive and maladaptive behaviors that I personally am not interested in leaning into

Anyway, I need a specific term for: this fusion of true belief and deep knowledge, reinforced by acquired experience, of an atheistic nonspiritual physicalism-materialism/other nondualism in the nature of the universe and consciousness, that entails destruction upon bodily death

Because this experience strongly confirmed for me some kind of Atheism And Then Some

I'm not exaggerating when I say I'm thinking about this on some level at literally all times since the moment it happened at approximately 1:00 PM on September 2. There's no way not to be aware of it even just as the backdrop of everything, and frequently it gets foregrounded

I've never believed in anything more deeply and strongly and genuinely than what I saw and experienced that day

There's weak atheism, there's strong atheism, and then there's this "extremely strong atheism" that honestly seems to have been imposed on me, in the form of an experience similar to the "faith conviction" sometimes described by adherents as their form of religious epiphany

Just not like a conversion, but a very emphatic reaffirmation that what I previously believed on a deep level is also in fact true in reality on a deep level

#tw death #tw drowning #near death experience #near death tw #drugs tw #tw drugs #tw war #Zinnia Jones #atheism #extremely strong atheism

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suzyqrara · 3 months

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01/06/2024

I woke up at 2 AM today and I hear my sister sobbing in the living room. I could tell she was trying to keep it down. It could be worse; she could have been hollering murder. I have so much hate for her right now. It would be different if she was open to getting help but she gets too defensive when you bring up going to the doctor/seeing a therapist/working towards not crying all night and sleeping all day. Basically, we must just deal with her crying and sleeping all day, doing nothing with her life and being depressed. I don’t understand how she is OK living this way- never worked, no hope for any future with any anything/anyone, dying alone. How can she not naturally try to work on herself. This is what angers me. Hearing her cry will forever haunt me. It’s the most annoying ass cry I will ever hear. She cried for over two hours last night. Even with the earplugs on, I still hear her stupid cry. I suppose you get used to it after a while, but I don’t want to get used to it. I want her out of my life. I want this whole family out of my life. I don’t want to be a part of them. I want to rip my genetics out and throw them into the wolves. I get angry at GOD too. I feel like if I don’t help my sister not be homeless once my dad dies, I will go to hell. I feel like a monster for hating her cry and not being compassionate. But to be fair, I was compassionate when I first heard her stupid cry. I ran to help her. My heart wanted to comfort her and be there for her but her response to my compassion made me want to throw something at her face so she can be unconscious and shut up! For the last two hours I’ve been researching the cause of crying for hours, how to find compassion for someone who annoys you but is hurting, how to get someone help if they don’t accept it. I tried resting and then 20 minutes after she stopped crying, she’s back at it again.

She slept all day yesterday. She drank the night before, cried for 3 hours in the early morning and then slept from 5am to 10pm. I can’t deal with this now and I can’t deal with this when my dad dies and I am left with making a decision to support her or not. I am making this about me, I understand, and I feel like a monster, I do. But I am angry. I am angry at how depressed she is and how there has been no progress or regress in the last 20 years. I can’t find sympathy for her in my heart. She is choosing to be like this. This is a choice for her. She doesn’t care how much it hurts my dad when she’s cursing at him or how much pain she brings to people with her defensiveness when are trying to help her. I believe she is content with her life and she does just enough to make it seem like she is too crazy to work but not crazy enough to cause an episode that will get her evaluated. I’ve offered help for her. I ‘ve offered to go with her to a disability organization that helps people find jobs, I bring up going to the doctor, I’ve talked to her about her future and it led to some stupid fights that made my heart harden for her entirely. She deserves someone to come to the house and force her into the car to get help since she spent 37 years not doing anything at all. Not helping anyone and just rotting in her room.

I’m listening to her cry. Cant you cry like a normal person? No because you are not anormal person. I don’t know what to do with this person in my life who will be in my life forever. Who will probably outlive me because she doesn’t do anything with her life. IBut I will feel terrible for the things I’ve thought about so I need to pretend like I know Ellen will die soon. Will this make my compassion appear? Will my heart soften for her knowing she will be dead in 5 years? I wish something would just happen to her. Her getting sick? Or her getting high? Just something to make her brain busy. She literally has NOTHING TO CRY ABOUT. She has everything given to her. She gets to scream and shout, sleep, and sob all she wants and no one will stop her. Her brain is so deterioted, I remember a dream I had of her as a pre-teen. I know that was a dream of Ellen’s soul, her real soul leaving my life. I don’t know wtf is in her now but she used to have a personality. She used to have a future. She used to be a person to me. Now she is just a shell with some alien in it. The dream was the sister that had hope she started getting skinnier and skinnier right before my eyes. She was deteriating right before my eyes. I cried so much in that dream. I woke up crying. Then my brain made me dream another dream saying this was just a dream, don’t cry. Everything is ok. But it wasn’t ok, Ellen was gone after that. She got worse and worse and now this is all of our life. Ellen used to be smart. She used to edit my papers for me, I remember. I used to trust her grammar and I would be so thankful she was there to edit my papers. We used to laugh together. This is of course when she was an older teen, and I was a pre-teen. After Ellen was like 18, she was gone. I hate this Ellen so much. You know what would kill me. If I was given the chance to speak to the old Ellen and really see the difference of what we have now. That would be the most beautiful thing and saddest at the same time to see what she was and maybe have an image of what she could have been? Talking to GOD feels like I am not heard. It literally just feels like I am talking to myself, and the words are going into thin air and thats it. Its 6am and I must start my day. Why was I born into this family? This family impacts my whole being. I feel less value because of the family I am from. I know I don’t need to give my family this much power but for every failure I feel or rejection, I can’t help but get the confirmation I feel from the devalue I feel of being part of my family. Every failure and rejection reminds me of where I came from. I came from nowhere; I came from a retard father and mother that have no meaning in their lives. The fact that I am single confirms it all. I am just as loser as these stupid people that I was given as a family. I wanted to take matters into my own hands. I had dreams as a young girl that I will make my own family and I won’t ever need to look back at my train wreck of a family. God must have been laughing me dreaming that dream because I can’t get a date/ keep a man interested in me for the life of me. So there goes my dream of having many children so they don’t have to live this depressing life alone.

Now I have to get out of bed and pretend like she doesn’t annoy me. I will go out and start getting ready for my day while she gets to rock back and forth with her stupid scarf around her eyes listening to me walk around. I’ll have to say, thank you to her for doing absolutely nothing but preventing me from sleeping and overstaying her welcome as I leave and say have a good day when I just wish she would make a day out of it. I get to see her ugly milk downed coffee on the counter in a mug that is placed on my small plate. Wtf does she do that. She uses a mug to drink her nasty sugared up coffee and places it on a plate. And adds a spoon on the side like it’s a tea party. She probably ate another launchable. She literally has cooked food in containers in the fridge and chooses to eat processed food that isn’t even a real meal with her coffee. This will haunt me even after she dies. I could have helped..how I don’t know…but I didn’t use my time to help her while I could. I chose to stay away from her because she brings out an evil person out of me. A hating person. How can I help? I have snot all over my t-shirt because I used that to blow my nose writing my thoughts out. I have so much to do…figure this crap out for my sister and dad, figure out my life insurance since it is expiring soon, figure out my stupid goals for this job to tell Karen and it still won’t be good enough for her because I am me. Nothing wrong with being me, but Karen had higher expectations for me which I cannot meet, call masons health insurance because they are saying I’m past due on a payment when they just took 1800 out of account…a few other things I cant remember. When will I have time to do this? Students keep making appointments with me…like yesterday my schedule was empty and today, the whole week is full. This is my job and it’s annoying me. This is the scenario that will happen if I go out there. I think my voice is annoying to her so I’ll come out and says “Ellen?” She will let out this most annoying noise that resembles a ‘huh’ but not really a huh. I will say, “I hear you are crying, can I help you.” “NO! leave me alone.” OR she would say …hgh…make some noise like a neanderthal while still rocking, “im ok, leave me alone”. If I push it, let’s say.. I sit down on the computer chair and say, “ I would like to stay here with you. I am here if you need to talk.” She will rock in silence for whatever time. Of course, I can’t stay long because I need to get ready for work. And so that was the scenario. Didn’t help a thing, annoy the shit out of me, and she will be off to crying for hours stop and then cry every 20 minutes. It never leads to anything. It either leads to a fight or nothing at all. And that is what is frustrating. Hearing her..hhgh.. noise will irk me. I will say, “can I get you anything”. Ellen: “hghh”…If I even bring up help….”Im fine!” she will say while rocking like a whale out of water. Your obviously not fine you moron. Stop saying your fine and get help!!!! I hope she doesn’t wail during the day with the neighbors listening.

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i-hope-youre-hopeful · 6 months

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This is from June of 2023. Sorry for going out of order :/

What’s scaring you so bad?

Mom:

What am I scared of? I’m anxious because I’m in conflict and I hate conflict. I’m scared of her dying and even more scared it being my fault. I’m scared of her being mad at me. I’m scared of her not having what she needs and getting even sicker. I’m scared of hurting her. I’m scared of having to catch up one weeks of stuff when I go back.

If she’s dead she’s dead and she’s not getting any more alive by you staying awake worrying about it. Conflict sucks but it isn’t forever. I just don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know how much to change. I don’t know where to go from here and the uncertainty is where my fear lies most. Do I step out entirely? If I don’t I fear I’m wasting my one good opportunity to try to save all of us by letting go. I wonder if I have to let go completely to help things. But if I let go completely and that’s not right I could lose her or create so much more work for myself. If I only set boundaries and let go of a little - how much is enough? If I’m wrong in doing that will the cycle just start over because I didn’t commit to one extreme or the other? Should I just go back to the way things were? It was easier in some ways. It was familiar. I don’t know if I can go back anymore. I worry I’ve ruined everything. A part of me hopes I have. I miss my mom. But only the real version of my mom, and I only see her sometimes. I don’t know what the right thing to do is. I need to talk to someone older and wiser maybe. Am I abandoning her? Does she view it that way? Does she know why I’m doing this or does she just think I’m rebelling? Does she miss me and is she hurt or is she just angry? Am I a bad daughter? Maybe it’s time to be a bad daughter. I just don’t have an end goal. I don’t have a plan. That’s what’s scaring me.

End goal: relationship with my mom that is healthier. Distance from her and healing for us without fully removing her. Removing toxicity is necessary sometimes. But I feel so nasty and cringe and guilty for calling her toxic. She’d hate that. My heart hurts. I feel like I’ve been punched in the chest.

Nicole was right, she’s not hurting like I am. She doesn’t feel the way I feel. She’s just angry and doesn’t believe she can do anything anymore. If she felt this hurting and this stress she would try to fix it. If she hated the situation she would try to fix it. She would try to fix it. She would try to fix it. What if she’s trying to fix it by giving me space and just waiting for me to come back? Idk. If she wanted to resolve this she would resolve it. She’s just maintaining the natural hierarchy. She’s just used to me fixing it. It’s going to work itself out. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be healthier on the other side. I’m so sorry.

Father please bring healing to my relationship with my mom. Please open my mind and my heart to your plans and let me move in your will. Please open her heart to change and to love and please open mine to change too. Please bring clarity and discernment and open positive communication when the time is right. Until then, bring peace. Show me where to draw the lines and when to reach out and when to hold back. Show me signs and guide me to the right choices.

Hunter:

I miss hunter. I’m scared something bad happened to him. I’m scared he’s dead because I would literally have no way of knowing. Who would tell me? I’m scared something happened and he thinks I did something I didn’t do or something. I’m scared there’s conflict I just don’t know about. Most of all I’m scared because I didn’t realize how much I had come to rely on him being there. I forgot the impermanence of life for a moment and I started to let myself rely on something human and that’s scary. Yet it’s kind of beautiful and comforting that I have someone I forgot might not always be there. I am starting to trust. That’s big for me. I hope I don’t lose him anytime soon. I hope everything works out okay. I hope he comes home today and explains how something totally normal happened and he’s fine and we’re fine and everything is fine. Either way I miss him. I didn’t realize I’d miss him this fast. I hope I don’t have to miss him for much longer. I’m scared of something happening to him now, I’ve never felt quite like that before. I have a partner! I feel like I am truly developing a partner. I’m so happy. And scared. I still hope he’s the right one. I hope I’m making the right decisions and doing the right things. I hope he’s not dead in a ditch.

Father please protect Hunter and bring him home safe. If there is any miscommunication please let it be resolved. Please protect my boy and protect my heart. Please help me to trust him as long as it’s right to do so, but to lean wholly on you and not on anyone or anything more than you.

