#and wishes he still felt enough grief to be able to cry.

[jellieland]

A week or two after the games, Grian will usually check in with the victor.

It's a habit that's probably more for his own benefit than anyone else's. But it is, he thinks, a good habit nonetheless.

After all, as fun as it all is, things can get a bit... intense, towards the end, and it's good for his peace of mind to make sure the last one standing is ok with how things shook out.

Nothing much has ever really come of it before; they're all pretty resilient. He doubts this time’ll be different. Except- well.

Something about it all itches at the back of his mind, and he hasn’t been able to work out why. There was the actual ending, of course, but also Grian may have been whispering in Martyn's ear about how boring that final showdown was turning out to be, and how narratively satisfying it would be if he just betrayed the other two and got it over with, so.

If nothing else, it feels like he's got no reason to break with tradition.

There's just one more concern.

Martyn seems to have made it almost impossible to contact him.

It's not... unheard of, for players to keep to themselves most of the time, especially when it comes to those they don’t share a server with. It seems a little uncharacteristic of Martyn, but the last time Grian saw him outside the games was before they even started, so maybe he does things differently these days.

There are certainly a great many reasons why that could be the case, most of which are perfectly sensible.

But Grian's never been able to resist picking at a puzzle put in front of him, whether the puzzle likes it or not, so he is going to talk to Martyn. And he can just see what happens, and worry about any consequences if and when they appear.

Luckily, he already has a way to do just that.

He doesn't usually need to do this - although it is very funny to startle Scar or Mumbo with it sometimes when they're concentrating. Honestly it's usually less effective than communicators, with how much effort it takes.

But he does have a way. The same way he used to whisper in Martyn's ear very recently, in fact.

He reaches out, away from his home, away from his body, and it feels a little like simultaneously overextending himself, and putting his foot down on a step he thought was flat ground.

That is... not how this usually feels.

It's odd. Rather unnerving.

But it works.

He finds Martyn. Watches the vague shape of him solidify into something more real.

He’s still wearing his red life outfit, for some reason. His eyes are closed. Around his head, the coral curls like a blood-red crown.

“What do you think you're playing at?” Asks Grian.

Martyn blinks his eyes open slowly, looking less confused than Grian would expect for someone hearing a disembodied voice out of nowhere. “Oh good.” He says dryly. “You again.”

He squawks indignantly. “Hey, what's that supposed to mean?”

There is silence for a few seconds.

“...Hey.” Martyn says, and as flippant as he suddenly sounds, he looks as thrown off balance as Grian feels. “Not sure who this is, but I think you might have the wrong number!”

“I think that's unlikely.” He deadpans. “Where are you? I haven't been able to get hold of you.”

“Uh-” There's a short pause as he looks around at wherever he is right now. “Falling into endless nothingness, looks like. Same old, same old, am I right?”

Grian rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ok. Well, I suppose you don't have to tell me.” A part of him makes a note of Martyn’s wording, though. Just in case.

“...Hm. Well, not gonna lie, I do appreciate the change of pace, but I would love to know what exactly you want from me. You know, just on the off chance that you feel like giving me any clues.”

It's at this point that Grian remembers: one of the main reasons this method of communication is good for messing with people is that it makes him sound, um. A little different. And while he can see Martyn, it’s not as if Martyn can see him.

...Best to just pretend that hadn't slipped his mind.

“You do realize this is Grian, right?” He asks, as though it ought to be obvious.

“Riiight, yeah, sure.” Says Martyn. “And I'm also Grian, did you know that?”

“Oh for- what, do you want me to tell you some secret only the two of us would know, or something?”

“Nah.” Says Martyn. “That wouldn't work.”

“Elaborate.” Says Grian, through gritted teeth.

“You know what? I don't think I will!” Replies Martyn brightly.

Grian takes a deep breath in through his nose. “I'm beginning to wonder why I bother.” He grinds out.

Martyn snorts. “Tell me about it.”

There's a short silence.

“But- ok.” He continues. “Just suppose for the sake of argument that you are Grian.”

“...Yes?” Asks Grian warily.

“I have a question for you.”

“...Yeeees?” Asks Grian, even more warily.

The silence stretches for several long moments.

“What's up?” Asks Martyn.

“Yeah ok, this isn’t worth it, I'm leaving now.”

“Wait! No, I'm serious!” Under the amusement, there's a note of something that sounds almost like nervousness in his voice. It's uncharacteristic. Unnerving.

“What are you talking about?” Asks Grian, trying very hard to keep his voice at least mostly free of annoyance.

“Oh, you know! What's going on, what's the deal, what'd you want to talk to me for?” There's a slight hesitation. “You need help or something?”

“I- ok. That's actually sort of relevant. It's really nothing too complicated, Martyn.” He says, grumpily. “All I wanted to do was make sure you're good with what happened at the end of the last game.”

Martyn blinks, and goes very still.

There is a long silence - long enough that Grian starts to feel concerned.

And then Martyn laughs.

It's not a nice laugh.

“Good, huh. You want to know if I’m good with it. That sure is an interesting choice of words.”

“...How so?” He asks, guardedly.

“Grian. Grian, I’m not sure if you remember this, but I won. I won this one, Grian.” Every word he says, however restrained, sounds like it’s had to claw its way out of him. He glares at nothing. “And guess what? It's just like the others. I don’t really care enough for any of it to matter to me, anymore, and that's fine by me.”

Now that's... a lot to unpack. “You- I'm sorry?”

“Well that makes one of us then, doesn't it?” His voice is coated with scorn.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you actually think I’m going to explain myself to you?” He asks, looking half-amused. “You, of all people?”

“Well unfortunately, Martyn, I can’t exactly put Ren on the line, so I’m afraid I’m all you’re going to get.” He snaps, and instantly regrets it when he sees the look in Martyn’s eyes.

There is a short silence.

Grian shifts uncomfortably. He’s not going to apologize, obviously. But. Well. “That... ok, maybe that was a bit much.” He says.

“...Little bit, yeah.”

There is another silence.

After a while, Martyn speaks.

“I would’ve betrayed him too, you know.” He says coolly.

“What, Ren?”

“Yeah. At the drop of a hat. Soon as it was convenient.”

“I mean sure, I suppose?” Says Grian, caught off guard. “You didn’t, though. Did you? When you had the chance.”

“Eh.” He shrugs, as though that’s an irrelevant detail. “It would’ve been more dramatic later. You know how it is.”

...There's no real way he can justify saying no to that, is there? “Yeah.” He says. “I guess I do.”

He tries to picture the King, betrayed. The Hand, triumphant.

“I dunno, though.” He says, thoughtful. “I don’t think you ever could’ve done it, to be honest. Not in the first one. Whatever it was you were planning, it was just never how that story was going to go.”

“That’s not true.” He says it just slightly too fast. “I know that’s not true.”

Grian scoffs. “You know thinking about something isn’t the same as doing it, right?”

“What, no, really?” He rolls his eyes. “You don’t say!”

“What I’m saying,” He lets his voice turn biting, “Is that you’re being stupid.”

Martyn lets out a startled laugh. It’s surprisingly genuine. “Wow. You’re really bad at this, dude.”

Grian bristles. “Well why am I the one who has to do it then? Why don’t you talk to someone else, if you hate talking to me so much?”

“I mean…” He makes an unconvinced noise. “Obvious problems aside, when do you even expect me to do that? We usually have other things to worry about.”

“I don’t know, maybe at literally any point between the games?” He sighs exasperatedly. “There’s no way you’re that busy.”

“Between the games?” Martyn asks incredulously, and Grian suddenly feels as though something dangerous is hovering over their heads, just about to drop. “What do you mean, between the games?”

“I mean between the games! Like- now! What do you think this is, right now, if it’s not between the games?” He snaps.

“This right now?” He looks nonplussed. “I think we’re usually asleep for most of this bit. Or possibly we forget about it. As you can probably imagine, it’s hard to know for sure.”

“Now I know that’s not true.” He says firmly, ignoring the unease trying to creep up on him. “I know I do stuff between games, and I know I don’t just forget about it. That makes no sense.”

“I mean, I don't necessarily mean everything between the games, more just this specifically.” He gestures around at nothing. “That gets more complicated, though. But you- hm.” He looks curious. “That’s interesting. Where even are you, then, at the moment?”

“I’m at home! Which is where I thought everyone else was too!”

Martyn seems to consider this for a few moments, and then he frowns, and then his expression goes blank. “…Oh.” He says. “Yeah. No, that… makes sense, actually. Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“Wha- what do you mean? Right about what?”

“Everyone probably went home. Or, at least, they thought they did. And hey, what’s the difference, when you get right down to it?”

“...Ok, I’m going to ignore the second part for now, I already got past that little existential crisis after Ren and Doc’s whole… thing… in season eight- if you think everyone went home, why are you- what was it you said- ‘falling into endless nothingness’?”

There’s another pause.

“...You’re really gonna make me say it, huh? That seems cruel, even for you.”

“Wait, no, what do you-”

“Where else do you think I would go?” It sounds less like an admission and more like an accusation. “What ‘home’ do you think I have left, Grian?”

“Look.” Snaps Grian, feeling vaguely tricked. “It’s not my fault that you-”

“Yeah, it never is, is it?” He glares into the darkness. “It’s always a tragic inevitability with you, never a choice you’re making. That way you get to stab people in the back and pretend to be sad about it. Best of both worlds, huh?”

Grian splutters for a few seconds. “Why are you being so rude to me??”

“Because you’re you and I’m me.” He smirks. “Don’t know what you expected, honestly.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s hiding behind inevitability now?” Grian retorts, perhaps a trifle vindictively.

“I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite, sometimes. Also, I never said I felt bad about it.” He replies levelly, and all at once, they’re talking about something else.

“You didn’t need to say it.” Snaps Grian. “You might be good at lying but you’re not perfect. I could see in your face that it hurt.”

He narrows his eyes. “It felt good, actually.”

“Wow, good for you.” He says, almost amused suddenly. “You didn’t say I was wrong, though.”

His expression twists into something unreadable. “I know you, Grian. Like recognizes like.” He says, voice low and dangerous. “You’re a liar.”

Grian shrugs, despite the fact that Martyn will not see it. “And you’re a coward. Your point?”

“I don’t need to justify myself to someone who refuses to admit that he could have chosen to be better, if he’d ever wanted to.” He spits out.

“Hey, at least I don’t try and convince myself I’m a monster just because I want to survive.”

That one strikes something tender; he can tell. “Right, yeah, and you’re just a blameless angel and everyone you cut down had it coming, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t say that. But since you bring it up… how many people did you give up your time for, again?” He grins. “Is it less than one? Because I think it is. I think I’ve got you beat there, Martyn.”

“And where did it get you?” He snarls.

“Home, in the end.”

Martyn flinches back as though he’s been struck.

“Did you forget about that part?” Asks Grian.

There’s a long pause.

Martyn fidgets with the end of the banner he wears around his waist, pulling at where the white threads are coming undone. He stares out into the darkness. “Yeah.” He says. “I guess I did.”

The satisfaction of winning the argument feels less potent, suddenly.

“You’re right.” Says Grian, after a while. “I’m really bad at this.”

Martyn laughs quietly. “To be fair, I’m not exactly helping.”

“You’re really not.”

He sighs. “You know pulling the knife out just makes the wound start bleeding again, don’t you? That’s all we’re doing here. That’s all we’re going to do to each other. We’re too alike to do anything else, unless we just don’t do anything. And hey, we’re not great at that either.”

“Hmm.” Says Grian begrudgingly. “I’d say something about inevitability again, but I honestly don’t think you’re wrong.”

“We both just enjoy pushing buttons too much to be particularly good at not pushing them, I guess.” Martyn sounds half-amused, half-resigned.

Grian makes an irritated noise. “Yes, alright, I don’t need another reminder of the whole button debacle.”

There is more silence.

After a while, Grian speaks again. “There’s something I was wondering about, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Martyn raises an eyebrow.

“What’s the reason?” He asks.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific with that one, mate.”

“‘This is a death match for a reason.’” He says matter-of-factly. “That’s what you said. So- what is it? What’s the reason?”

Martyn blinks, then lets out a short, harsh laugh. “You think I know that?”

“No, not really. That’s why I wondered what you meant when you said it.”

“It- look. I don’t know if you’re expecting philosophy from me, or something. It’s a death game. People die, and it doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t have to be special, it doesn’t have to be honourable, it doesn’t have to be fair. That’s what I meant.” He frowns. “You know that.”

“I do.” He admits.

“Then why ask?” Martyn looks around as though this time, somehow, he might be able to find Grian’s face in the dark.

He doesn’t.

“I just-” Grian sighs. “What do you want?” He asks. “What do you actually want, Martyn?”

The question sits heavy in the darkness between them.

“What do you want me to say?” Martyn asks. He sounds more tired than Grian’s ever heard him.

“I want you to tell the truth.” Grian says. He needs to know. He needs to know.

“Now, Grian.” Says Martyn, voice gently chiding. “Have you met me? You know I can’t do that.”

“Pretend it’s a lie, then.”

Martyn’s grip on the banner he wears tightens, slightly. There is a long, long silence.

“Or how about,” Says Grian, eventually, “You say something, and I won’t know whether it’s a lie or not.”

There is another pause.

Martyn frowns at the red of the fabric in his hands, as though it might offer him something.

As far as Grian can tell, it does not.

He’s just beginning to give up hope of ever getting an answer when Martyn speaks, so softly he almost doesn’t hear it.

“I want it to be warm again.” He says.

It’s quiet.

For a moment – just a moment, no more – Grian remembers bloody, aching fists. He remembers burning heat.

“Well.” He says. “That makes one of us, then. Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Says Martyn, voice low. “I guess it does.”

There’s another short second of silence before Martyn speaks again, sounding cheerful. “So, suppose I’ll see you in the next one, huh? If that ever happens.” He grins. “Wanna take bets on how hard Scott’ll have to try not to win it? I’m gonna go with very.”

Grian snorts. “I’m not taking that bet. That man is infuriatingly good at surviving.”

“You’re not wrong! You are not wrong.” He gestures into the void. “And don’t even get me started on Timmy’s whole thing, I think we both know how that one’s gonna go. Unless you want to bet against him being gone first next time round?”

“You’re not Scar.” Says Grian. “There’s no way you talk anyone into taking that bet in a million years. Except maybe Timmy.”

“Fair, fair.”

There’s a short pause.

Grian hesitates for a moment before he speaks – almost, but not quite, reluctant. “Why do you keep looking back?” He asks. “There’s nothing left for us there. You know that, right?”

“I mean, let me know when you find a better place to look.” He tilts his head to the side slightly, curious, and frowns. “Do you really never want to go back?”

“No.” Says Grian. “Never.”

Martyn opens his mouth, and then, uncharacteristically, closes it again. “Yeah.” He says. “Me neither.”

Grian is tempted, momentarily, to tell Martyn to take the banner off and let it go. Let the darkness take it. Prove it.

But just like Martyn, he lets it drop.

Mutually assured destruction is a potent thing.

Now all he has to do is the hard part. The part he’s dreading most of all.

The main concern is phrasing it correctly. Making it sound just how he wants it to sound.

After some thought, he thinks he’s found the words he's looking for.

He could always be wrong, though. He’s usually more one for incredible violence than smooth talking.

“Martyn?” He asks cautiously, casually. “Do you want me to help you?”

The expression that crosses Martyn’s face is unreadable.

He processes the question for a few moments, before he answers.

“Nah. I’m good.” He says, voice guarded. “Don’t worry about it.”

And that’s the rub, isn’t it.

Because now Grian has to decide whether he’s going to let Martyn lie to him or not.

Whether he’s going to pass the test that’s been set before him, or not.

...

Grian’s not a monster.

He’s just realistic.

There's nothing he could do, anyway.

“Well.” He says levelly. “Just let me know if that changes.”

(Martyn would do the same to him. It’s not a justification, or an excuse. But he knows it to be true.)

Martyn stares out into the darkness. His eyes are almost, but not quite, resentful. “Sure thing, man. Why wouldn’t I.”

It’s not said like a question, so Grian doesn’t answer it. “Well, you know I can’t stay here forever.”

“I do know that.”

“Any messages you want me to pass on to any of the hermits? I know you haven’t seen Mumbo in a while.” It’s not really a compromise, or a peace offering. Hopefully, however, it’s close enough to one or the other of those to act in their stead.

Martyn closes his eyes. Breathes in. Breathes out. Opens his eyes again. “If you were Grian, then maybe.” His gaze is cold. “But I think this hypothetical has gone on long enough.”

...It’s a lot easier for both of them, if Martyn believes that.

He’s positive Martyn knows that.

Just this once, perhaps he can manage to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

“For what it’s worth,” He says, looking away, “I moved on from the Bad Boys when it got too expensive to keep them alive.”

“It’s not worth a lot.” Says Martyn flatly. “And it would be worth even less coming from Grian.”

Grian sighs. “Alright. Fine. I’ll see you around, Martyn.”

“I know.” Says Martyn. He closes his eyes.

After a few moments, Grian does too.

When he opens them, he’s home.

…

Oh, that doesn’t feel good.

It really doesn't.

He could dwell on this. It wouldn’t be hard. He could drown himself in guilt over what he’s done, or not done, or will not do.

But- well.

Grian never really saw the point in letting someone else drag you down with them.

