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brummiereader · 5 months

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Don't Fear The Reaper (Dark!Tommy/ Part One)

Summary: After what was supposed to be a chilled night in with a friend you end up playing a game that unintentionally summons back the dark presence that had haunted you most of your early adulthood. With no way of avoiding the inevitable reunion you are forced to face the otherworldly being and the unfinished business he is set on fulfilling. That unfinished business, you.

Warnings: Language, angst, supernatural themes, dark romance, mentions of blood, stalking, murder, obsessive behaviour, controlling behaviour, dark!tommy (This is a dark series with heavy potentially triggering undertones, please read the warnings before continuing)

Authors note: This series is inspired by the song "Don't Fear The Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult, one of my all time favourite tracks.

November 1923...

" Today we gather in sorrow. In remembrance, as we lay Y/N Y/L/N to rest. A beloved granddaughter..." the Reverend said as he glanced up from his sermon to your grandfather, his eyes filled with unspent tears, a man of his time desperately trying to conceal the grief he felt at the vicious loss of his only remaining family member as he clutched his fingers around the single red rose in his weathered hands, scared and calloused from the years of manual labour he had endured. "a friend..." he continued as he looked at the many people gathered around the freshly dug grave, heads cast down, tears staining their reddened cheeks nipped by the cool November air of winter slowly approaching. "...and a blossoming love cruelly snatched away before it's time" he finished as he looked up across the casket to a man dressed all in black, his face concealed by the dark shadow cast by his peak cap, his eyes fixed on the muddied grass below him as a gust of bitter wind blew a scattering of dried leaves past his boots tumbling into the six-foot deep hole before him. His name, Thomas Shelby, the infamous keeper of Birmingham. " Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done..." the priest prayed, raising his hands as all those present began to recite the Lord's prayer in unison whilst Tommy pulled his gold pocket watch out, his brows knitting together at the lengthy time the service had already dragged out. He had things to do...places to be. "And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from, evil" the priest finished casting his gaze down in a moment of silence as Tommy's eyes darted up, met with the glaring stare of his Aunt as she held onto the Black Madonna around her neck. Her tear streaked face was visibly shaken from the anger rapidly coursing through her as her nephew dismissively turned his attention above to a hoard of black crows leaving their nest in a nearby tree, the ear-piercing caw of death parting in search of another poor soul of Small Heath to take to the underworld resonating through the gloomy cemetery. " We therefore commit this body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust..." the priest hummed as he walked around the grave to the man whose path had fatefully collided with your own. Presenting him with a small ceramic pot Tommy lifted a handful of dirt from within the jar, tossing it into the grave as he bent down on one knee, rubbing the remaining soil that had scattered on the grass between his gloved fingers.

" Let's give 'em a show eh?" Tommy whispered as he stood up wiping his forefinger across the bottom of his lower lash as he locked eyes with his cousin. His jaw tightening his teeth clenched, Michael was one breath away from doing something he would undoubtedly regret as Tommy, who was amused with the whole situation, sent him a playful wink, his cousin's angry demeanour clearly not enough to stop him from riling him further up.

" Tommy..." Ada sobbed as she clutched onto her brother's arm wiping her tears away at the tragic event that had brought this day about as every attendee proceeded to bid their final farewell whilst the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground.

" What even was the point?" Ada sniffed as she walked beside Tommy down the gravelled path. "An empty casket Tommy..." She said stopping her brother as she looked back to the workmen shovelling heaps of muddied dirt back into the grave. The finest casket made in Birmingham, Tommy made sure of it. But weightless, empty, a disgrace in Ada's eyes that her beloved friends body had not been found, the only thing left in its expected place a small pool of blood and a dishevelled flat.

" To say goodbye Ada" he said as he rubbed a cigarette across his lips squinting into the distance as he watched the numerous mourners part from the cemetery, the same cemetery he seemed to have frequented more than any other place in his lifetime.

" Shit. I'm sorry" she said turning back to face her brother and the solemn expression he had conjured up settling on his face. "How are you?" she sighed, concerned with her brother's wellbeing and the persistent stoic demeanour he refused to let falter, even in times such as these.

"As expected" he said flatly as he blew a cloud of smoke to the greying sky, rubbing his brow with his thumb.

" You can talk to me Tommy. I know you hadn't been together for long, but..." she said crossing her arms as she bit her bottom lip trying to hold back the tears welling in her eyes. "...you loved her and she loved you, any fool could've seen that" she finished as she looked down at the ground, a tear slipping over her cheek as she dug the end of her shoe into the grass whilst Tommy observed his sisters turmoil in the corner of his eye, something be had yet been able to muster up himself. " Fuck, who invited him?" she spat looking to Michael as he got into one of the many Bentleys lined up at the bottom of the path.

" Polly" Tommy replied taking one last puff of his cigarette before throwing it onto the gravelled path beneath him, stubbing it out with the flat of his boot.

" Well he has no right" Ada said glaring at her cousin as she took a step closer to her brother. "Y/N was scared of him Tommy. She didn't want to worry you but..." Ada sighed as she watched Polly follow her son into the motor vehicle that could undoubtedly feed the whole of Small Heath for the next five years. "She'd convinced herself it was him following her. And she's not alone, me and the girls from the office think it was him too. You need to do something Tommy" Ada added in a hushed voice, despaired that justice hadn't yet been delivered on behalf of her dear friend.

" And I am, alright?" Tommy replied his brows raised in irritation, his sisters relentless questions regarding your presumed untimely demise starting to get on his last nerve, the beloved boyfriend a far cry from the grieving one he had been trying to portray.

" Wait, where are you going?" Ada asked as her brother turned to leave for his car.

" Away" he replied shortly as his sister stepped in front of him, her brows creasing at the sudden patch of blood staining the collar of his freshly laundered white shirt, snagged by the sharp movement of Tommy's head snapping back to her.

" Jesus Tommy, what the fuck happened to you?" she said as she pulled his collar further down, a large cut that had all but been concealed for the entirety of the service suddenly making itself known.

"Must've nicked myself shaving" Tommy said dismissively as he pulled his shirt back up, hissing at the sharp friction of the cloth grazing against the bloodied wound on his neck.

" Nicked? Was you wrangling a wild animal whilst you was shaving?" She scoffed as she folded her arms eyeing up the crimson stain for a second time, the cut resembling more the grooves of human fingernails scratched into flesh than any injury made by the act of male grooming. " Tommy, what...what about the wake?" Ada called out to her brother as he ignored any further remarks on the suspicious gash to his neck making his way down the path.

" I need time to think, alone Ada. In peace" he called back whilst she watched from afar, an exasperated huff leaving her throat before grief overcame her once more and she headed back up to the grave to say her final goodbye in private.

"Fill her up lads, to the top" he said handing a bundle of King George notes to two more gravediggers in passing on the gritted walkway, his black coat blowing open as a gust of wind cut through the cemetery creaking the leafless branches of a weeping ash tree nearby. Lighting a cigarette Tommy looked up to the top of the graveyard, eyeing up the spot he had chosen for your supposed resting place as a devilish smirk formed on his lips, hidden to those nearby by the cloud of smoke pummelling into the crisp Autumn air. Devilish indeed, manipulative, a wicked lie fabricated for those that would never come to learn the truth of what really happened on that fateful night, all but two of course.

Pulling at your restraints you cried out as your wrists scraped along the ropes, the sharp burn of the twine searing your skin as the all too familiar sound of a car driving along the muddied grass haltered your attempts to call for aid. Cowering yourself into the corner of the small vardo you brought your knees up to your chest as the door opened and the sweet smell of tobacco filled the the room.

" Tut, tut" you heard him say as he grabbed your wrists inspecting your pathetic attempts to escape.

The man you had determined to have been following you, stalking you, now inches from you, his breath hot against your cheek as he leant forward gently untying the cloth from around your eyes, slowly pulling it away. He had fooled you into loving him, convinced you he had kept you from harms way, and he was back again to convince you once more into understanding why he did what he had so selflessly done. Albeit with a wicked grin mischievously playing on the corner of his mouth.

"Tommy..."

" Hello darling"

November 2023...

"Fuck, shit...fuck!" You yelled as you pulled your hand from within the file of papers you had decided to spring-clean, a rather late spring-clean of eight months that was. " Fuck..." You resorted one last time just for the thrills of dramatising the injury you had acquired in your attempts to be an orderly person. Said injury, a bloody paper cut. One that seemed to have amassed it's very own heartbeat in the space of a few seconds. Painful, but not the worst injury you had brought upon yourself. The great stubbing of ones toe in the summer of 2022 when you decided on rearranging your whole flat during a existential crisis had yet to be topped. Avoiding the scattering of crap that now adorned your bedroom floor you headed for the bathroom to wrap your bleeding finger in whatever was available. Toilet paper should do the trick you thought to yourself as you grabbed a roll of Andrex Supreme Quilts from your bathroom cupboard, only the finest for your ass. What on earth made you think this was a good idea? You thought to yourself as you looked around your home that had started to ressemble an episode of hoarders when a small box peaking out under a stack of folders caught your eye, its recognisable pattern embellishing the sides of the cardboard making your heart skip a beat. " What the..." You said aloud as a heavy feeling of dread and confusion settled in the pit of your stomach, your eyes wide at seeing the one item that had all but destroyed any attempts you had made to have a normal life. The same item you thought you had thrown out along with all the memories of the years you had spent trying to understand why they chose you, why it was you their voices never left your thoughts in peace. Is that how it all started? Your ability, or as your referred to it, curse. A stupid board game that had single handedly cast you out from not only your childhood friends but your own family. The same family aside from your beloved granddad that had dragged you to every psychiatrist in the county, every priest, every professional that had prescribed you not with help or sympathy but the label of burden, attention seeker. But a child's imaginary friends were not so imaginary. They would seek you out, knowing you were their connection to the living world for years up until your early adult when another deathly presence appeared, one that stayed in the shadows, always watching from afar. He was not like the others, he stayed back, his gaze always hidden by the shadow his peak cap would cast on his face. And unlike the others he scared you, really fucking scared you. Picking the box up you marched into your kitchen throwing it on the table as you reached into a cupboard for a bin bag. You had been rid of him for years and you would be rid of this game too. After all, it was because of him you shut your eyes from the unliving, ignored their whisperings, determined to live a normal life as normally as you could. That was your plan until the doorbell obnoxiously rang five times in a row and your friends voice reverberated through the corridors of your flat building.

" Open up whore, I brought booze! " she giggled loudly as you heard her stumble forward. Bloody hell, was she already drunk?

" Helena.." you smiled as you opened the door to her standing with a bottle of Smirnoff Ice in her hand, hell-bent on recreating her teen years taking shots from the bottle cap. Oh great, she brought friends, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes at the two smartly dressed men behind her.

" You are a klutz babe" she lovingly remarked looking down at your makeshift bandage tightly wrapped around your finger with a kiss to your cheek. " Barneby and Hugh" she introduced you to the two men that had already made themselves at home, currently splayed across your sofa as the nauseating smell of their aftershave they had doused themselves in filled the room. You would never comment on the name anyone had been bestowed upon by their dear parents but, my god...had they just walked off the polo pitch? Londoners no doubt, private upper schooling you thought to yourself, your suspicions only confirmed when the tall blonde Hugh stood up from your sofa with his hand out for you to shake his accent quickly making itself known.

