#at least before someone dies in the finale and i get too sad to draw

[drsugarsweet]

Holding On To Smoke

Haunted Armor!Polnareff x Reader

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Synopsis: Through a stroke of good fortune, you have been placed in charge of an antique home. The former owners only asked that you kept the relics inside, and you agreed. If only they had mentioned that some of the relics aren't as lifeless as they initially seemed...

TW: Implied character death (not reader’s) Note: reader is GN, no pronouns aside from 'you' are used.

Masterlist ☆。*。☆。

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A/N: Polnareff is SUCH a sad grieving beast, this only felt appropriate for him.

The home that you've come to enjoy for so many months is old, much older than you. It's full of items you're scared to touch for fear of shattering their delicate nature, of spiderwebs that look too beautiful to break and rooms that you haven't even stepped foot into. There simply isn't enough time or motivation for you to cover all of that ground, and yet…

And yet you notice small oddities that you can't fully explain away. There's odd clanking in the halls that sounds far too consistent to be the pipes. After all, they only rattle when you draw water from them. The rooms you frequent are miraculously free of dust even though you haven't had the time to drag out the duster and rags yourself. It’s hard to chalk up the cold and pointed breezes as a simple draft, and you swear you’ve seen something glowing out of the corner of your eye more than once - only to disappear when you actually look at it.

Oh, and you can’t ignore the massive elephant in the room.

More specifically, the massive suit of armor.

Upon first entering the house, it looked like an odd decoration but hardly one you could complain about. Old houses have weird decorations, right? It made you feel like you were walking into a murder mystery set but your attention was so set on moving in that you didn’t think much of it. It looked regal and mysterious enough to make you ponder over its relevance though. The original owners never mentioned it, did they? There’s no plaque to reveal who may have donned it, who it may have shielded or when. You shrug and decide you’ll research it at a later date.

That later date keeps getting pushed further and further back however. The mysterious old house has its fair share of secrets to keep you distracted - a library packed with dusty old books, a kitchen full of secret panels, not to mention the many, many nooks and crannies you weren’t told of. The only times you ponder about the armor again is when you pass its dulled surfaces in the hallway. It isn’t until you finally decide that a heavy cleaning of the home is in order lest your lungs fill with dust bunnies that the armor finally has your full attention.

How does one clean a suit of armor? You’re not sure. I’s not like it’s been in any books that you’ve read before. A wet rag should at least help with removing the dirt and dust, and you assume that the kind of polish used on metal surfaces in your kitchen could work. It’s a large suit and you know you’ll have your work cut out for you, but something draws you in despite the eeriness of the relic. It feels strange. It feels… Melancholic , somehow. Maybe you’re too wrapped up in the idea that this once belonged to someone, that someone could have lived, breathed, died in those iron plates. Maybe it’s the way the chestplate and helmet have engravings of broken hearts on them that tug at your own heartstrings. Whatever the reason, you feel like it’s your obligation to give this old thing one last hurrah in the way of cleaning it up.

As the rag glides across the faded surface and carries away the countless layers of grime, you start to see the former glory restored. The armor truly does look uncared for, though you aren’t surprised given the state of the house. It only spurs you on as more of that gleaming silver comes to light. There’s so many small details to pay heed to; engravings of hearts and chariots must be carefully detailed, and the sections of overlapping plates require a special amount of focus. At the very least there isn’t any corruption or rusting. It takes hours to clean with the occasional break for refreshments in-between, but pulling away from the now clear (albeit dull) suit sends a wave of relief through you. The low evening sunlight streaking through the stained glass windows of the foyer reflects in a beautiful kaleidoscope on the iron. For just a breath, a brief moment… You could almost swear that the suit of armor is glowing.

The moment passes as the clouds of kicked up dust finally force you to sneeze, and when you look at the armor again the glow is gone. It must have been a trick of the light. With that, you nod and set aside the polish to be done the next day. Perhaps the sheer amount of time or the curiosity that you’ve poured into the armor play a role in why you suddenly feel a sense of longing and connection towards the suit, almost as though you’re leaving an old friend. It’s odd, but you shrug the thoughts away and retire to your room for the evening. The next day will surely be brighter.

Downstairs, the darkness of the dusk is broken by a soft glow.

Weeks pass after your restoration of the armor. The oddities start as subtle movements at first. A hand shifts slightly or the helmet seems to perk in the direction of your favorite armchair; the dust settled around the suit’s base is disturbed, or is it just your imagination? As the house becomes cleaner in more miniscule ways, even that starts to make you wonder if it’s all in your head. You only start to think something is up when you come home from work to find the armor set at the foot of the stairs to the second floor, its gauntlets set against the scabbard of its rapier. It’s not like the suit froze when you entered - you’re sure you would’ve heard the clanking, and it’s just a suit, right? If you weren’t constantly swamped with work you’d almost be afraid of the potential haunting. You know it isn’t some mischievous intruder breaking in just to mess with you; the doors and windows are always the same as they were, and it’s not like anything is missing. There aren’t handbooks on how to deal with haunted houses like this and so you stand in the house’s entranceway, eyes glued to the relic posed mere feet away.

It feels like an eternity that you wait with bated breath for something to happen. When it does, there is no loud scream or rush of metal and pain; no ghastly beasts lunge for your throat, and as you stand gaping like a fish out of water, you realize that the movement of the armor is almost unnoticeable at first glance.

The visor of the helmet minutely tilts towards you and you know for a fact that gauntleted fingers twitch at the scabbard’s handle. The gig is up. You take one step back, and the armor jerks to face you further. Another step, and the helmet is facing you fully, its hand never leaving the hilt of the razor sharp rapier. The door is closed and solid against your back and you’re certain that this is where you will die.

The clanging of metal grows closer and closer with each step of the suit of armor. Even behind your eyelids - when did they close? - you can’t miss the icy blue glow painting the backs of your eyelids in dim light. Your eyes peel open just enough to witness the armor come to a still before you in its pale glowing glory. The finger guards on the scabbard have lifted away and now the suit stands before you motionless yet again, its gauntlets stiffly held at its side. The icy terror that initially held you in its grasp melts into mute confusion and unease. Why isn’t it attacking you? What could you have done to inspire this thing’s movement? Or…

Has it always been on the move?

Your racing thoughts are interrupted by another sudden jump from the suit of armor, but this one catches you even more off-guard. In one quick and jerky movement, the suit tumbles down onto one iron poleyn, its other knee bent as it bows its helmet before you. You have no idea what to say, what to do as the massive suit freezes yet again. There’s a moving set of armor in front of you. Holy shit , there’s haunted armor in your house.

For a minute, the two of you stay there in frozen time. The armor doesn’t move but it glows and pulsates with faint blue light. You don’t move aside from the slowing rise and fall of your chest. There’s a tension so palpable in the air that it surely could be cut through like butter with a hot knife, but you have no idea what to do or say to your unexpected housemate.

The first noise to break the room isn’t from you. It starts out so quietly that the rush of blood in your ears drowns it out. Slowly and drenched in uncertainty, a noise no louder than a whisper seems to fill the room. There’s a pause, and then the noise again, and again, growing louder with each confused blink it draws from you. The moment that it grows loud enough to register properly to your ears is the moment that you realize that it’s a voice echoing around you. The voice is hoarse and strangely hollow, but it sounds almost like a man. It echoes again from the suit of armor and you realize that it is speaking to you .

“Please… Give me an order.”

The stunned silence plaguing your voice is hard to break. Break it you do, but only because the tide of questions thrashing against your skull threatens to consume you.

“Who are you?”

Perhaps the right question would be who it - he - was. You begin to regret not looking up the source of the armor sooner. The voice goes silent and the glow swirls in a mesmerizing miasma of dull silver and ice. Whatever haunts this armor seems to form the strongest beneath its chestplate and helmet, and for the briefest of moments you wonder what you would see beneath the visor. As though it can sense your innate curiosity amidst the waves of confusion and fear, the being raises its helmet a fraction as though it were looking at you. The feeling of eyes becomes strong and yet oh so familiar.

“I am Jean Pierre Polnareff. You have laid claim to this land. I pledge my loyalty to you, to protect you and honor your every word.” The helmet drops again and the regal being donned in iron waits ever so patiently for your words. With its hand on its scabbard and that plasmic echo fading in and out like a heartbeat, it truly bears the visage of a noble warrior. 

Okay, what the hell are you supposed to do about this? 

There’s a fucking ghost knight in your house.

After a very rational and intense moment of thinking on the matter, you do the only thing that sounds right when confronted with such a ghostly specter. It doesn’t matter that it hasn’t made a move to harm you. You reach behind you, feeling around until you can grab the doorknob to the front entrance. You throw open the heavy door before hauling ass into the chilly night air, refusing to look back once lest the point of a rapier be the last thing you see.

You’ll find a hotel or stay with a friend for now. There’s no way in hell that you’re going back to your house, no way that you’re reenacting some stupid horror movie scene.

You go back to the house two days later.

Maybe it’s the twinge of pain in your shoulder and neck from sleeping on an uncomfortable futon. Maybe it’s the reminiscing that you’ve had time to do on the whole matter. You’ve never felt unsafe in the house; melancholy, sure, pensive if you stood in the right spot. You never felt afraid though, so why is the memory of the one that called himself Polnareff lingering in your mind?

The old home looms over you as the gray skies threaten to douse you in rain. Despite the being that you know lurks inside, the building itself doesn’t feel ominous. It feels like a rundown old manor and you can’t come up with a good reason to avoid going in any longer. The stone steps are slick beneath your shoes and with a mighty groan, the door swings forward into the foyer.

You aren’t really sure what you expected. Images of torn tapestries and broken mirrors came to your mind at first, like a raging beast rampaging in a bout of anger. The light of the day floods the foyer, and you breathe a sigh of relief to see that there is no such damage. As a matter of fact… There is no sign of the suit of armor at all. It isn’t at its base in the middle of the foyer. You know you should be on high alert, but the lack of surprises lulls you ever so slightly.

It feels silly to call out for another person in your own house, so you decide to take your chances and look around instead.

The den is free of the suit. You find yourself oddly disappointed.

The kitchen likewise lacks any spectral beings, and so too does the rest of the first story.

The memory of the first time that you saw the armor moving towards the staircase comes to mind, and your eyes travel up and along the mahogany banister towards the silent second story. If there were anywhere that your unassuming houseguest would be, you have a strong suspicion of its intended destination.

The doors to the library creak open as you peer inside and to your unexpected relief, a flash of iron catches your eyes. You push further in to be greeted by the broad, shining form of the suit of armor. Its helmet has tilted slightly back as though to acknowledge you but it has not moved. That glow remains but it is more dull than last time, the colors barely touching the dusty books and desk it stands in front of. That acknowledgment is all that you need and you take a deep breath of the stale air.

“I’m… Sorry. Sorry for how I acted last time. I wasn’t expecting you and I was scared, so I ran.” It’s an apology you never felt that you would make, but it feels wrong to leave things as they were. This thing has likely been here longer than you have been alive; the aura of sadness and mournful longing around it tinges your heart in a way you never expected.

The armor turns to look at you further with a set of clangs and you catch a glimpse of what its broad form was hiding. You haven’t had time to get a good look at the library beneath all of the blankets of dust, but the crest hanging on the wall is one you don’t recognize. The symbols of hearts and horse-drawn chariots bear a striking resemblance to the engravings on the knight’s armor. You startle as you realize that the very same insignia was on the paperwork that you signed to properly take ownership of this house.

The suit turns fully to face you and you swallow down your nerves. This could either go really well or really poorly based on how good you are at offending ghosts.

Its visor tilts to one side, then the other. It takes a step forward, and this time you stay where you are willingly rather than freezing in fear. Another step is taken. Another. By the time that your distorted face is reflected in the large breastplate of the armor, you realize just how cold the room has gotten around you. That visor leans down to look at you and you look up into it as icy tendrils of mist curl from beneath the edges. When the gauntlets reach up and towards you, it’s a miracle that you don’t feel fear. All that you feel is the strong wave of melancholy that you first felt upon stepping into this house, and you wonder just what this soul has suffered to exude such strong feelings of sadness.

The gauntlets do not reach for you, though they do briefly cradle your own hands in chilled metal before continuing upwards. The guarded fingers come to rest at the edges of the visor. Tendrils of ghostly energy curl at the iron knuckles, and it freezes like that. It’s as though it’s waiting for your order. With a flashback to the last meeting, you blink away crystals of iced tears that you didn’t even realize had appeared and answer its unspoken question.

“Show me your face. I want to see the knight of this house.”

You aren’t sure what to expect. There are no rules that could have prepared you, no pictures or carvings or films. The glide of the visor up and into the iron helmet is silent as it reflects the light. Whoever this man was, he is nothing like you expect, and that’s a pity because he is refined and elegant and somber in the way that only a lost soul can be.

Your hand shakes as you reach towards the visor. Crystals of ice gather on your fingertips as your eyes roam over the misty face of the man that once was. Sad eyes like faded seaglass stand out amidst shadows of sharp cheekbones and shroud-like silver hair that dances like spider silk in the wind. He speaks of tragedy and heartbreak without saying a word, and the brush of your fingers on the frigid iron of his helmet finally breaks what fear remains in your heart. 

“You’ll protect me?” The words are barely a whisper, but you don’t have it in you to speak any louder.

The ghost - Polnareff - nods. Somber as he may be, you swear that the corner of his lips turns up for just a moment. That air of melancholy lifts ever so slightly from your heart, the glow of the being before you so much more vivid than before.

“I swear to you, as is my purpose. You’ll never be alone.”

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #Doc's Fics #jean pierre polnareff #jjba x reader #monster au #teratophillia #stardust crusaders #jjba polnareff #sfw #polnareff x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader

[somethinglikethatyeah83]

TWO DOCTORS: Tenth Doctor

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x OC, Platonic!Donna x OC,

Warnings: Daleks, Davros, lots of unwarranted jealousy from both Rose and Vera. I left out the sad Donna bit at the end because its already so long and that bit is too sad for me to write (yet)

Summary: The last episode of Season 4, Journeys End rewrite but with Vera and a very jealous Rose

Word Count: 3.5K

Somehow, there were two Doctors. I’d missed the explanation for it, if there had been one at all. I wouldn’t have been surprised if there hadn’t been one. The situation seemed way too tense to stop and explain something that didn’t seem too important. I hope I wasn’t the only one that didn’t have a clue of what was going on. 

I hadn’t been in the universe. I hadn’t been in this time, and I had no clue how I had been brought here, but one second I was on a different planet, talking to someone about some random topic, just learning and exploring like I always did, and the next I was on the floor of a ship. 

Both Doctors were standing over at the side of the room. It was murky and horrid wherever we were. I didn’t know much. But I knew that the Daleks were back. They survived. Somehow they survived, and that was the main thing.

Everyone on Gallifrey had heard of Davros, even before the Time War began, and now, he stood above me, snarling down at me.

“Last of the Timelords, huh, Doctor?” Davros teases, looking up and over to him. 

The Doctor steps forward, as far as he could in his bubble, snarling over to Davros. “Don’t you touch her Davros, don’t you dare.”

The girl standing next to him had her eyebrows furrowed. I didn’t recognise her, and the Doctor had introduced me to every companion he’d met. She turned to the Doctor and spoke. “Doctor, who is she?”

“Ah. Yes.” He spoke, hesitant. “Vera, this is Rose Tyler, a… friend. Rose, this is Vera Rubato, my wife.”

Rose’s eyes went wide, turning to the Doctor with a facial expression that I could decipher as only disgust or jealousy. Maybe he had had a thing with her before he met me. I wasn’t fussed, but it was a little confusing. Why hadn’t I met her? Why hadn’t he even mentioned her before?

Either way, I was his wife. She wasn’t.

Davros spoke again, drawing our attention away from each other. “Stand up, Miss Rubato.”

I did what he told me to, since I wasn’t in the mood to regenerate, but as soon as I did, a barrier zoomed around me, similar to what both Doctor’s were held in, locking us in. “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on, please?”

“God, shut up, there are more important things.” 

The Doctor, my Doctor, holds a hand out, as if he was stopping Rose from pushing her way out of the invisible prison and starting a fist fight with me. “Rose, not right now.”

I watched as she crossed her arms over her chest and grumbled. There was a slight smile on my face, which he definitely noticed. 

Davros drove forward, facing the Doctor, a wicked grin on his wrinkled face. “Two girls. Two Doctors. What do I do with this?”

And then, just as I was about to butt in and ruin Davros’ monologue, the Tardis doors swing open. Finally, someone I knew, someone I could trust storms out.

“I’ve got you Doctor! Don’t worry!” And Donna Noble reaches down and picks up the gun on the floor. I hadn’t even noticed it was there, too busy with the rest of the surroundings. Chances were, it was the most important thing here, and could save everything. Or at least save what was at risk. I still hadn’t gotten an explanation. 

But she wasn’t fast enough. 

Davros spun and zapped Donna, throwing her to the side of the room, behind machinery that looked important. There was nothing anyone could do. Both the Doctor and I would have been running towards her, and I could hear him shouting beside me, but she wasn’t getting up. She was out cold. 

Not even Timelords can survive Daleks, let alone humans. I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t want to think about that at all. We had no choice but to continue. The Doctor was angrier than he was before, which I didn’t think possible. I could hear him shout at Davros, words and insults I wanted to say but didn’t have the energy. 

“That’s it!” Davros cried, a gleeful grin with such a wicked undertone painted on his face, looking at the Doctor with a horrid awe. “Show your companions who you really are. The wrath of the timelord!” 

“Doctor.” Rose’s murmur was quiet. I wasn’t even talking.

“Watch, faithful companions, as the man you thought was honourable and honest, and kind to everyone he meets, watch as he becomes the very thing he swears not to be. A killer. A murderer. The murderer of the timelords. This is who he really is and as much as he can try to hide it, this is who he is, and who he will always be.” Davros monologues, snarling at the Doctor whose facial expression was worse than anger, worse than hatred or loathing. 

I knew what this did to him. I knew how these words affected him and how much remorse he felt for what he had done in the past. I knew he regretted what he did to Gallifrey, and so did Davros, but this time, he was using it against the Doctor. An action that made my heart burn with a similar anger. 

“Doctor, don’t listen to him.” I whispered across, hoping he could hear me over all the noise in his mind. All the voices that were yelling insecurities at him. But it was like he couldn’t hear me. Like all the noise was too much or that he was so angry at Davros - rightfully so - that he wasn’t in tune with the world, blinded by the white hot anger that Davros had plagued him with.

No longer was I concentrating on Donna, or the other Doctor, or the fact that Rose somehow thought she had a right to my Doctor over me. Or even Martha, and the few other people, Jack, and more I didn’t recognise. All I wanted to do was help him. Break out of this god-forsaken prison and help him. 

But maybe he was the only one that could save us; because Donna was alive.

I could see her from the corner of my eye, stepping up from behind the large machine, using the metal to pull her up. The frown left my sight at my friend, who I could tell had changed. Something was different: I didn’t know what, but something had changed, and that something might just be the thing we needed to save her. The frown left my lips, replaced by a smirk that I failed to hold back. Davros noticed, though.

“What?” He asked, driving away from the attention of the Doctor and back in front of me, as close as he could get with me trapped in the prison.

I smiled, shrugging and crossing my arms across my chest, spotting the Doctor’s frown from my peripheral vision. “Nothing.”

It was evident I’d struck a nerve by not explaining my sudden change in expression, but then again, that was the point. I watched as Davros drove away from us. I had also made the Doctor, both Doctor’s, mad for provoking Davros, but I had a plan.

It wasn’t a very good plan at the moment, but it was something.

“Enough!” Davros shouted, driving further and sitting in front of an unnamed Dalek that didn’t even have a shell anymore. I didn’t want to think about how he had gotten into that state. “The plan will come into place, there is nothing stopping them and now that I have you all captured, I have no need for you to all be alive.”

“You brought us all here just to kill us?” Rose shouts.

“Kill them!” Davros orders, ignoring Rose and pointing in our direction.

The grin on my lips only grew asI settled on my left hip and arms crossed as the rest of the panicked. As the Daleks were about to drive over to us to kill us, I looked over at Donna who smiled and winked at me. 

“Dalek control? Hacked.” She grinned, flicking a switch in the machine. 

Immediately, the Daleks started spinning around in circles, unable to control themselves and where they went. Everyone, including both Doctor’s, started laughing at the sight.

Donna flicks yet another switch. “Prison barriers down!”

And the blue barriers surrounding us fall, letting us out. Donna lets out a shout as we start running towards her. 

“Donna!” The Doctor shouts, still grinning and laughing. “But you can’t even change a plug?”

“That was a two-way metacrisis; half human, half Timelord!” She grins, and even I can spot that little bit of the Doctor in her, especially as her eyes frantically move and dart about in a way that is so the Doctor. “But I got the best part of him. I got his mind.”

I smirked, looking over to my Doctor. “Best part? You sure?”

The Doctor’s face dropped, enjoying the comment but not wanting to show it, a half smirk on his lips and that subtly flirtatious look in his eyes that I hoped no one else could see. 

Rose butted in between us, pushing me away from him. “Anyway… We’ve still got things to do. We’ve got 27 in the wrong place and the wrong time, we have to get them home.”

Donna clicked her fingers at Rose. “Yes! Come on then you skinny boys in suits, we’ve got planets to relocate!”

Both Doctor’s leaped around to the machine, immediately laughing and flicking switches all in time with each other. I watch them all, not noticing what anyone else behind me is doing, but rather focusing on the Doctor. My Doctor. Who was Rose? How did she know the Doctor and why was she so insistent on keeping us apart? I didn’t have time to talk to him about it, not now. I’d find out after this was all over, and I’d have a good talk to him about it. If Rose ever let us be alone again.

I turned to the monitors on the machine, watching as they showed each planet leaving and getting home in time with the switches being flicked. I watched as, without command, all the people I didn’t know, that were probably connected to Rose, started pushing Dalek’s into each other. They were all exploding as they did so. It was all so chaotic, but so long as everyone here and everyone on the 27 planets were safe, then it didn’t matter.

As all the Daleks were slowly being destroyed, I leaped towards the Tardis, opening it with the key I had latched around my neck and standing at the door. “Come on everyone! Get inside the Tardis!”

“Only a few more planets, Vera!” My Doctor shouts, smiling over to me from the machine, adoration in his eyes. “Go on everyone, follow Vera and get in the Tardis.”

People slowly piled in, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen this many people inside the Tardis at one moment before. Martha, Jack, Rose, someone called Mickey and Jackie. Even Sarah Jane, who my Doctor had told me about before. Soon enough, the Doctor spinted over to me, he entered the Tardis, resting his hand on my upper arm and looking down at me with a love I saw from no one else.

“You alright?”

I nodded, grinning. “Yeah, all good. Let’s get everyone home.”

He squeezed my arm one more time before running up to the console. “Vera, get Donna and… the other one. We need both of them in here before we can leave.”

I nodded, looking out the door, ready to call them both, but seeing Donna already stalking towards the Tardis. The other Doctor was still standing at the machine, staring intently at the monitor. Suddenly there was a low rumble and the whole ship shook, a loud explosion erupting from the floor and setting new rubble on fire, only creating more chaos. 

“What did you do!” I shouted over to him, looking up at him as ran over to the ship, stepping inside the Tardis and looking down at me. 

“I saved us.” He had such an innocent look on his face, as if he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“You committed genocide!”

“Against the Daleks, Vera.” He negotiated, completely believing his own words as if they weren’t defending behaviour that my Doctor would never dare to think about doing, not again. “Against the species that ruined our planet and took our people, our families and homes away!”

“They were still living.” I scolded, watching as his face fell. “And now, what makes you any better than them? Go on, get inside.”

He walked into the main room of the Tardis where everyone else stands at the console. I close the Tardis doors and follow him, looking up at my Doctor, catching eyes with him, looking confused but sympathetic. He then turned to everyone else.