#once he's sure that the thing he's decided to pretend was not grian is gone #martyn goes back to falling #and wishes he still felt enough grief to be able to cry. #limited life smp #life series #grian #martyn inthelittlewood #my writing #i finally managed to finish this. it took me. a while. #they're narrative foils to the point of absurdity is the thing #they're incredibly similar and also completely different #it's fascinating

[vroomvroomcircuit]

The World did not end

(A/N): 'ello and welcome to my first F1 fic. I'm quite new here (not to fanfic or tumblr, I mean F1), but I want to give back to the F1 community, since you all helped me out tons during a really rough period these last couple of months.

Pairing: Lando Norris x platonic!reader

Warnings: mentions eating food, death of a loved family member, grief, it sounds sad, but it's actually pretty sweet and hopeful (it's based on a tiktok trend), English is not my first language btw

Wordcount: .7k (she is a shorty)

Masterlist ______________

Finding Mclaren’s reserve driver crying in the cafeteria wasn’t what Lando expected to stumble upon, when I went to check out where the repeating music came from. It sounded like a sad song that could land a high spot on his next Spotify wrapped.

“Uhm, (Y/N), what’s wrong?” he asks gently as he approaches the table. After a startle she turns off her phone, which has been playing the music. Frantically, she wipes her tears. It still does nothing against the fact that she has been crying and that her blood shot eyes are very visible.

Lando shakes his head. When people think Oscar is an introverted person, she is the masterclass of introvertedness. Like, the last stage of a pokémon evolution. That’s why seeing (Y/N) cry in a semi public place like the cafeteria calls for concern.

“There has to be something. The food here is not that bad. I mean, I have the same reaction when I see fish being served, too. But today I felt like the meals were rather good. So do tell. What’s bothering you?”

First she shrugs, the twenty year old not being able to find her voice immediately. “The- the world didn’t end when I was 13.” The tears are coming back again, restricting her voice once again.

Lando gathers her into his arms. even though he doesn’t understand what is happening at all. Does that matter right now, though?

The girl needs another minute or two until she is composed enough to explain the reason behind her crying. “There is this Tiktok trend going viral right now. It’s about people saying what mundane things they are able to do, or-or which things they have achieved, and all that because the world did not end when they were a certain age. They mean they got through some heavy event in their life. And because they got through this, they are able to do said things or achieve this.”

He nods, understanding the bittersweet and hopeful outlook this kind of videos can bring. “And something heavy happened to you at 13?” He probes while trying to keep a cautious tone, not wanting to overstep any boundary he doesn’t see.

“My, you see, when I was 13, my grandmother died. This was the first time I felt real grief. I wished for the world to end, because nothingness would have felt better than this immense amount of grief. And this led me to thinking of how many times I wished for the world to end. Because there were important and life changing events approaching me so quickly. When the world ends, I wouldn’t have to go through them, right?

And suddenly I’m 18, writing my final exams in school and it felt like the biggest task in my life. it felt like make or break. But the world did not end. I was able to graduate.

Then I got into the drivers academy, I am training, studying, and meeting people. I’m doing everything and anything. Because the world did not end when I was 13.

And it didn’t end when I was 16, overwhelmed with studying for school. It also did not happen when I was 19 and put under contract to be a reserve driver for Mclaren.

The world never ended. I begged and cried for all of this to stop. To have peace. Because I thought that I would only feel at peace, when nothing happens anymore. And the world didn’t end and now I sit here with you, talking about a tiktok trend.”

Lando understands her train of thought and sentiment immediately. “You know, I’m happy it didn’t end. These past couple of months with you here were pretty fun. Even Oscar admits it! With that true little smile, not in that monotone tone of his. These interviews and the media stuff is much more fun with these silly remarks of yours. And you are an amazing human being. I’m really glad that your world did not end, because meeting you made mine better.”

(Y/N) laughs, the tears being gone and cheeks heating up at that confession. “I’m glad too. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to ravish my way through the mountain of pasta minutes before you came in.” They giggle, knowing they share similar food preferences and have the culinary plate of a four year old toddler.

And all that, because the world did not end.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x platonic!reader #x reader #x platonic!reader #reader insert #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic

[endo-bunny]

His Light in the Darkness

Joel x daughter!reader

Summary: When Joel finds love ten years into the apocalypse and has a daughter with that woman two years later, he has to deal with the death of his beloved. He had to deal with a child that he doesn’t want, the child that took his whole world. That was, until a couple months after your birth. Now you will have to go with your father, Joel, and “The Cargo,” Ellie. As you go through this traumatizing yet exciting new adventure, you will have to learn a lot of things if you wish to survive in this world.

Series Warnings:Mentions of violence, using both the game lore and show lore, Tess being a mother figure to reader, reader is eight years old, attempted SA, attempted kidnapping, kidnapping, slaves, death, dialogue and actions/scenes not being exactly the same or close to original, nicknames for reader(Little Light, honey, sweetie, baby girl), anxiety attacks, anxiety alluded to but not specified, symptoms of ptsd but not specified, reader is Joel's biological daughter, mother’s looks not specified, reader is a child so she will cry a lot (please don’t complain about this) this is normal for children

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of violence, using both the game lore and show lore, Tess being a mother figure to reader, reader is eight years old, panic attack

Word Count: 3,465

******

Chapter 1 - The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Winter 2015

Cries were what filled the room. A female that looked to be in her mid thirties was laid out on a worn down mattress. In her arms was a baby, the one that was producing those beautiful sounds. Her breaths were shallow, hands bloody as her eyes met those of her lover. There beside her was Joel. He stared lovingly at the woman, your mother. She taught him how to love again, and you were also someone that was going to help teach him how to love once more in the future. The woman had already known there was a chance of not surviving through childbirth. Hell, they were living in the fucking apocalypse. They didn’t have the same materials and medical help or equipment that they had twelve years ago.

She felt weak, she wasn’t gaining any strength back. She had children before the outbreak but upon outbreak day and thereafter, they had died in front of her eyes. That was one of the many things that the two lovers confided in and shared with each other. Her other births had been similar to this birth; but her other times were much different when it came to the time after giving birth. She wasn’t gaining any strength back like she usually would, she was only losing it. She could feel her heart that had previously been pounding in her chest slowly start to slow down to an alarmingly slow speed. Her breaths that had previously been easier to have were quickly becoming harder and harder to inhale.

With just one look, Joel knew what she was about to tell him. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t lose his lover; his light in the dark. Tears flooded his eyes, racing down his face shortly after. He choked out a sob. As carefully as he could, he gingerly held her in his arms. They stayed like that for hours, even after she had taken her final breath. She had been able to breastfeed their child with the help of Joel.

As he continued to lay there, your mother still in his arms, the door was quietly opened. Tess stepped in, grief upon her face at seeing Joel with his deceased lover. She walked over, getting close enough to touch Joel’s shoulder. His eyes snapped up to meet hers. This was the most vulnerability that Joel has ever shown Tess. She saw how much pain he was in, and she couldn’t do anything to help him. He muttered something to her after he calmed down a little.

“Take the baby, I don’t want the thing that took away the love of my life.”

She was shocked to say the least. She never thought that he would ever say anything such as that. He always seemed so happy when talk of the two’s unborn child was brought up. As Tess sighed, she lightly shook her head side to side, rejecting his request; or rather demand. She couldn’t do that. He looked angry, more than angry. He was extremely pissed to say the least. He snarled at her, even more so when she started to talk about burying your mother. The rest of it all was just a blur in his mind. He blocked everything else. He didn’t want to deal with anything else, especially you.

A couple months passed by, Joel hating every moment of it. On one surprisingly warmer day, his view towards you was swiftly changed. He had put you down on the couch, not fully caring if you fell or not. It didn’t feel like it was his responsibility. He was looking over everything that he would need for his and Tess’ next run. Something in him caused him to turn his gaze towards you. There you were, smiling over at him as if he was the greatest thing in the entire universe. In a sense, he was, to you.

Once you saw that his gaze had turned towards you, you erupted into a fit of adorable little giggles. He had never heard that beautiful sound come from your tiny body. The moment he heard it, he was immediately transported to the first time he heard that same noise come from Sarah.

Right then and there, he knew how disappointed and angry Sarah and your mother would have been at him. He was beyond ashamed of how he acted and treated you. You were his daughter, he was your father, he was supposed to love and protect you. He knew then that he needed to change the person that he was, but only for you. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be any different towards anyone else, he couldn’t trust anyone else in this newer world. As for now, for the first time since your mothers death, he picked you up lovingly and smiled.

“Hi, my Little Light. Daddy’s here now.”

******

Autumn 2023

Giggles erupted from you as you played with your toys; your fathers warning to not make any noise while he wasn’t there escaping your mind. All noises stopped however once you heard the front door open, close, and then voices. All you could hear was your fathers voice before you were sprinting out to him, jumping into his arms that weren’t ready to catch you.

“Daddy!”

He huffed, trying to keep you from falling out of his arms. He looked at you with love in his eyes, but he still had his mask up due to the fact that there was a teenage girl being present.The teenager looked surprised to see this man that has been nothing but cold and rude to her, be so loving and even have a child. You finally looked at her curiosity in your eyes.

“Who’s she Daddy?”

Joel cursed under his breath, “She’s no one, just some cargo,” He had hoped that you would simply just accept that she was there for a tiny bit and then just never bring her up ever.

The teen scoffed at him, “Hi there?” Her voice seemed on edge, “I’m Ellie, the cargo.”

You giggled at her, finding the new girl funny.

“Go and stay in your room baby girl, I’m gonna stay out here, ok?”

You nodded your head, perfectly fine with going back to playing with your toys.

Thirty minutes passed, Ellie snooping through Joel's stuff the entire time. She froze though when she heard a door down the hall open. You padded down the hall, trying to be as stealthy as possible, failing however seeing as you are just eight years old and not fully aware of your surroundings. Once you reached the living room, you jumped. Looking around you saw Ellie looking at you. She also jumped, not expecting your reaction. Seeing her jump causes you to giggle, and while she is weary of you, she does find it a little cute.

“What are you doing? Didn’t the old man tell you to stay back there?”

She honestly didn’t fully care what you were doing but she was still at least a little curious.

You stared at her while your child brain worked to try and think of something, “Nothing?”

Before she could say anything else, you ran over to her. You came up to about her waist, a little lower. You’ve heard Joel and Tess talk about how you’re small for your age. They summed it up to being that you weren’t getting the right nutrients and needed to eat a little more vegetables and meat.

“Why did Daddy say that you’re cargo?”

“‘Cause he’s taking me somewhere,” She sounded grumpy and slightly irritated.

“Who are you?” Ellie was quick to ask you a question of her own.

Telling her your name, you looked down at what she was holding

In her hands were dog tags. You looked back up towards her with a perplexed gaze set in your eyes. She looked down at her hands, having completely forgotten that she was holding them.

“Oh, those are mine.”

“Are you a Firefly?”

Your question caught her really off guard. She had no idea that someone who seems as young as you would know anything about the Firefly’s.

“Uh, no, but someone that I loved was.”

You know by the tone in her voice and the look in her eyes that it was time to shut up. You walked over to your father and sat down on the ground. She watched you before returning to whatever she had been doing. You zoned her out as you found some of the crayons that you had left on the coffee table. Joel had found that he could melt down some of the broken crayons and make new ones.

You made multiple drawings, knowing that all of them would end up on something in the apartment. You looked up once you zoned back into reality. It was dark out and Joel was still asleep. Giggling quietly to yourself, you climbed onto the couch and hopped onto his chest. He jumped awake. Both from you and the nightmare that he had.

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

Ellie was looking at something in your hands. Your dad picked you up and sat you down on the couch. As he sat up, he started to say but you found the fraying threads of the couch much more interesting. Although it became much less intriguing once you heard a certain someone’s voice. Tess walked in through the door, saying something to Joel and Ellie. You looked up at her, quickly getting up to go to her.

“Mama!” You somewhat calmly walked over to her, unlike how you did earlier to Joel.

She greeted you and then looked at Joel.

“Can I talk to you in the other room?”

He looked hesitant towards you before nodding, going to his room. Ellie looked at you curiously, as well as you. Once the door closed, you both turned your gazes to each other.

“So, was that your mom?”

“Not really, I just call her Mama. Daddy told me that my real mama was in a better place and that I would never be able to see her again, but that she loved me. What about you?”

“Yeah, same I guess.”

You smile brightly at the older girl. Right once you opened your mouth, beginning to say something, Tess and Joel walked back in. Joel is quick to pick you up and get you away from Ellie. As you got comfy in his large arms, resting your head against his warm chest, your eyes dropped shut.

The next time that you open your eyes, you’re strapped to your fathers chest. As you start to wake up, you realize that you're not in your home anymore. Were you outside? There weren’t any normal buildings around. Your question was soon answered when you heard guards talking. You were immediately thrown into a frenzy when someone started yelling at your group.

The next thing you know, your father is taking you out of the holder and setting you down directly next to him. Tears were streaming down your face as you frantically grasp onto his pants leg. Everyone’s kneeling and the guard is saying something. Everything happens so fast, your dad is suddenly beating the guard, Tess is grabbing the tester, and Ellie moves in front of you.

You're still crying as all the commotion settles down. You look up at Ellie, who is now sitting next to you with a panicked look on her now dirtier face. She was also looking up. As you reach out for her, wanting to be held to help calm you down, Tess is quick to step in.

“Get away from her.”

You look alarmed, confused why you couldn’t be near her. As you try to understand what's going on, Joel quickly scoops you up, getting away from Ellie just as fast. Tess has something in her hand that you can’t see very well. Tears are still falling from your now red and puffy eyes as your dad curses in frustration.

“Why are you so mad at her, Daddy?” Your small hands grasped onto his shirt, tugging slightly.

Everyone stopped at the sound of your small voice, realization that you were with them sinking into Joel and Tess’ minds. The reality of this situation was making itself loud and clear. Your question goes unanswered as the talking continues on. You were scared, you didn’t know what was going on and everything was terrifying. You just wanted to be at home, safe and sound, being held tightly under a blanket in your fathers arms.

Your breathing starts to quicken as it feels like you're losing control over your own body. Fresh tears sprout from your eyes and your heart is pounding in your ears. Were you dying? You didn’t want to die like this, not now. It felt like you couldn’t breathe. You weakly clutch at your chest as your throat closes up, small whimpers leaving the confines of your overworked lungs. Your tiny body was trembling, beginning to feel very hot in your own skin. Sweat collected on your forehead. Joel noticed very quickly what was happening.

“Hey, baby girl, breathe. You're okay. Look at me baby,” His hand guided your face to look towards him.

He talked you through it, although a lot of it sounded like you were underwater. Once you finally were back, panic attack taken care of to the best of their abilities, you noticed that it seemed like the problem from earlier was completely taken care of. You couldn’t tell when it was taken care of but it was.

Joel seemed to be in a bitterer mood than he was earlier. You stayed quiet, opting to just look around at everything since you had nothing else to do except sit there attached to your fathers chest. As you continued to walk, going somewhere but you didn’t know where, you finally arrived at a new area. It seemed to be a very rocky place. You couldn’t tell if it was a building or not, but it looked similar to one.

You father was the first to go in, holding you tight against his chest despite the fact that you were already tightly strapped to his chest. He looked around a little, making sure that the coast was clear, before telling Tess and Ellie to come in. They soon follow in after him, Tess’ immediate move is to look at you then around the place. As the four of you make your way through the building, the air seems to get tenser, as if something bad was about to happen. That feeling was proven right when Joel and you split up from Tess and Ellie. Your head was covered by the strap, Joel having done that the moment he sensed danger. You could barely move around, all you could do was listen to what was going on around you. You heard growling and your dad grunting every so often. At one point, you get jostled around a little more than normal, a muffled cry coming from your mouth. Joel is quick to put his hand on your back before taking his hand away. You hear a struggle going on before your father and Tess’ voices once again.

As your father uncovers your head, you can finally see once more. There's bodies of the infected all around, and your father is breathing heavily. You don’t get to look around much more before Joel is quickly walking again, trying to get this whole thing done and over with as fast as possible. You’re confused as to what was happening, and it seemed that Ellie seemed to be as well. The two adults however ignored your confused and concerned faces as the supposedly short journey continued on.

******

The trip was much more boring than you had expected. You were finally arriving at the building where Ellie was supposed to be dropped off at, but it seemed to be a little quiet. Joel went into protect mode almost immediately once he realized that something wasn’t right.

As he cautiously looked around, he found that everyone that should've been there was dead. He covered your eyes so that you wouldn’t have to see all of it, trying to keep you safe from the horrors of this world as much as he could. As everyone is looking around, Tess starts talking about where to go next.

“What the hell do you mean? The jobs finished, it’s time to go home,” Joel's ruff voice cuts Tess off mid sentence.

“I mean that I can’t go home,” Tess’ usually strong voice wavers as her eyes land on you.

Ellie gasps, understanding what the older woman meant. Tess pulled the neck of her shirt down to reveal a horrible looking bite. Joel didn’t know how to react, he didn’t want to believe that Tess was bitten. You didn’t understand what was going on, so you tried tugging on your fathers shirt in order to get his attention. He didn’t even look at you, just put his hand on your back.

“You have to get her to Tommy,” Tess goes over to Ellie and grips her arm, showing Joel the bite mark that Ellie had shown them earlier, “She has to be telling the truth. Look at this, this is only a few hours old and it’s already horrible,” She pulls down her own shirt collar once again while talking to further prove her point. Before Joel could respond, groaning and screeching could be heard outside. Tess rushed over to one of the boarded up windows, looking out of it to see outside.