" Hugh. We work for Goldman Sachs in London, took a detour to take in the local..." he cleared his throat as he looked back at his friend with a smirk. Idiot. What an opening line, was he about to present you with his business card? "...sights of Birmingham on our way up north when one of our associates introduced us to the lovely Helena" he said sitting down on the arm of your sofa as he eyes roamed over your body. Detour... What did he think Small Heath was? The local petting zoo to gawk at, the same way he was gawking at you? Yes there was your average oddball here and there and the man that walked around town shoeless, regardless as to whether it was pissing it down or scorching hot outside. But it was your town, and you wouldn't have any jumped up city boy put it down.

" Hmm, how is the big smoke?" you quipped back as the perfectly groomed man with a suspiciously tinted beard grin widened.

" She's feisty Hughey, just how you like them" his friend laughed as his grin settled into a cocky smirk. Hughey...give me strength.

" Helena, I thought we was just gonna watch a movie get some takeou.."

" What the heck! No no, you're not throwing that out!" She screeched as she bolted up from the armchair to the Ouija board you had intended to bin. She was unusually chaotic than her normal bubbly self. The Smirnoff had clearly already been tasted, enjoyed and partly consumed, you thought to yourself as you eyed up the bottle missing a good chunk of it's contents. " I've always wanted to have a go with one of these. Why didn't you say you had this naughty game in your possession?" she asked clutching it to her chest.

" I prefer strip poker but this could be a laugh " the other Londoner remarked with a chuckle as he stood up taking the box from your friend. Could you will your curse to him, you thought to yourself as your eyes narrowed in on the game in his hand. They were getting increasingly annoying. Could they just, fuck off?

" How about it Y/N?" Your friend smiled with joy at the idea of exploring the supernatural side of life.

" I, I don't think it's a good idea" you said as you snatched the box away from the man who had started rootling through it, feeling overly protective over something you intended to discard of, a sudden longing to be comforted by your childhood companions, your only companions. Would they come back if you let them? Or had too much time passed since you had shut your eyes to the spirit world, since you had pushed them out of your life?

" Don't be a spoil sport Y/N" the blonde said prying the board from your bear like grip as you began to feel as if someone was taking a part of what made you uniquely you away from your whole being.

" We can't do it here, it's not the right setting" your friend said looking around your place wanting a full immersion into whatever overly exaggerated scene she wanted to recreate from one of the many movies or shows she had watched " Ooh let's go to that passing by the riverside. You know, the one from all the story's about the dark mysterious figure that resides down there as smoke blows from the old wagons chimney" she said grinning from ear to ear recounting the story every resident of Small Heath had heard since childhood.

" Helena, that's private property" you said as she began to drag you with her to the front door, grabbing your jacket on the way out as she linked arms with you.

" It's just a bit of fun, please? " she pleaded as she waited for a response. A bit of fun, you could list a whole page of other activities that sounded funner. The first being getting take out and drinking yourself to sleep, the original plan for tonight. Could you risk delving back into the otherworldly land you had cut off? Had your ability vanished for good? What if they reappeared, what if he appeared the one you had been painstakingly avoiding for near a decade. It had been so long, surely he was gone, right?

"Fine" your reluctant response slipped out not wanting to be the that person as you headed out the door when just like any generic horror movie your friend was desperately trying to duplicate an uneasy feeling suddenly settled in your stomach. You had become the very character you would scream at your TV screen, violently throwing popcorn in its direction to not be a cliché and go into the creepy woods with a Ouija board, one slightly pissed friend and two idiot tag alongs. But yet here you was, about to ignore every fiber of your being telling your to turn back.

" Hello Mr magpie how's your wife and kids" you whispered quietly to yourself watching the black and white bird perched on a large log that had undoubtedly fallen during the storm that had come through last week as you clutched the thinnest jacket your friend could have possibly picked out for you around your body. Fashion over functionality, that was Helena's Moto you thought to yourself feeling your fingers go numb from the cool air of the bitter Autumn night. One for joy, two for a boy, how many was it for death...no fuck, that wasn't it. You mentally hummed to yourself as you looked around for a second magpie having forgotten the silly superstition your grandad had always recited to you in the presence of the blue tailed bird.

" Can warm you up if you like?" Hugh laughed putting his arm around you which you automatically shrugged off. " You're as frigid as this weather" he joked as you stormed ahead of you with an irritated huff, catching up with your friend who was a few feet ahead of you as your eyes darted around the open area surrounded by numerous large oak trees, the soft sound of the riverbank gently colliding with the muddied ground pricking your ears. As peaceful as it looked in the silver moonlight casting array of shadows onto the dewy grass you didn't want to be here, something felt...off. You was sure you had never once entered this area In your whole existence but yet, something felt eerily similar about it. What you wouldn't do to be in front of the comforting fire of your late granddads home, watching him nod off in front of the TV with a bowl of striped humbugs in his lap, his dentures floating in a glass of water beside him...not the most poetic image you could've conjured up as your anxiety started to make itself presence, but it was home, and it was where your heart was. Your thoughts had become so tangled, since he passed, uncomfortably intrusive. You felt lonely, so lonely in a world surrounded by people that life had become one long draining experience day in day out. You was desperate for relief from the crushing weight of the cards you had been dealt in life.

"Ooh perfect" your friend said snapping you out of your thoughts as she walked up to an old wooden picnic table in the middle of the passing, the worn emerald green vardo that had fallen apart like the rest of the upkeep of the area feet from you, silently stuck in times from before. " Right come on then, tell us how it works"

" Guys I don't think this is a good..." You started to say when Brian, Barney, Barneby, whatever his name was rudely interrupted you.

"You know what I think sweetie, I think you're scared" he laughed as he went to sit down, his nose turning up at the rotten wood he was about to place his Tom Ford three-piece suit that's trousers looked two sizes too small. If he was trying to accentuate what he was packing he needn't bother.

" You can sit next to me if you like" Hugh winked as you purposely made a point to sit across from him, covering your exposed cleavage with your jacket from his pervy leering eyes. The quicker you got this over with this the quicker you could distance yourself from these two imbeciles, you thought to yourself as you pulled the box In front of you, your hands tracing over the pieces of your childhood. The game in itself was pretty simple you each placed two fingers on the triangular shaped piece of wood and proceeded to ask questions. That was it, what happened after was open for debate.

"We call upon the spirit world and welcome those into the circle who wish to speak with us" you said aloud, your mouth suddenly going dry at the passage you never thought you'd hear leave your lips as the tall blonde seated in front of you scoffed at the words you could only image he thought were nothing more than absurd ramblings of wishful thinking.

" It's not doing anything" your friend remarked, now fully submerged in the game she wholeheartedly believed was more than something teens would play in abandoned buildings late at night, desperate for her own supernatural experience.

" It can take some tim..." You started to say as the planchette started moving, both idiots opposite you nudging eachother under the table as your friends eyes stayed fixed on the moving piece of wood, your own attention startled by the arrival of a dozen people slowly approaching through the wooded area, their deafening whispers muffling out your friends voice. Your eyes darted between Helena and the two men she had brought along with her, willing them to see what you could see as the small crowd of people closed in surrounding the table as they called out the names of their family. Mother's, sister, brothers, fathers, grandparents, begging you to pass message after message onward to their loved ones. "Stop..please..." you said quietly, closing your eyes as you pressed your hand to your forehead. There was too many of them, it was happening too fast. You wanted it to stop to just stop, just fucking stop...

" Enough!" A loud deep voice boomed through the crisp night air as the dead retreated back and the form of a man leaning against a tree dressed all in black came into your view, a cloud of smoke pummeling above his head, his eyes cast down at the ground as he rolled his cigarette between his fingers. It was him, he was back. " Leave" he commanded to the others as he slowly strode towards you.

They couldn't see him, why couldn't they see him? He was standing right there, right fucking next to you. You thought to yourself as your chest heaved up and down from the sheer panic rapidly coursing through you, your breaths coming in ragged shallow ripples as his black tailored coat grazed along your arm sending a burning shiver down your spine. A dumb game, a stupid dumb game. Why did you agree to this? You had unknowingly invited him back, summoned him after all the years you had painstakingly tried to keep his presence at bay, you panicked as you looked in the corner of your eye to see him rubbing his thumb over his forefinger, enticing you to look up, taunting you to meet the piercing glare you was certain you'd be met with if you dared to look his way. But yet you stayed motionless, frozen as your eyes slowly settled on your hand resting over the intricately detailed planchette as your friend beside you giggled at its erratic movements on the board below it, which either one or both of the idiots she had brought along with her were undoubtedly doing.

" Alright I've had enough, which one of you wankers is moving it?" Your friend Helena demanded to know as you looked across to the prick that had been hounding you since the moment he laid eyes on you, a faint smirk playing on the corner of his mouth when a leather gloved hand crept across the table placing itself over yours, slowly lacing it's fingers between your own. Your whole body trembling, you desperately tried to pull your hand away when the sinister figure standing beside you grip tightened, keeping your from escaping his inevitable presence as the wooden triangle started to move.

" Y/N…" Your friend said looking to you as the planchette stopped, your name having been spelt letter by letter in a gentle dance of toing and froing that swept across the board until all those present eyes widened not only in fear but confusion. If they weren't moving it, who was? Releasing his hand from yours he reached up, brushing away a lone tear resting on the top of your reddened cheek that had settled in the midst of the spine-chilling ordeal. "Babe, what's wrong?" your friend asked, your frightened, shaken demeanor concerning her enough to pull her hand from the game as she placed her arm around your shoulders in attempts to comfort you when you felt the very figure you had been evading for near a decade rest his thumb gently on the end of your chin, the sound of his leather gloves creasing sending a nauseating chill throughout your body as he turned your head to face him. And there he was. The man, the presence you thought you'd never see again, his face masked by the shadow of his peaked cap now visible to your eye, his ghostly pale skin brightened by his piercing blue eyes boring Into you as a smile formed on the edge of his lips…

" Hello darling. I've been waiting for you" he said as your bottom lip began to wobble, a cascade of tears now streaming down your cheeks wetting the leather gloved thumb still resting on your chin as he tenderly gazed into your eyes. " Shhh" he hushed your frightened sobs as his hand moved to your cheek cupping his fingers gently around the side of your neck.

" What's with her?" the man opposite your friend said as your gaze stayed fixed on the presence before you, watching the irritation build on his face at the the tender moment he had played through his mind countless times spoiled by he annoying chattering of the man accompanying you.

" You're shaking gorgeous. Offer's still there hm? Can warm you up in that broken down gypsy thing" Hugh snickered along with his friend as Helena glared at him, an array of insults leaving her lips. " We'd be better off naked though, we'll warm up quicker that way" he laughed obnoxiously when the presence before you head snapped in his direction, the blue hue of eyes quickly replaced by a sinister black as he threw the table over in front of you in one quick deliberate motion. With his hand clenched into a fist he turned to the man who had not only embarrassed you but insulted you shamelessly In front of everyone with the suggestion you were as crude as him, landing a brutally violent single punch to his face.

" What...what the fuck! What was that?" His friend stuttered leaping from the bench as he looked down at his dazed friend, blood dripping from an open gash on his bottom lip as Helena screamed in horror at what had just happened, her brain simultaneously trying to compute how it had happened. " We're getting the hell out of here" he said lifting his friend from the ground that was holding his lip together as the being beside you rested his hand firmly on your shoulder, squeezing his fingers into your flesh in a clear message to not dare move.

" Babe...Y/N we gotta go" your friend cried trying to pull you from the bench as you stayed seated and the dark presences grip on you tightened.

