#the bittersweet love doesn’t always work out but it’s better to have loved and lost angle would work

[seelestars]

some bittersweet thoughts abt dating aventurine / sunday after playing 2.1…

firstly, I think I underestimated how hard it would be to get into a relationship with someone like aventurine,, he would need to trust you immensely in order to even attempt dating you

but once you do date him, he’s still very hesitant on being affectionate towards you

he had lost everything, everyone that was dear to him, so the idea of having someone he could lose again scares him

he’s careful not to grow too attached to you, always keeping you at an arms distance despite how much you love and care for him

every morning, he makes sure he wakes up before you so he can leave your side early. it’s not that he doesn’t want to be around you during such vulnerable moments, no, but rather he fears he’ll get too attached to you

he makes sure to tuck you in and press a sweet kiss to your forehead as he smiles to himself sadly before heading out

if you ask him about his reasoning behind leaving so early, he’ll just make excuses and dismiss it as ipc work (there’s a whole angsty idea I have for this related to believing he’s cheating but idk if I should write it)

you try your best to be understanding, staying by his side and comforting him whenever he needs it

in return, he spoils you using his immense wealth

see a necklace you like? no worries, just tell him—tabs always on him after all. want to go out for dinner? of course, the most luxurious restaurant rented out just for the two of you.

it’s his way of making up for his distant nature towards you, he’ll even allow you to hear some stories about his past such as the day he got branded as a slave as he stares at you with a soft gaze and a subtly melancholic smile (he even permits you to call him by his real name, kakavasha!)

with sunday, I believe he’d be a tad bit paranoid when it comes to you

as a neat freak who desperately needs control over anything and everything, he feels like he needs to have some form of control over you as well

you’re very dear and precious to him after all, and he can’t just allow you to slip away from his hands like how robin did

his little bird servants are watching you day and night, making sure you don’t get into any trouble

and at the end of the day, he always asks you regarding what you did the entire day while using his ability to make others tell the truth—he has to make sure you didn’t do anything that would potentially get you into danger, no?

he feels guilty and regretful for resorting to such methods to ensure your complete safety, but he tells himself it’s better to be safe than sorry

if he can, he’ll try to have you by his side as much as possible so he can have you directly under his watch and protect you if necessary

he makes sure to handle you extra delicately and gently, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he helps you wash your hair

he even allows you privileges such as touching his sensitive wings as well as his halo, hoping it helps convey just how special you are to him

to him, you’re safer under his watchful eye and control as the two of you happily spend your days together

if anyone had even dared to imply that they would harm you, sunday would deal with it immediately and make sure you would never see them again

even with all the dirty work he does, you’ll understand, won’t you? everything he does is for you, after all.

#✷ . nova’s brainrot ! #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #sunday x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 52

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I always come back to Loki.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Loki lingers, his head against your arm as you sit in the hue of spring. You could be calm if he weren’t there, if he hadn’t just altered your irrevocably. His wife? 

You could’ve never imagined it. You can’t be his wife. You’re the maid. You’re lost and hopeless and unimportant. Yet he wants to marry you? You? Even your own father doesn’t want you. Until just then, you may have thought the same of man kneeling by your feet. 

Should it feel special? Should you be happy? Doesn’t every woman dream of her wedding day? You didn’t. You never expected a husband. You never had the thought to spare marriage. It just didn’t seem realistic to you. It was never a possibility you had to weigh. 

“You’re quiet,” he lifts his head slowly, looking up at you with his gemlike eyes, “aren’t you excited?” 

You suck in your lip then let it out, “yeah, I’m just... surprised.” 

“Mm, I’m sorry it wasn’t a better one,” he looks around, “no candles, no champagne... but there are flowers.” 

“Yeah, I guess, er--” 

You hear the doors and before you can face the intruder on your scene, Frigga’s voice unleashes in a shrill squeal, “did you do it? Oh, please, Loki, what did she say?” 

He shifts and clears his throat. He grips the arms rest and pushes himself to his feet. He plants a kiss on your forehead before he straightens. He lets out a breath as he turns to his mother. 

“We are getting married,” he says plainly. 

“Oh, how wonderful,” she chimes, “oh, a daughter-in-law!... Again.” She chuckles lightly, “it will be like a fairytale.” She flutters over to you as Loki moves out of her way, “darling,” she takes your hand, tugging you up to your feet, “this will be even grander than Walpurgisnacht. Oh yes, this will be unforgettable.” 

You look at Loki as he returns your helpless gaze. You pout in his direction as he shrugs. Your mouth curves deeper downward. Please help! 

“I’ve got some silhouettes in mind,” she pulls you away from the table, “Hela showed me this app, Pinterest I believe it’s called. I have all these splendid things saved.” 

‘Sorry,’ Loki mouths and turns his hands out as you’re dragged away from the sunlight and the serenity of nature. Back to the dark house where you can’t breathe. 

Inside, she takes you into the kitchen. She leaves you by the island as she flits around, dropping black tea into a pot and putting on the kettle to boil. She hums gleefully as you just stare. ‘Daughter-n-law'. That’s what she said. Would that make her your mother? 

“Dear,” she turns to you and exhales, her expression dampening, “I recall you said your mother isn't with us anymore. I understand that may make this bittersweet for you but I will be here for you. Whatever you need, whatever questions you have, I’ll be happy to help. A wedding is a big thing. There’s much to do.” 

You nod, “should we... should we hire a planner?” 

“A planner? Gods no! I fancy myself a bit of an amateur but more than adequate,” she tuts, “we could have it at the house. Or perhaps we might seek out a nice chapel.” 

You frown. It’s all so much so fast. She stops and puts her hand to her chest, “oh sorry, darling, I’m just so excited for you. I’m not trying to take over. Don’t be afraid to speak up. What do you think for a venue? Oh, perhaps a destination? Somewhere tropical?” 

You cross your arms and peer over, your eyes catching the sheen of sunlight. 

“The garden,” you murmur, “the gazebo. It’s all fixed up. We could put flowers around the rails.” 

“That’d be a beautiful ceremony but what about the reception? We need space.” 

“Oh,” you babble. 

“Certainly we could make it work. We could fit people into the garden, we may have to sacrifice a few hedges.” 

“Not many,” you mutter. 

“Pardon, dear?” She asks as the kettle clicks and she turns to grab it off the burner, “what do you mean by that?” 

“I...” your shoulders slump at the realisation, “I don’t have anyone to invite.” 

She’s quiet as she pours the steaming water into the tea pot, “that’s not true. You have us and oh, Bragi seemed quite fond of you.” 

“That doesn’t count.” 

“Why not? Dear, we love Loki because we have to, we love you because we want to,” she smiles. 

Your eyes drift away wistfully. She can’t understand. She has people, she has everything you ever wanted. Even with the promise of a pretty house, a gorgeous garden, and all that comes with it, it just doesn’t make you feel any different. 

You want a dad who loves you. You want a mother who’s alive. You want anyone who isn’t just obligated to you. 

“I’m sorry,” her voice goes low, “I’m not meaning to upset you. I’ll slow down. I understand it’s a lot--” 

“How could you want me to marry him? I don’t belong—I shouldn’t-- I can’t be your daughter.” 

“Why ever not?” She asks. 

You scoff and push your shoulders up, “I’m not good enough.” 

She laughs, but not a taunting laugh. It’s disbelieving. She takes you by the shoulders and makes you face her head on, “darling, let me tell you, you are. You... you have no idea.” 

“No idea?” You shake your head as you look at her from beneath your lashes. 

“About what you do to my son. No, you cannot see it but I do. My Loki. I’ve seen him married, I’ve seen him heartbroken, I’ve seen him through everything, but something’s different about this. About you,” he brings a hand up to caress your cheek and hairline, “you have a power over him. Once you claim it, this will all be so much easier.” She cups your cheeks and tilts her head with a coy smile, “that’s how a marriage should be, you will see. He’ll never admit it but my son is more like his father than you would think.” 

You scrunch up your nose. You don’t believe her. You can’t. You don’t have power. You’re just you. You’re not special or anything like that. You now what you are to Loki. The same thing you’ve always been to him, whether his maid, his plaything, or his wife; convenient. 

“You will see,” she assures as if she can hear your doubts, “and what always clears my mind is tea.” 

✨

Frigga expounds at length about all the possibilities ahead of you. She has grocery list that goes beyond a mere wedding. An engagement party, a bridal shower, the rehearsal, and not to mention, a scandalous bachelorette. You only sink further into anxiety. What have you gotten yourself into? 

Well, you never did say yes. You weren’t asked, were you? Doesn’t matter. It’s not like you have anywhere to go. 

You hold your chin, gnawing on your lip as Frigga rambles on about wedding colours. Green is nice but what about something subtle. Oh, or metallic. You simply nod, offering little to her monologue. 

Your eyes wander past her to the windows. The afternoon wanes as evening cools the air. You mourn the sunlight as it shifts and the curtains dull. 

“Ahem,” the clearing of a throat draws you away from your detachment. 

Frigga quiets as she glances at her husband. He stands in the doorway, greeting you both with a subtle smile. 

“I hate to interrupt, dear,” he says to Frigga, “but I was hoping I might be spared a moment with our future daughter before the sun sets. It has been a long day and I’d hate to keep her later than need be.” 

“Oh, uh, certainly,” Frigga pushes her shoulders back, her cheeks tinging a dainty pink, “time must’ve got away from me. I’m so sorry, darling.” She reaches over and squeezes above your elbow, “I have been going on and on.” 

“You will have lots of time to do so,” Odin chuckles, “but I feel the rain coming soon and I would like a walk in the gardens before then.” He tilts his head towards you, “may I have the honour?” 

Frigga nudges you dips her head, “go on.” 

You stand and swallow tightly, crossing the room to Odin as he waits patiently. You offer a sheepish look as he offers his arm. You thank him and walk with him into the entryway. He lets you retrieve your shoes before you go to the back doors and he ushers you outside. 

You’re quiet as you descend the steps and stroll between the hedges. You feel the cool dampness creeping in the air. He’s right about the rain. You cling to his arm as a shiver crawls up your spine. 

He draws away briefly, slipping off his thick cardigan, and he slips it over your shoulders. You murmur a thank you and he loops his arm with yours once again. You carry on, uncertain. You can sense he means to say something and you think you know what. He isn’t as happy as Frigga about this union. 

You brace yourself for it. For him to put all your doubts to voice. You’re not good enough for Loki. This is a mistake. You are a pretender and you don’t belong in this family. 

“My son is a fool,” he begins, shaking you with his soft but deep tone. You exhale, somewhat comforted that you were right. For once. “The way he’s behaved, foolish. And that’s to put it lightly, my dear.” He reaches to pat your hand in the crook of his arm, “you deserve much better than either of my sons.” 

