#I almost want to play war thunder again but then I remember the pain

[downbadfororcs]

Faltered Action

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IM ALIVE thank you all so much for being so patient and so supportive 😭 I’m so so sorry it’s been so long. Thank you all for your comments and reblogs and likes it’s been so motivating and so nice to see i really hope this next next part lives up. Love y’all!!

Xoxo

Ps. Tw: nightmares, swearing, mentions of violence I think

<< Masterlist

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As the orc turned to leave, something caught his eye. Kneeling down, Xürgarh picked up a small card with shining letters.

“East Docking Trading, Post, and Services”

He flipped the card over, never seeing anything like it, on the back was scribbled with ink:

“Ask for James”

The writing was in Old English, must be a human based port. Not uncommon but large groups of humans aren’t often found anymore, not since the great wars. Xürgarh turned over the card again before placing it in his pocket and swiftly leaving, not wanting to draw more attention than he already might’ve.

Xürgarh returned home, shuffling off his cloak and outside garb. He placed the card on the coffee table, occasionally looking it over once more before placing it down. He stared into the hearth, thinking, until his eyes grew heavy, falling asleep on the couch.

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Pain. Pain and agony is all you feel, pounding and throbbing across your body as the scene you’re trapped in progresses. Familiar faces and events play over and over. A burning ship sticks out, the heat is unbearable, making everything feel as if it’s ablaze. The act itself is almost beautiful, as all of the souls it’s taken once before escape. Somethings wrong though. They aren’t sent above the clouds as they should be. They swirl and combine like a thundering storm, a violent one at that, so fast that the faces you one recognize are contorted beyond recognition. They begin to swarm around you, all the voices and screams, the searing hot pain of it all is overwhelming.

It suddenly stops. You feel cold. It’s so sudden it’s startling, compelling you to finally open your eyes.

Light floods the room, after a few blinks Marvin’s figure is more recognizable, as well as his worried gaze.

“Thank god you’re awake. That was a nasty nightmare that one, I was beginning to worry you wouldnt wake up”

As he walks off he carries a cloth with him, placing it back in a bucket and wringing it out before placing it back on your forehead

“You’re sweating through the sheets, I’ll have to change them while you’re in the bath. How do you feel?”

Marvin assists as you fight to sit up, hissing with a flinch as your side radiates in agony

“Like shit”

He smiles at your answer

“Better than being dead no doubt, if you hadn’t been found I don’t wanna know what would’ve happened”

“But who found me?”

“You don’t remember, i was afraid you had a concussion, let me see your eyes-“

“No no no get away from me it hurts-“

“It’ll only be a second”

“I’ll bite you. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again”

“I know, I have the scar on my hand to prove it”

Marvin chuckles and sits down on the edge of the bed

“Alright alright I’ll leave you for now, maybe you’ll remember later. How does a bath sound”

“Gods yes. Do you have any more of that bath stuff?”

“You’re lucky I have any left, the ladies around town hound me for it whenever their monthly happens, apparently it’s the best pain solution around. Come on”

He gently lifts all the covers he trapped you under, removing the cloth from your head before picking you up. Marvin apologizes as he hears a multitude of pain sounds the whole way to the bathroom, after a few moments of water running you’re left in the massive tub.

The water has a purple tinge, with lavender and light floral scents filling your senses. Any agony and discomfort is washed away the longer it soaks in your skin. Leaning against the back of the tub, last nights events play over and over in your mind. Slowly, a face of an attacker and rescuer becomes more clear. Only one is missing a name, the other carries a title best forgotten.

After a while the water goes cold and you make your way out of the tub, draining the water before eventually getting dressed and dragging yourself downstairs to chat with Marvin before he opens up the pub for the day

He smiles as you still sit in the same spot, the only seat which the top is built to be human size.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, loads, still tired though”

“I’d expect so, I’ll give you a little sleeping draught if you want so you won’t be woken up by all the noise-“

“I think I remember who saved me, but I don’t have his name”

“Xürgarh. He’s an orc”

“Figured with a pretty green face like that and being built like a tank, if he comes in tonight can you send him upstairs?”

Marvin stops, setting down the glasses he was cleaning

“Are you sure? You’re still very hurt even if you can’t feel it, I don’t want you to wear yourself out with too much excitement”

“A conversation is not too much excitement”

“No but I know he’s your type and I want to still have my bed intact when I finally go to sleep tonight, that thing was custom made you know”

You felt your face grow hot as you grab some nuts from the bowl Infront of you and throw them at him. Marvin laughs and throws up his hands in defence

“Have mercy! I’m being attacked by a human”

“Fuck off marvin, you haven’t even talked to that centaur you’ve been fawning over since we moved here”

“Hey you know disputes between our kinds just ended, I don’t know how he feels”

“Probably the same and it’s some will-they-won’t-they troupe”

“Oh hush, I’ll let Xürgarh know if he comes in today but I doubt it, usually he has to be dragged”

“Well where does he work?”

“He’s a blacksmith, his workshop is just a block or two from here i think. I’ve only been in once when that drunk elf tried to fight that hoard of halflings with my sword and broke it. You can hardly tell where it snapped unless you’re really looking for it”

“Hmm, you think he can fix the music box from auntie?”

“Oh I’d say so, I can’t believe you still have that since it was-“

Marvin stops as he sees you wince at the memory, placing his hand on yours for comfort. When you finally look up he offers a smile “it’s about time for me to open, you should probably wait upstairs. I’ll come check on you later and I’ll let you know if Xürgarh comes by, probably lead him up and everything”

“Thank you Marvin, I really appreciate it” you return the smile before slipping off the stool gently and making your way back upstairs.

[eddardofthehousestark]

hey!! you've probably gotten this question 100 times, but where is your header from? is it real?

Well only a couple of times and for some reason I deleted the last time I answered this. But its not real. Its just a screenshot of a Mirage F-1 with a custom Sansa Stark/House Stark camo from the game War Thunder.

Wish it was real but sadly the French are more likely to use anime references in their actual camo instead of ASOIAF.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Baby, Now We Got Bad Blood

A/N: So, we're told in ACOMAF and ACOWAR that mating instincts ride the males hard and that you should never come between a male and his mate, but one of my biggest gripes with ACOSF is that we never really see that from Cassian. Like come on, SJM! I want to see the Lord of Bloodshed go into Mate Mode(tm)! And so, I decided to write this. I recognize it may not be everyone's cup of tea, so remember that the back button is free, but for everyone else, enjoy! :)

Read on AO3

The tug between Cassian’s ribs is so sudden, so harsh, that he almost drops to his knees right then and there. That golden thread securely tucked there squeezes tight enough that it steals the breath straight from his lungs, twisting and writhing in his chest until he can do nothing except press a palm against his side in hopes of alleviating the pain, until he's sure that he must be bruised. He’s half aware of Devlon watching him curiously, of the other camp lords still sitting around the table, but all Cassian can focus on is the way his blood has run cold, on the ringing that’s taken up home in his ears all from that one tug.

Tentatively, he reaches for the golden thread within himself, sending his confusion and concern down the bond. He skates a finger along it, keeping his touch featherlight, before he plucks, a small, urging question. And then, with bated breath, he waits. Waits for the tug in response. Waits for the soothing feeling that’s not his own to rush through him and calm his worry.

But it never comes.

In fact, there’s almost nothing on the other end of the bond. Just silence. Just an empty, yawning void that has the hairs on the back of Cassian’s neck standing up, that has the pounding in his ears turning into a deafening roar. Genuine fear sparks through his veins, ice cold where it digs its claws into his mind and sends his heart stuttering. He reaches for that golden thread again, tugging more urgently this time, but still nothing.

Something’s wrong.

Cassian knows that Rhys had sent Nesta and Mor to the human lands on some sort of reconnaissance mission. Azriel’s network had gotten some concerning information through the vine, so the High Lord sent Nesta and Mor to blend in with the women of some village and see if they could get more details. It was supposed to be an easy in, easy out mission. He’d even arranged this war meeting in Illyria for when she was gone so he’d be back in time to welcome her home, even had tickets ready for them for the Velaris ballet.

But now, all he has is a silent bond, that single moment of fear twined in that hard tug that festers and burns with his own.

Without a backward glance, Cassian storms out of the room, ignoring Devlon calling after him. As soon as he steps outside into the biting snow of Illyria, Cassian unfurls his wings wide behind his back and takes to the skies. He keeps a hard and fast pace as he tears through the clouds, pushing himself and pushing himself and pushing himself. His back and wings ache with the exertion, but it’s nothing compared to the ache that throbs in his chest like an open wound. Nothing compared to the bloodied and bruised shreds of his heart at the thought of something happening to Nesta.

His mind keeps playing an endless loop of possibilities, each one worse than the last. He tries to imagine a scenario where it’s all a big misunderstanding, where he arrives back in Velaris and Nesta is there with that softness that takes over her stormy blue eyes when she sees him, with that sweet smile meant only for him, and they’ll laugh about this whole thing. But there’s no denying that niggling doubt, those whispers in the back of his mind. They fuel his fear, taunt him, and soon all Cassian can see each time he blinks is the sight of Nesta’s eyes open but unseeing, the color completely leached from her face, seared on the back of his eyelids.

It drives Cassian to push himself even harder, to fly even faster. Each beat of his wings, each thunderous hammer of his heart, it all pounds in time with that twisting thread between his ribs, in time with that call that blazes through his soul.

Nesta Nesta Nesta

He lands hard enough that his knees groan and ache, but he doesn’t care. He presses his hand against the wards, an incessant flash of red sparking in front of him, and steps inside the River House. Rhys steps into the view at the top of the stairs almost as soon as he’s through the front door, as though he was expecting him. The wariness pinching the corner of his brother’s eyes, the way his lips are pressed into a thin line, it confirms all of Cassian’s worst fears. Bile claws up the back of his throat, tangling with the lump already lodged firmly there.

“Where’s Nesta?” Cassian forces out.

“Cass…” Rhys starts slowly, holding his hands up placatingly. Cassian doesn’t miss the way his brother shifts his feet, resetting his stance like he’s expecting a fight.

Cassian is about to ask his question again when Madja comes bustling into the River House behind him, rushing up the stairs and past Rhys. The sight of the healer jolts Cassian into action, and he follows hot on her heels down the hall and into one of the bedrooms, but his steps stutter to a stop when he realizes it’s Mor sprawled across the blankets, holding her hand against a wound in her side.

Cassian whirls back around, ready to check every other bedroom until he finds his mate, but he comes face to face with Rhys again. His brother is still wearing that cautious expression, face still pinched and body still tense like Cassian is some sort of wounded animal he needs to treat with care.

“Where is Nesta?” Cassian demands again.

Rhys holds his ground and raises his chin, his eyes glancing over Cassian’s shoulder only briefly before landing back on Cassian’s face. “There was an ambush. I don’t know how the mortals knew we’d be there, knew who Mor and Nesta were, but there were two dozen of them… with ash arrows.”

“That didn’t answer my question. Where is she?”

“When I got there, Mor was already badly injured. She was going to bleed out if I didn’t get her out of there and to a healer.”

Cassian can feel his patience hanging on by a thread, stepping closer to Rhy and growling out, “where is my mate?”

Cassian feels the press of Rhys’s magic against him, the darkness that begins to creep and rumble from the corners of the room, as Cassian stares his brother down, but Rhys is unmoving, undeterred. He continues to meet Cassian’s blazing gaze, his face and voice an even calm that grates against the last shreds of Cassian’s nerve endings, the last of his sanity.

“I had to make a choice, and I made it.”

It takes a moment for the words to really sink in, to understand exactly what Rhys is telling him, and when it does, it’s a bucket of ice water over his head. He stumbles back a step in his shock. His stomach roils and drops all the way to his shoes, his blood crystalizing into ice, as he chokes out, “what?”

Rhys looks away then, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I used too much of my magic winnowing there already, and Nesta was too far away. I couldn’t get to her without risking Mor, without risking both of us, so I did what I had to do and winnowed us out of there.”

Cassian doesn’t think he’s breathing. He’s sure that his heart isn’t beating because it’s lost somewhere in the human lands, lost with Nesta. “You…” Cassian swallows hard, finding his voice again. “You left her there? In the middle of an ambush?”

“I’m sorry, Cass. I really am.”

“No, you’re not.”

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Cassian has always known that Rhys isn’t exactly Nesta’s biggest fan. From the moment they met the sisters, from that first meeting at the manor in the mortal lands, Rhys has always held a certain animosity for the eldest Archeron. He’s always held onto that cool resentment on Feyre’s behalf for what happened when the sisters were young. And despite what happened with the human queens, despite what Nesta did during the War, despite what she did for Feyre and Nyx, that tension has never quite dissipated, that contempt is still there.

“If you were really sorry, why didn’t you go back for her?” Cassian continues, shaking his head in disbelief. “After you got Mor back to Velaris, why didn’t you go back?”

Rhys sighs as if this whole conversation is exhausting. “I just told you. My magic was depleted by winnowing that far, and they had ash arrows. I couldn’t risk it.”

“But you could risk Nesta, right?”

Cassian can feel his disbelief at this whole situation quickly morphing into anger. He can feel the heat of it just beneath his skin where it blazes through his veins. The beast deep within his soul thrashes against its restraints, hackles raised at the idea of any harm coming to Nesta. That rage burns and roars as it twists in dark, crackling tendrils in his chest. It urges him to fight, to raze the whole world to the ground until the debt is paid, until all of Prythian understands the mistake of risking the Lord of Bloodshed’s mate.

“It’s what she would have wanted,” Rhys continues, still using that too calm voice. “You know that. Nesta understood the mission, the importance.”

“Don’t you dare!” Cassian snaps, stepping forward again until he and Rhys are toe to toe, glowering down at him. “Don’t you dare speak of her when you left her to die.”

“Calm down,” Rhys speaks slowly, violet eyes flickering in warning.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What if it was Feyre? What if I left Feyre in the middle of an ambush surrounded by ash arrows? What if I left your mate for dead?”

“Don’t.”

The low tone of Rhys’s voice lets Cassian know he’s hit his mark. That magic and darkness presses a little bit harder, those violet eyes turning cold, clearly unimpressed with the underlying threat toward his mate. Cassian almost wants to laugh hysterically, seeing his own feelings mirrored back to him. It’s a sickening type of vindication.

“That’s the difference, isn’t it?” Cassian continues to drawl, not backing down, the red of his siphons flickering in time with Rhys’s own magic. “I would risk it for Feyre. I would go back for her because I know how much she means to you, but you don’t care. You’ve never forgiven Nesta, not really, and now, you finally got the chance to wash your hands clean of her.”

“Cassian—”

“Where?” Cassian interrupts, taking a step back finally and adjusting the straps of his leathers and preparing for a long flight. “Give me the coordinates. I’ll go get Nesta myself.”

Cassian side-steps around Rhys and heads for the stairs, but Rhys is hot on his heels. “Absolutely not. I’m not letting you fly all the way to the mortal lands and potentially walk head first into an attack.”

“Try and stop me,” Cassian dares, whirling around with a snarl of warning. “Being mated and a father has made you soft, Rhysand. Do you really think you could take me?”

The temperature in the room starts to drop, Cassian’s siphons flaring brighter in response as magic scrapes along his spine. He’s been itching for a fight since the moment he stepped through the doors, instincts gnawing at his every nerve ending and riding him hard until his hands are clenching into fists, his fingers twitching with the urge to drive into Rhys’s face.

But he doesn’t have time for this.

Nesta is gods know where in the mortal lands, in the Mother knows what state, and he needs to get to her. He waited five hundred years for her. Five hundred years to hold her. Five hundred years to love her. And he’ll be damned if he loses her now. Damned if he fails her again. Damned if he doesn’t save her when he wasn’t there to protect her in the first place.

He turns back around and storms down the stairs, striding toward the door without looking back. His blood has already started to thunder again, that same beat of Nesta Nesta Nesta as he stretches his wings to warm them up.

“Cassian, stop,” Rhys calls after him, but Cassian merely rolls his eyes. “I am ordering you as your High Lord.”

Cassian can feel the magic of the order as it slinks across his skin, taste it on the back of his tongue, but he’s quick to shake it off with a scoff, yanking open the front door. “Fuck off.”

“You step out that door, you won’t be welcome back in this Court.”

Cassian turns over his shoulder, settling Rhys with a deathly cold look. “Good luck finding a new General then.”

Rhys looks genuinely taken aback by that, blinking a few times in surprise. “You’d really throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for? Everything you’ve ever wanted?”

“Nesta is everything I’ve ever wanted. And you knew that. And you still—” Cassian can’t choke the word out, can’t fathom a world where Nesta, his Nesta, his beautiful, smart, amazing mate is gone.

A world where Rhys killed her.

With one last shake of his head, Cassian steps out of the River House and onto the streets of Velaris, the door slamming behind him. It feels strange and wrong to step onto these streets knowing Nesta isn’t here. Knowing that her quiet steps won’t fill the bookshop in the Rainbow. Knowing that her soft laughter won’t fill her favorite bakery by the river. That fear from before grips Cassian tight enough that his steps almost stumble, but he stretches his wings out wide behind him nonetheless, siphons flaring in anticipation.

He’s going to get her back. Even if it’s the last thing he does.

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld​ @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @girl-of-many-floods @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head

[starwarstbbfan]

Cold - Echo one-shot

Trigger Warning: Brief mentions of wanting to end it all.

This is a Echo one-shot that goes along with my story THE RUNAWAY. Takes place when Echo is still new to the squad, even though that hasn't happened yet in my story.

I apologize for not updating for so long, life got pretty stressful and stupid mental health got bad. But I'm slowly working on the next chapter and hope to have it out soon!

For now, enjoy this little one shot that I'm actually quite proud of! I dedicate this to @violetjedisylveon for giving me the idea for this one-shot!!!!

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Echo woke with a start, expecting to be back inside the stasis chamber that had been his prison for the longest time.

He'd had another nightmare. It was one of those where waking up seemed impossible and filled with droids that poked and prodded while masked people watched, showing no emotion even when the clone cried out in distress and pain. They did nothing, and it seemed the torture would never end. And even if Echo appeared to be shouting, no noise came from him, which made everything all the more terrible.

Heart racing and body coated with sweat, Echo did his best to control his breathing and hoped beyond anything he hadn't made any noise during his tortured slumber that would alert his new teammates. Though blood pounded in his ears, Echo strained to listen from his hammock for any sounds of anyone else waking up.

Thankfully, no one seemed to be awake. Wrecker's thunderous snores most likely drowned out anything, and the raging storm outside that seemed to never stop could have as well. For once, Echo was glad for Kamino's tumultuous weather. But the gratefulness was short lived as a shiver wracked his body, the parts that were human at least.

Despite being covered in sweat, Echo was cold, but it wasn't the type that could be fixed with an extra blanket. No, unfortunately this type of cold was internal, and no amount of blankets or warm drinks could fix it. His nightmares reverted him back to when he was nothing more than a cold slab of meat inside that chamber. He didn't remember much during that time, but one thing he was able to was the freezing subzero temperature.

