#hopeful ending

[alycremie]

Guys I know Climate Change is super scary in the news. I know it's terrifying and seems like the end of the world. And it could be! But it isn't going to be.

I want to take this time to remind all of you how far we've come in the past twenty-ish years since "An Inconvenient Truth"

Fossil Fuels

We use less fossil fuels now proportionally than we did in 2009. Coal used to be 50% of the United States's energy production, but now is down to less than a quarter, and is expected to continue to drop in the upcoming years. This is including in traditionally anti-renewable areas that rely on coal heavily, like Wyoming's shift to wind and solar and Kentucky and West Virginia's shift to hydroelectric.

Most remaining coal plants are either shutting down or using filtration systems to reduce the carbon, methane, and heavy metals put into the air. Coal mines are shutting down - the era of King Coal is over.

Yes, many states are shifting to natural gas, but the carbon density of natural gas is lower than both oil and coal. Extraction of it is less dangerous. It's not better than renewables, but is a great alternative for developing countries that don't have the money for renewables - at least for the time being.

Oil and diesel are gradually being phased out as well. Desires to be economically independent from oil rich countries like Saudi Arabia and Russia have driven policy makers away from it. Areas like Alaska that rely heavily on diesel for heating are switching to renewable energy and less energy intensive heat pumps.

Fossil fuel companies are continuing to do their lobby thing, but it doesn't matter. Climate change isn't even the driving factor right now - it should be, but the increasing cost of fossil fuel extraction is slowly breaking the industry. In the US, it's just not as profitable as it was thirty years ago.

Nuclear

Nuclear energy is fast-growing. While it's somewhat stagnated in the US, countries like France, Russia, South Korea, Germany, and Japan are relying on increasing amounts of nuclear energy - in France's case, almost 4/5ths of their electricity comes from nuclear energy.

We've found ways to make the Uranium and Thorium last longer in the reactor, and in fact, nuclear power plants are among the safest in the world. The only emission is water vapor - not including the construction - and we have hundreds or thousands of years left of nuclear energy at our current consumption, even more if we can find out how to harness ocean Uranium and seafloor Thorium or harness nuclear fusion.

Nuclear power plants produce absurd amounts of electricity - a single 6 gigawatt power plant (high end, but do exist) could singlehandedly provide the entire electric requirements of New York City - think of what several of them across the country could do. They generate power incredibly reliably.

Nuclear disasters like Fukushima and Chernobyl are far behind us. Fukushima was entirely preventable - they knew about the lack of safety regulations and did not fix them - and Chernobyl was 40 years ago. Technology has come a long way since then.

Hydroelectric

Hydroelectric dams that kill fish are out - tidal turbines and fish ladders are in. Fish ladders provide ways for fish to escape and not get caught in the turbine, though the reduced quality of life both up and downstream is an issue.

Enter tidal energy! Yes, really!

A startup in Scotland, MeyGen has proven that two-way off-shore turbines can provide significant amounts of electricity. Just four turbines were enough to provide electricity to over 4,000 homes. Tidal barrages have been used on bridges and coasts to generate hydroelectric energy from the incoming ocean waves.

There are no significant emissions beyond construction, AND the turbines and barrages *do not kill fish or sea creatures*. The turbines, at worst, caused dolphins and seals to simply avoid the area the turbines were in. They work when the ocean is flowing either direction, and can be put nearly anywhere - think about the power the Gulf Stream would generate!

Solar

Solar energy is fast-growing - and this part is my favourite. Homes are being designed with solar heating in mind. Not just in the panels, no - window placements, albedo, and materials have allowed homes to be heated by the sun in winter, but shielded from it in summer. A properly solar optimized home can cut on 75% of electricity use!

Solar panels are up to 46% efficiency now, which is insane. In parts of the western US, up to 8.6 kWh per m^2 of solar panels can be generated. For perspective, a single home uses about 30 kWh per day - a number that is decreasing. A home would only need about 43 square feet of solar panels to power their home, and lord knows roofs have more space than that.

Roofs are being designed to reflect heat, to reduce the heat island effects of big cities. Green spaces are being built for shade and cooling through transpiration. They've even invented a paint that reflects so much heat that it can cool your home by several degrees.

They've even invented thin-film solar panels that you can use as windows. Yeah! Solar panels YOU CAN USE AS WINDOWS! So skyscrapers that are covered in windows on all sides - think about the power generation. An office building doubling as a power plant. It's incredible.

Wind

Wind turbines don't kill that many birds. They used to, but they don't anymore - at least in most areas. The myth comes from the old 1960s turbines that were low to the ground and spun fast like a fan, so birds had trouble seeing where the blades were. The high up turbines nowadays are really only a problem for high-flying birds of prey, but even that's still being worked on. Wind energy is becoming increasingly efficient and producing more power than ever before.

Geothermal

Geothermal energy is going crazy. Iceland uses it to heat their homes and keep their streets ice-free instead of using snowplows in Reykjavik. There are systems in production now that would be able to generate power year-round using the heat of the earth.

By using a special liquid with a lower boiling point than water, electricity can be generated easily and without any kind of toxic waste that would normally result from groundwater energy production.

Geothermal plants can also be used for temperature regulation - the ground stays a relatively constant temperature. Say it's 65 degrees Fahrenheit in an area. In summer, you can pump that heat underground instead of into the air, which contributes to heat islands. In winter, when it's colder, you can extract the heat back out again. Heat and cooling are the single biggest energy sink in the US and in most parts of the world, and it's about to become completely clean.

Energy Consumption and The Grid

While CO2 emissions are increasing, that's mostly due to population increase. The emissions per capita has actually gone down - the average person produces almost 20 tons fewer of CO2 emissions than in 1990, and that number is going to continue to drop.

As we shift more towards renewable energy and working from home, those emissions per capita are going to drop more and more. People buy more local now. They use electric cars. Their household appliances have spiked in efficiency. LED bulbs produce significantly less emissions than the incandescent bulb, and the number of LED bulbs across the world is rapidly increasing.

The Grid is changing. Normally, the reason power generation produces so much CO2 is that power plants can't shut down - they have to produce at all hours of the day to remain economical. They produce more in the evenings when electricity demand is higher, and less in the early morning when it is lower.

The new electric grid would have energy storage. If a home or a power source, such as solar, produced too much energy, it would be sent back into the grid and stored for spikes in demand later - the system would become more efficient, and overproduction of electricity would no longer mean wasting it.

Conservation and Restoration

We can un-desertify farmland. We've figured out how to bring back rivers and streams that have dried up from overfarming in sub-saharan Africa. We can plant trees, we can enrich the soil, we can undo the damage that we've caused.

We can bring back coral. We can increase the albedo of the Arctic and Antarctic. We can re-introduce extinct animals and bring balance to the ecosystem again. We've massively reduced poaching and needless hunting of endangered animals. We know how to make sustainable, permaculture farming practices.

We have everything we need to fix the ecosystems we've damaged or destroyed - and people are already doing it.

Why it's actually gonna be okay

Guys, we're past the worst of it. Maybe not the worst of the effects of climate change, but certainly the worst of the emissions. We are going to have a clean future. Young people support environmental regulations the most, and there are enough passionate young minds that it's going to get done.

I know I talked most about the US here, but it's changes all across the world. I focused on the US because it has the highest per capita emissions of any country on Earth. Don't be fooled though - everyone is going green.

Meat is being eaten less than ever before. Fewer people drive cars. Fewer people waste and throw things away. Don't let the scary news of private jets and mega-corporations disillusion you. GOOD CHANGES ARE HAPPENING!

Enough of the doomer apocalypse viewpoint of climate change. There is a hopeful future for all of us. Let's achieve it together!

#climate change #climate crisis #hopeful ending #future #climate doomerism #my silly little posts #renewable power #renewable future #solarpunk

[strwbrrymlkjh]

I can't say 'hello' to you and risk another goodbye

alhaitham x gn! reader

it was a casual day of strolling through the city looking for a gift for cyno and you never thought you would bump into someone you have avoided for a long time.

a/n: angst, hopeful ending, maybe OOC Alhaitham, title from 'i almost do' by taylor swift

wc: 2.5k

AO3

Every year on June twenty-third, you and your friends gather to celebrate Cyno’s birthday. And with birthdays comes gifts. You were not able to attend his celebration for the previous year so you were trying to make it up to him this year by giving him something special. It was a casual day of strolling through the city looking for the most appropriate gift and the last thing you thought would happen was you bumping into someone you have avoided for a long time.

As it turns out, listing off TCG card shops inside your head was not a very good idea as you will be too preoccupied to notice the the tall figure standing in your way, too immersed in his own world as well.

It all happened so fast. One second you were walking and the next, a strong hand is holding your forearm to prevent you from falling face first on the sidewalk and embarrassing yourself in front of countless people. You are about to apologize for not looking at where you are going and having your head in the clouds but your words get caught in your throat once you take a good look at your savior.

Standing in front of you with the same towering height, serious and calculating eyes and extremely familiar soundproof earpieces is your former boyfriend Alhaitham. Scanning him from head to toe, you think that you might fall again despite his strong grip on your arm. You will gladly do so and let the earth swallow you from where you lay if it means saving yourself from interacting with him.

You are convinced that the universe is out to get you as Alhaitham slowly and carefully lets go of your arm and removes the device covering his ears.

"Are you hurt?” He asked while placing the earpieces on his neck. You shook your head no as you brushed off the imaginary dust on your pants. The feeling of his touch lingers on your arm.

"I should ask you the same thing. I was not really looking at where I am going so it was my fault for bumping into you. Sorry.” You responded sheepishly while staring at the tiles that adorned the street.

"I’m fine.” Still a man of few words, you taught.

You finally had the courage to steal a glance from him only to find that he was already staring at you. Averting your gaze as quickly as possible, you started thinking of ways to flee. You wanted this meeting to end as soon as possible, to run as fast and as far away from here as you can, but you couldn’t. It was as if your feet were glued to the floor as you tried to make up excuses in your head.

Oh, that’s it. You should just tell him that you were looking for a gift for someone.

"Uhm, I should -” you started.

"Are you here to buy something for Cyno?”

You stopped in your tracks. Ah, yes. Cyno is one of your mutual friends.

You almost forgot about that fact as it has been a year since you last spent time with Alhaitham. Twelve months of radio silence and actively going out of your way to avoid him. Anyone would think that you two had a bad breakup. If only that was what really happened.

You have been captivated by Alhaitham the first time you saw him when you were children. As a child, you did not understand why but he was the first and only person that made your heart beat so fast you could feel it on your tongue.

Confessing your feelings for him was a spur-of-the-moment decision. He just looked so beautiful that day silently standing beside you as you wait for your fellow scholars at Pardis Dhyai. His turquoise eyes glowing in the sunlight, gray hair dancing in the wind. You would not have been able to stop yourself from telling him that you like him even if you wanted to. To your disbelief, the aloof and stoic man agreed to go out with you.

Everything was going well at first. You were trying to get to know him on a different level - memorize his quirks, the things that make him tick. All your friends are happy for you both. But soon enough, the consequences of entering something without giving it much thought caught up to you.

You were hoping for a change in him once you became his significant other. Maybe a little more affection and communication. Instead, you felt alone in the relationship - always the only one to remember the important details about the other, always the only one initiating and planning dates.

You did not want him to change. You just wanted him to make you feel that he wanted you too. That he wanted to stay in this relationship with you.

At some point, you felt that you were burdening him with your presence, that you were disrupting his life. You start drowning yourself in what-ifs, your insecurities like fire gnawing at your stomach. Maybe he really is not the one for you, that there is someone out there for him. Someone you could never be; a person kinder and better than you. Better for him.

Ending what you had was not something you thought would happen but thinking about prolonging the agony for the both of you was more than enough reason to call it quits. So you did. And just like when you two got together, he simply nodded his head and agreed to break up with you.

You knew that being in his presence, even as friends, would only make you fall harder than ever before. You were trying so hard not to regret your decision so you decided to keep your distance. No speaking to each other, no stealing glances. You even refused to be in the same room as him until you have completely moved on.

In the past year where the both of you did not have a single significant interaction, you were confident that any trace of affection for him has completely disappeared. You thought you would be able to look at him without feeling any pain or regret.

That was not the case, it seems.

You were back to square one, feeling exactly the same way you felt that day you confessed to him. You wanted to reach out and wrap your arms around his waist, card your fingers through his hair, stare into those eyes and get lost in them. But you know you can’t do those things anymore.

You noticed that he was still waiting for your answer so you nodded, not trusting your words.

"I should get going.” You whispered, not wanting to spend another second in his presence lest you cry and confess your feelings for the second time.

It was rude to just leave him there without saying a proper goodbye but your tears were threatening to spill from your eyes so you just gave him a nod and without waiting for his reply, turned around and began walking away.

A quick escape is what you were expecting. What you were not expecting was nearly jumping out of your skin when his large hand made contact with your wrist and pulled you back to where you were standing seconds ago.

You stared at him with wide eyes, and judging by the look on his face, he was also shocked by what he had done. It took him a few more moments to get out of whatever trance he was in and he quickly released your hand.

“Uhm.” You did not know what else to say. Even after all this time, Alhaitham still has that effect on you.<

"I need your help,” He said. You looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate.

Noticing this, he added, “I have not chosen a gift for Cyno yet.”

Ohh

“Is it alright if I come with you?”

Everything in you was screaming to say no and walk away just as you planned. But you know you can never refuse this man, another thing that remains a fact even if you are not together anymore.

“Sure. No problem.” You responded in a small voice. You are convinced that your mind is playing tricks on you when you see a small smile grace his handsome face. His smiles were rare, after all.

“I was planning on buying something from there.” You pointed to a nearby trinket shop with TCG card banners hanging at the front.

“Lead the way.” He pushed the glass door and let you step inside first before trailing behind you. Your eyes scanned the objects on the display shelves and you felt the tears pricking your eyes once again.

“Alhaitham.” you called out his name which caught his attention. Saying it out loud felt foreign to your tongue after a long time of only whispering it in your head. The man turned around and stared at you.

“I’m going to look for TCG cards over there.” You pointed at the back of the shop. He kept his gaze on you for a few seconds before nodding his head.

You wiped the stray tears that escaped from your eyes while looking at the cards. You were not in your right mind to pick anything decent so you made it your goal to agree on the first thing that Alhaitham picks and leave like you originally planned to. You can always come back here before Cyno’s birthday anyway.

You lingered for a few more minutes, giving Alhaitham enough time to pick something. It was then that you noticed a shelf displaying preserved flowers in glass encasements. One particular flower caught your eye, a Padisarah.