Canada:

I am so dreading Canada. It’s going to be so scary and stressful and my stomach is going to be so upset and I’m not going to be able to go to the bathroom and I’m going to feel so sick and I’m so scared. I’m afraid someone will get sick or I’ll get sick or people will fight or something really bad will happen and mostly I’m just afraid of being physically ill and homesick with no way to get home. I’m so scared. I’m scared of not having any space for myself or any time to be quiet. But I went on mission trips and lived. I slept in one room with like 15 girls for a week and it was okay. I spent a month in Mexico and it was okay. You’re going to be okay. God please let me be okay. Please let it be incredibly fun and let me be a blessing as I am blessed. Help me to do good. Please sustain me and please, as much as possible, don’t let me feel anxious and sick and exhausted. I hate feeling that way. Please don’t let me or my friends get sick and don’t let anything bad happen. Please protect us extra hard. Please protect my family extra hard while I’m gone. Please bring peace to my mother and help her feel a strange sense of independence. Help her find some contentment.

Meds:

I feel shame and regret for the things I do. I’m really scared to get the meds I need and I feel shameful asking for them. It’s normal. I will ask for them tonight and no one will give a crap. Literally no one but me cares. This is better than having to take something stronger later. This is a responsible step to correct your irresponsible previous steps. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to fuck up.

Father I’m so sorry I haven’t been treating my mind and body responsibly. I’m so sorry I can’t be like other people and I’m so sorry I’ve done wrong. I’m sorry for my hesitance to do what is needed. If this is the right thing let it be done and please don’t let me have to do it again. Please help me be wise.

Father please bring peace in your spirit. Please help. I’m so sorry.

Father, thank you for the peace that comes with your presence. Thank you for being in control and not getting mad at me when I forget that you are in control. Thank you for guiding and leading and providing every single day. Thank you for my past and my present and my future. It won’t be as bad as it seems. Your way is higher than my way. Thank you that your plans are perfect.

An update:

My mom accidentally liked a photo on Instagram so I know she’s okay. Koch and Hole made me feel a lot better about the situation. I took my medicine. Hunter is okay. I played Jackbox with him and Ribby and Kyle and drank wine and ate snacks and we all laughed together and it was wonderful. I did this after youth group, which was also very nice in spite of the rainy weather making for a scary drive there. I am feeling much better but still nervous and frustrated and I can’t sleep. I’m hoping to sleep now. It’s 9:00am. I’m sorry.

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eleven-vibes · 1 year

Text

I’ve been through a lot. I am better than this. I am stronger than this and I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve to feel the way he has been making me feel. I am worthy of more.

Given my last entry, it’s funny I’m writing about this now. Time. How it changes things.

Basically, everything that I wrote is not the way things are at all now. I’ve grown to really enjoy his company and I care about him a lot. I like being with him in many different ways. But how I had said previously, I was worried about the ending. I’m writing to you now because I think this is the ending. It was about a week ago when he got mad at me because I didn’t let him know about going to the city. The reason I didn’t let him know is because I had just taken one of the biggest exams of my career, and I felt like I absolutely failed it. I felt so defeated and heartbroken and plain sad. Not just for the test, but for every thing that it had taken from me. I studied for three extra weeks than all my peers for this test that I don’t even know if I passed yet. My Emergency Medicine clerkship got cancelled. I was thinking about this test during my grandpas funeral. I didn’t allow myself to grieve. I didn’t grieve after the funeral with my family. I missed Easter. I missed my aunts birthday. I had no vacation. So many tears, so much stress. All for the day that I would sit down to take the test, finally ready knowing what I need to know to pass, and potentially fail because of distractions. Do you know how much that hurt? During one block I was literally crying while I read the questions. So It was a pretty awful day, one that I constantly replay in my head like a song. And at the end of that day, I have him there- making me feel guilty because I forgot about the city and because I’ve been MIA all day.

I apologized without thinking because I didn’t want to fight, but even after my apology he proceeded to tell me it wasn’t that important to me since I forgot. I started getting mad and I didn’t want to talk to him anymore that night. I started crying again. I got distressed all over again. I didn’t need this. The next day I was going to text him because if I didn’t then we’d probably never talk again.

That’s when I stopped and I realized how twisted that is. This thing that we have is held together by me responding right now. Like I always do. I always try to mend things with him because I feel his absence in my life. I don’t feel like I have many friends anymore, and no close ones at all. So I don’t want to lose him and I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be alone. I’d fight for him if I had to because I miss him when he’s not there. He’s my best friend. However, I didn’t text him this time because I needed to know if I was right. I needed to know that if it weren’t because of me if he’d ever reach out. I was dying to talk to him again like normal, but how long would he care to go without talking to me again. If he ever would?

The petty truth is that I wanted him to fight for me. I want someone to chase after me. I wanted him to want to talk to me. To give up and talk to me like I’ve always done for him. I needed to know that all those times I wasn’t fighting for someone who would never do the same. That if he never spoke to me, it’d be all the same to him. So I haven’t talked to him in a week. It’s been a week and he hasn’t called or texted or said absolutely anything to me. The last thing he saw of me was that I was crying on FaceTime. I haven’t heard a single thing.

I've spent me entire 1 week break thinking about him. Drinking here and there when I thought about him too much. Sleeping in till noon thinking about everything I’d say. Asking myself if this is the right thing. Waiting for him to call because he will, right? I mean, we were so close. We talked every single day. I opened up to him about so much. We trusted each other. He was going to call. It seems I was wrong and I can’t be hung up on this forever. That’s why I’m writing this now, because I need to figure out what to do. I can’t wait around for his call forever. This isn’t me. I don’t chase people. I don’t get attached. I don’t long for a call. I've become seemingly pathetic and I hardly recognize myself.

So I’m writing about this because I need to move on with my life. I can’t wait for the possibility that he’ll call in a few weeks and everything will be like it was before. I'm starting my third year of medical school on Monday. I need to focus on studying. I need to focus on myself, and I can’t do that when I’m waiting for someone that is living his own life while I’m stuck in time. The truth is, things always end like this. And it’s always rough and somehow I’m always there yearning while life moves on around me. But I always pick myself up and I wait for the next day. And I figure out how to live through it. This was an inevitable end. I think the reason I liked him so much, other than his company, was because I was into how much he cared for me. I felt like he needed me in his life, and eventually I needed him in mine too. That’s why I liked him so much, but now- I just don’t feel that from him anymore.

And you know what, I have my faults and I’m not a perfect person. And I had a rough couple of months because of exams and because of Step. But that’s over right now. And my flaws aside, I’m kinda great. I’m funny and I’m pretty and I’m good company. I’m trustworthy, I’m caring, I’m an honest person, I try my best and above all- I’m loyal. I am a loyal person who would’ve been there for him no matter what. I think I’m going to give him until Monday. That’s when I start third year, and after that I need to let go. I'm not going through the week that I had again. I’ve been through a lot. I am better than this. I am stronger than this and I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve to feel the way he has been making me feel. I am worthy of more.

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midnightswithdearkatytspb · 3 years

Note

Mob bucky/seb or mob chris/andy recs??

Updated 07/04/21 ✨ = Just Added

To be added please tag me in your future works!

Hey Anon! I’m so glad you asked this because Mob/Mafia! Any version of those boys is my favorite. In my previous fic recs I recommended...

If love was an option by @mianorth » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Part 1 🦋 Part 2 🦋 Part 3

Good Little Wife & Good Little Girl by @donutloverxo » Mob!Andy Barber x Reader – A little dark and it has some really good smut in it.

Blackmail by @stargazingfangirl18 » Soft!DarkMafia Andy Barber x Female Reader — You were just doing it to protect your family, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself, especially once you started to like it. (One-Shot)

Blow Sweet and Thick by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky x Reader — Bucky is having a bad day, you can help him feel good. (Part of Mafia Monday’s)

Run To You by @bestofbucky » Mob!Boss Bucky x Reader — Mob boss Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard. (Series)

Can’t Run, Can’t Hide by @angrythingstarlight » Dark!MafiaBucky Barnes x Reader — When you get noticed by the infamous mob boss, you flee. But Bucky doesn’t like to be denied anything and he’s coming for you. (One-shot)

Six Feet | Ch.1 ⚰️ Ch.2 by @queenoftheworldisdead » Dark Mob!Steve x Reader + Dark Mob!Bucky x Reader — Your family’s small funeral home comes into financial trouble. In desperation your father finds the most unlikely solution to solve his financial problems. | (Short Series)

Bankrupt by @mypoisonedvine » dark!40’s!Mob!Stucky x Reader — Your husband’s gambling addiction quickly got him in hot water with the mob, and you by extension. When some debt collectors come by to settle what is owed, you realize that you have a lot more to worry about than money problems.

Partition by @angrythingstarlight » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky comforts you after a bad day, and your boss learns why no one messes with his girl. —> Part 2: Let Me Show You — You wanted to know what your mobster boyfriend did, lucky for you he’s more into the show then tell.

Say the word and it’s yours by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mobster boyfriend rescues you from a long, boring day at work. Bucky always said, “ask and its yours”

Lost Without You by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky Barnes would be lost with you. You’re his everything and he plans on spending Valentine’s Day proving it to you.

All Dressed In White by @angrythingstarlight » Dark!Mafia Bucky Barnes x Reader — You were going to marry someone else, Bucky won’t let that happen. You belong to him now and forever. Till Death Do You Part.

Thick As Thieves by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Mafia!Steve Rogers — The only thing the Mafia hates as much as snitches are thieves. And you’re planning on stealing from Bucky and Steve, what happens if you get caught?

Won’t Let You Go by @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay » Mob!Bucky Barnes x OFC!Kori — Kori met Bucky in one of his clubs, out to get shit-faced with a couple of friends to forget about her worries and maybe take home a guy to further rid herself of her numerous frustrations. Little did she know that the one-night stand with Bucky would turn into so much more than that.

Tell Me What You Want by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader; Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mob boyfriend, is none other than Steve Rogers and he is willing to get you whatever you wanted, all you have to do is ask. And be careful what you ask for because he’s going to give it to you over and over again.

To Have & To Hold by @slyyywriting » Bucky Barnes x Mob Boss!Reader — Bucky is trying his best to provide and care for his daughter who just entered first grade. Everything was alright until she asks why everyone else seems to have a mom except for her. You’re just a plain mob boss who wants to turn a new leaf. Challenges arise when the world refuses to let you take a softer, non-violent route. A little girl helps you navigate a compromise.(series)

✨ Mob!Sugar Daddy!Stucky Moodboard by @brattycherubwrites » Mob!Stucky x Reader

✨ Laced Around Your Throat by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve x Reader, Mafia!Bucky x Reader — Your Mob boyfriend knows that the only thing that looks even better than his hand around your throat is his custom made necklace. You’re his girl and the world needs to know it.

✨ Hidden Gems by @jtargaryen18 » Mob!Steve Rogers x Mob!Daughter Reader — Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

Necessary Arrangements by @stargazingfangirl18 » Andy Barber x Fem!Reader, Ari Levinson x (Different) Fem! Reader ft. Ransom Drysdale » One of my favorite series, chapters are decent sized and the smut is so good!

Hugs My Love by @thatfuckingweirdo » Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Reader — You just really need a hug, and Bucky is the only one you want it from.

my old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood red jam by @cloudystevie » Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader — steve gives you what you want… kind of.

Brooklyn Wars by @world-of-aus » Stucky x Reader

Petals and Bullets by @revengingbarnes » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader (One of my all time favorites series)

I would check out @sinner-as-saint’s Masterlist they have quite a few Mob!Bucky series and one-shots that I have loved in the past.

Special by @buckycuddlebuddy » Bucky Barnes x Reader — this one-shot is really hot.

Love, Honor, and Obey by @constantwriter85 » Bucky Barnes — This one is good and I need to catch up on.

Mafioso by @captain-barnes-writes » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Please do yourself a favor and read.

Lipstick and Crayons by @oneoftheprettynerds » Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader - In Progress

A really good DarkMob!Steve Drabble called Please Hurt Me by @gotnofucks *chefs kiss*

The Mobster’s Little Girl by @smutsonian » Steve Rogers x Reader

off to the races 🐻 off to the races 2 by @harryspet » Soft!Dark Steve Rogers x Reader

The Ignorant Beauty & the Beast by @mysterioh » Steve Rogers x Reader – With 21 parts sadly it hasn’t been updated in 8 months, it’s one of my favorite Mob!Steve Roger fics out there. *Thanks to @inactivewhore I found out this story was moved to AO3 and is now called where angels fear to tread it was last updated on 13/11/20*

What It Takes by @cherienymphe » Bucky Barnes x Reader — You left Bucky once you found out who he really is. The one thing you thought would guarantee your safety ends up sealing your fate.

Welcome Home by @punani » Chris Evans x Black!Reader — He’s been away for awhile, but he knows that his girl’s loyalty to him knows no bounds. Knows she’s been waiting for him after her adamancy in telling him there was no other option. It’s only right to make the reunion a memorable one. | So, so, so, so freaking good!

These are what I found on Tumblr that I plan on reading.

Handmaid by @extremelyblackandwhite » Sebastian Stan x ingenue!Reader — y/n works as a handmaid for the daughter of an influential mob leader who is promised to the new boss of the most powerful mob family in new york, sebastian.