“Right! One more planet to go, and I’m going to need everybodies help.”

I stepped out of the Tardis onto a beach. Donna stepped out behind me, but after the metacrisis she probably knew where this was and why it was important. I didn’t.

My Doctor and the other Doctor stood on the sand, Rose too, turning around as she realised where they were. Of course it had something to do with her. I watched as they spoke, unable to hear them. I knew it was probably for the best but my curiosity got the better of me. I stalked forward a little, edging further from the Tardis and closer to these three people. 

“He committed genocide. He’s too dangerous.” My Doctor spoke, standing tall in front of Rose, a melancholy look on his face. “He has to stay here.”

“And I do as well?” Rose asked, a look on her face that didn’t belong there. That shouldn’t have been there. 

“Yes. You have no place back home, and you have a life, here, now.” He explained. “We have no life together anymore, but he can.”

The other Doctor turned to Rose, taking her hand. “I’m part human, specifically the ageing part. I’ll grow old and eventually die. I could spend it with you, if you want.” 

“You’ll grow old with me?” Rose was conflicted, I could see it in her face. She turned to the other Doctor. He nods. She had that look in her eyes that I saw in the Doctor when he first met me. That confusion, but also love. She was in love with the Doctor. “I just have one question.” She turns to my Doctor, who still stands between me and Rose. “Who is she?”

And I make eye contact with her. She doesn’t know I can hear.

“Who is who?” The Doctor replies.

“Vera. Who is she?”

The Doctor shrugs, but I can’t see his expression so I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “She’s just Vera.”

Just Vera. We’re married but okay.

“Who is she to you?”

There was a small moment of silence before he spoke again. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking or what was going through his mind, and whatever he said now could either make my life or shatter me more than losing Gallifrey did. 

“She’s the love of my life.”

“You did exactly what you said you wouldn’t do.” Rose cries, her own heart broken by what he had answered with, whereas my hearts were flying. “You replaced me. You said you never would-”

He shook his head. “She’s a Timelord, Rose. The one thing I have left of my planet.”

“I crossed parallel universes for you, Doctor.” 

“She’s Timelord. I can have a real life with her, I can grow old and die with her. I can’t do that with you.” My doctor tells her, looking over to the other Doctor who steps forward and takes Rose’s hand in his. 

Donna lifts her chin next to me. “Doctor, we haven’t got long.”

The Doctor nods and turns back around to Rose. “The gap is closing up again. I won’t ever see you again, Rose. I’m sorry.”

Rose stayed silent. As much as I didn’t like it, there was no denying her and the Doctor had a history, and I could almost feel how he was feeling. Her staying silent must have killed him inside. Even more was left unsaid as I watched the Doctor turn around, starting to walk away from Rose and towards me. 

I could see the other Doctor holding onto her hand tightly, and I could just about see a tear fall from where I stood. My doctor reached me, and I looked up at him, finding his eyes and finally being able to decipher how he felt. 

“Get inside the Tardis, I just want to talk to her.”

“We don’t have much time.”

“I won’t be long.” I promise, reaching a hand up and cupping his jaw. “Don’t leave without me.”

He nods and walks away off to the Tardis, Donna following shortly behind him. I make my way over to Rose, stalking across the sand that I can also feel in my shoes. Her eyebrows furrow at the sight of me, but I just smile slightly. I have no reason to hate her and there is no way I blame her at all for being in love with the Doctor. 

“Hi.” I greet, sending her a small smile.

“Hi.”

“I want you to know this isn’t your or his fault. If it’s anyone’s fault then it’s mine because I found him again, but that’s not the point.” I start to laugh at myself slightly, watching as Rose tries to figure out my point. “I don’t have long, but I genuinely believe that if he could, he would spend his life with you, but he can’t. And if he could, then he would eventually have to lose you again, which I don’t think he could handle.”

Rose looks over to the Tardis doors, now closed. “He’s losing me now, he might as well lose me later.”

“He likes to get things over and done with.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because he’s my husband.” I shrug, looking her in the eye, though she refuses to meet mine. “And I know him, more than you ever could.”

“You-”

But I interrupted, knowing that she would end up shouting at me, which we didn’t have time for. “Listen, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. Only two Timelords can have the connection that the Doctor and I have. It’s not that he wouldn’t have that connection with you, it’s that he physically can’t. Just treasure the Doctor that you have, because he’s the best one for you.”

“I have my Doctor, and you have yours.” Rose speaks, finally looking up. 

“Yeah.” I smile. “Listen, I’ve gotta go, but I hope you have a good life with your Doctor.”

Rose nods, reaching out a hand. “And you have a good life with yours.” And with that, I take her hand, shaking it. I wasn’t going to hug her, and part of me still felt like she hated me, but a handshake would do. At least she wouldn’t be angry at my Doctor anymore, that was my goal.

I turned, and made my way to the Tardis, leaving Rose and the other Doctor behind. It was murky in the Tardis as I closed the door behind me, but even more melancholy from the Doctor, my Doctor. I couldn’t see him straight away, but as I got further into the Tardis console room, I saw him on the far side of the console, hands pressed against the cold metal. 

“I’m sorry.” Was all he said.

“For what?” I asked, making my way to him and hopping onto the console, leaning into him.

He only shrugged. “I should have told you about her.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I told him, resting my head on his shoulder and waiting for a reply. After he doesn’t say anything, I lifted my head and pulled his chin up to look at me. “Want to talk?”

He shook his head. I didn’t know how else to help, so I shuffled my way in front of him and where he stood and pulled him into a hug. He probably didn’t know how much he needed it but he figured it out when he got the hug, because he had a tight grip around my waist and his head buried into my neck. 

Donna walked back into the main room to see the heartfelt hug, and nodded knowingly. I pulled a thankful face as she left again, leaving the Doctor and I alone once more. 

We still had Donna to deal with, because she physically wasn’t possible. More of an anomaly than the Doctor could ever be, and she would be able to handle it. But that could wait. We still had a few hours until it really kicked in. Until then, I had to make sure the Doctor was alright.

#tenth doctor #tenth doctor x oc #vera #tenth doctor x vera #tenth doctor x reader fluff #tenth doctor fluff #doctor who #dw #tenth doctor x reader #ten #ten x reader #tenth doctor angst #rose tyler #donna noble

[allexiaah]

can you leave my friends alone. it’s fucking weird you’re going around trying to get them banned from rp servers, if you don’t like them then stay away from them it’s not that hard

Putting me back in the ring are we? Fuckssake thought we were over this

Alright I'm feeling like entertaining you for a minute, so I'll answer this. First off, honestly, the fact you're not on anon is bold and almost admirable. But you lost it all the second you started typing so that's unfortunate. At least you're not a fucking coward about it though! You have that going for you :)

You can say whatever you want about me going out of my way to get Ash banned, but that didn't happen and honestly he's a fucking creep and I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. horrible person. I'd say get better friends, but I mean trash attracts flies so I don't think you have any intentions of becoming a half decent human being any time soon

I won't bother my mutuals and followers with this horseshit that should've died a damn year ago so the rest is under the cut

What actually happened is that I wanted to join an RP server. I saw someone in the twins spot, and, under the suspicion it was Ash, dmed a mod and asked about it. Y'know, so i could avoid him if it was him, because he's actively a piece of shit for the sake of it, and I never want to see his rotten ass again. And it was! And considering he's been banned from at least two servers I knew about before, I pretty much said, "okay, good luck with that guy and keep an eye on him."

Later, I had a friend from an RP server I'm in now message me. Turns out they're the OWNER, and one of the mods was aspec and the owner asked me what happened. So I told them that ash is a piece of shit (the evidence doesn't leave anyone wanting, that's for sure,) and he got banned for it. And it wasn't just me he made uncomfortable either! I'm hearing stories of numerous RP servers in which he starts shit, and then earns himself a bad rep for it. It's not even CLOSE to my fault. He's banned because he was a piece of shit and, coincidentally, I knew the person who owned the server. I didn't even know that before then. The entire thing started OUT as me trying to stay away from a shitty person, so don't tell me I went seeking him out.

Maybe Ash should consider learning how to not make people hella fucking uncomfortable and to be a tolerable person, like you yourself should, and he wouldn't get fucking banned from everywhere lol. If he's pressed enough to get you to send an ask for him, then he should make his own server where all the bigoted rude pieces of shit can congregate and have their RP, because literally nobody fucking else wants it.

It's not a smart move to send asks to people you tell to ignore you, too. Come back when you go outside and spend time in an actual LGBT space and not like... Fucking twitter. You don't have to be a piece of work but you choose to, and that's sad. With all due respect, which is none, get fucked and pound sand.

I'm going to keep telling people about pieces of shit who never got over the high of finally getting to be the bully themselves for once. No friend of his is a friend of mine, and won't ever be again.

Go for a walk. Get a hobby. Look for bugs or something. Make a collage. Sit outside in the sun and draw. Do literally fucking ANYTHING that gets you to care about what actually matters in the world

And I'm sure you'll show it to him anyway, but tell him to get fucked and try to be a better person for once in his life. It'll save him a lot of trouble later.

#allex answers #flealands #its actually fucking hilarious that theyre not on anon. and almost respectable if not for the fact that #they're a shitty and cowardly person in every other aspect ever #hope that your room gets infested with ants <3 #send me another ask i dare you #not like ill answer it but :)

[the-firebird69]

There's a lot of problems here it's a lot of people who are sad and they're not telling people and it's the warlock they're missing people here and people that are not sensitive to it and go around yelling at each other putting each other down trying to harm each other. One person came right up to John Riva Lord and said you should burn in hell for what you've done and left. And it was a woman that she's still around but wanted him to feel it they're just about anybody can walk up to him and do what they want he keeps saying it to my husband over and over and has other people and she saw that and said that's terrible so she sending people after the idiot cuz she sees what he's doing to people and at least once a day his Bell is wrong and he keeps saying who's that and he thinks he knows last night she had a conniption as you tried to get to him and tried to hit him and couldn't do it she didn't feel up to it and she was not spotted but she died and says while she's dying I tried to get him but I couldn't do it and she heard that's okay and finally she said I'm not really a killer I don't want to be I said this with my parents said. As she was disappearing she said someone has to get him and she heard Brian he said I'll do it and she smiled and disappears her brain was going Bryan's both of them said they would. And that was one thing that was going on other things are happening is that he is being charged does attempted murder and in town just like you said he was before but this time they're bringing him to court and a lot of people were doing this act at the boat docks and he was arrested for inciting them cuz he was trying to do it by hand... And my husband was laughing there's a lot of people laughing I guess I made a funny. And they think it's Sherry and she's laughing and blushing because there's a lot of people doing it by hand. And a lot of them are a little weird to do it for each other and people are arrested for it and a lot of people were arrested last night and the fishing was no better than it usually is and we didn't see as many fish as usual because his load of poop going out. And some of the police were not in warlock and they did get to the bottom of it but the more like plan is and it's from this jerk off session LOL and it usually is but this is a real one.

There's other stuff happening here it's Sunday but people are saying they're going to bring the miscreants to court and shut them down and doesn't seem to do that but they need some closure. It's more happening and there is going to be a lot of death here all around because of power loss and mac picks up on why and people see it now, groups are getting hit they come in and inspire the others to do stuff and action to try and get power and now it's going to be a lot of poor people doing it and also they started yelling it's what he's saying and this is stupid and this is terrible

-yeah there's a few things that are happening that are important that her occurring because of the bunkers being attacked nearby almost every single one of them was a huge fuel Depot but there was much larger fuel depots where the deserts of the Sahara the Saudi desert and gobi and actually near the condo in Amazon and about four other places Washington State and Oregon and Nova Scotia those are refueling areas for the pseudo empire and his show one of them in Star wars it's closer to you Abu Dhabi in Saudi Arabia and then the others these places are big they're really 10 miles by 10 miles and they're losing most of them and the empire is going to be held out from those as well. Right now people are fighting over them including the warlock with fleets and they're fighting over all of them but they're using spaceships foreigners are too and Tommy Tommy f is and they're going to be smaller by the time this is over here and the empire is going to be hit this next round with the bunkers in the New England it's going to draw bugs and starcraft begins and Lily is going to go on a trip in the next week the episodes all of them go from start to finish and the guy who dies is a Mac it's not match proper though and things happen fast but my husband doesn't think it'll happen that fast and it's probably right better security because those things going on now and what event says is it's probably when the empire is attacked on the East which is going to take a while a month or two and it's going to be hammering with movies like day after tomorrow and Oblivion before anything like that will happen. It's going on right now but really it's good to stay intensify and get very gross and eventually they will have a war and it looks like Jason is that Big blob monster and it comes back to Earth in Hellboy after his wife's sister Lily hits him and he gets blown up a little bit and we think dune begins. And he returns it's after Star wars and he's not a worm goes back to me in person and he has many adventures and just not in Florida yeah the empire is going to be forced right on top of the warlock and they'll be taking there fueling stations and there's going to be huge fights over them. And we're going to hold on to the ones that are in our areas. And the pseudo empire is going to want fuel

Hera

They're going to want fuel and they're going to try and force it out by threatening the facility over and over. And it's going to be repetitive and they're going to threaten their son and it's the idiots moving in. And they're going to be fighting the warlock over it and they will be getting each other and it's already begun and because the bunkers are almost gone and most of the areas where the fuel is and the rest of them will be gone probably by the end of the day today it's a huge day and it's happening right now it's going to be a massive fight. There's more to it every Friday the empire and we don't have really possession of those yet but will and we have to kind of protect it there's another couple things happening we're going to publish

Thor Freya

Olympus

I was happy to announce my share and have more and coming up shortly

Hera

[mrfandomgage]

Everything has been getting harder and harder to live with.

Days feel the same in some way, everything feels ok, I'm not in a lot of physical pain. So why can't I feel happy? Why can't I feel loved? Why does everything still feel so useless?

I've been having a harder and harder time writing, I would've quit playing video games if it weren't for streaming (check out my twitch, AverageGoatMan, playing Omori and Ultrakill recently, fun games), it's been hard to get up as of late, I feel like everything I liked about anything is just not worth it.

It's not like I don't want to do things but any sense of accomplishment just melts away. I was never able to really hold too much pride in myself, I mean, what do I have to be proud about? I played a video game well? I got a minimum wage job? I can draw characters decent enough to not look like absolute shit? I can feel some sense of accomplishment in these, but really it feels like everything around me wouldn't care for it. I lost a friend, not that they're dead, but they straight told everyone they knew that they're abandoning everyone they knew or became friends with... that last conversation with them broke me further down honestly. I can't tell if the things they said were to piss me off, or make me hate them, or at the very least make me distance myself from them. Nope. I feel mangled. They tried their best to make me not like them, tried their best to make me let things lie. Sucks for them, I want to know everything I can, push someone's mentality to the edge where they can't lie, dig into them so I can really understand. They made themselves my friend so I was worried for them, now it feels like another part of me died while I'm supposed to carry on. Couldn't have known em for even a year, but they did so much for me and my other friends online. The bastard... I can't tell if i should be crying, laughing or be mad.

I turned off my emotions just to actually talk it through, and to the end, I couldn't handle what I was processing, I let what I was keeping back come through, I couldn't see my screen. This was someone that hung out and made everything better. He helped me acknowledge times I fucked up, we did quite a bit together looking back on it. His final wish for me was that I would get better...

I've grown an intense fear of abandonment before this, so this announcement in general made every little thing in me rip open. Trying to forget him as he told me to when he wished for me to get better, for when he was a great friend and community member, even if he... he did a lot to help, he made his own community as well, and they were sad for him to go.

I never learned how to grieve. Family members died and I just let them pass. I nearly laughed at my mom's own funeral because I couldn't accept it, and I still can't. I still miss my mom.

I was a shy kid. Growing up I had a hard time talking to people (probably cause I only learned I'm autistic after 18 fucking years of my life, thanks mom), making friends, being around others. I got jealous of how easily my little sibling made friends with other kids, I was also scared. In Middle School, I was bullied to a point where I stopped feeling much of anything, my older brother destroyed my sense of self importance, others would argue, bicker, and fight over anything, so those I did grow attached to, I became clingy towards, they were the only people I really trusted with exposing myself emotionally to, not even family, not even my mom. I became depressed and in pain in that time, I guess my anger was also a cry for help, because I just needed any attention, from anyone. So having people that were my friends, they gave me attention and I was ok being a bit more honest with them. Yeah, that was nice, but it became a major problem with me. I was so abrasive towards others, I started trying to push them all away, and keep those I liked close enough for me to tolerate their existence. It worked... I kept who I wanted to keep while damaging a bunch of potential relationships, and even harmed those friends I had in the first place.

Later in life I noticed what I was doing and I was scared of losing them all, in fact, this fear had to kick off hard and tear me open near immediately, because not only did my mom die, not only did our beloved pets die, not only did family stop contacting us, but as well, a friend of mine (that I made up with several times now, and even hung out with again) left me in this state of disrepair and let me brake down further. At this time in my life I had been at one of my worst points. I was in such a state of disrepair that I got an artist to block me on all socials, if you guys see Kryptsune, tell her I'm sorry, and what she did was 100% justified. I only acted for myself without care of others at the time. You're a great artist and I only perpetuated that Spyro joke because I've made a nasty mental habit to hurt the people I love. I know you'll never see this message, but at least it's there, you never have to forgive or forget it. I know I won't.

In short. I just want to feel better, but I can't afford a therapist.

#again #kryptsune #sorry for bothering you #have a good day

[thevindicativevordan]

Why isn't Nightwing a bigger deal? He has all of Batman's skills and Superman's faith in humanity and is arguably the most beloved hero in the DCU, but most people seem to know him either as the leader of the N̶o̶t̶ ̶J̶L̶ Teen Ttians or just Robin.

Thank you for asking me about Nightwing, I've been wanting to write a piece about him for a while now. The short version is that everyone who claims Dick becoming Nightwing was him "moving out of Batman's shadow and becoming his own man" is completely wrong.

Dick Grayson is a fantastic character, someone who saved Bruce Wayne in-universe both by forcing Batman to grow up a bit, and the countless times he saved Batman's life as his partner whether as Robin or Nightwing. Dick saved Batman in the real world as well, hard to believe but Batman was actually in danger of being cancelled due to poor sales early on. Enter Robin, a young daredevil audience stand in the creators hoped would get kids interested in reading Batman. And it worked! Sales on Batman doubled once Robin showed up which is crazy to think about, but Dick Grayson has always been a popular character. Cartoons like Teen Titans, Batman: The Animated Series, and The Batman only helped grow his audience.

Character-wise, Dick Grayson really does fill a number of crucial roles in the DCU. For Batman, Dick is proof that Batman is a positive force. Meeting Batman helped change Dick for the better, helped him heal after his parents died. With Dick, Batman can take comfort in knowing that yes, he has made a difference in the world for at least one orphan boy, which is all he wanted when he lost his parents himself. To the wider DCU, Dick is a friendly face who convinces others that Batman is competent and not a complete asshole. He took this kid in, trained him to be one of the best heroes the DCU has seen, and did it all out of the kindness of his heart. That someone like Dick can confront the evils of Gotham and not break means there's still hope for that city. As Robin, Dick has led the Titans and is an icon in his own right as The Sidekick, the original, the one every other Robin is built around copying or contrasting. The one all other superhero sidekicks are drawing on as a basis. As Robin Dick Grayson is very much on Batman's level.

Just not as Nightwing. As Nightwing, Dick has been a second rate Daredevil which means he's a third rate Batman (fully prepared to get hate for this but I've read and enjoyed the Miller and Bendis DD runs so I feel entitled to my opinion). A typical Nightwing run tends to go like this: Moving to Bludhaven (which is Gotham... but WORSE!), Dick Grayson usually enrolls in a pointless job we don't care about in order to provide some meaningless soap opera drama that doesn't go anywhere. Patrolling the city as Nightwing, he fights a variety of bad guys who are usually rather lame and unthreatening, with his big bad being a Kingpin knockoff called Blockbuster. Villains are fought, long running plotlines are set up, then everything is abandoned because it's Batfamily event time, and Dick has to run back to Gotham in order to play sidekick again. Usually his involvement is completely superfluous and it would've been better if the writer had gotten to opt out. By the time we finally get back to Nightwing's solo plotlines, the audience has usually ceased to care and the run gets cut short.

That's how Nightwing has been since the New 52 at least. Anyone who thinks that's "becoming their own man" is out of their mind. Dick is so thoroughly in Batman's shadow that he got shot in the head and spent a longer time as "Ric" which everyone fucking hated and sold like shit, than he did as Agent Grayson which was extremely well-received. Reiterating: Ric went on longer than Grayson because of a fucking Batman plotpoint Tom King wanted where Bruce was sad and cut off from the Batfamily because of Dick getting shot. Not just calling out King either, how many times was Kyle Higgins Nightwing run derailed because of Scott Snyder's crossovers? Or how about that entire run getting dumped to the side because Johns wanted to out Dick during Forever Evil, a Justice League/Lex Luthor story? DC has repeatedly made their contempt for Nightwing clear, he's Batman's sidekick still in their eyes, and he serves whatever story role the Batman writer wants.

Hell his best stories tend to have been the ones where he's not Nightwing. He was Robin in a good chunk of the Wolfman/Perez New Teen Titans run. Morrison really showcased his depth as a character when they wrote him as Batman, their time with Dick under the cowl was actually one of the first Batman runs I ever read, and no Nightwing run has ever matched it in terms of quality in my humble opinion. Scott Snyder's work with DickBats also was a high point for the character, showing Dick as competent and examining his relationship with Gotham and the Gordons. King and Seeley gave him one of the best comic runs with Grayson, a series where he wasn't even a "superhero" technically! When it comes to actual pre-New 52 Nightwing runs that are highly recommended where he *is* Nightwing, there's Chuck Dixon and uhhhhhhh... Tomasi's brief run before Dick became Batman? It's not exactly an overwhelming list.

Look there has been good work done with Nightwing, I'm not claiming there hasn't been. Tim Seeley wrote a great run with Nightwing Rebirth. Seeley fleshed out Dick's Rogues Gallery with cool new ones like Raptor, he brought back old foes like Dr. Hurt (why oh why couldn't you have brought back Flamingo too?), he gave Dick's world some character it solely needed. Bludhaven under Seeley is pretty much the only time I've really felt like it lived up to being Dick's city.

The problem with fictional cities is you have to put in the work to give them the character of real cities. You have to make the cities feel like characters in their own right. Gotham is the best example of this, it's a character all it's own, one that tells you a lot about Batman and his cast. In contrast Bludhaven is usually one of the worst. Any place that wants to claim to be worse than the city that is built over the gate to hell and gets wrecked every other month by the Arkham freaks has to really put in the work to compete. Simply put, Bludhaven typically fails utterly. There's nothing about it that makes you really buy it's worse than Gotham, I mean does anyone really think Nightwing's Rogues wouldn't get their lunches eaten by Batman's? No, no one genuinely buys that. When Bludhaven claims to be worse, it just comes across as tryhard, an attribute that does end up telling you about Nightwing in unintentional ways.

So Seeley didn't do that. Instead he created a city built for a hero like Dick Grayson. Someone who is bright and flashy, but does have an element of darkness to him. Someone who loves the spotlight, but often uses it to obscure. Seeley turned Bludhaven into Las Vegas, and that was the fucking best concept for Bludhaven I have ever seen, it makes so much sense. Las Vegas is the "Entertainment Capital of the World" and isn't that the perfect city for a hero who got their start working in the circus? Isn't the aesthetics of the gleaming casinos, the glamorous sex appeal of the performers, and the spectacle of the shows, all being used to cover up the seediness of mob bosses meeting backstage perfect for Nightwing? It's so utterly unlike New York City, yet Las Vegas is still dangerous, it's got a crime culture all it's own. Seeley used it to great effect, as did Humphries during his brief run, and I will always be pissed that DC didn't continue to use it. That should have stuck around and been the definitive look for Bludhaven.