You keep your chin low as you watch your feet. A twig crushes beneath your sole as leaves rustle to your left. You glance over and stare after a short tail before it disappears. It’s only then you realise where he’s leading you. 

The gazebo rises ahead of you with it’s domed roof. He stops you at the bottom and turns. He lets you go and lowers himself to sit on the step. He pats the wood next to him. As you sit, he looks up, admiring the structure. 

“You did a good job,” he says. 

“What?”  

“On this,” he touches the railing, “looks sturdy.” 

“Oh, well I... I only called the carpenter.” 

“You did what needed to be done. What my son would not.” 

“Mm, I guess,” you shrug. 

“You did,” he insists, “do you not see it?” 

“See what?” You twiddle your fingers. 

“You are much stronger than he thinks you are. Than you think you are,” he shakes his head, “you underestimate yourself. My son, as much as I hate to think I raised him that way, while whine and whine before he gets anything done. If he can avoid it, it won’t be done. But you, I see it clearly, you do things. You know what life is. You just get through it.” 

You hum and bite down on your cheeks. Not having a choice isn’t bravery. If anything, it’s the opposite. 

“You shouldn’t. Just get through it. You should have some joy. You shouldn’t be locked away in the dark away from the sunlight. You should flourish in it,” he leans against you, “don’t let this marriage be like everything else.” 

You dip your head. He sees right through you. 

“You’re wrong, I’m not strong. I’m weak. I only do things because I’m afraid,” you sniffle. 

“But you can admit that fear. You can face it. Not many people can.” 

You sighs and drag your hands up and down your calves, hunching over your knees. 

“If you want to marry my son, I will not say a word to stop you, but I do want you to make a promise to me,” he continues, “a small one. Rather, think of it as a promise to yourself.” 

“Okay,” you wilt as you look over at him. His eyes are a bluish grey with flecks of slate. His gaze is gentle. 

“It’s what we spoke of before,” he says, “you must tell my son no.” 

“No?” 

“Ah, yes, I do regret he didn’t hear more it earlier in his life but he does need to hear it. Especially from you,” he intones. 

“But I...” 

“You will. And when you do, he will listen.” 

“How-- no, he wouldn’t.” 

“Ah, I know. My son is isn’t very good at that but he will. He must. He has reason to listen now. You are not his wife yet,” he puts his hand over yours, just atop your knee. 

You give a strained look, somewhere between a smile and frown. You’re flattered that he believe in you but you don’t. He doesn’t know the way it. He doesn’t know the way you are. 

“Alright, let’s practice,” he pulls his hand away and claps. He pushes himself to his feet with a grunt and spins to face you. He adjusts his collar and lifts his chin, putting on face, almost a pinched look, “now, wife,” his voice is slightly off, “what I say is law and you will do as I say.” 

You stare at him, confused. You purse your lips and shake your head. What is he talking about? 

He grins and shows his palms, “I am him. Pretend I’m my son,” he lowers his voice, “now, we’ve had enough of this conversation and I have made my decision.” 

You pick your nail, watching him dumbly. 

He breaks character again, “say no.” 

“What?” 

“Say it,” he orders then once more his poster shifts. “Wife, I will not tell you again.” 

You blink and take a deep breath, “n--no?” 

He sputters, “pardon? What was that?” 

“No,” you say firmer, heart beating, “no, I—I won’t.” 

“But I said so--” 

“Oh, um, okay--” 

“No, no, no,” Odin waves his hands, “keep going.” 

“Uh, okay, uh, no,” you say again. 

“No? You’re telling me no?” He puts on a display which does remind you of Loki. “How can you tell me no?” 

You look at him and blanch. His grey eyes stare back, goading you on. He bows his head slightly. 

“Yes, I mean, no. Yes, I am telling you no. No,” you steady your voice, “no.” He spins his finger and you repeat it again, loudly. 

He arches his brow and puts his hand to his chest, “no?” He sounds almost pathetic, “but darling,” he comes forward and lowers himself to his knees, one at a time. He takes your hand in his, “darling, please, don’t be mad at me.” 

You scoff as his theatrics turn ridiculous. You make a face and roll your eyes, “he wouldn’t...” 

“He will,” Odin assures. “If he knows you’re serious, if you don’t give him what he wants right away, oh, I think you could give him a right scare. As I have it, you already have done.” He lifts himself slightly and angles to sit beside you again, “just perhaps this time you needn’t scale the roof.” 

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers

[blithesharem]

Barbatos 🌂

Okay so forgive me because all I could think of when I saw this was how much Barbatos probably enjoys the musical Singin' in the Rain. I feel like he secretly (not so secretly?) is a huge broadway/live theater fan. He certainly has memorized the main dance number.

So I'm using this as an excuse to do an entirely indulgent Bros + Extras HC post:

What is their favorite musical?

Lucifer: Les Misérables. Happy endings where? He appreciates the nuanced plot and relates to all the bullshit the leads have to deal with. He gets teary at the end but will never let a soul see. Except perhaps you. Perhaps.

Mammon: Newsies. A bunch of scrappy up start business boys coming together to demand some extra coin for their hard work? What’s not to like? I mean, if you asked him he’d deny enjoying musicals at all, but we’ve all heard him singing the lyrics under his breath.

Leviathan: Six. History but turned into an idol concert? His dream. For a period he got way into learning everything there was to know about Henry VIII’s six wives and he and Satan were insufferable, spouting facts to anyone who would listen.

Satan: Phantom of the Opera. A classic, and for a reason. He admires the impact it had on contemporary theater and he claims to relate to the Phantom…but you know better. Once he admitted to you that his real favorite was Wicked, and you suspect he sees himself in Elphaba more than he may be ready to admit.

Asmodeus: Chicago, of course. Razzle Dazzle? When You’re Good to Mama? CELL BLOCK TANGO? This is the most Asmo-coded musical to ever grace the stage. You know he’s just WAITING for the excuse to force his brothers to dress up and perform with him. He'd be satisfied if you'd settle for a private performance as well.

Beelzebub: Beel has a hard time with live theater, because it’s a long time to sit without any concessions to get him through. Watching a performance on TV or as a movie though he’s happy with. His personal favorite is Peter Pan. He likes the Lost Boys the best, a group of brothers all happy together (and Wendy too of course). Also, he knows it doesn't count...but that food scene in Hook? Nice.

Belphegor: Heathers. What can he say, he likes the bitchiness. Also he always thought J.D kinda had a point. He likes to imagine that he and Veronica blow up the school and run away together to live happily ever after in a sort of a twisted Bonnie and Clyde way. Anyway, how about those uniforms? Any chance of you wearing one of those sometime ha ha…?

Diavolo: The Lion King. Oh man oh man Diavolo loves The Lion King. Does he frequently tease Barbatos (and sometimes Lucifer) about being his Zazu? Absolutely. Was Nala his first not-so-secret crush? Oh yes. Does he wish he had a dad like Mufasa? …Well, let’s not worry about that. Diavolo loves every minute of the play, but he openly weeps at the end when Simba takes his place as king.

Barbatos: Singin’ in the Rain. The classic aesthetic, themes of struggling with adjustment in a changing world, a triumphant ending...it's a bit of an escapism pleasure for Barbatos. Not to mention, he's happy for any excuse to dress up and go out on the town with you on his arm.

Solomon: Moulin Rouge. Solomon is a romantic at heart, but he’s a romantic who knows that all too often, romances are tragedies wearing a mask. He enjoys indulging in the sweetness of the love story, the hopeful crescendo, before the fall into the reality of loss. He finds it depressing in a comforting way, like an old friend waving hello from across the street. As time with you goes on however, he finds it’s becoming harder to watch through to the end…Perhaps Beauty and the Beast is more to his new tastes?

Simeon: Waitress. Simeon, like Lucifer and Solomon, enjoys the bittersweetness. He likes that it doesn’t shy away from the messiness of human connection. As an angel, it’s fascinating, like a fruit he can never know the flavor of. However, unlike the other men, Simeon likes a happy ending, and the ending of Waitress makes him choke up for different reasons. If Luke asks, however, his favorite is Matilda.

Luke: Annie. Little kids being rascals and naughty with the sweetness of a tender adoption story? It makes him feel warm and fuzzy (and mischievous) every time. Knows all the words to every song though he won’t admit it in front of Mammon.

#I SPENT WAY TOO LONG ON THIS #obey me #obey me hcs #blithe hcs #obey me solomon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me diavolo

[ghostiex0]

catch me becoming a daily on this blog lol but if i may: how about some angst/comfort headcannons where Caviera, Lion, Rook, Doc, and Smoke have their memories of their S/O wiped, but they manage to recover them and seek their S/O out? i imagine it was out of the blue, so they werent warned of it beforehand, hope this makes sense!

I think I understand. I made the scenario that they lost their memory due to being in the field, hope that’s alright! I also included Smokes daughter for his and there are mentions of Lions son in his section.

Caveria

- It was just supposed to be training. Which in Taina’s opinion made this all the worse. She didn’t even get hurt out in battle, but during training.

- Apparently if you hit your head with just enough force at just the right angle, it can seriously fuck you up. Thankfully, Gustave says she’s still functioning properly besides her memory.

- Seeing her in such a state, it was normal to worry was it not? She looked at you like it wasn’t.

- When Gustave pulled you aside and informed you she had some short term memory loss due to the impact, it all made more sense. It hurt a lot more too.

- It didn’t take long for you to head out after that. You had worked so hard to get Taina open to trust you and build an open and loving relationship. You didn’t know how you even did it, never mind do it all over again.

- You at least needed some time alone.

- … You didn’t mean this much. It’s been almost a month with barely any contact with Taina. Some bittersweet check ups that she was still so guarded about, even when you tried to explain that you loved her so.

- It was late. You were snuggled up in your couch, the bed feeling so uncomfortable ever since the thought that Taina might never lay in it again came up.

- But ever at this hour, there she was, at your door, dressed in a some lay around attire… but at your door. You hesitated, then opened it.

- “Coração, I’m sorry it’s taken me this long. I hope… we haven’t lost anything here.”

Smoke

- James is always itching for excitement. He lives for the gunfire and smoke… and his weird chemicals he throws in.

- It finally came to stab him in the back.

- In the hospital bed of the clinic, his daughter and a woman, stress written across their faces, were sitting in the chairs along the wall.

- As soon as he shuffled, they were up on their feet, moving towards him, gently hugs and questions of “are you alright?”

- It took him a minute to fully process what was happening and why he’s ended up here. He then looked at his daughter then you, then his daughter, then you.

- “Heh… yeah I’m alright’.. I’m glad my daughter wasn’t alone during this but… who are ya?”

- Puzzled, you were looking over him for any signs of joking or teasing… but there were none. He genuinely didn’t know who you were anymore.

- His daughter seemed just as confused as you, looking at her dad before explaining that you two were together and of the such.

- You just needed to take a leave for a minute, patting her shoulder gently before you did so.

- his daughter was the one to smack some sense into him eventually. She knew her father needed to rest, but she knew that he’d also let someone good for him walk away.

- She would help him feel more himself again, then force him to go out and get you some pretty flowers and finally, send him your address. She would make sure you two at least stayed in each other’s lives.

- James would thank her later.

Lion

- Oliver didn’t have much family to visit him if he would ever fall ill or have a tragedy happen on the field. Apart of him doesn’t know if he’d even want them to visit him.

- But he has you and his son. He’s created a better life for himself and hopes to make it with you.

- Yet he had forgotten all about you. There were some missed phone calls from over a month ago in his phone. Only a few more recently. What had happened?

- Upon losing his memory, you got to see him a few times. He never remembered. He was skeptical, now in the same state he was before you two got together of feeling overwhelmed with his son, his job, his life, and struggles of his past. He didn’t believe he would add another thing on top of that.

- After eight visits it was just too painful and you decided for the better of yourself to keep contact minimal. Some calls here and there. Eventually another visit. Soon, it felt hopeless.

- Three months is how long it took for Olivier to show up at your door, holding his breath and biting his tongue. Just looking at you. You just looking at him, in utter shock.

- “I… I don’t even know what happened still.”

- Those were the first words he uttered to you. A desperation in his tone.

- How were you supposed to be mad at him when he was like this. So torn and confused about everything.

- You couldn’t help but just let the tears flow. He definitely teared up as well. Bringing him into your arms again felt like your world had finally been pieced back together again.

Rook

- Julien is one of the youngest and most optimistic operators on the team. His state made many on the force feel guilty in some capacity. Especially his fellow GIGN operators.

- It only got worse when they realized he forgot about the one he loved. Julien liked to talk about you quite a lot. He had many hopes of what his life could become with you. He even talked about getting married to you a few times with his coworkers.

- Now, Gustave had to talk to you as Dr.Kateb, it sucked.

- You took your time to mourn, sitting there in the clinical office chair. But none of it would make him remember you. Looking over at him and back to the floor. It was hard. Yet, you agreed and walked out.

- He was a solider before anything else wasn’t he? You had to respect that.

- You two had a small apartment in Tours together. You stayed there practically 24/7. It wasn’t the same anymore and it got to the point where you thought about moving. If he forgot everything you would just have to try to.

- Your phone rang out. It was too far away. You’d just call them back later.

- Your phone rang out again. Really? Calling again?

- Fine! You were getting up now!

- Going over to the phone, you snatched it off the counter, annoyed and ready to sassily tell them to leave a message next time,

- “But I missed you a lot.”

- You swear your whole stomach did a backflip. You started asking a million questions, getting answers felt like a weight off your chest finally.

- “I’m sorry, I didn’t know!… I finally remembered again though… what do you think about marriage?”

Doc

- One of the most valuable operators, fallen down with a type of memory loss wasn’t good at all.

- So though it sucks, it wasn’t that much of a surprise when Harry put some strict guidelines in place for how things would go with Gustave.

- You would be kept mostly in the dark.

- It was heartbreaking. It felt like you were leaving him when you could help him the most. You knew he would never leave you if you had suffered the same. It felt so wrong. But Harry assured you this needed to happen.

- Working on the frontlines is what he loved. He hated being tied to a desk and such. He had his passions and who were you to get in the way of that?

- You agreed. You wouldn’t have contact with Gustave while he was recovering. You could only hope he would remember again.

- Soon, he’d be on his feet in the field again, training or working from the sidelines as he got better.

- And at the dead of night before going to sleep,

- “Goodnight, mon ange.”

- He leaned down and closed his eyes without thinking, then registered what he had said and threw the covers off himself like a madman.

- Gustave had forgotten about you. How?! Oh god why?! At the speed of light he started looking for your number in his phone, he did, pressing call. It went straight to voicemail. He did it again. Straight to voicemail.

- Pissed, concerned and confused, he stomped his way up to Harry’s office.

- soon the office was filled with aggressive arguing (mainly from Gustave) and long sighs. Harry called you up himself, asking you if you’d like to come see Gustave. That he finally remembered.

- You didn’t need to be told twice and arrived as fast as you could. Practically running up to Harry’s office and slamming the door open to see your gorgeous lover again.

- “Mon ange.. oh I should’ve known, I should’ve remembered..”

- a few bittersweet laughs and kisses made it all better eventually. You’d find a way to work through this.

#r6s #r6s x reader #rainbow six siege #headcanons #r6 #doc x reader #caveria x reader #smoke x reader #rook x reader #lion x reader #doc #Caveria #smoke #rook #lion

[star--joy]

Whitestone Gala

Percy and Vex enjoy their first Whitestone Gala together.

-

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 1281

Originally posted: 1/30/22

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44657167

Seeing the elegant ballroom of Whitestone’s castle bustling with the activity of a Winter’s Crest gala for the first time in almost a decade fills Percy with a ocean of bittersweet.

It’s lovely, of course it is. Cassandra is sampling the many pastries prepared, the ever-present tension lost from her shoulders. Keyleth and Gilmore are taking turns dancing with Vax, making sure he never has a free moment. Scanlan is giving plenty of feedback to the jaunty musicians, much to their annoyance. Pike and Grog are belaying wild stories of their youth to an overjoyed crowd of citizens.

Percy smiles, eyeing his strange family of oddballs. Although he’ll never stop missing his siblings, his parents, his life before… he’s happy. After all these years, all this loss, he’s come to a place of contentment that seemed unreachable for so long.

Still, there is one piece of the puzzle missing. In his opinion, the most important piece.

Vex’ahlia still hasn’t arrived.

Every few seconds, Percy’s eyes will flick to the grand entrance, willing her to finally step through. He’s excited for their first gala together.

“Waiting for Vex?” Vax’s smoothe voice asks as he makes his presence beside the Lord of Whitestone known. Percy only avoids startling because of how practiced he is with Vax’s sneaky habits.

“As if you aren’t,” he scoffs, lips ticking up. “Have Keyleth and Gilmore grown tired of dancing?”

Vax laughs, gesturing through the crowd to his partners, who have forgone him to dance with each other, instead, both giggling as they twirl through the dance floor. “No, they’ve just grown tired of me.”

With a chuckle, Percy plucks two glasses of champagne off a nearby tray, handing one to his brother-in-law. He goes to say something, a witty one liner, most likely, but any thought of the words fall from his mind when, out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of the doors to the ballroom opening.

It’s with sheer skill, and a fair amount of luck, that Percy is able to prevent the champagne glass from slipping through his suddenly limp fingers.

Dear Gods.

Vex saunters into the ballroom, chin lifted and eyes crinkled with a smile. The navy gown she dons shimmers with every movement, a result of the tiny golden gems woven into every inch of the fabric. It clings to her upper body before spreading out in a wide flare at her hips. A gleaming necklace displaying a charm of the Whitestone Crest rests snugly against her neck.

Hazel eyes sweep across the crowd of people, many of whom are staring at the Lady of Whitestone with awe. At least, Percy assumes they are. How could anyone not be?

The glass of champagne is nabbed from his grasp, but he doesn’t pay any attention to Vax’s stealing. Every inch of his attention is focused on nothing but Vex’ahlia. She’s always been beautiful, otherworldly, even, but Percy has never seen her radiate this kind of aura.

“Stop drooling over my sister, Freddy, and go talk to her,” Vax insists, nudging Percy forward. “Tell her I love her, and that she better spend some time with me, not just you.”

He barely hears the words, but still follows the command, feet carrying him mindlessly in the direction of his wife. She spots him when he’s halfway there, lips curling into an even wider smile.

Percy swallows, trying to find a scrap of composure before he reaches her.

“Hello, darling,” Vex coos when he’s within earshot, sliding into place next to him like it’s where she belongs. Her arm hooks into his. “How do I look?”

“Vex,” he whispers, almost scolding her for bothering to ask. “You… there are no words.”

“Really? I can think of a few, myself. Gorgeous, stunning, spectacular. Honestly, there’s a whole vocabulary.”

Percy shakes his head. “None of them do you justice, my dear. I’m afraid you’ve transcended the Common language.”

“Well, you could always try Celestial,” she suggests, brushing a feather light kiss against his cheek as they begin to wander through the crowds aimlessly. He wonders if she left a trail of red lipstick on his face, but doesn’t particularly care. “Or one of the other languages you know. How many is that, again? Four?”

“I am speechless in every dialect,” Percy insists.

The grin that graces Vex’s face is so unrestrained. His footsteps falter with the force of it. For how taken he may be with the beauty of her outfit, nothing compares to the beauty of her joy. “Why, you’re sentimental, today.”

How is he supposed to be anything else when there’s Vex’ahlia? In his home, in his castle, with his ring on her finger. “You do make me feel… well, you make me feel.”

Vex peers at him, eyelids glittering with the silver shadow, curled lashes fluttering. Distantly, Percy wonders how she can make eyelashes attractive. “You make me feel, too. I’m very happy to be here.” For a moment, they simply stare at each other, love pulsing in the air.

“We’re being disgusting,” Percy notes.

“Oh, absolutely repulsive,” she agrees through a laugh. “What are they going to do? Kick us out?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them. Or blame them, really.”

“We’re the Lord and Lady of the town, Percy. How are they going to eject us from our own castle?”

“With the power of democracy, of course.”

Vex’s shoulder shake with her giggles.

Belatedly, Percy notices that they’ve stumbled upon the dance floor in their wandering, where couples of all kinds are waltzing. Vex spots it, too. “Care for a dance, Lord de Rolo?”

“How forward of you, Lady de Rolo,” he hums, easily slipping into position, thanking Pelor that his parents forced him to learn how to waltz. It’s a skill he hasn’t utilized in years, but the muscle memory is engrained.

Together, the couple join the others, twirling and skipping and stealing the spotlight. At least, Vex steals the spotlight. Percy just benefits from the proximity.

“Vax would like me to tell you that I’m not allowed to take up all your time,” he notes as they twirl. “Though I don’t know if I have the self-control to stay away.” It’s said half because it’s the truth and half because he knows it will make her laugh.

Sure enough, she tosses her head back with her chuckling, a sight far more majestic than the finest paintings. “I’m sure you’ll manage, dear. Besides,” Vex whispers, leaning in to mutter in his ear, “You’ll get my company all night, and I believe that will make up for any lost time.”

Heat engulfs him, smile spreading over his burning face. “Minx.”

“Patience is a virtue,” Vex sing-songs as he drops her into a dip.

Percy laughs. From the distance, he spots Vax approaching them, no doubt intending to steal his sister away for a dance or three, and despite his jokes, Percy would never get in the way of the twins’ time together. “Looks like I must hand you off.”

Standing on her toes, Vex halts their dancing to kiss him, a bit more passionately than socially acceptable. “Thank you for being such a gentleman, darling.”