AO3 Website Reccomendations

Satellite Heart » Stucky x Reader — You used to be Steve and Bucky's girl. Then they fucking left without saying goodbye. Little did they know, you were pregnant. But life went on. You raised your Talia to the best of your ability. But one day, everything goes to shit. Now your boys are back in your life. And they're not planning on leaving anytime soon.

Little Fox A/B/O Series » Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Soft!Dark Natasha Romanoff x OFC! & Peter Parker x Soft!Dark Tony Stark — So I can’t stress this enough you need to read the tags for this series and I kept getting confused as I read this story as to how old Violet Mason is. But this series takes you on a roller coaster, I like it, my cousin didn’t finish it, I need to catch up.

Pelmeni *finished* » Stucky x Reader — James Bucky Barnes has a good life, as a member of a powerful organized crime syndicate. His best friend Steve is a member too and his literal partner in crime. Bucky's got a problem though. You. His longtime love and secret girlfriend. Unfortunately, your father is his boss and has plans for you that involve normal life. Steve has a problem too. Steve wants in on your relationship and more than the semi-regular/occasional steamy threesomes. You don't have a problem, you're just busy with a big mob wedding coming up, which means a big celebration, that you're busy catering for.

Dying For This Love » Dark!Bucky x Reader — That was before. When you were Bucky’s girl. Now, you have a score to settle. That’s why you’re wearing Bucky’s favorite red satin dress, the one with the cuts that reach right up to the tops of your thighs, the tennis necklace he gifted you for your anniversary, and are fresh off of a mani/pedi and hair appointment. He’s going to regret the day he fucked with you. | This one is intense and a tad bit dark, but the smut is good.

off to the races » Steve Rogers x Reader — In which you call the kingpin your Daddy.

The Mobster’s Little Girl » Steve Rogers x Reader — what happens when the big bad mobster gets blackmailed by your father to marry you? (kind of fluffy kind of not. kinda dark kinda not.)

Brooklyn Sweethearts » Dark!Stucky x Reader — Bucky and Steve had always been meant to keep her safe and happy. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was their sole reason for being alive. Unfortunately, the things that kept her safe were not always the things that kept her happy. Lately, she was making it pretty damn hard for them to compromise. | Probably one of my all time favorite Mafia!Stucky stories I have ever read, just sadly it also hasn’t been updated in like 8 months and I keep hoping it will get updated.

Hot Doll » Skinny!MobBoss Steve Rogers x Reader — Steve Rogers is on the rise in the New York underground as you’re trying to keep your own place there. | Dark and good!

Doctor Doctor » Steve Rogers x PlusSize! Reader — (1940 Mobster AU!) You're a war widow down on her luck; and the King of Brooklyn, Steve Rogers, takes notice. | Another one of my favorites. A little bit dark as well.

The Widow » Dark!MobBoss x Reader — It’s the 1920s and everyone’s having a roaring time but you. | Trust me it’s just dark enough.

Those are just some on AO3, I would just go through Mafia AU tag and go to filter and click Avengers or Captain America.

#you ask i answer #ktk rec ‘21 #ktk rec #ktk fic rec #mob!bucky #mafia!bucky #mob!andy barber #andy barber #andy barber x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mob!steve #dark!steve x reader #stucky x reader #fanfiction recommendation #fanfic rec #mob!sebastian stan #mob!sebastian stan x reader #mob!chris evans

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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Excuse Me what is pulp and why is it importan?

Good question! And probably one I should have answered sooner. Time to put on the historian hat for this one.

"Pulp" is a term used mainly to describe forms of storytelling that sprang out or were dominant in 20th century cheap all-fiction American magazines from the 1900s to the 1950s. The pulp magazine began in 1896, when Frank Munsey's Argosy magazine, in order to cut costs, dropped the non-fiction articles and photographs and switched from glossy paper to the much less expensive wood pulp paper, hence the name. The pulp magazines would mainly take off as a distinct market and format in 1904, when Street & Smith learned that Popular Magazine, despite being marketed towards boys, was being consumed by men of all ages, so they increased page count and started putting popular authors on the issues.

It was specifically the 1905 reprint of H.Rider Haggard's Ayesha that not only put Street & Smith on the map as rivals to Argosy, but also inspired other companies to start publishing in the pulp format. Pulps encompassed literally everything that the authors felt like publishing. Westerns, romance, horror, sci-fi, railroad stories, war stories, war aviation stories. Zeppelins had a short-lived subgenre. Celebrities got their own magazines, it was really any genre or format they could pull off, anything they could get away with.

Nowadays, although they came quite late in it's history, the American pulps are most famous for it's "hero pulps", characters like The Shadow and Doc Savage that are viewed as a formative influence on comic book superheroes. The pulp magazines in America lasted until the 1950s, when cumulative factors such as paper shortages, diminishing audience returns and the closing of it's biggest publishers led to it dying off, although in the decades since there's always been publishers calling their magazines pulp. That's the American pulp history.

But pulps are a phenomenon that spans the entire world and has a much bigger history to it, because pulps have become synonymous with cheap fiction magazines and those have a much bigger history. In America, before the pulps, you had the dime novels, the direct predecessors of the pulps, as well as the novelettes. England had it's penny dreadfuls and story papers, and continued publishing pulp-format magazines past the American 1950s, and that's how we got Elric of Melniboné. France and Russia arguably got to it first with it's 1800s coulporters, chapbooks and particularly the feuilletons which lasted all the way to the 20th century and created characters such as Arsene Lupin, Fantomas and The Phantom of the Opera. The Germans published pulp under the name hefteromane. Japan also published pulp magazines both original as well as imported, and the current "light-novel" phenomenon started off as an equivalent of pulp magazines (it's even on the Wikipedia page). China has wuxia, Brazil has cordel, Italy has gialli. There were Indian, Persian, Ethiopian, Canadian, Australian pulps and much more. Look anywhere in the world and you'll find examples of "pulp" happening again and again, under different circumstances and time periods.

Even if we stick to American fiction, it's impossible to state that all pulp heroes must come from the 1900s-1950s pulp magazines, because that forces us to exclude some of the most popular pulp heroes like Indiana Jones, Green Hornet, Rocketeer and The Phantom. Pulp may have once been a term meant to refer to pulp magazines exclusively, but it's morphed and lost structure and it's become the closest thing we have to a general umbrella term that allows us to try and consolidate these under a shared history. It's a lot, as you can see, and it's why several pulp historians that broaden their scope outside of 1930s American fiction have adopted Roland Barthes's definition of pulp as "A Metaphor With No Brakes In It", which is still the closest thing to a true working definition we have.

Why is it important? You tell me. I don't like to stake claims about stuff being "important", everyone's got their own priorities in life. Surely a lot of people would scoff at the idea of old populist fiction published in what was functionally equivalent to toilet paper having any sort of "importance". On the other hand, some people definitely want to talk big about the pulps as a cultural bedrock of fiction, something that's baked into the lifeblood of all fiction as we currently know it. Which it is, mind you, but I don't like to talk about pulp fiction's value being derived mainly from merely the things it inspired.

There is definitely a historical importance to be had in cataloguing them. According to the US's foremost pulp researcher Jess Nevins, 38% of all American pulps no longer exist, and 14% of all American pulps survive in less than five copies. Many libraries have very scant, if any, records on them, many collectors are hard to locate and are uncooperative when it comes to sharing information and letting outsiders view their collections. A lot of them are bound up in legal complications that prevents them from taking off in the public domain, and a lot of them ARE public domain but are completely inacessible as research material. And that's the American pulps, foreign pulps have fared far worse in posterity, with records inaccessible to people unfamiliar with the language or locations, many existing merely in mentions on decades-old records, and hundreds if not thousands of them being completely gone beyond recovery or recall.

Gone, dead, wasted, destroyed. They can't be found in barbershops or warehouse or bookstores, not even in antique stores. Hundreds, thousands of characters, stories and creators, gone. Time and posterity have crushed them to dust, forgotten and ignored by their successors. Unfettered by pretenses of respectability that repressed their glossier counterparts, in packages meant to be destroyed after reading, proudly announcing itself as trash. Things that should have never even lasted as long as they did have died many times now. It's heroes peripherical shapeshifters, nearly all of whom seem dead, quite dead, as dead as fictional characters can possibly be.

But they do not die forever. Many of them have, maybe most of them have, but many of them linger on.

"The strange red flickering of 1930’s fiction seems distant now. You hold in your hand the product of a time too remote to recall, and feel a slow stir of wonder. The smell of pulp pages, an illustration, an advertisement, these fragile things mark the slow hammering of time and display what it has done. About you are today’s machines, today’s shadows.

Outside the window, leaves hang against the sky, as did leaves during the 1930’s. The sound of voices are no different then than now. You hold the magazine and feel something quite delicate slipping past. These solid forms surrounding you are all insubstantial. Time’s hammer will also pass across them, leaving little enough behind." - Spider, by Robert Sampson

Many of the things people call dead are just things that have been sleeping for a while or haven't had the chance to be born. Pulp fiction is dead on the page, inert, unless your imagination breathes live to it, and every now and then, one way or another, these characters dig themselves out of dustbins. Maybe it's a brief revival, maybe it's a successful reboot. Maybe they find publishers, or maybe the public domain allows them to find new life. Maybe new creators do interesting things with them, and maybe, just maybe, they live again because some won't shut up about them online. Some curious impulse led you to me, did it not?

We all have our Frankensteins to obsess over, and these are some of mine. As someone who's lived a life perpetually restless over pursuit of knowledge, pulp has lured me like a moth to flame, because I literally never run out of things to discover within it, I never run out of possibilities. As the years pass and the public domain starts being more and more open to the public, more and more narrative real state is brought forth for writers and artists and creators to play around.

Pulp is the dark matter of fiction, the uncatalogued depths of the ocean, the darkest recesses of space. It's the box of your grandfather's belongings, the treasure you find in an attic, a body part sticking out from an old playground. It's the things that don't work, don't succeed, the things that don't fit, that are out of place. That shouldn't live and succeed, and did so anyway. The things that slither in the cracks, the shadows behind the curtain.

Aren't you interested in peering on what's behind the curtain?

The exquisite workmanship of the head, of a pre-pyramidal age, and the hieroglyphics, symbols of a language that was forgotten when Rome was young–these, Kane sensed, were additions as modern to the antiquity of the staff itself as would be English words carved on the stone monoliths of Stonehenge.

As for the cat-head–looking at it sometimes Kane had a peculiar feeling of alteration; a faint sensing that once the pommel of the staff was carved with a different design. The dust-ancient Egyptian who had carved the head of Bast had merely altered the original figure, and what that figure had been, Kane had never tried to guess.

A close scrutiny of the staff always aroused a disquieting and almost dizzy suggestion of abysses of eons, unprovocative to further speculation. - The Footfalls Within, by Robert E Howard, quoted by Stuart Hopen’s The Mythic American Culture

#replies tag #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #argosy #h rider haggard #ayesha #robert e howard #solomon kane

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gotnofucks · 3 years

Text

Lover’s Quarrel

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: You have the powers to resurrect if you’ve been murdered, and a jealous Steve Rogers indulges heavily in your abilities. He would not let you steal his best friend, that was for sure. So what, if your rivalry regularly caused fire and harm to public property? You just couldn’t let the other win.

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Smut, enemies to lovers, violence, killings and murders (but reader cannot die, it’s weird. She has some sorta powers that help her revive when she’s been murdered), language, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Is this crack fic? Idk. Maybe?

The sixth time Steve killed you, you decided he needed to be dealt with in a similar way. It doesn’t matter that he cannot come back from the dead like you. He just needed to go. You were tired of him offing you every time he felt threatened by your existence. But this was the last straw. He had pushed you off the Quinjet while flying home from a mission and you’d fallen into the lake and drowned. You would NOT recommend dying that way.

Bucky had dragged out your dead body and watched over you as the blessing of the necromancer worked its magic over you and brought you back to the world of the living. The first words out of your mouth as you spewed out water were, “I am going to kill your best friend and you can’t be mad at me for that.”

Bucky, far too happy to have you back – poor guy still mourned every time you died – ignored your comment and pulled you into a hug. He’d never quiet gotten used to seeing you die. You patted his back, muttering a few there-there’s until he was calm enough to press quivering kisses on your head and temple.

“You need to stop dying.” He said into your hair, holding you close.

“I would not be dying if your best friend didn’t murder me every time! He is a menace, Buck!” You cried in exasperation. The said best friend was watching you from a few yards away, and he rolled his eyes as your words reached him. He scoffed loud enough for you to hear and you sharply turned your head to glare at him.

“You!” You shouted, quickly standing up and marching over to him. “You rascal!” And then you pried out your wet shoe from your feet and threw it at his stunned face. Unfortunately, it didn’t hit his face but smacked against his chest, leaving the wet print of your soles against his far too tight t-shirt. He gaped at you open mouthed before baring his teeth in warning.

