#it’s based on that one song from the death note musical | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suniloli · 2 months

Text

LISTEN TO THE MUSIC

28 Feb 2024

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: Swearing, sexual themes, allusions to SA, descriptions of violence and death, angst

Setting: Alexandria (s5)

Summary: Your time after the fall of the prison has your mind all over the place. Upon arriving at Alexandria, you discover something that you think will help bring your mind to peace. Unfortunately, you're becoming more detached from those who love you, including Daryl. He sees you venture off into the darkness one night and decides to follow.

Author Note: This took me AGES to finish…..I’ve just had so much on. Faith No More’s ‘Easy’ inspired a certain scene that this one's based on. Tried not to make it cringe, mate :)

SIDE NOTE: I’ve written it so the song matches up to that part of the story if you want to listen to it while it plays out.

It had been two months, and you still hadn't gotten comfortable in the walls of your new home. It was so incredibly odd. This town, Alexandria, was just so out of the ordinary. It was still hard to fathom that a place of such domesticity, which was so reflective of the world before, existed utterly untouched. You were in it, living there, and acting as if suburban-ty was all that ever was.

Well, you weren't acting in the usual sense. You knew what was out there. You'd never forget.

And the rest of your family wouldn��t forget either. They just appeared to be better at adjusting to this new life than you were.

The issue was that you felt uneasy. The walls' protection was alluring, but you always felt something was off. It was an intangible feeling you couldn't quite grasp or explain. It was akin to being in the Twilight Zone. Alexandria was almost blurring the lines between this new reality and your past one — it made you doubt who you once were, what you did, and whether you actually led the life you did before. It also made you doubt who you were now, and whether outside the walls was real or just a figment of your imagination.

You couldn't relax. You couldn't let go and appreciate the break from chaos and stress. That's why you took as many opportunities as possible to get out and breathe in the fresh air. To remind yourself that you weren't going crazy.

You hoped that this would pass. You also hoped you were just being stupid and that your paranoia wasn't based on truth. But you just couldn't let go of that nagging feeling telling you not to get too comfortable.

Ever since your escape from the prison, it was like your mind was on autopilot. Now that living wasn't just survival day to day, all of those memories — memories of escaping alone, of killing both walkers and people, struggling to find food and water. Having to savagely kill men who'd stalked and found you, and tried to do all sorts of things to your mind and body. Going through a depression of having lost everything and all the people you loved. Memories of Terminus. Of seeing people slaughtered right next to you. Of having the knife to your throat because you were next. And somehow, more impactful than the rest: the feeling of reuniting with your family for the first time, only for your soul to be crushed at seeing them all lined up prepared to die like lambs to the slaughter, just as you were going to be. Memories of seeing your comrades Rick and Glenn and your newfound ally Bob there. Your heart racing upon making eye contact with Daryl, but being wholly shattered when you saw pure fear lace your best friend's gaze. You'd never seen him like that before…

Now, because you were inside the walls again, all of it came flooding back. It still haunted you. Being inside reminded you of everything you'd lost and endured.

However, being in such a well-looked-after settlement surrounded by 'normal' people going about their daily chores and lives also reminded you of other things you'd lost. In particular, something from before when your own life was 'normal.'

Music.

No matter where or what you were doing, listening to, singing, and dancing to music was one of your favourite things. It had the power to move you. Some songs truly spoke to your heart. Some ignited within you your stellar ability to dance and feel the beat. Others brought you comfort. Some made you cry.

In your opinion, music was, and still is, one of art's most vivid and beautiful expressions. It has such an ability to speak to the soul, to inspire it, and let it be free.

So, as with most things people love, it was one of the things you most yearned for.

Selfishly, that was one of the few reasons you suggested to Deanna that your job be to go on runs. Rick vouched for you, saying you were one of your family's strongest, more capable fighters. He stated that you were smart, resourceful, etcetera, etcetera, which was true, but he didn't know you had your motives either.

Given your recent struggle to sleep at night and the aloofness accompanying your every action within the walls, you thought giving yourself a specific task would help calm your mind and allow you to think coherently.

You liked the thought of having a little private project to yourself. Although sleep constantly refused to take you into its arms, just the mere prospect of listening to and enjoying music again was enough to continue this trend of insomnia (though probably not for the best) and perhaps provide you with the means to focus and get all of your emotions and thoughts straight.

So, you had developed a little routine come nightfall. Slowly, over the past few weeks, you accumulated the parts and accessories needed to listen to a beaten-up walkman you found. You made it your mission on every run you went on to find wire, fitted screws, and anything which would aid you in repairing it, as well as to devise some working earbuds. And on top of that, you were working on collecting tapes and swapping and changing them until you had a playlist you could enjoy. Things were much easier with your iPod back in the day, but you hadn't gotten your hands on anything like that. Plus, the internet didn't exist anymore, so even if you wanted to add and change songs, you couldn't. Bummer.

Although it may have been harder to collate music, the very act of holding the tapes and taking apart and assembling the little black brick made you more appreciative of the art form. Additionally, the anticipation of your hard work eventually paying off kept you going when you couldn't sleep. It was the thought that you could experience some semblance of peace as melodies and tunes washed over your brain, coaxing it into a state of tranquillity that had evaded you ever since you were on the road, which gave you a new energy.

Every action performed at your bedroom workbench felt like a labour of love, where you were reminded of the power of music to weave its way into the very fabric of your memories and remind you of your true self. It was the perfect distraction from all the other distractions plaguing you.

You just needed to accept that perhaps Alexandria was both the bane and revival of your existence.

It was 3 am, according to the working clock in your room. Focusing back on the task, you gently opened the walkman and placed your tiny screwdriver on the table. Placing a tape in the cassette player, you closed it back up and carefully grasped your homemade earbuds. Plugging them into the audio jack, you pressed the play button.

Immediately, the gears inside the cassette started shifting, and finally, the tape didn't tangle. A soft whirring sounded, and the small noises of a drum rift softly erupted from the sound output.

With shaking fingers, you grasped an earbud and lifted it to your ear. Sure enough, the opening riff to a rock song was playing.

You let escape a giggle of disbelief. Slowly but surely, it turned to loud, almost manic laughter.

No way. No fucking way.

Daryl was worried about you. Really worried about you.

He'd been able to reconnect with his family since they all found each other again after the prison. Although he'd also technically reunited with you at Terminus, he couldn't reconnect with you.

Daryl had many conversations with Carol about it. At least Rick's craziness revolved around his concern for his family's safety and his passion to keep you together. You, on the other hand, were somehow changed differently. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but you were slowly slipping away from everyone.

You were slipping away from him.

Carol suggested that it was tough on you, whatever had happened while you were out there alone. Easy for her to say. She was adjusting just fine with her innocent neighbour costume and whatnot, which he thought was ridiculous. However, she had made several observant points: there were scars on your body at Terminus that weren’t there at the prison. You were quiet, quite different from the sassy, talkative woman he knew and grew incredibly fond of.

Of course, Daryl had noticed those things. It was just reassuring to know that it wasn't only him who noticed. It was also comforting to understand that you weren’t just shutting him out, either. Although it still stung. It stung a lot.

After all, you two had gotten so close that he felt comfortable enough to show you his own scars, physical and emotional, and you your own — it was like the both of you formed an unbreakable bond: one of complete trust and companionship.

And now, he could tell you were struggling more than even he was, but your pride didn’t allow you to express that outwardly.

But Daryl knew. He could see it in your eyes, in your walk. Ever since Terminus, you refused to really talk with him. You refused to allow yourself to be vulnerable and shouldered it all on your own, letting it accumulate and weigh you down.

Damn stubborn woman.

You two were similar in many ways — Daryl also tended to be sceptical, and refused to let others bear his pain. But you were letting it affect every aspect of your life, even if you outwardly presented as composed and stoic to the average person.

But again, Daryl knew you. He knew you inside and out. And you knew him. You both shared something unexplainable that he could only put down to one thing, from his end at least.

Love.

When the prison fell, Daryl tried to find you, but you were gone without a trace. He spent his time with Beth in depressive thoughts of not only his home and family perishing, but the fact that he might have left you to die underneath the rubble — that you died because of him.

But then Beth brought him out of it because a little part of her reminded him of you — your optimism and strength to push past any obstacle that stood in your way.

It was her death that almost made him lose complete hope in humanity.

But, that fateful day, when the people at Terminus revealed you as one of the other poor victims of their cannibalistic desires, he was filled with a renewed sense of urgency. He couldn’t let you die again. He was scared shitless.

It was kneeling at the trough, and seeing you battered and scarred, that he realised he loved you. He was in love with you. Seeing your pleading eyes connect with his, he realised then that he’d been in love with you for a long time.

So, when you all managed to free yourselves from your bindings and escape that wretched train station, he would never let you go again as long as he lived.

But the moment he saw you brutalise those people there, and saw that crazed look in your eyes, Daryl knew you’d changed.

That first night of freedom, you remained physically close to him. Daryl didn’t sleep, but you snuggled up to him, finding comfort in his presence. You slept with your arms wrapped around his torso and head on his chest, and surprisingly, he found the courage to lay his head against yours and softly run his hand against your arm. But the next day, and for the months after, you had rejected his touch and everyone else’s.

At first, Daryl thought he had done something wrong, that you regretted being that physically close to him — that he’d crossed some boundary in your relationship. But he was perceptive and soon realised that your distance wasn’t about him. It was about something deeper that had changed within you during your time alone in the wilderness.

Daryl made sure to keep an eye out for you. Although you didn’t say much about how you were feeling, you still always acknowledged him, telling him you were okay.

He hated seeing you like this — constantly plagued by whatever haunted you. If only you’d open up to him, you’d both realise that you were dealing with similar things.

So, instead of invading your space, Daryl tried to lift you in other ways, such as by trying to make you laugh more often or gifting you with something thoughtful, like the dainty silver arrow necklace he gave to you when you were both on watch a couple of weeks ago.

Occasionally, he’d see glimpses of the real you: you'd gift him your beautiful laughter or that gorgeous smile he constantly dreamt about, in return. He cherished it when you had dangled the necklace he gave you in your palm, and you’d held his hand with your other, squeezing it gently.

Sometimes, he wished he could hear you more like he used to. He remembered your singing. Although Daryl made out it was annoying when you used to randomly burst into passionate song, and grab him by the arm to get him to reciprocate (in which he half-scowled in return), he thought you were so incredibly charming. Sometimes, Daryl thought you might’ve even meant some of those lyrics…

Now, though, you were mainly preoccupied, never honestly in the present. And considering that Daryl had seen your light on at night for the past week from his porch across the street, he knew it was perhaps time to approach you.

As Daryl was outside letting the nicotine from his cigarette fill his lungs, he watched as your silhouette moved from behind your illuminated window curtain to out of view.

Before he could snuff his cigarette out and walk over, he was ripped from his thoughts as, unusually, the yellow hue of your window suddenly turned dark. Maybe ya were finally tired.

He squinted his eyes as he faintly heard the screen door to your shared house flip open and close again, a flurry of movement following behind. It was you, and you seemed…huh…there was a sharpness to your movements. You got to the bottom of the stairs, went to the sidewalk, and down the road into the dark.

Daryl waited for a few minutes before he decided to follow.

Daryl's footsteps were quiet along the pavement. The only thing that illuminated his path was the luminosity of the moonlight, and even then, it was difficult to see. But, ever the skilled hunter, his eyes adjusted quickly, and soon enough, he found you sitting by the edge of the lake in the middle of the settlement.

Approaching slowly from behind, he took louder steps, attempting to alert you of his presence. Surprised you hadn't heard him, Daryl went to call your name but paused just short — he could hear some soft mumbling.

Usually, he would have left anyone in your situation alone, but seeing you like this broke Daryl's heart. Kneeling down next to you, he gently touched your shoulder.

"Woah!!" you startled, sharply turning your body to face whoever was there and shuffling away from the threat. Upon realising it was the archer, you sighed a sigh of relief. "Daryl…"

"Ya alrigh’ Y/N?" he started. Still kneeling, he adjusted his stance. Observing you, Daryl registered that you had earphones plugged into your ears and a goddamn walkman in your lap. “S’all this?” he questioned, gesturing towards your person.

You closed your eyes for a couple of seconds, savouring the final riff of the song being played. A small smile tugged at your lips as you gently pulled out the earbuds and hung them from your ears. Contemplating Daryl’s questions, you were reluctant to answer both.

“What are you doing here?” You deflected.

“Comin’ ta check on ya’. I want ta know what’s goin’ on with ya’. Ya refuse ta talk ta me. Ever since…” he broke off with a throat clearing. “I can tell somethin’s up.”

“Trust me, it’s nothing — ”

“Well it most definitely don’ seem like nothin’” he gruffed. This was going to be hard. And as established, you were a hard one to crack. Like him, he supposed.

Daryl sat down, legs outstretched in front of him. You sighed deeply, lost in thought. He could see you deliberating something in your mind, so he waited for you to speak.

“Here.” You suddenly declared, crawling towards him and planting yourself on the ground, leaving little space between you. You held the walkman out to him so he could see it better. Daryl was now staring at you intently. You glanced from your outstretched hand to his face. You continued, the soft rumblings of bass emitting from the next song playing through the earbuds.

“I, uh…haven’t been sleeping, so I’ve been working on this. Fixing it up, collecting tapes. Making it mine…”

You turned the device over in your hand and looked down again to observe it. You could feel Daryl’s stare burning into the side of your head.

“I get it, ya know. I can’t sleep neither. Can’t really relax in ‘ere.”

You hummed in agreement. Shaking your head slightly, you looked up towards the lake, observing the small ripples illuminated by the moon. “Music was my life. Is. I was hoping that doing this…bringing it back would occupy my mind,” you vaguely waved your hand around, “I don’t know…make it easier…”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Ya coulda’ told me ya’ were strugglin’. Ya’ have so many people here for ya’...I’m here for ya’…ya’ know that.”

You looked away from the lake and into Daryl's eyes. You could see something alight in them that you weren't sure you wanted to acknowledge just yet. Despite the happiness you'd felt when listening to the Walkman, a lump formed in your throat, and once again, that anxiousness you'd experience whenever you even contemplated opening up was brewing. But this was Daryl. Why were you suddenly feeling this way? Was it even that?

“It’s just too hard to explain…feels like I’m goin’ fucking crazy...” you mumbled.

Daryl softly placed his hand on your thigh and squeezed almost imperceptibly. Something about his touch burned.

"Ya' know, I thought I was going crazy too…" Daryl whispered, almost shyly. You couldn't break from his gaze. "Ya were gone for so long...thought I'd never see ya' again." He admitted.

A puff of air escaped your nose, and you looked down at the hand on your thigh. Memories of explosions and debris flying flashed through your mind, reminding you of screaming Daryl’s name until your throat was hoarse. Subconsciously, you fiddled with the arrowhead chain around your neck, recalling how lost you were out there all alone. Without your family. Without your best friend. Without your Daryl.

“Me too,” your voice broke. With his other hand, Daryl slowly lifted up your chin to face him again, moving his thumb tenderly across your cheek. You could sense the moment he drew his attention to the pink sizeable scar there, thumb and eyes moving to it and trailing across it as if in question.

“What happened to ya out there?” Daryl whispered, chewing his bottom lip. It took all your strength not to recoil at the question.

“So many people have died to get to where we are now. And I’m sure everyone here experienced the same shit…I’m just being selfish —”

“Ya ain’t selfish Y/N…anyone can see ya’ ain’t ya’self. I hate seeing ya’ be consumed by whatever's on ya' mind everyday. Please, talk’ ta me…” Daryl was gentle, but was as firm with his words. He continued slowly dragging his thumb across your cheek for a couple of seconds, then seemingly realised what he was doing and pulled away.

You were conflicted.

Daryl’s touch left your skin charred. Everything about him made you feel butterflies. But that, intermingling with the anxious beating of your heart was going to give you a heart attack.

Here Daryl was, insisting you talk to him. He was the closest person you’d ever been to. Here he still was, showing you his affections.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself. Daryl’s gaze softened.

“What fer?”

“For blocking you out…this whole time you’ve been here for me, wanted to be here with me and I’ve given you nothing…” You couldn’t even begin to utter the words. The anger. The shame. “I’ve seen how weary you are of this place. How much you blame yourself for things that have happened. I’m sorry for not being there for you. For not giving you anything, ever.”

A few seconds passed by Daryl in stunned silence.

“Y/N….” he whispered. You don’t know who moved first, but now your bodies were touching. “Ya are ma’ everythin’...everythin’ ya’ do, with me and for me... yer’ laugh, yer’ smile, talkin’ ta me…it’s more than I could’ve ever asked for in this life…”

You looked at him. For the first time in months, you really looked at him. It was hard to form words. As you gazed into his piercing blue eyes, yours grew blurry with unshed tears. Daryl's explored yours, trying to decipher the feeling there.

You'd never been more touched and more loved than in this moment.

Loved.

It dawned on you just how much you really loved him.…

The weight of his gaze had you looking down, discreetly wiping your eyes of such emotion with your hand. Grabbing his hand in yours, you managed to find that trust you two had shared so deeply, and allowed yourself to give in to it.

“It was really rough out there,” you began. Daryl hesitantly squeezed your hand, but once you squeezed back, he intertwined your fingers. The very act spurred you on. “This was a group of men,” you said, a fire in your eyes as you pointed to your cheek with your other hand. “It's not even what they tried to do…it's how after, there was no going back…”

Daryl didn’t utter a word. His very presence was like a beacon of warmth, fuelling the anger in your eyes. Daryl’s anger also heightened.

“I’ve never…mutilated…anyone like I did then, ever. I didn’t even know I was capable of it.”

You heard a soft grunt from Daryl.

“Now, I just have a festering anger at anyone who tries anything…it’s like I don’t care anymore. Those people at Terminus…I just wanted them all fucking dead.” You said with a jarring resolution that Daryl could nevertheless understand.

Daryl recalled the moment he saw you at Terminus. If he was scared shitless, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how you felt with the knife to your throat. But your next utterance interrupted his thoughts of that day.

“They fucking deserved it, that night in the woods…” you seethed. “But I couldn’t look at myself after. There was so much blood…it was just everywhere. I got some of them in their sleep, slit their throats, some of them woke up to me cutting em’ up…”

There was a far away look in your eyes, as if you were reliving the moments. Daryl saw goosebumps raise on your arms, even though the evening breeze was warm.

Daryl had an inkling, but he needed to know what they did. He wanted to kill the rest of them himself if they lived.

“What’d they do ta ya’?” he gritted through his teeth. His grip on your hand tightened. It was now that you broke eye contact.

“What do you think? They tied me up…touched me, left me by a tree afterwards. I managed to free myself in the night…”

Daryl gripped both of your shoulders firmly.

“They all dead?”

You nodded.

“Good.”

Daryl’s response was terse, but was filled with sad understanding, passion and something else you couldn’t quite place. You were filled with shame. Not only about what they had done to you, but the fact that you were shoving this all on Daryl too. It’s not like he could do anything about it —

“Ya thinkin’ too loud,” Daryl hummed. You turned your head a bit away from him, trying to distance yourself further in hopes to hide your embarrassment. Daryl chewed his lip. “They fuckin’ deserved wha’ was comin’.”

You inhaled a deep breath. The smell of night time filled your nostrils, with an incredibly subtle undertone of cigarette smoke and leather vest seeping in. Your lungs were filled with familiarity. It was comforting.

