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sea-and-storm · 6 years

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NIGHTMARE ; drabble

It started with a flash of lightning so bright that it was blinding, painting the entire world a featureless white in an instant. It was gone as quick as it came and color flooded back into the world, and only then did Ghoa realize exactly where she was standing.

Deep, dark blue waters stretched for malms unending toward the horizon. Waves crashed against a dark cliff face jutting out into the sea, sending plumes of gray-white foam high into the air. Soft, wet sand rested below her feet, turning to rocky pebble further upshore and finally to a lush, verdant green that carpeted the entirety of the fertile inner coastlands. A beach from her memory; not from her travels, but of home.

Except she didn't see it, not truly. A sense of recognition sparked familiarity, and memory had painted the picture from there. Only now, the usually serene beach from her mind's eye was being battered by heavy sheets of rain and roaring gales. Damp strands of her hair to whipped angrily about her, stinging her wind-reddened cheeks where they struck. Above her, a bright blue sky had given way to a ceiling of dark, angry clouds. Each time lightning arced across the sky, a peal of thunder like the roar of some ferocious beast rolled out over the waves.

Ghoa had never been afraid of any storm before, not even when she had been but a child. If anything, they had always brought about a deep sense of wonder and excitement and a sort of comforting familiarity within her. But now, as she watched the weather rage around her, apprehension and uncertainty began to twist her stomach into uneasy knots. Something was wrong.

Another bolt struck close by, bathing the beach in light, leaving the air almost crackling with static and smelling faintly of sweet ozone. Right on its heels came a clap of thunder so loud that she couldn't help but to flinch and recoil, hands rising to her horns.

Yet this time when her eyes opened and her hands dropped back to her sides, she was no longer standing there alone.

A handful of paces further upshore, a trio of Xaela stood. The rains made it near impossible to discern fine detail from her distance, but Ghoa could tell from their garments and their weapons that they were hunters. Her feet suddenly began to move forward in slow and careful steps, drawn in by some inexplicable compulsion. The closer she drew, still no flash of recognition came to her. Their faces, after all, were utterly bereft of features. Only an eerily smooth expanse of skin and scale covered where eyes, nose, mouth should have been.

However, there was something that she recognized now that she was close enough to see more clearly. Their leathers and their weapons bore the color and sigil of the Kharlu.

A cold, fearful shudder ran down her spine at the realization. Even though the only discernible movement she could see from them was the steady rise and fall of their chests with breath, even if none made any move towards her, her instinct still told her to flee. Despite it, her legs remained stubbornly still, as if frozen in place. She stared up at them in silence with wide, petrified eyes and they stared sightlessly and impassively back down at her.

Once more the lightning lit the sky and the world around them. Only now, the faceless hunters weren't looking to her. No, their heads were tilted downwards to something on the ground between them. Her own gaze slowly shifted downwards to follow.

Even before Ghoa could fully take in the sight, a part of her knew between the cloyingly thick and coppery scent of blood filling her nose and a touch of intuition aside. A gut feeling so full of dread that it couldn't be anything else. But when her mind finally managed to process it, her legs collapsed beneath her.

"No, no, no.."

Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, and she could couldn't even hear it in her own ears above the swiftly intensifying gales around her. A smattering of arrows had embedded deep into his back, causing the sand below him to pool and run in a sickening, dark crimson. Her shaking hands reached out to him, and an anguished cry left her lips the moment her fingers touched his deathly cold flesh. Too late, a distant voice called from the recesses of her mind. Gone. He's gone.

A wailing sob rose from between her lips as she fell forward, hands grasping at Lehko'a's body as she pressed her forehead against the scarred, and now bloodied, flesh of his back. Her whole body shook with the tears that flooded her eyes and the breathless aching in her lungs. The rain fell harder still and with it came an unnatural chill.

"Look at what you've done."

The voice was close and clear as crystal despite the rain and wind, as if had been murmured right against her horn in an empty room. Ghoa's attention snapped upwards at the unexpected, jarring words. Her tear-streaked face turned in the direction it had come from -- or what she had thought was its point of origin. Yet all that was present behind her were more sand and the sea beyond and the raging storm clouds blacking out the sky. Perplexed, distraught, she turned to look the other way. Still, nothing.

"Look at what you've done."

The voice was even louder this time, more insistently, and this time brought with it vague recognition. A woman's voice, familiar to her and yet.. It was right there at the tip of her tongue, but still, Ghoa could no sooner place whom it belonged to than she could find where it was coming from. All the same, the demand in that voice had her head snapping forward again in its apparent direction, her eyes falling back down to Lehko'a's prone body.

"Look at what you've done," the voice repeated, calmer this time. As it continued, it made no effort to hide the naked contempt in its words. "Poor, unfortunate soul. Did he even realize that he was just another expendable piece in these deadly games you are so terribly fond of playing?"

"No," Ghoa gasped, finally finding her voice again in protest. "No, it wasn't like that at all!" She didn't look up to try to find the voice this time, instead focusing her gaze on the Keeper in front of her. Her voice cracked with her next words. "I.. I love him. It wasn't any sort of sick game. It wasn't anything like that.."

Laughter bubbled up from the ethereal voice, cold and humorless and harsh enough to make the Xaela flinch.

"Are you so sure, Ghoa?" the voice insisted once the laughter died, a sharp edge to its tone. "You play this game so often.. Whispering sweet words into their ears, making them believe that you care, until they're so tightly wrapped around your finger that they would do anything for you. Until they so adore and cherish you that they would give their life for yours."

"No, it's not--"

"Or perhaps you've just grown so skilled in playing that you've even got yourself fooled? What a sick irony." A pause, and bitterness flooded the words that followed. "Did you convince yourself of the same when it was me whose body you were crouched over, I wonder?"

Another blinding flash robbed the world of form and detail for but an instant, and when it returned to focus, the body in front of Ghoa lingered. Only.. it was different. Mousy brown hair was replaced with shortly shorn locks of midnight. One furred ear and its mangled counterpart been swapped for two small, rounded hyuran ears instead. The broad figure of the man had given way to the smaller body of a lithe woman. This person was no longer Lehko'a, but another entirely whose appearance caused Ghoa's breath to immediately hitch in her throat.

Ino looked exactly how she remembered her. Not from the good times that they had shared, full of life and laughter and excitement and love. All of those memories had become overshadowed by the very last: the sight of her collapsing into a bleeding heap on the roadside as she had tried to get her back to the safety of Kugane. Her skin no longer warm porcelain, but ghastly pale and icy to the touch. The wit and mischief gone from her dark, dull eyes. Eyes that now stared, cold and lifeless, back at her.

"Look at what you did to me," the voice -- Ino's voice -- continued, thick with accusation. "Another pawn laying down its life to keep its beloved, crafty Queen safe. You let me die for you, to save you from the consequences of playing more foolish games with Hisanobu, and then you left me there alone."

"I didn't want to leave you!" Ghoa sobbed in answer, more sorrow and regret in her voice than her usual stubbornness. "I wanted to stay, but you told me to go! You told me to run!"

"And you believed me?" Ino's voice hissed sharply. "You honestly thought that I wanted to die there, cold and alone?" She clucked her tongue chidingly. "No... No. You're too smart for that, Ghoa. You knew I was afraid, but you abandoned me anyway. Because you don't care. No one has ever been more important to you than you. No one ever will be."

No answer or protest came this time. She only straightened from her place slumped over the other woman in anguish, hands rising to press against her face, to hold in the cries that bubbled up from the very pits of her despair at the dead woman's torturous accusations. She couldn't even defend herself. Maybe Ino was right after all. Maybe she really was just that good at what she did, manipulating even herself into thinking she cared more than she truly did.

"I'm dead because of you, and now so is Lehko'a," she pressed on, unrelenting. "So, tell me.. Who now, Ghoa? Who will be next?"

The lightning returned, and once more the figure in front of her changed. Ino had disappeared and in her place laid another. A tall Xaela man with long black hair, his hands only barely wrapped around the haft of an axe. Another flash, and the body changed again. Still Xaela but far smaller, a woman whose normally warm and cheerful golden eyes had turned dreadfully flat and hazy in the cold clutches of death.

"You convince us that you care for us, that you love us.. Do you even know what love and caring truly are? What they mean? How could you?"

The next arc of lightning came quicker on the heels of the last, and the clash of thunder accompanying it grew louder, more fierce in kind. Now the body belonged to a hyuran man with his bloodied sword knocked out of his stiff, reaching fingers. Another flash of white, and now wild, wet red hair was plastered to the freckled face of a hyuran woman, eyes fixed on Ghoa with a disapproving glare even in death.

"You'll never stop playing your cruel little game, will you? Why would you when it's not your own life you're wagering? You've nothing to lose, unlike us," Ino spat. "Where does it end, Ghoa? Or will it ever..?"

Once more the lightning came and went, and this time bodies scattered the beach around her as far as the eye could see in either direction. So many dead, so many lives cut woefully short because of her, that Ghoa couldn't even hope to count them all. Her head rolled back, her hands rising to press the heels of her palms against her eyes to block the sight. But even in the darkness, she could still see it clearly in her mind's eye, an inescapable sight that pulled a maddening scream from her.