How Seeley's take on Bludhaven was treated feels like a small scale version of how Nightwing in general gets treated. Whenever creators pitched ideas for him, if editorial thought there was potential to break big, they asked for those ideas to be repurposed for Batman instead. Anything big or good gets repurposed for Batman or tossed to the side so Nightwing can go back to his default: having irrelevant adventures in a city that is supposedly worse than Gotham but can't live up to it. Just like how Nightwing is supposedly better than Batman but never gets to show it. Goddamn it's so frustrating seeing his potential get wasted like that.

The Nightwing book should be one of DC's most ambitious books in terms of storytelling. You can go from traditional superhero stories, to romantic soap opera, to spy stories, to crime noir, to horror, to cosmic adventures, and ALL of them would fit because Nightwing is someone who has a foot in both Gotham and Metropolis. He's got friends everywhere on every team, and has been a hero longer than most Leaguers have at this point. No reason DC should still be afraid to let him loose and insisting on hewing close to what Dixon established almost over 30 years ago is only holding him back. At the very least get him some better Rogues, why the hell didn't he get to keep Professor Pyg? That's Dick's villain not Bruce's! Bullshit that they didn't let Dick keep him. Hopefully Flamingo comes back, with a slight revamp I think he'd make a great reoccurring Nightwing Rogue.

Luckily it does look somewhat like Nightwing fans have reason to be optimistic. While Taylor isn't to my taste, DC clearly views him as a "big" writer, and that they put him on Nightwing says a lot. Taylor has been selling well so far, so hopefully he gets to tell his story, hilarious that even he lampshaded having to write Dick running over to Gotham for another tie-in after Taylor's big opening arc was all about Dick committing himself and his money to Bludhaven. Scott Snyder is apparently working on a Black Label Nightwing book which will explore how he's a different detective than Bruce. The Gotham Knights video game has him as one of the main stars, and while Titans is... controversial, it's one of the most popular streaming shows and Dick is the main character. There's a lot of content coming that features him in the starring role, and that will only help his star rise further.

For the first time in, well, ever it feels like DC may be serious about elevating him. Time will tell if it pays off, but I for one choose to be optimistic that the 2020s will be a turning point for Dick Grayson where Nightwing becomes hugely popular in his own right. Not just as Batman's sidekick.

#nightwing #dick grayson #batman #gotham knights #titans #dc comics

[mrsbrekkers]

Hi! How are you?

Could I get a Kaz Brekker imagine where he opens up to the reader after a job about his past and the next day he tells her it was a mistake and a lapse of judgement, quite harshly. And then the reader gets hurt after a heist and he realises how much he actually needs her.

Thank you <3

i’m doing pretty good! first kaz fic tehe, i’ve been waiting to do kaz brekker one-shots since i read the books. he is v much a comfort character. i understand his aversion to physical touch ( i have panic attacks at times because of so ), his humor, and inner dialogue so he is v dear and near to my heart yeeee

i switched up the next day bit and did it as the same time since it made more sense to me?? i’m not sure how to explain it haha

pairings! kaz x reader / jesper x wylan + nina x matthias ( with inej third wheeling because she’d so do so. ) 

reader is female in this, but i can make it non-gender specific if one would like me too! just let me know i’m very flexible in my writing!

warnings! talking about jordie, ptsd, trauma, talk of death, loss of a brother + mother, swear words, kaz being sad, panic attacks, blood, near death experience, pekka a-hole rollins,

word count; 2610 ( proud again haha )

one-shot under cut!

COMPANIONABLE SILENCE

The Slat had become uncharacteristically quiet. A successful heist on part of the Crows made for easy celebration amongst the Dregs. Most sat gambling at the Crow Club, drinking the night away. Jesper had been having a weirdly lucky night, the money in front of him displaying such. Wylan had been on Jesper’s leg the entire night, and the occasional ‘This is my lucky charm’ could be heard from Jesper. Inej and Nina sat drinking together, Matthias looking like an unwilling bystander to the girls' fun. And yet, Y/N found herself back at the Slat after the long day. Her back screamed at her to call it a night, but instead, she found herself in front of Kaz’s door.

It was a routine the two had when they were the only ones at the Slat. Y/N would sit on the bed, head in a book, and Kaz would sit quietly at his desk planning whatever it was Kaz Brekker decided to plan. It seemed the same tonight, with Y/N quietly reading, until her head lifted to see Kaz rubbing his eyes.

“You need to get more sleep. The amount you manage is minimal. I’m surprised you’re not dead yet,” Y/N commented, her book falling into her lap, the page she’d left off on now folded at the corner. It surprised her how Kaz managed to live off of his, if lucky, two hours of sleep. She’d never understand it. Granted, she slept less than the suggested as well, but she always made up for it with at least a nap during the day.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” 

That might be sooner than you think at this rate. But Y/N wouldn’t take that for an answer. She wasn’t usually a pushy person, especially with Kaz Brekker. She’d learned being pushy with him was never a good idea, considering the amount of people who did were left with a ruined reputation and nothing to live with.

“Sleeping when you’re dead isn’t an option in Ketterdam. Even when you’re dead here, you’re really not. Especially when people know of you. And last time I checked, the entire city knows you, and half of it wants your head on a silver platter. I’m actually sure people outside of the city know you, and may want the same,” Y/N said, standing and moving over to the wooden desk, sitting across from Kaz. Her eyes landed on the work Kaz worked on, seeing another heist plan he was drawing out.

Kaz wasn’t going to give in easily, anyone who knew him knew he was stubborn. One of the most stubborn people who lived in Ketterdam, but he knew what Y/N was saying held some truth in it. One was never truly dead in Ketterdam. He suspected people would dig up his body to hand over to Pekka Rollins - no, he wouldn’t die before Pekka Rollins did, that was a promise he’d made himself after Jordie. Brick by Brick. He couldn’t pull Rollins apart if he was dead. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t dead yet: his vigor to destroy the man who’d killed his brother. But he did suspect that when he, Kaz Brekker, was dead, he’d never truly be dead.

“Even so, I have things to do, plans to make-”

“At 1 in the morning? I’m sure such plans aren’t going to disappear overnight.” Being cut off, Kaz casted Y/N a glare, eyes narrowing. Why she had such influence over him, he’d never know. Or, maybe he did know and wasn’t going to express why. Because why would he? Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason after all. He always had reasons though.

Finally, Y/N sighed. “I don’t expect you to listen to me, but I’m not going to let you rot away from the lack of sleep you get, Kaz. I am just as stubborn as you, and if I must? I will sit here and bug you about your lack of sleep until sunrise. Or until I inevitably fall asleep.” The smallest glimpse of a smile reached Kaz’s lips, an instinct to roll his eyes almost playfully too. Stubborn about the well-being of her friends was a Y/N special. Kaz had simply thought he’d have time before she got on his ass about his own health.

She’d already gotten on Wylan about his self-destructive habits. His tendency to blame himself for not being good enough. Y/N had practically choked him out once when he’d gone on a rant about how he was a problem for the Crows. A burden. Kaz himself had been somewhat frightened. She’d found ways to help Jesper and his gambling addiction, which usually included them gambling, but in ways that didn’t involve money. She’d gotten on Matthias for his excuses to not kiss Nina.

If Kaz remembered correctly, she’d called it ‘redirecting the issue’.

“You’re avoiding something,” Y/N then spoke, crossing her arms. Weren’t they all avoiding something? Kaz thought, huffing as he sat back into his seat. This was Ketterdam after all. If you weren’t running from some rich merchant, then you were running from their son. Wylan had simply been a lucky break in that usual streak.

“You say that as if we all aren’t running from something,” Kaz finally said out loud, his eyes casted downwards.

“Avoiding, Kaz. Not running, and something tells me the thing you’re avoiding isn’t something, but someone.” Y/N knew the look Kaz had on. She’d worn it herself dozens of times.

“I had a brother.” Kaz couldn’t bring himself to look directly at Y/N. It would make talking about this all too real. Too much. Was this a lapse in his judgement? Why was he telling her this? Had she managed to get so under his skin? 

“We moved to Ketterdam after my father died. My brother . . . Jordie-'' the name came out with a small crack in his voice. He hadn’t said that name out loud since he’d laid on his sick brother’s chest. “Was hopeful about what the city would bring, and it brought peace for some time. We worked with a man for some time, and my brother was in on a deal. One that seemed too good to be true,” Kaz scowled now, his anger seeming to rise as he spoke.

Y/N sighed, knowing where this was going now. “When an offer is too good to be true-”

“It usually is. That man went by a different name then. One to scam people for their money to rise through the ranks of the Barrel.” Kaz finally lifted his eyes, seeing the realization rush over Y/N’s face.

“Pekka Rollins.”

“Pekka Rollins is the reason my brother is dead.”

The room fell silent for a few moments, Y/N contemplating what to say. She had a feeling she was among the few who knew Kaz’s story. She was tempted to ask how Joride died, but she could infer. She’d been around Ketterdam during the time firepox had plagued the city. Her mother had been taken from the disease. She’d been the same age as Kaz. It began clicking in her head too.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N murmured. “I know you probably don’t want my pity, but really, I’m sorry.” It made sense why Kaz felt like he needed to best Pekka Rollins. He wanted revenge. He wanted Rollins to be just as down as him and his brother had been.

Kaz sucked in a deep breath, standing and running a hand through his hair. His regret for telling the woman before him began to consume him. This was a mistake. Why had he told her? A harsh look fell over his face, looking down at the plans he had laid out. “I need to finish these plans, and I’m sure you need some sleep,” his tone was harsh, but it was clear there was hurt underlying it. He wasn’t going to be an outright asshole, but he needed his space now.

“You need sleep too, and I doubt you’re in the right headspace to try and make plans-”

“Y/N, leave.” He internally was begging. And Kaz Brekker never begged . . . but Kaz Rietveld would, and that’s who was begging. 

“Kaz-”

“Leave.” Anger washed over his features, his eyes directing Y/N to the door.

Y/N sighed, walking towards the door. Before she turned the knob, she stopped. “You know being open about your past doesn’t make you weak, right?” But Kaz said nothing, afraid his voice would fail him. With no words spoken for a beat, Y/N opened the door, shutting it as she paced down the steps.

Her book still lied on the bed, the folded paper to the chapter she was on prominent. Kaz took one look at it before sighing and sitting in the chair, one tear making its way down his face.

---

It was supposed to be in and out. Another job. Another however much Kruge. Where is she? Kaz thought. Y/N was never one for being late. Sure she was working with Jesper, who was notoriously late, but she should’ve been out before Jesper was, and she wasn’t.

It’d been a week of no speaking. Kaz couldn’t speak to her after revealing so much. He feared it would become all too real. A common fear he had. Stealing, picking locks, it was all real to him, yes, but he never experienced reality when he was on a job. It was his way of ‘avoiding’ as Y/N would put it. But now, he couldn’t avoid the reality of this job.

The reality was: He’d ignored Y/N for a week in fear, and now she wasn’t at the rondevu point.

She’s Y/N, she isn’t dead. But that may not be true. She could indeed be dead. She could be, She could be, She could be.... Dozens of potential outcomes came to mind.

The world seemed to spin as he paced. Nina and Matthias had already tried to calm him. Nina had even tried to calm his heart rate down. Wylan seemed to be just as worried as Kaz as well, Jesper still out there alongside Y/N and all. Inej was calm, but it was clear she was worried too. They all were, but Kaz was being unusually emotional. 

“At this rate, you’re going to have a heart attack Kaz,” Nina had said.

And if he did, then that’d be a first for the Bastard of The Barrel. 

“And you’re not close to having one?” Wylan asked, shooting a glare over at Nina.

Kaz mentally thanked Wylan. At least he wasn’t the only one close to breaking down. Get in and out. In and out. What had gone wrong?

But then he heard the sound of boots running across the muddy ground, his eyes shooting up to see Jesper carrying a bleeding Y/N.

She’s bleeding. Who had hurt her? Kaz wasn’t sure, but anger filled him. That was until he fully internalized that Y/N was bleeding.

“Jesper, what happened?”

Jesper helped Y/N into the safe house, his breathing heavy as he helped her onto the bed of one of the rooms. “Rollins. He got word of the job. We became overwhelmed and Y/N here took a bullet to the shoulder.” Then Wylan was practically engulfing Jesper in a hug.

How? Was Kaz’s initial thought, but with a huff, he closed his eyes. Moving over to follow Jesper, he took off his coat. Upon entering the room Y/N was sitting in, he nodded towards her good arm, silently asking for her to take off the sleeve of the arm that was hit.

“I thought we weren’t speaking?” Y/N asked, groaning as she pulled the sleeve of her bad shoulder off with some help from Inej who pushed everyone else out of the room. Inej left as well, but gave Kaz a nod to let her know when he would need help.

Kaz didn’t lift his eyes to look at Y/N, his eyes steady on the bullet lodged in her shoulder. He pulled out the medical kit under the bed. Always prepared, Y/N thought.

“How did Rollins find out?” Y/N asked, watching Kaz pick up tweezers from the small medical kit.

“I’m not sure, but I plan on figuring it out. Stay still.” And Y/N did, knowing this was hard enough as it was for Kaz, she didn’t want to make it any harder. Squeezing her eyes shut as she prepared for the pain. She gripped onto the bed, seething as Kaz took the bullet out with the tweezers.

“I hope you know, I didn’t mean any harm last week.” Kaz knew what Y/N was referring too, and he simply nodded for the moment. Picking up the bandages from the kit, Y/N shook her head.

“Get Inej to do it, you’ve already pushed yourself enough.”

“It’s fine,” Kaz spoke, his voice firm.

“Kaz, don’t-”

“I want too.” His eyes lifted to finally look up at Y/N. She looked down as well, silently nodding. She understood Kaz enough to know this was his apology for ignoring her the past week.

“My mother, she died from firepox,” Y/N spoke quietly. She didn’t know how Kaz would take her bringing it up, but she felt that if she didn’t, they’d build up all this anger again. They’d ignore one another again. Kaz stalled. Flashes of Jordie and Reapers Barge consumed him for a few moments. Y/N’s skin turned cold, icy and raw. He flinched away from the feeling.

Then he heard it - Y/N’s heartbeat. She was living. She wasn’t a corpse. The heartbeat and blood were testament to that. She isn’t dead. 

“I never told you how he died,” Kaz spoke quietly. He wasn’t used to talking about such subjects with anyone. It was the reason he’d taken on a different surname. That way he could cut ties with his past.

But for some reason, Y/N was able to make him feel . . . though begrudgingly, open with his past.

“I can infer, Kaz,” Y/N said with a small hiss as Kaz finished with the bandage, his hands shaky. “Now, you can continue ignoring me if you wish, I imagine you enjoy avoiding me.”

“I don’t enjoy it.” Kaz now had someone he connected with on a level he wasn’t used to. He wasn’t going to enjoy being apart from that.

“I know, I was simply making sure,” Y/N teased, her lips quirking in a small smile.

Kaz gave a small shake of his head, his lips pulling into a smile as well for just a moment. Then he picked up his coat he’d taken off. “I imagine you’re cold, here,” he spoke then, watching as Y/N took it and wrapped it around herself.

Then the door swung open, Nina rushing over to give Y/N a hug. “Kaz here almost had a heart attack. Wylan almost did. Jeez, never do that again,” she said, laughing a bit.

“Ouch, ouch, Nina,” Y/N spoke, referencing the still open wound on her shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry. We made food for you,” Nina said, smiling before handing Y/N a tray of food.

Kaz exited the room, allowing the others some time to talk to Y/N. Inej followed him, her arms crossed as she leaned against one of the walls.

“What information do you want me to get on Rollins?”

“Whatever you can find.” You’re not taking her from me Rollins, and you’d better be ready when I do come for you. Brick by Brick.

#kaz brekker #kaz rietveld #kaz brekker x reader #shadow and bone #six of crows #kaz six of crows #crooked kingdom #jesper x wylan #wesper #nina x matthias #angst #kaz brekker imagine #one shot #imagines #i wanna cry #nina zenik #wylan van eck #wylan van sunshine #jesper fahey #inej ghafa #matthias helvar

[anastasiaskarsgard]

A/n;So someone asked for smut for the perfect girl that decides she’s gonna have some fun before she dies. I’m A bit rusty. TW: sex, cursing, choking, 18+ NSFW

If you wanna read the first part it’s called perfect problem and is the last thing I wrote on here and posted...

“So where are we going?” Bethany asked as they got into some ridiculously expensive sports car. Adjusting her clothing and hair, she glanced over at Roman to find him just watching her.

Smirking his signature smirk, he turned the car on and raced out of the parking lot like he has stolen the car. “It’s a surprise.” Roman said, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Eyes on the road Speed Racer! Ok well at least tell me what we are going to go do.” She whined.

“Nope. No can do princess. You’re just going to have to have a little faith.” He grinned.

“Your reputation doesn’t exactly inspire trust. No offense.” She felt bad as soon as she looked over. He looked almost sad. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I’m not serious.” She lied.

“I thought you were supposed to be smart...”

“Oh ho ho! Someone bounces back quick.”she jibed as she turned to look out the window. She wasn’t exactly familiar with the area so she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. There was trees, and then some houses, and then businesses so there’s no way to tell if they were going somewhere Residential or commercial.

Grabbing her phone to send out some emails, she wasn’t paying attention when she noticed the car had stopped. Looking up from her phone she made an incredulous face at Roman when she noticed that they were in front of a large mansion.

“Really?” She quipped.

“Hey Before you jump to conclusions, I’m just coming here to get into some more comfortable clothes. I can’t exactly have fun in a suit, now can I?” He got out of the car and walked around it to open her door. “You can look around or grab a drink or whatever you like while I change.”

Stepping out of The car, Bethany followed roman inside his home. “ not even gonna try that old give me a tour excuse?”

Scoffing, he shook his head no, and made a crossing motion over his heart. “Scouts honor.”

“What if that’s exactly what I wanted to do?” She breathed out as she made her best attempt at sexy. Licking her lips, and winking, she nearly cried out when all of a sudden he was only inches away from her. “You’re very fast. I hope that’s not true for everything though.”

Smirking, he lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Pulling back to look at his face, she bit her bottom lip thoughtfully, as he walked them up to his room. Seeing the insecurity creeping in, He kept an eye open to watch where he was going but smashed his mouth back into hers, in a passionate, breathtaking kiss. Completely losing herself, she was startled when he dropped her on the bed and crawled over her body, pressing himself into her, making his intentions clear.

Sitting up as he straddled her waist, he ripped his shirt off, sending buttons flying, before aggressively attacking her mouth once more. Her nails dug into his bare back and he groaned into her mouth, before kissing down her neck and onto her chest.

Abruptly, he jumped off her and stood over her a moment longer than she assumed it took to take off his pants, so she lifted her head, cocking a brow at him curiously.

“Dress off.” He ordered, his smile fading.

Smiling a Cheshire grin, she shook her head no and looked up at the ceiling. Not letting curiosity get the best of her, she refused to look at him when he huffed impatiently. Even when he had stormed out of the room, and returned a few minutes later, looming over her, she refused to award his bratty behavior.

“Please take your dress off.” He finally bit out.

For a moment She pondered denying him-- and in turn denying herself. But the fact remained, she wanted him, whether contrived or genuine, She did. And She was done not doing what She wanted.

“Stand up.” His voice shocked her out of her head and She found herself standing at the side of the bed. “Good girl.” He purred, his hand brushing her back as he walked behind her and She shivered, as she turned her head to look at him. “Head forward.”

She did so, waiting for him to come back into view and see how far he’d take this little game. When she heard the bed sheets move, she fought the urge to turn around until She felt his fingers on her back, drawing letters or shapes; she wasn’t sure. Roman hummed quietly, lulling her into a peaceful calm, when suddenly he pulled her back into him. He was sitting on the bed, his long legs slightly spread and he spun her around, and placed her straddling over his one naked leg. Somewhere, somehow He’d removed his pants.

Gently he traced up her chest and wrapped one hand in her hair, pulling her forward so he could kiss her neck. Surprisingly, he bit her ... hard. Instead of pain, her senses exploded, causing her to moan wantonly, as she ground her core against his bare thigh.

When his other hand slid down her stomach, She Was almost embarrassed by how wet she had become.

“Stay still…” He said playfully in her ear as he slipped his fingers past the lace covering his goal. Plunging them within her, coating his fingers with her wetness, He gazed into her eyes lustily, as he Brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. “So ready for me.”

She nodded dumbly, lost in the sinful way his tongue worked around his fingers. Biting her lip, she must of looked pitiful, because Roman dropped character a moment to chuckle and move a piece of hair behind her ear affectionately. Almost lovingly.

Unfortunately she was way too far gone to contemplate what these gestures might mean. She wanted to fuck and she wanted those fingers to go back down there, but this was Roman Godfrey. The man Was unpredictable at best, and uncooperative the rest of the time.

Roman was a predator, and predators like to chase. As much as she wanted to just throw herself at him and demand to fuck her into oblivion, she Still had enough pride to play the game.

“I knew I was right.” He growled, Standing, releasing her hair, so he could wrap his hand around her throat. She grinned, not really caring what he meant. “Now, Im going to fuck you. I’m not going to be gentle, but I’m going to make sure you come so hard that you forget your fucking name.” He smirked cockily, still holding her by the throat. “I can see it in your eyes, that you’re a fucking freak under all that polite perfection. You’ve never fucked up or disappointed anyone ever. You’re loved and respected. Americas sweetheart.... I wonder what they’d all say if they saw you right now, ready to be my little fuck doll, cuz that’s exactly what you are.” Two of his fingers dragged across her cheek, Forcing their way in her mouth. She could taste herself on him and it made her nearly mad with need. She’d never been this turned on in her life. “You have the most perfect lips.” He said as he examined the way they wrapped around his fingers, “I’m going to put so many things in your mouth.”

She sucked briefly, before humming around his digits, lightly biting them. Swiftly, he removed them for a moment, before getting a mischievous look on his face and shoving them in as deep as he could, choking her slightly. Slightly panicked, she reached for his hand, but he just tsked and Tightened his grip on her throat, before ripping his fingers out of her mouth and plunging his tongue in their place.

She really needed to breathe, but eventhough she could feel her limbs growing weak, She didn’t fight him. Completely surrendering to the most arousing experience in her life.

“That’s why I’m going to keep you.” Before She could comment or recover, he removed her dress and threw her down on the bed, standing over her a moment to look her over.

He yanked her underwear down and dove two fingers into her roughly, making her arch her back. His expert fingers were moving faster and faster, getting her closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. It’d been a long time since a man made her orgasm, and she was certain, she’d never come close to this intensity. He reached down and pulled her up by the back of her neck, holding her against him like a rag doll, as he brought her closer. , his thumb brushed over her clit and She opened her mouth, trying not to scream. Her limbs started to shake, as her pelvis started thrusting into his hand, flailing about as Her vision began to blur. She closed her eyes tight, ready for the climax.

“Look at me. Look at who is making you feel this way,” he said seductively.

She breathed, looking into his gorgeous green eyes, as He quickened his pace again and added a third finger, making her buck, as she grabbed his rock hard erection, causing him to hiss, and roll on top of her.

“Patience.” He teased, pushing her legs apart. She looked in between his to see his cock standing hard and long against his stomach, a new need screamed within her, demanding him inside her right fucking now.

“What do you want?” He asked innocently, three fingers diving into her again. She closed her eyes from all the sensations, trying to get control, but she was past the point of pride now.

“Please--” She gasped. “Please.”

“Please what?” He pressed down on her clit and She wanted to kill him, but first had to fuck him. His other hand came down and pinched her nipple, twisting it and making her cry out.

“Fuck!” She screamed as he did the same to the other. “Fuck! Fuck me Roman! Fucking fuck me now or I’m going to kill you!”

He didn’t need to be told twice and She felt the large head of his cock against her entrance, before he just forced it inside her with one powerful thrust.