It looked so beautiful inside the glass encasement, as if suspended in time. You smiled at the thought. If only you could have frozen time that day you confessed to Alhaitham, when the only thing you can feel is the overwhelming love you have for him. Maybe you would not feel as if a part of you was missing. Maybe then you would not have to spend sleepless nights being a prisoner of your thoughts, dissecting every interaction with him, trying to find some sort of signal that he likes you as much as you like him. Until now, it was almost impossible to tell how he feels about you.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you failed to notice Alhaitham’s presence behind you.

“Have you found something?” You were startled as you suddenly heard his deep voice. He has caught you staring so intently at the flowers that he can’t help but examine it too.

You needed to get out of here. “I have to go. Kaveh told me he needs help with things.” was your lame excuse.

Alhaitham looked like he was about to say something. Instead he kept his mouth shut and nodded his head with an indescribable look on his face. You felt bad for lying but you did not want to break down inside the store in front of him.

“I’m sorry. Maybe you’ll find something here.” You headed straight for the shop’s doors. You have no idea where you are headed but you really just want some place where you can let your tears out.

You have always been an emotional person. It was one of the key differences between you and Alhaitham. Despite this, he has been very patient with you - always accompanying you to wherever you wanted to go, helping you with the lessons that you found difficult to understand, silently listening to your rants after a bad day. The memory made you realize that he showed his affection for you in his own ways.

Maybe he was not lacking, you were simply not content.

You have not made it to your car when the unshed tears started escaping and soon enough, you were bawling your eyes out. For the first time since you convinced yourself that you have moved on, you allowed yourself to cry.

You were sitting on the curb trying to control your breathing when you heard a familiar voice call out your name. Lifting your head, you saw a disheveled Alhaitham holding a paper bag with the logo of the shop where you left him.

You did not have time to wipe your tears away when he suddenly bent down and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

I am so sorry,” the man whispered, his hold around you tightening. You were too shocked to even say a word. What is going on?

“I know I am the last person you want to see but I need you to know that I am so sorry for not saying anything and letting you walk away. I should have - “ his voice cracked.

“I should have said something.” he rested his head on your shoulder. You, still at a loss for words, became acutely aware of the close proximity of your faces. At this angle, you could see how tightly he has his eyes closed, as if stopping tears that are threatening to spill.

In a hoarse and broken voice, he continued, “Everyday, in a sea of faces, I find myself looking for yours. I missed you so much. You have no idea.”

You placed your hand on his cheeks urging him to pull back and allow you to properly look at him. It was the first time that you have seen him with this distraught and worried look on his handsome face.

He lifted the paper bag on the floor behind you and presented it to you. You opened the bag and the content was not something you were expecting. It was the preserved Padisarah you were staring at earlier.

You did not know what to say. You did not know what this meant. You looked at Alhaitham, hoping he has the answers to your unsaid questions.

“I thought you were shopping for Cyno.”

“I wasn't,” he admitted. Then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for something. “I had no idea how to keep you from leaving and it was the only excuse I could come up with.”

"Please accept it. I will not inconvenience you any longer.” Your eyes widened at his words. He took your silence as a sign that you did not want anything to do with him. He started getting up and walking away but you were still frozen in your place.

You were hesitating, still in the prison of what-ifs you made for yourself. Between the both of you, Alhaitham was never the emotional one but he had been very honest with his feelings today and it was only fair for you to reciprocate. This was the second chance that you did not know you had been waiting for and you’ll be damned if you let it slip away.

Wiping your eyes, you stared at the flower as you placed it back carefully inside the bag before chasing after the man you’ve loved for so long that you can’t imagine ever loving someone else again.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #alhaitham #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham angst #i wrote this instead of sleeping #getting back together #hopeful ending #genshin x reader #genshin #alhaitham x y/n #genshin impact alhaitham #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #genshin alhaitham #tags are hard

[miss-celestia13]

The Ending You Deserve

Jake x MC - Duskwood One Shot

I wanted to practice angst and creating suspense. This happened. It has a touch of humor, a hint of fluff, and other things! Sassy MC. No smut for a change. It feels weird 🤭

Can Jake run from death and make it to MC?

Or will his demons win the race?

MC isn't named or described as it was more for the emotions. It's all from Jake’s POV.

Pain. 

Aching. Cold. Hot. Burning, burning, burning. It rolled through him in waves.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t see.

Dread wove through his internal organs and strangled him from the inside like an invasive vine had taken root in the core of himself.

Smoke and ash choked his airways as he stumbled and tripped through the mine.

His heart rattled savagely against his ribs.

It felt like a creature in its death throes, trying to break out of his chest.

His foot collided with a jagged, jutting rock and he went down like a house of cards. Crumpled and folded as he rolled and rolled.

Hissing as tiny sharp stones cut into his face and hands.

Ash ridden sweat trickled down his face and stung the many small slices leaking blood as he lay on his back panting and cursing himself as the ominous orange glow of raging flame inched along the underground tunnel.

The air grew thinner and thinner.

The smoke grew thicker and thicker. 

The gasoline fueled fire was a monster bearing down on him and he scrambled to his trembling feet. Taking off at a staggering jog, one hand braced on the rough, dirty wall.

A pinprick of light opened up far ahead and a jolt of adrenaline surged through his bloodstream. He hurried, panting and terrified, breathing too shallowly as the rising heat nipped at his neck.

He knew he had a choice to make.

It was death by fire or FBI.

Neither option appealed to him, but as he looked back and saw the swirling, furious flames licking nearer and nearer. He knew he had to decide.

It wasn’t fair.

He wasn’t innocent or free from any wrongdoing. But he didn’t deserve to die like an animal, run over and left bleeding out and twitching on the side of the road until he grew cold and stiff. 

No one would miss him.

No one would look for him.

He was all alone. It was a surety. He was always, always alone.

That’s not true though, is it, Jake?

It hasn’t been for a while now.

The voice in his head made his breath catch, and his heart pounded painfully in his throat.

It felt as though someone had reached inside his chest, broken through his flesh, muscle and grasped his bones to pry them apart, an invisible fist that gripped his pulsing heart and shoved it in his mouth. Forcing him to swallow it.

It beat there like a Wardrum. Marching him to his death. 

It throbbed and choked and filled his mouth with copper. He couldn’t stand it. The pain was corrosive as it ate through his nerves and left them exposed to the heat and acrid taint of smoke.

She is waiting for you. Don’t let her down.

You PROMISED.

A soul deep sigh huffed through his nose as his feet sped up, pebbles and broken glass crunched under his boots as he raced toward the gradually growing dot of light.

The roaring fire and echo of his escape bounced off the stone and haunted him as he ran for his life.

Four years of running.

Four years of searching and shame and seclusion. Running had been his gift. His lifeline. 

Yet he felt wholly unprepared for this last sprint.

He was tiring.

Steps shortening faster than his scalding breath as black smoke slithered overhead and wrapped its insidious tentacles around his body.

He would not make it.

He would not see her after all.

The thought felt like a poisoned blade sinking into his chest. He could feel the barbs of it twisting and cutting through sinew.

He would soon bleed out without a sound.

The fight left him as the intangible knife punctured his hope and foolish dream of having a love he didn’t deserve.

They’d been writing their own story, filling the pages with dreams and fragile, flourishing love.

He felt like coming here was akin to him tearing out those pages and ripping them up.

It broke him so completely he almost stopped and let the flames embrace him.

He could already smell the sickly sweet and pungent scent of his blistering flesh. Like tanning leather over a flame.

He was going to burn.

It would hurt more than he already did.

It would roast through his flesh, flay it from his bones and incinerate muscle and blood to dust.

He could already feel it.

Creeping closer, singing the hair on his nape, and filling his nose with the cloying scent of dangerous smoke.

No one would know it was him.

Nothing would remain for her except blackened bones and the memory that he had gone to the mine instead of her.

She would blame herself for this.

It would destroy her.

And it was all his doing.

No.

Never.

He wouldn’t be a cause of her pain anymore than he already had.

A burst of fresh speed and determination glittered through him as the fire drew so near he could feel the flames whispering in his ear.

Too slow, Jake. It’s too late.

You can’t run away from this.

Your luck has faded.

He forced it aside and sobbed through his clenched teeth as the dot of light swelled and came toward him.

His legs were heavy. Growing weightier with every leap over fallen support beams and shattered rock.

His rabbit heart raced faster and faster. It deafened him to the groaning, popping wood as the fire devoured it.

Tears streaked through the soot and blood on his face. Leaving pale tracks through the grime and coating his chapped lips with brine.

His vision blurred as his emotions broke free of the locked and coded vault he’d stuffed in the back of his hive mind to come here.

He attempted to shove them back in.

It didn’t work.

They spilled out and utterly overwhelmed him.

He’d spent years locking them down. Beating them into submission, so they listened to him and not him to them. The steel and stone fortress he erected around himself had already crumbled for her and there was nowhere left to hide.

He’d given her everything he had, and it wouldn’t be enough.

You always knew you weren’t enough. Let’s not think too highly of ourselves.

She deserves better than this.

Better than you.

That is a truth you will never escape.

His heart fractured as his mind fought against him and his flagging spirit frayed further.

She deserved better than this.

He was failing her. Had failed her since he let her in.

He’d always known he’d cause her future hurt.

He just hadn’t expected it would come so soon. That he wouldn’t get to watch from afar as she healed from his vanishing.

They had always lived on borrowed time.

And now, the fire was so close sweat slid like rivers down his back and legs, eating away at his nerves as they flared wildly under his soaking skin.

Jake knew it was futile. The ball of light in his vision seemed to run away from him as his eyes blurred and cleared repeatedly. His hands curled into two tight fists and he fought the urge to punch the wall in fury.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek instead. Biting down hard until the skin gave and blood welled over the tattered edge, glazing his tongue with the buttery, metallic taste of it.

It acted like a stimulant.

His eyes focused and his heart pounded fiercely as he ran and ran and ran.

Feet pounded stone as fire blazed through the mine. He had to outrun it.

He would outrun in it.

There was no other option as his blood pressure skyrocketed and his breath became harsh, shallow.

The fire sucked away the air before it could go in as he tried to gulp it down.

There was no oxygen.

His insides kept writhing and twisting.

They knotted up and up so tightly he swore felt something tear. Something that made him cry out as the air was crushed from him.

He could see shadows in his periphery. Specks of darkness and sparks of light as his lungs ached and screamed for oxygen. For rest.

Resting meant dying.

Dying meant failing her.

Failing her was never an option before.

It couldn’t be one now.

He put his head down and ran.

He jumped over another wooden beam as the light ahead broadened and he landed atop aged wooden boards.

He only had time to scream as they broke under his weight and their age.

Jake fell. And fell and fell.

He screwed his eyes shut before he hit the ground.

The impact was so brutal, he almost wished it had killed him.

He hit the ground with a resounding whack.

His head cracked off the stone. Pain, blinding and bleeding, radiated through his skull and brain, frying his rationality completely and leaving room for fear to consume him wholly.

Warmth seeped across his scalp and his hand came away, stained in crimson when he reached to feel the damage. 

Head wounds bled worse than they were and the gash didn’t feel too bad once the stinging pain subsided a little. He internally surveyed the rest of himself. Finding nothing broken despite his ribs feeling as though a giant had stomped him flat.

Dirt and blood coated his teeth as he wheezed and coughed. Choking and spluttering as he tried to get a handle on himself.

He’d bitten through his lip, and it bled like a bitch.

Something was stabbing into his shoulder. 

As he stared up at the hole he fell through, a sensation like a thousand razor blades slicing down his skin moved down his spine, coiling in his lower back. It swirled there, a ball of cutting, primal fright that soon bled through the rest of him.

A rickety ladder leading up and out offered a small ray of hope.

He clung to it and calculated how long it would take to climb in his current condition. 

Fire scoured over the opening and left no place for him to escape.

His hope died with a breathless whimper.

He barely even heard it as agony rippled through his bones and he rolled onto his knees, panting.

“Fuck!” He spat. The word was more like a vicious curse as it rebounded off the mine walls and into his ears.

Mocking him as he squinted into the darkness and tried to figure out what to do next.

The fire would keep the police and FBI away from the mine until it burnt out. They wouldn’t rush in until it was safe enough. He knew that.

He could use that.

Jake kneeled on the filthy ground and schemed.

The temperature rose and rose as he shuffled through his thoughts.

He neatly ordered and arranged everything, thinking of his brain like a filing cabinet.

He could slide one drawer open and find a treasure trove of data and memories.

Some would get stuck as he tugged at them. Rusty and dusty, hardly ever opened for fear it would cut off his ability to feel nothing.

He pulled at one that had eroded so much he had to kick it and smash it to smithereens to pull the files out.

It was like opening Pandora’s box and expecting sunshine to pour forth. 

A veritable flood of emotion, memory, and agony spilled free of the mental drawer and absolutely annihilated his hold on himself.

He’d forgotten what it was like to feel everything so fully.

Everything of the last few years had felt like he was competing against time itself. And time was humanity’s greatest enemy. There was never enough of it and it actively fought back when you tried to beat it.

It was a losing game and in order to keep playing, he’d become a ghost.

He muted everything that made him human in order to survive.

Calculated.

Clinical.

Cold.

Jake was all of that.

Now, he felt everything.

He wanted to survive. He wanted to live.

Lingering as a phantom on the periphery of reality no longer appealed to him. He wanted to feel and touch and be. He wanted everything life had to give.

The bitter and the sweet. The hurt and the relief. All of it.

Jake just wanted.

And when Jake wanted something, he got it.

He pushed up on his hands. Curling his fingers into the gravelly dirt and ignoring the bark of pain as his nails cracked and split.

His blood mingled with the muck, and he clambered to his feet.

Everything ached and bled and felt so heavy he could barely put one foot in front of the other as he carefully headed down the tunnel he’d dropped into.

His throat was raw. Torn to shreds from smoke and screaming. His hands quaked and his mouth was so dry his tongue curdled in his mouth as he smacked his lips together and tried to create some lubrication.

It was useless. He needed water.

He needed to rest soon, or he would pass out in sheer fright and exhaustion.

It’s too late, Jake.

Give up.

Only fools persist in fighting when the odds are stacked.

Jake’s head throbbed as he thrashed it, as if to dispel the sinister crooning, and muttered, “The odds are always stacked. It’s how you play the system.”

The voice went quiet again, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he tripped over rock and wood, hands scrabbling at the walls to ensure he wouldn’t get himself lost.

He risked taking his phone out of his pocket, scowling at the shattered screen as message after message came through.

MC: Jake. You can’t just tell a woman you love her and then ignore her!

Answer me.

Please.

Just give me a sign. A smoke signal. Send a damn carrier pigeon if you have to! They’re saying there’s no way in or out. But I know better. You’ll find a way. 

Keep going. Please don’t give up. You’re not alone in this. I won’t allow it.

If you die, I will hunt you down, drag you back and kill you again. You must live, Jake. Not for me, not for Hannah or Lilly, but for you. You will make it back to me.

