HIMCHAN HAS REALLY DECIDED HE’S JUST GOING TO LIE ON PONYTAIL DAE’S BED AND WHINE. AND DAE HAS REALLY DECIDED HE’S GOING TO IGNORE HIM AND WATCH HIS MOVIE. SUDI HAS REALLY DECIDED TO CRAWL INTO A CORNER AND CRY.
I got to do a commission for the wonderful, the amazing, the talented @trash-chan-art. She wanted a small boy to go along with her Halfling Rovil that I fell in love with.
People come from far and wide to sample your produce. You’ve come into money you never expected all because of the fruits and veggies you grow. People say they’ve never tasted tomatoes so good, peppers so sweet. You’re all too happy to sell them at a good price too. There’s only one thing that bothers you. You have no idea how.
You’ve always tried gardening and have always come up with the same results. Dead plants, Withering vines. Mealy fruit. Worm and bug infested produce. Gardening has never ever worked for you. Until now. Somehow your plants are lush and green. Your garden is the envy of all your friends and neighbors. You’ve had dignitaries pay you bags of gold for all your peaches. You want to answer people’s questions about your secret. But you don’t even know the truth yourself.
Lance was Lance, he hid discomfort with jokes and pushing buttons. So that’s what he had been doing, pushing his boyfriends buttons. He didn’t expect much of a reaction because Keith was Keith, Keith loved him. But Lance felt like he couldn’t breath, he never thought Keith could- would say those things. But there he was, standing in front of the south Korean, eyes watering, breath short, silent. He bowed his head, not speaking as he left the table. Moments later Keiths mind cleared and he realized what just went down, his eyes widened and he bolted out of the room. He sprinted down the hallway, stopping short in front of Lances room.
“Lance, Lance baby please open the door.” Keith got no response. “Lance, Lance please. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize what I was saying.” The only response was a choked sob, a sob, he could tell, wasn’t supposed to be heard. His heart sank. Keith tried to pry Lance out of his room for what felt like hours. He was about to make one last attempt when the castle alarm went off.
“Paladins, this is not a drill. We’re under attack, I repeat we are under attack.” Alluras voice rang out, echoing through the large ship. Keith took one last glance at the door before scurrying off.
“Shiro, forming Voltron isn’t going to help us, we need to split up. The attack was a decoy for the village.” Pidge stated, looking around.
“She’s right, the soldiers are gone.” Hunk cut in. Shiro nodded.
“Pidge go with Hunk, Lance, you’re with Keith, I’ll go alone. Keep comms on. Be careful.” No one argued, they all nodded before gong separate ways.
Lance had not spoken, nor had he looked at Keith, which was, really bad, and fucking with Keiths focus. He wanted the two to sit and talk but alas, being in the middle of a battle does jack shit to help with relationship issues. Lance froze, grabbing Keiths wrist, the purple eye’d boy turned, a confused look plastered on his face. Lance put a finger to his lips, pointed to his hear then in front of him. Keith seemed to get it because he nodded, looking around. Something flashed in the corner of the cubans eye, followed by a quiet click. his eyes widened. He shoved Keith to the ground harshly.
Keith let out a yelp, quieting when he saw Lance fall. Time slowed for the red paladin, a cry left his lips as Lance’s body landed, sprawled against the ground. He crawled over, gently slipping his hands under his fellow paladin.
“S-Shiro- I need some back up-” He stuttered as he scanned Lances body, eyes landing on the dark red stain and the crack armor. He swallowed. “Lance- oh god- oh fuck, no no, you’re going to be okay.”
Lance smiled slightly. “Keith, I’m…I’m sorry.” He croaked. “For being o-over dramatic a-and annoying.” He grunted, closing his eyes tightly.
“No, No, baby, you don’t need to be sorry. I fucked up, I fucked up so bad. Please forgive me.” His grip on Lance tightened. Lances hand gripped Keiths arm as he coughed, blood trickling slowly out of his mouth.
“Keit-Keith-” He coughed out. “I love you so much a-and I never got to say that, I never gt to show you how much.” He brought a bloody hand to Keith’s face, wiping the others tears. “You’ll be alright with me gone right? You won’t do anything stupid?”
“Lance- please-” He whispered, leaning into the tallers hand.
“When we win- after…after we win..” Lance spoke, his voice getting weaker, his breath getting shallower, “Tell mama I said Hi..Tell mama that I love her okay? Can you do that for me?” Lance whispered.
Keith nodded, letting out a sob as Lances hand dropped, as he felt Lances body go limp. “I will Lance, I will.”
