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whyiask · 3 years

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it didn’t matter anyways

ships: platonic LAMP & platonic or romantic Princxiety WC: 2526 Summary: set post POF, Roman has a breakdown and Virgil is there to help him tw: crying, little bit of blood, self-deprecating thoughts, depressing thoughts(kinda), tell me if I missed any genre: HURT/COMFORT with mostly hurt and a tiny bit of comfort at the end

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Roman wanted to be angry. He should’ve felt angry, but as he sunk out and popped up in his room, a cold iciness had settled in his chest, numbing him to the core. It didn’t matter anyways. He didn’t deserve to feel angry. He had no right to.

Inside Roman’s skull, his mind was turning, spinning, crashing around and turning upside down. What was right side up anymore? Had he ever been right before? It didn’t matter, nothing did. His chest had gone numb and his head had betrayed him, twirling dangerously on its axis as his entire world turned upside down.

Deceit was wrong… no, he was right now. Roman struggled to keep up with the others, he always had. J- Deceit has used him, manipulated him, tricked him, and it was Roman’s fault. Deceit wove one pretty speech and suddenly he was the good guy and Roman was still at fault.

Good guy, bad guy. Relative terms. Life wasn’t pure black and white, Roman knew that. It still hurt. With a gasp, Roman hit the ground with his fist. To feel something. Anything. He wondered vaguely when he had dropped to his knees, but it didn’t matter. It never mattered.

His head was swimming and his vision was blurring- it took all of his remaining strength to keep from falling over, curling up in a ball, and never standing up again. With a grunt of effort, Roman pushed himself off of the floor, clinging desperately to the wall as his knees shook below him, silent sobs wracking his body. He shuddered and sank back down, tucking his knees against his chest and burying his head in his arms. How pathetic was he? He couldn’t even stand.

It was not okay not okay not okay not ok- but did it really matter? Did it matter if he was okay? No, the answer was no, it was always no, because he was in the wrong here. Wrong, wrong wrong wrong wrong-

Roman didn’t know when the tears had started. He was heaving in great lungfuls of air and still couldn’t breathe. More moisture dripped down his face but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It didn’t matter anyways-

I wouldn’t be able to tell who the evil twin is.

Ja- Deceit’s voice echoed in his head, pounding through his skull. He curled tighter around himself, whimpering pathetically, as the voices grew louder, more persistent, stronger, changing the words, slapping his harshly across the face as the words became steadily crueler and crueler. Logically, Roman knew that Jan- Deceit- had never said the things he was hearing, neither had Patton, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Even if they hadn’t said them out loud, he knew they had been thinking it.

It’s hard to tell who the evil twin is.

Roman covered his ears fruitlessly. His breath was coming in increasingly shorter gasps and his fingernails dug into his skull. No no no no no no no-

I know who the evil twin is.

Roman pressed his hands harder, not noticing the blood starting to drip from his temples. He didn’t notice how his room shook and twisted, nor the way his clothes were slowly but surely fading in color.

The evil twin.

Pictures were falling off of the wall. Rain was pouring down in heavy waves. His mind was shaking and his room was shaking- he was shivering and crying and wasn’t breathing- but he didn’t notice. The only thing he could feel was Deceit’s words, twisting themselves round and round, stewing, bubbling in his head, warping reality and invading every thought. There was a steady pounding in Roman’s skull- or maybe that was the room, he couldn’t tell.

Evil.

With a gasp of horror- or, he would’ve gasped if he had remembered how to breathe- he realized he couldn’t hear J- Deceit’s voice anymore. But the voice hadn’t stopped. It wasn’t Patton either, nor his brother. It was him. His own thoughts echoed back at him, reverberating around his buzzing skull and he tugged at his hair uselessly, desperate for the cruel voice of himself to stop, stop talking, stop yelling, stop-

It stopped. The room had stopped shaking- maybe Roman had a better grasp of his emotions, maybe he simply didn’t have the energy to feel any more. The world came to a stand still, and Roman nearly almost took a breath, allowed himself a moment of relief.

But it was not meant to be.

“Everything is gonna be okay, kiddo,” a vision of Patton flashed dangerously in Roman’s mind eye. “Don’t worry, I know who the evil twin is.”

That was all it took for Roman to double over himself, curling farther into himself and rocking back and forth with dry sobs. He didn’t have any tears left.

The pounding in his skull was getting louder, faster. With a sudden jolt, he sat up straight, staring at his door with glazed eyes. It wasn’t in his head. Someone was banging on his door.

“Kiddo, please open the door,” the real Patton’s voice begged.

Roman shrank in on himself. Normally, he would never allow anyone to see him like this, ever. But it didn’t matter anyways, did it? It did matter, it matters it matters it matters it…

It was a good time for realization, as Roman had made many that day. About Deceit, Janus, about himself and about his twisted perspective of the world. It had been a big day of realization after horrifying realization. He could dwell on that later. At the moment, Roman made one more realization: he realized- and became acutely aware of- the fact that he had not breathed in a solid two minutes, and with his lungs compressing and his winded state, it seemed unlikely he could call out to Patton at all.

He sucked in a breath, but it wasn’t working.

Another voice joined Patton at the door. In his slightly delirious state, he could still recognize it instantly as Virgil. They conversed briefly- Roman was too tired to make out the words- and then Virgil called through the door.

“Roman?” A pause. “Roman, I know you’re in there. Can you come out? You’re starting to worry us. Your room was shaking just a minute ago?” It was phrased as a question, but Roman could hear the- well, the anxiety- behind his words. He almost could’ve laughed, but the whole air thing still wasn’t cooperating.

“Hey, I- we’re getting worried. Please say something back, or else I’m coming in.”

Roman tried again, breaths getting more frantic by the second. His pulse was speeding up again as he desperately took in shallow breaths, chest barely rising.

“Is Roman in there?” A new voice- Logan- called out. It was father away than the others, so Roman figured he was just now coming down the hallway, most likely to check out the shaking.

Not a second later, the door flew open. Virgil stepped inside, before jumping back out with a yelp of alarm.

“It’s raining in there,” Virgil sounded taken aback. “Is that even a thing?”

Was it? Roman thought the rain had stopped, but apparently not. It probably wasn’t a good thing he felt this numb, this out of touch with his own body.

Patton nudged Virgil aside and stepped into the room, fatherly concern written all over his face. He spotted Roman in the corner almost immediately, running over as fast as he could and kneeling beside him.

“Roman,” he gasped. “Are you okay?” He reached out but didn’t touch Roman, unsure of what to do.

At Patton’s gasp, Virgil and Logan came back into the room. Virgil’s face melted into one of horror and Logan took a mini step backwards. Roman laughed internally. He must’ve looked like a hot mess. Nay, not hot, cool. Nay, not cool, uncool. An uncool mess. He supposed that’s exactly what he was.

An uncool, pathetic mess. But it didn’t matter anyways.

He still couldn’t breathe.

Virgil noticed this almost instantly, rushing to the fallen prince’s side. “Can I touch you?” he asked quietly, and at Roman’s small nod, he placed a hand on Roman’s arm.

“Roman, Princey, you have to breathe- okay? You have to, come on. Breathe with me.” Virgil slowed his breathing, counting on his fingers, and slowly, Roman copied him, breathing in sync with Virgil. Logan crouched on Roman’s other side, reciting the counts with Virgil in a low, soothing tone.

It felt better. He could breathe again. The hand tightening around his chest began to loosen and he could breathe, it felt so good-

Patton pulled him into a hug. Roman stiffened at the contact, but relaxed into the strong arms, biting his lip to hold back another onslaught of tears.

“What happened?” Logan asked quietly after a moment of silence.

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” Roman muttered, pulling back from Patton and slumping against the wall again. Logan blinked in surprise and Patton made a small sad noise. Virgil stayed quiet.

“Kiddo, you know we’re here for you, right?”

“It doesn’t matter anyways.” He repeated the words like a mantra, the only thing keeping him from cracking open.

Virgil spoke up. “Ro, why do you keep saying that?”

Roman flinched back. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Patton insisted. “We all made,” his eyes darkened as he spoke, “a lot of mistakes, but that doesn’t mean your feelings don’t matter!”

Logan coughed.

“Except for Logan, he hasn’t done anything wrong,” Patton amended.

“Yes, thank you,” Logan sniffed. “But I do have to agree with Patton on this one, Princey. We would like to listen to your problems and assist in brainstorming possible solutions.”

Roman gave a watery laugh. Nobody laughed with him.

Virgil was staring at him oddly.

“What?”

Virgil took a deep breath. “Hey Pat, Lo?” he addressed them without taking his eyes off of Roman. “Can you give us the room for a moment? I promise we’ll be right out. Maybe go bake some cookies in preparation? For a movie night.” He added the last part as an afterthought, lower and darker than the rest of his statement. “I think we all need it.”