When he woke up from the nightmares, he'd feel that same coldness again, how that was possible Echo wasn't sure. Maybe the cold, unfeeling cybernetics attached to him played a part who knows. Right now he wanted to rip them off, only he didn't have the strength or will power to do so. It would only draw attention to himself and he didn't want to wake anyone up, or if any of them were awake and merciful to pretend to not notice Echo's distress he didn't want to cause serious concern.

His teammates weren't naive though and Echo unfortunately wasn't the only one with mental scars that would more often than not disrupt sleep. It came with the territory of being a soldier. Sure they were bred for war, but not even the Kaminoans with all their brilliant minds and technology could 100% prevent an organic being from not having some sort of side effect from the harsh battles fought.

The enhanced group of clones had an unspoken agreement amongst themselves. They never spoke of the nightmares. It was easier to pretend they never happened, and they were too stubborn to admit to any sort of weakness. But it was mostly due to the conditioning of the Kaminoans, and the fear of being decommissioned if they appeared to be unstable even if the slightest.

Whispers about what happened with a clone named Tup had eventually reached the Bad Batch's ears, and the prevailing opinion had been that he'd snapped from the stress. However unlikely it seemed, since clones were technically supposed to be immune from that, it still struck concern into every clone and the Bad Batch were no exception though they of course never spoke of it.

Right now, Echo feared more than the rest of them of unraveling and being deemed unfit for duty. Almost every night was filled with kriffing nightmares, being only just shy of four weeks since his rescue. He still wasn't used to his cybernetics and more than once caught himself trying to use his right hand for things before realizing that he didn't have that appendage anymore. It was equal parts frustrating and embarrassing.

Sometimes, deep down, Echo would fight the dark thoughts that wished he'd never awoken from his stasis. That at some point his body gave out from all the experimentation. Or better yet, he'd actually died in that fiery explosion at the Citadel.

Right now, engulfed in the darkness of and trapped in his own mind, Echo wanted nothing more than just some relief from all this. At the very least, he wished to feel warm- feel like a human being again. It could be in his own head but anytime he touched his skin it still felt cold to the touch.

He thought about taking a walk, but was paralyzed and couldn't bring himself to move. Right now, Echo felt, for lack of a better word, broken. Broken.... and cold.

Echo was so immersed in his own thoughts that he didn't notice a pair of sharp glowing eyes watching him from across the room, nor did he see when those eyes came over to the hammock hanging a few feet above the ground.

Echo couldn't help the startled noise that came from his throat when a furry presence suddenly appeared on his stomach. Somehow the tooka completely avoided landing on a part of his body that wasn't robotic thus not knocking the wind out of him - though it was probably on purpose now that he thought about it.

"Get off, Scruffy." Echo murmered crossly, not in the mood to deal with the cat that was definitely against regulations. It was a wonder how the Kaminoans let the squad keep him. Or perhaps they didn't know. Either way, Echo wasn't fond of animals, having dealt with more than enough wild, dangerous ones in the past.

His protest was ignored however, much to his annoyance. Little paws jabbed into his stomach, ribs, and chest as they made their way up Echo's body, and little grunts of pain escaped the clone's lips as a result.

Echo wanted to shove the tooka cat off, but feared being bitten or scratched in retaliation. Even if Scruffy was tiny, who says the cat couldn't cause severe damage? Echo blamed Rishi Moon for his fear of animals. Seeing his brothers get eaten by those Rishi eels still haunted him among everything else.

Imagine Echo’s confusion when Scruffy hopped onto his head. What was the little rat doing?

Echo winced as he felt Scruffy's claws on his bald head, and the cat seemed to be moving in circles for whatever reason. Eventually, the weight settled and Echo felt soft fur instead of paws. Next, he heard a strange sound that came from Scruffy and sent vibrations down Echo's skull. He'd heard this noise before, now that he thought about it. When one of the others would pet Scruffy, he'd make the same sounds. Calli simply had to look at the cat and he'd start doing it. Purring I think Tech called it.

Oddly enough, Echo somehow found it soothing. That, coupled with the heat radiating from the small animal, Echo's eyes started getting droopy once more. The warmth brought on by the tooka/ minature space heater was a foreign feeling.

Even after being rescued he was still surrounded by medical droids that took care of him, and somewhere along the way Echo began to see himself as one as well.

Turns out he needed the touch of another living thing to remind himself that he too was alive and human.

Maybe having this cat around wasn't such a bad thing after all.....

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Hope you liked this!!!! I liked exploring Echo's mind a little bit, and getting into the trauma he's suffered. Echo deserves all the love in the world!!!

[yloiseconeillants]

Galatea (Spotify Playlist) - tracklist, youtube links, selected lyrics under the cut.

DEVO - Gates of Steel :: unlock the secret voice; give in to ancient noise; take a chance, a brand new dance

Talking Heads - The Great Curve :: she (night must fall, now!) (she has got to move the world) is moving to describe the world (darker! darker!) (to move the world, to move the world)

The Motels - Shock :: pain seems far away, as though i'm just watching; daydreams interfere, i'm not really here

Altered Images - Idols :: i can see you taking over me, living my life out for free; when i walk, when i talk, you do too

Slow Children - Vanessa Vacillating :: tell me what you cannot face under the light: if it's impossible for you to fight, i'll fight; if it's impossible for you to fight, i'll fight

Missing Persons - Racing Against Time :: who to know, what to show, where to go, when to blow; be wise to sleep with one eye open if you're able

Deaf School - Thunder and Lightning :: this thunder and lightning seemed so inviting, now just seems frightening

Romeo Void - A Girl in Trouble (is a Temporary Thing) :: there's no time for her to be afraid, so instead she takes care of business, keeps a cool head

Berlin - Dancing in Berlin :: stop, now, let's go again; go, don't stop again; no, i don't want to be alone; yes, it's a time for fun; dance 'til the night is done; look, it's a motion picture showl

The Go-Go's - Head Over Heels (video opens with flashing) :: the voice of reason is one i left so far behind; i've waited so long, so long, to play this part; then just remembered that i'd forgotten about my heart

Pat Benatar - We Belong :: have we become a habit? do we distort the facts? now there's no looking forward, now there's no turning back

Depeche Mode - Strangelove :: there'll be times when my crimes will seem almost unforgivable; i give in to sin because you have to make this life livable, but when you think I've had enough from your sea of love, i'll take more than another river full

Bonnie Tyler - Here She Comes :: somewhere, somehow, there's still some pieces missing; i sense, i feel, trust my intuition, don't rush into your decision

Janelle Monáe - Come Alive (The War of the Roses) :: when everything is wrong, i dance inside my mind - that's when i come alive

Lene Lovich - What Will I Do Without You? :: and if my seven senses won, that one should leave me and smile in the darkness… i would be alright, believe me - but what will i do without you?

Jun Togawa - 好き好き大好き :: kiss me 殴るように唇に血が滲む程; hold me あばらが音を立てて折れる程

[missymurphy1985]

The Writer (Tommy Shelby X Fem.Reader) - Part One

Warning - SMUT (eventually)

Request? Yes

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @heidimoreton

You looked in the mirror, straightening out your dress and taking a deep breath. Your boss David, who also happened to be your older brother, had arranged a meeting with you in the offices of the Birmingham Herald at 6pm sharp.

On the way there, you couldn't help but marvel at how you'd ended up here. Your husband had died two years after returning from war having suffered severe injuries, and after you'd taken on his job at the Herald while he was away fighting, falling ill on his return and subsequently dying, your brother, the editor, had kept you on so you weren't destitute. It was against all the principles of the time, a woman working, but your brother never once allowed the other men at the newspaper to talk down to you. You were the best storyteller and strongest journalist they had on the books and he would always have your back. The other men had grown to look at you as a sister almost - you were blessed to be in the position you were in.

Arriving at the Herald, you made your way to David's office.

"Y/n, I'm sorry to call you in this evening..." He smiled, embracing you and offering you a whiskey which you gladly accepted.

"I never have evening plans David, you know that. What was so important it couldn't wait til morning?"

"We've had an incredible offer and I want you to be the one to report it. The story is made for you."

"What is it?"

"Thomas Shelby has agreed to an article on his life to date!"

"Thomas Shelby? As in the Peaky Blinders?! Not a fucking chance David..." You recoiled in horror. You knew the man's history very well, you'd gone to school with his younger brother John and the stories of the Peaky Blinders were infamous. You hated the man - the thought of interviewing him mad your stomach turn.

"This story could launch your career into the big time Y/n! Think about it! The most secretive, elusive man in the country wants to tell his story to you!"

"To the Herald."

"No, y/n, to YOU. He asked for you. By name."

"How the hell does he know my name?" You'd written your articles under a male pen name so as not to distract readers from the content. Not all men were as modern as your brother and coworkers.

"No idea, but he specifically asked for you."

You mind turned - no one knew you worked at the Herald. You'd kept yourself to yourself, even moving out of Small Heath after your husband passed away. You'd lost touch with John just before he went off to war. There was no connection to the Shelby family at all.

"The reason I dragged you in at 6pm is because he wants to make a start today. This evening actually, there's a car picking you up in 30 minutes."

"David!! I can't do this interview for goodness sake, I'm not even close to prepared!"

"You have 30 minutes! Pull your finger out!" He laughed.

You'd crammed as much as possible in that 30 minutes as you could - your mind was whirring at 70miles per hour when the silver Bentley pulled up outside. Glaring at David, who simply smirked in response, you got in the car as the driver greeted you.

"Arrow House ma'am, won't take long to get there," the driver smiled as you asked him where he was taking you. Arrow House? His home? Why would the most secretive man in Birmingham want to meet you in his sanctuary?

************************************************************

Pulling up outside the huge mansion, you couldn't help but be impressed. The gardens were immaculate.

A middle aged lady greeted you at the front door and offered to take your coat. You smiled and handed it over, as she led you through to the dining room. You took the seat she offered.

"Would you like some tea Ms. Y/L/N?" You nodded, and she signalled one of the younger maids to action.

"Mr Shelby will be with you in a moment, please make yourself comfortable," the lady smiled warmly and headed out the door with your coat. You looked around the room. A large painting on one wall of the man himself with a large horse. There was a smaller picture on a cabinet just underneath that caught your eye. A beautiful blond woman, with piercing eyes and a loving smile, holding a small boy in her arms. You didn't know Thomas was married, let alone had a son. The house didn't seem to have much of a feminine feel to it though, it was borderline drab in its decor.

"My wife, Grace. And my son Charles." A voice behind you startled you, and you turned to see Thomas himself walking towards you, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

"She's beautiful, Mr Shelby. And your son is adorable," you smiled, but he didn't return it.

"She certainly was." Your eyes grew wide as the realisation of what he'd said sunk in.

"Oh I'm sorry -"

"No need. It was a long time ago. Shall we get this over with Ms Y/L/N?" You nodded and he led you out of the dining room into a smaller one - clearly an office. The large oak desk sprawled out in front of the bay window. You took your seat opposite his at the desk and pulled out your pen and pad as he poured himself another whiskey. You shook your head when he offered you one, drinking the tea the young maid have brought in to you instead.

Your questions for him were simple at first. You asked about his childhood in Small Heath. His schooling. His childhood friends. Pretty much all one word answers, driving you insane, until you asked about his brothers.

"You knew John, didn't you?" He asked.

"Yes. Same year at school."

"Sadly, he's no longer with us. Shot by the Italians last year." You heart dropped - you heard through the grapevine that John had children and a wife and the news hit you like a freight train. You took a breath and a moment to compose yourself.

"I'm so sorry Mr Shelby..."

"I'm sorry too, I didn't realise you were so close?"

"We were close before the war. Lost touch after that."

"I don't remember seeing you with him?"

"My father wouldn't let me see him, so we had to be careful.."

"You and John were..."

"No no.. god no! Just friends Mr Shelby." He went quiet again, and sipped his whiskey.

Back to the questions. Mundane as they were, you needed them to get the full story. He wasn't forthcoming with the details. You had to really press him, but he spent most of his time drinking his whiskey and looking out of the window at the dark clouds rolling in outside.

"Listen, Mr Shelby, you clearly don't want this any more than I do so please, if you don't mind, I'd like to end the interview here." Your voice was stern, patience had officially gone out of the window he was so fixated with.

"Jack said you were feisty." You froze at mention of your late husband's name.

"How did you know Jack?"

"We served together in France. Good man."

"Is that how you knew my name?" He didn't answer, just nodded, again watching the weather changing quickly outside.

"Storm looks bad."

"If I leave now I should be fine." The first rumble of thunder made you jump, Tommy noticed your fear instantly.

"Scared of storms?"

"They used to scare Jack.." a second rumble had you grasping onto the chair.

"Stay until it passes." Was that a request or an order.. you weren't sure but he took your hand gently and led you into the hallway away from the window, into the main dining room again.

"Frances, have the curtains closed please." He spoke to the older woman who greeted you at the door and she dutifully obliged, closing the curtains in the large windows.

Tommy sat you at the table and gave you his glass of whiskey, your shaky hands accepting it this time. Every thunderstorm brought flashbacks of Jack's terror filled eyes.. his anguished cries of pain.. and ultimately the sound of the gun he placed at his temple before he took his own life. You took a sip of the warm liquid as Tommy sat beside you, a fresh glass of his own in his hand.

"Jack saved my life."

"He did?"

"Yes. We were underground digging.. we could hear the Germans on the other side of the dirt digging towards us... They broke through first and grabbed me. Jack beat them to death with his hammer to get them off me." Tommy's memory made you smile, and you laughed gently.

"He was always brave.. and strong. Put everyone else first. He never told me.."

"He never wanted praise, it was just part of his job. In return.. I said if anything happened to him I would make sure you were looked after."

"What?"

"The men at your office? They're under my watch. They respect you because you're a damn good writer, but they also know if they gave you any shit..." He raised his eyebrow and you couldn't help but smile. Even after his death, he was making sure you were okay. That was the Jack you wanted to remember.

"In that case Mr Shelby, I thank you."

"Call me Tommy eh? Here's to the bravest man in France." He clinked his glass with yours and you felt him almost begin to relax.

"I noticed a piano in the hall - do you play?"

"I did as a boy. My mother was a keen player, I used to watch her all the time. Gave it up after she died."

"I played for Jack all the time. It soothed him when he couldn't sleep." He smiled, a warm genuine smile that you couldn't help but return.

You'd spent the evening drinking whiskey and talking with Tommy, the whiskey hitting you much quicker than it did him, and you could feel your eyelids growing heavier.

"I have a spare room upstairs y/n, maybe stay tonight, I'll have my driver take you home in the morning." He stood before you had chance to argue and you followed him up the stairs.

He led you into a beautiful bedroom, the decor in here much more appealing than downstairs and the large oak double bed even more so.

"I don't want to impose Thomas..."

"That storm isn't letting up any time soon, and you're exhausted. You're welcome to stay. There's fresh clothes in the wardrobe. My wife was the same build as you, they should fit. I'll have my driver take you home at 7am. Goodnight Y/n..." His blue eyes lingered on yours a moment and you felt a rush of something you hadn't felt in a long time... Scaring you. Quickly looking away, you bid him goodnight.

[nincompoopydoo]

Could I request a oneshot with Remus Lupin with the promt "kiss me so i can feel alive again". Also congratulations on 1000 followers 🎉✨💕

ALIVE AND TRUE

PAIRING: Remus Lupin x reader WORD COUNT: 2k (whoops) SUMMARY: Having found a lost friend, living in the countryside of Yorkshire, feelings of once hidden affection start to bloom in the need to be alive and good things to be real. A/N: Thank you for requesting and I’m so sorry for taking so long! This is one of my favorites because it’s so soft and romantic and I adore this request. Please tell me what you think of it xo. WARNINGS: Angst. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

It’s the house you see from trudging down the walkway that forces you to double take your previous steps. Silent and empty, it seems to twist into the forest from afar. Bent trees adorn the lane with overgrown greenery at its feet and ancient brick walls that run along with it. The fields in Yorkshire are vast and immaculate but right now, you are alone and suddenly the far stretch of land doesn’t seem to have the shine of the countryside. Your eyes shift to the house that sits behind a rusted gate, joints barely holding together from the years of rotting and exposure to the heat and rain. It’s barely a house but more of a cottage. No, it’s not even a cottage. Semi-derelict and tumbledown, it looks more like the ruins of what used to be a home.

You look down to the note in your hand, parchment torn at the edges with the cursive words of your handwriting that make up an address and coordinates. Visually, there’s no indication of where exactly you are but according to the coordinates, you are precisely where you need to be. For the past three years, your investigation into finding your friend has proven to be impossible and almost met with the acceptance that you will never see him again. Yet, after an anonymous tip had been owled to your doorstep, indicating the suspicions of the presence of a werewolf somewhere in Yorkshire as overheard by the locals of a nearby town, gave you a tinge of hope to reconnect with someone you lost.

The sight bears a high chance that he may be hiding here, unfortunately. It makes it hard to believe that someone you saw had so much life in him, is living in this condition.

Anxiety starts to creep onto you as you push the worn-down gate. It creaks with the rustling of the wind, a sign of an imminent storm. The sun doesn’t shine anymore, clouds of grey congregate in the skies above in the chorus of rainfall. You don’t do too well with apparition, thankfully having only lost half of your hair during the war. Hence, if the anonymous tip turns out to be a fake, you would have to make your way out of the countryside in the rain or even worse, take the Knight Bus.

You hate the Knight Bus.

Attempting to conjure up whatever courage you have left, you steadily make your way into the compound, plodding through the overgrown grass. As you grow closer, the cottage looks even worse than it was from afar, climbing plants of dull green embellish the walls of the ruins.

Then, in your periphery, you catch a glimpse of violet—Bluebells. The same flowers that used to grow on the forest floor of the forbidden forest. You remember him telling you about how he had seen a white bluebell, rare to its nature.

Warmth fills your chest, you know he is here.

The door is wooden, climbing plants seem to have made their way to it, branching around its handle.

You knock once. No answer.

You knock twice. There’s footsteps, they’re heavy.

With the swing of the door, you are met with none other than Remus Lupin. He looks older, dark circles below his eyes that have lost their intensity of blue, hair unkempt and shabby, and a beard, tracing along his jawline. He has his wand directed to you in defense. Probably because no one ever visits.

The smile on your face is impossible to suppress. It's bright at the recognition of the familiarity of his face. “Remus,” you breathe, eyes crinkling and gleaming with the bliss from the effort and worth of your investigation to find this very man, who stands just a couple of inches away from you. You swallow, not wanting to blink away the possibility that this may all be a dream. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

He says your name through a whisper like it’s the answer to the millions of prayers recited and uttered from his lips as he drifts off to slumber under the moonshine, beaming through the shattered glass of the windows by his bedside. He dreams of you, often in times when his body is too weak to endure the aftermath of a full moon.

Yet, you're here and very real.

Then, he watches your grin falter and how your eyes move around the curves of his face. The deep cuts are there and visible. Although magic heals, time and energy play a crucial factor in healing wounds. In an instant, his apprehension creeps in, and suddenly, he feels small. The memories of you are forever intertwined with the rest of his friends, memories too painful to endure.

Your hand reaches out for his face but he staggers back in his step.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

He doesn’t mean it. Remus really wants you here. To feel your warmth, your touch, the smell of your hair and to hold you but he sees the way you bring your arm down to your side, shoulders slump in near defeat. In reality, you would never let him go that easily.