"Look at what you've done, little bird," that voice called to her again, heavy with pain and sorrow and disgust. But it wasn't Ino's voice now. In the blink of an eye that it took her to pull her hands from her face and look back down, all the bodies had disappeared again, save for the very first. Lehko'a's mismatched eyes stared up, empty and unfocused, at her.

"I'm sorry," she answered in a choked whisper. "I didn't.. I didn't mean for this.."

"Monster," the voice snarled. "No better than him..."

"No better than.. who..?" she whispered.

The voice didn't answer. Confused, Ghoa's gaze rose, back up to the faceless hunters. Their attention had once more shifted, and now they stared forward at something past her. Slowly, she turned to see what it was.

No sooner did her turn complete than did a large, strong hand snap outwards like a viper strike to close tightly around her neck. Her eyes grew wide as her husband glared down at her.

"Monster," Bayanbataar repeated in a cold, hateful sneer, his grip around her neck tightening. "We deserve one another."

#Restless Seas #ghoa mankhad #drabble #nightmare #the ruins #lehko'a nhali #ino ghostwalker #batuhan kharlu #nabi kharlu #anchor saltborn #shael stormchild #EVERYTHING IS FINE GUYS #EVERYTHING IS JUST #P E A C H Y #NOT HAVING ANY TRAUMATIC POST-GHOST NIGHTMARES OR ANYTHING #JUST #HAVIN A GOOD OL TIME #:')))))))))

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lansplaining · 3 years

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I feel that most people, that includes jc antis and stans btw, kind of forget that wwx is also just a teenager when lotus pier falls, he is but a few days older than jc. A lot of decisions taken by war inflicted teenagers, specially someone who has lost his home twice, do not make sense and have to be taken critically taking into account their mental status. Both jc and wwx at this point are suffering. What happens later, when they are old enough and mature enough is a different matter altogether.

Do we actually know the precise age difference between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian? I know we know their birthdays, but for myself, I'd always imagined there was a year between them. I know that's not your point, I just always mean to check and forget.

Anyway... yeah! Every character in MDZS acts in sub-optimal ways, driven by pain, strong emotion, and their often incorrect assessment of what will prove most helpful for the person or situation at hand. That's what makes it good writing, a good story, and creates the kinds of characters that we all sit around on the internet obsessing over.

I'm assuming from the tone at the end of your comment (and apologies if I'm misreading, tone online is a nightmare) that what you mean to suggest is, 'Wei Wuxian's behavior post-Sunshot was excusable and Jiang Cheng's in the present-day timeline is not.'

I'd say first of all that of course Wei Wuxian's behavior, taking into account his mental state post-war as you say, is completely understandable. That does not, however, change the fact that he really hurt people who loved him while spiraling in this completely understandable way. From the POV of Jiang Cheng, who lacks key information and also has been through a lot of loss and trauma, your brother and best friend has suddenly decided to drink all day and fuck around with ghost floozies (give or take a ghost floozie depending on your canon) instead of helping you rebuild your shared home like he promised to. He will offer no explanation for this, and every time you try (in your admittedly clumsy way) to broach the question of whether he is hurt or suffering (or send your sister and her soup to do it), he brushes you off and insists that nothing is wrong, he's perfectly aware of how he's acting, and he's doing it on purpose. That is hurtful! Wei Wuxian intended it to be, because he needed Jiang Cheng to back off and not notice things that would become very noticeable if Jiang Cheng spent any serious amount of time with him! It also makes perfect sense and I don't think it makes Wei Wuxian a bad person.

Should Jiang Cheng have pushed harder, or tried different tactics? Sure, but a) I'm not sure that anything would have worked, and b) he is also a traumatized teenager, not a therapist or even a parent, so once again, we can understand why he didn't handle the situation in an ideal manner.

So, now it's 13/16/18?/time is fake years later, and Jiang Cheng is old enough and mature enough to know better. Here are the events that have taken place as far as Jiang Cheng is aware: - the aforementioned drinking, slacking, and maybe ghost floozies - Wei Wuxian killed a ton of Jin cultivators (bad) but then sat tight in the Burial Mounds not bothering anyone for ~1/2/time is fake years (good!) - the literal second Wei Wuxian was painstakingly invited to leave the Burial Mounds to temporarily rejoin society, he was so provoked by a random Jin cousin that he murdered a ton of Jin cultivators again, and most importantly, murdered his brother-in-law who very much did not mean him any harm - then, with variations for the canon in question, killed dozens if not hundreds more cultivators and in the process witnessed Yanli's death at the hands of someone who actually wanted revenge on Wei Wuxian

Which part of this should he know better about? What information has he gained in the intervening years that would cause him to re-evaluate? Sure, in a perfect world, we mature into wisdom and perfect serenity and grace, letting go of our resentment, grudges, and grief, especially towards the (maybe) dead. Perfect-world Jiang Cheng would maybe say, 'It's really sad that my bright, brilliant brother inexplicably delved into demonic cultivation and lost control of it in such a catastrophically destructive way, but I will choose to remember him as he was, and forgive him for both directly and indirectly orphaning my nephew and leaving me alone in the world. I'll never know why the hell he did it, so I'll just have to let it go.'

But as you said, when you are dealing with someone who-- for example-- has now been through essentially two wars in as many years (one of them against his brother), lost his entire family, and is left to raise his orphaned nephew-- you have to take into account his mental status. His maturity, like Lan Wangji's, is built on a foundation of trauma and grief, and there are going to be some cracks there.

#jiang cheng #yunmeng bros #ask #meta #seriously sorry if i misread your tone there but the points stand either way!

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rcksmith · 3 years

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Dream a little of me — Kaz Brekker

Resume: One bed and two hearts.

Requests :”Hello, darling! Could I request sleeping with kaz? Imagine or general headcanons, as you like. No nsfw (no need of touching tho, do what you like with it!), just sleeping in the same bed - maybe for the first time. Also bonus points if one of them will have a nightmare👀Have a good night/day, hun!🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️✨✨✨💗💗💗”

“My heart asks for all the angst of touch starved reader falling for Kaz Brekker... 😭😭😭 - 🐕‍🦺”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Grisha Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of post-traumatic stress, angst, fluff.

Word count: 3k.

A/N: Thank you💖 I hope you guys like.

Normal Rules.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake. Requests are open. Love you❤️

— — — — —

The rain was pouring down in torrents, in a fierce storm that roared into the shadowy forest like a hideous, unearthly animal. Platinum lightning’s streaked the midnight sky and thunder rumbled like as giants footsteps crashing into the ground and shaking the earth. Everything had been orchestrated to work. But nothing could have gone more wrong.

Unfortunately, not even Kaz Brekker's millions of tricks and plans could defeat the force of nature. And even you, an Infernal Entherealki, hadn't mastered the art of controlling fire or keeping warm while under a torrent of icy, biting cold water.

Your teeth started chattering, your lips turned purple, and you wondered if you could run another inch. Your muscles felt like stones and for someone who had lived with the heat of the flames his whole life, being under freezing water was extremely painful. But Kaz wouldn't let you stop. And you, as excruciating as the pain was, didn't want to stop either. The pain was strong but the desire not to let him down was more.

The two of you part of the plan that night was to go through the forest with the diamonds in pockets and find the rest of the Crows on the other side. You two would have to spend the night in that place. But all of Brekker's machinations were washed away by the treacherous and atrocious rain.

The only alternative was to run. Run to the direction where there was a small civilization and pray to find an inn or not die of hypothermia.

The angry drops of icy water were enough to steal Kaz's breath. Not because the cold was unbearable, but because his own demons, his past, were ghosts that gripped his ankles like monsters from horror stories. He didn't feel the rain, didn't feel the biting wind, Kaz just felt the sensation of the freezing, oppressive ocean drowning him. And for a second, when he looked at the small strip of fur on he wrist that wasn't hidden by his glove and coat, he swore he saw Jordie's dead skin in place of his.

He had to get out of there. But when the storm started, and Kaz run his eyes at you, your face wet from the rain, your skin constantly whipped by the cold droplets, and your cheeks extremely red from the cold, it made him gasp in a very different way. Blood pooled in your cheeks. Pulsing. Alive. He had to get you out of there.

Finding hiding places was one of his specialties, and he focused his mind entirely on it. When an inn came into view, a small relief rumbled in both of you. And Kaz looked in your direction to make sure you were okay. Alive.

As the receptionist gave the key from the last spare room to the two of you, Kaz couldn't help but feel that there was no longer any heat pulsing in your body. That made him feel miserable.

The night was cold. Unusually cool for the time of year.

"I don't think it's a good idea to carry out a robbery like that in these climatic temperatures." Inej said, walking down the stairs after Kaz "One of the Dregs caught a serious cold too while you were away."

Kaz had to be away for two days to sort out some matters of his own. Check some ship ports and finding out the weaknesses of some new merchants. And as much as he ordered his thoughts to focus solely on that purpose, he found himself daydreaming at certain times about…

"It got very serious after a few hours." Inej completed.

Kaz felt a trickle of worry trace his veins, tighten his throat But it wasn't for some bruteman of his Dregs. His source of concern was more serious, deeper, and for someone he didn't want to think about too much. Even though he told himself to keep every nerve in his body under control, in the end he was Kaz Brekker, he couldn't help but notice he picked up his pace to get faster to the live room that was strictly reserved for the Crows.

