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whispereons · 5 months

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Oracle!Reader Part 21

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 20, Part 22

Warning! This series is SAGAU and Imposter AU so expect gore. Although this chapter focus more on mental distress rather then physical.

There's a soft light that shines in front of you, lulling you to open your eyes. Pure white greets you as you slowly come to your senses.

There's no feeling in your body, but it doesn't worry you. The boundless white space you exist in is comforting. The sky whirls around you as new colors burst into being.

The once blank canvas is now painted a dark sky on your left with stars sparkling like jewels. On your right is the morning sky, bright blue with clouds adorning it delicately.

It's silent but peaceful. Your relaxed conscious is stirred from its slumber by a voice echoing around you.

“Why have you returned?”

It’s commanding, yet graceful. A cold compassion or a warm hostility?

“The deal has been finalized, and your return was never meant to be. No, that's incorrect.” A pensive hum is heard before the voice continues.

“You were meant to return at some point, but… not now, not yet. Teyvat seems to have sped up the process. While that doesn’t break the deal, I certainly won’t tolerate it amicably.”

A darker tone is used at the end of their words, before the gorgeous sky is overcome by dark red blocks. The serenity you feel is replaced by panic. You’re helpless to stop it from taking over everything.

Your vision begins to swarm with the blood-colored familiar blocks. As crimson takes over, the voice finishes their words.

“I won’t let you back so easily.” The last bits of your vision is covered and your lungs wheeze from the pain of the panic-

“Gasp-”

You sit up in the bed as sweat dots your skin, your lungs burn, and your fingers tremble from the grip you have on the covers. Eyes darting around the small room you’re in, your brain is unable to process everything as it spins.

The dream lingers in your mind. The red blocks poke at the edge of your eyes, the voice continues to echo through your mind. Leaning back, you rest your head on the headboard, the cool wood is a relief on your sweaty skin.

Releasing your bruising grip on the blankets, you rest your palms on your chest. You do your best to pay no mind to how your hands shake. Closing your eyes, a breath is inhaled and kept in.

One… That painting like sky, where else could you see something similar?

Two… The voice that spoke about Teyvat and you so casually, as if knowing everything.

Three… A status similar to an Archon, or mage? No, maybe even higher.

Four… Those red blocks have only been seen once before.

Five… You know who it is now.

The breath is exhaled, and your eyes flutter open at your revelation. Not like she was meaning to hide it. In fact, you could be certain that she wanted you to know that she was Celestia.

Sunlight begins to stream past the edges of the curtain, the wooden floor is cold against your bare feet as you get off the bed. Yanking the curtains and opening the window, you’re greeted with the sun barely peeking out and dew still present on the greenery.

The thought of how early you’ve been forced awake already sours your mood further.

It’s not anytime near 9 am, you would be lucky if it was half past 7 am. Sighing, you flop back onto the bed and reach for that connection between you and Teyvat.

‘Did you see that dream?’ You ask as you stare out the window from your spot. Silence envelops the room as you wait patiently. The soft beating of wings comes from the window, a Geo Crystalfly glides into the room before resting on the bedding next to you.

‘I’ll take that as a yes. What deal did Celestia make that involves me? What part did you play in speeding up my migration to this world?’ Staring firmly at the Crystalfly you remain in your spot.

The amber wings pause and the rocky outline stick together, keeping the wings closed. The crystal exterior body offers no answer to your expectant eyes.

‘Why won’t you respond now? You’re not Zhongli who is obligated to abide by a contract. Am I not your god?’ A bubble of frustration rises at the continued silence. The Crystalfly lowers itself further against the sheets, as if bowing to you.

But you didn’t want a useless bow. You wanted answers.

‘This situation fundamentally involves me. You, or Celestia, or whoever else is in this mess brought me here. And now I’m stuck acting out this stupid Oracle role and I can’t even get a single answer as to why?’

More Geo Crystalflies enter the room, all of them perch on the bed and mimic the bowing gesture. As if that useless, passive action could subdue your ire.

‘I’ve spent every day in this damn world fighting for my life! I just barely recovered from the brink of death! And yet when I ask about this strange situation and suspicious behavior, I get no response? NOT EVEN AN INDIRECT ONE?!’

Maybe it was all the stress you’ve been under, or the pain that still lingers in your body. Some would even say it was all the emotional hurt you’ve felt at having all the characters you treasured dearly treat you like this. But you couldn’t stop yourself from raising your hand in anger, rapidly coming down on the quivering Crystalflies that just refused to move-

Clink!

Your hand is abruptly stopped by the sound of metal hitting the table. You tore your eyes away from the Crystalflies to land on a weasel sitting on the table, a single mora lays at it’s feet.

Recognizing it vaguely as the weasel thief or mora weasels that treasure hoarders train, you stare at it unimpressed. It comes closer to you as the Crystalflies gently flap away to form a path. Beady eyes stare up at you pleadingly as the backpack on it jingles with all the mora inside.

Fingers unbuckling the straps, you remove the backpack and peer into the bag. The brown bag must only hold about 500 Mora, but mora is still mora, and you empty it into your bag. Once finished, you turn back to the Crystalflies ready to intimidate and interrogate more. You only refrain when the scurrying of multiple feet catches your attention.

What has to be at least 10 weasel thieves climbing through the open window, all carrying bags stuffed to the brim. Some hold 750 Mora, while others hold 1,000. Each time you unclip the bag and pour the mora into your bag. And each time you turn towards the Crystalflies, more weasels come through.

“Alright, alright, I get it.” You groan aloud as you ignore the assortment of weasels in the room, choosing to instead sit on the bed. The Crystalflies return to the bowing position as you gaze down at them with an unreadable expression.

Carefully, you scoop up the first Crystalfly that arrived into your hands, guilt of what you had almost done wraps around your heart like a vice.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to hit you. Although this whole gatekeeping vital information is annoying, you’ve been nothing but helpful to me. Besides, you may be keeping quiet due to a threat of some sort that the divulging of information could pose.’

You could hear the sounds of the weasels returning with more and more gifts. No doubt a way for Teyvat to show its gratitude to your ‘mercy’. With pursed lips, you ignore the actions and speak to Teyvat gently.

‘I’m afraid, Teyvat. Afraid that Celestia will take drastic measures to keep me from ‘returning’ or whatever. I’m 99% that Celestia is the one who disabled my teleporting feature and why I was only able to telepathically teleport those few times. For all I know, it could be a permanent disability. I don’t want to be limited more than I already am. If it goes too far, then I may even lose those things that proved me as an Oracle. And if that happens…’

Trailing off, you close your eyes and let out a bitter sigh. Setting the Geo Crystalfly back down, its amber wings fluttering in response, you turn to the weasels. Bags of mora, jewelry, wild fruit and small gemstones are beginning to fill up the table.

Opening the flap of your bag, you point at it and then at the table. “I want you guys to put all of that into my bag. If you have bags for me to open for you, bring them to me.”

A resounding trill is heard from them before the horde of Crystalflies flew out of the window. Deciding to leave the window open, you grab the letters and gifts from your previous visitors and bring them onto the bed.

The pitter-patter of the weasels feet and occasional flap of the Geo Crystalflies wing is heard in the background as you prepare for the day. Exiting the room and crossing the silent halls, you get to what has to be the bathroom and finish your morning routine.

The shower you take was the perfect opportunity to examine how your body is after all the healing. The bandages are removed and disposed of as you look into the foggy mirror.

Small scars in the shape of slits are seen on your body, Yelan’s arrows were no joke. The ice from Shenhe’s attacks left lighter toned patches on your calves too. Minor bruises and cuts were still healing up, but the small sting from the water didn’t bother you. If anything, it was the jagged and uneven scars along your spine that brought your mood down.

You were lucky that your broken spine didn’t cut into your spinal cord and paralyze you…

Changing into clean clothes and wrapping some new bandages, you do it all with a sense of apathy. Wouldn’t the thought of nearly being paralyzed have more of an effect? Yet when you thought of it, you could only imagine a sense of relief…

Looking back at the now clear mirror, you reach up for your mask. The battered mask is slipped off and placed on the counter. Familiar eyes stare back, and a grimace plays on your lips.

A purple bruise makes itself known on your temple, and poorly cared for skin muddles your features. The bridge of your nose, the eyes that crinkle at your attempt of a smile, even the way your full face comes together is so-

Foreign.

It’s not yours, not anymore.

It’s the Creators. The God that everyone worships as the one and only bearer of gold blood and highest form of authority.

Y/N does not have a face.

You have a title and a mask to be known by. A manner of speaking that leaves all to be swindled and led by without a true clue as to what goes on.

Licking your cracked lips, you adorn the mask once more and return to the room. Both the weasels and Crystalflies have already left, leaving it bare of activity. Closing the bag absentmindedly, you grab the medication bottles left on your bedside table.

Following the instructions Baizhu told you last night, you drink the medication as prescribed and gag at the taste. Setting all the medication aside, you sit down on the bed again and stare at the pile on the bed.

The letters and gifts from everyone that tried to visit are quickly sorted into two piles. You dig into the designated gift pile first.

A small box is opened to reveal a pair of armored fingerless gloves. It’s not super hard to guess your size, but they fit perfectly. The second and cuter box is opened with a delicious scent imprinting its first impression.

No one else could make food that smells this good except for Xiangling. Taking advantage of the early hours AKA no Baizhu, you wolf down the meal without properly admiring it. The spicy dish won’t do your still sensitive stomach any favors, but at least you enjoyed it.

A folded up paper is the next gift. Unraveling it shows a crude drawing of a brown haired girl with a pink flower, a tall man with glasses, a boy with a color palette you barely remember and a masked figure that had to be you.

Yiran, the little girl that you saved, had to be the one who drew this. That’s who must have spread the word and why Baizhu asked you to be lenient. Only her father, Kuan, could afford to bring her here.

The uneven letters spelling ‘My Heroes!’ at the bottom of the drawing made you smile a little. It was good that she was not only healed enough, but also happy enough to draw this for you.

The boy next to her in the drawing brought a sadder feeling. You didn’t remember him, but you did remember his mother. Her gaunt face and pale complexion came to mind as you pocketed the drawing. You weren’t sure if you could handle facing her.

The next gift evoked a stronger sense of despair as a patchy pouch was opened to show various knick-knacks. Pretty rocks, a tin with a string, shiny coins and worn out dice. You were familiar with the nature of these objects.

Most would see it as trash, but you knew it to be toys that were just as much, if not more fun, than the toys found in shops. Bored kids with nothing to do and nothing to use will find ways to entertain themselves, and being impoverished only fuels their creativity.

Trying to push away those nostalgic melancholic feelings, you open the last gift. A simple string necklace with a dark blue stone hanging from it laid in the box. The icy blue engraved symbol on it reminded you of Chongyun.