“Oh god, every time you come alive again, you’re even more awful than before!” Steve shouted, and then just because he is fucking drama queen, he threw out his hands. You sneered before turning to look at Bucky meaningfully, the most obvious ‘see what a dick he is’ look on your face.

Bucky shuffled uneasily, caught between your quarrel once again. He came behind you and gave you his jacket to wear to shield you from the cold. And just like that, your anger melted a little. Somehow, with his steel blue eyes, Bucky Barnes could sooth every wound you’d ever had. Even those given to you by Steve Rogers.

“I am so sorry. I should have seen what he was about to do. I wouldn’t have ever let you fall had I known.” He apologized and you swore your heart physically quivered. You pulled Bucky into a hug, hiding your face in his chest, savoring his arms coming around you to hold you tighter. You could have stayed in his embrace forever, but it was an annoyed groan that ripped you both apart.

“Is there any way you can stay dead a little longer?” Steve asked, breaking your moment. “I mean, I’ve tired a bullet and knife and water and poison. What can I do that you’d be gone for just a little longer?”

He was worked up, a red flush creeping on his face and neck. Pacing, he was muttering, and you wondered for the millionth time how Bucky could be friends with him. He was just so extra! You wanted to tell him to shove a stick up his ass, along with the one already there when he turned swiftly like the wind and threw a dagger at you. A metal hand caught it before it could hit you and you were pulled into the warmth of Bucky’s body quickly.

“Steve! Cut it out.” Bucky yelled, glaring at Steve. “You will not kill her again. I don’t care if she can come back alive again. You won’t hurt her.”

With that, he dropped the dagger on the ground and walked away with you. Unable to resist, you looked over you shoulder and flipped Steve off. Fucker could kill you a hundred times and yet he would not be able to do anything. As far as you were concerned, Bucky was as much your best friend as his. And if Steve Rogers couldn’t control his jealousy without trying to behead you every time he felt you were stealing Bucky from him, you would just have to make his death look like an accident.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that you can’t kill him either?” Bucky said teasingly, his eyes soft and fond. “I need you both to survive.”

You groaned, bumping your shoulder in his and snuggling into him as a cold breeze hit your wet clothes. He could read you like an open book.

“You are no fun Barnes.”

There was rubble and fires and shrieks. Natasha was yelling in Russian as she ran about with a fire extinguisher and Clint crawled out of his vents to help Bruce out who was turning a dangerous shade of green. Tony was sitting in the ruins of his kitchen, his mouth half open as he spied on the ensuing battle in the middle of it.

Sam was using his shield to push Steve away who was shouting curses that had probably not been invented yet. Bucky was holding you back by your middle, yelling in your ear to calm the fuck down but all you could think of to do was smacking Steve’s face with that chair that was currently on fire. You suppose once everyone was calm, you’d feel guilty about your part in destroying the Avengers kitchen but right now that wasn’t important.

What was important was that Steve had tried to kill you. Again. He had actually thrown a fucking grenade at you. You barely had the time to kick it away where it exploded in the kitchen and then Steve was on you, calling you a bitch in all the 9 languages he knew.

“Calm the hell down, Steve!” Sam yelled, struggling to keep Steve at bay from you. You were glad to see that Steve’s nose was busted. That will teach the bastard to ‘look down his nose’ on you now.

“She pierced my ears! The fucking bitch pierced my goddamn ears!” Steve yelled. Even you had to admit, the golden hoops looked amazing dangling from his ears. Just perfect.

“You are lucky I didn’t stick a knitting needle in your eye Rogers!” You sassily replied, “The only reason you’re still in one piece is because I promised my best friend that I wouldn’t hurt you.”

The muscles in Steve’s arms tensed and Sam groaned, barely keeping his own footing. A dark shadow seemed to have crawled over Steve’s face, turning the blues of his eyes an angry shade and had you been a weaker person, you would have trembled. This was the face of someone who had stood against armies alone and came out victorious. But for all you cared, he could kiss your ass.

“He is MY best friend. Mine. Not yours, not anyone else’s. Bucky Barnes is mine and I will kill you a thousand times until it sinks in your thick skull!” Steve growled. You scowled, a scathy remark bubbling on the tip of your tongue when you suddenly stopped. Why say when you can show? So, looking Steve directly in the eyes, you went limp in Bucky’s arms, turned around and cupped his face. And then you kissed his cheek.

Steve let out a strangled cry behind you, but you focused on Bucky who was blinking in disbelief at your audacity. And so, just for the heck of it, you kissed his other cheek. And then his forehead.

“Bucky Barnes, you are my best friend and always will be!” You said, hugging the life out of him. You heard Steve break away from Sam, heard Bucky yell out a curse and holding you protectively as his jealous pal came rushing to claim him. And all through that and the chaos that ensued later, you just smiled broadly.

Tony was giving a lecture, and he sucked. He gesticulated too much for your liking, and you really didn’t like how he kept emphasizing things by looking pointedly at you. It wasn’t even that much of a big deal, and even if it was, it was not your fault. Like every other time, the only person who could be held responsible was the blond super soldier sitting beside you, wearing the same shade of annoyance on his face as yours.

“I repeat” said Tony, his hair askew, “we do not use Friday to settle idiotic, absolutely ridiculous personal vendettas!”

“You have Friday tell you how pretty you look every day!” You countered and Tony slammed his hand on the table.

“Because I am!” He huffed. “You, on the other hand, stopped a mission in the middle to ask Friday who had a higher score! I mean, what the actual fuck? And what score?”

Steve had the decency to look at least a little sheepish. You however didn’t put up with any of that nonsense. It was his idea anyway, and you wouldn’t take the fall for him. Not when Tony looked murderous like this.

“Rogers bet me he’d take down more enemies than me. We only asked Friday to keep a count. I had literally nothing to do with it.”

Tony turned the ire of his glare at Steve who was too busy giving you a dirty look. He was just pissed you won, and that Bucky had spent the entire ride back tending to your wounds rather than Steve’s. It wasn’t your fault his jealous ass always threw a fit whenever he saw you and Bucky together.

“You said the team could use Friday as we saw fit.” Steve said, though he did look a little guilty. It wasn’t like him to lose command and control. Even when he’d been Captain America, he had never let anything rattle him. Not until you had come prancing in his life and stealing his best friend.

“I said the team could use Friday, not stop everything in the middle of a high risk mission to see who has a bigger dick.” Tony said, and then he just collapsed in his chair. Poor guy had been working too hard to carry the team forward, and in that moment, even you felt guilty. Your rivalry with Steve shouldn’t have to affect everyone else, not when they had been so welcoming and loving to you ever since you joined.

You walked over to Tony and dropped a kiss on his head, caressing his hair. “I am sorry Tones. You won’t have more trouble from me.”

Tony looked at you as if seeing an angel. He looked at you as if you were the solution to all his troubles. Despite every furniture of his you’d broken and set fire to, he was so grateful to have one sane voice between them. Cupping your hands, he looked imploringly at you and asked, “Really? You’re gonna stop fighting with Steve?”

At that, you solemnly nodded and patted his hand gently. Poor him and the poor team going through hell because you and Steve couldn’t settle your differences. It was obvious what had to be done.

“Of course I will” You said magnanimously, because of course you were the better of the two. “Steve just needs to find another best friend and there won’t be any reason to fight anymore.”

If any of them had been drinking water, they would have spit it out. Since they didn’t, they just kind of choked on their saliva and sputtered at you in absolute disbelief. Tony actually looked betrayed and Steve seemed to have licked a lemon, if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“She” He said, voice thick with contempt, “needs to go away. We can launch her in outer space or somewhere from where she can never return. You know why? Because Bucky is my best friend. Since we were yay high!” And he raised his arms a foot off the ground to show just how high.

And just like that, the moment was gone. Rogers opened his mouth and any goodwill you had had went poof. So, you did the only reasonable thing any sane person would do right now and that was to flip him off and call him a pig. You knew he was inching to strangle you; you could see his fingers twitch. A part of you was anticipating it, for Bucky would never forgive him for killing you again. Just as he would have lunged at you, push Tony out of the way and did you away for good, Bucky burst into the room with the expression of a cantankerous 100 year old grandpa who had had enough with the world.

“For fucks sake! Just shut up you both!” He yelled and paced the room. His eyes were bloodshot and hair disheveled, a clear sign that your rivalry was taking a heavy toll on him. Steve opened his mouth to say something when Bucky raised a finger to shush him. “No no no! You listen to me you oblivious, utter moronic fucklets!”

Your mouth dropped open. Bucky never cursed at you. He had never called you a fucklet before.

“You two need to stop. You hear me? You need to STOP!” He raked a hand through his hair before kicking the ground in frustration. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep! I can’t fucking breathe without you both arguing over who is a better friend to me. So, here’s an idea. Instead of fucking me over in the middle of your sexual tension, why don’t you find a room and fuck each other? Because I tell you now, I cannot fucking take it!”

Silence sat pregnant in the room. You blinked at Bucky. Steve blinked at Bucky. Tony blinked at Bucky. And Bucky didn’t blink at all.

“That – uh – what?” You said, eloquent as ever. “That is so stupid.” And you laughed awkwardly.

Steve glanced at you and then stammered, “What? That – I haven’t – that has nothing to do with it. She and I – what?”

You both found each other’s eye, quickly looked away and just became silent. The tension in the air was suffocating you, and a terrible heat was settling in your stomach. Without another word, you walked out of the room, muttering about how ridiculous the whole idea was. The three men watched your exit, and a moment later, Steve left too, still very much in disbelief.

Tony and Bucky sighed, sitting across from each other and just taking in the fact that the elephant in the room had finally been address. A moment later, Tony began drumming on the desk, looking up at the ceiling.

“I couldn’t have put it any better myself.”

You felt antsy, as if staying one more moment in your room would drive you mad. You kept jerking your legs and arms, a weird restlessness in every action of yours. What the hell was Bucky saying? The sheer nerve to imply that you…you and Steve had some sort of feelings for each other. You hadn’t heard that kinda crap since you nursed your nephew who’d had diarrhea.

The only reason you and Steve fought was because you wanted Bucky. He was supposed to be your best friend, and clearly it was his inability to decide who he preferred more that had led you here. And to pretend, on top of that, that it was you who was at fault was just ridiculous. As if you’d touch Steve Rogers with a ten foot pole.

But…would you? You suppose he couldn’t be that bad to touch. He did have gorgeous eyes that got all dark and dilated when he fought with you. And his breath hitched when you got him mad and he bit his lip to stop from cursing you and he flushed a very becoming shade of red that started from his cheeks and disappeared down the neckline on his tight shirts that –

Holy fuck!

The realization rocked your world. What the hell? When you thought about it again, it seemed as if you’d just described Steve being aroused. Did you really fight him and got him mad to stimulate yourself? Oh god. Bucky was right. You wanted to fuck Steve.

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. You quickly changed into your work out gear and rushed to the gym, intent on sweating out whatever feelings you might have for Steve. After all, nothing says fuck you like imagining someone’s face on a punching bag and just going to town on it. Thankfully, when you arrived the gym was empty.

You’d been working on your stretches for only a few minutes when your worst nightmare entered the gym. He probably had the same idea as you and froze the moment your eyes met. His blue eyes narrowed at you and you stood up straight. You hated Bucky for putting the thought in your head. Now all you could think of was tackling Steve to the ground and fucking him senseless. You still wanted to beat him, but in a very different way.

As Steve entered, his eyes fixed to your form, you decided it was time to leave. After that fiasco in front of Tony, you didn’t think yourself capable of talking to Steve. Staying alone with him was something you didn’t trust yourself with. So you picked up your bag and started for the door when his voice stopped you.

“Running away? Am I to believe that there is something that finally scares you?”

Anger, red hot anger simmered under your veins when you turned to face him again. He had a mocking smirk on his face that made you grit your teeth. His eyes, dark and challenging beckoned you to him, but they didn’t hold resentment there either. Something between you had changed today. The very air around you was different, thick with tension and apprehension that had your nerves tingling.

“Scared?” You scoffed, dropping your bag on the matted floor and walking until you stood right before him. He towered over you in height, but he’d never been able to actually look down at you. “Me, scared of you? You wish Rogers.”

One corner of his lips lifted up, and he put his hands on you. One hand hooked around your waist and pulled you closer, the other trailing a finger down the side of your face to your neck, following the path down your arm until his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Oh, I so do wish” He whispered and his lips met yours. You rose up on your toes, mashing your body against his and mapping the planes of his body with your palms. The smell of his sweat and soap surrounded you, your arms coming to hold him around the shoulders as he hitched you up so you could wrap your legs around him.

Like everything in your relationship, the kiss was explosive. You didn’t melt against each other like people do in books; you collided like two warring armies intent on conquering the other. You collided like night and day, basking your surroundings in the dawn and dusk of your lust. Steve took your bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, smiling as you shamelessly moaned.

“What do you say?” He asked, pushing you against the wall, his hardness digging between the heated center of your legs.