He was big and it took her body a moment to adjust to him, the burn slowly fading as he gave her a moment to breathe and relax herself to accommodate by far the largest cock she’d ever seen, let alone was inside of her.

Somehow it felt divine when he began to move again, and she moaned loudly, his body pressing down into her as he started to move his hips back and forth. She could feel him driving into her with solid, sure strokes as She clenched around him. His lips crashed into hers again as he pushed his hand under her ass and pulled her hips up, sitting back so he could move at a quicker pace. Setting her nerves on fire. Every inch of her body sang in extreme pleasure. His thrusts massaged her inner walls, the tension roaring through her, as he bottomed out and touched a place she’d never felt before, but the intensity made her screech.

She could feel the tell tale signs of an orgasm swelling through her but She held it back, making it feel sweeter and richer with each passing moment. His fingers dug into hips hard enough to break her bones as he closed his eyes, focusing on his own pleasure. His pace turned more erratic and She gripped him around his torso, desperately trying to hang on so they could both orgasm at the same time. Pulling him down and attempting to hide her face in his throat, he stopped and leaned back looking at her beautiful flushed face.

“Ah--ah-- ah--” He held still. “Look at me.”

She did, letting herself melt into his gaze as he started again, harder and faster than before. Noises came from her, she didn’t know She could make and his hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing possessively. Each thrust sent shockwaves through her until She was right back to nearly cumming.

“Please--” It took effort to speak through his grip, but She was so close, she didn’t care if she had to beg. “Please, I’m so close--”

“Tell me how badly you want it.” He ordered, his own breath ragged.

“I need it-- please! Please, Roman!” She screamed like a desperate, shameless whore, before she exploded, tightening around him as his grip turned to a vice around her neck and somehow the lack of oxygen intensified the sensory overload to a new height. She drowned in the relentless, all encompassing sensations, that lasted far longer than She thought possible-- causing herself to completely release control for the first time in her life.

As the shocks rocked through her, she felt him stiffen and press into her as deep as possible, spending himself inside her. She couldn’t help but trip out a little about being so full of him. She’d never allowed anyone to finish inside her before.

“You really are good at everything,” he said playfully, as he rubbed his nose along hers, and held her a moment, before pulling out, and flopping down beside her. Brushing his fingers along her tight stomach, and full breasts, he decided she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

His mother was going to fucking hate her...

Perfect.

#bill skarsgard #roman #roman godfrey #my writing #smut #bill skarsgård smut #hemlock grove #perfect

[hmmdelicioussoup]

So I just finished The Lost Book of the White and I really want to talk about Simon.

I’d tried reading this book sometime last year but didn’t really get into. Then after listening to the TMI audiobooks and TFSA I was motivated to try again since I knew it took place after Simon lost George. Second time round I absolutely loved it, Malec, baby Max, Magnus x Ragnor x Catarina friendship, all so good. But Sizzy! My god so so good. Getting to see them finally be together as a couple honestly made me so happy. But despite the happy moments, it’s also occurring during a time when Simon is grieving, and that grief is very fresh. TLBOTW takes place only 4 months after Angels Twice Descending.

So, throughout the whole book I was waiting for Simon to crack. From his first scene in the book it’s mentioned how different he seems.

Magnus says upon the TMI gang arriving at his apartment about Simon:

“…it was obvious [Simon] wasn’t doing well” pg 36

From the start I was strapping myself in for some pain. Even just a couple of pages later Magnus notes that Simon is acting ‘very unlike himself’ pg 39.

Simon has gone through a lot, they all have, but I think it’s different for Simon. Just on the basis that he kind of got dragged into the shadow world. He wasn’t raised in it like Jace, Alec, and Isabelle. It wasn’t his birthright to be a part of it like Clary. He’s had to fight stay beside Clary, to earn the respect of the Shadowhunters who even though they would eventually become his friends, didn’t think much, if anything of him, when they first met him. He had to really fight to show he was worthy of their respect. And he did. He fought beside them, lost beside them, sacrificed himself for them and all the while maintain his morals. I’m not saying he never changed, on the contrary, he developed significantly throughout the series and throughout it all always managed to be the optimistic one. Magnus says of him,

“Through all of it, Magnus had grown impressed with his morale, his willingness to persevere and keep a brave face even when the situation seemed worse than impossible” pg 40

Even knowing all Simon has been through, even Magnus who kind of seemed the least invested in Simon during TMI, expects him to have the same attitude he has always had. They’ve legit been to hell twice now and all seem pretty chill about it. They’re all making jokes, Magnus and Alec get it on basically every time they’re alone lol. I think they feel almost invulnerable. There’s very much this energy of well we’ve survived one hell dimension before, surely we can survive another. But they seem to be forgetting that they very nearly almost didn’t survive Edom. They only got out because of Simon. And I think Simon is painfully aware of this. He’s not one to brag about saving them but he understands maybe better than anyone the risk of having to make sacrifices.

Simon’s truly at his tipping point throughout TLBOTW. Despite all he went through in TMI, mainly with him losing half his memories and as a result losing important pieces of himself, he’s able to find himself again throughout TFSA or at the very least gain some idea of the type of Shadowhunter and person he wants to be. But then he loses George, once again he’s faced with unbearable loss. One as well that didn’t come from noble sacrifice or dying in battle protecting the people you love. George died drinking from the mortal cup and even though he was a good person, even though he was more than worthy, more worthy than Simon according to him, the cup didn’t want him.

“[George] was no different to me. No less worthy of Ascension. If anything, he was more worthy than me.” pg. 283

So when they all travel to Diyu and Simon is taken and tortured by Sammael, and Magnus has been stabbed by Svefnthorn and Isabelle gives herself up to demons, it’s all just reinforcing Simon’s worries about loss and how easy it is to lose what you love. Honestly I am so glad to have content where Simon is appreciated and allowed to show how much he cares and be more than just comic relief.

When they are in the Cathedral and Simons calm finally wavers I was so keen for it. And boi was I not disappointed. We get to really see how Simon is coping, how the loss that made him stronger is now what’s making him fall apart. Everyone else is so shocked and confused by his reaction:

“[Clary] looked wary…“This isn’t like you,”” pg. 282

“….“This isn’t even your first trip to a hell dimension,” Jace pointed out” pg. 282

It really shows how no one expected Simon of all people to be the one to break. It gives the others the chance to crumble a bit too. Isabelle who has always been very noble, always ready to fight, doesn’t know how to answer Simon when he asks how they all keep risking their and their loved ones lives. Before this book we never really got to see how they coped with the trauma they gained from TMI. We saw them in TDA but that was about four (I think?) years later, in the midst of someone else’s story and another fight. (As someone who very much prefers character over plot being able to read moments like this with some of my all time favourite characters really is my favourite thing. Like yes it’s sad as hell but oh isn’t it the best kind?)

Simon needs this moment. They all do. The desperation in Simon’s voice, everyone else’s inability to give him an answer. Because he has a point.

“How do you risk yourself and everyone you love, over and over again?” pg. 284

The Shadowhunter motto is just as much ‘we often die young’, as it is ‘facilus descensus averno’ and George’s death made this painfully clear to Simon. I think that Simon is definitely prepared to risk his own life, we’ve seen him do so many times before, but it’s the risk to the lives of the people he loves that he cannot deal with. The others kind of accept it, they definitely don’t love the idea of it but they know it’s a dangerous job. Both Jace and Alec literally say so.

It’s a moment that makes everyone grateful for their love.

- Clary tells Simon and Isabelle she loves them.

- Jace wraps his arms around her ‘drawing her close’.

- Alec reflects on the choice to love someone.

Writing this is really making me realise that maybe that’s what the whole story is about. Love. They’ve all found their epic loves, their families, they should all be happy. And they are, you don’t go through what they went through and not come out of it happy to still have the people you care about. But with the presence of love now it’s apparent, especially for Simon, that fear of losing it. And while it’s a hard thing to cope with, as Alec and Simon put it:

“That’s being a Shadowhunter,” said Alec.

Simon shook his head, “No, that’s being a person,”

#I definitely didn’t write this maybe quite obvious take instead of doing my uni work #but alas I couldn’t get it out of my head #the lost book of the white #the mortal instruments #the eldest curses #simon lovelace #simon lewis #alec lightwood #magnus bane #clary fairchild #isabelle lightwood #jace herondale #sizzy #clace #malec #cassandra clare #wesley chu #tlbotw #tlbotw spoilers #tmi spoilers #tfsa #tales from the shadowhunter academy #tfsa spoilers

[bloody-bee-tea]

Raise

Ever since he and Nie Mingjue broke up, Jiang Cheng has only been going through the motions. He’s still fulfilling his duties as a Sect Leader—his pride in his Sect won’t allow him to do anything else—but that’s about it.

There’s nothing in life to take enjoyment from anymore and Jiang Cheng feels a lot like he did right after the war, except with less existential dread. But he’s lost and unmoored and he doesn’t know what to do.

He hates it a little bit that Nie Mingjue still has this kind of power over him, but mostly he’s just fucking devastated.

Now he understands his sister and her tears and her sad smiles a bit better.

Getting your heart broken really is the worse and Jiang Cheng guesses it doesn’t help that at least he knows that Nie Mingjue felt the same for him.

Jin Zixuan was a complete asshole to his sister, which must have made it a little bit easier Jiang Cheng hopes, because he wishes this for no one.

When he realizes that he lost himself yet again in his own head, he scoffs. It’s been happening a lot lately, and usually all of his thoughts turn to Nie Mingjue but he can’t afford to slack off.

No matter what his second in command keeps telling him on a daily basis.

If Jiang Cheng would take a day for himself, he wouldn’t do anything but wallow in his misery anyway, and he prefers working over doing that.

So he goes on, and on, one letter after the other, until he made a considerable dent into the stack that built itself up during his last weeks with Nie Mingjue.

Jiang Cheng grinds his teeth together when he realizes that he’s yet again thinking about the other man and he slams his hand on the table in his rage.

He really wonders just how long this will go on; how long he will be haunted by the thought of Nie Mingjue. Right now, he hears Nie Mingjue’s laugh echo in the hallways they frequently walked together, he feels Nie Mingjue’s phantom touch on his shoulder whenever he sits hunched over some work for too long, and he still feels all the love Nie Mingjue had for him.

But duty comes first, Jiang Cheng understands that. He doesn’t have to like it, but he understands.

“You can’t just—no, wait,” Jiang Cheng suddenly hears from outside and he lifts his head a second before someone barges into his study.

“You fucking asshole,” is what Nie Huaisang greets him with and Jiang Cheng knew that the break-up would throw a little bit of a wrench into their friendship, but he didn’t expect this.

“Huaisang,” he still greets his old friend, but he figures he shouldn’t have when Nie Huaisang glares at him, clearly too agitated to even get his fan out.

“Do not even dare,” Nie Huaisang hisses. “You absolute fucking asshole. You said you would love him!”

“I do,” Jiang Cheng says with a sigh, getting up to close the door behind Nie Huaisang, hoping that not all of Lotus Pier heard him yet.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Nie Huaisang sarcastically gives back. “It’s so very evident in the way you broke up with him.”

“Don’t be unfair,” Jiang Cheng whispers, but he can’t meet Nie Huaisang’s eyes.

It still hurts too much.

“Unfair. Unfair! The only one being unfair here is you!”

“Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng snaps, now slowly getting angry himself.

He can understand the protective instinct of a sibling, but this is really going to far. It’s not Jiang Cheng’s fault, and he didn’t actually want to break up with Nie Mingjue, but since it was what Nie Mingjue had wanted, he had done it.

And it seemed unfair to be attacked over this now.

“No. I’m going to ruin you,” Nie Huaisang lowly says and while usually Jiang Cheng wouldn’t give much thought to a threat like this, he knows that if Nie Huaisang really wants to, he will.

Going by the glare Jiang Cheng gets, Nie Huaisang really wants to.

“Why? It’s not my fault,” Jiang Cheng snaps at him and Nie Huaisang laughs right in his face.

“Right, not your fault. Of course not. How could it be? You’re just the guy who broke up with my brother.”

“Because he wanted to!” Jiang Cheng shouts at him, his heart still hurting so damn much and that at least is enough to shut Nie Huaisang up for a few seconds.

“He wanted to,” Nie Huaisang lowly repeats. “That’s what you’re going with? Really?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jiang Cheng asks, suddenly drained of all energy and he goes to sit back down at the table.

He doesn’t want to fight with Nie Huaisang and he doesn’t want to do it while standing up, and all he really wants to do is go crawl into bed with Nie Mingjue and curl up against his chest, but it’s not like he’ll ever be able to do that again.

“My brother finally opens up to you about the qi deviations and your first instinct is to run away and break up with him? And now you’re trying to twist it like it was actually his idea? You’re really something else, Jiang-zongzhu. I thought better of you.”

“That’s not what happened, Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng says with a small frown, because Jiang Cheng remembers that conversation a lot differently, and he was actually present.

“Then enlighten me,” Nie Huaisang hisses. “What did happen?”

Jiang Cheng desperately doesn’t want to speak about it—the pain still too near and fresh—but Nie Huaisang is levelling him with a look that promises pain and absolute ruin if Jiang Cheng doesn’t start speaking like five seconds ago and so he sighs.

“He told me about the qi deviations,” Jiang Cheng says, because so far they are on the same page. “That he’ll die soon and young and violently.”

“And you left him for it,” Nie Huaisang says with a nod, as if there could be no doubt about it.

“I love him. Do you really think that low of me?” Jiang Cheng asks, a new kind of hurt finding its place in his chest.

Jiang Cheng thought he was long over being hurt by people being disappointed in him, but it seems like he was wrong.

“Seeing as he is back home, absolutely devastated and you’re going on like nothing happened, I think the only possible answer can be yes,” Nie Huaisang sneers at him and Jiang Cheng sees red.

“I have to do this,” Jiang Cheng yells and shoots up. “I have to because if I don’t keep busy, if I don’t distract myself, I’ll be a fucking shell. I want to do nothing more than to crawl into bed and cry for a good week but what good is that going to do me? It’s not going to get me Mingjue back and my Sect actually still needs me. I was miserable all through the war and for a good while after and I don’t want to feel like that again. And besides; he made his choice. What use is there for me to cry after him.”

“He made his choice? The audacity you have! And don’t raise your voice at me like that,” Nie Huaisang gives back, clearly unfazed by Jiang Cheng’s explosion and it cuts all of Jiang Cheng’s strings.

It doesn’t matter what he tells Nie Huaisang, he realizes. He has his mind already made up.

“He told me about the qi deviations and that his Sect must come first,” Jiang Cheng still mutters. “He needs an heir.”

Jiang Cheng barely gets the words out, and he hates himself a little for how his eyes well up almost immediately. It’s been almost a week by now and the words still hurt as much as they did when they left Nie Mingjue’s mouth.

In front of him, Nie Huaisang freezes.

“What?”

“He said he needs to prepare, that he needs someone to take over eventually. It’s not that hard to understand his meaning,” Jiang Cheng whispers.

Nie Mingjue needs an heir. And for that he needs a wife. It’s as easy as that.

“Did he say it like that?” Nie Huaisang asks and Jiang Cheng nods miserably.

“That fucking idiot,” Nie Huaisang mutters and finally sits down himself, slamming his fan on the table. “Listen here, Wanyin,” he says and Jiang Cheng wonders when he switched back to being Wanyin again.

“I’m listening,” Jiang Cheng says because clearly Nie Huaisang is waiting for a response from him.

Though he’s not quite sure he can take any more accusations today.

“My brother is an idiot,” Nie Huaisang solemnly says and Jiang Cheng fights the immediate urge to defend Nie Mingjue.

He’s not sure he still has that right.

“Why?” he asks instead, because it seems like the safer option.

“I am his heir,” Nie Huaisang tells him and Jiang Cheng goes very still. “When father died and da-ge decided to not take a wife, they wrote that down somewhere. I’m to inherit the Sect should anything happen to my brother.”

“He—it didn’t sound like that when we talked,” Jiang Cheng carefully says.

It makes no sense. Nie Mingjue had looked sad as he had said that he needs to prepare. Why would he look sad if he already has an heir.

“There was sadness on his face when he said it,” Jiang Cheng weakly goes on, because he still remembers that look and it cuts him just as much as it did then.

“It was probably regret. Da-ge wanted to give me an intensive few months of Sect Leader training, so that he could hand off the reigns sooner, before his qi deviations get really bad. He resolved himself to not see you during those months, because he said you distract him too much.”

“No, he—” Jiang Cheng starts, putting his head in his hands. “That’s not how that conversation went.”

“Clearly, it’s not,” Nie Huaisang says drily. “But we both know da-ge and we know you. Both of you tend to draw your own conclusions. Da-ge thought he made himself perfectly clear—asking for a few months with nothing but letters for contact—and you thought he was breaking up with you. I can see where you would get that idea from, don’t take me wrong—da-ge is horribly bad at wording things—but it’s not what he wanted. He’s moping and heartbroken at home. I didn’t even get any training yet.”

“You hate training,” Jiang Cheng mutters, his head spinning.

“I like logistics and getting people to do what I want,” Nie Huaisang corrects. “And I would like my brother to be happy again,” he tacks on, with a raised eyebrow.

Jiang Cheng swallows.

“He doesn’t want to take a wife?” he asks, just to make sure. “He doesn’t want to sire an heir?”

“He does want to adopt a kid with the guy he had been courting for a while,” Nie Huaisang says, absolutely nonchalant as if it’s not blowing Jiang Cheng’s mind to hear that Nie Mingjue thought about a little family of their own.

“Really?” Jiang Cheng asks, his voice full of hope and his heart hammering away in his chest.

“Really,” Nie Huaisang assures him, finally picking up his fan and flicking it open with the by now so familiar gesture.

“I think I have to cut your visit here short, then,” Jiang Cheng says, already scrambling to his feet.

“You go on ahead,” Nie Huaisang waves him off, draping himself over the table. “The flight here was way too exhausting for me.”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng says, rolling his eyes, but not actually bothering to convince Nie Huaisang.

If he flies alone he can push himself as much as he wants, and then he gets to see Nie Mingjue sooner.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother to announce his arrival and Nie Mingjue’s disciples clearly don’t deem it necessary to do it, either, it seems, because Jiang Cheng simply barges into Nie Mingjue’s quarters without anyone telling him.

“What are you doing here?” Nie Mingjue asks him, his voice rough and Jiang Cheng sees the dark circles under his eyes and how pale he is.

It seems they both didn’t deal well with the temporary break-up.

“Huaisang invaded Lotus Pier,” Jiang Cheng tells him and Nie Mingjue immediately draws himself up.

“Whatever he said, don’t listen to him. I respect your choice,” Nie Mingjue reassures him and Jiang Cheng wants to go to him and hug him and kiss him, but for now he simply rolls his eyes.

“He said there was a misunderstanding.”

“A what?”

“You said you need someone to take over the Sect. You never mentioned Huaisang. I thought you meant you want to take a wife,” Jiang Cheng explains in as little words as possible, because he is dying with the urge to finally get his hands on Nie Mingjue again.

“A wife,” Nie Mingjue repeats and blinks. “If anything she would be the second wife, because I intent to marry you.”

Jiang Cheng flushes bright red at that, but his heart is dancing in his chest. With happiness, for a change.

“Yeah, I should hope so,” Jiang Cheng says and dares to step closer. “But I understand duty to your Sect and so when you said it like that—”

“You thought I would ask you to step back so I can focus on my Sect. You would have allowed me to take a wife?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“Duty comes first,” he says because if he learned anything in his youth then it’s that. “I understand that. I didn’t like it, but it sounded sensible to me.”

“Nothing about that is sensible, I love you, what the hell would I ever do without you?”

Find someone else to love, Jiang Cheng wants to say, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t let him, because with two big steps he’s right in front of him and he doesn’t hesitate to crush Jiang Cheng to his chest.

“What would I even do without my heart?” he whispers again and Jiang Cheng’s resolve is broken.

He slings his arms around Nie Mingjue and presses himself as close as he can get, his breath leaving him in shuddering bursts.

“I didn’t like it,” Jiang Cheng chokes out. “I missed you so much. I love you.”

“Never think something like this again,” Nie Mingjue begs him. “I would never do that to you, not for any duty in the world.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng weakly says and Nie Mingjue presses a kiss to his head.

“Not for any duty,” he repeats and Jiang Cheng nods.

“Okay, alright,” he gets out, his voice choked up with tears.

For once they are tears of happiness because he’s finally back where he belongs.

Link to my ko-fi

#bt writes #mingcheng #the untamed #mdzs #angst #misunderstandings #temporary break-up #getting back together #hurt/comfort #nmj is alive #nhs is the best friend #and brother #and he will not let either of them forget it

[voiceless-terror]

I mean, I don’t believe in the predictive power of dreams, obviously, but still, it’s a deeply unsettling thing to find. I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. - Episode 11, Dreamer

Jon stares down at the paper in his hands.

He’s had many an unkind thought towards Gertrude, his predecessor, the woman responsible for this mess and the current bane of his existence. She’s been the topic of most of his grumbling as he sorts through piles of nonsense and decaying cardboard boxes. He’s got no love lost for her, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy she’s dead. Or, specifically, to have a statement apparently predicting it through the medium of some prophetic dream. Ridiculous. He wants to feel detached, unaffected, but he can’t help the sickly sense of dread that creeps up his spine and lingers in his throat. 

It was your face and the expression upon it was far more fearful than any I had seen in eight years of wandering this twilight city.

Jon doesn’t know Antonio Blake and has no reason to believe him. But he’s known something’s wrong for a long time now.

He’s never admitted it aloud, never within his assistant’s hearing range, but he can feel it, as foolish as that sounds. This miasma of wrong, of being watched, of becoming...something else, that happens every time he records a statement. Despite the academic detachment he aspires to, he does attempt to empathize with each statement-giver and get into their mindset. But what he’s doing here...it’s different. He can visualize it so perfectly, the terror in their words sticking in his throat and setting his own heart pounding, as if he were the one experiencing it and not just regurgitating it to an ancient recorder. He’s always had an ‘overactive imagination,’ as his grandmother would say, but this is relentless in its manifestation. The fear is real, not imagined. Each statement draws him further and further away from the safety he used to cling to, where the only real cases were few and far between and the most sinister things lurking out there in the world were books and the monsters within them.

And as much as he wants to linger on the false accounts and take comfort in tearing them apart, his hands automatically seek the real ones, the right ones. It’s frightening, the ease with which he finds them nowadays. Perhaps he’s a better archivist than he thinks. 

She died and you’ll be next, something whispers to him. He’s being dramatic, as he’s wont to do, but it feels true. Every statement that doesn’t record correctly, every follow-up he has to qualify with an ‘I would dismiss this, but-’ is starting to add up. His nights have become restless. He often lies awake regretting that he ever took this job, that he left the relative safety of research for a position he’s not sure how to fill, his only reassurance Elias’s occasional emails that he’s ‘moving in the right direction,’ whatever that means.

Jon assumed he’d be more removed from the dangerous aspects of the job that research entailed- following up, going to locations, field work. And it’s true, he has assistants to do that for him now. Dependable, for the most part. And while he should feel safe in his tiny office with nothing but dust and paper and cobwebs (good lord, the cobwebs) he feels more unsettled and exposed than ever. He once joked he’d die of old age before getting the archives in order. But now a stroke sounds much more pleasant than whatever happened to Gertrude. If it’s true.

Perhaps it’s a joke, he thinks. Planted by one of the others, designed specifically to unsettle him. Well, it worked. 

It wouldn’t be surprising. He’s...not had the best start. The promotion was a surprise, but not wholly unexpected; he knew he’d been on Elias’s radar, though he wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. He’s young and unfortunately, it shows. The way he stutters through department meetings, talking about digitization while the others, all of whom have at least a decade on him, shoot pitying looks. He stays later and later, the desire to show some sort of progress even as he discovers more mess by the day. The permanent scowl that now graces his features becomes his armor as he walks the halls and feels himself becoming the uptight, unlikable curmudgeon everyone believes him to be. The one time I measure up to expectations, he can’t help thinking.