“Get out of here, there's a hoard of those fuckers coming here,” Tess began rustling through her bag, looking for specific items.

She pulled a small object out of a little, purple bag that seemed to still be in good condition. Joel’s breath hitched the moment he realized what the bag was. Tess walked over to you, the small object and bag in her hands.

“Sweetheart, I may not be your real mother but I love you like you're my blood daughter. I’m going to have to go away for a very long time and I want you to have these,” She put the small object in your hand, “Look after your father for me, you’re His Light in the Darkness.”

As you looked at it, you saw that it was a locket. You opened it with confusion, having a little difficulty. Inside the locket were two pictures. One was a picture of your mother, father and Tess all together. Your mother was holding the camera, her arm outstretched as she smiled brightly at the camera. Joel was hugging her, a wide smile outstretched on his face as he looked at her, ignoring the camera. Tess had her hand on her gun, seeming to be on alert, but she still had a warm smile on as she stared at the camera. The second picture was one of your father and mother. Joel had his arm around your mother as she had both of hers on his chest, seeming to be laughing at something. They were in a room that looked similar to the room that your father slept in now, but some of the furniture wasn’t as it was now.

“Daddy look! It’s Mommy!” Your excited voice came out a little too loud as the sounds of groaning and clicking came closer.

Everyone else's eyes went wide upon hearing what was waiting for them outside. Tess quickly began pouring gasoline all over everything in the room, trying to make sure that everything was covered.

“Joel go! Get them out of here, take the girl to Tommy. I’ll lure them in here, then take the building with me,” Her eyes were filled to the brim with tears as she looked at the little girl that she helped raise, knowing that she'd be leaving her.

“Mama? What's happening?”

She couldn't bring herself to tell you. She walked over and kissed the top of your head before handing Joel her backpack. She gave him a silent look before Joel grabbed Ellie to leave. You were crying now, not understanding what was happening and not wanting to leave Tess. Noises could be heard behind you as Joel quickly got out of the building despite Ellies struggles to get out of his grip.

All of a sudden, a loud boom came from behind the three of you. The building exploded. You continued to cry, the commotion overwhelming you. Joel did his best to consol you with what little energy that he had left. As you started to get brought back down to earth, your eyes became increasingly heavier by the second. Joel covered your head as you laid it on his chest, sleep beginning to take you after the exhausting day.

I really hope that you liked this! It took a lot of energy for me to actually make this because I've been really procrastinating. I'm currently also working on my other Tech x Reader series but I have no idea when that will be. I'm also working on chapter two for this one. I might also do some romantic one shots for Joel because I love him so much.

******

Tag list:

@fakegingerrights

@silnebula

@macchiato-dreaming22 (I hope it's ok that I tagged you, if it's not just tell me and I'll take you off)

#joel miller x daughter!reader #tlou joel #the last of us #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x platonic!reader #tess fluff #tlou tess #tlou tess angst #ellie fluff #ellie tlou #His light in the darkness

[haunted-xander]

The survivors of the Killing School Trip didn't all wake up immediately. Their minds had to reconnect to their bodies properly and accomodate for the new memories they gained during the program. They all woke up slowly, and each in their own degrees of distress.

The day after the program's shut-down, Sonia woke up. Her eyes were glazed over as Chiaki helped her out of the pod, barely comprehending the world around her. By the time she'd been carried out of the pod room and into the open world, Sonia had finally collected herself enough to speak,

"...Nanami-san... It is you... is it not? The real you... the one I attended classes with, the one who... did everything for us. Our class rep. That is you, correct? I... am so very sorry for everything. I- no, we have caused so much trouble for you, and yet you stay here and assist us, saved us. I do not have the words to express my gratitude in full. ...Thank you so very, very much." Sonia's voice cracked as she could no longer keep her tears from running down her face, feeling the despair and hope all at once.

Chiaki patted her back comfortingly as she let Sonia cry it out. "...It's alright. I'm just happy to see you back to being yourself again. I missed you all so much, I would do anything to bring you back. ...And I did. You're back. And the others will come back too, eventually. I'm sure of it." Chiaki felt tears welling up in her own eyes as well.

Happy tears, for the first time in a long, long while.

Two days after, Fuyuhiko woke up. Unlike Sonia, who woke up as composed as she could be, he woke up screaming. The moment he was out of the pod and had regained the ability to move, he clutched at his lost eye and rushed over to stand by Peko's pod. He immediately leaned over it and cried as he looked at her unconscious face. "Peko... I'm so sorry, I never should've let it go this far. I-I couldn't stop it and I... I almost gave up. You gave your life for me and I almost threw it away like it was some fucking broken toy. I'm sorry, Peko, I'm so, so sorry..."

They weren't able to move him for hours.

It took three more days for anyone else to wake up, but when the day came, Kazuichi and Akane woke up at the same time. Kazuichi broke out into loud cries the moment he was out of the pod, having a hard time dealing with the weight of his actions as a Remnant and the still fresh memories of the Killing School Trip.

Akane on the other hand, woke up completely silent. Chiaki had expected her to start yelling and run around aggressively upon waking up, but instead she calmly walked over to Nekomaru's pod and stared blankly at his sleeping face.

She didn't make so much as a sound until the next day's breakfast.

After five more days, Izuru -or Hajime, whichever it would be- still had yet to wake up.

As much as she hated to admit it, a part of Chiaki was beginning to loose hope. She started to spend more and more time hovering over his pod, each passing day making the helpless feeling in her chest grow stronger.

At this rate, she would start to despair.

"...Nanami-san, Monaca-san. I have brought you some food. As you both skipped breakfast, I believe it would be best for you to eat now. Komaeda-san and... Hinata-san would want to see you in proper health." Sonia, sweet, caring Sonia, had made it a habit of bringing them food whenever they skipped meals to sit in the pod room. Even if Chiaki was hardly in the right mindset to appreciate it fully, she was truly grateful for the kindness.

"...Thank you, Sonia-san. I'll make sure to eat it. ...Sorry for skipping so many meals."

"No no, it is quite alright. I understand what you are feeling. ...Part of me wishes to watch over Tanaka-san as well, but... he would not be happy to see me in such a state. I am sure he would wish for me to take care of myself while he is... absent. ...I believe that Kuzuryu-san and Owari-san are of a similar mindset. They wish for those dear to them to wake up and see them thrive, to see them overcome the grief over losing them." The princess' words were solid, steady. She had absolute confidence in her statements. Chiaki was a bit jealous of that confidence.

Not long after Sonia had left and Chiaki had finished eating did she heard the soft hiss of a pod opening.

Izuru -or Hajime, she still had no idea which it'd be- was finally awake.

She jumped up and immediately rushed to the pod's side, eagerly awaiting the moment the man opened his eyes and looked at her. The man seemed to take a moment to gather himself, as he grumbled and squirmed before finally opening his eyes and revealed a mismatch of red and golden-green.

His eyes immediately glanced over to Chiaki, and a relieved yet tired smile showed on his face. "Nanami, it's you... you're really here. I missed you so, so much." He barely got to sit up before Chiaki launched her upper body at him and hugged him tightly around the neck. "Hinata-kun, you're finally awake...! I've been waiting so, so long for you! I missed you so much, Hinata-kun! I-I was almost beginnign to lose hope of you ever waking up, but here you are...! You're... finally here..."

Her voice trailed off as her eyes welled with overjoyed tears, the heavy feeling in her chest dissipating immediately.

"W-woah, Nanami...! I didn't know you could squeeze that hard! I-I missed you a lot too!" After a while of flailing his arms about, he finally hugged her back and held her so tightly she almost felt like her bones would break.

She didn't mind one bit.

It took a good long while for the tears to stop, but they still held each other close. The newfound silence didn't last long, as Hajime quickly spoke up again, "...Man, I need a haircut. How the hell did I deal with all this hair for so long!? I know Izuru Kamukura doesn't have feelings or whatever, but surely even someone like that would get annoyed by all this damn hair dragging about!"

Chiaki couldn't help but giggle at his frustration, finding the hair the least troublesome change he went through. "It's alright. I'll help you cut it. I'm not a hairdresser though, so I can't promise it'll be perfect. ...Or maybe you can do it yourself? You should still have all those talents... probably. There's probably an Ultimate Hairdresser up there somewhere."

"Yeah, I think so... But I don't really like dealing with my hair myself, so I'd much rather you do it. I don't care if it's perfect, I just want it short again. Ugh, even as Kamukura I hated dealing with my hair myself, it was always you or Komaeda that brushed and washed it. Stupid hair. Brushing it is so-" Hajime suddenly went quiet, not wanting to say the last word.

'Izuru' isn't completely gone it seems. Although the old personality of 'Hajime' was more prominent, traits of 'Izuru's' personality shined through.

Such as the problem with boredom.

It didn't matter, thought. Chiaki loved both 'Izuru' and 'Hajime' all the same, so it made her happy to know that 'Izuru' still lives on as a part of Hajime now.

#hajime finally has an actual proper appearance with actual dialouge! yay!!! #chiaki nanami #izuru kamukura #<kinda? #hajime hinata #komahinanami #<should start tagging that now lol #even if nagito isnt even in this one #hinanami #sonia nevermind #<absolutely love her btw #shes the only one of the other survivors who gets a tag bc shes the only one w actual dialouge #sonia doing queen shit as usual #remnant searcher chiaki au #danganronpa #super danganronpa 2 #sdr2 #danganronpa 3 #dr3 #art #my art #xanders art #xanders haunting art #digital art #fan art #fic #fanfic #fanfiction

[captain-mj]

I was thinking this like Roach is dead and Ghost haven't really moved on from him, BUT he has Soap now, and Ghost has a ''conversation'' with Roach about that. Roach is like ''he's there and I'm not, you need to move on and he's (soap) is everything you ever wanted and needed, please give him a change, he will make you happier than ever''

This might have been done many times but I'd like to see your twist on it.

ps. your content here/on ao3/tiktok is amazing

So I got this ask right before making the tiktok I made today but didn't see it until just now and I feel like the stars really aligned for this one

Incredibly short because I'm super emotional and started crying like a dweeb

Ghost never let go of Roach's dogtags. They sat, for the most part, in one of his drawers, wrapped in a piece of cloth from his uniform. He never touched them if he could help it.

When he and Soap had become official, Ghost still felt a flicker in his chest at the thought, he had told Soap about them. He had quickly reassured him that he had moved on. Ghost had made sure of it, going to therapy, putting in effort, before he ever considered actually making Soap his. The one thing he never wanted Soap to do is feel like he had to compete with him.

Soap had only smiled at him and said he understood. He didn't need Simon to stop caring for Roach. Stop... loving Roach. He just... understood. Like he always did.

So Ghost had continued to hold on to them. Their relationship progressed slowly for a couple of reasons. Ghost's issues around sex and intimacy, Soap's focus on his career, the missions that kept them apart. But Soap's dogtags had a skull on them and Ghost's had a Scottish flag pendant. Official as two men like them could be.

Ghost, for the first time in months, unwrapped Roach's dogtags to inspect them. They glittered still. Couldn't really get dirty where they were.

"Hey, Roach."

Unknown to him, Roach sat next to him. He didn't stay there often, mostly enjoying the peace of the afterlife. It was boring, but he treated it like retirement. Eventually, his friends would die and he knew it wouldn't be so boring.

"Hey Simon." Speaking was new to him. Hadn't been able to do it when he was 14 and an accident crushed his vocal chords. But being dead meant you didn't have those same injuries. Didn't have a body to have them.

"I haven't talked to you in a while. Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it." Roach answered, leaning into him. Simon shivered, like he could feel him there.

"I don't... love you anymore. I feel guilty for it. We were friends for so long. I still love you that way. But I... I'm not in love with you anymore." Simon took his mask off. "You mean a lot to me, old friend. But you're not mine anymore. And I'm not yours."

Roach smiled. "I know. And God, I'm happy for you. I wish we had more time, but since we didn't, I'm glad Soap is the one there for you. You two fit so well." He rested his hand on Simon's, noticing briefly that their hands no longer fit together as well as they used to. Ghost stared at them before moving his hand, their fingers intertwining.

"I feel you sometimes." Ghost responded to the air and Roach had no way of knowing if he knew he was there or if it was just grief.

"Oh, Simon. Please, keep giving Soap a chance. Be happy for me. The two of you should live enough life for all three of us and I'll see you again."

Simon let out small sound. Not quite a sob. It hurt Roach's chest.

"It's alright to let me go. I want you to finally let me go. Get rid of the tags."

Simon held them tight, until they made indents in his palm. "I know... I know..."

Roach kissed his cheek. "He loves you. A lot. Just as much as me." More than me. Soap was alive and he looked at Ghost like he hung the stars and Ghost looked at him like he hung the moon and Roach loved them both the more for it.

Simon gave the tags to Price. He didn't want them in the trash. Price offered to let him know what he did with them, but Simon refused.

Soap noticed they were gone from the drawer. Some of the clothes he kept in Ghost's room had been moved over. Not quite displacing where it would be, more just taking up more of the space in the drawer. He didn't feel relieved they were gone, but he was happy Simon could finally let them go.

#cod #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare ii #soap call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #simon rile #gary roach sanderson #roach x ghost #ghost x roach

[nightfurylover31]

Since the first part of @starrjoy's Pandora AU is reaching its climax, I decided to write something in between. With all that Sonic has lost he did end up gaining something very important. I hope this doesn't end up contradicting anything in the story, and that you all enjoy.

It had been some time since… that day. The guilt and grief still weighed heavily on Sonic like a thousand tons. His home, his people, his family… all gone. He was completely alone. And it was his fault. He finally got to see the world, but it cost him everything. 

While traveling, Sonic eventually came across Dr. Robotnik, the scientist his mother told him about. The one whom had been threatening the other islands. Trapping animals in his machines, and using his robots to destroy the forests. It was all so wrong. Sonic made it his mission to stop this Robotnik. After what he had done, he felt he owed to it to everyone that was lost on Christmas Island, especially his family. Even a year after his first encounter with Robotnik, the pain in Sonic’s heart had not lessened. He tried masking it with humor and taunts, just laughing at most things to hide how he truly felt. But he felt incomplete, like nothing could ever fill the void he left upon himself. 

He was resting under a tree on Westside Island. Sonic wrapped his arms around his crouched legs, hiding the tears that he could feel forming. He wanted to stop the hurt, but at the same time, he wanted to suffer for what he had done. If he had listened to his brother and sister, if he had just stopped and thought things through, none of this would have happened. Dora’s words still rung in his head. How he was supposedly some sort of destined hero. He was nothing more than a selfish idiot. 

“What difference does it make?” Sonic finally spoke. He was alone, no one could hear him anyway. “Even if I do stop this Ro-butt-nik, it’s not going to bring everyone back. It’s not going to make things right. I wish I could—“ 

Sonic’s train of thought was lost when he heard voices. Something like laughter. He got up and peered out from behind the bushes. He saw three foxes, one smaller than the other two, and clearly being picked on. 

“Stop it! Please!” the young one cried as one of the older kids pulled on his tail. 

“Aw, is the little freak gonna cry?” 

Sonic clenched his fists in frustration. How could anyone be that mean? He wanted to intervene, but… 

No, he thought to himself. I’ll just make it worse. Like I do with everything else. I just bring bad things to others. He was about to turn around and walk away.

“Pull harder! Maybe it’ll come off!” 

“NO!” 

As if on instinct, Sonic ran right passed all three of them, knocking the two bigger kids over.

“What was that?!” 

“I don’t know!” 

Sonic zoomed back around, and glared at the duo. “It’s one thing to pick on someone, but two-on-one? And someone who’s younger than you?” He took a step forward. “If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s bullies.” 

The two were shaking in fear, and then turned tail and ran. Not as fast as Sonic, but enough to get out of there. The blue hedgehog turned around, checking on the yellow fox. “You okay?” He asked. 

“Y-yeah…” The young kit stared at him. Almost as if in amazement. “That was—“ But before he could continue, Sonic took off. 

I can’t stick around. I can’t get close to others. I’d be just a burden to them.

When Sonic thought he was a good distance away, he made it back to his plane. That’s how he had been managing to get from island to island. He couldn’t stand the thought of going by boat. Being near the water. Not after…

“Wait!” 

Sonic looked back and saw the fox from before. He was still a good few yards away, but he managed to find Sonic so fast. It almost looked like there was a propeller behind him.

How did he…? No one’s ever been able to keep up with me before! 

The kit ran up to Sonic, stopping only to catch his breath. He was gasping deeply, obviously not used to running so much. 

“How did you find…?” Sonic began to ask, but something caught his eye. He didn’t notice before from a distance. He began to inspect the fox and the surprising sight. “You… have two tails?” 

The kid turned to his appendages, and nodded. “Yeah. That’s why those guys were picking on me.” 

Sonic did a quick scan of the extra. “That’s… pretty cool! I’ve never seen anything like that!” Heck, Sonic was always fascinated by things that were different, but this took the cake. A fox with two tails! Way past cool!

“Really?” the young kit blushed. He clearly wasn’t used to compliments. “W-well it’s not as cool as you are. I’ve never seen anything move so fast. You were amazing!” 

Sonic couldn’t help but chuckle. He smirked and brushed his nose. “It was nothing. I wasn’t even going that fast.” 

“You mean you can run even faster than that? Really?!” The kid’s eyes seemed to grow twice their size. 