You pulled him closer, letting your lips trail over his jaw and neck before you branded him with a quick bite. “You’ve always been so aggressive Steve, let’s see you let loose some other way. I sure do hope you fuck better than you fight though, or I’ll just be disappointed.”

Steve growled, kissing you again as he ground his cock against you, trapping you between the wall and his hard body that prevented any escape. Your hands slipped under his t-shirt, meeting the firm muscles on his abdomen that rippled under you. He pulled back just enough to allow you to remove your clothes, his own being flung sideways without any care.

Even before, you’d never thought of Steve as anything but beautiful, but now, seeing him in all his glory, you could only look him up and down in appreciation. He was trembling slightly, as if holding himself back with effort, his eyes not leaving you for a second. You both looked at each other, naked and unashamed before frantically coming together. His hands were everywhere, squeezing your ass and thighs as his lips pulled at your breast.

Your fingers rolled his nipples softly until he moaned, and then you pinched them. He jerked under your touch, kicking the back of your knees so you collapsed down, and he covered your body with his. Anger, arousal, lust and longing, all emotions built together in a storm of incoherent desire that had you both rolling over each other, fighting for dominance and power. Steve pinned you down with effort, holding your wrists in one hand over your head as he gave a smug smile to you.

“Will you finally surrender today?” He asked, positioning his cock at your entrance that was drenched. You would have loved to taste him, to have him taste you, but as of now, all you wanted was for him to slide inside you. You hungered for him, burnt for his touch. For years you’d been left wanting, and now with the prize so near, you weren’t about to wait any longer.

“The only surrender today will be yours.” You whispered sweetly before slamming your head against his. Steve jerked hard in surprise, allowing you the opportunity to free your hands and roll over him. You sat on his pelvis proudly, his throbbing member right underneath you and as he blinked at you, stunned, you rose up over his tip and slowly sunk down.

Steve groaned as your wet channel fell like velvet heat along his shaft. You had never been so full before. He stretched your limits, as he had always done, and you decided you very much preferred rendering him speechless like this under you than your usual punches and throws. His hands dug into your waist, helping you bounce on his cock and you threw your head back at the feeling.

It was a beautiful ache, one that took your breath away. As you rolled your hips and clenched down there, Steve’s voice rose in appreciation and you grinned. You finally had the golden boy at your mercy. You fucked him, changing your pace to punish him, never letting him up. For every time he killed you, you bit on his lips and neck, marking him. It was punishment and cherishing, a culmination of feelings you didn’t understand.

“Touch me.” You brokenly said, and his fingers found your nub. The slapping of skin, the sounds of debauchery and the smell of sin filled the air. You leaned over him to meet his lips, the heat in your gut bubbling until you snapped and came atop him, falling blissfully. It was one moment of weakness and the world titled, Steve having finally pushing you on your back.

“You’ve always been strong, because I’d hate to break you when the fun has only just begun.” He said and thrust into you hard and fast. He was an animal in heat, a man possessed, and you didn’t mind one bit. You met his every thrust with a raise of your hips, you clawed at his back until he bled, your lips tasting of the salt of sweat and tears and desire. He brought you impossibly closer, looking right into your eyes as he took you.

For the life of you, you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t get enough of his grunts and moans, of the breathy whispers of your name that slipped between curses, of the way his lashes would flutter over the dark blues that kept your eyes captive. He had you completely in that moment, mind and body; and for some reason, his gaze felt infinitely more intimate than his cock that was currently spearing you open. You keened in pleasure, whimpering as he touched your overly sensitive clit and had you coming again.

A minute later, he twitched inside you, his warmth flooding your core and you sighed. You laid entangled and sweaty, both of you spent and tired and yet completely overtaken by the urge to be closer still. To think this is what you’d both missed for all these years.

“So, what do you say, still feeling aggressive?” Steve asked and you looked at him with a grin that you couldn’t have suppressed had you wanted to. Oh yes, some battles were never meant to end, but they sure could be altered to meet new demands.

“With you? Always.” You replied, kissing him deep until he couldn’t think of anything but you. “Just remember one thing.”

“Oh yeah, what?”

“I am still a better best friend to Bucky. I did fuck you to keep him happy after all.”

Steve frowned darkly and before you could blink, he was over you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I think this time I’d fuck some manners into you.”

“I think this time you should actually put your back into it. I did all the work before.” You taunted and he dived at you.

Meanwhile, in Tony Stark’s office

“Friday, what’s the score?” He asked smugly, offering Bucky the packet of blueberries. Bucky was sitting with his feet on the desk, a small smile on his face.

“I am afraid I am not at a liberty to say Boss.” Friday replied. If the AI could blush, she would.

“Seems like they are at an impasse.” Tony suggested, and Bucky shrugged, licking his lips.

“Well, some things never change.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #bucky x reader #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #crack fic #i think lol

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

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Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

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

The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

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

“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

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

BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

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

GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #tw blood #tw self harm #tw cannibalism #blood blood blood oops #I wrote this instead of sleeping because my hands cannot be stopped #typeity type type type #sorry if the formatting is off #i'm trying the new editor or whatever #if it's fucked I'll fix it whenever I wake up

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twstgabrielle · 3 years

Text

It had started off simple enough.

Just a few sniffles here and there, nothing to be too concerned about. Then you had started to sneeze which you didn't pay much attention to. After all the seasons were changing so it wasn't unusual that your nose would act up somewhat. Then you started to cough. Like the kind of coughing that made you sound like you were dying. Added with a sore throat and a massive headache it became quite clear that maybe this was more than what you originally thought. That perhaps you may have gotten a nasty cold.

But you would never admit it.

Oh hell no. You were a strong, independent person with a ton of responsibilities to do like taking care of your friends and Grimm or keeping an eye on the other dorms in case something like God forbid an Overblot occurred. You couldn't afford getting sick. So like the stubborn person you were, you continued your everyday life, getting sicker and sicker. And of course your friends began to grow concerned, especially your roommate Grimm.

"Hey minion! You sound awful! You're not dying are you???"

The feline yowled into your ear, making your headache worse. You reached within yourself for patience to deal with Grimm. While you loved him to death sometimes you really just wanted to shake him. Just a little.

"I'm fine. Now quit shouting please you're too loud-"

You'd begun to say only to start coughing and wheezing, your hand covering your mouth. Grimm flinched at the noise. You sounded horrible, what with the froggy sounding voice, sneezing and hacking. It was obvious that you weren't okay but given that Grimm had never dealt with something like this it was difficult for him to figure out how to help you other than being his usual self.

"Maybe you should stay in the dorm today."

Grimm suggested trying not to let his concerns show through. The look he received from you was not a nice one. Filled with irritation that only someone who was sick and stubborn would show.

"Grimm. I'm fine. I don't have the time to stay in Ramshackle and miss school. So let's just get our things and go."

You crocked putting an end to it. Grimm looked at you, ears flickering nervously before letting it go. The small monster knew he couldn't argue with you on this, so he decided to keep an eye on you. After all if you went down then he couldn't become the greatest mage to ever live. That and he may or may not care about you. But he wouldn't tell you that. Gathering your things the two of you headed out to get to class, the chilly autumn air hitting you full force and making you shiver. Tugging your coat tighter around you and making sure Grimm was secured within said coat, you locked up Ramshackle and went to class.

~~~~~

Ace Trappola was not the most observant person in the world. He preferred to stay in his own business and not get into things that would make his life harder then it needed to be. Which was ironic given that he was friends with you and the others who just like him were magnets for trouble. However today while he was waiting for you and Grimm to show up with the others he quickly took notice that something was off about you when you had finally gotten to them. Your eyes were somewhat glassy and unfocused, your cheeks red and your breathing seemed whistley. Your hair was a mess somewhat almost as if you were too tired to bother with it and you kinda moved like a zombie. The red head was instantly alert, and it seemed like he wasn't the only one who noticed the changes in you as the rest of the group went quiet.

"(Y/N).....! Are you alright??? You look awful!"

Deuce said instantly concerned about you. Jack stared at you in an imitating mother like manner while Epel and Sebek just looked at you baffled and concerned.

"(Y/N) you're face is all red, are you alright?"

Epel asked already reaching out to touch your face to make sure you were alright.

"Human you look horrid!"

Sebek said in a shout, making you flinch at his tone. Jack moved closer and just like Epel touched your face.

"You're burning up."

He stated his amber eyes sharp. Epel let out a small gasp when he felt your cheeks as well.

"He's right! You're burning up! Why are you out here???"

Epel asked sounding like a scolding mother. It reminded Ace of Vil scarily enough. Reddish brown eyes met your (E/C) ones.

"You're sick. You should be laying down, not wandering around in the cold. Grimm why didn't you stop them?"

Ace asked annoyed somewhat. Grimm seemed to huff and was about to snap at Ace when you'd finally seemed to snap out of your sickly stupor and glare at the group annoyed.

"I'm here because I'm fine and Grimm is not my parent so he can't tell me what to do. Now if y'all are done crowding me and making so much noise then we should be heading to class. You know Professor Trein hates it when we're late."

You snapped somewhat. Your friends quickly backed off slightly startled by your irritation and your voice. You sounded like a choking frog due to coughing so much and your runny nose. Before any of them could stop you, you were already pushing your way through them to head to class. But as you went to move faster than you were, you quickly grew dizzy and began to stumble forward. You would have hit the ground if Deuce didn't step in and grab you.

"(Y/N)!"

Your friends called your name in surprise and concern. You felt like the world was spinning and your head was pounding harshly. You were so out of it that you didn't even notice that you were being picked up by Jack to had taken you from Deuce.

"That's enough you're going to the infirmary. Ace, Deuce go to Professor Trein and let him know that (Y/N) and Grimm won't be in class today due to being sick. Epel, Sebek go on ahead and let the nurse know that (Y/N) is coming to the infirmary. I'll be right behind you as soon as I got their things and them situated."

Jack said. He got various acknowledgements from each of them before they went off to go do what was asked of them. You weakly tried to push Jack away from you but obviously it didn't work. The wolf picked you up bridal style, your bag with your school on his shoulder. Grimm was slightly panicking, not used to things like this.

"Are they going to be okay??? They're......they're not dying right.....?"

Grimm asked, the question he'd asked you this morning becoming an actual concern. What if you were dying? Humans, especially magic less ones were quite fragile he'd come to learn while living with you. And the last thing he wanted was to lose you. You were his family if he was being completely honest. Jack gave Grimm a look, his ears flickering slightly.

"They'll be okay. They just have a cold. We just need to get them to the nurse so they can rest and get better."

He said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. Grimm seemed to take it and he sagged a bit in relief however he still glanced at you nervously. Jack began to make his way towards the infirmary, keeping a tight grip on you. You on the other hand just laid your head on his chest, coughing harshly and snuggling into him for warmth.

"You really are an idiot sometimes...."

Jack mumbled as he jogged towards the infirmary where you could hopefully get better.

~~~~~

The infirmary was filled with a few students when Epel and Sebek burst through the doors startling them. The nurse turned towards the disturbance, ready to chew someone out when she saw the two boys.

"Our friend....! They're really sick and we need help....!"

Epel wheezed trying to catch his breath. Sebek just nodded, ready to fight for a bed space should he have to. He wasn't above it, not when his friend was in need. The nurse was quick to respond.

"Alright I'll get a bed ready for them. You two go sit down and I'll bring you some water."

The nurse responded before hurrying off to do her tasks. It was only a few minutes later when Jack came in with you and Grimm. Epel and Sebek looked up to see if you were okay when the nurse came back in and quickly ushered the trio to one of the open beds.

"Lay them down here, and then go wait by the desk. I'll take a look at your friend."

She said shooing them out once you were placed on the bed. The three boys sat down slightly on edge by everything. While they maybe overeating somewhat they couldn't help it. You'd been sick for a good while and seeing you trip over your own feet due to a dizzy spell and hearing you literally hack up your lungs had not helped the situation at all. Shortly after they'd sat down to wait Ace and Deuce came into the infirmary, looking breathless like they'd ran all the way.

"Professor Trein says that (Y/N) and Grimm are excused. How are they?"

Deuce asked as he sat down next to Epel. Ace plopped down next to Sebek, running a hand through his messy reddish brown hair.

"We were just told to sit here and wait. The nurse is checking them over now."

Epel replied quietly as to not disturb the other students in the infirmary. Deuce nodded leaning back into his chair. The group of five sat there silently, catching their breath and waiting for the nurse. After what had felt like forever when in reality it was only a few minutes the nurse finally came back out.

"Well your friend has caught a nasty, nasty cold. I'm guessing that due to the autumn air, possibly stress from working so much and a few other things made them get sick. The best thing to do is to let them rest and take some cold medicine. Otherwise your friend is fine."

The nurse said with a smile. The boys sagged with relief glad it was nothing serious.

"We'll make sure they do."