And when he walked in, following by Inej, the tree branches hit the windows, blown by the wind, tinkling. The cold was oppressive and biting, but not enough to stop Jesper from playing cards with Wylan, nor enough for Nina not to eat her candy and listen to Matthias tell of his people's legends. But the eyes of Kaz, that treacherous and treacherous organ, ran to you first. Magnetically, inevitably.

And he felt like he could breathe again.

The sight of you sitting on the black velvet sofa, with a book in your hands and your legs stretched out on the padded stool in front of you, calmed Kaz's heartbeat as nothing had ever done.

As much as he denies, in those two days his mind has swarmed over you more often than he thought wise. Brekker liked to justify that action with the fact that you were part of the gang. As close and important as Jesper or Inej. It was normal for him to be worried about the Dregs.

But why did he only see you? Why did the questions about your well-being and comfort stood out so much from any other concerns with others?

It was you. Always late at night, when Brekker was a sigh away from sleep. You were what someone he was thinking.

"Who is alive always appears." Nina announced he arrival and Kaz was pulled out of his reverie.

"Did you kill anyone these two days?" Jesper placed a letter on the table and Inej sat beside Nina.

Kaz left his hat on one of the dark marble tables. “Does it matter?"

There were other seats available in the room. A leather armchair next to the burning fireplace - Brekker were sure that you was controlling the temperature - an extra chair around the table where Jesper and Wylan were play, and a small divan beside Matthias. But Kaz sat beside you on the couch.

You marked the page with your finger, lowering the book gently. He didn't need to see the cover to know what it was. It was a romance clichéd eighteenth-century. He had given it to you before he left.

"Everything worked?" You smiled and Kaz had the feeling that he wanted to memorize that smile in a painting to always appreciate it.

"And doesn't always do?"

Even with the biting cold that wasn't stopped by the fireplace, Brekker could feel the heat from your body emanating, like a delicious temptation. You were always so hot. Bathed in the sun's rays. He didn't know if infernal grisha like you gave off so much heat too, because it was impossible for that to be human. Were so intense...delicious. Even with multiple layers of clothing, if Kaz approached you he could feel the warmth of a tropical pirate island.

Was that why he always unconsciously sat beside you? Why did you radiate so much causticity that it made Kaz forget about the ocean's cold? Why were you like a piece of life and Kaz felt dead for a long time?

Or was it because, heat or not, you were the only thing worth being around?

All the questions were too disturbing. And Kaz Brekker didn't want to know the answer.

Now, even climbing the stairs to the room beside you, Kaz couldn't feel anything radiating from you body. Just the cold. And he hated it with every force of his being.

You're not made to take the rain, felling deadly cold, or turn your lips a bluish hue.You were not made to be cold as a corpse, with muscles stiff and sore like a dead. You were not made to look like Jordie. You were meant to be alive. To look alive. Exhale the heat of the most ardent fire and heat a room just with your presence. You were meant to scare off Kaz's winter with your summer.

For a second, Kaz wanted to hug you to give you the warmth of his own body.

You felt exhausted. The remnants of what you once day were. Every inch of your body protested, aching and tearing at muscles. The cold, sharp water did you no good. You didn't know if it was were something of your species or a trait unique to you. But it didn't do any good to you. You hated looking so miserable in that appearance, especially in front of the one man you always wanted to look beautiful to. But at that moment you were in too much pain to worry so much about it.

As soon as Kaz had put the key in the doorknob, his gloved fingers stiff from the cold, what you expected to find was a cozy room, promising a heat shower and a good, well-deserved night's sleep. But that wasn't it. You stared at the wide double bed with white sheets, perplexed. Shock competed with your pain and put your brain to work, and all your breath lurked in throat as your realized the situation.

Oh my fucking God.

You didn't have to look at Kaz to feel his entire body be rigid, in a way far more potent than the effects the rain had caused. As if the prospect of sleeping next to you was more whorse than dying of hypothermia.

You closed your expression. Half because your mood was already bad and half because the rejection was brutal. You didn't expect your passionate feelings for Kaz to be returned, nor did you expect him to feel the same longing to be close to you as you felt for him. But no woman wanted to see that a man would rather die of hypothermia than share a bed with her. Even more if he was a man she was in love with.

You entered in room first, the pain in your body clouding your thoughts.

"Do you mind if I shower first?"

Your voice was weak, and you didn't have the heart to look at Kaz. He hissed a “no” that hung in the air, and that was the last thing you heard before closing yourself in the bathroom.

His heart was beating eerily fast in his chest. As loud as the thunder outside and as unsettling as the chill of rain. His breath began to burn heavily in his throat, and suddenly his entire body was fully aware of the situation.

One bed.

Even when he took the diamonds out of his pocket and placed them on a small table, even when you came out of the bathroom and he walked in, even as he basked in the hot water, his heart still pounded wildly. Like a generator.

Kaz Brekker liked puzzles, challenges. Of things he could unravel and understand. Piece by piece. He played to win and to cheat, and the world knelt at his feet before the insight of his mind. Still, he didn't know what to do. You were like a fascinating and maddening riddle. The one thing that, no matter how hard Kaz tried, could never unravel yours mysteries. Or maybe, just, what he would never be able to do was unravel what he felling whenever he was by your side.

His heartbeat grew stronger.

Brekker remembered every deck of cards, every card played. He could keep up with the distribution of up to five decks, unlock any lock, and devise the most insane plans. But he couldn't stop the way his soul trembled whenever he laid eyes on you.

In those moments, when you looked at Kaz like he was someone much better than he actually was, Kaz wanted to be good. He wanted to be born again to become a damn decent man. For you. He wished he didn't have his demons and erase his past. Because that way, when the sun's rays hit your face and you were close enough for your scent of happiness to flood his senses, Kaz wouldn't back down. He would lean down and seal his lips in yours with the promise of a glorious future.

His heart beat faster.

Why did he feel that his whole life was always suspended whenever he were away from you? And why did he have the feeling his life could change forever if he walked out that door?

Kaz turned off the shower. The heart running like a horse. He fished out the towel and wrapped it around his waist, finding a small hamper that held neat, folded pajamas for guests. He was surprised he didn't notice you in those pajamas. You made him lose focus.

As soon as he dressed and walked out of the bathroom, his eyes immediately went to your figure. Sitting on the bed, your legs under the covers, your hands clasped together in a cupped shape with a small, flare of fire burning in the center.

You looked up at Kaz. “I managed to do something to warm you up.”

The phrase was: No for warm me up. No for warm us up. For warm you up.

Kaz lost his breath and his soul trembled. The air felt different since he stepped out of the shower, not just from the recent gust of heat. But there was something else, something lyrical, pink and lush. Something...beautiful. He did not say anything. First because he didn't trust his own words and second because he didn't know what to say. He sat beside you, a considerable distance away, but this time his fear was that you would hear the loud, racing beat of his heart.

You turned gently towards him, reaching out your hands towards him, not noticing how his hands trembled as they stretched under the hot flame. Kaz swallowed hard.

He knew how weak and drained you were, but he also knew you were aware that he loathed cold. Hated icy water. You didn't know the depth of his traumas, but the fact that you cared to the point that you were willing to use your last shred of strength to end his torment was something that reverberated in his soul.

You two didn't say anything else after that. After Kaz removed his hands from the flame, you understood that as the end of your two interactions. You two shared a mutual answer that neither would sleep on the floor. You two were adults and in no condition to be lashed by any colder.

The night moon bathed the dark room with lights in distilled silver, almost flickering through the windswept tree branches. You were back-to-back, blankets pulled up to your shoulders, breathing gently quickened. As exhausted as you two were, neither of you could sleep.

Suddenly, the whole atmosphere in room seemed to change. Like a private, enchanted piece of the world. The wind howled softly, on a calm note. The rain was still falling in torrents, but now it seemed to be adopted in a passionate tone. As if it had fulfilled its purpose and now hovered in the world with a romantic veil of water. Stars shining bright above the bedroom window, glittering like hundreds of tiny diamonds, accompanied by moonlight. Although the light was dim, it seemed to capture the lyrical essence, seem to whisper “Dream a little dream of me.”

Everything felt different, like the two of you had entered a rift in the world. A part inhabited romance, pure magic, love.

Your soul shivered, and as much as you could never prove it, you felt that Kaz's soul shivered too. Your breath hitched, burning in lungs, your body seized by a caustic tingle that snaked through every inch.

You didn't know why, but your body shifted gently on the bed, turning slightly towards the ceiling. The racing pulse in your veins. A second felt like an eternity. Kaz's body moved too, and you knew, just knew, that he was looking at the ceiling too.

Two hearts beating in the same time. Synchronized. And, by some magic or deity, you two knew that your heartbeat would never again beat another way. Always connected.

Your body moved a little more, now on belly up. And Kaz's seemed to do the same move, even without seeing you or your movements. His chest rising and falling with intensity. The rain calmed outside, turning the symphony of droplets hitting the roof into mysterious, passionate music. As if the world were plotting a whispering favor for you two.

Kaz could feel your body heat radiating once more, grazing his skin with rays of sunlight. Everything in that bedroom became poignant and intense and lyrical, inflicting sensations on him that Kaz never thought existed before. Later, it would be a shock for him to see that he was at the mercy of his own passions. Overcome by sensations that robbed him of control of his body. Later he would think about it. Later.

