#nothing else will but this is as far as possible from one to be mistaken for an n*sfw thing so maybe. we are allowed one chicken little.

[haahka]

[pyojihoon_official]: Everyone! Look at this cute photo of Jihoon! Have a happy weekend 🐥

#lets see if this posts #nothing else will but this is as far as possible from one to be mistaken for an n*sfw thing so maybe. we are allowed one chicken little. #block b #p.o #pyo jihoon #bby

[irisintheafterglow]

...but I don't like a gold rush

summary: you're dynamight's publicist and, by some joke by fate, you fell in love with him. you're pissed about it.

wc: 1.3k

cw/tags: swearing, mutual pining, both kats and reader are emotionally constipated, happy ending

note: was listening to a taylor swift love songs playlist on spotify and this popped into my head. short and sweet, hope you like it all my bakugirlies <3 will be back to your regularly scheduled programming of jjk angst and jackals crack shortly

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated!

"this is a disgusting feeling and i hate it. how do i get rid of it?"

"you're in love, babe. there is no 'getting rid of it' unless you find someone else to hyper-fixate on," your best friend reminds you and you groan out of frustration for the millionth time. "might i suggest deku? or maybe shoto? if you want a smoking hot pro, he's definitely not the only one around." her mouth quirks teasingly and you half-heartedly chuck a pillow in her direction.

"he's the only one i want, though, and that's the fucking problem," you lament, "it's so embarrassing."

"have you considered the possibility that he might be interested in you, too? you're already around him 24/7." you bark out a humorless laugh. what a joke. the words "bakugo katsuki" and "reciprocating feelings" did not belong in the same sentence.

"i'm his publicist. it's my job to be around him 24/7." she shrugs indifferently and gives you a skeptical look that makes your face heat up. "am i out of my mind? falling in love with a coworker?"

"considering that your coworker declined the 'sexiest hero alive' award three times now, it's not that far-fetched," she admits and it makes your stomach feel even more queasy. your unease must have finally gotten through to her as she sits up from her bed and determinedly meets your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. "look. any man worth talking to will pass out when he sees you in that," she states, gesturing at the modest but elegant dress covering your body. "if bakugo doesn't realize how much of a catch you are, then you shouldn't waste another breath in his direction."

the sentiment was easier said than done, unfortunately.

the only thought in your mind was him, from the moment the car picked you up from your friend's apartment to stepping onto the carpet of the awards show. crowds of eager fans cheer when you open the door, shouting your name and recognizing you as the brain behind their favorite hero's appearances. you flip a switch in your head, instantly becoming the professional that reassures the cameras and politely answers interviewers' questions. eventually, in what feels like no time at all, the unmarked limo carrying the man you were stupidly in love with pulls into the roundabout drop-off. you try your hardest to keep your composure as his friends exit the vehicle: mina in her sparkly pink gown, deku in his sleek green suit, kirishima in a sheer top that leaves no chiseled muscle uncovered. your breath catches in your throat when he's the last to appear and the frantic screams of the fans fade to nothing when his eyes search the chaos and zero in on you.

"you're late," you say quietly when he's within earshot and he huffs an incredulous laugh.

"and you're stunning," he replies without missing a beat. you don't miss the way his gaze rakes over your body and you despise the way he instantly can set your face on fire. his casual flirting infuriated you to no end, especially when he spoke in that low tone that should only be reserved for...private activities.

"if you think flattery will save you from a lecture, you're deeply mistaken," you force out and pray that he can't hear the waver in your voice. the butterflies in your gut feel like a flock of unruly pigeons. "but, that'll have to wait for after the show. you've got cameras just up ahead."

"this is fucking exhausting," he grunts and you can't help the chuckle that leaves your lips. bright red eyes flick over to you and you swear you can see a cocky glint in them.

"you just got here."

"and? i'm only here for as long as you want to be here," he says and it makes your legs gelatinous. "say the word and we're leaving. no questions asked."

"you're the one who's getting awards tonight," you point out, trying to ignore the way your body naturally gravitated toward his until you were nearly shoulder-to-shoulder in the crowd. at some point, his arm stations itself to float just above your waist, creating a larger bubble for you to breathe without making contact with your body. "you don't wanna stick around to receive them?"

"nah." he shakes his head and waves his other hand in carefree dismissal. "i know that anything i say will just get me in trouble later." his mouth becomes a smirk and you catch him winking at you before making his way toward the flashing lights and calls of his name. you wait patiently for him to finish posing for the insatiable paparazzi, occasionally walking out to fix his collar or brush a strand of hair from his forehead. the burn of his stare doesn't go unnoticed when you're right in front of him, fixing a button on his shirt.

"stop looking at me like that," you mutter and he flashes a sharp tooth in amusement. he knew what he was doing to you; it was impossible for him not to know from the way your hands shook on his collar.

"i wasn't kidding when i said you looked stunning, sweetheart," he murmurs and you have to blink a few times to fix the short circuit in your brain. "you ever gonna tell me how you feel or am i just gonna keep making advances to a brick wall?"

"you have absolutely no concept of-"

"publicist, get out of the way!" you both stiffen and you futilely shake your head the tiniest bit. he doesn't hesitate, and his hand gently pushes you out of the light so he can properly yell at whoever dares to tell you what to do. unlike most of his outbursts, though, his use of profanity and insults toward one's mother was kept to a minimum; it made the true attacks of undermining the reporter's professionalism even sweeter.

"and just for the record," he concludes, "i do whatever they tell me to do, so don't think you can disrespect them and get away with it, 'cause that's never gonna fucking happen. got it?" the shocked reporters nod meekly and bakugo unceremoniously exits the photo area, returning to your side like nothing happened. "i'm sorry about them."

"you shouldn't have done that."

"you're gonna lecture me for defending you?"

"no, not that. the thing you said before we got interrupted," you say, your voice barely a whisper that only he can hear. "about making advances toward a brick wall."

"you mad that i compared you to a brick wall? because it really does seem like that sometimes-"

"no, you idiot." you finally turn to face him and pull him into a quiet corner. "i'm upset because, if this is a joke, it's not funny." he gapes at you for a few seconds, as if he couldn't comprehend what you just said.

"you think," he says slowly, "that i'm joking about liking you." you nod in assent and he drags his hand down his face. you can already hear the protests of his makeup artist, but you don't really care right now. "alright, fine. maybe i'm the idiot in this situation."

"what do you mean?"

"i like you, stupid, and i'm not kidding." his words sounded like they were foreign on his tongue like it was hard for him to voice his feelings aloud. "you deal with my bullshit and you're so fucking pretty, i wanna pass out. get it?"

"mhmm," you hum dumbly, still processing what he was saying. some part of you still was saying that it was a sick joke, but the way his eyes soften when you finally look up at him confirms all that you need to know. bakugo katsuki was irrevocably, uncontrollably in love with you.

and it surprised him just as much as it did you.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x you #katuski bakugo x reader #katuski bakugo x y/n #bakugo katuski x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #mha x you #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you

[5eraphim]

who do u think is the biggest brat tamer? my money is on sniper but i feel like if you tried hard enough u could get engie to snap 🫢

It's interesting you suggest Engie first because, in my opinion, he's in the top three of characters who come to mind right away when I think "brat tamer," but for some reason I would bet Administrator and Solly are more intense tamers than Engie.

Characters: Soldier 🦅, Administrator 🕷️, and Engineer 🦫 (Team Fortress 2)

Word Count: 1.3k

Rating: M (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, GO PLAY OUTSIDE)

Content Warnings: yandere, unhealthy relationships, humiliation, brat taming, slight dumb-ification, edging/denial, roleplay, gender neutral reader

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

Soldier

In general, Solly is remarkably impatient and has little tolerance for being teased; once he's frustrated, it doesn't take much more than that until he snaps and decides to put you in your place right then and there.

Part of what makes dominating you such a turn-on for him is his pride in his physically imposing stature. It's cute, in a way, to see someone like you trying to disobey the likes of him. Solly is taller than average and abundant in bulky muscle, in addition to his generous amount of adipose. Nothing turns Solly on more than getting to use that against you.

Solly's always kept a close eye on you, and you've got another thing coming if you think he doesn't notice you slacking off during tainting, it's like you're practically asking him to go over to call you out in front of everyone, and he's more than happy to oblige. Though this is nothing compared to what he'll do to you once he gets you alone.

Just because he's off the battlefield, it doesn't mean he's ready to put away his trusty riding crop quite yet.

It's such a power trip for Solly to watch you go from mouthy, rebellious, and resilient to whimpering and begging for mercy; drool trickling down your chin, eyes glazed over as he stretches you out with his fingers or as he spreads your thighs as far apart as possible before pounding you relentlessly into the bed.

Refuses to give you a moment's rest until you've verbally apologized, sworn it will never happen again, and/or tell him whatever else he needs to hear to be convinced you've learned your lesson. Solly's also got a soft spot for listening to you call him "Sir," so you'd better be ready to do that as well.

As overly intense and overbearing as he can be in the moment, Solly's quite good at winding down responsibly with you after all the excitement. He'll tell you how proud he is of you, how strong you are to have endured all that, and will help clean up with you. While Solly can get cruel and even sadistic sometimes, he's not entirely unfair. Nor is he the type to leave you high and dry.

Administrator

She's always had a secret fondness for the "rebellious types."

Not because she wants to see you get away with acting out or mouthing off to her, but the more stubborn the brat, all the more satisfying to watch them fall.

There's something about watching some newbie with a little too much confidence try to get away with giving her attitude that really gets her going. It's cute watching you walk around like you're any better than the rest of the other people working under her. Helen knows it's only a matter of time before that little mouth of yours gets you in trouble, and she can't wait to be the one to put you in your place.

Likely, you won't even know when she decides it's time to humble you. Maybe you were just a little too messy on a mission or made some thoughtless comment to the press, foolishly thinking you had the choice to leave the mercenary business whenever you wanted, subtly implying a lack of control on her part- Something she refused to let go unpunished.

Admin is easily the most intense and uncompromising of all the doms in TF2, and if you try to act out around her or assume she'll offer you any kind of slack just because she thinks you're bangable, you would be sorely mistaken.

When she finally gets you alone in her bedroom, expect not only to be edged into oblivion but denial as well. 

Admin will leave bruises all over your waist, hips, thighs, whatever she can get her hands on, as she forces you to take her strap, fucking you down while refusing to let you come. She wants to see how painfully overstimulated you can get while remaining completely unsatisfied as you beg for mercy, knowing it won't change a thing.

Aside from all that, she loves to draw blood with her long fake nails as she drags them over your naked body.

Admin is relentless when she wants you to suffer, and she won't let up until you've been reduced to a miserable, wet little pulp. Helen takes immense pleasure in seeing the look on your face at the end of the night after you've endured hours of torture. Seeing how exhausted and delirious you look, knowing whatever rebellion you once had has been thoroughly extinguished. While you can do nothing but whine and flinch at her every move.

Don't expect any special treatment at the end of all this either. You're sleeping on your own tonight, without so much as a kiss goodnight. Helen knows what she's doing is cruel, but as far as she's concerned, you brought all this on yourself. (Also, considering how much she gets off on her own cruelty, it's not like acknowledging her maliciousness would change anything.)

Engie

Unlike the other two, while Engie absolutely gets off on being a brat tamer, it takes a lot more to bring out this side of him. Not because he's a pushover, not at all; it's more a matter of protecting his "nice guy" reputation.

In general, he's rather generous in bed. He is a Southern gentleman, after all, but when he's in the mood to inflict a bit of punishment, he's an entirely different person.

While he would try to remain mellow and appear unaffected around others, taking any back-talk or misbehavior from you with good humor, it's all because he's trying his best to suppress his anger, forcing himself to wait until he knows how to punish you before acting. 

Most of the time, he's capable of maintaining control until the two of you are alone at night, where he knows there's almost no chance of you getting interrupted; much unlike the other two, he's not into public humiliation, much less being the one to enforce it. Though if he's feeling a little extra dirty, he likes the idea of forcing you to cockwarm for him while he finishes up his daily work in his shop. (Engie likes the concept of spitefully humbling you for having the audacity to come between him and his work.)

He's not quite as into the physical pain aspect of brat taming. What he likes much more is witnessing you lose your mind pinned under him on your shared bed, going cock-drunk while he continues to pound into you. Slightly into the idea of a pleasure-induced mind break. As you go from confident, almost arrogant, and defiant, and fucking you into brainlessly submissive brainless whore. Babbling mindlessly and unable to resist him, even if you tried.

"Aw honey, you ain't lookin' so good down there. Did you ask for something? Need to take a break? No... nothin'? Guess I gotta keep goin' then."

Will offer mercy in the fakest, most condescending voice. He intends to prolong your suffering as much as possible, far longer than he ought. But the longer he looks at you like this, his mindless little doll flushed with need, clenching against him, the harder it is for Engie to call it quits.

When he does settle down, he'll get you cleared up and put you right to bed or walk through your nightly routine until he's ready to tuck you into bed. As much as he gets off through the act of dicking you down until you learn how to behave, Engie also gets off on your compliance and how dependent you can be on him to take care of you. While you had your fun playing independant, Engie knows you don't have a prayer of ever truly escaping him, not when he knows exactly how to break you until you're feeding from the palm of his hand.

#anonymous #x reader #request #yandere #selfship #yandere headcanons #gender neutral reader #smut #tf2 x reader #yandere tf2 #tf2 smut #tf2 imagines #yandere team fortress 2 #yandere smut #yandere imagine #yandere x reader #male yandere #yancore #toxic relationship

[tvseries-writings]

Hard choices, hard life

Carina Deluca x Maya Bishop x reader

TW: depression, suicide attempt, obsessive compulsive disorder, pills

At the very sweet age of fourteen, you were diagnosed with depression, right after Diane, your psychologist at the time, diagnosed you with what you still call your cruel companion, a little disorder that was actually slowly killing you from the inside out until just a few minutes ago. In fact, you have nothing to lose now. In fact, a few Tolep, Zoloft, and Xanax will knock you out in a few moments - very few - if only you have the courage to throw them in your stomach right now.

Even though you have nothing left to lose, there are two people you could never hurt, and the mere thought of hurting them makes you sick. Maya and Carina, damn them, have gotten inside you and torn down your walls like no one else ever could. And now, in the utter desperation that drives you to the "extreme act," you should feel guilty, and yet you don't. Maybe it's the pills, or maybe it's the sense of freedom you're feeling that's clouding all your other thoughts and feelings.