Deuce said determined. The nurse smiled again before going to check on the other students in the infirmary. The group made a silent agreement then. They'd make sure that you got better and did as you were told until you finally became well again. You were their companion after all and you'd helped them out more times than they could count. The lest they could do was help you out as well.

~~~~~

When the boys had finally gotten you back to your dorm with the medicine the nurse gave to them, it was no surprise that the news of you being sick made its way around the school. You were pretty famous after all what with the Overblots and whatnot.

"Ahhh (Y/N) really is a reckless thing aren't they?"

Cater said, somewhat concerned. Trey gave a nod of agreement while Riddle silently fumed at your reckless behavior.

"It doesn't surprise me. (Y/N) is always working hard and never really took breaks. It's a miracle it took them this long to catch a cold."

Trey responded looking through his cookbook.

"Honestly, you'd think that the Prefect would know better. Great Seven they gave Ace and Deuce quite a scare."

Riddle said remembering how the duo had bursted into Professor Trein's classroom that morning and told him what had happened.

"Yeah they really did. But at least it's nice to know that they care about the Prefect under all their attitude."

Cater said with a smile. Trey smiled as well somewhat proud of the freshmen. Riddle just nodded in agreement.

"When they come back we should have them bring them some soup. Once I find the recipe we'll send a bowl of it with Ace and Deuce."

Trey said flipping through his cookbook some more. Riddle looked over his vice dorm leader's shoulder, looking slightly interested while Cater smiled a sudden beaming smile.

"I can take pictures of the soup and post them to my page. Plus I think (Y/N) will get a kick out of Riddle in the kitchen helping us out."

Cater teased. Riddle sputtered going slightly red in embarrassment while Trey silently laughed.

~~~~~

Rook watched as Vil looked at a few pieces of clothing, his amethyst hues staring at the clothing critically. The dorm leader was looking for a warm sweater that was about your size. After hearing that you'd gotten sick Vil had been rather quick in going into his famous mom mode as you'd dubbed it. The hunter made his way towards his companion, green eyes amused at how dedicated Vil was to finding you the perfect sweater.

"Any luck Roi du Poison?"

Rook asked curiously.

"Not really. I'm trying to figure out if this one will work best for (Y/N). The sweater they own is rather worn out, and it's getting colder. They really are mindless about these things, it's no wonder they'd gotten ill."

Vil said in a somewhat irritated manner. However Rook knew that under Vil's irritation was legitimate concern for you. You were always trying to help out everyone yet you always seemed to neglect yourself. So hearing that you'd gotten sick had made many of those who knew you personally grow concerned.

"Ah-ha. Found it."

Vil said grabbing a thick, fluffy sweater from the pile. It was a light lavender color and was somewhat big, with a soft kind of fluffy material. However Vil knew you'd like it given that you'd told him once that you liked oversized sweaters that were soft. Rook gave a nod of approval, a smile on his face.

"They'll love it Roi du Poison! We can send it with Monsieur Cherry Apple."

Rook said as he grabbed a nearby basket to put it in. Vil folded the sweater up with care and placed a jug of Epel's family's apple juice along with it.

"There. Hopefully this will help them feel better."

Vil said satisfied. Rook gave a small smile at the dorm leader and with that the two grabbed the basket and made their way to find Epel.

~~~~~

Ruggie had known Leona for a long time. So seeing the usually lazy lion putting so much effort into something. Especially for someone else. The dorm leader was putting together a fur blanket, that he was going to give to you to keep yourself warm during the night. After all Ramshackle wasn't the best place in the world and what with the chilly autumn nights it wouldn't help you with your cold. So here Leona was with Ruggie watching him in stunned amusement as he tried to make it look somewhat decent.

"Shishishi, who would have thought that you actually cared Leona."

Ruggie said chuckling in amusement. Leona shot him a nasty glare, his green eyes narrowed.

"I just don't want to hear the herbivores complain. It disturbs my naps."

He said stiffly, refusing to say anything more about the subject. Ruggie just snickered knowing that despite Leona's grouchy attitude, it was obvious that he cared about you......even if begrudgingly.

"Whatever you say Leona."

Ruggie said with a mischievous smile, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. Leona's tail flicked in irritation before he went back to work, grumbling lowly under his breath.

'Stupid Prefect. This had better bring me some peace and quiet.'

~~~~~

Scarabia was a usually hectic place given that Kalim was the dorm leader but today......today the usually chipper teen was even more chaotic than usual. Rushing around the dorm kitchen, Kalim searched among the vast amounts of teas he'd required from people unable to find one specific one. As Kalim searched he didn't take notice of Jamil coming into the kitchen, the vice dorm leader's grey eyes going wide at the sight he saw.

"Kalim what the hell are you doing?"

Jamil asked startling the poor boy. Kalim about jumped out of his skin, ruby red eyes wide as he whirled around towards Jamil. The young man couldn't help but compare Kalim to a deer caught in headlights with his startled expression before the young heir grew sheepish.

"Ah Jamil I was looking for tea...."

Kalim said sounding a bit awkward. Jamil quirked an eyebrow, waiting for Kalim to finish.

"But it's this specific kind of tea. It's the kind you make me when I get sick, the one that helps soothe sore throats. But I can't find it anywhere!"

Kalim finished looking now frustrated by the end of his explanation. Jamil instantly knew what Kalim was asking for and quickly connected the dots when he realized that Kalim probably wanted to give you this tea. It had spread fast the news of you getting a nasty cold, so it wasn't a huge surprise that Kalim the sweet boy, wanted to help you.

"I know where it is. Clean up this mess and I'll be right back."

Jamil said before disappearing from the kitchen to get the tea. Kalim beamed happily and quickly started to clean up his mess, making sure that it was the way it was. By the time Jamil came back with one of the familiar containers full of the tea leaves Kalim about sprung himself onto the young teen.

"Thank you Jamil! You really are a life saver! Hopefully this will help (Y/N) get better!"

Kalim said happily hugging the flustered man.

"O-oi okay I get it-! Get off of me-! Kalim-!"

Jamil said flustered as his face grew red. Kalim just hugged him more, unaware that he was making Jamil go red. The dark haired man realized that Kalim wasn't going to let go so with a somewhat embarrassed look he accepted his fate.

'(Y/N) had better be grateful for this. The things I do....'

Jamil thought. And if his heart raced a tiny bit at Kalim's hug and happiness then that'd be his little secret.

~~~~~

"Eh Azul~ Whatcha doing?"

Floyd asked curious. Jade turned to look at the duo, also curious as to what Azul was doing. The octopus merman was making something, a bright colored liquid of sorts.

"Well if you must know I'm making something known as popsicles."

Azul answered not bothering to look up from his task. The twins exchanged a look, curiosity growing.

"Oh? And why are you making popsicles? Is it a new food item for the lounge?"

Jade asked, a sharp smile on his face.

"More like an experiment of sorts. I'm going to send them to random people to have them taste test."

Azul responded. Floyd suddenly smiled widely looking much like a predator.

"Oh~? So you're making them for Shrimp-Chan?"

Floyd said in a sing song tone. Azul froze and shot Floyd an annoyed look while Jade laughed silently at Azul's expression.

"Oh my, this is a surprise. Making a treat for (Y/N) because they're sick? That's awfully kind of you."

Jade said teasingly. Floyd let out a laugh while Azul huffed.

"Well I am a kind soul.....besides.....if these turn out right......"

Azul said a gleam in his eyes as his glasses flashed.

"Then I can make a profit off of them."

Azul said smiling a little smile. The twins smiled widely, amused by Azul's mindset.

"Ah Azul only you~"

Floyd said as Jade nodded in agreement. The trio continued to talk to one another as Azul made the popsicles, the unsaid affection that they shared for you unsaid. Besides there was nothing wrong with making a possible business move while helping someone else.

~~~~~

Idia stared at his manga collection, eyeing each one closely. He wanted to make sure he picked out a good series for you to read while you were recovering. Something simple that didn't require too much energy to pay attention to. Yet old enough that Idia wouldn't mind if something happened to the book, not that he couldn't replace it plus you much like him cared deeply for manga. So he had no problems letting you borrow them, knowing that you'd take good care of them. Ortho sat on his older brother's bed, holding a stuffed toy that he was planning to give to you to help you feel better.

"Ah w-what about this one?"

Idia asked softly showing Ortho the book. The young boy looked at it critically, golden hues focused on it.

"Hhhh I think they'd like it! It's got good reviews online and it's a simple story, I'm sure that (Y/N) would appreciate it!"

Ortho said in a chipper tone. Idia smiled a crooked smile and gathered the first few volumes of the series to send to you. Ortho placed the stuffed toy, a three headed dog plushie next to the books looking proud of himself.

"H-hopefully this will help them...."

~~~~~

Lilia Vanrouge had lived a long time. And because he lived a long time he had learned quite a bit of knowledge on humans and human illnesses. Especially since he had two sons who were human, (granted one of them was half human but still) and got sick quite often as children. Which is why he was now currently giving advice to Malleus to help him out with trying to help you in your recovery from your illness. The dragon fae was absorbing as much as he could about human illnesses, thinking about what he could do to help you. Silver was laying on the dormitory couch, already having figured out what he would send to you. A comfy pillow for you to sleep on so you could rest. Lilia watched as Malleus got lost in thought, thinking carefully.

"The children of men are so fragile......it makes it rather difficult to figure out what to get them especially when they're sick."

Malleus said softly, expression somewhat troubled. Lilia gave Malleus a small fatherly look and patted his arm.

"You'll figure something out Malleus. (Y/N) will love whatever you give them, that much I'm sure of."

Lilia said with a smile. Malleus just nodded his head before getting up to think about this more. Silver watched as his companion left before turning his amethyst eyes towards his father.

"Do you think he'll really be able to find something old man?"

Silver asked curious. Lilia gave a small knowing smile.

"I'm sure of it. Now let's get our things together to send to the wee beastie. I've got a CD to help them sleep."

Lilia said cheerfully, holding up a copy of the music him and the music club made. Silver shook his head looking unsure.

"I don't think heavy metal will help them sleep."

~~~~~

Ramshackle dorm was dark and quiet when you'd finally woken up from your sick induced sleep. Blinking in a sick way you looked around the room and you were startled to see your friends fast asleep around you. Ace, Sebek and Jack were sleeping on the ground, snoring softly. Epel and Deuce were sleeping up against the couch, snuggled rather closely. Grimm was sleeping on your pillow, snuggled close to you. Even though you were in a sick haze you couldn't help but smile at the scene.

'Good for you Deuce.'

You thought hazy like before you took notice of all the things in your room. Different types of objects and other knickknacks that weren't there before now sat in your room. Confused by all of it you shakily got out of bed to take a look and sucked in a wheezy breath.

Gifts. They were get well gifts.

From all of your friends.

You felt your eyes sting as you were overwhelmed with the sudden affection you felt for your friends from different dorms. They had put in all this effort to help make you feel better and it lowkey made you wanna hunt them all down and smother them with hugs. But unfortunately it would have to wait until you were better. Deciding to save the deep looking through for the morning you looked towards your band of boys and smiled affectionately at their sleeping forms. It warmed your heart to know that your friends cared for you. You made a mental note to figure out a way to make it up to them with all the trouble you may have caused. You were about to go to bed when the familiar sight of fireflies in the Ramshackle graveyard caught your attention.

"Tsunotarou....."

You crocked not really thinking about it as you shakily made your way towards the outside. Later you'd probably regret it but you wanted to see your friend. Wrapping your blanket tightly around your shoulders you made your way outside shivering from the cold. Shivering you made your way to the graveyard and finally caught sight of him.

"Tsunotarou.....what's up....?"

You said voice cracking slightly from your sore throat. Malleus turned towards the sound of your sickly voice, green eyes filled with concern.

"Child of man.....you should be asleep and resting....."

Malleus said his tone soft and worried. You gave him a small smile and sat down next to him, curling close to him to keep warm. The fae prince wrapped his cape around you as soon as you sat down to try and keep you warm.

"I wanted to see you......"

You mumbled shyly, your mouth filter off due to being sick. Malleus went slightly red, looking away from your honesty. You couldn't help but smile at how he was acting before you noticed him reaching for something.

"I'd gotten you a get well gift.....it's not much but I hope it helps."

Malleus said softly before handing you a wrapped package. Curious you opened it and stared at it in shock. Inside was a somewhat awkward looking scarf and hat. It was obvious that it was handmade by the way it was switched together, some of the lines awkward and messy.

"I heard that humans get cold easily so I had decided that perhaps these would help keep you warm. I apologize for the presentation. I am not well versed in making things the human way."

Malleus said looking somewhat embarrassed by his gift. You on the other hand were touched. Feeling your eyes sting again you wiped at them, sniffling due to them and your stuffy nose. Malleus instantly grew concerned thinking he'd done something to upset you when he was met with a smile.

"I love it.....thank you so much Malleus, I can't wait to wear them back to school."

You said in your stuffy voice. Malleus gave you a warm look before helping you up.

"I'm glad you like it (Y/N)......let's get you back to bed. You need to rest and recover."