The warmth in your chest being ignited spurred on memories of the prison, when you and Daryl would spend nights close together in the watchtowers, talking about nothing and everything. Usually he’d be smoking a cigarette, wearing his signature vest, and the smell lingered then too.

You remembered how different you were back then. How innocent. How removed you were from the horrors of brutal killing and maiming. You never had a thirst for blood then, when someone did you wrong. Now you were harder. More cold. It concerned you.

Daryl’s hands gently rubbing your arms brought you back to him.

“I know,” you replied curtly. “But that’s not even what keeps me up…it’s like ever since we got here, my mind hasn’t been able to let go of that ‘feral-ness.’ I still think about how I got all that blood on my hands. And I can't get rid of the paranoia that something else bad is gonna happen…”

Daryl grunted in agreement. “Ya’ shouldn’t be so hard on ya’self. The fact yer’ thinking ‘bout it makes ya’ gud. And I feel paranoid too, bein’ here...but Y/N,” Daryl made you look at him.

“Nothin’s gon’ happen to ya’. Nothin bad’s gon’ happen as long as I’m with ya’. I won’ let anyone do anythin’ to ya’, alrigh’? Ya’ don’t gotta worry.”

The way he was looking at you now made a familiar fluttering erupt in your stomach that you hadn’t given yourself the privilege to truly feel. A small smile emerged on your lips. Looking into his eyes now, you noticed they were electrified with emotion. You were sure yours mirrored Daryl’s by the way he was looking at you, an equal mix of intensity and appreciation there.

Daryl drew his gaze to your eyes, down to your lips, and across to your scarred cheek. He brought his hand up, and cupped that same cheek again, touching it with a graze so gentle, he could've thought his finger and your cheek were one.

“I meant what I said before,” he whispered. The smile on your face moulded into an expression of shy curiousness as you leaned into his warm touch. “Ya’ are ma’ evry’thing…have been fer a long time.”

Somehow, Daryl’s sincerity was filled with such profound emotion, that hearing him say it was like a punch to the guts. His words winded you, rendering you almost speechless.

Before you could respond, the music in your earbuds picked up, adding to the ambiance of the moment. As if the universe was attempting to serenade the intimacy between you two, you turned up the volume, and recognised the song immediately. Smiling a big, genuine smile, you slowly stood the both of you up, placed one earbud in your ear, and the other in Daryl’s.

“Surely you know this one,” you said, a playfully soft glint in your eyes. Daryl could only look on with surprise.

The opening piano riff filled his eardrums. Of course he knew it. You moved to slowly sway with him.

🎵 I know it sounds funny but I just can’t stand the pain

Girl, I’m leaving you tomorrow

Seems to me girl you know I’ve done all I can

You see I beg stole, and I borrowed 🎵

Daryl could hear you quietly humming along. It was beautiful. You both swayed with each other as the chorus filled your ears, smiles adorning both your faces. Daryl’s hold on your hips tightened as he found more comfort in your movements, slowly caressing the spots there. Your hands tightened around his neck, bringing your faces that bit closer. Mouthing the words, you looked at Daryl. He grew the courage to sing the next verse to you.

“I wanna’ be high, so high,” he rasped. You looked at him in pure awe and something else he couldn’t pick. “I wanna be free to know the things I do are right —”

“I wanna be free-ee!” You interrupted, “Just me…oh baby…”

As the bridge in the song played, the tension between the two of you reached new heights. Your heart started racing. You could feel Daryl’s pulse also racing underneath your palms. Daryl’s pupils were almost completely dilated.

As the guitar solo played, Daryl pulled you in close, connecting his lips with yours. Immediately, your mouths melded together as if you’d kissed hundreds of times before. The kiss was so soft, yet so passionate. Your hands moved to hold Daryl’s jaw and the back of his head, and he ran his own hands up your back.

The sensual tone of the guitar matched that of the smoothness and sultriness between the two of you at that moment. It was as if the alluring quality of the solo gave you both an unwavering confidence about how each other felt.

As the chorus broke through your ears again, your mouths disconnected, and you both heaved in large breaths. You had never seen larger smiles on the other ever. Daryl gazed at you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Pulling his hand from your behind, he slowly dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, and you caressed his jawline.

You savoured the final melodies of the song. You couldn’t help yourself looking at Daryl’s smirk, leaning in to give him a few more soft pecks there. Chasing you for more as you pulled away, Daryl displayed to you the fondest expression you’d ever seen.

You let a breathy giggle escape your lips. “You’re more than I ever could’ve asked for too, D.”

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sundrop-writes · 4 months

Text

Your First Kiss With Jason Todd

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary:

Jason always thought he hated you. He did hate you.

Until he didn't.

Until his love for you ruined him in ways he couldn't even imagine.

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader. Frenemies to Lovers. Pure Angst (Hurt, No Comfort). Set during Season 3.

Word Count: 8,200

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This fic is almost entirely angst - hurt, no comfort. This fic does not have a happy ending!!! So be warned of that before you enter here. Jason and the reader are described as ‘hating’ each other, but they are more like frenemies/annoyances - they have a playful banter (at the time, even they don’t know that they like arguing because it’s sexual tension and passion for each other); the reader is completely gender neutral - the only pronouns used for the reader are you/yours; this is mostly written from Jason’s POV (which is where most of the angst comes from); Jason describes himself as a ‘zombie’ or ‘half-alive’ - but he is fully alive and has all of his mental faculties, he is just freaked out about the fact that he was resurrected; the reader does not have any meta powers, but is described as being very good at combat (this does not denote the reader’s body type); mentions of sex and some sexual themes - but there is no outright smut and no detailed descriptions of sex; mentions of negative stereotypes surrounding frat boys/frat houses - including STDs and group sex (mentioned in a negative light); mentions of Jason masturbating (and thinking about the reader while doing it); mentions of Jason’s canon trauma (being kidnapped and tortured by Deathstroke, dropped off the building); mentions of Jason being killed by the Joker (and being ressurected by Crane); mentions of the reader mourning Jason’s death; mentions of drugs and drug addiction (based around the canon storyline of the anti-fear gas); mentions of Jason’s trauma surround his mother’s drug addiction; mentions of Jason killing Hank (as in the canon); the reader is kidnapped (by Crane or someone who works for Crane) and held hostage, and later rescued by Jason; somewhat graphic descriptions of violence (Jason beating up Crane, other background instances), gory descriptions of a death toward the end (mentions of acid burns and choking on non-breathable air); major character death - the reader character does die. Like I said - no happy ending. Sorry not sorry.

A/N: This is set during Season 3 - and this does feature spoilers for Season 3 if you haven't seen Titans before. So if you wanna watch the show spoiler free, definitely avoid this fic. I was imagining this to be set around episode 6 or episode 7, before Crane's plan to use the ice cream factory is taken down by the Titans, but obviously Jason breaking away from Crane's control so early goes against the canon - so there's that. Also, if you wanna pair some music with this for something truly heartbreaking, I would highly recommend the classic Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush, or the highly underrated Colorado Sunrise by 3OH!3 (the lyrics are way more depressing than people realize, and I love it as a whump song. oomf). I also feel like the song Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny would go so well with this fic, but in like - the most devastating way. I haven't written something this cruel since I wrote Ghosting and I had so much fun doing it. You can't leave me alone with whump for too long, I turn into a monster. I need to go back to smut again quickly lmao.

...

Jason Todd was in love with you.

It was something that he hated himself for. Actually, it was one of the most infuriating, devastating facts in the world. But it was true. You were someone who was so entirely amazing. You were beautiful - literally the hottest person Jason had ever met who wasn’t photoshopped or catered to be some unrealistic daydream. You were clever and smart and strong. You could kick anybody’s ass on any day of the week and still have enough energy left to tell them how much of an idiot they were and list all of the reasons why.

And you would definitely never love Jason back. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he could ever have someone like you.

So he kept all of that stupid, idiotic love to himself. It was a secret that he had sworn to die with - and technically, he already had.

Jason tried not to linger on the very fucked up, seemingly impossible fact that he had come back from the dead. And now he was existing as some weird, fucked up zombie thing - resurrected from having his skull caved in by the Joker to do Jonathan Crane’s bidding. This definitely wasn’t what Jason would have wanted out of a renewed life - but hey: when an Arkham prisoner gives you rotten lemons.

When Jason wasn’t beating down drug dealers, stealing money, or strapping bombs to people - when he was trying his hardest not to focus on the fact that he had died and he was now living some strange half-life, reliant on Crane’s drugs, he was thinking about you. He thought about you a lot.

He hadn’t come into contact with you since his strange foray back into the land of the living. That was probably for the best. He knew that you had freshly come back to Gotham, upon Dick’s request. Nightwing had called for backup from all the ex-Titans to help end Red Hood’s reign of terror. Jason wanted to stay as far away from you as possible.

Genuinely, he didn’t want you getting caught in the crossfire of whatever Crane was planning. He wished you had stayed out of Gotham, but he knew that you were too loyal, too good not to come to the aid of the Titans when they needed you. He couldn’t reveal himself to you just for a taste of nostalgia - one last argument before you sold him down the river for good. But fuck - he thought about you a lot.

When the two of you had first met, you were the last person he ever thought that he would surrender that stupid, soft label of love to. Even months into first knowing you - he would have said that he hated you. He would have told anybody that he found you to be the most annoying person on earth.

Your relationship used to be the worst kind of dance.

Every single time that Jason opened his mouth, you said something to contradict him. To a point, he believed that you didn’t even fully stand behind the things you said - you just enjoyed arguing against him. That you did it for sport. You used every single last bit of your time and energy to get under his skin. From mocking him to calling him a fuckboy to prodding at his grammar, poking holes in his points by smugly correcting him. He always found you to be the most infuriating person in any room. But it seemed that the more frustrated he got with you, the more cool headed you remained.

He tried to mock you back, and you shrugged it off. Every time he became visibly annoyed in your presence - you giggled. He wanted to strangle you.

And it was one fated day that he realized the line between heat fueled by frustration and heat fueled by lust truly weren’t that different.

…

“Jason! I thought I smelled you coming down the hall!”

Jason groaned when he heard you make this comment.

He thought that for once, he could have some peace to train alone - but it appeared that he would have no such luck. You were already in the training room, holding a long bo-staff as you ran some drills. Apparently, you were eager to exercise your mouth too - already whipping off clever insults the minute that Jason entered the room.

When all he could muster was a glare in your direction, you let out a giggle. His blood boiled.

“Between that god awful Axe body wash and that alcohol based aftershave that you like to drown yourself in, you smell like a walking frat house.” You continued, blabbering on even though Jason had made no efforts to engage you. At least not yet. “Just throw in some Busch Light and weed, and I might be able to catch gonorrhea just from the stench.”

That was the nerve that hooked Jason into the conversation. First of all - he smelled fucking delightful. He always made hygiene one of his personal priorities. He was absolutely not one of those guys with crusty, sweaty balls. And second of all - he was not one of those STD spreading manwhores. He was clean in all senses. He always used a condom.

“Sounds like you’ve got experience with that.” Jason quipped back.

He looked to you for some kind of reaction, some inkling that he had gotten under your skin even a fraction of the way that you did his. His movements were rough with annoyance as he began wrapping his knuckles with tape so he could have a few rounds with the heavy bag - mostly out of a need to pound out his frustration on something. He was getting too angered with your presence in the room and not wanting to snap and take it out on you. (He already had enough on his record with Bruce, and despite popular opinion - he was trying to improve.)

When you weren’t quick to respond, Jason continued.

“You used to letting frat boys all over you? You seem like the type of person who would enjoy a good, sloppy frat house train. Twenty guys, one after the other, none of them knowing your name, just because you’re so needy for a good fuck.”

Jason grinned, feeling like he had won this conversation with the essence of shock alone.

But no. As always, you remained cool. You grinned right back at him, stepping toward him, crowding into his personal space as you said your next words in a low, smooth voice.

“Sounds like you spend an awful lot of time picturing me running a train.” You smirked. “Is that why you’re always so late getting up in the morning? You wake up and the first thing you do is get a hand on your dick, imagining me getting fucked by a lineup of guys? Probably just wishing that one of them was you.”

Jason’s face fell flat.

You were so strikingly confident in your words that it made his stomach twist. Facing him down, speaking such filthy words without flinching - embarrassment and heat collided inside of him. Even more so with what you did next.

You put a hand out in front of your crotch, mimicking the motions of jacking off while you mocked him in a broken voice.

“Oh, oh fuck Y/N! Come on! Take my sloppy, frat house cock!”

You then mocked a whiny series of moans that must have been Jason’s fake orgasm - and while Jason’s insides bubbled with a confusing heat, you quickly dissolved off into laughter.

“Shut up.” Jason snapped, forcing his eyes down to focus on the process of taping himself up - praying that you wouldn’t see the heat that had spread across his cheeks. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“Only when I’m with you.” You replied, blowing him a kiss - to which he stuck his middle finger up at you.

He was eternally thankful when you went back to your own training in silence, only taking occasional glances up in his direction.

…

After that point, Jason had to admit to himself that he was attracted to you, at the very least. He could no longer deny that you were insanely attractive; you were a very, very hot person. And somehow, even past your annoying habits, he was being drawn into the orbit of your gorgeous looks and your wonderfully cocky, filthy mouth.

But he still hated you. He definitely still hated you.

He hated it even more when you became right - and you did become the object of some of his more heated fantasies. He became downright annoyed at the times he had his hand around his cock and imagined himself hate fucking you - imagined forcing every cocky retort out of your mouth, imagining you breathless and needy beneath him, begging for more with every hard push of his hips.

He hated how everything changed after Doctor Light.

Jason wasn’t thinking about your stupid beautiful cocky mouth after that. His mind was full of glass and he was being shredded from the inside out. He came home broken. After everything that happened with Deathstroke and Doctor Light - he was some fragile bird; some chewed up, used, pitiful thing. He didn’t have the energy to fight you anymore, not even for sport.

So after he was rescued, still floating in numbness, he didn’t know what to do when you burst into his room unannounced. You practically shoved the door off its hinges, and stormed across the room toward him - tears hot in your eyes. You pounded curled fists against his chest, screaming at the top of your lungs. Half of your words were static in his ears, but the tone of your voice pierced through his heart like an arrow. You called him stupid, asking where in his empty head he had gotten the idea to go off by himself.

Jason didn’t have it in him to fight you. So he broke down.

He felt like the world’s biggest idiot for crying in front of you. But his throat was tight and he choked on the tears - he was too tired. He just couldn’t hold them back. He screamed back, and asked you to lay off. To get off his fucking back.

You looked shocked. Like you had swallowed a piece of glass.

You surprised him when you uncurled your fists and wrapped the most tender, gentle hands around his back, and for the first time since he had known you - you embraced him in a hug. He was weak and he needed it more than he was willing to admit, so he let you. He sobbed against your neck, his own cries too loud that he missed the timid sound of your apology.

That wasn’t the only time you surprised him that week.

He knew it was because he was some broken little bird, but you started taking care of him. You brought him plates of food without being asked, and when he attempted to shove them away - you refused. You told him to eat before you had to ‘shove it down his fucking throat’.

You didn’t mock him. You didn’t correct him. And you surprised him even more when you turned the sharpness of your tongue on the others when they tried attacking Jason. They accused him of planting booze in Hank’s room or drawing crosses on Rachel’s mirror to fuck with her, among other things. And you popped veins in your neck going on a winding rant about how stupid and baseless their accusations were.

Jason wasn’t sure if you knew it, but you jumping to his defense wrapped him in a blanket of protection that he had never before felt. It was so entirely strange, but welcomed coming from you. Especially because he knew that it was genuine. He knew that you didn’t have any ulterior motives for doing this - for some reason, you just wanted to help him.

When you extended an invitation toward him to come with you as the group dispersed, torn apart by Dick’s nasty, festering secret - Jason felt welcomed by you. He knew that the dynamic between the two of you was changing at a breakneck speed, and he had to embrace it. He found himself eager to follow the weird, newly developing kinship that he had with you rather than wanting to stay in the empty coldness of the Tower with a brooding Dick.

From there, it was really difficult for Jason to pin down the exact moment that his feelings transitioned toward you from casual lust to something more. He couldn’t tell exactly when it turned into that panic-inducing, ‘oh my god, I’m fucked’ feeling of being in love. After leaving San Francisco, during the entirety of the time that the two of you were in Gotham together, your relationship remained completely platonic.

It was a few short weeks spent kicking ass as the best vigilante duo the city had ever seen, but there wasn’t a single moment Jason could point to where the two of you lit up with that romantic spark. It wasn’t some romcom bullshit come to life. It was just the two of you being friendly for once. The two of you helping each other survive.

Back then - Jason wanted you, badly. Even if he didn’t know just how badly, he wasn’t going to fuck up the whole dynamic just to get laid. He felt safe with you. He kicked ass with you. He was good with you. And during that short time - he was happy. So he wasn’t going to do anything to risk that happiness. Happiness was too rare for him. So why the hell would he try putting the moves on you, scare you away, and fuck it all up?

…

A little slice of that happiness came in the form of Hal’s Diner. It was a place in downtown Gotham, open twenty four hours, and you and Jason had gotten into the habit of stopping there after your patrols.

The two of you would kick some ass - break the legs of some drug dealers, make sure that women got home safe if they were walking late at night, keep the streets a little safer. And then you would change out of your patrol outfits and head to the diner, just as the sun was rising over the scummy streets of Gotham. You would get breakfast and Jason would get dinner. He would steal one of your eggs and you would take half his burger, and you would always comment about him putting way too much ketchup on his plate.

It was harmony.

“You know, every time I see you make a grown man cry, it brings me such intense joy.” Jason grinned as he said this, reminiscing about a beautiful moment from earlier in the night.

He spoke about it in the same manner that someone might reminisce about seeing a relative or a cute puppy. But this was natural for the two of you - since you had taken up vigilantism as a duo, violence was a sweet art for the two of you.

“Well, if he would have left that girl alone the first time I asked, I wouldn’t have broken his arm.” You shrugged, speaking very casually about it yourself.

You then picked a piece of bacon up off your plate and took a bite, grinning at Jason fondly. You did appreciate it when he complimented your skills.

Jason chuckled.

“You know, it is nice to see you using your powers for good instead of evil.” He commented.

“My powers?” You parroted back, your mouth half busy with chewing, your words slightly muffled.

You didn’t have any metahuman powers, so this comment did leave you slightly confused.

“Yeah.” He nodded, entirely confident in the statement he had to follow. “Your endless amount of energy to harass people and be endlessly annoying. The powers you used to spend all your time using on me.”

“You used to deserve it.” You were quick with your tongue as usual, not missing a beat with this statement.

Jason’s only rebuttal was to pick up a french fry - one not doused in ketchup - and throw it at your head. You flinched slightly when it bounced off your forehead - but when it landed in your lap, you easily picked it up and put it in your mouth, not thinking twice about doing so as you tossed Jason a wicked grin.

That. That must have been the moment.

That was the moment he realized that he was truly in love with you. You grinning at him from across the table, your smile lighting up your whole face, playing around with him like he actually made you happy. Like he could spend the rest of his life making you happy.

That’s why it hurt so much more when your phone buzzed on the table a few minutes later. When you told him that it was the Titans - Gar in trouble. That’s why it hurt so fucking much when you left.

Jason knew, in hindsight, that he should have gone with you. But he flailed like a rabbit caught in a snare, and rather than just agreeing with you, he felt the trap tightening around him, and he opted to chew off his own foot rather than simply letting you help him free.