Rap Monster: You had come home a bit late that night after studying all night with one of your classmates. Of course, dating BTS’ Kim Namjoon, you were always in the media. This time, you came home and Namjoon confronted you by sliding his phone to you where the headline was “Namjoon’s girlfriend caught being friendly with classmate.” “Joon, you don’t think this is real right?” “I don’t y/n, you tell me!” He ended up yelling at you, calling you a liar which ended up in him leaving you alone in your apartment. Namjoon came back to you laying on the couch, tear stains on your cheeks with puffy red eyes. He sat down, stroking your back softly, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “
“I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have done that,” he would whisper as you slept silently. “I’m so sorry..”
Suga: Suga and you haven’t been getting along as much as you would have liked to. He wouldn’t really take your feelings into consideration so this time, when you finally called him an insensitive asshole, he lost it. “Insensitive? Insensitive? Y/n, I am going through a lot and I have to balance work and you and you think you’re making that easy on me?” He raised his voice, making you wince. You ran off to your bedroom, locking the door behind you. You felt yourself shaking and decided to lay down next to the door. Suga had gone to get some air and when he came back, he unlocked the door to find you asleep on the floor. He lifted you up and laid you down in your bed, sliding in behind you. He kissed your forehead, squeezing you tight to him.
“You are not too much for me. In fact, you are the right amount,” he said, whispering to you. “I love you so much and I need to show you that more.”
Jin: Jin hard started to feel like you weren’t telling the truth when you said you went to go see your friends. He had no reason to believe you were cheating but that’s what he was starting to think. You finally confronted you only to have you get defensive. “Jin, you’re my boyfriend. I love you. Why would I have any reason to hurt you like that?” “I don’t know y/n. You tell me damn it!” You felt yourself choke up at the thought of Jin actually believing that you would cheat on him. He stormed out of the house, leaving you alone and confused. You couldn’t help but cry yourself to sleep on the couch. When Jin returned, he had flowers in his hand and a box of chocolates in the other. He set them down and sat on the coffee table across from you.
“I shouldn’t have yelled,” he sighed. “I know you love me. I’m lucky to have you and I almost lost you tonight. I love you.”
J-Hope: You had planned to surprise J-Hope by coming home early but it kind of backfired in your face. You had gone to catch up with Jungkook, who introduced you to J-hope, and see if he would help you. Well, J-hope ended up seeing you two at the small coffee shop and nearly lost it. When you came home that night with his favorite take out and his favorite flowers, he was sitting at the kitchen counter, staring aimlessly at nothing. “Hobi?” You said softly, coming into the kitchen. “Why did you lie to me?” “What?” You asked. “I didn’t lie to you.” “This whole time I thought you were at your parents and you were with fucking Jungkook. I knew it was too good to be true. I knew you liked him.” “J-Hope, I got back-” “I don’t want to fucking hear it.” He stormed out of the house leaving you confused and sad. You ended up falling asleep on the couch, crying softly to yourself. J-Hope came home that night and immidately took you in his arms.
“I’m so sorry y/n.. I should have listened to you. I should have believed you. I’m so sorry.”
Taehyung: Taehyung came home that night in a bad mood. He wouldn’t talk to you, walking straight past you and into the bathroom. He didn’t come out until about an hour later, towel draped over his head. “How was your shower babe?” He didn’t answer you again. “Tae, what’s wrong?” He slammed the fridge shut, turning around with an angered look. “How come I had to find out from the internet that the ‘friend’ you’ve been going to lunch with is your ex-boyfriend?” You gave him a confused look. “It was in high school. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” “Not that big of a deal? It’s a BIG FUCKING DEAL!” He slammed his fist on the counter, making you jump. “Whatever y/n.” He walked back to your room and locked himself in there. You didn’t want to cry but ended up doing it anyways. You wrote Taehyung a small note and left it on the counter saying you loved him. You made a spot on the couch and fell asleep, sobbing quietly to yourself. He came out two hours later and read the note on the counter. He could feel himself choke up as he read it to himself. He came over and crawled up behind you.
“I’m sorry. I’m a jealous idiot. I love you more than anything… I shouldn’t have yelled.”
Jimin: Jimin isn’t the type to yell at you so when it does happen, you can’t help but be upset. You had come home late from work every night for the past two weeks. Usually, Jimin wouldn’t be upset but something really clicked in him that really made him upset. You came home to Jimin sitting in silence on the couch. “Hey babe,” You greeted him. He didn’t reply. “Well good evening to you too.” “Don’t,” he scolded. You raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you?” “With me?” he scoffed. “Why are you lying to me?” “What???” He got up from his spot and threw a magazine at you. “Why is it that you’ve been ‘kept at work late’ but here is a photo of you and your boss at dinner?” You were confused, looking at the photo that had several people cut out of the photo. “Jimin it was a birthday dinner and half the people are cut out.” “Why do you keep LYING?!” He turned around, yelling at you. This was the first time Jimin had ever raised his voice so you couldn’t help but cry. “I’m not lying…” He didn’t answer, he just stormed past you, slamming the door behind him. You didn’t know what to do so you crawled into your bed still in your work clothes. You cried for an hour before finally falling asleep. You were woken up by Jimin crawling in behind you.
“I have come to the realization that I am being petty and that I miss you and I just jumped to conclusions. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I love you.”
Jungkook: You could feel that something was off with Jungkook but didn’t know what it was about. You had tried to confront him about it but he wouldn’t really say much. You hadn’t been doing too good yourself either but that wasn’t the point. Finally, after a week of Jungkook giving you the cold shoulder, you grew some confidence and confronted him. “Jungkook, what the hell is going on? You’ve ignored me, avoided me, come home late. What the hell is going on?” What’s going on?” He scoffed. “You tell me what’s going on!” He grabbed your wrist and slip up your sweater, exposing recently fresh wounds. You quickly pulled away, covering your wrist up again. “You lied to me y/n. You told me you would stop.” “Jungkook I’m sorry-” “NO!” He yelled, making you stop. “You lied to me. YOU FUCKING LIED!” You felt your bottom lip quiver in fear as he raised his voice. “I need some air.” He didn’t give you a chance to explain of even talk. You started to cry, curling up in the corner of the couch, falling asleep. When Jungkook came back, he picked you up and took you into your room. He set you down, crawling in next to you.
“Please,” he whispered. “Please don’t be afraid to talk to me when something’s wrong. I love you. I care about you. I want you to be okay.”
“He’s the one in charge of all this. You think the rest of these assholes are scary, well they’re nothing compared to him. Nothing…and watch your back. No one here is going to help you. The only reason we’re having this conversation right now is because I’m finally going to be released.”
“How long have you been here?” You asked with fear in your veins.
She was probably only a couple of years older. Tall, lean, with big breasts. Her thigh had a scar about the length of her finger but it was white in color and barely visible. You took everything in about her appearance, the red hair, the tattoo on her foot, the piercings on her ears.
“Thee years. Don’t try to escape. If you get into a fight, fight to kill.“
"Why me?” You leaned in closer and she retreated, standing up as the guards came in to pick her up by the arms.
Tears streamed down your cheeks as you repeated your question before they could take her away.
“Why me? Why am I here?” You whimpered.
“Because you look like an angel.” She shrugged. “Stop crying. You’ll have plenty of time for that later.”
With that they dragged her out of sight and slammed the door shut.
For hours you sat in that disgusting room, shackled to the floor with your legs and wrists roped together painfully.
No matter how much you cried and yelled, no one came to check up on you.
The concrete felt horrible against your skin. You only had on the bare minimum, underwear and a bra. Bugs wanted to crawl on your skin knowing you were the only living thing in that dark grey room.
No food, no sunlight, no water, no bathroom. You screamed at the small camera installed in one corner of the ceiling but nothing happened. The small red dot just kept blinking back at you.
There were two reasons why Rhysand was wallowing in his own self-loathing that morning and the first one was the usual
longing he felt when Feyre was in his presence yet he could do nothing about
it. The second one was the more important reason – he was the one that let this
happen. He let Tamlin hurt Feyre because his friends were trying to focus on
his drunk self. The self-loathing increased monumentally when he slid into his
car, ready to take Feyre home and she said, “Is there a reason why you’re
refusing to look at me?”
Rhys whipped his head up from the
steering wheel, from where he was putting the key in the ignition. “I’m not-“
“Oh please, you avoided eye
contact at every possible occasion. Are you mad at me?”
Rhys’ eyes widened as he realised
how his behaviour might have come across to her that morning, he instantly felt
ashamed. But what could he tell her, as she sat there in some of Mor’s leggings
and Cassian’s old rugby shirt from when he was 13 that his cousin had stolen a
year ago. He couldn’t possibly tell her that the real reason why he was making
every effort to avoid eye contact was because he felt disgusted at himself for
letting Tamlin hurt Feyre and then having exceptionally inappropriate dreams about
I’m not mad at you Feyre Archeron, how could I? I’m hopelessly in love
with every fibre of your being but you can’t know because you’ve just got out
of a shitty relationship and maybe you need space and don’t even want another
relationship. I can’t possibly tell you that I avoided eye contact with you
this morning because I’m ashamed that I did nothing to prevent anything last night and even if I did look at
you, I would melt into a puddle thinking about you touching me and I touching
you. Just us. Together.
Summary: You walk back home from your job at the library to find your house broken in and torn to shreds. You turn around to find the culprit, but you find yourself with a cloth on your mouth slowly falling to sleep.
Warnings: blood play, graphic depictions of death/violence/murder, suicidal thoughts/depression
Description: The red tint of his eyes were laced with a deadness that perfectly reflected your own. The familiarity kept you returning to him over and over again, you thought that maybe it was just so you could have someone who understood all of the pain.
A/N: This scenario was inspired by the lyrics from “Mirrors” by PVRIS
NOTE [!]: this was originally supposed to be multiple parts, but i’ve realized that i just don’t think i’ll ever find the motivation to come back and finish this, sorry guys :// i deleted the ending, so now it seems like there’s at least semi-closure at the end (even if the ending isn’t the best) instead of leaving you guys off with that god awful cliffhanger from before.
You watched the fragmented colors of orange and red reflect
off of the clouds as the sun started to descend below the horizon. The light
fall breeze whipped through your hair carrying the invisible scent of your body
down into the quickly approaching night life of the city; that gust of air
might as well have been a bullet to your head.
They were already
stirring. You watched from the rooftop as the citizens ran into their homes,
windows were being barred, and the streetlamps suddenly erupted as they prepared
to become spotlights for the unlucky; for
You looked out at your city one last time, the vantage point
of the roof giving you a complete view of the entirety of it all. The corner of
your mouth crept into a smile as you said a final goodbye to the miles of
spread out land that held all of the beautiful and heart breaking memories from
your past twenty years of life.
By the time you made it down the five flights of stairs, and
opened the door that led into a dimly lit alleyway, darkness had already imposed
itself upon the sky. Even though you had completely accepted the consequences
of what you were doing tonight, it still didn’t stop the pang of fear that
coursed through your body at the sight of the pitch black scene above you. It
was a sight you’d only seen a handful of times in your life, and the memories
that accompanied it made you tremble with anxiety.
DM: You walk into the Ikea, and you can see rows set up as makeshift rooms, displaying a certain style of furniture. Perception Check to see if you see the item you want. *20* Rickie-Bobbiey’s eyes go wide with amazement, and you can see her eyes sort of redden, like she’s going to cry. An angelic spotlight pours onto a couch you see in the corner, and you have a feeling like this is the most fitting, most beautiful, piece of furniture you will ever see in your life. You grab the wall for support.
Wood Elf Ranger: Can I roll for sensitivity to see if I cry?
DM: You roll for sensitivity. *16* Tears start spilling from Rickie-Bobbiey’s eyes, caressing her jawbone as they descend.
Half-Elf Sorcerer: I cast Silent Image on the couch.
Half-Elf Sorcerer: I make the couch look like there has been a chunk taken out of the side, and an opossum crawls out from under it and lies down by the hole.
DM: This time, Rickie-Bobbiey’s eyes widen with terror. The angelic light turns into a dim, sort of shady, normal Ikea light.
Okay @bleusarcelle O k I decided to combine your two asks to make it simpler!
Here we go!!!!!
Lance has had plenty of nightmares before, always gotten through them with his family or in space, with Hunk and even Pidge.
Lance has also faced a series of injuries, spanning from a killer bruise to a deadly cut, out in space, he faced it all. All except druid magic…until now.
When he was narrowly dodging the druids’ magic during the mission today, he knew his luck would soon run out. And when it did, it was face to face with Haggar. With a rasped out “Enough!” And a similar to lightning bolt, Lance flew back from the impact of a burning, stinging, and paralyzing sensation in his abdomen.
The team had barely escaped that morning and when he was asked about injuries, he assured his team he was truly fine. It wasn’t a lie to be honest, though a strange stinging feeling traveled through him ever since the hit, he wasn’t in any pain anymore. So the day continued as normal and everyone went to bed. Lance had a bad feeling in the core in his stomach but didn’t know why and assumed it was more side-effects to the nasty hit he took that morning. He went to be as normally.
So here he was, eyes wide open but feeling closed, staring around in his dark room with a cold sweat running down his neck. For what felt like hours he tried to move, to talk, to yell for help but nothing prevailed. He had only heard of sleep paralysis before but never faced it himself. He despised it. Not only was it disorienting, but he knew the next morning he’d be exhausted. That was the most of his worries until he saw it.
A strange figure in the corner of his room, completely black with bright eyes. Was he hallucinating? Is he imagining this or was it really there? Its not like Lance could check it out, his neck refused any of his brain’s orders. The darkness seemed to envelop the already dark room, it sent Lance on edge. Get it away. Get it away.
The more Lance struggled the larger the figure seemed to be, it almost looked like… Haggar. With dark robes covering herself and the room, two yellow eyes glowed in the darkness. Lance tried to scream. Nothing.
A deep sound echoed in Lance’s mind. “Enough.” Over and over again, Lance could almost feel the magic striking him making him desperately cry out. He cried out loud. Broken out from his paralysis, Lance curls up in a ball finding tears on his face and burying it in his pillow.
A few minutes later, a knock was heard on Lance’s door. He heard it, but for some reason he didn’t believe it happened, and wanted anything but to look back into the dark room that could still hold The dark figure. He could hear whispers, didn’t know if they were in his head or not. They weren’t, because Keith had aggressively opened the door and stomped inside with a grunt.
Lance didn’t know what he expected but it certainly wasn’t the red paladin’s hand gently on his shoulder. His thumb rubbing soothing lines on him as a quiet voice finally got Lance to open his eyes.
“Lance…are you okay?”
“No.” he whimpered in a raspy voice. He sees Keith’s worried expression out of the corner of his eye and for some reason sent a fresh wave of tears down his face. Keith embraced Lance as best he could while lying down, Lance was comforted just by his presence.
A heavier, warmer, person had joined them with large arms around the both of them. Hunk, Lance knew, rested his forehead on Lance’s side and- Was he crying?
Another someone crawled on his bed behind him and he knew it was Pidge who curled up beside him with her hands around Lance. He felt her glasses poking into his back. Had she even gone to bed before now?
Two toned arms wrapped around all of them at once, Shiro. Lance had everyone hugging him at once, and when he got past the first weird realization, he was happy he had a family to be there for him here in space.
“Lance, we’re here for you.” Shiro’s calm voice quiet but strong, reassured him. Lance started crying again, but this time, with a smile on his face and a family with him.
Title: Remain Nameless (AU) Pairing: 240/Touka, Reaper/Touka Word Count: 2,328 Rating: PG-13…for now. Warnings: Lots of self harm references/tendencies, physical abuse, and smut. Premise: Set in an AU setting where Touka is actually at CCG and she is given permission to tend to 240. This story is how 240 and Touka deal with the pain they’re both going through. Note: It might be a 3 parter.
He has a name, but they call him number 240. They refuse to tell him who he really is. They leave him to suffer every day and every night. And it goes on for days. Then weeks. Will it go on for longer? Knowing how things work around here, she’s certain they will keep him prisoner.
He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t do anything but fall deeper into a pit of agony.
He’s consumed by nightmares that tear away at his mind, his insides feel like they’re ripping apart, and there’s so much pain all he does is create even more pain. It’s all he knows now.
He claws at his eyes every night. His nails are ripped off his body from scratching at the door and floor, leaving streaks of blood everywhere. And when they grow back, it’s repeated.
Summary: Although Sam looks exactly the same after returning from the pit, there’s something that’s not quite right. (Set in around Season 6).
Warnings: Angst, mentions of fighting/blood, brief cursing.
A/N: Well, the votes are in, and Soulless!Sam won by a long shot. Thanks to everyone who gave their opinion :) Enjoy some Sammy angst! (P.S. Let me know if there should be a part 2 focusing on Sam’s feelings after getting his soul back!)
He had Sam’s mussy, long locks, his hazel eyes, and his over six foot stature, but he wasn’t your Sam.
Of course, you thoroughly enjoyed Sam’s toner body, but dreadfully, something was missing. He wouldn’t look you in the eyes, he wouldn’t wrap his body protectively around yours, and hell, he wouldn’t even kiss you anymore.
And when you started to reject his rough, unloving touches, you could only watch helplessly as he drifted away from you to countless other willing women. Years of friendship and intimate love flooded down the drain.
Nevertheless, you continued to hunt with Samuel and the others. You didn’t have the heart to reach out to Dean, who was living his cherry pie life elsewhere. Lucky bastard, you think bitterly to yourself.
A loud shriek brings you back to the present. You grip your machete tighter as your booted feet move along the dusty warehouse floor. It’s not long until your group finds the three young brothers who disappeared a week ago. Tied and gagged, the kids, only eight or nine, lay behind bars.
“Cover me”, you command, sheathing your weapon. You go to the oldest brother first and remove his gag. “We’re going to get you out of here”, you promise, cutting the ropes tying his hands together.
The second son is freed when you hear the door break down. You hear Samuel mutter a curse before him and most of the group go to attack the vamps flooding in the door. Gwen takes the two boys and runs to safety, while you try to help the youngest escape.
The ropes won’t seem to cut this time. The loud sound of bloody screams and heads thumping to the ground fills your ears, slightly distracting you. When the ropes finally cut, you realize he’s wounded. His wrist and ankles are bent at sickening angles, the bruises already forming.
“We have to go. Leave him.” Sam’s cold voice sends a shiver down your spine.
You gape in disbelief before reassuring the terrified child. “Sam, no. I’m not leaving him behind.”
He glances over at the feud that your group is obviously losing. Sam shrugs, his angry gaze piercing through you. “Have it your way.”
He and several other hunters flee, leaving you in the dust. You can hear your fast heartbeat through your ears as you decide what to do.
“Here, get on my back.” You help the boy crawl on your back weakly as you take off into a sprint. You take out a few vamps along the way, but you don’t see the leader in the corner of your eye. He knocks you to the side, the boy crying out in pain as he hits the ground.
The vamp pins you down, baring his ugly teeth with a waft of stale breath. Your machete is out of reach, and your arms can’t hold him away for longer.
Suddenly, the vamp’s head comes off with a sickening thump, his body slumping on top of you. Your savior, a new hunter in the group named John (ironically), helps you and the boy up. “Hurry, I’ll hold them off.”
You silently thank him, taking off towards the exit again. You sigh in relief when you smell the night air, the scent of freshly fallen rain in the air.
Samuel and the other hunters lead you to the vans parked nearby, where you leave the hell warehouse with the sound of squealing tires.
You and Gwen take the three boys to the hospital, explaining that you had found them in someone’s basement.
All the boys, but especially the youngest, look at you with admiration. That, you decide, is what makes your job worth it.
Your elated feeling dissipates the minute you return to base. The second you get out of the van, a strong arm throws you into the mud. You grunt as you hit the ground, your eyes wide in fear when your see Sam’s once loving eyes turn emotionless.
“You slow us down”, is all he says before brandishing a small pistol and aiming it at your head. You try to focus on his eyes, hoping it’ll bring some comfort. Although the color is exactly the same, they’re missing the life that’s always blooming in them. Instead, you close your eyes and wait for the nothingness, but it never comes. Samuel had luckily been fast enough to knock the gun out of Sam’s hand.
“Enough. Cool off, Sam”, he orders, pushing him away.
Your heart’s still thumping, even after you stand up and walk away, the mud sticking to your body.
Ah, yes. Looks can be deceiving.
I not only tagged the people on the Sam tag list, but also those who voted for the Sam fic. Let me know if any of you want to be permanently added to the Sam tag list (or any tag list…).
Host whispers a few healing words to Bim, not wanting to use too much of his energy and wanting to use it all at once in the same moment. He makes him comfortable on a couch backstage. “The Host will return for his friend soon, but he must first find the source of all this anguish and make sure that it can’t hurt anyone anymore.”
Bim gives Host’s hand a weak squeeze before his arm drops back onto the couch, and Host makes himself leave before he changes his mind. And he heads for the top floor.
It’s eerily silent. No sound of Dark’s angered shouts or piano music, only the ticking sound of a metronome. Host follows that faint sound, expecting to find Dark standing triumphantly in the window, ready to relish his victory.
But instead, Host trips over Dark’s limp form where he lies by the piano. Host kneels down. There’s a pulse and a warmth to his skin… a warmth. Almost as if he’s…
Host hears someone else in the corner, a quiet whimper and a shuffling as someone crawls over quickly and wraps Host up in an embrace. Host feels a cotton t-shirt and glasses. “Oliver?”
“I-I fi-finished the cr-cranes,” he says softly, voice quavering and afraid. “A-and I-I made my wi-wish.”
Host listens, confused.
“I-I wished that D-Dark would be better,” Ollie says, clinging even tighter to Host. “A-and then…”
“Oh, Oliver,” Host gasps.
“I didn’t mean to!” Oliver starts to cry and shake. “I didn’t know it would do this!”
Dark grunts from his place on the floor and begins to stir. He sits up, eyes wide with both terror and awe as he looks down at himself. He’s not black and white anymore. There’s color to his skin and his eyes and his hair and even his clothes. He stares down at his hands and grips them into fists.