His soul tingled, sending gusts of heat from the inside out. The feeling was that, after 28 years of deep sleep, he had awakened. Awake. Alive.

His body moved once more, now completely on belly up. Kaz didn't have to look at you to know that you too had placed yourself in the same position. It was as if he felt the movements of your soul. His pulse was racing now, hot and boiling in his blood. And Kaz wondered if all the money in the world would bring half the sensations he was feeling right now.

What was he so afraid all this time? That question echoed through all the corridors of his soul. And Brekker feared for the answer. What kept him from having everything he craved?

Money? Pekka? Jordie's ghost and the cold ocean? Kaz feared never touching you any more than he feared his demons? Was that why he always walked away from you? Why was wanting to slide his fingers into your hot skin and not being able to fell you, be worse than any sensation he'd ever felt? Because, maybe, admitting it can change everything?

His breath hitched.

Would it be worse to be alone for the rest of his life? Doomed and cursing to a fate of revenge, death and red hate? Or, even worse for his heart, finding a girl with lovely eyes, sunny smiles and the smell of happiness? A girl that made him laugh, come out of his hiding. You. What do he will do with that? What if you open up the door that he can't close it? And If when you hold he and his heart is set in motion?

Would that be so bad? No.

His body became very aware of the approximation it was on to your. Your heat radiating into his. For some reason, Kaz was sure you was in the same condition as he was. Sharing the same feelings. The same passion hidden for so long.

Kaz should have thought of his brother, of revenge against Pekka Rollins, of the cold of the ocean. He should have weighed of his own traumas. Instead, he thought: What if I get a little closer?

The result of this was his fingertips brushing yours. And he knew the exact moment your heart sped up even more. Because his followed the same beat. Maybe following yours for the rest of his life.

You brought your eyes to him, calmly, as if that moment might disintegrate. and the world seemed suspended in that moment. Kaz slid his eyes to you as well, sharing sensations and emotions that didn't need to be put into words. It was all there, in the gaze.

His fingers crept higher, going to your hand, and plunging his touch - and his soul - into that contact. All your heat was too strong. Too intense. Doing Kaz wouldn't be able to think or feel, for the first few minutes, about anything but light, heat, summer and…happiness.

That's when you gave him a shaky, emotional smile. I would do anything for you. That's what that smile said. And Kaz answered, his hand tight with yours before letting go. Me too.

- -

As the sun's rays, shy and buttery, flooded the bedroom in soft color, Kaz's eyelids fluttered. The sound of birds reached his ears, and the scent of flowers and happiness invaded his nose.

It was nothing like waking up in Ketterdam.

That thought back him to reality. A reality in which he had stolen many diamonds, taken the rain and had to share the calm. A reality where Kaz Brekker touched you.

You.

Kaz opened his eyes immediately, his heart racing again. He looked frantically around the room, past the simple furniture, the closed bathroom door, the window where the light came in, and then looked to his side on the bed. That's when he realized what position he was in.

His soul heated up.

You had your back to him, your hair spread out on the white pillow, your back showing by your pajama top, your shoulder rising and falling softly with your resonant breathing. You were close. Very close. And Kaz finds, perplexed, that he is facing you. One arm rests around your waist, over the thick blankets, in an intimate and…romantic gesture.

He lost his breath. His warm, hope-shining soul whispered to him: what if it was like this every day? What if he woke up with you by his side forever? What if in time he learned to be a decent man? Trying to be normal?

Would Kaz do this for you?

You shifted in bed, turning onto his side, front for him, snuggling deeper under his touch and moving closer, as if Kaz were your oasis in the desert. No skin was actually touching, your breath hit his warm chest, and if Kaz lowered his lips even further, he could feel your lips on his.

Yes. He would.

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Note

I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long.

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.”

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles.

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

#Nathan Bateman #Nathan Bateman x reader #Oscar Isaac #ex machina

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aliyah-the-creator · 3 years

Text

This is my very first post, so I hope I do good! Please give me some feedback, I would love to hear it.

The Umbrella Academy Life Swap:

The Hargreaves switch lives instead of powers.

• Ben ran away at the age of 13 and got lost in the dimension inside his stomach, the Handler eventually finds him and recruits him to the Commission. He works as a super powered agent that saves his victims from his sadistic partners, Hazel and Cha-Cha. Ben doesn’t come back in a 13 year old body like Five, he’s the same age as his siblings, and Ben does know about the apocalypse and has the eye. And unlike Five, Ben actually tells his siblings about the apocalypse and how he was a super powered assassin that acted as the kidnapper and lookout. When the Hargreaves were 13, Ben had tried to talk to Five out of time traveling because logically, he may not know where he would end up, but Five wouldn’t listen to him and started arguing with him. The fighting got so loud that Vanya and Klaus eventually got pulled into the argument as well and it turned into a fistfight with all 4 of them. All of them ended up with scratches and bruises on their faces, a few chunks of their hair missing, and cleaning the mansion floors and ceilings from top to bottom and every single room without using their powers as a punishment for fighting by Reginald. At 2 am, Ben woke up after a nightmare and felt bad about getting Vanya and Klaus into trouble when they didn’t even started the fight in the first place and tried to go to their rooms to apologize, but he never did because the Horror became restless and angry that it didn’t get anything to eat and wanted to make Ben feel how trapped they felt when Reginald always had them kill people, so Ben’s tentacles grabbed him and opened the portal to their world, which was the apocalypse, and trapped him there for 10 years until the Handler came and recruited him and was never seen after that day again. Because of Ben’s disappearance, Vanya and Klaus blamed Five and his ambition for time travel since it was him who argued with Ben in the first place and Five had never forgotten it. Ben hopes that Klaus and Vanya would forgive Five in time. Ben read Klaus’s book about what happened to his family when he disappeared, he read about Luther running away to Dallas to forget about the Umbrella Academy, about Diego staying at the Academy to keep fighting crime, about Allison’s death and how she’s now mute, how Klaus is trying to get sober and stabling himself, how Five became a professor at a prestigious university and a vigilante, and how Vanya took a dark path into alcoholism.

• Five became a lowly-paid physics professor at community college after he was fired for punching a colleague at prestigious university and he’s also a vigilante, but his fiancé Delores doesn’t like it though. Five met Delores at a professor’s conference in Canada where she was presenting her findings on the science of gems and geodes since she’s a mineralogy professor (someone who teaches the study of rocks and crystals) and where he was discussing the possibility of time travel. Those two immediately hit it off and are now engaged, Five proposed to her by using different types of gems to spell it out. Five uses his powers of teleportation to be a mysterious assassin and hero.

• Klaus is a dancer at a local theater and he has somewhat control over his powers, but if the ghosts get too loud, he smokes cigarettes instead of weed so he wouldn’t be high at a recital. He became friends with Leonard Peabody aka Harold Jenkins when Klaus was 23 after his family abandoned him for writing an auto-biography about him having a power that traumatizes him and what the Umbrella Academy was really like behind the scenes, it’s called “The Ghosts Inside the Umbrella Academy: the life of Klaus Hargreaves”. Harold makes him more isolated by threatening to kill himself and haunting Klaus for the rest of his life if Klaus tries to leave him. Since Klaus never had someone ,besides Ben, care for him and give him a home and food since he was living at a homeless shelter when he met Leonard, Klaus thinks that this type of friendship is normal and doesn’t think twice about it. In his book, Klaus portrays his remaining siblings as people who knew about his drug abuse, but didn’t do anything about it; he portrayed Luther as a hotheaded daddy’s boy who was treated like the Golden child, Diego as a momma’s boy with daddy issues always trying to compete with Luther for everything, Allison as his favorite sister who was taken too soon, who’s death was the final straw that tore apart their family, and who acts as a silent ghost mother since she’s mute (no one believes him that he can see her though), he portrays Five as the cause of Ben’s disappearance and as a heartless gremlin who doesn’t care about his siblings enough to see that his siblings are hurting and have real problems of their own, he portrays Ben as his kind-hearted and favorite brother who was the glue that hold their family together and who’s disappearance drove a wedge between the family, and he portrays Vanya as his ordinary violin playing sister that desperately wanted to belong with their family in any way she could, but turned to alcohol when she learned that her dream of being in the Umbrella Academy was crushed by Reginald and who had the easy life of not being exploited by their father for her powers like he was. Vanya actually confronted him about her portrayal in the book and they said some things that they shouldn’t have, but they eventually forgave each other and Vanya moved in with him and Leonard a month later. Klaus didn’t mind that Vanya and Leonard were dating, but saw a striking difference between Vanya and Leonard’s relationship and Vanya and Sissy’s relationship when Vanya came back from the 60s. With Leonard, Vanya was walking on eggshells and isolated from her brothers and couldn’t be herself around him, but with Sissy, Klaus saw that Vanya was happier and could be herself around Sissy and loves Harlan like her own son. Klaus was the one to kill Leonard with his powers by having Allison choke him to death when he badly hurt Harlan with a gun and tried to drown Sissy.