Carina was the first to notice your OCD, only a month into your relationship. Although you never tried to hide it from either of your girls, there were rituals that they never had a chance to see, such as touching the faucet knob three times before you could open it, checking three times to make sure that all the car doors were closed, or putting on your seat belt three times before you were sure that you had finally buckled it properly and that this would not result in a potential and very likely fatal accident involving your two girls. In short, Carina had discovered all of this by carefully observing your habits, and after discussing it with Maya, the two of them had confronted you. That evening was anything but pleasant.

As for the depression, they noticed it over time, with the bad days and the dull eyes that worried them so much that they practically forced you to go to weekly sessions with your child psychologist, Diane, who of course immediately put you back on medication on the advice of a psychiatrist Carina knew. In the early days, whenever you were down, it was hard for me to leave you alone, and even though they tried to hide it, you always noticed. Always. It was only after a year and a few months that her fear began to subside. When you think about it, you almost laugh; right now, that fear of a possible impulsive and fatal act on your part would probably be your salvation. Not that you would want that, of course. Or maybe...no, you don't want to be saved. You have hit rock bottom; the decision is already made and the plan is already in place.

Most likely, Carina will be the one to find you, right? She is the first to return to your apartment after work, to the small but comfortable apartment you have been calling home for more than four years—to that little place of paradise where all problems disappear, or at least, they seem to. But, as it turns out, they never completely disappear; otherwise, you would not be in this situation. You close your eyes and lean your head against the bathroom wall; the cold marble tiles send a chill up your spine as you stare at what you clutch in your right hand—a handful of pills that you have been preparing for months now. Many people say suicide is an impulsive act, but for a person with OCD? Nothing is impulsive, not even suicide. Everything is meticulously calculated and planned. You have been planning this day for months—at least three, if I am not mistaken. Of course, it's always three. After all, multiples of three are your favorites, aren't they?

Throughout your life, you have had to make hard choices, but this is by far the most selfish. You are aware of it; you know that Maya and Carina will suffer as they never have; you know it because if either of them died in any way, especially in this way, you would never, ever be able to go on living with such emptiness inside.

A trembling breath escapes your lips; you cannot back out, not now, not when you are so close to the goal. You owe it to yourself, you owe it to them and the burden you are to the world. It sounds self-centered on your part but you don't give a shit anymore. You're tired of thinking about others, how they're going to feel, what you have to say to keep them from feeling bad...you're tired, of everything. You thought you could live for them but you were wrong. But maybe, if you really have to be honest with yourself you probably never wanted to go all the way. After all, a person who does not want to be saved is very difficult to help. When therapy doesn't work, you change, but you didn't say anything; you kept smiling again and again until, today, in the last three months, you let the rock you had tied to your ankle drag you to the bottom. It is no one's fault but your own. You're more than aware of it but it's so hard to keep going, it's so fucking hard that you get sick to your stomach just thinking that, in case you don't take these damn pills tonight, you'll be forced to face the world out there once again. No, you can't do it, you can't. Yet, Carina's look at Andrew's death and the Italian's despair and Maya's heartbroken look and her self-destruction after Dean's death...No! You can't think and you don't have to think about them, about the pain you will cause them and from which they can never move on. You can already see Maya, her head in her hands, sitting on the couch on which so many nights you have spent together, blaming herself for not seeing the signs, for not noticing your clouds; you can already see Carina's tears and hear her screams muffled by the sound of the siren of the truck of the 19’s Station.

A small and elusive tear slips down your cheek, sliding down your chin before falling on the letter you hold in your left hand. The usual "it's not your fault, you have to move on, I love you" letter You're such a hypocrite; you're fucking disgusting. If only you could swallow those pills without thinking about the two of them.

The sound of your phone ringing echoes through the bathroom, startling you so much that the pills you were holding tightly in your hand scatter on the floor.

You pick up the pills, letting your phone ring. Again and again, until, finally, it stops and goes to voicemail.

 

"Hey Bambina, I forgot my keys. I know, I know, you and Maya are always telling me that if it wasn't because I have it attached, I'd be able to lose my mind too, but can you do me a favor? Leave the keys on the door because I'm parking right now and I don't want to ring the doorbell or Max will glare and the neighbors will complain."

A small laugh escapes the Italian's lips as she greets you with an "I love you." God, how you love that laugh.

And, just as Max has heard the voice of his favorite mistress, he joins you in the bathroom and starts sniffing the pills on the floor. You open your eyes wide, awakening from your trance-like state, and shoo him away ungently before quickly picking up all the pills. You hold them in your hand, clutching them as if they were the most important thing in the world, and hide them in your pants pocket.

 

Panic grips your chest as you realize that all your plans are blown and you will now have to start over. You mentally repeat to yourself if you have performed all your rituals: if you have touched the doorknob three times, given Max the kibble by placing it three at a time in the bowl before putting it down, washed your hands for twelve seconds three times after eating, you have done nothing wrong, yet fate has screwed you over, so you must have done something wrong; there is no other way, not for your brain at least. After all, it's hard to reason rationally with OCD.

You don't even realize that you have opened the front door for Carina as you feel that, slowly, your panic attack is taking you deeper. It's one you haven't had in a long time. Your heart almost seems to explode in your chest. You put your hand on it, feeling the force with which it beats against your rib cage. You're so focused on the simple act of breathing that you don't notice Max scratching at your leg to try to get your attention, nor the door opening. Carina enters the apartment, and the smile on her face quickly fades as she sees Max whimper against your leg and your chest rise and fall all too quickly.

Carina lets her bag slide to the ground before letting herself fall to her knees in front of you. Her eyes scrutinize you with concern, trying to figure out how long you have been in this state or whether you hurt yourself unconsciously during the panic attack.

 

"Bambina, look at me." Carina takes your face in her hands, stroking your cheeks gently. "Hey, hey, eyes on me. You need to breathe, okay? Breathe love."

You feel the warmth of her hands on your cheeks, but although you see her lips moving, you don't actually feel anything. The only sound you can hear is that of your heart practically exploding.

You pull away from his touch, and your breathing becomes even faster. His voice comes muffled to your ears.

"No, no, no, hey, hey, eyes on me. Y/n...love, you need to breathe. It's okay; I'm here with you; you're not alone. Bambina breathe."

 

The urgency in Carina's voice makes you barely look up, but your panic attack doesn't stop; in fact, it keeps getting worse. Carina runs a hand through her hair, thinking about what to do and coming up with the only possible solution.

"I'm going to pick you up now, okay? I'm sorry, Bambina, but I have to; it's for your own good."

The doctor takes you in her arms despite your protests, carries you into the bathroom, and puts you in the shower before opening the cold jet by entering with you and holding you tightly in her arms so you don't fall out.

 

The cold jet hits you with the same brutality as that of a high-speed train. You gasp, trying to pull away, but Carina won't let you. She holds you close to her as you come completely out of your panic attack—not until about fifteen minutes under the cold jet, though.

"Here they are, the eyes I love so much," Carina whispers softly against your temple, leaving you a kiss and then covering you with a towel, trying to get you dry as quickly as possible. You let Carina undress you, put on clean, dry clothes, and then begin drying your hair with such a gentle amount of gentleness that it almost makes you cry.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch the bathroom, thinking about how that night should have been different, especially for your girls. Your eyes widen when you see the letter you carelessly abandoned on the bathroom floor, reminding you that Carina might very well read the letter if she only noticed it. That simple and seemingly innocuous thought almost gives you another panic attack.

You jerk up, not thinking straight, not thinking that this strange behavior of yours will draw Carina's attention to you any more than it already did with your panic attack. You bend down, under the confused gaze of the Italian doctor, and pick up the letter, then flush it down the toilet. Your hands tremble as you do so, and Carina notices.

The doctor picks up your wet clothes from the floor and is about to throw them into the dirty, striped laundry basket that Maya was so insistent that you keep in the bathroom, but she does not. Her fingers graze a small bulge in the right pocket of your shorts. The Italian frowns, not recognizing, through her density, the thing to which that small bump is due. So she just sticks her hand in the pocket, and you are far too devolved and paranoid about the letter to notice what she is doing; in fact, you don't even try to stop her. When Carina pulls her hand out of her pocket, your heart leaps and almost seems to stop. The cold water has succeeded in bringing you out of your panic attack but has failed to completely dissolve the pills, much to your misfortune. Carina holds that shapeless, disgusting slop in her hands; it takes her a few seconds to realize it's pills. And though she wants to deny it to herself, it takes her even less time to realize what you were about to do.

 

 

"Please tell me this is not what I think. Please y/n."

You don't have the courage to answer her; who would have any? You feel so stupid right now. Carina starts sobbing, sitting on the floor. You lean your back against the wall and shake your head over and over again, clutching your hair in the fingers of your left hand as if to convince yourself that this is not real. When you do not answer, Carina gets her answer; silence is tacit consent, and you both know this very well.

You kneel in front of your girlfriend; you take her hands in yours, gently stroking her knuckles.

"Car, car, look at me. It's okay, I'm here.”

She shakes her head, reaching out to you and holding you in her arms. As she traps you in her grip, she cannot control the sobs that shake her body.

"I'm so sorry I didn't notice; I'm so sorry, my love..."

"Car, don't say that, please. It's not your fault or Maya's fault; everything is just too much sometimes, often, almost always. And I love you so much, but I can't take it. I don't see any other solution, Carina."

Your voice breaks as you say this; as bad as it is to admit, you feel relieved. You have felt this thought oppressing your chest for so long, and now that you have revealed it, you finally feel free of the unbearable boulder you have been forced to bear for months.

 

Carina remains silent, merely holding you tightly to her and stroking your hair. She hides her face in the space between your shoulder and jaw, inhaling deeply of your scent. The Italian trembles only at the thought that she could no longer have snuggled into your warm embrace if you had done what you intended to do more than an hour ago. With a shuddering breath and without letting go of you, Carina slips her own phone out of the pocket of the tight-fitting Levis jeans that you and Maya both approved of after an intense staring session focused on the beautiful backside of your beloved girlfriend.

 

"Y/n, I know you'd like to do that, but we can't pretend it's not happening. I'd be safer getting you  admitted."Carina freezes when she feels your body stiffen in her arms and your breathing become shorter. "But I don't want you to do anything that doesn't make you feel comfortable, so this is completely your decision. Of course, if you're going to stay at home, we'll have to set some rules here."

Carina whispers in your ear, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes and brush a strand of unruly hair away from your face.

"Whatever you choose, we both know that Maya must be aware of everything you are feeling and happening to you; she better than anyone can understand what you are feeling, Bambina."

 

Carina watches you carefully, and when you open your mouth to protest and to tell her that you don't want to give them any additional weight and that Maya already has a lot to do with her role at the station, she stops you immediately, shaking her head firmly.

"No, this will not be questioned. I will call her now and tell her to go home because we need her. Our jobs are not more important than yours; don't ever think that."

The doctor leaves a kiss on your temple before getting up and leaving the bathroom to make the call. She doesn't close the door; the terror and knot in her stomach she feels at even the thought of leaving you alone won't let her. She is terrified that your mind will get the better of you, especially after today, after a few moments when you were about to commit madness.

The phone call is brief and coincidental; Carina doesn't say too much, just talking about the panic attack. She doesn't want Maya to drive home with the same fear she is feeling right now. As soon as the call ends and Maya assures you of her return to your apartment in less than a quarter of an hour, Carina's arms encircle your sides again, and your embrace squeezes you just as it did moments before. She definitely has no intention of letting you go.

 

A little sneeze on your part makes you both gasp and realize that your hair is still partially wet. Although you insist on drying it yourself, Carina won't let you; she is more than happy to do it for you, and right now she needs to be with you as long as possible. Before you know it, Max is waving goodbye to his favorite mistress as well as his lieutenant.

 

"Hi, boy, where are your moms?" Maya smiles, patting the small German shepherd puppy on the head before heading toward the only lit room. The sight that greets Maya as soon as she enters your bedroom is what makes her dream at night: Carina with her arms around your hips, holding you close, wearing only a white shirt and black lace underwear, spooning you from behind.

"Hey, I'm home. What happened, baby?"

You feel the mattress lower as soon as Maya sits down on it. The blonde firefighter strokes your arm gently and smiles at you. She is worried about you but tries to hide it as best as she can. Of course, both you and Carina notice; the blonde cannot hide anything from you after all these years.

You remain silent, avoiding answering that very difficult question. You are actually very tired and ashamed, not daring to look up and look at one of the loves of your life as you confess to her that missed act.

Carina leaves you a kiss on the temple before leaving her grip on you, though with great effort. You watch her get out of bed and drag Maya out of the room, knocking on the door.

When the light fails so much that you can't even draw the contours of the candlestick over your head, you release the breath you've held up until that moment. You're sorry; you're embarrassed, of course, but not for the reason that your girls might think... no, don't be ashamed to have tried and to want to try; I hate you for not having succeeded. You are so angry with yourself; you are more than aware of the fact that that feeling of freedom you experienced before will never return, not with the burden that now oppresses your chest for the bitterness of being discovered and of not having completed what should have been done instead.

 

 

Silent tears dig your zigoms before ending up on the sides of the pillow; bed covers rise and fall at the same time as your chest. For a moment, just for a moment, you close your eyes and tell yourself that all this has never happened, that Carina has not found the pills, and that you have succeeded in your attempt to eliminate yourself once for all from the face of the planet. But when the light that returns to embrace the room and the light of the door that is again opened make you open your eyes, the dream disappears in the same way that an oasis in the desert turns out to be only a hallucination, nothing more.

You're watching Maya. Her eyes are glossy, her lips are rosy, and she can't stand still, moving her weight from one foot to the other. Carina returns to the same position in which you were before the arrival of the other girl and as soon as she does it, the relief of the Italian being close again and of your warm skin in contact with her makes her relax immediately. It feels like the moment she left the room, she stopped breathing, and now, finally, she can do it again.

 

 

Maya lies in front of you, leans her forehead against yours, and gently caresses your face.

"I would like to take away the feeling of emptiness that you are feeling right now," her whispering words resonate in the room as you are wrapped in the heat emanating from both their bodies. "I wish to be able to do so because I know this burden my love, and it is not something I would ever want to see in you, in either of you two."

Some tears tear her cheeks, but Maya dries them quickly, not because she doesn't want to be weak but because she is well aware that you need all her support right now. She'll cry later, when your eyes are closed in a sweet sleep, and she'll be sure you're still here, with her, with them.