He stupidly argued that it was some test from Dick. That the Titans could deal with their own problems. Jason knew that deep down, he was still tender from everything that had happened - Dick dropping him, even by accident. The accusations, the secrets. The rejection. He felt like he was laying down a line - he was letting you make a choice.

Him or the Titans.

But it shouldn’t have been a choice. It was Gar. Jason should have stood by his friend. He should have gone with you.

Deep down, Jason feared that if he did go with you - the Titans wouldn’t want him back. He feared another cutting rejection. They would simply bench him again, they wouldn’t even need him to help save Gar. They wouldn’t want him to help. He was useless, after all. He was careless and stupid. That was why he needed you to choose him. To stay.

That was what his mind was screaming out as you looked at him, disappointment flooding your eyes as you questioned him about Gar, about going back to the Titans.

Stay. He silently begged. Pick me.

And watching you snatch up your jacket in a huff and get up from the table, your food barely touched - his eyes boring into your back as you retreated - it was like having his heart carved out of his chest. And because he was so fucked up, he just sat there. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He didn’t chase you.

He let you go.

Having you suddenly disappear from his life was like missing a limb. Jason was constantly aching around your non-presence, constantly missing you. He felt torn up from the inside out, wondering if his frayed nerve endings would ever heal themselves. When he went to Donna’s funeral, he stared at you from across the tarmac - telling himself that if you even so much as glanced in his direction, he would cross that sickly one hundred foot black sea and talk to you. He would make the leap and apologize.

But you were fettered and stubborn and you kept your head straight. You knew it was the ultimate punishment not to acknowledge him. So the moment that the plane took off, Jason shoved on his helmet and sped off on his bike.

He easily became numb after that.

He went back to Bruce - to lay low and lick his wounds, or because it was the only place he knew, he wasn’t sure. He tried to be a Robin that wasn’t with you. It didn’t work. He felt more broken than ever. It was cheesy, pathetic bullshit - but he talked about you in therapy. Leslie encouraged him to reach out to you, but every time Jason’s fingers hovered over your contact in his phone, his hands shook, and all he remembered was the look of pure scorn you had given him before you snatched up your things and left the diner that day.

He thought of you as he suited up to go after the Joker. He considered how easy it would be for the two of you to take down the stupid clown together - how flawlessly the two of you worked as a team.

Jason thought of you as he drew his last breath, soaked in blood and struggling past the world-ending pain. He wondered, in a haze, if you were warm in your bed in The Tower while he was pressed into the cold ground, taunted by the laughter that rung in his ears.

…

Jason didn’t know how hard you cried for him when you heard the news of his death.

You wouldn’t have dared to say that the hole in the middle of your chest was caused by love - caused by the heartbreak of a lover being stolen. But you certainly felt robbed when you heard that the Joker had killed him. You seethed and you heavily considered marching toward Gotham to seek revenge.

You knew that Dick was angry with Bruce for finally giving in to what the Joker wanted and killing him. For finally ending their sick, twisted game. But when you found out - you were glad that the clown was dead. You wrapped one of Jason’s stolen shirts around your pillow, and you slept a bit easier at night.

…

Jason knew that he should have left town.

Crane claimed that Red Hood was going to be the next Batman - that he was going to be something the Bat never could. That he was going to actually keep the streets safe. But so far, all Jason had done was steal, kill, terrorize, torture. Crane spoke of omelets and breaking eggs - pigs and bacon, and ‘marketing’ himself to the public. But truly, it never made any real sense to Jason.

Jason knew that now, he was the type of man lurking in the night whose arm you would have broken if he was lingering too closely to the vulnerable. And you would have been right for doing so.

Jason was tired. He felt lost - directionless. He was getting tired of Crane’s bullshit. He missed you. But he knew that he couldn’t just go running back to you. You likely wouldn’t have accepted him back into your life if he did.

When Crane called him in that night, wanting to discuss ‘the game plan’ - Jason was worn. His patience for all of it was already wearing thin, and what happened next - it truly caused him to snap.

Jason showed up in full gear, wearing the costume of an alias he no longer believed in; foolishly dressed up as someone he had truly begun to resent. He was holding his helmet in hand, his heavy boots clunking on the floor as he dodged around Crane’s egghead lackeys - a random group of people who were working to convert the anti-fear gas into a larger batch. He knew that they were aiming to get more and more people in the city hooked; if Jason hadn’t abandoned his morals in this new life, he might have cared more about the consequences.

Instead, he made a B-line for Crane, who was typing away at something on the computer.

“Jason, my boy!” Crane grinned at him, giving a false, performative grin over his shoulder. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“What do you want?” Jason asked, his tone flat.

He was far too tired of Crane to engage in more word play or stupid riddles.

“Never one for pleasantries, are you?” Crane chuckled.

Jason didn’t offer him a reply - seemingly confirming his theory with this simple act.

Truthfully, he wasn’t. He wasn’t feeling very pleasant today. He hadn’t felt very pleasant any day since he had been so rudely pulled from the morgue and zombified to do someone else’s bidding against his will. Being an undead puppet didn’t really make a person all that pleasant.

Crane reached into the pocket of his oddly quaint grandpa sweater and pulled something out - a small glass vial, containing some clear liquid. It looked harmless - like water. But Jason knew Crane, and he knew that whatever it was must have been entirely dangerous if Crane was carrying around such a small dose of it.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, giving the vial a small shake, jostling the liquid inside to emphasize his point.

Jason hesitated before he shook his head in the negative. He hated to appear clueless and stupid around such an intelligent man, but he didn’t want to guess and be wrong. He knew that being misinformed around Crane was dangerous. But being cocky and pretending to know more than Crane was even more dangerous.

“This is a very highly concentrated form of liquid Methadone.” Crane explained. “It’s a highly addictive substance. And I think it’s going to give the mass market version of your formula that little extra kick that it needs, ya know? Keep the people coming back for more!”

He let out a bright chuckle, as though he was talking about a cleaning product that was marketed on an infomercial or some kind of great recipe for soup. That was one of the things that scared Jason the most about Crane - his ability to talk about life changing, deadly things with such jarring enthusiasm. He truly thought of bringing people their worst nightmares and their most painful deaths as ‘beautiful work’.

“What about it?” Jason prodded quietly.

He knew that Crane hadn’t called him here just to brag about a new idea to add something to the formula. He needed Jason for something.

Jason just hoped that he wasn’t looking to use him as a guinea pig again. He would likely rather die again than go down the path of heavy drugs. One thing he had vowed - he wouldn’t end up like his mother.

“Well, you see, my boy, that’s where you come in.” Crane grinned at him. “Due to its highly addictive qualities, Methadone is also a highly regulated substance. But because I am the wonderfully well-connected man that I am, I happen to know that there is a very large stash of it just sitting there, ripe for the taking, in this quaint little building uptown.”

Jason’s gut stirred with suspicion.

“Where uptown?” He asked.

“Well, it’s just-” Crane stuttered, and then sighed, deciding to get it out and over with. “The Wayne Memorial Cancer Research Facility.”

Jason glared at him.

“But see, it’s fine! Because I happen to know someone who knows their way around the Wayne Tech security systems very well. So Red Hood breaks in there, gets me my-”

“No.” Jason said flatly, before he turned and started to walk away. “Find somebody else. We’re done.”

Crane had threatened to replace him before. Crane had no-so-subtly threatened to kill him alongside being replaced. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Jason would be better off dead. Maybe Crane would find out that Jason was irreplaceable after all. Maybe Jason was a dirty, seedy criminal shaped by life for only one thing: ruining the lives of others. If Jason couldn’t do that, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

But he wasn’t going to fucking do this.

Killing was one thing. Stealing from drug dealers and mobsters was another. What he had done to Hank had crossed too many lines - but it didn’t even begin to approach the lines that this crossed.

Stealing from a facility that Thomas and Martha had set up when Bruce was just a child, shitting all over their legacy, using skills that Bruce had taught him in order to do it? That was too far. Jason couldn’t say that he had morals anymore, but he still had that voice of common decency in the back of his head yelling at him to stop it. Maybe it was your voice, correcting him at every turn the way you used to.

He should listen to that voice.

He should leave town.

“Hold on, hold on there, Jaybird!” Crane called after him.

The pure annoyance that the nickname caused was the only thing that stopped Jason. He considered turning around and shooting Crane just to shut him up.

“See, I think you forget how this works.” The man went off again - talking in that humming tone he always used that made Jason’s ears numb, made his brain switch off. “Every loyal dog gets a treat. A little motivation to get that Pavlovian mind barking in the right direction.”

Jason turned back around then.

“Nothing you say ever makes any fucking sense.” He barked out, ready to leave Crane with these as his last remarks before he left Gotham forever.

But then Crane tapped at a few things on his keyboard and pulled something up on the monitor - a dark, grainy video feed that had Jason squinting his eyes and walking closer to get a better look.

When Jason was able to truly take in the scene - his stomach dropped.

It was you.

You were sitting alone in some anonymous, concrete warehouse - probably in the industrial district of Gotham, if Jason had to guess. Crane didn’t like to keep his insurance policies too far away, he liked to play it close to the vest. You were tied to a chair, duct tape tight over your mouth, very much there against your will. You were looking straight ahead, with the camera angled down from the top corner of the room. Even through the grainy, black and white footage, Jason could see the wetness of tears streaking down your face.

You were terrified.

Jason’s helmet clattered to the floor, slipping from his grip as the shock overtook his system.

For the first time in weeks, fighting through the numbness of the drugs and the hazy shock of his new half-life - he was terrified too. Then he was angry. Rage bubbled up inside of him like a sharp, acidic bile.

“What the fuck have you done?” Jason growled out, the anger setting his jaw so tight that the words could barely escape between his teeth.

“I told you - every loyal dog gets a treat.” Crane said, a barely contained glee filtering through his voice as he peered over Jason’s shoulder at your weeping face on the screen.

He clapped a large hand on Jason’s shoulder, and Jason felt himself nearly choke on his own tongue - so swollen with anger that it barely fit in his mouth.

“So, go fetch, doggie.” Crane continued. “Go get me what I need. Otherwise, that sweet little treat of yours is gonna play dead.”

Crane leaned over and whispered those last words into Jason’s ear - and that was what truly caused him to snap.

In a flash, Jason grabbed the hand that was on his shoulder, whipped Crane around - there was a loud crack as Jason broke Crane’s arm. The egghead types who were working on the formula all paused; some of them gasped or hid behind things, but none of them were brave enough to intervene. Jason shoved Crane’s face into the monitor, cracking it out like a spider’s web but never fully obscuring the image of that dark, cold warehouse - the place where you were alone and terrified.

He twisted Crane’s broken arm, making a sound like glass grinding in on itself, and the man let out a howl.

“I think you forget how this works.” Jason barked at him, his voice so dark with rage that it almost sounded like he was wearing Red Hood’s voice modulator even though his helmet was on the floor at Crane’s feet. “When dogs get pissed off - they bite.”

He twisted the injury again, and Crane let out another bitter howl.

Jason demanded to know where you were, and Crane squeaked out an address. It was in the industrial district, so it checked out in Jason’s mind. It didn’t seem like a trap or a false answer to waste his time.

Jason shoved the pathetic, useless man to the ground, kicked him in the gut for good measure, and then leaned down to grab his helmet before shoving it on. He would need it in case Crane had anybody stationed there, guarding you.

Crane shouted something at him as he walked away, but Jason was barely paying attention - now very singular minded on his mission toward you.

“You have to learn to play by the rules, Red!” Crane choked out. “You won’t like how this ends! I made you! I fucking made you!”

…

Jason was surprised to find the building empty. No guards, seemingly no bombs, no gas canisters. At first, he thought it really was a trick, a misdirect to waste his time. But when he had just about given up hope of finding you, searching one of the back most rooms that used to serve as overflow storage for Ace Chemicals - he found you. Concrete and anonymous, some of the beams having eroded away in places from improper chemical storage.

When you saw him stalking toward you - his gun drawn, heavy boots thudding against the floor, modulator puffing out heavy, mechanical breaths - you let out a terrified whimper past the duct tape and more tears flowed freely down your face.

Jason felt a twinge of guilt. Of course. You had no clue it was him.

Perhaps he could get away with the mercy of never revealing himself to you. He could keep his mask on, release you, drop you back off with the Titans and then leave town. But eventually, Dick would tell you who he was.

At the very least, he could give you the comfort of seeing a familiar face after the hell you had been through. You were wearing a sweatshirt and simple cotton pants, and running shoes - it looked like you had been plucked off the street during a jogging session. He could only imagine how much Crane’s lackeys had scared you.

Once he was confident that the area was secure, he holstered his gun and then reached up, removing the face mask from his helmet and tossing it aside.

“Hey, hey, it’s me.” He told you - attempting to be gentle and soothing in his voice.

He approached you slowly, not wanting you to be scared as he reached to his belt for a knife - only with the intention to cut the ropes around your torso, wrists, and ankles.

He watched your expression as you flashed through a range of emotions - deep confusion, a bit of relief, sadness, and then strangely - burning anger. You glared at him with the most intense rage he had ever seen from you - more intense even than the day you had stormed into his room and called him stupid and suicidal for going after Doctor Light without backup.

Jason was slightly afraid of the lecture that would come next, but nonetheless, he knelt beside you and began cutting you free.

The minute that one of your hands was free, you reached up and ripped the duct tape off your mouth. You took only a fraction of a second to wince in pain from the tender skin of your lips being disturbed before you began verbally tearing into him.

“Jason Todd!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, so loudly that Jason was sure some of the edges of the corroded concrete pebbled off and fell down just from this. “Jason fucking Todd! I should have known you had something to do with this!”

“Wh-?”

Before Jason could question your odd choice of words or even recognize it as an accusation, you raised your other freshly free hand and slapped him squarely across the cheek - it was a hard, skull-shaking clatter. It had Jason dizzy, falling back onto his ass and dropping the knife before he could finish cutting the ropes around your legs.

“Fucking ow!” Jason griped, reaching up to grab his now very red cheek.

“You are such an asshole! Of all the completely idiotic, stupid things you have ever done-”

“I didn’t fucking kidnap you! Okay? I didn’t do shit!” Jason quickly argued back, finally now realizing that you thought he had put you here in the first place. “I’m here to rescue you!” He said each of these words slowly, looking you in the eyes, hoping that his point would get across more firmly this way.

There was a tense moment as you stared back at him with your jaw locked. It was likely that if your feet hadn’t still been tied, you would have run away - or kicked him. Jason was thankful that you couldn’t do either at the moment.

“Why?” You asked, finally breaking the tension.

“What?” Jason gaped.

This was the last thing he had been expecting.

He was saving you - why were you questioning him?

“Why are you ‘rescuing’ me?” You asked, taunting his phrasing of it with a mocking tone and large air quotes. He now regretted freeing your hands. “So you can bargain me off to Dick for ransom money? So you can put a bomb in my chest?”

You said the last part with intense disdain, tears dancing in your eyes.

So you did know what a monster he was.

He was surprised that you hadn’t hit him harder.

Jason heaved a sigh. He reached over and picked up the knife, very slowly, very tentatively resuming cutting the ropes on your legs to free you.

“I’m just freeing you so that you can be free. That’s it.” He said quietly, defeat lacing through every inch of his voice. “You don’t deserve this.”

He cut the last rope and folded the knife, sticking it back in his belt. He stood up then and caught a glimpse of your face - you were wearing the most complex expression he had ever seen. Perhaps confusion, perhaps anger. Maybe somewhere deep in your eyes - hurt.

He turned and moved to leave, hoping you would simply follow him out of the confusing maze of the building and he wouldn’t have to drag you out kicking and screaming.

“That’s not an answer.” You told him, your tone sharp and certain - the same tone you always used to correct him.

Jason whipped back around then, heaving a sigh as he looked at you - standing in the middle of the room now, arms folded over your chest, glaring at him on the spot. Cocky and so sure about yourself. Too damn certain and immobile in your points. Infuriating.

“Why the fuck do you have to make everything so damn complicated?” Jason shot back, annoyance and dread tight in every inch of him. “Why do you have to interrogate me about every damn thing that I do?”

“Because you make stupid ass decisions when I don’t.” You easily fired back. “Now tell me: why are you doing this?”

“Because I wanted to.” Jason huffed.

“Why?” You prodded again.

He let out another hot huff, and you didn’t let it go.

“Come on Jason!” You shouted, increasing in volume as you became more frustrated with his lack of an answer. “You didn’t just develop a conscience all of a sudden! Why did you feel the need to suddenly drop everything and come to my rescue? What makes me different than Hank? What makes me different than-?”

It was the annoyance grinding on him. It was a combination of your nagging voice, the lack of drugs in his system for the first time in weeks. The rawness of the world ragging on his last good nerve. The sound of your voice putting him in line - exactly where he was supposed to be. The way you reminded him of the truth now more than ever.

“Because I’m in love with you!” Jason shouted.

It was almost… angry. It was a declaration that hit you like a whip - more like an insult than something warm and kind. It wasn’t made of sweetness, like some moment from a film with a gentle piano riff wrapped around it. It was real - made of the haunting kind of passion that kept Jason awake at night.

Your eyes widened. Jason’s breathing stilled as he waited for you to react - to say something.

“Oh.” Your voice cracked around this syllable, and your eyes danced with more tears.

Jason felt his own heart crack apart inside of his chest, more terror flooding him.

He had died with the secret because he had never wanted to live up to the embarrassing vulnerability of confessing it. In the deepest part of his mind, he had lived this horror a thousand times. Him finally creeping out onto the edge of oblivion - speaking those words. Confessing. And then you stabbing him in the heart, rejecting him.

The reality of it ripped through him so much harder than it ever had in his nightmares.

Any last tiny piece of his soul that had survived being murdered by the Joker had just been shattered by you.

“Yeah. Fucking oh.” Jason echoed back, his own tears clutching at his throat.

Seeing him with that naked vulnerability dancing behind his eyes - it reminded you of the same person who came back from being kidnapped by Doctor Light. It reminded you of the real Jason you had gotten to know.

In that moment, it all came crashing toward you. You gasped harshly as you could barely breathe around it.

That hole in your chest had been shaped like a lover - it had been shaped like him. Filled with the pain of letting him get hurt, leaving him alone in Gotham to be murdered by the Joker. Filled with the doubt and confusion of never knowing what could have been between the two of you if you had chased those flirtations a little bit farther.

And now, he was standing right here in front of you, somehow perfectly alive and well - and there was only one possible thing you could do.

“Jason.” You gasped out his name, unable to fathom more words.

Before he could move, you reached out and grabbed both sides of his face, one of them still singed with a burning ache where you had slapped him so hard - and you pulled him into a kiss, hard.

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t dainty or smooth like some Hollywood love confession - it was hungry. Bordering on feral as you both fought to consume more of the other person, bleeding out little moans and fighting for breath past each other’s lips. Jason’s hands rushed to embrace you, wrapping around your back and grabbing a needy, possessive handful of your ass while you kept your grip tight on his face, keeping his face forcefully close to your own as you devoured his mouth.

You felt some of his tears escape - such a rush of emotions making him raw and unable to hold them back, and you moaned pitifully into his mouth as he wetness slipped underneath your palms. Whatever it was - his pain, his pleasure; you would take it. He was all yours now.

…

Far off, on the other side of Gotham, Crane chuckled quietly to himself as he watched the scene unfold. He had pulled up the camera feed on a separate tablet, seeing as Jason had used his head to crack the monitor. With his broken arm bound in a temporary sling, he used his one good hand to pull something out of a drawer - a remote with a single button.