• Allison dies at the age of 17 when her throat was slit by a serial killer on a mission and now acts like Klaus’s mother by always keeping him sober enough to conjure her and giving him healthy advice, but ultimately going along with almost every crazy idea Klaus has. Since she has a slit throat she can’t talk, but she does sign language instead and like Ben, she ages like Klaus, but still wears the same outfit she was buried in: a yellow and green striped dress with a blue flora printed jacket with red heels and a pair of black leggings. She HATES Leonard Peabody because he’s manipulating Klaus into isolation from their family and she tries to get Klaus out of their toxic friendship, but Klaus always denies Leonard’s abuse. She misses her siblings so much that she’s deeply hurt that she had ignored their problems for so long.

• Diego stayed at the Umbrella Academy because he didn’t know how to be anything else but a hero, he also didn’t want to Mom behind, so he began reading and writing code to free Grace from her restrictive rules that Reginald put on her, but after his accident that had him have scars all over his body and face to the point where he lost his left eye and his face is almost beyond recognition, Diego left the Academy when he realized that there was no point in staying and became a recluse in his good friend, Eudora’s house. Unlike Luther, Diego doesn’t have the monkey body because I just couldn’t see that type of body build on David Castaneda. Diego met Eudora at a local boxing gym, Eudora was impressed Diego’s fight skilled and was shocked to know that he was Diego “The Kraken” Hargreaves because Reginald told the whole world including their city and Luther, Klaus, Five, and Vanya that Diego died in an explosion a year ago when he had his accident. Diego ,of course, was pissed that his own father told everyone and his siblings that he was dead instead of saying that he survived the mission and was just scarred for the rest of his life, but he wasn’t surprised that Reginald did that to keep up his reputation. Him and Eudora immediately became fast friends and roommates at her house since Diego had nowhere to go when he left the Academy 6 months ago and was living at an run-down and moldy apartment. They actually tried dating at one point, but because of their conflicted personalities, they decided to just stay friends and roommates.

• 3 months after Allison’s funeral, Luther ran away to escape his father’s tight gripped and cold stare and the house that reminded him of his lovely yet dead Allison when he was 18 years old. He ended up in Dallas, Texas where he became a famous boxer named King Kong since he’s so huge and muscular, met and married a successful TV salesman named Elliott Gussman, and they adopted an African American baby girl who they named Claire Allison Gussman. Luther decided to take Elliott’s last name ,even though it was Luther who proposed to him, to cut his ties off from the Umbrella Academy and the man who turned 6 children into soldiers and who blamed the death of an innocent 17 year old girl that happened to be his adopted daughter on his 4 sons and 1 daughter instead of the person who killed her in the first place. Luther and Elliott had a happy marriage for 3 years until Klaus’s book came out that exposed the secrets of Luther’s past and made him into a hotheaded bully with daddy issues who followed Reginald around like a eager puppy trying to get a reward and a coward ran away from his problems instead of facing them. Elliott was furious at Luther because when Luther came to Dallas he lied about being from a mob family that did all types of shady businesses and that he ran away because his “family” couldn’t understand and accept him being bisexual instead of telling him truth about his abusive father who raised them to be child soldiers, how his brother Diego would always tried to be better than him to their father’s approval, how his brother Five was too smart for his own good, how he loved his sister Allison more than he should, how he tried to forget about Ben’s disappearance, how he ignored Klaus’s drug abuse, and how he denied Vanya’s problem with alcohol for so long. When Elliott read Klaus’s book about what Luther did and who he was, Elliott immediately started arguing with him about his true identity. Luther tried to deny it, but couldn’t because he loves Elliott too much to even hurt him in a way. Elliott actually threatened to separate from Luther when their arguments gotten too much, but he didn’t and instead drove Luther and him to see a marriage counselor so that they could actually talk to each other instead of just arguing. Luther and Elliott eventually made up, but because of the book, Luther is the one that’s more pissed about it and at Klaus for almost making Elliott lose his marriage to him. Btw, Claire is 6 years old in 2019 and was adopted as a baby in 2013 by the Gussman family when Luther was 24 and Elliott was 30, a year after Klaus’s book was published.

• Vanya was introduced to alcohol at 13 years old when Five and Klaus were drinking 2 cases of beer that Five stole, Klaus persuaded her to take a sip of his beer and she hasn’t stop drinking since. Besides the violin and her pills, alcohol was the thing that defined Vanya and her personality. Vanya thought that no one would care about what happened to her since she was so ordinary and isolated that she dumped all of her pills in the garbage disposal and drinks her problems away. With her new coping mechanism, Vanya’s personality changed from quiet and meek to sarcastic and drunk. Five and Vanya left the Academy for college together, but ended up separated by the time they were 20 because Vanya kept drinking her tutition away. By the age of 22, Vanya ended up being homeless because she got kicked out of her apartment for not paying her rent with the money she used to buy alcohol. She still plays her violin, but only for cash instead of at The Icarus Theatre. She also read Klaus’s book and was upset about her portrayal as his alcoholic sister who had an easy life of being ordinary and never going on missions because she doesn’t have a power that can’t be turned off willingly or that can kill somebody; she cried and drank her misery away for 3 weeks until she confronted Klaus about the book, they both admittedly said things that they regretted, but ended up apologizing to each other in the end. She also meets and dates Leonard like in the show and instead of Allison finding the truth about Leonard, it’s Five and Delores who both tried to convince Klaus and Vanya that Leonard is a snake, but they both denied it. Vanya ends up living with Klaus and Leonard when her and Klaus made up when she’s 23. In my first draft I made it Five and Delores that Vanya ended up rooming with, but I wanted to make Vanya and Klaus isolated further by Leonard manipulating both of them. When the house is attacked by Hazel and Cha-Cha, Vanya is the one that’s kidnapped and tortured by them for 2 days and is rescued by Eudora who arrives with back up this time, but is injured in the spine by Cha-Cha. Vanya takes the briefcase and time travels to October 12, 1963 where she ends up falling in love with a woman named Sissy Cooper, a widowed housewife who accidentally ran Vanya over with her car, and becoming a nanny/second mother to Sissy’s 5 year old autistic son named Harlan. Vanya stayed with them until 1966 when a neighbor reported their “unholy” relationship to the police, so to keep them safe Vanya used the briefcase to go back to 2019 with Sissy and Harlan.

—When Vanya gets back to 2019 with Sissy and Harlan, no one believes her story except for Klaus, who promises to her relationship with Sissy a secret from Leonard, and Ben, who was the only one that was worried about her whereabouts in the first place besides Klaus. Vanya tries to become sober for the sake of Harlan not being afraid of her when she gets drunk and for Sissy and her’s relationship since her late husband was an abusive alcoholic, instead of conjuring the one she loves’s ghost like Klaus did in the show. When Vanya was dating Leonard, he would constantly have her and Klaus practice their music and dance at 12am-6am to train them more and if one of them mess up, he’ll have them locked up in a dark and tiny closet with only one dimly lit lightbulb and they would have to balance on a stool on one leg for the duration of their training. Leonard would also take his anger out on Klaus and Vanya if he had a bad day at his shop, which would leave Klaus with bruises on his arms and a black eye and Vanya with scratches on her back and bruises on her neck. (Trigger Warning for those who can’t handle stories with domestic violence) When the 3 of them were 27, Leonard gotten pissed at how independent and successful Klaus and Vanya were getting in their lives by Klaus getting paid more from his dance recitals and Vanya going to AA meetings more to the point of being sober for 3 weeks that he took his frustrations about losing his control out on them by punching and slapping Klaus and choking and scratching Vanya, but thankfully a neighbor called the police after hearing their screams and Klaus and Vanya were taken to the hospital and Leonard was arrested, but unfortunately Klaus and Vanya bailed Leonard out due to dropping charges against him as an apologize.

Here are the things that I changed

• Klaus and Vanya both cause the apocalypse by combining their powers at Klaus’s dance recital with Vanya’s violin because Leonard isolated them from everyone, manipulated them to the point of denying the abuse he put them through, and because of him trying to kill Sissy and Harlan for taking Vanya away from him.

• Five and Delores tries to explain to Vanya and Klaus that Leonard only liked them to get revenge on the Umbrella Academy and it was him that kidnapped Sissy and Harlan to get them to come back to him, but Five gets stabbed in the stomach by Klaus’s new found telekinesis and Vanya makes Five and Delores’s apartment collapsed after knocking Delores out. When the apartment collapses, Allison , who’s coperal at the moment, immediately grabs both a bleeding Five and an unconscious Delores and saves them from death and takes them to the Academy to be treated by Grace. Delores unfortunately loses her right arm to a huge piece of shrapnel lodged into it that’s cutting the circulation.

• When Ben goes to the apocalypse for the first time, he finds Luther with the eye clutched in his hand, Diego wrapped in black bandages holding a woman with a long black ponytail (Eudora), Five in an Armani suit with his eyes opened, and a red headed woman in a polka dotted blouse and a black skirt holding one of Five’s hand (Delores). All of them are dead and Ben finds out that they’re his brothers by the faded black umbrella tattoo on Luther’s wrist when Ben was inspecting the bodies. The bodies that Ben couldn’t find were Allison, Vanya, and Klaus’s, but after learning about Allison’s death from Klaus’s book, Ben kept looking for Vanya and Klaus.

• Vanya gets her burst of powers when Harlan almost drown in the summer of ‘64 in the lake 10 miles away from the farm. Harlan was playing with a beach ball when it got away from him and he tried to get it while Vanya and Sissy were cuddling in the sand and a wave pulled him under the water. Sissy started crying and panicking when Vanya couldn’t get Harlan to the surface, but after a minute of silence she was shocked and relieved to see Vanya holding Harlan in her arms while she’s floating in the lake with glowing white eyes. As soon as they get to shore, Vanya gives Harlan cpr which transfers her newly found powers to him like in the canon.

• Diego doesn’t show himself to his siblings until episode 3 when Hazel and Cha-Cha attack the house because everyone thinks he’s dead and he’s a recluse. He finds out about the attack from Grace (mom) when she calls him from her bedroom phone since they talk every day so that he can know what’s going on and because of these calls, Diego knows about Ben being back, how the funeral went, and how much each of his siblings changed over the years.

• In episode 1, since the siblings’ lives are switched around, the way they found out that Reginald died is slightly different from canon. Luther finds out from the press badgering him after he won a fight, Diego finds out from Eudora when she comes home after work and turns on the Tv in a flash, Klaus finds out during rehearsal on the radio that him and his group are listening to to practice the recital while Allison is dancing in the shadows behind him when the news suddenly comes on, Five finds out from his phone on social media when one of his students sent him the news link after Five teleports to his apartment after saving a 12 year old boy from being abducted by a creep and almost killing said creep by beating him senseless, and Vanya finds out from a bar Tv when she and Leonard are on a date. She immediately calls Klaus who was immediately going to call her to tell her the same thing when he was done rehearsals.

• Just to clarify, since Vanya spent 3 years with Sissy and Harlan in Dallas from 1963-1966, she is 33 years old and Harlan is 8 years old because he was 5 when he and his mom met Vanya. Even though Vanya spent 3 years in the ‘60s, she was only gone for 2 days with Klaus, Five, Delores, Ben, and Leonard searching for her.

• When the Hargreeves all come back for the funeral, the introduction of them to each other are very different. Diego doesn’t show up to the funeral to keep up the reputation of him being dead. Vanya and Klaus show up together, but immediately split up when Vanya goes straight to the bar making drinks for her and her brothers (mostly for her though) and Klaus goes to his old room to reminisce about his past. Five checks their father’s room and office for evidence of something other than a heart attack, he is the one that thinks that Reginald was murdered by someone, and he also greets Vanya and Klaus with Delores who went with him to meet his family. Luther is trying to get through the funeral as possible by almost avoiding his siblings, but that backfires when Five calls a family meeting to talk about their father’s death and Luther sees a tipsy Vanya holding a mix of vodka and rum, Klaus talking to Delores who is laughing at a funny story Klaus is telling, and Five lecturing the remaining siblings on how their father might’ve been murdered.

• Eudora is more present in the show since she survives the gunshot wound in her spine by Cha-Cha, but she ends up being paralyzed from the waist down in a wheelchair. She helps Five with discovering how Reginald actually died and Diego with stepping out into the world and seeing his family for the first time in years. Like in canon, she is the first one to find Vanya at the motel after finding the message that Hazel and Cha-Cha left on the van when they burned down the prosthetic factory after they got drunk off of Vanya’s “special lemonade” which is just lemonade mixed with wine and vodka. Unlike in the show, Delores and Ben go with Eudora as back up in case something goes wrong and it does end up going wrong with Cha-Cha and Eudora having a shoot out with each other in the parking lot that ultimately ends up Eudora becoming paralyzed by Cha-Cha’s bullet ricocheting off a lamppost and lodging into Eudora’s spine with her laser gunand Ben wrestling with his former partner Hazel in the motel room while Vanya is escaping through the vent with the briefcase in her arms and Delores in tow.

Ben breaks Hazel’s wrist and almost beats him to a bloody pulp for kidnapping Vanya, but he stops when he hears Eudora’s screams from outside and sees her on the ground behind her car and he immediately drives her to the hospital while Hazel and Cha-Cha get away before the police show up. Delores and Vanya get on a nearby bus to escape the chaos and they talk about what’s going on in their lives and Delores talks about how Leonard treats Klaus when they’re alone, but Vanya denies any abuse and opens the briefcase. The last thing Vanya hears is Delores screaming.

• The episode “The Day that Wasn’t” doesn’t exist in my AU and is instead replaced with an episode called “Welcome to the 60’s” where Five interrogates Sissy and Harlan about the past while working on the beat up briefcase to learn more about how to time travel. Eudora and Diego talk about how their long time friendship has become into a sibling relationship and about how Diego can reconnect with his siblings again. Luther and Delores discuss how they both want a normal and ordinary life with their husband and fiancé respectively, but fail to see that things can never go back to way they were. Ben goes off on his own to find the truth about Leonard Peabody, but finds himself at Griddy’s where he sees Hazel kissing Agnes and talks to them about his problems. Agnes gives Ben advice about how he can reconcile with his family by actually giving them time to process him being a time traveling assassin and him telling Five to not feel guilty about causing a rift between him and Vanya and Klaus because it wasn’t Five’s fault that Ben “ran away”.

I’ll continue the rest of the story when I have the time. Right now I just want to post this.

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therenlover · 3 years

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Songs From Musicals Y/N Would Sing To The Evans

If fanfictions were musicals, these are the songs I could see the reader insert singing to each of the Evans. I understand that this is cringy but cringe culture is dead, pls just let me enjoy my stupid little daydreams lol.

Warnings: Mild Language, Brief Mentions of Death (specifically su*cide and murder), Mentions of Cancer, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics

The songs are linked at their titles!

Tate Langdon

I Dreamed A Dance from Next To Normal

Yes, I am aware that I am taking this song way out of context

No, I do not care. I’m looking at this from simply a lyrical point of view

It has all the sad ghost mommy issues vibes

Like, pre-teen me during my Aaron Tveit phase would have 100% associated this song with Tate

I’m sort of half and half on if Tate would actively try to get someone to die to be with him, which is why There’s A World isn’t included, but I can see someone head over heels in love with him considering death as an option to stay with him forever

This song just gives me the self indulgent fanfic vibes

“I'll wake alone tomorrow / The dream of our dance is through / But now until forever love / I’ll live to dance with you / I’ll dream my love / I’ll live my love / And I’ll die to dance with…”

Kit Walker

I Don’t Need A Roof from Big Fish

Kit Walker is too good for this world, just like Edward Bloom

The thought of him being traumatized and having nightmares after his time at Briarcliff? Heartbreaking. But him coming home after his cancer diagnosis? That hits even harder

That’s when I imagine this song would come into play

Sitting and watching him sleep while crying and singing this song

Because you can’t let him see that you’re terrified of losing him but you can’t pretend you’re not

Kit is one of the only Evan characters I can see having a healthy enough relationship for this song, and that hurts

“All I need is you and you forever / All I feel is true and absolute / I don’t need a legal deed to help me play my part / I don’t need a roof to hold my heart,”

Kyle Spencer

One Boy from Bye, Bye Birdie

A classic song for a classic boy

Pre-Death Kyle gives me very much high school sweetheart vibes

Like this is the golden retriever boy who would’ve given his girlfriend the pin off his letterman jacket

The song also kind of gives me foreshadowing feelings when it says “one boy to be with forever and ever,”

Like, you loved Kyle. You made him a promise to be there forever

But will you be able to keep that promise after his Frankenstein-style resurrection? Is he really still the same person, or has he changed enough that he isn’t the same Kyle he was before?

Mostly this song is just cute tho

“One boy, one steady boy / One boy to be with forever and ever / One boy / That’s the way it should be,”

Jimmy Darling

Somewhere That’s Green from Little Shop of Horrors

I have a whole lot of thoughts about this one!!!

Jimmy is attractive, like we can’t deny that, but he’s not really gonna be considered “marriage material” because of his job and his hands

The 50′s are ruthless like that

Imagine, though, realizing that he’s the one you want to spend the rest of your days with despite society’s ideals

Just dreaming of domestic life with Jimmy Darling, that’s the whole post

I know a reader insert would do it to escape the reality of their terrible life because I do it too and I’m a real person

Also, the specific thought of Jimmy doing his very best to be a good dad because of his experiences makes me soft

Also, you can probably think of Dandy as Orin in this scenario, because they’re both terrible assholes

“I’m his December bride / He’s father, he knows best / Our kids watch Howdy Doody / As the sun sets in the west / A picture out of Better Homes and Gardens Magazine,”

James Patrick March

It’s A Dangerous Game and Take Me As I Am from Jekyll and Hyde

Okay, I know this is kind of cheating but this is my post, so lets pretend it’s not

Relationships with JPM are usually portrayed as extremely balanced and loving with both parters holding pretty equal standing or extremely dark and controlling with James holding full control in the relationship.

These songs fall into each dynamic respectively

It’s A Dangerous Game is that filthy, controlling roll-in-the-sheets song you just need sometimes

It’s also delving into the literal danger

Like, Mr. March is the most prolific serial killer ever. He’s a massive sadist. Being near him while also being alive is a massive risk.

But it’s a sexy risk

Take Me As I Am is the complete opposite vibe while still talking about the exact same dude.

It’s still a duet, but this one is even, measured, romantic... and all about accepting a criminally insane fiance for all his peculiarities! Perfect!