" Leave Helena " you cried not wishing harm to come to anyone else. He wanted you, he had haunted you for all those years. Your friend and the two men accompanying you were a mere inconvenience. And after what had just transpired, you feared what he could and would do next.

" What! No come on..!" She pleaded shaking you from what she thought was a state of shock when the man she had invited let go of his bloodied friend and started pulling her away from you. " Y/N!" she cried, the distant sound of her fighting with him as he dragged her out of the gated area slowly disappearing as you was ultimately left in silence, alone, with him.

" Please...let me go" you wept as you turned your head to face him.

" Let you go? I've only just got you back sweetheart" he said as he released his hand from your shoulder, his fingers now brushing through the locks of hair framing your face. " You invited me back love, and that was one invitation I could not refuse" he said as you stood up taking a step back when he reached out and grabbed your wrist." Now now Y/N, we have unfinished business" he said pulling you back to him, his pale ivory face inches from you, lips drained of blood tauntingly close.

" I came in peace, with no intentions to offend. I say goodbye and bid you farewell" you recited the words you had learnt by heart after any encounter you once had speaking with those from the other realm.

" Oh sweetheart, now who taught you that little rhyme eh? I'm afraid it doesn't work like that love" he chuckled cocking a brow at the idea that your silly little riddle would cause him to simply vanish before you. " My girl" he said as his thumb dragged down to the corner of your mouth, tracing the curve of your trembling lips, staring at you like a lover would gaze at their partner.

"I, I don't know you, I'm not who you're looking for" you sobbed as you looked down at your hands, clutching them together from the drop in temperature his presence demanded.

" Oh but you do know me darling. You know me very well" he said as his lips parted and his eyes drifted down to the soft flesh of your neck, down to the curves your blouse beneath your jacket hugged your body. " I've waited a century for this very moment, for us to finally be reunited. And believe me sweetheart, my patience is starting to wear thin, very thin" Is that what this was...He thought you were his dead lover, a reincarnation of her that he had been waiting a hundred years for, an anomaly where everything that makes something uniquely individual to them, their genes their likes their dislikes repeating itself into a second copy days, years, thousands of decades later, you thought to yourself as your eyes widened at the realisation of what he had been waiting for, what he had been watching you for as you turned to make a swift exit.

" I can't let you leave Y/N" he said as the large metal gate to the opening slammed shut making you abruptly stop in your tracks.

" I want to go home. I'm not her, I don't belong here..." You cried in a panic, turning back to face him as he strode forward to you his with his hand out, calmly waiting for you to take it.

" Then let me show you" he replied intertwining his fingers with yours as he gently cupped your cheek with his other hand, the welcoming chill from his leather gloved hand soothing the heat radiating from your reddened tear stained cheek. "Let me show you who you were, who you were in 1923..."

NEXT PART

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namorslutfanfiction · 1 year

Note

Hi if you're still taking request. Can I request a Namor x reader where reader and namor are married and reader is one of the people got turned to dust because of the snap and Namor just don't know what to do. 5 years later reader came back to him what would he's reaction be?

Thank you for the request

Summary: 5 years without you was worse than anything he had ever experienced.

ANGST

In ajawo - my king

In reina - my queen

in yakunaj - my love

in amado - my beloved

Aateni - help me

It had happened so suddenly it took Namor a moment to realize that you were truly gone. You were together at the time. In the tent in the cave where he kept most of his paintings. The two of you had been laughing when your expression suddenly changed. You stumbled and he caught you.

"In yakunaj? What is it?" He asked as he guided you to a chair, worry etched into his brow. You had a faraway look in your eyes that made his stomach drop.

"In ajawo' something is happening," You stuttered and gripped his hands like your life depended on it. "Aateni' K'uk'ulkan."

His heart clenched at the call for help as he was at a loss on how to do just that. Then right before his eyes you crumbled into dust. He looked around himself like you would suddenly reappear. He tore up the room and the surrounding caves, calling your name. But when reality sank in, he broke. The howl that the king let out rang through all of Talokan as others in the underwater civilization also vanished.

The Talokan King ventured to the surface when he couldn't find any answers in the sea. What he found was the same suffering and loss. He learned of what the alien Thanos had done. Nothing would bring you back. Nothing would bring anyone back. Any hope he may have harbored was now turned to ashes.

For the first year, no one but Namora saw the king. He secluded himself and wallowed in his grief. Allowed himself to feel the anger and loss and guilt. Your last words, your plea for him to save you to help you rang in his ears. Though Namora told him there was nothing he could have done, that did not sooth his aching and yearning soul.

On the anniversary of what the surface dwellers called 'the blip', Namor showed himself to his people once more. He wore his ceremonial garb and they held an official funeral for all those who had been turned to dust. Enough time had passed and it was time to let go. At least that is what he told his people, but at night he held your clothes close to him and prayed for your return.

The King remained detached and always stoic. He no longer swam the streets of Talokan and greeted his people. Nor was he ever seen outside the palace or his caves. No one blamed him. They all knew how he loved his Queen and her loss was felt by all.

The grief and sadness held Namor in such a grasp that he did not smile until over four years had passed. As time passed he had chosen to make room in his heart for the love of his people again. A small child had bumped into him on one of his few ventures into the city to see his people. But the smallest of smiles had finally alighted upon his face at the fright on the boy's face and his repeated apologies. He had patted the young boy and eased him.