“Don’t say that, Remus.”

The crinkle of your eyes is gone, now sharp with the frustration of his tendency of locking himself away from the world out of paranoia. It’s been a minute since you’ve seen his face after three long years and he’s already trying to chase you away.

Typical Remus.

An odd sense of nausea takes over him, knees buckling as his surroundings begin to spin like he is on a sailing boat at sea. His body is frail and with a blow, he will fall. His eyes are trained on you as he feels his feet give way and his body drifting towards the ground. Just then, he feels your touch, arms around him like an embrace. You’re holding him in his weakened stance, stabilizing his balance by moving his arm to hang around your shoulder. He immediately shifts his weight on you, uttering a soft apology.

“You don’t have to apologize for something you can't control.” Your voice is soothing, speaking so close to his ear. Your tone is laced with knowing and care. You both know those words have been articulated from your very lips many times before. And your hands are gentle upon the curve of his waist, against the rough material of a dress shirt but your grasp is strong—the true touch of a healer’s hands, precise and careful. Remus always knew you would turn to become a highly-skilled healer.

With every cautious step, the creaks of the parquet flooring are loud and lasting. It’s as if the house itself cries for its condition, like a child with a wound to their knee after taking a nasty fall. The wailing wind outside doesn’t help with the fact that everything seems to be falling apart.

You guide him to the armchair by the fireplace, pressing him by the shoulders to sit. He plops onto the chair with a heavy sigh and feels a sense of regret sinking in his chest at the sight of the visible scowl of your lips and the turn of your brows.

Your open palm finds his cheek. He hears the drag of your deep exhale. You don’t say anything, only to pull out your wand from your back pocket. Yet, Remus is quick to grab your hand, halting you in your movement. Your frown a little deeper, sharp eyes finding him.

“Just let me heal you. It’s the least I can do.”

It’s a promise, a vow, uttered from your very lips filled with dignity and hope. So, he lets you, just to feel you close to him.

—

The rain is yet to arrive. Thunder booming through rolling clouds above and still not a single drop of rain but there’s a peak of sunlight between the cracks of the storm. Maybe, it’s because you’re here and sunshine always seems to trail your steps, no matter where they lead.

Now, Remus is seated on the toilet seat facing you, who has settled for a shaky stool to perch on as your gentle hands hold the edge of his jaw while the other grips onto a straight razor, gazing along the cheek. He cannot take his eyes off the crease between your brows and the way your eyes slowly shift along with the moving blade.

Magic is meant for convenience in small but necessary tasks like these yet you insisted on doing it in the traditional muggle way—using your fingers. Your hands work wonders, beautifully moving as a paraclete. You hold him like you’re maintaining his strength, to keep from fracturing into pieces. You look at him like he’s your masterpiece, carving every curve and bend of his skin and structure.

You lift the blade away from his face, dabbing it onto a rag cloth hung by the sink. Remus finally finds the time to speak. “You don’t have to do this.” You simply laugh and it comes out like a puff of air. Your eyes are still trained on cleaning off the razor. “Of course, I don’t. But, I also don’t want you competing with Dumbledore’s beard.”

Remus laughs, truly laughs. It’s loud and echoes within the walls of the tiny toilet. “I could never beat him.” You’re laughing too, grin wide as ever. Then, after a beat of silence, your grin suppresses into a small smile, lips pressed together as you place the razor aside. You’re clearly in deep thought.

“Come away with me.”

Remus blinks. “What?”

You turned to him, eyes glinting with expectancy. “Stay with me. I live a few blocks from St Mungos...and you get to see me at work.” You watch how his mouth is now agape, half of his chin still in shaving cream.

“And I’m sure you look magnificent in green but you know I can’t—”

“You can, Remus. You can come here a week before the full moon and then come back to my place. I’ll help you heal, a lot faster and you know that’s true. Maybe, I could get hold of aconite for Wolfsbane at the hospital— ”

You hadn’t realized your rambling until Remus began to shake you by the shoulders, calling out your name with an odd sense of serenity and hint of urgency for you to stop. So, your words immediately halt with a turn of your head to meet his gaze. Your expression is soft. His hand drifts to yours, holding it in his. “You know I can’t because if they find out you are living with someone with lycanthropy, you will lose your job and I don’t want you to lose it for my sake,” he squeezes your hand with assurance. “But, thank you. Thank you for always being so kind to me.”

The candle flickers from behind you, sitting idly on the ceramic shelf above the sink. No sunlight beaming through the room and only the hues of flame, beginning to shrink with the melting of its wax. Your hair presents an illusion of golden threads against the candlelight, face as warm as your hand on his as you shift your fingers to the back of his palm. Gradually, you sigh whilst raising his palm to you and press your lips to the arch of his hand. It’s quick but affectionate.

Your stare is strong and his heart stutters for the millionth time since your arrival.

Remus is drawn to you and the thought of how your lips should be on his. He drifts closer, eyes roaming your face, feeling your breath against his skin.

“Can I kiss you?” your question is soft, a whisper, only for his ears. A secret so sacred that you’re afraid nature would hear the words of your confession that was solely reserved for your mind and the man you are confessing to. He nods, it’s slight but it’s true, feeling like this is all a dream. He doesn’t want you to dream anymore. For you are here, hand tangled in his, thinking about his lips on yours.

Then, he whispers as the candle flickers once more. “Kiss me so I can feel alive again.”

So, you do. You kiss him, gentle and sweet, your hand still in his.

[nightfall-kachiniko]

‘ A Broken Promise’ Mikasa x Reader Fanfiction || Angst.

||| Chapt.4 「 FINALE. 」 “The Loss of Freedom of the boy who fought for it,”

﹋ 「 This contains MAJOR AOT Spoilers for the manga, please proceed with caution. 」﹋

“AGH!” Shit. You felt your body falling through the air, blurred vision as You screamed. Something just- hit you, and you had not a clue what it was. Your leg felt numb, almost like it wasn’t there. “Y/N!” Jean called out to you. his voice getting closer as You felt my body hit his arms. “Shit you alright!?” He asked. Gritting your teeth as your focus came unblurred. The sight infront of you, terrifying. Dozens of titans, more than the nine shifters. So much blood everywhere. Remembering the injury, you looked down at my leg to see a big gash in it, blood falling down into the atmosphere.

“There’s- so much… screaming..” Tears fell down your cheeks. “The titan won’t stop..”

「 This is a time skip to this part. 」

Falco’s titan took you four up in the air. You , Mikasa, and Pieck who can’t turn into pure titans. The people below emerging into titans as you all soared higher. Turning around, you saw Armin fighting Eren in his titan form, his punches no avail to Eren’s.

“Mgh…f-fuck..” You jolted your head as you heard Mikasa murmur. “a-ahh..” She let out in pain. Mikasa’s hand laid rested on her head, her teeth gritted as she suffered.

Her headaches.

That’s what’s happening. Mikasa told you about them once when you both were only cadets. You often helped her through them, letting her lay on your lap as you stroked her hair, giving her comfort. But, that’s all in the past now. You guys are done. Hell, and so is the world..

“I’ll kill him, Help me.” Your Ex’s voice said. “Alright,” Your Captain said. “Y/n, Don’t let Armin accidentally hit us,” He commanded. “And Don’t get caught up with Reiner and Pieck!”

It was all chaos. The explosion of the thunder spear hitting Eren’s teeth left a ring in your ear. Everything is too much..You thought. I- I don’t know how much longer of this I’ll be able to take..

I need someone. I need something. You shut your eyes as you landed on Armins shoulder, stumbling because of your broken leg. It was a relief to be close to him. He turned his head over at you, looking at your tear stained “THEY’RE GONNA DO IT!” You screamed, telling Armin. “THEY’RE GONNA KILL EREN!” Your eyes fell saddened. Everything went blank for you. The screams of children, mothers, fathers, the elder. People who didn’t deserve it, their screams getting more and more faint with every crush. I just, want it to stop.

Eren’s colossal fist punched Armin as you saw Mikasa and Levi heading for the mouth. Bracing your self you gripped your ODM gear tight hanging on.

Please, God just make it Stop.

And then all of a sudden, you blacked out.

Opening your eyes, you saw eren standing right infront of you. He looked into your e/c eyes, guilt and regret on his face. Your eyes widened as you saw him. “Eren…” You said, “y-you… you BITCH!” You sent your hand flying across his face, every ounce of anger inside of you you let out in that one punch. He let out a groan of pain, “YOU’RE SUCH A TRAITOR! YOU’RE NOT ANY BETTER THAN ANNIE BERTOLDT OR REINER! DO YOU NOT SEE THE PEOPLE YOU’VE KILLED!” He held his cheek while after being knocked to the ground.

“ARE YOU STUPID!? DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW MUCH THIS HAS AFFECTED US!? DO YOU EVEN CARE!” Tears spilled down your cheeks like a waterfall.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO THE KIDS WE WERE! THE KIDS WE USED TO BE!”

“they’re gone now,” he replied, looking at your angered mess. You gritted your teeth just looking at him. “You are such a dick.” You growled at him. “Y/n, I know how you feel.”

“WHAT!? YOU KNOW HOW BAD IT HURTS SEEING MY FRIEND SINCE I WAS EIGHT KILL MILLIONS OF PEOPLE!? DO YOU EREN?!” Heavy breath as your screaming continued.

“Y/n,” Eren said. “Make sure she kills me,” His sentence caught you off guard.

“AND YOU… what..” you replied back, your eyes widening.

“Right now we are in a place called the paths,” Eren explained. “I need you to make sure Mikasa kills me,” you looked at him like he was crazy. “Eren, you’re fucking nuts.” The man infront of you eyes glimmered the same as they did as when you were a kid. “I- I don’t want you dead.” You confessed. “You deserve it like hell though! What the hell would your mother think!” You shot at him. “She’d be disappointed in me,” He looked down at the sand beneath you two. “DAMN RIGHT SHE WOULD!”

“Make sure she knows I never hated her, and that she was like family to me,” he said biting his lip. “Don’t tell her I said that, but-“ You were confused, “What are you talking about, we are in the middle of a war you created and you started! We were all at peace till you snuck off to Marley 3 years ago! You said you hated us, that we weren’t ‘free’ you called Mikasa a slave and said that that’s the only reason why she fell in love with me because she’s an Ackerman!”

“Y/n I’m going to tell you this, I did it to protect you.” You scoffed, “did it to protect us my ass, you betrayed us Eren,”

“I know you hate me, but, y/n live your life after this war.” The boy said. “Huh? The hell you getting at? You basically dropped us like flies Jeager! It’s almost like you don’t want us apart of your future”

“No! That isn’t true!” Eren looked up at you, tears flowing down his eyes with pain in his voice. “I did this all so you could have a future! I never wanted to leave you guys! Ever! I wanna be there for you and mikasas wedding! I wanna be there when you have kids! I just..” Eren gritted his teeth, ribbons of water running down his cheek “Nevermind that..”

You sighed, tears of your own forming up in your eyes, “Please, just come home.” You begged. “I can’t,” He said numbly. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“We love you Eren, we just want you back.. that’s why Mikasa fought so hard to change you..” you sniffled. “There’s nothing that can happen now, I promise, it’s none of you guys fault,” You sighed, “Eren..”

“I love you all so much, It was worth it.” He said, a small smile on his face. You pulled him into a hug as you cried. “Y/n, I’m so happy for you.. You’ve been through thick and thin and you’re still standing.”

“I just want you here.. with us,” you wiped your tears. “ I always am,” Eren put your hand to your heart, doing the salute. “Always,” his gaze more soft. “Until we meet again, Y/n L/n,” the boy said.

“ See you later, jeagerbomb.”

You were snapped back into reality only to see It ended. Everything. The screaming. The titans they just vanished. And the war. It was finally over. Oh shit is Mikasa okay?! You thought. Swinging your ODM gear over to Eren’s body you landed inside his mouth.

Mikasa stood there, her body still, as she held up the head of your childhood best friend. Eren Yeager. ‘She- finally..let go..’ she let go of the person who was her only family left. Running through the town of Shiganshina together. You four played hop scotch, fought of Armins bullies, captured butterflies and fire flies. The memories of when you all were kids was the only thing you could think of. She let go.. so it’s time for you to as-well.

Mikasa turned around slowly, her face numb, neutral. The head of Eren in her hand as she held it up to the air, frozen. You gave her a reassuring smile, “I’m.. so.. so..proud of you..” You limped, walked up to her as you cupped her cheek. Her eyes looked up at you, realization in her gaze. All of a sudden she wrapped her hands around your waist, she buried her head into your shoulder. Tears flowing down her eyes.

“You freed him baby..” Sniffling you said, “I know deep down, he thanks you.. you put him out of pain Mika…“

“I never wanted to hurt you.. I never wanted to...” Your girlfriend confessed. “I’m so..sorry..” she choked, tears building up in her eyes. “I love you mikasa,” you replied. “I love you too... “ The Raven Haired woman hugged you tighter, fighting back tears. “I just.. wanna..go home..”

“Then let’s go..” you whispered softly to her. She picked you up as she started heading for the exit of the mouth. Finally after fighting for so long, we got our freedom.

Thank you Eren Jeager, the boy who sought freedom, Goodbye. <\3

“Waffles!” The child cheered out. A small chuckle was heard from the Raven haired girl that passed out breakfast beside you, “You’re right good job!” She said congratulating the baby that sat at the high chair. It had been three years since you gave birth to (Child’s name) Ackerman. Now here you both were, your year marriage anniversary coming up and your daughters fourth birthday right around the corner, seems you both had a busy schedule for the week. “Thank you love,” you kissed the cheek of your wife as she gave you your tea, “of course,” she smiled returning the kiss.

“Mommy, ummie,” the child with Raven hair asked with curiosity, “how did you meet?” You both giggled a little bit before looking at each other, “well, it’s a long story,” you said to your daughter who’s identical to Mikasa. “How did you get that thing on your face ummie?” Your daughter asked Mikasa, “Someone’s full of questions today huh?” She teased tickling her. The cute laughs of the sweetheart you gave birth to made you smile with joy. Mikasa scruffled up their hair, “how did you meet?”

Looking at each other you both smiled.

“Well honey, it started along time ago, with a boy I knew, named Eren.” :)

Your daughters face lit up in confusion, “Who’s Eren is it one of Uncle min min’s friends?” There was a knock on your door as she asked her question, “well that’s a story for another time, and I gotta get that it’s probably Armin and Annie with Glacious,”

“ummie can you tell me?” (Childs name) asked.

“When you’re older sweetie,” Mikasa smiled.

‘Eren jeager, God, I hadn’t heard his name in a long time’you thought. ‘That boy..’ you laughed to yourself, ‘he stood out from others,’ Eren, the boy who sought freedom.

Memories of him filled your mind as all that was left was his memory, and forever that’s all that will be left. ‘Eren, I know you’re watching from up above,’ you said to yourself.

but as the days passed, his face got blurrier and blurrier, and all that was left were memories of when you all were children in Shingansia District, waiting for freedom to soar.

And Eren, that crazed man, made it soar :,)

➪ Kachiniko ||♡︎ My Blog ♥︎ || ☾What I write ☽ 08/ 01/21

Chapt.1 “Come back to me,”

Chapt.2 “The conclusion”

Chapt. 3 That promised light, the string called hope.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[tokoyamisstuff]

Dark Side Of The Moon Ch. 1 - Dark! Loki x Reader

Chapter 1: Speak to Me/Breathe

Chapter Summary: The last thing you remember was being mortally wounded, now having woken up in a completely different reality. And you’d soon need to face the horrors of who would seek you out...

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Suicide Attempt, Graphic Descriptions of Death, Dark! Loki, Spoiler you kinda die but kinda don't

Words: approx. 3800

[Story Masterlist]

Masterlist to my other works right ->Here<-

Lyrics used from the Song: Kina ft. Snow - Get You The Moon

“Y/N, look out!”

The piercing sounds of gunfire nearby made your eardrums ring, yet Steve’s words got through to you nonetheless.

But you were determined to end this, here and now.

Tony was the first one at your side, catching you in his arms before you hit the floor. However, you could only do so much as whimper a silent apology to your friends, who now had to live with the consequences of your actions.

“Why did you do this?!” you heared Dr. Strange yell as he unsucessfully tried to close the deep cut in your gut. Too afraid of what you might see if you’d look at the wound, your glare was locked on the beautiful sky - yes, the sun was almost setting, and it was somehow calming to you that this would most likely the last thing you’d set eyes upon.

“There was no reason to be this reckless!” Steve followed close by, his scolding soon turning into desperate screams. “Fuck. FUCK!” If Captain America himself is cussing, then it’s as severe as you thought it to be.

Your wounds were lethal, that much was sure.

And of course they were right, as always: You didn’t need to play the martyr here, throwing yourself into danger to shield your comrades - well, you did anyway, and there was no going back now.

On the other hand, they were the ones taking a gravely depressed widow onto a dangerous mission. But you did not want your precious friends to blame themselves for that, for it was your own wish.

Dying in an honorable battle was what would send you to Valhalla, after all - where you could finally meet him again, hopefully.

The only one not having spoken a single word up until now was Thor, very well knowing what all this was about. It was no secret that you were sick and tired of how your life had turned out to be, ever since the Infinity War.

You felt empty. Incomplete. Desperate. Hallow.

The God of Thunder had turned his back to you, yet there was still agony radiating from that already broken man. Your almost-brother-in-law was the only one who could possibly understand your pain. Thor Odinson had lost everything: His homeland, most of his tribe, his family and best friend - and soon, you as well.

All this time, you wanted to be strong. For them, who had also lost so much!

But at some point things just got out of control.

“You can’t leave me alone, Lady Y/N! Not you too!” Thor finally whimpered as he fell onto his knees, softly squeezing your hand. “You’re the only thing I have left from him!

So this is what dying feels like.

The bloodloss caused your limps to go limp, and when the pain began to stop and got replaced by numbness, you knew it would soon be time. Your brain lost the remaining control over your body, and you found yourself encoated by pure nothingless.

Only able to listen by their screams, cries and kind words - at least you’d die surrounded by those marvellous people. It sure was a privilege knowing them.

You weren’t afraid - all in all, it had been a good life, after all. 

There were no regrets.

“Shh” you hushed them, using your last bit of strenght so your lips formed somewhat of a most broken smile, forming words between gurling on your own blood.

“It’s alright, I-” you cut yourself off, trying to scream as a last, torturing pain shot through your whole system. “I-I-I’ll-- meet him again...you know?”

“I’m no-not strong enough, please...” Thor cried out like you had never seen him before, feeling a tide of guilt wash over you. “Loki wouldn’t have wanted you to go like this! He told me to protect you, so you could lead a long and happy life!”

Without him? Impossible!

“You gave me a shoulder when I needed it

You showed me love when I wasn’t feeling it

You helped me fight when I was giving in

And you made me laugh when I was losing it”

Yes, indeed: You had been to selfish to keep on living just for the sake of your friends, burdening them with yet another loss.

“I-I don’t wanna go...this was a mistake, I- please...”

How badly did you want to soothe them right now, telling them that everything would be alright and you’d meet them again, eventually?

It was too late now.