Patton looked uncertainly at Roman, who simply nodded his head. Logan grabbed Patton by the arm gently and led him from the room, closing the door behind them for privacy.

Virgil continued to stare at Roman with his deep, expressive eyes, and Ro started to fidget under the stare.

“Are you okay?” the words were spoken softly, a mere whisper off Virgil’s tongue, but Roman could hear them clearly.

“No,” he said honestly. It didn’t matter anyways. Virgil wasn’t going to care, and it was better than possibly catching the attention of a certain snake-scaled lie detector. Still the word felt foreign on his tongue.

Virgil frowned slightly. “You’re bleeding.”

Roman looked up in surprise. “I am?” It was the first genuine emotion he’d shown since the others had arrived, and a small smiled graced Virgil’s lips, even despite the situation at hand.

Virgil waved his hand and summoned a first aid kit. He offered it to Roman, who hesitated for a moment before declining. The prince was surprised at himself- he normally never let anyone else take care of him. However, he supposed, after his... his breakdown, he needed it. Virgil worked in silence for the most part, taking Roman’s hands gently when he was done.

“I-” he hesitated, searching for the words. “I don’t know what happened, and I haven’t seen the video yet, but I am truly sorry for whatever they did to hurt you like this.”

“I’m sure you’ll think differently after watching it then,” Roman turned away, avoiding eye contact.

“Princey, what-”

“I’m the bad guy, okay?” he burst out. “I’m the bad guy, I’m the bad guy, I’m the bad guy and I always have been! I’ve been too blind to see it.” He punched the wall behind him. “Too blind, too stupid, too slow to keep pace with all of you, too loud when I’m stating my opinion, not helping enough when I try to keep quiet. The bad guy when I side with Deceit and-” he took a shuddering breath, fizzling out from his outburst.

“And…?” Virgil prompted.

“And still the bad guy when I side against him.”

Roman could see the gears turning in Virgil’s head.

“So…” he began slowly. “You sided against Deceit in this most recent video, and- and the others said you were on the wrong side? That seems awfully hypocritical of them.”

Roman looked down. “I was horrible.”

Virgil’s head snapped up to stare at Roman. “Don’t say that,” he said. “You are not horrible, you aren’t a bad person, maybe you made a mistake-”

“That’s the thing!” Roman shouted to the ceiling. “It’s not just ‘a mistake’ it’s not ‘one mistake.’ It’s not even two! It’s just mistake, after mistake, after mistake, after mistake. I say I’ll get better and then I don’t- you all move on to new things and I’m too slow to catch up. Apology after apology, mistake after mistake. I’m a mistake.”

Roman uttered the last sentence so quietly, Virgil had to strain to hear him. His face hardened as the words registered in his mind.

“Roman,” Virgil said firmly. “You are not a mistake. You never have been. They’re wrong, they are in the wrong for making you feel this way. This is not okay. I’ll have a talk with the others later about this, I won’t share anything if you don’t want me to…?” Virgil trailed off uncertainly, a question lingering in the air.

“Please don’t tell them what I said.”

Virgil pursed his lips. “Alright, if that’s what you want.” He stood up, stretching his arms out, and offered a hand to Roman. The prince took it gratefully hauling himself up and taking a moment to steady himself. He shot an unsteady grin at Virgil, who smirked back.

Roman hesitated before stepping forward.

“Thank you, Vee.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “What, no witty nickname?”

Roman looked him straight in the eye. “Not today.”

“Well, then you are welcome, Roman. Ready to go talk to the others?” Virgil extended his hand and Roman took it, squeezing tightly before pulling Virgil into a full hug. It lasted a moment before he pulled away, slightly misty eyed.

Roman followed Virgil out the door, leaving behind as many insecurities, issues, and tears as he could. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it was nice to have finally been allowed to say what was on his mind without repercussions. He took a deep breath, smoothing out the wrinkles of his prince costume, before changing his mind and snapping into a hoodie and sweatpants for something more comfortable.

And so what if nothing was fine? He might’ve been breaking down a few minutes ago, but now he was feeling lighter than he had in ages and was walking hand in hand with someone who loved him- just fo being him- they were family, after all.

Nothing was fine. Nothing was okay. Things were still going to be hard.

but what did that matter anyways?

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Taglist:

Okay so- @queenofsassgard @arushahisatroll @introvertedtater-tot when you asked to be on the taglist, did you mean just the AU taglist or any sanders sides fic in general? because if it’s the first option, then i’m so sorry about the tag aha-

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #post pof #post svsr #roman sanders #virgil sanders #ts roman #ts virgil #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders centric #roman-centric #angst with a tiny bit of comfort at the end

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imlostinsantacarla · 4 years

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@brideofcthulhu10: Hey hey, I love you imagines and headcanons! So awesome, I love reading them! Could I maybe get some fluff and angst with the boys after getting into a motorcycle accident with their human!S/O. Maybe she's barely alive (of course the boys would be fine) and they have to choose whether or not to turn her, and there's already so much blood.

(a/n: hey love! i can’t believe the queen of writing for the lost boys has requested something from me, ahh! thanks for requesting this, it was awesome to write. i influenced this heavy off of the idea you gave to me, which i’ll be incorporating into the other boys pieces also. i did promise more than 2k words and i doubled it! the whole time i wrote and edited this i was listening to “People Are Strange” from The Lost Boys soundtrack, so i sneakily and vaguely placed it in there, haha. i hope you enjoy this piece! - admin kat 🌙❣)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Title: A Night To Remember (David x Reader)

Summary: A night to remember, so vivid and fun. What in the hell could go wrong? A ride on the back of your boyfriends bike on a familiar street in Santa Carla was never the place you’d thought everything would go south...

Disclaimer: This was inspired by @brideofcthulhu10‘s post on turning ➡ here. She also provided me with an idea very similar to this one, which I will be basing the other boys parts on also! so without her help i wouldn’t have been able to create this.

Word Count: 4,130

Warnings: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF BLOOD AND VIOLENCE!!! THIS PIECE CONTAINS DETAILS ON BLOOD, FEEDING, FITS, NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCES, DEATH, TURNING, ETC. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO GORE AND SO ON!!! (Please let me know if I forgot anything else!)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A glorious high encased you in a giddy box, leaving you slightly lightheaded as you rode on the back of Davids’ motorbike. The swift speed morphed your surroundings into a wind whipped experience, something so psychedelic that no drug in the world could provide you with. The once swaying palm trees became nothing more than tall flashes of muddy brown and muted green as nighttime swallowed their colors within it’s deep grasp. Bleeding them dry of any relevance to you.

The speed in which the pair of you were going was a reasonably hasty speed: Not enough to get you to fling off of the back of the bike, but just the right amount to pull excited squeals from your form. The sound of your imminent joy caused the blond vampire to simper wildly to himself, his own hoots and hollers echoing your elation.

In your very mortal perspective, this particular night had unfolded to be one of greatness. You had spent the better part of the evening on the Board Walk of Santa Carla with your four most favorite people on this entire planet. Nothing was capable of dampening this victorious ado!

Behind the pair of you came the thunderous roars that belonged to a trio of motorcycles, which alerted you that the other boys were eager to catch up. The three motorcycles occupants were wild eyed, animal-like from the high the speed in which they traveled at provided them with. Goofy grins were sloppily plastered onto their handsome countenances as they hurtled towards you and David. Dwayne, Paul and Marko appeared to possess a candid enjoyment from the experience, their shouts of excitement ringing shrilly in your delicate human ears. Anything speed related got these boys to geek out in such a passionate fashion that it almost made you physically cringe in response. Instead you laughed in vivid amusement at them and their antics.

Your primary focus was fixated behind you with the boys and their childish shenanigans of one-upping each other. The sight of them was more than enough to propel you into fits of laughter. David was fully aware of your attention having been stolen by the boys, though he minded very little as his focus was intent on the road ahead of him. He hadn’t exactly bagged on the idea of scanning for anything dangerous, but he wasn’t stupid enough to take his eyes away for a second, - particularly since you were perched on the back of his bike, clutching onto him tightly -.

In an unforeseen flash of one single flickering headlight turning onto the road just up ahead of you and David, there came a shrill screech of rubber on asphalt and a horrendous streak of zooming metal hurtling towards you both on your side of the road! A thick plume of black exhaust thundered from the bikes exhaust pipes. David’s impeccable reflexes were suddenly called into question whilst the man continued to bound on his bike towards you, pushing past 150 miles per hour.

The sight alone caused David to cuss exponentially, his arms yanking the handle bars of his sturdy bike to the right, followed by his full body weight. A millimetre or two was left for the drunk asshole to pass you, the mere wind of it further knocking David’s beast of a ride off balance. The pair of you had almost been smeared road kill across the street.