He swiped them away. Deleting them. They made his heart shiver and fracture more. The rubious fissures would leave silver scars behind. He groaned as another came through and he immediately memorized the coordinates she gave him. Deleting the message once he had. He put all his remaining energy and will into planning his escape.

His mind wheeled with memories from before.  Prior to being forced into hiding, he had experienced a life of color and fluctuating joy. It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was his. The day he had to leave it all behind, he’d severed all strands of his old life and assumed the identity of many and none. 

He’d learned a lot about humanity and its cruelty in that time. He knew how it worked.

Life was a battle against human cruelty. It always was and always would be. Wisdom, strategy, and hope were the only factors that could hope to gain over cruelty.

And his hope lived on. 

Hope, he understood it lived with her now. He’d given her it and she had offered him her own. He would not waste it.

He flicked through his brain and memories, shelving what didn’t matter and keeping what did. Everything that made him ache, he kept. Everything that made him feel safe, he lost.

If safety meant being alone, lost in a mine until he either burned or starved to death, he didn’t want it.

He reached into the mental vault containing their chats. 

Their conversation about her coming here was the most potent file he had, and it would fuel him to make it out.

She had complimented his research on the mine and he’d told her about some entrances/exits.

He informed her of the ones he thought were most likely to get him caught. It was a manipulative decision, so she wouldn’t get the stupid idea of following him.

He kept one exit loaded like a bullet in the back of his mind.

It was risky.

It was idiotic. 

Still, Jake took off running for it. 

The tunnel was narrowing as he traveled along it. He had to duck before long.

His heart still frothed behind his sternum. Relentless and out of time, with his sawing breath as the walls closed in on him.

He had to crouch now. His head scuffed off the rugged ceiling and he bit back a shout as the pain merged with that of the wound still leaking blood on the back of his skull.

He felt drained. His body became so weighty, he was grateful when the tightening passage forced him to his hands and knees.

Jake crawled and crawled. Palms scraped and searing as sweat irritated all his grazes. His eyes prickled with fresh tears as a draught of fresh air snaked into his nose.

Dread rose to swallow him, but he kept going. He didn’t know what awaited him on the other side, but it was better than dying alone, never to be mourned or found.

The fear of being arrested was so strong it almost halted him as he squeezed through the ever shrinking tunnel and felt like he was caught in a vice.

If he got stuck—No, he couldn’t think it.

He had to turn his fear into a weapon. Run from this place and reclaim his name. The sweat on his brow, the blood running through his veins; it was that of a survivor.

This was just another glitch.

He told himself that over and over as he army crawled through the crushing mine.

He was blind.

The darkness entrenched him.

It would entomb him if he allowed it.

His coat snagged on the rough wall and dragged him back. He shook his sore body as much as the tight space would allow and panted through his clenched teeth.

It kept sticking. He had stretched his hands ahead of him.

There was no room or way for him to tug the fabric free.

His heart stopped dead in his chest.

Helplessness stole his flagging fight, and he slumped into the dirt, hiding his filthy face in it.

Abruptly, Jake started sobbing like a child. Great, gasping cries tore from him and his entire body shuddered with it. So violent and soul destroying he couldn’t temper it.

No matter what he did, it went against him. He’d never worked with such horrendous odds. His brain was a mess of emotion and regret.

He wished he’d written everything he felt and hoped for them down and mailed the letter to her before he entered the mine, but he’d been cocky then. Too confident in his ability to escape any trap or cage.

Jake gave up and accepted his fate.

If he died, if that was his due, there was no stopping it. He’d been living off begged and borrowed and stolen time for years.

It had finally caught up to him.

He was so lost in defeat. Consumed by it. His throat contracted, and he felt like he might be sick.

He hoped he choked on it.

Make it quick.

“I don’t want to die,” He whispered without meaning to and his mouth kept moving, the words kept falling from his bloodstained lips, “Not like this, anything but this.”

His heart shriveled and went cold as he struggled and tried to shuffle forward. He couldn’t breathe properly. All his weight was on his front. His ribs felt bruised and cracked, every tiny inhale felt like a sledgehammer blow.

It is over, Jake. Feel that? The cold creeping in? Soon, it’s all you’ll know. This darkness? It’s all there is. All there ever will be. It’s what you –

“-- I don’t deserve this.” Jake growled with a certainty he’d never known.

Adrenaline coursed through him, lighting up his veins and filling him with new trembling energy as if someone had injected him with a drug.

He rocked and shook his body until his bones jolted and his skin felt too tight. He forced what little breath he had out through gritted teeth and felt the tendons in his neck straining as he dug his fingers into the dirt and put all his strength into pulling himself free.

The sound of fabric ripping caused his heart to start beating again.

He gave a laugh like shattering glass.

Unhinged and desperate as the momentum of his coat coming free shoved him forward a few feet.

From there, it wasn’t easy. He felt like a clumsy serpent as he slithered through the mine.

He kept laughing. His heart kept pounding.

The voice in his head was silent as his hands connected with something that fell away as he shoved at it.

Glorious, clean night air hit his sweaty face, and he gulped it down as he pulled himself out of the horrible tunnel.

It seemed to cling to him. Like invisible hands tugged on his ankles to keep him trapped. He refused to allow it.

Damp earth, long green grass, and dried leaves crunched under his hands as he lay on his back on the forest floor and stared at the starry sky.

He considered the spectacle of stars as the greatest gift he could have received. He analyzed it, finding the North star and thinking of the co-ordinates MC had given him. He quickly checked them on his phone before he threw it away, and was relieved when he discovered it wasn’t too far to make it there on foot.

If he headed in a North- Easterly direction, he could make it there at sunrise.

He didn’t bother looking toward Duskwood, didn’t need to know how close his pursuers might be or he’d lose his nerve.

He shakily got to his feet and started walking.

Time meant nothing to him as he traipsed through forest and open fields. He stayed away from the roads he knew were always busy.

In his current condition, some good samaritan would call for help thinking they were aiding him when in fact they’d be signing his death.

He was so tired. It clung to him like a shroud of smothering fog he would never break out of.

He kept moving. 

Through shadow and moonlight, he kept walking and ignored the pain in his body as best he could. 

There was no end to his exhaustion as pink tinged sunlight shimmered through the pines.

The sun was rising.

How strange, he thought, that his world could burn down around him and yet the sun still rose.

He eyed it and felt strange, like it was an abstract painting absolutely out of place in this world of cruelty, death, and flame.

No matter how deeply or irrevocably the world burned. No matter how thick the shadows grew and the amount the freezing darkness consumed, the sun would always rise.

It filled the world with light, warmth, and color and precious hope.

He felt the soft warmth kiss his hurting face, and it energized him as he broke out of the cover of trees and came to a halt in a motel parking lot.

Jake frowned, glancing around in suspicion and doubt as he failed to understand. Why would she send him here? He hadn’t stayed here. It was too out of the way.

And just how did she know of it?

He stood straight and fear thickened in his throat as his attention snagged on a window. The curtains had moved. He was sure of it.

He moved as though to sink back amongst the trees, but the creak of a door opening made his head snap toward it.

A small, slender hand poked through the gap in the door, beckoning him. He was moving toward it before he could give his feet the command.

His heart picked up speed again. His pulse and distress ratcheting up and infusing him with tension like someone was turning a screw too tightly.

He was only a few steps away from the door now. His skin felt too sensitive and everything hurt in some way. His throat felt like he’d been eating sandpaper and gravel.

The shake in his hands intensified, flight or fight. His nervous system couldn’t decide.

As he hesitated, a female voice trailed through the open door and it was like a salve on his exposed nerves. He had heard that voice, he could recognize it anywhere.

His heart raced for an entirely different reason as he listened to it.

“It’s safe. Come in and I’ll explain.”

Jake didn’t care about her explanation as the adrenaline left him so suddenly he drooped and nearly dropped to his knees.

He tripped through the door instead.

She didn’t give him time to rake his gaze over her the way he wanted to. She gripped him and forcefully dragged him into an embrace, causing him to groan in pain as it aggravated his many minor injuries.

She instantly pulled back, grimacing and apologetic.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. Here, I have supplies. I figured one of us would get shot or stabbed or maimed. It felt important to be prepared. Thankfully, the worst injury I’ve had is paper cuts. You don’t look like you’ve been so lucky. Are you bleeding anywhere? What do I do first? Are you burnt? You smell like someone roasted you over a spit! Are yo-”

Jake chuckled roughly at her babbling. Touched and amused by her care and thoughtfulness.

It was the first genuine laugh he’d had in years, and it turned into a cackle before long. It just slipped out of him and sounded more like crying by the end.

His gritty eyes closed as emotion swallowed him and he welcomed the darkness they offered.

It was familiar.

It was safe.

He woke hours later very confused and so stiff it felt like he was breaking his bones to sit up. His grunt of pain escaped his teeth as a lilting voice cut through the static in his mind.

“Oh, good. I was worrying. That’s nothing new, but you look like someone just dug you out of your grave. I cleaned and patched you up as best I could without stripping you. I thought I’d let you buy me dinner before we got to that stage!”

Her tone was light and filled with humor, but there was an edge of despair and anxiety in it that told him she’d fussed over him the entire time he slept.

His sluggish heart resided in his empty stomach as she approached him slowly like she thought he was an injured animal and she was afraid to spook him.

“Where are we? Why are you here? You promised to stay away.” He managed as he accepted the glass of water she offered him.

His fingers left dirty streaks on the glass as the dirt mingled with the condensation. The water was cold and crystal clear and he gulped it down to clear the sour taste out of his mouth.

She huffed at his words and waited for him to sink the water before she responded, “Typical. I come and help you and you scold me. Well, shove it.  If it weren’t for me and Alan, you would be dead or rotting in a cell. And I did stay away! I didn't go to the mine, did I?” 

His gaze flew to her indignant face, lovely and open despite the fury razing hell in her narrowed eyes.

He felt shocked that he could speak because his tongue felt so thick in his mouth. “My apologies. I’m still—I’m sorry... Alan? I thought he would be more interested in helping them catch me?”

She smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she sat down beside him.

“That was until I ripped him a new one. The fire helped most, but Alan is currently playing down your involvement to give us time. He’ll make contact with us once we find a safe place to stay.”

He opened his mouth to demand she go back home, and he’d message once he was safe, but she flung up a hand to silence him.

“None of that. I’ll explain better once we know the scope of the fallout in Duskwood. But I am coming with you. No, if ands or buts about it, Jake. I make my decisions, not you. The last time someone tried to decide for me, I bit them. Don’t make me bite you too. Are you in?”

Her eyes were hard and unwavering, not a sliver of doubt to be found.

Everything inside him protested against dragging her into his mess, but he was tired.

He was tired of being alone.

He was so tired of losing everything.

Four years of fatigue and depression sank through him like a millstone and he hung his head in defeat. He was in no condition to run alone, anyway.

And he didn't want to. It was selfish. It was daft. But he didn't care.

He hadn't expected to survive this long. Plus, she had been his reason to make it out. He sighed and let his shoulders curl inward. Having someone else to protect would keep him sharp and ready for anything. She must've sensed his resolve weakening. 

She reached out and threaded her clean fingers through his muddy ones, dark and light; he thought stupidly as his skin tingled at the contact.

It had been so long since he’d been touched gently. With obvious affection and because someone wanted to, not because they had to. 

He was used to bruises and hurt. This was — this was what he'd survived for. 

He’d forgotten what it felt like as he met her gaze and felt his stomach fluttering with something that felt like excitement.

It felt like hundreds of tiny birds had taken flight in his abdomen and a frisson of tentative anticipation filtered through him. 

Her eyes glittered and his mouth twitched with the want to smile as he gave his response.

“I’m in.”

—————————

Thank you for reading. I hope it was worth your time despite this being done so many times before me. Oh, and if you leave a comment or reblog, thank you. It is appreciated ❤️

#duskwood fanfic #one shot #duskwood oneshot #jake x mc #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #angst with a happy ending #hopeful ending #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #duskwood fandom #duskwood #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #duskwood alan #duskwood hannah #everbyte game #everbyte studios #moonvale #angst and feels #cross posted on ao3 #writing #my writing #slight fluff #duskwood episode 10 #duskwood hacker #moonvale everbyte #duskwood lilly

[poetatorturadaa]

Have my back, everyday, fels like home.

jason todd x fem!reader, light angst?, hopeful ending. soeees, I had this saved in notes for a long time, it doesn't have an exact beginning and nor an end, but I wanted to share it. English is not my first language, so let me know If I missed something, I hope you like it. <3

Jason looks at her and his eyes soften with something else, something like tenderness as he watches her take the strawberry from the bowl and chew on it. It's strange for him to think that she was ever interested in romance. It's not that he thinks romance doesn't suit her—he's seen her living with his siblings, she's a sweet, warm presence who can bring out the best in anyone. Hell, even Damian's. But she always plays the role of friend, of platonic confidant. No one seems to be able to see past her pretty face and realize how alone she feels.

Jason is not a poet, nor does his training as a vigilante offer many insights into romance. But he can see that there is something in her that craves attention, to feel loved. It's not Jason's place to fill that void, or at least, he's not supposed to. He then looks away and continues cleaning his motorcycle.

A weight floats in the air. Y/n doesn't recognize it, but the silence becomes too pronounced. It's almost as if even the cartoon on her phone knows there shouldn't be such an absence of words.

Jason's gaze moves back to Y/n's face, who remains focused on the screen. It's like it's easier to pretend that a cartoon is more interesting than whatever else is happening in the room. There's a strange electric hum in the air and her skin tingles when his gaze meets hers. There are so many different possible futures, each of them tugging at her heart in a thousand different ways.

He couldn't say anything, let the energy dissipate and pretend it never happened. He might give in and confess a secret that could turn everything upside down. He could engage in a monologue about the state of his soul.

Instead, he speaks plainly, as if none of these things were possible or even worth mentioning. "Do you want another strawberry?"

Y/n looks at Jason and feels a strange kind of kinship with the silence that hangs between them, even if he's doing her job, making the sound of metal scraping against stone. Still, she can't let herself get comfortable with the silence between her and Jason, and her thumb flicks across her phone to change the cartoon episode she'd just finished. "Yes, of course," she begins, looking at Jason, "So...what were you saying about Dick?"

"Dick seems to think you're keeping me balanced," he says quietly, taking a couple of seconds to extend the now half-full bowl of strawberries toward Y/n. There's a subtle change in her tone, a slight drop in sharpness. It's subtle, but is there anyway. "He thinks you... tame me or something." He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible laugh, though that's completely accurate to her relationship with Dick.

In Jason's eyes, Y/n could only be described as the sunsets that seem to be longer in summer, a cup of coffee with the perfect amount of sugar on a winter night, and the sweet, pungent aroma before the rain. She is able to bring a strange feeling of calm to anyone who crosses her path. And as a close friend of the Bat-family, she is one of the few entities capable of talking reason to them. Y/n has the unique gift of being able to keep all of their tempers in check.