A joke. There’s a comfort in that. At least it’s familiar.

But it didn’t record to the laptop, his traitorous mind supplies. It's a bit sad he would prefer it to be a mundane attempt at bullying rather than a real expression of the supernatural, but he supposes it’s par for the course. There were many nights as a child he wished for the same thing, for that boy to go back to taking his lunch money and the occasional beating or two instead of…still, he dismisses it from his mind. You don’t know there’s a correlation. Follow up. Disprove it. 

He’s interrupted from his musings by a knock on the door and the vague outline of Martin through the frosted glass. “Come in,” he calls, attempting to inject some irritation in his voice to cover up the shakiness. “Did you need something?”

“Ah, I finished my write up for the Herbert case, was wondering if you had anything else for me?”

His hand hovers over the statement on his desk. He opens his mouth but then closes it, thinking better.

“Can you send Tim in, actually?”

______

“Sorry boss, I couldn’t find anything on this Antonio Blake fellow- well, at least with the details he provided, which were next to none. Proper spooky, though.”

Of his assistants, he trusts Tim the most with this sort of thing. 

On a surface level, it wouldn’t make sense to some. Tim can be loud and gregarious: the typical, charming extrovert. But he’s not unkind and he’s a hell of a researcher, especially when something grabs his interest. He digs into statements and doesn’t let go- not unlike Sasha, though he’s a bit better at empathizing and handling things...sensitively. Easily attuned to Jon’s moods, Tim’s always been willing to lend an ear whenever he gets too in his head about cases, helping him talk things through or on several memorable occasions, go down the rabbit hole with him. He’d taken the statement from his hands with an easy smile, though his face grew serious with the nervous look Jon shot him.

And if Tim couldn’t find anything, well. Maybe it was a prank after all.

He sort of wanted it to be true, frightening as the implications were. Because then it would mean this terrible, heavy feeling on his shoulders was real, and not just the byproduct of his own mediocrity. He doesn’t want to be scared, he doesn’t want to be in danger, but at least it would provide a real reason for panic, and not just his own inability to measure up.  He doesn’t want to prove them all right, collapsing under the stress of a job poorly done and so easily crumbling at a stupid, made-up statement, targeted as it may be. 

“A joke, then.” Jon says, rubbing a hand at his temples, trying not to let the hurt seep into his voice. Tim makes a commiserating noise.

“You know how people are, the institute isn’t exactly popular. You remember last Halloween, when-”

“Yes, I don’t need a reminder.” Jon sighs. He’d rather not relive that day, stressful as it was. “But that wasn’t quite what I was thinking.”

Tim stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Jon continues, attempting to make his hands busy as he pointlessly shuffles papers.

“It’s rather pointed, isn’t it? I doubt someone off the street would create such a detailed account of the death of an...archivist as opposed to the usual ghostly drivel.”

A look of pity flickers in Tim’s eyes and Jon has to turn away. “I don’t really think anyone here would-”

“Really? You don’t?” Jon lets out a mirthless laugh, rubbing a hand across his face as he stares down at his desk. “I’m not blind. Or deaf.” The derisive snorts if he goes off on ‘needless tangents,’ how Rosie pretends to be busy whenever he approaches Elias’s office, the way his name badge still reads ‘researcher’ after months of asking for a new one. He’s basically become a pariah.

“Jon, did someone say something to you?” The words are carefully chosen and he’s leaning forward now, making as if to stand up and god forbid, do something comforting. It’s not that Jon doesn’t want the comfort; he craves it more than anything. But he’s gone without for so long he doesn’t trust himself not to break at the gentlest of touches. Being on the receiving end of Tim’s protective streak is nothing new, but he shouldn’t need his assistant looking out for him like he’s some sort of helpless infant. 

He snorts derisively instead, covering up the insecurity and hurt with a sardonic, self-effacing smile. The kind he knows Tim hates. “They don’t need to. I’ve walked in on conversations, I’ve seen the way people go quiet, the looks they give me-”

“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low, like he’s dealing with a frightened animal. Jon wonders how he looks, if Tim’s going this soft. “Don’t listen to them, alright? You inherited a mess, we all did- but we’re doing our best, yeah? Study and record, like Elias said.” Jon doesn’t dodge the hand that finally lands on shoulder, and he’ll deny to anyone that he leaned into it. 

“Study and record.” He repeats listlessly, slumping back down into his seat. He’s let himself get too worked up, acting like a child instead of a boss. He’s not sure when he started wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Tim’s always been good at reading him. Though he’d rather people think him an arrogant ass than the seething mess of insecurity he truly is. 

“Atta boy.” The pat to his shoulder is purposefully light, devoid of Tim’s usually friendly force that sends him stumbling forward. “Now get out of here at a normal time, alright? We can grab lunch tomorrow. Just the two of us, if you like.”

Jon makes a noncommittal grunt, though the thought is nice.  He entertains the idea for just a moment, remembering their occasional outings back in research. Tomorrow he’ll make his excuses. He hasn’t been much of a friend as of late, and he’s not sure he deserves the kindness of company.

“And if there’s anyone that needs a stern talking to from me, I-” Tim wags a finger and Jon rolls his eyes, ignoring the pang of warmth the words send through his chest.

“Don’t, please. It’s fine.” It isn’t. “But...thank you, Tim.”

“Course.” A wink and a sloppy salute to lighten the mood, and Jon feels the tension in his posture ease minutely as Tim shuts the door behind him. 

He lets out a breath and reaches for the tape recorder. He’s wasted too much time already.  

Be careful. There is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine. At the very least, you should look into appointing a successor.

Good luck.

He fights a shiver as the man’s voice leaves him and the last vestiges of that twilight world fade back to his dimly-lit office. In his follow up, he tries to play it off as a joke. A bit of hazing for the new boss. And yet the uneasiness still creeps into his voice, and he ends another tape on a stilted, half-believed note.

If this is genuine…

Jon prays that it isn’t. 

And like most of his prayers, it goes unheard and unanswered.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32165071

reblogs > likes

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #jonathan sims #tim stoker #season one jon feels #with added tim #in which rye has feelings about jon 'dismissing' statements and thinking it could be a joke and TRUSTING TIM #what else is new #reblogs appreciated <3 #a light bit of #jontim

[makiema]

finally finished writing about how much stormbringer enhances the skk dynamic which was at a nascent stage in Fifteen and anticipates the developments which happen later and culminate in Dead Apple where the faith they have in each other is absolutely remarkable! the fact that i said i’d do this in a few hours yesterday but it took me like 24 hrs to finish i have an attention span of a whole 2 minutes 💀

my favorite thing about stormbringer is that it actually builds up on the concepts/themes introduced in Fifteen so it's a glimpse into what has changed in dazai and dazai & dhuuya after one year of being together. As much as it's about chuuya confronting his past and his identity this is also about dazai’s development from who he was in fifteen. chuuya and rimbaud both left their marks on dazai and in Stormbringer we see him, actually trying to emulate or follow in a sense a way of life, that chuuya and rimbaud represented. Stormbringer is not just about chuuya, abt his test of humanity, or he coming in terms with who or what he is. it's about dazai too. it's about dazai developing or at least attempting to develop what he calls “boyish”/ “ordinary” in Fifteen. its not about chuya having an identity crisis. in fact what we understand from Code 04's last section is that chuuya never considered it as his crisis and neither did dazai. so to dazai “saving chuuya is important, human or not doesn't matter” and when dazai gives chuuya time to think abt what the operation will cost him chuuya doesnt so much as flinch form his purpose. This goes on to show unlike verlaine he doesnt care about memory and certainly doesnt consider it as the only determinant of someone being human. He cares more abt yokohama and his friends and in that, in caring abt his “family”, he is just as human as the next person. whether he’s factually human or not comes secondary to his desire to save people. This is a message that the quality of being human has more to do with embodying human qualities or humanity than having memories and lineage. so yeah stormbringer is essentially about embracing humanity but this happens on 2 levels: both chuuya and dazai embrace humanity. Going back to the boyish or ordinary bit, im talking abt this segment:

here dazai is shocked because he assumed everyone “gangsta” and everyone crazy powerful delighted in homicide, in deliberately indulging in the macabre. but he is proved wrong. He logically concluded that anyone with power more than average and belonging to the underground would kill people and delight in that because it’s a given they lack any kind of moral understanding. To that end, they’d be exalted at the prospect of relentlessly shooting a dead body, mutilating it and dishonoring it. The mafia code (any general mafia code) works in a way where honor and death goes hand in hand. So only the lowest of the low would do that to a dying person, who even when faced with certain death is loyal to his own organisation. This really shows that even within the mafia dazai is the only person whos like the devil incarnate. So yeah dazai at this sate far lower than even a mafia member. But chuuya who actually embodiess the mafia code and is incredibly loyal to his organisation and “family” [ putting family in quotes bc he himself calls his friends family 🥺] ofc kicks the gun away. From dazai’s pov chuuya being as insanely powerful as he is should also do the same. But chuuya comes along and suggests that even enemies should be shown respect where it’s due. And that is what an ordinary person, oblivious to mafia life (mafia life as in waht dazai makes of it) thinks. So in undermining the binary between “ordinary” and “mafia” chuuya proves that being mafia doesnt necessarily mean selling your soul to the devil and giving up the last smidge of humanity. In fact by embodying qualities like compassion and kindness and mutual respect, you can make the mafia a better place for yourself and for the other members. Now in Stormbringer, we see how this affected dazai. here dazai is introduced as someone mercilessly killing to set up the channel. 

Now to expand the channel one would need to keep doing it right? To mercilessly kill ppl and stuff but instead what he does is hand the channel over to chuuya bc he knows chuuya wouldnt handle it like him. im not suggesting that dazai miraculously becomes v good or anything with dazai the key words is “try” or “to some extent” like in Fifteen when Chuuya asks “do u wanna live” he’s like “ not to that extent”. similarly its not to say he doesnt kill people anymore. it is that he tries to lessen the number of casualties by handing over one of the most troublesome channels to chuuya who would manage it in a much more humane way. That dazai draws from his friends/at least tries to is smth we’ll see again later on when he deals with akutagawa. He talks about odasaku and ofc its baffling to him that a mafia member as powerful as him would be taking acre of orphans. and dazai says but he cant afford to be that kind and proceeds to shoot akutagswa but again does so in a calculated way such that he doesnt end up killing him ( im NOT justifying dazai’s abuse not at all im just saying that its hard to believe he coincidentally knew the exact no of bullets that aku could block. and had odasaku’s words and his way of life not been in the back of his mind he could’ve ended up killing aku) coming back to chuuya and dazai we also see him avoiding further conversation on the jewelry channel thing as he says “leave that for now”. He does a similar thing again when mori brings up the concept of double suiciding with chuuya.

 Its a HUGE thing for him to digest that him suiciding would inevitably spell the doom for chuuya. this puts an unimaginable responsibility on him. And he avoids further discussion on this. Now we know dazai is the rambly type. Even in the most dire moments he goe son with his LOONG monologues so really he is the last person who’d avoid a conversation but he deliberately does it in these 2 instances because its hard for him to grasp these things. That he can go against his nature and do a conscientious thing by handing over one of the most grisly channels to chuuya (i dont think dazai’s nature is evil. Or even if it is, its a a social construct keeping in mind the war ravaged times or its mori’s construct because he does exploit dazai to the hilt. but dazai ofc thinks of himself as non-human, devious. perfectly devilish...etc.) And also the fact that someone as suicidal as him is actually responsible for the life of someone else is really too much to take in. a whole 10 seconds pause indicates just how much he was thrown off when mori opened his eyes to the reality of things: if he dies, chuuya inexorably dies as a consequence. also i dont think the “wow” here or the next bit :

is something jokey. if it was like haha double suicide with chuuya is the worst haha wanna do it w pretty lady kind of a deal. that pause would have been unnecessary. dazai’s immediate reaction would’ve been whining and shit. the use of “froze” too implies the gravity of the situation. so ofc what is “wow” is how much meaning his life has for someone else. and for some so much....better than him. and what is unacceptable is this sad, sad truth that his life (to which he ascribes no value) would be so inextricably linked with someone else’s and hold so much meaning to them. it is like when a suicidal person at the brink of suicide understanding his life is not his own. his life and death holds consequences for ppl surrounding him. so both of these are huge things to grasp and at both these times dazai is visibly shaken up so much so that he doesnt want to do his favorite thing- ramble in a condescending tone. smth he does in so many instances. this really is a testimony to the fact that things are changing in him. the redemption process has begun. he’s no longer the kind of maniac he was before he encountered chuuya. when zuko underwent his transition in atla he was so shaken up after one (1) right decision he had a fever. i think this is true for anyone who’s trying to change. change is after all a huge thing for everyone. ofc he’ll be unsettled. so anyways this is proof that he has indeed come a long way from being someone who revelled at the prospect of meaningless bloodshed.

now coming to the concept of love he assumes he’d get sick of love and die:

and that death is the singular goal worth chasing after because it makes you feel more alive/get a fuller picture of what living entails. but here he is erring by supposing love is something that’ll bore him/have no meaning. and it cant provide him that “something” he’s looking for. at this point he hasn’t loved so he doesnt know whether he’ll be sick of it or if it'll have no impact. And yet he’s morose and regretful. this is a kind of self-imposed constraint hes putting on himself. he cancels out the v idea of love because hes convinced it isnt worth it. he hasnt even been in love okay scratch being in love that sounds romantic and i really dont mean love in a romantic sense here...its just love. in general. any form is cool. anyway so dazai is not familiar with any kind of love. He is entirely alien to the concept. he doesnt even know what a friend/partner is so he doesnt know what love is. this is cleared out here when rimbaud confesses he did everything for paul and dazai is unconvinced:

chuuya ofc admonishes him and shuts him up for good, he says dazai has no right lookind down upon smth he doesnt understand. he doesnt understand friendship, love. or loyalty. or how important those feelings are at this point. now this situation is turned on its head in stormbringer. but before we go into that let’s look at the message rimbaud had for both of them. ik he specifically asks for chuuya to “live” but there’s purpose behind including both of them in the frame. it’s a message they should both take to heart. and at the end of it its implied both are changed after hearing it:

and in this message the first bit is for chuuya. what he says is basically memory doesn’t make u human... ”you are you” just a frame or not doesnt matter. and even if hes just a frame, he is still beautiful. beauty actually is a v important concept in literature starting right from Plato to Shakespeare. i’d not bring this here but because bsd is so deeply rooted in literature i feel like the reference to beauty, and later on to soul and even warmth and also the universal tone of this message carries some meaning. so the thing is  both Plato and Shakespeare were endorsed the idea of love as a force awakened in the world by beauty which then leads the soul to perfection. so humans and by extension, all life are beautiful frames that can inspire love. this concept is also there in Romantic poetry like Keats and Wordsworth all of them talked about loving beauty in nature and how that can elevate the body mind and soul. so essentially in telling this to chuuya what ehe basically means is that chuuya just by being him, by being a beautiful framework can inspire love and warmth in others and thats a great purpose! how much chuuya understands of this purpose with his one (1) braincell and his low self esteem is questionable but he gets some sense of belonging. now this is a two way relationship so ofc dazai has to be factored in. he comes in the next part: 

these are from 2 different translation so the disparity im sorry ;-; but anyway,  this last part abt the world being a cold place. then paul. then “warmth” is a message to dazai who’s been introduced to us as cold-hearted and having like no bearings of a human being. this is the reason why its important for both o f them to be there. now going back to chuuya being a beautiful framework, the framework can be beautiful in so far as its beauty is appreciate by someone and inspires warmth and love in someone. this again is the whole beauty/beholder nature/the romantic concept that is there in shakespeare and in Romantic poetry where both are a part of a codependent relationship. so what rimbaud implies here is that dazai can have that kind of a relationship with another person (chuuya) just like rimbaud had with paul which makes him warm and the world doesnt feel cold anymore. rimbaud has no regrets about what he did because. so the idea is that dazai and chuuya can share the same dynamic. also after this, the narrative says that their hearts are now changed and wont return to what they were before....and even their souls are refined in a way. but in Fifteen we dont have a concrete proof of how this happened bc the novel ends at this point. Instead, Stormbringer shows exactly how deep the impact of those words is: 

this is the third instance of dazai showing hesitation and once again this has to do with chuuya. the seed of the dynamic that rimbaud was talking about  is already germinating in him. his reactions, his fidgeting, his hesitancy, in response to chuuya’s situation is such a big contrast to his cocksure self when he’s conversing with adam and verlaine. after this of course we have: 

not only does he clearly express his concern but he gives chuuya 2 whole mins to make a decision and based on that he’s prepared to overturn the operation. the success rate of an alternative plan will ofc be lesser than the og one but that doesnt faze dazai. he’s ready to turn the tide for chuuya’s sake and if this is not development idk what is. just a year ago, he was someone to whom the concept of rimbaud going thru all that trouble for his friend was a lost concept. ironically enough, now he finds himself doing something that is along the same lines. he puts chuuya above his mission. to him, chuuya is more important than getting a satisfactory result. another bit that i wanna talk abt is that one controversial section where dazai says he’ll save chuuya, human or not, and then the justification is: 

i think a lot of people got mad bc of this and honestly at first glance i was peeved too. as a chuuya stan some of the shit dazai has done so far did rub me the wrong way. i love skk obv but still those were moments that kind of left a bad taste in the mouth. i’ll discuss them later on bc stormbringer helps allay that feeling. coming back to the “i wanna see chuuya suffer” part firstly context is important. ofc someone like dazai cant be expected to be upfront about his feelings with ppl (or AI) he barely knows. so what be relays to adam, is only partly true and its actually a kind of a twist in concept. the things is, and this is  smth dazai knows all too well is that ppl suffer simply on account of being human. human suffering is brought on because humans, by virtue of being humans, feel. so when he says he’s willing to acknowledge chuuya as human despite what N and Verlaine said he’s already admitting that chuuya suffers. so there is really nothing “new” to see for him. he knows chuuya suffers already and he does too because they’re both humans trying to make it thru their messed up lives. also chuuya “ceasing to be human” is a p huge concern for him bc he himself is like that. just like with the suicide thing, it bothers dazai when someone else shares his situation/his fate like as long as his life is his own, he has no problem ending it whenever but the situation is complicated when someone else’s life span is determined by that decision. and similarly, as long as he is “no longer human” its not that much of an issue because he’s like resigned to a doomed fate but someone like chuuya ceasing to be human or worse yet never getting to know if hes human or not are pressing matters. so anyways what he actually means here is that in saving chuuya, he saves someone who suffers just like he does and in their case, even the cause of suffering boils down to a shared psychological conflict: what essentially constitutes being human and if im human or not. now this sharing of pain and suffering is the foundation of forming a connection with someone, which makes life a little better. here again, what rimaud imparted to dazai and chuuya is driven home. also dazai’s key anxiety is not finding meaning/anything. this “anything” can be assumed to be something that justifies life. so all his anxiety and frustration stems from the fact that there really is no discernible meaning to be found in the mechanism of life. so it is an empty pursuit because it is true that nothing can explain why feelings of pain and suffering are exponentially heavier than feelings of happiness or why after getting to experience one (1) free day we’re back to square one where life is grueling. these are questions that really dont have an answer so every time dazai like gazes into the abyss and says he didnt  find anything, he is not so much asking if he’ll ever find anything as swallowing the hard truth that there is nothing to be found, no singular entity exists that can magically justify everything. again drawing upon literature or philosophy more specifically, there’s a concept called Absurdism which says the only philosophical truth so to say is this that life is absurd and looking for meaning is futile. instead what we can do is accept that it is absurd and deal with it in the best way possible, by finding little sources and moments of happiness, and strewing them together so we feel somewhat content. even if it is just for a fleeting second. and this happiness/contentment amidst a wretched life (altho temporal) can be found in friendship, in sharing, and even in having fun with people you’re comfortable with! this is actually why dazai wants to save chuuya and now it may seem like im interpreting his words through the shipping lens but thats not so and it can be corroborated by looking into dazai’s words to odasaku. after chuuya, dazai’s next attempt at friendship was odasaku who he found “interesting”. now when odasaku sort of like threw hands and chose death over having to live a life without the orphans, dazai tried to stop him not by saying stuff like life is good. and things will def change for the better. but instead he admits that living is hard and the sense of void is ubiquitous and yet he doesnt want him to  up and die because then he would be sad. because the little comfort that he got from odasaku and something he probably assumed odasaku also got from him would be gone. [how much odasaku considered dazai a source of comfort remains unclear. in fact the reason odasaku gave up and died was because he did not have this. this feeling of sharing in someone else’s suffering and seeking comfort in friends in the real world. instead he was too vested in his ideal world. his over reliance on an entirely idealistic concept is actually what pushed him over the edge. and this would have been the case for dazai too had he not encountered and sought comfort and companionship in chuuya and eventually in odasaku ] so this again goes on to show how rimbaud’s words changed dazai’s heart. and in a way dazai really has been doing this unconsciously form the v beginning like by teasing chuuya continually in Fifteen. you dont expect someone as cold as him to indulge in friendly bickering and taunting so often but he does. that there is significance and even happiness in that is something he learns over time, after rimbaud’s words to him. although these things seem futile on the surface they give a moment’s respite. so although chuuya spinning dazai on a rope in stormbringer might seem weird to everyone, they still serve a purpose:  

what shirase puts forward is particularly relevant here because neither dazai nor chuuya is fully aware of the extent of their feelings (or even what those feelings are like they dont know what label to put. so typical oblivious lovers) for each other or what they stand to gain just by driving each other nuts but there is something intangible but satisfying to be felt. a kind of contentment that helps him continue. one day at a time. there is no one great “thing” that can make him like wake up one day feeling like he doesnt want to die ever again. but again like i said before, the key word for dazai is “extent” so, these little things to some extent contribute to a sense of fulfilment which helps him keep death at bay. thats why he’s bent on saving chuuya bc he knows they can share in their suffering and make life better for each other. its not like he wants chuuya to suffer. chuuya will suffer nonetheless like every other human. but in suffering together there is something to be found so he doesnt want him to cease being human. 

this covers more or less the intertextuality between Stormbringer and Fifteen. i just wanna talk a bit more about a couple other moments in Stormbringer that i feel are p important because they put some things in the series in perspective and also made the dead apple moment 10x more emotional 🥺 one thing that really strikes me is the absolute fanon level of comfort that dazai and chuuya share in Strombringer. its like scenes form k-drama lol. 

so yeah this stuff. compare this with dazai’s reaction @atsushi when he drops im not saying that its not just a joke and that what im saying should be the right way to look at this contrast. its not like that at all. but what this does is give an estimate to the readers just how close and comfortable dazai feels when its chuuya. and this plus everything i rambling on abt for so long also gives us an estimate about the sincerity of dazais feelings. now 2 things always bothered me : the fact that dazai actually left chuuya and the fact that after the fight against lovecraft he actualy deserted him (this again can ofc be construed as just a humorous bit but still it did leave a bad taste in my mouth) dazai leaving the mafia is ofc something he had to do to fulfil oda’s dying wish but it still dint sit right with me that he would abandon chuuya. just like oda levaing is harder on dazai, dazai leaving is harder on chuuya. its always harder on the one left behind. so anyway, these sorts of things sometimes made me doubt dazai’s feelings but now that stormbringer clears it all up i do think there is a larger motif at work here. when mori offers dazai to come back to the mafia in s2 we see him saying that it was mori who kicked him out and that he did so because he was afraid dazai would usurp his position. so he set it up in a way that dazai would be forced to leave but on his own accord. now more than usurpation i believe what mori really did fear is that dazai had no allegiance to the mafia (which is actually true) bc he doesnt have that sense of loyalty and that to him his friends were more important than swearing allegiance to mori. (which again is true). so by getting oda killed, the message that mori seemed to be giving out was if dazai didnt leave he would do it again. and if we consider ango’s betrayal which had already transpired at that point, the one mori would next target to sort of get at dazai would inevitably be chuuya. this is only conjecture but still, i do believe this might as well be true because then it would explain why dazai didnt carry chuuya back to the base after their fight [something he was v comfortable doing in Stormbringer. in fact in the first case he carries chuuya back to the billiards bar and not to the mafia’s base so he could hear albatross’ last words 🥺] its because mori needs to know unlike dazai, chuuya is absolutely loyal to him which regrettably he is. it kinda becomes imperative therefore on part of dazai to make it seem that way to mori. that they really are at each others throats and that dazai is insignificant to chuuya. and that the mafia comes before dazai. (which is not true bc we see chuuya protecting his friend [shirase] while also staying loyal to the mafia in Stormbringer) 

mori also in his own way tries to provoke hostility b/w them like in Dead Dpple when he was all like yeah so dazai is the star and chuuya is merely bait. so it kinda makes sense if dazai left the mafia not only to like do good work but also to protect chuuya from mori. also the fact that chuuya did the same thing— left the Sheep and joined PM to protect Shirase from the mafia makes be believe that my speculation is plausible given all the parallels we find between dazai and chuuya. 