“Of course. Go have fun, Vex,” Percy agrees, transferring his hold of her to Vax.

The twins flutter away quickly. Percy smiles as he watches them giggle and whisper together.

He’ll have to steal a few more dances before the night is over, but for now, he’ll be a good Lord of Whitestone and attempt to socialize, even if Vex will be the only thing truly on his mind.

One thing’s certain: he’s going to be holding a lot more galas in the future.

#fluff #seriously this is fluff fluff and more fluff #Critical Role #TLOVM #the legend of vox machina #LOVM #Vex'ahlia #Perc'ahlia #Percival de Rolo #Percy de rolo #Bad news bears #percahlia #vexahlia #percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo iii #Perc'ahlia fanfiction

[finchyfeathers]

just someone dropping by to say thank you for Cherris pov being so heartfelt and rooted in loss. The whole dynamic and their speeches brought me to tears and your message about loss at the end was so appreciated ❤️ im currently dealing with it and it does suck so much but your story just made me remember why I loved her so much and how much I miss her 🩵

thank you again and can't wait to read more.

I said it before in my notes on the chapter, but loss is a universally difficult thing to deal with. And as silly as it may seem to have me writing about such topics so seriously in a Hazbin hotel fanfiction of all things with Cherri Bomb of all characters, I think it’s so very important to take these issues with the care they deserve. Because I know there’s so many people who will feel seen and understood.

From the bottom of my heart, you have my sincerest condolences. I’m so sorry this is something you have to go through. I don’t know you, but I can understand how hard it is to go through that from personal experience. Things you might have once loved become unbearable because they might be associated with the one you lost, getting out a bed some days will be a nightmare knowing you won’t be seeing them and it can be so easy to lose hope or even wish you never knew that person at all so you wouldn’t have to endure that level of pain and grief.

But what I hope the big take away from the chapter was that grieving takes no singular universal shape. It’s different for everyone, and it doesn’t follow a schedule or pattern. It can come up at inconvenient times, and feel like a burden or a betrayal to how we feel we normally need to be around others. Allowing yourself to feel these things despite how they hurt, and knowing that it’s okay to be feeling that way is so so important. Be patient and kind to yourself, because it’s a long and difficult road, but it WILL get better one day. Never rush yourself to “get over it” because it well and truly is not that easy.

And is that although these people aren’t in our lives anymore, their positive impacts are still here. Their hopes, their dreams, the times they might have made you laugh, the talks you would have had. While it can be bittersweet looking back on memories like that knowing it’s not possible to make more, it shouldn’t diminish how much joy they brought you. How much you loved them. And I’m sure for whoever you lost, you brought them so, so much joy too in the precious time that they were here. And I’m sure they loved you dearly too❤️

I hope you’re doing okay and that you have people around to support you through these times, ones who you can talk to and who are there for you. And I can’t even express how much it means to me to hear my writing touched you in some way. It was definitely heavy for me to write, but I strive to make a positive impact with my works. Wether it be making you laugh or hitting you in the feels. I’m so, so honoured that my silly story resonated with you and thank you so much for sharing it with me. It really means so much.

Please take care! Make sure to eat, sleep and all that jazz! That goes for you and anyone reading this. Remember you’re so very loved and like it was said, you aren’t alone! There will always be people out there who understand what you’re going through and are there to listen❤️

#fanfic #writing #hazbin hotel

[poepoe-thebunny]

Life of Scott and Logan: Song Vibe List Part 1

Part one of a song list miniseries that includes a whole bunch of nonsense for this pairing, it is entirely the fault of the wonderful ScottxLogan, who’s fics brought back memories of a movie series I haven’t seen in almost a decade. I have no idea how many parts this will have, the song list is growing day by day but I had some finished I wanted to put down! 

So have some scogan feels, some song lists, some random HC’s and a bit of dialogue for fics I am eternally to lazy to write. This started as a playlist inspired by these two and is now over 2k words, so expect more eventually. 

Human- Cody Johnson

Y’all, this is a Logan song. Look me in the eye and tell me this isn’t a Logan song.

I think what I love about this song for Logan/Scogan in general is WHERE it would put Logan at mentally. This is a middle of the road song. It’s an acknowledgment of all your faults, your mental struggles, every bridge you burned and every bad decision you made because of your fears. But it’s not a damnation of those things.  It’s not an “it gets better” song so much as it is an “I’m better than I used to be, but I know I might accidentally hurt you because I’m not perfect. But that happiness is worth putting in the effort for.” There is both a sense of bittersweet remorse and hard-won tinges of contentment.

There’s this notion with Scott and Logan, that while things like communication or feelings are never easy, it’s worth it because they make each other better. Not always happy, not always content, but rather they're constantly pushing each other in a way that feels like antagonism but often ends up with them being forced to finally acknowledge something important. There’s an interesting dynamic between them in which there is simultaneously a hesitation to know each other, to sometimes take each other at face value and judge, while also knowing each other more intimately than most assume. That they don’t always make each other happy in the traditional sense, but they make each other better, and that support is what slowly leads to their happiness.

I guess all I'm sayin' is forgive me If I don't know what I'm doing I'm still learnin' to be human

HC/Vibes/Feels/General Nonsense

This is either established scogan, or at least one where Scott and Logan are closer now and slowly working to acknowledge their feelings.

Logan is in another run-down bar in another small, forgotten town in a string of run-down bars in small forgotten towns. When he leaves, he’ll walk to the ground floor of a tiny hotel with a cracked concrete parking lot, stand outside the door for a moment to smoke as he watches the stars, and quietly wonder what he’s doing here.

It’s not an uncommon thought.

In his pocket is the phone he rarely uses. He never really was the calling type. Maybe curled around it are the worn pages of a letter with handwriting neater than his own, or a kitschy postcard from a little shop a few miles back that he writes a dumb joke on.

He calls Scott. Thinks about calling more and more often.

It’s always late at night, with bits of gossip and laughter and whispered honesty they couldn’t say face to face. Used to not be able to say it all, but distance makes the heart grow fond and all that jazz.

Sometimes Logan doesn’t say anything, just listens with a soft buzzing of longing and something close to contentment.

So apparently, Marie has roped Jubilee and Kitty into the “save the trash pandas” committee. They have t-shirts.

Last night the kids wanted to go bowling but it was raining out, right? Guess they decided the next best thing was to use Jamie as a set of bowling pin. Somehow. It went about as well as you’d expect. Side note, it looks like Peter can officially hold up four Jamie’s all on his own, whether that's because Jamie lost his balance is not clear yet.

Kurt watches terrible soap operas with ‘Ro.

Logan stares up at the cracked ceiling of that tiny hotel room and let’s himself want, just a little bit, for the first time in a long time.

Hey slim?

Yeah?

Sorry I haven’t been around much.

Don’t worry about it, you're coming home soon, right?

Yeah, yeah, I just...thanks for waiting up for me. I’m not very good at this.

You’re only human Logan.

Dyin’ Ain’t so bad (solo and reprise)- Bonnie and Clyde the musical

Didn’t expect musicals on this list? No? You should have because Hugh Jackman and I won’t apologize.

He wasn’t in this production, but I feel like the song fits the two of them well.

'Cause dyin' ain't so bad Not if you both go together Only when one's left behind does it get sad But a short and lovin' life That ain't so bad

On one hand you have Logan, who’s lived so long that he knows the heartbreak of losing your loved ones no matter how much time you had together, and the grief of having to keep on keeping on because he doesn’t even have the option of dying. On the other you have Scott, who having already lost one love of his life before they truly had a chance at a full life together, slowly coming to terms with loving again. There is this constant set of extremes, Logan who has lost so much that he’d genuinely be happy with a short life full of love as long as he didn’t have to lose someone again, and Scott who’s suffered a loss so young that he’d be happy spending, or lengthening, any amount of time he was with Logan. Even the contrast between the song and it’s ending reprise carries this sense of extremes, one holding a grim-faced but ultimately loving choice to stay together despite an impending tragedy, the other ending with the harsh reality of death but ultimately not seeing it as a tragedy so long as they are together in the end.

HC/Vibes/Feels/General Nonsense:

This song feels like a match cut movie scene, or maybe a flashback in some ways. A moment of recall to a special memory in the face of heartbreak and tragedy.

Maybe that’s what it is, a scene from early on in their relationship, compared to a scene at the end.

Maybe Scott is injured, Maybe Logan is holding him, doing his best to shield him with his body, hoping to take the brunt of the damage. Maybe some part of Logan thinks it’s too late, but he can’t admit it.

At this point Logan isn’t sure which one is worse. His one in a million chance of dying before Scott, healing factor pushed to the limits but unable to handle the thought of leaving Scott to die alone despite contemplating it for so long.

Or the much likelier option of his body healing, knitting itself back together while Scott dies with a smile on his face. Happy despite the pain, because Logan is here, Logan stayed, Logan always came back.

Do you think it hurts?

Trust me slim, compared to everything else, dyin’ ain’t so bad.

The look in Logan’s eyes when Scott reaches out to caress his face, smiling at him despite barely being able to breath, voice raspy, tears sliding down his face from the eyes Logan knows he’ll never be able to see.

He’s never hated the thought of seeing them so much.

You were right, like this, with you, it doesn’t feel that bad at all.

Blue Moon- Dean Martin

Come on y’all, we NEEDED a fluffy, dancing together alone late at night type of song. It was practically a requirement! We need more dreamy, oldie’s song fics ok, consider this motivation. Yes, I do in fact have multiple oldies themed playlists for fic writing gushy feels, thank you for asking.

I love this because it feels like the quintessential fluffy piece, that domestic, dreamy sort of content that occurs between all the chaos of life. Simply holding one another, contemplating all the decisions that lead to happiness despite all the hardships. One waking up because the other can’t sleep, slipping behind them to wrap them up in your arms, staring out at the expanse of night sky and glistening moon beams that enter through fluttering lace curtains from a large window.  There’s something to be said about the loneliness of sleepless nights. Logan has spent years haunted by his nightmares, the fear and the rage coalescing and stealing his sleep from him, only to end up in trashed hotel rooms where the only one who saw was the moon he would stare at, alone, trying to make sense of his own fractured memories. Scott hasn’t seen what the moon truly looks like in years, lost behind the constant haze of red that is his field of view, knowing it only in memories of the light it cast upon the snow as a child, or the books he read. Outside of seeking the reassurance and comfort of each other as they sleep, there is this added element of heartbreaking tenderness at the realization that being awake in the night no longer means they have to suffer alone.

HC/Vibes/Feels/General Nonsense

There’s something about this song that has a hazy, dreamlike effect on this scene. I have this stunning image in my head of Scott, arms wrapped around himself, staring quietly out a large window with moonlight dripping past the curtains, as Logan walks in, spots him, and leans quietly against the door to watch him for a few moments. Logan takes in his ruffled sleep clothes, the rare stillness of the night, the way the beams of light dance across his soft face, as he stands, relaxed and contemplative.