She lets out a small giggle at Jason's words, amused by the way Dick perceives her, oblivious to the fact that Jason actually thinks of her the same way too. "He must know something to think that." She scoffs, her voice as reserved as ever as she turns off her phone and puts it in her back pocket, turning around and placing her chin on the back of the couch to now look at Jason as her hand goes to grab another strawberry from the bowl he's holding. He extended it to her.

"He has this idea that you... calm me down" Jason continues, looking at her now. His expression has softened. "He has told me more than once that as long as you are in the game, I will be fine. That you will keep me in line and make me less destructive."

He pauses, turning his gaze to the metal of the motorcycle, which is now in perfect condition to be used again. "It's actually a little insulting," he says, his voice thick with sarcasm. Y/n brings out the best in everyone, but it seems like no one believes she might be the one who needs to let her guard down.

Y/n discovers that she admires Jason more than she should. Maybe just a second longer, but Y/n is detail oriented. And that extra second was incredibly countable. The vigilante, and his gray-green eyes, tired and constantly expressive, in which she felt that if he looked for a second too long she would get lost again. Distracting hands. His expression was so different and complicated to put into words.

"I think we all need someone to take care of us." She responded softly, expressing between the lines her inner desire to have someone to take care of her too.

Jason's expression changes again. It is something so subtle that it cannot be pinpointed. But the weight is still there. And it's almost as if an entire novel has been written since his last words.

He looks up again and again his expression is hard to read. "I doubt anyone has ever taken care of you." His tone is soft, almost calm. It may seem like a shot to the heart, and maybe it is. But he says it sincerely, he knows that even though he and the rest of his siblings, even Bruce, or many other superheroes, are always there, she doesn't have a person to take care of her like she wants to be taken care of. And she deserves more than that.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #dc comics #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd fic #it's nice to have a friend #you're find me in my tallest tiptoes #jason todd oneshot #reader mirrorball #dick grayson #batfam #batfamily #light angst #angst #hopeful ending

[wangxianficrecs]

The lavender handkerchief by barisan

The lavender handkerchief

by barisan (@barisan-no)

Not rated, 1k, LQR & WWX

Part of WWX and LQR Friendship Week

Summary: Wei Wuxian’s time on the streets left a deeper wound on his mind. Lan Qiren finds him having a panic attack after being triggered during his punishment. Kay's comments: A short look into a different universe where life on the streets left a more noticeable mark on Wei Wuxian and Lan Qiren is a little kinder. Really loved it. Sometimes, I can't help but crave good guy Lan Qiren stories. Excerpt: “Wei Wuxia-!” He stops himself as he takes in the scene. Wei Wuxian is on his knees, supporting himself on the door frame as he heaves raucously. Lan Qiren couldn’t make himself move, petrified by the possibility of soiling his robes. For a moment, he feels sorry for the boy. “Wei Wuxian,” he begins to scold. “I cannot believe this. Have the Jiang coddled you so much you cannot even tend to spoiled scraps?” He turns at Lan Qiren’s voice, revealing a tear streaked face, a ruined handkerchief held to his nose.

pov lan qiren, pov wei wuxian, canon divergence, lan qiren, cloud recesses study arc, post-traumatic stress disorder, ptsd, wei wuxian has ptsd, disordered eating, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, hopeful ending, good person lan qiren

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

#Wangxian Fic Rec #The Untamed #Wangxian #MDZS #Kay's Rec #November 2023 #The lavender handkerchief #barisan #Not rated #short fic <15k #pov lan qiren #pov wei wuxian #canon divergence #lan qiren #cloud recesses study arc #wei wuxian has ptsd #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #hopeful ending #good person lan qiren

[kandisheek]

@captain-stark-rogars I feel like a snippet won’t really do this prompt justice, but I tried anyway. The setting is this: Steve and Tony have already spent a week at their getaway resort, but the spark in their relationship just won’t seem to rekindle. Mostly because instead of actually talking things out, they’ve instead focused on doing fun things to hopefully get that magic back. Now they’re back at the hotel room after their latest failed outing and faced with a decision.

---

“So that was a bust,” Tony said as he marched into their hotel room, flinging his jacket across the closest chair. “We should order in. I need a shower after that.”

Steve put down his backpack, dropping heavily onto the couch. He watched Tony out of the corner of his eye, trying and failing to ignore the queasy feeling in his gut. Tony seemed to be oblivious, but Steve could read the tension in his back, the nervous energy as he unpacked his things.

“Apparently there’s a good Chinese place somewhere around here. I’ll see if they deliver. Lo mein for you, right?”

Steve took a shaky breath, his stomach sinking. Tony knew him so well. It ripped Steve apart to know that it wasn’t enough.

“Steve?” Tony asked, looking at him guilelessly. There was no point in pretending any longer.

Steve straightened his back, steeling himself before he finally said what needed to be said. “This isn’t working.”

Tony’s face slipped, as if Steve had honestly surprised him. “What?”

“We tried,” Steve said, feeling the words like knives digging into his chest. “One last shot, that’s what you said. But it’s not working.”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked, his voice small. Steve had never seen him so panicked. “No, we – We’ll try again tomorrow. Today was just –”

“It’s not just today though, is it? We’ve been struggling for months.” Steve took a deep breath. “Maybe we can’t fix this.”

“No,” Tony breathed. Steve looked up at him, stunned by the despair on Tony’s face. “Steve, you can’t – don’t give up on us, please.”

Steve’s face twisted with pain. “That’s not fair. We’re both –”

“I love you,” Tony said desperately, and Steve had to avert his eyes, hiding them behind his hand. “Steve, please. As long as we love each other, there’s a chance. I can’t lose you.”

“Maybe I don’t love you anymore,” Steve said, but even as he said the words, he knew they weren’t true. A part of him would always love Tony. But with everything else, it just wasn’t enough.

A heavy thud made him look up to see Tony slumped over on a chair, his back bowed and eyes vacant. “Huh,” Tony said, and he sounded numb, like his soul had been sucked out of him. “Okay then.”

“Okay?” Steve asked, his heart lurching with fear when Tony nodded like he was agreeing to his own death sentence.

“I won’t keep you here if you want to leave.”

Steve bit down on his tongue, tears prickling behind his eyes. This wasn’t what he’d wanted. He’d – he didn’t know what he wanted. “Do you want me to leave?”

Tony laughed humorlessly, wiping both hands across his face. “Does it matter what I want?”

“Of course it matters,” Steve said, and Tony shook his head, still looking like he was at sea without a paddle.

“It doesn’t. I can’t –” Tony grimaced like he was in pain. “I already fucked it up.”

“It wasn’t just you,” Steve protested, but Tony didn’t look like he believed him. “Both of us did things. Maybe we just can’t –”

“You want to know what I want?” Tony asked, cutting Steve off with a sudden surge of anger. “I want you to tell me what the fuck you want. You never tell me what you want. I always have to guess, and I’m shit at figuring you out, clearly, so why don’t you help me out for once and just tell me?”

Steve gaped at him. “I always –”

“When was the last time you asked for anything?” Tony snapped. “And don’t tell me you have everything you want, because if that were true, we wouldn’t fucking be here.”

Steve frowned, irritation rising in him. “Maybe I’d tell you what I want if you were around long enough to listen. When’s the last time you ever made time for me, huh? You’d rather do anything else –”

“Well, I’m here aren’t I?”

“– than spend time with me, so why the fuck would I ask for anything?” Steve spat, and Tony blinked, surprised.

“You think I don’t want to spend time with you?”

“You never do,” Steve said, and Tony’s face twisted with regret.

“Of course I – Is that why –”

“Well, you have a funny way of showing it!” Steve shouted, only noticing his volume when he saw Tony flinch. Guilt sank into his stomach like a stone. “Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout.”

Tony shook his head. “No. No, I’m sorry.” He looked at Steve like he’d never seen him before. “How long have you felt like this?”

Steve shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does,” Tony said firmly. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I just – I get so lost in work, and the last few months when I got out early, you didn’t want – I mean, you didn’t –” He took a deep breath. “You were doing other things, so you told me you were busy.”

Steve bit his lip. He had done that, hadn’t he? Steve didn’t like to think that he was a spiteful person, but at some point he’d just wanted to give Tony a taste of his own medicine.

Except it hadn’t been that, had it? Tony had never turned him away when Steve had outright asked him to spend time with him. Steve had just wanted Tony to seek him out on his own instead of always having to chase after him.

Had Steve ever told Tony that?

“We should’ve talked about this a lot sooner, huh?” Steve asked, and Tony smiled without humor.

“I guess we should have.” Tony’s shoulders dropped, his eyes almost unbearably sad. “I’m sorry, Steve. I know it’s too late now, but… for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat before he said, “I’m sorry too.”

“If you want… if this is what you want,” Tony said, sounding like he was choking on the words. “I won’t fight it. I’ll sign the papers.”

Steve froze. “What?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Tony said pleadingly, and Steve realized all at once what he meant, his chest squeezing tight with horror.

“No! No, I don’t want – I don’t want to divorce you.”

“I’d understand if you –”

“I love you, Tony,” Steve said, and Tony’s eyes snapped over to his with a heartbreakingly hopeful look. “I want to figure this out. And I think – if we actually sit down and talk about it… I think we can do this.”

“Are you sure?” Tony asked like he was asking for a lifeline, and Steve opened his arms, relieved when Tony immediately surged forward to fall into a hug, breathing shakily against his shoulder. Steve bit down on the urge to cry, closing his eyes to revel in the familiar weight of Tony in his arms.

“I can’t lose you either,” he said quietly, and Tony took a shuddering breath, fisting a hand in the back of Steve’s shirt. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

#marvel #stony #fanfic #fanfic asks #snippet #steve tony #angst #hopeful ending

[nanfrost]

A dive into Vertin's core aspect of her character and it's impact through the story: Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Matilda and Vertin

It's important to note that despite everything, Matilda and Vertin are good friends. 

Matilda had the same aspirations as Vertin did as children: the freedom of self expression in spite of being raised to abandon those values; to know their world around them than to just learn from the textbooks.

However, what sets them apart is that Matilda willingly chose to join the white marble.

What sets them apart is the extent they’re willing to go to achieve that, and how they help people at their positions.

What sets them apart is how they handle their own inner struggle.

Matilda finds Vertin, who is in a miserable state, utterly unresponsive to the people around her because Sonetto is no longer around.

In just a day, the girl had already reverted back to being a mess, a sight that shocks Matilda greatly, but also pity for the girl who she respected a lot as a friend and classmate.

Sonetto had already given her the lengthy details, but seeing it for herself still leaves a pit in Matilda’s stomach. It was awful, how low Vertin had let herself be.

Yet somehow, Matilda feels determined, approaching her old friend as she tries to talk to her.

It doesn’t work of course, Vertin doesn’t even look like she seems to acknowledge the girl’s presence. This is what Sonetto was fearing, that without her, Vertin has no one she can open herself to, no one she could vent her pain to, no one she can let herself be broken fully towards.

It’s almost painful in a way, that even though Vertin is as much of a mess as she is, she still hides herself away from others, to not trouble them in having to deal with her. Even though it only makes people more worried, Vertin refuses to let anyone in, to know the full extent of her pain.

If Matilda was similar to Sonetto, she would likely try to find comfort for her in any way, to try to be an emotional pillar for Vertin. But that was nigh impossible, she didn't know Vertin as long as Sonetto did, didn’t understand her as much as Sonetto does.

And besides, she isn't Sonetto anyways.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?”

Matilda doesn’t know Vertin as well as Sonetto does, so she doesn’t know what would be the best way to help Vertin. But she is more perceptive than she lets on.

“Not of others, but yourself. You’re terrified to let people in, because you don’t want them to bother having to worry over you. To not have to deal with you. For them to not have to care about you.”

Matilda can’t be like Sonetto, a girl too kind, too caring and too sweet to ever be harsh or direct on people she cares about, especially Vertin. But she is kind in her own ways too.

“Sonetto is worried sick for you, I don’t know if you knew that or not. But if you do, then get up. Get up and let me help you do something about it.”

Vertin, although surprised, didn’t respond. But even so, the girl still stands, following Matilda lifelessly, for as miserable as she was, a part of her also understood just how much trouble she was placing on Sonetto. How much of a burden it must be to care for someone like her. 

She feels sick of herself for doing that to her partner, and so she follows Matilda, to see if there’s something she could do.

But what can Matilda do? What does she even have that Sonetto doesn’t? How can she help Vertin when Sonetto, the person closest to her, couldn't even do that?

She can’t.

Of course Matilda can’t. They were only friends and not even close ones, it would be completely arrogant of her to think she could do anything for Vertin.

So instead, she will get Vertin to help herself, by using her divination skills and her own perceptive nature to guide the girl to her own answers.

Matilda drags Vertin’s inner thoughts out and lays it bare for her, forcing her to confront those memories and the regrets she holds within her mind. Some bad, some very bad, and all of it still hurts to this day as she constantly relieves them.

At first, Vertin is bombarded with toxic and painful thoughts of herself, but it’s through Matilda’s words and guidance that Vertin starts to see things a bit more clearly. By having Matilda offering her perspective, Vertin can see the events in a more objective manner.

Vertin had kept all these events warped against her. She wanted every reason to hate herself and so her memories were altered to fit into that narrative, to make it easier to put the blame on her and solely her. But Matilda will not let that happen, she will offer her own insights and keep Vertin from spiralling out of control.

Eventually, they do make progress, as Vertin starts to understand that she wasn’t responsible for everything. That there were things completely out of her control and she shouldn’t, couldn’t have known better. She was only trying her best in her own ways, even if it didn’t turn up well. 

But the catalyst that got Vertin to even begin to accept this was Matilda, for through her conversation with her, did Vertin start to notice something in her that she never before. Something that gave her a sense of comfort, knowing she isn’t alone; something that they both share in common.

They are both selfless individuals.

Vertin gave herself up to help those around her, disregarding her own safety and agency if it means the people around her can make it out safe. She has no inherent sense of worth, only existing to help others as a way to bring meaning to her life.

Matilda gave her life to her studies, her academics and for the constant grind to become the very best, to stand at the top amongst the top. She does it so she can be acknowledged by the people around her, so that she can convince herself that she is meaningful, that she has meaning, that she can help.

Her constant drive to better herself is so she could feel like she is useful, to feel like she matters, to feel like she can help anyone in need.

Her sense of value comes from other people’s perception of her, and she will go to great lengths to prove that she can be useful. She exists to be helpful to those around her, for her value comes from their perception of her.

The way they go about it may be different, but Vertin and Matilda share this trait between themselves. They were mirrors of one another, reflecting both ends of the extreme. And because of that, Vertin learned to trust the girl more, to start opening herself up for she now understands that the girl truly does sympathize with her, at least somewhat.