Your body gave up earlier than your soul, which had endured and kept on all this time, even in it’s shattered state.

And when Tony’s palm gently closed your eyes, making it easier for you to embrace the cold darkness, the last thing you heared before your senses gave up were startling you enough to almost bring you back to life:

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

That voice was familiar, yet it didn’t belong to Loki. Dr. Strange, no- Stephen Strange, your friend and mentor of the mystic arts.

“I don’t have the heart to allow this to happen” he stated frantic, making you wonder if that was a dream of your hypoxic brain or if you were still able to hear them? People tend to say the sense of hearing dies last, after all. “She still has a pulse, even though weak. Hurry!”

Their voices were far in the back, words way too far out of your reach to understand. As if you were an outsider, only observing from a distance.

Your friends were fighting, or maybe discussing something. That much you could make up from their tone, but your mind was too exhausted to make sense of anything.

It felt as if you were already without a body, floating through the unknown like a feather in the wind - not knowing where fate would lead you to next.

Everything was numb - even your pain. It was soothing, somehow.

Because you had been a ghost way before, when you were alive even. An empty shell of a human, acting like they weren’t dead on the inside.

Coherent thoughts, memories, emotions...even the fractions of your own past you had both collected and surpressed. Right now, they were all restrained and pushed far in the back of your very core, where you were finally able to evaluate them without earthly bondings.

Was this heaven, hell - or maybe both or none or them?

____

"Be aware of the limits this tactic has. It’s a very drastic measurement that can most likely be used only once in your lifetime, and it is not guaranteed to work either.”

Stephen’s voice again. You recall that scene, it’s been long in the past...but why are you remembering it now?

Yes, this was familiar. All of you had been invited to the Sanctum Sanctorum, a fitting place to teach about this ancient knowledge.

You clearly remembered that Loki was absent in any of the Doctor’s lessons, feeling that a “puny human” was “unworthy” to teach him, and “it would be nothing new anyway, Y/N, I am a god and the way better wizard, I know it all already.”

What he was about to tell you back then was some kind of crazy emergency-plan: Dangerous, unpredictable and escpecially untested.

“I’ve only read about this tactic up until now” the mage pondered loudly as he picked at his goatee, earning some childish giggles by you and Tony. “So I cannot promise that it will function as planned. The Multiverse is dangerous and acts in unforseen ways.”

“Very reassuring” you had mocked at the time, not really biding the topic any importance or thought ever again.

But now...

The trick sounded way simpler than it actually was, being as complex as it is only natural for something like that, costing a huge prize at that:

Dr. Strange would send any of you who were on the brink of death through a portal, thus leading you into a random dimension of this endless Multiverse.

That dimension, in which your alternate self has most likely died, will gladly accept you as a “replacement”. Some kind of what Peter Parker called a “glitch” will occur, instantly healing all of your wounds - even fatal ones, so you could remain in the timeline that was missing you. 

Yet the consequences of this maneuvre would be unspeakable.

_____

“That bastard...” you gnarled internally, finally realizing why you would remember this of all things after apparently having just taken your dying breath. “He didn’t just-”

Eventually, you realized having escaped death’s grip, slowly beginning to regain your senses - yet still refusing to open your eyes.

“I don’t want to leave this place. My friends -- will I never see them again? No. NO! Life is meaningless. Just let me be with him. Please! Loki...”

“’Cause you are, you are

The reason why I’m still hanging on

‘Cause you are, you are

The reason why my head is still above water

And if I could I’d get you the moon

And give it to you

And if death was coming for you

I’d give my life for you”

Another part of Strange’s lesson echoed in your head, revealing that you were now in fact up on your own.

“Not even I can tell just how much this timeline will differ from what you know. Of course I will search for you right away, but considering the countless possibilities, it might very well be that we’ll never meet again. But you’re alive, and hopefully safe. That’s all that counts.”

Grass tickled your palm as you twitched your fingers, testing the limits of your body, which had literally just tricked death. Suddenly, you felt a stinging pain, almost like lightning boring into your temportal. The origin of this pain remained unknown.

When you finally found the courage to sit up, your flesh still feeling as heavy as lead, you realized that Stephen was most likely wrong: He assumed that you’d find yourself in a place you had a deep connection with, yet that place was unrecognizable to you.

Then why were you here of all places?

Actually, this location was incredibly beautiful, managing to stop the aching in your heart, if only for the fraction of a second.

Your former lover would’ve loved this place.

“'Cause you are, you are

The reason why I’m still hanging on

'Cause you are, you are

The reason why my head is still above water

And if I could I’d get you the moon

And give it to you

And if death was coming for you

I’d give my life for you”

Even though not all of Dr. Strange’s speculations were correct, you decided to stick to his emergency plan: Find as much information about this “new” earth as possible, point out the differences to your initial one, and then contact the Dr. Strange of this dimension.

Two mages working on crossing each other’s path would at least higher the stakes to find your original timeline.

Well, no one could guarantee you that the Avenger’s existed on this timeline, and they could as well be evil in this one...what a weird and horrifying imagination.

Knowledge really was power - that was another thing Loki had taught you a long time ago, and it would prove valuable, especially in this situation.

As you wandered this surprisingly extensive garden and getting lost in admiring the beauty of it’s nature, you found yourself devoid of any weapons. That fact made you slightly uncomfortable, even though your current location seemed absent of any ememies, making a peaceful impression. 

Seemingly there weren’t any evil schemes going on in this dimension.

It basically were only minor differences, at least that was your first impression. At least there were no changes in natural laws or something as big.

“I miss the days where magic and science didn’t mix up like this” you whispered, mainly to yourself as you examined the new, large scar on your abdomen - the only memory left of your “almost-suicide-mission”.

To be more precize: The only thing left from your former life, now leaving you able to start completely anew, wether you wanted it or not.

Sun had almost drowned behind the horizon, diving the sky in a deep orange. Your eyes were still adjusting, yet you could’ve sworn to see the silhouette of a person. It was far away, at the entrance on what appeared to be a palace belonging to this garden.

Apparently, you had invaded someone’s propery, and you could only pray that it was noone important - or worse, a owner who would defend their ground with violence.

You don’t think your earth had a place this...flashy. The castle was way bigger than any you knew on the other timeline. The first difference you had figured out, yet it was only a minor one.

Maybe the headache you were experiencing was from someone making you  out as an intruder?

One thing was sure: You had been noticed, and you immediately were on high alert.

Where to run to or at least hide?

There was a maze made out of bushed parting you and the palace, and since there was no better option, you’d enter it. Talking to that person and convincing them of your goodwill would make it way easier to gain information.

“You may come out” you declared as you made your way, unable to evaluate the situation properly. “I mean no harm. I’m just lost.”

Was it dangerous to be here? Obviously, you were not allowed to be here anyway.

However, when you had finally found the escape to that maze, only several hundret meters away from the building, the person was already gone.

Had your mind just played a dirty trick on you again? Wouldn’t be the firt time it’d betray you like this...

No. You clearly felt someone watching you.

And as soon as your senses had sharpened to your usual self again, you instantly jumped back, gaining some distance to the Citauri that had just appeared behing you.

Shit! You weren’t ready to fight again just yet. Not like this.

And where one of those vile beasts were, many others would appear. You knew that much.

Had Thanos invaded this earth? Oh god, not again...not him. You were so damn tired of those fights, escapes and especially the pain that always inevitable followed after.

Just when it was about to swing it’s weapon at your head, you felt dizziness crawl up your nerves, making you collapse on the floor. Lucky for you, because only like that, the stike didn’t hit you.

Even though having been taught basic magic skills, that certain kind of spell you were unable to fight against - only true masters of the art were able to perform a sorcery that well.

The Chitauri had left your line of sight, yet the other figure from before reappeared in a pace so fast that your eyes couldn’t follow. They sweeped you off the floor just before your head would meet the hard pavement.

“And now you will answer to me, shapeshifter.”

Once again someone robbed you of the control of your life and body, leaving you without a free will.

How long had you been passed out now? You didn’t know and honestly didn’t care either - since you had nothing to lose anymore.

In the meantime, the owner of those lands had dismissed his guards, not wanting to be disturbed as he was left alone with you in the giant throne room.

The apparent ruler of that unclassified location was sitting on his throne, warily observing you from above. You were lying to his feet at the bare floor, every piece of clothing robbed from you and restrained by a pile of chains. He watched every twitch, all breaths you’d take or groans escaping your mouth until you would finally awake.

Oh, how you really were just like he remembered you, with every little detail he had adored.

At long last, you would finally open your lids again, blinking heavily as you took in your surroundings - but when your eyes met certain emerald ones, they immediately sprung wide open, the emptiness in your heart being filled with all kinds of emotions once again.

The man - it was him!

“'Cause you are, you are

Oh, you are

Oh, you are

You are'Cause you are, you are

The reason why I’m still hanging on

'Cause you are, you are

The reason why my head is still above water

And if I could I’d get you the moon

And give it to you”

“Loki!” you screamed from the bottom of your heart. Without a single coherent thought, your legs would carry on their own as your weakened body stumbled in their attempt to climb those stairs.

For both of you, that momend of reuinion had waited far too long.

The god was temptated to approach you, his trembling hands already reaching out to catch your fragile body should you fall - but suddenly, you felt his knuckles digging into your cheekbone.

“Stay away from me, you fake!” Loki yelled furiously as you hit the ground, rubbing your cheek as you tried to understand what just happened.

Yeah, that sure brought you back to reality again, after such a short high.

Right.

That isn’t your Earth - and not your Loki either.

You couldn’t even be sure this world’s Y/N and Loki had the same kind of relationship the two of you had back in your timeline! The only thing you knew was that he knew you from his past, but as it seemed not pleasantly.

Now that you looked closely, he even had less scars, almost looking untouched and pure - like a true, invincible god. Maybe life here had treat him well, unlike his counterpart from your timeline.

He was still wearing that excessive outfit with the golden horns, and much to both your amazement and fear, it seemed that he still possessed theTesseract.

Could it be...

Before you could connect the dots, the king would soon interrupt your string of thoughts. “Drop that disguise, scum!”

Loki kept on degrading you as he paced in front of his throne, brow sinking deeper and deeper. “Don’t think you can somehow appeal to those pathetic sentiments” he explained, “I’ve freed myself from them long ago. Just stop making a fool out of yourself, and maybe I’ll reward it with a quicker death.”

Yet when he saw your most innocent smile, even this Loki would stand frozen in place, deeply in shock.

How he yearned to see it, all those years - to tell you just how sorry he was for everthing he’s done.

No.

He had left all of this behind - to claim his birthright and rule.

“I-I’m deeply so-sorry...that is a mistake” you whimmered with a broken voice, wiping a tear of joy out of your face. “My feelings overwhelmed me, I guess. I’ve never thought to see you again, even if you’re not the same Loki I know.”

Still cowering on the floor, you looked up to him with compassionate eyes, as if he had not just beat you before. You did not dare to make any more, wanting for Loki to try and understand himself.

“A variant?” he gnarled, just like you did when he realized.

No force in the world had allowed him to access other parts of the Multiverse, no matter how desperately he tried - and now fate had literally dropped you in front of his door.

Loki balled his fists in anger, making you flinch as you anticipated yet another blow.

“Dear, I-”

“Shut up!” the God of Mischief shoutet, causing his magic to break free. The walls of the palace were shaking, most windows and furniture having been destroyed. “It’s no use, woman!”

That man was way more powerful than the “puny god” people called names back on Asgard - and his sheer might made you quiver.

Just what kind of monster had he become, and why?

“L-Loki, please...” you tried to appeal to the last bit of humanity  he might possess, and your begging made his guts twist in agony. “You’re scaring me.”

“You better be scared!” he exclaimed, grabbing you by the chin and forcing you to look at him. “No matter what disgracefully weak “alter ego” of me you knew, I am built different. Stronger. Better. Everyone in the Nine Realms fears me, and I desire nothing else! Everything distracting me from fulfilling my destiny and reign over you dull creatures I got rid of. You’re nothing more than an insect I might as well crush right here and now!”

Choking on a sob, he tried to relish that last chance he got to admire you, smell you, touch what he cannot possess...no matter how many universes there may be.

A flood of tears cracked down your face at his words, yet you couldn’t be helped.

No matter what he would say - he looked just like him.

And that was enough for you to feel alive after such a long time of being a walking dead. There had to be a reason you landed right at his home, of all places in this universe. You had a connection, both of you felt it ever since you had been transported here.

"May I ask-” you disrupted yourself, awaiting some reaction. But the conqueror had seemed to have spoken what he thought important to say, not declining your question at all.

Whenever he seemed fit, he could disintegrate you - yet right now, this situation was way too intriguing.

“What happened to myself in this reality?”

Loki swallowed harshly, letting go off of you as he threw you down the stairs. He wouldn’t even bide you one look as he tried to surpress the turmoil of emotion still running through his veins, desperately keeping it from breaking free.

The outcome would always be the same: Suffering, for both of you.

“And if death was coming for you

I’d give my life for you.”

He only ever wanted it to stop hurting. To become unfeeling, since love had always been poisoning his mind, sometimes being gifted with it even though he knew he would never be worthy of anything else than disgust and hate.

And that contradiction caused him to throw away anything good that happened to him, through you. Let it be taken away from him just shortly after finally learning to remotely enjoy.

You deserved the truth, a reason to hate him even more than you probably already did.

Had you only come to his salvation earlier, then he might have been helped - yet now, he was beyond redemption. Broken. Sick. Dangerous.

And when the Chitauri dragged you away, his last words let your blood run cold:

“She died through my hands.”

_____

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Feedback is always appreciated!

[marvelmana]

-Mumza goddess of death prompt

TW: suicide attempt

So after Wilbur's revival Dream with his God compex realizes that the power to bring people back to life isn't enough. So while Wilbur prepares to break Dream out of prison, Dream sits down to remember what more was in the revive book. His eyes shoot wide open as he remembers a short but powerful ritual to summon the goddess of death herself.

So after Wilbur breaks him out somehow. Wilbur and Dream are met by the rest of the SBI family. They didn't come together. Tommy came to stop Wilbur and maybe kill Dream. Techno and Phil just came to get Wilbur so Sam doesn't kill him. As always with this family they start arguing and Dream runs away. They follow him to the L'manhole where he manages to preform the full ritual to summon the goddess of death. Now all the others are terrified because they don't know what Dream did. All they know is that the nice and chill night suddenly became the worst storm they've ever experienced and a weird portal looking thing has started to form on the glass. Tommy starts yelling at Dream to stop. Philza aswell because Dream doesn't know what power he's messing with. Dream explains that he knows exactly what power he's messing with and tells them what or...rather who he has summoned. To Dream's surprise everyone but Tommy seems relived that he's summoning the goddess of death. Tommy's worried because he has no idea that he's the son of the goddess. Before any of them manages to say anything a dark figure emerges from the portal with dark wings as she flies up to the night sky. The wind that had made it hard to stay on your feet suddenly stops and the portal disapears. Dream does his evil laughter and then does his evil monologue but gets cut off by the goddess of death striking him down with one hand and pressuring her foot against his neck. Phil watches her and falls in love all over again. But before there can be a wholesome family reunion Tommy draws his sword out and points it at the goddess' neck.

"Who are you!? What do you want!?" He yells demanding answers.

The goddess melts at the sight of her youngest. He's so cute with that diamond sword, thinking he's so cool. When she doesn't answer Tommy gets frustrated and yells at the top of his lungs

"ANSWER ME!!!"

He was meant to intimidate the goddess but his yell only comes out as a broken cry. The goddess' heart breaks as she sees all the pain and frustration in her youngest son's eyes. There's something in his eyes that is not supposed to be there. There's something that's not meant to be seen in the eyes of a 16 year old. Before she can ask, Phil steps forward.

"It's been a long time, love" he says and takes off his hat.

The goddess smiles at her angel.

"About 16 years, but who's counting?" She jokes completely unbothered by the blade at her throat.

Then the twins comes in to have a small talk with their mother. None of them mentions that she's their mother. Tommy slowly takes away his sword and starts backing away. He takes one look at the unconscious green man by the goddess' feet and then at his brothers and father. This is their business. He should get going. He only gets a few steps away when one of his family members ask where he's going. He tells them that he's going home. The issue with Dream seems resolved and they're all busy with and old friend Tommy doesn't know. At first the goddess is confused as to why her youngest doesn't recognise her. But then again. When he left the end he was only a few months old. The twins had been just around 7. The goddess, who's name was Kristin smiles gently at Tommy and slowly walks up to him. She tells him that she's his mother. Tommy looks at his father and brothers who nods confirming. Normally you'd think Tommy would be excited to meet his mum. But when all his family has brought him is pain, he's not excited to see what a new family member who's also a goddess, can do. So he does the most rational thing he can think off. He runs. He runs with fear of his life. Tommy doesn't wanna die again. The mere thought terrifies him. So he runs, hoping to find someone to help him, anyone. Tubbo, Ranboo, Puffy hell he'd even take the help from Sam now. As he runs past his house he looks behind him to see 4 individuals chasing him. He starts screaming for help as he jumps out the edge by the bench with a water bucket in hand. Kristin who doesn't know Tommy's incredible skill with water MLGs panics and dives after him with her wings. She catches Tommy before he reaches the ground. Tommy starts squirming in her grip hoping to get away. Kristin tries to reassure him that she's got him. Tommy begs her not to hurt him. Telling her that he won't get in her way, that if she just lets him go she'll never have to see him again. Kristin feels as someone shot through her heart with an arrow. And she tells Tommy in what she thinks is a comforting voice, that she's never gonna let him go and that he's safe. Tommy's beyond terrified but lucky for him Tubbo and Ranboo is on a walk towards them. Tubbo and Ranboo immediately gets their armour on and orders Kristin to put Tommy down and that if she hurts him, she's gonna regret it. Kristin gets put off guard by the sudden company. Tommy uses that to his advantage and gets out of her grip and runs past Tubbo and Ranboo who's like protecting wall in front of him. Wilbur tells them to fuck off and that it's a family buisness. That just angers Tubbo even more.

"Family buisness!!!?" He yells almost in shock "You gotta be kidding me! Tommy just started healing after everything Dream did to him and after everything YOU did to him!! Why can't you just let him rest!?" Tubbo yells in anger

That's when Kristin's had enough. She demands an explanation and Tubbo just answers "I'm not gonna explain shit. Who do you think you are?" To which Krstin stretches out her wings and says in a lower tone

"I am the goddess of death. Protector of the end. And his mother" she says and looks at Tommy.

Tubbo and Ranboo looks back at Tommy who just shruggs. Because honestly he has no idea if it's true or not. But Tubbo and Ranboo decides to play along. They answer with a bit of attitude what has happened to Tommy since he came to this server. Everything from the disc war, to L'manbrug, to exile, to the egg trying to kill him and then celebrating his death, to what happened in the prison. After everything is explained the goddess of death is furious. She shoots up in the air and Phil has a very troubled face expression. When asked what's wrong he tells them.

"A father's rage is strong enough to conquer the world. But a mother's rage is stronger"

Kristin is mad at the server for driving her family apart and hurting her baby. So with the power within her she pulls up the egg and it's roots, along with the enire prison, Eret with his castle and Dream's unconscious body. The storm comes back, this time with thunder and rain. Tommy sees this and is terrified. But he's also worried about Eret. It's true he wronged him but Eret has changed.