Couldn’t sleep?

That’s funny coming from you, old man.

But not wrong, what’s gotcha awake scooter?

Nothing just...thinking, I guess.

Can ya think less loudly, they probably heard ya on mars.

There’s the sound of quiet laughter as Logan hugs him from behind, a set of smooth dulcet notes playing from a small stereo nearby. Eventually, they end up swaying in place, letting the song roll over them as they dance.

Blue moon, you saw me standing alone Without a dream in my heart without a love of my own Blue moon, you knew just what I was there for You heard me saying a prayer for someone I really could care for

What?

Didn’t expect ya ta be the singin’ type slim, that’s all.

Your not so bad yourself.

And though Logan wouldn’t admit it, Scott can hear the timbre of his voice as he hums along to the song playing in the background.

Alright I’m ending this here because I don’t want it to get to long XD. I do have a lot more that will be finished soon, because for some reason my brain is now obsessed with this ship. I don’t know how many parts this is gonna have, but hey, we are here for the vibes. 

#scogan #scott summers #logan #james howlett #x-men comics

[mymoodwriting]

The Forgotten Truth

F!Reader x Suho

Genre: CEO/Yandere AU

Warning: Death, Funeral

Words: 800

Chapters:

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Epilogue

Prompt: After surviving a devastating car accident you awoke with amnesia, no memory of who you were, and the only connection to your past was your husband, Suho. The CEO of the biggest pharmaceutical company in the world, who loved you to the ends of the universe, even if you didn’t remember. You knew his love was true, cause you felt your love for him in your heart. Three years later you’re as happy as you can be with him, but there’s just something that’s not right, and you’re not so sure you can figure out what.

“I think he loved me… in his own way…”

    You stood before Suho’s grave, dressed in black, still wondering if this was real or not. There had been a proper funeral service, all the families showing up and showing respect. Even Jaebeom, who you knew was responsible for all this. You weren’t going to hate him, or resent him. In a way he was your savior, they all were, and this is how things worked for them. They respected the strong, so making a move for power wasn’t unheard of. That’s how Suho wound up in his position, and how he wound up dead.

    After the service you went to the cemetery, the other families joining you as well. One by one they departed until it was just you, and Johnny. He had been by your side all day, silent, but with you. He was still recovering from his injuries, but he appeared to be just fine. He had always been like that, acting tough around you, even if that wasn’t the case. Now that it was just the two of you, things felt different, reality really started to settle in. You couldn’t help but think back on everything, trying to create answers for questions that could never be asked.

“Maybe he did, in his own fucked up way.”

“In another life I’m sure things would be different.”

“What will you do now?”

“I need to leave.” You said. “This city may have been my home for years, but so much has happened, I’ve lost so much that it doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

“I understand. Although…”

    Johnny glanced back, seeing Suho’s people waiting for you. He was weary of the whole thing, but you two had been legally married, even if there was no wedding. So with his passing you inherited everything he owned, and his people seemed to stay by your side. He didn’t like it, and you were aware of that.

“I’m not mad at the boys.” You stated. “They were merely following orders, and they’ll be loyal to me now. I know they have a lot to repent for.”

“But-”

“If you’re so worried why don’t you come with me?”

“I would, but… I owe a debt to Taeyong, and NCT. They helped me save you, so I must repay them for that.”

“I see. You are an expert in your profession after all. I’ll write you letters then, and you better respond.”

Johnny chuckled. “Of course I will, but… will you ever return to the city?”

“It may not feel like home now, but it is deep down. I do intend to return, but I just don’t know when. There’s a lot I haven’t done, I haven’t really lived in a long time, but I’ll let you know.”

“Then I’ll eagerly await your return.”

“Y/n.” Xiumin stepped forward. “We must be going so you don’t miss your flight.”

“I understand.”

    You walked with Johnny over to your car. He gave looks to all the others, making it known he’d hunt them down personally if anything happened to you.

“Johnny.”

“Hm?”

“Will everything be alright… with the city?”

“It’s in good hands.” Johnny assured. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“And Minho?”

“He was merely paying back a debt himself, and he did so. You don’t need to worry about him either. You can go in peace, I promise everything will be okay.”

“And you’ll be alright too?”

“Of course. I’ll patiently await your return.”

“Thank you, Johnny. For everything.”

    You got into the car, giving Johnny a reassuring smile. He stayed and watched you drive away, wishing you the best. It was bittersweet. He spent so long mourning your loss, only to find you again. Even then he couldn’t embrace you, needing to fight to set you free. Now would be his chance to make up for lost time, but he could only watch as you left. It’s what you needed more than him. To live the life you’ve been missing out on. Just knowing you were alive and well would be enough for him. He could wait for you because he knew you’d return.

    When you arrived at the airport you looked back on the city. It carried so many memories for you, both good and bad. You glanced down at the ring on your finger, carefully removing it. You placed it on a chain, securing it around your neck. You’d hold onto the good memories, and once you were in a better place you’d return home. You had family and friends to see, and so many other things to do. You managed a smile as you made your way through the airport, it was a strange type of happiness, but one you could embrace. After all this time you could live again, and you would do so for those closest to you, and most of all for yourself.

#exo #nct #suho #xiumin #lay #baekhyun #chanyeol #chen #d.o #kai #sehun #johnny #taeyong #kim junmyeon #kim minseok #zhang yixing #byun baekhyun #park chanyeol #kim jongdae #do kyungsoo #kim jongin #oh sehun #seo youngho #lee taeyong #exo au #exo scenarios #nct au #nct scenarios

[theoutcastrogue]

I just binged the entirety of Better Call Saul and it was EXCELLENT.

-- Kim Wexler is now one of my favourite characters of all time. The sheer complexity, it’s got it all, shocking selfishness and boundless selflessness, passion for justice and thrill of the heist, hard work and out for a good time, rules-bound AND rules-averse, a Scoundrel and a Paladin at the same time, “the human heart in conflict with itself” in human form. I love her.

-- To quote Fleabag, this is a love story. My kind of love story.

-- I can’t imagine a bigger roast than Walter White, of all people, telling you “so you've always been like this”. And that's the whole premise of the series, isn’t it? Saul Goodman in Breaking Bad was a comically shallow character, and Better Call Saul comes to give us a backstory and basically explain how he ended up so shallow. Because nobody’s made that way, right? And then Walter White, of all people, drops this line, and ooof.

-- It’s not entirely true though. Jimmy used to be something more than a completely shallow person (who happened to truly love his brother, and Kim; there’s no contradiction there, shallow doesn’t mean emotionless). He really wanted to accomplish things beyond just making a buck and having a blast, until Chuck broke him. That’s how I interpret it, at least. The outburst “you’re not a real lawyer!” was a big hit, but at that point Jimmy was still, well, Jimmy. Once Chuck fully withdrew his love and support, Jimmy simply fell. He went to war with his own brother, and lost himself along the way. “Saul” was a mask, an alias, and a coping mechanism, but it was also a nom de guerre.

-- I loved the Time Machine thought experiment. So this is what explains Saul’s shallowness: Jimmy is so bad at self-reflection that he doesn’t have regrets. Let’s rephrase that: Jimmy’s so good at bullshitting himself that he doesn’t have regrets. Let’s give it another go: Jimmy can’t change the past so what’s the point of regrets, he might as well go full Saul. And in hindsight after the bittersweet finale: Jimmy can’t change the past but he CAN change the future. And in the end, when all’s said and done, isn’t that more useful than regrets?

-- The hairshirt (excellent simile, Jimmy) that Kim made to punish herself and keep others safe, that normal, boring, decisionless, domestic life, was truly HORRIFIC. I was like “no no no no no no!!!” the whole episode, holy shit. Worse than prison, worse than death, aaaah. *shivers*

-- Mike’s backstory was superb, and his descent as Gustavo's man was... bumpy. It went from “I'll work for this criminal boss, he kills people, but under conditions” to “the criminal boss I work for kills people that get in his way, like everyone else”. And Mike, who had just said “hey, my son’s dead, I’ve provided for my granddaughter, I don’t care if I live or die any more” just does the thing. You know the thing: I’ll go along with those deeply immoral actions, but I’ll pout the whole time! (Many such cases.) And you just can’t help but pout with him. Terrific character.

-- Nacho’s whole deal was just perfect.

-- Nitpick time! Lalo’s antiques kinda broke my suspension of disbelief. He single-handedly defeated a bunch of professional killers who caught him unprepared, okay. He successfully faked his death, fine. Then he went solo to find proof that Fring was behind it, with no backup, and no apparent source of information, money, or papers. Hmmm. And then he goes to Germany? And successfully tracks down the engineer’s crew, and retrieves all the info? Without speaking German? What else did he do, open a Walmart branch while he was at it? Come on.

On the whole: great show, fantastic acting from the entire cast, brilliant finale, and a wonderful example of Rogues in Fiction. Recommended!

#Better Call Saul #rogues in fiction #trs #analysis #better call saul spoilers

[fang-and-feather]

Fandom: Star-Crossed Myth

Rating: T

Category: M/M, mentions of F/M, Multi

Relationship: Karno/Leon, past Karno/Leon/MC

Prompt(s): Day 20 - Grief from @polyamships

Summary: Leon and Karno try to support each other after MC's death, especially when Karno is struggling more than he expected.

Angsty fic about Karno and Leon after MC's death. Somewhat bittersweet ending. Although it ended up being lighter than I expected.

@voltagefandomproject

AO3 Version / Star-Crossed Myth Masterlist / General Masterlist

These days, whenever Leon didn’t find Karno working, or occasionally with the kids, he knew where his lover would be, standing alone by his late wife’s grave.

This time, instead of confronting him, Leon just approached and hugged Karno from behind. He knew he wasn’t the most comforting, sweeter or even romantic partner that would know what to say or do to make things better but, for once he just tried to be there.

“I’m fine.” Karno gripped one of his hands gently.

He always said that but, since she died, all he ever saw Karno do was work or isolate himself like this and Leon didn’t know what hurt the most, the actual loss of their human partner or the figurative loss of his boyfriend. Because as much as Karno acted normal in front of others, as much as he said he was okay, that he knew it would happen and that he was prepared for it, Leon could see right through the facade and how broken Karno truly was inside.

And that made Leon’s feelings worse, because it looked like he lost both of them.

I warned you. Sometimes he felt like saying, not only to Karno but to himself.

He knew getting close to a human like that was a mistake. That was why he had given up on her the first time and tried to stop Karno when he tried. In the end he failed to do it, only to, later, fall in love with her all over again - and falling for Karno too, but his only regret about it was taking too long to realize - and become a part of their family.

But Leon always managed to push these angry outbursts away and, as much as he wasn’t the most comforting god out there, and as much as he was hurting too, he did his best for Karno’s sake.