Finally, after a long and gruelling journey of unwinding all the events in her head, Vertin comes face to face with the thing that represents all her insecurities, all her doubts, all her hatred and pain that she has kept within her for years until now.

Vertin faces herself, the one that started it all.

Gazing at the girl that represented Vertin’s biggest regrets and mistakes. The girl who had wronged so many lives because of her own naivety and unwillingness to look past herself.

She admits to herself that after everything, Vertin still cannot forgive her. She can’t forgive the girl for what she had done, for the people she had lost, for the trust she had broken and for the mistakes she had foolishly wrought over and over. 

She admits that the girl was stupid, blinded by her own short-sighted and naive views on the world that caused others to suffer because of it. She admits that the things she has caused can never be erased, that the pain will never fade away no matter the decades that pass by.

And yet, Vertin admits that there is more to the girl, that in spite of all the bad she had done, some of it was good. 

The girl had saved lives, gave others a reason to keep going, gave others hope and the conviction to follow their own hearts and even became the reason for others to put their faith and trust and love in, because they truly believed in the girl, placing their hopes and faiths into her goal, but above all, because they genuinely cared about her.

Vertin admits it, she admits that she does not know if she could keep walking a straight path, that she would never make a horrible mistake again like she had done before. That she wouldn’t one way or another lose the most precious things to her, that she won’t falter and break again. 

But she has hope.

Because in spite of everything, there is still someone who loves her. And for that, she wants to have hope, to hold onto it as tightly as she could. 

Hope that through them and through her crew, she won’t fall back into her old ways, that she won’t break again. 

Hope that someday, maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in a long long time, but someday; she can learn to like herself a little more.

With that, Vertin finally concludes her session with Matilda, thanking the girl for what she has done. But most of all, she acknowledges that the two of them are alike, going through something similar albeit still very different ends of the spectrum; but if the girl ever needs help, she is willing to be there for her.

Vertin’s selfless nature never disappears, and it likely won’t ever.

Because that is who she is at her heart, a girl who cares far too much to ever let other’s lives sifted away. But she will try to include herself this time, to find things about herself that she can like, to learn to place a bit more value on herself, even if it will never be above others. For she now understands that there are those who care far too much to let the blazing life that is Vertin's soul fade away as well.

Her friends, her crew, her family has always welcomed her, yet she has always kept herself distant from them. She did it because she didn’t want to hurt them, and didn't want them to get too involved with her where they would inevitably get hurt by her. All because she fears that she might lose them again, that because of her, she will lose those precious to her once more.

But now, she is willing to knock on the door of that familiar home, to let herself be welcomed in, an invitation that has always been open to her. To meet their happy and warm gazes with her own. To let herself be not the Timekeeper, but just Vertin, a scared yet hopeful girl.

Reconnecting with friends:

Eventually, Vertin will gradually start being open again to her team, Slowly but surely, she’ll start taking the time to interact with them more and properly communicate with them on her own without an emotional crutch or trying too hard to keep up with a facade.

Vertin is willing to be vulnerable to those around her in spite of still harbouring doubts about herself, letting her thoughts and emotions be known to those that she cares about, and who Vertin also gradually starts to accept that they care about her too. 

After reuniting with Sonetto again, being surrounded by all the people she has grown so close to in just a short few months, Vertin laughs. 

A laugh filled with regret, sadness and underlying pain that she can’t ever forget; but also filled with joy and relief and happiness. That after so many years, Vertin finally feels like she belongs, to feel like she can belong in a family she can call her own again. 

She regrets that it took her so many mistakes, so many bad choices and so many lives lost just for her to finally reach this point, that resentment towards herself still clings to her every step of the way.

But Vertin has found hope again.

She has hope that if she continues the path she is now, to continue walking along with her new-found family and to rely on them just as they rely on her, to find the worth in herself that she refused to admit she has for so long; that one day, she can look at herself in the mirror, and smile at the girl she had become.

And that is how Vertin’s character development might look to us. At the very least, if the game goes towards focusing on her selflessness a bit more throughout the story. 

For those that read all the way to the end, we hope you enjoyed it. It’s a very self-indulgent analysis that we have been obsessed with for a week, and it took many tiring nights to get to this point. But this was our way of showing our love and appreciation for the character that is Vertin, and so no matter where the story will take her after this point, no matter how absolutely wrong we are in predicting her story(which I have zero doubts we very are wrong lmao), it would be a story that we would eagerly await all the same.

With that, I shall be signing off. I will keep rambling on, until we meet again.

#reverse 1999 #re1999 #r1999 #vertin #sonetto #vertin x sonetto #vernetto #matilda bouanich #matildasweep #rare matilda w #when the french duck has things in common with a bri'ish girl #you get a miracle #long post #writing #suffering but still hopeful #hopeful ending #i love writing this

[steviewashere]

Nineteen and Learning How to Live

(also on ao3, rated M for below content warnings)

CW: Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Please Read With Caution (Nothing Graphic, But Still)

wc: 1,996, Steddie and Platonic Stobin Tags: Post Vecna, Post Canon, Post Season 4, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, A bit Dialogue Heavy, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, and so are Eddie and Robin, Steve Harrington-Centric

(This is entirely indulgent for myself. Based on a real experience, so please be kind. But I wanted to share this anyway because it feels important, y'know?)

-------- It’s the week before the 23rd of December, 1986. And both Robin and Eddie have noticed an odd shift in Steve’s demeanor. He’s gone from happy-go-lucky to sort of shut-in and quiet. Hushed behind his own hands. Dimmer and more tired in the eyes. Pallor, now that the winter weather has finally reached Indiana. Snowed in and bundled up. Barely answering the phone. Picking at his food or overeating, there’s no good in between for him. 

And, the real kicker, there’s no way for them to truly understand what’s happening.

They aren’t sure if this is all some everlasting effect from the Upside Down. From venturing into Vecna’s lair. Or the residuals of his high school days. There’s no rhyme or reason to it at all. And he won’t talk. Dodges questions. Sighing or huffing or—sometimes—growling. Like the words get stuck in his throat, begrudging his conversation, all together silencing whatever he wanted to say.

So they’ve learned to stop asking about it. They’ve learned to let him have his space. To let him shroud himself in the darkness of his bedroom, underneath a blanket that hasn’t been washed in a couple months, with a rat’s nest on his head, and cold to the touch skin that is always dotted in meticulous goosebumps—but he refuses to grow warmer.

They thought it was seasonal. At first, they thought it was seasonal.

Because people grow withdrawn when the sun disappears. Or when the sun sets earlier than you’re anticipating. That’s just a reasonable response. Robin and Eddie are able to understand that.

But they grow to realize that it’s not. It’s in waves. It’s during the summer and under a pollen filled spring sky and under the browning leaves of oak trees. It happens when they make jokes about touching death, intimately and cautiously. Or if they suggest hanging out at the quarry, sitting at the edge, looking out across the water, watching as the stars twinkle above them. Or when they look down at the water…Steve instinctively reaches out to stop them from bending forward. And he never lets them use his car to take them out there.

And he refuses to talk about it.

And so a week passes. And they’re two days away from Christmas. And he is getting stir crazy. Becoming restless. Growing uncomfortable.

He asks to go on multiple drives. He asks for the window to be rolled down so that the cold breeze brushes back his hair and tickles his face. He asks for them to be honest with him, “Am I a better person? I’m okay, right?”

They think it’s silly and it’s foolish and off putting. But they answer, truthfully, down to the very core of their souls as beings, “Yes, Steve. Yes, you are.” And he breathes out something like relief, growing lighter, brighter, easier.

But he keeps asking. And it’s every hour. And they’re all growing restless.

However, right before 11PM on the 23rd, Steve asks that they go out to the quarry. With no alcohol or weed or cigarettes. With a couple baggies of pretzel sticks and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. To look at the stars and see what the water is doing.

Eddie drives because Robin hasn’t learned yet and Steve is still hesitant about taking his own car. They wear big puffer jackets and mittens and heavy-duty snow boots and beanies that threaten to swallow their face. He’s the first one out. The last one to sit. And the first to break the silence.

Steve dangles his legs over the edge. His hands pressed tightly together between his thighs. Heaves a breath. And darts his eyes over the horizon line. Quietly, “Tonight’s important.” He’s sitting between Eddie and Robin. Looks at them for a mere second. “An anniversary, I guess.”

They hum.

Eddie chuckles. “I didn’t forget our anniversary, did I? Is it six months already?”

He shakes his head. “No,” he breathes, “but it’s important.”

“What’s important about tonight?” Robin asks.

“Just wait a bit,” Steve ominously says. “I don’t want to talk for a while.”

So they go back to silence. Not comfortable. Not uncomfortable. Somewhere between stagnant and anxious. With the weight of patient waiting and impatient questions. A taste of something solemn, yet something lively and meaningful.

They hold hands now. Robin’s mittens are blue with snowflakes dotted across the wool, tightened at her wrist. Eddie’s are black with red stripes, a hole at the tip of his left thumb. And Steve’s are a neutral grey—they’re still starchy and stiff, apparently new and never worn. His thumbs rub circles over the backs of Eddie and Robin’s hands. And he sighs reverently amongst them. And he’s smiling softly, almost proud, not far away, but rather present in the moment.

It’s silent. Though, the water ripples below them like a leaky faucet dripping into the still fill of a bathtub. Trees rustling around and overhead. Wind clipping at their cheeks, tinting their noses a dull and subtle pink. 

Eventually, Steve lets go. He lays his left hand over his thigh. The other hand digging around for something in one of the deep pockets of his jacket. And what he does produce is a small pocket knife. It glints in the minuscule amount of light surrounding them. The handle worn down from being held so many times. He’s looking down at it. Bouncing it in his grip, testing the weight, they assume. And his eyes dim the slightest, but not fading completely. His teeth chew at his bottom lip.

Robin wants to ask why he has that. Eddie wants to reach out and take it from him. They both move to do so, their hands creeping hesitantly towards Steve’s. But he shakes his head, minutely and trembling. His breath leaves him in a small, quaking huff. He swallows as if consuming a baseball.

“I used to—“ His voice cracks. Clears his throat. “I used to use this when I shotgunned beers back in high school,” he admits quietly. “When life was normal. And my parents constantly argued and I needed something to help me silence it all.”

Steve pulls his legs up, bending them so that his chin rests on his knees. Arms wrapping around them, the knife still in his grip, but not unfolded. “And then, 1983 happened. 1984. And I graduated in 1985.” His lips rub against his jeans. Closes his eyes. “Met you, Robin.” He turns his head towards her, but doesn’t stare. Doesn’t look. Doesn’t let her own eyes acknowledge him. “Thought that maybe my life was just going to be food service and people who couldn’t stand me. Which, I’d get, y’know?

“But the bad shit kept happening. And then we were working at Family Video. And I was losing my parents approval at an even faster rate, especially since college season was finally starting up. I was getting sidelined. Couldn’t find anybody to date me. I shouldn’t have felt so dejected about that, since I had just turned nineteen and the world doesn’t end when you’re nineteen, but.” His next sigh is forlorn. “But my world was small. And nothing was changing. And I was just…I was just the same person I’d always been.”

They scoot closer to him. The air is heavier. This is it, Robin thinks. The answer, Eddie knows.

“I wanted to be different. I wanted to be better. Good. Whatever,” Steve says. “But it just wasn’t happening. I couldn’t figure out why. I couldn’t understand why I was bothersome to my own family or why I was getting shoved off by Dustin or why nobody wanted me, romantically, platonically. It just didn’t make sense. And the confusion kept growing. Until I was—Until I could only be bitter and hateful and…sad about it.

“I just grew sad.”

He opens his eyes and looks out at the water again. His legs falling away so that he’s sitting criss-cross. And both of his hands hold the knife. Still folded.

“December of 1985 came. My parents weren’t coming home for Christmas. Everybody was busy. I was alone.” Steve sniffs. “I was alone in my house. With nowhere to go or anybody to really talk to. And I was alone with my thoughts. And I was going crazy with the need to do something. So I grabbed some essentials.

“Wallet. Keys. Light jacket. Beanie. This knife.” He holds it up. Staring. “Drove until I grew tired of being on the road. Led me out here.” He exhales a large breath. “I was alone. So I—I began to think about doing stupid things. Stupid selfish things, that’s what it felt like. One moment I was sitting in the driver’s seat of my car. The next, I was standing right where I’m sitting, knife unfolded, no mittens on my hands. Praying. Hoping that it would be quick and I wouldn’t be found.”

Robin knows she gasps something. Not a word. Not a breath. Some wrecked, terrible sound. Something like surprise and complete understanding. Something like hideous sympathy. Eddie holds his breath.

“But when I had it angled to…y’know…I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t know why. I still barely know. Yet, when I listened in on the silence around me, I realized it wasn’t quiet. There was a weird sound coming from my car. Like a—a static? I thought it was my radio. It began to annoy me,” he iterates. “I stomped over, bent down, and leaned my head into the driver’s side. And that’s when I saw it. One of the walkie-talkies. It was…It was Max asking for somebody to listen to her talk, she had a nightmare, she was scared, she was alone. 

“And…I may not be a good person. I may not be a better person. But I know I’m some weird fucking babysitter. And I knew that I would do anything for any of them. That’s when I thought, too, what if it had been Robin? What if it was Dustin or Nancy or even Jonathan that I was speaking to? I couldn’t…There’s no way I’d be settled leaving everybody the way I wanted to, knowing what I know and hearing what I heard in Max’s terrified voice.” He shakes his head, swallows again, and looks over at Eddie.

“And what if I couldn’t be there during Vecna? Who would’ve gone under the water? Who would’ve pulled you out of the mess of dead bats? Who would’ve held Dustin during the hours of surgery you had to go through? Who would’ve been there to tell Max she did a good job or that you did a good job? To listen to your music and your campaigns? Who would've agreed with you when Dustin is being a little shit?” He looks back at Robin now. “Who would’ve been there to hear about your crushes and your terrible double VHS tapes and your rambles about god knows what day to day? Who would’ve loved the both of you the way I love you?”

He tightens his grip on that tiny knife. Gazes at the water.

“I know that I don’t make a lot of good choices. I know that I say things that sound too bitchy to be teasing sometimes. I know that there’s still a lot inside of me that I need to make up for. But I’m alive and I’ve survived and I have some of the best people in my corner. I’d be a fool to give all of this up. So…that’s why tonight is special.

“Because I’m alive.”

Steve raises his arm, the knife over his shoulder, and chucks it down over the side of the quarry. He fills his palms with Eddie’s and Robin’s. And he relaxes.

“And you’ve got so much life to live,” Eddie says.

And Robin can’t help but think that he’s right because, The world didn’t end when you were nineteen.

-------- <3

#stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #platonic stobin #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #please read tags #please read the content warning #angst and hurt/comfort #hopeful ending

[pininghermit]

Hiiiii! I love your writing so far and I’m so excited to have found another sub Alucard blog, you have no idea! Could I be able to request a soulmate AU with Alucard? What do you have in mind? 👀

Wait Worth an Eternity (Alucard x Reader)

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Summary: to the world, the Tagar are a legend or a figment of the past long gone. None in the world have seen or heard of them for ages. None who speak of them, anyway.

Word Count: 2.2k

AN: hey thanks for requesting this awesome fic. I loved writing this and I may have gone a little over board. I hope you like it and look out for a part 2 if you do like it.

"Leave," you whisper into the air, and the darkness behind you vanishes into the nothingness of the night. Yet two remain next to you, lingering as their forms evaporate.

"Are you sure about this?" your brother whispers as his hand reaches to touch your shoulder. The black mist of his vanishing form engulfs both his hand and your shoulder from the barest contact.

"Allow us to wait here for you," your second brother adds as the night remains quiet as ever. "Come on, are you going to ignore us? We came here for emotional support." The swirling darkness continues to surround you with dramatically offended expressions on their concealed faces.

A looming castle stands in front of you, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if it was a wise choice to walk into something you avoided for so long.

You take in the rotting corpses speared in front of the castle doors that lay carelessly ajar. "Visibly welcoming," Aes, your brother, mutters under his breath. "Leave," you repeat, hoping for your brothers to listen to you for once.

You had to do this yourself. No amount of cowardice would stop you from it anymore. "Alright, we will leave for now, but if there is even an iota of doubt or danger, call for us." Maer, next to Aes, turns to you with his form materializing as he offers you his hand.

"I promise," you take your brother's hand and put all your conviction into your expression. Soon both your brothers leave you alone in the company of Castle Dracula and Belmont library.

The past filters into your conscience as your steps lead you to the withering doors of the unkempt castle.

The Tagar are an ancient race, long gone from the face of the world that monsters, humans, and in-betweens live in. They are people of old who came to life with the first breath of the world.

Many legends of the world speak of them as gods of old. Some call them creatures alike to the fea, for they were winged. Well, some of them were.

But none that live now know what they were. For words did not exist when they did. A race from a time so long ago did not speak similar languages as the current ones who freely roam the world do.

To the world, the Tagar are a legend or a figment of the past long gone. None in the world have seen or heard of them for ages. None who speak of them, anyway.

You are part of the Tagar, a legend from long ago. You have lived through ages of the world forming and deforming itself. In doing so, you watched your people build the society and then leave it for the solitude of peace.

The Tagar held the wisdom of age. With the addition of new races into the world, the oldest saw it as the time for their retreat. They held little love for conquering or coveting what they had built with so much love.

In those long years, you too had been a part of the ones who moved into the veiled world with the oldest of the world resided. Maybe the years had left you with much weariness that you need nothing more than peaceful existence besides your family.

You lived concealed in your mountains, valleys, and plains that the other races held no knowledge of. The world protected its oldest in those hidden places. Away from the newer races of its being.

It was in those uneventful hours of peace that you felt it. A tug. The world that your kind left so long ago called for you again. With a renewed urgency, you found yourself being led to the borders of the ancient magic that kept the Tagar hidden.

That day when you barely held yourself from exposing the existence of your kind, you dreamt of the bond that left you restless the entire day. Flashes of gold, silver, and black filled your vision. Swords, books, and coffins were the figments that revealed themselves as time progressed. Pain, anguish, and grief followed as the years went by. That is how you got to know Adrian, son of Count Dracula and a human healer.

You resisted every pull, every urge. The soulmate your elders spoke of had to wait. You would not burden him with your infinite eternity. You would give him decades free of the bond. He should have every right to be his person before he gets to be yours.

You waited for his quest as a savior to end. You waited for him to experience the world he saved, and witnessed him being chained to the land of his trauma. At that moment, you had wanted nothing more than to rescue him from the loneliness and sorrow of his own thoughts.

But your steps faltered when you saw them: Sumi and Taka. Ignoring the searing bindings of your bond, you stepped back as you observed the happiness that Alucard found next to the other two who entered his life. They were younger, more a part of the world that Adrian lived in. You forced your consciousness to move away from your fated, who remained unaware of your bond.

You slept little to avoid the dreams that would not stop torturing you with visions of him. You dared not look at the sun that shone with the color of his hair or the moon that seemed to reflect his eyes.

The Tagar loved intensely. Most loved once in eternity, and very few of them were granted a fated one. Maybe that is why you felt the bond before Adrian did. You felt it separated by worlds and veils of ancient magic.

You were lost in the motions of forgetting the incomplete fragments of your bond when you felt it—the fleeting end of the other end of the bond. The tug that reminded you of the world foreign to you felt lighter than ever.

That night, you dared to let your dreams guide you into the bond you ignored for long. You found yourself in the unlit halls of Castle Dracula, trashed furniture and floor adorned with broken glass, torn curtains, and rotting food. Among all the ruin lay your mate, Adrian. He lay there alone, bleeding from wounds you could not find with the fleeting form of your dream self.

The world you had wanted to give him by your absence no longer mattered. It wouldn't matter if he faded into the nothingness of grief and betrayal. Only oblivion greeted the ones who turned their backs on the world. You knew it better than any, and you could not fathom that end for him.

So after millennia of hiding, the first of the Tagar ventured into the world that forgot them. You came with your brothers and others who vehemently insisted on escorting you.

Now as you walk the path your soulmate once walked, your heart beats louder than ever. For a moment, you suspect a flying sword to rush your way with how loud your heart beats. Your steps remain sure. And from the periphery of your vision, you observe two rotting corpses that catch your attention. You do not turn to look at them, but a layer of black surrounds them as you move past them. There remains a mystery as all proof of their existence leaves the face of the world. The Tagar, after all, remain most mysterious in their ways.

The huge wooden doors to the castle do not creak as you expect them to, remaining functional as ever despite their age. You walk through silent and dark corridors that you remember but still remain unfamiliar to you. Scouring your memory, you look for clues that could lead you to Adrian.

It is then that you smell it - a cloying stench of death and decay, similar to the one that permeated the graveyard in front of the castle. Death, despite being foreign to the Tagar, remained the most familiar to your fate. It was one of the very first things you felt at the beginning of your visions, a death that reeked of fear, restlessness, but also of peace and relief.

Your anxiety increases with every passing second as you wander through the unknown halls. Rushing through unfamiliar paths of Dracula's castle, you pray to the forgotten gods of the Tagar, hoping that Adrian is still alive.

"Let him not be dead," you plead to anyone who dares listen to you. Not even the wisest of Tagar know of the fate beyond death - it is a truth known only to those who experience it. And you, for once, do not wish for your mate to find that truth.

"Adrian," you allow his name to fall from your lips. For the first time, it is uttered in the world without an ounce of doubt.

"Adrian," a name he does not remember, yet it never before felt more fitting than when he hears it from the echoing recesses of his mind. A voice he does not know, yet a voice he cannot let go.

After months of feeling a lifeless void, Adrian feels the beat of his heart. He feels something snap into place - a scary feeling for someone whose life lay in shambles. He is drunk out of his mind, and his vision remains shaky at best, but even then, he forgets to breathe the first time he lays his eyes on you.

You walk through the halls of his home with feather-light steps. Even in the dark, moonless night, you shine with a light he has never seen before, a glow that seems to mimic ancient stars. You remain put together in your haste, not even a single strand of your hair moves from its place.

"Adrian," you call his name again, and Adrian yearns to answer back. He aches to reply and answer to every call, but his words fail him. He notices your wings tucked behind your back - black like the endless void, yet even tucked away, your wings are majestic. Feathers that look soft at the very sight line your wings. Without a word exchanged between you and him, he knows the long ages you have spent before him.

Past, present, or future, you give him everything without him ever asking. He finds the ease of this fate to be unbelievable. Has it always been this easy? Were you always this close?

With the ease that rivers meet oceans, Adrian finds his head on your lap. Your worried gaze on him, your hands thread through his hair, and he does not suppress the shudder that runs through his entire body. He feels the warmth of your feathers on his cheek. 

You have waited so long, for ages, for this. At that moment, he feels the weight of ages spent waiting for someone, the weariness of a lonely forever. You have loved him without any expectation of reciprocation, and Adrian feels wronged on your part. How did you not think of yourself? Why did you not come and claim him? He would have left; he would have let go of the world if that is what needed to be done for you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeat and Adrian finds it hard to stop you. His limbs feel heavier than ever. 'Not your fault,' he wants to tell you. His soul screams at him to comfort his fated, who is now sobbing next to him.

He wills his hand to wipe the tears lining your face. 'Don't,' he tries to say but his throat dries up at the sight of you. You hold his hand in yours as you interlace your fingers.

#alucard #alucard x reader #castlevania #pining #soulmate au #and they were soulmates #immortal reader #angst with comfort #hopeful ending #adrian tepes #adrian tepes x reader

[vox-ex]

love

Supercorptober 2023

"I love you so much I’ll never be able to tell you; I’m frightened to tell you" - Dylan Thomas

It takes time for Kara to tell Lena she loves her. She starts and stops the words over and over in her head...even once as a whisper against the shell of her ear, pressed into her side after falling asleep on the couch, the credits of movie flickering on the tv and her heartbeat settled into sleep.

a prequel to day 4 - money

----

The lingering scent of ash and smoke followed Kara into the apartment. The smell still clinging to her clothes despite the rain that had done its best to rid her of it itself. She dropped her keys on the counter, not even reaching for the lights as the soft glow from the living room offered more than enough light. She found Lena curled up on the couch. The television flickered with muted colors, a book lay face down on the coffee table.

"Hi," Kara whispered, leaning down to brush a stray strand of hair from Lena's face.

"Hey," Lena murmured back, turning her head further into the pillow.

Kara grinned in amusement. "You fell asleep."

"M' only resting," Lena murmured, turning her head back again, eyes fluttering open to reveal sleepy green depths. "I wanted to wait for you. Are you okay?"

"Nothing a little sleep can't handle." Kara smiled, fingers picking at the loose thread of the blanket covering Lena's legs. "You certainly help, too."

Lena's eyes softened, and she reached out to squeeze Kara's hand.

"You should shower....I'll be here."

She nodded and pressed a gentle kiss to Lena's forehead, a promise to return too, before retreating to the bathroom.

She turned the water as hot as it would go, stepping under the spray and letting the water fall in sheets down her back until it became clear at her feet. Her thoughts followed it. The weight that had been bearing down on her all day giving way to the lightness of Lena waiting for her.

As she made her way back to the living room, she saw Lena had shifted on the couch.

"Better?" Lena asked, her voice low and still laded with hints of sleep, her accent slipping between the syllables like it did on Kara's favorite mornings.

"Much," Kara admitted, her chest feeling lighter as she sunk down onto the edge of the couch. "Are you sure you don't need to go home?" Kara asked again, concern etched into her features.

"It's movie night," Lena replied with a soft huff, patting the empty space beside her. "Now, lie down already."

Kara grinned back at her, hesitating for only a second before shifting closer and lifting her arm up for Lena to tuck herself against her side. Her head coming to rest on her shoulder as she pulls them both down onto the soft cushions.

It's all but impossible to focus on the movie. Her thoughts consumed by the way the glow of the television danced across Lena's face or the way her breath ghosted across Kara's collarbone with each exhale, the space between them getting further apart as Lena's eyes started to close. Eventually, sleep tugged at Kara's consciousness, too.

She woke up again a little later, disoriented by the darkness and noise that had settled around them. She looked up to see the credits rolling on the screen, mingling with faint hum of the fan above her and the city outside that was louder than usual. Lena came into focus, too, her heartbeat steady and slow, thrumming beneath her fingertips as they spread across her ribs and traced idle patterns on her skin.

Kara's thoughts danced between the world outside and Lena in her arms.

Danced around the words she had been trying to say for weeks now — had hoped for even longer.

Being with Lena was still new. But loving her? Loving Lena was anything but.

"Hey, Lena," she whispered as loud as she dared to make the words. "Are you awake?"

Her hand shifted a little. Felt the rhythm of Lena's heart — Still slow. Still steady.

Kara closes her eyes and traces the line of Lena's cheek to the hollow of her neck. Presses a gentle kiss there to be sure.

Then she tries the words on first. Says them to herself until she whispers them again against the shell of Lena's ear.

"I love you."

Just loud enough to be real.

Not quite loud enough to be heard.

She drops her forehead against her shoulder. Starts the slow process of disentangling them from each other and then back again. Slipping from under her and then carrying her across the room and into her bed.

Lena stirs slightly, curling in towards Kara again.

Kara pulls up the covers, but her body still waits for her to slip in beside her before it settles.

And it will take time for Kara to tell Lena she loves her.

But until then, she has her hands and her and her body to speak for her.

---

read this and the rest on Ao3 too

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorptober #supercorptober2023 #sg prompts #Kara has complicated feelings about love #they both do #hopeful ending #day 4 prequel #remember that throw away line in day 4 #well it turned into a whole prompt

[imfinereallyy]

Is this okay?

tw: discussions of panic attacks, discussions sa (nothing graphic or very far, and no assualt happens with steddie), and implied sexual coercion.

Steve knew there was never a good time to have a panic attack.

But this most definitely felt like the absolute worst time.

He was having sex with a girl. He had to clarify that to Robin when he told her he was going on a date; he hadn't gotten the nerve to do the “sex with a guy” thing yet. So he went with what he knew. Besides, there was only one guy Steve really wanted.

But he was having sex with a girl, a girl named Linda, who had given him her number at a diner across town where she worked. Steve had thought she was nice, pretty. Very all-American with her blonde hair, blue eyes and perfectly straight teeth. No matter how pretty she was though, Steve didn’t really feel much for her.

He felt terrible about that. Steve felt like he had wasted her time. He didn’t want Linda to feel that way, so he wanted to ensure she got something out of the date. So when they had finished milkshakes at a different diner than the one she worked at (yea he hadn’t put much thought into the date), he agreed to go back to her place.

He really shouldn’t have agreed to go back to her place.

In retrospect, Steve knew it was wrong to have sex with Linda. Not because having sex on the first date was bad, but because he shouldn't have sex with someone just because he felt bad. Steve imagines if one of the kids did that, or if Robin did that, he would lose his mind. He would be so upset, not with them, but with whomever they felt pressure to do it with. It’s just hard for him to apply to himself.

Guess that’s what valuing yourself for only sex at a young would do to you. King Steve, he could hear them say.

He had ignored his instincts, though, and went back to her place anyway.

It had started fine; it really had. Steve went down on her, wanting to make her feel good. That was the whole point. Steve was excited about that part. But then it came to sealing the deal. Linda wanted him naked, of course. But Steve couldn’t bring himself to take off his shirt. Even months later, he was insecure about the new scars on his body. Steve told Linda he wanted to keep it on.