“Oh, easily!” Sonic bragged. It was nice to be be able to show off a bit. But the ache in his heart suddenly started again. He shouldn’t stay.

“It’s been nice talking, and I’m glad I could help, but I have to get going. Just gotta fix my plane. You know where I can find a repair shop or something?” That was pretty much the reason Sonic stopped on the island in the first place. Something was up with the engine, maybe? He knew nothing about machines. 

“Let me take a look.” 

Sonic looked a bit confused by the fox’s words. He pulled out the toolbox Sonic kept under the seat, opened the panel, and started working. 

“You can fix it?” 

“Maybe. I’m pretty good with tools. I do stuff like this all the time.” 

This kid was full of surprises. Sonic watched as he worked. He even seemed to be enjoying it. He went from the controls to the propellers, and then the engine. Giving the plane a full inspection. Sonic had never seen anyone who loved to fix machines since— 

WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS STICKING YOUR NOSE INTO MY BUSINESS?!

Sonic felt his heart drop. That was the last thing he said to Manic. He never should have yelled. It was one of the things he regretted most. And now he’ll never be able to apologize. He’d never see his family again... 

“Are you okay?” The voice suddenly brought Sonic back to his senses. Good thing too, he could feel his eyes starting to burn. 

“Yeah, just lost in thought. You done already?” 

“Yep. It’s pretty well maintained, but it’s important you pay attention to the equipment.” 

“Man, two tails and a mechanic? Your folks must have their hands full with you,” Sonic joked. 

However, that just seemed to make the fox’s ears droop. His tails became limp. “I…I don’t have any.” 

Sonic’s eyes widened. “No parents? What about siblings? Friends? Anyone?” All were met with sad head shakes. 

“Everyone in my village thinks my two tails are weird. I’m kind of on my own.” 

With that, a new pain began to form in Sonic. This kid… was just like him. Different, and all alone in the world. Not only that, he was a lot younger. The hedgehog decided it would be better to be by himself, but he couldn’t leave this poor kid. But still…

After some thought, Sonic scratched the back of his head, and took a few steps closer. “What’s your name, kid?” 

“Oh, uh I’m Miles Prower. But everyone calls me ‘Tails’.” 

Sonic leaned to the side a bit to adjust his gaze. “Because of the extra tail?” 

“Hehe, yeah.” 

“Well Tails, I’m Sonic. Sonic the Hedgehog. And if you can keep up, would you interested in going on an adventure?” 

Tails stared in shock. “You mean it?!” 

“As long as you don’t slow me down. Maybe help keep the plane in tiptop shape.” 

“Yes! YES!” With that, his tails started spinning and spinning and… suddenly Tails was off the ground. 

“Hold up! You can fly with those?!” 

Tails turned around and slowly descended. “Uh, yeah. A little bit.” 

Sonic smiled and held out his hand. “Tails, I have a feeling you and I are going to get along just fine.” Tails beamed and happily shook Sonic’s hand. 

————————

The night sky couldn’t be more clear. Not a cloud in sight, far from any town, and the stars illuminated the area with only a sliver of moonlight. A perfect night for stargazing. 

Sonic was relaxing, looking up and trying to find as many constellations as he could. He heard footsteps, but didn’t bother diverting his attention as Tails sat down beside him. 

“See any shooting stars yet?” his little brother asked. 

“Not yet, but the night’s still young.” 

After so many crazy adventures lately, it was nice to kick back and take it easy. They sat for awhile, taking in the crickets and other night noises. 

“Sonic, you remember the day we met?” 

“That was years ago. What brought that up suddenly?” 

“I don’t know. Just feeling nostalgic, I guess.” 

At this point, Sonic pushed himself back on his hands for support and let out a light chuckle. “As if I could ever forget the best day of my life.” 

"That's my line," Tails snickered a bit, and then continued. “You really saved me that day.” 

“Those bullies were giving you a hard time, but ‘saved you’ seems like bit—“ 

“No, I mean how took me in. Everyone thought I was just some freak. You were the first person to believe in me. You inspired me to be a hero. To believe in myself. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. Thank you, Sonic.” 

“Careful, you’re going to make one of us start crying.” Sonic teased while flicking his pal’s nose. Tails started laughing at the jester, while Sonic just stared fondly. 

You’re wrong there, buddy. You save me that day. That was the first time I felt genuinely happy in so long. That I could do something right. Thank you, Tails. For being my friend. For being my brother.

#sonic and tails #wholesome sonic and tails wednesday #pandora au #p!au #fanfic #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower

[gnrbitch]

Grunge Days Epilogue - Moonlight Mile

-----

2003, Slashs POV

1999, the year Y/n left me left me, the promise i had made her back in ‘92 was broken. And as much as she tried, I know that everything i was doing crushed her. It wasn’t much of a surprise when she told me it was over. And as much as it hurt, I had no choice but to let her go.

After Layne passed, Y/n had became the worst version of herself. No one could find her, and if they could, you couldn’t get anything across to her.

I’ll always remember the last time I spoke to her.

~

“Y/n baby- just open the door” Slash said, his head pressed against her door. “Please” Y/n sniffled “I can’t”

“Yes you can” Slash said, his own voice breaking at the sound of Y/ns weak voice “It’s okay- It’s just me”.

“Just leave Slash” Y/n said, her voice becoming harsher, she started yelling, “Get out of here” over and over again.

Slash flinched and shut his eyes when he started to hear things breaking through the door. He sighed, a tear threatening to leave his eye “Just- just calm down okay? I’ll leave”.

Sniffling, he said his goodbyes “I’ll leave Y/n okay? I love you- just call me when you can sweetheart. I love you.”

After some silence, he spoke his last words “Bye Y/n”

~

Duffs wife, Susan, was rubbing his back as I held him. In fear that he would fall onto his knees. Looking up to the sky, I didn’t know if it was me or him who was about to collapse. The pain was enough to take us both out.

My heart hurt as I stared at the box in front of me, the priest reading a bunch of prayers that I didn’t pay attention to. My heart knew that no matter what Y/n had done in her lifetime, she would be an angel.

All I heard was crying, I told my condolences to everyone. Jerry and Sean were a mess, everyone there was. Even I was, I was never much of a crier, but even through my sunglasses you could see all of the tears leaving my eyes.

The whole time i was here i felt judged, as though besides everyone’s grief, they looked at me as the man who never could love Y/n enough.

They were right, partially, I know I fucked up, but the love I felt for her was always real. The love i felt for Y/n was enough to almost make me stop breathing.

And to see this, all of the air in my lungs had slowly been leaving me.

I’ll never forget her smile, or her voice. The time we were together, happy in our own little world, and how all the times she would tell me how much she loved me was enough to make my knees buckle.

My eyes scanned everyone around me, until they landed on the dirt that was covering Y/n.

*

2005

Slash took a trip down to Seattle to go and visit Y/ns grave. He couldn’t live one more month without saying what he needed to

“I’m sorry Y/n” His voice cracked at the sight of her headstone, he had never saw it. The last time he was here was during her funeral.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t love you like I should’ve, I really wanted to” He cried, wiping his tears away, “I really did love you Y/n, I still do. I’ll never stop loving you. I’m so sorry” He said, his lips pressing together as his hand softly touched her headstone. “I really failed you, I’m sorry i wasn’t man enough to show you how much I loved you- I wish- I wish you were still here Y/n. Life hasn’t been the same since you’ve been gone” He sniffled, looking up to the sky.

Slash wasn’t the type of man to regret anything he’s done during his lifetime. But Y/n, Y/n was something that he regretted so much it made him relapse for the past two years. He never let himself feel what he was supposed to, now having kids he needed to find a way to be able to still function as a human being.

“I can’t stop saying i’m sorry- i don’t think i ever will” He sighed “I think of you everyday Y/n, you’ll always be the girl who has my heart- ever since back in ‘86- you’ll always be my girl.”

“I love you Y/n, and I will forever”

——

Im sorry

thank you guys so much for sticking with me, it means so much!!! sorry it took forfuckenever. I hope you guys enjoyed this series!!!!

All my love, gnrbitch💝

tagged: @killazilla777 @kirksfunkopop @queenboona-blog @eris-elysium @hoodiesandicedcoffee @eddiiiieeee

#slash #axl rose #guns n' roses #duff mckagan #guns n roses fanfic #izzy stradlin #slash gnr #slashfanfic #guns n roses imagine #slash fanfiction #gnr fic #gnr x reader #gnr fanfiction #guns n' roses fic #saul hudson #izzystradlinfic #slash x reader #slash imagine #slash guns n roses

[jankwritten]

JASICO WEEK DAY 3: Angst/Comfort

CW: major character death, grief

Nico runs his brush over the lettering on the face of the headstone, delicate despite the dirt worked into the cracks. He should be harder with it, he knows -  it’s not like he’ll be able to break it. The headstone is too new for that, not worn down with age like the others in the cemetery. The dirt around the grave is so fresh, weeds haven’t even begun to grow over it, not that Nico would let them. He’s gotten good at weeding. Pruning flowers. Anything, to take care of this spot. 

Jason Grace, the headstone reads. Beneath that, his rank, and years of service. The date he died. 

Nico brushes his thumb over the curves which mark Jason as seventeen on his day of death. One of the eldest in the graveyard. 

Back when he first heard, when Nico first felt the impact of Jason’s death like a saw blade through his gut, Nico couldn’t come visit the grave at all. Every reminder of Jason being gone was too much, the weight of loss sitting in him in a way Nico hadn’t felt since he was ten years old. He didn’t know what to do with himself, with his grief, except to cry, and cry, and cry. 

He’s glad to be past that stage. His heart still aches, every day is still hard, but Nico can breathe through it, now. He can clean the gravestone, and talk to Jason even if Jason doesn’t talk back. He can make sure this site is as respected as the man it honors. 

Nico adjusts the flowers Hazel brought last night, a bouquet of blue and purple and white. Jason would think they’re pretty. The smell would make him sneeze. 

His favorite color was yellow, though. Nobody ever brings Jason yellow flowers. Always blue, like his eyes, like the sky, like his father. 

Daffodils. Nico will have to bring him some daffodils tomorrow. And irises, and carnations. Maybe Persephone will help him put together a bouquet. She always had a soft spot for Jason, not that she’d ever admit to liking one of Nico’s friends. Whenever Nico would talk about Jason with her, she would listen with this look on her face, like Nico was saying the most interesting things. It felt good to know someone appreciated Jason in the same way Nico did. 

Maybe not the same way. But as close as someone else could get. 

“It’s been a good day today,” Nico says. He runs the brush over the crown of the stone again, gentle as before. “Things have been slow. Father hasn’t given me as many jobs this week, and there’s finally been a lull in attacks near the borders. Hazel and Frank are introducing a new bill to the senate tomorrow, which…well, I’ll tell you how it goes, then. I don’t want to jinx it for them.” 

A breeze blows through the valley. Nico leans back, tilts his chin up into it. 

He closes his eyes. He can almost imagine the wind in his hair is Jason’s hand, ruffling in a way nobody else has ever been brave enough. Easily affectionate, despite all the ways Nico threatened him, kept him at a distance. Jason was just like that, always eager to be there, to hold, to comfort. 

Gods, Nico wishes he could’ve accepted one more hug. Had one more conversation. 

It’s starting to rain. The temperature drops and the sky darkens and Nico can smell it, the dampness in the air. The first drops splatter across his cheeks and his nose, his lips. He doesn’t flinch. He’s used to sitting out in storms, now. 

“I love you,” he tells the sky. 

In return, the rain pelts harder, quickly turning from a drizzle to an outright downpour, soaking Nico’s hair to the root in seconds. His clothes stick to his skin. 

He still doesn’t move. 

“Don’t cry with me.” It’s silly, to act like the rain is Jason’s doing. Still. It helps Nico cope. Sometimes, if he imagines hard enough, he can still see memories of Jason’s grin, that scar on his lip, the tilt of his nose while the skies opened up around them, a display of power, a force of nature.

Nico never saw Jason cry. He supposes Jason never saw him cry, either. Just another thing they’ll never get to share. Another thing they missed. “You’re going to drown your flowers, at this rate.” 

The deluge does not die down. 

It’s enough to almost make him laugh, the sudden mental image of Jason scowling down at the flowers he doesn’t really like at all, the ones that make him sneeze and itch. Jason Grace, mighty son of Jupiter, champion of Hera, using all of his power to destroy a few flowers that have wronged him. 

Nico didn’t get to know that side of Jason very long, the side of him that was a young boy, the side of him who was a person. But gods, of everything they did get together, that is what he’s happiest to have had. The truth. Not the son of Jupiter, not the champion, not the praetor. Just the boy. 

Nico smiles, even as he cries, leaning back in a graveyard during a near-biblical rain storm. Nico smiles. 

Every day, it gets a little easier to. Every day, he hopes Jason is smiling back, from wherever he is. 

#jasicoweek2023 #day3 #tw major character death #tw grief #tw this shit sad #jason grace #nico di angelo #jasico #i'd say sorry for this but I'm not #It's supposed to be comforting but I don't know if that part comes across LMFAO #i was going to have this end with Nico going home and Jason is actually still alive and the grave is just there as a reminder #but then i decided that was cheap and a cop out and sometimes you just have to write something that's sad #i'm guilty of always trying to Fix Things in my fics and make them Better #instead of letting the characters learn to deal with their situation #so here is my first foray into 'this situation fucking sucks but i'm making the best of it because it's what he would have wanted'

[melishade]

Number 28?

This ask game

When Optimus had decided that the Survey Corps were his new family. (Because I have him call them his new family in chapter 13. I just thought that I would add a pivotal moment. Say...in chapter 8 after Eren starts crying his heart out and Optimus comforts him.

"Optimus...why is the world so cruel?" Eren asked.

Optimus wished that he could give Eren a proper answer. One that would give him comfort and reassurance, but he just didn't have it. He's experienced a slew of cruel moments in his lifetime, and he's never had the proper answer as to why that happened in the first place. And the only thing he could do was answer Eren honestly. "I do not know."

Optimus continued to hear Eren crying, muttering to himself about why everything happened the way that it did, and it broke his spark. The Prime had activated his holoform and placed a gentle hand on Eren's back. He rubbed it up and down to try and soothe him, but it didn't seem to be helping. Optimus found himself doing something he never thought he would never do in a long time. He pulled Eren into a gentle hug and placed his other hand on Eren's back. He felt Eren cling to the fabric of the holoform, and he let him. He let this child cry his heart out and grieve over his lost comrades.

...By the Allspark, today was filled with nothing but grief and tears and he hated it. Even with his help, even with his ability to reduce casualties, even when he was able to help capture Annie Leonhart, it still wasn't enough. Levi's squad was now dead, and he had to help prepare the bodies with Hanji, who was devastated at the loss. Levi had grieved silently. He had cried earlier in his alt mode before shutting himself off completely when the two had returned to base.

Part of him thought...maybe he could have been past this. He genuinely hoped he would. The war had taken a toll and the losses were so great. Part of him thought that things would be easier, but this strange world was getting more and more complicated by the second. And the people he now fought beside needed him now more than ever.

Optimus noticed the way that Eren's breathing slowed and looked down to see the boy had cried himself to sleep. Optimus let the boy go before carrying him on his back and out of his alt mode. He was met with nothing with crying faces today. Nothing but tears, and he hated it. He knew it was wishful thinking, but he never wanted to see those faces like that again, so full of anguish and heartbreak.

Optimus opened the door to Eren's room in the basement before walking inside. He shut the door behind him before setting Eren down on his bed. He stared at Eren's tear stained face and sighed. He knew there was no way for him to return home now. The Walls were his home now. His ties were to the Survey Corps. They were his comrades. They were his family, and he would do everything in his power to protect them all, even if it meant sacrificing his own life to ensure they get a life of freedom.

Optimus sat down on the floor next to the foot of the bed and crossed his legs. He waited and waited, guarding Eren until he needed to deactivate the holoform.

(A simple one. Everything else is free game.)

#attack on prime #transformers prime #attack on titan #snk #aot #asks #tfp #send me asks #shingeki no kyojin #ao3 #tfp optimus #optimus prime #eren jaeger #eren jeager #survey corps #levi ackerman #maccadam #macadam #dialogue prompt #dialogue #dialogue prompts #tfp optimus prime #optimus

[nevis-the-skeleton]

Tea : What if the real reason why Starscream acts the way he does is because he had a glitch in his systems that only allowed him to feel negative emotions and never positive ones. Ratchet found this out and removed the glitch which turned Starscream back to normal. Not normal for the Autobots but you get what I mean.

He had this glitch when he was a child.

After the glitch was removed everything about him changed. He had more blue on him was was a lot more quite and cheerful. His optics ware also a soft blue. His voice changed in to a mellow and soft comforting one.