The tall man said softly. You gave a sleepy nod leaning into him as he transported the two of you back to your room. Helping you into bed, you felt yourself relax and start to drift. Malleus threw the blanket on you making sure you were covered.

"Goodnight beastie. Get well soon."

Malleus's soft voice whispered before a gentle sensation touched your forehead.

'If I didn't know any better......I'd say he just kissed my forehead......'

You thought in a giddy sick daze before finally drifting off to sleep surrounded by your loved ones.

*Ah I didn't mean for this to be so long I just wanted to write some self indulgence. I've caught a nasty cold a few days ago and I've been feeling like shit so I decided to write something to make me feel better I honestly didn't mean to make it so long shdhdhdhfh. Also I may have added some ships. Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!!*

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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

Text

Genshin: Roommate HCs [V1]

To be honest, I just wanted to ramble some more and let my brainworms take over. This is sorta late but Happy Valentine’s everyone! I was gonna post this earlier but this honestly took me a long time to write so I moved it to today.

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. Seriously, as much as I love writing this non-serious fics. Why do you people like this?

—

Based off my ramblings with Keqing anon: Link

Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

—

[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @kaechu @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife @dokidokisama @rokipersonal@minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact

---

Diluc

What? Diluc has a roommate? Did you blackmail him in living with you? Is that even possible? Did you throw yourself in front of his car because you needed someone to pay for your student loans and the easiest way was to file a lawsuit? In this economy no one would blame you. Diluc seems like such the self-isolated character that would murder his roommate in cold blood but in reality, he act’s detached from the world because he forgot how to socialize and he’s desperately trying to cover it up without choking. That or he’s trying to learn how to astral project. If he could drink away the pain he would but instead he buys 20 packs of grape Kool-Aid and injects it into his veins.

Does not and will not ever have a normal sleeping schedule. You’ll wake up to him working, come back home to him working, and will sleep to him still working. His daily dose of Vitamin D is from the brightness of his screen rather than the sun and he’s filter feeding at this point. It’s concerning. He’s going to crumble and he’s bringing the world down with him. Through the power of tax evasion. But as soon as he needs to walk out into society, he pulls movie magic and looks like perfection. It’s both physically and mentally disgusting.

He’s actually is a really nice roommate to have just so long as you give him space. Great cook and knows to clean up after himself. Though he does have crash and burn days where’s he’s completely out of commission. You could set the entire apartment on fire and he would sleep through it. The entire two weeks are dedicated to zombie eye marathons and then he’ll suddenly collapse and sleep for 46 hours straight. When he wakes up from his hibernation he’s the most groggy and nonsensical person. His life blood is coffee because you keep hiding the 5 hour energy away from him because, you know, life is enjoyable and those cancer bottles will actually kill him.

“University sucks our money out of our bodies faster than our will to live.”

Beidou [Happy Birthday Queen 💕]

Despite her appearance, she’s actually really strong and it scares the piss out of you when you’re doing something or scrolling through your phone mindlessly and you suddenly get your spine re-arranged when she slaps you on the back to ask what you’re doing. Likewise, when she hoists you up and throws you over her shoulder so you come with her on her 3am convivence store raids for alcohol. It’s either you change now or else we’re walking out of the apartment in your t-shirt and no pants self. She can and will carry you under her arm that way. It’s both incredibly attractive and horrifying at the same time.

She’s really friendly and a great talker if you’re alright with her “I must hold you in my arms, fresh prince of bel air style”. It doesn’t matter if you’re taller than her, she’s doing it. She does however, get in a bit of trouble from her rowdiness and you often get noise complaints but Beidou just passes them off to Ningguang and everything is fixed. She has ovaries of steel when neighbors rather confront her personally and she’s ready to 1v1 in the parking lot. You’re trying to desperately hold onto her shirt to stop her from pile driving your neighbors for the third time this week but she’s too strong.

She’s constant party until we die attitude and suffers the hangover in the morning. It’s actually really funny to catch her in her hangover moods because whatever filter Beidou had, which is none, is gone. She really takes “cursing like a sailor” or the next level and the amount of creativity she comes up with is actually impressive. She can be a bit messy but she’s really likeable and always down to go anywhere with you as long as you’ll do the same. It’s a very ride together, we die together situation. You’re my best friend, you’re dying with me. I’ll see you in hell.

“Imma T pose over my dad and then crash the car into the parking garage.”

Kaeya

Kaeya on the surface seems like such a chill roommate. And he is for the most part. But he’s such an ass. Your things are his things, no questions asked. If you just bought a really nice sweater or you had leftover food, that’s his now. He’s innocent until proven guilty even if he’s literally holding your lunch. The pure amount of bullshit he can spit out to convince you that no, he did not pull the fire alarm because he wanted an excuse for not going to work, puts him on Shakespeare level. He’s also very pretty, way too pretty, sir can you share some of your genes?

But aside from that, he’s actually super dependable. You forgot something at home? Sure, he has nothing better to do so he can bring them for you. We’re missing eggs? No problem, he’s just by the store. You’re 95% sure that he just wants to be cheeky and make you thank him for 20 minutes before he actually hands you what you asked for. It’s better for you if you never tell him anything you’re afraid of because Kaeya has no social cues, or more like he throws them out the window, and he’s probably a psychopath.

He’s incredibly private of his room and things despite his attitude towards yours. You’re convinced he either has a secret lab or that’s where he’s storing the bodies. I was the good guy but due to unfortunate circumstances, I need to stab a bitch. But he’s a really good serious talker for those 3am, because everything happens at 3am, talks about life and the meaning of the universe. It absolutely wrecks your sleep schedule but some of the things you talk about are the most crackhead things like what’s the lowest amount of money someone would have to pay you to walk outside without clothes? It’s a legitimate question.

“Never before have I been so offended with something I 100% agree with.”

Jean

Okay, what world did you save in a past life to live with his absolutely wonderful woman? Mother Teresa take a load off, take a seat. You have nothing to worry about. She’ll bring home little treats back home and it’s the most wholesome thing ever?? Is this what love and affection feels like? We’ve been starved for so long. She says it’s not a big deal and anyone would do it BUT THE MOMENT SOMEONE BUYS FOOD FOR YOU. IT’S A MAGICAL MOMENT. They are forever stuck in your will until proven otherwise. An absolute ray of sunshine that must be protected.

She does get super busy so you don’t often see each other or get to hang out as much. She’s a bit of a workaholic but a lot more easier to talk her into taking a break. She’s also a pretty decent cook but she prefers baking and jesus christ, girl can you calm down? Be still my beating heart, I’ve been smitten. Has mother hen vibes that you’re not sure if she’s your roommate or if she adopted you into her family. It’s time to start a petition for the Jean protection squad. Given the opportunity, I would aggressively hold your hand.

She’s always open to whatever you want to do. Any recommendations or things that you like she will try out at least once despite her busy schedule. She’s lowkey lonely because work consumes her so any time you want to hang out or do something together, she jumps on it like she’s feral. She get’s a bit shy to ask if she can join in on your plans because she doesn’t want to bother you or intrude no matter how many times you tell her that’s okay, she still get’s a bit iffy about it. Please save this girl before she trips. In your arms. Platonically. Just kidding haha. Unless?

“I can’t wait to see you happy and not hating everyone again haha.”

Childe

First impressions of Childe were great, until he opened his mouth and you realized how much of a two brain cell child(e) he was. He has two braincells because they constantly have to 1v1 in his brain. He’s lived with a lot of siblings so he has no social awareness or concept of privacy that you’re lucky if you come home and he’s half-dressed. It doesn’t matter if you’re 2 weeks older than him, he’s going to call you 82 years old and why your bones aren’t being fossilized at this point. He’s such a little shit, this fucker licks the yogurt lid peel.

He get’s really restless when he’s stuck under house arrest, because apparently 1v1ing in the parking lot of a Wendy’s is illegal for some reason, so he makes dying whale noises until he get’s to go outside again. But he’s actually a really wholesome guy, probably because of his younger siblings, that he’ll sometimes get you something because you seemed down and it’s such whiplash? Who is this man and where did he come from? You’re starting to have a change of heart before he tells you that he got banned from the library for accidently punching the school’s computer. How you “accidently” punch something you have no idea but Childe always comes home with some sort of injury. Maybe he’s just incredibly clumsy. For your sanity, you’re going to go with that.

He’s actually so uncultured that it’s crippling. You can’t blame him too much considering his upbringing and it’s great that he’s so interested in learning new things but...child no...It makes you want to take your spine out of your ass and rip it like a Beyblade. Watching him take chopsticks and stab his food like it’s marshmallows makes you want to fall into a blackhole and let the chair consume you.

“I, too, fantasize about beating the living shit out of people.”

---

Is this another tag yourself game cause I resonate with Diluc. I’m crying in insomnia. As much as I enjoy writing these fics I absolutely hate tagging them. I remember I used to have a tag anon but that was back when I wrote for bnha.

Valentine’s Day was fun tho. I had a drinking game with friends as we played league then ended it off with a movie night.

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hintofelation99 · 3 years

Note

Sick day headcannons!!!!!!!

Hell yeah, I do have a post on this already (linked here) but sick day headcanons are some of my favs so let’s do some more! (Just btw there will be some repeats but that just means I rlly like that headcanon)

Dick

Dick: Oh no, god no!

Wally: What’s wrong?!

Dick: I’m dying!

Wally, suspicious: Okay…

Dick: Please Wally this is serious, I need help!

Wally, deciding to take Dick seriously: Okay, what’s wrong? What do you need?

Dick: Just a coffin. Made of maple- no oak! And roses, preferably white, oh or blue! With baby’s breath. And-

Wally: Dick, what’s wrong?!

Dick: I burnt the roof of my mouth.

Wally leaves.

A good rule of thumb for Dick is the more dramatic he is the less serious the situation. The less dramatic he is the more serious the situation.

He will go into work with a cold and complain the entire day.

If he has something serious that’s contagious he’ll call in sick but just say it’s a slight stomach bug.

If it’s not contagious he will act like everything is completely fine.

One time he did this after getting an injury on patrol and ended up passing out and spending that night and the next day in the ICU.

He has become a bit more responsible over the years, mainly bc he thinks it’s adorable how sweet and cuddly Damian gets.

His favorite sick day activity is eating junk food and watching rom coms under a fuzzy blanket .

Babs

Dick: Please go to bed!

Babs: I am, I am, just one more line of code.

Dick: You’ve said that for the last three hours!

Babs tries to relax when sick but she has trouble actually taking a step back to rest.

Most of the time she’ll take a nightquil then get distracted by something and ends up falling asleep in front of her screen.

Usually Cass or Steph will come over and take care of her.

Steph always makes the best comfort food. And usually Cass will tuck Babs into bed.

Babs loves dozing on the couch to the sound of Cass and Steph laughing in the kitchen as they make her soup.

If Cass and Steph can’t come over she loves talking to them over discord while eating take out. Usually she and Cass just listen to Steph babble or she watches on of them stream something.

She also usually ends up falling asleep.

Jason

Bruce: Are you sick?

Jason: I’m legally dead.

Bruce: That doesn’t-

Jason: So,legally, no. I am not sick.

Jason will forever and always argue that he can’t get sick since he already died.

When he was little he was rarely able to get extra rest when he was sick. Because when he was really little he wanted to go to school to avoid Willis. After Catherine died he was too busy just trying to survive to focus on being healthy.

But when Catherine was alive and Willis was away Jason would stay home from school, and if Catherine was sober she would read to him and sing lullabies. This only happened like twice but Jason cherishes those memories of Catherine.

As a kid if he was ever sent home for being sick he’d get in huge trouble with Willis.

After being adopted the first time he was sent home with a fever he begged Alfred not to tell Bruce and hid in his closet until he stopped crying being sad. Alfred sat by the closet door with soup, a grilled cheese, and tea, reading The Princess Bride aloud until Jason came out. It took two hours.

Jason’s favorite sick day activity is drinking tea and rereading The Princess Bride (with the movie playing quietly in the background) while wearing his Wonder Woman hoodie.

Cass

Steph: Cass why are you patrolling while sick?!

Cass shrugs.

Steph, with a sigh: You’re allowed to take a sick day, okay?

Cass looks unsure but nods.

Steph: C’mon, let’s get you a bath and fuzzy blankets.

Cass forgets that she’s not just a weapon/tool. She forgets that she’s allowed to rest when sick.

Because of this she will keep going no matter what and tends to view ‘taking a sick day’ as a failure.

Steph, Tim, and Babs have been working on this with her. She’s improved a lot now that Tim lost his spleen and gets sick easily.

Now usually Steph cooks for her while Babs lays with her.

Cass isn’t against taking medicine but she never feels like the situation is severe enough to require medication. So someone in the fam has to convince her to take her meds.

She becomes extremely cuddly when sick and will cling to anyone near her.

Her favorite sick day activity is watching old horror movies with Steph or Babs.

Steph

Steph: I’m fine.

Steph: I’m- I have a fever of 104, I should rest.