The bike flung across the road and into a precipitous ditch at it’s side. Trepidation leaped at and swallowed you whole, your mouth agape as you struggled to breathe from the sheer force of the entire predicament. The violence of the bikes movements were so strong that they tore your arms off of David’s waist and threw your body through the air and off to the side, as though you were a piece of trash to be discarded. The entire experience warped your sense of time and reality, causing time to appear much slower than it actually was. You hardly had the reflexes or mental capacity to brace yourself for impact as your body crashed into a large bolder. And darkness encompassed you in it’s death-like wings.

The other boys on the road had barely escaped unscathed themselves, though not before they witnessed the terrifying reality of what occurred to yourself and David.

Maybe it was Dwayne who’d managed to skid to a squealing stop first as he threw himself from his bike, allowing the meaningless hunk of metal to smash onto the ground with a deafening crash. He bounded towards the ditch where David and yourself laid, Marko and Paul hot on his heels.

"Jesus Christ, man!” Paul shouted, slipping down the dusty sides of the hole, barely just catching himself from falling flat on his face. “Oh fuck!” His ocean orbs widened at the terror before him, eyes scanning for you as David attempted to compose his disoriented self. “Where the fuck is she, man?!” The lion’s voice broke as he skidded to a stop, the scent of sickly sweet blood entered his flared nostrils.

During the entire event, David had miraculously managed to stay glued to his bike, a credit to his immense strength. He’d slid to a definite halt with the bike trapping his legs underneath it. His wounds having healed as soon as they had appeared.

As though he were in limbo, the blond leader of the group could hear shouting, though it was impossible to make out who it was coming from and what the context was. The aroma of something sweet and familiar coaxed him from his discombobulated state just like the cool night air flooding around his torn ankles did. He found himself spread flat out on his back, Dwayne and Marko having just heaved his busted bike off of him.

“Oh fuck, man!” Paul breathed out desperately, his wild blond hair in a disarray due to his fingers bunching chunks of it viciously in a stressful pattern. His entire body had come to a stand still, back facing the trio behind him. The typically well-witted and smart mouthed vampire was experiencing consternation at it’s most alarming peak. The poor boy felt as though he was about to vomit on the spot. David slowly followed his gaze and the sight before him created such a forceful pang of rushing emotions to slam into his chest it left him absolutely winded. David knew that if his heart was still beating that it would have stopped altogether there and then.

There you laid, limbs bent in gruesomely awkward angles, surely broken whilst a pool of blood seeped from the rear of your skull. Never in all of David’s existence had he experienced panic quite so potent. This scene was something that belonged in an R rated horror movie, it couldn’t be real! He had to be dreaming. David blinked, shaking his noggin a few times as though it would erase the sight of you all mangled and barely alive.

Before he even was cognizant of his actions, David was by your side, humming brokenly down at you, “No, no, no!” His gloved fingers barely fluttered over your breakable flesh, a newfound fear created in him. He was too afraid to touch in case any amount of pressure worsened your state.

“Fuck!” Marko cursed from behind David, anger pouring from his entire being as he thrust his foot into a large rock to his left, shattering the entire thing into a billion specs of dust. A nausea developed in the other boy, knocking the wind out him. You were one of them! You couldn’t be dying. These string of events never occurred to them any more. It was never meant to happen to you.

Anger encompassed David, vulnerability belting him straight in the gut. His intent wasn’t to shout at them whilst his orbs glowed a fiery red, like the menacing pits of Hell. “Will you idiots get out of the way and shut your traps?!” His voice echoed in the still night. He sucked in an enormous breath before he held it. The scent of your blood was driving him into a frenzy he dared not to jump into. After all, he was pitching to save you, not eat you.

He could recognize that you were beating against the dark currents of unconsciousness to the best of your dwindling capabilities. Though you were unable to move even a muscle due to the phenomenal pain that pulsated all over your body, the loss of blood creating a numb feeling in all of your shattered and twisted limbs. He could hear the wheezing of your lungs as you attempted to keep yourself above the surface. Your fight to keep yourself alive was slipping through your fingers and time was working against David: And for the first time in many years, David felt utterly helpless. His usual ability to make sound decisions was clouded by the shock of the events that had just occurred.

But somehow he managed to swallow the tears that had welled up in his usually acerbic eyes, leaning towards you from a place of love. Love? No, he was a creature of the night so gruesome and cruel- he wasn’t capable of such a profoundly light emotion. Love opened up a brand new door to vulnerability. Vulnerability was something so foreign to David that he had shunned it ever since the woman in his previous life had come to her demise. This hadn’t been the plan. To fall for you, that is. But even as his inner monologue argued with himself, he knew deep down that his feelings weren’t betraying him. He could only do one thing to make this right.

David’s leather fingers peeled the cloth off of your shoulder as though you were porcelain, something so delicate that he could effortlessly break. His beautiful full lips parted as he bent over your dying form, teeth sinking sharply into your shoulder with the mental anguish that if he moved your neck, it would break in two and then you really would be dead. He wasn’t a doctor. He was a goddamn vampire! Who knew what unimaginable trauma could have lurked beneath the surface of your skin in this moment. Based upon his swift assessment on the outside of you, he was sure that your insides were a hundred times worse.

Besides, he was more than certain that biting you ensured the most expeditious way of turning you. His movements were halted, his teeth scraping the splintering bones beneath the flesh. He wanted to ensure that enough venom entered your system in order for it to work it’s instantaneous magic. And thus he pulled apart from you with the silent prayer that he hadn’t been too late.

A brief moment of silence seemed to have etched on for what felt like a thousand years before your breathing halted altogether. David felt hot tears begin to sting at the corners of his eyes like prickling needles. He was too late. Too late and too sluggish to save you.

However, your breath hitched tenderly, the windows to your beautiful soul fluttering open so delicately he almost felt as though he imagined it. The pain that engulfed you was greedy, radiating a searing hot white all throughout your system. The bones in your body cracked and snapped back into their sockets, tiny clicks reconnecting smaller fragments together whilst the nerves in your whole being were signalling to your brain that you were burning up! Then came the shifting of your bones, a dull groan emitting from your throat. The sounds made David feel sick. He hadn’t ever felt guilty before, but now he did whilst he witnessed you begin to morph into what he was. Yet he refused to touch you, an act appearing so cold yet he was doing it all for you. All because he could not stand the thought of the rest of eternity without you by his side.

Instead he murmured sweetly to you, a low humming rumble. A sweet song so encouraging that it almost sounded as though he were pleading with you to stop screaming, because he knew the pain you were experiencing all too well. It’s so vivid and hot. But he had had no other choice. You begged him between gargled breaths, begging him for deaths cold embrace but he was too selfish and could not fulfill this desire of yours spurred on by the delirium of anguish. “The pain will be over soon,” he promised you.

Though something peculiar was occurring, an event that he’d never encountered prior to this very moment. It hadn’t happened to him or the other boys when they had been turned. You were seeming to grow far more alert than previously with each passing second. Your heart having drummed sluggishly before, now it spurted into a bounding gallop until it froze altogether. The choked sob that fell from your now dead lips rung in David’s mind like a torturous gong.

There was no movement coming from you and his hands began to shudder, leather fingers desperately yet ardently sliding across your cheek to brush away the sticky hair from your face. “No! No, you can’t be-” He automatically feared the most catastrophic thing. How could you be gone? He’d bit you! It was supposed to have guaranteed you immortality!

Failure implodes in his brain whilst he slumps back onto his backside, a defeated sigh flowing from his mouth and beckoning his head down. You laid there motionless, crimson having stopped pooling beneath you both. Your eyes were glazed over with the look of grotesque lifelessness. He had failed. Failure had never been an option for him, he’d always kept you so safe. Yet one nightly drive that was nothing more than routine had cost you your precious life. And David wished perilously that you were here with him. Breathing and with your heart beating. He never registered how much he’d miss that thumping heart of yours. He’d grown attached, even though you had been a human.

Red flooded his vision as he cried out violently, balled fist striking the ground as the mighty Norse God Thor would strike his hammer down upon Earth. He was going to find that sorry bastard that had done this to you and he’d rip his limbs off and beat him with them! That David was sure of.

Yet even with his vision induced with the crimson color of his enemies blood, David could not bring himself to rise from the ground and fulfill his imaginations desires. Instead, he sat next to you, eyes never leaving your form whilst grief struck him like a stake to the heart. He’d forgotten that the boys were still there, watching silently as he’d asked. They too felt the devastating grief of having lost one of them. That’s what you had always been to them. You were one of them. Watching you pass on struck them with a feeling of dreadful melancholy. This whole ordeal was heartbreaking.

Suddenly a tremendously deep gasp flooded into your lungs, whilst your arms flailed sporadically and your body twisted in vicious convulsions. It frightened David to begin with, his hands grasping onto your body with purpose, bringing you close with a sigh of relief. You quaked in his arms whilst he cradled you, lips pressing themselves to your hairline on your forehead. “Shhh babe, it’s me.” David murmured calmly into your hair, your terrified form sobbing into his powerful chest, the after effects of your cells dying leaving you delirious. “You remember me, princess?” He inquired coolly, his head cocked to the side as you peered up at him with tear filled eyes. Your were so bewildered with all the intensely vivid sights, sounds and smells, it made your head swim. It sounded as though he were screaming at you. These highly sensitive senses would take some time to adjust to.

“D-David?” You inquired softly, your brow creased sweetly in the middle as it typically did whenever you were scared or perplexed. As if by habit, David’s leather thumb placed itself on top of it, softly pushing down and smoothing it out. You had nothing to be frightened about. He was he with you. He wouldn’t let anything like this happen to you ever again. Yet as his gaze wandered over your face, your orbs darted around swiftly, the burning sensation in your throat driving you wild with an animalistic hunger!

“It’s okay, princess. You’re alright. Don’t be afraid.” He cooed mellifluously down at you, a smile gracing his usually smug lips. Even though you were all covered in your own blood, there was a beauty to you that nothing else could compare to. You were now all his for eternity, and he would never let you go.

“What happened?” You croaked questionably, your fingers darting up to his face at a speed he was not yet used to. Though he allowed your blood covered fingers to smooth across his fare cheek, just this once. Your once welcoming warmth had now disappeared, replaced with a coldness just like his. Although your body temperature had vanished, the warmth of your soul still radiated from you, welcoming him in just like it always had.

“You don’t remember?” He inquired, pushing your blood matted hair from your breathtaking face, his forehead leaning against your own. You shook your head no, to which he swiftly pulled back from you. Eyes ablaze like an inferno. “Some jerk easy pushing 150 came bottling down the road towards us. I had to take us off the road otherwise you’d have ended up being road kill. You weren’t doing so good. I had to turn you, princess.” The way he explained it was soothing, as though he were speaking lowly to a rather confused child. It was certain that you probably still possessed nasty after shocks of a severe concussion, your mind attempting to make logic of the events that had occurred earlier in the night.

“Turn me?”

“Yes, turn you.” A slight edge of derision dripped from his mouth and into your ears, the man didn’t possess a whole lot of patience, though he was trying his best. Besides, any thought of you suddenly wanting to reject your new life created apprehension to ruffle David’s feathers. “You would be dead if I hadn’t have bit you.” He clarified further.

You swallowed thickly in response to him, throat barren like a sandy cracked desert. Your hand brought itself up to your throat, tenderly clutching it to which your lover cocked his head to the side, amusement rampant on his face. He knew all too well what you were going through. “You’re thirsty.” He stated it matter-of-factly.

“Thirsty. Yes.” You nodded in sincere agreement, the sight of your innocence made David chortle before he got to his feet. Yet you remained on the blood soaked ground, staring up at him like a deer in head lights. Uncertainty blossomed in your gut as he offered you his infamous gloved hand to take, yet you hesitated, orbs sweeping around as you took in the other boys shyly. Relief was painted on their faces.

“Do you trust me, sunshine?” David inquired down at you candidly, a lightning strike of mischief twinkling within his blue eyes. Your fingers answered for you, instinctively smoothing over the worn leather on his hand and clutching ever so softly whilst he hoisted you up onto your feet as though you were royalty.

“Yes,” You breathed softly, voice scratching with thirst.

Satisfaction was painted colorfully on David’s face and he leaned closer to you, icy eyes filled with a fiery desire that you’d never encountered in him before. “Then follow me.” He stated, leading you up the steep dusty hill of the ditch with little effort before bringing you back onto the road that had caused this all to occur.

You took in the familiar street you and the boys had always driven down with a new pair of eyes. Everything seemed crisper, tiny details that you had never noted before came popping out. The road was practically deserted since night had settled fully on the small town of Santa Carla. Yet in the distance you could hear a tender thrumming, a melodic rhythm that was all too enticing for your newborn state to resist.

Your eyes captured the teenage girl walking on the cracked sidewalk on the opposite end of the street. She was strolling towards you, her black hair a fluffy pixie cut, swept into disarray by the wind cast from the beach. She smelt of ocean and salt. It made your mouth water steadily. You could tell that her mind was preoccupied, a headset nestled over her ears and a velvet voice oozing from the speakers and into her small ears. Her Walk-man clicked in her small bag strapped to her side. She appeared in deep thought, eyes staring straight ahead, however, she did not seem to notice yourself, David or the other boys. You were meaningless to her, so she carried on walking, safe in her imagination. Her silky skin glowed under the moonlight, head bopping to the music she listened to, her neck bare.

Your throat burned intensely as though a red hot glowing poker was being wedged down it. You couldn’t resist and released David’s large hand with enthusiasm, to which he allowed.

All you were aware of next was being right in front of the girl, terrorizing her out of her contemplation. She let out a blood curdling scream, flinging backwards onto the ground. You could not blame her because unbeknownst to you, you were covered head to toe in blood, your clothes shredded to assorted ribbons and your orbs were a bright orange, face contorted into that of a monsters.

The poor girl hardly stood a chance against you. You did the only logical thing and pounced on her, teeth tearing and ripping into her throat like a savage bear. Streaks of red flooded into your mouth, pouring down her front as you drank her dry. Her headphones were intent on a song, it’s lyrics speaking of the strangeness of strangers when one was alone.

The young girl gargled and fought, nails digging and ripping into your durable flesh, attempting feebly at getting you off of her. Though as soon as she had begun she stopped altogether, falling limp in your iron clad grasp. A bolt of euphoria slid through your veins as you drew away from her. Her glassy eyes stared up at the stars and the moon vacantly. You panted wildly, desiring more. Needing more.

A chorus of boyish snickers came from behind you, alerting you once more that you weren’t alone. Yet you stayed in place, a high overcoming you that rivaled the one that you had experienced on the back of David’s bike. There was an immense part of you that wished desperately for that feeling to stay persistent. It was addicting and already you craved more, licking your lips to take in every last drop of the metallic bitterness of the red elixir.

“Welcome to the club, y/n!” Paul grinned in your ear, his nimble fingers grasping your shoulders comfortingly. He was buzzing with particular excitement. The sight of you utterly comical to him. He understood your desperation though. The desperation for more, to quench the aching hunger of human blood.

“Yeah, welcome!” Marko sneered infamously beside Paul, your head tipping up and backwards to see the blonde duo grinning down at you like hungry wolves. Although they were so nonchalant about this ordeal, you were still basking in the deep glow of your high, feeling nourished already.

Dwayne hung back from the other boys, stood next to David, his hulking hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He had an amused grin on him as well. The sight of you covered in blood almost laughable. As a human, you had always voiced your opinion of how much the sight of blood turned your stomach nauseously. To see you enjoying the experience of feeding was something rather hilarious to the raven haired boy.

You’d now taken the final pledge and thrown yourself into a new way of life. Their way of life. This was where you belonged. You belonged with the band of boys and it was where you would stay, forever and ever.

David stood there, wedging a cigarette coolly between his lips and lighting it. He inhaled the smoke with need, eyes glued to you. Although you had pulled through, there was vengeance brewing in his gut. He’d get the man who had caused this entire incident. He’d get him in the cruelest of fashions. Maybe not tonight, but he’d start looking for him tomorrow. Oh, he definitely would...

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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kaiparker-imagines · 7 years

Text

Broken

word count: 2 232 warnings: hints of depression

summary: You reached the lowest point in your life, but luckily there’s unexpected help. notes: I tried writing it from another perspective - tell me if you like it better that way or if you want me to stick to the old form 😊

*gif by me

(requested by anon)

You were sitting on the small window bench in the living room, your back laying against some soft pillows as your head rested on the stone wall, turned to the left to look out. In mesmerization, you watched the water droplets slowly dripping down, leaving wet traces on the cool glass before falling and building an ever-growing puddle on the ground. You drew your knees up, wrapping your arms around your legs to hold them in place.

The gray colors outside resembled your mood, the dull emptiness you’ve felt for weeks now. With the rain representing the tears you just couldn’t shed anymore. Not after all the crying you’ve done the past few weeks. Or more the first few days because after one week there seemed to be no tears left. Ever since you learned, you were the last person left of your family.

“Honey, are you sure you’re okay with staying here on your own?” Your mom asked concerned as she tried to pull the zipper of the crammed suitcase. You were sure she had packed in more clothes than she would even need - packing like they’d be gone for two weeks although their trip only lasted a long weekend.

“Yes, mom. It’s not like I’ve never been alone here before. Besides, my friends will come over later and us girls need to do a proper sleepover again. You know we haven’t done it in ages.” You smiled up at her, watching how she finally managed to pull the zipper and closed the suitcase. A light chuckle escaped her mouth as she turned around, facing you.

“No boys overnight.” She stated as she walked towards you, pulling you in for a hug. You rolled your eyes, a smile appearing on your face.

“I’m nineteen!” You exclaimed as she let go of you, taking the grasp of the suitcase and carrying it down.

You followed her downstairs to where your dad was already waiting. He was leaning against the doorframe of the front door; his luggage was already tucked away in the car. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, but as soon as he saw you two, he shifted his position and walked towards you to say goodbye to you.

“See you in four days, kiddo.” He said, wrapping his arms around you and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Moments later you had taken his former position, leaning against the doorframe and watching your parents get into the car. You waved them goodbye, saw how the car pulled out of the driveway and turned into a street. You closed the door behind you again, starting to prepare everything for your girl’s night.

Five hours later you were sitting in the living room, surrounded by your friends. Some chick flick movie was on TV - it was more in the background, though, as you were sitting on pillows in a circle on the ground, talking and giggling. A big bowl of popcorn was in front of you, as well as every one of you had a glass filled with a different alcoholic beverage.

But a sudden knock on the door interrupted your fun. Startled you stood up, confused on who would be there. Your friends were already all assembled here, and you all promised to leave your boyfriends at home, so you had no idea who to expect. As soon as you reached the hall and could see outside the small door window, you saw red and blue lights: the police. Your heart missed a beat, fearing the worst. What was if something bad had happened?

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door, immediately being met by the sight of an officer with a serious expression.

“Are you Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” He asked in a casual voice. You just nodded with a lump in your throat. Somehow you already knew what was about to come, you just knew it. Tears were building in your eyes which you tried to blink away. Unsuccessfully.

“Your parents had an accident. I’m sorry, but-”

You didn’t even listen to the rest as everything around you became a blur. Uncontrollably the tears started flowing, leaving wet, salty traces on your cheeks, dropping on your clothes, the ground. You took hold of the doorknob, placing the other hand on the doorframe, holding yourself up. In the blink of an eye, your whole world got crushed, shattered into million pieces. Impossible to ever be glued back together.

The following month had been the hardest time of your life. You just lived without actually living. Everything inside of you was feeling numb. Every morning you stood up, went to school, got back home to sit on the window bench and went back to bed. Every day the same, dull routine. It had become impossible for you to get back to reality, your old life. You isolated yourself, never attended any parties anymore, never went to your friends home’s anymore. They knew what was going on inside of you - partially - but they couldn’t help you. No matter how hard they tried, there was nothing they could do to bring your old self back.

A quiet sigh left your mouth as you still watched the raindrops creating patterns on the windowpane. Somehow you started to like this weather. The chilly breeze, the raindrops falling from the gray clouds. It was even better paired with a thunderstorm. Thunderbolts as light as day filling the area with a brightness that just lasted for milliseconds. They were mesmerizing, showing that even in darkest time there was always a chance to light it up again. Or at least that’s what you liked to think.

You were currently engaged in thoughts - thinking about nothing and all at the same time - as you heard a thud coming from the door. But you stayed where you were, not bothering who would be there. It was probably just one of your friends wanting to check in on you. You hoped that if you weren’t answering whoever was there would go away again. By now everyone should know you weren’t really looking for company.

“(Y/N), open the door. I know you’re in there!” You heard the distant sound of a male voice. It belonged to Kai Parker, your best friend. He had been gone for over a month without telling you where he’d go and since you only got a few messages saying not to worry, you had no idea where he’d been. And he had no idea what had happened to your parents in that time, what had happened to you, how much you had changed.

Even though you felt a sudden, quick rush of joy, you couldn’t bring yourself up to open the door. Instead, you closed your eyes, wishing he would go away again. You didn’t want him to see you like this. He already had enough problems on his own, so you didn’t want him to worry about yours, too. A little voice in your head craved for him to come here, wrap his arms around you and spend time with you, telling you everything would be okay again.

“If you don’t open the damn door I’m going to open it myself!” Kai shouted. His voice was a mixture of worry and anger, and you knew full well he’d do what he’d promised. Also, if you’d tell him to go away, he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

Moments later, you listened to his footsteps as he made his way towards you. Your eyes were still closed, as you suddenly felt his presence beside you.

“Hey.” He sounded soft, quiet and you felt him lightly touching your arm.

At that moment you decided to open your eyes again, looking to your right. Kai kneeled right beside you; he needed to look up now to see your face. The color of his blue eyes was more intense than ever before; his lips curled into a sympathetic smile.

Deep inside of you, you wanted to return the smile. Especially after you realized his worried expression. He could perfectly see that something must've happened. Normally you'd already be up on your feet, jumping in Kai's arms as he held you close, both of you laughing happily. Instead, you look at him as if he was a stranger, emptiness visible in your look. Your whole aura had changed, it had turned darker, desperate, depressed even.

He wasn’t sure what he should do; all of this, all the emotions and feelings were still new to him, and he hadn’t gotten the hang of it yet. Nevertheless, he sensed your sadness; it was literally oozing out of your body, impossible not to notice.

“What’s wrong?” He asked in the softest of voices, something that was atypical to him and yet so naturally. “You know you can talk to me about everything. And I see there’s something you need to get off your chest.”

In gentle motions, he started stroking your arm, rubbing up and down. Up and down. You parted your lips, waiting for the words to come out. But they never came, you remained quiet, and turned your head away again. You couldn’t bear seeing him like this any longer; you continued watching the raindrops.

Kai let out a sigh, as all of a sudden an idea popped into his mind. He removed his hand from your arm, but brought it back seconds after, as he carefully lifted you up, holding you tight. Instinctively you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto him as if your life depended on it. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar, musky scent.

Slowly, he walked towards the couch and let you down, taking place right beside you because you didn’t let go of him. His arms were wrapped around you instantly, again while you were sitting half on his lap. He began drawing little circles on the small of your back.

And with this, you were finally able to let go.

You felt the familiar burning in your eyes before the tears even appeared. But as soon as they reached them, they uncontrollably started streaming down your cheeks, soaking Kai’s shirt. You gave a sudden sob followed by more while your best friend just continued his movements, trying to calm you down.

“My parents... they died in an accident a month ago.” You eventually explained in between sobs; your voice was weak, it sounded like you hadn’t used it in days - which was true, though, as the past few days had been the ones where you completely avoided everyone's company. At least until Kai had come here.

The tears became less, the gap between each sob grew larger. But only as it completely stopped you dared to move, shifting your position so that you could look at your friend. In the same second as Kai, you reached your hand towards your cheeks. He was faster, gently wiping away the last tears, stroking over the dried, salty trace they had left on your face.

“Why haven’t you called me? I would’ve come here, would’ve been there for you.” He spoke quietly, his hand still resting on your cheek, making little movements with his thumb. Blue eyes were piercing into yours, holding them captive.

You knew he was telling the truth. Yet you didn’t find the words to explain to him what had been going on inside of you - what was still going on inside of you -, and what the reason why you hadn’t informed him about it was.

So you just answered him in two syllables: “I know.”

He shook his head, the corner’s of his mouth were slightly twitching.

“Well, now that I am back and I have a lot to talk about, what do you think about if I get us some ice cream?” He asked with a smile, trying to change the subject, wanting to distract you and take your mind off things.

For the first time in weeks, you were finally able to return the smile. For the first time in weeks really mean it and not just doing it because someone expected you to.

“Only if a get the most chocolaty one you find.” You replied, a glimpse of your old self shining through. Maybe you should’ve had called Kai earlier. He had always been the one to help you up again - just like you had been the one to help him whenever he needed someone.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He said, letting out a chuckle as he ruffled your uncombed hair on the way to the kitchen.

Seconds later he came back with a large ice cream cup and two spoons, handing you one. Sitting down next to you, he instantly wrapped an arm around you so you could lean against his side.

“Thank you.” You mumbled suddenly, surprising Kai who had done all the talking the past minutes in which you had quietly been eating your ice cream. A smile spread across your lips as he turned to face you.

“I’ve done some reading lately, and apparently that’s what friends are for.” He answered with a grin, to which you only responded with a half-hearted punch against his arm.

Even though you were still inside a dark hole, you finally saw the light and a helping hand that would be there to help your back up. And this time you would let your friends help you.

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alltheworldsinmyhead · 7 years

Photo

OUR FUTURE WILL BE A BRIGHT ONE: CHAPTER TWO

eremika soulmates through time modern au

( ao3/ff.net )

GIGIL

FILIPINO, a physical response – like trembling or blushing – to the situation that overwhelms your self-control

i used to wish upon the stars, the toys I once adored

forgotten now, are rolling ‘round the corners of the floor

finally, my dreams have counted up to one hundred today

someday, I’ll trade them all for just this very one

it’s really not bad trying something new every once in a while

especially if I can do it with you by my side

RADWIMPS - nanadenomaya

Destined. Promised. Twin flames. Joined souls.

Soulmates.

So many names for the one phenomenon that goes beyond human understanding and rational thought; wild force, exhilarating and powerful like a tornado. A seed of magic planted in the solid ground of reality.

The scientists, of course, try to rationalize it. It’s a simple thing, basically, they say. If the pair of souls was born and reborn time and time again near each other if two people have met and fallen in love and shared lives together multiple times, if, against all laws of probability, they found themselves through time and space, it just has to create a bond. A bond that becomes stronger and stronger each time they have to part ways – a bond that, after centuries, transforms from something alike to spiritual connection into a physical pull. As simple and as complex as that.

But this explanation doesn’t cover everything and certainly doesn’t stay true to the magic of it all. Legends and stories fill in the gaps in scientific logic ; mothers tell their kids that the pain of the first meeting is the pain of all the times they had to say goodbye to each other, school children whisper and giggle about how the heat of touch is all the passion and desire soulmates had for each other in all their lives. Not everyone is blessed like that, but those that are, add even more to the whole mystery; watching a pair of bonded soulmates is a strange experience, as they always seem to exist in a different universe, in their shared bubble build on secret smiles and subtle touches.

As a kid, Eren always wondered; will he be able to read someone’s mind? How is it possible, to just meet someone and bam! they’re yours forever? Holy shit, will they share thoughts, will they talk to each other without opening their mouths?

He would spend hours playing in the summer heat with his best friend Armin and just talk about it. They would imagine a thousand of possible “first meeting” scenarios per minute, wondering how it would look like, feel like. Armin would bring his parents’ heavy scientific books and read them to Eren, patiently explaining all the complicated terminology and then they would tell each other fairy tales, rationality and magic and wonder blending into one.

It all sounded just so cool and unimaginable, no matter how many times his mother tried to cool down his enthusiasm.

“It’s not all sunshine,” she warned him, time and time again as soon as he started babbling about wanting to meet them now. ” It’s not as easy as it sounds. This desire to protect someone, to be by somebody’s side, this can be more destructive than anything else in the world. “

And of course, he didn’t listen. Why would he?

He couldn’t wait to meet them. He couldn’t wait to get to know them. He couldn’t wait to remember their past lives.

Mikasa, on the other hand, never quite believed in the notion of soulmates, no matter her having one. It was… bizarre. And she couldn’t understand why somebody would want that. Surely, normal relationships aren’t anything worse or less. Where is privacy, where is a place for little, intimate secrets when the other person can read your emotions like a book wide open?

Around the age of eight, the perspective started to scare the shit out of her.

One evening, perched up on a kitchen stool, she quietly asked her father how she can check if she even has a soulmate and he ruffled her hair affectionately and told her there’s no way to do that, that that’s something you don’t even know you’ve lost until you’ve found it. That some people are born with this ache, but it’s so constant that they become numb to it and just simply live their lives like everyone. That they are not aware that they’re drenched in gasoline until they cross eyes with that other person and touch their skin and catch on fire.

“Why eyes?” she asked then, even diligent, and he kneeled down in front of her.

“The eyes are a door to your soul,” he told her. “The skin turns lighter or darker, freckles and birthmarks disappear and rearrange. Sex changes, hair becomes blonde as the sun or dark as the night. Even your character transforms, your little quirks and interests and the way you talk. But eyes? Those never change. At least that’s what I heard.”

And his face darkened a bit and she is reminded that he and her mother were not destined, that he had no memory of any previous lives, that he didn’t remember eyes of any other woman or man from his past. And so she wrapped her arms around his neck to cheer him up but the anger burned in her stomach; why did he long for a soulmate? Wasn’t her Ma enough? How was his life somehow lackluster because he was not cursed with burning in pain every time he touched his wife?

And so Mikasa decided, right there and then that she would never have a soulmate. Period.

…

The reality, of course, caught her off-guard, her usual self-control gone and forgotten. Where is her unflinching gaze and calm demeanor when she needs it? Where are her silent goals not to fall prey to the whole soulmates nonsense, fall in love in a normal way, stay Just Mikasa, without any added past lives and pain and a person that would suddenly appear in her life and would expect to stay in it forever?

Beside him, she can hardly walk straight. The whole world is spinning in front of her eyes, she feels as if she had a dangerously high fever and she’s afraid she may not be able to find a way to the apartment in which she’s been living for the past three years. His mere presence is just intoxicating; this physical pull towards him, pain piercing through her every time she as much as steal a glance at him.

This want.

But before she can dive head first into the ocean of shame, she starts to wonder, if all those strange feelings are really hers. As the pair of them quietly makes their way through the streets, she begins untangling them; slowly and methodically, ignoring her racing heart and sweaty palms.

Wait. Stop. This is mine. And this is not.

With a wave of surprise, she realizes that although the boy beside her – the one that keeps staring at her and can’t stop smiling, the one that not only trips over his feet but he also skips cheerfully every few steps – this boy wants her too. Just as badly as she does. That she makes him dizzy, that she takes his breath away. He leans closer and closer to her side, and he seems to do it unconsciously. The warmth simply radiates from him; all the enthusiasm and curiosity. Yes, he doesn’t seem half as troubled and lost as she does, probably, she concludes, because he’s a way more adventurous person than she is, but make no mistake, Mikasa; he may be the smoother one in this situation, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the same things you do.

Because he does. She knows it. Eren’s desire burns right along hers and somehow, instead of making her even more flustered, it comforts her somehow.

Her place really is near and soon enough they leave the freezing wind outside and the matching rhythm of their steps echoes on the empty staircase of her apartment building; Eren steals glances at brick walls and peeling paint, and the obvious lack of elevator. He’s mostly just surprised; Mikasa, in her nice black coat and leather boots looks more like someone living in one of those modern, glass-and-steel skyscrapers in the center, rather than downtown, in a building that has probably seen a huge chunk of last century.

They climb ten floors in silence interrupted only by Eren’s silent wheezing every few seconds, at which Mikasa hides her smile under the scarf.

“Well, no shit you’re so fit, ” he says when they reach the top of the staircase. He sounds slightly winded and he’s clutching on the railing, sending her a grin.

“How do you know if I’m fit?” She turns her back on him, fiddling with keys and fighting blush.

He’s about to say something along the lines of: “Because you just went all the way up like it was nothing” but she adds:

“You haven’t even seen me without these clothes on.”

‘Yet’ hangs in the dead silence that follows, the single word so heavy that it almost turns into a physical being, into a third person standing in between them.

She yelps – and his heart skips because how adorable – and covers her mouth with both hands, keys slipping from her fingers and falling on the floor. And he just clutches on the railing even tighter and simply bursts into laughter, because how could he not?

“For a moment you got me there, that was smooth, I’ll give you that,” he manages to utter.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, leaning her forehead against the wood of the doors. “Oh my god. It wasn’t supposed to sound like that. “

His fit of laughter lasts for a few more minutes before he senses some kind of uncomfortable buzzing under his skin; it’s like an itch, only more burning and unpleasant. He raises his head up to look at Mikasa and realizes that she’s still standing frozen with her face pressed to the door, slightly flinching each time she hears him laugh.

Oh god, she’s really not the joking type, is she?

“Oi, Mikasa,” he says quietly, straightening up and taking a few steps closer to her. “Hey, I get what you meant, okay? Don’t get all worked up about it. “

Before his brain can process his actions, he places a hand in-between her shoulder blades, his fingers gently patting her back.

She shivers slightly underneath his touch and all the blood in his body seems to flood his brain and buzz in his head.

“Sorry,” comes her muffled response. “I don’t know – how to deal with all of this.”

When she turns around to face him, she is greeted by the sight of his loop-sided grin.

“That actually makes two of us, you know?”

She does, actually, know this. Under the layer of good humor, she can sense the nervousness in him; can see it in the way he licks his lips and scratches the back of his neck every few seconds. And so she nods with a small smile dancing on her lips.

“Let’s go and warm up then, okay?”

Her apartment is small and so disgustingly clean that he cannot help but feel ashamed when he thinks about his own flat; Armin’s books and notes thrown haphazardly on the kitchen table, Jean’s unreal amount of hair products taking every free inch of space in the bathroom and his - well –stuff pretty much everywhere.

Mikasa’s place has none of that. The walls are all painted white and there’s not a single smudge on the cream-colored carpet laying on the floor, nor a wrinkle on the curtains obscuring the window. It should feel clinical and cold, this overwhelming sea of whiteness, but it doesn’t; somehow, despite being so pristine, the apartment feels strangely intimate.

It’s clearly a space that she spends much time in and there are traces of this domesticity everywhere he looks – in a neat row of cacti on the shelf by the window, in a collection of beautiful, black-and-white photographs adorning the walls, in a bunch of chipped mugs by the kitchen sink and in a warm-looking blanket cocoon in the armchair.

“You want something to drink, maybe?” Mikasa asks politely, gently setting his red scarf on the shelf by the door, her other hand outstretched as she waits patiently for him to hand her his jacket.

He flinches, realizing he has spent the last few minutes standing in the middle of her living room and gawking, leaving traces of melting snow all over her floor.

“I- um, sure, sorry. “ He tugs on the zipper sloppily, eyeing with horror the ever-growing pool of dirty snow water near his boots. ”Shit, I‘m so sorry, let me mop this up, wow, you have it so clean in here, I just- sorry -“

Suddenly, he hears a snort and looks up at her and- is she smirking?

Sure, it’s subtle and barely-there (seems she has regained some control over her facial expressions) but still, the smirk is there and what’s more, he can feel her amusement across the bond.

“Forgive me.” She sends him a small grin. “You looked so horrified. Don’t worry, let me put on a kettle for some tea and we’ll clean it up.”

She hesitantly reaches out and pats his shoulder, her eyes sparkling with humor.

Somewhere, on the back of his mind, he realizes that’s the first time she initiated the contact between them, but most of his brain is basking in the feeling of her fingers touching his skin through the thin material of his shirt.

The warmth. The warmth.

He’s sinking in it, bathing in it almost; he probably looks like a goddamn idiot staring at her with the goofiest smile and puppy eyes but he just fucking can’t help himself.

Mikasa unlaces her boots and puts them by door; she orders him to do the same and, as Eren watches her rummaging through the kitchen (a braided crown of black tresses slightly undone; the straight line of her spine underneath her blouse as she leans down; her long, long legs gracefully moving her from one place to another) he feels something blooming in his chest; something new and hesitant and small, but maybe even more powerful than a lightning strike on the street half an hour ago.

#eremika #eremika fanfiction #snk #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot fanficion #eremika fic #mikasa ackerman #eren yeager #our future will be a bright one

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doorsclosingslowly · 7 years

Note

Literally ALL OF THEM for Riches and Wonders.

THX!!!!!!!! I’m going to do this in chunks. it got kinda long, sorry!

1: Whatinspired you to write the fic this way?

Riches and Wonders is reallya Savage character study in the end. When I started writing Runaways, back whenit was a one-shot, the point was more that I wanted to figure out a way inwhich Maul was going to survive, and didn’t he have that brother with theedgelord name? TCW still isn’t my favourite interpretation of Maul even if it’s funny, but Ilove Savage so much I can’t really diss it anymore

Writing it from Savage’s POVwas because I liked that framing better, and then the story became about hisjourney because I decided writing about near-misses and calling it “Thank Youbut Your Princess is in Another Castle” was funny. So while it was empatheticto Savage’s perspective and I was starting to figure out his narrative voice,it wasn’t really as deeply in his head as it could have been. (Which does work.“There were no words for a long time.It’s good that there weren’t.” Savage in Princess is incredibly depressedand Talzin’s mind-controlled tool, and he becomes more lively after he gets tointeract with someone who thinks of him as a person again.)

(Side note: The way I figure the mind control works btw is that it’sbasically a strong compulsion to obey, not a reshaping of his mind or anything,and he acts the way he does because he’s terrified, depressive, hurt, andthrown into a completely new world so he’s also pretty confused, and when he’snot completely numb, he’s keeping himself together by the skin of his teeth andthe ways he’s learned how to cope as a nightbrother. Which ends up reinforcingthe obedience. And makes him hide his emotions apart from the ones people wantfrom him (rage) because he must be Strong. The goals aren’t his own, but it’shis mind trying to fulfil them: he’s trying to do what Talzin orders withoutreally knowing why but that’s mostly what he’d have done anyway so he doesn’teven think it’s weird. The compulsion can be triggered by the Sisters or brokenlike in canon or when he thinks, I just CAN’T letMaul die like Feral in Princess. I amsoft and the idea that Talzin’s ritual destroyed the person he was is way toosad for me to write tbh. And also makes characterization really really hard)

That more shallowunderstanding I used to have in Princess obviously doesn’t cut it, if I’mwriting an eight-part series about them. So from Curses onwards I thought a lotabout what each of the brothers is getting out of this relationship, the waythey affect each other, and the way it’s both a train wreck and mutuallysupportive. (Your Love Alone is pretty much the condensed version of thatthought process.)

I did a lot of research, especially about maladaptivecoping responses to abuse (focusing on compliance and avoidance w/r/t Savage,because he’s so… quiet before the rage explodes) and it fit with thecharacterization I had in Princess and with TCW. (They’re incredibly maladaptivenow that he’s run away, but self-soothing and advance compliance andpsychological withdrawal are what might have kept him alive as a nightbrother.)

Also I watched his episodes a lot and got upset a lot.Apart from Monster the show’s POV isn’t that sympathetic but trying tounderstand what he’s thinking in every scene… oh boy.

A big part of the characterization ended up justgrowing from lines I put into Princess because I thought they were fun orsounded right. So, “He imaginessurprising Her, conjures up Her proud face when he reports that he has foundMaul, and then discards the thought. It’s never been him She was interested in.Once She sees Maul, She will never look at him again. He thinks he should feelwistful. He is relieved.” becomes this idea that Savage is usually veryaware of how he’s supposed to be reacting, of who he is supposed to be, but he often doesn’t measure up. Everysituation contains the emotions he shouldfeel, and the ones he does feel. Atthe same time, his reactions are pretty reasonable and the expectations he’sinternalized are just… not.

Also, the daydreaming which Savage does in Princess (“He entertains himself with guessing thebusiness his brother does” etc) has increased exponentially. Partly it’sbecause Savage actually knows Maul now, so he can be reminded of his brother byrandom stuff. Partly it’s because I’m really into “This made me think of you”as a bit of show-don’t-tell affection. Partly it’s because Maul is his wholeworld now. Partly it’s that Savage would totally stick Maul’s report cards tothe fridge if he had the chance, or pass around his album of Feral baby photosto everyone who doesn’t run away fast enough. He would talk to a random woman in a bar about how cool he thinks Maulis.

Ultimately, I think it’s pretty fortunate that I gotso derailed into focusing on Savage. The inciting What If of Runaways is “Whatif Talzin wanted Maul back 15 years earlier” obviously but the actualcounterfactual I’m writing is more like, “What if Savage was much moresuccessful in the tug-of-war of defining their relationship?” Which isconnected to the fact that they’re in a very different place to canon when theymeet, and that they have the luxury of spending (mostly) unobserved years assmall-time criminals and not as parties in the Clone Wars.

From Princess on but also in the parts I haven’twritten yet, Savage’s decisions drive a massive part of their story. He decidesto run away with Maul, after all.

Which is funny, because he doesn’t think of himself asa person with agency, and obviously most people he interacts with think of himas a tool (Talzin) or a monster or an apprentice who should do what Maul saysbecause they are Sith and that’s how life works. They really don’t think of himas making choices either. There’s a lot of ‘minor’ decisions where he goesalong with little or no protest until suddenly there’s something he can’t bearanymore, and then he just acts. Thereis no leadup because it’s been simmering under the surface, just as feelingsand never vocalized. Like in the show, haha. Mostly silent obedience obedience obedience CHOKE DOOKU & VENTRESS!!!It makes him look like an irrational person from the outside (or a “mindlessbeast” blah blah blah, hate that), but I don’t think that’s it. To deliberatehis decision would have required him to be a more verbal thinker, but mostly: toactually believe he has a choice.

And Savage can’tbelieve that he has any agency anymore. If he is capable of disobeying orders– well, why didn’t he disobey the order to kill Feral? Being a tool sucks, buthis destiny has always been controlled by the Nightsisters anyway. Not being atool – having the power to stop Feral’s death, and killing him regardless…

(This is an absolutetangent but anyway. So I read this Savage/Asajj fic that was enthusiasticdubcon aka ‘they both know he isn’t allowed to disobey her and therefore he can’tactually consent to sex but he’s really into it and after he’s brought to theSisters and before the ritual, he initiates the encounter and it’s his POV which is the only way dubcon can work’, and it was prettyinteresting especially with the woman-centered framing of sex (engulfingetc) but anyway, I had the most horrifying thought right now: Asajj is stillgoing to use Savage’s body to kill his brother. This is probably the mostpsychologically wrecking version of what happens in Monster ever. In theRunaways ‘verse version of what happens, the story Savage tells himself isthis: He has no capability of disobeying at all anymore, so ultimately he isjust the tool that killed Feral. Still traumatizing, but… What do you tell yourselfwhen you ‘willingly’ sleep with the person who ordered you to kill yourbrother? Can you still make yourself believe you didn’t make the choice to kill him? Like it obviously doesn’t makehim any more culpable at all but it would feel So Bad.)

Wow sorry, this is really rambly and way too long. Tosummarize… What inspired me to write this fic this way was that I’m writing apretty long story about how Maul and Savage very slowly help each other, oftenin ways that seem strange or even slightly unhealthy on the surface or involve murder.My mental picture of Maul was much clearer, and that would have been doingSavage a massive disservice. So I watched Clone Wars a lot. And cried.

2: Whatscene did you first put down?

The rape scene, or, well,the ‘Thinking about Maul’s eating habits to mentally cope with being rapedbecause Savage thinks this is something he has to endure and not something heshould and could escape’ scene. I still think it fits with what I’m going for really well tbh, andboth the ‘externally controlled body’ part (less of a magical metaphor here) andthe ‘ignoring his agency’ part and the nightbrothers as essentially breedingslaves part are such major aspects of Savage’s backstory, or I wouldn’t havewritten this scene. When I said that the fic was way out of my comfort zone, Idefinitely meant it. But Savage’s issues with agency are a major part of him, and I thought the take worked and it’s probably why I wasso stubborn in trying to finish Riches even though six months is a fucking longtime.

3: What’syour favorite line of narration?

There is a tongue inSavage’s mouth again, lightly tracing the back seams of his teeth and thensquirming against Savage’s tongue, like the bitten-off tail end of a massiveearthworm, only much less delightful—andMaul doesn’t like rancor flavored with kur-seeds and peppers. He made themost entertaining face on tasting that dish for the first time, and when hestumbled on his unsteady new leg to the fresher to spit it out, Savage onlystarted to feel bad for laughing when he didn’t come out for half an hour. Hewas too entertained to even think about his failure then, even though he cookedit, the meal he’s come to think of as the most comforting comfort food, in thedoomed hope that it would help Maul feel better and stronger after his injury.

It feels wrong to mock him,now that he’s had a while to think it over. Maul’s soft palate is the fault ofthe human who raised him. Besides, Savage should be grateful: There issomething soft left in his brother. Every time Maul hates the meals that Savagelovingly prepares for him, he should be glowing with pride and relief, becausethere is something Maul doesn’t like, and he’s learned to tell Savage about it.

Savage doesn’t know what itwas that he did, but that doesn’t make it any less his greatest triumph: Thefirst day that Maul looked at him, still tied up and after a month of stoicallyforcing down whatever Savage held up to his mouth, and spat the spicedchew-fish back in his face.

“This tastes like shit,”Maul said, then.

It’s one of Savage’shappiest memories, and it’s not like Maul is really wrong about the taste of rancor, anyway.

Savage thinks about theimportance of Maul being able to say “No.” in a moment where he himself (believesthat he) has no choice. The fact that Maul feels comfortable enough to refusethings is something he sees as a major breakthrough in their relationship,because it means that Maul is beginning to trust that Savage isn’t going toreact like Sidious. Savage doesn’t consciously connect it to his own situation.He doesn’t really think about the difference between the things he wants forMaul (and Feral) and what he has accepted for himself.

Also, he’s redefiningsomething that looks like a dick move (Maul insulting Savage’s cooking skills) intoa show of trust and a sign of affection, which I always like.

(Maul won’t try roe today, after all. They’ll slit a few fish bellies,but Savage’s picked the wrong season, and none of them carry young. He will trya piece of raw fish in the end—after much cajoling, which Savage will figurehe’s entitled to, after Maul left the shallow waters with his heavy prostheticand pretended to drown, and then pulled his frantic brother under. Twice.Predictably, Maul will declare that raw fish is disgusting.

He’ll still be complaining about the aftertaste when farmer M’lee makesthe incredibly unwise and terminal decision to check on his fish in theevening.)

(M’lee’s daughter will inherit the roe farm. It will lie empty, andsuccumb to rot. She’ll never set another foot on Talasea, not after thathorrifying morning when she comes back from a friend’s wedding to find herfather missing and then dismembered and burned in the peaceful grass.

She’ll die on Coruscant ten years later, destitute and still trying tobring justice.)

Also this one, because I just think it really works the way I wanted it to? It punctures the cocoon of Savage’s POVwhere only Maul really matters. I don’t get to be compassionate to anybody else usually because of Runaways’ tight perspective but I think it’s important to remember the victims

4: What’syour favorite line of dialogue?

This is really hard. It’sprobably this part

Instead of meditating,though, Maul stands up again. He looks at Savage for a long second, paces,picks up the blanket from Savage’s bed, and then he sits down in the corner ofhis floor-nest. He pushes the mismatched pillow-wall on the other side further awaywith a few kicks. Then he orders, “Come here.”

Savage does.

“Sit down,” Maul says.

Savage does, carefully,stepping over the pillow-wall. When he sits, the floor is cool through Maul’sblankets, and hard as well. He scowls. He’s been telling Maul that it can’t becomfortable for a while now, but he’s always been informed that it’s adequate.For lack of actual knowledge—maybe the thick fabric he’d forced on Maul wasenough, even if it didn’t seem like it—he believed him. Now, though…

“This isn’t good for yourback. You need a proper bed.”

“A mattress is superfluous,”Maul says.

“You refused to have ablanket for two months,” Savage reminds him. “And now look at your nest…” Heruns his hand over the wall of pillows to his left, still standing sturdydespite Maul’s show of carelessness in pushing it aside. “See? You can change.”

You can grow to like beds, Savage almostsays, but the words bite into his throat and refuse to come out.

He pats the floor blanketagain, instead.

“You’re deflecting,” Maulsays, mercilessly. “I felt your terror. What happened?”

The start of their BigConversation, where they’re basically talking about nothing at all, even thoughboth Maul and Savage obviously know what just happened. I like things that are very lowkey.

Savage’s instinct is to beMaul’s big brother and his caretaker, even when he’s really out of it. Focusingon Maul (what they are going to do when they meet, making sure they meet,whatever Maul looks like he needs now) is also one of his more effective copingmechanisms, and he’s been doing it the whole time really. He has chased Maulthrough all of Princess, he’s been doing whatever Maul wants during Curses. Unmasked doesn’t really count because it was originally part of Riches It’salso what he’s doing in the flashback at the beginning of Riches, feeding Feralso he doesn’t have to be so afraid of the Sisters coming. He has never reallythought about what is being done to him. Well, Maul isn’t letting him run awayanymore.

It also kinda punctures someof Savage’s ‘I am the big brother and know what your life should have been like’airs. Savage’s been trying to coax Maul into accepting his own vision of whatlife should be like, including making him eat what Savage thinks he should eatand sleeping the way Savage thinks he should sleep, instead of the way Maul’sused to live. Fair play, the way Maul was raised was terrible. But Savage’s lifewasn’t great either, and now, Maul being raised a nightbrother doesn’t lookthat attractive anymore.

(Also it says something about Savage’s decision-makingprocess I think. There’s a kind of reversal of the model thought process, the ‘rational’ ideal… The most consequential decisionbased on his feeling that Maul deserves better than a nightbrother slave’slife, Savage takes right in the beginning. Not bringing him back to Talzin. Twoyears later, Savage is still struggling with that idea though, see also: “Savage cannot think back far enough toreach a world empty of this truth, but he remembers too that Maul wasn’t raiseda nightbrother (for the blink of a second and for the first time, it feels likea mercy), and so the words will have to stumble out.” because he’s neververbalized his reasons for not bringing Maul to Dathomir or integrated theminto his worldview. They aren’t thoughts he knows how to think, but thatdoesn’t mean they don’t influence his actions.)

I also like the space pigeondialogue a lot haha If I didn’t I’d have cut it, because it’s probably definitelyToo Obvious

5: Whatpart was hardest to write?

Going by what I left off until the end, it’s the barscene from the point when Keeu shows up. Because a) I don’t recognise flirtingin real life, so how am I going to write it and b) I knew that if it didn’tmake sense, the whole ending of the fic wouldn’t make sense.

That’s not the bit I re-wrote about a million times,though. That’s Maul and Savage’s conversation about Dathomiri society and theSith code

#sl-walker #dimtraces makes things #runaways 'verse

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