"We gotta stop her!" Tommy yells.

"She's the goddess of death, you can't stop her!" Techno yells.

But it's no use. Tommy grabs Ranboo's trident. He launches himself in the air and jumps from bits of earth and structures in the air. His main focus is to help Eret out. Eret is ready for his doom. He knows he's not been the best person. But before that happens he hears someone call out his name. It's Tommy. Tommy gives Eret the trident and tells him to get out of here. He hears distant screams of the eggpire and the egg. Tommy doesn't care that much for the egg. But as annoying as Badboyhalo is with his no swearing rule, he's a good guy and Tommy do have good memories with the him. So with no trident Tommy jumps between the rising blocks to get to the people. He sees Dream's unconscious body and for a moment he thinks about it but then shakes his head. Dream is not his priority. Tommy doesn't see himself as a hero. But he's not one to simply watch someone die if he can do something about it. Tubbo knows this. He curses when Eret gets down on the ground and tells them what Tommy did for him. Tubbo looks to Ranboo who nods. He brings up a water splash potion and splashes himself. His eyes widen and a foreign language comes out of his mouth. Tubbo grabs ahold of his husband before he can teleport away without him. Ranboo has gone complete silent. If you can even call him Ranboo anymore. Tubbo has only seen Ranboo like this once. It was terrifying since the half enderman hybrid had been walking towards Tubbo's cabin in snowchester where Micheal was. Ranboo had been covered in water scars and yet he wasn't talking. Just calmly walking towards Micheal. Before he could get there though Ranboo collapsed and woke up with no memory of how he got to Tubbo's cabin. So now, on a floating piece of earth, in the eye of the storm Tubbo had to trust whatever this version of Ranboo was. He called for Tommy but got no response. Suddenly the foreign language comes out of Ranboo as he points with his free hand to some egg rootes. Tommy's jumping between the broken peices towards peoplenof the eggpire.

"Let's go and help that idiot out" Tubbo says and Ranboo teleports them behind Tommy.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Tubbo yells which scares Tommy. He turns around and smiles at the sight of maybe the two only people he trusts.

"I could ask you the same!" He yells back to be heard over the load weather.

"We came to help you. Ranboo can you get those guys back on the ground!?" Tubbo yells

Ranboo doesn't say anything but when he teleports closer and grabs badboyhalo and Hannah Tubbo knows he got through to him. Tommy's confused at how strange Ranboo was acting. Ranboo's not much of a fighter but still here he was, standing tall. And how the hell can he teleport without enderpearls? Tommy decides that there's a better time to ask. Instead him and Tubbo keeps the rest of the eggpire safe. During that the egg starts speaking to Tubbo and Tubbo is obviously trying to shut it out but it's hurting him. So once Ranboo gets back Tommy is quick to push his best friend onto his husband and yell at Ranboo to get him to safety. Tubbo doesn't get a chance to object before he's suddenly on the ground again. He struggles against Ranboo and begs his husband to take him back. Tommy knows what's keeping Ranboo from coming back. He can see it. So instead of wasting time, he makes a waterfall with his only waterbucket and puts the rest of the eggpire in it. In his head he repeats the same three words over and over again "Please don't drown". When the people is as safe as they can be in a situation like this Tommy turns to his mother who has definitely grown a couple of feet. Tommy gulps and watches as Dream's body literally explodes in front of his mum's dark eyes.

"Hey!!" He yells and draws his sword again.

Kristin turns to see where the voice comes from and her gace immediately goes soft. But it turns confused when she can't see the rest of the wronguns.

"I'm not gonna let you hurt anyone else!" Tommy says with his blade in front of him

"The mortals needs to be taught a lesson. You'll come to understand when you're older. You're just a mere child" she says calmly

Tommy smirks. He may be young, but he's not stupid. Tommy knows the blade would do nothing to his mother. So he takes a deep breath and holds the sword against his own throat. He doesn't want this. But he won't let his mother hurt people because of him.

"I may be young! But I have seen wars, I have witnessed my best friend's execution, I have been exiled, I have been tortured and somewhat manipulated. I'm not a child anymore!!" He yells

"You wouldn't. I can see the fear in your eyes son. I can feel it. You don't want this" Kristin says but her voice is everywhere as she gets closer to her son.

"I am not a child. I'm a soldier without a mission. Which makes me desperate. So if I have to die to protect them that's something I'll have to do" Tommy says and stares at the eyes of the beast

"I would never hurt your fatber or brothers" Kristin reassures

"I wasn't talking about those idiots. Listen this place is a hell hole! And sometimes it's hard to get out of bed. But you know what!? It's my home. You've just killed the guy who were the source of my problems. You've done enough!!" Tommy yells and pushes the sword closer to his throat. He can feel it slowly digging into his skin. The goddess of death panics and does a quick movement with her finger and before Tommy knows it he's flying in the air, unable to move an inch. His sword is still in his hand but he can feel an invisable force trying to take it from him.

"Tommy. Drop it!" Kristin hisses

Tommy won't drop it. He could see the fear in her eyes once the blade was pressed against his throat. If he could just move his arm he could put the sword back at his throat. But he can't the force pulling away his sword is strong. But Tommy's always been a fighter. He actually manages to withstand the force but doesn't notice the goddess shrinking in sice and flying up to him to grab the sword herself. After taking the sword she throws it down and stares at her youngest. One thing's for sure, her family is not safe here.

Good ending: Tommy and the others talks Kristin down and she goes back to the end but visits every now and then

Bad ending: Kristin sees how much this place is hurting her baby and the rest of her family. So she takes them to the end where they can't leave. Phil would've been able to, if it wasn't for one of his wings being broken.

[nishimochas]

❁﹝ 22:41 ‣ ˢˡᵒʷ ᵈᵃⁿᶜᶦⁿᵍ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ﹞

‣ gender neutral trainee!reader with trainee!heeseung. inspired by joji's song of the same title.

‣ tw: some slight cursing, just a whole bunch of angst.

‣ word count: 1.9k

"god, i'm such an idiot."

you swore to protect yourself against his charms.

every moment you spent with lee heeseung began to slowly feel like an incredible burden. each waking memory you still hold of him had started morphing into something you hoped you'd never live to see. he was no one you should've fallen for. in his world, you were just someone who he smiles at and greets when it's convenient.

you knew you were nothing more than a friend to him. all the times you've comforted him when he was weak, all the moments you've stayed with him when he felt alone and defeated– you knew that he didn't see any of those the way you did. or rather, the way you hoped you didn't see it. he treated you like he did everyone else: he was kind, patient, caring as he'd always been. even at times where you think his eyes hold something different within them, when his hands were too close, too gentle to not mean intimacy, you'd dismiss it all the same.

that's just how he is, and you knew you were mistaken for thinking you were any special.

you told sunghoon and jay about it before, and they seemed supportive of your feelings. it seems that they, too, see the unusual tenderness the eldest has for you. but you, thinking it was all but a delusion, you paid no mind to their observations.

"how would they understand? they're just like him. they're perfect, all of them – and i'm just me."

who could blame you, though? being close friends with such a blameless human being is already a difficult feat.

but heeseung? he was nothing short of perfect, and you knew you couldn't last so long with denial.

violent sobs threatened to break loose from your tightened throat as you walked through the halls, somber fingers erasing any memory of tears still lingering atop your features. the biggest idiot, you were. a great fool to have allowed yourself to fall for him. in painful silence, you continued your way down the dreadful atmosphere of the practice halls.

the silence didn't last for long. there were footsteps, hushed yet languid.

and suddenly– music.

melancholic, powerful, raw. it was coming from the third isle.

with brows raised in query you approached, half hopeful and half hating the fact that it could very much be the one person you so wished to not see at the moment. still, your curiousity led you to the glass doors of the dance room, your witless bravery encouraging you to look further.

and to nobody's glorious surprise, there he was. he always looked perfect, but it took your breath away each time just the same.

holding a still and quiet breath had never felt like such a taxing job until that moment. you could barely move from your cramped position, let alone watch him properly in the dim lit room. a part of you was screaming, furious that you'd still let yourself indulge in such a luxury despite the aching you'd already gotten yourself into. but a bigger part was paralyzed. a bigger part fought– it wanted to do nothing more than to stay and be mesmerized.

you've forgotten how agonizing it was to watch heeseung move the way he does when he's vulnerable. it was as if every inch in his body sang along to the melody of the song, each telling their own parts of his tragic tale.

oh, how you loved how he danced when you were the only one watching. he hit every beat with such precision and delicacy that you couldn't help but stare every time you spectate. he always manages to catch you off guard, every single time.

you spent the rest of the few moments as a faraway audience, watching through a small sliver of the glass door from where you hoped he didn't see you. but just as quickly, that thought wavered off and you're caught in shock as your gaze met his through the mirror, and you could've sworn his eyes glowed when he saw you. no, it couldn't be– it was impossible. maybe you we're just making it all up in your head. and maybe your dismay was just as evident as you thought you'd confirmed it, the heartbeat's worth of crossing glances broken apart as the next verse of the song played.

how pathetic of you, really– to think that someone like him would look forward to seeing you. you were a nobody compared to him, and maybe things were meant to stay that way. but then, just as you were about to turn away, his eyes meet yours once more for a few beats before moving away again. it was tantalizing, how such a small thing was capable of luring you in. it was as if he's saying, 'stay. watch me. i know you're here.'

it would be a lie if you said you didn't want to keep on watching.

the thundering in your chest only doubled as he did it again for the third time, now nearing the end of the song. his porcelain skin glistened as the light reflected upon it, and you felt something within you wrench upon the sight.

there was no denying it anymore. you were in love with lee heeseung, and there was no changing it.

the thought settled into you bitterly, but somewhere along the lines lied hope also.

the atmosphere shook with quiet breathing as the song met it's end, his gaze not leaving the floor beneath him. tearing your own eyes away from his figure, you began to stand up; it was time for you to go. and just as you started walking, you heard that painstakingly familiar voice piercing through again.

"wait," god, you could recognize that voice from miles away.

"stay."

your tracks were brought to an abrupt halt, not yet finding the nerve to turn around and face him. heeseung made it clear in his tone that he was talking to you, but your tremendous idiocy decided to state the obvious nonetheless.

"...me?" you both knew the answer. a few seconds of silence, then a sigh from behind you. those seconds felt like forever.

"look at me." you hated hearing those words, hated having to follow them even more. but you did. you turned around just as he told you to, and there he was by the door, holding it open with the weight of his shoulders. another sigh escaped his lips. you stood there, frozen, waiting for his next words.

"dance with me."

the words rang through you like a riddle; it took every ounce of restraint not to look at him like he was a lunatic. it was a simple request– yet, given how you've been dealing with your emotions, the request took such a toll on your barely comprehending mind. and, as if he understood every question that flooded your system, he went back inside the studio, gesturing you to follow has he did. despite the internal war that seized your entire body, you followed suite.

you stood near the entrance with your head hung low, wishing at that very moment for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. your fingers twiddled with each other in an awkward tangle as you waited for him to speak again. not long after, he finally did.

"remember you did a choreo with me once, the one after auditions?" of course you remembered it, you couldn't get your mind off of it since it happened.

"how could i forget? it was one of my favorite songs." your remark was met with a chuckle, and as if on cue, joji's slow dancing in the dark echoed within the confinements of the practice room. the movements came over to heeseung naturally, and you fought the instinct of it rushing through your own. he seemed to have noticed it, too. next thing you knew, your hands were in his and he's leading you to the middle.

"come on, i know you still remember the moves." he teased, a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. you couldn't help but chuckle along, shaking your head slightly in feigned embarrassment as you gave into the music and danced along with him. it still felt as intimate and forlorn as before, maybe even more so now. the small, still furious part within you wanted to tear itself apart every time your body met his touch; and as the song came to an end with you in his arms, at that moment, it seemed like the only thing that mattered.

"oh god, are you alright?" he fussed as he saw your reflection on the practice mirror. you barely noticed the tears that came flooding out, the pooling they made on the shirt that you wore. you nodded slightly, looking up to give heeseung a little half-hearted smile. without missing a beat, he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping your frame in a warm embrace. you couldn't tell what was happening, why the tears wouldn't stop, why you still feel horrible after all of it. he broke it off shortly and instead took your face into his cupped palms, tilting your head upwards so he could study your distressed visage.

still, the tears fell. no matter how much effort you'd placed into stopping them, they fell still. heeseung watched you intently, troubled and with worry lingering across his eyes. and as they kept falling still, he leaned in slowly towards where they were falling, and one by one, kissed the teardrops away.

"heeseung, i dont understand..."

"i heard what you said to sunghoon and jay. i was in the other room. i didn't mean to eavesdrop but i thought i heard your voice and... well, yeah."

your felt your heart drop into your stomach, a dry lump now beginning to form in your throat. the last thing you'd have wanted at that moment was for heeseung to know, but as it turns out, it seemed as if your worst fear has manifested in from of you.

you had no other choice now.

you shook your head as you mused a broken laugh, the next few words that came out of your mouth more poisonous to you than it was to him.

"i love you." you shrugged, half expecting him to turn away right as you said those words. "i guess there's no point in denying that now."

heeseung's breath started becoming uneven as his grip around you loosened, and you could almost see you the words as they started to unfold within his frenzied mind. he shook it off with a rather harsh jolt, and you took it as your cue to start leaving. you dismissed it, too, and began stepping away from his hold. it hurt as much as you expected it to.

"i know it's the stupidest thing, god i swear im so sorry, i really didn't mean–"

...oh.

you had no idea how it happened, why he thought of it or what made him do it but a small voice within you told you to savor it, so you did. his lips pressed against yours with a dulcet warmth and you wanted more, more more– you gave him everything at that moment, and he gladly gave you just as much, too. he tasted so sweet and so addicting, better than anything you could've possibly hoped for. and as your own tiers finally parted from his, saturated with the desperate need for air, the ghost of the words you thought you'd never hear from him urged out as he whispered;

"i love you, too. i have since the start."

❁ :: did i really need to hurt myself that much? no. but life isn't fair, janet, now repeat after me: giVE ME REASONS WE SHOULD BE COMPLETE–

[passable-talent]

May I perhaps request a part 8 for the dai li series? I'm very very hype for what's to come for the finale!

should’ve figured this would happen within 20 min

ya boi returns after a week of classes with significantly better mental health! not enough to make me think I’ll be here more often than I have, but enough to give me the passion i need to f u c k i n g d e l i v e r 

and now...

THE MOMENT YOUVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 |

The day of Sozin’s Comet.

The comet tore its way across the sky behind Appa, vaporizing clouds and turning the sky blood red, as though it knew the terror and destruction it was meant to bring. Seated in Appa’s saddle behind Katara and Zuko, you looked over his tail at it, its brightness in the sky that rivaled the sun. You wondered when it would behind to effect firebenders- you wondered if Zuko could already feel it. 

“Zuko, don’t worry,” said Katara, catching the anxiety you had noticed slipping off of him like waves. “We can take Azula.”

“I’m not worried about her,” Zuko said, “I’m worried about Aang. What if he doesn’t have the guts to take out my father?” You made brief eye contact with Katara before moving forward, getting closer to the conversation. 

“What if he loses?” Zuko’s voice was clear in its trepidation. 

“Aang won’t lose,” Karata said, confidence in her tone. “He’s gonna come back. He has to.” You put your hand on her shoulder, settling down on your knees between the two of them. 

“Of course he will,” you said, looking over your shoulder once again at the comet. “He wouldn’t let us face Ozai without him.” Zuko caught his reaction before it made its way to his face, controlling it. But all the same, he had to wonder- had he even told you his father’s name? And referring to him as ‘Ozai’, rather than ‘the Firelord’- a disrespect that even some of the others of the team hadn’t done. 

None of the three of you wore armor. What would metal do against fire, anyway? You wore the uniform of a Dai Li student, or what had once been. Its long, loose sleeves had been ripped at your biceps and the baggy pants ripped just below your knees, so that all that was left to be recognized was the symbol of Ba Sing Se on your chest, and the gold trim as it hung at your waist. If you were going to win the war, today, you’d do it for your home city. 

You didn’t wear shoes. 

“There’s the palace,” Katara said, leaning forward to get as good a look at the courtyard as she could. “It’s almost empty.”

“Except for Azula,” you said, narrowing your eyes as though that would help you see. “And those guys.”

“Those are the Fire Sages. Everyone else is either with the fleet or at home, waiting for the victory,” Zuko said, his normal brand of anger yet nonchalance gracing his voice. Drawing closer, the words of the Fire Sages drifted up to where you could hear them, high on Appa’s back. 

“By decree of Phoenix King Ozai, I now crown you Firelord-” he hands swung down to place the crown in Azula’s hair, but he paused, noticing Appa beside one of the towers. Appa bellowed as he approached, and Azula’s words were lost beneath the sound. Appa landed at the steps of the palace, and Zuko stood. 

“Sorry, but you’re not going to become Firelord today.” He leapt down, leaving you and Katara on the saddle. “I am.” Azula’s laugh ground on your ears, shivering you to the bone. She looked... unkempt. 

“You’re hilarious.” Katara approached Zuko’s side, and you flanked his other. 

“And you’re going down,” she levied against Azula, and you couldn’t help but find a smile sliding to your face. Azula has had this coming, just like you said to Iroh only hours ago. You were happy that you got to be a part of the force that took her down, after all the pain she had brought into your life. She was a monster. 

“Wait,” Azula said, stopping the head sage from placing the headpiece on her, “You want to be Firelord?” She stood, and walked toward the edge of the stairs. You didn’t like standing beneath her. “Fine. Let’s settle this. Just you and me, brother.” She spat the word with contempt that you wanted to wipe right off of her face. “The showdown that was always meant to be- Agni Kai!” 

“You’re on,” Zuko growled before you could even react. You turned your head, noticing Katara had done the same. 

“Zuko-” you said, concern in your voice. You’d come all this way to help, and Katara had too, and now he was going to take her on without you? 

“What are you doing? She’s playing you,” Katara said, narrowing her eyes. “She knows she can’t take all three of us, so she’s trying to separate us.” You wanted to reach out and take his hand, as though to pull him toward reason, but something held you back. You stole a glance at Azula, and the sick, gloating smile on her face. 

“I know,” Zuko said, and your eyes widened slightly, surprised that he knew the trap but still walked into it. “But I can take her this time.”

“But even you admitted to your uncle that you would need help facing Azula.”

“Zuko, that’s why we’re here for you,” you added, finally breaking your gaze from the princess. 

“There’s something off about her,” he said, “I can’t explain it, but she’s slipping.” It was like you could feel her gaze on the side of your head as you looked at her brother, like you could feel her weighing her decisions, like she did back in Ba Sing Se, when she manipulated you and Zuko both. It made you shiver. 

“And this way,” Zuko said, reaching out and taking your hand while he looked at Katara, “no one else has to get hurt.” You squeezed his hand, tightly, before letting go and circling him to Katara’s side. The courtyard before the steps of the palace were cleared, and the two siblings took up positions facing away from each other. You stood with Katara, not far from Zuko. It may have been against the rules, but still you wanted to stand by, in case you needed to interfere and help him. You were sure Katara felt the same way. 