After disposing the trash, you put the drawing and the pouch into your bag. You reached for the letters next and opened the first one that you touched.

It was from Kuan, not unexpected, but you were interested in seeing what he had to say. What part he played in your identity getting spread around.

Most of it was profuse thanks for your completion of the commission and that the Adventurers Guild had the payment. Then it was how once Yiran had woken up, she had sneaked into the room when Baizhu was working and saw you.

Apparently she hadn’t been able to heal properly and was stuck on bed rest due to her grief. The kidnapping, death of her friend and finding out that you were going to be punished by the Adepti from the other kids created a mental block preventing her from healing.

But after seeing you and that you were still alive, her pain was eased enough that she was able to finally recover. You felt bad that she was sick all this time while you were being chased down, but she’s better now. And that’s all that mattered.

The next letter was actually from Kazuha. It detailed the sights that he had seen during his exploration of the Lisha area. It quickly turned into how panicked he felt when the wind pushed him to return to Liyue Harbor. The agonizing pain he felt over the rumors of a masked person being rushed into Bubu’s Pharmacy.

As no visitors were allowed, he went to Beidou and relayed the news. She had already finished her business and was preparing to leave. So he left you this letter and the armored gloves from Beidou.

Folding up the letter with the red and orange patterned leaf, you put it back into your bag. A knock on the door caught your attention before it opened slightly to show Qiqi.

“Oh, you’re awake.” She stands at the door frame until you nod, allowing her inside. She ambles inside with a cart of food and medicine. “Please take your medicine with the tea and eat the breakfast.”

She leaves just as quick as she came. As you weren’t starving after Xianglings meal, you took your time with breakfast. The medicine even with the tea tasted pretty bad.

Grabbing the next letter, a faint scent of food lingers on it, letting you know who sent it. Xiangling’s letter was small enough to be confused for a note, but it still easily conveyed her wreck of emotions. It ended with her mourning the fact that she couldn’t visit after dropping off the letter due to a rematch with a Monstadter that she scheduled long in advance.

A letter with a fancy wax seal was next. Opening it, you found the most horrendous handwriting you’ve ever seen. No matter how many times you rubbed your fingers on it, hoping that Tevyat could translate the mess of a letter, it just wouldn’t get any better.

The most you could make out was that Xingqui and Chongyun tried to visit but were denied. That the amulet was a gift from Chongyun that had a spell to protect you from evil spirits. And finally, that they're going to visit sometime today.

Didn’t Xingqui have some connection with Albedo? That would be an easy way to be innocently introduced into Mondstadt.

The next one thankfully did have eligible handwriting, it was a mix of bold letters and graceful strokes. Yun Jin and Xinyan both came to visit, but only Yun Jin would have time to come today.

The thought of having to entertain all these guests with Baizhu still waiting on the explanation of your Oracle status was not improving your desire to just vanish from Liyue. You forgot how tiring it was to constantly string up webs of lies that make up a cohesive story. It was like being constantly at work with the threat of danger on a brand-new level.

That letter is quickly dismissed and you grab the final letter. The paper is stained, and the edges are worn, opening it a strange set of words are found inside it.

“Hello, do you remember me?”

Frowning, you continue to read it as you search through your memories. The words make little sense until you come across a line that summons a wave of needless guilt.

“Those children enjoyed choosing those gifts for you. They remind me of my son.”

You don’t really want to finish this letter anymore.

Despite your internal feelings, you continue to skim through the letter. It touches on how they’re all adjusting to life back on the streets.

How the kids work together more but wail even louder in the night. The people that curse them out for coming back, the few items they had left swept away by the government as ‘trash’. The empty and hollow feeling she carries now that her son is gone.

She wished that she had given him up at birth like she was advised. That maybe at least then he would still be alive.

She mentions her son at least once every line into the letter.

It’s only when you see the curves of the ink spelling out his name that you scrunch up the paper. The paper crinkles as your teeth grit together, the sounds perfectly in tune with each other.

The anger is confusing. You don’t know the kid, so why should you feel guilty? Why should you feel guilty that she chose to share her anguish with you? Why does the thought of being even more aware of that boy make your heart race?

Slowly, you open the now wrinkled and slightly torn paper and skip straight to the bottom.

“I know you probably don’t care. You never promised me that you could save him or deliver him alive to me. But it’s easier to share these feelings with someone separated from this situation than the people who are already suffering with me.”

“I should take these feelings to the Creator and beg for some relief from my pain, yet I can’t even muster the strength to care for the tongue I ripped out in my mourning. How could I possibly keep this pain to me and the Creator alone? Don’t fret about helping me. I leave that all up to our God.”

That end soothes your racing heart and warped feelings, it’s clear to you now.

You’re beginning to feel the guilt from being their God but unable to actually help with anything. Celestia somehow limited you, none of your acolytes would ever believe you to be the Creator, and the powers you do have access to now are useless.

Was it your fault? Could you have been faster and given that boy some food to have saved him? Can you speak to some form of authority and have them help those victims?

Mindlessly, you begin to tear up the letter. It’s therapeutic to watch the scraps fall onto the tray. Each ink stained paper is ripped with shaking fingers, almost like you’re ripping apart the physical manifestation of your guilt.

It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.

You’re not their God, you’re just the Oracle.

The truth doesn’t matter now. If this world can’t accept you wholeheartedly as the human you are, then why should you work to be seen as the God they cherish so much?

As if on cue, ruby droplets fall onto the worn shredded paper on the tray from the paper cuts you gained from your actions. The new gloves you got from Beidou are threatened to be stained as the red begins to trail down, but you quickly swipe it away.

Cursing yourself internally over the mess you made, you fumble with the drawer next to you for some bandages, not even hearing the repeated knocking on the door. It’s only when it’s opened and the pitter-patter of steps nearing you make you look toward it.

Cold, small fingers wrap around your own as magenta eyes stare up at you past the talisman hanging down from her hat.

“What happened?” Qiqi drawls, her signature zombie-like tone makes shame bubble up within you. Hanging your head, you don’t respond as you avoid her eyes.

You don’t feel normal.

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

The pharmacy is noisy as people frequently pass by the door to your room. Humming a catchy tune, you drum your fingers on the window sill as you watch outside the window. You imagine the wood of the sill must be cool, but you can’t tell under the bandages wrapped around your fingers.

Baizhu had visited you not too long ago to check on your leftover wounds and apply the topical medication. The cool moisture of the herbal medicine cooled down your body and prevented your apparent fever from worsening.

The room is clean aside from the bag you have left sitting on the bed with your belongings safely tucked away.

A small bag lies inside with the bloodied paper remains sitting inside it. You still aren’t sure if you were better off keeping it or throwing away. The series of knocks on your door bring your attention away from the scenery outside the window.

Staring for a second to be sure if you heard correctly, softer rapping follows up.

“Come in.” You call out before moving closer to the middle of the room. It swings open to show a girl with a shiny pink flower hairpin and a tall man wearing glasses. The smile on Kuan’s face is such a stark difference to the dark circles and sullen expression he wore when you first met him.

Yiran has bright eyes and a smile that could rival match the sun. Propufse thanks leave them both as Yiran keeps her fingers wrapped tight around her father’s. She’s still pale and clings to her father's hand when he moves to give you a handshake, but you gracefully ignore it.

“-Oh, and I’m so sorry that you’re being talked about by so many people. I really didn’t expect it to spread so far when I let her tell those other children that you saved that you were alive and recovering.” He looks kindly down at Yiran before gently urging her. “You too, Yiran, you have to apologize.”

Her eyes droop a little, but she still bows her head slightly as she apologizes. “I’m sorry, I just wanted my friends to know you were okay.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Thank you for the drawing.” You smile at them with ease and maintain small talk with them both a while longer before they leave. The door swings close, and your expression flattens at the same time.

Turning back to the window, you sit again and stare outside. The fluffy white clouds roll past in the blue sky as you allow your mind to go quiet. You just want a brief reprise from the stress you’ve been under all this time.

Time to just exist without having to worry about proving why you deserve to live in this world or your old one. Especially with Ningguang and your travel to the next region so close.

Maybe you took a nap or just dozed off, but the strum of a guitar brought your hazy mind back to awareness. Lifting your head from your arms crossed on the windowsill you see Xinyan taking steps two at a time as she runs from Millelith soldiers.

She quickly jumps off the top step onto the concrete so far below as she continues to play her guitar. It’s impressive, but you can’t help but be irked that soldiers had enough time to chase Xinyan but not help find kidnapped children.

That spiral of thoughts is interrupted as Yun Jin walks up the same set of stairs to Bubu Pharmacy as the soldiers disappear deeper into the city. Outwardly, she’s perfectly maintained, but the slight fidget of her fingers are like a warning sign.

The first and last time you spoke to her was the day of her ‘Lonely Chameleon’ performance that you vaguely recall had her promising to clear up the misunderstanding with Keqing.

What a bunch of good that did.

Yun Jin leaves your sight as she enters the building, and you move away from the window to crack the door open. Sitting on the foot of the bed, you patiently wait for Yun Jin to arrive. The biggest thing you relied on her about was her conversation with Keqing. So at least the situation with the Liyue Qixing can’t get any worse.

A polite knock sounds on the door before you call her in. Yun Jin steps in and closes the door behind her with a graceful smile that you return pleasantly.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you Y/N. I’m unsure if you read the letter but Xinyan and I were incredibly worried. Are you feeling any better?”

It’s not small talk, she’s genuinely concerned, but you have to force the undeserved annoyance down. “I’m feeling way better, and I’m basically almost back to normal. I’ll be discharged today, so don’t worry. Thank you for your concern.” God, you haven’t felt this fake in a while.

Yun Jin walks closer before stopping in front of you, polite as she is, she's not going to ask for a seat so you pat the spot on the bed next to you. Small talk is needlessly exchanged for a few more minutes, but you’re beginning to feel antsy from being stuck in your worry over how Keqing reacted.

“What performance did you do the day after we met? I remember you mentioning how you would speak to Keqing on my behalf after that play.” There it goes again, her fingers twitch before she tightly clasp them together on her lap.

“The performance went well. Thankfully nothing like the Geovishap hatchling accident happened so it wasn’t as stressful. I-I did get to talk to the Yuheng, but I’m afraid she didn’t put much trust into my words.” Just as you thought.

Her eyes squint slightly as she stares down at her lap, the little tremble of her lips and crack in her manners surprises you. You didn’t think she would feel this guilty over it.

“The questions she asked me about how or even just proof of your oracle status were troublesome to say the least. I genuinely didn’t have an answer for most of them and the ones I did weren’t very in-depth. I apologize Y/N.”

Placing your hand on her shoulder, your head shakes softly to deny her words. “Don’t worry about it, Yun Jin. I have a chance to personally refute some of the suspicions on me today. Thank you for at least trying, I just have one question.”

A part of you feels bad that you’re unintentionally displaying your frustrations on Yun Jin but not enough to stop you from asking your question. Her shoulders tense under your hand, and her face freezes when she hears your question.

“Did all those questions make you question whether I’m actually the Creator’s oracle?”

You can only force your lips into a smile that threatens to dissolve into a scowl with every fiber of your self-control at her body's reaction.

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

It’s disappointing, you think to yourself, as Yun Jin basically flees the room. The excuses she gave you and topic changes she tried to pull were pathetic, but you weren’t surprised considering how you went straight for the throat.

Yun Jin was a beast when it came to stage affairs and directing in arts, but there’s little to nothing she has to counter your precise attack. In a way, it’s smart for her to run rather then stand her ground and try to answer.

Standing up, you stretch your body, enjoying the absence of pain. The sly grin you wear is so much more comfortable than the bitter frown you’ve worn these past few days. Yun Jin was simply a good warm up, a nice way to get back into the ‘Oracle’ headspace you’ve developed.

It didn’t matter if you were their God or the Oracle.

Money, shelter, food, and a sense of security were all you needed in life. That is what you’ve focused on to survive all these years, and Teyvat will be no different. If playing along to the cult’s belief of the Creator being the Almighty guarantees your survival, then you’ll happily do so and benefit from their obsession.

Smiling with renewed vigor, you relax on the bed as the sound of footsteps came closer. The hissing of a snake and the muffled words of a man could be heard steadily arriving.

If Yun Jin was a warm-up then Baizhu was your practice. Tonight you had to face Ningguang and that required all your skills to be in top shape lest you end up being killed by her hands.

The door swings open without warning as yellow snake eyes and fushia eyes meet your own eyes hidden beneath your mask. Smiling without a care, you call out to the contracted partners.

“Nice to see you again so soon Dr. Baizhu and it’s nice to meet you Changsheng. You’re here for the scar tissue sample and to ask some questions about my background, right? Come in! Just be sure to close the door behind you…”

Still alive, surprisingly… It's hard to believe that my last update on this story was Nov 14. If you want to hear my excuses as to why it takes long, it basically boils down to school, sick, holiday, and family lol. Plus money but when is it done a problem? But I came back and was working on it very slowly throughout all this time! The next update will take long too as finals are till the 22nd. And then the next semester on the 17(?) of Jan so yeah, little to no break. Thanks to my editor who got it done quite fast which is why the chapter is up now, Sunday night or rather early Monday. I hope it gives you all a good start to the week. To actually talk about about the story, I gotta say that it's longer then I thought. There's still a few leftover tasks to complete before Y/N can truly leave. As well as a hint to the overarching threat now that we got this Celestia hint. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and the series! If your name is in italics that means I couldn't tag you for whatever reason. If you are missing from the taglist and I didn't respond to your comment or ask to be added to the taglist, leave a comment here so I can check it. Taglist: Open as always!

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junosmindpalace · 8 months

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Hello :) I was wondering if I could request saiki k x reader where the reader has an ability like Wednesday where when they randomly get psychic visions when they touch a certain object/person? I am obsessed with both saiki and Wednesday right now lmao. If you don’t want to that’s perfectly fine ❤️

hi there! thank you so much for your request! i hope it's alright i did this in a hc format, since none of my oneshot ideas really worked out :(

He doesn’t know whether to feel comforted by having another psychic friend who shares his ability to see into a future predicament or not. At least you had enough common sense to not run your mouth over your abilities, but that just made your reactions to your visions all the more questionable.

Your psychic powers differed slightly from Saiki’s. His visions tended to play out quicker than yours, and unlike you, he wasn’t able to see into the past. Even still, he was able to relate to the anxiety they produced.

Typically they weren’t anything too horrible. You could deal with them rather well, just like Saiki has grown accustomed to his own intrusive powers. But on certain days when the universe just seemed to be throwing anything out there into the world, it could easily get overwhelming.

Though you could see into the future for a brief couple of seconds like Saiki, you didn’t always have the means to deal with them, let alone deal with them efficiently. However, Saiki had an assortment of different psychic powers at his disposal, and so sometimes he helps you out to avoid being responsible for anything bad that happens to you.

He makes it out to be a huge hassle of course, but the second you try to take matters into your own hands, he stops you, deals with the issue himself, and scolds you for not being more careful.

Treats you a little bit when your visions are just a little too much. He completely understands being overwhelmed by your powers, and so he’ll do things for you that personally help cheer him up, such as buy you a treat or spend the day lounging around with you in the security of his home.

This was usually the routine that followed, so much so that it just became a part of your normal.

You’re always using your powers for some kind of good, and though it sometimes tires and stresses Saiki out with how often you put yourself on the frontlines, he can’t help but find it a reason to like you so much. You were just so kind and generous, always going the extra mile just to make someone else's day a little easier- and that included him too.

He’s surprised when you seemingly read his mind and do something he's been meaning to for him, such as getting him a treat he’s been eyeing for a couple of days or delivering an item he accidentally left behind at school. At first he’s confused, but once he realizes you must’ve touched something he had earlier, the dots connect.

If the rest of his psychic friends try to badger you into using your powers to help them with their own business, he immediately steps in to defend you from getting your kindness taken advantage of, since he knows that your sweet natured heart would never allow you to say no.

”But could Y/N just--” “No. Get lost.”

”But I just need--” “Figure it out yourself.”

Truly romantical of him.

Other than those bits, he doesn't linger too much on your powers.

He's glad he can feel confident leaving you alone without making some sort of large commotion with your powers, but he still likes to stay close and take care of you where he can, even if he'll never admit to it outright.

#happy shibuya day!! i had no ideas so i finally posted this eheh #the disastrous life of saiki k oneshot #the disastrous life of saiki k x reader #the disastrous life of saiki k headcanons #tdlosk x reader #tdlosk fluff #tdlosk oneshot #saiki k x reader #saiki k fluff #saiki k oneshot #saiki k imagines #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki kusuo oneshot #kusuo saiki x reader #kusuo saiki oneshot

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feyhunter78 · 1 year

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Healer's Flight

Description: Your would-be assassin picked the wrong beach to ambush you on.

Reader is an immortal mutant with healing powers.

It’s a beautiful beach, one with pristine sands, and cool breezes, the scent of sea salt on the air, and clear waters reflecting the stars that dotted the night sky. You loved this beach, held its location safe within your chest, nestled beside your heart.

Loved, past tense, because now you were afraid, feet digging into the sand as you ran, heart pounding against your chest like a war drum. You veered towards the water, one foot landing in the surf, your heart taking flight, but then he caught you, yanking you back by your hair.

“I said, stop fucking running.” He growled, his grip on your hair tight, pulling at your scalp, as his arms wrapped around you.

“Let me go, you Nazi bitch.” You fought against him, trying to break free of his hold, but it was useless. This wasn’t a normal low-level assassin, this was an enhanced.

His grip tightened on you, squeezing like a vice grip, and you felt your lungs began to stutter, unable to draw in oxygen.

Tears began to roll down your face, dripping onto his bare arm.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.” He cooed mockingly.

“You’re a monster.” You choked out, nails clawing at his skin.

“Me? I’m not the mutant freak. I’m doing the world a favor by getting rid of you.”

You weren’t a threat to humans, you were a healer, all you did was lie low and try to help those who needed it. That’s all you had been doing for five hundred years.

“K’uk’ulkan.” You whimpered out, as your vision began to fade, hoping the gods would take mercy on you, and allow you a final vision of him before you died.

“Kool-la-what? Are you casting a spell on me, witch?” The assassin snarled, releasing his grip ever so slightly.

Your hand was free, and you gripped his arm, focusing on the spot where your skin connected.

He swore and dropped you, holding his arm close to his chest. There in the shape of your hand was decaying flesh, black and rotted.

You struggled to your knees, desperately sucking in air as your lungs seized. “Yes, I am.”

You weren’t, but he didn’t need to know that.

The assassin lunged at you, and you threw your body to the side, landing in the surf, hands glowing a bright gold.

You pushed the hair out of your face, tense and waiting for his next move, when you heard something whiz by you, then a solid thud. You looked up to see the assassin lying on his back, a spear imbedded in his chest.

Large warm hands pulled you to your feet. “In yakunaj, are you hurt?”

K’uk’ulkan’s low voice was a balm to your panicked mind, and your fingers found purchase in the bejeweled collar he wore, as you collapsed against him.

He scooped you up and brought you further onto the beach, settling on the sand with you in his lap. His hands smoothed back your wet hair, his eyes searching your face.

“I—my throat.” You coughed out, motioning to the mottled bruising that you were sure was already starting to appear.

He gently tilted your head up and hummed in displeasure. “He dared to put his hands upon you? I will throw his body to the sharks; I swear to you in reina.”

“They will fade, do not fret, my love.” You soothed, leaning into his touch.

K’uk’ulkan’s presence made you feel safe, as if no harm could befall you while he remained at your side.

“You are done with the surface world, they do not deserve you, and this has proved it.” He said firmly, his eyes narrowed at the corpse behind you.

“But there are people that need me.” You protested weakly, lightly running your fingers across your throat, speeding up your already enhanced healing ability.

He cupped your face, his warm brown eyes like amber flecked with gold, filled with sorrow. “They do not need you more than I do in yakunaj. I do not know what I would do if you were taken from me.”

You melted under his gaze, the fight draining from your body, leaving only exhaustion in its place. “But who am I if not a healer?”

“You will still be a healer, my people injure themselves often, they are like children, stumbling over every loose stone in their path.” He gave you a weary smile along with his promise.

You smiled back at him, carding your fingers through his thick hair. “That is not true, your people are fearsome warriors.”

K’uk’ulkan rested his forehead against yours. “What can I do to make you come home, and to stay? What must I give you to have my queen by my side?”

Your eyes fluttered closed as you basked in his warmth. It had been four hundred years of this, back and forth, stay or go, rule, or heal. You loved K’uk’ulkan more than anyone, anything, but you’d never been able to pry yourself from the grip of the surface world.

“You cannot buy my heart, you already have it.” You said, taking one of his hands and pressing it to your heart.

“But I do not. It sits in the hands of the surface dwellers, who crush it into a fine powder day after day, while I am helpless to watch.” His fingers curled, finding purchase in the fabric of your shirt, a desperate, pleading grasp.

“K’uk’ulkan…” You breathed, heartbreaking at the anguish in his voice.

“Y/N, you must return with me, if only so that I do not die of worry.” He pulled away and motioned to the corpse. “Look at what has happened, what if I had not been here—in yakunaj, you could have died.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You were terrified, closer to death than you’d been in a long time. Maybe he was right, you could go with him, take care of his people, then return to the surface in a century or two and check on them.

“I will do it.” You said, closing your eyes, so he couldn’t see the tears of guilt welling up in them. How could you do this? Abandon all those who needed your help?

His thumbs wiped away the stray tears, and he brushed his lips across your forehead. “You will be happy there in reina, have faith in me.”

You looked up at him, bottom lip trembling. “I do, but…”

He shook his head. “No, but, do not let your mind run rampant as it tends to do. You owe the surface world nothing.” His voice was steady, as he leaned down and captured your lips, the warmth of him soothing your worries, and making your head pleasantly fuzzy.

You looped your arms around his neck, head tilting to the side, to deepen the kiss. He tasted of coconut and sea salt, his skilled tongue stroking yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

He kept you pressed against him as he stood, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walked into the surf, intent on keeping you safe forever.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @starlady66

#namor x y/n #namor x reader #namor x you #mcu namor #tenoch huerta namor #namor imagine #namor fanfiction #meg's writing #I started this and wasn't loving it but I think it ended up alright #k’uk’ulkan #k'uk'ulkan x reader #k'uk'ulkan x you #mutant!reader #healer!reader

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feelbokkie · 10 months

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[12:10 AM]

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

genre: fluff drabble

pov: 2nd person

description: Drawing on Felix’s freckles. Inspired by the last text in the Random texts with bf!Felix.

pairing: Felix x reader

warnings: none?

word count: 359 (unedited)

"Felix, stay still. You're going to make me mess up." You whine, grabbing both sides of his face and pressing a kiss to his forehead

"It tickles, Y/n." He whines back.

You're currently straddling his waist, coloring his face with your makeup. It originally was supposed to be an innocent moment of connect the dots with Felix's freckles. He lets you do it from time to time, but was tired of walking around with permanent marker on his face, so he insisted on you using eyeliner. Unfortunately for him, you started seeing patterns and constructed a full-fledged art piece on his face.

"I'm almost done, I promise. Just have to sign it." You look over your work one more time, confident in your vision. You grab a tube of lipstick from your make up bag and put some on your lips before pressing them into the corner of your artwork, effectively signing them with a kiss. You grab your phone, take a picture, and climb off of Felix.

Felix gets up from the bed and heads to the bathroom to admire your handy work as you clean up your makeup from the bed.

"Woah, you painted an entire galaxy on my face!" You hear him call.

"I just painted what I usually see in your eyes." You say as you walk into the bathroom. Felix is holding his phone in his hand, taking pictures of his face.

"You don't have to use cheesy lines, you already have me."

"It's not a line, it's the truth."

"Okay Shakespeare, I believe you. Hand me a makeup wipe?"

"Sure," You go under the cabinet to grab one of your wipes only to find the spot empty. You silently curse to yourself, remembering that you ran out a couple of days ago.

"We're out,"

"No problem, I'll just use good old soap and water."

"Lix, it's waterproof."

"Seriously? Y/n, it's midnight and I have an early morning."

"I know! We can still use soap and water but it'll take longer."

"Okay, okay."

"It would have been easier if you let me use the permanent marker."

"I don't see how that's possible."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Permanent Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you

@berryblog @jaydebow @junebug032 @boiohboii @heistheavatar @lieslab @rainbae-anon @k-cock @hamburgers101 @mrswolfiechan @soulboundauthor @weird-bookworm @thisisnotjacinta @seungmyynie @halesandy @kpopsstuffs @honeydew93 @dandycharmer @stay278 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @babrieeee @brain-empty-only-draken @tenmii @tattywood @blueforte @jihanlovic @felixglow @alyszaen @nuronhe @jihanlovic

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maxfandoms · 4 months

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Day feelings towards Night

Hi, Hello! I see a lot of people who see Day blame Night for the accident and are like but "Day's actually the one at fault in the end for taking his eyes of the road" or "Day is just taking his anger out on Night" and you're right but

Day know it was accident, he know deep down that Night didn't do anything and it also not just as simple as Day taking out his anger on Night, it is part of it but it's more complicated than that

So as someone who is familiar in the department of "Being angry/furious with family members who did sh*tty things but are trying to move on or be better" and also as someone who has been right about Day's emotion before I'm just here to give a rambly perspective on things. So Let's Start

(Also side note: I am going to talk about how Day's view Night more and not actually how Night is because this two are so completed different things for now at least)

We know that Day's know it was accident, and even if it was in someone choice it was Day's. Day choose to go the club and Day choose to take his eye off the road and the things is even before this episode, and even when I wrote my thoughts on Night & Day i kind of knew that would be Day's choice that lead to the accident in a ironic way (I was thinking that maybe Day knew he shouldn't be playing because that could risk his vision as well but that didn't happen) But I still understand because

What Day is actually angry about

Let start bit by bit, First with this line by the dad especially this part right here "You once wanted him to be". Combine this with Night saying "Who's the big brother?" it paints a picture of relationship where Day was the more responsible of the two (the national badminton player, seems good at school) while Night feel like maybe he was lost and maybe partying so Day was the one taking care of Night

It says a lot that the first flashback we got about Night & Day is Day in the role of taking care of Night, making sure he's will get home safe when now it's Night doing that

Also just look at difference in the way Day looks hearing Night, like in the first one has a bitt of annoyance, but there's a care and fondness that make me cry a little bit since I knew what was coming

With this dialogue, Day makes it clear that he doesn't feel Night's action are genuine, that they don't come from Night's care and love for him. And can I just say, Day is not completely wrong on that assumption

Night loves Day? Yes. The thing is though Night's guilt is def a factor in the way he's behaving right now and despite the fact that Night's recklessness was about his own struggle than his feelings towards Day's. Day doesn't know that, what he does know is that after the accident, Night became more caring, gentle towards him.

What think happen in Day's mind every time that Night is kind is this: "Now you can be a good brother? Now that you think you hurt me so much you can be what I wanted you to be? Now that the spot of the 'golden child' is vague? Not out of love on genuine care? Why couldn't before? What was stopping you?"

And a lot of you may be thinking that is should be easy to connect the dots, however it's not. Because I think Day thinks that if he were to try and reach out towards Night, it would just go back to the way things were and Night would fall back in the same recklessness behavior (Could this be a little projection? Yes but let's not talk about that)

This part can be interpret in a lot of ways, because from what asked around Day uses ‘เสียใจ’ which means ‘sad’ but it could also mean ‘feel sorry for something’. So this could be that Day's is feel like he taking a responsibility for the accident, I think that could be one way to interpret it

But what if it's more than that? What if he's also feeling sorry than he can seem to let go of his resentment, that despite Night's trying Day is not ready to trust him to be a good brother?

TL:DR Day's anger is not about the accident, but about everything that Night is doing after it. Day blame Night for not being able to be a good brother BEFORE the accident which it unfair because Night was dealing with own thing before but Day needed a big brother for long time that he is hurt from the waiting

#jimmysea #last twilight #last twilight series #last twilight the series #morkday #mhokday #jimmy jitaraphol #sea tawinan

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connect-dots7 · 2 years

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S5 Prediction: Will & MIKE'S 7 Confession (letter) + Garage Light Kiss Theory (Alternate/Revised Theory!)

OH. MY. GOD. GUYS! I think I just figured it out for real this time. I connected the two dots before...but i missed the third and final dot. BUCKLE UP B*TCHES.

We all know about my "full-circle garage light flicker theory" where Mike and Will can affect s1 ep1 through the upside-down in s5, and when they kiss the garage light flickers in season 1. Well, in my old theory I said "Will parallels his younger self and says the truth", but NOW I THINK IT'S ACTUALLY GOING TO BE MIKE.

This comes down to the letter. I used to think Mike's letter would just be a case of dramatic irony, to inform the audience of Mike's true feelings. I thought maybe the letter was about Mike rebuilding castle Byers after s3 (which i still think he did btw). But I just read this post from doriandrifting (READ IT), and now I think he wrote the letter about the D&D campaign. Like an IDIOT, I forgot about the date in the tweet! And then I really thought about it and...this changes EVERYTHING. Prepare yourselves. (it's 4:00 AM rn but I DON'T CARE) i'm gonna copy and paste the beginning of my old theory, sorry. you can skip ahead to “it’s parallel time” :)

To start off, I think that Mike and Will are going to end up in the upside-down together in S5. The upside down and Will are connected narratively, seeing as it’s literally frozen on the night he went missing.

Obviously there is going to be a reason for that. To bring his story full-circle, it’s pretty much inevitable that in the final season, Will is going to end up back in the upside-down. Just like it’s inevitable that this time Mike will be there with him. Which is why at the end of season 4, they both sit on an upside down couch together.

The next part of this theory has to do with Will having powers. It’s why Will is paralleled to Vecna, Eleven, and Bastian from NeverEnding Story, and could open a portal in s1. It also fits with his overall character arc (becoming a hero after being a victim). I won’t make this post a mile long by going through all the evidence (links to some proof here, here , here and here and in the long version of my theory.) But for now, trust me when I say it’s probably going to be revealed that Will can manipulate electricity/time/the upside-down in S5.

Remember, El was originally supposed to die after season one, which makes the notion of Will having powers extremely likely.

Okay? Okay. So here’s the theory:

Mike and Will are in the upside-down, which is stuck on the day Will went missing in 1983. While in the upside-down, Mike and Will end up at the Wheeler House.

Time is frozen on Nov 6, which is the first episode of season 1. I think that somehow, Mike and Will are going to be able to affect the other side in season 1 (specifically Nov 6), through the upside-down in season 5.

How though? We know that (as of now) time still flows normally on the other side, unlike the upside-down. However, that could change. Like, what if time were to start moving again in the upside-down? This could happen because of Will's subconscious mind. It’s also safe to say that s5 will include some wacky time shenanigans, which could explain how this is possible. (s5 time-travel proof here, here, here, and here) But even just on the surface level, why the hell else would the show’s villain thematically be obsessed with the progression of time, be accompanied by the sound of a clock chime, and create visions of grandfather clock? Why else would Hopper’s s3 letter talk about “turning back the clock”? Why else would there be so many Back to The Future references? Why else would the Duffers talk so much about "going back to season one", or the story coming "full-circle" in season five?

There are multiple electricity shortages in s1. What if some of these moments, like when Ted fiddles with the TV in the background of season 1, were actually caused by Will (or El) in season 5? The screen looks suspiciously like how the TV screen looked when Eleven mind jumped in s2 and s3. Now for the good part:

IT’S PARALLEL TIME!

In the upside-down, Mike and Will are going to stand in the same spot at the same time as their younger selves on the other side.

The concept of Lies is a HUGE recurring theme and motif in Stranger Things. One of the very first bits of characterization we learn about Will, is that he doesn’t lie to Mike. Even though it was just a white lie and Even though he could have got away with it. Even though it meant he lost, “Friends don’t LIE.” Will waited until the other boys left before telling Mike the Truth.

I think that Mike is going to mirror Will, and confess the truth to him. From the very start, we are shown that Mike and Will have an honest and different bond than rest of the party. Which is why in season five, MIKE is going to remember this, and be able to lie.

(I, I can remember (I remember) Standing, by the wall (by the wall)- Bowie

Season 5 MIKE is going to parallel season 1 WILL, and THEY ARE BOTH going to admit the TRUTH to each-other at the same exact time (across time)! (7+7=14) winning roll!

Season 5, UPSIDE-DOWN:

for example:

Mike: “you lied about the painting being from El”

(the TRUTH about why Will made THE PAINTING for Mike is addressed--LOVE!)

Will: "You’re being stupid! It's not my fault you couldn't say you love her!"

WILL parallels MIKE during the SEASON THREE GARAGE SCENE:

Mike: "It is" (TRUTH)

MIKE parallels WILL during the SEASON ONE GARAGE SCENE:

Mike gives Will his letter (The TRUTH about why Mike made the 10 hour D&D CAMPAIGN is addressed--LOVE!)

(TRUTH=7) An UPSIDE-DOWN 7 is a capital L. The song which plays when Mike and Eleven kiss at the end of s3 (when Mike realizes he's gay) is "The First I love You". The "L" is NOT capitalized, because it’s not the TRUTH. In his letter, the "L" IS capitalized!

so at the same time (across time)...

MIKE: TRUTH=7, WILL: TRUTH=7 (7+7=14, the winning roll in D&D!)

THE THIRD AND FINAL GARAGE SCENE: (writing comes in 3's)

THEY KISS

Between them, metaphorical electricity FLARES (and potentially Will’s literal powers), as his brain short-circuits. As they kiss, “Heroes” by David Bowie plays, and the lyrics “the guns, shot above our heads, (over our heads)” narrates as electricity shoots above their heads. (Either bc of the kiss or confession) The camera pans up to the garage light over their heads, which flickers.

the audience can feel the electricity between Mike and Will. Just like how Dustin could feel the electricity between Lucas and Max.

"i could feel it." "What?" "The electricity." (are “friends” electric?)

at the same time...

Season 1, OTHER SIDE:

Will: "It was a 7, the demogorgan, it got me.” (TRUTH=7)

Will sounded disappointed about losing, but Mike DOESN'T SAY ANYTHING. He doesn't say how he "really feels". He just stands there and watches Will leave. Mike notices the garage light flicker above him. This is a metaphor for the electricity which just passed between them. Love=Electricity, and Mike just noticed it, which is why the scene directly following this one is him going inside to write a letter of what he wanted to say, which he signs "-Love, Mike."

This would act as dramatic irony because at the same exact time in the upside-down, Mike JUST SAID what he really wanted to say in this moment BY GIVING WILL HIS LETTER and/or confessing. Unbeknownst to him, his future self just confessed, and the flicker is actually when they kiss in the upside down.

This reveal would be meaningful, because Mike wrote the ten hour DnD campaign but doesn't give Will the letter saying why (Love), and Will makes the painting but he lies about why (Love). In the upside-down, the TRUTH about both of these gestures is revealed.

In this moment, Mike's future self says what HE was too ashamed too in season one. Mike never got the chance to give Will his letter before the "demogorgan" got him.

"Anyway, I think you’ll still beat the campaign. Sorry I couldn’t get it done before my mom made everyone leave, but you mean so much to me, and it’s been so much fun to make it for you. Hope this is enough motivation to last until we can finish it next weekend. -Love, Mike"

THE UPSIDE-DOWN, SEASON 5:

As they kiss, “Heroes” by David Bowie continues...

in season one, Mike is still ashamed of his love for Will. Which is why the scene cuts off with the line “shame”.

This time when the song plays, it will be different though. This time, the full verse will play as they kiss.

“and we kiss as though nothing could fall and the shame… was on the OTHER SIDE.”

Mike and Will are in the upside-down, and at the same time their ashamed younger selves were literally on the other side. When they finally kiss as if nothing could fall, they leave their shame on the other side (in the the past).

Or alternatively

Mike and Will are alone together in the upside-down, and the rest of society is on the other side. Because of this, they are able to finally kiss as if nothing could fall, and forget about how they would be shamed for it on the other side.

(based on the rest of the lyrics, they probably think they are going to die when this happens btw)

Click Here: for new video of my flicker kiss theory! (now including Mike's Letter)

Click Here: for the original video of my theory!

Click Here: The long version of my original post. (It goes off on more tangents, includes more proof, and goes over some mini theories that could (possibly) tie into this one!

Shameless self promo: Follow my account for more! In the future, I plan on making more predictions about the role of memories in season 5, Birthday-gate, Will's subconscious mind shaping the upside-down, and water symbolism. I also have a tik-tok and twitter account under the same name, so go follow me over there!

#byler s5 #byler evidence #byler proof #flickergate #stranger things theories #byler endgame #byler is canon #byler prediction #DUFFERS PLEASE JUST HIRE ME ALREADY #I KNOW IM RIGHT #SORRY FOR SPOILING IT #clout chaser and proud #pls credit or @ me for the theory when possible! ;)

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inkblot22 · 4 months

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The Same As Always

So I can already hear it. If I'm so scared of Rook, why am I always writing about him? That's because fear makes me nut, and I'm horny on side (this is not my main blog lmao) Also I'm so sorry, I cannot remember who made this divider since I downloaded it a few years ago, so if it's yours please let me know and I will credit you! This is kind of a reimagining of events based on that very loose series I have floating around on my page (He Begs Not For Petulance) so I hope it comes across as well as those.

Who is this fic for? I tried to keep it very gender-neutral, so hopefully anyone who can handle it. I apologize, since Rook does use the masculine version of most pet names in this (cheri instead of cherie, etc) but it's less feminizing than him referring to the reader as "ma biche" or "ma coccinelle", so that's just how that goes. It is a shame, but I also stayed away from "mon nounours" because that is also a bit too gendered. Very cute, though.

Anyways, this fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. It's not as dark as my usual stuff, but that's not saying much. TW for noncon (touching and sa), knifeplay, blood, head injuries (accidental), captivity, and yandere. Also rusty, probably incorrect French and Rook Hunt, of course. I don't add translations because I feel like if the reader doesn't know all or any of what he's saying, it adds to the creep factor.

You don’t like it here. You think you don’t, at least. It’s hard to explain.

It’s winter, it has been for far too long. Maybe you’ve been here for a bit too long as well. It’s hard to keep track of time, since the sun seems to never rise wherever you are.

You can’t exactly remember how you got here. You remember the wagon. You’d needed quick travel through the mountains, but you also can’t remember where you were traveling. You remember everything going dark, waking up to see a blood-stained stone before you, feeling the warmth on your forehead and wondering where the wagon had gone. Your first thought was that you were now in a survival situation as it began to snow around you, the snowflakes dancing in the wind that found its way inside your loose clothing. You stood there for a moment, maybe, and then you started walking, and from there it all goes black.

You can definitely remember the first time you saw him. You were lying in an unfamiliar bed, something snug around your forehead. A candle cast a warm, quiet light into the room, and it burned through your eyelids, your vision a murky orange-pink until you opened your eyes and came face to face with… him.

Flaxen hair, a soft smile as he reached forward to caress your cheek, and most of all, those intense jade eyes. You jumped and immediately felt woozy, but you were confused enough to pay that little mind.

The man shushed you, gently pulling you back into a relaxed position and cooing at you as though you were a small child, “Ah-ah, fear not, mon cheri, you are no longer in death’s grasp. Do you remember your name or how you’ve gotten here?”

You couldn’t answer him at first. His eyes narrowed, the rest of his face still a pleasant mask, and he eased you onto your back, your head against the pillow.

“Fret not, mon petit. How about I tell you my name, and then you can decide if you’d like to tell me yours?” His voice was quiet when he spoke to you, and you noticed that there was a large knife sheath snug on his thigh.

You were still bewildered. You couldn’t connect any of the dots that had led you to this moment, and it was making your heart beat a bit too fast for your liking. The stranger smiled wider and squeezed your trembling hand.

“Je m’appelle Rook Hunt, le chasseur d’amour. I found you wandering aimlessly in this forest, the life pouring from your head like a faucet. You passed out in my arms, and brought you here.”

You didn’t remember wandering around. You could remember getting up, but you didn’t remember wandering around. Your hand comes up to your forehead, the soft bandages rubbing against your fingertips. When you looked back at Rook, you tried to figure out what you should say. Your tongue felt thick in your mouth.

“I… I’m kinda thirsty.”

Rook smiled ever wider and stood, and you got the chance to look around a bit more. You seemed to be in a small log cabin, the bed in a sort of nook, away from the rest of the cabin. You could see Rook from where you were, his back facing you as he poured you a cup of water. The kitchen area was open, but small, a table with three chairs right next to it, and you could sort of see a pretty ornate looking rug, but as you were looking at it, Rook returned and helped you into a seated position.

He held the cup for you as you drank. When you finished, he placed the cup on the table and stroked your cheek, still smiling. His actions towards you were awfully familiar, as though you were old friends or something.

“Where am I?”

“A little cabin in the woods.” Rook didn’t remove his hand from your cheek. His gloved thumb was so gentle against your cheek. “Why don’t you get some rest? You lost quite a bit of blood, cheri.”

You did feel tired… and even though you were confused, it was almost as though a spell was cast on you, lulling you back to sleep.

You’re almost certain you don’t like it here. Although he never said anything to you about it, it became somewhat clear that you couldn’t leave once you felt well enough to move around again. At least you were moving, though.

It was also at this point that Rook began leaving the cabin often. It left you bored, not that his form of entertainment was a good one, and you started cooking to alleviate that boredom. You couldn’t really recall if you were good at it before, but you were decent enough to make basic stuff, so you did. For some reason, Rook had an icebox, not a refrigerator. You didn’t know what it was at first, and you felt like it was rude to open random cabinets in a strange man’s cabin, so you left it alone until he informed you that there were usually fresh vegetables inside.

You’d sit next to the potbelly stove and sip tea as you stared out the window at the snow. This winter was going on for far too long, and it always seemed to be dark here, but you didn’t know where “here” was.

Rook would stomp back in, snow caked along the feather in his hat and melting off the brim, and he’d cast you a smile before swishing into the basement. When he’d return, he’d guide you back to the bed and sit at the table himself, writing furiously… until recently.

Last night, he’d led you back to the bed after checking your wound and changing the bandage, but instead of taking a seat at the table and writing, he slipped into the bed beside you. You didn’t know it at the time, but this would be the precedent for the rest of your life.

“What are you doing-”

“Shh, shh. Relax, cheri. I will recite a poem for you.” He curled his arms around you, holding your aching head to his chest as he whispered.

“What?” You were fatigued, still recovering from your injury, but you struggled to break out of his hold anyway.

He shushed you again, his deceptively slim arms keeping you immobile, and then he began to speak, quiet and steady, “My darling is silent. Quiet as the night.”

“R-Rook…”

He continued speaking as though you hadn’t said anything at all, “Mon orilles sont pauvres faute de sa douce voix.

As I look at that sweet face,

Beautiful as a flower, as the moon, as the blood in our veins,

Je me sens seule dans ma peau.”

You… are not amazing at French. A small English to French dictionary was left on the table whenever Rook left, but reading made your head swim, pangs of pain so bad that you had to rest immediately. But, from what little you understood, the man who had saved you from a cold death outside seemed to have something worse planned for you, if you were in fact this “darling” he spoke of.

You definitely do not like it here. You’d made the mistake of pushing Rook’s increasing affections away every chance you got, resulting in him reading your reluctance to be around him as hostility. You’d gone to cut some vegetables and found that all the knives were replaced with children’s safety cutlery. While you could very well still cause damage with them, you couldn’t do anything life-threatening without a lot of effort and no fighting back. The serrated plastic edges were only good for cutting through the flesh of fruits and tender meats, and the rounded tips meant you couldn’t really pierce anything.You couldn’t even skin a fish that Rook came back with, he did it with his hunting knife after watching you struggle for an irritatingly long time.

And then there’s the cellar. You had taken a nap after trying to read and woken up, the sky dark as usual and a terrifying grinding, clunking noise coming up from the basement. You felt like you needed to hide, so you did. You crawled under the bed and waited, the basement door flying open and a few more candles getting lit echoing as the grinding noise- the sound of something big and heavy being dragged- moved further back towards the area of the cabin that you didn’t go in usually. There wasn’t much over there except for a wardrobe, and you didn’t like opening cabinets here. It stopped being about politeness a while ago, and had turned into the fear of finding something you didn’t like.

When you heard the front door open and close, felt the frigid rush of air that entered the cabin, you felt like you were frozen as well. You couldn’t move as you heard the sound of water being poured, and you worried for a while that you would start to feel the wooden floor beneath you grow cold and wet. Instead of wet floors, however, you saw Rook’s feet- you could only tell because of the freckle that peeps over his sock on his left leg and the fine blond hairs prickling from his skin- in your narrow window of vision from where you were cowering.

“Cheri… come out from under there.”

You did, but you did so slowly. As soon as you were no longer under the bed, Rook pulled you to your feet and looked at your face. He’d never made such a serious expression before, not that you’d seen, and it made you feel a bit panicked.

“R-Rook, what was all that noise?”

His face smoothed and he let go of you, then he waved towards the dark corner of the cabin.

“I’ve run a bath. The water is warm, lapin, so you’d best get in before it cools.”

You did feel grimy, and since you were okay with standing and walking around for longer periods of time now, as compared to the first few weeks you were here, you jumped at the prospect of getting clean. You quickly undressed, knowing it was dark enough that Rook probably couldn’t see you, and climbed into the warm water. You couldn’t see if there was any soap, but as you were squinting into the darkness, kneeling in the tub as you leaned forward over the side, you felt something brush against your back. When you turned around, you shrieked like an owl and had a very intense internal dilemma.

Rook was seated in the tub behind you, or in front of you now, since you were facing him. He produced a bar of soap and began washing himself, dipping his head under the water so he could wash his hair as well. You couldn’t help but blankly stare at him, eyes wide as he acted so casual. This had been a problem for a while, actually, but never so severe as this. Rook was overly familiar with you, he touched you as though you had been married or were close friends, and apparently now he thought it was fine for you to share a bath. His eyes met yours in the dark corner, and he possibly smirked. You couldn’t quite see, but you could hear it in his voice.

“Ah, mon cher, did you need the soap? But you can’t see very well, can you? Come and let me wash your supple skin.”

A moment before he said that, you were debating if you should get out of the tub or something. You couldn’t tell if it’d be better to be ogled as you dressed or if staying under the water would give you a bit more modesty. After he said that, his arms reaching for you, you began to stand up. Although it was dark, you still saw his eyes flash, saw a slight movement in his wrist, and you were brought to your knees. It felt as though vines were wrapped around you, and you tilted forwards into your captor’s chest as your balance failed you in the dark water of the tub.

This man was a mage. You didn’t think you’d ever met one before, but you couldn’t remember. You wailed and begged for him to let you go as he began to gently wash you, but he simply shushed you and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

You absolutely hate it here. As you chopped carrots for the stew you had decided to make, you wondered where you were from or where you were going, and hoped someone knew you had never shown up and was looking for you. You didn’t think that was the case, however.

“That does smell divine, trickster.” Rook said, walking up the stairs from the basement, “Et vous êtes terriblement mignonne, portant ce petit tablier adorable et préparant le dîner…”

“I can’t cut the meat well with this. Can I have an actual knife, please?”

Rook didn’t answer, leaning against the wall and watching as you chopped the carrots with some difficulty. He looked pleased, though whether it was with you or the situation remained to be known. When he finally pushed off of the wall, he wrapped one arm around your front, burying his face in your hair as his other hand slid down your thigh.

“Get off of me!” You tried to slash his arm with the knife, but it barely even scratched his skin, and the hand that was resting on your waist came up to crush your dominant hand so you’d drop the knife.

Panic spiked through your veins as he slipped his hand up your leg so he could slide it in the waistband of the pants you were wearing. His hand that was crushing yours lowered to hold your wrist against the counter.

You’d never tried this before, but when his lips pressed against your neck, you felt your breath hitch and you let out a desperate cry for help.

Rook laughed in response and nipped your neck, his teeth pinching your skin between them. His hand in your waistband smoothed down your pelvis to gently massage your sex, and you screamed again, thrashing and flailing so he would let you go.

Despite him never quite showing this side of him to you before, Rook was something of a strategist. As far as you could tell, it hadn’t been that long since you’d gotten here, if your head injury was anything to measure time by.

“Relax, ma crevette. You are still recovering, no? Allow this lowly hunter to take care of your body.”

Your head hurt and you felt dizzy as he stoked your arousal. A disconnect between your mind and body grew into a chasm and you began to bawl as a pressure built up in your core. Your head was spinning, it felt as though your brain was throbbing, and you shuddered and wept as Rook peppered kisses on your cheek. He had you pressed solidly against the counter, his body keeping you more or less still. His breath was hot on your skin, and you felt like you were in hell.

“Come, trickster. The soup can wait. Je dois t'avoir.”

“No!”

Rook paid you little heed as he dragged you backwards towards the bed, and while you were expecting him to just throw you onto it before he assaulted you, he gently swept you off of your feet and laid you down. That was where his mercy ended, however, if it could even be called mercy here. That knife that was pressed to his thigh, still warm from his skin and him doing whatever he did in the basement, was quickly unsheathed and trailed lightly up your sternum.

“Not struggling any longer, mon petit lapin? I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses.” His blade slid back down and he used a finger to help hook it under the hem of your shirt, cutting through the fabric as though it was nothing, “And I am sure you must be confused, but a little… exercise is good for your condition.”

You wanted to vomit, but Rook’s gloved hand cupped your chin. His knife felt cold against your now bare skin, and your breath hitched as you sucked in and held it, your eyes looking down at where Rook had his knife.

One of his leather-covered fingers tapped your cheek, and you looked back up at him. He smiled sweetly and sat up a bit, his blade still pressed flat against your stomach, right over your navel. He caught the fingertip of his glove in his teeth and yanked that glove off, tossing it to the side and passing the knife to his now bare hand. As he leaned forward to hover over you once more, his knife pressed under your chin and his gloved hand slipped into your pants, shifting lower than your crotch to prod at your poor ass. You closed your legs tighter in panic, and Rook tutted at you as though you were an unruly child.

“Come now, cheri, you should relax.” He whispered, leaning closer to press a kiss against your forehead, where you’d hit your head and how you’d gotten into this whole mess. “Plus vous êtes tendu, plus la douleur est forte…”

“D-don’t do this, don’t-” Your voice sounded so shaky, and you realized that you were trembling. Every time you made the slightest movement, you could feel the sharp edge of Rook’s hunting knife against your chin.

“Open your legs, Trickster. I’m not touching you for my benefit… although your faces of bewilderment and pleasure are quite sweet.” His finger circled the tight ring of muscle around your anus and you slowly relaxed.

“Wh-why are you d-doing…?”

Rook smiled sweetly and removed his finger from your anus slowly, instead dragging your pants down your legs and relaxing his hand with the knife against your neck. When your lower half was mostly bare above the knee, he pressed two fingers into your ass and slowly massaged you from the inside, tilting his head as his face fell.

“After I graduated from NRC, I did not think I’d see your darling little form again. It was a welcome surprise… but I don’t suppose you know what I’m talking about.” He mused, reaching over your head to grab something. He opened the little bottle with one hand, the slippery liquid cold on your asshole as he resumed his gentle fingering, “You don’t remember me in the least. Do you?”

You felt so woozy and scared, but it explained so much if he knew you… but that didn’t matter. He was still a stranger to you, and one who was currently preparing to do more terrible things to you.

“Heh… I did think so.” Rook quickly unbuckled his pants and tugged them down just enough to free himself. He pulled back away from you to seat your thighs on his own, his cock slowly inching into your poor hole. His knife slid away from your neck but remained in his grip as he slowly slid his hips forward, his opposite hand holding your ass.

Your vision was white for a moment, and when it returned it was blurry. Were you crying? You could hear loud, shuddery breathing, and it took a moment for you to figure out that it was coming from you. Rook sighed peacefully, as though this was a walk in the park for him.

“Aw… I do not enjoy harming you, trickster.” Rook murmured, his hips slowly beginning their undulating motion. He shushed your pained sounds, “This is my love for you. You’ve only grown more beautiful these past few years.”

You winced and pushed against him, your feet shifting so you could try to kick him away, and his knife came back to rest against your collarbones. His hips rocked a little faster, every pump leaving a burning stretch that only felt like it doubled over onto itself.

“Did you know? How I felt for you, how I longed for your touch all those years ago? These three on my own… they have been l'écrasement de l'âme. I’ve had far too much time to- Putain, tu n'es pas du tout détendu…” Rook wheezed and grunted, dark and low.

You felt a pit in your lower belly, and you grabbed the wrist that had the knife, your watering eyes wide as you looked up at this man who apparently knew you.

“Please, petit, you have to… fuck- you must unclench, or this will not last much longer.”

His demand was probably one of the most ridiculous things you’d heard. You couldn’t relax. He had a knife to your throat, he was rearranging your guts, and he had chosen just now to inform you that he was aware of at least a portion of your past. You made this strange whining shriek noise, and Rook’s hand holding the knife slipped ever so slightly.

It was unclear as to whether or not he did that on purpose, especially since he removed the blade from your skin and lasciviously lapped at the small cut on your collarbone, his lips trailing up to your ear.

“Préparez-vous, car je vais déposer mon amour dans votre estomac en attente.”

The sentence itself was honestly quite jarring, but Rook groaned loudly into your ear and nearly folded you in half as he came inside of your ass. It felt hot and sickly, and the musky smell of Rook’s skin and sex permeated the room. Your head panged, woozy throbs that made your stomach churn. Rook dragged his body up and gently teased your sex with his gloved fingertips, his murky green eyes glued to yours.

“Wh-”

“Did you truly think I would not give you the same bliss you have given me?” He mumbled, “You really don’t remember me, then.”

As he pulled out of you and stroked you to your own orgasm, he smiled sadly.

"Don't worry, trickster. You will remember in time."

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sarahpaulsonsoftie · 10 months

Text

Not going anywhere Pt. 2

Marilyn Thornhill x reader x Larissa Weems-

Info- Parents weekend comes around, Wednesday and Y/N vow to protect their romantic interests from their mother. Little did they know Morticia had a vision.

part one here

A/N- PURE FLUFF

It had been months since You, Larissa and Marilyn had made things official, at first it was still discreet because of Larissa and Marilyn’s positions in the academy but after a while, more and more people had begun to connect the dots. Nobody judged, of course, plus the threats from your younger sister were enough to keep their mouths shut.

It was a Thursday, and since you were an older student, you had less classes than the youngers. So, you sat in the quad, quietly reading to yourself, before you saw Wednesday’s shadow above you.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” You question her and Wednesday rolls her eyes, moving to sit down next to you.

“Your girlfriend wanted me to take some time to read since I’m already ahead of the class.” She scowls and you grin at her, moving over slightly to give her more room.

“And this is a bad thing because…?” You question, of course, you had already known the answer and it was because of the blonde werewolf who had managed to crack your sisters self-proclaimed stone heart.

“Enid’s still in class.” Your sister scowls and you grin once again, closing your book. Your sister had obviously noticed your smug nature as she flicks you. “Need I remind you that you romantic interests are far more intriguing than mine.”

“Hey, come on now, I’m so very happy for you.” You retort as you stare back with a glint in your eyes. “Plus, I’m glad you’re out here, there is something we need to discuss.”

“Parents weekend?” Wednesday deduces and you nod lightly. “So, we are both in agreement that mother cannot find out.” Your sister states.

“Yes, however, I am in an undesirable situation because the last time mother was here…” You trail off and Wednesday glares at you.

“Please, do not tell me you mentioned your girlfriends to her!” She exclaims, slightly too loudly and you sigh, allowing yourself to nod.

“We weren’t dating at the time! I didn’t think we were going to be dating! And mother asked, and you know how she is, so I just told her, but I didn’t tell her who they were.” You respond lightly and Wednesday glares at you.

“Oh, like it will take her long to figure out.” Your sister responds sarcastically, and you shrug lightly. “Y/N, you do know as soon as she questions you then I shall get all the questions after you, about my love life. I know you may be ready for mother to know, but I’m not. I don’t even know what Enid and I are.”

“Right so, we will just have to avoid her then.” You say, and Wednesday rolls her eyes. You know she is already judging you and you know she doesn’t think it will work. “It’s the best option we’ve got. Plus, If we avoid her she won’t find out and then she can’t talk to our partners without us.” You retort.

Wednesday smirks lightly at you. “You have double the odds against you, seeing as you have two girlfriends.”

You feel the humor in her words and instead you lightly bash your shoulders with her.

“Oh, shut up. Don’t you have some reading to do?”

The evening rolls around and you make your way to Larissa’s office knocking before you hear her voice entering. You open the door and see both of your girlfriends sitting firmly on the couch. They both look up and smile at you.

“Hi, Sweetheart.” Marilyn says and holds her hands out to you. You take them and smile at her.

“Hello, Darling.” Larissa states with her own smile, and before you know it, Marilyn is pulling you to sit in between them.

You place your head onto Marilyn’s lap while she plays with your hair and Larissa pulls your legs onto her lap, placing her hands on top of them.

“Good day?” You question the pair of them and they both lock eyes before smiling at you.

“Better now we’ve seen you.” Larissa states and you feel your heart swell at the comment.

You tip your head up to look at Marilyn who looks so content and you can’t help the grin that forms on your face.

“Wednesday said you let her leave lesson early today to go and read.” You say and Marilyn smiles softly at you.

“Oh? Did she also tell you that the whole lesson she was just staring at Enid?” she asks and you laugh lightly at her statement.

“No but she did admit it was a bad thing because Enid was still in class.” You respond. And you notice how Larissa’s lips twitch.

“We’ve both been thinking.” Larissa states and you move to look at her. “Its parents weekend this week and how would you feel about us introducing ourselves as your girlfriends to your parents?” Larissa questions and you can’t help the frown that forms. They both notice and you feel Marilyn’s hands stop moving in your hair.

“Oh.” You manage to say, and the pair look at you, Marilyn’s eyes showing more hurt than Larissa’s.

“Would you not like that?” Marilyn asks and you shake your head, moving to sit up beside both.

“No, no. It’s not that, I promise. It’s just Wednesday and I kinda made an agreement earlier that mother wouldn’t find out about either of our love lives. Not that I haven’t mentioned you! Because I have. Just, Mother can be very overbearing! And Wednesday isn’t ready for Mother to know about her and Enid because she doesn’t even know what they are! And if she knows about us, then she’ll just focus on Wednesday’s love life! And I’m not ashamed of either of you, I promise! It’s just that, you know, Wednesday’s first love interest and I know she wouldn’t want mother to get involved!” You ramble, before taking a breath.

Larissa brings her hands to yours, a grin forming on her face. You turn to look at Marilyn, whose smile has now returned, and you sigh in relief.

“It’s okay sweetheart. We can wait. Wednesday has made a lot of progress since she’s been here, we wouldn’t want to compromise that, hmm?” Larissa states and brings her lips to your neck. You breathe in a deep breath and Marilyn’s hands move to your knee, her face coming close to yours.

“So, what exactly have you told your mother about us?” Marilyn questions, her breath tickling your lips.

Friday morning arrives and both you and Wednesday decide to go to Jericho to at least hold off your mothers questions for a few hours. Each of you shop for individual items before returning to the weathervane to meet up again. Each of you is holding a bag of shopping and Wednesday sees clearly through your see through bag.

“Hmm, a book about plants and a hot chocolate making kit, I wonder who they are for.” Wednesday says, her voice dripping in sarcasm, and you raise an eyebrow to her before grabbing her own bag and looking inside. It’s a bright pink journal with the letter E on it. You grin at her.

“Oh, and I wonder who this is for.” You respond. You hand her back the bag and begin to leave the coffee shop. “Might be best to go back to the academy now, though.”

“I agree.” Your sister says and you grin at her.

You both enter the gates of the academy and before you even have the chance to say anything, you notice your mother standing beside Larissa, Marilyn and Enid. You and Wednesday lock eyes before approaching you mother. Your mother turns and greets you both with a smile, before she takes you into your arms.

“Y/N, how I have missed you.” Your mother states before pulling away and looking towards your sister, “Oh, Wednesday, I do hope you have grown to love the academy.”

Your eyes move towards Larissa and Marilyn who both looked like they have been told off and you then turn to look to Wednesday who is staring at Enid.

“Hi, Mother, I’ve missed you too.” You state and smile at her. You look down at your bag before pulling out the black purse that you had purchased for her. “I got you this.”

“Oh, sweetheart, thank you.” Your mother states, and you look at Wednesday again, hoping she will say something, anything, but instead she storms off, Enid following behind her.

“Oh, uh, that was weird.” You lie and your mother smiles at you, linking your arms together.

“Not entirely.” Your mother states and you look at her again and she smiles even bigger, you look again at Larissa and Marilyn, both are frowning, and you don’t fail to notice the anxious look on Marilyn’s face. “I had a vision, you know.”

You decide to change the subject. “Oh, that’s nice. Where are father and Pugsley?” You ask.

“Oh, they couldn’t make it. They had a fishing tournament. Now enough about that, lets now talk about your relationship with Larissa and Marilyn.” Your mother says and you once again look at the pair in front of you. “See, I’ve already spoken to both of them about how if they ever hurt you, there is distant Addams relative I can call to make them disappear.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face as you look at your mother. Its her way of saying she accepts but also saying that she will not judge and do anything until they hurt you.

You unlink arms with your mother and fish your hands into the bag and hand the gifts to both Marilyn and Larissa.

They both accept it gratefully and they both look at you with utter love and devotion.

“I was going to wait until later to give these to you but since mother already knows, there’s no point in waiting.” You say and they both grip you in your arms.

Your mother stares at the three of you before smiling softly and walking away. You look at Marilyn and Larissa who both look sheepish.

“Yeah, so your mother had a vison and kind of already knew about us. She confronted us after she knew you and Wednesday left for Jericho.” Marilyn states, and her hands finding their way to your waist, Larissa’s hands now resting on your shoulders. You laugh lightly.

“You know what, I would pay good money to see that on video.” You say and Larissa lips come close to your eyes.

“I would pay good money to have it erased from my memory.” She states before the three of you laugh.

In the distance, your mother watches you with a huge smile on her face, glad that you have a relationship so pure.

On Sunday evening, you are sitting in Larissa’s office, your head on Marilyn’s lap and your legs on Larissa’s lap. Your mother is long gone.

Your sister barges in, Enid’s hand in her own and she scowls at you.

“Mother can never know she was the reason Enid and I got together.” She states.

Fin

Tags- @poulengp @h-doodles @weemssapphic

#marilyn thornhill x larissa weems #larissa weems x reader x marilyn thornhill #marilynthornhillxreader #x reader #larissa weems x reader #marilyn thornhill x reader #wednesday

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mad-scientist-enthusiast · 1 month

Text

"The Haunted Flesh Machine"

@plaguedghosts @iwrotesomeofitdown @notjustanyannie

Here is my slam poem. Thank you for the encouragement!

I'd like to preface this by saying it is a poem of my struggles and fears, and this should not be taken as the most mentally healthy or even correct writing.

CW: discussion of disordered eating, slight suicidal ideation, a little bit of internalized ableism

I’m losing my grip on reality. Each hour of the day slips from beneath my fingertips before I can even close my hand.

My motor functions are so much slower these days.

I walk through a persistent haze, going through the motions, but I am never present for them. My body acts on autopilot, but the battery is on low.

I’m smart—I always have been—I’m an engineer for crying out loud—but I don’t think I can access that anymore. My intelligence is locked behind a firewall in my brain.

Do you know how insane that is? Being unable to use your own mind?

All my judgments are tinted because the brightness is turned down. I think my brain is in battery-saver mode.

The fatigue is the worst because I can feel it all throughout my body. No amount of sleep seems to recharge me. I am perpetually tired and confused and dizzy and unaware.

I’m sure my eating habits don’t help. I’m just putting water in my gas tank. No amount of Fanta Orange and Lucky Charms is going to make up for the entire sections of the food pyramid I am missing. I try to start my brain up, but water isn’t quite nearly as combustible, and I end up with no output.

I want to be in control. I want my body to work. I don’t want my vision to get darker with every step I take.

Another day, another near-emergency. My heart beats too fast, my blood pressure falls too low. Sometimes presyncope lasts for longer than it needs to.

Sometimes I change colors like a chameleon on its deathbed.

My code is flagging for errors, but I’m running it anyway.

I think my computer is getting overheated. My face is hot to the touch.

If this was the Victorian Era, my symptoms would be romanticized. There’s something poetic about wasting away.

I fear that I’m getting weaker by the week.

Another day, another new problem. Which diagnosis does it fit under? I’m too tired to make a spreadsheet, not that I could log it if I did.

What month is it anyway? How many months have I been here? It seems like an eternity when I’m in pain, but time passes too quickly when I’m not.

I haven’t taken my meds in a while. I’ve given up on them working. Neglect is also a form of control.

I’m rotting inside. I’m rotting in my bed. I hardly leave my bed, but when was the last time I slept?

Surely this will have no repercussions.

I’m smart for a day, so my expectations are high, and as a result, my workload is too. I’m a workaholic on the days I’m present at all.

That’s who they see when they look at me. They don’t see that I’m sick. They don’t connect the dots on the days I wear a little less makeup than usual.

They don’t even bother to look.

I’m fighting for control over my mind and my body, and they are none the wiser.

If I were underweight, maybe they’d care a little. Maybe they’d treat me with a little more care. It’s easier to tell when something is wrong when you’re underweight.

I could collapse in the middle of a busy street and no one would even give it a second glance. They might even walk over me, thinking I was part of the sidewalk.

On the off chance they did see, what a shame it would be, for the one time I'm perceived, I lack bodily autonomy.

Is it worth being noticed when you're unconscious? Is it worth it if the one time I am seen is when I have no control over whether my mouth is hanging open or my shirt is riding up? I've spent so long meticulously curating the way I look to others, just to be totally helpless when it matters.

I can change my wallpaper but that doesn't make my phone work any better. And people don't see the wallpaper first, they see the cracks in the screen.

Sometimes I am conscious but not responsive. I lie like a corpse, observing, but not interacting as they crowd around me. Observing as they look at me.

They could not provide the help I need.

They only see me when I'm outside my body—a freakshow display of my vulnerability.

Maybe if I hit my head next time, I'll reboot. I could use a factory reset.

I often think of what it would be like to have a better brain. I think mine is haunted.

Do you have to be dead to be a spirit?

My head is possessed by a ghost that lurks in my nerves tissue and flesh. I hear it wail whenever I move, mourning a loss I cannot understand.

A restless spirit leads to a restless night, and each night I can't sleep I blame the ghost.

I wish sleep could fix me. I'm so tired all the time.

The ghost must be what powers my perpetual motion machine. Inertia isn’t enough. I keep going and going until eventually I explode.

I don’t think I’ll make it to my 40’s.

My body will break itself down until it can digest me, and I’ll eat myself like an ouroboros.

I don’t want to die, I just want to rest.

If I sleep for a good year, maybe I’ll feel human again. I would like to feel human again.

I dream that one day I will collapse, and people will rush me to the hospital. There, the doctors will find out exactly what is wrong with me, and that it can be treated by taking a pill. And then, I get better.

My face will look a little softer, my eyes a little less heavy. I’ll walk everywhere I go, and I’ll stand up in the mornings.

Maybe food will be less of a battle when I’m healthy.

Maybe I’ll burn in the atmosphere before I crash down to earth.

Right now, my collision course is set toward hospitals, tubes, and wires. I’ll only have to sign away my autonomy when I check-in.

Is there early prevention for a trojan virus?

Did I ever have a chance? Fated to keep running on empty until there’s nothing left to run.

I have no salvation, I am just a machine.

There is no happy ending for me.

#cripple punk #chronic illness #ARFID #disability #slam poetry #spoonie #invisible disability #my writing

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eziro10 · 2 years

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Jason Comforting you

Jason Comforting You

Jason Todd x g/n reader

A/N: Thank you all for reading my works. And the amount of likes I’ve received is crazy! I didn't think much would happen when I started posting. Thank you all again! My plan on posting is to put out something every 1-2 weeks. Just so I am not dedicating all my energy to writing. I hope y’all like this scenario, something that I find myself picturing happening to me from time to time. If you have any story suggestions don't be shy to send them my way. I would love to write some! Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy it follow me if you want to know when I post next and have a good day <3

Summary: Jason is the one comforting you when you’re crying.

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Whether you cry a lot or once in a blue moon, tonight was one of those situations. Your reason for crying is to be discussed at a later date, all you need right now is for someone to help comfort you at this time. It was late at night, and you were in bed crying. All the lights are turned off in the bedroom. Your sheets are stained with wet spots. Knees brought tight to your chest; arms were tight around your legs. Bringing them closer to your body, hugging yourself.

You tried texting Jason earlier, asking for him to return home early. But you second-guessed yourself; you weren't used to asking for help directly. You didn't want to be a bother to him, you usually sorted out your emotions by yourself anyways. So you never pressed the send button on that message. The more you thought about what was bothering you, the more tears formed. Your eyes had a steady flow of salty water falling down your cheeks. The skin underneath began to become irritated because of the salt.

Before you knew it, it was 3 am. You planned on going to sleep earlier. You didn't want to be caught crying by Jay. You didn't want Jason to see your “ugly” cry. But your continuous sobbing stopped your original plan. Tears break up the silence in your bedroom and apartment. Anyone walking in could hear your sobbing… and that is what happened exactly. By the person, you wanted to avoid hearing you cry, Jay.

Jason wasn't meant to go out on patrol tonight. He was doing some late-night driving around Gotham. Catching up with some friends and going to places to eat. He invited you to join him tonight, but you declined earlier. The lock key turned and the jingling sound of the keys when he took it out of the lock, he opened the door. Jason heard your sobbing. He heard your weeping. Quickly taking off his boots and putting everything away, he went over to you.

Jason was at the open door to your shared bedroom for a moment. A hand left dangling the door frame for a second to access the situation. As soon as he was able to connect the dots on what was happening. He was quickly on the bed at your side. Jason was looking at you, gently grabbing your hands located on your legs. A small V formed between his eyebrows.

“What happened!? Do I have to kick someone's ass for you?” Jason tightened his grip on your hands.

Shaking your head. “No Jason” You sniffled between your sentences. “No one did this to me.” Your eyes stopped producing tears for a moment. Clarity in your vision so you could see Jason clear behind your teary vision with eyes shot red.

“Did I do something wrong?” You simply shook your head no once more. “Do you want to talk about it another time?” Shaking your head up and down Jason didn't press about the cause of your pain no more.

Jason isn't great at comforting; he was the one usually receiving it from you. But for him to give it back, he doesn't have any experience with it. He simply gestured for you to hug him, you leaned into his embrace and rested your face on his shoulder. Currently, all the tears on your face dried. You released all of them before he arrived home. You simply stayed there basking in his embrace.

Jason kept you tightly, his calloused hands wrapped around your back. He kissed your forehead and your jaw. He allowed some time to pass before saying anything. “Everything will be ok, I promise you. My love… if you need me to do anything don’t be afraid to ask me.” His voice was quiet and comforting. He slid his hands down your back, leading to your forearms and back into your hands. You moved away to look at his face once more. “My love, please tell me whenever there is something bothering you in the future. I'm here to help carry whatever burden you have right now. Lend me some of your stress and put it on my shoulders, ok. We'll work through this together” Jay’s right hand left yours and cupped your cheek. “And by the looks of it…you were holding this issue in, haven't you?” You nodded, and some tears reformed in your water line. Vision blurry you closed your eyes and melted into Jay's hand. Tears collecting and falling down your face, Jay brought you into a hug once more.

You two stayed in that position for a while, more tears dampening Jason's black shirt. After that, you let out all of your frustrations for the night. Jason made sure you were all right before anything else was to go on. Just the two of you in this worrying situation. You reassured him that you were alright now. He bent over to the bedside table and grabbed the box of tissues and handed them your way. You didn't notice, but your nose started to leak some snot out. Throughout all your sniffles it still found its way out.

Jason got some refreshments and junk food to help calm you down, reaffirming to you that he would always be by your side. He does try asking what exactly happened later but whether you are comfortable telling him now or later. He doesn't care as long as you're safe and feeling better. He leaves once more to change into something better fitting for sleeping. He comes back into bed and goes under the sheet and sticks back up. His torso was exposed from under the sheets. Jason pats his side; wanting you to join him. Before you can make it to him. Jay lays back down and has one arm laid out on the bed; you rest your head on his arm carefully. Trying not to avoid cutting off his circulation. He positions himself on his side, looking down at you. His free hand is playing with yours. Then trailing across your body, he just wants to make sure you are ok. His usual bright green eyes darkened with worry for you.

“Thank you, jay,” you looked at him

His focus returned to you, a soft smile on his face. “Anything for the love of my life.” He planted a kiss on your forehead. “Do you think you’re going to be alright?” The V between his eyebrows made an appearance.

“Yeah, I'll be all right for now” Your voice was weak and strained. All the intakes of air you took between your sobs earlier, these were to blame. Jason simply hummed in response. “I’ll tell you the reason in the morning ok.” That seemed to help relieve some of the stress on his face. He smiled then returned to laying on his back. “You ready to call it a night y/n”

“Yeah.” Shutting your red eyes. Hopefully, all the irritation will leave by morning, and the small amount of puffiness around your eyes. You took deep breaths through your nose. The thought came to your mind. Maybe it would be good to start relying on Jason more. He always says to rely on him, but you never register his words. But seeing the worried expression made you worry for him as well. “I don't want to add another stressor in his life,” you reflected. Not talking to him, or not communicating with him about issues like this would only cause more problems in the future. He is here to help, someone to lean on. It would strengthen the trust in each other. So, it would be smarter if you did start letting him know. Start letting him into more aspects of yourself. No more overthinking, believing that you're a burden to him when you are far from it. You matter so much to him, and he wants only the best for you. Things will change for the better, that you swear will happen.

#jason todd #g/n reader #jason todd x #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x reader #jason x read #jasontodd #red hood #redhood #batfamily #batfam #self insert #comforting #jason x fem reader #jason x male reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x gn!reader

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