Their partner’s last words had been for them to make each other happy, not that Leon needed her to tell him that. He was determined to do so because he loved Karno. Although, of course he would respect her wishes.

“You were the one who married her, but she was as precious to me as she was to you, and as you are to me. Why are you trying to bear this alone? Do you think you can’t rely on me?”

“I just didn’t want to burden you with my feelings when I know you’re hurting too. You always make yourself seem strong, but I know you’re not invincible.”

“And you’re not, either. So, next time, talk to me.”

Maybe he wouldn’t be able to say or do anything except for distracting Karno, but the fact his partner didn’t even trust him to try frustrated Leon.

If he wasn’t invincible, he would make himself to be, for Karno. Simply having Karno confide in him would make Leon feel better.

Leon relaxed his hold when Karno moved, allowing his partner to turn around to face him. But Karno immediately looked down, eyes fixing on the ring that hung from the chain around Leon’s neck.

His girlfriend had given it to him before she died, asking him to promise to look after Karno.

A proof they were equally connected as Karno was to her, she had said.

“Do you want it back?”

Leon had never asked Karno how he felt about the exchange. It was Karno’s wife’s wedding ring, after all.

“No. She gave it to you for a reason, and I’m sure she is happy you are wearing it. Even if the ring doesn’t fit you.”

Karno put a hand over the ring, and Leon placed his hand over his, releasing Karno so he could guide his boyfriend to look at him.

Their lips met in a soft kiss at first, that Leon soon deepened.

They could talk later. For now, he just wanted to feel Karno close to him.

Time and openness with each other really made the pain lighter and the happy memories more significant. The grief process was easier by each other’s side.

They would never forget or stop missing their partner, but life returned to a semblance of normalcy.

Until time decided to bring another change. One that they knew could happen and, as gods who granted the wishes of humans, they were sure to notice.

They couldn’t tell how much time had passed when she was reincarnated. But Leon was worried about Karno, who seemed especially drawn to her.

Although she didn’t look much different from her past life, Leon knew she was a different person. She had her own life and wouldn’t ever remember them.

Karno insisted that he understood that, but Leon noticed how his boyfriend always watched this new girl, granted her wishes.

When Karno went to Earth for the first time in years, Leon followed, to find his boyfriend watching the young woman.

“I told you. You shouldn’t approach her.” Leon walked to Karno’s side and laced their fingers together. “You always say you are the responsible one, but now I feel like I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“I wasn’t going to talk to her. She was making a wish… She is another person now, but she hasn’t changed.”

“You know that, even if she did remember us, you would just set yourself up for more suffering when she dies again… for how many times? And even if you don’t approach her, you are growing attached.”

Karno turned to him.

“Don’t you feel tempted, at least to talk to her?”

“More than you can think.”

“I want to at least make sure she is happy, for how many lives she still has ahead. Even if she is another person; if she doesn’t remember, she is still the other third of us. Our souls will be drawn to each other forever. But as long as she is happy and I have you, everything will be fine.”

Leon sighed. Karno had always been like that. He wouldn’t be convinced to change his mind. The only thing he could do was support his partner.

“Then I’ll watch over her with you.” Karno looked at him in surprise and Leon flashed him a mischievous smile. “Now, how will you thank me, my Vice-Minister?”

Not that he needed a reward. Making his partner happy was enough. But he was also in the mood for a much needed time alone.

Leon actually liked the idea of watching their girl, even if they couldn’t be with her. Karno was right, he still felt as if she was theirs. So he would be happy to do so forever. As long as they had each other, it wouldn’t be so bad.

I have half a mind to continue this later

Star-Crossed Myth Masterlist / General Masterlist

#MultiamoryMarch #star crossed myth #ot3: karno x leon x mc #voltage fandom ccc #scm karno #scm leon #multiamorymarch2023 #voltage inc #love 365 #polyamory #fang's writing

[kleiner-ghost-fo4]

Old Fashioned

With a prompt like this, there was no other companion I could write about. I love Nick so much. I would die for him if given the chance. But I’m scared of writing fics of him because I don’t want to get his character wrong. 

Anywhos; Nick and Nora have a little chat about something’s that’s missing in Nora’s life.  

TW: smoking

~ 1k words

Nora took a long drag of her cigarette, breathing in as much of the stale nicotine as possible, and letting it numb her thoughts for a short while. She had taken on guard duty on one of the watchtowers she’d build (with the help of the Minutemen) around Sanctuary. Of course, everyone knew that she’d done it because she needed time to be alone, and was using work as an excuse to get away from everything. The watchtowers were a sentiment more than anything else. There were more than enough turrets placed on strategic rooftops to defend Sanctuary form any man, ghoul, or supermutant that’d dare come in uninvited. 

Nora looked far ahead, at the dimming horizon, and the lights that had just now started to pop up in the wasteland. That was all her handywork, and she knew she should have been taking pride in that. Farms had been reclaimed and restored, threats were now few and far between, making travel in between settlements safe. And yet, Nora still felt incomplete. Not in a ‘my mission isn’t done yet’ way, but more in a way she could not quite describe herself.

“Whatch’a thinking so hard about?” A familiar raspy voice called out, snapping Nora back to the here and now.

“Nick.” She greeted the new arrival, as she turned to face him, and the town behind him. That indescribable feeling that lacked the bittersweetness of nostalgia or the sourness of accomplishable goals washed over her once more. “I thought I made it pretty clear that I wanted to be alone.”

“I’ll leave if you want me to.” Nick offered. He did sound sincere, as he always did, but the way he reached out into his trench coat’s pocket for his own pack of cigarettes suggested that he was not planning on doing so right away regardless.

Nora shook her head. 

“Perhaps you might want to bounce those ideas of yours off of someone.” Nick continued, as he pulled out a cigarette and a rusty lighter.

Nora waited for him to light it, as let her own slowly burn down between her fingers. Once Nick had leaned onto the barrier around the watchtower, his eyes lost somewhere amongst the distant lights of the wasteland, just as hers had been minutes prior, Nora finally spoke:

“Do you ever get the feeling that your life isn’t complete? That you’re missing some important part of it that prevents you from being truly alive?”

Nick made a sound that wasn’t quite a chuckle, but darn close to one. “There’s a fair few folks down there,” he gestured towards Sanctuary, “that will argue that I am not, and never will be, alive.” He paused for a long while, long enough for the pink, post-sunset, tint to fully vanish off the horizon, and for the dark blue of the imminent night to consume Sanctuary. “But even without that, I’m afraid there isn’t much I could say that could help you. If it ain’t any disappointment or resentment that you’re feeling towards what the institute did to your son, then I don’t know what it could be.”

“It’s not that.” Nora shook her head once again. She took a drag of what little remained of her cigarette, before continuing. “It’s just that life isn’t the same it was before. It doens’t feel the same, you know? Back before the war, Nate and I would spend evenings like these together. We’d go to the open-air cinema, we’d buy overpriced hotdogs form the stand there... and then we’d go home and...” She trialed off, making the rest of that sentence clear enough with her tone. “And now it’s all gone. And yes, we’ve rebuilt a lot of it. The Minutemen, you and I when we used to go solve our cases, we made the Commonwealth a better place, but it still doesn’t feel right.”

“Hmmm...Call me old fashioned if you must, but from the sounds of it, you seem to be missing your husband.”

“Nate?” Nora replied with a confused and almost offended tone. 

“Or whatever it was ne brought to your life.” Nick corrected himself, after seeing her reaction. “Perhaps the idea of settlin’ down in a house that’s truly your own. Or the knowledge that even if you don’t go to the ‘open air cinema’, that it will still be there tomorrow.”

He was right, Nora realized. And that uneasy feeling she’d been having all evening was coming from the subconscious knowledge that someone will have to rely on her again, and that she might (and, let’s be honest, probably will) find herself in a situation where their life will be taken away, and that she’d be powerless to stop it.

“I can’t.” She replied. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but loosing someone like that I - I simply can’t.”

Nick silently nodded. 

He was in a better position than most to understand what this kind of loss meant, and what it did to a person. Afterall, he too had been shaped and fueled by revenge for so long. And had he not found and shot Eddie winters; had that monster not died by his very hand, well, it was impossible to tell what the giref would have done to him. And yet, what few memories of Jennifer he had, he would not give them up for anything, even despite those memories not being truly his. 

“So who’s the lucky gal or fellow?” Nick asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

#fallout #fallout 4 #falloutober #falloutober2022 #falloutober 2022 #nora #nick valentine #depressing conversations about life and loss and the price of loving someone #this dynamic between Nick and Nora is loosley based on my own playthrough where Nick refuses to date me despite me having a mod for that #more than friends #not quite lovers

[greensagephase]

Alondra… where do I even begin… nonviolent communication part 7 was absolutely incredible. As soon as I saw part 7 come out I literally planned my day around it so I could read it. The way you described the holiday season was so cozy, now I really can’t wait for the holidays to roll around! It’s nice to see that reader is progressing in her life in terms of healing from Peter- it’s still sad and bittersweet but I’m so happy she doesn’t feel so alone anymore. The little conversation with Miles’s parents was so heartwarming, and when they mentioned Miguel!! The fact they specifically asked for reader to bring him food and spend some time with him… they know what they’re doing. Oh and don’t get me started on when reader enters Miguels penthouse, seeing him in normal clothes for the first time, I mean just imagining Miguel in that chunky sweater and everything… so hot I mean… cozy (those arm veins tho…). I swear I was smiling at every little interaction reader and Miguel had- I mean their relationship is progressing and changing for the better. It was great to see Miguel and reader bond and get to know each other even more than before, even feeling more comfortable around each other. You just write Miguel so well, he’s so caring… but it makes me so sad because he’s lost so much. Your descriptions of Miguels world and little details like the holographic trees just add so much to the story, I just love all the effort you put into writing details like that. The ending too!!! I thought it would end bittersweet with reader leaving for the night but the fact we’re coming back for recalentado!! Phew… the slow burn… amazing Alondra, I always want to say more but then this would just be an essay about how much I love your writing. ✨

And thanks for always responding back to my asks too, I feel like I write way too much too sometimes, but I just got to let you know how much I appreciate and love each part that comes out. Your work always makes my day, and I’ve even drawn some fan art inspired by it. I love drawing and you’ve inspired me to draw Miguel even more ever since the movie came out (it’s a problem). Anyways, amazing job as always! ✨✨✨

Anon... I'm currently freaking out about the fact that you said you've drawn art inspired by it but I'm gonna add my thoughts on this at the end even though it's very hard because I'm freaking out (in a good way)!!

Okay, now that I've calmed down a bit, thank you for the kind words as always!! You're the sweetest!! 🥹

Regarding the reader and their life progressing in terms of Peter's death: me, too! I'm happy things are turning around for her after being alone for so long. And it's sad and bittersweet for me because I don't think Peter will be mentioned as much now and I've grown so fond over him despite being... you know, dead the entire time. Peter has really put me in my feels 😭!