Slowly, the siblings stood, what felt like miles separating them. 

“I’m sorry it has to end this way, brother,” Azula said in a near snarl, slicking her robe from her shoulders and discarding it to the ground. Zuko stood steadfast in his ready stance, calm. 

“No you’re not.”

Azula took up her ready stance, and before you knew it, the battle had begun. 

Until this moment, you hadn’t seen firebending under the influence of Sozin’s Comet. You understood the effect it was supposed to have had, but the pure size of the awful flames was something you could never have predicted, nor truly understood, if it weren’t for this moment, this amazing and intense shot of flame Azula conjured, her blue contrasting the sky and sun of dark red, and Zuko’s return, his bright yellows and oranges filling your vision and blocking Azula. The impact of the powers of the siblings created a wall that bisected the entirety of the palace grounds, and the heat and wind pushed your hair from your face. 

From the fading wall burst Azula’s fire, four waves of flame accompanying her movements, and as Zuko split and deflected each one, you kept your eye on him. His footwork. His stance. He had learned from Aang, just a bit- don’t go straight to the attack. Weave with your partner. He had absolute control, but still your fists flexed, making the ground roll beneath your exposed toes. Your feet were firmly planted to the ground, so even when you blinked, you could follow the fight. 

The two traded blows, their deflected flames launching up and out of the courtyard, coloring the clouds. Azula’s misfires tore through homes and set rooftops ablaze. Zuko’s blast toward her was matched, and as he adjusted his position it moved past him, a wall of cyan sliding past a wall of amber. Planting a foot to the floor, you rocked your fist up, a wall erupting from the stone floor to split Azula’s blaze in front of you and Katara. For the moment, you huddled together, watching as the fire circled you like a predator before disappearing. Quickly, you shot it down into its place, and once again took your eyes to the battle. The front of the palace was ablaze, and in a rage, Azula leapt toward Zuko, raining down on top of him what looked like a whip of fire. Planting his stance, he split it, a pathway opening straight from him to his sister. You recognized that move- Toph had taught it to you. 

Azula was on one knee, collecting herself, and from far away it looked like she was breathing hard. Zuko, on the other hand, stood strong, and steady. He moved toward her two interwoven streams of flame that roared and grew as they moved, which she slid out from beside. You couldn’t look away, even as tears fought to moisten your eyes from their onslaught of heat. Azula gave him a sloppy attack, and so he did what you could only describe as ascending, rising on a pillar of fire until he could swing an arc at her as he fell back down, splitting her next offense. 

She swung around him, weaving, and he stood his ground, protecting himself. But he sensed the weakness that you could not see- as long as she was sliding on her flames, as long as she wasn’t connected to the ground, he could break her root. He sent a wave of flame in all directions that broke up her fire, and sent her crashing to the ground. 

She collected herself up, her hair fallen from its updo, fluttering around her and into her eyes. She had a madness in those eyes, a bloodthirst, but her stance was weak and her back hunched, like something was giving out beneath her. 

“No lightning today?” You heard Zuko taunt. “What’s’a matter? Afraid I’ll redirect it?” He brought himself into an offensive stance, and, sensing danger, Katara ran closer. You followed, remembering your last run-in with Azula’s lightning. The night Aang died. 

“Oh, I’ll show you lightning!” Azula snarled, and, following your instincts, you pushed Katara behind you. Rock would fare better against lightning than water. 

With movements to her right, then her left, Azula collected her lightning, thunder echoing off of walls and mountainsides and clouds all around you. Through the earth you felt as Zuko took a deep breath, his heartbeat calm, but your eyes remained on the princess. 

She gathered her two fingers to her chest, readying to fire. But then, you saw her eyes land on you.

Sometimes, a person sees a million moments pass in less than one. 

You saw her stance pivot to you, and her arm extend toward you and Katara. But she wasn’t targeting Katara- she knew what you were, and what you had become. You had become a weakness, not in yourself, but in Zuko, and she had seen it in the way you looked at him in Ba Sing Se, and she had seen it in the way he had reached for your hand at the steps of the palace. You had endangered Katara, and so with the world moving by at the pace of a million moments in less than one, you launched forward to plant both feet, sweeping your arms from your sides and in, up, and from the tiles began to rise a wall. 

And you saw, at a pace of a million moments in less than one, the way that Zuko ran between you and the lightning, the blue of it drowning out any other color. The strength in your arms faded, and the wall in front of you, meant to protect you and Katara, vaporized to sand, and crumbled back to the ground. Zuko absorbed the lightning, and shot it out above the walls of the volcano. 

There he was left, then, trembling. 

“Zuko!” you shouted, and Katara the same, both of you meaning to run toward him. But Azula reminded you that she was still a threat by slamming the ground in front of you with lightning, and you snapped your gaze to her. 

Once, in a cavern deep beneath a palace in Ba Sing Se, Azula had come between you and Zuko. And that day, you’d been too scared- you were a kid who had never seen war. You weren’t ready to attack, and if you were, maybe that day would’ve changed how the war played out. Once, in a cavern deep beneath a palace in Ba Sing Se, you’d failed to keep Zuko from his sister. 

It wouldn’t happen again. 

You let out a scream and lifted a dozen boulders from the tiled ground, launching them at the princess, each in turn. Her laughter grated against your skin and you’d never moved with such rage in your bones before, the strain on your joints nothing compared to your heartbreak. Your hair and clothes whipped around you, put to the test by the speed with which you were moving. And yet, Azula alluded you. 

“Y/N!” Katara called, and you wisened up for just long enough to realize that she was all too used to fighting off a rage-fueled attacker. You weren’t going to win this way, and now, winning was up to Katara and you. One more shot you pressed toward her, and using that as a distraction, you knocked her from her path with a stone launched from just beside her. It gave you enough time to slip with Katara from the battlefield into the awning-filled pavilions nearby. 

You could barely keep your legs from turning you back to where Zuko still lay. 

Azula brought her fire down from behind the pavilion where you and Katara had taken shelter, and so she chased you out, back toward the open yard. Katara made a break for Zuko, covering her hand in water so she could heal him, and as you ran, you threw your open hands down toward the ground, walls slicing up beside him, hopefully to keep him safe. But your path was interrupted by Azula’s flame, her laughter rocking your core as she conjured lightning, and so you shot back a boulder to divert her long enough for you and Katara to put just a bit more distance between you and her.

Still, her lightning caught up to you, and the explosion sent you both flying. Katara rolled, and you brought up a platform to land on properly. Azula landed on a nearby rooftop, giddy smiles on her face. 

“I’d really rather our family physician look after little Zu-zu, if you don’t mind!” Her voice gave you pause, even as you launched to the side to avoid her lightning. What, really, was she doing, attacking her own brother? What had brought her to being the bloodthirsty murderer she was so prepared to become?

More flame chased Katara as she joined you behind a pillar, and you stomped your heel to the floor to raise even another wall between you and where Azula had just been. 

“Zu-zu, you don’t look so good!” Azula snarled, and with her scream sent another bolt of lightning to Katara, the crack of thunder nearly deafening you as it split you from her, sending you in opposite directions. 

After all that, though, when choosing who Azula would go after, who Azula would see as a threat, it wasn’t you. She went for Katara, and after a moment, you realized her goal- Katara was the only one, now, who could save Zuko’s life. And so you slipped to the side, running between columns, one eye on Azula and the other on Zuko. Katara froze both her and the princess in place, and immediately you knew who would come out the winner. You bolted to Zuko’s side, your feet carrying you shakily, until you crashed to your knees beside him. You lowered the walls you’d put up around him and rolled him to his back, finally laying eyes on the deep, raw wound on his stomach. 

“Stay still,” you ordered him, extending one foot out to ground yourself, and you punched the tile in order to raise up a platform underneath him, where Katara could hope to work better. Shaking hands extended toward his face, and those tears that once tried to protect your eyes from the heat now tried to protect them from something far, far worse- the pain in Zuko’s expression. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” you promised him, even as he flinched and groaned, even as your voice shook, even as you slowly cupped his face. The sound of a crash of water made you look over your shoulder, and the sight you found was relieving- Katara chaining Azula to the ground. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” you promised again, your voice shaking even as this time, you knew you weren’t lying. Katara was there only a moment later, water already coating her hands, ready to press it down into his wound. It began to glow, and you watched as Zuko’s face first flexed with more pain, then relaxed. A tearful smile crossed your face and a small sob escaped your lungs, and he looked first to you, then to Katara. 

“Thank you, Katara,” he said, taking a deep breath, and settling his muscles down onto the stone beneath him. 

Azula had been defeated. Zuko was to be Firelord. For the moment, the world was triumphant, and you saw him smile. You’d waited a thousand moments for this one, right here, when everything was okay, and when he was safe. 

You’d waited a thousand moments, but in this one, you couldn’t remember the ones where he’d hurt you, where you’d hated him. You couldn’t remember the ones filled with pain, and anger, the ones in which you walked away from him in anger, or threw up a wall between the two of you, or yelled at him. You couldn’t remember the ones in which he hadn’t done what you’d needed him to, or in which you had kept yourself at arms length. 

All you could remember where the moments that truly brought you to this one, right here. 

Finally, you leaned down, and you kissed him. 

Your fingers slid into his hair at the back of his head, and cupped his head away from the hard stone beneath him. Your eyes closed, all you could do was feel, your instep pressed to the ground beneath you, your lips pressing against his. And you didn’t want him to move, to push himself, but he did cup your face, letting his fingertips feel into your scalp, as your hair fell down past your cheekbones. 

When you parted, for a moment, you couldn’t do anything but stare. 

“I love you,” you said, and a smile pulled at his lips. 

“I love you, too.” 

You brought your legs to your side to help him sit up, and then stand, one of your arms around his waist. Seemingly overwhelmed by her brother’s total victory, Azula truly fell, tears and screams leaving her while she flailed and spit fire. Finally, as you stood in front of her, in her truest, basest form, you recognized what you had never, any time you’d faced her. 

She was never in control. She was just scared, and finally, she’d been beaten, just like she always feared. 