“I’m…” He looks up at Host and Oliver. “What happened to me?”
Host sighs, the pain and sadness mounting in his chest until it’s almost too much to speak. “Oliver set you free from your aura.”
Dark’s face falls. He knows. He knows what that means.
When I was in 8th grade, my mom forced me to go to the 8th grade dance. Her reason being, “You should go to these things!” and “It’ll be fun; all of your friends will be there!” (Please don’t make your kids do things just because other kids enjoy it.)
At the dance, I ended up sitting in the corner just watching everyone else. I was dreading every moment, and willing people to stop coming up to me and asking what was wrong and if I wanted to join them. (I also remember seriously contemplating whether or not to ask the DJ to turn the music down considerably, but decided against it since that’d mean walking closer to the speakers.)
My few friends eventually dragged me out onto the dance floor, and I almost started crying. The music was so loud I had to cover my ears to stop my head from pounding, and the bass was so strong I could feel it reverberating in my stomach. It made me feel sick and I couldn’t understand how everyone else was jumping around enjoying themselves in the hurricane of noise and people. All I wanted to do was crawl back into my corner and curl up. Which I did, when my ISFJ friend saw my eyes watering and let me go.
That, my friends, is what happens when inferior Se is overloaded and not well developed. I spent the whole day after reading alone in my room, unsure about why I was so exhausted. I haven’t gone to another dance since.
After a terrifying experience during which Lance, seemingly, dies, Keith is haunted by horrible nightmares of holding his comrade in his arms while he took his final breath. To the point where he can’t sleep unless he knows for absolute certain that Lance is alive.
And while the attention is surprising, Lance doesn’t really have a problem with Keith checking up on him. Or the fact that Keith only seems totally comforted when he can cuddle Lance close and hear his heart beat. After all, there’s nothing wrong with two bros cuddling. It doesn’t MEAN anything. Or, at least, that’s what Lance keeps telling himself.
Keith knew he was being over-protective and ridiculous. And he also knew that Lance didn’t appreciate it. But… but he didn’t know how not to be. Every time he tried to convince himself he was being too uptight, he’d feel Lance’s dead weight in his arms, and those lifeless eyes would flash before his own. Like he was haunted by the image, over and over and over.
He was barely able to sleep as a result. When Lance had still been in the healing pod, that was where he’d gone. In the dimmed glow of the infirmary, he’d sat in front of the pod and just… wasted time away. Sometimes he’d read, sometimes he’d take one of the handheld mind games Allura had given them. But none of that had ever held his focus for long. Not with Lance before him, looking so lifeless and limp and just…
Now that he was awake and well, Keith was both relieved, but also terrified—despite how ridiculous he knew the feeling was. Lance was more than capable of taking care of himself. He did fly a Voltron lion, after all. And though he was prone to getting into clearly avoidable trouble, he was serious when it counted.
Yet the irrational anxiety remained. Just the feeling of… of Lance taking his last breath and Keith was on his feet, needing some kind of relief from the memory. And now that Lance was out of the healing pod, it was that much harder to check up on him.
It was stupid, but for what seemed like the billionth night in a row, Keith was up and on his feet. Out of the habit he’d developed during the last month, he found his steps guiding him to the infirmary. It was where he’d found the most comfort during the nights when Lance’s eyes had seemed dullest in his memories. But now… Now Lance was gone and as he stared at the shadowed, empty space where the pod had been elevated, he found no relief. Only further anxiety as his skin crawled with the sensation of Lance’s weight. Weight he’d dragged from Blue and sobbed over in a scene he didn’t want to revisit.
He knew he’d completely lost it following Lance’s death. That he’d been inconsolable for days, to the point where Allura had had to put him under, lest he become ill with lack of sleep. He could barely remember those first few days with how distraught he’d been. He vaguely remembered being curled up in the corner of the infirmary, crying and frustrated and covered in Lance’s blood.
No, he needed to stop thinking about it. Lance was fine. He was alive. He was breathing.
He was. He had to be. No, Keith couldn’t see it for himself, but it had to be true.
At this point in her
day, even unlocking the front doors felt like a hell for Y/n. She didn’t know
why she was flipping off on this innocence lock that did nothing to her.
But seriously, could
anything else go wrong today? First in the morning she overslept, plus Justin
wouldn’t let go of her, then she broke her nail, which isn’t a big of a deal,
but it happened. Then she spilled coffee all over herself and almost fell.
And as a bonus, like her day didn’t suck
already, her dumb boss was hitting on her, once again.