She had been okay with it at first.

It’s when they were in the middle of it, sweaty bodies colliding with each other, that it happens.

Linda's hands snuck up his shirt, and Steve completely freezes. Steve just full stops in the middle of sex.

“Why did you stop?” Linda asked, exasperated like Steve was annoying her.

“I—just. Your hands.” Steve choked out.

“You’re upset? With my hands under your shirt? Seriously?”

“I—“ Steve felt the pressure begin to build up in his chest. Something was definitely wrong, right on the edge of overflowing.

“Sorry, I guess. Probably better off anyway. I don’t know what happened under there, but it didn’t feel good. Can’t imagine it’s pretty. Can we just get back into it?” Linda tried to pull Steve down for a kiss, but he yanked his head away from her.

Steve was suddenly hyper-aware of everything on his skin. Every stretch, every pull, every lump. Steve swallowed the dry lump in his throat as he tried to calm his breath.

Linda didn’t seem to notice. “C’mon, Steve. I thought I was getting the King out of this. I’ve heard the rumors. I may have graduated the year before you, but even I know how good you make girls feel in bed.” Steve felt dirty. Used. This wasn’t what sex was supposed to be like. Not unless he wanted it like that, and today he had most definitely not wanted that. His breath was coming out in short pants. His hands were sweating. Linda continued, “You’re acting like a freak right now. God. This was such a waste of time.”

Steve was up in an instant, scrambling to get all of his clothes on. He wanted out. Out of this bed. Out of this apartment. Out of his head.

Steve thought that maybe Linda had said something to him on his way out, something that his subconscious must have picked up because he could feel the tears down his face in reaction to her voice. Steve ran out the door, ignoring her.

The rest was kind of a blur.

One second, Steve was throwing himself inside his car, trying to choke himself on his own breath. The next, he was flying down Main Street, with only the flashes of street lights as a reminder to his brain that he was moving.

Then, suddenly, Steve was banging on the metal door of a trailer.

When did he get here? Who’s door is this? What time was it? God, where were his shoes?

Steve leaned his head against the cool metal, as he tried to ground himself. It wasn’t working. He could feel reality slipping from him. He just wanted to fucking breathe.

The trailer door opened just when Steve was contemplating banging his head against it. Steve fell forward, his weight had been entirely against the door, he stumbled slightly before catching himself on the frame.

“Steve?” He heard a confused familiar voice.

Oh thank god, it was Eddie. Eddie would help him. Eddie would know what to do.

“Eddie I—I”

“Stevie, what? What’a wrong?” Steve could see Eddie’s sleepy fast morph into concern. Steve felt bad, probably woke him up. He knew Eddie didn’t get much sleep nowadays. Steve needed to tell him he was sorry.

All that came out, though, was, “I—I can’t breathe.”

Steve hunched over, slamming himself into one side of the frame. Eddie moved to catch him, but hovers his hands instead. Steve saw panic flash across his face.

Steve really needed to say sorry.

He didn’t get to, though, because suddenly Eddie asked, “Can I touch you?”

It shouldn’t have broken him, something as simple as that. It was a simple question. A courtesy, a common fucking decency. Some people didn’t like to be touched during panic attacks, and Steve now understood what was happening, and Eddie was just being kind. It shouldn’t have broken him.

But it did. Steve couldn’t remember the last time someone asked what he had wanted. Especially tonight.

Suddenly Steve was sobbing, throwing himself into Eddie’s awaiting arms. Eddie shushed him softly and brought him inside. “It’ll be okay. Don’t worry. It may be scary now, but it’ll be okay.”

Eddie walked them to the couch, shutting the fire gently behind them. Eddie laid Steve’s head on his shoulder and gently rocked them back and forth for awhile. Eddie whispered sweet nothing in his ears as Steve loudly wept.

Steve wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time his cries quieted. He pulled back to look at Eddie and rubbed furiously at his eyes. Steve felt the panic still stewing in his chest, but most of it had spilled out.

Eddie brushed a hair behind his ear, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve hesitated. He was scared of how Eddie would react. Would he call him dramatic? Would he say that both Linda and he were using each other? That he should be glad that he was getting laid? That someone liked him enough to look past the scars? Steve knew in his heart, though, that Eddie was safe. No matter what Steve said, Eddie would at least try to understand.

“Promise not to be mad?”

“I can promise to not be mad at you. Whatever that made you upset could be a different story. But I promise you sweetheart, I’ll never be mad at you for having feelings.” Eddie grabbed his hand and squeezed it in encouragement.

Steve took a deep breath before speaking. “I was on a date—“ Eddie had a flash of some emotion that Steve couldn’t process entirely at the moment, and it was gone before he could say something. “—And the girl I was with, she was nice. She was pretty. She should be what I want.”

Eddie nodded in encouragement. Steve pushed on. “But the date wasn’t good. It wasn’t bad, not really, just nothing special. It was on me, I didn’t even try. Not really. And I felt so bad that she wasn’t getting much out of it.”

“So you panicked because of a bad—sorry mediocre date? Steve, it’s okay. You don’t owe her anything.” Eddie didn’t sound angry or judgmental. He sounded concerned, if anything. His tone was gentle and warm; Steve didn’t want that to change.

“Please don’t be mad.”

“Steve, I promised you I wouldn’t be.” Again, Eddie’s tone was gentle.

“I felt bad, ya know? I should make the date better. Give her something. So when she asked me to her place, I didn’t say no, and I know I should have said no. But she was nice initially, and I didn’t want to upset her. So I went upstairs—“ Steve started to rush out his words, the panic building up again “—and it was fun at first. I gave oral; I liked that part; I always like making my partners feel good. But then she wanted to have sex, and I—I wanted to keep my shirt on. My scars they—they still feel like they're fresh some days. And I didn’t want to deal with them. And she was good about it at first, I swear! But then she put her hands up my shirt, and I just couldn’t do it. I just, god, Eddie, I just froze. And she was so upset with me. Talked about how she expected better from me. How this wasn’t King Steve. How she was happy, the shirt was on because what was underneath didn’t feel good and…” Steve trailed off.

Eddie looked furious. There was a quiet rage that seeped through his breaths. His shoulders were rigid. Even so, his grip never turned harsh. It never caused Steve pain.

“I’m sorry.” Steve whispered.

“Don’t. Don’t be sorry Steve. It’s okay. Continue if you like.” Eddie choked out but sounded sincere.

Steve looked directly into his eyes for a moment before deciding to continue. “I was panicking. I couldn’t breathe, Eddie. And she still…she still wanted to continue. Like, pretend I wasn’t about to have a psychotic break. And I just felt like this thing. Like I was an object to be used and discarded, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t stay there. I just left. And I probably freaked her out and gave her the worst night of her life, and I—“

Eddie cut him off by bring his hands to Steve’s face and gently brushed his tears away. “Ssshh, you didn’t—you didn’t do anything wrong. Okay?”

Steve nodded furiously unable to speak.

Eddie held eye contact as he spoke. “I want you to listen to me alright? I got a couple of things to say but I need you to tell me if it’s too much? This is not about me. You won’t hurt my feelings. Okay?

Steve nodded again.

“Honey, I need you to say it.”

“Okay.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath. He didn’t let go of Steve’s face, gently cradled it as he began again. “First off, I am not mad at you. You did nothing wrong. Nothing Steve. I’m mad at her. She—She doesn’t get to touch you like that. Not if you don’t want her to. Even if you didn’t say it, you were clearly not enjoying yourself. And she didn’t care. She disregarded your feelings multiple times and even made fun of you, and guilted you into doing more than you’re comfortable with. I know it’s difficult to hear, but what she did was assault.”

Steve tried to protest, “I consented. I did that because I wanted to—”

Eddie cut him off but wasn't unkind in doing so. “Steve. If you felt guilty for not wanting to do anything with her, so you did something anyway to make her feel better, that isn’t consent. But I can’t label it for you. If you feel otherwise, it’s not my place to tell you. I’m here for you either way. But I’m going to tell you something. Not the whole thing, not right now. Maybe another day. This isn’t about me, though. I just think you might need to hear it.”

Steve nodded again.

Eddie slid his hands down to Steve’s hips like it was his turn to ground himself. Steve didn’t mind. “A couple of years ago, I was in my first relationship. I’m gay, as you know, so being open wasn’t really an option. No one could tell me right from wrong because no one knew. I lost my virginity to this guy; he was a couple of years older. I definitely knew what he was doing even though I didn’t. We had sex all the time. But one day, I wasn’t in the mood. It happens. But…but he made me feel so guilty about it. Like I had hurt him, told him he was the problem. Like there was a problem at all, like I didn’t simply want to have sex, he has made it about me having internalized homophobia, about how I didn’t really love him, how I was selfish. So I caved. I had sex with him anyway. And then I went home that night. Went back to the trailer, only to find Wayne had the rare night off that night. When I saw him, I burst into tears and told him what had happened. He hadn’t even known I was gay. He didn’t care, though, about any of it. But he had to explain to me that it didn’t matter what gender it was; if I didn’t want to have sex, that was up to me that I didn’t need to prove anything. And that anyone who said otherwise didn’t actually care about me.”

Steve was no longer in a panic, but his tears didn’t stop. He was so, so sad. Sad for Eddie. For himself.

“How do you feel now? About it all?” Steve spoke for the first time in ten minutes.

Eddie shrugged. He squeezed Steve’s hips. “Good some days. Bad others. Better overall. I’ll never be completely over it. I know that, but I—I have good things now to help me through it.” Eddie pointedly looked at Steve, a soft smile on his face.

Steve thought about saying sorry to him. That he was sorry that ever happened, but he knew that, like himself, Eddie wouldn’t want that. So Steve settled on the truth. “I don’t know what to call it. I think—I know I didn’t like it. And I know it hurt even if it wasn’t physical. I still feel like I did something wrong. Even if I know I didn’t. I’m worried I’ll change my mind and that I’ll be wrong.”

Eddie leaned his forehead against Steve’s. “You can always change your mind about this, but you’ll never be wrong. You will not be wrong about your feelings.”

“Okay.”

“I think we should talk more about this, but you’ve had a long night. Do you want to stay tonight? I can stay on the couch; you can have my bed. I don’t really want you too far. You scared me a bit today—which again isn’t your fault. But if you’re okay with it, I want to be here to help.”

Steve swallowed another dry lump. The emotion this time was good. Overwhelmed with the care Eddie was giving him, he responded “You don’t have to stay on the couch. We can share.”

Eddie tensed, “Steve, don’t offer just cause I might be uncomfortable.”

Steve soothed a hand down Eddie’s arm. “I didn’t mean it like that. I would like it, if, ya know, you stayed with me. Just lay next to me. If that’s alright with you.”

Eddie smiled softly, “Only if you’re sure it’s okay.”

They get ready for bed after that. Eddie, already in pj’s, handed Steve an old Metallica shirt with holes in it and plaid pants. He changed in the bathroom despite having undressed in front of Eddie before. Steve wasn’t sure he was ready to be naked in front of another person yet.

After a few minutes, Eddie and Steve got comfortable in bed. Hair splayed out in the pillows and cozy under the covers, both boys just stared at the ceiling. “Would you…would you touch me, Eddie? Just…just need to know you’re there.” Steve felt silly saying it; he could see Eddie right there. He wasn’t making much sense.

Eddie seemed to get it, though. “Of course, baby.” He shifted to his side and moved Steve along with him until they were spooning. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and pulled him flush against his chest.

Steve could feel Eddie’s hot breath against his neck. In any other scenario with him, it might have been a charged moment. Now it was different. Better even. It was solace.

“Is this okay?” Eddie whispered into the dark room.

Steve thought about his night. How awful it was, how it probably would get worse before it got better. That he had a lot to work on, but there in the bed where Eddie held him tightly, safely, Steve couldn’t help but feel relief. He knew this was the place he needed to be. No matter how bad the day went, Eddie would support him. Love him.

“Yea, it’s okay.”

———

this was heavy and very personal. It honestly did start off as a panic attack fic but as usual I spiraled. This one though like spiraled in a different way then usual. It felt like something I needed to get out. I know probably three people will read it and no one will probably enjoy it, but it felt good to write it. I think I might write an extended version part on ao3, there were parts in it that felt rush or could have been more.

this again felt more personal (even though my fics are always at least a little personal) so be kind.

If you, a friend or family member may have experienced something like the content of this story please feel free to reach out. Whether that be to me, a friend, or a helpline. My inbox is always open. Be kind to yourself and others 🧡

#steddie #I would love it if you gave this a read #Cw: implied sa #cw: panic attack #cw: just a lot of feelings #stranger things #steve x eddie #hurt/comfort #angst #hopeful ending #angst with a hopeful ending #this was healing #and validating #I’m here if you need #steve harrington centric #Steve Harrington #ao3 #ficlet #long fic #Eddie munson loves Steve Harrington #and he loves him back #pre relationship #my writing #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #discussions of dark themes #original character #Linda sucks but not all Linda’s just this one #robin buckley #only mentioned

[elficially-done-with-life]

A Quiet Afternoon

Pairing: Celegorm x reader

Summary: You think about Celegorm's return and you marriage to him while you spend a quiet afternoon together.

A/N: Since Celegorm is married to the Reader in here he did not try to get Luthien to marry him (since elves can only marry and fall in love once, Finwë was from what I understood the only exception), he still betrayed her trust and kidnapped her, though. Just for understanding and context.

Hope you enjoy it!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tyelkormo's head layed in your lap and he breathed in and out calmly. The sun fell on his silver-coloured hair and made it shine.

It had been so incredibly long since you had seen him so relaxed. The last time had certainly been before he had left for Middle-earth with his father and brothers. Back then, when your beloved had been torn away from you.

When Tyelko had come back, he hadn't wanted to talk to you because he had been so incredibly ashamed of his actions and regretted them that he was convinced you wouldn't want him back.

You had been angry. You had been angry for many years, but over time it had diminished, because through the marriage bond you two had, you could feel his longing for you and his growing despair. You could feel his mental state getting worse and worse and how some days he woke up disorientated, not knowing what to do with himself.

Of course you didn't forgive him for abandoning you or for all the atrocities he had committed in Middle-earth. All the kinslayings, the kidnapping of Luthien and so much more. He had to bear responsibility for it all, and yet you still loved him.

You had lost all contact with him through the marrige bond when he died. You went to Nerdanel that same day and you cried together until the early hours of the morning.

That's why you knew exactly when Tyelko had returned. Suddenly you felt his presence, clearer and closer than you had in a long time. His fëa no longer seemed so broken, but as if someone had tried to mend it. But it was still not healed and whole and you doubted that it ever would be again. To much had happend.