Katara looked away. You couldn’t bring yourself to. 

~~~

As you took Zuko into the palace to rest, Katara traversed the palace city, putting out fires. It would take work, but the city would be inhabitable again, once Zuko took the throne. He had a lot of recovering to do, but by the time the world had gathered for his coronation, he was well enough to walk on his own, and to kneel to receive the crown. Still, though, he had trouble reaching behind himself to put on his robes. 

Luckily, you were always there to help him. 

“So I suppose, after all this, you’re going to go home,” he said as you lifted his clothing to his shoulders. 

“Hmm?”

“Back to Ba Sing Se. I know you miss it.” A small smile graced your lips, but you shook your head as you smoothed the wrinkles across his shoulders. 

“I do. I miss the city, but it hasn’t been my home. Not for a long time.” You circled around Zuko to take his hand just beside him, regarding him with a warm expression, warmth toward him that you could only match with a few moments before. 

“I thought I made it clear that this- right here-” you lifted his hand, interlocked with yours, up to his sight. “-This is my home.” He brought your hand down so that he could lean into a kiss, and you could enjoy it only for a moment before you had to pull away. 

“I’ve got to go,” you said, a bright smile on your face. “Toph saved my seat, and Aang is waiting for you!” You rushed to the door, a small exit that wouldn’t be noticed by the crowd gathered out front, but you paused. “Good luck,” you said, giving him an honest and traditional Fire Nation bow. 

“Your Highness.” 

-🦌 Roe

tag list: @furblrwurblr @eridanuswave @bernadineisreborn @angxlicwanda @celamoon @mywigglybaby @silentwhispofhope @the-girl-in-the-box @mavix @eury-dice3 @ninipoo1 @bigbuckyenergy @lucensei @srgania @uncovered-mad-man @11mb0 @deansbbysblog @pillowjj @ilovespideyyy @heavensgaymenace @thearachna-kid @llama2264 @anime-simp @akariblue @lostgirlheart @kacchasu @ctrl-alt-jeon @tadpoledancer @i-bitch-you-bitch @wetleafwrites @lammello @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @kittyddandnyla @smol-vy @lana-isabelle @doomedcampesinos @luleck @izzieserra @little-miss-sleep-deprived @poofyhairuwu @astroninaaa @littleladdty @davnwillcome @flourish-and-bloggs @heavensgaymenace @obnoxioussmiley @thyunnamed @harmlessoffering @j-ma26-rb @happyseadreams

[gaming-universe]

Who We Are || Russell Adler

Call of Duty Black Ops: Cold War

-PART ONE-

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CALL OF DUTY BLACK OPS: COLD WAR! IF YOU HAVEN’T PLAYED/FINISHED THE CAMPAIGN THEN PLEASE DONT READ! Gore, violence, course language, mature content.

Summary: Betrayed and alone after surviving the events that took place on the Solovetsky Islands, Y/n ‘Bell’ L/n faces new and more dangerous threats when she learns that Perseus has other plans for his failed nuclear detonation of Europe. It was only a matter of time before Y/n came face to face with her old team. There is unfinished business between Y/n and Adler, as this operation proves to be more deadly than originally thought.

Author’s Note: So, after finishing the campaign, I needed to do Bell/Player and Adler justice. I loved this game so much, and chosing to play as the female character, I felt like there was a genuine connection between Bell and Adler throughout the game. There is a tag list open for anyone that wishes to stay up to date with the series. Simply comment below. Gif by @travelllar​

The feeling of drowing was somethong terrifying.

Knowing that your body was completely spent, knowing that the ocean’s surface was just a swift stroke away...and that you couldn’t reach it, caused your chest to tighten out of fear. Or maybe, it was because of the lack of oxygen.

You could manage to see the tall cliff face through the jagged waves, where he no doubt still stood, waiting to see if you would resurface. But no, no one could survive a fall from that height, especially after taking a single and deadly shot to the chest.

Blood, your blood you soon realised, stained the water a haunting red as you were swept further out to sea. The waves crashing above, though muffled and far away, soothed you as if it were a sweet lullaby. A lullaby of your final moments. The harsh cold of the water finally began to set in. Icen hands seemed to wrap around your form, providing you with the small mercy of numbing the agonising pain that coursed through every fibre of your being. A small and last act of kindness to lure you into an eternal darkness.

Amongst the silence beneath the waves, you released an anguished muffled cry, breathing in water the moment you stopped. Your body convulsed involuntarily, as death itself reached out to claim you. Your vision began to fade, flashes of past memories appearing before your very eyes. Some of them you remembered, some of them you didn’t. Speaking to Hudson before going to Cuba, travelling with Arash to the airstrip, where he shot you because of your suspected betrayal.

Suspected betrayal?

Then you saw him. Adler. He stuck by your side, even after explaining what he had done to you. But now...now you were here.

 Your eyes closed, your lips parting in a silent breath as you allowed yourself to be consumed by the darkness, your built up anger suddenly vanishing and lifting from your shoulders.

Death’s embrace seemed a lot warmer than you would have imagined.

Slowly opening your eyes, you were met with a rundown wooden interior of what appeared to be an old fishing shack. There was a small fire in the corner, opposite from where you lay on a mattress on the floor. There was no one else in sight, leaving you feeling more anxious then ever.

Where were you? What...how did you get here?

Sitting bolt upright, you winced loudly. Though your vision swayed, you looked down to examine the wound in your chest, finding that the wound had been properly treated, wrapped in gauze and bandages to prevent infection. Wrapping yourself in the blanket provided, you shivered violently, jumping slightly as the door opened to reveal the form of an older man carrying a few heavy-looking logs of wood. When his eyes met your own, the old man smiled. “You’re awake...” He spoke kindly, his Russian accent almost obscuring his words “I was worried you wouldn’t”. You watched him warily as he placed the logs in a pile beside the fireplace, stoking the flames quickly before turning around to face you. “Where am I? How did I get here?”.

“I found you when I was out on my trawler four days ago, you were half dead when I pulled you aboard, heavily armed, cut to pieces with a bullet to the chest. I’m going to assume you were apart of that raid on that Soviet base?” He questioned, raising a knowing eyebrow in your direction. You froze, your heart thundering in your chest as you pressed your lips into a thin line. Images of the air raid flashed through your mind, getting caught up in the explosion and having...having him...

“And if I was?” “Then I owe you many thanks. Those soldiers have been terrorising this town for years. Destroying that base was the best thing to happen on this Island for a while”. You nodded slowly, grimacing slightly as you moved to make your shoulder more comfortable to eleviate the pain. Your gaze fell to the floor, as a wave of emotions consumed you. Anger, sadness, betrayal was the most prominent. You tried to stop the sting of tears from your eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by the old man before you. He tilted his head to the side, moving to sit down on a small wooden stool beside you. “Something is troubling you, my dear...” He spoke softly, “what is it? But you may share in your own time if you like, but right now, you need some rest”. You nodded slowly again, allowing your tears to cascade down your cheeks. For the first time since Cuba, since Hudson’s team had admitted what they had done to you, after Adler had...had shot you, you cried.

Despite who you might have been with Perseus, who you might have been before the CIA messed with your mind, you were still human. You had been lied to by the people you thought you could trust, who turns out you had only been introduced to a few months ago. And Adler, for some reason his betrayal hurt the most. A man you thought you had known for the longest time, a man you thought you had served with, a man who had lied to you from the very beginning. We have a job to do.

That phrase left a bitter tast in your mouth, but just thinking about that phrase caused a series of fragmented memories to resurface.

A few days before leaving for the airfield with Arash, you sent out an encrypted message to the CIA, claiming that you were willing to cooperate with any questions they may have in exchange for asylum. Your plan was to hopefully make contact with the CIA taskforce that you were informed would be there. Unfortuately, Arash must have gotten wind of your movements.

Your sobbing suddenly stopped, your eyes widening in shock and sudden realisation. You had planned on defecting? Oh god, oh god. You were going to defect from Perseus and cooperated with the CIA. Then what had happened? If Adler’s team knew that you were planning to willingly aid them in their fight against Perseus, then why go through all that trouble of the MK-Ultra program? Why go through all that trouble to fuck with your mind, implant false memories, and lie and pretend as if nothing had ever happened?

From the corner of your eye, you watched as the old man approached, carefully extending a warm ceramic mug toward you. Steam rose from the warm beverage contained within, the old man smiling kindly. “It’s just tea, I used to make it for my son all of the time”. He moved back slightly as you gingerly took the mug from his hands. You thanked him with a silent nod of your head, sipping the tea lightly as the two of you sat in silence.

In a way, you were grateful the old man allowed you to take things in your own stride, that he didn’t ask the questions he so desperately wanted answers to. “I will leave you to sleep now. If you need anything, the house is just outside. If you get too cold, there is more firewood against the wall here” The old man instructed, before standing to his feet and making his way to the door of the shack. With a mumbled ‘goodnight’, the old man disappeared outside, closing the wooden door behind him with a loud ‘thunk’.

Sighing loudly, you placed the tea aside and carefully moved to lie back down, cursing under your breath as pain exploded through your chest. Your eyes focused on the roof above, as sleep finally began to take hold of your exhausted form. Dedcending into a dreamless sleep, you allowed yourself to relax for what felt like the first time in a long, long time.

Tag List: @pookolokon​

[essays-for-breakfast]

One Candle Still Flickers

Melizabethweek Day 2: Heaven and Hell

Please note that this piece contains mentions of blood and violence. If this makes you uncomfortable, turn away now.

Scorching heat. Blistering cold. Air that burns the lungs and tears at the sensitive tissue in the throat until even screams of agonizing pain become an impossible feat. And oh, does he scream.

Compared to even the foulest depths of Meliodas’ wretched hellscape of a home, the Demon Realm, Purgatory offers a charming hospitality no one can withstand for long. He tries, of course. Tells himself that he overcame worse pain, that the frostbites on his arms and the iron taste of blood in his mouth don’t compare to all 106 times he watched Elizabeth die, and that the shredded skin on his fingertips is an illusion summoned by his father.

After all, only Meliodas’ emotions roam the desolate canyons.

The weakest part of himself trapped in the cruelest part of the world.

Somewhere in the smoke-heavy clouds, obscured by the constant ash rain from volcanic activity, the Demon King laughs. Meliodas spits out a lump of blood and sends the towering frame of his father a humorless grin. At least one of them is having fun.

The next step costs him more energy than he has to give, and Meliodas falls to his knees. More ash under his fingernails, another lungful of distillated fume eager to kill him. The searing pain while his illusory organs devolve to embers for the thousandths time almost entices a begrudging respect for his father out of him. He has defied the scorching heat and the blistering cold since the end of the Holy War, and he still has the liveliness to laugh at Meliodas’ failed attempts to escape.

For how long have they played this game now? How many years, decades, and eons have passed since the curse pulled Meliodas into Purgatory?

He doesn’t know. The creator of this ugly fusion between a glacier and a volcano hasn’t bothered to install a clock.

Ash flakes tumble from above and leave black scars on the back of Meliodas’ hand. The forefinger twitches in a desperate struggle to hold onto life, hope, anything that will help him stand again.

“Elizabeth…” he whispers.

“Will you die with the witch’s name on your lips too?” The Demon King’s voice thunders in Meliodas’ head, and a fiery eruption from the nearest volcano punctuates his words.

Meliodas pushes himself on his forearms. “You made sure I can’t die, remember? You’re getting rusty, old man.”

“Your insolent tongue is just as worthless as the entirety of your emotions. They only hinder you from becoming my successor.”

“I’ll gladly take my insolent tongue over a world where I become like you.”

The Demon King points a finger the size of a grown man at Meliodas. “There is no stopping it now. As we speak, my loyal subjects are gathering the Ten Commandments, and your body will soon fuse with their magic. Then neither the Seven Deadly Sins nor your dear goddess will be able to stand against the reborn Demon King.”

“Then I guess I just have to find the exit before that happens.”

The Demon King’s laugh rings for a long time between the twisted rock formations. Meliodas climbs to his knees, but his shell of a body refuses to support the weight of his worries. More ash under his fingernails, another lungful of distillated fume eager to kill him. Another century gone by without a glint of success, without a glimmer of hope.

Purgatory may never kill him. But to survive in this world is to endure endless suffering where despair gnaws at him with every step until he loses himself in shapeless shadows, destined to wander the lava riversides and blizzard-coated mountain peaks for the rest of time.

Meliodas takes another step.

For her. Elizabeth.

He has to return to Britannia before the Demon King can reach his horrid claw around her. Before the curse claims her life anew.

Her face, in the variant as princess of Liones and all the incarnations before her, keeps Meliodas upright and pushes him to scale another cliffside, even as his field of vision shrinks and the shadows at the edge take over.

Golden Warmth. A liberating breeze. Puffy fine-weather clouds as far as the eye can see, an entire ocean of them. And in between these white waves float islands with alabaster towers and grass so eternally green it can only exist in a place far beyond all destructive influences. An endless summer sun caresses his neck.

Meliodas digs his fingers into the ground where he fell, although he hardly feels the sharp pebbles anymore.

Why do the memories of the Celestial Realm return to him now? Elizabeth, the very first incarnation he fell in love with, took him to her home once. They played a dangerous game of hide and seek with the countless Goddess warriors there. If even one of them had seen through Meliodas pathetic disguise, at least one of the parties involved would have lost their head. Despite the threat of discovery, Elizabeth dragged him to all her favorite places with a cheer she rarely allowed herself to show. A vast field of golden wheat hems. The top of an abandoned tower, half destroyed and seized by ivy tendrils.

Amidst the bloodshed of the Holy War and despite the feud that divides their clans, Elizabeth offered Meliodas a hand. With nothing but a smile and her belief in the good in others, she pulled him out of hell. Shoulder to shoulder with her, he saw heaven for the first time.

“Elizabeth,” Meliodas says. He hardly recognizes his voice. “I let you down again. If it’s always ending like this, why’d you take my hand that day? Why didn’t you give up on me?”

The warmth of her presence is so very far away. Where she used to stroke his arms, only freezing numbness remains. Where she used to kiss him, his lips only taste the burning aridity of Purgatory.

But even if she is so very far away, an incarnation of Elizabeth is still out there, alive. Maybe she is standing amidst the chaos of magical and hellfire explosions and leads the war against the cruel fangs of darkness as she always did. Maybe she is gazing into a star-sprinkled sky and waits for his return. Maybe she still believes he will fulfill his promise and free her of her curse.

A blood-red vail has overtaken Meliodas’ vision. When he struggles out of the dust to his feet, he has lost his humanoid shape. A shadow stands in his place, a perversion of the dragon creature with which he shares the name of his sin. Wrath.

Somewhere hidden in the smoke screens, the Demon King triumphs. At last, his son’s emotions have given into hopelessness.

But in a place deep in the insides of the shadow dragon, Meliodas keeps a flame alight. Elizabeth’s face kindles the spark, her gentle hands shield the candle against the hurricanes and hailstorms, and her voice, filled with tireless encouragement, nurtures the beacon.

She fought for him during the Holy War. They fought for each other against the overwhelming might of gods. Even if she is so very far away, Meliodas will fight for her.

As the shadow to her light.

Scorching heat. Blistering cold. Claws that dig into the most treacherous slopes carry him forward, step by step. He tears through Purgatory’s pitiful inhabitants and shreds any creature that hinders his search for the exit. For a moment, he may lose himself and taste this senseless wrath the Demon King wants him to dissolve into. But the flame inside endures.

Years, decades, and eons go by, glaciers melt and magma chambers freeze, while Meliodas fights. For her. Elizabeth.

The dragon creature which serves as Meliodas’ shell roars and bares its teeth. His current opponent is of the nasty type. He doesn’t yield. Neither does Meliodas.

They slam each other into the rock formations, break each other’s bones, and throw themselves at the other as though this brawl is all they’ve ever known and all that ever mattered.

Meliodas should hate his opponent. After all he, aside from the Demon King, stands as the only one with the power to deter his escape. And yet… this gritty, pesky bastard he crushes and is getting crushed by has the air of familiarity to him. Meliodas knows his fighting style. Furthermore, he knows all too well the flame that convinces his opponent to strike blow after blow until they collapse into a heap of limps and shadows.

They both feel the exhaustion in each haggard breath. And yet they both won’t die.

Meliodas’ opponent mumbles something. His words have never quite reached through the shadows clogging Meliodas’ senses, but they gain a new clarity now that the frenzy of battle flees him.

“…holding out for you in the land of the living,” a familiar voice says. “And I… want to see the woman who means the world to me.”

Yeah. I do too.

[flyingstar360]

What You’ll Gain

Julie wakes up missing her mom. And Luke does not do well with crying girls. But he knows who does.

~

              When someone you love passes away, there’s a horrible kind of pain that happens somedays. In the morning, you wake up, and in that second before you open your eyes, you can half hear them. Faintly, distantly, the sound they used to make echo in the space between sleep and waking. Breathing in bed next to you. Laughing in the kitchen. Talking in the living room.  

Just before Julie opened her eyes, her mom was in the studio, singing.

              Julie could hear her. Muffled through the walls of the house, the soft rise and fall of a song Julie couldn’t quite make out. And Julie snuggled into her pillow, stretching, smiling, knowing that when she opened her eyes, she could go down and join her mom. And they’d sit and write for a bit before Julie had to go to school, and maybe her mom would drive her and-

              By then, Julie opened her eyes, and the music was gone again. She could hear Carlos and her dad in the kitchen, but no music from the studio. She closed her eyes tight, trying to bring it back, but instead a few tears dripped out onto her pillow.

              Once the silence settles in, it sinks into your stomach. The pain radiates from your chest down, and everything hurts. Sometimes, a few deep breaths settle it. Other days, it stays. An ache that nothing can help. Just emptiness and echoing silence.

              Julie burrowed deeper under her blankets, trying and failing not to cry more. She huddled there, still wrapped in a blanket cocoon when her dad knocked on the door.

              “Mija?” Ray stuck his head in Julie’s room and saw her still in bed. “Oh, Julie.”  He treaded carefully to her, slowly sinking down next to her bed so he could see her face. He brushed some of the curls out of her red eyes.

              “I don’t feel good, Papi.” Julie said, her voice barely a whisper. “Please, can I- Can I stay home?” Her voice trembled and his heart broke. He knew Dr. Turner had told him that there’d be bad days, and it was important to acknowledge the kids’ grief, but also the importance of normal routines. Letting Julie stay home would be a setback in Dr. Turner’s eyes, but she was doing so much better. Julie had just played The Orpheum less than two weeks ago, just a few weeks after not having touched a piano or sung a note for almost a year.

              “I don’t know Mija,” He sighed. “You have no fever and Dr. Turner says….” Julie squeezed her eyes closed even tighter, her lip trembling, as she gave a tiny nod and tried to take a shaky breath. Ray stopped, took a deep breath himself. Dr. Turner was great with Julie and Carlos, but Dr. Turner wasn’t here. Not seeing the girl Ray’d been so proud of up on that stage again with her hologram band, singing her heart out, now trembling in her bed. “Do you want me to stay home with you?”

              Julie looked up at him in surprise as her father stroked her hair away from her face. “Really?” She whispered, her voice cracking. He nodded. She tried to smile shakily. “No, I’ll be okay, I just… I can’t go today.”

              “Just do me a favor- don’t stay in here all day. Try and shower and eat something, okay? Maybe study a bit since I’m not making you go to school. And do not tell your aunt.” Ray smiled as Julie let out a damp choking giggle. He held out his finger for her, and she reached out and locked her finger in his. He kissed her forehead and pulled the covers back around her shoulders before leaving the room. Julie closed her eyes again, but only heard the sound of her brother complaining about how unfair it was that Julie got to skip school as her father pushed him out the door. She laid there and she missed her mom.

~~

              Out in the studio, Reggie was standing by the door, looking out of the windows. “Guys? Hey guys? Ray and Carlos just left, and Julie wasn’t with them.”

              Alex looked up from the couch where he’d been laying, staring at the ceiling, and fiddling with his drumsticks while Luke was working on some new material for the band. “She hasn’t been here yet this morning either. She normally stops in to at least say hi before school.”

              Reggie chewed on his bottom lip. “Do you think she’s sick?”

              “We could go check.” Luke said, shrugging. He was worried, but he was trying not to show it. Reggie and Alex exchanged a look. “It’s not like that!” Luke grumbled. “She’s our friend.”

              “Mmmhmm.” Alex hummed. “Sure. Friendship is your sole motivation in this situation.”

              Luke glared at his bandmate. “Oh, shut up.” He grumbled as the three ghosts poofed into the hallway outside Julie’s door.

              “Julie?” Reggie knocked on the door to Julie’s room. “It’s us. Are you- are you okay?”

              “Yeah, we’re a little worried.” Alex chimed in, leaning against the door. He pushed his blonde hair out of his eyes, sighing a little. “Can we come in?”

              Luke opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say. Luckily, Julie’s quiet voice broke the silence.

              “Yeah. It’s okay. Come in.”

              As the boys entered Julie’s room, they knew something was really wrong. Maybe it’s from being a ghost, but the sadness in the air was almost overwhelming. Reggie’s eyes almost immediately filled with tears.

              “Julie,” he said, sitting next to the lump of blankets she was huddled in. “What’s going on?”

              Alex perched on the other side of the Julie-bump and rested his hand on her back. He had become the best at focusing his energy to be able to physically interact with the world. He could take Julie’s mic from her in rehearsal, take the remote to change the show when Reggie started hate-watching the Star Wars Prequels again, and even touched Flynn’s shoulder in rehearsal the other day. She’d screamed and tripped over a chair, yelling “Air can’t touch me!” Luke was a little jealous it came so easily to Alex, but he also had to remember that Alex had Willie to teach him in the beginning. And being able to physically interact with the world would probably help Alex get Willie away from Caleb and the Hollywood Ghost Club.

              Luke sat down on the ground next to Julie’s bed. He could see a tiny piece of her face peeking out. She made eye contact with him, and when he saw her red-rimmed eyes, he looked at the ground, avoiding her.

              “I’m okay.” Julie lied.

              “Yeah, okay.” Alex huffed, his thumb rubbing little circles on Julie’s back.

              Reggie scooted closer to her. “You don’t have to pretend with us, Julie. We’re your friends.” She didn’t say anything, but Luke could tell she was crying again.

              “Do you want us to go?” Luke leaned closer to the bed and asked her quietly. She shook her head. They sat with her a while longer, as she cried herself back to sleep.

              As her breathing evened out, punctuated only by the occasional hiccup the boys poofed into the hallway. The three huddled together and tried to figure out what to do.

              “I promised Willie we’d hang out today while Julie was at school.” Alex said. “Reggie and I were supposed to meet him at the museum.” They had decided to pair off whenever Alex and Willie hung out. That way, Luke or Reggie could keep an eye out if Caleb came around so they could try to get out before having to deal with that pyscho.

              Luke nodded. “You guys go. I’ll stay here with Julie.” Alex and Reggie looked at each other, eyebrows raised as Luke waved them off. “Seriously guys, I can handle a girl crying, okay? Just go see Willie. Julie’d be upset if she found out you blew him off because she’s having a bad day.”

              Luke was right, Julie would be upset. But could he actually handle a crying girl? Especially a crying girl he liked? “Okay.” Alex said. “But come get us if she needs us.”

              After the others poofed out, Luke returned to his spot on the floor by Julie’s bed and thought about how much she’d lost. Which made no sense, because, I mean, Luke was dead. He’d died and left his parents on bad terms, and here was this girl who had given him a second chance and it made no sense. Why had they been brought to Julie? Frustrated, he buried his head in his hands. He didn’t notice her wake up until she whispered his name.

              “Hey. How’re you feeling? Any better?” He shifted to kneel next to her, propping his elbows on her bedside.