She just wanted to
crawl into a ball, somewhere in a corner of the room and scream and cry, as
loud as she could.
As soon as she managed
to unlock the doors and push them open, she heard steps coming down the stairs,
very energetic ones.
And then Justin’s body
popped behind the wall, smiling, with his arms spread for a welcoming hug.
“Y/N” he shouted like an excited kid, making his way towards her.
Her face expression
made him stop and drop his hands against his body. “Bad day, huh.” Justin mumbled
mostly to himself.
Y/n only nodded,
because she didn’t feel like talking, but also she feared she might cry out of
all the stress.
He extended his left
arm “C’mon.” Y/n took his hand and followed him. He pulled her closer so they
were walking next to each other, as close as they could. He connected their
fingers and placed their hands behind her head.
He took her upstairs,
towards their shared room. “Get rid of that.” Justin pointed at her clothes as
he disappeared behind the bathroom doors.
Moments later Y/n
heard the water running, and Justin whistling some unknown song. Probably
something he wrote but never published. Sometimes she wanted to beat his ass
for not realising such great songs.
She threw her bag on
the bed, and started undressing as she was walking towards the clothes. She
didn’t even feel good completely naked, so she took out one silky rope and put
When she turned
around, Justin was already leaning onto the doors waiting for her. When their
eyes met, he turned around and walked into bathroom, and she silently followed
He prepared her a
bubbly bath, the lights were dim, but he light up her favourite candle so
everything smelled like roses. It smelled like she was in a heaven garden,
surrounded with the most beautiful roses.
Justin was sitting on
the edge of the bath, playing with bubbly water. Y/n approached him, she took
her rope off, and Justin helped her get into the bath.
She put her head back,
closed her eyes and appreciated the feeling of hot water on her body. “Thank
you.” Y/n mumbled.
Y/n thought Justin was
going to join her, but when she opened her eyes to invite him, he was long
gone. She was too bothered with the hot bath to realise he disappeared
Y/n sat up and looked
towards the doors, but as little as she could see, he wasn’t in the room. Just
as she was about to call his name, Justin appeared with two cups in his hands.
She could smell the
scent of hot chocolate from across the room. He handed her one and she was
quick to taste it. “Mhm.” Y/n mumble against her cup.
Just like she loved
it, sweet but not too much, with little marshmallows on the top. She put her
both hands around the cup, and before she took another sip, she whispered.
Justin placed his cup
on the edge, and slowly started taking his clothes off. Her eyes never left his
Soon he was standing
there naked, Y/n moved forward in the bath so Justin could sit behind her. Once
he was in, Y/n leaned onto his chest.
She placed her cup
aside, closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment. She heard the water move and in
the next moment Justin’s hands were around her neck, massaging her lightly.
“Mhm.” Y/n mumbled
again. “Have I ever told you how magical your hands are?”
“I’m pretty sure you
did.” Justin whispered into her hair.
Y/n chucked and Justin
joined her. “But have I ever told you how cute your little giggles are?”
“I am afraid not.” Y/n
“Well how rude of me.
I will use this opportunity and tell you, that you have the cutest little smile
I have ever heard.”
“That smile only exist
when I am with you.” Y/n said turning her head to face him. He was already
“That’s so cheesy.”
“You are all cheesy.”
Y/n giggled too.
Justin connected their
lips, for a quick peck on the lips. Y/n moved away and looked into Justin’s
“What would I do
without you?” Y/n asked.
“Be lost, mostly.”
“You really know how
to ruin a moment, don’t ya?”
“It’s my middle name.”
“Wait, I thought Dick
was your middle name.” Y/n said raising her eyebrow, pretending to be very
Justin squeezed his
eyes a little bit, and then attacked Y/n with tickles. Y/n tried to move away
but she didn’t have anywhere to go.
Y/n’s laughter, Justin’s
giggles and the sound of water being splashed everywhere, fill the room.
“Justin, stop.” Y/n
managed to say in between the laughter.
“I don’t want to.”
“Please.” Y/n begged.
And then he stopped.
“Alright, since you asked so nicely.”
Y/n connected their
lips once again. “I love you, you idiot.” She mumbled against his lips.
“I love you too, dummy.”
Justin mumbled into the kiss.
“You don’t have work
tomorrow, right?” Justin asked once they separated, when Y/n nodded, Justin continued.
“We should have a
“I choose movie, you
make popcorns?” Y/n asked.
“Sounds like a plan to
me.” Justin smiled.
Something short for the weekend, know i havent posted in a while, and im sorry, school sucks but i still have to do some shit for it.