 

 

“I don’t want you to pursue the clouds like I did y/n; clouds can seem beautiful, sweet, and soft, but remember that it’s clouds that carry the stormy, my love, and we can’t lose our sun because I’m afraid that clouds would swallow us up without your light.”

The firefighter caresses your face with the same care and delicacy with which someone handle a brush on a candid white canvas.

Carina is just clinging to you; the knot in her throat prevents her from speaking, but even if you don't have the strength to tell him right now, the confidence that his arms around you give you is more than enough.

A long-held whimper shakes your chest, and your girls tighten you a little stronger, anchoring you to reality and not letting you escape and fly into your shady and irrational mind. You let go to a freeing cry, to whispers and weeping that, though necessary, break the hearts of your soulmates. And they let you blow up; they hold you back; they whisper sweet words followed by small, delicate kisses in your hair, cuddling you like you were a baby in a belt that's desperate as soon as she's born.

It takes more than ten minutes before you can calm down. Carina massages your back, softening the pain of the continuous whispers that have shaken your bones as Maya keeps kissing away your tears.

 

 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I don’t think I can do it without  help it’s all too much." You take a break; everything you’re saying is hard to deal with, but say it out loud. Well, that’s a whole other story. “Rituals are killing me; I’m not doing anything without thinking that something might go wrong, that you two might die because I am wrong about some stupid passage of the fucking and-”

"Hey, hey, it's all right. It's going to be all right; we'll be here at every step, Bella. We don't leave you alone; you're not alone, and you'll never be. We won't let you think of reaching the clouds again, okay? Never again,  baby."“Your pain is our pain; your suffering is our suffering, until the end." Carina strings you even more, extending her hand towards Maya to tell her to do the same, and there, in their arms, it seems to you that you are away from all the problems of the world. You just feel like a number in an infinity of numbers; you feel like a thread in a lawn and there's something incredibly reassuring about being just a thread, because a thread is not responsible for all the evils in the world. (Cit. ZeroCalcare)

Thank you for reading! Was it hard to write? Yes, but it is also extremely liberating. I hope it will help some of you. Ah, and of course, have a great day!

P.s: sorry, it’s a very long fic

Taglist: @mmmmokdok @chaekhan @blackhill2245 @melatonindaydreamz @foggytidalwavefun @sevnheaven @budoxinha @gayshyandreadytocry @lighthousekiller @m456300 @blitzar-3 @in-love-with-heda @idontknownemore @lesbianbabe @speedup500 @differentranchempathfestival @mebeingthatbitch @jemilyswife @yuleni18 @whyamihere2673 @reggierizzoli

#wlw #maya x carina x reader #station 19 #carina deluca x reader #maya bishop #maya bishop x reader #carina deluca #firefighter #tw depressing stuff #tw selfhate #carina x maya

[aealzx]

Opening his eyes brought a scene of sterile grey walls and blistering white light that had Donnie squinting after the darkness they had been sucked into. After a few grimaced blinks he simultaneously realized his wrists and ankles were restrained, and Lil Mikey was missing. No matter, he could break these chains with a bit of mystic tech. The magic came easily to him, bringing him comfort in his tech always being with him despite the physically crafted devices having been stripped from him. But this time his effortless attempts were sliced away from him by a wave of nullifying energy that also drilled into his head with a stabbing wave. A light noise of irritation escaped a sneered nose as the energy within him flickered out along with the lights on his markings. Anti mystic tech. Great. They apparently knew who they were dealing with.

But who were they?

A question that was answered sooner than expected when a near invisible door slid to the side, a group of people behind it. “Well,” the woman at the front started. “I’m glad Agent Bishop’s records included a small note about the possibility of you four having gained mystic abilities. I have to admit I’m not completely familiar with the concepts, but I did coerce some help in crafting the proper precautions, just to be safe.” She spoke with an even, familiar tone that didn’t match the situation as far as Donnie was concerned. Her path took her towards him before she stopped and sat in a metal chair that was brought to her from behind. A good signifier to Donnie that she was the one in charge. After a moment of staring at him, earning nothing but a silent glare back, the woman adjusted her glasses and held her hand up, her assistant placing a tablet in her hand. “I have to say, you’ve really let yourself go. Losing nearly a third of your weight. You really ought to take better care of yourself, Donatello Splinterson.”

That caused Donnie to blink, questions rising in his mind that he could mostly start to form answers to. That wasn’t his second name. Mistaken identity? With a mutant turtle? Not likely. But with a yokai? He didn’t know of any yokai turtles by the name of Donatello. She had data about whoever she thought he was though, and he had nothing on her. “Then I presume you’re….?” he trailed off, giving her the chance to fill in the information he was lacking.

“That’s correct. Agent Jane Augustine. John Bishop’s successor, and the one you and your brothers have persisted to be an annoyance to,” Augustine supplied, adjusting her glasses again before rising to her feet once more. “I have to commend you for the setbacks you’ve given me. No one else has managed to break into government security as often as you-...”

Augustine’s speech broke off when she noticed something, her head twitching to get a different angle. She was silent for a moment, then voiced the subject of her derailed thoughts. “Your eyes are the wrong color.”

Oh. Well that was easy. Apparently this other Donatello didn’t have delectably golden eyes like him. “Maybe your sources are just colorblind,” Donnie sassed back.

“And you have an attitude…,” Augustine noted, eyes narrowing slightly. Donnie knew the signs of a brilliant mind churning through possibilities when he saw it. And sure enough a bud of excitement was starting to rise in her frame. “...Where are you from?”

“Earth,” Donnie answered automatically, giving the vaguest response as possible just to be a pain.

Augustine didn’t seem perturbed, instead gripping his chin for a moment. “Which Earth?” she asked.

Donnie realized what was going on the moment Augustine’s thoughts were confirmed by his raising brows. Drawing a breath to smother back her breakthrough, Augustine released him before turning to the others hanging back at the entrance of the room. “Get me a full blood, fluid, and tissue sample immediately. From this one, and the one that was with him. Documented currently under the name Michaelangelo-”

She started to direct her workers, but as soon as Donnie heard enough evidence they had Lil Mikey as well he snapped. “If you even scratch my brother I will blow up this entire establishment. With or without people in it.”

Augustine looked surprised to be interrupted, but politely let him finish before she laughed. “And how will you do that? You’re my ward now. And I have you in chains, and your mystic abilities effectively nullified.”

As her assistants moved to comply with her orders Augustine stepped back, a smile growing on her lips as she watched her new toy squirm and try to pull back from the prying hands. The restraint holding his left arm was transferred to a separate device that allowed them to keep it taught as they lowered it to where they could more easily access it. Donnie struggled fruitlessly against all of the chains, yanking until he could feel the metal biting into his hands and feet, especially when one of them circled wordlessly around behind him. It immediately made him feel isolated, and claustrophobic. His scarred shell was exposed to their invasive hands, the contact delicate but still earning a warning hiss from him. Another set of hands was reaching towards his face, and Donnie pulled back for just a moment before lurching forward without fully thinking.

The monotonous emptiness with which the assistant had been working shattered with shriek from the one Donnie currently had his teeth sank into. It didn’t matter that they had a surgical gown covering their forearm, it was already shredded through. Donnie was aiming for blood, and he got it. The other assistants scattered with various startled noises as Donnie’s victim punched him in the nose, as if they could get him to let go like some rabid dog. They drew their own blood from him, but he refused to release them, even as they yanked against him.

“Doctor, please,” Augustine spoke up calmly, raising her hand to still the commotion as soon as a fist had been used. “I prefer to have my wards physically unharmed as much as possible,” she chastised, striding forward and moving her raised hand to the side of Donnie’s jaw. “There are much more efficient ways to open a mouth…”

Donnie yelped as her finger wedged into his joint, pressing against a nerve and making him snap his jaw open and pull away from the source of the pain. As soon as they were free the assistant scurried back to the others and Augustine calmly withdrew her hand. She paused for a moment to let Donnie spit the blood from his mouth before reaching forward again to snatch his chin in her hand once more. Forcing him to look in her direction, Augustine gave him a slight smile. “Behave yourself, Donatello. I might be a forgiving woman, but many of my employees are not. Especially when you’ve damaged them as such,” she cautioned, reaching her free hand up to smudge away the blood dripping from his nose, but ignoring the lines running down his chin.

Donnie just gave a snarled hiss in response. “Try it again and we’ll see if they lose a finger or two next.”

The response earned a single syllable, mirthless chuckle from Augustine. Pausing for a moment, as if daring him to try biting her, she eventually released him again. Turning for the door, she casually grabbed a damp wipe from one of the carts that had been pulled in to clean her hands. “Evangeline, you’re excused to wash up. But please take samples from the wound for me if you will,” she directed on her path to the exit. “The rest of you finish up here, then meet me in the other rooms. Drop him to the floor if you must.”

Apparently the fear of being bitten was overridden by whatever hold Augustine had over them, for the assistants returned to their assigned task with just a bit more caution than before. At first Donnie thought he was going to be knocked unconscious, but instead the other restraint on his arm was moved like the other one. And this time, instead of just being stretched across a clothesline, mechanical arms with mildly padded poles at the ends curled out from the walls. A breath half left Donnie’s lungs as the poles collided with the back of his shoulders and legs, pushing him forward as the chains kept him taught, lowering him forward until he was pressed against the floor. It made the inside of his elbow harder to reach, but they didn’t seem to care, a clasp slipping over his hand to keep him from twisting his arm as they brought a needle towards it. Donnie snarled, and hissed, and forced his body against the abundance of fetters binding him in place to no avail. It was too much. The wrong kind of weight against his exposed skin. Cold, unforgiving pressure on his scarred back, squeezing air from his lungs. Sharp edges digging into his limbs while they stretched his muscles just barely below the point of damage. Drawing the largest breath he could manage, Donnie released his irritation in the form of a long, headache inducing bellow.

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This scene was plaguing my brain all day today |D

If anyone is worried this is the most I'll get into in regards to violence against someone that can't fight back. I'm not planning on getting all that dark =u=b

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #blood #mild gore #rise donnie #cross dimension kidnapping #rise + 2003 crossover #tmnt crossover #writing #long post #I marked this as mature #but let me know if it needs other tags

[takami-takami]

A Dog Unfed.

includes— hawks x reader. angst. hurt/comfort.

warnings— animal abuse analogy. discussion of drugs and cravings. be warned and avoid this if you need. sorry for spoiling the subtext lol, but it needs a tw. though, i encourage you to apply this however you feel it apply.

perhaps we all have a dog.

Did you ever tell him?

The fullest extent of it all, the thorny vines that adorn your past— more bondage than decoration, a dragging weight against your throat and up your nasal cavity. A growth, an infestation, a plague on your subconscious.

It is a dog you unwittingly adopted— a drooling rottweiler that smacks its jaws and begs and paws at your thighs, pleading to you each night: "I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry. Please feed me, I'm hungry."

Everyone who has ever seen your dog has mistaken you for it.

Everyone who has seen your dog has peered down their pudgy little noses, muttered "mutt", spit it and clinked their heels away; or perhaps they simply looked on in sneers of smiling horror, down past their clutching pearls.

"This is you? By god, my goodness! An animal, an animal!"

You used to hate your dog.

You used to lock it in chains outside, let its fleshy paws burn and blister against the cement in the heat of the blaring sun. You grew tired of feeding it, of crushing up its kibble, of leaving it out to dry then quenching its bottomless thirst.

Now you just sit with it.

You sit by its side with your knees to your chest, listening to the cicadas chirp their prayers. Some days, you even let your back burn against the molten floor, a grounding heat while you lie down flat; but every day, every position, your eyes always remain locked on it.

You stare as it rests on its side, fusing to the glistening cement. You listen to its keening whines and dying breaths with a familiar pity and an unbearable disgust.

You blink, unfeeling again now.

You're sure it will never die, no matter how many hours it spends dying.

You never wanted to show Keigo your dog; even though a part of you is screaming and begging to present it to him, a gift from your innards, dirty in the palms of your blistering hands.

Keigo is just like everyone else, you assume. He is kind, he is gentle, he is an angel among men and he is the exact same as everyone else.

You've come to realize a person's good qualities— openmindedness, kindness, empathy— mean nothing in the face of what one is taught. No one is immune to propaganda, and there is no shortage of that nowadays against people with dogs.

The part that makes you doubt your assumptions is this: Keigo has honey in his eyes; flicks of gold specks dusted along the amber of his irises, a sticky kind of love swimming in them that drips down to his lopsided and infuriatingly safe smile.

You could never fathom his nose upturned, as he has been on the ground too many times to do that to another; nor could you picture a sneer from a mouth as sweet as his, honeysuckle and gentle, bright yellow.

So one night, you allow it to spill, hoping for him to soak up your blue one last time.

It's not uncommon for you to spend the dim of your nights at Keigo's home— his real home, the one the commission has never barged themselves in, the one he keeps hidden from every soul in this world but one.

It is uncommon for him to listen to the water of his shower run for several hours.

If you had feathers as sharply perceptive as his, you'd detect the nervous pacing of his leather boots against the carpet of his bedroom floor, even through the sheetrock that separates the two of you. The patter of the showerhead is far too consistent for his liking, very little movement being detected at all and his mind is bouncing off countless possibilities while sticking to none.

Those worries overflow from the cup of his bleating heart, bleeding when he turns sharply toward the bathoom door, resolute.

With a barely audible thud, his forehead traps golden strands between it and the wooden door it rests against.

He doesn't ask you if you're okay. Keigo never bothers with questions he already knows the answer to.

"Baby, open the door. Please," he begs. "I promise, it's okay— just need to be with you. Please."

The song of your sobs muffled through the door causes his feathers to sting an unbearable itch.

How his heart is just as red as those wings. It begins to drip, the string connecting him to you pulled too far for him to take. It— he needs to be with you right now.

A palm slides up the plane, resting firm by his cheek. The air of his breath hits the wood, fogging back against his lips.

"Please, let me in?"

His hopes blossom in the heavy pause that follows.

"...The door's unlocked."

Keigo knows. He could have pried it open in a heartbeat with a single feather even if it was locked, but trust and respect are precious commodities. They are irreplaceable, yet entirely and easily breakable.

Slowly, the knob creaks open, the careful movement still startling your spine stiff. The heels of your feet gently propel you backwards, firmer against the icy wall at the furthermost corner of the shower. The expanse is wide enough to accomodate fierce wings, wide enough to swallow your comparitively puny body in its open jaws.