              “I just miss her, Luke. So much. Hurts to breathe.” Julie whimpered. Luke wished he could hold her. Ever since that night after the Orpheum, when he’d been able to feel her hands on his face and wrap his arms around her, Luke couldn’t get it out of his mind. Not that he’d minded the group hug with the whole band, but that moment of just the two of them- he’d finally felt alive. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but his hand passed right through again. The guys were right. He was awful at dealing with crying girls. And sitting next to Julie on her bed as she hurt, being unable to do anything to make it better- it was just as bad as eating a tainted hot dog, or watching his mom cry over his birthday cake.

And just like that Luke had an idea.

              “Hey.” He whispered to Julie. “I have an idea.  Maybe something that might make you feel better. If you’re up to getting out of bed?”

              “I don’t think I can write, Luke, I’m sorry.” She shook her head.

              “No, no.” Luke said. “Not that. Let’s go for walk. I know somewhere we can go, something we can do, that might make you feel better.” Julie nodded. She had promised her dad she’d get out of bed. And Luke did know all the best music spots in the city. It might help, she thought.

~~

              “Why are we at your parents’ house, Luke?” Julie asked, fiddling with the sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt as they stood at the end of his driveway. Dark clouds had rolled in, and thunder was rumbling in the distance. “Did you need to tell them something else? And can’t it wait until later?”

              Luke turned so he was standing right in front of her. He reached for her hand, but hesitated. Every time they couldn’t touch again broke his heart a little, and he already felt a little like it was breaking watching her in pain.

              “Look.” He said, shoving his hands back into his pockets and shifting his weight from side to side. “I’m not good at this. At comforting people. It’s not something I was ever good at. And it kills me to not be able to know what to say. And I know about dying so...” Julie smiled a little watery smile at him, and his heart melted. He took a deep breath. “I was just thinking. You’re hurting because you miss your mom. And my mom’s hurting because she misses her kid.”

              Julie looked up, surprised. “What?”

              “My dad’s at work. She’s home alone right now. Crocheting or knitting or whatever. But sometimes she sits and cries too.” He turned to his childhood home and caught a glimpse of his mother in the chair in front of the window. The same place she sat when the police came to tell her he was gone. Julie stepped a little closer to him and they stood there for a minute, before Julie teared up and looked down at her hands, twisting the cuffs of her shirt.  

              “Luke, I-“Just then, the skies opened up, and a downpour of rain started.

              “Julie?” Julie and Luke both looked up to see his mother standing on the porch, opening an umbrella. “It’s Julie, right? You brought the song Luke wrote. Honey, what are you doing out in this storm? Are you okay?”

              Julie tried to nod but burst into tears. Big tears. The kind that really made Luke want to run away, but his mother came right down the path to Julie.

              “What’s wrong? Is there something I can do to help?” Emily hurried down the path, and quickly tried to cover Julie under the umbrella. She wrapped her arms around Julie’s shaking shoulders

              Julie shook her head, embarrassed. She tried to speak but the sobs just kept coming.

              “Come sit down inside honey. It’s not safe to be out here. Come inside, have some water.” Luke nodded and gestured to get Julie to agree. She turned and let Emily lead her into the Patterson’s’ house.

              “I’m sorry.” Julie managed to gasp out as Emily brought the sobbing girl into their foyer.

              Emily shook her head and rubbed Julie’s back comfortingly. She’d lived through enough grief-based panic attacks to recognize one. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. Just breathe.”

              As Julie tried to calm down and breathe again, Luke stood awkwardly next to the stairs in his former house. He fidgeted, unsure of what to say. But it seemed like his mom was helping Julie, so he just echoed her. “It’s fine, Julie. You’re fine. Breathe.”

              After a few minutes standing with to Luke’s mother, Julie could feel the weight that had been sinking into her chest all morning start to dissolve. She took a few breaths, sighing deeply.

              “Better?” Emily asked. Julie nodded. “Good. Now, you’re absolutely soaked. Why don’t I find something for you to put on and throw this in the dryer, okay? Then maybe we can have some hot chocolate and you can tell me what’s going on.” Julie peeled off her soaked sweatshirt. Luckily, her tee shirt underneath wasn’t too bad, but combined with the chill in the air, she could feel the goosebumps pricking on her arms. She rubbed them as she took a seat on the couch, while Emily ran downstairs to the laundry room. Staring at the framed photos on the mantel, Julie zoned out, exhausted. And when Emily returned, Luke was right behind her, smiling.

              “My mom makes really good hot chocolate. Julie. Get ready.”

              Emily set two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table and pulled out the bundle of fabric draped over her arm. Emily handed it to Julie, who recognized it instantly. An old orange flannel, well-worn and washed until it was soft. It was almost identical to the one Luke was wearing.

              “This was Luke’s. He must have had a dozen, all almost identical. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them.” Emily looked fondly at it. “I’m not sure why, but it felt like the right thing. It was on top of the clean laundry pile. I’m not sure how it got there, but it felt like a sign.”

              Julie smiled as she slipped her arms into it. “Yeah, those signs. Who knows where they come from?”

              Luke plopped himself down on the arm of the sofa. “Yeah, who knows?”

              Emily settled herself in the chair next to the sofa and grabbed one of the mugs. “What’s going on, Julie?”

              Julie did the same, wrapping her hands around the mug for warmth. “My mom. She- she passed away, just about a year ago.”

              “Oh, Julie, I’m so sorry.” Emily leaned forward, rested her hand on Julie’s arm comfortingly.

              “I had found Luke’s song while I was going through the old things in her studio. But today I woke up and…”. Julie felt her throat close off as she tried to swallow down another round of tears.

              “You woke up and forgot she was gone?” Emily guessed. Julie nodded. “I still do that all the time. I hear him, strumming away on his guitar in his room.” She stopped for a moment, choking back her own wave of grief. Julie looked over at Luke, who was looking sheepish. He refused to meet Julie’s eyes as he rubbed the back of his head, and she realized that sometimes, when she would come to the studio in the mornings and he wasn’t there, he was here. Playing for his mother. “I used to go in and scold him for making so much noise so early, but now I’d give anything to hear it again.”

              Julie smiled. “He sounds like he was trouble.”

              “I am not trouble.” Luke groused, pouting. Julie ignored him.

              “Oh, he was.” Emily smiled sadly. “He was always making noise, always making music. From the moment he could focus his eyes, you could see the gears turning whenever he heard music.”

              “My mom was the same way.”

              “Something tells me you are too.” Emily smiled. The two sat in silence for a moment, sipping their hot chocolates.

              “Would you tell me more about him?” Julie asked, wrapping her hands around the warm mug.

              Emily smiled, got up and went to the cabinet. She opened the doors and pulled out a large photo album. Sitting down next to Julie, she opened it to a photo of baby Luke in the hospital.

              “I started this when he was born. I always wished I could have shown it to the girl he brought home. I wanted to embarrass him a little.” Emily said. “Although, I think in a way, he did bring you home to meet us.”

              “You have no idea.” Julie said under her breath.

              “And I am absolutely embarrassed.” Luke grumbled.

              Julie whispered to him as Emily handed her the book and settled in next to Julie. “No messing this up.”

              “What, dear?”

              Julie thought quickly. “I was just reminding myself to be careful with it. It’s important, and really nice of you to let me see it.”

              Emily smiled as Julie opened the book to a picture of a tiny toddler Luke wearing cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, and a diaper. Luke buried his face in his hands as Julie burst out laughing.

              “This was a mistake” he groaned.

~

              “…And then he would refuse to go to bed unless we tucked his little guitar into bed next to him!”

              “Julie, I swear if you mention any of this to Reggie and Alex- Stop laughing! I was five, Julie!”

~

              “…Standing in front of the whole church, leading his first communion class in singing a song he’d made up… I was so proud of him that day.” Emily said, as she ran a finger over the photo of Luke in his little first communion suit, standing outside their house next to her and Mitch.

              “It was a terrible song.” Luke said quietly. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

              “My mom wrote me a song for my first communion too. She’d written others for me, but that was the first one that other people heard that she written for me.” Julie smiled at the memory. “She made my dress too. Then she started a food fight with my cake at the party. It was everywhere, my aunt got so mad. My little brother had smashed handfuls of it into her purse and she didn’t realize it until the next day.”

              “Yeah, that sound like Carlos.” Luke shook his head as Emily and Julie laughed and chatted about First Communions that happened nearly twenty years apart.

~

              Emily turned the page to a photo of Sunset Curve, playing in the Patterson’s backyard. “This was right after he started his band. They played my book club meeting.”

              Julie smiled, recognizing a slightly younger version of her band and Carrie’s dad. Emily was standing to the side of the photo, blurred as she was turning away. Julie could tell there wasn’t a smile on her face. Emily noticed too. She sighed.

              “We had a huge fight right after everyone left. I was worried his bandmates were a bad influence. We’d just found out that one of them, the drummer, was-“

              Emily was interrupted by the window swinging open. Both she and Julie looked up startled. They’d been so engrossed in stories of Luke’s childhood, neither had noticed that the rain had stopped. It was still pretty windy, but the sun was beginning to peek through the clouds.

              “I keep telling Mitch he needs to fix these latches!” Emily said as she stood to close them. Luke stepped to the side so she wouldn’t pass through him. He looked at Julie, a serious expression on his face, cheeks slightly red.

              “That part’s not her story to tell.” He said quietly. Julie already had a pretty good inkling what Alex’s secret was- after all, helping hijack a tour bus isn’t something you just do for a friend. But Luke was right. Julie nodded, and checked her phone.

              Almost three hours had passed, and she had six text messages she’d missed.  Three were from Flynn. One from Nick. And two from her father.

Almost done with my shoot. He’d written. I’ll be home soon.

He’d sent the last one fifteen minutes ago. Which meant…

              “Oh no.” Julie said, as her phone started ringing.

              “What’s wrong?” Emily asked.

              “It’s my dad. I forgot to leave a note.” Julie took a deep breath and answered. “Hi, Papi. I’m okay. No, I’m at a friend’s house. A new friend, actually.” Emily smiled at her.

              “I’ll go get your sweatshirt, honey. Tell him you’ll head home in a minute.” She left Julie alone in the living room.

              “No, Dad, I’m okay. Yeah. I’ll leave here in just a minute. It’s not a long walk. I’ll be home soon. Okay. Okay, Love you too. Bye.”

              As Emily returned, Julie started to shrug off Luke’s flannel shirt.

              “Oh, no, Honey. Keep it. Something just feels right about sending it with you. Kinda like you’re keeping Luke alive, in a way.” Emily smiled as she smoothed the fabric over Julie’s shoulders. “Thank you for visiting today. I know it was a rough day for you, but you turned it into a wonderful one for me.”

              Julie put her hand over Emily’s. “No, thank you. I really needed this.”

              “Well, anytime you need some hot chocolate talk, you know where to find me, okay?” Emily pulled Julie into a hug. “I think we help each other.”

              Julie wrapped her arms around Emily in return. Luke stood off to the side, watching Julie and his mom embrace, his heart full. Emily had her eyes closed, resting on top of Julie’s head. Julie was tucked safely under his mom’s chin. He couldn’t fix everything with his mom. And he couldn’t bring back Julie’s. But he could do this. And maybe…

              He walked over and carefully put his arms around the two. At first it felt like nothing. Like he was going to pass right through again. But suddenly, he felt them.

              Julie smiled as she felt Luke joining the hug. Warmth and peace rushed over her.

              “Thanks, Mom.” She heard him whisper, just before he poofed outside to wait for her.

              Emily’s eyes flew open and she looked around for a moment. Then, a little flustered, she walked Julie to the door and said goodbye.

              As Julie walked away from the house, sweatshirt over her arm, she spotted Luke waiting for her at the end of the driveway, hands in his pockets.

              “You’re smiling, Molina.” He teased. “Feel better?” Julie nodded.

              “Yeah. A lot better actually. This was a really good idea, Luke. Thanks.” She smiled at him. He held out his hand to her. She reached out and took it. She could feel the roughness of calluses from his guitar as he rubbed his thumb against the top of her hand, the pressure as he squeezed her hand gently.

              “Let’s go home.” He said.

The two turned, hand in hand, and started the walk back to Julie’s, both not noticing that the dahlias’ Emily had planted in the garden in front of the Patterson’s house had begun to bloom.

[xwasted-days]

𝖘𝖆𝖋𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 || 𝖇.𝖍.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

A/N: It’s probably been done before, but I wanted to throw together a little song-fic based on Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift ft. The Civil Wars. I’m sappy and I like sad things. Also, this is my first tumblr fic, pls be nice. Requests are open and I have no tag-list, because it’s a new blog. 

Work Count: 2, 276

Complete Story Warnings: Major Character Death, Pure Angst, 10/10 sad. Also, probably language. 

The battle of Starcourt was turning in favor of the party and all therein, but war was never without casualty. 

Billy Hargrove had a questionable character and reputation among most in Hawkins. People wanted him as a friend or a fuck, and those that didn’t wanted him gone. Few succeeded in ever knowing Billy as more than the sad little king of his sad little hill, and even fewer knew the plights he faced at home. A minimal two: Max, the step sister, and Y/N, the girlfriend, who rushed into the center of the mall behind Mike Wheeler, unable to help as Billy threw himself in El’s path. Y/N moved before her mind could register: scrambling forward when Billy caught the mindflayer’s clawed gullet in his hands. Those beautiful, calloused hands with the feather-soft touch. She took another step forward, faltering as a tentacle dug into his left side, the sickening crunch of torn flesh and splintering ribs echoing in the building silence. The second hit came and she rushed forward again, slipping on fragments of broken glass. Y/N’s knees hit the ground hard, the sharp sting barely registering as the hits kept coming, clawing all around his torso. He screamed each time, every cry cutting off in a strangled garble at the sharp shock of another tentacle landing its blows. Billy screamed, daring the monster on, and Y/N screamed, begging it all to stop. 

The final blow landed in the center of Billy’s chest, silencing him. Max’s scream sounded somewhere behind her. 

As the mindflayer pulled away, thrashing, snarling, wailing in defeat, Y/N ran forward, slipping in rapidly pooling blood as she pulled Billy to her chest. 

I remember tears streaming down your face, when I said, “I’ll never let you go.”

The words, even as they left Y/N’s lips, felt like the deepest and most real thing she’d expressed since the moment he was taken by the mindflayer. 

Since the darkness had fallen over Hawkins, she’d felt vacant, plastic, unreal. She supposed the notion came first when Barb had gone missing; when the trio of sub-popular girls was first fractured. Everything seemed to fall apart until Y/N found out what really happened to Barb, what was haunting Will Byers, and what hunted the people of Hawkins.  

Life was a ceaseless ebb and flow of highs and lows; still, she never expected the tide to pull away as it was now. Nothing could compare to this feeling: her boyfriend tucked in her arms, fading away before her, was what would cause the tidal wave to break. 

Cool and fragile, the rapid thundering of his heart beneath Y/N’s palm, the salt of crystalline tears sliding off his angled pale, cheek, his hand gripping her arm as he clung to waning life. Billy opened his mouth, hoping for any words to form. None did. He felt the pain with each blow, but as the creature yanked itself away and Billy fell, there was no sensation. Nothing but an icy numbness. After his mom left, Billy prayed for nothing more than to lose his feeling, and now it was gone he wanted it back. 

He wanted it back because he wanted to stay with her. He’d always known he was a selfish bastard, but this instance wasn’t for himself. It was for her; his Y/N. The only girl he gave a shit about for longer than one night at a time. And now, he was going to lose her. “..I-” he struggled again, shivering in her arms. 

When all those shadows almost killed your light

“Shh,” Y/N cooed, bringing her hand up to brush sweaty, blonde curls off of his forehead, ignoring the scene that played out around them. Billy was never meant to get caught in this crossfire; he was meant to be as he always was: cocky, stupid, young and reckless. Seated atop his lifeguard seat, staring out over the crowds of Hawkins Community Pool as a king surveyed his kingdom. Instead, he was out there, vulnerable to to the upside down, taken as so many others had been.

Y/N glanced down at the gaping, bloody hole that forced the pale colored fabric of the shirt at Billy’s chest to dip inward, the rich, viscous, and sickly stain making her stomach churn. She bit hard on the inside of her cheek, a meager attempt at staunching her tears as she played strong for Billy’s sake. She felt his hand at her arm give a squeeze, her attentions drawing back toward the boy in her lap. Y/E/C eyes connecting to Billy’s steely blue ones again, she offered a shaky smile, her thumb smoothing along the arch of his cheek. 

I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone…"

Billy’s voice was soft and hoarse, barely audible as the commotion of the party and the mindflayer fizzled on around them. The fair haired, beautiful boy Y/N had fallen so deeply for let out a soft grunt of protest at the ache, his body twitching involuntarily as pain coursed through him.

“Think you can get rid of me that easily, ya little shit?” Y/N asked with a gentle chuckle, keeping her shaky grin to ease Billy’s worry. Her tears flowed more freely now, slipping down her cheeks as she held him close. “Gotta try a whole helluva lot harder than that, Hargrove. You and me. California, remember?” 

The broken king of Hawkins High put on a woozy, pale-lipped smile and hiccupped on a sob, coughing after. A soft mist of blood peppered his lips and chin, staining his teeth crimson. California, their would-be paradise, far away from Indiana and all their worries. He’d sworn up and down that they would leave one day, go back to his home and flourish in ways unimaginable. His promise now seemed as broken as he was. He was fading. Y/N didn’t have enough time.

But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight.

The flutter of Billy’s heart was growing more and more faint, and the beats, which willed themselves with great difficulty, grew slower and slower in their efforts. 

Billy leaned his weight further into Y/N’s body, slack and woozy. All the coherency in his head fading. She had promised that wouldn’t leave, said she wouldn’t let go, but she had. Or hadn’t she? He could hardly tell, his vision fading in and out, gleams of purple and pink, the hazy sound of distant chatter. Billy felt his chest heave with a great gasp, and his jaw open and close with the effort of breath. It happened again, and again. He felt hands on his arms, squeezing, but he couldn’t register the effect of the sensation. He was cold, so cold. He wished so vehemently that he could ask Y/N what was going on, but Billy couldn’t seem to find his tongue. 

That’s a first, he thought, trying to squeeze back the person in his numbed fingers. Every bit of him was so cold, probably frozen from where he had been, lost in darkness with the delicate snowfall. He was sure another erratic breath would leave him in shards. His head lulled to the side, hardly-seeing eyes registering the plume of Y/H/C and a small streak of fiery red. He searched between them, hoping to register on either of the faces that peered down on him, but none came. He coughed, gagging on something oozing in his throat, feeling hands tighten and voices raise. 

Soft curls of blonde hair fell over her his forehead, even as Y/N pushed them away, shifting his weight so Billy’s head was more firmly pressed to her chest. He was growing more and more still, even as she and Max begged him to stay. The girl took a breath, fighting down the body-trembling sob that wedged in her throat. “Billy? Wake up, Billy, please?” She asked, watching a tear of her own fall down to slip against his cheek, rolling down onto his stubbled chin.

Billy took a deep, shuddering breath, so loud he scared himself. He'd forgotten to breathe, and the muted voices he heard in his haze kept him there. Her voice. The voice he listened to in the quiet solitude of a shared bedroom, or in the crowded halls of Hawkins High. The voice he grew to love before he could even remember what love felt like. The voice he wanted to hear for the rest of his life. 

He blinked, trying to clear the tears in his eyes, focusing on Y/N and Max hovering above him.

“....I’m sorry.” Billy shuddered as his eyes glossed over,  a sudden cloud overtaking his vision. The clarity of the world was fading into shapes, then shadows, and careening rapidly into darkness. There was a loud bang somewhere near him and had he retained the strength, he would have jumped. Another bang. And another. One, two. One, two. One. Two. One. Two, each pair of beats getting further and further apart. Billy breathed out, defeated, overcome by the realization that those noises were thuds of his heart stopping. He couldn't see, he couldn't feel, he couldn’t taste anything but the heavy black goop on his tongue, he could only smell the coppery, acrid stink of blood that clogged his sinuses. All that was left was hearing; Billy was caught listening to the terrible, awful rhythm of his once-small heart, stopping. He listened again, hoping to hear the voices, praying they would draw him out of it, but there was no sound. Nothing. Not even the beating of his heart. Just his remaining consciousness, slowly going black. Billy Hargrove was dead, he knew. He wanted to scream, to panic and cry, but nothing was there. 

He didn't see the light that everyone blathered about, he didn't feel the peace. He was the hollow, lifeless shell of a boy who could have been more than a lifeguard with an attitude problem. And he was dead. And he left her behind. 

His beautiful Y/N, whose voice and smiles and touches were forfeit to the darkness that consumed. 

Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire. The war outside our door keeps raging on. Hold onto this lullaby, even when the music's gone. 

Y/N  felt the final, sickening beat of Billy’s heart beneath her hand. Another tear fell onto Billy’s face, then another. And another. Max whispered, begging her step brother to wake, her small hands shaking his bloodied shoulders to no avail. A hard, broken, centuries old sob tore through Y/N’s chest and echoed through the mall; the cry of everyone who had lost someone they loved for good. The cry that begged death to return a loved one to the land of the living that always fell on deaf ears. 

“Billy, please,” she whimpered, trembling fingers soothing the lifeless skin of the boy she loved. Every thought, hope, wish, and dream connected to him was gone, dead as he was. 

Jagged orange patterns began to dance on the ground all around them, and offered the girl nothing but a ghastly illumination along her lost lover’s gaunt, pale face. It made him look hollow, as if no happiness, no mischief, no curiosity had once been lurking behind those coy, gorgeous eyelids. His once tanned, golden flesh was sickly and pale, the adonis within snuffed out forever. Y/N  snarled and sobbed hard, holding Billy closer, hiding him from the sickening yellowed light of the fire that grew.

She heard feet scramble around as the party gathered, their footfalls echoing like hard beat of the drums of war.

Villains never prevailed. Heroes never lived. No one was ever truly saved. Y/N’s shoulders caved and shook as she sobbed, broken and holding onto Billy’s body. Stifling a hiccup, she sighed sadly and started humming and rocking him back and forth; their song mumbled on tear-stained lips. She was chained to her place on the ground, lost. 

She didn’t see the others there, she couldn’t hear their words. She didn’t take notice when Max hid her face in El’s shoulder and sobbed for her lost brother.  

The world around her was crumbling into vacant nothingness and Y/N felt herself heave with another sob. She leaned back, her blood stained fingers gently brushing the infallible, pure flesh of Billy’s cold cheek, smoothing the tears she’d left there away with another broken whimper. “I love you…” She whispered longingly, her voice needy and raspy. 

A hand pressed to Y/N’s shoulder. It didn’t matter whose it was. It wasn’t his. And she hated that it pulled her back. The distant thrum of helicopters rattling in the skies, the sobs that left Max as she cried, the soft sniffles that sounded from El as she sat in mourning solidarity with her friend. Steve’s voice low as sirens began to wail in the streets. 

“Y/N. We gotta go,” Steve said, joined at her flank by Robin, whose thin hand came to rest on Y/N’s arm. She didn’t move. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t leave him. Another sob leaving her, Robin leaned forward to rest her head on Y/N’s shoulder, rubbing her arm gently as she could, tears flooding her own eyes as she looked across to Steve’s battered face. 

Harrington hated Hargrove with all he had, but he didn’t deserve this. Y/N didn’t deserve this. Nostrils quivering as he fought to keep strong, he gave Robin a solemn nod. Together, they helped place Billy on the ground where he fell and pull Y/N back, consoling her as she cried. 

Just close your eyes. The sun is going down You'll be alright.  No one can hurt you now Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound.