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tarjapearce · 3 months

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Chapter 7: Silent Violence is Humbled

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: Tension, Angst, emotional discomfort, fluff and comfort towards the end, Strained friendships, verbal abuse, character introspection, character study, anger, hurt, family dynamics.

Summary: Karma keeps it's siege, and a new milestone hits the mark.

A/N: So. sorry for the delay, had to make some reports for my internship (I'm almost done and out with it 🥹 yay.)

Leaving the hospital wasn't precisely good. A new debt was added to your already trembling credit and to top it off, you were left with meds, a scheduled appointment with a therapist and a plethora of vitamins and supplements.

Of course you had reported everything but the gruesome details to your immediate boss. Not that she didn't sound convinced, rather shocked you were in the hospital.

You only could hope complications wouldn't be a regular guest in your life and bank account.

"I can hear you thinking from here. You ok?" MJ mumbled as she stirred a couple of eggs into the pan. You stared into the endless and spiralling void. Picking at the hospital's pale blue plastic band around your wrist.

You had spaced out as soon as you got home, the remnants of the perilous encounter with Miguel somehow still remained etched to your skin and mind. Unable to let go completely.

"I think I'll start looking for a better paying job somewhere else."

MJ watched you for a second, "You'll quit Alchemax?"

With a groan, you slouched on the dining table, placing a hand ontop of your head

"I'd love to, but I can't yet. Not until I have something certain anyways. Gotta suck it up for a bit more."

"I'll help you look up on other companies, who knows maybe we find a better thing for you. I don't feel comfortable with you being there with that crazy asshole working in there too. Do you want extra bacon?"

"Pretty please. Thank you, MJ. And yeah, if you're not a scientist in Alchemax, you're basically another exploited worker."

"Stop thanking me. You're my best friend. And I'll help, let me ask Peter if he knows about something somewhere."

She served the breakfast and placed the plate before you. Mayday announced her awakening with a mumble, her tiny hands rubbed her eyes to then look around sleepily, until her blue eyes met MJ.

You couldn't help but stare at the motherly displaying ritual.

Mayday's eyes lit up, shining brighter as MJ approached with a genuine smile that only matched her daughter's.

Your best friend enveloped her little girl in her arms, showering her in affection, earning her a couple of lovely squeals.

"Rested well, sweetheart?"

"Ma ma"

Those syllables alone made your heart leap as a myriad of emotions flooded your brain. The concept you had of it wasn't nothing alike what you were witnessing. There wasn't unnecessary yelling, cussing or physical abuse. All the opposite. A little rush of envy coursed through, but it faded quickly as it came.

It was odd, really. To behold such intimate moment of bonding between the both. It came so natural, full of love and everything you, sometimes at your age still were getting acquainted with. Patience, understanding and caring.

Mayday rested her head on MJ's shoulder and stared at you. Like seizing you for the first time ever, paying attention to your very moves, curious, scrutinizing your soul with her lovely and innocent eyes, leaving no room for disingenuous acts.

You gulped

"Hello" You waved coyly and your heart trembled with something unknown as she giggled your way, approving of your presence. She knew no evil nor judgement. Mayday didn't judge you. Just like her mother. She was pure joy.

"When's the shrink's appointment?"

MJ's voice snapped you out of your mutinied thoughts.

"Uh in a month or two." You mumbled while digging in your breakfast. It tasted like utter love and heaven after having nothing in your stomach for more than a day, and your stomach tolerated it well.

"Are you nervous?" MJ fed Mayday with the bottle, your mind subconsciously took notes of the way she held, fed and talked to her.

"Very. Not a fan of spilling my issues to strangers, even if it's their job."

"I know it might be difficult for you, considering the shitty attention you had before with them. But if the doctor says so, you must do it."

"I know." Your lips sighed, heavy with resignation to then purse into a tiny smile, " I just wanna move on, you know?"

"You will, I know so. You're strong, sweetie. Now eat up and drink your vitamins."

You chuckled, feeling her maternal instinct through the table.

"I think I'm already gaining weight."

MJ chortled as she wiped Mayday's cheek and lips, to then kiss the tip of her nose.

"Wait until you get your feet swollen, the hormone changes. Acne on your back, and the need to jump on-"

"Ok! ok, got it." Your cheeks flushed as the redhead just laughed now at your embarrassment.

"It won't be easy, but you'll get used to some stuff. You'll see."

-----

If there was something that Peter wouldn't openly admit, was the fact he disliked Miguel's sense of disposition of his time.

Sometimes his friend's hubristic demands had him juggling between his own time and his family.

Peter hated when Miguel simply let him know he was on his way. He didn't care if he was busy or was about to be, but also meant one thing. Stress was eating Miguel alive and he, as his best friend, was the only he could rely onto to take away such heavy burden.

With a sigh, Peter prepared mentally for the night. Specially to give his ever patient wife an explanation of a sudden visit. As if the universe made sure MJ and Miguel to never properly meet beyond pleasantries. If they had seen and meet eachother a couple of times was too many.

MJ was either out because of work, leaving him and Mayday alone, or the days and hours Miguel visited were when MJ was already asleep or too busy to sit and socialise with her husband's friends.

Peter has known Miguel for a couple of years by now, and still things didn't change.

He put a couple of beers to cool, then stirred the pasta. Miguel wasn't a picky eater, yet it made Peter stress over the food choice. But MJ wanted pasta and he was none to ignore his wife's whims over his friend's.

How long has it been since he saw Miguel? Months? Half a year? He didn't remember, but hoped that he wouldn't stay too long. Work had chewed, ate and spat him on the floor way too many times to count today.

His shoulders slumped, defeated before hia daughter's sweetness when Mayday gave him a toothy grin, he returned the smile, although tiredly.

"Let's get you some dinner."

He held his daughter in one arm, as he served a bit of noodles in her favorite spider-ham bowl and somw juice in her sippy cup. Peter put her in her chair and placed the food before her just in time as the doorbell rang.

"It's not that I don't like him, you know? I'm just tired today." Peter mumbled to himself and Mayday as he scratched his stubble and walked over the door.

May could only look at him, curious, bur the bright colors of her cup demanded her attention. To his little surprise, the man in question was there, scrolling through his phone in the meantime. Dressed in a casual button shirt, dark jeans and dress shoes, holding a small bag of sweets as a gift.

"Could you please start letting me know when you're coming over from now on? It's not that hard."

Peter's frustration wafted through his words as Miguel chuckled and followed him, the smell of cologne tickled the host's nose, almost a bit too pungent.

"Had to. Needed a distraction. Here"

He handed the paper bag to him, full of artisanal mexican sweets. At least this time, Miguel was thoughtful enough to bring something he knew Peter liked.

But it also meant one thing. A long night ahead.

With a sigh and defeated shoulders, Peter went to the kitchen, rummaging through the simple glassware to fetch a couple of glasses.

"I have... soda, apple juice, can't give you the beer until Mayday's asleep."

Miguel just quirked a brow and went for water. It was kinda bothersome for him how something so trivial as drinking a beer was a forbidden thing among parents whenever their children were around.

Overprotection and alienation from such things would only make them curious if anything. At least that's how it worked for Miguel. Still, it was Peter's home, and he had to play by the unspoken parenting rules his friend followed to a T.

How inconvenient

Miguel's eyes wandered through the table to land on Mayday. As a happy kid she was, the sauce was smeared all over her cheeks and chin, even her hands and forearms. Some noodles hung on her chin.

Even though his logical side appealed towards a scientific fact about babies discovering everything through their hands and mouth, the sole idea of having to deal with it on a daily basis and probably at every hour the kid would be awake and eating, made his eyes to tear away from the child and sigh, relieved he didn't have to cope with that sort of problem.

He had done his part, and against all logic, you had decided to keep the baby.

Pendeja. (Dumbass)

He huffed, annoyed to none but himself.

What would you do? It wasn't his problem anymore. He had more important things to think about than you and your stupid choices. His jaw clenched.

" You're gonna scare Mayday if you keep glaring like that."

Peter spoke as he cleaned up his daughter after feeding her with some bits of sausages. Miguel sighed as his arms untangled from his chest. A habit he subconsciously adopted as he was way too deep in negative thoughts. He gave his body some slack. He had came here in order to relax amd distract himself.

"Wanna tell me what happened or you wanna wait by having some pasta?"

In fact, now that Miguel was here he could take a good look at the scene before him. Peter had changed so much to the point of transforming himself into a completely different persona.

There was no more staying up past one am, lost in beers and talking about whatever thing alcohol made him spill out of his mouth. Reluctantly, good days. And now Peter was serving him some overcooked pasta that somehow tasted good. Even for him.

Hypocrite.

His mind reprimanded himself. He had wanted kids once but now seeing how it changed and rewired the brain chemistry and your fiasco, the thought of them had been shoved to the very back of his priorities. He had a career and money to make, not play house amd happy family with a stranger.

As much as Peter was his only true friend, he didn't want to look awful and perpetually tired because of a kid, like him.

With a sigh he dug on the food while staring at the both. The tangy smell of the sauce induced the little hunger he ate the pasta. A couple of minutes later passed when the key's tinkering echoed from the main door, revealing none other than MJ balancing a couple of paper bags in hands.

Miguel watched as Peter immediately rushed to her side and helped her out, while welcoming her with a kiss.

"Smells good!" MJ chirped and made her way towards the kitchen, Mayday's eyes lit up as soon as she saw her mama. A bubbly squeal received her when MJ ruffled her fiery curls and took her in her arms, rattling Miguel's ears.

"Hello there, precious" MJ kissed her cheek but then focused her gaze on Miguel. He tensed briefly to then give a polite smile.

"Hey."

MJ nodded and gave her respective hello back. Peter came into the dinning table with an awkward smile. He didn't need to explain the presence of his friend to his wife, as she quickly picked up the cue to get Mayday to sleep.

For some reason, the energy in the room was suffocating. As if Miguel was the black hole sucking the life and energy out of everything even without intending. Yet, Peter tried to shoo the negative aura that lurked around ominously by unpacking the groceries as he talked to MJ

"How was your day?"

"Good, a bit tiresome. But definitely better now than I'm home."

"Want extra cheese in your pasta? Oh! Miguel got us some candies."

MJ smiled politely at him, "Thanks for that. I loved the eh... Maz-uhpan?"

"Mazapán." he corrected gently.

"That thing. Peter, dear can you get the tub ready for May?"

It was Peter's cue to meet her in private.

"Excuse me." She took Mayday and Peter followed, leaving Miguel alone for a moment. Giving him a break from unwanted displays of family dynamics.

Once in the bathroom and away from prying eyes and ears, MJ cleared her throat

"Before you get angry, I didn't know he was coming until fourty five minutes ago."

MJ quirked a brow knowingly and huffed.

"I know. Still, the least he could do is to let us know he's coming over, Pete."

Peter nodded while rubbing his face, tiredly.

"I'm sorry, ok? Will make him go away soon. He's not having a good time right now."

MJ rolled her eyes while Peter added some soap to the water.

"Yeah, he only comes for a visit whenever he needs something out of you."

"MJ" Peter grunted the silent plea. 'Not now.'

She chuckled and kissed his cheek, "You know it's true. But, if it works for you, then ok. Just don't stay up past one. You snore too loud whenever you get little sleep."

"Relax, he probably just want to ramble, take a beer and leave."

"Alright, alright. He could tone his perfume a bit though. I can smell him from here. Go have fun."

-----

The beers clinked in the table, their taste numbed briefly Miguel's throat and tongue. It burned good as the sour liquid rolled down his esophagus, while Peter rambled on about the many pictures he showed him of Mayday.

Not that he didn't appreciate Peter's attempt to make him forget whatever problems were pestering his mind. But if honest, he grew tired after the sixth photo.

"You should have another."

That made Peter shut up and he chuckled.

"No no. With her is enough."

"You sound regretful."

Miguel mumbled as he finished his beer, Peter shook his head vehemently.

"At all. I know I look like shit, Mig. Still, would do it all over again. Like, look at this!" Peter got the screen close to his bored face with another picture and Miguel pushed it away softly.

"Yeah, she's a pretty girl. Got it."

"You don't get it. Once a kid shows up, everything changes."

You've got no idea...

His mind replied, as his body tensed once more.

"Have you talked about this with Dana?"

The name only made the urge to down the other beer in a go, but his mind almost slapped some sense into him and reminded him this wasn't his home.

MJ's steps alerted both men briefly as she came for her extra bowl of soggy pasta and wash Mayday's bottles.

"We broke up." He stated simply with a disdainful shrug

"What the fuck?

MJ turned to Peter, a brow quirked at his choice of words but focused again on the bottle.

"Miguel, you texted me, saying you were looking for wedding venues with Dana. And now you're single again?"

MJ's breath hitched.

Dana

Oh God

Dana D'Angelo.

Miguel's fiance. And the one that slapped you.

MJ had been so busy with work and her motherly duties that totally forgot about her husband's companion.

Miguel.

The man that only relied on her husband's company whenever life was too much for him. An acquaintance that she had only seen a couple of times and shared the same roof as her, although briefly in the few times Peter invited him over.

And also, the man that had gotten you pregnant, and had sent you to the hospital in a fit of rage. The very man that was causing you so much pain, had taken a place on her table, with her family and now was talking comfortably with her husband about his failed love, thanks to none other but himself.

Her heart wrenched and beat so fast in between powerful contractions that it made her breath shaky.