“For these violent delights have violent ends,” He recited to himself, still grinning widely as he looked at the two lovers in the grainy, black and white footage. “And in their triumph, die like fire and powder. Which as they kiss, consume. Even the sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness, if the taste confounds the appetite.” Crane poised his finger on the button. “Therefore, love moderately.”

He pressed down, and dissolved into more epic laughter as he watched what came next.

…

You were only human, and you could only kiss Jason for a few minutes before your brain demanded oxygen. As much as you hated to pull away from the sweet, bruising sting of his lips, you forced yourself back and immediately took in a sharp breath that turned into a rolling pant - Jason let out a needy whine in protest.

With his arms holding you so securely and the dizzying heat now flowing through you - you almost didn’t catch it. But it was there, in the background, something steadily present that wasn’t there before.

Beeping. A small, electronic beeping.

“Do you hear that?” You asked Jason, squinting your eyes with confusion and looking around, trying to find the source of the noise.

He did hear it.

“Fuck.” Jason mumbled.

Panic flooded him. The whole thing had been a trap.

He pulled away from you hesitantly and grabbed his mask up off the ground, snapping it back on.

“We have to go. Now.” He told you, his voice now sharp and robotic through the voice filter as he grabbed your wrist and began dragging you away - you became limp to his direction for once and simply followed, fear tight in your gut once again.

Jason didn’t want to consider the possibilities, but he knew it could be anything from a large bomb, meant to tear you to shreds, to a large dose of fear gas waiting to be deployed. And he didn’t have an antidote at the moment. He needed to get you out of the building and transport you to safety.

When the two of you came to a door - one of the many that Jason had passed through on his way in - it snapped shut in Jason’s face. It was on some kind of mechanical locking system, that much was apparent. Jason rushed forward, trying to pry it open - but it was welded steel, and it wouldn’t budge.

Jason heard more slamming - more metal forcing itself shut on the same locking system.

“Jason?” You croaked, that unsure terror back in your voice again. Something so rare for you. You were looking to him for answers. You were looking to him to rescue you.

Overhead, the last bits of light were shut out - glimpses of the street lights outside - as thick metal shudders collapsed down over the windows. The room was sealing itself shut, becoming air tight.

“Stand back.” Jason told you, not waiting to see if you followed the instruction before he pulled out one of his guns and began shooting at the door’s heavy metal hinges. He knew it was futile and he feared that one of the bullets might ricochet off and hit you, but he didn’t have many options left.

Then he heard it. The gentle hissing of gas being released into the air.

Jason was naive to have hoped that it was Crane’s classic Fear Gas - that would have been a merciful walk in the park compared to what he had planned for you. Betraying Jonathan Crane meant that Jason had to be truly punished.

Jason turned to you, wrapping his arms around you, as if trying to shield you from the air itself - but it was too late. You began coughing and struggling to breathe, and Jason looked on with confusion as his chest twisted with guilt.

With his helmet on, he felt nothing. For the first few moments, he didn’t even understand what was going on as you gasped for air, struggling to form a word as you choked on each breath. Jason had no clue what the substance was or how he could fix it, looking on in horror as thick fog clouded around your ankles - your eyes bulging out of your head as you struggled for oxygen.

“Y/N?” Jason gasped, holding you by both shoulders as you became weaker and leaned on him. “Y/N?”

You couldn’t answer him.

You continued to wheeze, your breath hitching against your throat harshly. As the fog reached up to touch your face, it left angry, blistering marks in your skin. Unlike Jason, you had no armor to protect yourself - and somehow, Crane had turned the air itself acidic. Your eyes became wrecked with bloody red streaks and your face swelled as you continued to choke.

Jason’s insides screamed, but he felt too still.

As more of the fog touched you, some of the marks on your neck and your cheek blistered more and opened up, bleeding out pinkish bubbling puss as Jason continued to hold you - he didn’t know what else to do.

All he could do was hold you.

A harsh foam seeped out of your mouth as you choked on your last half-breath, and Jason felt a stinging pain consuming him - he wasn’t sure if it was the acidic fog finally breaching through his clothing, or the biting pain of having you limp in his arms - dead, as he huddled there on the floor.

“Come on.” Jason wept, steaming up the inside of his helmet as he recycled back his own breath now. He reached up to your cheek, accidentally skimming off a layer of your marred skin with his gloved thumb as he tried to wipe away some of the teary blood that had leaked from your eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Wake up.”

Jason simply wept. And he held you.

As he looked at the camera feed, Crane smiled.

“This is what happens when you don’t play by the rules, Red.”

...

A/N: SOOOO obviously this ending leaves us with a lot of questions - did Jason survive? I think this can be interpreted one of two ways: one, Jason did live. He managed to escape somehow, and he had scars all over his body from the acidic fog, and he enacted a very vicious, bloody, torturous revenge on Crane before going into hiding forever (or before using Red Hood to give actual justice to innocent people who needed it, his scars always a reminder of who he lost). Or - he sat there in shock and eventually choked to death as well. Or he pulled the whole 'my life is not worth living anymore' thing and just took off his helmet on purpose. So you can imagine that either of those things happened next.

Also, if you didn't catch it (or, if you're not a Saw person) - this situation was heavily inspired by the final plot twist trap in Saw X. I love the acidic fog, and I feel like Crane could be a trap guy. The Titans version of Crane could be good friends with John, imo.

Also, if you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

#sundrop writes #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x gn!reader #titans fanfiction #dc titans #titans x reader #dc titans fanfiction

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seeingivy · 11 months

Text

fearless

satoru gojo x f!reader

in which satoru makes you a little more fearless

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

an: no one will stop me from writing satoru one shots based on taylor swift songs. no one.

You watch the manager get in her car, waving her goodbye as you sit on the bench. You pull out your phone, shooting fast text messages to all of your friends. It was time for this godforsaken night to be over.

satoru. favor pls pls pls.

beg :P

i was on a date but i got stood up. i need a ride back home and shoko has night shift :0

alsoooo….the restaurant closed and i’m kinda standing alone in the rain :(

wtf. address. omw now.

faster. im freezing to death as you speak.

stfu.

You can feel the rain coming down harder as time goes on and you huddle under the wall of the building. You’re trying to avoid getting wet or contracting hypothermia in the twenty minutes it will take Satoru to get here.

The rain is…surprisingly refreshing. You can see puddles forming in the divots of the pavement, the glow of the sign overhead reflecting in them. The air smells clean, the streetlights making the entire road glow. If your date had actually showed up, it could make for a very special memory, like the Notebook or the Titanic. You could walk in the rain, hand in hand getting drenched and jumping in the puddles.

See. This was your problem. You curse your sweet little romantic heart in moments like this. It would kill you one day. The real world is not like your romance novels. Or your favorite movies. Or the songs you love to listen to.

In the real world, people don’t respond to your texts, they leave you stranded at a restaurant in the middle of a god damn monsoon. People don’t ask you on dates, or spill coffee on you in restaurants, or stay in love with you after years of dating.

You shake your head, dispelling the thoughts from your mind. You’re not going to think about that tonight.

You see a car pull into the parking lot and recognize it immediately. The black car has music blaring from it, the front bumper entirely gone. When you told Satoru he needed to get his driving under control since he’s driving two kids around all the time, all he said was “hot girls can’t park” in response.

Satoru smacks the door shut, an umbrella in his hand. You watch him run over, noting that he was in a fancier outfit than usual. He pulls you under the umbrella, the two of you standing closely underneath it.

“Well, there’s hardly a point for that now.” you say, looking up at the umbrella.

“You could have checked the weather forecast and kept an umbrella with you.”

“Victim blaming is a horrible look on you, Satoru Gojo.”

He laughs, rolling his eyes as he secures his arm around you, leading you back to the car.

“I’m glad to see your horrible night has done nothing to kill your attitude problem.”

You ignore the comment, ducking into the car. It’s nice and toasty, the heater being cranked to the highest setting. Satoru runs to the other side, jumping into the car as well. He backs out of the parking lot, the two of you heading home. The two of you drive in silence for some time, the only sound being Satoru’s music blasting from the stereo.

“So…you were on a date?”

“Well, he didn’t come. So no, I wasn’t on a date.”

“Shut up. You’re so annoying.”

You smile, putting your hands under your thighs to warm them.

“But actually. You’re dating again, Y/N?”

“Trying to. Figured it was time to get back out there and all.” you whisper, the car enveloping in silence again. Your head mulls over the events of the night again.

You got ready. You took out your nice curling iron, spent an hour on your makeup, and took out your best party dress. All to sit in the restaurant eating the free bread and eating dinner alone.

“Sometimes, I think I expect too much. I’m too shy to love for real.”

“What do you mean, Y/N?”

“I don’t know. I’m not making any sense.”

“Tell me what comes to mind. I’ll piece it together, yeah?”

You nod, feeling the blood pulsating in your neck.

“I just…want love so bad. The real kind. Like throwing pebbles at the window, stereo over your head, running to the airport, dancing in the rain, kind of love. But, I’d never really do that. I’m too scared to say I want that and too much of a coward to actually do it myself. I just wish someone would come around who wanted to do it all with me.”

Satoru is quiet, his hands still placed on the steering wheel. He doesn’t respond, his jaw clenched.

“Nevermind. I’m being silly, Satoru.”

At the sound of your dismissance, he stops the car, pulling it over on the side of the road. You turn your head, confused on why he was stopping in front of a Walgreens that was already closed.

“Satoru. Why are you stopping?”

He looks over, his eyes peering into yours. His hand reaches for the stereo, turning the volume all the way up. You’re about to protest but he jumps out of the car before you can. He’s standing outside in the pouring rain, getting drenched. You scoot over to his seat, rolling the window down to talk to him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you nearly scream, the sound of the rain and the wind obscenely loud.

“Get out of the car, Y/N!”

“It’s pouring. And my clothes will get wet.”

He leans over the side of the car, his veiny hands resting on the window you opened. You look down, the water tracking into the side of his car. You look back up, his eyes boring into yours. You’re unable to place the look in his eyes.

“Get out. I’m not asking. I want to dance with you, right here and right now.”

He pushes off the car and extends his hand out, the rain pouring down on him. His hair is a matted mess, his shirt sticking to his torso. Fuck it. You peel off your jacket before joining him in the rain.

The drops are cold against your bare shoulders, the curls you spent hours doing wilting in the rain. You put your hand in his and smile, the water dripping down both of your faces. He spins you around, holding you against his chest.

He hands you his phone, placing his head on your shoulder to look at the screen with you.

“Pick the song, peaches.”

You turn your head, his lips a few inches from yours.

“Peaches?”

“Your shampoo. It smells like peaches.”

You nod, turning back to scroll through his phone. You can feel his arms snaking around your waist, holding you tight against his back. You pick the first song you can find - Lover by Taylor Swift - and press the button.

You can hear the opening notes start to blare out of his car. Satoru snatches his phone back from your fingers and spins you back around to face him. His hands readjust to interlock with yours. The two of you take turns spinning each other around and swaying in the rain, the song whistling in the back. Satoru tries to dip you and horribly fails, the two of you nearly tumbling onto the pavement.

“Okay, maybe I’m not the best at dancing, but the thought is still there.”

You laugh, your cheeks sore from smiling so hard. You slow down your swaying and press yourself against Satoru, digging your face into the crook of his neck. You feel like your heart is about to burst. You could die right here, in Satoru Gojo’s arms. You feel him slow down at the contact, his hands pressing you even closer into him.

The two of you sway in silence, enveloped in each other's embrace for what feels like a long time, before you break apart to actually go home. You move first, murmuring how Tsumiki and Megumi were probably worried sick. He responds that they could care less but heads back to the car nonetheless.

You settle back into the car, the two of you tracking rain all over his seats. As he backs out, he interlocks his fingers with yours, squeezing your fingers twice before driving on. You lean your head against his shoulder, his minty smell overwhelming your nose.

When he pulls into your driveway, the two of you get out, the rain finally stopping. There are puddles in the pavement as you make your way up the driveway, you and Satoru stomping in them on your way up. You can’t tell if you’re trembling from the cold or from his hand in yours.

He stops at your porch, turning back over to face you.

“Did you want to come in? I can find a change of clothes.” you whisper, breaking the silence.

He shakes his head, grinning at you.

“Kids are waiting at home with Nanami. I’m sure he’s already pissed at how long I’ve been gone.”

You smile, nodding at his words. His hair is damp now, lying messily against the top of his forehead. You resist the urge to reach up and touch it.

You’re not sure what it is, maybe something in the air but…you want to kiss him. You want to kiss Satoru Gojo, right here right now. Drenched from the rain, freezing cold, on your dingy ass porch.

You ignore the shaking in your hands and swing your hands around his neck, your faces inches away from each other. You can see the hesitance in his eyes, the confusion at what you were doing.

You close your eyes and lean forward, sincerely hoping he won’t reject you. And just like you wished, he didn’t. His plush lips press against yours, his hands snaking around you to pull you closer. He tastes sweet, the mint you were smelling earlier present on his lips. He breaks apart, pressing soft kisses all over your face - the side of your cheek, the bridge of your nose, the top of your forehead.

You’re interrupted by Satoru’s phone ringing, Nanami’s contact flashing against the screen. Before Satoru can speak, you shake your head, telling him to head home. He presses another peck to your lips before leaving.

You lock the door behind you, flicking on the lights as you head up to your room. As you peel out of your soaked dress, you hear a light knocking against your window.

You look down to find Satoru in your lawn, throwing pebbles at your window. You swing it open, glaring down at him.

“You’re going to break my window, idiot.”

“You wanted this!”

“What are you doing?”

“Dancing in the rain, pebbles on your window, stereo of your head, running to the airport kind of love. I’m the person who wants to do it with you!”

You pause, taking in his words. You can feel your heart pounding against your chest, realizing what was happening. This idiot was going to be the death of you.

You throw a shirt on quickly and run back down the stairs, to where Satoru was still standing outside. When you reach him, you grab him by the end of his collar, pulling him down to kiss him again. He freezes at the contact at first before smiling against your mouth and returning your affections.

The two of you break apart, again, both of you laughing. He rests his forehead against yours, smiling down at you.

“God.”

“What, Satoru?”

“For someone who is supposedly a coward, you’re feeling bold today.”

You pause.

“It’s you. You make me fearless.”

You feel him take your face into his hands, his eyes filled with warmth as he looks down at you.

“Fearless enough to stand in your lawn with no pants on?”

You smack the side of his shoulder, before running back into your house. He joins you back at the door, reminding you that he won’t treat you to the best second date ever if you parade in front of your neighbors half naked again. You smack him one more time for good measure, before pressing a kiss to his cheek to say goodbye.

the satoru as taylor swift series masterlist

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mimble-sparklepudding · 8 months

Text

Herbal OC Questions.

A little list of OC questions based on the folklore of herbs in Northern Europe. Please note that this is by no means an exhaustive list and the symbolism and use of herbs changed over time and varied between different communities (for example in the Early Middle Ages, Parsley was associated with mortality and death, but by the Renaissance and later it became associated with lasting pleasure and festivity).

Rosemary - Memory, Mental Acuity and Recollection of Information.

What is your OC's earliest memory? Is it one they would sooner forget or do they recall it with fondness? Do they genuinely remember it? Or have they just been told about it so often by their family or community that they can picture it clearly?

Does your OC find it easy to remember names or faces? Do they need to write things down in order to remember them properly? Perhaps they rely upon others to remind them?

Has your OC ever memorised information for use in public - such as a prepared speech, a song they have practiced, or a story that is part of their cultural heritage?

What is something that can instantly take your OC back to a previous time in their lives, whether happy or sad? A distinctive scent? A piece of music? The taste of a specific food?

What impression does your OC leave upon others? How are they generally remembered by those who have met them? Is this how they would actually want to be remembered?

Sage - Prosperity, Prudence and the Accumulation of Wealth.

How important is money or material wealth to your OC? Do they believe it is possible to ever have "enough"? Or is there no upper limit to their desire for riches?

Is your OC a spendthrift? Or do they carefully consider each minor expenditure? Do they generally have a sensible idea of how much something should cost? Or are they easily manipulated by cunning merchants and beguiling promotions?

Has your OC ever experienced a dramatic change in their personal wealth or financial security? Were their family once very poor or very wealthy compared to others in their society? If they were once wealthy and are now impoverished, then who do they blame for their reduced circumstances? If they were once poor and now find themselves wealthy, to what do they credit this change in fortune?

How sympathetic is your OC to those who are poorer or in more desperate circumstances than themselves? Do they see them as blameless victims of circumstance? Perhaps they might even work to try to alleviate the material hardships of others? Or do they sneer at the poor? Perhaps seeing them as a resource to exploit or simply as an expendable nuisance?

How does your OC obtain money? Do they have a regular income? Or do they live off inherited wealth? Do they earn money from different jobs or quests? Or are they reliant on the kindness and charity of others?

Sweet Marjoram - Love, Happiness and Fidelity in Marriage.

To what degree is your OC dependent upon other people for their happiness? Are they relatively self-sufficient? Perhaps even mistrustful of others? Or do they need to be surrounded by friends or in the company of their family in order to be happy?

What does your OC believe to be the ingredients of a happy marriage or relationship? Do they believe that they could provide these things to another person? Do others see their expectations as reasonable? Or are they quite demanding of themselves and any potential partner?

Could your OC ever forgive a lover or spouse who was unfaithful to them? If they have an open relationship then is this reliant on them not hearing about their partner's peccadillos? Or is learning about their sexual adventures all part of the fun?

Through what gift or gesture might your OC signify their love or devotion to another? Does this reflect the culture in which they were raised? Their personality? Or simply the preferences of the partner in question?

Does your OC believe it is acceptable to admire another's beauty, even if they are in a committed relationship with someone else? Do they feel guilty if they find themselves admiring or lusting after an attractive stranger? Or do they believe it is no issue when they find their eye wandering, but would be outraged were their lover or spouse to do the same?

Lemon Balm - Sleep, Relaxation and the Banishment of Care.

Does your OC find it easy to relax? Or are they constantly tense or anxious? Has this always been the case or have they experienced significant trauma or harm in the past which has made them particularly fearful or tense?

Does your OC have a regular sleep routine? Or does it vary depending upon circumstance? Do they generally sleep for the same amount of time every night (or day)?

What does your OC do to unwind or to calm themselves? Do they use alcohol or drugs? Or do they meditate or pray? If they are in a relationship then are there things their lover or spouse knows will reduce their tension - perhaps through providing a listening ear, a relaxing massage or sexual release?

What is your OC's greatest source of anxiety? Does it relate to how they are perceived by others? Or their ability to adhere to their own standards or values? Or are they most afraid of harm coming to those they care about?

Does your OC have any recurring dreams? If so then do they attribute any meaning to these? Do they find themselves reliving previous experiences? Or witnessing visions of a possible future? Do they ever talk about their dreams to others?

Catmint - Ferocity, Courage and Quarrelsomeness.

How quick is your OC to anger? Can they fly into a fury, seemingly out of nowhere? Or does it gradually build like a gathering storm?

What motivates your OC to be courageous? A sense of honour or duty? A need to maintain a reputation for fearlessness? A bloody-minded refusal to be pushed around? A wish to protect the vulnerable? The need to win against all odds?

What subject is your OC most likely to argue about? And who are they most likely to argue about it with?