He feels remorse for Arcee for killing her partner. (request on Ao3)

Ooh, I feel like it's gonna be sad again (TvT)…

~~~

He had never managed to feel what others felt around him, there were many emotions he felt, deep in his Spark, yes. But some of them were totally unknown to him. It wasn't that he didn't understand them, on the contrary, he did. He just couldn't feel them.

When the others laughed around him, he laughed with them, because it was easier that way. But when they laughed, he didn't feel that intense joy that leads to laughter. All he felt was jealousy, grief, and above all a lot of anger.

Anger, it was always omnipresent around him, invasive even. No matter what he did, he was always angry… The second emotion was fear… he was always afraid… His first fear being that people would find out how abnormal he was… Jealousy was the third emotion. In fact, he didn't understand why he couldn't feel like the others, why he had to fight against his emotions, when everyone seemed in harmony with them. He came to envy Shockwave, who had nothing to suffer…

And the last one was sorrow… Every night he couldn't stop crying, after spending the day holding back his tears… He was just sick of it…sick of being him… he couldn't stop himself, prevent him from hating himself, when nothing was able to bring him an ounce of joy... He came to the wish of death, but fear always prevented him from welcoming it properly...

But now, even though he was still trying to push it away, it was finally going to be able to come. He had no chance of getting away with it this time, it would truly be a miracle. To think that he was going to die after trying to run away… He didn't think Megatron had damaged him so badly, so badly that it wouldn't let him fly away. But, he also told himself that he was very unlucky to have survived his fall… He also blamed himself for having been stupid enough to leave…

With the Decepticons, he never had to worry about his problem… He never had any reason to be happy with them… And frankly, that suited him… at least he knew why he was always so bad… He didn't need to wonder anymore… no one was happy, like him… He knew where his suffering came from, and that allowed him to ignore the one who lacerated his Spark every day… that sometimes hurt so much it was hard to just get up...

Starscream looked at the sky that had abandoned him, when he couldn't even rejoice that he had finally found what he had spent his time looking for, never with the courage to get it... Death welcomed him with open arms, and his Spark still managed to refuse it, while his mind only wanted to join it.

The Seeker couldn't move, and he found no relief there... He apparently never will, even now... He had tried everything to achieve some form of what others called happiness, but each time it was a failure... He spent his time pretending to be happy and content, while his Spark was impossibly empty of such things...

The jet saw a green light forming in his peripheral vision and found enough strength to turn his head. He saw the form of Ratchet and Optimus come closer, and couldn't even get over it… Either way, something will happen that either his Spark or his mind doesn't want… First, they kill him, which terrifies him… And in the other case, they save him, which he don't wish… He doesn't say anything, not wanting his Spark to speak, because it was always him who was coming to speak the loudest...

The conscience eventually left him, the injuries finally getting the better of him, preventing him from knowing the Autobots' choice, even though his real wish was that he never wake up again.

~

Ratchet and Optimus did not return alone, much to the surprise of the others. Arcee started to get angry, arguing that Starscream was an enemy, but the doctor quickly cut her off, replying:

"Tell that to Optimus!"

He go to the medical bay, accompanied by the Prime, who had been the one who had insisted on bringing the Seeker. After the leader of the Autobots installed the jet, the ambulance began to do analyzes to visualize the extent of the damage, and also preferred to check Starscream's processor, as his helmet was quite damaged. He preferred to be sure that there would be no irreversible damage. The Seeker might be an enemy, but that didn't mean he was going to rush his job.

The rest of the team watched him at work with the children, and Miko cried out:

“What the hell is he doing here?!

- Optimus forgets again that we're at war, that's all… Arcee huffed.

- Arcee…! Bulkhead scolded softly.

- What?! It's true!

- If it's to complain, get the hell out of my medical bay!" Ratchet get angry.

The group quickly flees, unwilling to suffer the doctor's terrifying wrath. The ambulance continued his work grumbling, especially against Optimus and his idea of ​​bringing an enemy back to their base, even injured, when he noticed something strange in Starscream's processor. Ratchet frowned, then widened his optics in shock when he realized what it was!

"Primus! Optimus, come see!!" exclaimed the doctor.

The latter arrived quickly, with a slightly worried expression, and the ambulance pulled him towards him, before pointing to the screen, and continued:

“Look at that! I can't even understand how he can still be alive!"

Prime frowned, and turned to his friend, before asking:

"Is that what I think?

- Yes!

- What does he think?" asked a voice.

The pair turned to see Miko, and Ratchet was about to chase her away, but the Autobots leader instead welcomed her. She was quickly followed by the other two children, who were waiting to see if they could go.

"They're going to bother me! snapped the doctor.

- We didn't do anything ! Chill! replied the Japanese girl.

- What did you see that worries you so much?" Jack questioned.

The ambulance sighed a little, before showing some of his analysis on Starscream's processor, then asked:

“Do you see that?

- Yeah? What is it? Miko asked.

- It's a glitch.

- A glitch? repeated Raf.

- Yes, a malfunction in his processor.

- You think it's due to his helmet injury?

- Oh no, clearly not! Everything suggests that it has been there for much longer!

- A subsequent injury? Optimus asked.

- No.

- When then?! the young girl asked impatiently.

- Always.

- Always?! wondered the leader of the Autobots.

- You better understand why I'm surprised he's still alive now?!

- Is it so surprising? Jack said, not quite understanding how it could be so bad. I mean, do you never get viruses?"

Ratchet raised his optics, then replied:

“Although we are not machines as you imagined, we do have diseases sometimes, but that is not one. This, it's is very integrity that is disturbed, and that can only happen with an injury to the processor, or in his case, a "manufacturing" defect.

- That's a bit of a rush way of presenting things. said Optimus.

- It's so they understand.

- And, is it fixable? asked Raf.

- Yes it is.

- It's difficult, but it's doable. added the leader of the Autobots. It's especially that Ratchet is very good at what he does, it's not given to any doctor, this is also one of the reasons that may explain why this glitch was never fixed when it was only minimal.

- I want to clarify that it is not sure that I can fix it."

The doctor had felt compelled to clarify, not wanting to give false hope like he had done with Bumblebee for his voice box. The ambulance sighed softly, shaking his head, and finally Miko asked:

“But what is his “glitch” exactly?"

Ratchet hesitated to answer, but the insistent and curious gaze of the children finally made him give in.

“He has a glitch in the processing of emotions. He has a restricted level of feelings which are not always appropriate to the situation in front of him. His processor fails to connect to his Spark, which is unable to send him the correct emotions in a certain situation.

- And in short…? asked the Japanese girl.

- In short, he is unable to feel any positive emotion."

The young girl then had a pained and horrified expression, then mumbled:

"But it's awful...

- It's the least we can say… sighed the doctor. And that's not the only problem… There are also chronic pains. Those who suffer from glitches necessarily have them, and sometimes the pain is so violent that the robot prefers to kill themself. That's also why I wonder how Starscream can still be alive… Given the magnitude of his glitch, the pain in his Spark must be unbearable! Besides his lack of emotions such as love and joy, or even satisfaction, he has nothing that pushes him to continue living...

- Why? Is it so important?

- You have emotions just as much as we do. Would you see yourself living a life without being able to feel love with your family or friends? Without being able to be happy in the present moment? For him, even eating is not a pleasure in itself, surely for him it doesn't even have a taste."

The children had a saddened expression, then Raf remarked:

“However, he doesn't seem to be with so few emotions, quite the contrary even.

- It's pure mimicry. You can be sure that if he laughs, it's not especially because the situation amuses him, he's doing like the others, that's all. And the war turn everything upside down… It was not uncommon to see some laugh at a corpse, and you can be sure Starscream would have laughed with them.

- … Creepy… said Miko.

- Hm… I understand your point of view Ratchet. joined Jack. I don't see what's keeping him alive either.

- Nothing… answered Optimus. Nothing holds him back...

- But then, why?

- Well, it seems that despite his lack of life, he still has an irrational fear of death. It's fear that keeps him from dying...

- … It's sad…

- Yeah, but it doesn't matter since it's fixable! encouraged the Japanese girl.

- Maybe fixable! the doctor felt compelled to clarify.

- Yes! Whatever!"

Optimus gently waved the children out of the medical bay with him, to let the ambulance work quietly. What he was about to do was a difficult process, and he should not be disturbed.

Prime took the opportunity to explain the whole situation to the others, and they were quite skeptical… Of course they didn't question Ratchet's diagnosis, but they wondered if this operation was really going to change anything. Starscream would stay Starscream no matter what. Surely he suffered, yes, but that didn't change the fact that he was always a little fragger with them.

Arcee was the most suspicious… In her humble opinion they should have let him die. Ratchet was wasting time on this flawed enemy, why couldn't they let the Decepticons deal with it?!

“The Decepticons must ignore it just as much as we did, not so long ago. Optimus declared.

- I don't see why he wanted so much to hide that from them. sighed the motorbike.

- Because it could very well have been used against him, in one way or another.

- … True… But, I don't think it will help him if we fix him… How do you think he's going to feel? There is no way to give him a proper psychological follow-up, recovering new emotions will not be an easy task for him, and his chronic pain will remain for a long time."

Although Arcee didn't like Starscream, she was oddly the most invested in it. She didn't like him, it was true, but she still managed to understand the eternal cycle of pain that a single day must be for him. She had already seen a robot suffer from a glitch when she worked as a police officer. He was a criminal who seemed to be constantly searching for something, but seemed unable to find that one thing he couldn't even name.

As the others continued to discuss, under the watchful ears of the children, Ratchet did his best to mend the bag of knots that was the Seeker as best he could, both physically and mentally.

~

When the jet came to his senses, he didn't quite understand where he was... In fact, he was doing his best to fall unconscious again, fearing of having to continue to endure the torrent of emotions that would soon assail his Spark... But strangely, even after a long time of waiting, nothing happened.

The mist around the flyer finally parted little by little, and he faced two heads above, which was none other than Ratchet and Optimus! Starscream gasped in surprise and sat up quickly, before stepping back onto the medical table, his body tense. Again, the fear was not a total panic, which did not fail to disturb the Seeker. Primus, was he losing those emotions too?! He was withdrawing what he had thought before! He didn't want to be like Shockwave!

"It's alright Starscream, calm down." tried to calm the doctor.

The jet raised his wings in a threatening stance, when he saw the ambulance approaching a little too close, but his wariness finally dissipated when Ratchet showed no signs of hostility. The flyer felt his fear lessen little by little, giving way to a strange feeling that he couldn't even describe.

"How are you feeling, are you okay? Ratchet asked.

- What… What…?" Starscream stammered, but he instantly put his hand over his mouth when he heard his voice.

Was that him?! It was not his voice, it was not possible! There was a resemblance, yes, but usually it's much less sweet… It was even the first time he spoke without necessarily having a sore throat.

“I can understand that you're surprised, but don't worry, it's normal. said the doctor.

- Normal…?

- Yes, your glitch caused a lot of trouble, but now that I removed it, some things fixed themselves.

- A glitch…? What?

- You didn't know…?"

The ambulance frowned with a hint of concern and surprise, and repeated:

"You didn't know that?!"

Starscream just nodded, unable to say anything. He was so stunned by what he had just learned that he didn't know what to say… So, all this time, he had a glitch…! Was that why he was the way he was?! The Seeker felt that strange emotion inside him again, and that's when the doctor's words came back to him.

"You removed it…? finally asked the flyer.

- Hmm…? What? Ratchet replied in disbelief.

- The glitch… you…

- Oh! Yes! I removed it, Starscream! I'm not promising you that everything will be completely back to normal, but…”

The jet didn't listen to the rest of the speech, there was so much going on inside him that he couldn't process anything…! Ah! It hurt again! What was all he felt! He understood nothing! How was he supposed to react to all this?! Was he happy?! Sad?! Relieved?! Terrified?! Why couldn't he even interpret emotions that he usually understood?!

The ambulance was quick to notice Starscream's state of panic, and gently grabbed his shoulders, before saying:

“Hey! Look at me! Everything is fine, okay?!"

The Seeker complied, but he still didn't know what to do! What was the most appropriate reaction to this situation?! Was there at least one?! The jet wanted to push the doctor away, when he noticed that part of his hands, up to the wrists, had changed color! They were blue! Blue!

The flyer could not repress a scream of shock, when he was now convinced that his body had been changed! All this glitch stuff was bullscrap! They were trying to bamboozle him!

Ratchet remained calm, despite Starscream's panic, and forced him to lie down. The Seeker ventilated erratically, and didn't even know if struggling was the right thing to do! He had lost all his bearings, while his Spark was just doing anything!

“I know you're scared and don't understand, Starscream. said the doctor softly.

- Scared?! I can't even tell if I'm scared! panicked the jet.

- And it's normal, you have to get used to new emotions. Your glitch prevented you from having access to most of them, that's why you are in this state now. But I promise you you'll get used to it.

- How am I going to achieve such a thing?! It's impossible!

- Starscream, relax, try to focus on the positive.

- But how do you expect me to do that?! I don't even know how to do it!!"

It was then that Optimus approached the duo, and suddenly took Starscream in his arms, to the surprise of the latter, but also of Ratchet. The Seeker was totally frozen in place, not knowing how to react. Even if, usually he knew… Before, he knew… He had always hated physical contact, deep disgust was always the only thing he could feel… But this time, he didn't feel anything like that…

He wouldn't even be able to describe what he felt, or even define it, but he could at least say that it didn't hurt, and that it wasn't unpleasant... And since the antonym of "unpleasant" is "pleasant" he could only conclude that this was it: pleasant. Of course he still had concerns, especially his color change, but Ratchet seemed able to read minds, as he was quick to say:

“If you're wondering about your color change, know that it's normal.

- Really?"

Optimus slowly backed away from the Seeker, who was much calmer now. His wings were in a more relaxed position, and the jet even felt a slight prick in his back, though this was surely the first time his wings had gone into such a loose position.

"Yes. Your glitch was preventing your body from adopting an accurate color palette, so your processor made you mostly gray. But now that I've fixed the problem, your processor is fixing everything on its own. As for your optics-

- What?! What's wrong with my optics?!

- Nothing serious, don't worry." quickly reassured the doctor.

He passed Starscream a mirror to back up his point, and the Seeker couldn't hide his surprise when he saw that his optics were now sky blue. The jet frowned, and said:

“I don't see why my optics felt the need to change color!

- I told you, everything is not completely fixed, I must keep you under surveillance, because your processor and your Spark continue to be in conflict. And this change is a proof of conflict. But, again, I repeat myself, it's nothing serious, OK?

- O… OK…

- Good."

The other Autobots were quick to enter, and then Bumblebee asked:

"Can we come in?"

The children were also with them, and despite some reluctance at first, Ratchet invited them in to meet the real Starscream. They couldn't hide a certain surprise when they saw the Seeker's color change, but suspected that it must have something to do with the glitch.

Bulkhead moved a little closer, accompanied by Miko, and waved lightly at the jet. The flyer lowered his head, not knowing at all how to react… The custom would be for him to say hello, but there was so much going on inside him that he couldn't even think. The Japanese girl noticed Starscream's discomfort, and said:

"Hey, don't worry. No need to be so stressed."

Strangely, the young girl's somewhat awkward attempt to reassure him was pleasant to him, as he was now able to interpret it, and he smiled. The Seeker couldn't hide some surprise, but for once his surprise wasn't horrible like it had always been. But he quickly lost his smile when his gaze met Arcee's.

The motorbike didn't fail to notice, and the jet quickly looked away. He didn't really know why but he was ashamed to look at her… In fact, now that he felt all these new things in him, he understood a little better why the warrior could have been sad after the loss of Cliffjumper… Maybe that as for him with Optimus, it was nice for her to spend time with Cliffjumper…

Starscream felt the sadness welling up inside him again, and he did his best not to cry… He usually managed it all the time, but this was strangely more difficult, without his really understanding why… The Seeker ends up feeling tears running down his cheeks, under the rather surprised gaze of the others.

The jet quickly put his hands in front of his face, and curled up on himself with his wings lowered… Ratchet moved closer with concern, and placed a hand on his shoulder, before asking:

“Eh…? Do you hurt somewhere?

- I'm sorry…" sobbed the flyer.

Starscream continued to cry, repeating over and over again:

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…! I did not know…! Sorry… ! I'm sorry... I'm sorry...!"

The doctor had a slightly chagrined expression, then it was then that he saw Arcee approaching the Seeker, before taking him a little awkwardly in her arms. The jet gave a small gasp of surprise, but this calmed him from crying. The motorcycle sighed a little, before asking:

“What are you sorry about?

- For everything...! I'm sorry for everything…!" sobbed the flyer.

Bulkhead rubbed Starscream's back, and said:

“Come on, come on, no more crying now. You have the possibility of having other emotions, don't stay in sorrow."

Bumblebee added himself, as well as the children. The flyer lowered his wings, while too much was happening inside him... He felt a new emotion, which slowly dissipated his sadness. But this time, it really seemed to disappear, it wasn't holed up in his Spark like before, still waiting to get out. No, this time it was simply non-existent.

Starscream tried to interpret the strange emotions that caused the pain in his Spark to disappear, but never quite succeeded. Eventually he gave up, just letting these new emotions sink in, welcoming them with open arms.

#tfp #transformers prime #starscream #transformers #maccadam #autobots #jack darby #miko nakadai #raf esquivel #ratchet #bumblebee #optimus prime #bulkhead #arcee #fluff and angst #hurt/comfort #disease #what if #story requests #thanks for your ask Tea ^^

[onlymingyus]

Faded Whispers

pairing; vernon x reader (ft seungcheol) 

genre; angst

warnings; ghost!vernon, angst, depression, descriptions of an accident, descriptions of grief

w/c; 1.4k and some change 

13 days of mars’oween master list - day 8

a/n; i have once again made myself cry 

One year, four months, two weeks, three days, and fourteen hours. You could count the minutes too, probably even the seconds if you really wanted but instead you laid in bed with your legs pulled up to your chest. Fresh tears had begun to run over the dried ones as you squeezed your eyes shut tightly. A new wave of pain rushing through you as you picture Vernon’s hand gliding over your cheek attempting to push away your tears. 