A monster was in her home. A terrible man had waltzed into her safe space and was tainting with his rottenness everything he touched, with his pungent and hubristic smell. His cologne and attitude only made her stomach churn.

"It didn't work out."

She turned to see him, unbelieving in her green eyes. So well behaved, ever polite and not an ounce of guiltiness in his judging stare. Entitled even, as if the world owed him just cause he existed. MJ understood now why it was so easy for you to fall into his trap, but the anger that clawed at her brain was greater than anything she had experienced before.

How dared he come into her home and play the victim when he had forsaken you and his child? How dared he disrupt the natural balance in her house with his mere presence?

"She was getting too annoying for me, anyways. Always behaving crazy." Miguel gestured with a terse movement of his hand before slicking his dark brown strands back.

Oh, how dared he. Those last words made her patience thread to stretch impossibly thin, that it broke.

"Well of course she'll act crazy! You fucking cheated on her!." MJ's hands balled tight at her sides, and glared daggers at Miguel.

Both men snapped to look in her way.

Miguel's eyes widened and Peter blinked almost stupidly at his wife and then at his friend that seemed like a deer caught in the headlights. Few little things in life managed to surprise Miguel, and MJ exposing his dirtiest secret to the only person he trusted outside Dana so carelessly and abruptly, had definitely caught him off guard.

"W-What?"

"He cheated on Dana, Peter."

Miguel swallowed thickly, a shaky breath turned into a steady one, anger coursing through his veins, his mahogany eyes narrowed.

Not them too...

He rubbed his face and hair again, trying to remain composed. If Dana had came for him and gave him no truce, MJ went straight to the jugular. Remorselessly for the kill.

How did she know?

A new wave of fury washed over him at the sudden implication his mind was brewing with, his hand clawed at his bouncing knee.

Did she know you?

What a sick, twisted and small world he lived in. Of course she did. Or else he wouldn't be here, trying to come up with a reply to his shocked friend. But he was cut short from everything, even thinking.

"You don't know shit." Miguel couldn't help but hiss, and his words were enough to throw Peter's patience out the window.

"That's my wife you're talking to, pal." Peter scowled, flabbergasted at Miguel's words as he stood with a warning finger waving at his... friend?, "Tone it the fuck down."

"She doesn't know what she's talking about, Pete!"

Miguel felt ridiculous, not only cause the now constant need of explaining himself, but the absurdity of the situation. He was holding his friend's arm, trying to get Peter to believe him, just like he did with Dana.

But Peter was focused into getting MJ calmed down as she kept cussing his way

"Of course I know, asshole!" She spat, "I know enough of you to say how much of a piece of shit you are!"

That definitely earned her a growl "Whatch your fucking tone"

"Or what?! You'll try and hurt me too like you did with (Name)?! My friend has been suffering nonstop because of your pathetic excuses of being a man!"

If the many years prior to marry MJ taught Peter something, was that if she used foul language meant she was beyond pissed, and rightfully so. She wasn't one for cursing, and things surely would end up terribly wrong.

"You cheated your fiancé, got my best friend pregnant and demanded her to get an abortion-"

"Wait... You... you did what?" Peter's eyes widened and hardened, Miguel was cornered as Peter faced him, still containing his wife.

"No, no. That's bullshit!" Miguel's hand gestured as the other anchored to his hip. His poor attempt of bravery did nothing but set the fire ablaze in its full glory, it all had caught him so off guard he barely could think of comebacks to fend for himself.

"God... You're such a fucking liar!" Peter held MJ back as she seethed, trying to get a hold of Miguel, "I was there at the clinic with her! Cause she tried to correct your fucking mess!"

"I tried to fix-"

"You don't get shit fixed by writing her a fucking check and tell her to get rid of your child! Man the fuck up already! She's so under so much pressure now-"

"Because she's so stupid and chose to fucking keep that thing!" roared Miguel. Tired of being cornered without his usual pretense of control. Shoulders heaving with shaky and wrathful breaths, realizing the mistake he just did.

Peter glowered at him. Not only had he dared to yell at his wife but had been lying to him this whole time. And Mayday was crying. The commotion had been too great that woke her up.

Another pillar in his life was crumbling around, shaking the little constants he still remained with, to their very core.

Peter seized with him a look he had never seen before in his apparently dumb face. Disgust. He was about to protest but Peter's question only brought him to a too bright and unwanted spotlight.

"Is that true?" The tinge in Parker's voice held nothing but utter disbelief, not accusing, but skeptical. As if realizing he was being fooled this whole time as well. Peter slapped Miguel's hands away as he tried to reach for him again.

Shit

His aloof act had spreaded way too fast that didn't give it time to properly root and settle on his inner's circle brains ro control later. Peter growled at the stretching and pregnant silence.

"I'm fucking talking to you." The hard push of his hand made him sway softly, "Is that true!?"

Miguel's eyes widened. Peter's bravado and anger was something he didn't know until now. If honest, Miguel thought of him a complete goof that did everything his wife told him to. A complete mandilón.

If MJ told him to bark, he would and even do a flip while at it. But this man before him was different. Confident, authoritative, honorable, pushing his patience to new limits and oh so disgusted at his actions. A true father and man, unlike him.

A reluctant daddy.

Miguel really had a hard time grasping the magnitude of his doings and how they affected others, cause his remorse was absent. Everything he should be feeling at this collective verbal berating was gone. He was more focused in the defensive than offensive, and he failed.

Upon Miguel's silence, Peter just stared at him and sighed. He wasn't worth it.

"You need to leave, Miguel."

Ash soured the aforementioned throat. A thick lump knotted tightly on Miguel's windpipe.

"What? You're believing every word that comes out of her just like that?"

The question itself was stupid, he knew much so. But Peter didn't budge, in fact, he didn't even look at him as MJ went to fetch her daughter.

"You gotta be kidding me, Parker"

"Am I fucking joking? No. Leave." He shimmied away from Miguel's grasping hands with a disgruntled growl

"Look, I know I fucked up, okay-"

"Damn right you did" Peter pushed him away once more

"Can you listen?! " Tanned fingers sunk on Peter's arms forcefully, preventing him from escaping further, but that only earned him a powerful shove that made him nearly fall. Unlike you, that barely moved him an inch .

"Not this time. I talk and you listen. My home, my rules. Don't like it, get the fuck off." Peter hissed, the day's misfortunes and stress had piled up in his brain and Miguel's actions did nothing but set it all on fire.

"You can't just come into my house unannounced, yell at my wife for calling you out and your bullshit and expect me to remain quiet." His hands moved frantically, "You can't go around acting stupid, being a shitty friend, hurting people and believing the world owes you shit, Miguel!"

Peter turned his back on him, breathing deeply, trying to control the rising anger, finally breaking contact. His shoulders slumped with defeat.

"I knew you were an asshole, but c'mon man... Your own child? Really?" His blue eyes felt like an iceberg caressing upon seizing him a over his shoulder.

"Y dale con la misma pendejada... I did what I thought was right, okay?!" Miguel protested, trying to appeal to that good side that definitely lacked right now.

Peter turned again and stepped in a few strides closer to him, fear lacked in his glare, instead a fiery and scorching fury burned within

"Manning up is the right thing." His calm seething only made Miguel gulp, "Owing your mistakes is the right thing to do!" Peter's voice raised an octave louder

"What kind of fucked up logic is to think you can choose to cheat but choose to not face the consequences?!" Peter jabbed with force his index finger at the treacherous man's chest before him as he hissed every word.

"Funny thing is that you always saw me as a clown. Always bragged on how perfect your life was and thought of me a man child." Each word that came out from Peter was like a stone hitting Miguel,

"And look at you now, acting exactly like that!. How ironic that the roles reversed now." Peter's voice trailed off.

Miguel rolled his eyes so hard it hurted "No me jodas, Parker. Don't fuck with me with your shitty morals You didn't want children either, remember?!."

Disappointment and repugnance plastered all over Peter's face as he shook his head.

"People can do something called change, Miguel. Call me whatever you want, but at least I can say I am a man, cause I owe my mistakes. I don't go around screwing people over and then leave them to fend for themselves."

Peter went to the main door and opened it, with nothing else worthy to spill at Miguel, "Get out."

"You're an hypocrite. When you didn't want kids, everything is alright, but when I do I'm a fucking monster?"

He wasn't welcomed comed anymore. And this only added a couple of more weights in his already heavy bag of burdens, igniting his arrogance even further.

"Are you seriously playing the victim right now?" Peter huffed, "Grow a pair, Miguel. You need them. Get out."

Peter was done, all the energy that had been left was sucked out of him and the stranger before his presence was his biggest leech, he awaited for Miguel to leave, which made the exposed man's chest tighten uncomfortably. The friendship had crumbled. There wasn't anything left for him to salvage anyway.

"Fine." He took his jacket with a forceful grab, "Have it your way then." He spat and left the house with a slam that shook the doorframe.

Your eyes raked over the cream colored walls, as your back nested comfortably against the stretcher. Silence reigned with such deliciousness it soothed your underlying nerves.

A month and a half had gone by ever since yiu had that unwilling visit to the hospital, hitting the sixteen weeks of pregnancy. Your meds worked relatively good, and so did the vitamins to the point of getting a bit more strength and color in you.

But today was different. Everything felt different ever since you woke up. The sheets felt divine, the mattress had the right amount of hardness to help with the lumbar area.

The water in the shower felt heavenly on your skin, it was as if the universe was preparing you for a surprise after so many tough times.

Whatever it had planned, you hoped it was good, or at least, digestible enough to not choke you with it.

The doctor, Mrs. Vincent, typed some information in her computer, then stood to whir the machine alive.

"Lift your shirt up, please." Once you did, she smeared a dollop of blue gel on your naked belly, something you barely had the chance to admire, too busy trying to adapt to the emerging changes in your body.

Some clothes had stopped fitting and if they did, they were a chip too tight. The baby bump wasn't enormous like you had thought, but it wasn't small either, after all, Miguel was a big man. It had enough curvature to make your belly poke out from any clothes you had.

I feel like a walking avocado...

MJ was sitting next to you. Although you felt guilty because of the scene Miguel created at her home, she was more than happy to put him in his place, and so her husband. Peter.

Bless him.

You haven't properly known the man but that action alone of standing up for you against his friend of years, made you a bit hopeful.

You weren't looking for a partner, much less a father to the creature growing within, the least you wanted to do was to complicate yourself even more and add another thing in the already long lists of stress you went by.

But in truth, you wished to be there to see his downfall. Not that you were spiteful, but karma surely was a beautiful thing to watch. And the thought of him being this scared and uncomfortable man, the opposite of what you had seen and experienced, made your lips curve into a satisfied smile.

Life had heard your pleas and you were thankful.

Your breath hitched as soon as the machine's accessory made contact with your skin. Cool plastic, like the cold gel all over your skin.

"Let's see", Dr. Vincent mumbled as she adjusted her glasses in her nose bridge. The white light illuminated well the, place, her faint smell of vanilla perfume tickled your nose, it wasn't an offensive perfume, but it made you a little queasy.

It definitely shut down the medicinal smell you had been received with.

Dr. Vincent's gloved hands took the transducer and gently moved it around your belly.

"Does it feels cold?"

You nodded with a nervous smile, "A bit, yeah."

Mayday's giggles echoed behind you, MJ shushed her with some gentle words and her breath hitched when she looked at the screen.

The redhead looked like was experiencing so many things for the first time again, yet she held your hand with excitement thrumming in her skin.

"Look at that, Mama"

The word still made you uncomfortable, but the way the doctor had spilled it felt oddly soothing. The baby was there, etched forever to your womb, growing within your guts each passing day, squirming like a little worm, making it's presence known with a kick.

MJ could only watch as you chuckled. Your features softened the more you stared at the screen. But then your eyes widened at seeing the baby's 3D image.

Resting against one of your womb, comfortably, squeezing it's little hands over and over.

And if honest, curiosity had gotten a vice like grip on you. The way the baby moved and nested within you was equally disturbing and beautiful.

The transducer moved all over as Dr. Vincent looked up the right angle. Breath grew short and caught in your throat at the doctors next words.

"There she is"

MJ gasped, excited and your eyes turned bleary.

A girl. You were having a girl.

"Congrats, Mama." The doctor printed the pictures.

The little bean inside was a girl. There was no longer an it, no longer the creature, or the baby.

Despite the though times you've endured, she was healthy. Perfectly developing, a bit underweight, but healthy.

A myriad of things crossed your mind, panic, admiration, fear and so much confusion. They all swirled inside your jumbled head, fighting over the control of your emotions.

MJ squeezed your hand as soon as she noticed the red-ish hue blooming in your nose and the glossy eyes.

A little sniff was stifled. The doctor smiled at your apparent emotional reaction.

"It's ok to cry. I've gotten too many boys in the week, seeing a girl a was a change of pace. Thank you for that, hun." Dr. Vincent spoke with a sweet voice.

You couldn't help but sob silently. Digesting every second of what had just happened. The nauseas had subsided momentarily, as if sensing you needed your strength for something else.

It didn't help your hormones that Mayday took a hold of your finger, big blue eyes staring at you with pure child like wonder as if demanding your attention. Your lips quivered, and when she cooed your way, you broke.

It's alright.

She'd surely say. MJ held you close, rubbing your back in soothing circles, letting you absorb the news at your own pace.