and the last bit is about the brilliant Dead Apple scene and how much added context it gets in light of Stormbringer. 

in this scene dazai first says: “you used Corruption believing in me?” and then the translation is “how beautiful” which is an okay translation but the exact thing dazai said was “nakasetekurerune” which literally is : youre gonna make me cry you know? now my knowledge of japanese is like duolingo level but i do know “nakasete” has to do with crying and “kureru” is used by the receiver to indicate he’s receiving a feeling/object from someone close. so basically chuuya trusting him is something so beautiful that it could almost move him to tears. now lets look at dazai’s intro in Stormbringer:

dazai, being dazai, ofc would be able to tell genuine trust from fealty out of fear so ofc the fact that chuuya has this kind of blind faith in him is overwhelming for him. also stormbringer really expands on the sight effects of Corruption in full detail. its so PAINFUL and to think that chuuya would jump into it right away for dazai’s sake.....no wonder he is so soft when deactivating him. and then he proceeds to flirt for a little bit with the Snow White and the kiss of life reference. but this flirting doesnt seem even a little out of place now. it doesn't feel like smth meaningless or smth that dazai is just saying as a joke. that there is absoluetly no subtext to making a statement like that. instead that kind of flirting feels like smth inspired from a deep, deep familiarity with someone who really shares his heart and soul. when he talks to chuuya abt the problem of not knowing whether he is human or not, it is a problem that is as central to him as it’s to chuuya. not feeling fully reconciled to a human identity is a problem thats fundamental to both of them. I don’t think familiarity gets any deeper than this where you share the exact same psychological problem. so its really wonderful how we can trace the skk development now: what starts out as a crush on part of dazai or not a crush exactly rather, a feeling of perplexed admiration because chuuya is breathtakingly beautiful inside out, eventually gain all these layers and develops into something meaningful where they have so much faith in each other and where they literally help each other live. knowing someone out there shares your exact issue so you’re really not alone in this is perhaps the greatest comfort in the world. also now its clear how both of them would have turned out had they not met each other and had they not taken in rimbaud’s advice. chuuya in his desire to learn about himself and frustration at not being able to do the same would have perhaps spiralled downward and ended up becoming like verlaine. he is his double here after all. and had dazai not seen chuuya up close being the wonderful person he is, he too would have probably ended up developing a god complex and becoming like fyodor. dazai is there to save chuuya literally from dying a monster and chuuya is there to remind him he too can try and mend his ways and embrace his human side. after all chuuya has so much trust him in! (despite him having questionable methods) for both of them, it starts out as an attempt to be more human, then establishing a fruitful partnership, and finally coming in terms with their feelings to some extent. for dazai, he’s comfortable enough to engage in occasional flirting at this point and for chuuya it’s playing along with dazai’s antics (well with the ones he get 💀 pretty boy has half a functional braincell) and openly showing his concern for him. so really by confirming their feelings what strombringer does is enhance the skk development in a way that Dead Apple doesnt seem like fan service anymore. the fact that dazai would casually flirt or be comfortable with chuuya landing on his crotch 💀 all that isnt as ridiculous as it first seemed because stormbringer lays the groundwork and anticipates all the intimate/flirty skk moments that have happened till now and ig will happen again soon. 

#bsd #stormbringer #soukoku #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #bungou stray dogs #stormbringer spoilers #bsd meta #bsd analysis

[greenygreenland]

Dream A Little Dream of Me: Norman x Reader (Part Three)

-part three is here! I had to slice it in two because apparently there's a certain word block limit (at least on mobile). So get ready for part four!

Summary: You can’t remember anything.

Month four, 08:00

The last thing you recalled was the face of a boy with light hair. His eyes were bright, swirling with love and affection you looked for everyday. Whenever you woke up, you couldn’t remember his name, or his sweet voice that called out to you in your dreams.

All you had was the light of day and the rising sun. It made you sad to look upon it alone in your room. Someone else were supposed to be by your side, right next to you. But who?

And then there was the absence of a motherly figure--a woman you only recalled through song. How was it you remembered that melancholy tune but not a name or face? You wished you knew, and you prayed everyday to whoever was up there to give you another chance. Another go at life--with the people you never knew the names of.

“Good morning, Letha.”

You met the old man’s gaze with a simple nod. His crinkly voice was one of the things you actually didn’t mind, even if it was hard to hear at times. 

The old man, Alex, was kind, but the most you conversed about were your lost memories, your insane knacks for weapons, chess, and lastly, intelligence.

Time wasn’t friendly, and a month passed uneventfully. It turned into two, which turned into three and so on. Every now and then, you wondered if you’d stay like that: a blank slate. Alex said there was this one philosopher who called it a ‘tabula rasa’. For some reason, that fact reminded you of someone long ago.

Dark hair, the smell of old books, dust hidden between bookshelves...

You began to make out the image of a boy. He was no older than you, with cool eyes, a warm, yet small smile. Who was he? His name was at the tip of your tongue, yet it wouldn’t come out.

Ren? Reylo? Tired Cyclops? No, that wasn’t it. Obviously.

It hurt to think too much about it, and before you could grasp onto it, the memory faded, along with the name.

“Don’t think too hard,” Alex warmly said. “I’m sure it’ll come with time.”

He hoped to help you recover your lost memories, but in the meantime, he’d do his best to support you, just as he’d done with his long, dead daughter. For that reason, he felt it was time to bring you to the world outside. In this town you both resided in, everyone died in a war.

Alex was the only survivor.

For that reason, he was the only person you ever got to know these past seven months. There was no one your age around here, and it wasn’t like you went far anyway. Every now and then, Alex brought you a few towns over to experience a nice train ride to his favourite shops. Then he’d buy you something and take pictures.

But now? He felt it was time to take it a step further. He wasn’t sure if you’d like the idea, but it was worth a try.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER, 06:28

“Come again?” you inquired. Alex took a sip of his coffee and stood from the chair. The wooden floorboards of the cabin creaked under his weight. He waddled over to the window, drawing open the plaid curtains. Warm rays of sunlight fluttered upon your face and Alex smiled warmly like he always did.

“It’s time you get out more,” he said, “and experience the world outside this old town. I want you to look across the horizon because there’s more than the cabin.” You knitted your brows together. You didn’t like how cryptic he was being. It reminded you of someone you once knew, someone who you held close to your heart.

“Gramps, what are you trying to say?”

Alex heaved in a long breath, as if he were afraid of saying it himself. “I want you to go to school. College, if you want the specifics.” Your eyes doubled in size and you hoped, prayed, that he would take it back and say it was a joke. College? You didn’t need a degree! And besides, it was expensive. You couldn’t afford something like that. But alas, Alex wasn’t one to joke about serious things like that. He was an old man, so he always meant what he said.

This time was no different.

“You mean it,” you practically whispered. “That you want me to go to college.” Alex nodded, absentmindedly running a hand through his thick, white beard. There was a long pause and you took the time to sip your tea. Would school benefit you in some way? Was it worth the time? The work?

It didn’t make sense. You were smart. Alex said it himself: “I haven’t met anyone as smart as you”. So why did he want to send you to school? It had to be more than just to “meet people” because you did that all the time on the train every few days.

“What’s so good about college, Gramps? We can’t afford to pay for something so expensive. I don’t want to see you in debt just because of me.”

Through your calm façade, Alex noticed the spark of uncertainty in your eyes. Throughout the long days he got to know you, he realised one thing: you were never keen on showing your emotions.

“I want to give you an opportunity to find yourself,” he finally replied. “If the people you knew are around your age, then going to school might bring something back. You know, jog your memories. Besides that, I want you to have a life more than that I can offer. There’s nothing in this small town.”

“I don’t know about that. I have you here. You’re all I know, Gramps.”

Alex knitted his bushy brows together. “I know, but I can’t always be the only one you know. Don’t you want to see the world?”

It wasn’t that going to college was excruciatingly disappointing, only that it was a means of giving out false hope. How could you cling onto something so child-like and unreliable? 

Hope could only get people so far. You were no different.

That night, you lay in bed, wide awake. A nagging thought kept pulling at the back of your mind, repeating itself over, and over, and over again until you couldn’t stand the phrase. But as soon as you repeated it with your own lips, it vanished as if it never existed.

You lay in bed for a little longer, fighting the lull of sleep. It pulled on your eyes, and your head nodded as you forced down a yawn. Sleep was for the weak. If you stayed awake a little longer, maybe you might remember something, right?

-----

The grass tickled your bare feet. If it were any normal day, you would have liked to lay down in its warm embrace with Emma, Ray and Norman. You could watch the clouds together, and wonder about life outside these concrete walls.

But that was stupid to think about, wasn’t it? The liberty to relax and do absolutely nothing had been striped from your very being, like the air that you gasped and chocked on. You held your shoes tightly to your chest and frantically glanced past your shoulder. Good. All clear, just how you liked it.

Norman and Emma lay a couple hundred meters behind. They were your eyes, the two little owls that perched high above with all-seeing eyes. With a grunt, you hopped over a thick tree root and tossed aside your shoes. They landed somewhere in the brush, right where the trees parted.

You came to a stop and glared at the concrete wall towering over you. If you completed your mission and everything remained as straight-forward as you wanted it to be, then you’d escape with everyone. Just like Emma wanted. Just like you tried so hard to believe.

But what if something happened? What if Don and Gilda were caught? Or worse, what if Mama suspected that Ray betrayed her? Surely she wouldn’t go as far as to eliminate him on the spot...

...right?

You clenched a fist so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Stop. Stop it, you told yourself. You had to have faith in your family. They were just as capable as you, maybe even more, so they’d have no issues. You had to focus on your job so they could do theirs.

“My, so this is where you’ve run to?”

You sucked in a sharp breath.

No, that couldn’t be. You made sure she wouldn’t know where you were. You told all the precautions, too. Were Emma and Norman okay? What about Ray? And Don and Gilda?

“I’m surprised you managed to make this far.” Mama stiffly said. “You never were as strong as Emma, or fast either.”

It was like the sun stopped shining. Your blood ran cold. The warm rays turned to ice.

“It’s not too late to turn back (Y/n).” Her voice was silky smooth, tempting almost, as if she were coaxing a frightened sheep to the slaughter. “You’ve improved, my dear, but is it enough? Once your plan crumbles, what will you do then? It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become a mama. It’s the reliable path. You will survive and you will be happy.”

For a moment, you wondered if she actually cared about you. Maybe her love was all fake from the beginning and she didn’t care about you. Or your family. Or anything but survival in this cruel world.

You never loved us.

That was what you wanted to say, yet the words stuck in your throat like glue. If she didn’t love you, then why did she hold you so tightly when you had a nightmare? If she didn’t love you, then why did her eyes shine with pride when you got perfect scores?

“Come, my dear,” Mama coaxed. “Let’s go home.”

The sudden urge to laugh bubbled in your throat like lava.

Home? This was a prison in disguise.

It’s not too late to turn back? A lie.

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become a mama? As if.

You couldn’t afford to betray your family. Not after all you’ve done, and not after all the effort. They relied on you. You weren’t going to let them down.

You turned on your heel to face Mama. She smiled at you, but it wasn’t a nice smile. It made your stomach twist and turn, reminded you just how much of a danger she could be. Your gaze focused past her shoulder, where a familiar head of orange stood.

Emma peeked out from behind the trees and held up the bag of rope. Norman stood from a cluster of bushes and motioned the the wall. They were going to climb it while you distracted Mama. Perfect.

A bright grin broke out onto your lips. “I’m sorry Mama.” you began.

She stood like a statue with wide eyes. “Are you now?” she inquired. You were finally conceding in this fiery war of wits. After all that fuss and now would she have you back by her side? She opened her arms to welcome you. It was all she could do with her prized little girl. Finally you were being smart. Finally you were choosing the reliable path. You were going to follow in her footsteps. Survive. And outlive everyone in this house like she had.

But then something happened. Emma burst from the bushes, followed by Norman who helped throw the rope up a nearby branch. That triggered you into action, and you lunged at Mama with all the strength you could muster.

“I will never--!”

You wrestled for her watch.

“--ever--!”

Mama tugged on your little arms.

“--leave my family behind!”

You yanked the stupid watch out of her hands, but just as you stood, Mama grasped onto your leg and tugged. Hard. She gave it a squeeze, and a sickening crack echoed in your ears. You screamed. Your ears rung and you heaved in a strangled breath.

“You should have taken the reliable path.” Mama’s calm voice made you want to vomit. “None of us would be here if you had listened to your mama.”

-----

Your eyes shot open and you jolted awake. The faces, the voices, the senses--they flashed before you in a whirl of colours and sounds. Why couldn’t you recall who they were? Or what their names were? You knew every single one of them by heart, yet your mind lay completely blank. Again.

The urge to punch your mattress overwhelmed your senses.

“Good morning,” came Alex’s crinkly voice. That snapped you out of your frustrated stupor. He stood in the doorway, a warm smile on his lips and a spatula in hand. “Pancakes are almost done. Today we’ll get you settled in your dorm.”

Oh. Right. Gramps was sending you to a boarding school. The thought of leaving your beloved bed left you queasy and sluggish. Why should you go somewhere so far away from this cozy, little cottage? It was only recently that you settled here too. Maybe Gramps was taking it too fast.

With a heavy heart, you lugged yourself out of bed and threw on a pair of warm clothes. The unforgiving climate of this land was not one you would challenge. Ever.

The moment you emerged from your room was the moment you understood Gramps’s insistence. He meant well, you knew, but in a way you didn’t appreciate. Going out gave you a higher chance of meeting whomever you knew. It was completely logical.

“Are you worried?” Gramps began, placing a stack of pancakes on your plate. “I’ve already informed your school teachers of your amnesia, so they’ll understand. As for your dormitory, everything has been set. And don’t forget your breakfast, lunch, and dinner plans, as well as your--”

“You seem more anxious than me, Gramps.” you said with a subtle smile. He stared at you, wide-eyed until he mirrored you with a chuckle. “I suppose you’re right. I just want to make sure the transition goes smoothly.”

“Of course.”

“And that you’re safe and okay.”

“Gramps--”

“And that you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“--the pancake’s burning.”

That set him off. He jolted out of his chair faster than his age and capabilities should have allowed. It was a miracle too, because the poor pancake was seconds away from catching fire on the pan. A long sigh left Gramps’s lips as he turned off the stove. “I think I’ll give this to the birds.”

“You best do that, because I won’t eat that piece of charcoal.”

You shared a quick chuckle between each other, savouring the warmth and comfort that came. If someone else had found you that day in the field of endless grass, you weren’t sure if you’d be so lucky. It was by chance Gramps was the one to discover you, so you couldn’t imagine life otherwise.

Once your pancakes were gone and your bag all packed, you traveled to the train station in the early rays of sun. Gramps was the type of enjoy the silence of nature, but to you, it was excruciating.

It didn’t matter where you went. Each time, you looked past your shoulder, to the fading mountains, to the little rabbits that scurried by. It was like you were on survival mode. But why should you be when there was nothing out here? It was so peaceful, so wonderful that you couldn’t imagine anything coming out to get you.

Smile. It’s okay, I promise. I’m here.

You froze and glanced past your shoulder towards the rolling hills and the fading grass. That voice--you knew it. But had you dreamed it up? There was no one here but you and Gramps. A short sigh left your lips and all Gramps could do was ruffle your hair comfortingly.

The train ride was nice. With the calm chugging and the way it swayed, you didn’t mind it at all. Every now and then, your eyes fluttered open and closed. Maybe you were tired. Maybe you weren’t a morning person. Whatever the reason, you submitted to the lull and closed your eyes.

-----

Not a single soul moved for what felt like centuries. The moment Ray, Gilda and Don arrived at the scene, it was clear that nothing else could be done. Mama smiled at her children viciously. She wasn’t here to play nice any longer. Today, she was the hunter and her children the prey.

“It was a clean break. She will recover smoothly,” Mama curtly announced. “And Norman?”

You didn’t like the way she looked at him, or the way her grip seemed to tighten on your limp arms. Her gaze dangerously narrowed and she said, “Your shipment date has been set.”

Your heart stopped and your blood ran cold. Norman’s shipment date had been set? No, that couldn’t be. Your plan required at least another week until everything fell into place. Norman was the core of it all. Without him, what would you do?

And speaking of which, he was going to die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

He was going to die.

You squirmed in Mama’s grasp, hoping--praying that you could maneuver around this. Norman wasn’t going to die. You wouldn’t let him.

“Let me--let me go!”

It was reckless and it was stupid to think he’d be able to evade Mama’s sight just like that, but you had to try.  Didn’t Emma say you’d all leave here together? “Norman--!”

He blinked as if he’d woken up from a long dream. The forced smile the sprouted on his lips looked painful. Don’t struggle, it said.

Don’t struggle? How did he expect you to sit around and do nothing? If anyone should be shipped out first, it should be you. Why? Because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you let any of your family go.

Mama glared down at you with a cold smile. “You can’t fight me more than you can stop the sun from setting,” she said, heaving you higher off ground. Your leg hit her arm and a cry escaped your lips. Norman flinched and Emma remained frozen in place.

You were always the strong one, not Emma, not Ray, and not Norman. Because you were one of the eldest, it was your responsibility to be the shoulder to cry on and to stand when no one else could. To see you holding back tears and gritting your teeth tight enough to make your gums bleed made Norman’s little heart break.

He didn’t care about his shipment date. All he wanted was to see you safe.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of faces, voices and regrets. The sharp pain in your leg long faded, leaving only a dull throb that stayed as a reminder of your failure. Yes, that was what you were, right? You couldn’t complete the plan even with Don, Gilda and Ray distracting Mama. You were pathetic. A waste of space.

The door creaked open and you sat up a little straighter. You smiled at the trio as they entered the room. “Hey guys.”

“How are you feeling?” inquired Norman. He took a seat by your bedside and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Ray pulled up another chair. He hid his face behind his fringe to conceal his grim frown. It didn’t work though, and you merely smiled at him. He huffed irritably, as if he didn’t want you to know he worried so much.

“I didn’t think she’d go that far.” Ray quietly muttered. You knitted your brows together with a absentminded shrug. “And to think I was that close to getting her watch.” Emma’s shoulders sagged. “I wish I had--”

“It’s fine Emma.” you said with a warm smile. “Broken bones heal, it’s not permanent.” She looked like she wanted to say something, but with the warm smile on your face, she couldn’t gather the courage to. Instead, she settled for a tight hug.

It was hard to look her in the eye anyway. The sadness she tried so hard to force down only added to your guilt, and you weren’t sure if you could think straight with all the regret.

“I’m sorry this happened.” you began. “Now that I’m hurt, you’re worrying for me.”

Emma pulled away as Norman gave a firm shake of his head. “None of this is anyone’s fault.” he stated. "None of us saw that coming, and even if we did, I’m not sure we’d be any good outwitting Mama on the spot like that.” He offered a gentle smile that made you feel just a little bit better.

-----

Gentle smiles. A warm summer breeze. Soft kisses. Tender touches. That was what reminded you of the boy in your dreams. Although you couldn’t recall his face every time you awoke, you remembered the fact that he was handsome and kind.

Gramps offered a warm smile. “Good morning.” You covered your yawn with a hand. “I’m assuming we’re here?”

He nodded. “Are you excited?” It was obvious Gramps knew the question. He only wanted to hear the answer from your mouth rather than from an assumption. As much as you wished to be excited for such a grand opportunity, you weren’t sure you’d like school. Well, how could you guess when you’ve never been to school in the first place?

At least from what you could recall.

“I still don’t know how to feel about this,” you quietly say. Gramps guides you along the walkway and out of the train, where you step out of the station and to the bustling streets of the city. You frown. Gramps said you were going to a boarding school, was it supposed to be somewhere as crowded as here?

From what you read, boarding schools needed large spaces to accommodate dormitories, classrooms, and sports fields. Was there such a thing as space in this congested collection of skyscrapers?

You shook your head to yourself and followed Gramps down whatever path his old-fashioned map led him to. He walked slow. Too slow for your liking. Not only that, but with all the people around, you couldn’t bear not to stick close to his side. What if he got lost? What if you got lost? Or kidnapped and sold on the black market for organs?

Maybe you were just paranoid.

The looming skyscrapers offered no comfort, and the cool breezes that sent shivers down your spine weren’t helping either. You hopped over a patch of ice and pulled your jacket closer just as Gramps came to a stop.

A lot of land stood in the middle of all the skyscrapers, where a pale field of grass stretched out over the acres of land. Buildings that looked like castles peppered themselves out in the form of classrooms, mess halls, and corridors.

You stood in the shadow of the tall brick walls. It separated the school from the rest of the city. An overwhelming feeling of bittersweet hope filled your system, as if you’ve stood in front of a wall like this before. Had you been here? No. You were sure this was your first time seeing the school.

“Take care Letha.” Gramps said. “Don’t forget to eat and exercise, as well as make some new friends. I expect you to call at least once a week, just so I know you’re doing fine.” You smiled a little, cheeks warm in embarrassment. “Gramps, I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

“I know, I know. Just...this is a big step for you.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Be careful, and have fun. Even if you don’t remember anything, as long as you have fun, it’s fine.” He wrapped you in a tight hug. “And most importantly, I love you Letha.”

You basked in the warmth of his arms. You didn’t need to worry about your memories in that moment because you had Gramps. He was your world. Your family. What more could you ask for? But then he pulled away, and the warmth didn’t linger.

You were still incomplete.

The next day, you found yourself wandering the halls aimlessly, picking apart each detail and escape route in sight. The hall to your left had an exit to the school courtyard, a peaceful place with metal chairs and picnic tables. To your right sat another hall, which also had an exit to another courtyard. Then in front of you stood the front entrance, where the side exits fanned out in the halls next to it.

“Hey, you’re the new girl, right? Letha Meek-aye...Mikhaylov?”

You spun around faster than the speed of light. In front of you stood a girl, perhaps a year older with an unfriendly frown. She wore the generic school uniform: black skirt, long socks, white blouse, gray sweater vest, and a tie. Her bright, red locks stood out like a sore thumb. They curled past her shoulders in beach waves, framing her narrow, freckled face in rouge.

For a moment, you blanked out. When was the last time you spoke to someone, much less a teenager your age? Even though this girl wasn’t intimidating, it wasn’t like you wanted to talk to her. The point of coming here was to figure out if anything jogged your memory and then leave. It wasn’t playtime. “I’m new.” Your voice came out calmer than you felt. “Is that an issue?”

Despite the pointed look on her face, you had a feeling she was one of the nicer people in the area. She had a soft look in her green eyes, as if she understood what it felt like to be a new kid. “I’m Flanna Morris,” she said with a small smile. “Nice to meet you Letha.”

Flanna had an accent. By the hard ‘r’s and the elongated ‘oo’ sounds, you guessed she had to be from Ireland. Gramps told you it wasn’t too far from here, but still a while away.