Namor was learning to live without you in the smallest ways. He had made a conscious effort to leave the palace and caves more often. To be a more active hand in ruling his people. Seeing them moving forward with life while honoring those who left were a balm for the ever aching parts of his heart. In time he allowed himself to see the surface and the sun again. He knew you would have wanted that.

~~~

Namor was sitting on a beach, listening for any changes in the world. He knew the war against Thanos was waging somewhere, he could feel it. The energy that suddenly rippled through the world sent a hope through him that he dared not take hold of. He ran full pelt across the beach and dove back into the sea.

When he resurfaced in his caves and made it to the tent he paused. His heart was racing and hope had truly sprung up inside of him. But if he pushed this curtain and you weren't there he would be undone.

"K'uk'ulkan?" Your soft voice came from inside the tent, hesitant and frightened. A second ago he had been at your side and now you were alone.

The King almost fell to his knees at the sound of your voice. A sound he had feared he would forget as years passed without you. He threw open the curtain and you turned to him. You were standing at the table looking worried. Before you could speak Namor took three long strides and pulled you into his arms in a an embrace that spoke of longing and so much love. A sob escaped his lips as his legs gave way.

You knelt with him and held him to you as he sobbed like a child into your neck. You gripped ahold of him, soothingly running your hands through his hair as you felt tears well in your own eyes at the sound of his anguish. Namor pulled away and took your face in his shaking hands and looked at you with tears staining his cheeks.

"In amado, in reina, you have returned to me," Namor choked out the words before kissing you fiercely. Although confused you knew that something terrible had happened between the moment you had felt like something was wrong and his sudden disappearance to the entrance of the tent. You kissed him back and then held his face in your own hands.

"In ajawo, K'uk'ulkan, my love, I am here. Whatever happened to cause you this pain, I am here to make it go away," You whispered to him as he nuzzled his cheek against your palm.

"You were gone from me. You and half of the world. We have been grieving your loss and so many others for five years. I do not want to live in that world again. In a world without you," Namor's voice was low and broken. He was trying to calm his gut wrenching sobs as he explained what had happened and why you had disappeared.

The King held you close as he recounted what he knew and that he suspected that Thanos had now been defeated. Your heart broke as he described the mourning and grief that he and Talokan had suffered through. You had lost five years in a moment but he had been alone that whole time. You kissed him again, lingering so he could truly feel that you were there. He clutched on to you as though you would slip through his fingers again if he let go.

"I will never leave you again, my love. I promise you," You looked around you and could see that time had indeed passed. The tent was not as organized as you liked it. The king's paints were haphazard and there were unclean brushes sitting in places they shouldn't. Then you noticed the new mural that to you had not been there a moment ago. It was you; a detailed and intricate portrait of you in your ceremonial dress.

"I painted this the first year you were gone. I would come here and talk to you, imagining you were listening. I had no hope that you would ever return," he pressed his forehead to your temple and you cupped his cheek as you took in the painting.

"Why did you wait for me? I would have understood if you moved on. Talokan is always in need of a queen," You asked him, looking into his dark eyes.

"There was no queen before you and there will be none after you. There is only you, in reina," He did not explain any further.

Tears leaked out of the corner of your eye at his devotion. You pulled him in for a longer more passionate kiss. Pouring all you had into showing him how much you loved him. It broke a dam in the king and he kissed you hungrily. Like a starving man needing air he was desperate for your touch. Namor hoisted you onto the table and continued kissing you as his hands ran up and down your body.

Then he paused for a moment and leaned back, taking in the sight of you with swollen lips, a flushed face and neck, and your eyes dark with desire and he smiled a full wide smile for the first time in 5 years.

...

Alrighty, I think that's good right?

All comments, reblogs, and reviews feed me.

#namor #namor x oc #namor x reader #namorslutfanfiction #namorfanfic #angst

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queerprayers · 7 months

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update <3

I've been procrastinating this (as if that could make it all less real), but so many people have sent prayers and well wishes that I wouldn't feel right not letting you know how grateful I am for your words and also letting you know this: My beloved grandfather died last week.

I honor the faithful service he gave to countless churches and communities, the children he helped raise, the grandchildren he sang to, the children he baptized, the couples (including my parents) he married, the people he buried, the music and faith that never left him even when so much of him did.

I will pass on the last thing he ever said to me, in July, after a busy and joyful weekend celebrating his fiftieth wedding anniversary, as he got in bed for his nap, taking seconds in between words to think: "It's not all hard. Not all the time." This is so hard. But it's also part of loving someone: promising to mourn them when the time comes. Promising to keep going. Love is hard, but it's not all hard. Not all the time.

His funeral will be Catholic, but he used to be a Lutheran, and he presided over many funerals from the worship book I still use, so here are some words I've been saying from there:

O God of grace and glory, we remember before you today our brother. We thank you for giving him to us to know and to love as a companion in our pilgrimage on earth. In your boundless compassion, console us who mourn. Give us your aid, so we may see in death the gate to eternal life, that we may continue our course on earth in confidence until, by your call, we are reunited with those who have gone before us; through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light.

The generations rise and pass away before you. You are the strength of those who labor; you are the rest of the blessed dead. We rejoice in the company of your saints. We remember all who have lived in faith, all who have peacefully died, and especially those most dear to us who rest in you. Give us in time our portion with those who have trusted in you and have striven to do your holy will. To your name, with the Church on earth and the Church in heaven, we ascribe all honor and glory, now and forever. Amen.

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, thy victory? The strife is o'er, the battle done. Love will come again like wheat arising green. The Lord bless and keep him. The Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious to him. The Lord look upon him with favor and grant him peace.

I'm not a Catholic, and was never really taught to pray for souls, but I think I get it a bit now. He was, though, and if that's something you do, I'm sure he would have welcomed that. (And if you know any good saints to throw in the mix, go for it.) My grandmother could also use your prayers.

Thank you for reading this, and holding for a moment the love I have for him. It's heavy right now, and easier to carry with others' prayers beside me. I am praying beside you as well, especially with the many people who have sent me asks that have gone unanswered for ages now. And God holds all of us, more than we could ever imagine. I don't claim to understand death, but I am in the palm of the universe's hand, and my granddad is too, reunited with all that left him in his sickness, and united with a God who knows death intimately. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, love to love.

<3 Johanna

#death mention

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embracing-the-ineffable · 2 months

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Good Omens, staying skeptical, and the mystery and the lie at the heart of Gravity Falls

-Neil Gaiman, 29 June 2023

I recently came across this post by @apathetic-revenant, which goes into extensive detail about a whole secret meta lie generated by Alex Hirsch, creator and head writer of Gravity Falls, midway through the show.

It went like this: the show was very focused on mysteries, codes, ciphers, etc, and early on a character discovered a mysterious journal with an unknown author, and this drove the plot. There were clues placed in the show so that people could solve the journal author's identity, or more probably so that it would all make sense in hindsight after the big reveal. However, the show ended up with a larger-than-expected fandom who started organizing online in a way the creators hadn't expected or planned for, and they were worried everyone would collectively solve the mystery too easily, too soon, and the suspense and appeal of the story gradually unfolding would be lost.

So they took a fake BTS photo that appeared to reveal the journal's author and "leaked" it online. To give it credibility, the show's creator posted "Fuming right now" and then deleted the post soon after, once they were certain it had been seen and screenshots taken. The Gravity Falls fandom then stopped trying to solve the mystery, as they believed the answer had already been revealed. It was a solution "targeted toward delaying that group problem-solving, without actually affecting the experience of any individual person watching the show."

Ok, Good Omens fandom. Are we Gravity Falls all over again? Are we also experiencing meta lies?

Is it possible that Amazon's marketing department has just released a new promotional video about Aziraphale & Crowley's "timeline of interconnectedness" (discussions here and here ) where they honestly:

got several of those timeline dates wrong, including labeling the entirety of seasons 1 and 2 as belonging to the same year?

mixed all the season 1 and 2 clips together so they're completely interconnected and out of the order they were presented to us so far?

didn't consult with Neil Gaiman for even a moment to be sure they had their facts straight? (Or literally anyone else who's spent years working on it? Or even someone who has just watched it once while paying attention?)

didn't understand the way most series tell a story by moving through time in a realistic linear fashion?

When Neil said today that "time is fine" in response to questions about the timeline of interconnectedness video, was he trying to misdirect the fandom away from the mystery that's clearly hidden throughout both seasons (and especially season 2)?

The Good Place seems suddenly more relevant than I'd imagined:

Neil has told us that his Tumblr posts aren't canon. He's also said:

"Never trust the storyteller. Only trust the story."

"Writers are liars, my dear, surely you know that by now? And yet, things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot." -Both quotes are from The Sandman [link]

So here's my plea to whichever part of the fandom might read this: Stay Skeptical. It's wonderful to talk to Neil about his characters, the worlds he's created, his writing process, his views on world events, his sense of humor, his kindness, his compassion and empathy, and his good advice & encouragement for the entire range of the human experience. I respect him very much, and I'm thrilled he's here on social media talking to all of us. (Except he doesn't have social media, obviously. He's like Schrödinger's Social Media Neil-cat.)

I'm looking forward to all the surprises I'm certain are in store for us (and Aziraphale and Crowley) in Good Omens season 3. I trust Neil (and Terry!) to deliver our beloved characters to a very satisfying ending. But I don't trust Neil to honestly answer all of our questions on social media - and neither should you.

Especially not when he's already blamed obvious season 2 changes to the Bentley on the "lighting" (as just one example).

With lots of thanks to the members of the @ineffable-detective-agency - including @bbbitchvibbbez, @kimberleyjean, @maufungi, @noneorother, @theastrophysicistnextdoor, and @thebluestgreen for all their excellent fact-checking, ideas, and discussions!

Interested in diving further into all the Good Omens mysteries? I have more posts plus Clues and metas from all over the fandom, here.

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vgilantee · 1 year

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dear devoted delicate {xavier thorpe}

xavier thorpe x reader

requested: by my beloved julie @websterss <3

words: 2.2k

a/n: the reader is an outcast of an unknown type, but not a werewolf. i love werewolves, but because of some of the setup, it's gotta be a non-werewolf reader. also i went a little off-prompt but it's still the same in essence, and all the important bits are included, just shuffled up a little. oh and yes the title is a line from the song older, but i used it mostly because dear is a sweet petname, and butterflies have delicate wings. i think i'm clever. oh and if you're new here, i hate writing dialogue and it shows in this also if you want to see some really cool drawings of poisonous plants, send me an ask (please) because one of my favourite things ever are vintage botanical drawings (this will make sense in a minute dw)

warnings: n/a. just some sweetness. there is swearing though so idk if that counts as a warning

pronouns: she/her (maybe she/they? i can't remember if i threw in a 'they' lmao)

Once a month - sometimes twice if you were incredibly unlucky - you were kicked out of your room for two days while your roommate had a handful of her younger cousins over.

Before Nevermore, you loved the full moon. Now you had a love-hate relationship. You still loved the moon itself, but you never enjoyed showing up at your friend’s dorm, backpack over your shoulder and sleeping bag tucked under your arm, sheepishly asking if you could once again sleep on their floor. You could, in theory, go back to your room to sleep as your roommate and cousins wouldn’t be there, instead transformed into wolves and galavanting around the woods. But in your second month at Nevermore, you did that, and woke up to a room full of the less-than-dressed human werewolves, some of whom had chosen your bed to curl up on, with you still in it. Never again.

Full moons on the weekend were the worst. With no classes to occupy your time, you often found yourself moving from place to place around campus to find somewhere you could hide out before getting bored and moving on.

Xavier watched as you jogged past the archery field, headphones in and running shoes muddied. It wasn’t unusual to see you go past during club practice, though you tended to avoid it after a downpour. He’d asked you about it once, after seeing you in the library one rainy Saturday afternoon.