"You ok?"

You nodded, holding onto her tightly.

"It's a girl, MJ"

Your best friend smiled sympathetically your way, "Indeed. And she's healthy. You've done a fantastic job in keeping her that way, sweetie. I'm proud of you."

Her words did nothing but make you cry harder.

"I'm so scared, MJ"

"I know. But it's alright. I'm here and Mayday too, remember?"

You chuckled in between tears and sighed, while wiping your tears.

"I'm so scared cause... I don't wanna repeat things all over with her."

"Then let's make them differently, ok? I'm here. You're not alone."

You hugged her once more.

"Let's celebrate, yeah?"

"I... I don't know if I should even do that, all things considered."

MJ chided your name gently.

"You deserve it. You've faced so much already, this little girl right here" She placed her hand in your belly, "has stayed healthy and perfect because of you. You've done so much. So let's celebrate that, ok?"

Even if you thought yourself undeserving of such thing, you nodded and followed her.

You wouldn't admit it, but a deep deep part of you bloomed with a little seed of curiosity and excitement.

-----

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@serpentstarr @randomnobody187 @8xbygirl @del-ightfulling @iytatsworld @moonzuzuu @huehuehuehuehehe @ryk-mt @deputy-videogamer @sizeablysized @katitakenway @stealyourblorbos @beingdeluluisthesolulu @death-moth-art @obsessedwithromance @crybabiixo @spiderpapi2099 @tremendouswolfsaladranch @cherrycosmos392 @sbrn0905 @xylianasblog @elgatofx @eepiebeepie @vonev @tatatida @freehentai @scaryplanetdestroyer @minalovesyoubabes @emeloyy @migueloharastruelove @jdbxws @m4dyy @nyxzoldyck6 @fruitychae @francesca-the-1st @siidmm @ana-paulinathe-arts @artyanimi @damhanallagorm @lauraolar14 @what-is-your-wish @oharasfilipinawife @jellyboob @aockskcw @ittybxttykxttytxtty @smartyren @plumplum2099 @angel-of-the-moons @reader-1290 @kaidxra @kimmis-stuff @amberpanda99 @orangemango7

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #Of Flowers and Hummingbirds #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara angst

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blackswaneuroparedux · 1 year

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If Caravaggio were alive today today, he would have loved the cinema; his paintings take a cinematic approach. We filmmakers became aware of his work in the late 1960s and early 1970s, and he certainly was an influence on us. The best part for us was that in many cases he painted religious subject-matter but the models were obviously people from the streets; he had prostitutes playing saints. There’s something in Caravaggio that shows a real street knowledge of the sinner; his sacred paintings are profane.

Martin Scorsese on Caravaggio

Michelangelo Merisi, known to most of us as “Caravaggio,” was born on September 29, 1571 in Milan, Italy, to parents who were from the small town of Caravaggio. In the span of his 38 years long life he revolutionised painting with innovations like a unique use of chiaroscuro - with dark shadows contrasting with dramatic areas of light - and a deep sense of realism that later inspired the Baroque movement. But most of all, he developed such an iconic style that most of us can probably look at a painting and know if it’s a Caravaggio, or Caravaggio-inspired.

Merisi spent the first few years of his life in Milan, studying painting, and later moved to Rome, where his early talent impressed Cardinal Del Monte, who introduced the young painter to other high-profile Catholic figures who became commissioners of some of Caravaggio’s best work. It seemed there was no end to the artist’s creative genius. Caravaggio, much to his patron’s delight, would pump out one masterpiece after another. It seemed the more out of control his personal life became (cheating, brawling and murder were standard fare), the more his art would become more refined, more potent.

In the long list of masterpieces he left behind, both secular and religious works stand out. But it is perhaps in his religious works that the artistic transition of the master is more evident. Caravaggio is, in fact, known to have changed his style after harsh personal life experiences led him to reassess his outlook on life.

In May of 1606 Caravaggio took part in a deadly brawl in Rome and was charged with murder. He fled to Malta, in search of asylum from the Order of Saint John, a Catholic order dedicated to helping the sick and the poor. The order commissioned some of the most important late life works of the Milanese artist.

It is in these works that we notice the shift in Caravaggio’s art, from a strong focus on aesthetics to an interest in the spirituality of his subjects, which critics believe was motivated by his own introspection.

On the streets surrounding the churches and palaces, brawls and sword fights were regular occurrences. In the course of this desperate life Caravaggio created the most dramatic paintings of his age, using ordinary men and women - often prostitutes and the very poor - to model for his depictions of classic religious scenes.

By representing biblical characters in a naturalistic fashion, typically through signs of aging and poverty, Caravaggio's populist modernisation of religious parables were little short of trailblazing. Although not without his critics within the church, by effectively humanising the divine, Caravaggio made Christianity more relevant to the ordinary viewer.

For some, though, his art was too real. Bare shoulders, plunging necklines, severed heads; this raw humanity didn’t always fly in 17th century Rome. As a result, many of his pieces were rejected as altar pieces and as church hangings. One such piece, the Madonna of Loretto (now hanging in a church in Rome) was widely criticised upon its unveiling. The people of the day were shocked to behold the Mother of God leaning nonchalantly against a wall in her bare feet while holding baby Jesus in her arms.

It is ironic that the very art that today we consider “classical” and “iconic” to the Catholic faith was considered questionable and perhaps void of modesty and virtue. Yet, the fact remains that no individual artist has made such a lasting impression on the world of modern art. Truly, many have called Caravaggio the “first modern artist”. It is no surprise, then, that his style has sparked both widespread admiration and imitation throughout the centuries.

Before Pope John Paul II refined a theology of the body beautiful, Caravaggio's paintings suggested a reverence for the inherent beauty of human form.

Troubled though he may have been, his art speaks eloquently of the dignity of the mundane. Though the original medium may be weathered and cracked, the message of beauty still echoes down the centuries. And this same beauty still fuels, escapes and reduces artists to relentless seekers as surely and as forcefully as it did in Caravaggio's life.

#scorsese #martin scorsese #quote #art #artist #caravaggio #art history #aesthetics #modern #sacred #profane #rome #catholic church #christian #beauty #realism #art of the mundane

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moraxine · 9 months

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Echoes of The Heart [I]

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader // geto suguru x fem!reader

genre: fluff, future smut

words: 3.1k

summary: Having Gojo Satoru as a roommate comes with a weekly price. And while your best friend is busy fucking random people almost every Friday night, this time you find yourself at a nearby bar, where you meet a mysterious man, Suguru, that has his ways of entering your heart.

Next Chapter

As the city lights filtered through the windows of your shared apartment, you sighed softly, realizing it was once again time to make yourself scarce. Gojo Satoru, your charismatic and enigmatic best friend, was entertaining yet another admirer tonight. Before you could make an exit, Gojo leaned against the doorway, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched you gather your things.

"Off on your secret mission again, huh?" he teased, raising an eyebrow playfully. You rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips.

"Someone's got to make sure you don't cause any earthquakes, Satoru." You shared a knowing look, an unspoken understanding of your unique dynamic.

With a dramatic sigh, Gojo feigned a pout.

"You're the best wingman a guy could ask for," he remarked, earning an exaggerated eye roll from you.

"Just promise me you won't bring the house down, okay?" you retorted with a smirk, the familiarity of your banter filling the room with a sense of companionship that only years of friendship could cultivate.

Gojo had been your best friend for years, and even though he was a total goof, he held a special place in your heart as someone who supported you through shitty situations. If it weren't for Gojo's demeanor, you would have ended up desperate and even depressed. You owed the guy a lot, and leaving once a week in order for him to get some, was probably the easier way you could repay him.

With a resigned smile, you expressed your farewell and slipped out the door, giving them the space they would soon need.

Finding yourself amidst the vibrant lights of Tokyo, you allowed your feet to take you on a long walk around the city to help clear your head. Eventually, you sought solace in the warm ambiance of a cozy bar. Nestled on a stool, you ordered a drink, the clinking of glasses and hushed conversations providing a comforting backdrop as you navigated the swirling thoughts in your mind.

You caught yourself adrift in a sea of uncertainty, your future stretching out before you with a disconcerting lack of direction. You stared into your glass, contemplating the void that lay ahead.

You moved in with Gojo when university started a couple years ago. And even after your graduation, you decided to stick to it for a little longer. Splitting the rent was ideal for you, since you had yet to find a stable job. Gojo on the other was simply used to it, or at least that's what you believed.

Because if there was one person without any money-related worries, it had to be Gojo. You never let him help you on that, however, since your biggest goal was to build your independence yourself. He never asked for you to part ways as roommates, so you thought that maybe he was too lazy to look for a new place and move out. Or he was too much of a gentleman to kick you out. Whatever the reason, it was more than okay for now.

It would be way too lonely without him anyway.

As moments turned to minutes, and you got lost in contemplating your future, a mysterious man took a seat beside you, his lip piercing glinting in the warm ambiance, a man-bun crowning his head, and a captivating sleeve tattoo peeking from beneath his white shirt.

Engrossed in conversation with the bartender, he exuded an intriguing presence that gradually pulled your attention from your own introspections.

With a glance at your phone, your gaze shifted, fingers tapping the screen in an act of implicit awkwardness, and quiet anticipation.

It was then that the man turned his attention to you, his words laced with curiosity, "Waiting for something?"

You found yourself opening up, your voice carrying a mix of resignation and a touch of vulnerability as you spoke. "My roommate, who's also my best friend, he's... busy tonight," you began, a wry smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"He pretty much kicked me out so he could have his...fun." Your words held a hint of playful exasperation.

"But truth be told, it's not just that. There's a lot on my mind lately, and I needed some space to think. Uni is over, and it's like I'm staring at a blank canvas, unsure of what to paint. I work at a cafe in the area, but that's not really what I want to do for the rest of my life."

Your gaze drifted, as if searching for answers in the amber depths of your drink.

You could not comprehend where this sudden urge to overshare came from.

"So, here I am, in this bar, trying to find a bit of clarity in the chaos."

Yup, you were already starting to regret it.

The man's lips curved into a wry smile as he listened to your words, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Ah, I see. Though, a bar might not be the ideal setting for philosophical contemplation." he mused, his tone light and playful.

"But it's totally a place to find some camaraderie and fleeting connections, if nothing else." He leaned slightly against the bar, his gaze locking with yours.

You felt your cheeks getting hot. The way his eyes locked on yours felt like he was getting access to your soul, the door of which you had gladly opened. There was something enchanting about him, about his aura, about-

"You know, I'm a regular here. Friends with the bartender and all that," he added with a subtle nod toward the person behind the counter.

"And if there's a connection with someone interesting, well, who am I to pass up a chance for an eventful night?"

Your laughter twinkled in the air as you responded, "You'd get along well with my best friend, Satoru."

His eyebrows rose in curiosity. "Satoru, you say?" he inquired, his voice tinged with interest.

"I suppose you could introduce us. Now, about the other thing..."

His gaze held a sense of reassurance as he responded, his words carrying a soothing quality.

"You know, life has a way of unfolding unexpectedly. Sometimes the paths we take aren't the straightest, but they often lead us to where we're meant to be. So don't stress too much, sweetheart, you'll get there."

If it wasn't for the music and the conversations in the dimly lit room, you swear he would be able to listen to the strong pounding of your heart against your chest.

What the hell was going on with you?

Getting flustered over a guy felt like a distant memory until now. The feeling was odd, and started to scare you. You had barely exchanged any words.

There was something about his presence, the way his hands tapped on the glass, the way his lips moved as he spoke, the way a few strands of hair covered the sides of his forehead that had you utterly trapped in his beauty.

As you were about to thank him for his little advice, a woman entered the scene, the familiarity in her demeanor suggesting a deeper connection. She wrapped her arm around the man's waist with an affectionate grin, interrupting your conversation.

"Suguru! It's been forever! We need to catch up," she exclaimed, her voice carrying a hint of warmth. Suguru's lips curved into a polite smile, his voice calm as he replied, "I'm actually here with a friend right now, but yes, let's do that another time." His gaze shifted towards you, a subtle signal for you to step in. You met his gaze and responded with a gracious smile and a nod, subtly letting Suguru off the hook.

The woman's frustration was palpable as she let an exasperated sigh. And yet, she eventually relented, leaving Suguru and you alone once again, after mumbling something you didn't quite catch.

Suguru offered an apologetic smile, a rueful chuckle escaping his lips. "I don't even remember her name," he admitted with a shake of his head.

"We've only met once or twice, purely for... enjoyment, you could say."

Your eyebrows quirked up in curiosity, the contrast between your lives and her own experiences stark.

"I've often wondered how you and Satoru can engage in these casual relationships without things getting complicated," you confessed, a touch of perplexity in your voice.

It was true, even though you had discussed it with Gojo before, you couldn't imagine yourself having sex with someone just for "preservation purposes" as your friend claimed, whatever the hell that meant.

Suguru's gaze held a depth that matched his insight as he looked into your eyes.

"Intimate relationships only lead to hurt if there's a deeper connection, emotions involved beyond the surface," he explained, his tone tinged with a mixture of wisdom and experience.

"Sometimes, keeping things light and detached is a way to avoid that pain. But," he added softly, "it's not a path everyone can or should take."

It was a moment of profound connection, as you both exchanged perspectives on the intricate dance of human emotions. You frowned a little at the thought of him having the same habits as Gojo.