This is the song where JPM talks about how much he loves his wife lol

Because he might be a psycho, but he absolutely respects and cherishes his wife

“No one speaks, not one word / All the words are in our eyes / Silence speaks, loud and clear / All the words we want to hear,”

“Give me your hand, give me your heart / Swear to me we’ll never part / You know who I am / This is who I am / Take me as I am,”

Kai Anderson

As Long As He Needs Me from Oliver

I hate Kai Anderson with a burning passion

But this song belongs to anyone who he manipulates into loving and trusting him

It’s just so sad

And it really encapsulates the idea of doing anything for the person you love even if you get less than nothing in return

It’s not healthy in any sense of the word, but it fits

“He doesn’t say the things he should / He acts the way he thinks he should / But all the same, I’ll play this game / His way,”

Peter Maximoff

You’re The One That I Want from Grease

Who could forget the classic scene in Grease when Danny and Sandy dance through that weird fun house? Definitely not me.

This is another holdover from my Aaron Tveit phase because Grease Live was a masterpiece (it was very difficult to not include more songs he performed, because Evan gives me Aaron vibes)

I picked this song less because of the actual content, and more because of the vibe

Like, imagine Peter Maximoff learning all the choreography from the movie in his spare time

And he shows off by whipping out the whole ass dance routine with you during karaoke night at X-Mansion complete with leather pants for the both of you

Peter might even let you borrow his jacket as a prop, who knows

It’s just a fun little ditty and it makes me smile

“You better shape up, cause I need a man / And my heart is set on you / You better shape up, you better understand / To my heart, I must be true,”

BONUS CONTENT: Peter Maximoff would sing you One Knight from Wonderland 100% it is just so him please go listen to it

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lunaserenade · 3 years

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Entangled

Gif by @dornish-queen

Masterlist

Part Eleven of the Meet Me at Sunrise Series

Previous Chapter: Haunted

Next Chapter: Exposed

Author’s Note: Thank you to @icanbeyourjedi , @reddead-trash and @sugarontherims for tolerating me while I overthought everything I wrote for this chapter.

Beta reading dream team: @violentcosmicsymphony and @briefgalaxycat <3

Paring: Marcus Pike x FBI Agent!Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: Swearing, violence, mentions of blood.

Summary: The team rallies together after a traumatic incident.

“I have an officer down, I need paramedics immediately.” Your voice shook as you rattled off your address to the 911 operator. Snatching a blanket from the couch you reapplied pressure to Marcus' wound, the pain bringing him back to consciousness with a yelp. You gave him a weak smile “Marcus I need you to stay awake. Paramedics are on the way. I-... I'm sorry, I should have disarmed him, I thought I had and I-”

“Baby, I'm okay.” Marcus let out a whine as he tried to sit up and gingerly reached to touch the back of his head, a faint smear of blood from when Pearce slammed him onto the floor. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Says the man bleeding in our living room.” You let out a slightly hysteric laugh at his lack of concern to his own wellbeing. The seven minutes it took for the paramedics to arrive were easily the longest minutes of your life, and you clung to Marcus' hand as they went to work. Once he was loaded on the stretcher, and you had waved off the medics who were trying to tend to your cut cheek, you followed them downstairs and into the ambulance.

“See honey? I'm going to be fine.” Marcus gave you a weak smile. “It was only a light stabbing.”

“... I'm going to let that slide on account of the blood loss.” You gave his hand a squeeze and pressed your lips to his knuckles, the sound of the ambulance siren ringing in your ears as it raced toward the hospital.

-------

Standing in the ER waiting room you knew you must look like something out of a horror film: hair wild, a shallow cut across your cheekbone, and your hands still covered in Marcus' blood. You could feel yourself trembling as you awaited Regina and Maddox's arrival, they had been your first call after Marcus' father. You had promised to keep him updated but it did look like Marcus would be fine as he had insisted the entire ride to the hospital. You heard your name, turning to see Regina, her wife Amber, and Maddox at the Emergency Room entrance. Regina was at your side in an instant, it wasn't until she wrapped her arms around you that the true gravity of the evening hit you, your chest heaving with sobs. You barely registered Amber attempting to clean the blood off your hands with wet wipes from her purse as Regina whispered soft reassurances into your hair.

“Mads, go see about getting us back there to see Pike. Flash your badge if you have to.” Regina said to the younger agent as she surveyed your face, the cut across your cheek had finally stopped bleeding. “Hon, what happened?”

“Ioan Pearce. He was waiting in our apartment when we got home. He must have been following us this week... I should've known... This is my fault, I brought Marcus undercover with me. If it wasn't fo-” You felt yourself spiraling quickly.

“No. You need to stop. This is Laurent and Pearce's fault, no one else's. Tonight, we make sure Marcus is alright. Tomorrow we tie up these loose ends and get Pearce in cuffs.” Regina reassured you.

“Cuffs... body bag, same difference.” You muttered.

“And that's why you probably shouldn't be joining us.” Regina laughed as a nurse came out calling for the group of you, you could finally see Marcus.

“I'd love to see you try and stop me.” You said with a smile, although your words were deadly serious.

-----

Marcus was sitting up on the edge of the bed in the ER, freshly stitched up, and he looked instantly relieved when his eyes met yours. You immediately rushed into his arms, silent tears streaming down your cheeks as you saw the bandage on his abdomen and buried your face in his shoulder.

“-‘s my fault. It’s my fault you’re hurt. I can’t live without you.” You whispered against his neck and felt him shake his head.

“Sweetheart, I’m alright. They’re even going to discharge me soon.” Marcus looked up, noticing the rest of the crew for the first time and gave them a smile. “Ten stitches, nothing vital hit, and a bump on the head. All I really need is a change of clothes and sleep.”

Needing to see for yourself you peaked at his torso, your fingers ghosting over the dressing covering his stitches. Marcus pressed a reassuring kiss to your forehead, his hands drifting to your waist.

“We’re glad you’re alright, boss. We’ll catch this psychopath.” Maddox said from beside Amber and Regina, handing Marcus a fresh shirt to change into.

“I reached out to the office, let them know what happened. They posted officers outside your apartment, I told them they’d have to wait until tomorrow for a full statement. Tonight, the two of you need to rest.” Regina said, squeezing her wife’s hand, relieved to see Marcus relatively unharmed.

“Gina, thank you. For everything.” Marcus said sincerely.

“We’re family, we always take care of our own.” She said with a fond smile.

-----

The search for Ioan Pearce was on, and undeterred by push back from the higher ups you and Marcus insisted on being involved. Pouring over CCTV footage and any new leads on Pearce’s whereabouts. It'd been a week since the break in and though he wasn't fully healed yet Marcus was relentless in his pursuit, but they were getting close. Maddox and Regina had been staking out a location that was a possible safe house for Pearce and his associates, they were sure he would surface any day now. You were camped out on Marcus' office couch with Regina, Maddox was dozing off at his desk but none of you had the heart to wake him. The effort he was putting in tailing Pearce's associates was admirable, and he seemed to have a natural knack for going unnoticed while trailing a suspect.

“I think he'll finally give in and end up at that safe house any time now. He's assuming we've lost any trace of him and he's starting to get cocky. He'll let his guard down and that's when we'll strike. I've got people watching the safe house twenty-four hours a day now, so I think we should all be prepared to move as soon as he's spotted.” Marcus said from his desk, giving a small stretch and wincing lightly as it tugged at his stitches.

“I agree, I think Pearce is getting impatient. That’ll be his downfall.” Regina said, buried in Ioan Pearce’s file trying to see if there was anything she missed that could finally end this.

“I'm just ready to put this bastard behind bars like Laurent.” You said with a small huff as a half-asleep Maddox poked his head into the office.

“My CI just called. Pearce should be going to the safe house in the morning.” Maddox said as he rubbed at his eyes.

“Fantastic! Then I want everyone to head home and get some rest. We take this guy in, come morning.” Marcus said with a smile.

As everyone packed up and headed out for the night Marcus wrapped his arm around your waist. You stood on your tip toes to press a few soft kisses to his jaw. Finally, this nightmare was almost over.

—-

The early morning sun was beginning to creep across the sky as you prepared for the raid on Ioan Pearce’s safe house. Considering how deeply personal this mission had gotten for you and Marcus you both agreed to take a back seat and cover the back door. Regina, Maddox, and a small team would breach the front door to apprehend Pearce; You and Marcus would cover the back door in case he tried to make a break for it.

“I won’t lie, I’m a little disappointed I won’t get to lay hands on this creep.” You gave Marcus a small smile as you adjusted your earpiece.

“As long as we finally get this guy in cuffs, I'm happy.” Marcus said as he adjusted the Velcro straps of your bulletproof vest.

“Breaching door in 10 – 9 – 8” Regina counted down over the earpiece as she prepared to break into the front of the house. You planted your feet and held your gun loosely in your hand, Marcus at your side as you covered the rear entrance. The shouts and sound of the front door breaking echoed loudly in the otherwise silent neighborhood. You could hear scuffles coming from inside the house when suddenly Maddox's voice came through your earpiece.

“He's heading for the back! He's running!” Maddox shouted.

Ioan Pearce burst through the back door and putting your full body weight behind your shoulder you slammed into him, knocking him off balance and to the ground roughly. In an instant Marcus had him flipped onto his front, handcuffing him while reading him his rights. Marcus looked up at you and smiled. It was done, this insane case was conclusively solved and everyone involved in custody. Maybe now the two of you could finally relax.