You didn't hear from him for weeks until you bumped into him on the street. He had been looking at some flowers by the side of the road, completely lost in thought, and only noticed your presence when you had already seen him. He later told you that these flowers didn't exist in Middle-earth and that he was really shocked to see them again. That it had reminded him of so many things that once had been.

That day, without giving it a second thought, you had wrapped your arms around Tyelkormo's neck and held him tightly.

Somehow you had expected him to laugh and playfully say: "Did you miss me?" At least he would have done that back when everything had been okay.

But he had started to cry.

He had apologised to you, got down on his knees in front of you and told you not to hate him, even if you would want to go your separate ways from now on. You had felt through the marriage bond that he didn't think he would survive if he knew you hated him.

So you had also got down on your knees and stroked his cheeks softly. Feeling his skin on yours again had been a feeling so great you weren't able to describe it. Tyelko had practically leaned into your touch, which made you wonder how long it had been since anyone had touched him with so much love.

That same day he had moved back in with you, but it was different than it had been before.

Normally Tyelko slept like a rock at home (not in the forest, there he was always on high alert) but he woke up several times a night from his nightmares, shivering all over and seeking your warmth. He often whispered something like: "I let them die." Or "Luthien trusted me... I betrayed her trust." Or he would cry for Curufin and Carnistir.

He was still up before you every morning.

Every day he gave you a flower and did as much as he could around the house until you woke up.

He was also, and you couldn't think of a better word for it, shy.

Actually, Tyelko had always had a certain self-confidence, even if he had always hidden some insecurities underneath, which he had revealed to you at some point. But now he always avoided your gaze when you looked him straight in the eye. He was also much quieter than usual and apologised more often.

When you slept with each other, he always started crying. The first time you panicked, but he later confessed that that was because he is so overwhelmed that you really want him still and to feel your body and fëa so close again. To know that you still want to give him love.

Today you had walked through a wooded area behind your house to a small hill with lots of wildflowers and some large willows. You had loved going here back then a lot.

Last night, Tyelko's nightmares had become particularly bad. He hadn't been able to sleep a wink the whole night after and was quite emotionally exhausted.

His fingers had been trembling with fatigue all day, which was why he had accidentally dropped a glass. At first you thought everything was fine, but half an hour later you found him crying quietly in the garden. He had felt so confused again, as if he didn't know what to do with his sadness.

So you had taken his hand and you had come here.

And now he was lying asleep on your lap as you gently stroked his hair.

He let out a soft whimper and you had to stifle a giggle. Tyelko had opened his eyes briefly and looked directly into the sun. At that moment, he made an expression that you had often seen on him in the years back then.

And then you knew that no matter what happened, he was your Tyelkormo and you would find a way to help him heal as much as possible.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

#celegorm x reader #tolkien x reader #x reader #soft celegorm #tolkien #elves x reader #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion #fluff #silm x reader #sappy #sad #hopeful ending #healing

[not-poignant]

OMG, I literally found your Astarion/Raphael fic yesterday, desperately looking for something like it. So happy someone else had the same brain worms as me XD

I was wondering if I could pick your brain a bit about what kind of direction you think you will take the fic? I was wondering if you had any plans in your head or if you are just following the vibes so to speak.

Especially with Raphael being in the pairing, I wondered if this is more of a "It turns out they are actually good for each other" kind of thing or more of a "Astarion has to find out what his life is going to be now/get over some things and Raphael will enjoy every second of making him squirm" kind of thing.

In any case, I am looking forward to reading more, thank you :)

Hi hi,

So I guess answering this would kind of be talking about really end-game spoilers, but I also don't have a plan for this story beyond Astarion/Raphael, and 'hopeful ending.'

(I mean I do have more than that, I just don't know how much of that I want to reveal at this stage, when it's only chapter 5, and this story could easily be over 40 chapters long - there's a lot of potential for change and growth that could alter the trajectory of the relationship in a lot of different directions.'

What I will say is that:

I do not consider Astarion giving into a regular non-consensual situation and just accepting it and making painful peace with it, a hopeful ending type situation. Agency is important to me in my characters. Even if he one day decides to voluntarily submit to scenes he doesn't love - that would at least be a choice. Anything done while under contract with difficult consequences will not be where the hopeful ending happens.

It's an Astarion/Raphael story, therefore the hopeful ending will be an Astarion/Raphael ending. That's just how my brain works. It will not be a 'they break up and THAT'S why it's hopeful.' However, the end may not have a conventional looking relationship. And I've written unconventional endings in relationships before (like Stuck on the Puzzle)

For me, a hopeful ending (as opposed to a happy ending) means that we have to have confidence in the idea that Astarion's life will continue to improve and get better even after the story has ended. There's now enough evidence that he has enough enrichment and potentially for happiness in his life, that he won't downward spiral like he has in the same way again. This means he needs - more support, more healing, healthier avenues for communication even if the relationship isn't healthy overall all the time/every second, and some pretty big personal realisations about what he wants in life. Hopeful ending is both 'better than where we found him, but also genuinely, when most people think on the last chapter, they think 'he's got some ways to go in healing, but I really think he's/they're going to be okay'' not just physically, but also emotionally, spiritually, mentally.

Those are the things I'm happy to reveal because that's how I feel about almost all of my hopeful endings. That's what that means to me.

I do think Raphael and Astarion can actually be good for each other, but I think we're missing huge pieces of the puzzle as to why that's true. Because we're missing so much of Raphael's post-death story, because he's deliberately hiding it.

But we'll find out more soon. At some point, High Inquisitor Verillius Receptor will visit, and then we'll find out a lot more, lol.

(Also yeah this story will be long, easily I suspect around 150k in length as a baseline - we're on an emotional journey folks! Sometimes the growth will be healthy, sometimes it'll be negative, we're going in all the directions lmao).

#asks and answers #palmarosa #thespectaclesofthor #raphael x astarion #astarion x raphael #bg3 raphael #bg3 astarion #hopeful ending #hopeful endings #a hopeful ending isn't unequivocally happy #we know he'll still have trauma #maybe he'll even still have grief about things in his life #(of course he will - his life is fucking tragic and running from it constantly isn't great for him) #it's not like 'marriage and kids' and kind of stereotypical happiness #it's more like a sigh of relief #and a feeling of confidence and trust #if i can get those feelings in the readers #like 'oh wow we made it oh he's on such a good path now' #that's the aim #and frankly i don't think any ending where astarion has been brainwashed #into being a happy captive #is a hopeful ending for astarion #even if raphael *is* kinder to him #freedom/agency matter sdaflkfjas #especially for astarion #but he will spend most of the fic under contract

[some-little-infamy]

Too Important to Hide

(Read on AO3)

Despite Evan’s obvious hesitation, things are going relatively well. The conversation’s going great and the food and drinks are delicious (as far as beer and pizza go, some of the best Tommy’s had stateside), and he thinks that in the shadows of a dark theater will be just what Evan needs to fall back into a feeling of ease with the whole first date thing.

Until Eddie shows up. Tommy covers quickly - just some food and a movie - no talk of dates, no implications that they’re anything more than just hanging out. He wants to spare Evan the panic of not knowing what to say to Eddie here, in public, in front of Tommy and a room full of strangers. It should’ve been enough, but it isn’t.

“And then we’re going to go find some hot chicks.”

The second the words leave Evan’s mouth, Tommy freezes. He knows Evan is panicking, he remembers what it’s like to go on those first few dates… and he knows that he can’t go back there. He can’t be that person again, not for anyone, not even for Evan, and that kills him. Tommy remembers how miserable it was, how miserable he was, and that defensive part of him comes back in a way he isn’t proud of.

Eddie comments about always needing more closet space for Marisol, when Tommy quips, “Ain’t that the truth. Right, Evan?”

The words are harsh, bitter, and he isn't even sure Evan, in all his queer realization infancy, even understands the double-entendre.

Tommy can’t do this. He can’t be here, not while he feels like this. Not when he might say something to Evan he’ll truly regret and ruin this entire experience for him more than it already is.

Once Tommy’s back home, fully removed from the situation and at ease in his living room with a bottle of beer, he can finally parse through his own thoughts and feelings.

It doesn’t take him long to realize that it isn’t Buck’s inability to come out to Eddie that upset Tommy, so much as Evan’s need to toss Tommy back in that closet with him that sent his fight-or-flight into overdrive at the end of their date. It took everything in Tommy to be comfortable with who he is and who he wants to love, and in one second of Evan uttering the words “hot chicks” he felt like he was back at the old 118, forced to laugh at homophobic jokes to save face.

It isn’t just that Evan isn’t ready to be out, it’s that Tommy isn’t ready to have to hide their relationship just to have one. It feels selfish, like it’s a small compromise he should be able to make for Evan’s sake… but it isn’t a small thing, not to Tommy.

Fuck.

He hates this. He hates the look of disappointment he saw on Evan’s face when he got into that car without him. He hates the way he broke things off so easily on the sidewalk knowing how important the night was for Evan - Evan, who still wanted to go to the movies, even after everything else. Tommy likes Evan. Calling him adorable was a downplay - everything about the man is so frustratingly endearing on top of his obvious physical attraction, and a part of Tommy debates picking up the phone and calling him then and there.

He doesn’t. He gives it a day. He’ll reach back out then, at least to clear the air now that he has a better handle on his own mind. He doesn’t want to rush Evan, who probably needs more than an hour or two to process his own feelings about all of this. Not just the night, not just Tommy, but all of it. It took Tommy years to get to the space he needed to be in, both in his environment as well as internally. He doesn’t expect Evan to get there in an hour, and Evan deserves better than being bombarded with deep talks and ultimatums.

Because that’s what it’ll come down to, in the end. Evan isn’t ready to be fully out, and Tommy isn’t ready to pretend he and his date are going to go pick up chicks later as a cover, and unless one of them is willing to compromise this simply isn’t the right place, right time for the two of them. And that’s okay. Tommy’s willing to accept that, to walk away from Evan as a romantic partner and keep him as a friend… but he doesn’t know that Evan is. The last thing he wants is for Evan to feel forced to compromise his own comfort to stay with Tommy, to agree to a life he isn’t ready to live just to make Tommy happy.

So Tommy waits, and carefully thinks and overthinks the next words he’ll say to Evan when he calls the next day.

Except Evan calls first.

“Hey… Hey, Tommy. You answered,” Evan says, the relief palpable through the phone.

“Of course I did,” Tommy reassures him, heart already aching over how nervous Evan sounds.

“Of course you did,” Evan repeats, as if trying to convince himself that he’s deserving of Tommy’s attention. “Listen, uh… I want to talk.”

“We are talking,” Tommy points out.

Evan laughs, that same nervous burst of a sound that Tommy’s already used to hearing, and it brings a smile to his face that Evan can’t see through the phone.

“Yeah, uh, I guess we are. But I mean, I want to talk in person. If that’s okay,” Evan adds quickly, giving Tommy an easy out.

“Sure,” Tommy agrees easily, eager to make this as painless for Evan as possible. Whatever Evan’s thinking, whatever he wants to say, Tommy wants to hear. He wants to be there for Evan, the way he was trying to be last night before his own emotions got the best of him.

“Maybe over coffee? Not like a date. I mean, not… not like a date, if you wanted, but after last night I wouldn’t blame you if-”

“Evan,” Tommy interrupts softly, kindly. “Coffee sounds fine.”

“Okay,” Evan says, the word more breathed out than spoken. “So coffee. Tomorrow morning. Text me somewhere you like and we’ll meet at eight?”

“Eight is great,” Tommy can’t help saying, smirking a bit to himself.

“Great,” Evan echoes back, and Tommy isn’t sure if he’s imagining the sound of the smile that seems to accompany the word before they hang up.

Some things matter too much to say over text or a phone call, Tommy remembers saying during his visit to Evan’s apartment. Tommy can only hope that whatever it is that remains between them still matters that much to Evan, because it matters that much to him.

#hopeful ending #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tommy pov #911 #911 on abc #911 spoilers #i am living this tommy introspection life #kinley #kinkley #elle writes a few deadbeat lines

[aposematicbastard]

Fucking SOBBING

#damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #batfam #hurt/comfort #angst #hopeful ending #bittersweet #ow my feelings #ao3 fanfic #fics #fic #aposematic fic recs

[wangxianficrecs]

monsters cannot break her stride by Stratisphyre

monsters cannot break her stride

by Stratisphyre (@stratisphyre)

G, 3k, Wangxian

Summary: The people of Yiling looked determined to avoid meeting his eyes at all costs, for all Lan Xichen was an invited guest of the residents of the Burial Mounds. In the last days of a losing battle, Lan Xichen seeks out the only person potentially capable of helping turn the tides against Wen Ruohan. Kay's comments: Be warned, this story goes hard and doesn't pull punches! A canon-divergence stories where Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji go to Yiling to search out the help of the Yiling Laozu - Jiang Yanli. Previously, she's been part of the Sunshot Campaign already, but withdrew suspiciously after Wei Wuxian's death and has hidden herself in the Burial Mounds with the Dafan Wens since then... I really enjoyed this story, a super creative canon-divergence! I'm usually not one for stories where someone else is the Yiling Laozu, but this one had me hooked from start to finish. Excerpt: "His puppets are nothing to us," Jiang Yanli stated dismissively, forcibly reminding him of the terrible power of her seal. Where it came from, or how she came to possess it, were subjects of greater speculation than any of the choicest morsels of intelligence gleaned from across the battlefield. How had a young lady with poor cultivation and little training gained the knowledge and skill to use such a tool? Even beholding her now, Lan Xichen could find no insight. Time to give up on the facade of equality. "Please, Lady Jiang. We are facing our most desperate hour." The intelligence Meng Yao fed him from Nightless City had dried up, and while he feared for the other man, he was also realistic that the tenuous advantage the information had provided was all that had kept them alive to this point. "I am authorized to make generous arrangements to convince you to return. "The other Sect Leaders have agreed that, should you be willing to join us, we will honour your claim to the Burial Mounds, and offer clemency to all those who reside within." Mingjue had been apoplectic with rage at the proposal, and it had taken every soft word Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang could muster to calm him. "Sect Leader Jin himself has offered to reinstate your engagement to his son—" "How dare he," Jiang Yanli snapped, hard rage colouring her voice with promises of violence. "He seeks to place me under the control of the Jin?"

pov lan xichen, pov outsider, canon divergence, yiling laozu jiang yanli, dead wei wuxian, fierce corpse wei wuxian, sunshot campaign, negotiations, diplomacy, politics, hopeful ending, angst

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

#Wangxian Fic Rec #The Untamed #wangxian #MDZS #Kay's Rec #pov lan xichen #pov outsider #canon divergence #yiling laozu jiang yanli #dead wei wuxian #fierce corpse wei wuxian #sunshot campaign #negotiations #diplomacy #politics #hopeful ending #angst #monsters cannot break her stride #stratisphyre #gen #short fic <15k