It shouldn't matter to you y/n, it's not like you had a chance, anyway. Right?

Suguru's fingers deftly pulled out a cigarette, and after a few thoughtful puffs, he extended it towards you.

"Wanna?" he asked, a casual offer tainted with a hint of caution.

You shook your head with a small smile, your reply laced with a hint of amusement, "Nah, I don't smoke."

Suguru's lips curved into a grin.

"Wouldn't want to be a bad influence," he remarked, his tone light. "But you know, sometimes it's the only thing that helps me unwind and calm my nerves." He offered the cigarette once again, his gaze curious.

Without having no control over your actions, your fingers reached out to accept it, and you eventually brought it to your lips with an unpracticed ease. In that moment, you seemed to channel an unexpected familiarity, handling the cigarette as if you'd been doing it for years. The way you inhaled, held it between your fingers-it was a revelation that piqued Suguru's intrigue, a silent reminder that appearances could often be deceiving.

You offered a grateful smile as you returned the cigarette, your words carrying a touch of realism.

"Thanks, but I think it's probably not the best time for me to develop a smoking habit," you commented as you came back to Earth, a hint of humor in your tone.

Suguru chuckled in agreement, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of understanding and intrigue.

After that time passed by faster than expected. Suguru tried to keep the conversation light, avoiding to talk much about himself, but rather focusing on general matters that wouldn't bring your spirits down.

The clock showed almost two in the morning.

As you conversed, a call interrupted your interaction. Suguru excused himself and moved a short distance away to take the call. Upon his return, he offered you a small smile as his hand found its place at your back, touching it softly, as he expressed his appreciation for your company.

"I should be on my way, unfortunately. I had a delightful time with you tonight."

You nodded softly, your eyes reflecting a touch of sadness.

Suguru extended his hand, finally introducing himself.

"Suguru Geto. You probably heard my name from that woman earlier but it would be rude to depart without a proper introduction."

You reciprocated with a smile, sharing your name in return.

The unexpected softness of his hand against yours, his eyes locked onto yours, held a certain magnetism. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hand, his gaze warm and lingering. "Remember, y/n" he murmured softly, his lips curving into a smile, "if you ever need that cigarette or just a chat, you know where to find me."

It was a farewell that left an impression, an unspoken connection formed in the midst of an ordinary night. He left as quickly as he had appeared and you were left alone again, but this time with a new kind of torment occupying the spaces of your mind.

As you walked back home, your thoughts were still swirling around the encounter with Suguru. His mysterious charm had left an indelible mark, and your steps seemed lighter as you approached your shared apartment.

Unlocking the door, you entered to a rather unexpected sight. Gojo, shirtless and casually clad in a pair of pajama shorts, stood before you, an air of nonchalance about him. Beside him, the woman who had occupied his attention earlier offered you a small smile and a casual greeting before walking past you and making her exit, leaving a sense of quiet acknowledgment in her wake.

Your lips curved into a rueful smile as you watched the woman depart. It was just another ordinary night in the life of Gojo Satoru, that fucking idiot.

Gojo's grin widened as he looked at you, his curiosity piqued. "So, how did your night out go?" he inquired, a playful glint in his eyes.

You chuckled, a hint of mischief dancing in your gaze. "Well, for once, I'd say you kicking me out was actually a lucky move," you admitted with a playful smile. "I met someone at a bar a few blocks away. We talked, had a pretty interesting conversation." You paused, your tone lightening. "It was different..."

Gojo's eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Oh, I see how it is. You're finally stealing my spotlight," he quipped, a laugh bubbling in his voice. It was a fleeting moment of camaraderie, a shared understanding.

You slipped off your coat and set your bag down, your playful demeanor intact as you turned to Gojo. "Hungry?" You asked with a grin. "I'm thinking of whipping up something to eat. You interested?"

"I mean, sure, but it's three-"

You couldn't help but tease, "You're awake anyway. You don't like your guests overstaying their welcome, you have to escort them out." Gojo chuckled, a lighthearted twinkle in his eyes. "Ah, come on, I've got manners," he retorted, his voice filled with feigned innocence.

He followed you into the kitchen, the ease of your banter a testament to your deep friendship. You started gathering ingredients and utensils, setting about the task of preparing a meal for the two of you. It was a scene that showcased their camaraderie, the moments shared beyond the unpredictable adventures that often colored your lives. (Mostly Gojo's, unless going to work is considered an unpredictable adventure.)

As you moved about the kitchen, Gojo took a seat at the table, his grin still evident. "So, this guy you met, is he more handsome than me?" he quipped, his tone playful.

You turned to face him, a knowing smirk playing on your lips. "Hmm, it's very possible," you replied, your eyes twinkling.

The playful exchange continued, a dance of words that had become second nature between you. Talking to Gojo was as easy as breathing, after all this year it was only natural that you were comfortable with each other.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, feigning exaggerated offense. "I can't believe it," he lamented dramatically. "I've been outshone by a random guy from a bar!"

You chuckled, a warm affection evident in your gaze. "Well, Satoru, there's only one way to find out," she responded, her tone light. Gojo's curiosity was piqued, but before he could dig for more details, you raised a hand to halt him. "Actually, nevermind. Sorry, but I'm not sharing any more details," you declared with a playful smile. "I don't want to jinx it." It was a moment of lightheartedness, a comfortable familiarity that made your friendship so enduring.

Gojo's gaze held a thoughtful glint as he nodded in agreement. "It has been a while, hasn't it?" he mused, his words carrying a touch of understanding. You nodded, with a wistful smile.

It's also a dreadful occurrence.

"Exactly, that's why I said I don't want to jinx it," you admitted, her voice soft. As the food was served and you both settled at the table, you mirrored Gojo's grin.

"Funny thing is, I didn't even get his number, or Instagram, or anything, really." you confessed, a hint of disappointment in your tone. "But he did mention he's a regular at that bar."

Gojo's laughter filled the air, his amusement evident. "Well then," he quipped, his tone playful, "guess you'll have to pay that bar another visit sometime soon."

You nodded, eyes sparkling with a mix of playfulness. It was a shared moment of encouragement, a reminder that sometimes taking chances and stepping into the unknown could lead to unexpected connections. Your best friend's encouragement was exactly what you needed at the moment.

"I'll definitely consider it, yes."

Gojo's soft laughter filled the room, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But hey, you know I'm the only man you really need, right?"

Your own laughter bubbled in response as you playfully shook your head. "Oh, Satoru and that fucking ego of yours."

You both focused on your food after that, your voices dying down.

As you took a couple bites, you couldn't help but notice Gojo's sudden shift in demeanor, your concern evident in your furrowed brows. He stopped eating. Instead, he started fiddling with his fork, his ocean blue gaze drifting away from focus.

"Hey, what happened?" you asked, your voice laced with genuine worry.

"If you don't like the food, you can just tell me and I'll make you something else."

He shook his head, a somber expression lingering on his face. "No, it's not that," he said softly, his gaze distant. He looked back at you, his lips curving into a faint smile.

"Thanks for the food, y/n, but I'm just not hungry anymore." His tone held a hint of finality. Without further explanation, he stood up and turned to leave, his words carrying a sense of weariness.

"I think I need some rest, it's been a long night." It was a sudden departure which only left you with a sense of unanswered questions and an unexpected void in your shared space.

You took a deep breath, your worry for Gojo lingering even as you cleared the table and tidied up. With a determined mindset, you decided that discussing it could wait until the morning, unwilling to disturb him at such an hour.

Later, as you settled into bed, your thoughts shifted to Suguru, his enigmatic presence and your intriguing encounter at the bar. The events of the night played out in your mind like scenes from a movie, a delicate tapestry woven into your consciousness.

In the quiet of the night, you found yourself navigating the delicate balance between concern for your friend and the unexpected connection you had found with a stranger. And as the night wrapped around you, you drifted into dreams.

Dreams where everything's just feels right.

moraxine, august 23.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #getou suguru x y/n #suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou x reader

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fandomaya · 7 months

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Shadows in Reflection

Pairing: Ryoumen Sukuna x Reader

CW: No curses!AU, Sukuna is related to Yuuji, Reader has dark brown/blackish eyes, food is mentioned, reader is a university student, implied age gap, overall fluffy and a tad bit philosophical. NOT PROOFREAD!

WC: 1.4k+

Summary: In the heart of art and introspection, you find yourself entangled in an unexpected connection with Sukuna, the enigmatic cousin of your neighbor, Yuuji. Sukuna's fascination with your perception, particularly your "pitch-dark" eyes, unravels a profound connection that transcends the canvas of a melancholic painting. The day unfolds like a vivid masterpiece, leaving you questioning the boundaries of freedom, the comfort of darkness, and the unspoken secrets hidden within the gaze of those mysterious, crimson eyes.

a/n: There's no specific painting mentioned here, just some vague descriptions and philosophical interpretations spun out of thin air. But if you really want to visualize, then this piece of art comes close: https://www.artic.edu/artworks/154235/the-girl-by-the-window. Please enjoy the work below!

“What do you see?”, Sukuna murmurs next to your ear, his head gently on your shoulder. You wonder how he feels so comfortable being close to you, and surprisingly, why don’t you feel uncomfortable with the goosebumps lining your skin underneath your clothes? But you decide to focus on the painting in front of you, although your thoughts partially lean towards how Sukuna agreed to meet you in this art museum, of all places. Maybe it isn’t that astonishing since in all the little conversations that you have had with him, he is quite well-versed in literature and art.

You are the next-door neighbor to Yuuji, a sweet boy who is studying in a nearby high school. You are acquainted with him just because you are a university student, and you tutor him for some extra academic lessons on the weekends since he is not that bright in studies, unlike sports where he is impressively well. Plus, you need the extra money for your expenses as well.

Sukuna happens to be a distant cousin of Yuuji, though he is only a few years younger than his dad. It's hard to believe, but the same shade of light pinkish hair shared by Mr. Itadori, Yuuji, and Sukuna serves as proof. But Sukuna is distant in his demeanor too, and you sometimes wonder about his outcast behavior, though he seems to be an all-rounder who is good in almost everything, including finances, philosophy, sports, and even cooking. It was a couple of chance meetings and one fine day of exchanging numbers, and today all of a sudden Sukuna wanted to meet you out of nowhere. And here you are, gazing at one of the last paintings in front of you and bearing the weight of his head on your shoulder.

“I asked you a question, little thing,” he says, mildly annoyed, which brings your complete focus back into the present.” What do I see? As in face value or interpretation?” you reply absentmindedly, immersing yourself in the hues of the canvas in front of you. “Do not complicate the question. Just answer what you feel like”, he says in a moderate tone. You move away from him a bit and keep on glancing at the painting that has got you enraptured.

You then turn towards him and say, “I see a woman who tastes freedom for the first time and consequently getting her expectations shattered”

He chuckles and gently turns you back and points to the written board beneath the art, "But here the artist has titled it as melancholic night because her husband has left her for her mistress. Seems like a painting inspired from real life, huh?”

"Yes, it is melancholic indeed. Who said freedom is always happiness? Yes the heart, the soul or whatever does feel lighter but when you find comfort in carrying burden, the void, the loss of it makes you difficult to stand your ground firmly"

"And why do you say freedom? Her husband just left her. She seems dejected to me."

Now it was your turn to chuckle and Sukuna was mildly amused as if you had all the answers to unanswered questions of the universe. You gathered yourself and replied, “maybe to you, but not to me. For me her features are gradually relaxing by the windowsill under the glow of pale moonlight and light winds caressing her face, that same face that craved to be caressed by a man who didn't regard her ever but…” you paused for a moment before turning back to face him again and meet his eyes “Anyway the realization is dawning on her that um there is no point in you know being devoted to a concept that doesn't serve your soul. Also notice how she is stepping into the light and freeing herself from darkness"

Sukuna swiftly shifted his gaze back to the art. “You mentioned shattering expectations. How does that happen?”

Sighing softly and tilting your head slightly in deep thought, you mused, “Um, I don't have an exact expression for that honestly. I feel it's more like once you are in darkness for so long it starts to feel comfortable and freedom feels like unworthy. Maybe the freedom she did get, it doesn't make her happy because she feels a void and tries to soak in the light, but I cannot figure out if it's helping her or not”

The man in front of you just looked at you wordlessly, wondering about the seemingly simple wisdom that perhaps could be the key to taking him out of the misery of his own life. But he pushes aside those thoughts to wonder about them in the loneliness of the night where you invade his heart with your uncomplicated demeanor, the warmth that comforts and not a signal for some impending burn or destruction. Pushing his left hand into his jacket pocket, he extends his other hand to interlace his fingers with yours, “Let’s go kid, we got to eat something”, and so he drags you aimlessly, but you don’t have it in you to say something else. After all, the natural warmth of his palms is something that you don’t want to miss.

The café is quaint and nostalgic, which reminds you of all the times you used to sit alone to do some assignments or read a book in solitude. But now you aren’t alone and a seemingly handsome man is in front of you along with a few pieces of pastry and a milkshake for you while he is stirring his cup of espresso.

You know only bits and pieces about him from what Yuuji has told you. You don’t want to pry into his life through others, as that would come off as creepy. But your curiosity wanted to know more about him in any way whether it is knowing about his intricate tattoos or the way he is so distant towards his relatives who seem you never know what must have happened to him to behave this way. Again, your stream of thoughts is broken with Sukuna’s intervention.

“Your eyes are indeed mirrors. Nothing can escape, whatever is perceived”

“Huh? What do you mean by that?” you were dumbfounded at this sudden remark

He takes a sip of coffee and looks out of the window. “Earlier, you mentioned feeling bad about having dark eyes, but I see that as your hidden power—an abyss that can drag someone down.”

You take a loud sip of your milkshake, which makes him turn his head towards you only for a moment before looking towards the glass window and staring at his faint reflection.

“Your eyes are pitch dark and reflects what isn't reflected by anything else in the human realm. What enters your eyes through your vision doesn't escape your thread by thread articulation of the visual fabric”

“Hmm, that’s poetic or should I say philosophical. I wish I had such wonderful eyes that you describe of, but unfortunately, they aren’t” You smile softly while stirring your milkshake.

He holds your palm and tugs you towards him, making eye contact that is so vulnerable that you get lost in the crimson of his vision, and he just whispers, “Well you do. A part of me is scared to look you in your eyes because I will find a version of myself that I buried deep. But another part of me wants to confront what lies within me through the reflection of your dark orbs that glimmer when rays of light hit your eyes, and you rarely ever squint”

This felt like some divine confession, as if it is a secret of the universe that he wants to make you a part of, as if you can never hide anything from him because he knows things about you that you do not even know of. He lets go of your hand and gets back to finishing his modest cup of coffee.

After a few moments of silence, you finish up everything on your plate though you feel Sukuna has hardly eaten anything, but he just shrugs and expresses that he is not fond of such “treats”. You end up rolling your eyes and trying to ignore his remarks, convincing yourself that at least you are indulging yourself at his expense. Ultimately, you feel contented that you spent an interesting day at the art museum and had pastries in the nearby café and now Sukuna will surely drop you back home, so you are looking forward to enjoying the car ride as well. You hope to know more about him if destiny permits, perhaps what is his music taste in case he plays something in his car.

a/n: Do you know the original WIP was more than a year old and the intended character was completely different at the time! It was actually Akaashi from Haikyuu but um anyway I changed it to Sukuna for no specific reason other than wanting his classical ass' attention. Also, what ideas do you have about his music taste? In my opinion, he probably listens to orchestral music in his car but heavy metal while working out.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna fanfic

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plounce · 2 days

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rob plounce's ffxiv fic reclist

this will update as i continue to find stuff i enjoy. (it also exists as a page on my desktop blog!)

disclaimer: this is just stuff i’ve read that i’ve enjoyed! i have my own favorite characters and pairings, so my reclist skews heavily towards those. i’m not super into in wolshipping, so there won’t be much of that, sorry! i have not read everything in every pairing and character tag, so don’t take this as a comprehensive guide. these are just things that i liked and think are worth reading.

fics are noted with wordcount, pairing (or as gen), and rating (e = explicit).

spoilers ahoy!

scions

lost and found (8.8k, T). gen, light moenuri - you know how moenbryda’s parents basically adopted urianger after they basically abandoned him? this fic is about that. also urianger autism :)

while eating (2.2k, G) gen - more baby autistic urianger with bastard parents. sob. at least moenbryda’s parents are there.

foster (1k, G) gen - pre-canon, thancred overhears fourchenault and louisoix talking about him.

second impression (4.8k, T) gen - fourchenault is a bit more of a classist bastard than in canon and is a dick to thancred, but gets past it. mostly. thancred does his best.

the stars in their abundance (2.7k, T) gen - pre-canon from the perspective of g'raha’s mom in corvos!

cross (1.1k, G) gen - minfilia and thancred clean up the mess of thancred’s possession.

your song, carried onwards (4.9k, G) gen - thancred’s rescue of alisaie from the WoD in the hvw patches.

a stranger in the woods (4.3k, E) thancred/marcechamp - you know, the guy from tailfeather in heavensward? they hook up. thancred gets taken care of.

dust in your eyes (8.8k, T). background ships include wolchefant, wolcred, and haurchefant/urianger, but is mostly about thancred being a sad bastard who is always too slow, too late, and trying to be his best self but not totally succeeding. and haurchefant being a great guy. good character stuff.

how massive is the spirit in us (2.2k, G) gen - ryne character introspection… makes my heart hurt.

testing the waters (1.8k, G) gen - thancred teaches ryne to swim.

the shimmering light (2k, G) gen, light thanuri - urianger settling into the bookman’s shelves. fun il mheg worldbuilding.

almost crystal, almost ascian (10k, T) gen - minfilia and the exarch meet up a few times over the course of a century. their parallelisms. the horror of being “minfilia.”

off the hook, provisionally (974, G) gen - y'shtola talks to the exarch in the wake of 5.0 about his deception.

among the shelves (5k, G). gen - the twins and ryne hang out and talk about the other scions.

portentous news (842, G) gen - urianger’s first morning on the moon in the middle of endwalker.

adventures in unlikely friendship (23k, T) gen - wol+cred friendship! i really like these. the bozja one is delightful. passively-suicidal bestiessss

void parsley sojourn (4k, T) gen, light thanuri - urianger hotboxes the rising stones. very charming depiction of urianger as a weed nerd. makes me laugh and smile every time i read it!

there is (maybe) an ascian among us (11k, T) gen, minor side pairings - post-endwalker, the scions try to get to the bottom of a conspiracy about thancred, who just wants to grill for gods sake! comedy.

two scions walks into a bar… (26k, T) gen, but eventually thanuri - a series where the author intended to just analyze and write about thancred & urianger’s relationship as gen, but then slid into shipping lmao. covers ARR-early STB with a bit of post-SHB. great character work for both of them!

respite, despite (25k, T) thanuri - urianger pining from pre-5.0 to the close of endwalker… good pining, good urianger misery, good romance. wagh!

erasing all the lines in the sand (30k, E) thanuri - mutual pining, miscommunication, coparenting! bookman’s shelves fic.

(in parantheses) (9.9k, M) thanuri - thancred's rescuing of minfilia, time in the first, and the mental stress that emet-selch gives him due to ascian trauma during shadowbringers. also getting together with urianger.

sleepy-eyed soldier (4.6k, M) thanuri - elidibus puppetting ardbert's body brings thancred’s ptsd over having his body used by lahabrea roaring back to the surface in the form of nightmares and hypervigilance. (mind the CWs)

trouble in paradise (2.3k, E) thanuri - transfem urianger!!!! :D :D :D great kind-of-an-asshole thancred character work. hurting each other but trying to fix it.

sole conundrum (412, G) thanuri - pre-edw garlemald scouting mission. urianger autism :D

three of swords reversed (3.2k, T) thanuri, moenuri - urianger dealing with grief over moenbryda and thancred in the later half of endwalker.

another sunrise (5.8k, T) thanuri - post-edw wanderings - urianger deals with a mystery, sudden solitude, and a crisis of doubt! ends happily.

take root in this barren soil (and grow back stronger) (7.4k, E) thanuri - thancred shares what the training regimen of a sharlayan spy entails, not expecting urianger to react so strongly.

to wander is a dream (46k, M) thanuri - post-edw. i don’t tend to enjoy hanahaki fics but this fic is so so so good. thancred being an emotionally stunted asshole, urianger being the world’s most beautiful martyr (for better or for worse), lots of fae stuff, both of them struggling to not be repressed.

why do we forbear? (9.3k, E) thanuri - modern au fake dating, which would usually not appeal to me but this one’s real cute. (currently unfinished)

ancients

on call (2.5k, T) hythades - emet-selch goes out of town, and hyth is asked to step in for a soul-seeing duty. and he futzes with emet-selch’s office.

mail run (840, G) hythades - “A young archival intern keeps finding completely legitimate reasons to do all the deliveries to a very specific Bureau of the Architect clerk. For no reason at all.” young love!

as stars to a sky (1.8k, T) hythades - little vignettes about life in the pre-sundered world.

the seat of destruction (13k, M) hythades - canon-divergent au where hythlodaeus is the one to take the seat of emet-selch, and the sundering still happens. my favorite ascian!hyth work.

affective memory (9.3k, T) hythades - pov from the shade of hythlodaeus as he wanders around emet-selch’s reconstructed amaurot.

for good health and opportunity (14k, T) pre-emetexarch - emet-selch visits the crystal exarch numerous times over the course of a century. frenemies!

other characters

“nero tol scaeva did nothing wrong”… (5k, G) gen - a bunch of job npcs try to arrest nero for driving without a license. goes about as well as you might think.

biohazard (1.1k, G) gen - nero hates valens’ ass. not because he has “morals” or anything he just thinks valens is a dogshit project manager.

left in the dust (3.9k, T?) cidnero - ARR nero finds amnesiac marques working in the lichyard. miserable little man.

adrift in memory’s fog (16k, T) cidnero - cid’s frequent bouts of amnesia have led to a patchy memory - enough where he forgets that he and nero were betrothed as teenagers. (trans cid!)

the troubled envoy (1.3k, T) gen - maxima’s diary entries during the stormblood patches, including his thoughts on his weird boss.

the last abandonment (1.9k, M) gen - maxima wanders the ruins of garlemald and reflects on his time in the garlean left. by the same author as above - i really rec all their maxima fics.

this cathedral where your face stains the windows (2k, G) ysayle/igeyrohm - “Someone had to teach Ysayle summoning.” great ysayle heresy stuff + toxic yuri.

this blessed day (80k, M) gen - lucia’s journey from a captured garlean spy to aymeric’s right hand. lucia……

cadavre exquis (6.4k, T) gen - emmanellain helps pack up haurchefant’s things at camp dragonhead ft ishgardian homophobia and an underground queer zine scene.

the lantern jar (19k, T) cirisadu - OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDD. this fic is so good. cirina and sadu growing close. lots of development of steppe spiritual traditions and beliefs.

duet (13k, T) estivrtra - estinien encourages vrtra to live more fully as a dragon. cool dragon stuff.

a view of you (14k, M) estivrtra - estinien gets fatally wounded, and vrtra keeps him alive via a great sacrifice (sadly unfinished, but what’s there is a great read)

veteran advisor (15k, E) vrtra/estinien/gaius - really great gaius character work here where he and allie are on vacation in radz-at-han, and the impact that has on both of them. but also? it's mostly about big!varshahn getting railed. good for him!

this home wrested forth (2.5k, T) gen - sidurgu from DRK quests and alaqa from WHM quests meet up and deal with some gridanian wrongdoing.

a fervent desire (111k+, E) sanson/guydelot - an incredibly in-depth retelling of the BRD quests. great work developing these characters and giving them really in-depth motivations!

and love you shall find (9.8k, E) sanson/guydelot - BRD quests, but what if sanson journals as an accommodation for short-term memory loss?

#chirps #ffxiv #thanuri #since there's a lot of that in here. eheheh :P

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aihoshiino · 7 days

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chapter 150 thoughts!

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 7…. ttttttechnically? they don't actually mention that the kiss happened, so i'm counting it…

ladies, gentlemen and those who know better, our long national nightmare is finally over

after… literally I've lost count of how long it's been since we had some proper Aqua introspection, our landmark chapter 150 is almost entirely dedicated to putting us back in Aqua's head (quite literally!) and sort of catching up with him. Some things about Aqua that have been mostly only communicated through showing over telling are explicitly told in text and i'm ngl, there's one or two things where seeing textual confirmation of them got me barking like a fucking dog. Overall, while the pacing of the start of this arc has been bit clunky and this chapter itself isn't free of that either, it actually feels like things are moving and meaningful characterization is happening which after the Movie Arc is a bit of a luxury lol.

As usual, I want to gush about Mengo's art before I touch on anything else. Setting the majority of this chapter in a dream sequence allowed her to do some incredibly fun things with the staging and imagery here. Aqua in that eerie void with his feet drenched in blood… Aqua and Gorou still stuck in that hallway where Ai died, while Ruby has managed to take steps to leave… It's so fucking good.

There were some absolutely top tier Kanas this chapter, too… her little baby tantrum in flashback and that gorgeous final page of her… But I'm getting ahead of myself.

While I described this chapter up top as being communicating things about Aqua, it very much feels to me like it's also serving as closure for Gorou, both in the sense of him as a person and resolving the posthumous arc that he's been going on as part of Aqua. This chapter at last draws a clear and explicit distinction between the two, that Aqua is no longer Gorou, even if he might have been built on the foundation of his identity. Gorou is even described as a 'role' that Aqua has been compelled to play that Gorou himself is now urging him to step down from - he is offering to relinquish Aqua's future back to him… if that's what Aqua wants.

This was how I'd initially read the relationship back in my 143 review - that 'Aqua Hoshino' created from Gorou, his core values and driving ideals, but 18+ years of living a whole new life in a whole new social role, meeting people and having experiences Gorou would never have and literally having a different body and brain in the process have made him different and the sum total of those differences is the person we call Aqua Hoshino. This chapter seems to lean into this interpretation, casting them as a pair of briefly intersecting lines that once crossed but have now diverged onto their own paths.

I also just really liked the dynamic that they were shown to have this chapter. Whenever we've seen this conflict externalized in the past, Gorou has always been this frightening, overwhelming presence whose existence actively prevents Aqua from having any kind of happiness or peace. Here, though, they have a much less adversarial energy, which is a really nice reflection of Aqua being able to gradually start pulling himself out of the shit he's been stuck in. Gorou almost feels fatherly or big brotherly here, not just in how he behaves in regards to Sarina-as-Ruby, but for Aqua, too.

But……….. okay, I'll stop dodging around the elephant in the room now lol

After over 25 chapters of very deliberately avoiding putting us in his headspace, 150 finally puts the ball in Aqua's court vis-a-vis the AquRuby tension and he answers in a way I think would be pretty hard to walk back: That Ruby is his precious sister and that's it. That her feelings for him are the result of her projecting Gorou onto him, chasing a ghost that is fading from this world and that she does not actually love him. Whoof.

This was another thing where seeing it in text felt pretty great. I'd caught pretty early on that there was a weird divide in the way the story was handling the AquRuby dynamic - namely, that there wasn't an AquRuby dynamic and all the supposed ship development of it was largely happening in retrospect, beefing up the intensity of the GRSR relationship and having Ruby express her feelings to Gorou-through-Aqua. When the idea of Aqua and Ruby romance was floated, by contrast, it was always treated like a gag. With the Movie arc being as much of a mess as it was, it was hard to work out what the intentionality of that was (if there was any to begin with) but this seems to make it about as clear as it can be: neither Gorou or Aqua have any had any feelings of that sort of Sarina-through-Ruby and neither of them want to pursue romance with them.

Once again tapping into my powers of Claire-voyance, I already know a lot of people are trying to insist that this is Aqua lying to himself or 'settling' and that he does secretly want a relationship with Ruby for reals! but that really isn't how it comes across to me in the art. He's calm, speaks straightforwardly and without hesitation and makes his point pretty clear. We know how it looks when OnK character lie to themselves and this isn't really it. It would also just be strange for that to be the case when this is a scene about Aqua starting to consider the idea of moving past the things that hurt him and live out his future with someone.

And who that someone is… seems to be coming into focus, but I don't think we'll be getting there quite yet.

I will say that for as much as I liked this as a chapter and as a goodbye for Gorou… it kind of doesn't really make a lot of sense as a resolution for his guilt lol. This chapter frames things in such a way that centers his guilt on Sarina and that seeing her live her life as Ruby has given him some catharsis over it. This is a sweet idea but… that's, uh, not how this was framed anytime prior! When we've seen Gorou intrude on Aqua's happiness before, his self hate and his guilt all center on Ai's death and his inability to save her. The last time we saw him in this capacity in 95, that's what he was saying with his whole chest: that he deserves to suffer as punishment for Ai's suffering, Ai's death. I'm sure that knowing Sarina is living on as Ruby was very cathartic but… it has nothing to do with Ai! Why is this being framed as narratively resolved in this way?

Like… if I chew on it a bit, I can make it make sense: since chapter 1, Gorou has been pretty open about projecting Sarina onto Ai, processing his grief that way and imagining her living vicariously through Ai's success. The idea of Ruby doing the same by continuing Ai's legacy and keeping her radiance alive being the thing that gives him release over Ai's death is interesting and I can understand it emotionally, it just feels like a weird unexplained leap for the narrative to make. I was talking to a friend about it, trying to work it out by externalizing it, and they theorized that this was always the intended endpoint of Gorou's posthumous arc but that the story had drifted in the middle section and Akasaka hadn't quite realigned them. This makes a lot of sense to me and I wouldn't be surprised if it was the case.

I will say that it really bugs me. I've already talked about the ways Ai's importance to the twins as their mother has been gradually downplayed and diluted as the Movie Arc has gone on. In my original post, I attributed this to Akasaka trying to amp up the intensity of the GRSR -> AQRB relationship in a soap opera-y sort of way, but given that this chapter seems to shut down AquRuby, I don't really know if that's the case. In general, Ai has been treated as sort of narratively 'resolved' as of 137, as if that chapter was the capstone to her posthumous character arc and while that might be the case for Ruby… I really don't think it is for Aqua!

It's possible that this is intentional. Aqua still has a shitton of work to do on unfucking his relationship with Ai and the ways his view of her, as implied by the Movie Arc, is warped by his grief. I could see this final stretch of the story being primarily about that - after all, this chapter is about confronting Aqua with the binary choice of revenge or love. In a lot of ways, this has always been what he's struggling with but putting the ball this firmly in his court establishes Ai's death entirely as his own trauma that he has to work through on his own. After all, Aqua might have confronted Gorou in this chapter, but there's a certain someone we also saw in chapter 95 that Aqua hasn't dealt with yet…

I'm talking about Kana, obviously! (ducks thrown tomatoes)

I don't have a ton to say about the AQKN romance setup in this chapter other than… yeah, I kinda saw this coming! It's interesting to see Gorou, the representation of Aqua's guilt and self destruction, be the one to so directly confront him and push him towards trying to find some happiness with her. Aqua quietly noting that he knows the things he likes about Kana and he knows that moving on with her makes a lot of sense - but what makes this especially interesting is the way it mirrors Kana's own reflection on her relationship with Aqua at the end of the chapter.

I like that a lot of the AQKN moments the two reflect on are just… mundane, everyday instances of the two of them stumbling through life together. I've seen a lot of people say AQKN is 'boring' or 'flat' because it lacks the drama of AQAK or AQRB but honestly, I feel like this is what makes it work (when it does work) - their relationship, whatever form it takes, is a safe and quiet space where they can just exist outside the drama and transactional utility of so many of their other relationships.

That said, while those montages mirror each other, what makes them interesting is their divergence point. Kana decides to commit to choosing 'love', with that absolutely gorgeous full page panel, but Gorou hands the knife - the symbol of the violence that blighted Aqua's life - back to him and makes it clear that love or revenge, the choice is now entirely in Aqua's hands. We don't see what he chooses, but… if Oshi no Ko really is a story with a happy ending, I think it's a foregone conclusion. And that makes me really happy.

Not that it's happening anytime soon, lol. I'll be very shocked if Kana's confession doesn't result in a rejection from Aqua, at least at this point in time - there's too much else going on in the story for this to be the right place for Aqua to commit to Kana. She's still an idol, after all and Kamiki is still around. The bets I'm placing right now are that AQKN are going to get their resolution, whatever form it takes, at the Dome concert during or after Kana's graduation.

As for their date… Call me cynical, but I also don't see it going particularly well. After all…

Aren't we forgetting somebody?

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk spoilers #chapter reviews

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druidshollow · 8 months

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who's the iterator with the shelter symbol on their head? 👀

*whips around and evil grins at the camera* TIME FOR A CANOPY POST

sheltering canopy | #862, gen 3 | she/her

(im gonna be talking about off string canopy mostly because she doesn't really do anything yet in the canon adjacent story!!! all the like. personal info and stuff is consistent tho)

of course. as always. since this is canopy's first time around. fast facts.

sheltering canopy is part of the far north group, a local group adjacent to corners!

far north consisted (in order of construction) of eleven rivers, untold odyssey, one wish for all, four falling phrases, and finally sheltering canopy. when rivers' first admin went to the void sea and was eventually replaced with flowers, flowers proposed and helped construct the twins and separated the far north group into two groups.

odyssey was made group senior overseeing wish and canopy, and phrases was made senior overseeing rivers and the twins.

shortly after the mass ascension, wish caught the rot, and some time after that the Gift was released and odyssey received dev status. unfortunately wish's rot was too extreme so they couldn't save her, but odyssey was able to reach canopy and make her a mobile puppet so they could travel south together!

they are heading south because *static sounds here* (there is something that LOTS of iterators are travelling towards, havent decided if its like. a commune or new society or something but whatever i decide is where these guys are heading). unfortunately, the only way south from far north is through the great north divide (a large mountain range), which is perilous and frigid. keeping warm is hard and securing water is even harder. rivers and phrases climbed the range and went above (pink path), where canopy and odyssey (cyan path) moved through a ravine called the west chasm (more water and warmth than going above, but also lots more carnivores)

the divide is a difficult journey but once youve reached the other side, the real threat rears its head. across the mountains from the far north group is the civilizing divide group, a group consisting of 13 iterators, most notably their senior and older sister, adamant dune.

i think we all know who dune is by now, lmao canopy and odyssey almost reached the other side of dune's territory without even understanding the danger they were in, but the group caught up with them last moment. by the time canopy and odyssey reach this point, phrases and rivers have already long escaped and dune had thrown hollow space out. she was especially dangerous at this point, angry and grieving and now without her voice of reason.

a mystery group (who i currently know very very little about) jumps in at the last moment and saves odyssey, leaving canopy behind having seen her injuries and knowing there's no coming back from a killing blow like that.

but canopy miraculously survives the wound dune inflicts on her, and instead of just trying again, dune takes canopy in to her group in exchange for canopy to help them retrieve cells. they tell canopy that they murdered odyssey.

dune in no way treats canopy like family like she does the rest of her group. she makes canopy help with murder and has little to no regard for her wellbeing or feelings. canopy collapses in on herself amongst the violence shes being made to commit and the cruelty she's facing. she becomes quiet, introspective and numb. it reminds dune of hollow space, which just makes her disdain for canopy stronger.

i sketched this freaky comic of dune making canopy murder someone, you can see it if u promise not to look at the arms for more than 0.5 seconds lmao

she goes by the name shelter with dune and co.

ok its 12:30 pm on a work night and i gotta wake up at 6 so thats all from me for now. ill save her and odyssey's reunion for another time!!! the payoff is huge you guys have no idea but i promise they end up together again

#druid draw #rain world oc #iterator oc #oc posting #off string au #os canopy #canopy #os odyssey #os dune #these posts. are so fun. and i always stay up way too late makin em #violence #ask to tag maybe #guy post

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raviolirash · 3 months

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I see a few posts now and then saying that Astarion's story doesn't tie into the main plot at all. Those takes are strange to me because it does.

The whole theme of BG3 is power and how it corrupts. How Cazador was once a young boy but got sired by Vellioth and was then tortured for a few lifetimes. How then Cazador not only continued the cycle, but became more powerful than Vellioth and got bored. Then decided to kill 7,007 people to ascend to godhood in order to fill the void in his heart. He knew that doing so would doom what remains of him to Mephistopheles. He did it while fully understanding that it will never be enough. Check what he says when you read his thoughts in the coffin.

Ascended Astarion then hammers in further that no power can fill that void. No godhood can. You'll remain an unhealed rotting wound and you'll be screaming on the inside for the rest of your days, you'll never feel happiness. You'll forget how much you loved the embrace of the sun, and cover the world in darkness. You'll corrupt the person you love until there is nothing left. You'll become the darkness you feared and will spend rest of your days chasing that high, murdering more and more people. You will be corrupted and you will only be a shell of your former self, your humanity erased.

All of this in the futile hopes of silencing your own voice screaming inside yourself.

[AstarionThankingYouForNotLettingHimAscend.mp4 here]

This story is reflected in many you encounter in BG3. Most obvious one is Gortash of course. He was sold by his parents to Raphael and abused in the hells. Gortash then sold a kid who trusted him with her life to Zariel to be a lab rat. But this post is long enough.

Astarion's story is a warning to the players and a moment of introspection. To show how far out of hand a chase for power can get and how it will never end and it will never be enough. To see if they have a conscience to turn to their friend and say "I want you to live a life you're proud of. You can't be proud of this."

It's the same way with the movie Us and some comments I see about it

Do you focus far too much on "lol plot don't make sense"

Or was your reaction "Holy shit. They are just like me. They are people too."

#astarion #astarion ancunin

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parachutingkitten · 2 months

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Okay, this has been bothering me, and I'm gonna go into it, cuz I feel like being mad that the fandom didn't get better is friggin valid, so imma get negative here at some serious missed potential, if that's not your jam, 100% get it, please scroll past.

We have a season with 20 episodes, each of which are 20 minutes long. That is an unprecedented amount of time for a ninjago season- I would argue maybe too much time, but that's not what we're getting into here. Even just the first half is the length of your standard ninjago season back in the day. There is no excuse for not taking your time with ideas that deserve time. You've got time. You've got too much time.

If you're gonna do a mystical mind prison that traps you in your worst fears, you gotta do it! You can't do this wimpy half commit thing you're doing here. What is this cop out that's like three minutes long? This is a top tier trope! Loads of stories do this- for a good reason, it's a great way to get lots of new insight into your characters, not to mention have fun with environments, hypotheticals, bend logic, and do some creative filmmaking. And here you are, inventing a whole weird fictional animal to facilitate your nightmare state, and it legitimately takes up so little screen time that it hurts! What? Did you not have enough to say about your characters to fill out a full subplot? You thinking that surface level about things? Or was the basketball tournament fake out with the dragons so important to the story that you couldn't cut it out for some character introspection?

It's so short and pointless, it doesn't functionally do anything except tell us very directly "Here's what this character fears, and will have to get past this season!" No looking into why or making some progress/losing progress on the issue in the dream state. We don't even get to see everyone's visions, let alone see any interconnectivity between them. It's just such a waste of a classically exciting set up. And why on earth would you place this concept at the beginning of the season? Put it at the turning point man! That's what this scenario is made for! Literalizing characters overcoming mental challenges so that it's interesting to watch! Using the nightmare dream sphere for exposition in the most boring possible version of the trope is just dumbfounding.

I mean seriously? The black void? That's all you've got? You gonna go the Cars 2 route and set our supposedly deep nightmare sequence in a black void? No symbolism to the void even? No distorting of visuals within the void? Nothing? Can you get any more basic? Did you really put that little creativity into this? Like, the whole point of the nightmare dreamscape is to get creative! So much symbolism and messaging that you can easily tie into things! the possibilities are literally endless! But yeah, I guess Arin running in place is pretty meaningful too, I'm sure it took you a while to come up with something so profound.

There's a reason this story beat usually makes up at least half the plot of any given episode it's in! There's so much room to explore. The potential for crosscutting between nightmares is so high, drawing parallels between characters. Maybe they're all interconnected, and the mentally strongest of the team breaks free to help the others in their nightmares. Maybe it's a revelation point for the rest of the team as they see a dark past of another character they didn't know about. Or maybe it's just the audience who gets new insight into a sheltered corner of a character's mind, or a way to reveal to them a dark secret someone is hiding. You can also have fun subverting expectations, maybe one of the nightmares is just objectively pretty funny. And, the best thing about any dream environment you're creating, you can have the characters get involved in insanely creative fights and action scenes where they literally beat up their mental roadblocks with cool looking and symbolically important powers or tools.

Like, I know the fandom is losing their mind over this scene because 'omg Nya's gonna be so sad cuz of the memory loss(that hasn't even been revealed in narrative yet, so the irony doesn't even really work)' but I just need you to understand that the full fledged angst, character growth, and introspection y'all are speculating could have theoretically happened in Kai's plot is what we could have had for everyone. For a full episode. Like it deserved to be. And it would have been really cool, and really satisfying, and beautifully and symbolically stunning, because countless other people have done it, it's honestly not too difficult. Stop freaking out like they did a good job with this- they didn't do a good job with this. They couldn't even bother to give everyone a vision, they just gave up on the concept halfway through.

Not to mention how accessible and valuable this type of storytelling is to kids! Literalizing some of the big abstract issues these characters are supposedly battling this season would be a great way to get kids to grasp these ideas, but instead it's literally like two and a half minutes of slightly ominous stuff to bate us before we move on.

Stop teasing us with interesting stuff and then not actually following through! This is not how you do storytelling!

#ninjago #Dragons Rising #drs2 spoilers #ninjago spoilers #beyond the phantasm cave #no hate to anyone #obviously #/lh

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starlitheaven · 1 year

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— THE SWEETEST VICE

tags. strangers to lovers, canon, alcohol, fluffy, nanami pov, mainly introspection

note. a (late) response to this ask: I love love 💕 your dating HCs and was wondering if you’d be up for doing one for kento? 💜 . i've had this in my drafts for months, practically done, and finished it up while waiting at the vet last night. takes place in canon, but diverges (he doesn't die).

wc. 1k

kento often told himself that a relationship was the last thing that he wanted; that he was too busy, too tired, too dangerous. someone in his profession had no right to love another when any day could be his last. he found the idea of leaving a lover to grieve over him downright cruel.

but he hadn’t expected to become so charmed with the sorceress assigned to assist him in kyoto. it was all cordial at first—business. but you were so chatty and bright, a gentle ray of sunlight amongst the gore and grief the cursed spirit left in its wake. there was plenty of downtime while locating the curse that left you two with nothing but the chance to get to know another. at first he absently answered your simple questions, mind occupied with the mission and getting back Tokyo on time.

unlike with gojo, kento didn’t grit his teeth and count to ten dozens of times to keep his temper in check. because you didn’t ask too much of him, you were sweet and friendly and respected his boundaries. you were insightful and put him at ease. you made him laugh, not realizing how long it’s been since he’s laughed like that. eventually, his eyes sought yours more often than not.

it turned out you two had several things in common as well as similar values; you appreciated the simple things in life that were sometimes overlooked and scarce in jujutsu society. like treating yourself to your favorite dessert buffet in kawaramachi. other times, you look to the buzz of alcohol in your bloodstream to remind you that you’re no different from the people that you save. even you, in all your esteemed abilities, look to vices.

we like to believe we’re above these things, but sometimes we need vices to keep us sane, you drunkenly said, pouring him another glass of beer. kento agreed with your statement, thinking of the carton of cigarettes in the inner pocket of his jacket. he put the glass to his lips, sneaking a glance at the delicate slope of your throat as you gulped down your drink. vices don’t always have to mean that we’re weak-willed. it’s what makes us human. want some of my fried chicken, nanami? that was at the izakaya on the final night of your mission.

it’d been a long time since kento felt he could let down his guard (somewhat) and find comfort in the presence of another person. then again, he thought, who wouldn't find solace in someone as lovely as yourself?

the assignment went well, he thinks. even now, kento can barely recall that mission aside from the curve of your smile, the sound of his name on your lips, the longing he felt when it was all over, and that conversation about vices.

he’d like to say that his mind was plagued with thoughts of you, but it was less curse and more like blessings and grace.

and when you met again during the exchange event, you were straightforward and asked him out for a drink. a date. kento declined after half a second of hesitation—he respects you and your abilities, but he’s not interested in dating or relationships. he was firm and ignored the tightness in his chest at the disappointment in your eyes, the way you wilted just slightly. but you smiled and took it in stride, brushing off the rejection. it only made him want you more.

kento had only a handful of regrets in his life; turning you down was an immediate regret because it left him feeling void of a wonderful thing he’s never even experienced. and the conversation about vices circled around in his mind like koi fish in a pond. vices, vices, vices. it's only human to have them, right?

telling himself that you'd be nothing but a vice, a way to take the edge off, he sought you out once more. it's not a relationship and it never would be.

that was only true for a few weeks before he found himself fully caught in your web of silk gossamer. kento was ensnared; and he soon felt that no other man was worthy of your kindness, your tenacity, your affection. your body. even he didn't feel worthy, most days—but he'd prove himself every single day, as long as you'd have him.

so dating kento goes like this—

while you two agreed on alternating weekends spent together between tokyo and kyoto, more often than not it’s him making the journey. he insists on it, saying he doesn’t mind. he’s probably the most thoughtful boyfriend you’ve ever had; every date feels like the first.

flowers are sent to your apartment every few weeks, as well as baskets of fruits that are in season. tiramisu from popular patisseries with hours long waits and certificates to renowned spas in kyoto.

kento cooks for you on most nights together, allowing you to refill his wine glass and fill the silence with your lovely voice and laugh. he pulls you onto his lap for dessert, swiping his finger over the frosting of a cake slice and slipping the digit through your plush lips.

he washes your hair while showering together, humming a lullaby his mother used to sing to him. you, meanwhile, show him how wonderful life can be for people like you both. that it's not all work and death.

there's small hands cupping his face to give him morning kisses. there's the caprise sandwich served to him on a warm afternoon, made with the bread from his favorite bakery. there's the first edition of haibara's favorite manga that you spent months looking for, nestled inside a birthday gift bag. there's the scent of your perfume lingering on the lapels of his jacket. there's the little white stick, wrapped in a clear sandwich bag, that you're holding out to him with a shy, excited smile.

everything in his life has led him to this moment; to the two red lines facing up at him.

#nanami x reader #jjk x reader #nanami kento x

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honimello · 5 months

Text

Doomed by the Narrative

Papa Emeritus iii/Terzo fic (terzocentric but still x reader)

Summary: Terzo copes with the afterlife, and tries to comfort the people in his life after his passing. (2,003 words)

Warnings: ANGST, detailed violence and gore, sadness, guilt, loneliness, murder, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, introspection

A/N: I'm doing a drawing for this currently lol, I'm super in my Terzo melancholy feels so this is the fruits of that labor lol. I really hope you guys like this and I would love some feedback!

He should’ve seen this coming, he thinks. The whispers, the disdainful glances, even the sheer amount of secret meetings between Sister and Nihil. There was no other explanation. As he stands, spectorally, over his now lifeless body. His head lay still at the feet of that disgusting, dreadful woman. He can see his father wringing his hands far away at the back of the room, trying desperately not to look at the act that has just been committed. The Nameless ghoul they had forced to enact the deed is cowering in the opposite corner of Nihil, the tears stream down their silver mask and the whimpers echo through the pews. Sister turns her nose up at the smell, the mere sight of his blood dripping from the headless body in front of her, she steps back and pulls a handkerchief from her pocket and crouches down. She brandishes his head by his hair, only the Mark of Lucifer stares back. He should’ve seen this coming.

Ever since he was little, Sister has had it out for him, insulting him, belittling him and his brothers. His brothers, his brothers that are gone as well. Where are they? Are they in this state of inbetween and yet still here, just as he is? Suddenly, the doors to the chapel are whipped open and a scream rips through the previously silent room. His fratellino, the only one of them that is left standing. Sister turns around as the poor Cardinal runs up and lands at the body of his dear brother, Copias face is wet with tears and his voice grows hoarse from the sobs that wrack his body. He begins screaming at his mother but for some reason Terzo begins to lose his senses, everything begins to be too much. He can't hear anymore, he can't see, he can't feel and yet everything is so cold. Where am I? Is all he can think.

He doesn't know how much time has passed in the strange state of overstimulation but when he comes to, his body is gone and the room is bathed in darkness. He is alone, not even his lifeless head is with him anymore. He tries to move, tries to leave this wretched chapel of his untimely beheading, but he cannot slink through the pews. There is no leaving this eternal damnation. The fugue state that he stands in currently should terrify him, but he can't bring himself to think or feel or even remotely understand. Where am I? Where am I? Where am I?

The massive wooden door to the chapel creaks open. A Sibling of Sin shuffles through and slowly mopes their way through the pews, only to kneel just before his spector. His spector which he only now realizes, quite vaguely, that where he stands is exactly where he used to lead sermons. He looks down at the top of the siblings head. They are kneeling with their hands clasped together, they sob and they sob and he's not sure why. What troubles you so? He wants to ask but his lips cannot move, he can only watch as they shake and tremble. They cry, and they cry, and they cry, and he's not sure when but he slips back into the void. Senseless and alone, locked in his chapel of unrest. Time passes slower this time, he watches as the sun rises outside of the stained glass windows and he watches as it sets. It begins to rise and set infinitely, like a flickering light. Yet, it is like an eternity of standing and watching.

Sermons are held, he watches as siblings filter in and out of the pews. As his brother stands impossibly close, and shivers at the cold thought that Terzo stood exactly where he does now. That his body lay dead at his feet every time he leads the congregation, there is no rest for either of them. Terzo watches as more wrinkles, more fine lines and dark circles grow upon his fratellinos face. He watches him as time passes. He watches him when he lingers in the chapel after all the siblings have left, he watches as he cries and asks Terzo for guidance. Guidance he wishes he could give, but he cannot speak and he cannot cry.

It is a long time, he thinks, before the chapel doors creak open once more, and this time it is very late at night. Terzo has completed another bout of senselessness as a vaguely familiar Sibling of Sin walks in. They cry again but not as hard as they did the first time, and as he watches them he feels a different familiarity in their features. Does he know them? Did he know them… Before? He can’t quite remember but regardless of their tears and snot, he finds them rather beautiful in their grief. He can hear them sniffling, hear them whimper and whisper. They are the only thing he has been able to hear in a long time and he is struck with the realization that they look older than before. How long has it been? He hears them whisper once more and he can barely make out his own name, his title even. A title that no longer belongs to him.

“Papa..”

“Papa…”

“Papa… Are you there?”

His finger twitches at his side, his muscles convulse. Call my name, he thinks, Call to me.

“...”

“... Terzo?”

Instantaneously, he regains feeling throughout his entire body. He stumbles forward before falling to his knees directly beside the Sibling. Why now? Why has he regained his consciousness now? He is so close to them and yet he cannot bring himself to match their gaze, so he stares past them and raises a hand to their shoulder. He thinks to himself that he recognizes them now, his amore… How could he forget? He wants to scold himself but can't bring himself to focus on his own feelings as he watches them shiver at his touch and begin sobbing even harder than before.

He opens his mouth and tries to speak to them, but alas any words that come out turn into the air of the chapel and all it serves to do is make the Sibling shiver once more. They begin whispering again, their words stilted and wavering.

“Papa, it’s been almost six years since you’ve been gone.”

He is stunned. Standing here for six years. Six years, does anyone remember him anymore? Has he been completely forgotten? Is he obsolete?

“Papa IV is retiring… The holidays have passed and I find myself thinking of you once more, why has Lucifer doomed me to such a life? Have I not been faithful? Have I not been dutiful? Papa, I am lonely.”

His voice is like ice as he opens his mouth, the wind begins to whisper to the Sibling.

“I am always with you.”

Your body begins to shake, you cry out like you've never cried before, the melancholy that's made a home in your bones rears its ugly head and you fall to the steps below your knees. You reach your hands up and the breeze caresses them like your lover did once before, long ago. His presence is like a whispered promise in the air, and in a way, it is. Your tears smack against the stone of the steps but his voice calling to you is all you hear.

As the sun rises through the window, and you make your way back to your dorm room, Terzo leaves his spot in the chapel for the first time in six years. He follows you to your room and watches as you settle into bed to catch up on your lost night of sleep. Once he believes you to be fully sleeping, he makes his way out of your room and into the halls. He wanders for a long time, watching siblings he recognizes mingled with new siblings make their own way through the halls side by side with him. There are places around the Ministry that have changed, a specific archway has been remodeled and painted over with His Majesty in mind. It makes him smile, but it also brings him great pain that he could not have seen it built.

Soon, he finds himself outside of an office. An office with raised voices emanating from the other side of the door. He slinks inside and finds his little brother and Sister Imperator. They are yelling, waving their arms, huffing and puffing. She is trying to convince him to rethink his retirement, she threatens him but it has no real weight to it. Terzo watches as his fratellino sits down in his chair with a groan and falls silent. Sister’s voice begins to trail off and she asks him: What is wrong, bambino?

“His gaze has been haunting me, Sister. The Mark, the same Mark that stares back at me from inside the mirror. His head in my hands. I am haunted, and I miss him.”

Sister Imperator rolls her eyes. You are still on about that? She says vindictively. That was six years ago, C!

“I do not care. He is my brother and I have wronged him, not only in life but in death as well. The cold stare in his eyes, the look on his face resting in my hands. I cannot wash that away. You have forced me into a place that not even Lucifer could forgive. This is not what I wanted, it is not what he wanted. Let me go in peace… Please, Sister.”

She has turned her back on him, staring with an empty gaze out the window. You have disappointed me, C. I hope you are happy with yourself. She stalks out of the office, leaving both Copia and Terzo in silence. His brother begins crying, holding his own head in his hands.

“Could you ever forgive me, mio fratello?” He whispers into the icy air of the empty room.

Terzo makes his way to stand behind the hunched over form of his brother, he sighs and rests his hand on his shoulder. Copia relaxes with the breeze that makes its way through him, a shiver and a shuddering breath wrack his body. It is a while before Copia regains his composure, but soon he is off to another meeting, his rushing and bumbling demeanor reminiscent of his Cardinal days.

Terzo remains in the room, staring out the window as siblings rush by in the gardens. He thinks of his other brothers once more and wonders where they are. Could he find them here in this purgatory, or are they in Hell with their Lord? Have they been rewarded for their efforts? Why couldn’t he be with them, why did he have to haunt the halls of the Ministry alone?

He is not sure he will ever get the answers he looks for but for the time being, he is content to watch the new siblings admiring his late brother's hard work, the beautiful flora and fauna outside of the Ministry. He watches as two siblings water and trim the hedges and plants as needed, and he feels a sense of gratitude and pride in them. He is jealous of their life and their laughter but he is glad the Ministry continues to thrive, and has a new generation willing to care for it just as he and his brothers did.

Maybe this is his reward, his true retirement. There is nothing he has to worry about anymore, all he has to do is watch over his amore and his fratellino. Maybe he could be content in that, in having a purpose in this afterlife. A purpose that will not eat him from the inside out like the papacy.

The sun filters in and lights up the dust falling through the air, Terzo watches as it gently glides its way through the air like a leaf falling to the ground. He breathes a sigh of relief and begins to relax.

#my writing #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii x reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #i really hope yall like this its the first thing in a while to give me inspiration lol #i know its not that long but i hope its still good #i also hope its not too ooc for any of the characters

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biasbuck · 12 days

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BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

Happy Friday everyone! Back again with another round of the fic I've been reading this week. You can find previous rec lists here.

A reminder I'm here for all buddie/bucktommy/buddietommy configurations, enough love to go around!

17 May 2024

through the fire and the sound by @kirkaut 'It all starts when Tommy has to cancel their plans for Friday. Or: Evan Buckley and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.' The reason this week's rec list is coming a little later in the day, was because I was absolutely immersed in this 10k one shot and couldn't stop reading! I really loved the Buck characterisation in particular in this one, his voice rang out so strongly, supported, teased and cared for by the 118, and just ready to take those next steps with Tommy. Loved how their relationship was developed and showcased with the depth of love explored. After a series of bad calls end in injury, sometimes you have to embrace the moment!

you’ve got too much to wear on your sleeve by @try-set-me-on-fire apparently I was in the mood for some good ol' hurt/comfort this week, because in this one Tommy’s helicopter goes down, and whilst Maddie reassures Buck he'll be ok, in an effort to distract himself from worrying on the job, Buck concentrates on fixing the station AC unit. I really enjoyed the structure of this one, how Buck's work continues even once he knows what's happened because he still has a shift, and Tommy sending Maddie updates to reassure Buck was just very sweet.

prescribed burn and aerial ignition by @wakeupnew is a brilliantly crafted 7x06 coda, in which 'Tommy's busy fighting a wildfire at the edge of the Angeles National Forest, but every time he checks his phone, he has an increasingly unbelievable series of text messages.' I LOVED the text messages added in to this fic, such a great mix of sweet and drunken and funny and charming and appropriately alarming. Continuing the trend of them showing concern for each other, I also just loved Tommy's appreciation of clipboard Buck, drunk Buck, worried brother-in-law Buck and safe in his arms Buck. And the follow up is a beautifully soft and sexy morning after epilogue.

give your heart and soul to charity by @exhuastedpigeon is a buddie fic with background 'keeping things fluid' bucktommy, and crucially in which 'Eddie dumps God, gets some more therapy, accepts parts of himself he was taught to hate, loves his best friend, and loves himself.' With gorgeous evocative writing, lots and lots of Eddie introspection and some very pleasing healing Catholic Guilt to joyful unrepression arc, there's emotional ups and downs along the way that made my heart ache.

To Build a Home We Deconstruct Our Rituals by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels was another buddie fic I was recommended from a few years ago to read to get inside Eddie's head and is my favourite of tropes - fake marriage of convenience with co-habitation and mutual pining and very real feelings they've yet to articulate. Post-shooting, Eddie has concerns about the legal strength of Buck being Christopher's guardian in case of his death...so he totally marries him about it. My favourite thing was just nobody really batting an eye, until it became undeniable. And Maddie's reaction.

i could be the one (or your new addiction) by @bucktheally 'Five times Buck had to put a dollar in the Mentioning Tommy jar during 7x07, and one time nobody was around to catch him.' 118 firefam team banter my beloved!! As fun as this season has been I am MISSING ME some firetruck team conversations allowed by a longer season, and this fic fills the void magnificently.

PS - once again sending out the signal to ask if you have any henren authors/fic recs I should check out PLEASE let me know! I love them!

Also it's my birthday tomorrow and you know you want to point me towards any of your buddietommy fics that I missed!

#biasbuck recs #biasbuck watches 911 #911 ficrec #911 fic

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bats2102 · 3 months

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The Echoing Beat of Sorrow

Pairing: Elain x Lucien (Elain centered)

Summary: One shot of Elain's perspective through Ch 15 of ACOWAR and Ch 65 of ACOMAF. Elain's internal conflict and dialogue regarding the trauma from the cauldron and Feyre and Lucien's return to the Night Court following their escape from the Spring Court. (idk how to do this... sorry).

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Canon compliant trauma and violence. Contains and explores concepts/ themes related to trauma response (depersonalization/derealization/dissociation).

A/n: This is what my brain comes up with in the middle of the night, when instead of sleeping, my mind is contemplating and theorizing. Not a writer, and never will claim to be writer. Rather, this is an attempt (at best) to capture the internal turmoil and emotions I imagine Elain might be experiencing. It serves as nothing more than an outlet for my introspections and speculations about her character. I also used "echo" way too much.

The world around her seemed distant, obscured by a haze that veiled her vision and dulled the vibrancy of light and colour. Though her sight was clouded, Elain's senses remained keenly attuned, capturing every sound and sensation that permeated her consciousness.

She basked in the warmth of the sun caressing her skin, the echo of his heartbeat resonating in her pointed ears— an ever-present reminder of his existence, transcending the expanse of Prythian. There was a familiarity to each rhythmic thud, a comforting assurance that he was near. She didn't need the bond to confirm it; his heartbeat coursed through her veins, igniting a fire within her that banished the shadows of her sorrow.

Every beat of his heart filled the void within her, casting aside the emptiness that had become all too familiar. The sun seemed brighter today with his arrival, its rays seeping through the window to illuminate her surroundings. Yet, amidst the warmth that circled her, the weight of the iron ring encircling her finger remained cold and heavy.

Running her thumb over the ring jolted her back to the present, away from the comforting throb of his heartbeat that had enveloped her soul. The iron band serving as a stark reminder of the life she had once imagined, the only path she had been permitted to envision—a final tether to the human lands that now felt impossibly distant.

Outside her chamber, the faint shuffle of Feyre's footsteps seemed to mingle with her scent of lilac and pear, yet the clouds still obscured her vision.

The return of her sister brought a sliver of relief. And he was alive. Elain had sensed his safety through the bond, an instinctual feeling that his demise would rend her soul apart. Yet, there was a stark difference between merely feeling his safety through their bond and actually seeing him in the flesh, unharmed.

As the door creaked open, breaking the silence of the room, Elain remained detached, her only connection to the outside world being the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat echoing through her.

She knew she appeared a mere shadow of herself, hair disheveled, clad only in her dressing robe, her complexion pale and weak. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to change it.

Feyre approached, encircling the chair where Elain sat. "Elain?" she called softly. He wasn't with her.

Elain remained silent. There were no words capable of capturing the depth of her ache, and she couldn't bear to burden Feyre further, not after all she had already endured. Not more than she already had.

"I'm back," Feyre said quietly, refraining from mentioning 'home.'

Feyre understood that this court held no solace for her, that she yearned for a life far removed from the one they now inhabited. Yet, she knew Feyre would try to integrate her and Nesta into their new reality in the Night Court, driven by either love or guilt—Elain couldn't discern which. Nevertheless, she couldn't shake the feeling that this place would not be her home—it was shrouded in darkness that seemed to seep into every corner, enveloping her in its bleak embrace.

"I want to go home," Elain confessed. She sensed Feyre's chest tighten as if she struggled to draw breath. "I know."

"He'll be looking for me," Elain added, her voice barely a whisper, as though she wished to shield the heart beating so closely from hearing her words.

Feyre's demeanor toward her remained tender, as it always had. But then again, so had everyone else. They were all gentle, sweet, and careful, as if she would shatter at any moment.

"We were supposed to be married next week," Elain uttered, the words heavy in the air. This time, she heard it—the subtle falter in his heartbeat, a brief interruption in its steady cadence. From the corner of her eye, she saw Feyre place a hand to her chest, as though she felt the delicate crack in the heartbeat that resonated between them.

"I'm sorry," Feyre murmured, but Elaine remained numb, the void of her pain consuming any semblance of response. An apology couldn't remedy the pain — was she expected to suddenly feel better? To forget that she had been stolen from her home, torn away from her fiancé and her life, cast into a black pool of despair? Was she supposed to seamlessly assimilate into Feyre's life here, as if her own existence had never mattered? Was her trauma even acknowledged as her own, or was it merely viewed through the lens of how it affected others?

The darkness of the cauldron hadn't seared her—it had cradled her, caressed her, as if it too couldn’t bear to be anything but gentle to sweet Elain. Then it cast her aside, leaving her cold and shivering on the floor, the first thing she saw was a flare of light, and luc—

The emissary of spring stalked toward her, a graceful fox moving with purpose, his presence commanding attention as he knelt before her while she lay bare on the floor. He was a male fae she had never known, yet he defended her dignity and honor. With a bite of magic at his throat, the guards who had been snickering fell silent.

As he knelt, he offered her his coat. She couldn't help her cringe. She wasn't afraid of him; no, she had never been frightened by his presence. Instead, she feared how his touch would make her feel—whether it would scorch her glowing skin or offer a soothing light to lead her soul.

So, Elain, who was sweet and gentle, destined to marry a son who harbored a disdain for faeries, found herself thrust into the world of the fae. She attempted to distance herself from the haunting memories, but the more she struggled, the deeper she sank into their relentless grip. The once-obscuring fog lifted from her mind and eyes, exposing the raw trauma, forcing her to relive the fateful day of the Cauldron.

She remembered vividly the sensation of meeting his gaze, his eyes a mesmerizing blend of russet and metal. In that moment, looking into his eyes, she had never experienced such clarity.

The pale look of death etched upon his face as he regarded her, as if he realized the Cauldron had stolen something precious from him too. Both robbed of what their hearts once held dear—her fiancé, Graysen, and the enigmatic figure she hadn't fully understood at the time, but now recognized.

Jesminda.

It tore her heart open witnessing what befell him, what transpired for her. The name lingered in her thoughts, the vision a haunting echo of the shared suffering that connected them.

That brought her back to Feyre. "Everyone keeps saying that" she murmured. But apologies were hollow echoes, incapable of restoring what was lost. Her thumb brushed against the iron ring, once more feeling the cold, constant companion in her grief. One the sun couldn't yet warm.

"But it doesn't fix anything, does it?" she continued, her words heavy with resignation. She knew it would shatter Feyre, her baby sister—the one who had borne the weight of their family, who had kept her alive all those years. But in the end, Feyre couldn’t save her.

Couldn’t save her humanity.

The High Lord of Night suffocated the room, his darkness stealing all the light she tried to let in. The gentleness in his voice was a courtesy extended by Feyre as he asked if she needed anything. But neither of them truly understood. Not even when she reiterated, "I want to go home."

But as she spoke those words, she felt him—not his touch or his heart this time, but his soul. It was as if he felt the hollowness and despair radiating within her, suffering through the depths of her pain.

And it shattered something within her, his own light dimming as if trying to reach the void that now existed where all the light once had been inside her.

But nothing remained, except the echo of his heart.

Each beat reverberated through her soul, a lifeline of light she grasped onto with unwavering determination.

With no intention of letting go.

#elain archeron #elain x lucien #lucien vanserra #elucien #elucien fanfic #elain acotar #elucien angst #elain and lucien #acotar fanfiction

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