You sent Flanna a cautious side eye. She was being too friendly. “Yeah, nice to meet you too...Flanna.” A hearty laugh that bellowed in her stomach echoed in the quiet corridors. “Look,” she said, “I’m not here to bully you. I just wanted to offer some help.”

Help? Yeah right. No one in this world offered help without asking for something in return. Besides Gramps maybe--but he was a special case, it didn’t count.

“Come on, I’ll show you around Letha.” The look on Flanna’s sweet face made it hard to decline. If you weren’t interested in seeing if there were any places you missed, then you would have declined. But perhaps Flanna could show you more than the shallow surface of this boarding school.

You passed to through the quiet corridors, where the sun shone through the windows overlooking the street. The sun rose over the horizon and up the edge of the skyscrapers’ base. Cars bustled about, and even through the thick brick walls, you heard all the honking and yelling of the early morning traffic.

“So, where’re you from?” Flanna inquired. You tugged on the strap of your bag’s shoulder strap. “Far away.”

“What do you mean by ‘far away’?”

“I mean the countryside.” you clarified. Flanna ‘ohhh’ed. “The city must be a huge change for you then, I know it was for me.” You knitted your brows together. So she was from the countryside in Ireland? That’s more than a simple change of scenery. No wonder Flanna wanted to help you.

“Okay, so here’s the science hall. Ms. Darsey is one of the best teachers you can have around. You’re a juniour, right? I’m a senior--if you couldn’t already tell...”

Flanna talked a lot. No, she didn’t just love talking, she loved explaining all her experiences with x, y, and z teacher, as well as what classroom and what day of the month it was. She had a wonderful memory, you had to admit, but that made her stories long. Her energy was like a breath of fresh air, and that red hair of hers sparkled like jewels in the morning light.

Flanna’s hair was fiery just like a girl’s you used to know. Her face wasn’t clear in your mind whenever you thought of her, but the joy she always brought you stayed. It made your heart warm. Flanna seemed to have a similar effect, but not as strongly as the girl you once knew.

“You have Mr. Dursley for English,” she noted. “Make sure you don’t stick out. He’s a big pain and if you’re late, he’ll give you a detention.” You raised a brow. Mr. Dursley detained teenagers for being late? What kind of nonsense was that? You decided to phone Gramps later and ask him if that were true. He’d know. Hopefully.

The look on your face made Flanna chuckle, but you had a feeling she didn’t understand your thought process. “Don’t worry,” she casually said. “You’ll be fine. I bet’cha Connor and James will be the first to get a detention. They’re both trouble makers--little devils. Especially James.” You stared up at Flanna’s bright, green eyes. They sparkled like the sun against her hair. You’ve seen that look before, the one of unsaid love and adoration. Long ago, someone looked at you like that.

But who?

You wracked your brain for answers. It was on the tip of the tongue. Right there--just in front of you. Yet it was as if something were preventing you from seeing the truth. The one postulate you knew stuck throughout the days you’ve forgotten who you once were.

Backtrack. Backtrack.

A boy. Light hair. Soft eyes. Kind smile. A laugh that was like music. And the calling of your name.

“(Y--n)!”

Yes, that was the sound of his voice, right? Or maybe it was a stranger’s instead, someone’s you’ve heard on the street. Then whose name was that? Was it even a name to begin with? Maybe it was a word instead and you misheard it as a name. That thought made your heart throb in the worst way possible. Ice filled your veins, and you found yourself pausing to stare out the crystal, clear windows.

“Something wrong?” Flanna inquired. You blinked away the haze and turned to her with a shake of your head. “Just nervous.” A bright smile burst onto Flanna’s lips. “Ah, I see. No worries, you’ll do great. And if you don’t it’s your first day, right? Nothin’ wrong with messin’ up a little.”

You wished you could believe Flanna, but something deep in your heart said otherwise. A slip-up could cost someone more than their reputation. Possibly their life. You couldn’t speak from experience, but you were sure you’d seen a sacrifice. Long ago. Far away in the distance.

Flanna stopped in front of your first period class. “We still have about fifteen minutes before school starts. Everyone’s probably in the cafeteria eating breakfast or fooling around in the field. I recommend you come early to class so you don’t get caught up in the crowd.” And with that, she waved, turning on her heel to hurry away. “I’ll see you during lunch! We have it together, so I’ll come find you in the cafe!”

She rounded a sharp corner and disappeared, leaving you alone in the quiet hall. You peeked in through the open door. At a long desk sat a teacher, who stood at the notice of your presence. She wore thin glasses on her old squarish face, a white blouse with a tie, a woolen navy blazer, and black trousers with heels to match.

The teacher had a kind face, with eyes that were soft with years of wear and tear. The smile on her lips said it all--she had seen things. Many things. “Welcome, I assume you’re Letha Mikhaylov?” She had a crinkle in her voice like the edges of her eyes when she smiled. It complimented her kindly face.

“Yes.” you replied. “That’s me.”

“Well I’m Mrs. Walker.” She motioned for you to come in, that sweet smile still on her lips. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve been informed that you have amnesia. May I ask how much you remember?” You folded your hands together. It was the least you could do to look less nervous.

“I remember skills, knowledge, and the arts. I do not recall my original name or what my life was like before, but I am still highly-functional. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Walker. ”

The way you worded your sentences was off-putting to the teacher. It wasn’t normal for high school students to be so in-line, much less well-off with their manners.

From the report she read, you were taken in by Alex Mikhaylov, a writer who lived in an old, deserted town. He claimed he’d been trying to help you re-gain your memories for nearly a year, but from the looks of it, there wasn’t much to go off of.

Mrs. Walker took a seat at her neat desk. A pencil sharpener sat at the corner along with a tissue box, stapler, tape dispenser, and a plastic name plaque. In bolded letters it said, Mrs. Walker. Of course, in cursive. A few photos were cramped by her computer, where she stood there, smiling with a young girl and a man. Mrs. Walker looked to be around twenty-eight to thirty in that photo.

You stood by her desk awkwardly. Were you supposed to sit in the back? Near the window? Or in the front? The sinking feeling of unfamiliarity plagued your mind as you ran a hand through your locks.

There weren’t any other students here besides you.

“You may take a seat wherever you’d like Letha,” Mrs. Walker said. “I do not assign seats in this class, but if there is an issue, I can if you’d like. Is there anything I should know about you?” You shook your head and took a seat by the window. The football fields, frost-bitten and white, stretched out as far as the eye could see. A little to the left of that were the dormitories. Red brick walls and sparkling clean window panes, just like every other building at the school.

Winter was a wonderful season, but you wished it weren’t so cold all the time. Maybe if there were a bit of snow, it would cheer you up, jog your memory even. “I’m not sure if I have anything of importance.” Your voice echoed in the deserted classroom like a bell. “But I hope I can do my best.”

A smile broke out onto Mrs. Walker’s lips. “Don’t hope, do.”

And so you did. You vowed to do what you could with whatever you could. You weren’t going to hope to do your best, or hope to find your memories because you would. They’d come back to you, and you were going to do everything in your power to get them back.

PART FOUR COMING SOON [GIVE ME LIKE THREE DAYS TO ADD A BONUS PORTION BECAUSE I LOVE YOU GUYS] -->UPDATE: PART FOUR HERE <--

#tpn #tpn norman x reader #tpn ray #tpn emma #ynn norman #ynn emma #ynn ray #ynn isabella #ray the promised neverland #emma the promised neverland #norman the promised neverland #the promised neverland x reader #anime x reader #x y/n #fanfic #tpn fanfic

[bumbleklee]

Could you make a fic based on the song Moondust By Jaymes Young? With Xiao or Zhongli? It’s fine if you decline, I enjoyed your Lonestar fic a lot! Also, thank you in advance if you do this! ^^

after this, i decided im a monster. this is so sad, like so so sad. i don't know if this is what you had in mind but since the song is basically about learning how to live/love without someone, i went down a death route. i also went w xiao. pls enjoy (and grab a tissue)

before reading: ANGST!!! you literally die and are a ghost the entire time. mentions of injury and blood as well as self-harm and suicidal thoughts. word count is around 2.1k (under cut for length)

I'm building this house, on the moon Like a lost, astronaut Lookin' at you, like a star From a place, the world forgot And there's nothing, that I can do Except bury my love for you

Death was quick.

You know instantly that you’re dead the second you open your eyes. You can still remember the feeling of the Fatui pyro agent slicing his knife across your throat and if you think about it enough, your neck tingles. You remember falling to your knees, being laughed at, and then you saw nothing.

Well, you saw blackness.

And then when you came to, you were standing in the middle of Liyue Harbor. The world seemed duller but it was real. No one paid any mind to you, so you assumed you were a ghost.

It’s nice to still be able to watch the sun rise high above your hometown.

There’s no panic, no rush to find out what’s going on, you don’t need to. Your hands travel to your throat and the horrific wound is gone. In fact, all of the scrapes and bruises and imperfections on your body were gone. Death brings solace, you humor.

Your peaceful moment was interrupted by two frantic voices. They catch the attention of everyone in the area, including you, and you spin around quickly.

Xiao.

“Break the contract, please, Zhongli-” His voice is frazzled, filled with a sadness the living can’t understand. “I can’t live without them.”

You looked down at your left hand, heart shattering at the absence of the jade ring. Right. You were going to marry Xiao later that year. Not anymore.

A hundred thousand memories of sweet kisses and long nights flooded into your mind. They caused you to hold your breath, too many emotions crashing through your tired form. You felt like crying but couldn’t (ghosts didn’t have tears, you guessed).

You’re standing right in front of the love of your life and he can’t see you.

Maybe it’s a good thing he can’t see you because Xiao already looked wrecked. His eyes were puffy and red and his hair was disheveled. Unhealed scratches wound his arms like ribbon. You had been with Xiao for years, through the good and the bad, and never once had you ever seen him in this state.

He’s pleading still and Zhongli has an indescribable expression on his face. “I can’t,” His voice is barely a whisper, “You know I can’t.”

Xiao wails, falling to his knees. Zhongli feels his pain, you know he does, yet he won’t put him out of misery. You watch as Zhongli bends down and lifts the adeptus into his arms, swiftly walking away from the crowd. You follow ensuite and Xiao’s eyes are hazy, staring through you over Zhongli’s shoulder.

“I’m right here.”

But he doesn’t hear you.

The brightness of the sun, will give me just enough To bury my love, in the Moondust I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice To bury my love, in the moondust

You begin to follow Xiao around. Not that he goes anywhere, too heartbroken to move, but you keep watch of him like he once did for you.

He resorts to staying in Zhongli’s apartment. The consultant isn’t around most of the day and Xiao rarely leaves his bed. His tears stain the satin pillowcase and he curls upon himself. Sometimes you stand in the doorway and stare, other times you muster up enough courage to go and sit on the unoccupied side of the bed.

The first time you touch Xiao again is at night. He’s crying and without thinking, you wrap your body around his. His chest is pressed against yours and you press your lips to his shoulder.

It’s not warm anymore. In fact, it feels like nothing.

But still, you hold Xiao until he’s asleep. You don’t let go all night, opting to watch your beloved finally get some rest. You wonder if this is how it’s going to be for the rest of eternity? Would you follow Xiao around aimlessly for centuries more?

Or maybe you’re just stuck here. You recall a saying from an elder in Liyue years ago, “Spirits with unfinished business can’t move.”

You decided then that you were going to help him move on, help Xiao bury his love for you.

Nothing can breath, in the space Colder than, the darkest sea I have dreams about the days, driving through your sunset breeze But the first thing, that I will do Is bury my love for you

There’s no book about being a ghost. You have to figure it out on your own and you’ve never been more grateful no one can see you go straight through the wall for the third time that hour. Over time, you create your own handbook in your mind, jotting down anything you discover as your time as a dead person entails.

Within the first week, you understand that no one can see you, hear you, or feel you. And while you can vaguely touch objects and people, the sensation is different than when you were alive. Every human trait was thrown out the window - you don’t need to sleep, breathe or eat and drink anything.

You attend your funeral exactly a week after your body was discovered and someone propped your sword against your casket. You try to grasp it, to pick it up, but you only manage to push it over with a gust of nonexistent wind. It clambers to the floor, the funeral parlor growing silent, and you take this as your cue to leave.

You wondered if Xiao, or anyone of that matter, could sense you at least. Even if Xiao couldn’t see you, just him knowing you were there would ascend you to the afterlife (right?).

You also find out you can’t leave Liyue. There’s an invisible border keeping you trapped in the country and, frankly, you don’t mind. Xiao won’t leave Liyue so you don’t need to leave Liyue. But sometimes you get anxious that one day Xiao will leave Liyue and never return. And if you haven’t accomplished your goal yet, would you truly be stuck as a monster among men?

The brightness of the sun, will give me just enough To bury my love, in the Moondust I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice To bury my love, in the moondust

On particularly good days, Xiao talks to you. Zhongli was gone early one morning and Xiao pulled himself out of bed and to the living room, opting to open the blinds and see sunlight for the first time in weeks.

You sit on the coffee table with your legs criss-crossed as Xiao mumbles desolate words.

“I keep just wishing I would wake up dead. I miss you so much.”

You frown. “I’m here, I’m right here.”

But he can’t hear you. “You aren’t here to make me laugh at your stupid jokes anymore. And I just...I should have been there! I should have-”

His voice cracks and you move off the coffee table, wrapping your arms around his quivering body. You try to press yourself against him, squeeze your arms so tight that he’ll feel you, but you can’t. You can’t kiss his chapped lips and move your bodies so he’s curled into the crook of your neck.

Sometimes, you watch Xiao hurt himself. He digs his nails into his arms or thighs until he draws blood, only to push it all away and scream into the ground. You want to snap him out of him, tell him to stop doing that to himself, but you can only sit and stare.

You were nothing to Liyue - a common human who added nothing of importance to society. Yes, your death was sad for many people but the world kept turning. Xiao, on the other hand, was so special. He was the Vigilant Yaksha - the people of Liyue needed him forever.

“I miss you. I love you. I miss you.”

I'm a cast away, and men reap what they sow And I say what I know, to be true Yeah I'm living far away, on the face of the moon I've buried my love to give the world to you

Xiao goes out sometimes. It’s either to patrol the city or on a walk with Zhongli. It’s not much but it's an improvement. Like always, you follow him.

He’s started to have nightmares, waking up in a rush. He used to comfort you when you had nightmares and it pains you that you can’t return the favor. You try, by God, you try. You run your hands down his back comfortingly but Xiao only cries harder.

When Xiao sees Ganyu for the first time in months and she gives him homemade almond tofu, he smiles. It’s small and quick but you see it.

Growing up, you had thought that the living mourned the dead. When your grandmother died, you felt broken for a while, but that pain was minimal compared to this. Having to live endless days as an invisible soul while the living grieved was unbearable.

When no one is around, Xiao breaks down. He hurts himself, insults himself and wishes for you endlessly. When Xiao tries to jump off the roof of the apartment complex in the middle of the night and survives with only an injured arm, you realize he’s pushing his body. He’s trying to kill himself.

So, you scream.

Every waking hour of the day you scream.

“I’m right here, Xiao! I love you and I’m right here! I’m sorry for being careless and getting killed but you aren’t ready to join me yet!”

You know he doesn’t hear you, he can’t hear you, and yet Xiao slowly stops hurting himself.

The brightness of the sun, will give me just enough To bury my love, in the Moondust I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice To bury my love, in the moondust

It takes a year for Xiao to finally begin to cope with your death and you know your journey will be coming to end soon.

He still talks to you except now it’s hopeful and filled with acceptance. On the anniversary of your death, he travels to the Dragon-Queller early in the morning. He sits down in the spot he used to take you to and rubs the grass softly, as if motioning for you to sit down next to him.

You do.

“I’m leaving Liyue next week.”

A million feelings run through your veins. You want to throw up, scream, cry. Is a week enough time to get Xiao to move on from you? Had he already moved on? There were too many questions you couldn’t fucking ask.

You can’t bear to listen to the rest. Your feet travel on their own, taking you far away from Xiao and back into the heart of Liyue Harbor. You didn’t know where you were until you heard a voice call out for you.

“Hey, you!”

You were imagining voices now. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Y/N!”

A short, young woman came into your view and you finally looked up. You had walked right into the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Hu Tao was staring at you, not through you.

“I knew you were still here.”

Hu Tao could see you.

It didn’t make sense but you didn’t have time to make it make sense. Without thinking, you cried out to Hu Tao and begged her to help you save Xiao, save yourself.

“I want to go with him,” You say.

“But you can’t.”

“Then he’s going to forget about me.”

Hu Tao chuckled softly, “You think Xiao would forget about you?”

You don’t answer. Maybe it was you that didn’t want to forget about Xiao. Either way, it hurts. “He’s going to fall in love with someone new and-”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

It was. You wanted Xiao to be happy without you, to learn to love again. You wanted him to bury his love for you so you could both be free.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Hu Tao says, “Xiao will find you again one day.”

She clasps her hands together and reaches them out to you. You look down and see a moving image of Xiao. He’s still talking softly, this time with a small smile on his lips. You close your eyes suddenly, not wanting to see anymore. You step outside of the funeral parlor and whisper “I love you” into the wind.

The sun is shining high in the sky when Teyvat begins to disappear from your vision.

Maybe in another life you and Xiao will spend forever together. You’ll have a grand wedding, start a family, and grow old together like you should have. But for now, you’ll see him from the moon.

#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin self insert #genshin angst #genshin writing #genshin impact writing #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #xiao #zhongli #hu tao #im sorry for this

[heliads]

Forever Separated

Based on this request: “Reader is Luke’s girlfriend in the 90’s and is at the gig at the Orpheum and hit by a drunk driver and dies instantly. She and the boys come back as ghosts 25 years later. She’s there for everything that goes down with Julie, Willie, and Caleb.”

masterlist

Your fingers tap absentmindedly on the steering wheel as you careen through the streets. It’s late now, the beacons of headlights guiding you down the asphalt. There’s a grin on your face that won’t seem to go away- your boys are playing at the Orpheum tonight. The Orpheum. That’s been their dream for what feels like forever. It doesn’t even seem true.

By your boys, you mean Sunset Curve, of course. The motley collection of four teenage boys with dreams bigger than the world and the need for a chance to prove themselves. You stumbled across them at a small jazz club, at what had been one of their first performances. It hadn’t been long after that when you had become a friend of the bandmates, and an even shorter time before you fell in love with Luke. When you started dating, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

You had always known that they would make it, even when they seemed to doubt it themselves. You knew they had gathered regrets over the years- Reggie with the fracturing of his family, Alex with his parents’ lack of acceptance of him, and Luke with the way he’d run out on his mother. You had seen it in their faces- if their band never got off of the ground, they would continue to doubt themselves for the rest of their lives. There had been times when you thought that it might be over for good, that they’d be done for before they even got the chance to get started. Yet here you are now, driving towards their gig at the Orpheum.

You’re only a couple of streets away. You’re practically shivering with anticipation at the thought of it- all of their dreams and hopes, finally come to fruition. You, however, are running a little late despite your best interests, and so your foot involuntarily presses down on the gas. You’re not speeding, always careful to follow traffic laws, just making sure you’re not going to be as late as you fear.

It only seems fitting that something would go wrong on this night of nights. Thinking back, you’re almost glad it happened to you and not someone else. You had this awful feeling that something was going to happen to ruin this gig, and maybe if it happened to you it would protect the boys and let their show run on uninterrupted. When you pass through the intersection, this thought may have protected you.

When you see the truck out of the corner of your eye, you continue driving. You know it will stop, it has to. Maybe it’s the way you’re eager to see your boys again, or the fact that the light has been green for a long time now and there’s no way the driver could miss the glaring red in front of him. Maybe it’s just because you feel sheltered by this bubble of hope that comes with seeing the boy you love play at the Orpheum. Regardless, there is nothing you can do to avoid the truck, and you keep expecting that it will stop until it is inches away from you. Then you finally realize that there’s no getting out of this, and it is only then that it is too late to act.

You’ve seen car crashes in the movies. They’re always a blazing whirl of headlights and screeching tires, a hailstorm of broken glass that reflects the light in the most beautiful arc around you. It will be slow, like time itself crawls to a stop, just in time for your head to fly back in a graceful motion. Then it will speed up again, and just like that it will be over.

This is nothing like that. It is over an instant, no beautifully devastating moments. You’re not a marionette to be hung delicately in the air, your strings are cut within seconds. You do not have time to see the poetry in your last moments, they’re already over. All you manage to see is a quick glimpse of a bottle resting in the driver’s hands, a tremendous impact like the very shaking of the earth, and then there is nothing at all. No orchestras reach a momentum, no lens flares pierce the night. There is everything, and then there is nothing. It is painfully ordinary.

There is one feeling that seems to surround it all. A pain, numb at first and then growing to a fever pitch. You don’t know when you wake up, only that it is much later. There’s someone dressed in a paramedic’s uniform standing over you, the piercing din of an ambulance somewhere behind you. You want to form words together and ask who it’s for, but the answer comes to you the second you realize you can’t move a muscle. It is for you. You are the one in need of saving.

The paramedic is standing over you, shouting something about a drunk driver and two casualties, the driver and the girl right here. You want to stand up, to shout to the world that you’re alive and fine. But for some reason, you can’t move at all. You can’t say anything except feel the last of your pulse die from your veins. Distantly, you feel a raw anguish creeping up in your throat. Luke and the others are still waiting for you at the Orpheum. Who will tell them that you’re gone?

It should have been over then. You died, certainly. You bled out on the streets and ceased to draw breath. Indeed, you had the classic fading of color and acceptance of the darkness just like everyone else. It appears that you will only have access to the clichés of the stories in death. It’s oddly fitting. Regardless of the beauty of it, you died. End of story.

Or at least, it should have been the end. Yet, you find yourself standing again, waiting at the back of a crowded room. You stare at your hands, at your body, which appears unharmed. Your eyes travel from yourself to the people in front of you. Your parents sit in chairs, their backs to you. They’re looking over a photo album, crying softly. “She was so young. She could have done so much more. I miss her, even though it’s been so long.”

You step forward, but the ground makes no sound underneath your feet. “Y/N wouldn’t want you to be sad. She would want you to remember her with happiness, not with tears, right?” Your mother nods sadly. “I can’t seem to help it, though.” An icy chill runs through your veins as you realize what’s happened. All you can think about is that you need to get away from here, somewhere where you won’t be surrounded by people mourning your death.

And then you’re gone. One minute you’re in your home, the next minute you’re standing on the sidewalk outside. Although you look around frantically, no one notices your sudden appearance. No one, that is, except one boy. He’s riding a skateboard, long dark hair tucked underneath a helmet. He stops suddenly, staring at you. “Hey, you just poofed here out of nowhere. You’re a ghost?”

You stare at him. “You can see me?” He nods. “You must be new to this ghost business if you’ve got questions. I’m Willie, by the way.” You smile weakly at him. “Y/N. I guess I would have to be a ghost if I died in the accident.” Willie winces. “Ooh, accidents. Those hurt. I died around the early 80s, a couple of decades ago, so I know what you mean.” You stare at him. “The 80s weren’t a couple of decades ago. They were recent.”

Willie shakes his head. “Sorry, man. You must have only been brought back as a ghost recently. It’s the 2020s right now.” You shake your head slowly. “That means it’s been 30 years since I died. How is that possible?” Willie places a hand on your shoulder, and for some reason the gesture is surprisingly comforting. “Hey, not a whole lot about the ghost stuff makes sense. If you want to talk about it, though, I’m here.” You smile at him. “I’d like that a lot, actually.”

Willie ends up becoming a fast friend. He explains everything there is to know about ghosts, and the two of you have fun messing around with your ghost abilities, whatever those are. It’s nice to have someone who understands about the ghost business, and you find that in leaps and bounds with Willie.