His brows furrowed watching you shake with grief and pain. He missed being able to actually touch you. This half touch was never enough and you always shivered at his closeness. Vernon hated to watch you grieve over him but it didn’t compare to the moment he had watched them explain how he had died. How the car had sideswiped his car and how he had, they hoped and assumed, died on impact. 

You had collapsed that day and it took you months to really get back on your feet. There was nothing he could do but watch, until he realized he could whisper to you. At first you seemed scared and in more pain at the thought of hearing him. You thought you were going insane but then you convinced yourself that it was a coping mechanism and began to answer the whispers. 

Everyday was different for you. Somedays were like this one, where Vernon would lay with you on the bed whispering how much he loved you, how strong you were, how proud he was that you were able to do this. Other days he would smile watching you get ready for work or to go out with friends. You would rattle on about your day telling him all about the world outside of the house. He liked those days the most. 

When your phone goes off Vernon moves his hand back watching you sniff back your tears so you can turn over to grab it. His eyes travel over your face while you seem to perk up just a bit. Someone had made you smile. He was appreciative to whoever this person was, that they could do what he couldn’t right now. “There’s that smile I love so much.” 

“You’d like him, Vernon. He’s a good guy…I think if you were still here, you might be friends.” Vernon furrows his brows watching you sit up, he sighs gently when you use your sleeve to wipe away your tears before texting the man back. “I’m sure I would like him. If he can make you smile like that. Is he…?” 

Vernon let the question hang in the air hoping you’d understand what he was asking. It hurt him too much to ask if he was your boyfriend. No matter if Vernon wanted to see you move on, he knew that would be painful. “He’s just a friend, a really good friend. I don’t know if I’m ready to move on from you. I may never be. Everyone tells me to. They say it’s been too long, but I feel you with me all the time. Like you are holding me.” 

A tear runs down your cheek and Vernon tries to reach out to push it from your cheek but he’s unable to so instead it drips onto your phone so you have to wipe it away. “Don’t cry baby. I don’t mean to make you sad. Fuck, I didn’t mean to leave you. I wanted forever…I wish I could hold you for real.” 

You can feel it. His arms around you still, the way he used to hold you. His chin on your shoulder, his cheek against yours as he smiled so brightly. Shaking your head you move from the bed and pick up your hoodie pulling it over your head before starting down the stairs causing Vernon to follow you out of concern. 

He watches you begin to clean up various pieces of clothing, cups of water half empty, plates you had forgotten from the day before. Someone was coming over. He felt the air shifting at his own confusion but when the doorbell rang and you straightened out your hoodie, Vernon watched curiously while you welcomed the man into your house, into his house. 

That was the first time he “met” Seungcheol.

Over the next few months he watched you change. You still had your bad days, ones when you could hardly get out of bed but those were the days when Seungcheol would show up earlier and earlier. He would bring you lunch or just a coffee. Anything he could do to get you out of bed. 

Sometimes he would even find you talking to yourself when Vernon was whispering to you but you would simply laugh and shake your head. “Just lost in my thoughts.” He’d hug you and tell you it was okay. That everyone grieves in their own way. That he wanted to be there for you, be a good friend for you. 

Vernon had a hard time as you seemed to hear him less. You seemed to need him less maybe. He told himself that this was a good thing and that this wasn’t where he belonged anyway but he didn’t know how to move on. He was just stuck here watching you, but stuck was a horrible way to put it. He was blessed to stay here watching you. 

That was until you and Seungcheol got closer. Vernon wasn’t angry, there was no anger in him. The only emotions that Vernon had left was his own grief and contentment. It had been 3 weeks since you had heard his whispers and 3 days since he had even tried when Seungcheol sat with you on the sofa that Vernon remembered picking out with you. 

He remembered how he had flopped down on it testing out how soft it was and your laugh as he bounced slightly when he gave a thumbs up. “It’s got my seal of approval. Any couch that can pass a solid bounce test is a winner babe.” The words echoed in Vernon’s subconscious as he leaned against the wooden door frame watching Seungcheol’s fingers brush along your cheek before they touched your lips. 

He was doing everything that Vernon wished he could do. Vernon watched your breath get caught in your throat and he knew that sound, you wanted to be kissed. He should look away but instead Vernon watches as Seungcheol’s lips press against yours for the first time and he listens as the room goes silent except for the sounds of your breath. 

A feeling unlike what he had ever felt before overwhelms Vernon as he finally looks away. Yes, he was sad, but you had smiled against Seungcheol’s lips. You were happy, and that made Vernon happy. If he could cry he might have. He felt warm? He felt like he could go. You didn’t need him anymore. 

He had never felt like that before, because it hadn’t been an option. A door to his right was open that he had never seen before, making Vernon take in a deep unneeded breath before he looked back to you and Seungcheol as you laughed. “Please take care of them, they are my everything.” 

Seungcheol shivers and glances behind the couch towards the door frame swearing he hears a whisper. His brow furrowing at the sound of a door shutting before your hand presses to his cheek drawing his attention back to you. “What’s wrong, Seungcheol?” 

He grins and shakes his head. “Nothing, I just…thought I heard someone say something.” You smile as he moves to hold your hand, looking at you like only one other person ever had before he sighs. “I promise I’ll take care of you Y/N. I don’t want you to be sad anymore. I know Vernon wouldn’t want that. I know I never got to meet him, but I feel like we would have been friends.” 

You feel your heart tighten before you nod, tears brimming on the rims of your eyes because you know it’s true. Seungcheol is quick to catch your tears before kissing you and bringing you into his arms. “Shh I have you. Why don’t you tell me something funny about him?” 

Laughing into your tears as you laugh against Seungcheol’s chest, you run your other hand over the couch and recount the story of how you picked it out. Seungcheol’s laugh fills your ears and you feel your heart slowly beginning to heal with the help from laughter and all those whispers.

——————————————————

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#vernon angst #vernon fanfic #seventeen angst #svthub #caratwritersclub #seventeen fanfic #svt angst #svt fanfic #vernon x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seungcheol x reader #13 days of marsoween

[nathaniel-donovan]

You have to break down before you can breakthrough. – Marilyn Ferguson.

Summary: View into Nate's mind, snippets of each day he's been gone, and an introduction to his NA/AA sponsor. Timespan: A week. Mentions: Donovan Clan and basically everyone he's let down. Triggers: drugs, addiction, grief, blood, depressive thoughts??

day 1.

An ominous silence seemed to surrounded Nate with the way he carried himself, he physically feels numb in as equal parts as he does out of focus. Everything was disorienting and he was beyond the point of finding his footing. If he was ever to be asked if had hit rock bottom before, he’d have said yes, under false impressions that he had. Yet as he sat with his dominate hand on the steering wheel, his left dragging down his face, only to push back up for his thumb and index to wipe the tears from falling under his eyes, it was like he had finally fallen through that trapdoor. Finally hitting himself so firmly that the only way now for him surely was up; if he would allow that. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, Nate’s issue was that he mentally couldn’t do it. All the fragments of himself that were broken, were so far apart it felt like it’d take more than just his lifetime to bring them back to heal. Physically there was nothing left of himself to tear down and while he sat in his own silence, he was lazily focused on the highway with no real direction he was heading into.

He wasn’t running, contrary to popular belief, this was him trying to make his own choices. His nephew was missing and while he had tried to make small attempts to do whatever he physically could; he felt hopeless. He had decided to put an end to his relationship because he couldn’t cope with the person he was becoming; it’s self sabotage. He’s driving away from town knowing he was letting down not just his daughter but Olivia with the former plans they had made, ones he wasn’t showing up to, and it’s down to that fact of him not being able to be the person they needed. Or anyone. He could no longer extend himself off into branches as there was nothing left for him to offer. He had tried. The last eight months had consisted of him attempting to take two steps forward, for him to continuously get pushed back five. It was his own fault — at least that’s what Nate believed — it was his own fault because it’s what he deserved. His reality was that it was that disease of addiction completely wrapping around his brain and consuming it, one that he hadn’t been strong enough to fight off, to let it just lay dormant while he held a grip on that self control he once ravelled in. Yet in spite of that; he was at fault.

There wasn't a world that Nate would live in, where he wouldn't hold himself accountable for his own actions. While he had influences and demons on his shoulders weighing him down into the ground, it was still him. Every single action, everything he said, everything he did, it was him. He never claimed to be perfect, though at times maybe he wished that he was, then perhaps he wouldn't be alone in his car crying. It was the only place that he did allow his emotions to get the better of him, after all, you wouldn't catch the son of Harold Donovan being as raw as he was around people that actually cared. Nathaniel wasn't brought up to express, he was brought up to achieve and what did he have behind him? A failed relationship, seemingly rocky relationships all round, and no doubt a daughter that thought he let her down. The kicker of it all that despite all of that? He wanted it to stop, he wanted to forget. He craved a high so euphoric that he'd feel better.

It was selfish - a feeling he felt quite strong on, the way his mind was so set on destroying everything around him and the fact that he was letting it. He was following suit because he couldn't pick himself back up. Despite not being able to do anything, he was leaving his sister behind when Landon had been taken. Targeted. That wasn't Nate. The Nate currently parking up outside a motel? Wasn't him. It was a stranger in his own body; he wasn't thinking. Not that that made it any better, it didn't, it wasn't an excuse and nor would he ever use it as one. Actions held consequences and Nate was always one to hold himself accountable. He wasn't turning his back on those, he was delaying them. He texts his sister; Logan, as it's only now as he's letting himself fall back onto the motel bed, that he remembers about his cats, it has him groaning and in turn messaging her because he knew she'd look after them.

day 2. (tw: blood, drug insinuation.)

Hearing from Lydia only had Nate lingering in limbo; his heart practically could have not sunk any further than it already had. He didn't want to turn his back on his sister, not when Landon was missing, but you couldn't schedule a breakdown, could you? He couldn't put a pin in it and save it for later, it didn't work like that. Its' why he had left Tonopah completely, wanting his own space, as well as not wanting to make the entire situation worse for everyone around him. Or make it about him. Lydia wanted him to support her, Nate wanted to support her, though how was that possible when he didn't even have strength behind him to do so? It felt selfish, he felt selfish and he hated it. He couldn't physically explain how he couldn't do anything about it, he wanted to, he just couldn't.

It's a feeling that just sparked frustration and he's continuously trying to wash his face in the bathroom of the motel, it's repetitive and constant, it's like he's hoping that splash from the cold water would somehow wake him the fuck up. It's what needed to happen and the more he willed it, the more his annoyance just spiralled into anger. A feeling that unleashes the moment he takes a glance at his reflection staring back at him, his fist practically colliding with the mirror seconds after and it's an action that doesn't stop, again it's repetitive. His movements only stop when his vision moved from that sea of red, only to see blood covering the surface he had tried to punch through, it's dripping from his hand due to the way the glass had pierced through and cut his skin. He outstretched his hand only to instantly regret doing so, the pain only becoming more noticeable the moment he looked at his hand.

There was apart of him that couldn't be bothered to wash it, to tend to his self-inflicted wounds and it's like he had to force himself to start running the water. Now putting his hand in the running stream it's done so he can try and see the glass - attempt to remove the obvious bits - all while foolishly doing so, considering the seeping wound didn't stop. Eventually he reached for a small towel, wrapping it around his knuckles with an idiotic view point of that'll do.

Moving himself out of his motel room his feet are wandering more aimlessly, it's in search of something better than his poor attempt of a band aid - in Nate's perfect world right now? He'd have wished for a quick pick me up, something to completely numb the constant throbbing sensation coming from his right hand. So despite the fact that he was practically trying to mentally scramble his way out of hell, he found his wish answered in the form of his help. A woman by the name of Hailey had wrapped a bandage around his hand, someone who was also overly keen on talking when Nate had barely spoken two words since poorly explaining what he had done. Apparently tripping into the bathroom mirror had pulled a cheap laugh from the stranger. Though unfortunately the only sentence that had Nate even remotely interested and it showed, consisted of six little words:

"I've got something that can help."

It was music to his ears and it was sad. The way his dependency for any form of substance was overweighing his need for common sense. It's the fact that he had literally days ago put distance between himself and Alara, only to enter the bedroom of another woman's for a little plastic bag. It was cheap and only kicked him further into the ground, but nothing ever came for free and he's almost convinced himself that it was fine. Why? Because he needed a hit.

day 3. (tw: drugs, grief - mentions Cassie Donovan's death.)

Sitting in the middle of the room his legs are crossed and underneath the coffee table he was in front of - almost like he was sat up at an actual table. Before him? A line of cocaine and Nate was just fixated on it. Despite how silent his room was, how you'd practically be able to hear a pin drop, the noise inside of his head was loud. It's screaming. It's ten fold the worst pending migraine. It was this moment that would be described as his darkest hour, sure, he may have faced multiple over his lifetime, yet right here? It was sink or swim for the Donovan. He either gave in or he'd pull himself up. There was no other option. It was as black and white as it could be, he needed to latch onto a good thing and fight for it.

The only problem for him was that his mind was telling him he'd be better, he'd feel better if he did it just once. The thought was seeping through his skin, it's like he was trying to convince himself that this was the better option. Why be sad when he could feel happy? It was easy. His mind thought back to Alara and everything she said to him, everything he agreed with, apart from him wanting to choose pills and drink over everything that was important. That wasn't the case, at least not for Nate, his struggles were not a choice he made at a snap of a finger. He was always here, with a very clear need to pull himself back. It's why he wasn't acting on impulse, because there was still apart of him left. Since his sister, Cassie, had died he had lost every single battle with his mind, but perhaps it was now time for him to win the war.

The moment his thoughts land onto Cassie there's a crack in his otherwise expressionless features, his brows furrowed together softly as he remembered her. There's a wonder if she faced this same situation before she died, whether she span in exactly the same way he had. That feeling of hopelessness, that feeling of not belonging to his own skin? In this moment he felt he finally understood her need for peace, there was only so much fighting you could do with your own mind before you gave up, and he got that. He took a deep breath and sighed heavily, he could practically feel his heart sinking in a way it hadn't before and that was all down to his grief. He lost his sister and he went onto autopilot for months. Now? Now that switch had just been flicked off and he was letting himself feel. Nate had finally given himself that freedom to just be and as quick as the tears filled his eyes, they fell, streaming down his face so furiously it was a battle of which could splash across his hands the quickest.

The only image he had filling his head was that of his sister in the process of him identifying her, one he hadn't spoken about since, one he hadn't mentioned because there was no point. Yet actually? There was every point. His most prominent memory of her was stone cold and laying on a mortuary table. That wasn't ever going to change. Nate had never been phased by death, but that painted picture being his sister's? Harrowing. Rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands he's trying to stop himself from completely soaking his face altogether, he faintly shook his head, and he finally breaks the silence of his created atmosphere with a, "C'mon..." it's a low groan, it's quiet and pleading, he's trying to stop himself as if spoken words with do that.

After a while of time that seemed in relation to forever, Nate finally pushed the coffee table away from him, giving him that chance to stand up from the floor. Starting to pace back and forth he only broke that cycle by sitting down on the edge of the bed, with his head in his hands his eyes are closed, he's focusing on his breathing with an undying need for the pain in his head to stop. It's knowing there's something itching in the back of his mind to still make the wrong decision. He begins to think of everyone he was letting down, everyone he had turned his back on and it's only when Mia comes to the forefront of his mind that he seems to just stop. Did she deserve this? Did she deserve a father to not only enter her life unexpectedly, but to also be pulled away in the same way? No. He managed to shift his focus of thinking, landing firmly on his daughter and it's like he gets an ounce of strength to pick just the tiniest part of him up. He grabbed his bag that he never really unpacked, it's a surge of adrenaline, opening the door to his motel room with no thought behind his actions - other than to create enough distance between himself and the line from the devil laid out on the table.

day 4.

Out of all the places he could have gone he found himself unknowingly sitting in the middle of a private 60th birthday celebration, banners he had dismissed on the outside of the bar, as well as the decorations on the inside. He had tunnel vision in some ways, as well as a lack of ability to just register things around him. This was also a pivotal moment for Nate, one that while he wouldn't see it as, it was fate literally dangling another olive branch for him to take. It was only how he responded to it, that would determine how he progressed. After all, you met your fate on the road you took to avoid it.

Nate sat up at the end of the bar, glass of whiskey untouched before him and so deeply lost in his thoughts that he doesn't even notice the stranger approaching him. It's only when they talk that he turns to look.

"You good there?" a question that left the lips of a man that looked like if he wanted to, he could pick Nate up and throw him through the nearest window. Broad shoulders. He was in his fifties - or maybe the years hadn't been so kind. Barely six foot. Yet his confidence with the way he carried himself was blinding.

"Yeah." it's a short response as Nate looks towards the stranger, with a clear wonder of what he wanted.

"Been staring at that glass for the last hour." the man responded, quite matter of factly, knowing that he had watched Nate from the moment he had stepped into the bar. Almost as if he was watching a ghost of his own former life.

Nate doesn't say anything in response, he just continues to look at the guy before turning his attention away.

"What’re you looking for at the bottom of it? Easy life?" it's an assumption, it's also a light prod at the stranger he doesn't know, wanting to see if he could get him to bite, because if so, maybe he was judging this entire situation in the wrong light.