MIles's parents definitely know what they're doing. You know that little look they shared... they see it. When I was writing that part I was thinking how they probably talked about reader's reaction later that night, and you know they definitely noticed reader didn't return to the party!

Miguel in normal clothes had me giggling and kicking my feet, not even going to lie lmao and the arm veins... I died. He sounded so cozy and huggable and hot and - I could go on but I'll be here all night and this man already lives rent free in my mind 24/7, I should probably not let it show online!

Their interaction in this chapter made me so happy even though I feel a little conflicted about it! I think we know by now reader is more open to having these moments and conversations but for Miguel this is much harder and him asking reader to stay for dinner was a big moment. I was worried it might be too quick of a move on his part but at the same time, in my head at least, Miguel is comfortable with reader even though he doesn't show it all the time, if that makes sense? So yeah, I was a little conflicted but I hope it didn't feel too out of character for him. And anon, I feel so sad for Miguel, too. I just want him to catch a break... and be happy.

And haha, the holographic trees were fun to think about! I actually did research on the comics to see if that was a thing but found nothing, so I just went with the idea lol thank you for showing it some love!!

And the end! I was going to go with what you said, reader just going home but - as I said - I was feeling emotional (thanks period) and selfish and didn't want to think of Miguel all alone on Christmas, so I decided to change the ending at the last minute and hoped it was still a believable thing our Miguel would do, which lowkey, I feel like Miguel would be okay with since he's realized reader is his friend now.

And please, don't thank me for responding to your asks!! As I said before, they always make my day!! I appreciate your thoughts and support very much🥹, so never hesitate to send them!

Now... back to the art... you cannot just drop that and expect me to be okay, anon!! If it's not too much to ask, would you mind sharing what parts have inspired you? I wish I could see and admire your art but I know you may not be comfortable with that, so I'd be happy just knowing the parts that inspired you, which I also want to add makes my heart leap with happiness!! It's an honor that the story has inspired you to draw fanart, truly!! ❤️ And I get what you mean by it being a problem! I recently got into drawing because of... Miguel. I'm in so deep, I don't think anyone can help me because I'm out here trying to learn and all I've drawn has been his face and eyes specifically (THEY ARE SO PRETTY!), so anon, I feel you. Miguel has so many of us on a chokehold, it's not funny!!

Thank you, as always, for the lovely words anon! I hope you don't mind the super long response. I appreciate you very much and hope you have a wonderful day/night!! ✨✨✨

-Alondra

[darklingichor]

Tears of the Giraffe, Morality for Beautiful Girls, by Alexander McCall Smith

It took me a while to write my ramble on The Princess Bride, so I managed to listen to six of these books, but I’m only going to do two at a time.

I am loving these stories so much! I want to watch the short lived tv show, but it seems to only be on a channel that I need cable for. But that’s okay, eventually it will show up somewhere I can see it!

Tears of the Giraffe

This is the second book and  there are multiple unrelated stories happening at the same time. I really like this, to me, it gives the characters dimension, we get to see how they handle various things, rather than having them just focus on one thing. There are times when a single focus makes for a tension filled narrative where one just doesn’t belong, and we are left wondering just how a character would handle a minor problem. Would they go all Liem Nesson if someone dinged their car?

Anyway, the main case in Tears of the Giraffe, is an American  woman who lost her son while living in Africa ten years before. She knows her son is dead, but just wants to know what happened to him. The police at the time were unable to solve this mystery and it had basically been forgotten. Mma Ramotswe takes the case against her better judgement because she feels for this woman.

Elsewhere, Mr. JLB Matikoni, Mma Ramotswe’s new fiancé and best mechanic in Botswana, is talked into taking in two children from the near by orphanage, without talking to Mma Ramotswe first. Considering that the mechanic is soft hearted, and wants to avoid confrontation, it is not surprising that he was talked into this by the kind, yet formidable matron of the orphanage.

And last but not least, Mr. JLB Marikoni gets Mma Ramotswe an engagement ring.

The case of what happened to the woman’s son was bittersweet, and served more as a way to examine the connections between people than any pursuit of justice.

Of course Mma Ramotswe, welcomed the children with open arms. Their backstory was fascinating.

The getting of the ring was a funny interlude that I enjoyed very much.

Morality for Beautiful Girls

Mr JLB Matekoni is depressed, the agency’s secretary, Grace Makutsi, promoted to assistant detective, a government man seeks help from the agency, another asks for help with a beauty pagent.

I’ll start with the thing that made this book a tad different. Mr. JLB Matekoni’s depression. The depression is represented very well. He’s not only sad. He’s listless, exhausted, feeling worthless and numb. As someone who deals with depression, I saw myself in this potrayl.

Sure, when I first started experiencing symptoms, I would be sad sometimes, but that wasn’t the first or even primary emotion for me. For me, it was mostly a buzzing numbness that sapped any energy I had. The buzzing came from the fact that I *knew* something was wrong, but I couldn’t figure out what. My depression is paired with GAD so that is a fun combination. Interesting feeling when your mental illnesses are pulling against each other. Made me want to alternately crawl out of my own skin or put my brain in a time out.

It was also interesting that there is no stated cause for the mechanic’s sudden illness. This can be very real. There isn’t always a trigger.  

I love that Mma Ramotswe works so hard to help him, but never goes down the road of being angry with him, I like that their close circle of friends worked to help him.

The cases are very interesting. Mma Ramostswe actually goes undercover to get to the bottom of the suspicion the government man has about his sister in law trying to poison his brother.

I really like it when  characters go undercover, I think its just a fun plot point, so I was excited to come across it here. How would the straight forward detective handle subtrafuge? Like everything else, it was handled gently, which I think was cool.

Mma Makutsi, as assistant detective, is tasked with finding out which finalist for a beauty contest is the least likely bring about scandal during her reign as winner.

I liked this as well, it's fun to see this young woman develop her own detective style. She's not Watson or Hastings to Mma Ramotswe, she is good at solving things in her own right.

There's a really cool side plot where Mma Makutsi has to whip Mr. JLB Matekoni’s two Apprentice mechanics in to shape. It was interesting to see how this worked out.

I mentioned in my last entry that these books remind me of the best of Agatha Christie and these plots are what I mean by that. Are they super high stakes? No. However, they are interesting, and we get to learn about the human element of everything, and as silly as it sounds, the more formal culture that this author portrays, does make for… a more civilized (?) air. That sounds snobby, but what I mean is that, much like Ellis Peters, instead of dialing up the tension for no reason, Mma Ramotswe has no problem taking the direct route and just talking to people. The interesting part of the way she manages her cases is seeing her observational skills, mixing with her instincts, and what she knows of the social norms, both good and frustrating. She uses all of these elements to reach a conclusion, and then more often than not, she just speaks with people, in her nice but firm way, and she gets a confession, or confirmation.

Another thing that is much like the Poirot, she is also reluctant send in the police, especially if there is a good explanation for what happened. We haven’t had a situation like the Murder of Roger Akroyd, but I don’t know what’s on the horizon.

#books #book blogging 2023 #book #alexander mcall smith #tears of the Giraffe #Morality for Beautiful Girls

[harbingrs]

no bad faith takes allowed

That Ask Polly quote really lands for me right now. For a while, grief was definitely the emotion driving the bus. I think every step of understanding what's been happening to me and every time I find something that helps, there's an element of that, and it's bittersweet. 

‘Better late than never’ falls a little short there. I mean, better for whom? Obviously for me, but that’s not the part that hurts. I'm trying not to get stuck on the 'what if' treadmill, but it all feels very Lord of the Rings, you know? You can make the journey, but you can't go home again.

But I think more than any other tough feeling, that one's easiest to trace back to the roots, and as soon as you make the connection, it’s different. 

Image description: Screenshot of a Reddit comment from a deleted user, 1 year ago. The comment says “Like a coin, grief one side and love the other.”

That doesn’t tell you what to do with it. But it’s something that tells you that what you’ve lost is worthy of the feeling. It reminds me of that Andrew Garfield interview, where he says ‘I hope the grief stays with me’. I searched for the exact wording, and I found this part I hadn’t heard before:

“I was kind of wasted and the world didn’t make sense, and it still doesn’t, because I miss her greatly, and I hope it never makes sense because I always want to miss her.”

Of course, that’s a different kind of loss, and I don’t want to stay frozen in time, either. There’s no point doing the work in recovery and trying to rebuild better if, deep down, I’m just hitting the pause button on my life. 

But I think there’s a difference between ‘things I want to feel forever’ and ‘things it’s okay to feel right now’. And right now, that moves me a lot. Again, it’s taking something that’s painful and disorienting and putting it in context - I feel X because Y matters. I want it to matter. If I’m not afraid for it to matter, I shouldn’t be afraid of feeling it. 

I’m glad the world doesn’t make sense. I hope the feeling stays with me, even for a while. I’m not ready for it not to be here. Maybe I won’t always miss her, and I won’t trap myself in it, but right now, I always want to. It’s “However this ends / I want you to know that right now / I love you forever.” It’s letting someone matter, enough that their absence has its own presence. 

That’s how I’m doing life right now. It’s like a companion that’s always there, and it’s every side of the coin. The love and the grief, I’m glad they’re still with me. It’s an absence, but it’s so far from empty. 

I think you also have to do something with that space, though, so it doesn’t just eat you up. That’s why the Ask Polly piece fits so well:

“The trick is to use your hunger to build something. Hunger is a kind of a void, but it’s not negative. Hunger makes space for your feelings. Hunger makes space for hard work. Hunger makes space for building. Hunger is a place to start growing.”

If I feel this grief about what I didn’t know and what I couldn’t be, it won’t help to just give up. Every fleeting thought that it’s pointless now is slam-dunked directly into the trash can, because being the best version of myself isn’t a means to an end. I couldn’t look myself in the mirror and say that sincerely, and if I don’t believe that, I’m not entertaining it. 

There’s also something that just feels right about it, like I still have my side of a bargain to hold up. Like once I knew I wanted to be my best self for someone, the covenant was sealed (puny human) and I can’t wriggle out of it so easily, regardless of the circumstances. All the ways I’ve failed to be that, it just presses that need even deeper onto my heart. I can’t go back and make things right, but even on my own, even if I’m the only one who knows, I feel like getting better is honouring that. 

It’s like the way that Andrea Gibson poem finishes, with the lines that fall flat to me about eyelashes and being “held like a wish”, but then this part that always sticks with me: I promise / that whatever I do / I will always try my best / to come true.

That’s what I’m building in that space. I’m still trying to come true. Even for myself. 

#posts #personal #let me repeat: no bad faith takes #that should actually be a rule pinned to my blog #this space is for me #I haven't really talked about this yet but I want to be able to #I have chronic web-weaving brain and end up including about 5 more quotes than I mean to #that quote about being a patchwork of the people you love #except it's understanding the world as a patchwork of other people's understanding #or something

[sanctifythysins]

━ 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨: 𝐀 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐩 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Ceaselessly aiming for the right words, I found myself silenced by the pointless crusade. The light still tries to break through the shudders, but nothing ever snaps me from the chains of lucid daydreaming. “Back to hearing the shovels against the wall, is that the kind of call you hear?”

She taps the tab of her cigarette, it was only natural that the tendrils of smoke would keep rising to give her some shelter from the vulnerability in my ocean eyes. It was when I thought I could finally help myself from staring that I learn anew how I was only fooling myself. She reluctantly redirects the tide of my gaze to the window, that inevitable clash with the brightness of another day makes me face the light that was bound to become my focal point of view.

“Assuming I ever stopped, sweetheart?”

I've attempted to make my peace with her death every day since it happened, but it remains one I cannot come to terms with. “I've been gone a long time, Tommy.”

The raw nakedness of her words drawn from memory undress my soul when I least expect them to.

When her voice gives me a rest, I conjure her with drugs instead, prone to haunting what had haunted me instead. I chose to walk the thin line of sanity and insanity alone, against all my mother's common sense that broke in the face of my father's devilment running through my veins. “Not that long, Grace. Not that long.”

The smile was on the house, though it was no longer a home without her. I presume this is where the voice in the back of everyone's mind kicks in. 'Talk to someone, you can't brave through life's struggles alone.' Whoever had gone there, trust, sweetheart, that I've ventured every sunrise avenue and crossed the dark side of the Moon, and no person had been a better conversationalist than my inner voice. Or, should I say, the voices?

“You could walk away, you know.”

I'm often far too tempted to do what the voices tell me to do. “You could be free from all of this. We could be together.”

I take another heavy drag, my lungs filled to their full capacity yet I always wind up all the emptier upon the reluctant exhale. Refraining from speaking about my pain the way I had when I left a part of what had made me, me, somewhere within the tunnels of France, hadn't changed with the triviality that time was.

“There's business to be done yet, Grace. One last business to be done before I rest.”

People acted as though they had a remote idea of what it was exactly that I had lost, but they had no idea what it took to carry on as though there had been no crippling fear of losing more to my own ambition and vanity, to the fact I knew no limitations after the war. Everything since those tunnels was but extra time, and there was a certain type of freedom in the afterlife from the death of who we once were when we were innocent and sane. In this 'extra time', you find out that common sense is not so common at all. People are prone to judging based on the rumors they gathered, or what little they have seen of me, what little I had allowed them to see.

“So you always say, Tommy.”

But Grace had seen the worst of me. She'd tell me she could not judge the book by its cover, but the reality of our world was that the majority of people won't be interested in the content if the cover doesn't attract them. Scalding tea was what everyone wanted, insisting on exchanging the latest rumors while I prefer drinking mine alone, never eager to trade the sanctuary of my solitude, and what little I held sacred, for the likes of the masses. The bittersweet irony, given my line of work.

Her soft nature hid the determination behind a tender smile, adamant on getting the answers while she fixed her gaze on the gun in my hand. The barrel that people prayed not to end on the other side of, I've known like my dearest friend.

With a sharp inhale, I kissed the filter with the kind of passion I believe galaxies held for their expansion, still hopelessly in love with her that I would have shaken hands with the Devil to live in the grand illusion of my opium-intoxicated brain.

Perhaps this was a part of our human condition, running away to whatever had made the epilogue of the story a bit softer on our already broken hearts.

Though I embrace her, I am no fool that this familiar pain demands to be felt, everything but confrontation is just avoidance of the inevitable.

“Everything is personal, Grace, else it would not be blood or signature on the papers. There's no rest for me in this world, and I find it difficult to believe that perhaps in the next one there will be peace.”

Living in this One Minute of everything at once with her was safe, I knew how the narrative goes.

But running away to a comfort of a zone that no longer existed made me feel heavier, it was but another world of lies. Deep behind the mask of a politician, I was still a tunneler who could not sleep without a hint of light, drugs, cigarettes, and a gun beneath his pillow. I was still terrified of falling asleep, and waking up came with the aftermath of reliving the torture.

The loss of her had crippled me. The fact I speak now, alone in a room, attests to the years of torment brought by an inner turmoil that assured I'd question whether the finger on the trigger had been mine or my trauma's response to everything.

“You've all the signatures, but none of them had signed off on peace. No matter how many deals are done, they will not get you there, my love.”

I slave to the emotions I've made the world believe I do not possess, yet I miss her in every breath drawn. The softness of a smile claiming my lips threatened to redefine the rough nature of theirs.

The truth is that I’ve been here before, back in France. I may have escaped the war physically, but my head has become an entirely different story upon having survived death. Moments like this, I remember him, the comrade whose name I keep close to my heart, but never utter to the world.

Serpent.

I live to wonder if even God knew where he was. He'd understand that there were some deaths you cannot come back from. Those who fought the same war drank or drugged themselves to sleep at night, because they could not forget. I've been both, behind a cigarette.

Wherever he was in the chaos of this life, this death, I hope he is doing far better, at least one thing we needn’t reflect on in the void of our chest. I don't pray, but I do hope.

“I am in your mind, love, and I see it in your eyes. Why won't you say his name, the one that reminds you of how far you have yet to go?”

This noise she's made in my heart and mind is but an echo I cannot keep getting lost in, yet I entertain the thought immediately.

Was there an antidote to the hearts that could not let go of their utopias?

I've gone from a hero of the war to the snake in the parliament of gigant's self-serving justice. If you can't beat them, change the game from within, but I've gotten caught up in the power being on the wrong side had brought. The way I'm plagued runs deeper than being Thomas Shelby, the gypsy that killed those he could not charm.

It was not death that I feared, rather what had died within me while I still lived.

I shook hands with the vessels of the Devil on the daily, not too eager to accept I've become one. I've made deals many had considered a death wish, Peaky Blinders had so assured going by the codex I’ve established gave us power that only grew with my entanglement in politics.

I was my own revolution, and the enemy I could not defeat.

No price is too high, no gamble a risk I would not take to win. Loved or hated, it made no difference to me, as long as it was for who I was and not just an image they had constructed in their minds.

“Contrary to the popular belief, I do hold some things sacred. And others, they haven't yet invented the words for.”

Brief pause.

“You still don’t let anyone in, do you?” Anything had hurt less than the quiet when incrimination took place, so she continues. “If I recall correctly, you had once cared for the man who always got you horses on your birthday, Tommy?”

The pang in my chest, no choir of angels could reach such heights nor could demons scream as loudly when she had called me out on the truth.

“What does he have to do with anything?”

Genuine laughter spills within the confines of my office, making my secretary implore why was I laughing, as it was an uncommon thing in the London offices, rumored not to have origins even in Birmingham itself. I owe him no answers. I owed no one a thing. He didn't ask twice, much like my family, and about every other living soul. No one asks anymore. No one cares. Eventually, everyone moves on, but the person who’s left alive to forever wonder where their love is.

“We're in the living hell of your mind, going full half-hour before the Devil begins to wonder are you to come join me in sleeping at last, therefore I may as well remind you why it is you still wake up every morning.”

Names were a matter of personal nature to me, I'm glad I could save his from the world that tainted it the way it had done with all the heroes who’ve suffered the aftermaths of wars in silence, never given the proper recognition they had deserved, never giving a fucking thing.

Serpent was the chapter that had given meaning to the whole book, the tale of my heart that I go back to when I'm not left slow-dancing with the ghost of her.

“He is not coming back. There is no point speaking it into existence.”

Some nights, I wish my own name had not been as widespread as the Great Depression that had taken place, an apocalypse of the times as we knew them, but there was no time to mourn, no time for funerals for small deaths that only made us truly live.

She turns her back to me, to meet the Sun. I wouldn't find it hard to believe she walked on air, just to show me that leaving the solid ground was a whole other world of emptiness I should not wish to know as badly as I wanted to. There was no blood on her shirt this time around, no clutching to the cursed sapphire, no reminder that it had been my fault, no begging me to unlock the door and come home to her, no encouraging me to use the infernal device still in my hand.

It comes and goes in waves, the light outside, but I couldn't see her shadow on the floor. But another reminder that I am alone in the room, and we were no longer in the same realms of reality.

The tiny bottle in my pocket threatens to burn a hole through the refined material in an attempt to get more poison inside of my system. Doctor's orders, yet all they've done is made things worse. I was no longer hoping the fragility of my pale skin will soak it in, the bitter taste they left in my mouth was hardly washed away by whiskey. The prescription to the bullshit I needed to get by was no longer needed, I cannot keep poisoning myself in hopes to get better when I had promised her once we’d make art of our lives until death.

I need to finish the dance on behalf of both of us.

There had been more to living than remaining hung up on the thought of dying, yearning for the comatose.

“Your life will continue, minute by minute, day by day, one brick at a time to get to where you long to be. Everyone will have something to say when you choose to live according to your own expectations, but don't let that stop you from living again, from looking for him, my love.”

Am I simply hearing what I want to hear?

When our cigarettes had burned halfway past the point of no return, I realized I must wake up.

“We live in the kind of times where it is far too better not to be found.”

Her golden tresses cascade down her angelic face, but it was in the blues I had once floated in better than the poison of my choice, distilled for the eradication of seemingly incurable sadness, that I think of Damon again.

“Or so you say, thinking it is easier to stay where you are than go after what you love.”

Tender as the night in which I often implored whether to be or not to be, she helps me realize that it was no longer a question. I linger in the limitless skies of her eyes a while longer, aware that she's become a frequency I lost, no matter which transmission I had turned to, no matter how hard I tried to bring her back to life. But the one I still wish to find, I had trouble even contemplating to look for.

A reflection in the Void that had preserved my sanity when all Hell had broken loose, I must write to him. I ought to look for my Northern Star, and stay the course of stars set to the tune of the bell of his voice that will help me dive back into reality. I cannot allow this sinking into the worst of myself, again, where all I do is catch myself talking to my own voices about myself, without considering whether there’s more to this life for a man like me.

I go back to gazing through the blinds to take in the light that was an afterglow of the truth, knowing deep down that she's watching over me, reminding me that the Sun also rises where it sets.

[ P. S. ]  

To the ones who have loved and lost, I'm bringing you back to the horizon where I had taken the last midnight dip into my Inception.

"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter: Tomorrow, we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. And then, one fine morning, we beat on, boats against the current.”

And I'll be damned to ever let myself be "borne back ceaselessly into the past.", even if it means fighting the same demons, every day anew. I'll drag my dark into the dawn instead, vouching that being doomed is blasphemy.

There's always hope, and the revolution is coming, sweethearts.

If you want peace, prepare for the war of hearts, and do not settle for nightmares when you, too, deserve peace.