Does your OC often bicker with others? Do they complain frequently? Is this due to genuine dissatisfaction or anger? Or is it done in a slightly tongue in cheek fashion?

When was your OC the most angry they have ever been? What about this situation made them so angry? Was it the person who provoked them? The injustice of the situation? Or their own powerlessness in the face of circumstance?

Sorrel - Affability, Pleasantness and Agreeableness.

How easy is it for others to get along with your OC? Are they easy-going and tolerant? Or stern and exacting? Do they often find themselves picking fault with others and criticising them? Or are they able to view their faults and foibles philosophically - or even with affection?

How quick is your OC to forgive the transgressions of others? Do they bear grudges for extended periods? How important is it that the other person admits their fault?

What do your OC's friends like most about them? What might they consider their "best" quality?

How polite is your OC? Are they courteous and considerate of others? Or gruff and tactless? If they are polished in their manners then is this always a positive quality? Or perhaps something calculated and employed whilst engaged in political or social intrigue? If they are rough in their manners then is this always a bad thing? Or does their lack of external gloss actually reflect their honesty and integrity?

Does your OC always need to be right in every discussion? Or are they sometimes willing to concede a point for the sake of social harmony (or simply a quiet life)? Are there some topics upon which they will never compromise their position? Or can they usually simply shrug and let others be wrong? Does this vary depending on whether the subject is relatively trivial or of great importance to them personally?

Sweet Woodruff - Humility, Modesty and Service to Others.

Is your OC ever boastful or prone to vainglory? Is there something they have achieved that they can't help mentioning at any given opportunity? Do they like to remind others that they are particularly beautiful, powerful or smart?

Is your OC willing to help others, even without receiving praise or reward? Or will they only stir themselves to assist another person if they stand to benefit in some fashion from doing do?

How does your OC respond when someone praises them or pays them a compliment? Do they become embarrassed? Do they minimise their own achievements or even change the subject? Or do they revel in the praise and admiration of others? Are there some things they are more comfortable with being praised for than others? Might they be quite content to be lauded for their martial skill or academic ability, but mortified to be complimented for their beauty or sexual allure?

Does your OC see themselves as being of particular importance compared to the general population? Do they consider themselves to have greater value than the common folk? Perhaps because they are capable of achieving things that regular people are not? Or because they were born into a position of wealth and power? Or even because they have seen things that would drive ordinary people to madness or despair? Conversely, if your OC maintains that they are no more special than anyone else, how realistic is this position? How different are they really when compared to the average person? Are they actually in denial about their own significance?

How much credit does your OC give to others for their own success? Do they see themselves as having achieved things only through cooperation and working with others? Or are they convinced that they have accomplished everything purely through their own efforts and ability?

#oc questions #ffxiv oc questions #oc ask meme #oc ask game #oc ask #oc meme #oc quiz #ff14 #ffxiv oc #final fantasy xiv #ff14 ffxiv #ffxiv wol #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv

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under-lore · 7 months

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How much merit did "Star is Chara's theme" have really ?

The music of Undertale is quite renown for a number of things, from its quality to its abundant usage of leitmotifs.

However, there are a few tracks which went under the radar, such as the ones that went unused in the final release of the game.

One of such tracks was "Star".

youtube

This particular unused track found itself in an intriguing situation when it became the center of one of Undertale's biggest fully soundtrack-based theories of the early fandom.

The theory suggested that "Star" may have been an unfinished version of what could have been a Chara theme before the idea was eventually scrapped before mounting up to anything concrete.

That theory was based around the way Toby Fox makes his music and the way it correlates to his characters.

For instance, from its rhythm to its instruments and its intensity or even its fairly epic/heroic yet pretty chaotic & impulsive nature, Spear of justice has "Undyne" written all over it it countless ways. It isn't just an Undyne-associated song, the song literally feels like Undyne. It is a musical representation of Undyne and the situation she finds herself in at the moment. And that is how a lot of Toby's music is written.

Even someone who has never heard the song and knows nothing about Undertale, if given a description of each of the main characters and asked of which one was this a theme of, would easily find the right answer.

This particularity comes from a few things, such as the fact that Toby confessed that he actually often makes the music first and then creates the scene around it by taking inspiration from the music.

And so, in the case of character themes, it means that Toby Fox songs end up being filled with hidden details and tones that are relevant to a character's personality, backstory, psyche, etc... And thus makes the songs a lot closer to the characters.

Due to this, a number of fans tried to reverse engineer some of the unused songs using this technique in order to try and figure out what they might have been for, and "Star" was the one that stood out.

The reason why it stood out was because the fans did believe they were able to find such connections between "Star" and the first fallen human.

Some of the ties they proposed between the song and the character were :

The song starts out with a sad/depressing tone similar to grief or regret, seen as possibly alluding to how Chara's plan was a failure (that Flowey came to cruelly regret), and how it caused the kingdom to fall into despair after their death.

In addition, the song has a very strong "echo" effect, which is also often associated with the idea of death as well as that of the consequences of the past coming back to you. Two things that Chara as a character is also associated with.

But it soon begins to obtain an uplifting and hopeful undertone as the song goes on. This can be attributed both to Chara being seen as the future of humans and monsters, but also to their newfound "reincarnation" allowing them a new second chance at existence.

The combinaison of the previous two things makes the song feels somewhat confused before it finds itself a stable path. Which could also be tied to Chara's words at the of genocide. (but that one is a bit more of a stretch)

The song overall just has a very similar vibe to "his theme", Chara's best friend. As Toby likes to have musical similarities between themes of characters that are closely tied together.

The song is just long enough so that it could have fit to play during the chara flashbacks scenes at the end of pacifist if we were to add back the unused few more images that were going to be in there originally. (Side note : this being the case would give point n°3 a very toby-esque double meaning too. With Chara being there both in Asriel's memory and reincarnated)

Some claim that the instruments used in the song can tie it to the Dreemurr family, however my ear is not good enough to tell wether this point is actually valid or just a rumor.

The song starts off weak in intensity, but begins to grow stronger after a click that radically changes the song's overall feeling. (the same one that was proposed to be about their reincarnation.) This was suggested to be a reference to Chara's words about power at the end of the genocide route.

That the name of the song is "Star" in the first place, as there also happens to be a star named "Chara" not all that far from our solar System. On top of that, this particular constellation is known for having a top/northern dog star, and a south/lower dog star. Our Chara star is the lower dog Star, which could be interpreted as a metaphor for being a human yet living in the underground.

...Which isn't that for bad for a track that only lasts like 30 seconds.

So due to these reasons and to the fact that the song clearly seemed unfinished, it quickly became a popular theory that the song was supposed to be related to Chara in some way, with the flashbacks at the end of pacifist being a prime suspect for its intended scrapped use.

However, some time later, this screenshot came along :

The reliability of this screenshot is to be taken with a grain of salt, as there are many rumors that this screenshot may have been fake, and i have not been able to properly identify the source of these rumors. And besides, a private e-mail isn't something that can be easily verfied the existence of.

But all that aside, the e-mail seems to say that before it was scrapped, the usage of 'Star' was actually attempted for the fight against Madjick, a regular enemy from near the end of the game.

Although technically not fully disproving it (as the fact that Toby makes the music first & it not fitting Madjick much or just overall that regular enemies don't usually have such unique themes might let one argue that it was first made for something other than Madjick, then was used for Madjick before being removed.), the way that Toby appears to talk about it seems to imply that there isn't really more to the song than that, and thus that the theory would just be wrong after all.

Since then, the theory was pretty much left as is, slowly fading away in popularity over time.

Was this theory correct ? Whilst we will probably never be sure, the answer is most likely no. I wouldn't bet on it, at least.

However, no matter wether this was all ultimately just a coincidence or not, one thing which remains true is that the music certainly does sound quite close to how one would have expected a Chara version of "his theme" from Toby to sound like.

The same cannot be said for other fanon Chara associated themes, such as "Megalo strike back". While Toby did make this song, this was not the song's intended name and it didn't have anything to do with Undertale.

I find it unfortunate that people went fishing this far on Toby's archives for a song to make fanon Chara content around when Star was right here in the Undertale game files for the taking and would have been a more fitting choice overall.

By default of being an actual Chara song, Star still had everything one would need to build good Toby-like fanon Chara songs around at the very least. But this opportunity went surprisingly under-exploited under Megalo strikes back's shadow.

It doesn't mean there aren't any Chara fanthemes using Star, though.

For instance, Undertale bits & pieces made this Genocide Chara theme using the Star leitmotif among a couple others. I believe it is an example of using Star as an inspiration done well !

youtube

#undertale #undertale theory #chara #undertale chara #toby fox #undertale music #Youtube #undertale bits and pieces

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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Best Worst Christmas // Jake Seresin

Summary: After some life altering news. You confide in Hangman which leads you to ticking off something incredibly important on your bucket list.

Warnings: Terminal illness. Mentions of death. Dark humour. Jake Seresin x Reader. Angst & fluff—Jake being just the best version of himself.

Word Count: 4.8k

Author Note: TRUST ME TO DO THIS. Because we can’t have anything nice here. Even at Christmas time. Got this idea from Bianca’s story line from Shameless. Not your typical happy go lucky Christmas fic.

Slow motion. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. From the way Bob brought the lip of his glass of lemonade up to his mouth to hide his infectious smile to the way Bradley twirled Phoenix under his arm and pulled her into his side. Dancing to whatever song had been blaring from the jukebox.

Slow. Slow and silent. You couldn't hear a single thing beside the high pitched ringing in your ears that sounded like just the right pitch to break the glass of the windows out front. No laughter, no music, no mundane chatter from other patrons littering the Hard Deck on this oh so average Friday afternoon.

Except there was nothing average about being told just forty five minutes ago that you were dying. Merry Fucking Chrismas.

“I'm sorry, Payback.” You shook your head softly as you blinked a few times, the ringing in your ears clearing as everything seemed to come back into real time, sound and all. “What did you say?”

“I said you don't look so good, Jake mentioned you left early for a doctor appointment off base, you good?”

“What is Hangman doing with my name in his mouth?” You spat before you took what was left of your beer into your mouth, skulling the burnt amber liquid like there was no tomorrow. For you there really wasn't all that much time left. Paying attention to how your liver processed alcoholic beverages had become an afterthought. “But yeah, I uh– I did.”

“Something any of us should be worried about?” Payback had always been a kind and gentle soul. You envied his passion for all things Christmas. His ugly Christmas sweater told you everything that you needed to know, his was down bad for the holiday season. “Nut?”

“Everything’s just peachy keen Fitch, you don't gotta worry about me.” You tried your best to hide the ever mounting pressure you felt in your chest through a pained smile and soft gaze. “But–” You held your empty glass up as you twirled around on the barstool you'd been sitting on. “I'm tapped so I'm gonna grab another beer and then you and I are gonna have a game of pool once shit for brains is finished showboating.” Reuben followed where your eyeline had evidently landed and low and behold there stood none other than Jake Seresin, claiming his title as undefeated pool champion with a grin so prominent on his face it made you feel sick to your stomach. “Be right back.”

You slid off the stool and fixed the ‘Christmas’ dress that had been sticking to the back of your thighs. It wasn't anything special, just a red mid length dress that fit the Christmas attire that had been mandated but Reuben Fitch himself. Head and only member of the party planning committee. It wasn't anything special, but at least the dress was red, right?

You'd been excited for the staff Christmas party for months up until the moment your doctor had sat you down and handed you a one way ticket to the afterlife. You thought maybe the reason you'd been feeling so unwell over the last few weeks had been an imbalance in your birth control or a shift in seasons or just something, anything other than what your final prognosis had ended up being.

“What can I get you Nut?” Penny asked when she saw you leaning against the bar, card in hand, swinging on the barstool. “The usual?”

“Uh can I get a double Jamison please Pen, on the rocks if you could.” Penny got to work fixing up your order as Jake slipped in beside you. Not turning his head in your direction as he fished his wallet out from the back of his jeans as he sat. The stupid matching Chrismas shirt he wore with Bradley looked ridiculous on him. Only Bradley Bradshaw could pull off a Christmas themed Hawaiian shirt. It wasn't Hangman's usual attire, it looked idiodic on him in the best way possible.

“Another beer if you can Penny, extra tenner on the bar for you too.” Jake was, if anything, a charmer at heart. But despite his ability to smooth talk his way out of any situation and into anyone that had a hole he could put it in, you couldn't stand him. “You seem even more shrewd than usual this afternoon there Nut, not feeling the Christmas cheer?” and he couldn't stand you either. Or so you both led on.

“Bit me.” Penny slid you the class, brown bourbon had never tasted so good before as you downed the double shot you ordered before slamming the glass back down. It wasn't the best move you could have made because the second you swallowed? Your stomach churned. “I gotta go.” You were quick for a woman who could barely walk in heels, racing towards the nearest exit without so much as causing a scene. Leaving Jake in your dust as he almost gave himself whiplash trying to crain his head fast enough to keep up.

“Wait, hold on the parties just getting started?” Jake took the beer bottle from Penny, being gentleman enough to say a quick thankyou her way before making a dash after you towards the front door. “Nwet hold on!” Your call sign had you as the Goddess of the sky. The name originating from Egyptian Mythology, but for some reason or another that had been shortened even further. Everyone just called you Nut for short.

“Not now Hangman, I’m serious I’m not fee–” You didn't get a chance to finish your sentence before you were throwing up the contents of your stomach in the nearest pot plant on the front deck. Down on your knees as your hands gripped at the ceramic. Coughing and splattering as Jake put his beer down on the railing and balled your hair into his first to keep it from falling into the backsplash.

“Alright, I'm cutting you off killer, how much have you had to drink?” Jake crouched down beside you as you sat back on your heels, whipping your mouth on your forearm. “You good?”

“Get me another drink and I'll be even better.” You had heard loud and clear what Jake had said but just chose to ignore it. You didn't have much choice anymore. Jake just looked at you like you were on another planet. His eyes wide as his mouth fell slightly open in shock. There weren't many people who could render Jake Seresin speechless–but you always seemed to manage.

It was the same look he gave you whenever you'd get into a heated argument over training sessions or whenever you’d go head to head in another one of your PTI’s latest workouts. The same look he gave you when you said you were fine when you had to miss the last few days of flight training, the same look he gave you when he found you making your doctor's appointment in the rec room between his runs. He looked at you like you hung the stars in the night sky just for him and once he’d finished admiring them you'd knock them out of the sky just to watch them shatter before him. Unpredictable and oh so beautiful.

“Uh, no–I'm not gonna get you another drink when you're throwing up in Pennys plants.”

“It's not the alcoholic, Jake.” You sighed out in response as you pressed your palm to your forehead.

“It most definitely is I can smell it on yo–” You didn't know why, out of all the people you could have told first. Your Parents, Your Commanding Officers, any of your colleagues that seemed more and more like family every day, you chose Jake fucking Seresin to drop the biggest life ending bomb on. The worst Christmas Present ever. Deep deep down you knew exactly why. But there was no time left to figure it out now.

“Jake it's not the Alcohol.” You cut him off, shutting your eyes as tight as you could because you couldn't look at him when you told him. “It's cancer.”

“What?” When you opened your eyes again Jake's expression had softened to something you’d never seen before. “What do you mean it's cancer?” This couldn't really be happening could it? You wouldn't be cruel enough to play such a sick joke on him. But with the way you were looking at him right now? Jake felt his heart collapse into his stomach. The love of his life had cancer? “What do you mean by cancer Y/n?” Jake repeated as he brushed your hair away from your shoulder. “You aren’t being serious right now are you?” You didn’t respond right away because you were stunned at the saddened and stunned look Hangman had been stricken by.

“What I mean by cancer is that I have a shelf life.” You tried to make the moment a little more lighthearted. “A cosmic fuck you when you were just getting started huh.” It was the hardest thing you'd ever done, to sit in front of the man you loved to hate and hated to love and tell him you were dying. You hadn’t even had a chance to see what you could have been. You'd both been too caught up playing the long con that you'd wasted whatever time you had.

“What's the uh–?” Jake didn't know how to ask as he stood with you and moved over to the nearest table that was clear and free. “What's the prognosis?”

“Stage three Pancreatic–well basically stage four but—” Silence fell as Jake sat beside you completely stunned. His mind was running a million miles an hour, thinking of all the times you’d smiled at him. Beamed his way whenever he taunted you or teased you for something stupid and meaningless. You took everything like a champ because you could dish it out in return. He’d learnt to expect an elbow to the ribs whenever you had this one particular look in your eye.

“And what's the going rate for stage three?” Jake wanted to hear you say at least something promising, but that wasn’t the case at all.

“Two Percent, Doc said even that was being generous.” His heart stopped for a moment. This wasn’t happening, not to you. Not to the one woman he had ever loved.

“Okay but what about chemo? What about other treatments that could surely raise that number up right?”

“Oh, I ah–I don't wanna do any treatment.” That knocked the wind right out of Jake, he felt like he couldn't breathe. Like the entire world had just been knocked out from under his feet. “I saw what it did to my friend's mother Cathy, she spent whatever time she had left being pumped full of poison, because of it she became so weak she couldn't enjoy the things she could have been while she still had time.”

“You can't not try Y/n.” Jake had moved as close to you as he possibly could. So much so it was easy enough for you to accept your own mortality with your head resting gently on his shoulder. “It's probably really selfish of me to say this but I'm not ready to just let you go.”

“Please, spare me the hallmark card sympathies Seresin.” Scoffing, you took the beer bottle Jake had been sipping infrequently on. Taking a gulp of the yeasty beverage. “I don't need you treating me any differently now that you know I'm practically worm food.” It was the way Jake looked at you like he couldn't believe what you had just said. Did you expect him not to laugh or something? Strifally back a laugh so pure Jake waited for you to crack first, the symphony of highs and lows that sounded like the most prim and proper orchestra surrounded him as you laughed with him.

“When did you find out? You seem to be dealing with the inevitability of it all well.”

“About fifty minutes before I told you.” The smile had been whipped clean from Jake's face once again. The laughter that had just filled the atmosphere around you both now replaced with silence so heavy you were sure you had just been buried alive. “I haven't told anyone, and I wasn't planning to either.”

Although you and Jake pretended most days to loathe each other's existence, there was no real animosity there. It was simply a childish act. Your mother had told you at an early age that boys who pulled your pony tail on the playground at school must have liked you. So you learnt play rough too, showing your affection by taunting and teasing between lingering eyes and daydreams of what it would be like to be with Jake as more than just whatever the fuck you were.

“Why did you tell me? I mean I thought I would have been the last person on earth you would have spilled your darkest secrets to.” Jake felt nothing but content when you let your head fall back to his shoulder. He decided this time though to wrap a comforting arm around you—drawing you further into his side.

“Believe it or not you were the first person who came to mind when I was told.” You'd thought about what Jake would say. If he’d even say anything at all when he found out, if he’d change the way he treated you or if there would be a small part of him that would be relieved that you wouldn't be around to annoy him anymore or challenge him whenever he thought he was better than you. “I thought maybe you’d be a good person to tell because you wouldnt look at me like I was weak.”

“If there’s one thing you are, it's not weak.” Jake shook his head as he finished the remains of his beer. Standing as he offered you a hand. “Come on, we’re getting out of here.”

“What? Where are we going?” You didn’t protest all that much—knowing what Jake had in mind was probably better than wallowing in self pity. You took his hand gracefully as he guided you to stand, meeting his gaze yet again.

“We’re gonna go back to your place—“

“Oh, as if you would.” You cracked a smile as Jake looked at you a little confused. “I’m dying Hangman, don’t get that confused with desperate.” It wasn’t that you wouldn’t, you would in a heartbeat—but the feeling you got from your back and forth taunting just made the prize all the more worth it. Jake just stood in front of you, eyes trailing from your gaze to your lips then back to

Your eyes. Committing every last detail of your face to his long term memory.

“I didn’t mean it like that, but we’re going back to yours.”

“I told Payback I’d play a game of pool with him.” You explained as you tried to push past Jake, all he did was grip your wrist, stopping you from getting any further away from him. “Jesus Christ Jake what has gotten into you?” You stood there questioning his sudden need to be overbearing.

“You just told me you have terminal cancer and you’re asking me what’s gotten into me! Jesus Y/n.” Jake let go of your wrist as he ran his hands through his hair, extinguishing a frustrated sigh as he looked anywhere but directly at you when he let his guard down. Nothing good ever came with Jake Seresin let his guard down, so he didn’t do it all that often. “I was just told the woman I’ve been obsessed with for the last year is dying and there’s literally not a single thing that I can do to stop it!” You let your walls down almost instantly at the confirmation, softening your shoulders and letting yourself just enjoy the satisfaction of the moment you thought would never come. Jake knew you were thinking—he could practically see the cogs turning in your head as you stood before him smirking a bashful smile. Suddenly doe eyed and willing to step a little closer. “What?” Jake scoffed as his lips curled into a smile that matched yours. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“So you’re obsessed with me huh?”

“That’s your take on this whole situation?”

“Oh yeah—“ Wrapping your arms around the back of Jake's neck you drew him all the more closer as his hands instinctively went to your hips. “Because I didn’t have to admit that I’m obsessed with you first.” You really didn’t give him a second to respond with some witty remark on how he was just saying it because he felt sorry for you—instead you let your lips press against Jakes softly. Testing the waters before diving into the deep end. Pulling back as you slowly opened your eyes. “It’s not fair of me to ask you to love me, especially knowing what you know—“ It was Jake's turn to cut you off before you could try and talk him out of spending whatever time you had left right by your side. His lips connected with yours as his hands came up to cup your cheeks as your tongue danced with his. Savoring every second because you’d always wondered what type of kisser Jake Seresin was. The answer? He knew what he was doing.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t.” Pulling away momentarily Jake tan the pads of his thumbs across your flushed cheeks. “How long?” Jake didn’t really want to know the answer but he knew deep down it wouldn’t be long.

“Anywhere between six months to a year.” It broke your heart the way Jake dropped his chin slightly at the realisation. “Depends on my lifestyle.”

“Then I’m gonna be by your side for the next six to twelve months.” Jake promised as he held his hand up to wrap his pinky with yours. “Till the end of the line.”

***~***~***~***~***~

Not a single person had seen you or Jake leave the Hard Deck unannounced. Payback had texted you a few times before you decided enough was enough and sent him a quick message saying you were with Jake before placing your phone on do not disturb.

“Okay so you’re sure this one has the built in lighting?” Jake asked just one more time as you both stood back and looked at the piles of broken down Christmas tree that you’d sectioned into piles on your living room floor.

“For the millionth time, yes—“ You’d leant Jake a pair of your ex’s old sweatpants that you’d forgotten you had until he was long gone. They fit snug, but well. In true Hangman style though? He was parading around your house, shirtless. Sweats hanging low leaving very little to the imagination.

“Okay well, let’s start by fanning these prongs out before we attach anything to the trunk.” You’d changed into your Christmas pajamas—a cartoon version of the grinch saying it’s about to get naughty right across your chest. Jake had thought your house would be full of Christmas decorations by now—always the life of every holiday season. But when he stepped through the threshold and saw you hadn’t been bothered he knew that had to change.

Especially if there was a possibility this could be your last Christmas.

“You got your tree up yet?” You asked as soft melodies of Christmas songs played from your speaker, filling the living room as you and Jake sat on the ground amongst a sea of fake Christmas tree. Jake nodded softly as he worked to fluff out the prongs.

“Yep, had it delivered the first of November—got a real one this year.”

“Yeah you would be the type of person to have a real tree wouldn’t you.” It’s not that you had anything against it, it’s just that a real tree always seemed like so much work. “But if I get the chance to see next Christmas, I’ll get a real one.”

“We can go Christmas tree shopping, new ornaments and all.” Jake offered as his pile grew a little faster then yours. “How come you hadn’t put your tree up yet?” He asked, perplexed. “You’re always drowning on about how the holidays are your favourite time of year.” You didn’t answer right away, you were going to make up some lame excuse but then you remembered Jake Seresin was the o my other person besides you general practitioner that knew you were dying. You could tell him.

“I just haven’t really had the energy to.”

“The cancers the reason you haven’t been flying as much isn’t it?”

“Yep.” You popped your lips at the P. “Probably won’t be too long now before I’m stuck behind some desk in the admin building doing some mundane Johnny pencil pusher projects.” Sighing, you reached for another set of prongs. “Even a swivel chair will eventually make me gag—I don't know how much longer I’ll be able to withstand G’s and barrel roll.”

“Well damn Nut, who’s gonna keep the top of my head from popping off?” Jake teased as he came to sit beside you, leaning back on the couch as he legs fell either side of you. Your back to his chest as he took the prongs you were working on from your hands and finished it himself. “You’ve always kept my ego from inflating.”

“God help the crew when I’m dead and gone.” You chuckled softly as you left your sink into Jake's embrace. “You’ll just have to remember who’s the goddess of the sky, I’ll still be around to kick your ass.”

“Oh yeah? How are you gonna manage that killer?”

“I’ll wiggle your ear whenever you do something stupid.” You grinned, reaching up and around to wiggle Jake's earlobe. “Like that, whoever you get a little too hot headed, you’ll feel me.”

“Deal.” Jake smiled softly as he kissed your shoulder from behind. “Now, while I’ll sit here fanning these things out, why don’t you make a list of all the things you wanna do between the next six to twelve months?”

“Like a bucket list?” You asked softly as you lulled your head back to catch the glint in Jake's eyes.

“Exactly, whatever you wanna do, I’ll help you do it.” You really couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Settling back against Jake you started listing off things in your notes app.

“I wanna get a tattoo, something stupid but meaningful—maybe even just something funny.” You’d end up getting a matching tattoo with Jake a few weeks later. Both in the same spot, on your tricep just above your elbow. Two hands pinky promising—till the end of the line written in calligraphy.

“Solid plan, I approve, what else Nut?” Jake reached for another pile to fluff up, almost having made his way through all the pieces.

“I wanna skinny dip at the beach, at night, or even when the suns just starting to set.” Jake takes you. You both strip down and race towards the waters edge. You wrestle and fight until you're hooking your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. Kissing him like you’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain. His hands hold you up by your ass—and you squeal when a rogue wave knocks you both down. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Shameless Y/l/n, but deal—what’s next.” You add about six different things onto your list, telling Jake every single one as you both stand to place all the pieces of your tree together. Deciding that you were both committing to the entire project together. Making a trip into your garage for the ornaments.

“Maybe I should have a threesome?” You held the ladder at the bottom of your manhole Jake had climbed up into to fetch the seasonal box. “Yeah, never had one of those before but maybe it’s worth checking out.”

“Two guys or one guy and one girl?” Jake handed you the box before he jumped down with a soft thud. “Or you and two girls?” You just raised a brow in response. “Hey—“ Jake was quick to hold his hands up in surrender. “I dunno what your sexual preferences are! I’m just being inclusive.” He sent you his signature shit eating grin. “But uh, pencil me down for whatever you decide.”

“You wouldn’t be included in the girl on girl fantasy.” You gained back as Jake took the box back from you, walking side by side down the hall back to your living room.

“But you’re saying there’s a chance I’d be included in the other two choices.” You never do end up having a threesome, it never actually makes the list. “Can’t say I haven’t dreamed of that a few times.”

“Really? Funny that, I had a dream that I dropped you down a well just the other night.” You didn’t even look Jake's way as you fished out a few ornaments and started hanging them on the tree. Jake followed curiously. “And get here you are dreaming of having sex with me?”

“I definitely like my dream a lot better—“ You couldn’t hold back your laugh as you shook your head, turning on your heels to fetch more ornaments.

“I’m not having sex with you Hungman.” Jake raised his eyebrows in response to what you’d called him over your shoulder. “Isn't that what they all call you?”

“Seems a little rude, and also short sighted.” He was quick to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, kissing your neck as you tried to pull away. Secretly enjoying the affection you could have been experiencing for a whole year before now. “Add it to your list.”

“I’ll reluctantly add it to my list.” It didn’t take you and Jake all that much time to finish decorating your Christmas tree. Stepping back to admire your work, you turned on the lights and dimmed down your overheads. Jake held his fist out for your to fist bump before he drew you into his side. You had told Jake you’d add to fuck him onto you bucket list—he even watch your write something down into your notes. But it wasn’t that. No—it was something much better.

“Best worst Christmas ever, don’t you think Nut?”

“Best worst Christmas ever Hangman.” Turning into Jake you kissed him once again, only for a fleeting moment. “Thankyou for this, just being here—I felt like I was drowning at the bar.”

“Like I said, till the end of the line.” Kissing the top of your head, you asked Jake to say the night, it was the first time Jake Seresin had slept in the same bed as a woman and he didn’t fuck her. All he did was hold you till you fell sleep—and that’s when for only a few brief moments he let himself cry. He loved you, truly.

***~***~***~***~***~***

Eighteen Months Later //

“Are you thick or are you fucking stupid Rooster!?” Jake barked as he walked down the tarmac towards his wingman. “I said break right and follow back and under—talley two at five o’clock low means exactly that!” Jake was seeing red. “Do you wanna get yourself killed in a real fight?”

“Ease up, we’re alive and we still have the fastest time on the leaderboard—Coyote, Payback and Fanboy are nowhere near us.”

“That’s not the point, Bradshaw! You just didn’t fucking think!” Jake was seething, his face was red and if Bradley looked close enough? He swore he could see steam coming out of Jake's ears. “Something’s gotta be in there—it can’t just be air in that thick—“ Before Jake could finish, he felt a tugging sensation on his left earlobe. Shutting up instantly as he reached up to tug at the phantom sensation.

“Nut got your ear?” Bradley asked as he tapped Hangman on the shoulder, Bradley had been the one Jake confided in when you finally passed on. He didn’t believe in the afterlife until he couldn’t let you go. “Mum used to say dad would whistle around the house, she’d smell his cologne too.” Bradley caught the sun catching on Jake's wedding band. You’d both decided fuck it one night and high tailed it to a Vagas to get hitched. “She’s probably trying to tell you to stop yelling at me!”

Christmas had long passed and Jake still had his dead tree up. Something about taking it down meant saying goodbye and he wasn’t ready to do that. You’d only just managed to make it to new years before deciding you just couldn’t do it anymore. But you were wrapped to have two best worst Christmas’s under your belt.

Jake held you close till you took your last breath, you weren’t in some hospital somewhere hooked up to all sorts of machines. No. You were down by the ocean, in Jake's arms. Talking about how you were so thankful to have completed everything on your lift. The final one being the most important.

“Here—“ Jake remembers you saying softly as you handed him a letter. “I wrote them down so you’ll never forget everything you did for me.”

Jake scanned the page of about fifteen different things you had done together, the last one though he never knew you wrote. He couldn’t help himself as he held you a little tighter, a little closer. He framed the letter and placed it on his bedside table—The tick next to number fifteen his favourite thing of all.

Number 15: Know what it’s like to fall in love on the worst, best Christmas ever.

#jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fan fic #top gun hangman

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hazbingirliexoxo · 1 month

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“The Archer” Angel Dust Analysis

A/n: ALRIGHT YALL❣️ it’s been a hot minute (literally a whole month lol rip☠️) but I have FINALLY written this and am ready to share it with everyone!🤩 So I’m a huge Swiftie and I absolutely love Angel😭💕 so listening to this song: “The Archer” instantly made me think of him. I think the lyrics really highlight how his experiences with love have shaped the complexities of his true feelings and while we still have so much more to discover about his and Husk’s developing relationship in the show, I truly think that this song just “screams” them. If you haven’t listened to the song before, I definitely recommend to!😊 Anyway, lez get into it!😎

Note: For reference, I primarily used this article: https://gwtimes.org/1625/music-books-movies/the-archer-taylor-swift-lyric-analysis/ to organize all of my thoughts and opinions on why this song suits Angel so well. I think this author did an excellent job at explaining the real message of the song in regards to Taylor’s life, but this analysis is solely based on my OWN interpretation of how Angel’s character fits this song. Just wanted to clarify. THANK YOU AND ENJOY!!!❤️❤️❤️

Combat, I’m ready for combat

I say I don’t want that, but what if I do?

Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I’ve got a hundred thrown out speeches I almost said to you

Okay so, with these first few lines, we can think about how much Angel has been through, both in life and death. Like anyone else, he’s made mistakes and fought with many people he’s cared about before, whether that be with his birth family (ex: Arackniss, Molly) or his newfound family/friends he’s made at the hotel later on (ex: Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Sir Pentious, etc). But in terms of his actual familial background, Angel was born and raised in the mafia, meaning he’s used to seeing the indescribable horrors and violence associated with that lifestyle. He has no choice but to conjure up this metaphorical shield of “armor” in order to not only protect himself but also, survive. This ultimately makes it very difficult for Angel to form and develop good, healthy relationships, whether that’d be platonic or romantic, because as much as he craves genuine love and affection, isn’t that going against everything he’s known? To not care about what anyone thinks of him because at the end of the day, everyone leaves regardless? Angel Dust is a perfect example of being conditioned to this toxic, negative mindset he’s built for himself every day and we especially see more of this when it comes to his work with Valentino.

Now Angel is a celebrity, the most famous porn star in all of hell. Of course, due to his natural charisma and good looks, all eyes are drawn to him. He’s expected to essentially “put on a show” and show off what he’s “good for” because who could resist the seductive, charming Angel Dust? But that’s the cruel irony behind it all. Angel’s perception of his pornstar persona overshadows the reality of his true self, which makes it easy for him to push people away and not let anyone see the real him. He’s bred to allow people to chase after him, lust after him, because that’s the embodiment of who Angel Dust is, not who Anthony is. Angel Dust doesn’t care if people “leave” him because he knows that one way or another, there’s always someone else who will appreciate him for his “talents”, who will shower him with the desire and attention he so desperately seeks, despite it being superficial. But Anthony? No one knows who that is nor anyone would care to know who Anthony is in Angel’s mind, so rather than reveal his true thoughts, he decides to remain silent and keep them hidden from the public view as a way to protect himself.

Easy they come, easy they go

I jump from the train, I ride off alone

I never grew up, it’s getting so old

Help me hold on to you

Now, these second set of lyrics go a little more in-depth about Angel’s personal life and relationships. The first line expresses how easily he attracts people and yet still drives them away. The second one, however, can be explored through both a platonic and a romantic perspective. In a platonic lens, Angel struggles with making real, genuine friends (other than Cherri) because he’s afraid no one will be interested to get to know him. The same thing can be said in a romantic point of view. Angel loves to flirt, yes, but with his pornstar persona, he over-amplifies it and makes it seem like he’s “on board” in the beginning, but in the slightest sense of any seriousness or vulnerability, he “jumps off”, going his own way because he knows he’s unable to commit. This third line takes a look into how Angel is associated with being the “black sheep” of his family. Despite his somewhat childish nature, Angel’s always causing trouble and has never been the more focused, responsible type like his older brother: Arackniss. But due to these specific family dynamics, this shows how Angel feels like he’s never taken seriously with his true self. And because of that, he doesn’t understand how to grow and mature enough as a person to handle long-term relationships. The last line here can be portrayed as Angel’s inner thoughts and feelings towards his future love interest in the series: Husk. Angel is so used to giving up and running away from the idea of real love because of his own sexual abuse and trauma from Valentino. But throughout his whole afterlife, Husk is the only good man who respects and values Angel for who he truly is and despite how nice yet unfamiliar that feeling is, Angel’s terrified of losing it. Therefore, these lyrics can imply how he’s pleading for Husk to help him stay grounded and focus on exploring and pursuing this new relationship with him.

I’ve been the archer, I’ve been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?

In the chorus, we can start to see the lyrics become even more personified towards Angel’s life. He’s been hurt by so many people, yet he’s also his own worst enemy because he’s done the same thing to those who he cares about too, ultimately straining or damaging the relationships as a whole. He wonders why no one would want to stay in his life, but deep down, he knows that he doesn’t make it easy for people to love him either. So in order to change that, he needs to believe in himself and trust that he can make a positive effort towards becoming better.

Dark side, I search for your dark side

But what if I’m all right, right, right, right here?

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then hate my reflection, for years and years

Within the next verse, we can connect back to how Angel’s toxic mindset has made a profound impact on himself and his relationships. There’s a big part of him that’s always subconsciously searching for the negative aspects of letting people into his life, and that in itself, is what overpowers his psyche into not recognizing and acknowledging the positive facets as well. These next few lines can be referenced to how he strives to maintain his pornstar persona. The whole concept of Angel Dust is for him to be as appealing and desirable to everyone no matter what because that’s what the public likes to see. But unfortunately, what Angel doesn’t comprehend is that he doesn’t need to overemphasize this “mask” of his because the real, genuine people in his life (such as Molly, Charlie, Cherri, Husk, etc.) love and accept him for who he is internally rather than externally. This lack of understanding can also drive him to act impulsive with his emotions and lash out towards the people he deeply cares about, thereby causing him to feel hatred towards himself and regret the decisions he’s made later on.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost

The room is on fire, invisible smoke

And all of my heroes die all alone

Help me hold on to you

The metaphorical meaning behind these next lyrics can connect to how empty and restless Angel feels when he’s by himself. We know that he suffers intense nightmares and drug hallucinations from Valentino, but in this next line: “The room is on fire, invisible smoke”, this allows us to dive deeper into his inner troubles and the emotional turmoil and chaos he’s experiencing from it. He’s known to “burn bridges” and “start fires” with others because like I stated previously, he believes everyone will leave him eventually, so as a result, he shuts people out as a way to cope with this depression and loneliness, knowing that it’s still his fault.

I’ve been the archer, I’ve been the prey

Screaming, who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?

Here we have the main chorus again, but what’s different is that the word “screaming” is used. This allows us to really see and feel the intensity behind Angel’s emotions. It can almost be viewed as if he’s “crying out for help” and begging for someone, ANYONE, to reach out and stay there with him.

Cause they see right through me

They see right through me

They see right through

Can you see right through me?

They see right through me (2x)

I see right through me (2x)

This next sequence of lyrics is pretty self-explanatory, especially regarding Angel’s famous reputation. Based upon his story arc so far, the internal struggles and hardships Angel has faced throughout life and death have definitely taken a toll on him. Even though he aims to portray this glamorous, charming pornstar personality, characters like Husk can see right through Angel pretty easily and have no issue in calling him out for how fake he’s being. This not only makes Angel very hyper-aware of his mask “slipping away”, but also adds on an extra layer of anxiety and panic he’s feeling from losing control of that facade.

All the king’s horses, all the king’s men

Couldn’t put me together again

‘Cause all of my enemies started out friends

Help me hold on to you

The first line here is a clear reference to the nursery rhyme, Humpty Dumpty, but the next few lines are what really emphasize Angel’s character even more. Angel is not an easy guy to get along with. He knows he can be an asshole and because of that, he’s made many enemies who could’ve potentially stayed as friends in his life if he didn’t push them away. But that doesn’t make him feel as if he’s alone right? After all, Angel Dust is fulfilled with receiving “love” from clients, fans, and Valentino all the time, so that has to mean something, right? This particular mindset is what fuels Angel to continue craving that form of infatuation and attention because it’s what he surrounds himself with every day. However, once that “high” dies down, who does he have waiting there for him at home? No one, because in reality, he IS alone and that terrifies him even more due to the fact that he’s the reason behind these self-destructive tendencies.

I’ve been the archer, I’ve been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?

(I see right through me, I see right through me)

Who could stay? (4x)

You could stay

Combat, I’m ready for combat

These final lines of the song play a significant role in how Angel’s perspective on love can change for the future. Like I’ve said prior, Angel has never had anyone show real, genuine interest in him before, that is, until he met Husk. Husk has made it very clear in the beginning that he doesn’t like putting up with anyone’s bullshit. While his gruff, no-nonsense exterior may be off-putting to others, Angel is very attracted to how real Husk is in expressing how he feels and that is exactly the kind of person Angel needs in his life right now. Over some time throughout the series so far, we start to see a closer relationship develop between the two as well, how fond and comfortable they are of each other. This scares Angel because like all of his other relationships and his current predicament with Valentino, he’s afraid that Husk will voluntarily leave or be taken away from him forever. So in order to avoid that, Angel is determined to do everything he can to keep Husk a permanent part of his life.

Overall, Angel is well aware that he’s not an easy person to love, but with Husk, he feels as if he could be the one to truly understand and accept him for who he is. That maybe, and hopefully, Husk will be the one to stay for good❤️

A/n: yalll,, this is soo fucking long I��m so sorry😭 but I absolutely love these two with all my heart, literally on my hands and knees like this 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ but anywaysss I really hoped you enjoyed it just as much as I loved writing it🥰 PLEASE give me all the feedback you have! I would love to hear everyone’s thoughts and opinions, it would really make my day🥹 Thanks for reading loves!!🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #angel dust #angel dust x husk #huskerdust #hazbin valentino #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #nifty hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vox #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin cherri bomb

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gh0stbeeee · 9 months

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New Death Note Swap AU:

L and Light are Super Stars while Misa is both the World's Greatest Detective and Kira.

HERE ME OUT.

L was first on the pop scene in 1999, made music under the name "L" and quickly dominated the UK top hits billboard, going international within a few years. Started humble, but with the support of Quilish, was able to get a record deal and it soared from there. Basically, instead of becoming a detective, he became a voice artist.

Light, on the other hand, started his music career after he had a breakdown due to, y'know. Extreme boredom, pressure, and depression because of his lifestyle. It led to him running away because he didn't want to watch his family be ashamed of him. But, with Light being Light, he was able to find work as a small time idol under the name "Kira." Of course, he became super popular, started writing songs in English to appeal to an overseas audience, and went international in 2004. (L is 22, Light is 18)

(BTW, very important, their music styles are based off of gwen stefani, lady gaga, and some nicki minaj, basically they make 2000s/early 2010s dance floor pop music)

L and Kira were household names by 2006, and by god. Did they not like eachother. It started when Light as a rising star was compared to and accused of copying L, but even though it was obvious to anyone with ears that Light's music was more manic than L's heavier beats, it sparked a dislike in Light that boiled over when they met eachother at a red carpet event where L called Kira trashy. They were both drunk and ended up fighting one another, which created a huge rivalry.

(Imagine two twinks in designer paris hilton-esque y2k fashion just beating the shit out of each other in front of the paparazzi, because that is their aesthetics in this AU)

For years, they sang shit to each other in their music, entire diss sections added for each other. On the internet, it became known as "the kira/L bits" in their respective songs.

Then, Shinikami appeared in 2006, and the detective Misa Misa was on the case.

And nothing changed for them for a few months, until Gelus saved them at a party in California from a crazy gunman. Then, when they were staying in the same room at a celebrity hospital, Rem drops Gelus's Death Note in front of them.

And they fight over it, touching it at the same time and sharing ownership because of it.

Rem is annoyed by them at first, but decides to protect the brats as Gelus's dying wish.

After they learn about the source of Shinikami's power's, they're pissed. Attention hasn't been on them because of this supernatural killer!

Oh, and uh, killing people is bad and whatever...

It's unacceptable!

Buying the shinigami eyes with the extra life-force gifted to them by Gelus (they each have 1 shinigami eye due to shared ownership of the death note), they set out undercover to go find Shi and take em down with a panty and stocking type dynamic!

Misa, who has smugly been playing against herself this whole time while Ryuk watched, has no idea what shit is about to hit the fan...

End game is LightxL and RemxMisa obviously hehe

(Detective Misa's story is the same as in the swap au, but she just had a Kira arc as well :))

#im fucking drawing this #my brain is big today #death note #l lawliet #light yagami #misa amane #rem #rem death note #ryuk #ryuk death note #lawlight #misa x rem #rem x misa #death note au #death note swap au #death note superstar au #ig hehe

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dy6nsty · 2 months

Note

right ok i know i just asked you this and i feel like i'm being greedy but i loved your sleep token with another female band member and i was pondering if you could do a small concert scenario with the fem!bandmember!reader again....very very desperate. i adore you 🩷

══════════════════════

giggles and kicks my feet

Sleep Token x Reader || Platonic

══════════════════════

Late night, music playing throughout the stadium, people shouting happily to be at the concert/ritual.

That’s how your night has been going. Switching from task to task between guitar and singing along with another member. III and IV were moving around stage, Vessel carried his microphone across stage, and II stayed at his drum set.

Crowd was screaming and singing along, everyone was overjoyed that with every interaction the band members had with each other or the crowd themselves. Flashing lights from camera and phone lights displayed throughout the mob of people.

Your fingers strummed and plucked against the cords, while… III twirled around like usual. You turned your head, so did IV, both looking at each other with a look of agreement. He took a step towards you, you took a step towards him, this continued to rhythmically till you were a few feet away from each other. Guitars vocals clashing together with the vibrations in the air.

Leaning back IV plucked his guitar pick against the strings, cocking his head uptowards the empty microphone stage. He finally didn’t hide it— finally.

You gave him a confirming nod and dropped your guitar, hurrying up to your stations

Hands wrapped around the base of the microphone stand. You waited patiently with your foot tapping against the smooth flooring of the platform.

One two, one two three, one, one two three. You remembered the beats in your head for every lyrics Vessel had. Patting the rhythm against the side of your thigh, raising a hand to wave at the crowd.

Music slowly faded out, drums started, IV crept up to your station and fiddled with the microphone strings until you swatted him away with your foot.

III came up behind him, flicking IV against the head for trying to distract you. Than proceeding to pat him on the back.

The drums flared their volume, II hitting them with a rough and swift pace. Vessel slowly started with calm notes, sappy lyrics and sweet definitions remarking them.

Slowly, you faded into part singing a smooth ‘ahh..’ in the background to add a ethereal interjection.

III and IV’s guitars jumped right back into the part as Vessel’s voice turned from honey-like to a dark death growl. Voice raising and dropping low and moving along to higher note to make a choir, you raised your voice in the same part as he did.

Your and his voice’s intertwining before moving away to separate octaves, your lines repeating behind his as a echo aftereffect.

Instruments slowly deafened into the background as the finale approached the song. II’s drumming ringing throughout the stadium.

As the end started, both of your voices raised, ending the scream with a loud scream into microphone. Song ending with cheering.

══════════════════════ im eating a salad! thats my author note

#dy6 #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token imagine #sleep token x reader #sleep token iv #sleep token ii #sleep token iii #sleep token vessel #vessel x reader #iii x reader #ii x reader #iv x reader #iv sleep token #iii sleep token #vessel sleep token #ii sleep token

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the-moth-from-elsewhere · 13 days

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The Epic Amazing Absolutely Insane TAOCC Song Post

Aka: Elsie assigns random songs to random characters for random reasons, vaguely organized by mod. These are almost entirely vibes and randomness so get ready to be utterly confused. Don’t expect any of these to fit too well, I went more based on the sound and random stuff than the actual accuracy. Also i’m kinda brain-broken from overthinking all this music lol. No, I didn’t add links, just because this took so many hours. Maybe tomorrow, I just wanna get this done.

Feiar’s characters.

Nymn

“Dento takes the Stairs” by Gooseworx

I told you these would make no sense. Idk the amount of nymn just being vibes/silly/lighthearted makes me think of how this song is a break from the chaos of the Elain series.

Jessy

“Metamodernity” by Vansire

Okay, I have a really specific animatic in my head for this song in which we flash between the TAOCC characters as they are in the circus, and then a cool transition, and then it’s them pre-circus. My best example is Dusk and Jessy sitting on a bench. A train passes by, and now it’s human Jessy sitting alone on a bench. Because Dusk is AI. And that very specific part of the animatic in my head tends to stick with me, especially seeing as Jessy is very “just go with stuff” and so I can kinda hear him singing this in my head.

”Apocalypse Now” by PinnoccioP

The first appearance of many of my favorite music artist lol. The song is about enjoying existence even if everything is a violent wreck, and it just kinda fits to me lol.

“World’s Smallest Violin” - AJR

yeah just gonna drop this one here and run

“Sweet Tooth” - Scott Helman

Blame Fei.

Clara

”Drosselmeyer’s theme - Kurumi Wari Ningyo (Nutcracker No. 2 March) - The Princess Tutu Soundtrack

Okay, for starters, you should watch Princess Tutu. Like right now. It’s amazing, and the title does NOT do it Justice. Back on track, it…it’s the nutcracker! Come on, this one was basically handed to me.

Tutu vs Kraehe (Swan Lake Act 1 Op. 20 No. 2)

Fight theme.

Lance

”I Don’t Have a Name For It” - Steam Powered Giraffe

I…I’m sorry I don’t have an explanation for this it just works. Lancia sweep.

Raina

”Nightcall” - Kavinsky

…Once again, very flimsy. But like…switch the gender. I’m sorry but it’s giving “they’re talking about my death but I’m still here.” The miku version works better here in my opinion :3

The pirates

“He’s a pirate” - F-777

“The 7 Seas” - F-777

idk man techno piracy go vrrrrrrrr I unironically blasted these during like the entirety of the pirates plotline frick you this is my rant I do what I want /silly

Star’s Characters

Icia

”Long Live” - Taylor Swift

I swear I have reasons for this just hear me out okay- First off, I can see the voice fitting, second off, I imagine her singing this either for Lance or Starro or both after we finally finally finally throw Hexe off a cliff.

“Santa Salvacion” - Magia Record OST

epic fight theme for fighting the terrifying ice lady. I blasted this while writing the fight scene with The Dark Queen Icia.

Dunite

”Postmeridae” - Madoka Magica OST

Cutesy upbeat theme for making merengues to. No notes.

“Witches Dance” - Magia Record OST

Idk, feels like her fight theme

”Roki” - Mikito P

…Vibes. Entirely vibes. Dunite should start a band /hj.

Starro

“Please Never Fall In Love Again” - Ollie MN

I just…him. Singing this. About Conny. I swear to cheese.

Vaga and Nova

“Class Dance - Rensho Kyoku I” - Princess Tutu OST

…Vibes.

Odette

”Vocalise Op. 34 No. 14” - Madoka Magica OST

Vibes. Piano. Sad string accompaniment. Must I say more?

Achilles

“Doubt #2” - Madoka Magica: Rebellion OST

Starting to notice a pattern with the kingdom characters lol?

Joofie’s Characters

Cardlan

“Main Character” - Will Wood

Ego. So, so much Ego.

“Sayo-Nara” - DDLC OST

I have my reasons.

Minimi

“Not Yet (Epilogue)” - Madoka Magica: Rebellion OST

Accordion and a little bit of ominousness. Vibes.

Xeyshattersiltav1a’s Characters

Sun

“Cowboy Dan” - Modest Mouse

Yee-haw sun. Do not give that woman a truck. Wow, these descriptions are getting terrible lol.

”Popular” - Wicked Soundtrack

Wicked but it’s sun and Dusk lives in my head rent free okay

“Alright” - Mother Mother

please help me I keep making up sun animatics with this song in class

Mix

“Something, Everything is Wrong” - Madoka Magica: Rebellion OST

This song is the reason I associate Mix with the accordion. Also, I imagine Dusk meeting him/his first real introduction in TAOCC’s background music as this song.

“Intertwined” - CMYK, CircusP.

Rip this man’s love life

“Love is War” - Ryo/Supercell feat. Hatsune Miku

Love is still Vehicular Manslaughter /ref

Dialtone

“Cats!” - waterflame

Does the song fit him? Not at all! It is way too techy and upbeat, and would probably better suit someone like Switch. But like….cats. He’d listen to a song called “cats!”. You can’t convince me otherwise.

“Want You Gone” - The Portal OST

Dialtone is GLaDOS coded to me.

“Killer Spider” - PinnoccioP

vibes and vibes alone.

Soup’s Characters

Silhouette

“Scared of you” - Brandon Hesslau

“Whoops, sorry for kinda almost killing you.”

”What Gave It Away” - Riproducer

evil.

”Burial Ground” - Low Roar

sad backstory.mp3.

Clown

“I’m Number One” - Muppets Most Wanted Soundtrack

Look man he’s silly and egotistical and it’s funny. He’s definitely singing this with carbine.

Autumn’s Characters

Pyxel

”Magical Doctor” - MARETU

once again, more vibes than lyrics and the gender’s wrong but, like, the vibes, man

Neb

“Lonely UFO” - PinnoccioP

…it doesn’t fit. The lyrics, as far as I can tell, do NOT fit. BUT LOOK AT THE OUTFIT, THE BLUE HAIR AND VOID SKIN AND MURDER TEETH AND TELL ME THAT DOESN’T LOOK LIKE NEB, OKAY?!

“Finding Sanctuary” - Stellaris OST

Silly space song for silly space person.

Lily’s Characters

The bookend siblings, and I mean all of them as a group, Katrina included for brevity’s sake

“Magical Girl and Chocolate” - PinnoccioP

Okay, I have actual reasoning for this one. Each of the siblings is someone’s “magical girl”, whether metaphorically or literally. They’re each fighting to protect and support someone. And they each strain and struggle to cope with a role too demanding for them. This song works for each of them in a different form and context.

Octavia and Steven/Sign

“Isn’t it “A”” - PinnoccioP

The arguments of all time

Honse- I mean Sophro

“Puzzle” - CMYK, CircusP

He’s just here to help. No notes.

Miscellaneous Others/Not big enough for their own section

Lantern

“Lantern” - Undertale OST

…self explanatory. The song’s vibes fit, too, I imagine this plays in his scenes.

“The Other One Left” - VaneLily

Half due to the “I just want a loving father” line. Gender’s wrong, again, but otherwise the lyrics fit.

Seer

“Seer’s Theme” - Cindy

I literally cannot outdo her own theme. It’s just too good. I listen to it randomly just because I like it so much /gen.

Sigil

“I’m Just Ken” - Barbie Movie Soundtrack

this is mostly a joke but come ON you think that guy doesn’t feel a little overshadowed by his GODDESS FIANCÉE?!

“Business Man” - Tom Cardy

Okay so this one takes some explaining because I imagine sigil walking into Dialtone’s place to spy and Insanity ruining everything and shooting everyone. It makes absolutely no sense but it’s funny in my head so here we are.

My Characters, yes this is gonna be last

Dusk

“Ultimate Senpai” - PinocchioP

A song about being overly pressured and stuff? Yeaaaaah.

“Sis Puella Magia!” - Madoka Magica Soundtrack

….Pretty. That’s it.

Aoki

“Decretum” - Madoka Magica Soundtrack

The reason I gave him a violin.

Alpenglow

“Yume Yume” - DECO*27

I have an ENTIRE ANIMATIC for chip and alpen with this song in my head

Lemonade

“Viva La Vida” - Coldplay

lore. Hehe.

Yume

“What are Children Made Of?” - PinnoccioP

This kid’s childhood has been ruined and boy is processing that hard.

”Everything about Animals” - PinocchioP

an absolute fever dream of a song that she would absolutely sing about animals. And how cool they are. And ohhhh look commentary on the state of humanity

Switchboard

“Kom Susser Tod” - Astrophysics

Idk it doesn’t fit all too well but the mix of utter hopelessness and eurobeat techno is just hercore

TAOCC as a whole

“Something Rotten!/Make an Omelette” - Something Rotten Soundtrack

WHEN I TELL YOU I HAVE AN ENTIRE. FREAKING. ANIMATIC-

”Your Silver Garden” - Madoka Magica OST

I do not know the lyrics literally at all but I could see an OP for TAOCC with this song

#Taocc #i am terrified that people will criticize my choices here lol #Yes they make no sense I know that

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carelesslywriting · 1 year

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Mercy - Eric Coulter

This is day 3 of 10 for my 10 days of music prompt! There's still some open songs available on my pinned post to choose from if you'd like to request an imagine. Based off of Mercy by Shawn Mendes.

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1395 Trigger Warnings: death Note: These imagines are my own work and I do not consent to distribution of my work elsewhere!

"You always do this shit, Y/N! I don't have time to spend with you, you know I work crazy hours and that's not my fault," Eric shouted at you, tightly crossing his arms across his chest as he glared over at you.

You didn't ask for much from Eric, you know his hours, all you were asking for was some time spent together at the end of the night in some form. It's been what feels like weeks to you where you've only seen glimpses of Eric, and it's been starting to take a toll on you. Why couldn't he understand all you were asking for was 15 minutes of acknowledgment or even just a conversation before he went to bed or started his wind-down routine?

"I'm not asking for a lot, Eric," You retorted, feeling defeated before you even opened your mouth to continue. "This fight is the most interaction I've had with you in weeks! You don't even ask me how my day is. Even though you don't mean to hurt me, you keep tearing me apart," Your voice got quieter towards the end, and you decided to stop speaking there because you didn't want to break down and cry in front of him.

"Bullshit," Eric responded, rolling his eyes. "Stop being so fucking insecure and maybe try being understanding. I'm so sick of this shit from you when I get home after a long day."

"Eric I'm opening my heart up to you about how I feel and you call me insecure? Why can't you ever be supportive? Why can't you ever just tell me that how I'm feeling isn't crazy, or that you miss me too and want to spend some sort of time with me when you can? I can't take this anymore, would you please have some mercy on me?" You begged, a tear falling from your eye.

"Mercy? Seriously?" Eric asked, scoffing. "That's so pathetic. I don't have to comfort you for every little thing, that's not my problem." You wiped the tear that fell from your eye, looking down at the ground and taking in Eric's words. Nothing is ever going to change. You sighed, looking back up into Eric's cold eyes.

"Fine, then I need you to set me free because this isn't fair to me anymore," You spoke, voice shaking, looking for any type of emotion from Eric.

He stayed silent, just staring at you. After a minute of silence, you decided to walk out the door before he could even say anything. Your pride is all you've got left, and your heart shattered at the thought that Eric could just never take it easy on you or try to understand you. You felt like nothing but a puppet being pulled by its strings whenever you tried communicating anything that hurt you, and you didn't know if you could take any more. He always manipulated and weaponized your feelings against you.

You took off running towards the chasm, more tears falling from your eyes as you thought of the past year and the relationship with Eric. You gave so much for so little in return, he didn't even care that you left. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't realize how slippery the bridge over the chasm was, or that Eric had followed you.

"Y/N!" Eric yelled out, taking you by surprise. And snapping you out of your thoughts.

You whipped around, in shock that he followed, but the next thing you felt was losing your balance due to your foot slipping. You cried out, trying to reach out to anything that could keep you from falling. You heard Eric shout out your name again as you just barely gripped onto the edge of the bridge with the fingertips of one of your hands. A final tear left your eye as you realized you weren't going to be able to hang on. You saw Eric's hand reach for yours to try and grab you, but he was a second too late. His face was the last thing you saw as you fell to your death.

Eric shouted out for you, looking at the hand that almost had your wrist. It all happened so fast. He looked around frantically, not wanting to believe he had just witnessed you fall. The sound of your body as it hit the ground below was going to be a sound forever pierced into his ears. All the air inside his lungs felt like it had disappeared as he started to hyperventilate. He continued to shout out for you, tears falling from his face down to the bottom of the chasm where you laid. One minute you were together, and the next you were gone, just like that.

"Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry," Eric cried out to the void. "Come back, fuck, COME BACK! Please Y/N..."

A crowd began to gather around as Eric continued to call out for you. He hung over the ledge, arm still out like he would be able to save you from the fate you just suffered. Max and Four quickly followed the sound of the commotion and yanked Eric off the ground the moment they saw him leaning over the edge. Both men had to use all their force to wrestle him away from the edge of the chasm and into a more secluded area, away from all the people who ended up gathering around him.

"Eric, what the hell happened?" Max asked.

"Y/N.." Eric trailed off, "She slipped, I couldn't grab her in time."

Four's face instantly dropped. Eric fell back down to the ground, head in his hands as he quietly sobbed. He didn't care how weak he looked, he just lost the one thing he loved. He was always prepared to sacrifice his life for you, and instead of him dying, it was you. The pain he felt swelling up in his chest was unlike any type of physical pain he'd ever felt before. He was internally begging for the same mercy you just begged him for. His cold, hard exterior that he'd maintained for his entire life fell the moment you did. If he hadn't yelled at you, hadn't called you names, if he had just listened to what you had to say, if he had asked you to stay.. all the what if's were now running through his head as he silently begged to be woken up from the nightmare he was in.

•

Eric jumped out from the seat he was in, breathing heavily as he ripped the wire off his head. He quickly wiped the tears on his face and looked around the room trying to reorientate himself to reality. He got up quickly, pacing the room and trying to ground himself as he kept repeating in his head that it was just his fear landscape and it wasn't real.

Eric's fear landscape was complicated. When he was originally an initiate, this specific fear was mild. He was never too worried about pushing people away and losing them. However, after he met you, this fear gradually grew and developed into his worst fear. Every time he ran this landscape, it never got easier.

It's hard to switch the coldness required to do his job off when it comes to you. The love Eric feels for you is complicated because of that. He's petrified of losing you, but he doesn't know how to not be argumentative and defensive when it comes to feelings. While he's been able to manage it for the most part within your relationship now, he's scared that might not be the case in the future. He wants to have that type of mercy for you, he truly doesn't mean to hurt you when he does. That's why he continues to suffer and run this landscape every week until he can figure out how to make it easier and beat it.

Once Eric felt he had his composure back, he realized he was late for meeting you for a quick lunch. It reminded him of the landscape, how he constantly blew you off and tore you apart that way. With that thought in mind, he quickly hurried out the door to meet you. One small step at a time, Eric was working to be the type of guy he felt you needed.

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toh-holiday-kingo · 5 months

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Calling Owl House fan creators! Join us for TOH Holiday Bingo!

How to participate:

Make a fan creation based on one or more of the bingo prompts!

Use 4 prompts (in one or more pieces) for an extra challenge to make “King!” (Or bingo). They don’t have to be in a straight line for you to make King!

Post your creation(s) between December 1, 2023 and January 6, 2024 on Tumblr (with @toh-holiday-kingo) AND/OR post to AO3 and submit to the AO3 collection titled “TOH Holiday Kingo 23/24”.

Share which prompt(s) inspired your work.

Have fun! And be sure to check out the other amazing creations that are part of this event 😄.

NOTE: To keep this event open to all ages, no explicit/18+ works will be reblogged or collected. Works with non-explicit triggering content must be tagged accordingly. (This includes topics like death, illness, or canon-typical violence/horror.)

The moderators of the event have the final say on which works get reblogged and/or added to the AO3 collection. Please allow time for works to be reblogged or added to the collection by the moderators. If a few days pass and you think something has wrongly not been reblogged or denied acceptance into the collection, please DM the blog and moderators will respond when they can.

Prompt inspiration:

Festive foods— cooking or baking! Enjoying special holiday treats! Kitchen disasters!

Human realm holidays— celebrating any human holidays- in the human realm or bringing them to the Boiling Isles!

Tales and stories— old holiday myths, backstories of legends, new and old stories of holiday events

Fun and shenanigans— Snow-ball fights! A Santa (or other holiday figure) trap! Sled race! New toys! Games! Pranks!

Snow and ice— Cold weather, storms, snow angels (snow demons?), icicles

Mistletoe— romance and platonic affection, setting people up, purposely standing under mistletoe

Gift giving— finding the perfect present, making and wrapping gifts, shopping for gifts, opening gifts, giving metaphorical gifts

Parties/festival— hosting a seasonal or holiday party, attending a festival, putting on a festival, festivals with special cultural (Human or Demon Realm) significance

Traditions— carrying on old traditions from generations past, creating new traditions, blending traditions, family traditions and town traditions

Festive music— listening, singing, and dancing to popular holiday songs, creating music at home, attending or performing in a concert

Quality time with family— reconnecting with family from far away, intentional time with close family members (found or otherwise), meeting family members for the first time

Boiling Isles holidays— celebrating unique Boiling Isles holidays- in the Boiling Isles or bringing them to the human realm!

Cozy and warm— bundling up in warm clothes or blankets, sitting by a fire, cuddling with loved ones, drinking hot beverages

Legendary figures— Teaching each other about legends who visit with gifts like the Three Kings or a Boiling Isles Santa-like figure (if one exists!), meeting legendary figures or sharing stories of how they came to be, is Jack Frost actually from the Demon Realm?

Lights and decorations— decorating houses, inside and out, lighting candles, bringing evergreens (or everpurples?) inside

Older generation memories— what memories do Eda, Camila or others in their generation have to share? Or Eda’s parents? Or Evelyn or her parents?

Hosted by @larkfeather1153 (Lark) and @jamgrlsblog (Jamgrl) from the Raeda and Friends discord server! If you are interested in the server, join here!

#Toh fan creation event #toh fanfic #toh fanart #Toh fandom event #Toh holiday event #Toh holiday bingo #the owl house #Toh Kingo

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togrowoldinv · 1 year

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Dancing Queen

Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

You help Lizzie prepare for a role

Note: This is based on a recent interview of Lizzie saying she learned how much she loves ABBA while preparing for Love and Death. It’s fluffy! Y’all enjoy!

Elizabeth Olsen Masterlist, Main Masterlist

From the seat next to her, you look at your beautiful girlfriend driving down the road. She told you that she needed to get into 70s music for her new roll, and you knew exactly what to play for her.

There’s a slight smile on her face that she’s trying to hide.

“Admit you like it, babe,” you say.

“I don’t- that’s not fair,” Lizzie says, a giggle breaking through her words.

“What’s not fair? I think it’s a great song.”

Lizzie reaches over and puts a hand on your thigh. You smile at her.

“I guess somewhere deep inside of me yeah I like this music,” Lizzie admits.

“Yes! Let yourself enjoy it, baby!” You turn up the song and the two of you sing along together.

She sings the lyrics loudly. Her inner theatre kid shines through as she nails every single word.

“Elizabeth Olsen, are you sure you’re not an ABBA fan?” You ask her once the song comes to an end.

She laughs. “You know what I just might be one.”

“I knew it! And I love it.”

You lean over and kiss her cheek, causing her to blush deeply.

When you get home, Lizzie puts the car in park but you stop her from turning the key.

Dancing Queen is playing and you turn it up louder before you get out of the car.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” She asks, watching you with wide eyes.

You open Lizzie’s door and help her out of the car.

“You have to dance for your role, right? Let’s dance,” you say.

You two share a grin and you dance together in her driveway.

“I love you, my dancing queen,” you tell her.

“I love you too,” she says before placing a long kiss to your lips.

From that point on, every time you got in the car you turn on ABBA and sing every song together and every night you dance in the driveway together.

It’s her favorite role preparation she’s ever done and you fall in love with her more and more each day.

#elizabeth olsen x reader #lizzie olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen fluff #lizzie olsen #i love you lizzie

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topguncortez · 1 year

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Here Comes the Sun | B. Bradshaw

Bradley Bradshaw Masterlist | Main Masterlist

synopsis: there is a reason why children are supposed to outlive their parents. It's so there parents never know a day without the sun. whumpril day 6: bad coping mechanisms.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: death of a child, cancer, grieving parents, tears, bad coping mechanisms, heartbreak.

note: April 6th might be just a normal day for you guys, but its probably the hardest day of the year for me. This fic is 100% self indulgent and for some reason I resonate grief and grieving with Bradley Bradshaw. I wrote this fic based on watching my parents grieve for the loss of a child for years, and then based on my own grief. it's never easy, and it'll never get easier.

That dreaded day came every year, like clockwork. There was a reason parents were supposed to die before their kids. It was so they didn’t have to live with the constant pain and reminder. Their house was quiet, no sounds of giggles or running feet. Everything was clean and tidy, no loose shoes and toys strewn out across the living room floor, or tutus and crayons in the basement. The color had left too, no more bright pinks and yellows, it was all pale grays and beiges.

Every year they were constantly reminded of what they had. He’d roll over in the morning and see that you were already out of bed, more than likely sitting in your daughter’s room on the floor, staring at the empty bed that was still made and covered in stuffed animals. Even though it had been three years, neither one could find the strength to pack it up, everything still laid in its spot like a frozen time capsule.

Bradley pushed himself from the bed with a groan, placing his feet on the cold hardwood. He looked over at the family picture that sat on his bedside table, it was one of the last family photo shoots they ever had with her. She looked so fragile, like she could break at any moment. You could tell by looking at her that she was sick, that her body was slowly shutting down, but her bright smile distracted you as she shined in the sun. He picked up the frame and gently ran his finger tips over the glass. It was also probably the last time he had seen you smile. Bradley set the picture frame back down and stood up, stretching his back slightly, and walking over to the window. He wasn’t surprised when he pulled the curtains back to see a gray, cloudy overcast sky. It always seemed to rain on this day.

He wasn’t surprised to see you sitting at the table in the kitchen facing the large window. Bradley saw the cup of coffee, still hot, sitting next to you on the table. The room felt cold, the gray from outside not helping the feel at all. Bradley walked over to you, and gently touched your shoulder. You jumped slightly and looked over your shoulder, tears evident on your face.

“Morning, honey,” Bradley said and kissed your forehead. You closed your eyes and nodded, grabbing his hand and squeezing it, “What do you want to do today?”

“I’m not sure,” You said softly. It was your answer every year. You never knew what to do. How does one spend the day their child died? Bradley sighed and patted your shoulder, walking away and going to make them breakfast.

He pulled his phone out of his pajama pants and looked at the various messages left from friends and family. Each one telling him how they are thinking of them today, or how it’s unfair that their little girl was taken from them too early, or how they’ve never forgotten her sweet smile and laughter.

“Do you want to listen to music?” Bradley asked, trying to fill the silence.

“No,” You said quickly. Again, like every year, you shot down the idea of music, too afraid that that song will come on. Even on the other 364 days a year, you were scared that song would come whether you were driving home listening to the radio, or playing music from your phone. You hadn’t been able to listen to that song in full since the day they said goodbye forever.

“We can go visit her later?” Bradley said in more of a question than a statement.

“I don’t know.”

It was like pulling teeth sometimes to get you to go with him to visit their daughter’s grave. Bradley liked going, he liked sitting in the grass on a blanket with his guitar, and quietly playing to her, like he would’ve if she was still here. He always made sure to take fresh flowers to put in the vase. You didn’t like going. You didn’t like knowing her little girl was buried alone, in the cold dark earth. You knew that her soul wasn’t in the dark earth, that she had left and was dancing among the sun, no longer in pain and suffering.

You didn’t say anything, but buried your face in your hands and let out a loud sob. Bradley paused what he was doing, and just listened to your soft cries. He knew there was no comforting you on a day like this, no matter how hard he tried. He had learned over the years that you just wanted to be left alone, and that’s what he did. He went about making them breakfast as you sat at the table and cried. These pockets of emotion would happen throughout the day, and it was best to just let them be and let them happen.

After breakfast, the two of them sat on the couch, choosing to watch a movie to distract them. Bradley noticed that you held onto your daughter’s tattered teddy bear that she had taken everywhere. You held it close to your chest as you cuddled into Bradley, occasionally taking a deep sniff of it. It was amazing that it smelled like their sweet little girl; like lavender and antiseptic from the hospital. Bradley would occasionally get off the couch when the doorbell would ring, someone sending them a memorial flower arrangement or a fruit basket.

“Do you think she knows what today is?” You asked Bradley softly.

“I don’t know. . . I would think she probably knows the jist of it. She’s very smart,” He answered, “I like to think that she had people waiting for her when she got there.”

You nodded and looked down at the teddy bear with the ripped ear, “I bet my grandma was there. . .or my uncle. Or the dog I had in elementary school.”

Bradley smiled, “I know my parents were there waiting for her. I bet they had spent the whole time watching and talking to her, letting her know it was all gonna be alright.”

He swore that in those final weeks he had gotten more signs from Heaven than he had in the past ten years. His parents visited him in a dream the night before their daughter passed, both of them standing in the sun and smiling at Bradley, telling him that he had done all he could do and they would take it from here. Little did Bradley know until a couple weeks later, that you had the same dream that night as well.

“I hope they’ve been nice to her,” You said, your voice breaking. Bradley sniffled and held you close, rubbing your back as you cried, “Cause I know she’s being nice to everyone, and smiling at them and complimenting their eyes. God, she was always talking about people’s eyes.”

Bradley nodded and let his own tears fall freely. They sat in silence as they cried on the couch, letting the movie playout. The sounds of rain pelting the roof and windows slowly pulled them to sleep as they both fell into a nap, holding each other, the teddy bear placed in between them.

When they awoke, they noticed the rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still gray. A shiver ran down your body as you looked out the back kitchen window at the tire swing that still swung from the tree. Memories of the summer Bradley had put it up in the tree filled your mind. You had been terrified that something would happen, like the branch would break and your sweet baby would get hurt. How ironic that it wasn’t the swing that hurt her.

Bradley was putting his shoes on when the soft sound of your footfalls filled his ears. He had the bouquet of fresh sunflowers to go in the vase at the cemetery, Sarah Kazansky had dropped them earlier, picking them right from her garden. He smiled softly at you, and you sucked in a deep breath.

“I. . . I need to go with you,” You said and Bradley stood up from the stair he was sitting on. You felt a pang in your heart as you saw the painted names of your child and husband.

“Are you sure? Cause you don’t have to. I can go alone, it’s fine, I promise,” Bradley said, gently holding your face in his hands. You nodded as tears brimmed your eyes again. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly in his embrace. You laid your head against his heart, listening to the soft thudding of it. He placed his chin on top of your head and the two of you stood in silence for a moment.

He made the first move, and gently sat you down on the step with your daughter’s name painted on it. You had been the one to paint the names on the wood. Your daughter and Bradley always sat on the step and waited for you to come home from work. Her expression every time you’d walk through the door was as if she hadn’t seen you in years. You surprised Bradley with the small gift after he came home from one of his last deployments before she took a turn for the worst.

Bradley helped put shoes on your feet and then kept his hand in yours as you walked to the Bronco. He had gotten rid of his truck almost immediately after your daughter’s death. He had only bought the Ford F-150 because it was more suitable as a family car than his father’s hand-me-down Bronco. Bradley couldn’t stand seeing the truck in the driveway, knowing he wasn’t going to hear soft giggles from the back seat or feel gentle kicks against his seat as he drove her to daycare in the morning.

The drive to the cemetery was silent, as you watched the scenery pass by. It was almost the same route that you took on the day of her funeral. You drove by the small church that she was obsessed with. You and Bradley thought it was silly that a little girl was so obsessed with an old white chapel with beautiful stained glass, but it made more sense after she died. The cemetery grass was plush green and looked soft. Shades of gray and black filled your vision as Bradley slowed down on a small path right off the main road. He put the Bronco in park and sat back in his seat, turning his head towards you. He felt his heart break as silent tears ran down your face.

“Oh honey,” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. He hated making things worse for you. He hated seeing you cry. If there was anything he could do to switch places with his little girl, he would do it in a heartbeat if it meant never seeing you cry again, “We can leave-”

“No,” You whispered, “She needs us both here.”

Bradley brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it. He got out of the driver’s side and quickly jogged to your side, opening the door and grabbing your hand. The earth was still wet from the constant rain of the day, as they walked in the wet grass up to the black head stone. You picked up your long sundress a bit so the bottom wouldn’t get completely drenched. It was a sundress that Carole had made for you before she died, and you wore it to both Carole and her daughter’s funeral. You let out a shaky breath as they stopped in front of the beautiful black stone, with their daughter’s name engraved in gray writing.

‘Viola Caroline Bradshaw.

February 12th 2016- April 6th 2021’

You ran your hands over the engraving as Bradley placed the small vase of flowers in front of her headstone. The smiling engraved picture of their daughter looking back at them. The picture captured almost everything about Viola, even her bright brown eyes and smile. It was almost like it was real, like they could reach out and touch her.

“Hi, babygirl,” You whispered, “Sorry I haven’t been here. . . I promise I’ll come back. I promise you.” You pressed your lips to the cold stone, and then stood up to stand by your husband.

Bradley wrapped his arm around your waist, and you laid your head on his chest. The scene was like one from years ago as they stood in front of the stone. The sky is gray with heavy rain clouds. A brush of wind blew through, making the chimes in the tree they planted ring. You tensed for a moment, and so did Bradley, as the clouds rolled back just for a moment and a ray of sunshine filtered down to the earth.

You picked your head up from Bradley’s chest, and looked at the bright light as it shone on them, making them feel warm for the first time in years. You gently took a step away from Bradley, almost as if you were getting closer to the sun. He watched you as you closed your eyes, taking in the moment, as the clouds slowly started to roll together, ceasing the sunlight. You opened your eyes, and looked towards the sky, as if their daughter had sent that beam of light to them. Bradley walked towards and placed a kiss on the stone, patting it and then turning to his wife. He grabbed your hand and the two of them walked back to the car, in a little bit better feel than before.

It wasn’t a happy feeling, it wasn’t an angry feeling, it was a peaceful feeling. They both settled into their seats and Bradley started the car. Both of them froze as they heard the opening chords of that song. Bradley moved quickly, going to change the channel but you stopped him. Bradley looked at you with wide eyes, as you smiled and then looked back at her daughter’s headstone.

“Thank you, baby.” You whispered to the sky, and Bradley smiled shyly to himself. He turned the song up just a little bit, as he put the car in drive and slowly drove off from her grave.

The clouds once again rolled back, letting a beam of light shine down on the little girl’s grave, making the engraved quote on the headstone stand out even more than it already did.

‘Here Comes the Sun. . .’

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