His question, however, has Nate looking towards him again. Still silent. Yet whatever the stranger was trying to do, he'd done it.

"Name's Charlie; friends call me Charles, wife calls me Lee just to be original." it's an introduction because he's able to read what was happening; he also wants to break that stoic look the Nate's face.

Exactly as Charlie wanted, Nate appeared to do. He cracked smile, suppressing a depressed chuckle with how random this entire interaction was. "Nate."

"Short for anything?" Charlie hit back instantly.

"Nathaniel." he answered easily, despite having no clue as to what was going on. It was almost like he was beginning to wonder if he was in some kind of fucked up dream.

“Ah… Emma!” he shouts behind him, prompting a woman in the background to respond with a yes dear. “Nathaniel?” a question that had a gods gift as an answer to shortly after. “Nothing quite like a gift of god staring at man made creation, ay…. Wife,” he gestured over towards her, “got this weird fascination with names… she’s an author. She always used to tell me it’s a choice,” he gestures with his index to the glass in front of Nate, “You take the drink, the drink takes a drink, then the drink finally takes you… Fitzgerald.” He added with a slight shrug. “She’s either a good influence or I’ve just learned to listen after thirty years of her telling me I’m deaf.”

Nate offered the guy another smile - it's an attempt, at least - yet the way his brows crease together momentarily was a tell of his confusion. He sighed, pushing the glass away from him that he hadn't even picked up, let alone touched.

“I’ve been where you are,” an offer of an explanation from Charlie, as if the guy sitting defeated up at the bar was a familiar sight, “Listen…” he begins to pull a small card from his wallet, asking for the bartender to lend him a pen he soon quickly scribbles on the back of it before putting it down on the bartop for Nate to see. “You show up, you’ve got a stranger that’ll listen. You don’t?” He shrugged, as if to silently say that was your choice.

Reaching for the card Nate picks it up, eyes scanning the text written across it, “This your version of a pickup?" it's a joke and that's not quite relayed in the way he wanted, it's more unintentionally judgemental, so instead he chose to follow on with, "That obvious?”

“Yeah.” It's short and sweet, it's enough for Charlie to get his point across to the guy he had just left a hinter with as to where he thought he should go, having written details of the next AA meeting he was attending personally. "Should get that sorted." he pointed towards Nate's hand, paying focus to it for the first time and the way the bandage looked wet before he walked away.

day 5. (tw: drug & death mentions)

He should have gone home. That much was obvious to Nate, and yet where was he sat? In the middle of a meeting a stranger had suggested he be at. It’s one he doesn’t partake in; it’s one he listens in. His jacket is off and on the back of his chair, sitting in a short sleeved T-shirt whilst everyone else had sweaters on around him. His arms are crossed and he’s staring at a fixed point - the leg of another’s chair across from him - trying to keep himself mostly normal as he can feel the sweat practically beading across his forehead. This entire set up? It wasn't for him. It wasn't that he was too good to talk about his own problems; it just wasn't the environment he wanted to do it in. He got it though, he got how it could help, and being around the number of people he was? Despite his quite obvious need to isolate himself, it was a distraction from the way his body itched for every substance he was resisting.

He had flushed every prescribed pill he had on him - not that they were even his to start with, he was doing his most to avoid even a drop of alcohol, he was trying to do the opposite of what his body was telling him to do. It wanted the easy way out, it was more of a need now than a craving, his body wanted to calm every nerve, he just wanted to relax and let himself give in. The only reason why he was here and not making his way back to Tonopah, was because his regret of leaving his sister whilst Landon was missing, had been surpassed by his regret of not doing a line in his motel room. It was alarming and it was a problem.

Nate wasn't sure what he was searching for, he just knew now that if he didn't leave when he did, there'd have been no decision for him to push against. He'd have shot up, he'd have taken the pills, and the drink. He had flickered back and forth for months when it came to stopping and each time he tried, he found a drink in his hand because it was easier to numb the withdrawal than it was to break through it. He was trying to do better despite singlehandedly managing to completely fuck everything up around him. It was sheer talent, at this point. A talent that was just being utterly squashed by guilt.

It's not just his sister, it's the MC - Cole - it's the one solid force he should have turned to, but he hadn't. There was so much shit going on that he thought handling it himself? Was the right way. Yet maybe if he had spoke up months and months ago, he wouldn't be where he was now. Hindsight was a funny thing, wasn't it? Instead his entire body ached, he felt anxious, and his right hand just seemed to feel like it was pulsating as every second went by. He had changed the bandage, though it was minimal care whilst he did as in Nate's mind? He was choosing to focus on that pain, rather than the drowning need to take him to a place of no return. His way of thinking was fucked up, yet right now that's because he was.

Nate had been so lost inside his own thoughts that his reactions were delayed once people started getting up and moving away around him, only really coming back to reality once he heard a familiar voice speaking towards him, "You good?"

Now looking at Charlie, Nate nods faintly as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his left hand.

"Got anyone at home?" Charlie asked, sitting down a couple of seats away from Nate.

Nate nods again, “Too many... and here I am.” there's a hint of sarcastic frustration in his tone, one that was swimming in defeat.

“It happens.” Charlie says as if it was normal.

“It does? Seems fucking shitty.” Nate tossed back; feeling that it was.

“Beginning to be a friend to yourself is far from shitty.” Charlie countered, apparently having an answer for everything.

Nate soon drags a hand down his face with a sigh, “Just the wrong time to be trying.”

With that response of honesty he received, Charlie saw that very short greenlight to question further, “When’s the right time?”

“When my nephews not missing.” It's a simple answer from Nate, knowing with his entire being where he should be.

With that silence fell between the two for longer than it was needed, though it's in that silence that Charlie sees an advantage to take, and so finally, “I lost my son when he was twenty three, missed his funeral because I was out like a light and having my stomach pumped." he held up a brief hand, as if to say don't to any sorry's. "What I’m trying to say is that it’s what you do now that matter’s, you think you’ve fucked up? Only you can change that. For yourself, your family. Sure you don’t need me to tell you that.”

Nate’s lightly nods, agreeing with the other. Now pulling his attention away from the older guy, because it's this conversation - no matter how short - that was beginning to make him feel more human.

“You sleeping?” Charlie brought Nate's attention back.

“No, flushed the help.” he admits, knowing that it was probably part of the reason why he hadn't gotten up yet, getting up meant putting himself back into that isolation bubble he had created.

“Need a place to crash?” it's a question that seemed to just read his thoughts and it has Nate looking back over to the guy, shaking his head.

“Coffee, then?” It's like Charlie was subtly pushing, clearly being able to recognise where Nate was, not just physically but mentally too.

“Why?” Why was he trying; why hadn't he given up. Nate wasn't necessarily irritated by it, he just felt confused and it's a feeling that instantly disappeared when all he heard in response was: It’s free to lend somebody a hand.

day 6 & 7. (i'm lazy let me live)

If you'd have told Nate a week ago he'd have been sat for the second day in a row, opposite a stranger - or maybe they were acquaintances now - talking, he'd have told you that you were full of shit. Yet here he was, feeling freer as he felt no expectations, and no it didn't help the way he was weighted down by his own pressures, but what it did do was make him feel slightly lighter. It had almost slotted him into just touching that better frame of mind. Charlie had done exactly what he had wanted to do; pull a stranger out of a dark place so deeply rooted by self-isolation that they'd see just a shimmer of light. It was what was needed, a dropping of hope because without it what was there?

Nate felt immense appreciation for the man because he knew if his week had gone a little differently, so would he. He had also smiled for the first time and it felt genuine, it's a smile that was born from talking about his daughter, only to die out as quick as it appeared with the way he knew he had gone completely silent on her. It's each of these little realisations that had him suddenly really waking up to what he was doing, and it's only something that had him feel more frustrated. It's emotions he doesn't quite know what to do with. It's also him not knowing how to approach everyone he had turned his back to. It wasn't intentional, it had never been intentional and still, he had done it. Nobody else. He couldn't change that - as Charlie had offered: he could only correct it by showing up.

Nate had spent the majority of his time after with his head being held up by his hands, it's him not bothering to keep to appearances, it's him needing to think, and knowing he wasn't facing judgement. He didn't actually feel like he knew where he stood with anybody, knowing that everyone he had tried and succeeded to just put distance between, he prioritized. It was shitty timing, fuck, it was shitty timing. Even though he still had so far to go, his most prominent feeling was remorse and this time he wasn't lost in it.

Despite still not being able to explain why he literally just recoiled so far back he pushed himself off of that cliff edge, he at least felt partly sane now, he felt it enough to know that actually? His thoughts of knowing exactly where he needed to be, were ones he was acting on. It's enough to allow him to feel a difference in himself, it was only slight, it wasn't even anything to jump around and cheer about, yet it was there and he felt better for it. Nate didn't feel like he was watching somebody else in his own body anymore, which by all accounts was exactly where he needed to be, and he was accepting the harsh reality of what he felt he had done.

So as he finally, finally, got back into his car it was like he was gaining that sense of direction back, managing to reach and grab that last fragment of willpower he thought had disappeared.

“Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.” – Mahatma Gandhi

#self para #well that was a chore #don't have to read #this is for my benefit gfdhsjak

[k9wa]

𑣲 少女レイ ft. hanemiya kazutora.

⠀ — crying cicadas, and you who won’t return again.

⠀ OR

⠀ — a lonely spirit haunting those cursed train tracks.

⚠︎ angst, mentions/topics of suicide, major character death, gore if you squint, fem!reader, canon divergent (you're both in highschool), wc 1.5k.

it was the littlest things that always seemed to send the memory of you flooding through kazutora’s senses. 

it was catching the scent of your perfume in the wind on his route to school that would stop him dead in his tracks, spinning his head in every direction like he truly expected you to be somewhere near him.

it was the sound of a cicada on a distant tree, screaming so loud in search of companionship that it’s enough to pierce straight through the serene summer air. he wished he could scream, too. he yearned for an outlet to belt and sing his feelings of misery, of agony, of how alone he suddenly felt in the world. your departure had ripped a part of his soul from this earth and carried it away along with your own to somewhere he couldn’t ever reach.

it was passing someone on the street, with a bag holding the same keychain as yours hooked onto one of its straps. such a miniscule thing forced him to remember that his matching one sat forsaken on his nightstand, mimicking the solitude he bathed and wallowed in every night since that horrific morning.

kazutora never thought he would find you to be so utterly suffocating.

yet at night he lay awake, grief thick in his throat, praying to a higher power he had not ever asked for one favour, begging for you back. as if all his prayers were enough to piece you back together and place you back by his side where you belonged. where he needed you to be.

even just a glimpse of you, one final touch, one last kiss placed on the back of your palm, anything. he craved your ghost haunting him in the dead of night so bad that it hurt.

his pleas were never heard by anything outside the four walls of his bedroom.

kazutora remembered the day he found out. he remembered the hour, the second, the last breath he took before everything crumbled to pieces around him.

6 months ago to the day, 06:54.

he remembered blankness, his limbs suddenly weighing much more than they had just moments ago. he remembered hanging up the phone and standing still in his living room as his cell fell to the floor. the screen still had a crack in it. he couldn’t cry, couldn’t scream, couldn’t even blink or breathe.

you, 

the you who had pulled him out of the black hole that was his own mind and healed the most broken parts of him,

the you who had filled his heart and life with so much warmth and vibrance he only read about in cliche stories as a child,

the you who kazutora had fallen so deeply and incredibly in love with that he drifted off to sleep every night at the thought of marrying you some day and growing old together,

you were gone. just like that.

your voice would never be heard again, your hair would never tickle his face in his sleep, your shoes would never be left in his doorway for him to trip over. 

you no longer existed.

and the one who had taken you away was the very person he entrusted his entire mind and being to. 

when you disappeared, kazutora had nowhere to be and no one to belong to.

the news of your suicide thoroughly destroyed him. 

on an otherwise beautiful morning, those same cicadas ringing distantly in his ears, kazutora kept his head down as he sped-walked past a pair of rickety train tracks he was forced to pass by on his morning commute. a routine he had grown accustomed to ever since the sight of them had started causing him unsoothable nausea.

he was almost in the clear, near able to pull his gaze from his shoelaces until there was the damn smell of you filling his sinuses. 

he knew better. he knew you were gone somewhere there was no returning from. he had a piece of you hung around his neck for god's sake, one of his only keepsakes of you being the ash you were reduced to that he never went anywhere without.

yet he looks, and spins around trying desperately to see you behind or beside him. 

kazutora’s breath caught in his throat when he saw your keychain dropped on the sidewalk back where he had just walked. 

it could have been anyones, and he knew that. but a delicate hand sneaking into view to pick it up was what nearly made him break down. 

he knew that hand. it had held and played with his own, it had pinched his side and his cheeks, wiped his tears and sorrows away.

his eyes snapped up, but all he was able to see were a few strands of hair ducking behind a shop corner.

his legs were carrying him in that direction before he had time to think, running so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. he turned the corner, coming to a comical stop as he rounded it. his bag had fallen off his shoulder, abandoned and probably acting as an obstacle to any foot traffic passing by. kazutora didn’t have the room in his brain to worry about that. 

for around that corner, he was met with the sight of your back. 

the wind was knocked out of him, your name falling so silently from his lips that even he barely heard it. the skirt of your uniform blew softly in the wind, your arms crossed behind your back to help keep it from flipping up from the breeze. 

kazutora’s shoes felt glued to the ground as he pushed and shoved his way through an invisible wall to get closer to you. he was trembling, eyes filling with tears and an overload of emotions filling up in his chest, all beginning to spill out.

you looked over your shoulder, finally giving him sight of your face. you were as beautiful as the day he’d lost you.

you leaned against the yellow and black stripes of the railway guards, smiling softly as if nothing was wrong. as if nothing had ever happened in the first place and it was just a normal day where kazutora was meeting you so you could walk to your morning classes together. 

he broke. the tears started to overwhelm his vision as he continued treading towards you. you were there. there and smiling at him, the glow of your skin and freckles on your face just a few paces forward. kazutora felt himself take a breath for what felt like the first time since you vanished, similar to the way he had when he met you for the first time.

it was short lived when the red lights on either side of the tracks started flashing, a familiar horn roaring and approaching from the distance, and you hopped effortlessly over the barrier. 

kazutora reached for you, paralysing fear swelling inside him. he willed himself to speak, swimming up and out of the tar he could feel himself sinking back into.

“h-hey, don’t—”

he stepped forward.

“don’t. please don’t. please—”

“kazutora.”

your voice was still the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. he couldn’t believe he was actually starting to forget the sound of it. 

the look on his face showcased pure heartache, wet cheeks and squinted eyes, furrowed brows and a quivering lip.

you reached a hand out to him, inviting him to a transparent and quickly fading you. 

the warning sirens were no longer heard, the clanging and clashing of train wheels getting closer and closer by the second completely gone. kazutora pulled his feet out of the cement and walked towards you. 

in the distance there was someone trying to get his attention, to warn him that he was wandering too close to the tracks, but he couldn’t hear a lick of it. 

kazutora ducked under the tracks on shaky legs, an even shakier hand hesitantly reaching out to yours and gently grabbing a hold. 

it was warm. kazutora hanemiya never truly realised how cold he was without you.

you pulled him into your arms, held him with such delicacy you’d think he was the illusion. kazutora fell to his knees in your arms, withheld sobs clawing their way from his chest as he finally screamed. piercing through the summer air, his misery was finally voiced, released. 

kazutora didn’t feel the impact of the train that didn’t have time to stop. he didn’t feel his bones crush, nor his body be ripped and torn apart like he was made of glass. he didn’t hear the horrified shrieks and cries of the bystanders, or the rushed ambulance sirens someone had called in advance at the scenario before them.

kazutora smelled your perfume, felt your skin against his, the tickle of your hair against his nose, and heard the screeches of the summer insects surrounding him finally quieting. 

he kissed the back of your hand. together you would move on to another world, another reality, where you were able to love each other just as you were.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

#shoujou rei is the most devastating song ever written #i love it so so much pls listen to it if u havent #kazutora hanemiya #hanemiya kazutora #kazutora x reader #kazutora scenarios #tokyo revengers kazutora #kazutora #kazutora angst #kazutora fluff #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo rev imagine #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokrev kazutora #kazutora headcanons #kazutora tokyo revengers #song fic #UNEARTHLY

[katyspersonal]

🤔 I've randomly started thinking about interpretations of Doll creation (and "abandoning") again.

"Mania" and "Even the Doll, should it please you" were drastic mistranslations and both Doll's clothes and Hair Ornament suggest he felt strong emotional warmth (strong enough to make Doll cry a tear of joy), not "creepy sexual desire", but the rest of the things are up to interpretation and like.... after all, there IS a merit in the idea that Doll was created not in grief after Maria's death, but when Maria was still alive. It is the context that makes it perplexing!

So what if he just really liked Maria, but felt terribly guilty for it. Age gap, status gap, Maria seeing him as father figure and him realizing he is "failing" her by feeling "wrong" kind of love to her and not what she'd need, whatever. He was not a creep, but he felt like one, he hated himself and felt like a garbage teacher and a garbage friend. Even if he didn't do anything wrong towards Maria and never would.