Curled in on yourself, soaked, and trembling; this is what Keigo sees when he enters the room. This is what he sees when he dashes over, mumbling words you don't quite catch— some are familiar. "Dove", "sweetheart", "oh, my baby."

Down, he kneels by your side under the pour of the synthetic rain. The fabric of his shirt clings to his skin now, hair soaked just like yours; a wet dog all the same.

And with your tears plopping down against the flat tile, scratched knees held to your chest, you allow it to spill.

It spills through the hiccups, it spills through the wet of your cheeks; and above all, it finally spills through your confession, nose upturned to look up at his shaky gaze.

"Oh, angel..."

You can hear the palpable crack of his beating heart in that voice; but even if you didn't, the rustle of scarlet feathers that puff out in protection give his wounds away.

Keigo busies himself with a racing thought: how could he not notice the signs? He knew there were secrets nestled in the cavity of your ribcage, tandrils of some sort of ivy even he couldn't quite recognize.

You have a weight, shackles chaining you to be left out in the midday sun.

He could tell— it's not the same as his; it's another flavor, another disease, another beast of its own, but in the most abstract of ways, he could see it: you're just like him.

"Why didn't you tell me," he rasps, cupping your cheeks with shaky palms. They tap and squish like they're searching for signs— distress, hurt, anything.

You smile a mimicry of his, pulled from your most precious memories, and silently beg for that wobbly smile back; but it does not come. Instead, his eyes begin to shine, glassy and wet.

You've never seen him cry before.

You've never felt as desperate for his yellow as you do now, but you have felt this pathetic and small, once. You have felt like an animal, desperate to be domesticated— a synonym for loved.

"Y-You don't need to worry! I'm good, I'm still clean, see? See?"

As if that's the only thing that matters, you tip your chin towards him to offer your pupils as proof.

Such a gesture may shatter hearts, and Keigo is but a man. Despite it all, he is but a man.

He declines the offer, your words more than enough for him— his body opts to tackle you in an embrace instead, clutching your skull close to his hammering chest.

With each wide-eyed blink, the droplets resting on your lashes flick onto his chest. The soaked strands of your hair cling to him, both bodies drenched now by the roaring downpour above.

Water cascades in heaps onto the floor below. It never stops.

With your cheek pressed against his sternum, his scent invades your senses. He smells like cedarwood cologne and thickets of the forest, a warm signature. It matches his labored breaths: sturdy and weighty and masculine.

"I thought you wouldn't see me as a person anymore," you confess.

He hushes your worries as your eyes flutter shut, kissing the crown of your head with unwavering pride.

"Dove... You're my person."

Keigo thumbs away your tears and pulls back to offer you a wobbly smile.

You offer your own in return— a real one, too, this time.

---

The greatest advice you've ever been told was "don't start". The words felt feeble at the time, like a joke passed down through unproductive seminars in high school out the mouths of stuffy men in suits, men who spoke of the boogeyman and jumped out behind chairs.

It meant nothing at the time.

It means everything now.

It helps you explain a little better to people who've never had a dog.

The words "don't start" are a language they do not speak; and yet, it helps to say it to their mirrored face, to imagine the breadth of your world could be pressed compact into those two tidy little words.

Talking to yourself helps you pretend you're understood.

Even though it is not necessary to be understood before you can be loved:

Don't start.

#block me if ur gonna clown on the topic here. I love you people who can relate you are safe here i am kissing you i hope this reaches you #uhhhhhh this one is a little. Um. Anyway be mindful if u read 👍 #🖋 writing #🍧 sugar #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #tw substance use #mha x reader #angst #hurt/comfort

[incorrect-arknightsquotes]

Okay I am feeling kinda insane so I have to spell everything out

I have a theory about Lappland

First of all I'm sure she has connection to Laterano and that's why.

1) Skin

So her skin from Bloodline of Combat "Refined Horrormare". The one in which description written "The outfit Lappland wore at the Laterano Apostolic Knights' Funeral Memorial Hall.

Even two years ago , I was confused about what Lappy to do with Laterano. Why does she visit the Funeral of Apostolic Knight?

The thing about BoC skins is that they have usually heavy lore. Mountain leaving RI, Beagle dying, Executor tracking down Artoria, and past of a lot of operators. Right?

So about Lappland's skin. We see her wearing this clothes in IL Siracusana, and a lot of people, especially wiki-writers think that it is that big moment skin's introduction written about. BUT IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE.

First of all it's nowhere near Laterano and other skins if they have a very direct connection with place and event.

Also quotes in this skin

" Collect the debts, and pay the price."

And

"Is that all? That's all our lives are worth. I told you, everything you've taken from me, I'll have you repay. In full." - is quote from Lappland and people(on wiki) think that she says it to her father, BUT BUT she didn't try to take a revenge on him in event. Maybe in the future, but unlikely. She stated that she doesn't want any connection with Siracusa and said goodbye to him, not trying to hurt. Hardly counts as repaing, right?

Also also in whole even she never showed as much hostility or better say vengefulness? Even her fight with Texas felt more like friendly rematch.

And I don't think anyone or anything in Siracusa could cause her such emotions if she leaves it so easily.

BUT WHAT IF THERE IS SOMEONE IN LATERANO WHO CAN CAUSE THEM?!

So I am sure we will have Lappland in Laterano

Okay sorry moving on.

2) Her belt

Her belt has number "1911" on it and IT is a year when last Newfoundland Wolf was killed, but in contrast with Texas her family is fine. So kinda weird isn't it?

So maybe this number has a double meaning

And you know what else happened in 1911?

M1911 was designed.

And I mean Sankta's and their guns, right?

3) Sweets

It's almost nothing, but second thing Laterano is known for is their sweets and Lappland kinda mentions sweets a lot?

Her notorious voiceline with mentioning of mille feuille and which she given to Exusiai and tried to give to Texas. Her keeping chocolate (of course it's maybe more about Texas). This stickers

Kinda suspicious isn't it?

So like she has connection to Laterano definitely. But what is this connection?

Well my theory is that her mother was Sankta.

And my arguments, I do have arguments!

1) Sankta's offsprings with other races don't bear any physical similarities with their divine parents, so her being Lupo doesn't contradict this theory

2) She is one of only two Lupo operators who deal Arts damage, and she was stated to not have any training with it, using Arts with just raw talent alone in her file. And Sanktas are well known for their impressive Arts controlling abilities

3) Also the end of her file

For a long time we thought it was Texas about Lappland and about her family. But now after Siracusano we can see that we mistaken a lot. First of all she lost her family not because they are dead, but because they threw her away. Also she didn't forced Doctor to choose anything yet. Doctor even wasn't present in Siracusana. Also know I'm even doubting if it was written by Texas, because we seen them interacting in Siracusana and they are fine. Weird as fuck and deadly to each other, but fine. If Texas truly believed she is that dangerous she would try to keep PL as far away from her as possible. But she isn't

So whatever this file states it going to happen in future.

And I think she will revenge for her mother.

It is a very weak theory I know, but I can't stop think about it.

So if you have your own theory about Lappland's connection to Laterano, please, I am begging, tell me.

#arknights #lappland #texas #il siracusano #theory

[whumpshaped]

so @oliversrarebooks' series captivated me to no end, and um. a certain. charming man mightve inspired. ..something

tw insecure ass carewhumper possibly turned whumpee??? guys i dont know, dehumanisation, human trafficking

Whumper was walking around in the auction house without much purpose or confidence. If it weren’t for the distinct red glow of their eyes or the shirt that covered up a decent part of their neck, one might’ve mistaken them for livestock, really. People paid little attention to them, and Whumper decided that was just what they wanted: a facade of social life without any of the obligations.

They barely checked on any of the thralls that were going up for sale. Most of them were mindless, anyway. Once they’d seen one, they’d seen them all.

That was, until their eyes landed upon the star of the show. And oh, a star he was.

They wanted to look away. They wanted to continue their aimless wandering, pretending they didn’t even exist, but they were rooted to the spot.

The human was dressed up in the most exquisite ball gown, but the garment didn’t even hold a candle to the wearer. He was far from mindless. His eyes were searching the crowd lazily, like he wasn’t a thing to be sold and bought, like he was the one on the prowl. Whumper almost wanted to go talk to him–

But another vampire beat them to it, stepping up to the human and making what must’ve been pleasant enough conversation, because he wouldn’t stop batting his eyelashes at her. Whumper wondered whether he’d do the exact same to them. Whether it was as practised as it looked. Whether they could earn some honesty, if they were to try their best.

The vampire woman took him by the chin, surveying him like one would a special doll for a special project; was it the right size? The right colour? The right fit for the dollhouse? Then she left like it was nothing, like she wasn’t about to think about him for the rest of the night. Maybe she wasn’t. Maybe Whumper was the odd one out.

The human said something to his vampire handler, and she gave him an amused smile. Oh, there was something so charming about everything he did, and it made no sense, he wasn’t a vampire, he wasn’t the one doing the charming, he–

Oh. He was looking straight at them now, and they were still staring like an idiot.

The human’s cocky grin widened as he looked them up and down, then tilted his head in a questioning, daring sort of way. Will you be standing there all night? Or will you come up and talk to me?

It was stupid. Why were they the one being nervous? Yet still, despite all that, their legs moved on their own, like he was pulling them on a string. They wanted to talk. They wanted to have him, really.

“I might change my mind about wanting to serve vampires, after all,” he told the woman next to him as they got closer, loud enough for them to hear every word. If their heart had been beating, it might’ve skipped a beat.

“Serve is a strong word,” Whumper muttered, nodding to the woman in greeting and receiving an encouraging smile in return. From this close, they could smell the human’s marvellous blood, yet another tether they weren’t sure they would ever be able to sever.

“Oh?” He caught their gaze, and Whumper suddenly felt like they very much wanted to be looking at something else, anything else. “Do you have a better word in mind, sir?” His voice was silky smooth, giving them all but the illusion of sincere curiosity with a teasing undertone humans weren’t meant to use, not when talking to vampires.

“I… Well, I just meant… There’s no need for such clear-cut dynamics, really,” they stammered out, and the human’s eyes flashed with intrigue.

“Isn’t there?” He was quick to adjust his demeanour, leaving behind every last trace of the faux-sweetness he’d had with the previous vampire, replaced by even more of that playful arrogance that had captivated them in the first place. “I’m but a mere thrall, sir, surely you don’t really mean that.”

“Well, if we tally it all up, I’d be providing the shelter, clothing, all the amenities, and from my understanding, more food to you than you would to me,” they explained quickly.

“And in exchange, I stay obedient and follow your every order, yes?” He paused, waiting for them to say no. Probably wanting them to say no. “That does seem like a rather clear-cut–”

“It doesn’t have to be,” they interrupted suddenly, and the human looked like a cat that got the cream.

“Well,” he said slowly, giving them another once-over. “With all due respect, sir, that sounds like a straight path to spoiling a human rotten.”

You would spoil me rotten, wouldn’t you?

Whumper swallowed, nodding a little. “I suppose it does.”

I would go hungry if you told me you disliked the feeling of fangs in your neck.

He rewarded them with an approving smile, and Whumper let out a breath they didn’t need. “I’m sure your thrall will appreciate all this leniency greatly, sir.”

#no one look at me #no one!! turn away!! avert ur eyes!! im not simping shut up!! #whump #whump drabble #vampire whumper #?? #dehumanisation #auctioned off #human trafficking whump

[theharrowing]

White Lies 🤍 0: Introductions

Yoongi is everything you could ask for. He is attractive, confident, and smart. And his partner Taehyung is as possessive as he is beautiful. Too bad a relationship would be a major conflict of interest.

You need to have them at all costs.

🤍 Yoongi x Female Reader x Taehyung

🤍 word count: 0; screencaps of twitter feeds & text messages.

🤍 college au, cop au, partial social media au with a lot of written story, strangers to lovers & established relationship, yandere, hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, angst, slash, poly, minor character injury & death, graphic violence, nsfw, 21+.

🤍 warnings: ACAB includes our MC, sorry you found out this way.

🤍 this is a sequel to Boy Blue! i highly recommend that you start at the beginning to fully understand the the dynamic & history between Yoongi & Taehyung. there will be a lot of references to Boy Blue; this fic will spoil the shit out of it. this MC/reader character is not the same MC/reader character from Boy Blue.

🤍 for full notes & warnings, see the master list.

🤍 note: those of you who read Boy Blue...you finally get to meet one of the characters for the first time. are you excited??? this is the first of several surprises hehe.

🤍 posted nov. 2023 | read on ao3

INDEX | NEXT

Profiles of starting characters:

reader/mc:

Yoongi & Taehyug:

Seokjin:

note: time stamps & dates are important but also a bit loose. if you see a mistake just pretend you don't! more profiles are likely to be added, and i may or may not remember to edit this post so just vibe with it. 🤍

also note: the image for mc is a statue of medusa, and it is not meant to suggest that she is white. her physical description is going to be kept as vague as possible.

* * *

Teaser for Chapter 1 because i love you:

😈😈😈 HELLO, MY LOVES!!! ARE WE READYYY??? i am still trying to wrap up Collateral before i get too far into this fic, but the muse has been wanting to work on this and nothing else, so here is a teaser. and yes, you are not mistaken, Kim Seokjin is alive. 😈😈😈

i cannot thank you enough for keeping the hype for Boy Blue alive. it was such a wild ride that i thought people would hate me for, and it became somewhat of a cult classic. this fic will have all the twists and turns that you have come to expect from Boy Blue, with some wild new additions because my writing style has changed a bit in the last two years.

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD OF THIS SITE, BUT LIKES ARE ALSO SUPER APPRECIATED!!! 🤍🤍🤍 BUCKLE UP BECAUSE THIS IS GOING TO BE A WILD RIDE!!!

tag list: @bangtan-tee-86 @ffion451 @fluffybuns69 @here4kpopfics @iloverubberduckiez-blog @lovemeforeternity @mgthecat @moonleeai @oceansmerchild @unsureofwhathappens 🤍 visit the master post to read the warnings & request to be tagged!

INDEX | NEXT

White Lies is copyright 2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved. No translations or reposts allowed!

#taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader #tagei x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts yandere #social media au #undescribed images #undescribed #fic: white lies

[quiet-hypnotist]

Helpful Nap

"Hello? Anyone there? Help?” The question seemed laughably misplaced. There had not been a single movement in the rest of the room for hours beyond the flickering of the lights. It was hard to imagine that would change anytime soon either. Whoever set this up certainly did not feel pressed for time. There was no urging voice spewing taunts. No attempt at coercing an already shaken captured victim into some form of agreement. Not even a lack of amenities. There were drinks and snacks on a nearby table. Staying hydrated was not going to be an issue. And if one didn’t know that the door was tightly locked, the luxurious bed with fluffy pillows and the softest blanket certainly didn’t give away that this was for all intents and purposes a prison cell.

Neither did the entertainment. At least one might have mistaken it for such at first. A smooth, barely noticable soundtrack playing in the background. It barely was louder than the incessant murmurs of internal panic and confusion about the intent of whoever set this up. Who would go out of their way to build such a lavishly decorated room only to hold a stranger locked away after plucking them from a sidewalk in town like some lost and found item. That really was the oddest thing about it all. There had been no fuss, no noise, not even any force. Just… just what exactly? Recalling it was oddly hazy. Something shiny. Colours. So many colours. Then warm, dazed silence. Finally the room. An unfamiliar ceiling that turned out to be the panel of a large four poster bed. Certainly not the sort of accomodation one would provide for a random stranger, was it?

“I’m here! Does anyone hear me?”

How often had the same question been muffled by the walls now? It was pointless to try and keep count. The only thing that responded was the loop of gentle whispering sound from speakers that were either too well hidden or too far out of reach to be made out in the dim light that originated from something that seemed like an artistic installation in the center of the room. An arrangement of mirrors and cleverly arranged lamps that sent an indirect glow into the room without actually illuminating anything of significance. At best it made it possible to walk through the room without tripping over the smallest things, but then again, there were no things to really trip over. Only the big, soft, comfortable looking bed.

The fact that it was the only semi-suitable thing to sit on had to be intentional. Why else would someone have set all of this up only to forget even just a single chair? At first that had seemed concerning. As time went on and standing just wasn’t the answer anymore, it seemed merely rude. After some length of time spent sitting on the hard floor and getting nothing out of it other than a sore behind, the foresight of having the bed to rest on even began to appear caring. A silly notion, no doubt playing right into the hands of whoever orchestrated this. But then again, even after all this time there were no demands. Nothing. There had been a subtle change in the soundtrack in the back, but it felt perfectly safe to ignore. No need to pay them any attention. It was just sound after all.

“I’d appreciate some help? Please?”

In fact, it was actually helpful that it was so easy to listen to that the mind slipped right off the sounds. It must be some kind of song with the way there seemed to be a melodic hissing whisper embedded in it. So kind of the mastermind behind this to at least pick tasteful music. Or at least that probably was what they wanted their captive to think. It seemed plausible that all of this was just an insidious way of tricking anyone trapped inside the room to eventually arrive at the conclusion that it wasn’t so bad. Comfortable perhaps. Relaxing even! Which to an extend could not be denied. The bed was incredibly good to sink into after ages in solitude, alone with only the music and the glowing shiny shapes of the installation.

“Great. This is fun… I think? But how about some help?”

Not like anyone was actually miraculously going to open the locked door, being all smiles and nonchalantly ending this whole spiel. All that answered the words was a flicker in the lights. But after so long – it couldn’t have been a day yet, right? - even that tiny change was enough to immediately draw all senses towards it. From the subtle dimming and intensifying of the glow to a sparkling ripple as the entire installation started moving, delightful specks of of changing colour dancing across floor and walls as the mirrors shifted and rotated slowly, to the different hues of blue and purple and pink, it all broke up the monotony of the room in a way was impossible to look away from.

“Fine! See if I… um… if I care. Don’t need your help! At… At least not yet?”

Reverse psychology was wasted on an empty room. But maybe there was some truth to it? Maybe there was no hurry to get out already. After all, there was a certain decadence to being in this room with nowhere else to go. Nothing more pressing than a drink and a pretty lamp, soft melodic songs full of yearning and temptation and a warm, large bed to lay a weary head to rest on. Not even the lyrics of the songs warranted any second thought. They felt perfectly acceptable. Calm and agreeable to the ears even after all this time. If the thought were not so silly, one might almost believe they embedded themselves into a listener’s mind to blend in not only with the environment but the very sound of thought until the lyrics and whatever happened in a tired brain were virtually indistinguishable. As it were, however, there was no need to get worried about something like that happening. Not when the option to enjoy the melody instead was right there.

“Actually… um… Whatever. Guess having time helps.”

If nothing else it would help with catching up on naps. Life out there was so busy all the time after all. Not a single satisfying chance to sleep. Here though, no matter how much time passed, nobody wanted anything. No pressing tasks, no schedules, not even the distraction of a beeping phone or a bright screen. In all fairness the room with its subdued sparkling glow was so easy on the eyes that they felt like relaxing more and more whenever they were not busy following the shiny patterns. And frankly, even if a little nap happened, would anyone even notice? If yelling and cries for help could fall on deaf ears, nobody would be opposed to a bit of sleep, right? If anything, surely this was the perfect time for some nice and quiet rest. Who knew how much longer this could go on, after all. Any chance for restful sleep should be taken. Of course. That made perfect sense.

“Just gonna lay down a minute. Or… maybe five. A bit of shut-eye… then get help.”

Foolproof logic. Changing perspectives was the best way to deal with puzzling situations after all. Laying down on the bed was so helpful. The whispering voices echoed at just the right volume to ignore them, the shiny installation just barely in sight and providing the right ambient lighting to feel safe and secure dozing off even in an unfamiliar room. Already a wave of content drowsiness washed away any anxiety about the reason why the door was locked or why even now there was no sign of the mastermind.

Not, at least, until heavy eyelids barely fluttered as a faint click revealed the door unlocked. Not a single muscle stirred as a dark silhouette stepped closer to the bed. Only the far away echo of a thought floated by, voiced without any urgency: “Help…?”

The darkness merely chuckled condecendingly: “Hush.”

A warm hand moved over and closed curious, yet oh so tired eyes. But before any unsettling feeling had a chance to set in, a pair of headphones slid into place. The music sounded so much clearer that way, whispers turning into words that easily took the place of thoughts for a while. Just for as long as those thoughts wanted to sleep. And then maybe just five more minutes.

* * *

Did you like this story? Then there’s good news! You can consider heading over to my Patreon and pledge, which will keep me writing even more smut for you every week! Yes, for you! Since my patrons even get a chance to have me write their favorite things. So head over there and learn how!

#my writing #hypnosis #brainwashing #sleep

[ace-trainguys]

What if I posted the draft of the prologue to a fic of an au I haven't talked about on Tumblr. For a Halloween treat.

It's not edited up to where I want it. That and because this is only the first part of this au and it will be a long while before I write the rest is why I'm not posting it on ao3 yet. But if you would like a little something spooky, here is:

Heart of the Subway, part 1: Descent

Ingo sweeps his flashlight out in front of him. Even though Chandelure floats beside him, it is the proper safety procedure to illuminate the path ahead. The sensor that went offline is rather deep in the maintenance tunnels, but it shouldn't be too far now. Ingo hums to himself and Chandelure whistles along.

He reaches the next intersection and pauses. Instead of the two branching paths he was expecting, there are three. Ingo consults his mental map- he had been certain he was going the right way, but he must have made a wrong turn. A rare occurrence - one that hasn't happened since Ingo and Emmet became Subway Bosses, in fact. But that's the only explanation for the discrepancy. Each tunnel has the even shape of a man-made structure - no chance of a subterranean pokemon causing mischief.

All three paths slope downwards.

"Chandelure," Ingo murmurs. "Have I made a wrong turn?" She, too, knows these tunnels well. Chandelure chimes in confusion, confirming that she is also in the dark. Ingo had presumed as much - if she had noticed something wrong, she would have stopped him earlier. But he had to ask. "Very well. Let us retrace our steps."

Ingo turns around and heads back the way he came. He could have sworn that this tunnel had a slight downward slant when he had originally gone through, but he must have been mistaken. It's certainly sloping lower now.

Sooner than he expected, he reaches another intersection. It's wrong. There should be an opening to his left, and an opening forward, but there are four tunnels splitting off. This is not the way he came, but how could he have ended up somewhere else?

"Chandelure, do you sense anything?" Ingo asks. If it is a trick by a ghost, she will certainly be able to tell. When he doesn't receive a response, he turns and finds the space beside him empty. "Chandelure?!" He calls, but only his own voice echoes back to him. His loyal partner would not wander off and abandon him, but her purple tinted light is gone. Where is she? Ingo whips around to the direction he came from and-- it goes down.

No, no, he definitely descended coming this way. Did he get turned around? Which way did he come from? He shines his flashlight into the other tunnels, but all four slant deeper into the earth.

That's not possible. It-- the direction he came from, he went down. He didn't hear anything. Nothing could change the tunnels so silently.

It feels like a dream, but Ingo bites the inside of his cheek and feels pain. He's awake.

Ingo pulls out his radio and gets blasted by static. No matter how he tries to tune it, the results are the same.

Ingo... does not know the protocols for a situation like this. But he cannot simply stand around. He picks a tunnel and descends.

After several yards, Ingo turns and shines his flashlight back. The tunnel does not appear to be going back up like it should. He shudders and turns around again. What a horrible optical illusion, he tells himself, and desperately tries to believe it.

As he walks further and goes deeper, he begins to see cables run along the walls. He shines his flashlight on them, and though they are in line with the electrical wiring used in the subway, their placements and directions do not make logical sense. Ingo is intimately aware of how messy the wiring of the subway system was when he and Emmet began their careers. It was one of their highest priorities to repair when they became the bosses. It would make sense that there could have been wires they missed when doing the power system overhaul, so deep in the maintenance tunnels, but... these cables dip in and out of the walls in a way he's never seen before.

As he continues going deeper, he encounters cables drooping down in loops from the ceiling. An egregious safety hazard in five ways he can count off the top of his head. No one must have been in these tunnels in decades.

The wires grow thicker on the walls, running in all directions. Yet it is quiet - no hum of running electricity, despite the forest of cables. The only sounds Ingo can hear are his own careful breaths, and his rapid heartbeat.

It is not long before the cables have grown so thick that the walls are no longer visible. Ingo nearly trips before he realizes there are wires reaching out of the floor as well. He trains his flashlight and eyes at the ground, stepping carefully around the growths.

The tenuous beam of light hits a slab of solid metal. Ingo raises it to view an ancient door, wires twisting around every inch. Thick cables have entirely replaced the walls and floor - and a quick look upwards confirms the ceiling is covered as well. He swallows his dread and turns the doorknob with a shaking hand.

Immediately after stepping through, the door closes behind him with a sense of finality. The chamber he has entered is much wider than the tunnel he was in previously. Cables twirl and flow all around, congregating in a massive pillar in the center. Ingo realizes with a start that he can see outside his flashlight’s meager view - the whole room is filled with a dim sourceless light.

When he returns his eyes to the central pillar once more, he feels–

welcome happiness home

What…?

Ingo finds himself relaxing despite the incongruous nature of the emotions. It doesn’t make sense to feel this at home in such a strange, alien location, and yet. It’s as if he’s sitting on the couch, one arm around his brother, surrounded by their pokemon. Comfortable, safe, warm.

He can’t hear anything, but he can almost feel a noiseless sound. A pulse. Gazing upon the monolith of intertwined lines, he gets the sense that these wires, despite the lack of electricity flowing through them, are not lifeless.

He is suddenly, indisputably sure that this is the heart of the Unovan subway system. There is no logical evidence, nothing that could have led him to this conclusion, but he is certain.

Ingo is awestruck. Nothing could have prepared him for the power and life that the core of the subway emits. After all these years, all the effort Ingo and Emmet put into restoring a run down transit system - seeing that it has blossomed into something like this makes him want to laugh and cry. It was worth it.

The corners of his eyes pinch, his version of a wide smile. He wonders if he should feel reverence, in the core of the place he and his brother dedicated themselves to, but instead he’s filled with love, love, love that is not his own. Ingo realizes that it’s the subway itself, communicating with him in pure emotions, and he laughs. His own joy is reflected back at him. He loves and adores the subway, and it seems it loves him back.

With a noise like leaves rustling in the wind, cables shift in the pillar, opening a small entrance. Ingo feels a gentle pull forward, an invitation to enter the heart. happy closer appeal. Ingo notices he’s taken a step closer without realizing it.

He steps back and plants his feet firmly to the ground. Come come come. No, Ingo will not do anything blindly. Love safety stay happy, the subway croons wordlessly, yet he feels himself start to sweat.

Suddenly he’s sure that if he enters the heart, he will never be able to come back out.

Comfort love safety. It’s not bad, down here. Pleasant, really. The subway loves him. He could be happy, nestled securely in the heart.

But he cannot do this. To stay here would be abandoning his responsibilities. It would mean leaving his job and his passion behind. Never seeing his friends or his pokemon or his brother again.

Negative false reassurance. Still there still there

Ingo shakes his head and shudders. He doesn't understand how staying here could be anything other than abandoning everyone. He tries to turn back around and--

He can’t move.

Despite the subway’s faith confidence trust, Ingo feels his breathing speed up. It won’t let him leave. It won’t-- he doesn’t want this but he can’t even lean backwards.

Ingo shivers, and thinks of Emmet alone. Not knowing what happened to his brother. Worrying about Ingo. Worrying Ingo left him, falling into those old self doubts. Ingo promised he would never leave. He promised - and in a burst of frantic energy, he turns and manages to take a step away.

No love safe comfort stay stay STAY

Ingo struggles to take another step, while a whispering rasp hisses behind him. As he pushes his frozen legs as hard as he can, he spots squirming black shapes approaching in the edge of his vision. Cables reach out to him, wrapping around his arms, ever so gently. More circle his wrists, his legs, his feet, his chest, his neck, with extreme care. Like handling fine china, like holding a precious treasure, the wires cradle Ingo, embracing every inch of him. Ingo’s terror and panic fight the calm safe love, but he can’t move at all in the wires’ tender hold.

Paralyzed, Ingo can do nothing as the cables begin to drag him into the heart. He tries, he desperately tries, but he can't even twitch a finger. He can't move, he can't move, he will be stuck down here for the rest of his life and he will never see his brother again-

adoration safe calm belonging stay

Drawn into the subway's heart, a path made specially for him, all Ingo can do is scream "EMMET!"

Then the wires fall back into place, as if the entrance was never there at all.

No– stop- what's going on? He doesn’t want this! He can't move! He doesn't -

Home safe belonging love love love

the pressure, it's everywhere- he's being crushed, he - air? Is he breathing? He can't move, he can't move- help-

Calm safe peace secure

What is that sensation- running through him, he's never felt something like that, he doesn't understand- rumbling stopping and starting, in him - pinch and itch and drag on parts a body doesn't have, how- he doesn't want this, please stop-

Right belonging acceptance

There's no color- How is he seeing so much at once - too much, it's too much, he can't- make it stop, please-

Rest reassure love

It doesn't hurt but he doesn’t understand- he's not supposed to be– he is supposed to be…what is he supposed to be?!

Right correctness cherished belonging

help, he can't– it's so quiet- this is too much, he can't–

Reassure calm love adoration

He can't- he can't…

Acceptance belonging home

H-help… Em… met…

Belonging belonging belonging

He...

Calm safe belonging

…

Calm.

He calms.

Emmet is doing paperwork in his and Ingo's office when the lights flicker off for a second. They're back on almost immediately, but Emmet groans regardless. The subway's backup generators prevent essential functions from shutting down, but a power outage, no matter how brief, means there are many safety checks that must be run.

Emmet blinks, and places a hand on his chest. Nothing happened other than the lights going out, but he feels like something is different. He can't put his finger on what or how, exactly, but…

Hm. He'll have to ask Ingo if he felt it too after he gets back.

#submas #qed's writing #writing #fanfiction #ingo #emmet #submas au #heart of the subway au #I edited a little tonight but I'm under the weather and I hit my limit #does this count as a cliffhanger? #in my opinion the first part is the spookiest but there'll be more spooky later too #psychological horror I think #I'm gonna keep quiet about what happens next and pretend to be mysterious #(unless I change my mind which is a possibility)

[kinghairington]

I Melt With You [R.B.]

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Harrington!reader Word Count: 2k Summary: Falling in love with you, Steve Harrington's younger sister, was somehow not the wildest thing to happen to Robin Buckley in the summer of '85. Warnings: SFW. Cute first love. Some mentions of Mr. and Mrs. Harrington's parenting and a general fear of homophobia and confusion about sexuality. Nothing too intense there. Mentions of Steve's crush. A/N: This was a request for a Shy!Harrington!reader and Robin. Set during and after S3. No S4 spoilers. Title comes from the Modern English song of the same name. There are no mentions of reader's physical features, but she is implied to be Steve's biological sister. Masterlist.

To be completely honest, Robin had given up on finding the girl of her dreams. After the Tammy Thompson situation, not to mention Scoops Ahoy and the entire Starcourt mall going up in flames, life was difficult. Plus, it was just scary in 1985 Hawkins, Indiana to be a lesbian. Add about 1,000 times the normal amount of teenage relationship anxiety and there was Robin, struggling to imagine there was even one girl in Hawkins who would ever feel the same. 

Then she met The One. 

She already knew who you were because you’d been in school together since forever, but she had never thought much about you as far as being attainable went. You were pretty, sure, but there was no way that you were into girls at all, and everyone (including Robin) had always mistaken your shyness for being stuck up. 

It didn’t help that you were Steve’s younger sister. 

What else was she supposed to think of you before she even knew that Steve wasn’t a big douchebag like she always thought? 

Even though there was a possibility that you weren’t so bad yourself, she still didn’t know you enough to think anything else. 

She ended up officially meeting you when you would come to Scoops Ahoy before the fire. You were always alone. You barely even talked to your brother when you came in, but she could see a quirk of your lips or a smirk, sometimes due to something you said that she could never hear, or a roll of your eyes when he would say something idiotic. Especially when he would tell you to make sure you got home before a certain time. 

Steve was overly protective, she noticed, muttering something about your asshole father anytime Robin tried to ask why he couldn’t just let you do your own thing. 

The biggest surprise of her life came the day after the Starcourt fire. 

On July 5th, she opened her front door to find you standing there. You hadn’t knocked, but her mom said there was a girl standing outside and, honest to god, a part of Robin wondered if you were a ghost when she first saw you. 

You were chewing on your bottom lip and shifting your weight from foot to foot before you registered that she was in front of you. 

“Hi! Steve told me that you were there last night and he looks really bad, so I thought you might look bad, too.” Shaking your head with a furrow of your brow, you looked down at your Reeboks and then back up at her. You barely met her eyes as you added, “Not bad like ugly, but just hurt. Are you hurt?” 

For once in her life, Robin Buckley was speechless. Usually she was the one who couldn’t stop talking, but this time you’d taken all of her words with this surprising care. 

Producing a gift bag, you held it out to her. Inside was a bottle of aspirin, an ice pack (already cold), and little chocolates Robin had once seen at the department store. 

You were gone as quickly as you’d arrived, more like a bat out of hell than the ghost you were before, leaving Robin on her front step watching and wondering when the youngest Harrington had become a… friend? 

(There was a small voice in the back of her head reminding her that Steve confessed his feelings to her the night before.)

Robin tried as long as she could to just ignore that she was getting feelings for you. 

It was useless to try to stop it. 

She was a lost cause. 

Between summer days hanging out at the Harrington pool and seeing you constantly at Family Video - you usually used Steve’s employee discount, but he whined about it so often that Robin started putting your tapes on her own instead - she accepted that seeing you caused the most delicious feeling to spread across her chest starting right at her heart.  

Eventually she thought you were just hanging out at the video store because you were bored. Or, god, maybe you were too shy to tell her that you needed to leave and she couldn’t shut up long enough to let you get in a word. But you really had become friends and would show up even when it was just her at the store and you’d stand there while she went off on her tangents about things that she knew too much about. 

Her favorite shifts were when she was alone and you would come by, hang out behind the counter, and watch a movie with her on those early weekday mornings in the summer when no one came in for the first few hours. 

She found herself picking movies out for the next time you were there, trying to gauge your reaction to the different actors and actresses on the screen. Any sort of hint. 

It was hard to figure you out, which was admittedly one of the reasons she had come to like you so much. 

Of course the first person to realize that something was going on with Steve. 

“Do you have a thing for my sister?”

This first question was full of curiosity, a hint of amusement at the irony. 

“You don’t think she’s into girls, do you?”

His second question was full of more concern. 

It wasn’t like Robin had a lot of other friends to confide in and, as of that moment, Steve was the only person in the entire world who knew that she liked girls. 

Was it awkward between them at first? Absolutely. Ridiculously. 

He was apparently over his confusing crush on her at that point thankfully, but he was your older brother and that in itself was weird enough for the friends. But this was on a completely different level of weird. 

She could be ruining not one but two friendships and potentially a familial relationship on top of it all. That part was even worse and left her feeling sick for days. 

Steve was clearly concerned about the possibility of your liking girls thanks to your father’s treatment of anything he considered imperfect. And your mother? Robin knew you were practically being raised to be a housewife. 

Still, he tried. 

“I feel like I talk too much around her, you know?” But Robin didn’t stop long enough to let Steve answer, so he fixed her with a look that said ‘no shit,’ and listened as she continued to rant. “I only see her here or around you -” This time she did stop, sending Steve a slightly disgusted look that was met with an eye roll that looked like a match of your own.

“That’s not true,” Steve said, putting a VHS in the player to rewind it. “I know she comes by sometimes when I’m not here and hangs out with you. She doesn’t really hang out with anyone else. She doesn’t have friends like that.” 

He didn’t look at her while speaking, an action she took to mean he didn’t want a response. He was helping, but he wasn’t helping.

It wasn’t enough to convince her that you liked her, but it lessened her fears that she would be ruining either of her current best friendships. 

A few weeks before the new school year, you began to spend more time alone. Most of these hang outs were in your bedroom, painting nails and listening to music, watching movies as always, and sitting in silence. 

These times were how Robin knew without a doubt that she liked you, that she tuly cared about you as a friend and more. It was still frightening to think about showing you all of her feelings, though, so she continued to try to keep them in. 

In the end, there was nothing for her to fear from you and she didn’t even have to be the one to ask the important questions. 

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” 

Much like your brother, you didn’t look at her as you spoke, but that was a normal occurrence. Sometimes you’d meet her eyes and other times you’d avoid them as if your life depended on it. 

“A girlfriend?” She whispered, sounding the word out slowly. 

“I don’t mean a female friend,” you stated firmly, this time lifting your gaze to catch Robin’s wide eyes. “I mean romantically.” 

Robin was shocked. 

Once again, you left her speechless. 

Nothing in your words sounded accusatory. You were curious, yes, but there was also a hopeful lilt to your voice. 

Robin shook her head, twisting the cap back on a bottle of nail polish. 

From your bed, sitting with your knees pressed against Robin’s, you confessed your confusion about your sexuality and your fear about it all. What would your mother say? What would your father do? 

Between the fear and the confusion was affection, Robin reaching for your hands and sitting with you in a comfortable silence. 

Relief. Tenderness. 

She left your house that day with a feeling of peace she hadn’t felt in months knowing she had your heart and you accepted hers. 

The night before senior year started for you both, Robin convinced you to go to a party at one of her band friend’s houses.  

“If you want to leave, we can,” Robin said less than an hour into the party. Most of the band kids were cool, but they all already knew each other and their conversations were sprinkled with inside jokes and stories that Robin was afraid you weren’t enjoying. 

She was right, of course, could see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice when someone tried to talk to you, but you were a champ and kept hanging out as if you weren’t completely out of your comfort zone. 

That was the moment Robin knew for a fact that you would do anything for her even if it made you uncomfortable. 

“Let’s go get some air, okay?” 

She led you outside, fingers close but not touching and found a spot away from any eyes. There was no pool in the backyard, so no one else was outside, leaving the two of you alone for the first time that night. 

“I mean it - we can leave if you’re ready to go.” 

You shook your head as you looked up at the stars. 

“You don’t have to do anything uncomfortable for me. I would never expect that from you and I’m sorry if I made it seem like we needed to come here to have fun. I could have come alone.” 

“But that’s why I came.” You looked away from the sky and to your girlfriend. “I wanted to be here with you. Your friends are nice, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t have any interest in being friends with them and I wasn’t here to drink or party.” 

I wanted to be here with you.

That was the most romantic thing Robin ever heard, and she’d watched a lot of movies, read a lot of books, and listened to a lot of love songs.

Robin scooted closer to you on the grass and hooked a pinky around yours. 

“I don’t know what is going to happen in this world,” she started, entwining the rest of her fingers with yours. “But this last month has been the best month of my life and I don’t want us to change just because school is starting.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of us changing.” 

You looked at Robin with such fondness that her heart felt like it was going to jump out of her throat. 

So she did the only thing she could think would stop it. 

“Can I kiss you?” She whispered. 

You were nodding before the words completely left her lips and suddenly your lips were on hers. You were kissing her and there was that burst in her chest once again, this time sparking like fireworks, as you kissed under the starry sky.  

Alternate dimensions. 

Giant creatures. 

Mall fires.

Your father. 

Your mother.

Her family. 

Friends. 

The world. 

All of that could cease to exist for all she cared because she was falling in love and nothing was going to tear you apart.

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x harrington!reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #stranger things x reader #robin buckley #my writing #writing tag

[tornrose24]

For the longest time–ever since I saw that Jinx would be an antagonist for what I assumed was the season 2 finale back in 2023–I had this idea of how season 2 would end and how a season 3 would begin. Mainly if The Ghost and Molly Mcgee had the same exact season 2 ending where the ‘protagonist is sent off to a safer location and brings someone along with them, but the other place is in deep trouble’ much like in Amphibia and Owl House. So here was my headcanons:

Season 2 ending

-Jinx gets the victory over Molly and Scratch.

–Ghost council turns out to have been in on Jinx’s plan from the very start (which would explain why they were oddly ok with making Scratch the Chairman in order to keep Molly from the position since SHE was the one who killed him.) But they changed their minds when Scratch’s time has chairman proved to be better for everyone overall.

-Jinx might possibly drain Molly of her life force, given the threat she possessed (which DID happen in the show)

-Scratch gets hit with something that brings him back to life. Alternatively, in the event that the wraith theory was true, he is put under circumstances where he is forced back into Todd’s body and thus comes back to life.

–Jinx banishes Molly and Scratch out of Brighton, or else they are sent away by someone for their own safety. We don’t get to see Scratch back to life just yet under the circumstances.

–The last two minutes reveal that Molly and Scratch end up somewhere very far from Brighton, but still on Earth.

–If they have someone along with them, it’s either Libby and Ollie or just Libby.

-We get a shot of Molly seeing Scratch alive for the first time, but we don’t see it until he does. Either by the ‘look at the hand’ trick, or if Molly has her phone and does the selfie feature for him so that he can have a way to see what happened to himself.

–We get five seconds of Scratch processing he is back to life…. And then screams his head off. Cue the end credits and a very LONG wait for season 3.

Season 3 ideas:

–Very first seconds…. Scratch is still screaming and Molly has to shut him up.

–Turns out Scratch didn’t get completely merged back with his living body/come back to life. If he runs into something, gets hit by something hard enough, or gets scared easily, his ghost form will easily pop out of his body (and thus, the show title still makes sense for the season).

-Opening song now includes Ollie, June, and Adia (more on her later) for the group hug in the song. Song doesn’t give away Scratch’s current condition.

-However one or two of the Disney chibi shorts gives away that Scratch comes back to life.

–Jinx has complete control over Brighton and plans to extend her reach to the rest of the world of the living. It will be shown that a few humans and ghosts are planning to find a way to go against her.

–Scratch can’t do a ghost portal because…. reasons. His powers are likely weakened as well.

–The whole season isn’t as long as the other ones, but its mainly Molly and Scratch just trying to get back to Brighton, and all the misadventures they have.

-Which of course is nothing for Molly since she’s moved around a lot.

–Molly gets a bit sidetracked by wanting to help out the people she and Scratch meet.

-Running gag of Scratch being mistaken as Molly’s dad or grandfather when he’s in living form. Other running gag is how often does his ghost form get knocked out of his body. (Answer: a LOT).

–The big question regarding Scratch’s character arc in the season is if he wants to go back to being a ghost or fully return to life and embrace what it means to be alive.

-Adia would feature as someone who runs into them during their travels, and Scratch will have to confess more than she is ready for.

–There would be ghosts that pop up during the travel back to Brighton as well.

…….And that’s all I have. Your thoughts? 

#the ghost and molly mcgee #the ghost and molly mcgee spoilers #molly mcgee #scratch the ghost #jinx tgamm #how i thought season 2 would end until... well... you know... #yeah i was under the assumption it would be like owl house and amphibia

[derpy-dogs-n-cats]

The Loathing.

Main Masterlist

KNB Masterlist

Yandere! Seijuro Akashi x Fem! Reader x Daiki Aomine.

Warnings: Yandere themes, sexual themes, smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, squirting, creampie, degradation, humiliation.

Summary: Akashi and Aomine are aware that they like the same person, much to Akashi's dismay; Aomine makes the first move, unaware of how far Akashi's willing to go to get what he wants.

W/C: 1.9k+

Everyone was shocked at first, how was it possible that someone was able to tame Daiki Aomine? But as time progressed, girls especially, would constantly whisper about how you wouldn’t last, how sooner or later, you would just end up like the other girls, thrown away, forgotten. Nothing mattered, not how he started going to practice because you insisted, how he actually started to get his grades up, or even treated Momoi better than how he usually does.

It was hard at first, to get past the jealousy of the many girls who wanted him, but you were able to ignore them with the help of your boyfriend; another reason why they thought he was just faking it, Daiki Aomine, a supportive boyfriend? No way. The only one who fully supported your relationship was Momoi who also offered unwavering support, though unknowingly to you, there was one person who deeply despised your relationship, their hate far outweighing anybody else’s.

Seijuro Akashi.

He loathed Daiki Aomine. How dare he, a former teammate, friend, date you while knowing he harbored feelings for you. Akashi had never wanted to ruin someone so badly, he wanted to ruin his reputation, his name, title, he wanted to ruin everything for him, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. He wouldn’t stop until Aomine was on the ground, begging for forgiveness, desperately crawling to move forward.

Akashi won’t stop until he stays down.

~.~

“I’m not sure about this.” You quietly speak in Aomine’s ear, the sound of the loud music muffling your voice to anybody else. “Don’t worry, no one will come looking for us.” He nonchalantly replies, having you reconsider. He’s probably right, after all, the party is being held downstairs, the music so loud the walls shake, and with so many guests around, nobody would notice two gone. “… Okay.” You nervously agree.

~.~

Akashi walks through the sea of people with an irritated look on his face, continuing to look for you to no avail. That’s the only reason he’d ever be in such a repulsive environment, but to think you’d actually come to a party like this, pairs and even groups of people sucking each other’s faces in every corner, people dancing in provocative manners, others nearly humping each other, the music just about to blow people’s eardrums with the stench of alcohol reaching every inch of the house, the things he does for you…

It’s nice to know he came all the way to such a revolting place for nothing, maybe his intel was wrong, no, it’s never been wrong. He moves towards the stairs and takes them to the second floor where it’s less agitated, instantly feeling a small sense of relief with how much more spacious it is compared to the first floor. He walks along the halls still in search for you, passing by a few doors and even fewer people, reaching the end of the hall.

With a small frustrated sigh, he turns on his heels and retraces his steps to the stairs but stops abruptly. He slowly turns his head towards the door on his right with a confused expression and stares for a moment. Did he just… hear you? It was so small he could’ve imagined it, but he knows that if he actually heard something, it has to be you, he would never mistaken your voice. He slowly approaches the door and carefully places his ear against, his fingers gently pressing on the wood.

He listens intently only to hear nothing in return, the music far too loud for him. He closes his eyes and creases his brows, focusing on whatever he might’ve heard, this time hearing something for sure, but still too low to make out what it is, the speakers from downstairs drowning out nearly every sound. Akashi moves to stand straight and places a hand on the doorknob, turning it quietly despite the loud music being able to muffle any click of it.

He slowly pushes the door open just a creek, barely enough for him to peek inside, and when he does; his eyes widen at the scene before him, his chest clenching unbearably tight, an empty pit in his stomach quickly forming and gripping the doorknob so tightly his hand shakes, almost downright shattering it while his body fills with an almost intoxicating amount of rage, feeling how his body burns at the sight.

How dare you, how dare you let Daiki Aomine defile you, and moan like a wanton whore while a brute uses your body in such an unruly and vulgar manner. The sickening sight makes him want to vomit, you; splayed on your back with Aomine crushing you under his massive weight while you hold onto him as if your life depended on it, both of your heads thrown back moaning without a care, fucking like animals.

He’s ruined you, Aomine just had to steal your innocence, in such a foul place, in such a barbaric manner, how dare you let someone treat you in such ways. Akashi had you on a pedestal, he could’ve treated you so much better, he could’ve worshipped you, yet you had to stop so low for someone like him, did you not have a single shred of dignity? How heinous. You’re wasted now. If you wanted to be treated like a whore, fine then, so be it.

Another loud moan leaves your mouth, your eyes squinting open a fraction while your mouth continues to hang open, noticing a frightening sight for a split second before a harsh thrust is given to the soft spot hidden in your soaked walls, having you letting out a scream and closing your eyes in the process. “Found it.” Aomine cockily comments, looking down at your trembling form, maintaining his front pressed against yours.

“Stop! Stop!” You shout and he quickly halts his movements. “What’s wrong?” He asks with clear concern, worried he did something wrong but only sees you staring at a closed door. “I… I saw someone.” You pant, out of breath from his relentless pace. “There’s no one there.” He looks back at you, but you can’t shake the split sight of someone staring at you with such rage, the way the intensity of their gaze had your heart and stomach clenching.

“No one’s there… relax.” He places wet kisses along your neck, slowly starting to move against you again, the feeling of his tip pressing into your cervix with such ease making you forget of your worries with a moan and your eyes rolling to the back of your head at how his girth stretches you beyond your limit, fat balls pressed tightly against you while you mentally thank how gentle he was the first few minutes to let you adjust to him.

“Love you… so… much.” He presses kisses on your skin in between the sentence. “Ah- I-” You let out broken moans, being past your limit as he starts to pick up his pace, letting out a small laugh at how easily he’s fucked you stupid, after all, this is all new to you. In no time, he sets the same punishing pace of hammering into you with the loud sound of skin slapping on skin, your wet juices leaking and your screams filling the room.

The wet plaps of his thrusts echo in the room as he holds you in a mating press, his eyes squeezed shut with a pleased look on his face, feeling how you hold onto his back with shaking hands, drops of sweat starting to form on your bodies. “I- I- I’M GONNA-!” You shout before he feels you releasing a thick stream of liquid soaking his pelvis with your insides squeezing him unbearably tight, triggering his own orgasm.

Slamming himself into you a last time, he holds himself as deep as he can, feeling how your release trails down to his thighs and his heavy clenching balls that press against you, emptying them into you and flooding your insides. He quietly holds you for a moment, letting you catch your breaths before pulling out his softened length, watching how his thick cum leaks out of you with a whine leaving your lips at the odd feeling.

You lay motionlessly as he gently wipes you clean, taking care of you before cleaning himself. You hear the quiet shuffling of clothes and feel how he helps put your clothes back on after a few minutes, having already dressed himself as well. Finally, he holds you in a tight hug at the foot of the unknown bed, embracing you tightly and placing a kiss on your temple. “Love you.” He murmurs against your skin. “I love you too.” You kiss him back.

He releases you from his arms and gently holds your hand in his larger one with a relaxed smile, walking behind you to the door with his eyes glued to you, your heart falling out of your chest as soon as you open it. Laughs start to fill your ears with various phones pointed at you as a deep hollow feeling starts to form in your stomach, looking like a deer caught in headlights with a massive crowd of people surrounding the doorway.

Your frozen stiff body refuses to let you move until you feel Aomine’s hand leaving you, snapping you back to reality and getting you to run from the embarrassing scene with the laughs growing louder behind you. Stopping outside the house with tears in your eyes, you notice a familiar face approaching and instantly run to him, throwing your arms around him and crying. “What’s wrong?” Akashi innocently asks.

“It’s Aomine, he- he got the people in the party to listen to us-” You pull away from the hug to explain while sobbing, interrupting yourself from finishing your sentence. “It’s alright.” He tries to console, rubbing the sides of your arms with his hands. “No it’s not! I’m the school’s joke now! I can’t go back like this.” You cry. “… Transfer to my school.” He blatantly says. “What?” You wipe your tears away. “Transfer to my school.” He repeats.

“… Nobody knows you there. You’ll be far more comfortable with me.” He suggests with a relaxed expression. You nod with a sniffle and place your arms around him again, having him hugging you back once again. This wasn’t part of the plan, initially; his only intention was to humiliate you, but was he glad that he accidentally spilled his drink on the speakers. He knew that you and Aomine would be so entranced in your horrid activities that you wouldn’t notice the sudden silence, outside of your own brawl of course.

After that, all he had to do was exit the house and walk back as if he was just getting to the party which you’d be too preoccupied to wonder what he was doing there. Understandably, he’s still upset at your betrayal, but he can’t stay mad at you for long, after all, you’re his queen. Sure you’re a bit confused right now, but soon enough he’ll have you back in line and you’ll be his perfect pristine queen again.

Akashi holds you in his arms in contentment, smiling softly at the path that lies ahead only to be interrupted by thumping coming from not too far behind you. He looks over to see Aomine standing at the doorway of the house where you committed that sinful act with him and stares at his fearful expression at the sight before him; you in front of the arms of not just another man, but Seijuro Akashi. Akashi gives a last pride-filled look at Aomine and turns away from him.

“Come, let’s leave.” He keeps an arm behind you around your back and walks you away from the man who corrupted you, being sure that he’s left him down in the dirt as he wanted.

#knb imagines #knb smut #kuroko's basket ball imagines #kuroko's basket ball smut #kuroko no basket imagines #kuroko no basket smut #yandere knb #yandere kuroko's basket ball #yandere kuroko no basket #yandere knb imagines #yandere knb smut #yandere kuroko's basket ball imagines #yandere kuroko's basket ball smut #yandere kuroko no basket imagines #yandere kuroko no basket smut #seijuro akashi imagines #yandere seijuro akashi imagines #yandere akashi #akashi imagines #yandere akashi imagines #seijuro imagines #yandere seijuro #yandere seijuro imagines #daiki aomine imagines #daiki aomine smut #daiki imagines #daiki smut #aomine imagines #aomine smut #knb x reader

[tojixz]

Masterlist ☆ Heart Without Beat Masterlist

HEART WITHOUT BEAT: Chapter Three

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Reader

Notes: I really enjoyed this chapter, but it was extremely painful to write. I even got a little triggered by the scenes. Good luck to you all 😞

Summary: If there is no ground, there is no way to walk. From here on, is it really possible to go on?

Warnings: Pure distress, funeral, panic attack, certain reactions can be triggers. Sensitive subject. Let me know if I have forgotten anything.

Word Count: 2,6k

Previous | Next

All energy is only borrowed and will one day have to be returned.

Every person is born twice, but departs only once.

The Na'vi learn from a young age that every moment, every hour, minute, and second must be enjoyed within the blessing that is all of Eywa's creation.

You must give thanks, revere and love everything and everyone around you. Everyone understands the importance of a life.

But when it's gone, what's left?

The pain of loss is unbearable, something that many take forever to overcome. But what causes sadness if your ancestors continue to live, in peace, with the Great Mother?

Probably the lack of body heat that you will no longer feel. The lack of hugs, new memories…

Everyone fears the unknown, but death is something that is often seen.

The magic formula for overcoming matches has not yet been found, and it is probably far from it.

So what would be the remedy for wounds that cannot be mended? What is the solution, for the regret of everything that should have been done?

There is none of that, after all.

Upon hearing Neytiri's words, you froze for a moment trying to understand the hidden message in her speech.

"I'm sorry, my poor child…I'm sorry", she continued to ramble on and you continued to sink. What was the reason for her apology? What was the reason for her despair?

She wouldn't have mistaken you for someone else, right?

"For what?", your little heart fluttered in your chest, unspoken words deafened your senses. This whole situation was making you afraid.

You wanted your mother.

Neytiri was silent for a while, and then he shifted his gaze to Jake, who was also agitated by the whole scene. Just like you, he wasn't aware of the situation. His muscles were rigid and you could see lines of worry creeping into his features.

The other children just sank into silence together. Tensed by the gloomy atmosphere that was forming. Everything was a mystery and the lack of knowledge of the situation only made everyone overwhelmed.

Neytiri slowly pulled away from you, releasing you from her warm and insecure arms. She placed one of her hands on your chest, just above your fluttering heart and said softly, "You need to be strong. Strong heart."

Your ears perked up at the words. You didn't know exactly what she meant. You didn't understand.

Your mouth was dry, your soul was crying out for answers. Was this some kind of punishment?

You slowly nodded, unsure and unsure.

Neytiri looked at you for a few more seconds, which seemed like forever, and then stood up, taking one of your hands and leading you into Mo'at's tent.

Jake slowly followed behind, a little hesitant because he didn't know if he was welcome there. His curious children also followed close behind, with cautious and silent movements.

Neteyam noticed your mother's agitation when she arrived and when she spoke to you, which made him worry.

Nothing bad would happen to you, right?

Upon entering, you found your Tsahik, Mo'at, next to someone lying on the floor. She silently prayed, passing her hands slowly through the air just above her body.

You just got even more confused. Was someone hurt? What did that have to do with you?

Neytiri, who stayed behind you, placed his hands on your back and slowly pushed you towards the two figures on the ground. You walked hesitantly, shivers ran down your spine and your senses sharpened.

Mo'at nodded to Neytiri, as if to tell her to let you go on your own from then on.

You approached with cautious steps, the person lying down seemed to be in a deep sleep. It would be impolite of you to wake her.

As you got close enough to analyze the features of the figure on the floor, your own body stiffened. You were confused.

Why was your mother there?

The air in your lungs was sucked out, and suddenly you didn't know how to move your muscles.

Your mother seemed so at peace, a sinful peace.

Her body was clean and tidy, in such a deep sleep that it would be unfair to wake her, but you wanted to tell her about your day.

You just didn't understand why your meeting with your mother was such an important thing to do that required your Tsahik's presence.

You crouched down beside her, sitting on your knees so gently that you were almost unable to register the feel of the ground.

Analyzing for a few seconds, you finally put your hands on your mother's arm and shook her a little to wake her up. "Sa'nu? Why are you sleeping here?"

No answers.

Was she so tired at this point? You could hear certain movement, sighs and suppressed sobs behind you, but you didn't care much, you had another purpose.