One day, you’re lying on a grassy hill admiring the clouds when Willie poofs into existence next to you. For some reason, he looks almost flushed with excitement, cheeks pink with thrill. “You won’t believe who I met. The cutest guy. He’s a new ghost, too.” You grin over at him. “Already making moves? You’re unreal.” Willie rolls his eyes. “I played it safe. We had a nice chat. He seems very cool, in a band or something. I think he plays the drums. Alex, was in a band called Sunset Curve. I think that’s a good name for a band, and I’ve heard a lot of bad ones.”

You sit up suddenly, all thoughts of the bright afternoon sun quickly abandoned. “What did you say? About Sunset Curve?” Willie frowns. “That’s the guy’s band. Or, it was until he died. He’s about our age, played in a band called Sunset Curve.” You shake your head slowly. “That makes no sense. They should have grown up a long time ago.” Willie still seems confused, so you clarify. “I know Alex,  and I know the rest of his bandmates. I was friends with them until I died.” You fix him with a sudden purposeful look. “I need you to bring me to meet these guys.”

Willie has to ask around, but eventually he finds Alex and discovers that they’re staying in their old studio, now inhabited by the Molina family. You thank him, setting off as soon as you can. As you stand outside the doors to the studio, you find yourself suddenly nervous. Will they want to see you? Will they understand what happened?

The faint sounds of music drifting out from the doors is what convinces you. It sounds just like them, like this is another afternoon from the 90s when you’re meeting up with Luke and the others. You gather your courage and knock twice on the doors, then push them open. You stand for a moment in the doorway, staring. The boys stare back at you. It’s funny- everyone looks the exact same, even though everything has changed.

Then there’s a voice from the back of the room. It’s quiet, as if he’s afraid to say anything lest the moment be fractured away into nothingness. “Y/N?” Luke steps forward, disbelief warring with hope in his eyes. You nod slowly. “Luke?” Luke stands still for a moment longer, then runs forward, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close. You tuck your head into the space between his head and his shoulder, letting yourself relax once more.

After what could be ten seconds or ten minutes, Luke reluctantly pulls away. He cups your face in his hand, just staring with awe. “How are you here? We died- you weren’t at the Orpheum-” You laugh bitterly. “I died too. There was a drunk driver on the road, he hit me when I was just a couple of blocks away. I was so close, that was the worst part.” Luke nods slowly. “I remember hearing sirens. I didn’t know it was you.”

Something like guilt passes over his face, and you hurriedly shake your head. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. I guess you died some time after that?” Luke nods. “Just before the show. We never got to play.” A sad sigh rips from his chest, and you pull him close again. It isn’t fair, not at all. He shouldn’t have died, you shouldn’t have died. He should not have been robbed of this chance to live the dream he always wanted.

There’s the sound of a throat clearing from across the room. “You know, we’re here too. Not just Luke.” You look up, laughing. “Sorry, Reggie, Alex. Love you guys too. I’m glad we can all be dead together.” Alex flashes you a thumbs up from across the room. “Me too, Y/N. Me too.” Luke laughs now, albeit reluctantly. You squeeze his hand one more time, then step into the room, greeting the other boys. 

Your gaze falls upon a figure you don’t recognize- a girl, about your age if not a year younger. She has dark, curly hair and a fascinated smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N.” The girl startles. “Julie. Julie Molina. It’s nice to meet you- you must be the girl Luke keeps talking about.” You toss a grin Luke’s way. “You’ve been talking about me?” Luke moves to deny this, but Reggie speaks up loudly. “So often. You have no idea. He’s been very sad.”

Luke glares at his friend, but you just grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Well, it’s nice to feel wanted.” Luke beams at you, still thrilled that you’re here again. “Trust me, you are. I can’t believe you get to stay with me.”

Neither can you, actually. Somehow, despite the fact that you died and came back again, Luke did the same, and you can be with him again. You’ve lost everything- your family, your future, your life, but you still have him. It feels impossible, but it’s true.

This isn’t to say that life is smooth sailing from here. It turns out Luke, Alex, and Reggie have gotten themselves tangled in the mess that is Caleb’s club, and they’ve got the stamps to prove it. You find yourself holding Luke close while he spasms from jolt after jolt, forcing smiles to pretend like it doesn’t kill you every time he’s in pain. You also have to defend Willie to the rest, as he’s been your friend for a while and would never knowingly betray them. You have a feeling that Alex is pretty happy to hear this.

At last, you find the way to save Luke and save the boys- another performance at the Orpheum, this time as their unfinished business. Standing outside the building, staring up at the blinking neon signs, you can’t help but feel some strange feeling in the pit of your stomach. This feels like a sick twist of deja vu. This is how you died- waiting for the boys’ performance at the Orpheum. Staying here now, in the same position but after you’ve died, feels somehow wrong.

You try to shake the thoughts from your head, slipping inside the building to go find Luke, Julie, and the others. This isn’t like that night, you can’t die twice. Everything is going to be fine. Yet when you walk in the dressing room and catch sight of a panicked Flynn trying to calm a visibly shaken Julie, you have a feeling that things aren’t exactly smooth sailing.

Julie looks up when she sees you appear in the room. “Y/N, it’s good to see you. Have you seen Luke and the boys?” You shake your head, a crease forming between your brows. “No, not since I left the studio to let you say your goodbyes. Have they not shown up?” Julie sinks back down in a chair, hands pressed to her temples. “Not at all.” You slump against a wall. This feels like history repeating itself again- you dead, the boys not showing up to their performance at the Orpheum. No matter how many times you tell a story, it tends to end the same way.

Distraught, you wander back through the building to attempt to find the boys, but your search is to no avail. They’re nowhere to be found. You stumble through the auditorium just to see Julie taking the stage. You have a brief, wild hope that she’s managed to find them, but then you see the red rims of her teary eyes and hear the goodbye she issues to the crowd. If they haven’t shown up, then that means-

You try to distract yourself by listening to Julie sing. It brings a smile to your face in spite of yourself. Julie is a bright firecracker of a girl, and it’s been wonderful to get to know her. At least you know you have her at the end of this. Yet when the beat drops, Alex appears in a flash of sparks. You stand up, pressing forward through the crowd as if your proximity will do anything more to bring them back. Yes- there goes Reggie, and there’s Luke struggling to flicker back into existence. You send out a silent plea: bring him back, please. You can’t do this without him. 

Then he’s back again, and you feel like your heart might burst. He flashes you a grin, as if to promise that nothing could separate you again. You smile back at him, finally letting yourself relax. He’s here, it’s okay. It’s all okay. When the song ends, you watch through joyful eyes as the boys stand next to Julie, clasping hands before taking a bow. There’s something wrong, though, something wrong when they disappear. Usually, you can loosely sense them when they poof away, but this time there’s nothing. Nothing at all. It’s like they’ve been erased away from the song of their lives.

There’s something pounding in the back of your heart, and you poof away to Julie’s rooms backstage. She appears there seconds later, as if she’s been expecting you. She runs over to you, stopping a few feet away as she remembers she can’t touch you or hug you as a ghost. “Tell me they’re still here. They didn’t just cross over.” You shake your head slowly. “I can’t feel them. They’re not in the building anymore. Julie, I think they’re gone.”

She nods slowly, fighting a losing battle to keep the tears at bay. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. So sorry. You just found Luke again, and now he’s gone.” You force a smile. “It’s alright. We’re just ghosts, remember? We’ve been running on borrowed time all along. I’ll meet you at the studio, alright? We can say our goodbyes.” Julie nods. “I’ll see you then.” You give her one last wave, then poof out.

You reappear outside the doors of the studio. You can’t quite bring yourself to go in, to face the empty stillness of the studio and know that the boy you love isn’t there. What are you supposed to do now? You have no idea what your unfinished business could possibly be. Most likely, you’re going to live out your endless days as a ghost, not noticed by anyone except Julie and Willie and whatever other ghosts you manage to find, forever haunted by the knowledge that the one person you’re looking for the most will never appear around the corner, never be waiting for you again. It’s like you’re back to that car crash, knowing you’ll be separated by death once more.

You hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and straighten up. Seconds later, Julie appears down the path, and you nod at her slowly. “Are you ready to do this?” She sighs. “It seems fitting to say goodbye, even if they aren’t here.” She pushes open the doors, letting the darkness wash over the two of you. She looks over at you. “I don’t know what to do.” You smile gently. “There’s no script. I have a feeling they’ll be able to hear you. Just say what you wish you got to say before they left.”

Julie nods. “I’m glad I got to meet you guys, and grateful to you for everything. You got me back into music, and I’ll never be able to let go of it again. I thought I’d never play after my mom, but you convinced me that I could. Thank you.” There’s a muffled voice from the back of the room, one that’s quickly shushed by two annoyed boys. “You’re welcome.” You stare. “Reggie?” You’d know him anywhere- you’ve heard that voice in band practices for the last couple of decades, even if it doesn’t feel that way.

Julie runs over to turn on the light, and your hand flies to your mouth as you see the boys crumpled in a heap on the floor, in obvious pain. “Did it not work? Did you not cross over?” Luke shakes his head, gently extricating himself from the heap of band members on the ground to stumble over to you. You catch him before he falls, holding him upright. “We won’t play with Caleb, that’s a promise. It’s not worth it like that.” You cup his face in your hands. “I don’t want to let you go. Not yet.”

Luke laughs quietly. “I’m not sure we had a choice. I love you, Y/N, no matter what. You know that, right?” You nod, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “I know.” You feel one last jolt rack his body, and somehow you know that this will be the last. This is it, the moment when he truly dies. You fling your arms around him, holding him close one last time. If you can’t have the future with him you had always planned, you can at least have this moment.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, waiting for the moment when he disappears from you forever. Yet it doesn’t come. You open your eyes carefully, then stare at him. “Luke, you’re- I think you’re glowing.” Sure enough, he’s surrounded by this golden haze of light. He smiles at you, chuckling slightly in awe. “I feel good. Strong, like I haven’t felt in a while.” Alex stands up too, as does Reggie. “Actually, I feel better too. I think you saved us. Both of you.”

You laugh incredulously. “Really? You’re not going away?” Luke presses a kiss to your cheek. “Never again. I’m not leaving you ever again.” You beam at him. “Good. I don’t intend to be with anyone else.” He laughs at that, pulling you in for a kiss. For once, you know that he’s here to stay.

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson oneshot #jatp #jatp imagines #jatp x reader #jatp oneshot #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagines #julie and the phantoms x reader #julie and the phantoms oneshot #jatp luke #jatp luke imagines #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke oneshot #julie and the phantoms luke

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (02)

➭ You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It’s simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if…Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively;

“A future without you is a world without color.”

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, unrequited love, heavy angst, fluff, lawyer au.

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

SERIES: CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 3

"Please, Joon. I just need to know if he's okay..."

Namjoon scratched the back of his head while looking at Red. The latter was practically begging him to spill things he's been forbidden to utter. He was sure he's just seconds away from telling her what she wanted to know, but then he's abruptly reminded of how heartbroken Jungkook was.

"Don't tell her I'm here," tears painted Jungkook's cheeks. "I don't want to see her. Not now." Or ever...

"He's not here, Red. I'm sorry," Namjoon sighed, trying to close the front door of his small apartment; regrettably, Red stopped him before the door shut in her sad face."I know he doesn't want to see me." She said with a shaky voice—causing Namjoon to purse his lips into a thin line.

"Right." He couldn't help but say. She deserved the snarky remark for hurting Jungkook beyond repair.

"But I'm worried about him. H-He was...so mad when he left."

'Who wouldn't?' Namjoon wanted to say, yet he kept his lips glued together. He needed to remind himself that although she hurt Jungkook, Red was still his friend.

"I'm sure he'll be fine wherever he is." Namjoon's caught Red's eyes. "Jungkook is strong, you know."

"I know." She looked at her feet; this caused the man inside the house to also look down. Namjoon was so busy shooing Red away that he didn't notice a big box on the ground. Judging by the looks of it, he deduced that this box belonged to Jungkook. The tower of sketchpads and other art materials was already a giveaway.

"Can you give this to him, though? I'm not sure when I'll get to see him again, and I know he can't live without this stuff, so..." Red picked up the box. "Please, Joonie..." She added when the older boy didn't say anything.

"Fine."

In the end, Namjoon gave in. He didn't have a choice. This was the only way to make her leave; however, he instantly regretted his decision when he spotted Jungkook sitting on the couch."What did she say?" Jungkook inquired eagerly; his eyes flew on the box that's juggling in Namjoon's arms. Jungkook saw his friend trip over a non-existent stone.

Namjoon was really clumsy.

"She wants me to give this to you." The older boy handed the box to Jungkook in exchange for his precious daughter.

"Ji-eun..." Namjoon cooed, bopping the nose of his three-year-old child. Ji-eun chuckled; her little finger was poking her father's deep dimple.

"Appa!" Ji-eun's eyes twinkled. She missed being in her father's embrace even though it hadn't been long since Namjoon left her with Jungkook.

Ji-eun couldn't help it. Jungkook used to be the fun uncle, but all he did now was cry and snort. Admittedly, she's getting tired of wiping his tears every second.

She wondered who made uncle Jungkook cry.

"Huh." Jungkook huffed as he examined what was inside the box. Namjoon was right. It's full of the younger boy's stuff.

"Is she really so eager to kick me out of the house that she personally brought my things here!?"Jungkook was seeing red. Profanities left his lips as acid dripped down his stomach. He's so mad at his ex.

"Language, Jeon," Namjoon warned, turning away from Jungkook. He couldn't let Ji-eun listen to the younger boy's dirty mouth. "Besides, you're the one who left."

Jungkook didn't know how to respond to that, mainly because Namjoon was correct. He was the one who left in the middle of the fight. In his defense, he was hurt. What Red was saying was too much for him—it was painful, the kind of pain he knew would forever haunt him.

"I love him, Kook."

Red's confession echoed in Jungkook's mind again. Red told him she loved her soulmate. Jungkook didn't want to believe her because how? How could she fall in love with another man just by looking at him in the eyes?

"We've been seeing each other for months now."

His question had been answered. Red was a cheater, and it's the last straw for Jungkook. He couldn't take it anymore, so he stood up.

"I hate you, bitch!"

The pain that crossed Red's face indicated that Jungkook had gone too far. He didn't mean it, but he's hurt, and this was the only way he could hurt her back.

Before Red could say anything, Jungkook was already out of the door.

It's two am in the morning. Jungkook was certain that the only awake person that he could bother right now was none other than Namjoon, his brother-in-law.

Thankfully, Namjoon's apartment was just a few blocks away from Red's home.

"Kook?" Namjoon squinted his eyes after opening the door. He's been awake for straight twenty-seven hours to the point that he couldn't tell if Jungkook was really in front of him or if he's just hallucinating.

"Hyung..." Jungkook broke into tears upon seeing his only family.

Namjoon let the crying boy inside his house.

"I ran out of tea..." This was Namjoon's excuse when he handed Jungkook Ji-eun's milk. Namjoon didn't even have time to buy his groceries since his daughter occupied most of his time.

Fortunately, it looked like Jungkook didn't give two fucks as he was already halfway finished drinking the warm milk.

It's been exactly fifteen minutes since the younger boy came knocking on Namjoon's humble abode. Jungkook had stopped crying, though he still looked a little shaken.

"Red found her soulmate..." Jungkook spoke right before Namjoon could ask what happened. Suddenly, the older boy found himself biting his bottom lip. He didn't want to pry about Jungkook's life, but then he's reminded of the wish of Hye-Jin, his late wife.

"Take care of my brother, Joon..."

"D-Do you wanna talk about it?" Namjoon asked before he changed his mind. This was the only thing he could do for Hye-Jin.

"What's there to talk about?" Jungkook hissed even though he's the one who started telling Namjoon things. The latter kept his head low. In times like this, he wasn't sure what to say.

It's not like he's better than Red. Namjoon also broke up with the woman he was dating right after meeting Hye-Jin. The only difference was that Namjoon's ex perfectly understood the situation. She knew that they weren't destined to be together.

"She cheated on me. She said she's in love with her soulmate." The bitter taste in Jungkook's mouth was still there. It only strengthened as soon as the word 'soulmate' left his lips. Jungkook continued pouring his heart out to Namjoon despite saying he didn't want to talk about it.

"She's going to regret leaving me. No one can love her the way I do!" Jungkook swore, but Namjoon's almost 100% sure he's wrong.

Seeing colors were different. It felt like everything was perfect. Namjoon couldn't deny that one of the many reasons he fell in love with Hye-Jin was because she helped him see the wonderful hues.

It's like the more he fell in love with her, the brighter the colors became. Even now that she's dead, Namjoon could still see colors. Granted that it kind of faded, it's still the best thing Namjoon was proud to experience.

The rule of the world was simple. As long as your soulmate was in love with you, the colors would always be visible in your very eyes. It would only become less bright if your soulmate died. However, the case of a one-sided love was different. People wouldn't be able to see colors if their soulmates didn't give them their hearts.

Some said that there were cases wherein people went blind when their soulmates started to hate them. Namjoon and Jungkook didn't know if it was true or just a myth. After all, they hadn't encountered people who apparently 'went' blind because of the mentioned reason."I'm telling you, hyung. She'll come to see me soon."

Jungkook was right. Two weeks after their fight, Red showed up. Unfortunately, it's not to beg her ex to come back. She only returned a box full of his stuff, a clear sign that she's officially kicking him out of their shared apartment.

"How can she do this to me? It's my house too!" Said Jungkook nine days after Red's appearance in front of Namjoon's apartment, it finally dawned to him that his ex was no longer a part of his life.

It's really over.

Jungkook realized this while staring dumbly at his ruined sketchpads. Ji-eun accidentally spilled a glass of water on her uncle's drawing.

The mixture of pain, anger, and frustration caused Jungkook to scream. He couldn't possibly be mad at a three-year-old kid; that's why he just directed his negative emotions to the fact that Red practically kicked him out of their home—his home.

He was aware that Red's name was written in the lease contract, but Jungkook paid this year's rental fee. He's broke at the moment. This being the case, Jungkook swallowed his pride to come to live with his brother-in-law. The thing was, it's getting hard for him to stay there. Namjoon had only one room, so Jungkook slept on the couch—wait, this wasn't about right. Jungkook didn't even get to sleep. Ji-eun's cries wouldn't allow him to do so. Aside from this, the little kid had also ruined her uncle's drawings countless times now.

"Seriously, Kook. You need to move out of your brother-in-law's house." Taehyung pouted his lips.

Jungkook couldn't decide if he could take his friend's advice seriously, at least not when Taehyung's tongue was basically down Jimin's throat.

"I can't afford to lease a new place." Jungkook scrunched his nose, eyes still focused on the disgusting public display of affection in front of him. "I only have forty dollars in my bank account."

"Oh, you poor thing." Jimin slightly pushed his boyfriend's chest to dodge his kisses and to be able to look at Jungkook.

Jungkook snorted. He didn't want to be babied, especially not by Park Jimin, who he met just a few months back.

Park Jimin was Taehyung's real soulmate. It was still weird seeing them together. All his life, Jungkook believed that Taehyung, his childhood best friend, was a straight man. Taehyung dated a lot of women before; he also seemed to enjoy being with them.

This was one of the reasons why Jungkook hated the idea of a soulmate. It was a complete bull. It was unfair to let fate decide who you'll end up with. Jungkook witnessed Taehyung's struggle after meeting Jimin. He was happy that he could finally see colors and that it didn't take him long to like Jimin, but Taehyung was so confused.

Like Jungkook, Taehyung also thought he was straight, but then his world suddenly turned upside down. Before he knew it, Taehyung was crying. He was too overwhelmed with what was happening, and Jungkook hated it. The latter didn't care about genders; he supported those who didn't identify themselves as heterosexual. Jungkook hated that people had to limit what they thought their gender was just because of the concept of soulmate. Again, it was not fair.

"But I can help you..." Jimin added as he took a bite of his frozen yogurt. They were currently inside of an ice cream shop. Jungkook had to get out of Namjoon's home since it was getting hard to look at his ruined works. He called his best friend to help him destress. Jungkook just had to let his frustrations out. Luckily, Taehyung and Jimin were more than happy to treat their younger friend some frozen yogurts. Jungkook ordered three of the said dessert.

"No, Jimin." Taehyung said as if he'd read his boyfriend's mind. "Jungkookie isn't going to suck your dick for money."

"Aw." Jimin's lips protruded into a sulky pout, making Jungkook roll his eyes. Sometimes he couldn't believe the couple's relationship. Jungkook knew that Jimin was only joking, but Jungkook thought he couldn't let the love of his life think about someone else's body. He was pretty possessive.

"We can call Yoongi-hyung, though. I think he's in the mood for some dicks—"

"Guys!" Jungkook groaned, cutting them off. His eyes were widening too. "Can we stop talking about dicks for five seconds? I have a serious problem here."

"Oh, right!" Jimin's eyes lit up. He also cleared his throat—an action that made Jungkook sigh in relief; at least he's getting serious now. "You need to find a roommate, Kook. Lucky for you, I have a friend who's looking for a housemate. I think she could cut you off some slack."

The younger boy's scoff was almost instant. "Cut me off some slack?" He narrowed his eyes at Jimin. "I don't want to owe anything to anyone. You know that."

Jimin shrugged his shoulders, taking another bite of his frozen yogurt. "It's not like that. You'll actually be the one doing her a favor. She's in dire need of a roommate, Kook. She wouldn't mind if you couldn't pay rent right now, as long as you're willing to keep the house clean and look after her cat. You can do that, right?"

Of course, Jungkook could. He was an artist; he spent most of his time inside his home, silently drawing whatever came into his mind.

"Huh." Jungkook was still skeptical. "Can't she just hire a maid?"

"Wish it was that easy. She's a mess. Not even her maids can tolerate her shit. Besides, her cat is a total bitch. She scratches anyone that's not her owner."

"I'm not sure..." Jungkook scowled. He wasn't sure if he could live with a stranger. Jungkook was a shy boy; it actually took him a long time to even say 'hello' to Jimin.

"Just think about it, Jungkook..." Jimin smiled warmly at the younger boy. "I swear she's a decent person. Yes, she's messy, but aside from that, she's fine. She doesn't pry on anyone's life; she's quiet, just like you, and oh! She likes banana milk too! I swear, Kook. You'll like her!"

For some reason, Jungkook's heart skipped a beat. He knew Jimin was kind, he's the type of person who always talked about the good qualities of a certain someone, but this was the first time he spoke about someone with such passion.

Jimin continued to talk about you, his lovely best friend. If you could hear him right now, you were sure you'd end up crying. Jimin was indeed the best friend you could ask. He's fiercely loyal.

"It's true, Kook. You'll love her." Taehyung talked about you with the same intensity. He had met you, and he instantly fell in love with you. You were smart and witty.

The couple continued sharing things they loved about you. Jungkook swore he's not easy to convince. The only acceptable reason why he's standing in front of your apartment was that Taehyung and his boyfriend knew the magic of words. They had done an excellent job convincing him.

Jungkook let out an exasperated breath when you still didn't answer the door after his ninth attempt to knock. Truthfully, he was getting pissed off.

Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all.

Just as when he was about to leave, the door suddenly opened with so much force. Jungkook was startled.

"I'm sorry, I was in the shower. I swear I heard you the first time you knocked, but I was panicking, so I slipped down the floor, and I..." You ran your hand through your wet hair, eyes widening when you saw your fingers covered in soap suds.

"Oh, my God!" You were panicking again. This time, you finally looked at Jungkook to see his reaction.

You were rambling about how this whole situation was so embarrassing, but Jungkook wasn't listening anymore. How could he focus on anything when his heart was beating this fast? Jungkook was pissed before he met your eyes, right now; the irritation he felt was rapidly boiling down to panic when he realized what was happening.

Colors.

Jungkook was used to seeing black and white, so imagine his confusion when the colors suddenly became visible in his eyes.

Nothing made sense to him, but one thing's for sure.

Jungkook had found his soulmate.

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