So what if he created the Doll not to take, but to give. He created a version of Maria that he could hold with his most genuine affection and tell all the warm words of love and cherishing that he wanted. To "protect" the real Maria from his feelings that he was 100% convinced were inappropriate and would only make her distrust him or hate him. Maybe being in love is not something that awful, but negative self-image is a bitch, you guys probably know this. He did not want her to lose a friend and/or father figure in him by making things "weird", so those tender feelings begging to break loose got redirected and told to a doll, with him getting lost to the fantasy. Perhaps, separating real Maria from the Doll even helped him to deal with the crush, and he loved that fantasy like her own being now. Not crafted to his tastes, but able to BE loved.

The gem that the Doll cried appeared in a responce to holding Hair Ornament and feeling the warmth from caring for it, but the description does say that he wished these feelings from the Doll, but in vain. I still think that her being "abandoned" refers to the state of Abandoned Old Workshop in general which she is a part of, but if, IF to follow the 'he abandoned her for not meeting his expectations' take? What if, again, it was not a matter of wanting to take, but to give? He wanted to care for her and to love her, and what was so bad about her becoming alive was absence of emotional responce. She didn't feel any happiness or joy or safety; she felt nothing but wish to serve the Hunters and the Dream, in fact. A hollow being with no autonomy or personality. What wrecked him and make him not want to interact was not that she didn't love him, but that she didn't love herself no matter what he'd do or say.

Jhghigh I still think the idea of Doll resulting from Maria's death has more evidence in canon and holds more appeal logically, but also loving someone can just hurt. Like I agree with the sentiment that fumbling for most "accurate" story becomes pointless as soon as right emotional appeal is found and tbh there IS a big potential for sadness. And cute that such bittersweet things could still persist within the horrors of the hunt and death and insanity and general Yharnam desolation. Infatuation is when you are hurting from not being able to GET what you want from the person, but love is when you are hurting from not being able to GIVE.

In either case Gehrman exists just to suffer no matter how his story goes siggghhhh

#bloodborne #gehrman the first hunter #plain doll #see? this is why it's impossible to discuss interests with me #I keep discovering more and more new ways to interpret a thing every time #the potential for rambles is unreal #but yeah if Ive learned anything is that not being able to share your love can and will hurt #you might not even want to be loved in return sometimes you just want to EXPRESS it #and when you can't it might have bad consequences for your mental health

[askundeadbluelesbians]

Wide Right

CW: Mentions of death and grief, based off of real experiences

… Polly had decided she no longer liked funerals. She only vaguely remembered attending one in life: that of her grandfather, Vanya Geist, roughly around 2006. Of course, all of her other grandparents had passed on, but Polly’s grandfather’s funeral stuck in her mind for multiple reasons: mainly because he was the only one to pass not only when she herself was still alive, but was also old enough to remember it.

The second, and more prevalent reason, was because that was when her father’s drinking problem took a turn for the worst. Polly took to drinking herself not long after that, while still following her rule of thumb. In a way, she and her father bonded over drinking. Sure, she remembered fuck-all about her first drink, but he was there the entire time for it.

And now she won’t be able to share a drink with him ever again. His… well, second funeral was only a fortnight ago. He and her mother had moved on while Polly was on her road trip to California. Being so far away from family… hardly even knowing that her parents were close to moving on… learning second-hand of it happening.

Not only would she never be able to share a drink with him ever again, she’d never be able to play chess with her mom again, never engage in girl talk with her mother again… Never see them, happy together, ever again.

She could only imagine how it felt for Spencer, who was there in their final moments of moving on. How was he feeling? How long did he have to sit with this knowledge before deciding to call her? How did he feel when it turned out that they willed the house to him, so he didn’t have to worry about looking for an apartment? … How did he feel about now having no one to share this home with?

She spent almost the entirety of Sitting Shiva with him, so he didn’t have to deal with this grief alone anymore. Neither of them shared a word with each other in that time; they just knew how the other was feeling without needing to say it. Finally, after a whole week of mourning, Polly felt that she was ready to leave, making sure her brother was okay to be left alone in the house again.

So here she was, on her walk home, the December snow having coated the world in white while she was in black. The mourning period may officially be over… but she still felt empty. The sound of laughter as kids played in the snow did nothing to lift her spirits.

… Oh wait. That was no child. That was Scott.

“WHOO! Throw it again! Farther!”

“Alright, alright, Babe…!”

Polly recognized those two voices from anywhere: her best friend, Scott, was playing fetch with his boyfriend, Brian. They were enjoying themselves… and it made Polly wish she could feel the same way. She didn’t even need to say anything before both of them noticed her.

“Oh! Hi, Polly!” Scott greeted, scooping her up in a hug, wagging his tail. “I haven’t seen you all week, not since the end of the road trip!”

“Yeah… I’ve just been sitting at home…” Polly answered, not feeling the energy to hug her bestie back.

“H-Hey, Scott,” Brian called out. “Isn’t it time to meet with your subjects?”

“Ooh! Yes! I forgot! Thanks, bro!” Scott answered, kissing Brian before dashing off, leaving him and Polly alone.

“Is it really time for Scott to meet with his fanbase?” Polly asked.

“No. I just wanted us to have a talk,” Brian answered, sitting on a bench, with her sitting next to him. “Scott… doesn’t take talking about death well.”

“Funny, since he’s dating a zombie,” Polly halfheartedly chuckled. “I’m guessing that’s why neither of you attended the service?”

“Yeah. But, honestly, if Scott was there, he probably would’ve cried the entire time, because, well, you’re his best friend.”

“Yeah… dude doesn’t deserve to cry,” Polly agreed, wiping any tears that she felt coming. “Besides, he saw my mom as a mom too… Probably would’ve asked to Sit Shiva with me… and then run off when he’s told that includes no football for a week.” Brian gave a light chuckle in response.

“So… do you know when they’ve moved on?” Brian asked.

“Spencer said almost a week before we made it to Veranotone.”

“So… you were told second-hand.”

“Yeah…”

“… So was I.”

… Hold the phone. This is the first Polly was hearing of this: Brian actually ended up going through what she did?

“Who?”

“My grandfather. My mom’s dad,” Brian answered. “I was about… sixteen, I think, when it happened. It was a December day, like this one, back in 1989, right before Christmas vacation. I already knew beforehand that my granddad was sick. He was getting up there and the eighties were not kind for him. But one of the things you can credit him for? My love of football.”

“Oh?” Polly asked, looking up at Brian.

“It was one of the first things he fell in love with when he and Grandma immigrated here in the fifties. And he passed that love to my father, and to me,” Brian continued to narrate. “He’d take me to every game he could up until 1987. And that’s roughly about when I started to actually play football. In fact, I have an old jersey in my closet. Does not fit me anymore.”

“Your granddad got it for ya?”

“Yeah. He did. Number 56… ‘56 also happened to be the year my grandparents immigrated. So it was considered his own personal lucky number. And I picked that number when I started playing. We had actually finished my first season as a player when… it happened.

“My grandma, dad’s mom, was going to be the one to pick me up from school that day. Again, I knew my granddad was sick. So imagine my surprise when I saw my own mom pick me up instead. I… I thought granddad was feeling better.” Tears were starting to appear on his face as he continued. “He… he wasn’t.”

“Oh… Brian, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault… Just, it’s hard not being there to say goodbye yourself,” Brian concluded, to which Polly nodded in agreement. “Christmas was only a few days after the funeral, and it was probably the worst one of my either of my lives. The next year, 1990, would probably be the hardest of my life. I let my grades slip, almost to the point where it cost me my spot on the team. Days, weeks, months began to blur. Then September came… and Sundays started making sense again.”

“Hmm?”

“I very much latched onto my granddad’s favorite team. It was my way of grieving. They were good, but never really went far as they did this season. They made it to the playoffs, thirteen-and-three record, and every game they won after that felt like he was there with me.” A smile slowly began to appear on Brian’s face. “I woulda gone to Tampa myself to watch the game in person, but no way was some seventeen-year-old getting from Jersey to Florida, let alone get a ticket for the biggest game of the year!” Brian chuckled at his story, and Polly began chuckling as well. “So, like every other day that season, I was parked in front of the TV. But that day, I wasn’t alone.”

“Wow… that’s… umm…” Polly began, trying to put the words together, confusion forming on her face.

“I know it’s long-winded, but there’s a point to this story,” Brian chuckled. “Grief… it’s different for everyone. I could only imagine how my parents handled my own death just five years later… But, I swear until the day I die a second time, I felt him every time I watched football, every time I played. And I swear he moved that ball Wide Right.” Brian wiped his tears on his sleeve. “Grief doesn’t leave you. It morphs into the love you have for them, into the things you did together, into the things you continue to do without them there.”

Polly’s gaze went downward, staring at her gloved hands. What Brian said did make sense. He must’ve felt so vulnerable bringing this up with her. He… he trusted her. He trusted her enough to show her that he knew what she was going through.

“Fuck, Bri.”

“Is… is that your way of—?”

“Thank you.”

“… Well that answers that question,” Brian laughed, patting her on the back. “I’ll leave ya to your walk, then. Just think about what I said, ‘kay?”

“Will do,” Polly answered, giggling as she got back up and continued walking. She still felt down, sure, but not as down as she was earlier… Maybe she’ll go play chess and drink wine with Vera later. She thinks—no, she knows—it’s what her parents would’ve wanted.

#Undead Vignettes #Polly #Polly Geist #Brian #Brian Green #Brian Yu #Scott #Scott Howl #Brian Yu x Scott Howl

[softxsuki]

hello, i don’t know if this is an urgent request but my mom died a few weeks ago and i’ve been up and down with my emotions. i feel like its going to be isolating this christmas because it won’t ever be the same. could i request a drabble with izuku comforting reader going through it during college, any time it is too much for reader, izuku is always there. and each year they do something to commemorate the loss, until one year he proposes? sorry again if this is a lot

Midoriya with Reader Whose Mom Passed Away

Pairing: Midoriya x Gn!Reader

Warnings: mentions of mother passing away, crying, isolation, sadness, grief, eating, kissing

Genre: Hurt-Comfort

Post-Type: Oneshot

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: In which Midoriya commemorates the loss of your mother each year on her death anniversary, but one year ends up becoming more special than the others.

[A/N: Hey lovely, thank you so much for trusting me with this request. I'm so sorry for your loss. I know nothing I can say or do will help you feel better, but I'm here if you ever need to talk. Fun fact: when my abuelo (grandpa) passed away I remember sending balloons up into the sky for him on his birthday (probably not the best for the environment, but I was a child at the time and didn't know any better). I always prayed that my balloons would reach him safely as I wished him a happy birthday. One year when I did this, there was a star in the sky that was glowing very brightly. I remember being so fascinated by this star so I watched it the whole time my balloon flew up into the night sky. Suddenly, that star turned even brighter, almost like a door in the sky suddenly opened up and I swear my balloon went through that opening. To this day, I like to believe that it was my grandpa receiving my balloon :). That's why stars are very special to me and why I decided to mention them in this post. I truly hope this is able to provide you with a little comfort and happiness as you deal with all these very confusing emotions. I actually cried a little while writing this because it reminded me of my aunt who I lost last year. I wish you nothing but healing and good energy. Praying for you <3]

“I miss you mom. I really wish you were here,” you whisper to yourself, the death anniversary of your mother once again arriving.

Even though it’s been a few years since she passed, the pain was still the same as the day when you first found out. Trying to balance the grief of losing your mother so soon, along with being a college student, and lover to your boyfriend, was very hard at times. Most nights you spent crying yourself to sleep, you spent most of the days locked up in your room, not able to face the world outside, and you could hardly find the strength to properly feed yourself.

Thankfully though, your boyfriend, Midoriya, was always by your side to help you through your ups and downs. He gave you enough space so you could comfortably let your emotions out, but always stayed near enough incase you called out to him. He’d hold you tightly each night, kissing your tears away as he whispered comforting words into your ear.

On days where you felt a little better, he’d take you out to try and fill your days with some excitement and fun. He hated to see you isolating yourself from your friends and family, and even him at times. So, on days when you guys didn’t have any class, he'd spend the whole day outside with you. Showing you new, exciting places just so he could see that little light in your eyes again; all he wanted was for you to feel happy again.

Each year on the day of your mom’s death anniversary, he’d plan something special to commemorate your loss; something to never let her memory die out. Some years he’d attempt to cook either your mom’s favorite meal, or one of her special recipes she used to make for you all the time. He wasn’t the greatest cook, but he always took his time and contacted Bakugou for help if he needed it (Bakugou is a bit stubborn to help, but he gives in eventually, saying MIdoriya owes him one). But the food always comes out great.

You’d both sit down in the living room together, enjoying the food as you watch old home videos that included your mother. Tears would fall, and sobs would leave your lips, but Midoriya knew it was important to watch those videos so you could see your mom and never forget her (not that you ever could anyway).

Other years he’d take you on a late night picnic at a nearby park with some of your favorite food. After eating you’d both lie down and watch the stars. Midoriya would point at one that shined the brightest and say, “Look, it’s your mom looking down on us. She’s here to spend some time with you.”

As cheesy as it was at the time, you were happy to believe his words. Wanting to believe that your mother was looking down on you at that moment.

Today marked another year without her and this year, your boyfriend was doing some cooking on his own, without anyone’s help. But instead of having you around, he told you to just wait in the living room, saying he’d call you out when everything was done.

Your mind wandered through all the memories that still lingered of your mother. There was never a day that went by that you didn’t miss her. And with the Holiday season approaching, you felt a little more empty inside knowing she’d never be around to celebrate Christmas with you anymore. You’d never be able to buy her a gift anymore. Regrets started to fill your head of things you should have done for her that you never had the chance to do, but thankfully Midoriya’s sweet voice breaks you out of your thoughts as tears continue to fall down your face.

With a small smile, Midoriya walks over to you and holds a hand out for you to take, “Let’s eat some dinner, sunshine. I made one of your mom’s recipes this year,” he says, wiping your tears away as you take his hand and you both walk over to your small dining table that’s decorated very nicely–perhaps maybe even a little more romantic than usual.

“I’m sorry for crying, I don’t mean to ruin the evening,” you apologize, trying to calm yourself down.

“It’s alright Y/N, we’re here to remember your mom, so you can cry as much as you need to, I don’t mind.”

You nod, sniffling as tears continue to fall down your face, but you take a seat and dig into a familiar looking dish that your mom used to make you. One of your favorites that she used to cook.

After one bite, the nostalgia hits you like a truck, making you cry even harder as you continue to eat.

“Just like mom- used to make,” you choke out between sobs.

Dinner was great to say the least, and Midoriya ended up moving his chair beside you, grabbing your hand through the rest of the meal to let you know that he was there for you.

Thankfully, you do manage to calm yourself down and really soak in the flavors of the meal, never wanting to forget the memories that came along with the food in front of you.

“Thanks ‘Zuku, that was incredible. Just…thank you for always doing little things like this to keep my mothers memory alive, you have no idea how much I appreciate it,” you thank your green-haired boyfriend.

“Anything for you. I loved your mom too, so even I enjoy doing this for you,” he responds, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “Hmm, but the night’s not over yet. Your mom’s star is waiting for us.”

And with that you both head to your usual spot at the nearby park. Just like each night on this day every year, the sky is perfectly clear so you can see each star. The brightest star in the sky glows invitingly to you, spreading warmth within you at the prospect that it could be your mom.

“Hi mom,” you whisper, wishing you could reach up to touch the star, wishing you could hug your mom again, “Thanks for coming.”

You laugh sadly to yourself, tears once again welling in your eyes. They were a mixture of happy and sad tears. Sad because you of course missed your mom, but also happy, because it felt comforting to have the star glowing brightly over you with the idea that it was your mother watching you from above.

“Y/N,” you hear Midoriya call your name from beside you.

You were standing, looking up at the stars, but turned your head to the right, where his voice came from. The sight before you was very unexpected and almost had you falling to the floor.

To your right, Midoriya was down on one knee with a box in his hand as he looked up at you with watery eyes and a gentle smile. The glow of the moon and some nearby street lamps illuminated his face, making him look particularly handsome–more handsome than usual as he was completely vulnerable in front of you in that moment.

“I don’t know if this is the best time to be doing this. And by all means, you don’t have to feel obligated to say yes, but I’m a man who loves getting permission from my partner's parents before deciding to marry them. Tonight you mom is here watching over us,” he points up at the star that you’d both labeled as your mother’s before continuing his speech, wiping the tears out of his eyes a bit, “So, what better day to ask for your hand in marriage than right now with your mom here as a witness.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his beautiful, thoughtful words, but he’s not done yet.

“Y/N, I love you so much. Maybe even a little too much, but I have no regrets being with you. These past few years have been some of your hardest, yet I only seem to fall even deeper in love with you as the years progress. Whether through your happiest or darkest days, I want to be by your side forever as your husband. I want to be able to officially call you mine and have your pain become my pain as we become life-long partners. So, Y/N L/N, would you do me the honor of making me your husband?”

Tears were falling down both of your faces. You were filled with so many emotions, but in the moment, joy overpowered all your other feelings. You were at a loss for words, and your endless sobbing wouldn’t allow you to say much, so you just said whatever came to your head first, “It would be my honor.”

He places the ring on your finger, happy tears falling down his face as he scoops you up in his arms, pressing kisses to your lips. He was the happiest man alive now that he was your fiancé.

Now a day of sadness would be a day of happiness and celebration for the two of you as a future married couple, but you’d both still of course still commemorate the loss of your mother. This was a huge step for the both of you–no longer would you be alone, but your life-long partner would be by your side every step of the way to help you navigate through life without your mom. New happy memories together were just waiting to be made, and your mom will be there every step of the way, watching over you.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 11/18/2022

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