Mo'at just continued to watch you go on with your movements, a serious and welcoming look on your face. Again, you didn't care.

"Sa'nok, Tsahik is here. Why are you sleeping in this situation?". A small twinge hit your core. You were not understanding, comprehending that situation. What was going on? What did it all mean?

Why wasn't her mother waking up?

She always woke up as soon as you called, always willing at any time to answer your calls. Always willing to comfort you.

You began to shake her harder. Wiggling her more and more. One hour she would wake up, right?

"Tsahik, why doesn't she wake up? Is she sick?", made sense, didn't it? It was the only reason you could find to justify Mo'at's presence there with you. She didn't answer you, she just closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly.

A deafening silence filled the room again. It was as if Eywa herself was listening to your inner doubts, fear and melancholic thoughts taking over. The truth is that you were never good at keeping a steady thought, at focusing on good things.

You always expected the worst.

Her lower lips trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly. But certainly not for your divinity.

Hoping she would wake up, you rocked your mother once more.

Again.

Again. Again. And again.

But nothing happened.

You were becoming distressed. The blood turning to ice in your veins as your eyes filled with spiteful tears.

"Why doesn't she answer? Why doesn't my mother answer?"

You don't ask anyone specific. Anyone who answered you would be enough.

You turned to Neytiri, looking at Jake as well in the process. Mo'at didn't look like she was going to open her mouth to say anything. You were losing hope. "Neytiri, can you help me? Please." Her last words came out as a whisper.

Neytiri covered your mouth with her own hand, sinking her head into the curve of Jake's neck. You were confused. Why was everyone refusing to help you? Had you done something wrong?

Were they punishing you?

You promise that you won't do anything bad anymore, you just wanted to feel your mother's warmth again. You wanted to listen to her, even if it was one of her scoldings.

"Mama! You are scaring me, please answer me." You continued, not satisfied with the lack of movement of the figure on the floor.

Reality came crashing down on you like a stone. But you didn't want to believe it. There was no way… she was so fine.

You finally broke. Swinging your mother with uncontrolled force as you called out to her, your voice growing louder and louder.

"No. No, no, no… Sa'nu."

That was unfair.

You weren't ready. You couldn't even say goodbye.

Was this departure some kind of punishment or a release?

Was it selfish of you to wish that Eywa would return your beloved progenitor back to you?

You were not prepared to see her go.

When you heard Neytiri apologize, you imagined that something had happened. But not something like this.

You were in denial. All this was supposed to be just a misunderstanding. It had to be.

The words weighed heavily on Neytiri's lips, but they certainly didn't compare to the weight of reality on you.

You were alone to carry this burden, it was unbearable.

Regret covered your whole being, drowning you in pure anguish and despair.

The Great Mother had not been fair. You were just a child.

Eywa doesn't choose sides, she is only responsible for the control of life. But there, surely there was a miscalculation.

Her mother shouldn't have gone like this, not this way, not now.

Reality was distorted and you, as a form of final salvation, just wished, begged, that it was all a big misunderstanding, and that in fact your mother was in your marui, just waiting for your arrival.

Maybe not all prayers are always heard. Not as Toruk Makto had been blessed.

Can you imagine how your mother was in her final moments. Was she desperate, afraid… in pain?

At least you hope she's gone in peace. But you know her. You know her well enough to know how much she must have suffered, and how sorry she was that she didn't get the chance to feel your darling little girl's skin just one last time.

And you blamed yourself. You blamed yourself for not being there for her final breaths. You blamed yourself for not realizing. You blamed yourself for not seeing how your mother was saying goodbye to the material world.

Was it selfish of you to pray to Eywa to return her mother?

She was at peace, in the warm and welcoming arms of the Great Mother, so… why? Why did this hurt more than expected?

There was no option to choose.

And then you screamed. You screamed until your lungs clamored for oxygen and your throat tore from the effort. You didn't even know you were capable of emitting such a sound. A colossal sound, which carried all her inner grudges, all her regrets.

You lower your head to your mother's chest, where it should be pulsing with a heartbeat. But where you found only silence. You never imagined that the stillness would frighten you so.

She couldn't have really left you. Not like this. Without your mother you would be alone, with no one to tuck you in at bedtime, no one to scold you, no one to prepare the best meal of your life. You had already lost your father. You couldn't survive without your mother now.

Your chest hurt, your throat ached, still not letting up with the screaming. You cried and cried, no longer aware of your surroundings.

Jake had kicked your children out of there long ago and Neytiri was kneeling a few inches away from you. Murmuring thousands of 'I'm sorry' and 'I'm so sorry'.

She was not at fault in this situation, not at all. But honestly, you didn't have the strength to care anymore.

You had everything. And now there was nothing.

Nothing important to keep close to you. You were surrounded by many, but suddenly you were alone, suffering in silence.

Neytiri came to you then, crouching down next to you and placing a hand on the back of your neck. She gave it a gentle squeeze to reassure you. But even she didn't trust that that was possible. "It's going to be okay… you're not alone."

You didn't know if she was trying to calm herself or you. Her eyes were burning from endless tears, and her voice was already hoarse from screaming. You didn't want to leave your mother, you knew she would open her eyes at some point. She was just very tired.

And so you waited.

But all that was achieved was eternal silence.

Your mother's wake was painful. You couldn't find the strength to go on with that ceremony. She was so beautiful, even without life. She was at peace.

Still, it hurt. It hurt and it hurt so much. The whole situation was tearing you apart. Crushing your heart like it was nothing. How did it end this way?

A few hours ago you were laughing breathlessly with your friends, giving your all in training, looking forward to the moment you would show your new skills to your mother. And then, it ended like this.

Your life turned upside down so fast it made you dizzy. You didn't know where to go from here.

The clan was all gathered around the small space where her mother was. Atokirinas prowling everywhere, especially around you. It's like Eywa is comforting you and telling you that everything was fine, she was safe. Prayers were able to be heard, small thanks for the life she had led up to that point, and pleas for a peaceful rest.

Her mother's hands were so cold. So cold that when it came into contact with her skin, her entire body shivered. She didn't look like herself anymore, with her usual warmth. It scared you.

You weren't ready, not like you should have been. You weren't ready to let go. The hugs, the playfulness, the gentle, loving kisses that your mother filled you with all the time. You wanted her to be there for you as you matured, to be there to put you to sleep and comfort you through the worst nights and nightmares.

It… hurt so much.

You were dead inside. Your soul was crying out for help, unable to bear the unbearable feeling of that loss. No one should have to go through this.

Mostly a child.

Mo'at allowed you to stay by your mother's side to say goodbye. The next time you saw her, she would be with the Great Mother, in a safe place. She would no longer be suffering.

Jake, as Olo'eyktan, was close by. He was also responsible for helping with the funeral, while Mo'at led the spiritual part. His sons were right behind. They too were shaken, eyes swollen from crying along with you, not as much, but their hearts whispered for sympathy.

Neteyam especially. Ever since he became aware of what was happening in Mo'at's tent, his heart broke at the sight of your state. He hated to see you cry, to see you sad. And he knew that a part of your brightness was gone along with your mother. And then he lamented. Neither of you possessed power over life, the only option being to continue with the story. But it was inevitable to think of a 'What if...'

And he felt pathetic that he couldn't help you. His only choice was to put his head down, and ask Eywa to ease, a little bit that is, her pain.

But there was also Neytiri. Certainly, she was the one who cared for you the most up to this point. She suffered with you, cried with you, and most of all, hugged you when you needed it.

Your mother and Neytiri were so close, trusted each other so mutually, that Neytiri was like a second mother to you. A new mother figure. So you broke down in her presence. Imagining that she was actually an embodiment of her mother.

Her supportive words, her warm and nurturing touches. Everything was present with Neytiri by your side. She kept you from succumbing to the darkness. You were not entirely alone.

That's what she started to do. Take care of you. Neytiri called you softly. You placed one last kiss on your mother's forehead, eyes and finally on her nose, and whispered a short 'See you later'. And then you went towards Neytiri, holding one of her hands.

She was her new pillar now. Even if in your heart, broken and aching, you were no longer the same person after that day. You wouldn't have the same brightness, the same will to live.

On that night of prayer, her soul was buried next to the body of her mother, the one who lit her path, or rather, her life. And so, a new warrior was born.

🏷; @mashiromochi @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @narutoboi

My God, that hurt so much! I started crying because I can't think of a life without my mother 😭 forgive me, but it was necessary.

Also, forgive me for grammatical errors, really!

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍓｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍒

#jake sully #avatar jake sully #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #loak sully #kiri sully #tuk sully #tuktirey sully #atwow #atwow fluff #atwow x reader #avatar 2009 #avatar 2022 #avatar 1 #avatar 2 #avatar twow #neytiri #avatar neytiri #avatar neteyam x reader #neteyam x reader

[softquietsteadylove]

can you write thenamesh The Tourist AU pls? if you can’t/don’t want to it’s totally alright i love your work anyway <3💌

Gil just stared. He couldn't believe it, and he was seeing it. But this woman - the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on in his life - just...sat right down. He looked around a little, trying to see if she had mistaken him for someone else. But she was looking right at him. "Uh, h-hello."

"Hello." God, even her voice was gorgeous. He closed his lame little spy book on the table between their seats. "I'm Thena. What's your name?"

"Gil."

"That's a terrible name."

"It's the only one I've got," he shrugged sheepishly, and she smiled. This was different from the smile she had sat down with, too. This was more genuine seeming (cuter). "It's short for Gilgamesh."

"Hm," the woman's eyes dashed down to the table for a second before coming back up to him. "Better."

It was still the only name he had. "So, uh, what brings you to Venice?"

She eyed him, and then those killer eyes floated a little away from him too. She still seemed to be looking for someone, even if he was the one on whom she had settled. "Meeting someone."

"Ah." Of course--of course the positively stunning woman was already meeting someone. Probably a husband, if not a very handsome partner. He watched as she peeled her gloves off.

She didn't have a ring on. "And you?"

"Hm?" he blinked, still borderline dizzy from the appearance of this woman in his life.

"What brings you here," she paused, her perfect lips forming his name before it was spoken aloud, "Gilgamesh?"

"Just Gil," he corrected her and then immediately shook his head. She smiled again, though--that more real one. He smiled too, somewhat encouraged. "I'm just a tourist, really."

She tilted her head at him. "Just a tourist?"

Gil blushed faintly, fiddling with the worn and frayed edge of his book cover. "I teach."

"Here for summer break, is it?"

"Something like that," he chuckled, looking at her hands again. It was entirely possible that she simply didn't feel the need to wear one. Or perhaps they had been together so long it was a formality. But he couldn't help but tilt his head right back at her.

"What?"

He shrugged, shaking his head faintly. "Look, far be it from me to ask a lady this. But you seem...I dunno, a little lonely?--or something."

But she smiled at him again, although it was back to being that faker one. It did seem a little sad, though. "Aren't we all?"

He was a single teacher taking a train to Venice alone, who was he to talk? "Yeah, I guess we are."

"Wife?"

Definitely not. "Nothing of the sort. You?"

She looked down at her hands too, and maybe the lack of ring was not entirely by choice. "That has yet to be seen."

Were they going to be engaged? Or maybe was she was going to break things off, offer some dramatic ultimatum.

"Invite me to dinner, Gil."

He liked how she said Gil. It sounded so gentle and warm off her lips. Truly stunning lips. He cleared his throat, "would you like to have dinner?"

"Don't phrase it as a question."

"You said ask you to dinner."

"I said to invite me to dinner," she countered, and hints of the smile were returning. She was a woman who knew what she was after (god he liked that). "Try again."

He laughed, but sure, he gave it another shot. "Have dinner with me."

"Too demanding." Okay, now he was pretty sure she was just having some fun with him. "You are not summoning me. Again."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, and he did get a more genuine laugh out of her. Y'know what?--so long as she was having fun, maybe this wasn't so bad. "Uh...dinner?"

"Still a question," she borderline teased him. She leaned forward in her seat faintly, "once more."

One more shot to have dinner with the woman of his dreams. He straightened up in his seat, rolled his shoulders back and tugged at his sports coat. She seemed to respond to this, mirroring his posture. "I'm having dinner, if you care to join me."

Now the smile was back, and in full force. She smiled with all her teeth, which was really cute. She had a very pretty smile for an even more beautiful face. But he got the distinct impression there was a lot more to her than her looks.

"I would be delighted."

"Well then," Gil nodded, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table and its white table cloth. He still didn't know what made her come over to him, and ask him to dinner (or ask him to ask her to dinner, more like). But he smiled, "shall we?"

"Lets," she agreed. She was waiting for him to make the first move again.

Okay, sure; Gil stood, adjusting his plain old blazer and tugging at the sleeves to make sure they were straight. He was a little underdressed compared to Thena in her stark white dress and fancy gloves. But he held his hand out for her, "madame?"

"Enchante," she smiled, slipping her hand into his to stand as well. Her eyes darted around a little over his shoulder but perhaps he was being paranoid thanks to his silly spy book. "Have you had the food board?"

"From Padua to here," he nodded as he led them in the direction of the dining car. How she walked in those heels was beyond him, even if the train was pretty smooth a ride. "It's not bad."

"Padua," she mused and them grinned at him again, "you really are a tourist."

He pinked again, and he was beginning to think she just enjoyed flustering him. "Where are you coming from?"

She did that thing where she kind of scanned behind around them again before answering, "Paris."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, "overrated. And you call me the tourist."

She tugged at his sleeve faintly, as if to admonish him, "you're the American."

He chuckled, "guilty."

"Not yet," she whispered as she moved in the train aisle to walk ahead of him. He was about to ask her about it when she turned back to him, "are you ready for this?"

He wasn't entirely sure what she was asking about, but he was damn ready to find out.

#Thenamesh AU #a little mystery #a sexy mystery! #so I watched this movie for this ask #let me say that I'll be taking some artistic liberties with it #but I don't think you'll mind that #at least I hope not! #Gil is an english teacher who's just here to see some sights #also I chose Padua not only for its proximity to Venice #but also because Benedick from Much Ado About Nothing is from Padua #top notch Shakespeare comedy #anyway #Thena walks on #surveilled from every angle #and she walks down the aisle #and she spots Gil and goes well #tall strong and handsome hello #and then she sits down #and he's this absolute sweetheart who's all cute and flirty? #jackpot #she almost forgets what she's here for