“My room already smells like wet dog at the best of times, I’m not going to add to that.” Your voice was light with humour; you adored Sofi and she always made sure to not bring in any smells with her. But the comment stuck with Xavier and the next time you were sat next to each other in Torture through History, he sketched out a wolf before moving his hand to bring it out of the page. You giggled quietly as the ashen wolf shook itself, small flecks mimicking water coming off, then curled up next to your hand. You had smiled down at it fondly as it fell asleep before dissolving into charcoal dust, leaving a light smudge on your hand. Xavier watched you and pretended not to notice the warmth that came to his face as you looked up at him, the fond look still in your eyes.

“Xavier, are you going to take your shot? Or you just going to keep staring at ‘em?” He shot up a middle finger over his shoulder before turning to follow its movement to see his club mates smirking over at him.

After ducking into Ash’s room to change into more comfortable clothes, you make your way down to the library. Ash was generally the most reliable for having space on their floor for you to crash, the thin roll-out mattress a permanent feature in the beanbag corner of the dorm.

On your way, you detour to your room to kick your muddy runners under your bed, though not before making an ‘I’m watching you’ motion toward a curled-up Sofi with a smile.

It wasn’t uncommon for couples to be hidden away in the library, especially not on an overcast weekend. But the Grimmstone library was the only library on campus that held an original copy of an 1800s toxic botany encyclopaedia.

After a few false turns with quick apologies to the interrupted couples, you finally found the right - and luckily empty - aisle. With your forefinger running gently along the worn spines, you made your way down the rows of books, glancing at the names of authors until you found the one you were looking for.

After carefully sliding the hardcover book off the shelf - nearly dropping it as the loose plastic dust cover slipped - you sat down at one of the desks lining the centre of the room and began flicking through. You flicked the book to the back, finger running down the yellowed page until you reached the name you were looking for: aconitum.

----

“Big scary werewolf and you’re afraid of a little butterfly?” You laughed as you wandered into Plant Toxicology with Sofi.

“It flew right into my face!” She waved her free hand in front of her, mimicking the butterfly’s movements.

“And you squealed!” As you laughed, Sofi gently hip-checked you, nudging you toward your usual desk, before laughing with a shake of her head and walking toward her own. You nodded hello to Yoko as you sat beside her.

“Alight, class. Group paper time.” The sounds of groans and heads hitting tables bounced around the room. “I know, I know. Now, rows one and three, turn around and give a little wave to your partner.”

----

You were hours early to meet your study buddy, but it was a non-issue. The time alone allowed you to make meticulous notes on the plant before worrying about formatting them into a presentable paper.

The notes you made were messy, quick dot points from the encyclopaedia that could make into a decent assessment. The paper was only short anyway, the first report of the semester that was more of a benchmark than a large percentage of your grade.

Headphones in, it wasn’t long until you found yourself with your feet up on the seat and book resting open on your thighs, reaching around your bent knees to occasionally take notes.

You were in the middle of triple-checking the spelling of a latin nomenclature when a flit of grey out the corner of your eye caught your attention. But as you turned your head to see what it was, all you could see was another couple darting down an aisle, whispering to each other. You shook your head with an amused exhale before turning back to your note-taking.

Just as you leaned forward to take a note, you saw the grey again. But this time, instead of a moment at the side of your vision, the grey moved in front of you just long enough to make out the shape of a butterfly before it landed on the tip of your nose.

Cross-eyed to stare at the charcoal insect, you pulled out the headphones slowly, trying not to disturb it. You knew it wasn’t real, recognising the trademark sketch lines of Xavier’s art.

Another pair of butterflies began to flutter in front of you, bouncing off of each other with tiny plumes of dust. You let out a small giggle and the bug on your nose darted away, flying right into the other two where all three of them exploded into a shower of dark powder onto the desk. Once the last of the dust landed, you turned quickly to look over your shoulders, dropping your feet to the floor, trying to find the artist.

You met Xavier’s eye as he folded his sketchbook closed in his right hand. His head was tilted with a smile as he made his way toward you, backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Howdy, howdy partner.” You wriggled your fingers to wave as he pulled out the chair beside you, dropping down and letting his bag fall to the floor. As he did, you noticed that Xavier’s pulled-back hair was a messy damp, the kind that comes with being caught in the rain.

“Started the fun without me.” He gestured lazily to your notebook and the two thick library books in front of you (at some point during your research you wandered back to the shelf and found a second book with information on the deadly plant).

“Wanted to make you jealous, of course.” You shot him a wink with a small giggle, turning back to your book just in time to miss the tips of Xavier’s ears go pink. “The butterflies were definitely a welcome distraction though,” you thanked, turning in your chair to face him fully, “I felt like I was going cross-eyed staring at these pages.”

“I’m happy to distract.” Xavier sent you a dopey smile and raised one hand to flatten down flyaways, and you bit the inside of your lip while ignoring the warmth that grew on your face. In your attempt to break eye-contact and hopefully get rid of the blush, your gaze flicked down to his mouth and caught him licking his lips.

Almost in sync, you and Xavier looked away from each other and as you looked over at the textbook, you heard him clear his throat.

“Okay, so,” Xavier broke the silence after a moment, “what have you got so far?”

You quickly delved into giving him a rundown of the notes you had made so far, explaining ideas you had come up with for it. However, you made a point of not looking up at him. It was a little awkward at times, where you would catch yourself beginning to look at him but quickly found a drawing of the purple flower far too important to not look over at.

Neither of you noticed that the sun had set until the howls of classmates made their way from this distance, the sound causing both of you to turn and look out the window.

“Shit, I didn’t realise how late it had gotten.” During the week, there was an 8pm curfew, but over the weekend library hours were extended and they were a little more lenient with the time you had to be back at your dorm giving you until midnight to be back. There was just one downside to being in the library late.

“Oh my god we missed dinner.” Xavier sounded devastated at the realisation, and you looked over to see him with the back of his hand pressed dramatically to his forehead.

“You hungry?” It wasn’t long past dinnertime, but because of the routine that came with living at Nevermore, you knew the answer would be yes. “I may or may not have some snacks hidden in my dorm.” He perked up, and though he would never tell, he was more than a little excited to be spending more time alone with you.

---

Xavier sat awkwardly on your bed as you kicked off your shoes and began to pull a box out from under your bed. Pushing some heavy clothing out of the way, you pulled out a bag of chips and a couple of packets of sweets.

“It’s not really a dinner, but it’s food.” You showed him the food you had stashed, offering it weakly. Xavier scooched himself onto the floor, patting the space beside him and you sat yourself down cross-legged.

As Xavier pulled open the chip bag, you sent Ash a message saying you might be over late, but would try to be as quiet as possible. They sent back a thumbs up, and you shoved away your phone just in time for the chips to be held out in front of you.

Between the sweets and bag of chips, you and Xavier managed to talk about anything that came to mind as time quickly moved by. During your time, both of you got more relaxed, losing any vague semblance of good posture and leaned against the side of your bed. And maybe closer to each other, but only maybe.

Xavier pulled his sketchbook out of his backpack and leaned forward, listening to you talk as he drew. He hid his sketchbook from you as you tried leaning over him, giggling into his ear as you did.

You let your body flop onto the ground beside him, staring up leaning on your hand as he readjusted how he was sitting to keep hiding what he was drawing from you. Then he tucked his pencil behind his ear and held his hand above the page.

Lifting up with a rain of dust, a dozen small butterflies began to flit around your room. They bounced off each other, spinning in circles as they danced.

Much like the interruption of howls earlier in the evening, you are brought back into reality by the buzzing of your phone against the hardwood floor.

“I don’t mean to stop you from whatever you’re doing,” Ash skipped the greeting as you answer the call, “but if you’re sleeping here tonight you might want to think about showing up soon.”

“Hello to you too.” Sitting up properly, you watched Xavier as he turned on his phone screen and showed you the time, and you widened your eyes. “Oh fuck. Okay, thanks, Ash. Be there soon.” Xavier stood first, offering you a hand to pull you up which you happily took pretending not to notice the way he squeezed your hand shortly when you stood.

“I can walk you over if you want.” You were already shaking your head at the offer, knowing that you would be cutting it thin getting to Ash’s dorm and Xavier’s dorm house was in the opposite direction.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t want to be the reason you get in trouble.” He held the door open for you, leaning on the outer frame. As he pulled it shut his arm brushed your side.

There was a beat of silence as neither of you wanted to move. Although you had spent the night hanging out, the softness in that moment was different and not something you wanted to break.

Steeling yourself for a moment, you darted forward and kissed Xavier on the cheek, turning and beginning to walk away before you could see how he reacted.

Xavier watched as you moved quickly away, his cheeks and ears pink, He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times trying to figure out how to react. Once you disappeared around the corner, he let out a breath and sheepishly smiled to himself.

comments and reblogs are appreciated! as are asks about the fic!

rambles, feel free to ignore: this fic isn't… okay so i hold myself to very high standards which is a problem with my brain and things, and i need to stop doing that because i end up giving up on things that aren't perfect instead of appreciating that i have made something and it's mine and from my brain. again, a problem i need to sort out. but all this being said!! by my self-imposed standards this isn't amazing, and really i'm posting it as a "here! it's done! take it before i take it back and destroy it!" and that's only happening because it was a request from a mutual.

tl;dr: these rambles are more to say that i like this fic, and i'm happy enough with it, but my standards are so high that i don't think it's good enough. which is a common thing with creatives and just know that what you make is good because it's yours and you made it, and that's all that matters!

#char rambles #char writes #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x y/n #reader insert fic #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe oneshot #xavier thorpe blurb #char's mutuals #˚:✧｡• julie #xavier thorpe reader insert

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thesugarsoiree · 7 months

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Saviour of Dragons | CHAPTER ONE

You are reincarnated into the House of the Dragon universe, only you’re not a princess, or a lady, or even a royal maid. You are the daughter of a Blacksmith in Flea Bottom; and you are determined to change the fate of the Seven Kingdoms.

Even if it means risking your second chance at life.

———————————————————————————

This story contains canon-typical behaviors and scenes! Viewer discretion is advised!

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Those words echoed in her head as she watched her coffin lower into the ground, her loved ones surrounding her while the priest recited old scriptures. It was weird, being a specter at her own funeral, but then again it wasn’t like she had anything better to do. She was dead, and there was nothing she could do about it.

The tombstone read; ‘Here lies Y/n L/n, beloved daughter and respected community member’. She still couldn’t believe she was killed by a drunk driver. It was so stupid, so human and just such a dick move on her killer's part. She was in her prime, beginning her budding acting career. She had landed a role on House of the Dragon for god's-sake!

Y/n sighed, and her mother shivered. No one could see her, but she suspected that they could feel her presence in some way. She watched as the first shovel dug into the dirt, hauling the soil into its maw and throwing the pile down on her.

Knock.

As the dirt hit the wood it didn’t sound soft, it sounded like someone was trying to get into the coffin, knocking on it like a door.

Knock.

The second pile landed, and Y/n blinked a few times. The world shook around her, but only she seemed to realize it. Her family members stood still, continuing to watch her burial as if nothing was wrong.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The ground gave out beneath her, and suddenly everything was black.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Y/n Cargyll! If you don’t get up this instant I will throw you out of my house!”

Y/n jumped up, eyes wide and searching.

“I-I’m up!” She yelled on instinct, and the person on the other side of the door seemed satisfied with that. What the fuck? Y/n grabbed onto her chest and the bed beneath her. The bed beneath her?

When she finally calmed her heartbeat the girl took in her surroundings, a cramped bedroom made of what she assumed was stone and wood. She sat on an uncomfortably hard bed, the blanket that covered her lower half barely holding itself together. On the wall opposite to her was a window, if she could even call it that, the minuscule hole-in-the-wall allowing spatterings of sunlight to illuminate the room.

“What the hell…” Y/n whispered, cautiously taking off the blanket and assessing herself. She wore an airy white slip which had been stained a sickly beige from overuse, her underwear more like loose shorts which were coloured the same way. Her skin was the same s/c it was before she woke up here, and from what she could tell her oddly long hair was her natural h/c. She wiped some hair away from her face and shifted her body so she was sitting on the side of the bed.

Fuck me, she thought as she stood up, going towards the window and carefully peeking out. This was not happening. She was meant to be dead, but instead she was transported back to mideval fucking times? The streets were a disgusting mix of dirt, gravel, and shit all formed into one giant walkway. Carts, carriages, and people shared the road while market stalls lined their path. On top of the market stalls were roughly two story buildings made of stone and wood, with similar looking windows. Y/n concluded that she must be in one of these two story buildings, which she also guessed were the houses of the stall-owners.

Everyone out and about wore unclean garments made of multiple layers of skirts if they were women and jackets if they were men. It was like a large-scale ‘Shakespeare in the Park’, only no one was acting and Y/n was not enjoying herself.

“All right, you’re up, now get dressed!” The door to the room burst open and Y/n turned around quickly, frozen as she saw a man that looked uncannily like her father.

“Dad?” Y/n whispered but the man paid no mind, pulling out a box from underneath her bed and tossing some clothes towards her.

“Consider yourself lucky that we can afford other workers now, or I’d have beat your arse all the way to Winterfell.” He scoffed, looking her up and down.

“Well don’t just stand there! Get dressed, we’ve got a long day's work ahead of us!” He threw his arms up, slamming the door behind him as his heavy footfalls got further and further away.

Y/n looked down at the clothes in her hands, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Was this the universe's way of punishing her? Was this divine retribution or something? As fast as she thought that memories began pouring in, memories that were hers.

Only, they were this version of her. Her birth to people who looked exactly like her real parents, her first steps, watching the Royal Procession with their black and red banners, her first day helping her father with his work, the first time a boy tried to make moves on her. Everything, everything this Y/n had ever known or experienced all came back to her. Everything including the odd realization that her eyes were not her fathers e/c like they had been in her past life but instead a deeper shade. They were like pools of thick wine, reflecting a sort of…perhaps blue?…in certain lights.

Unbelievable, this was unbelievable. She could not believe that she had been reborn into the fucking House of the Dragon universe as a goddamn Blacksmith’s daughter! God or whoever was up there now hadn’t even given her the decency of being a princess, or possibly a lower ranked noble. No, she had to struggle in this life exactly like she struggled in her past life.

Great.

Y/n put on her clothes as fast as she could, reeling from the multitude of thoughts and emotions she felt within a few seconds. At least she knew how to put on these layers, although there weren’t many. She was poor, poor enough that she only had three outfits she wore constantly and they were rarely washed. The skirt and blouse she wore now were stained black with soot which didn’t make much of a difference considering they were both varying colours of grey to begin with.

Eat breakfast, work in the shop, sell fathers wares. The daily routine of this Y/n came back to her as she exited the room, earning a forehead kiss from her mother and a warm porridge bowl in front of her. Y/n ate it without hesitation, the grainy sludge tasting wonderful. Being dead had its drawbacks, including not being able to eat. She was famished.

Once she had finished her meal she headed down the few flights of stairs that led into her fathers workshop and storefront, the place where she would be helping him create okay-quality armours for okay-quality knights. She braided her hair back, this Y/n always braided her hair back when working. She soon found a rhythm, the memories she gained helping her not stick out as a reincarnated idiot right away.

The day was over as quickly as it started, Y/n back in her bed and her grimy white slip with the light of the Moon being her only comfort.

So this was her second shot, huh? This was her actual last hoorah, being a nobody in a fictional universe bound for its own destruction…

Unless…

Y/n turned on her side, brows furrowed as a plan slowly formed. She might be a nobody but she knows the outcome of this story, she knows the future. She could be the key to building a better one. Maybe that was why the universe sent her here; to change the fate of the Seven Kingdoms.

She was a blacksmith’s daughter, she could easily make herself some armor on the side. This Y/n was only 12 years old, plenty of time to train herself in the art of the sword. She knew she was nearly the same age as the elder Targaryen and Velaryon princes, which meant the Dance wouldn’t begin for another few years.

Yes, she would do it. Y/n was not born with power in this life or the last, but unlike her past life she would take it. She would use everything she possessed in order to see her dreams come to fruition.

Y/n would sit Rhaenyra Targaryen on the Iron Throne, no matter what dangers lay ahead.

#x reader #x fem!reader #house of the dragon #saviourofdragons #hotd x reader #asoif/got #hotd #game of thrones

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omertasmoon · 7 days

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The night has a thousand eyes

(Al Haitham x Rtawahist reader)

Those eyes...

Those which you were familiar with: small specks of dust sprinkled onto the canvas of the night, clustering together to form constellations which unravel your fate. The stars shine ever so effulgently as if the truth of this world was right in front of your nose- but is it really? Or was it just a facade to blind the prying eyes of the mortals gazing from below to cover up the forbidden secret it holds?

An amalgam of thoughts brew in your head. The chilly night breeze waltzed around the Razan garden- with each sway making your front bangs sweep back as if it were beckoning the strands of your hair to dance along. It was as if someone was running their fingers through your hair. But that night, you felt as if those same fingers carry a heavy weight- a feeling of premonition that ran chills down your spine. Suddenly, you felt exposed, vulnerable and even watched.

You looked over your shoulder, trying to find any signs of a person nearby. But you were met with no answers: in front of you only lies the beautiful lush scenery of the garden.

Loathing the feeling of paranoia, you shrugged it off with an exhale of a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Afterall, it was nearly midnight so that meant little to no presence of people. Even if there were a scholar, it would be a Rtawahist like you and would hang around places which spreads out the view of the night sky clearly. You let out a shaky breath and continued flipping the pages of your book, trying to scrape off the vestigial feeling of suspicion.

Perhaps you should have looked around carefully...

Blending in the shadows behind a tree, there lay a pair of turquoise color eyes staring at you from the distance.

Those eyes...

Those which were akin to stars: Intense dark feelings brewing beneath the captivating surface. Those eyes belong to none other than Alhaitham- the Akademiya's Scribe. He knows how to shape eccentricity and enigma into a crown and oh, he does wear it well.

Unlike the stoic countenance he puts up front, he had no ill intentions to harm you. Come to think about it, what kind of man would hurt his beloved? Even if he were to start manslaughter (which may/may not be out of his comfort zone), he would burn everything down to ashes but you would be left unstained from the blood in his hands. He wanted to strip down everything you loved and could ever love from you so that he would be your only shelter.

But atlas, Alhaitham could hope that Celestia helps the fool who falls in love. He had tried forcing a transient smile on his face to get you two closer which seemed to slowly break down the fortress you had built. Every time Alhaitham sees a soft smile gracing your features, butterflies in his stomach flutter uncontrollably. Soon, the only reason his lips kept tugging into a small smile was in hopes for you to warm up to him and reciprocate his feelings. But inside, he wanted you to love him the way he is. He knew he could love you more than a normal person could without having the need to smile. But first, he needed to have you notice this side of him. ______________________________________________________________

Your neck was strained from having to look up at the sky constantly. It was tiring yet not futile. It was past midnight and the call of sleep was getting louder. Finally, you gave into your desires and stood up to go to your dorm. Coincidentally, the moment you stood up, you heard a rustle of paper. Having heard the dry crumple of a paper, you looked around only to find a letter at your feet. It was a white envelope with brown edges and a neat plain wax stamp with the color red stamped on the opening of the envelope. You slowly opened it, eyes twinkling with curiosity in the letter's contents:

"My dear beloved,

The night has a thousand eyes, doesn't it? But next time, do look carefully dear. The stars aren't the only one which have been watching you. Who knows, you might find a pair of turquoise eyes staring at you too?

-A"

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x you #Never in my life have I ever used my brain on a writing piece this much #IreneCallista

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dxy-drxxm · 7 months

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SYNOPSIS: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; may we meet once more, beloved Kreideprinz, perhaps you may remember my whispers once more. (first person pov drabble)

CW/s: Rukkha moment but its the reader, Venti is a little shit, Albedo doesn't remember-- all around bittersweet angst. Spoilers for the second event of Albedo, Shadows Amidst Snowstorms.

A brush stroke there, and a dab of paint here. I could only watch in the back as they paint the canvas, and for a moment, I find myself wanting to get closer to them- to see what they were painting.

Though, all I could do was stop myself from approaching. After all, it seems they were having fun with it- it would be bad if I had decided to ruin what they've made.

I watched the blonde alchemist speak, noticing the shift of his tone and the way he carries himself. He seems shocked at the outcome- was the painting that bad? I'm not sure. The one next to him, the outlander…

…

He seems.. Embarrassed? How strange. Though, all I could really hear is just the howling of the wind in Dragonspine, and the crackling of fire. Normally, I would freeze from this temperature, but ever since I was replaced, all I could do was watch.

I could see a floating pixie there, seemingly upset at the painting. She was pointing at it, yelling and stomping her foot. I can only guess she hated the results, and when I was close enough to see it, I could see why she's angry.

The composition wasn't that bad, but it was clear he didn't have too much experience in painting. The face depicted of the same child, but looking much more like a.. Dopey one- like she was relaxing too much in the pot she's in. She didn't even look as bad, but perhaps.. Dumber. Yes.

The wind began to blow as I stood, and I couldn't help but chuckle. But they didn't react to it, as they were immersed into the moment.

… Of course they wouldn't do that.

I was dead in this world— or, to be frank, nonexistent. Erased from the roots of Irminsul.

Only the archons and the Principles seem to know I exist, I remind myself bitterly, my eyes closing as the wind kissed my cheek.

And if it wasn't for that God who had punished me for going against it before my life was sealed in the abyss, perhaps I may have—

—No. It's pointless to think of the past. Especially with how things have changed.

I could see the alchemist raise his hand, and he began to work on the painting. Changing it from its base and adding details, giving more detail to the fairy's form.

It was fascinating.

I found myself captivated on it, and for a moment, I stepped closer, and closer, and clo—

What are you doing, hm?

The wind seem to howl, a mischievous lit of the voice I heard followed through it.

You know you can't come too close to them. You'd interfere the moment between the traveler and Albedo, the voice chided, like I was a child. Though, instead of snapping, I stayed still and stepped back.

… Albedo, huh? What an intriguing name.

It is a shame that he and I can't meet, though.

Letting out a sigh, I began to whisper:

"Ashes to ashes... … Dust to dust…

... May we meet once more, beloved Kreideprinz… … Perhaps you may remember my whispers once more."

The wind's chill seem to blow through the three, and for a moment, Aether shivered. Albedo's eyes flitted over to him, and before he could say anything, he heard something… Strange.

It was a voice. It sounded a mix of masculine and feminine, but distinct enough for him to tell it was different. He had to glance over to see where it came from, but there was no one present.

… Strange, he mused, glancing back at the traveler. I must be imagining things.

But.. How could he, when the voice spoke of his title?

Ah, but of course he'd chalk it up to such.

Ignorance is bliss, after all.

@.enxgmx-wrxtxr | do not republish, repost, or copy my works anywhere | 2023

#☁️ | drafted anecdotes #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact albedo #genshin albedo #albedo #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #albedo angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact albedo x reader #albedo x reader #genshin impact aether #genshin aether #genshin impact kreideprinz #genshin kreideprinz #genshin albedo x reader #astronetwrk

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fearandhatred · 3 months

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thank u so much to my beloveds @crowleys-bentley-and-plants and @seven-stars-in-his-palm for tagging me, kissing u both for this omg <3 i'm doing two of each because i can

For as many as you want of your published works, pick your favourite line/paragraph and post it up here. Let yourself feel proud of your creations.

transitional heart taxidermy [5986 words, wip]

They fit so perfectly together, the both of them, always. Not side by side like pieces of a puzzle, no, but like molten lava over sand; one over the other, one mellowing the other, changing its chemistry into something different, stronger, useful. The kiss tastes of Aziraphale, of copper and saliva and something holy. It's a taste he'll come to get used to, bloodied and bruised, a taste he chases after as the angel pulls back.

and one from an unpublished chapter:

It's been a day, two, maybe three. His hands are stained with blood and phantom glass, reeking of alcohol and rot palpable enough to taste. Aziraphale doesn't come for him, and he feels relief but also a pain so deep it's paralysing. It's a revelation in itself.

blood in my eyes [1953 words]

This is the first time in years he has stepped foot back into this place. It's a spontaneous decision, driven by a mellow melancholy and a soft wistful night. Muriel isn't in, so the bookshop is dark, and the streetlights cast an eerie, lonely glow on the ancient hardbacks. The rearing statue that once held his glasses every other day is coated in a thin layer of dust; he leaves them on.

Crowley wipes away a tear from Aziraphale's cheek with his thumb. It leaves a bright red streak. After, hours pass by before Aziraphale washes the blood from his face, imprinted in the vague shape of Crowley's hand. In those hours, when he sits in the quiet of a bookshop once again burned to ash, the blood stays there as a reminder, maybe, or as punishment.

sub-consequence [11567 words, wip] — six of crows

He wants to say everything he could possibly say to persuade Kaz to change his mind, because if he says everything in the world, strings together every word in every possible combination, there has to be at least one thing that would convince him to stay.

Sometimes Inej thinks Kaz cares about himself less than he cares about getting what he wants. It feels sometimes as if he's completely detached from himself, his own person becoming just another means to an end. People would scream at her that this isn't selflessness. It's ruthlessness, or psychopathy, or numbness. That's how the name Dirtyhands came about, after all. The willingness to do anything no matter the cost. To get his hands dirty with blood, be it others' or his own. But what is selflessness, really? A lack of selfishness, or a loss of self?

to sleep, perchance to dream [662 words] — the sandman

God, Calliope. His heart, face of cloud fields and white lily springs, a hope so blinding in contrast to his shadowed being that he had known from the start the hands of The Fates would pull them apart to opposite poles.

His lifetime of constraint allowed him to face the knowledge that any selfish will to see her in the wake of remembering all he had forsaken, all that had been ripped from him, would seal the vestibules to acceptance and he would beg with no dignity to stay by her side. And his heart burned, scorched unpleasantly at her parting words, just as the skin she touched and had once touched long after she was twice gone.

tagging those whose words i'd love to see (no pressure!!): @actual-changeling @sentientsky @irispurpurea @springofviolets @demonsandpieohmy

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trippygalaxy · 1 year

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Nicknames for you! Pt 1

(This is inspired by @railroad-migraine -sorry for the tag!- and their nickname headcanons for Critical Role! Highly recommend checking them out!)

Includes: Time, FD, Warriors

Pt 2 - Pt 3

Time

Hon

Actually is the most commonly used pet name between you two. Using it without a second thought, it feels likes second nature the longer you two are together. At the beginning Time called you Honey, but the word slowly got shortened throughout the years. You’re unsure if stemmed from laziness or just because he liked the sound of Hon better. He won’t tell you.

Darling

Whispered in those quiet loving moments with few words exchanged. He hugs you from behind, arms wrapped around your waist, swaying together in the moonlight that shines through the window.

Cupping your face with the softest of touches, while looking at you with eyes so full of admiration and love you feel as though you might burst. You truly feel so loved when he mutters the word, like he’s uttering a pray only you could hear.

Snookums

He heard an elderly couple use it once and it got stuck in his mind like glue. Whenever he’s in a more teasing or playful mood he greatly enjoys calling you all sorts of odd and endearing nicknames, finding your reactings oh so amusing. But snookums takes the cake for his (and your) favourite.

LOVES saying it when the boys are around. He acts so lovely dovey when he uses the name, clinging to you like you’re the only thing keeping him standing, knowing how flustered you get .Those closest to hear the forsaken name let out a choruses of groans from second hand embarrassment and attempt to flee the ooey gooey scene infront of them.

Fierce Deity

My Heart

For many many years, he thought that his “heart” was nothing more the a whole in his chest. It’s been broken oh so many times that there was nothing to “put back together”, that it was simply dust and ashes that scattered in the wind.

Though he soon realize that he was wrong. When you came into his life(?), you brought a heart so full that you shared it with him. You filled that hole he’d been missing for so long, you became his heart. His reason to keep going. His reason to be better.

Dearest

You easily became the most valued and precious thing the great deity ever found. No amount of gems or offering could ever equant to a single hair on your head.

His voice rumbles ever so slight as the word rolls off his tongue, looming over you with pupil-less eyes staring you down. Any other would be petrified by the haunting sight of the ancient being, but you? You couldn’t feel more at home.

Beloved

Ever the gentlemen, the god loved nothing more than his Beloved and wanted them to know just how dear they are to him. He quite enjoys seeing them flush under his gaze and tender words, he wants them to know that their very existence gives him so much joy.

Warriors

Gorgeous/Handsome

This man thinks you’re the most stunning being that ever graced the lands of Hyrule and he is more than happy to shout that FACT from the rooftops. (no im not kidding, he will if you don’t stop him). Mostly though, he calls you that whenever he notices you’re feeling down. Hoping to turn that frown upside down.

He understands how some can be insecure about their appearance and if you happen to have to be so, then get ready for the most outlandish and poetic speech of your life. Warriors would rather fight five lynels with a wooden sword and shield than let you feel or think lesser of yourself

Babe

Most common and causal name he’ll use. Yet he most you’ll hear him say it is when he’s jealous and wants to show that you’re together.

He knows that you are more than capable to handle yourself, especially when it came to dealing with weirdos. Yet sometimes he can’t help the jealousy the bubbles in his stomach, so what does he do? Well he -of course- saunters over to where ever you may be, wraps his arm tightly around your shoulder, brings you closer to him and farer from the creep, kisses your cheek and greets you with a dashing smile and a sickly sweet voice as he states the nickname. All the while, glaring down the weirdo.

Sweetheart

A greeting in a way. Whenever you two are away from one another for however long, he always greets you the same way. A loving smile and open arms, calling out to you and becoming a beacon for you to follow. The name hangs in the air as you two collide, stumbling back as you wrap your arms around him.

(Apologizes for any typos or miss spellings!)

#linked universe #lu #linked universe headcanons #linked universe x reader #linked universe time #lu time #linked universe warriors #lu warriors #fierce diety link #lu fierce deity #reader insert #tales out of orbit

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i-did-not-mean-to · 27 days

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Fëanorian Week - Nerdanel x Fëanor

So, that is the end of another week :D It's been an honour

Words: 520

Characters: Nerdanel x Fëanor

Prompts: Marriage, Reunion, Traveling, Creation, Healing

Warnings:Sadness, longing, regret, change

Nerdanel opened the little box carefully as if she expected its contents to leap out and physically grab her by the throat.

Pristine and unscarred as the day she’d received it, the ring lay on its bed of black velvet and twinkled at her like a lone, undeniably misguiding star.

Throughout the ages, she’d kept her simple, scratched-up wedding ring—wretched reminder and terrible testament to her woeful fate—suspended like a golden storm cloud on a leather band around her neck.

She liked the subtle, asphyxiating weight every time she bent down over her workbench, mirroring the burden of her family’s absence crushing her soul to dust little by little.

This, though, was different.

The beautiful, delicate piece of jewellery had been a courting gift from the one who’d break her heart in ways nobody could even have fathomed beforehand.

Fëanor had gone back to the place where they’d first met to mine the most exceptional of gemstones for her pleasure, and she bit back bitter tears at the painful memory of his pride and her felicity.

Closing her rough, calloused fingers around the cold metal, Nerdanel indeed perfectly remembered the exalted promises Fëanor had fed her, and she shivered upon recalling how eagerly she’d drunk his every mendacious word.

They’d been so very young, and she now understood that they could not have foreseen the cruel twists and turns their irrevocably intertwined destinies would take before long.

Trying to slip her finger into the fragile band, Nerdanel sighed. Her digits had grown too broad with relentless crafting and too stiff with compounded misery for the ring to fit nowadays.

“I’ve outgrown the dreams we once had,” she murmured, setting the precious trinket back down carefully. “It’s all ashes and smoke now.”

Even as she spoke those words, she knew that it was she who was lying now.

For a while, she had basked in all the glory Fëanor had conjured up for his improbable bride—beautiful, exceptional children, a lofty mansion, an enviable position in society, Nerdanel had indisputably been blessed beyond her wildest dreams.

And then, she’d been cruelly robbed of more than she’d even known she’d possessed. Her youth. What little beauty she’d had. The seemingly unshakable peace and resolution of her soul. All had crumbled to dirt in the wake of her husband’s departure and the subsequent suffering and demise of her precious sons.

Of course, people believed that—sooner or later—they’d all come back to her, renewed, healed, hale once more, but Nerdanel had grown tired of waiting for the obstinate tide to turn.

With a muted thud, the lid of the box was closed reverently by pale, trembling, ringless hands.

Remembering the fate of her beloved grandson, Nerdanel shook her head in wordless regret.

Mayhap, rings had never been good omens for their line, and she’d ask Fëanor to make her something entirely different which would befit their respective natures—irreversibly changed by the events of the last ages—better.

“If he returns,” she whispered into the painfully empty, bare room. “To this world, to this house, and to my undying love.”

-> Masterlist

@feanorianweek, Thank you for having me! It's been such a pleasure!

#og post #fëanorianweek #feanorianweek #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #Nerdanel #Day 7 #Marriage #Reunion #Travelling #Creation #Loss #Healing #Change #Thank you for everything

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wesleyhill · 2 months

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Returning to Dust

A homily on 2 Corinthians 5:21 preached on Ash Wednesday 2024 at Pillar Church, Holland, Michigan

A few years ago, a beloved friend and colleague told me that she was heading to see a doctor. She had noticed some strange, dark purple bruises on the tops of several of her toes. She couldn’t remember kicking something too hard or tripping over something. She was sure it was nothing, she told me.

Martha was my friend’s name. She was an Anglican priest, a professor of pastoral theology, and a sought-after preacher and speaker. Never married, she was a queen of hospitality. She cooked lavishly and masterfully. She sang loudly, operatically, often ensuring that the descants weren’t neglected in our seminary chapel services. She painted. She had two enormous standard poodles whom she adored. She was so full of life.

Within a matter of days, she had an explanation for the bruising on her toes. She was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia, a fast-growing cancer that starts in the bone marrow and then proceeds to the blood. All of us who knew Martha, who had been the grateful recipients of her joy and zest for life, were in shock.

This was at the end of 2013. By the time Ash Wednesday of 2014 came around, Martha had been through three rounds of chemotherapy and was then in the hospital. She asked if some of us would come to her room and give her ashes and pray the liturgy with her.

I recall stepping into her room and into the light of her smile. Her arms were reddened with rashes, and she was wearing a handknit scarf over her shaved head. She was visibly weaker than I’d ever seen her, but I laughed at the 8” by 10” on her wall — a color photo from her visit to an antique store several weeks earlier at which she had donned an ancient Roman soldier’s helmet and brandished a broadsword, teeth clenched in mock rage. There was still plenty of fight left in her, I said, and she agreed.

And then we began to pray: “Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.”

Sean, the priest who was with us, then read these words from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians: “For our sake God made Christ to be sin who knew no sin, so that in Christ we might become the righteousness of God.”

And then Sean dipped his thumb in ashes and made the sign of the cross on Martha’s forehead. I remember thinking her skin looked too taut and unnaturally shiny. Sean said to Martha, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

There are probably as many different reasons you are here in church tonight as there are people in the room. But I suspect that almost all of us — to some degree, whether knowingly or unwittingly — are here because we want to hear good news. We want to believe that there is some hope for us and for those we love. And maybe you are wondering as you sit here, as I was wondering standing next to Martha’s hospital bed, how it is good news that we are dust and that we shall one day return to dust?

There are two ways — two separate but interrelated ways — of thinking about this. In the first place, there’s a sense in which the words you’re about to hear and the symbol you’re going to receive on your forehead are not “good news” in any straightforward sense. Frederick Buechner says that the Christian good news is a tragedy, a comedy, and a fairy tale, but before it is a comedy and a fairy tale, it is first a tragedy. The apostle Paul calls death an enemy to be defeated. It is not good that our lives are cut off by cancer, famine, war, despair, or any of the million other calamities that can end our days on earth. And before we can really take to heart the good news of Easter — “Death has been swallowed up in victory” — we need to face squarely the depth of the tragedy we’re in. Death was not God’s original good purpose for us. Death is a thief and a tyrant.

So the good news that we proclaim here on Ash Wednesday is not that death is somehow not as bad as it seems, that it’s maybe more of a friend than a foe. No, the good news is that, in spite of the tragedy of death, we have a Lord and Savior who has conquered death by dying. Christ Jesus came into the world to share our human plight, to take on his shoulders all our pain and sin, and to go all the way into our bleakest human experience — death — and to emerge triumphant from the tomb on the third day.

So it isn’t the fact that we’re going to die that is itself the good news. You already know that, and you don’t need to come to church to hear me tell you about it or receive ashes to inform you about something you weren’t aware of. It’s rather that the announcement about our dying is the tragic prelude to the best news we could hope to hear — that the unconditional Friend of sinners has triumphed over death, and he now says with outstretched arms to everyone who will receive him, “Peace be with you” and “Nothing will ever be able to separate you from my love.”

But I think we can turn this around and come at it from the other direction, so to speak. Christ the Lord has journeyed to us, to share our death as the human being who is God, and so overcome it. But that means that in some deep sense our dying can now become our movement toward Jesus, toward the God who formed us from the dust at first.

It is still true that death is an enemy — but not only an enemy. Listen to how the New Testament scholar Morna Hooker has made this point: “Because Christ is fully one with [humanity] in all [our] experiences, these [experiences] can now be understood in terms of life in Christ.” Our dying, in other words, isn’t only our sharing in the miserable condition of Adam. It is our sharing in Jesus’ experience of the condition of Adam. We don’t go to death by ourselves. Jesus has already gone there ahead of us, and when we die, we are with him.

Or listen to how George MacDonald says it: “The Son of God suffered unto death, not that [human beings] might not suffer, but that their sufferings might be like His.” It isn’t that Jesus suffered death so that we don’t have to. We are still made of dust, and we will all of us return to dust. But Jesus’ dying means that when we return to dust in our caskets or in the crematorium, our dying isn’t just the final experience of solitary suffering we have to somehow find a way to endure. It is our joining Jesus in the suffering he underwent — our final “conformity” to him, as Paul describes it.

This is what that text from 2 Corinthians that we read in my friend Martha’s hospital room is all about: “For our sake God made Christ to be sin who knew no sin, so that in Christ we might become the righteousness of God.” It’s what Luther called the “great exchange.” Christ takes to himself the whole human condition and experience. He tastes every last drop of it. He goes all the way down into the fathomless darkness of death. And the outcome is that we, in our suffering and mortality, in our journey toward becoming dust, become in and through him God’s own beloved forever. Death is real, but it has lost its sting. It has been defanged. It is now our final passage into the arms of the God who loves us eternally.

My friend Martha died eleven months after her cancer diagnosis. When she first received the diagnosis, she was adamant that she would beat the leukemia. “God has more work for me to do here,” she said firmly. “Pray for my healing, don’t pray for a good dying.” But by the end, she had faced with hard-won honesty and humility and a beautiful Christian hope the fact that she was dust and was now returning to dust. And she said, with the martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “This is the end — for me the beginning of life.”

Amen.

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kakisocks · 1 year

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Obikin Ao3 Rec List

So this is a huge list. It’s mostly Anakin centric so some of it is just platonic Obikin, and some of it is no romance at all.

As usual, if it doesn’t say not complete then its complete and if it doesn’t have pairings next to it then it’s either romantic or platonic Obikin. Please read the tags once you click on the fic, you too would have given up with warnings once you see the amount of fics on this list.

Happy Browsing :)

Fluff

Darling

fake it till you make it

sir that’s my emotional support force bond

Nor the Suns Themselves Brighter

a vacationers guide to being unexpectedly married

somewhere, this is truth

The Creche Master

put your money where your mouth is

let’s get your fingers tangled in my hair

come to cherish anew

To Hold You In My Arms

The Little Jedi (NO ROMANCE Anakin has been turned into a kid J )

you are the victim of your own anger

Flatmates

Died last night in my dreams

the expanse of forever

what they grow beyond

Moving

And The War Never Sleeps

Shades in the Desert

Thou Little Tiny Child

come on baby calm me down (you’re the only one who knows how)

status quo

even the rougher ones

seekers not saints

Dangerous Territories

On Hugs and Warm Blankets

A Jedi’s Cloak

cat’s in the cradle

yesterday’s jam

It’s Time

White Sand

Will You Shut Up?

Hauntingly (Lovingly)

A (Background) Picture’s Worth A Thousand Words

darling, dearest, beloved

Day 4: Different Path

The Melody Wakes the Heart

Face the Music

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Comes Out in the Wash

Waterproof

the road not taken

Next on the Agenda

The Road that Reaches

I need some sleep

Everything

Checking You Out

Travel Man, Reach for the Sky

throw out the window all your common sense

can you brave what you most fear

hyperfocus

Bitter Confessions

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

broken bones, thunder drums

Sweet Surprise

Taking care of baby

Benediction

sea to a desert

stay my fears (there in the dark)

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Smut

Like a supernova

Swear On It

This Was Obi-wan

So Special

safe and sound

Tangled Garlands

game plan

Better Living Through Lack of Chemistry

touch of heaven with a wild side

not until then

Equinox

Against The Wall

Patience, Anakin

bound up with you

put your hands on my cashmere sweater

Stay till dawn, I’ll give you the sun

eat, sleep, wake (nothing but you)

Murder Puppy (not complete)

Prompted | Obikin

then she lit up a candle (and she showed me the way)

Warm Blood

Some Things Never Change

Various Applications of Salves and Oils

Master

perfect decimals (Obi-wan / Anakin/ Qui-gon)

Temporary Like Achilles

if this isn’t nice, what is? (not complete)

Give them Blood

Cross-Wired

as holy as enchanted

The way he smiles at you

He Watched

what’s mine is yours is ours

For Your Pleasure

Find His Pleasure

Sticky

Tristitia

pretty bird and the wedding planner

Home Again

terribly inconvenient and incredibly terrific

Slow Learner

Convergence

A Different Sort of Knife (not complete)

Over Santa’s Lap

understanding is honoring the truth beneath the surface

deception: epilogue

choose what is right, not what is easy

a lesson is learned is a lesson earned

use my body to break your fall

although it’s been said many times, many ways

Fourteen Days

radiance

afterglow

If you can be my master

All That We have

I will be keeping our memories

forgiving is easy when it comes to you

Just For Us

Equality

Heat Haze

Triptyche of Love (Qui-gon /Anakin / Obi-wan)

pretty bird and the mob boss

How to Punish a Padawan

[Only] think of me (Padme / Obi-wan / Anakin)

Both (not complete)

Find a little stranger (Padme / obi-wan / Anakin)

pure uncomplicated love

Passion, Yet Serenity

notches

Anakin sucks

Like a fine wine

the force is my ally

Excessively Heated

Good Form

Redolent of you (not complete)

sail through the deep, the dark of space

such selfish prayer (and I can’t get enough)

The Same Cloth (in foreign stars) (not complete)

short shallow gasps

and when you look at me, the weight of how I feel is heavy on me

For He, too, is King

Heal Me, My Darling

Diversions

Conjunction

A Touch of Praise

Only Angel

Fill Me Up

Touch me Touch Me Touch Me

Kicks From Within

The Jedi and the tabby

Operatics

Crack Open (ObiAnidala)

Gold Collar

Parousia

Your One, Your Two

My Moon After the Tide

Poikilothermic

bled my eyes gold for you

Lights Off and My Chains On

Shattered Mirror

I think I could love you more

praise you

Just a simple touch

Here Without You Baby (not complete)

It’s How You Learn

Light Up the Trenches Where My Heart Lies

I’m Not All Right (But I’ll Be Ok)

Hidden Treasure

Two Hearts in Hand (Anakin / Savage Opress)

How Anakin Got His Groove Back (not complete)

Closed Doors

my beloved, how he shines

In the Heat of the Hour

Heat Simmer

Finally at Home

To Find the One

Inked

A Good Epithet

to touch the light, darkest

His name is Anakin and he is indeed a person (not complete)

Anakin’s Comfort

Silent Tears

Weight Keepin’ Me Down

Win Condition

Admire The Foliage

be careful not to choke on your admirations

Lifeblood

(Tell Me I’m) Still Beautiful

I smile at the moon (death is on my face)

It’s A Meet-Cute

The Emperor’s Padawan (not complete, ObiAnidala at a future date apparently)

I’ll Thank My Car

In Charge

Kidnap Victim is a Whore (not complete)

deep resonance

improper methods of scientific inquiry

needs must

make it hurt cuz we love it when it burns

pretty bird and the closest thing he has to a father

Experiments in Oracular Ecstasy

Of Fawns and Fangs

all the better to love you with

Waterlogged

Restraint

Furious than a Dragon

we repeat what we don’t repair

The Prince’s Storybook

what tomorrow may bring, what tomorrow may carry away

gift of life

Gifts of Love

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Whump / Angst

The places you will be from

Come to the jedi temple in the next ten minutes if you want an asskicking

starbird

I myself have torn myself to shreds (Anakin/Padme AND Obikin)

No Such Thing as Getting Out of Hand (TW: SH, not described how it happens, happy ending)

I can’t love you in the dark

Invictus

fading to black

fathers

Of love and Recordings (Major Character Death)

falling apart

More Than Anything (Major Character Death)

Kyber Tears

Fingertips

A Certain Point of View

love is a battlefield (not a one-night stand)

Break

Always the Last to Know

Negotiation (Dead Dove DO NOT EAT situation, read the tags before reading)

For the Republic (Anidala, not as blaringly though more focused on Anakin than anything else)

The Ever Unspoken

And now we are strange (Anidala is one-sided)

amort & amor

Seeing The Truth

will it feel like the end?

your silence is deafening

Disappointment

A Price Like No Other

That Never Wrote To Me

Find me (not complete)

The Consequences of a Crash

We should run after each other (and be with one another)

Don’t be afraid.

In Fire (obikin at the very end, very slow burn and if you don’t like gore don’t read because it’s basically the entire thing)

Signs of the past (not complete)

The Rubble of Our Sins

Add a Strophe to the Poem of the World

balance is found in the one who faces his guilt

without darkness there cannot be light

when we rescue others, we rescue ourselves

facing all that you fear will free you from yourself

the wise benefit from a second opinion

somewhere along in the bitterness (not really obikin at all)

unthinkingly

Chains Bound and Broken

Care, Trust, and the Force (of course)

Continuing to Live (When I Wanted to Die)

There Growing Horns

we’ll make it to the other side

bleeding all on my own

Sometimes the Worst Decisions have the Best Outcomes

Do not stand at my grave and weep (no romance)

Ghost of Tatooine (not complete, Anidala, no obikin but they are very good friends and padme is not in it yet)

infinite sadness

Deepest Rivers

Four Walls and Two Jedi

Together or Not at All

Don’t go blindly into the dark

Halfway from the curb to the doorway

Lullaby (major character deathS, count em, plural)

my love has known yours for so long (the stars couldn’t keep us apart)

Lost and Found

from a certain point of view

angels choking on their halos (Anidala and Obikin)

Second Chances

Revelations and the Overprotectiveness that Follows

If I Don’t Remember You Tomorrow

First, Do No Harm

For Want of a Slave

The Night Will Pass (ObiAnidala)

we were too close to the stars (I never knew) (Obikin and Anidala)

the price of freedom (Anidala, no obikin sorry fellas)

Bonded

let me sooth your frayed mind

to be made right

I’m Trying

The Fall of the Master

Keep Carrying On

The Devils in the Details

where you go I’m going, there is no me without you

Chancellor’s Son

where is it?

Shame

When You Cry

bare his neck on the execution block

give us something to celebrate

The Side Effects of Saving a Life

Take all the Courage you have left

Dragons of Life and Legend

May Death Find You Alive

we find ourselves in each other

Unchained Hearts and Homes

I’m Here

Peace in a Lifelong Fight

As You See Fit

The Hunt (technically Anidala but Padme is dead from the start)

Heights

false stars offer no light

about-face

Hearts Mighty, Skins Whole

Don’t Leave Me This Way

I Didn’t Want To Break

Anxious Little Apricot

The Force Wills It

To Be Human

sear me

Forget To Remember

One More for Good Measure

Lovelorn Flowers

abandon

Smoke signals

(feel like I die) ‘til I feel your touch

In Sacrifice, Peace

Mockingbird On Fire

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Redemption

A Mouthful of Ash

A Fistful of Stars (not complete)

falling up (it says not a complete series, but it reads like it’s complete)

Torn Apart, Torn Asunder (not complete)

tender like a bruise (not complete)

The Jedi Child

Afterlife (not complete)

From Darkness he Came, But Light He Chose

A Plea from the Lost to the Found

a compelling argument

You’re Still In There

Krayt’s Son

all the words you do not speak

After the Night When I Wake Up

Waiting for the Light

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Miscellaneous

take my hand, have my soul

Embers: a Soulmate AU

Reading Into Things (ObiAnidala)

One touch and I Ignite

Star Crossed

The light of your beloved face (not complete)

In Pursuit of Cold Water

Against All Odds (not complete)

The World Undone

CT-Skywalker

Let me be that I am (not complete)

Sun Kissed (not complete, but it basically is)

Hourglass (not complete, but also basically complete)

with forever time (not complete)

Balance

The Will of The Force (not complete)

in an endless universe (not complete)

I Feel Like a God Right Now

The Garden

To Help Carry the Weight of These Wings (not complete)

the kids aren’t alright (Anidala AND Obikin)

It’s Not a Rule if You Don’t Try ad Break It

If You Can’t Break the Rules, Buck the System

A fool at heart

the kind that was burned first

Loves Me Like A Rock

Time and Tide (not complete)

Haunting (no romance)

encode (not complete)

Possession

Stars Above: Obikin Week 2018

Across the Darkness (Anidala and Obikin)

A Fateful Meeting

asked for and received (prompt fills) (not complete)

when the night is over

I’m Right Here (not complete)

One Lone Candle (not complete)

Rebel With a Cause

Desert Child

Wish upon a star

Till Human Voices Wake Us

Moonlight Serenade (not complete)

The Case of Republic V. Skywalker

Unconscious Design

Shifting the Blame Around

Mace Windu Fixes the Timeline ,,, And Breaks it in Whole New Ways

no other faith is light enough for this place

for blue skies

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Basically Novels

Needing/Getting

Lex Talionis

Mother

“That’s it, we’re out”

Second Chances

Open Skies

Conceal Me What I Am

Only You

Wait for It

The Same Hope

Choose your words

The Middle Path

Hunting the Homeward Light

Icarus Rising

A Jedi’s Secrets

Dark Courts Light

Under The Four Moons

#star wars #Clone Wars #star wars prequels #obikin #obianidala #Anakin Skywalker #omega anakin #alpha obiwan #obi wan kenobi #fanfics #whump #fluff #kakisocks rec list

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