Stephs mom is a doctor, so she’s used to being told “it’s just a cold, you’re fine”.

Usually she keeps going until she can’t then sleeps for like three days.

But it’s less out of stubbornness and more out of habit. So if someone tells her to rest she’s immediately like “okay!” and takes the sick day.

Babs always calls or comes over to check on her every day that she’s sick.

Cass has been learning how to cook and loves making Steph food when she’s sick.

Tim used to come over but now he always calls.

Stephs favorite sick day activity is sleeping with an ice pack or heating pad, depending on the sickness, with a giant cup of ginger ale and Cass curled up beside her.

Tim

Jason: Tim, are you sick?

Tim, tiredly staring at case files: No I-

Tim is interrupted by a violent coughing fit.

Tim: Oh, I guess I am?

Growing up Tim loved getting sick because it meant the house keeper would come over and take care of him and he might even get a hug.

But she stopped coming over when Tim was ten, his parents thought he was old enough to handle being sick on his own.

Sick days in the manor were a shock to him because he was rarely alone, there was always one family member by his side.

Now that he’s immunocompromised he’s always surrounded by people, he pretends to get annoyed with it but really he loves how much they care.

Dick always sings Romani lullabies and runs his fingers through Tim’s hair. Jason, Duke, and Steph will cook for him. Damian stay by his side and bring him tea. Babs will play video games with him. And Cass does a bit of everything, at least everything other than sing to him.

The family also takes Tim getting sick very seriously so if they here one cough he’s immediately being interrogated and getting his temperature checked.

Tim’s favorite sick day activity is laying under a weighted blanket with a cup of tea and playing video games with Babs, Steph, Duke, and Cass.

Duke

Dick, knocking on Duke’s door: Hey bud, why are you still in bed? I thought we were training together?

Duke: Sorry, I forgot to cancel. I’m sick and don’t think I can handle training today.

Dick: You’re sick?!

Duke: Yeah, but don’t worry I’ve been disinfecting and cleaning so no one else should get sick.

Dick: I’m not worried about getting sick, I’m worried about you!

Duke: …oh, okay.

Growing up sick days were spent at home either resting alone or with one of his parents.

He had to do some fending for himself (like cleaning and making food when his parents weren’t home with him) but nothing extreme or unexpected. So, overall he had pretty normal sick days.

After he parents went missing he was so focused on getting them back and saving them that he never stopped to rest when sick.

Now as a member of the Wayne family his sick days are always spent with someone by his side, at least they are if he tells the family he’s sick.

He’s gotten in trouble several times for not telling Alfred/the family that’s he’s sick. Not because he puts Tim at risk, he like all the family is very cautious about that, but because everyone worries about him and wants to help take care of him.

After several lectures from Alfred he’s finally getting better about telling the family when he’s sick.

His favorite sick day activity is reading Jason’s copy of The Princess Bride while having a bowl of Alfred’s chicken noodle soup.

Damian

Jason: Are you sick?

Damian: N-

Damian sneezes like a kitten.

Damian: No.

Cass, smiling: Sick baby brother, cute sneeze.

Damian tries to be offended but ends up having a sneezing fit.

Steph: That’s so adorable!!

Damian has the most adorable sneezes. He literally sounds like a kitten and the entire family and hero community finds it adorable. Damian hates it.

He used to try and pretend he wasn’t sick and just work through it.

Then he sneezes in front of Harley and Ivy and they cooed over him for an hour.

Now he grumpily secluded himself in his room when sick.

Usually the family will check on him and find that Jon flew over and they’re cuddling on his bed watching cartoons.

When Damian’s sick he really craves spicy food. Like everything he eats he’ll add hot sauce or pepper to. His food is so spicy that only Cass can handle it, like it makes ghost peppers look like child’s play.

His favorite sick day activity is drinking masala chai under one of Tim’s fuzzy blankets while wearing Dick’s old hoodies and surrounding himself with various soft things he stole from his siblings. This is preferably done while eating spicy tomato or lentil soup and watching cartoons with Jon.

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v1olentdelights · 3 years

Text

My Only Sunshine

Newt x reader Category: Angst! Tw: mention of a needle, major death, sickness, the boys being a good friend.. Summary: You were his sunshine, his only sunshine. But what happens when the sun must set. a/n: I hate myself for writing this. But this was a really good one soooo> :)

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It was never easy being the only girl in the Glade, at the beginning it was horrible. Some of the boys would say things and it was… uncomfortable to say the least. But there were a few kind boys, Minho, Alby, Newt, one of them always had eyes on you just in case someone decided to be a slint-head. It was mostly Newt since Minho ran and Alby was the leader and off doing other things. Newt and you had become close and at some point you weren’t just friends. But again being the only girl put a strain on almost any relationship. When Teresa showed up, she refused to talk to anyone except Thomas. When she found out about you though, you had clicked. Besides it was nice to not be the only girl anymore. Then we escaped, and when Chuck died, you stood there frozen watching him lay there taking his last breaths. He was just a boy, Newt wrapped his arm around you pulling you into him. The tears wetting his dirty shirt, you felt his hand rub small circles on your back. Then doors opened and people in black uniforms and guns came running in grabbing us and dragging us out.

Sitting in the helicopter all you could think about is Chuck, Alby and heck even Gally. They will never see anything outside of the Maze. Leaning your head on Newts shoulder holding his hand he kisses the top of your head. Arriving at the WCKED facility they take you to shower and get changed before taking tests. Looking at Newt warily as 2 different guards take us separate ways.

“It’s alright love, we’ll see each other in a bit.” he gives you a reassuring smile.

After getting washed up and in new clothes, you were taken to a room where the other boys were, Minho running, Newt and Thomas with needles in their arms.

“We are just going to run a few tests on you, to make sure you're alright.” a woman says while holding a needle. You feel your stomach turn as she starts the tests. You tried to go to bed that night but no sleep overcame you, all you could think about was the maze, Chuck, about everything.

The other night dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms

But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken, so I hung my head and I cried.

After finding out WCKED wasn't good and escaping Janson by a hair, you were stuck out in the scorch.

“What’s the plan?” you asked Thomas. He turns to you with his eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t have one.” he responded quietly, at this Newt snapped his head towards Thomas.

“What do you mean you don’t have a plan? You lead us all the way out here without a bloody plan?!”

“Well I didn’t exactly plan on WCKED being bad now did I. I didn’t think we would-”

“Well that’s exactly it, you didn’t think about it!” Newt exclaims. Placing your hand on his chest,

“Newt, just take a breath. He didn’t know we would have to run.” you whisper. You feel his chest fall, he looks down into your eyes before taking a deep breath and facing Thomas.

“I’m sorry Tommy, I just… we need a plan otherwise we aren’t going to survive.”

****

Laying down by the small fire in the scorch you felt a shiver down your spine. Sighing deeply you flipped over trying to get somewhat comfortable, and soak up as much heat as possible.

“Y/N, are you still awake?” Newt whispered, opening your eyes you saw him watching you.

“Yes” you responded as your cheeks warmed up.

“Come here, you are literally shivering.” He opened his arms, before you even opened your mouth to protest he shook his head “No fighting.” sighing deeply you moved over to huddle next to him. He wrapped his arms around you. You pulled your blanket to cover the both of you.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away. I’ll always love you and make you happy, if only you will say the same

***

Walking down the halls of the WCKED building, you felt like you were minutes away from hurling. The suit is not doing anything to help your fever or the bite. It felt like forever, everything blurring together. Running past some guards Thomas, Newt and you turn the corner and are met by another. Right as he is about to shoot at us, someone comes and knocks him out. You toss off your helmet and breathe. Running over, you pull Minho into an embrace.

“Is this real?” his voice is weak.

“Yeah, it is.” looking up at him you smile.

“Sorry to break up the reunion but we have to go.” Thomas says exasperatedly. Newt comes over wrapping his hand around yours before running after Thomas.

Ending up in a room, the boys block the door as you look for a way out. Seeing sparks come from the door.

“Any Ideas?” Minho shouts at Thomas. Turning to face him Thomas is looking out the window.

“Maybe” Oh great… Lifting a canister Thomas and Minho throw it out the window, watching it land in the water “Okay, that’s doable. Just need a- a little running start.

“You sure about this?” you ask worried.

“Not really” Minho, Newt, and you just stare at him.

“Nice pep talk.”

“Yeah, all bloody inspired” The door is pushed in, looking back Janson is standing there as guards enter the room. “GO!” you yell running and jumping out the window. Falling into the water, you try to swim up. But someone grabs your arms and pulls you out. Kneeling on the ground we faced with guards, then a fight breaks out between them and Gally takes off his helmet.

“Come on, we have to go.” Newt comes over and helps you up pulling your arm over his shoulder.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away.

“I can’t- can we stop for just a second, I can’t breathe.” you huff out, everyone stops as you lean against the wall. Newt helps you take off the vest and shed the top half of the uniform.

Thomas comes over looking at the bite on your arm. You don’t have the energy to tell him off.

“Minho run ahead and get the cure, we will try to make it as close as we can.” Thomas orders him.

“No I’m not leaving now, she’ll make it.” he says.

“Minho I’ll be okay.” You try to comfort him but it comes out weak. He comes closer to stand in front of you.

“Y/N, I am not leaving you.” you bring your hand up to his cheek.

“Minho please, I will be gone before we get to the berg if you keep this up.” He holds your hand to his face longer, with his eyes closed he sighs deeply.

“Fine but promise me you will hold on, alright?”

“Of course, I couldn't leave my best friend could I?” he chuckles, with that he runs off with Gally to get the cure.

“Okay, come on Y/N. We have to go.” Thomas pulls you up wrapping his arm around your middle like Newt.

By now your feet are dragging and walking seems almost as hard as breathing. Trying to keep your eyes open you look around and see you hadn’t gotten that far.

“Come on love, we’re almost there.” Newt encourages.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell..” feeling like there’s something in your throat you start coughing “tell you that it’s not kind to lie to a dying person.” Rolling his eyes at you he responds

“You’re not dying. Just keep your eyes open. We’ll be there before you know it, then when we get to the Safe Haven you can sleep and joke all you want.”

“I’m not going.” you respond dryly.

“Yes you are Y/N. Just hold on.” Thomas says squeezing your body a bit. We stop for a minute but you can’t get back up. Thinking of all the times with your boys, you knew you loved Newt. He was always there for you. But now you won’t get to be with him, closing your eyes you feel yourself start to fade.

“Y/N?” you hear Newt say “Y/N…” getting up you run at him as he stumbles backwards. Thomas pushes you to the ground. Getting back up you turn towards Newt again, looking at his face he seems tired, worried, sad even. “Y/N, It’s me!” he yells as you charge towards him again, this time grabbing him and tackling him to the ground he tries to push you off. Rolling over he holds your arms above your head as he straddles you in an attempt to keep you still.

“Newt” you cry out “Kill me. DO IT JUST KILL ME!!” you shout at him thrashing around with tears in your eyes.

“NO!” you stop squirming and thrashing. He loosens his hold just enough for you to flip him over, grabbing onto his throat trying to choke him. You don’t want to do this.

“NEWT KILL ME I AM BEGGING YOU!!” Thomas grabs you and throws you to the side trying to help Newt up. Looking around you see a knife, grabbing it and getting up you walk towards Thomas and start swinging at him. Slashing his stomach he looks at you and punches you with such a force you fall over. Newt comes over grabbing the knife from your hands, tossing it to Thomas before holding your hands down.

“We just need to wait for Minho, he’ll be back soon. Just hold on Y/N, please.”

“I TOLD YOU TO KILL ME! NEWT IT HURTS PLEASE” breaking out of his hold you jump up snatching the knife from Thomas, plunging it into your chest. For a second you all just stand there in disbelief, but then you fall to your knees and Newt comes running over catching you and holding you close.

“Newt” you say

“No darling, save your breath. Just hold on.” He cries.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.” you begin to sing quite weakly. He interrupts.

“Stop it Y/N, you aren’t dying.” trying to smile you continue.

“You make me happy when skies are gray.” he keeps sniffling, holding you tighter and kissing your forehead. Your voice faded out as well as your vision “You’ll never know dear how…” he opens his eyes to see you smiling weakly.

“No…. no please don’t leave. Y/N…” the tears rush down his face hot and fast

“Y/N!!” he screams holding you tighter.

***

Newt’s POV:

Looking out at the water, I imagine she is sitting beside me holding my hand. The breeze makes my hair whip around, I feel my face get warm and my vision gets blurry.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray.” bringing my hand up to wipe the tears even though they don’t stop. “You’ll never know dear, how much I love you.” I take in a deep breath hearing her sing the last line with me “Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

_____

Taglist: @spqrkles @l0vely-lupin

#the maze runners #tmr #the maze runners imagine #newt #newt tmr #newt imagine #newt x reader #newt x y/n #newt angst #tmr angst #minho tmr #thomas tmr #angst #this hit me like a truck :)#song fic #grace writes

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