------

That evening after an early celebratory dinner and drinks with the rest of the team you walked hand in hand with Marcus down the path alongside the Reflecting Pool on the National Mall. The stress of the last few months with this case hanging over both your heads was settled and maybe the two of you could relax, if only for a little while. You would have never thought you would be where you were today when Marcus had finally asked you out nine months ago, in this very spot no less. He was particularly contemplative tonight, but it was a comfortable kind of silence. Just happy to be in each other's company as the pair of you strolled quietly, the purples and pinks of the sunset streaked across the sky behind the Washington Monument as you reached the end of the Reflecting Pool. Tugging Marcus close, you snaked your arms around him and tucked your head against his chest. Marcus smiled down at you and pressed his lips to your hair, but his nerves were starting to get the better of him.

“Mmm I can't wait to get home. We can curl up on the couch with a movie.” You pulled back to look up at him and smile. “Maybe have a glass of wine and an early night.” Giving him a suggestive eyebrow wiggle you captured his lips in a lingering kiss.

“That sounds like a perfect night in.” Marcus said and paused for a second. “Before we head home, there is something I need to ask you.”

“Of course honey, anything.” You replied with an adoring smile.

“I know we haven't been together for a long time, but I do know that my life is better with you in it. I love you and I can't see a future without you next to me.” Marcus took a deep breath, reached into his pocket, and dropped to one knee. “Sweetheart, mi corazón, will you marry me?” He gently took your left hand and held out a simple but beautiful cushion cut engagement ring with a thin platinum band. Your heart was pounding, eyes welling up as you grinned down at Marcus. It was never a question; your heart truly was his and had been from the moment the pair of you had sat here that early morning watching the sunrise.

“Oh Marcus, yes! I can't think of anything I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you.” Your hand trembled slightly from excitement as he slid the ring onto your finger. Marcus stood up quickly and kissed you deeply, holding you tight to his chest.

“I love you. I love you so much.” He said reverently between kisses, you could feel his smile against your lips. You had both been through so much recently and now? Now a new and amazing chapter of your lives was about to begin, and you couldn't wait to see where it would take you.

tagged: @diva-1992, @yespolkadotkitty, @sarahjkl82-blog, @seasonschange-butpeopledont, @mrsparknuts, @disgruntledspacedad, @mrschiltoncat, @giselatropicana, @sugarontherims, @cynic-spirit, @supernaturalgirl, @farfromjustordinary , @keeper0fthestars

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tags.

#marcus pike #Meet Me at Sunrise #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal fluff #the mentalist #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x ofc #fic #narcos #the mandalorian #Din Djarin #fluff #fanfic #writing

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stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 3 months

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hiiii mackerellll my brains also bad soup rn soup brain solidarity BUT nhw.... winters family torment nexus..... i did have a question for u actually. currently wading around in the tranches (early game nhw) n i wanna write them doing silly like teen traumatized child soldier shit like playing truth or dare or shit like that... what do u think their two truths & a lie would b? also like. do u have any thoughts on their civilian life. when they are Not on the job or fighting extinction level threats or having panic attacks at school. u know. that 10% <333

ALSO. NHW WAVELENGTH..... do u have any thoughts on him. my only secret backstory caveat is that he has to have the fucking worst shit nightmare rube goldberg machine luck of all time. third & final question im just curious was danny phantom vivisection real & canon or just like a Thing??????

ok im going to start with the danny phantom question bc im dyinggg to talk about this. pun intended. also this is my equivalent of rent-lowering gunshots. if u cannot deal with my dp posting u do not deserve my pd posting etc etc etc !!!

THE ANSWER IS. BOTH YES AND NO. it never Actually Happens but it is talked about!!!!!!! the whole thing is like. dannys parents are ghost hunters and dont know about his powers so theres a lot of him like. overhearing talking about them dissecting ghosts and experimenting on ghosts and such. not knowing that he is one!!! prime territory for somes angsty ass fics. however i am of the small minority that doesnt actually think the fentons are monsters apparently. they dont know!! how could they know!!!!! theyre scientists!!! do you know how much scientists casually talk about dissecting things!! its a lot!!! also theres been a few different instances of them finding out about dannys powers (almost always retconned by time/memory shenanigans but its fine) and EVERY TIME THEYRE SO SUPPORTIVE OF HIM. AND THEY TELL HIM THEY LOVE HIM REGARDLESS. AND IN ONE CASE THEY EVEN APOLOGIZE FOR SAYING THOSE THINGS AROUND HIM BC THEY DIDNT KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyway. anyway. i digress bc i love the fentons. anyway! there are so many. SO MANY fucking fanfictions out there of danny getting dissected/vivisected. so many in fact that its one of the things the fandom is best known for by outsiders. enough that there was literally a FANDOM-WIDE DEBATE about whether to call it dissection or vivisection because dannys status as alive/dead is so unclear!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! lmao!!!!!!!!! worlds most fucked up fanbase i love it here

putting the nhw stuff under a cut. subjecting my followers to my dp ramble bc fuck you!!!!!! read about my ghost boy first

OK I AM SOOOO FUCKING BAD AT TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE. IM SO BAD AT IT I CAN NEVER THINK OF ANYTHING. so instead i am just going to think of fun facts about them. so actually im gonna kill two birds wiht one stone here and answer both of ur questions abt them. here we go !!!

i think it would be REALLY funny if william is the only one with a drivers license bc he grew up in Not The City (just because he has a license doesnt mean hes GOOD). dakota is lactose intolerant but chooses to be in stubborn denial about it (he canonically doesnt like ice cream!). virion, despite being compared to a cat so often, is allergic to cats. speaking of animals, william likes animals but animals DO NOT like him!! on the other hand animals absolutely love dakota he is friends with every stray dog and cat in the whole city. virion was homeschooled by his parents/the greats. virion also doesnt know much about anything in regards to pop culture/general everyday civilian life? because he was never completely removed from the cape world at any time growing up. no non-cape adults in his life. so he and william still have their movie nights where william introduces him to shitty b-movies hehehe. dakota tries to get him into more Normal movies like. disney or ghibli or whatever but virion likes the shitty ones more. ASSIGNING THEM FAVORITE GHIBLI MOVIES WHILE IM AT IT. this is not which ones i think theyre the most like, just the ones i think are their favorties. dakota likes ponyo, william likes howls moving castle, virion likes princess mononoke, ashe likes spirited away . dont ask me why. UHHH FAVORITE PLACES TO HANG OUT OUTSIDE OF THE BASE/HOUSE. dodgeboy memorial library. lightspeed hangs out there and they like her <3. antonios pizza. he lets them loiter bc they always tip really well. william likes going to the park because he has chronic Grew Up In The Woods disease and needs outdoor time or else he'll go crazy. hes not used to city life. dakota likes the park bc there are lots of little animals there and he can Run Around, virion doesnt like the park as much bc its a lot of Vulnerable Open Spaces and those make him nervous. speaking of which in my head ive grown so attached to the idea of him being so hypervigilant at all times. look at him ive given him anxiety!!! just like. the insane betrayal losing every important figure in his life immediately leading into a life basically on the streets alone picking fights with other capes led to . idk man i keep thinking about it like sleeping in shifts but its impossible to do that with only one person!!!!!!!! do u know what i mean!!!! basically translating the "growing up on fauna where everything wants to kill you" energy into this setting. HMMMMMM. I THINK THATS IT. THATS ALL I CAN THINK OF RN . SORRY FOR THE BLOCK OF TEXT

ohhhhhhh god. oh god oh fuck. i literally Have Not Thought about nhw mark yet like AT ALL only bc i know if i do ill get so sick about it. worlds most suffering man ever he is losing everything!!!!!! ok bc im thinking about lizard stuff tonight im going to answer your question with a question. we;ve kind of sort of talked about the existence of harttawa in relation to overlord and cauldron does he still get fucked up lizard mutations!!!!!! ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT HIS POWERSET. i have a lot of feelings abt him being at least partially a tinker. i think before u also called him a striker (maybe? am i remembering that right) i dont think i know strikers yet what does that one mean. WHAT WAS HIS TRIGGER EVENT. OR IS HE A CAULDRON CAPE. SHAKING YOU. I KNOW I HAVE MORE QUESTIONS THAN ANSWERS BUT. I NEED 2 GET TO THE WORM SECTION WHERE I GET TO LEARN ABOUT NHW ASHE SO BAD. actually i didnt get to read any worm this weekend so im gonna stay up a Little later just to get past this section where theyrre fighting the dragon suits. ouagh EXCITED.

#well. i say it never happens. but there is one time danny gets his ghost half ripped out with big mechanical claws.#thats kind of like a dissection if you think about it.#i dont know why im being so aggressive about dp HABJDHFA . im just a littel silly. \#auasiguoagah!!!!!!!! i don t have much else to say in the tags. hi i love u thank u for giving me cool fun things 2 think about #i hope ur soup brain is also going ok <3 #friends!!!#new haven wards #asks #intertexts

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wh6res · 4 years

Text

“𝑰’𝑴 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻, 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑶𝑼𝑹.”

part of the 21 ways to kill your lover collab hosted by the lovely miss solange @du0tine

pairing. entity! xdj & f! reader | word count. 5.4k

synopsis. he wasn’t a god, he wasn’t a devil, and fuck, he’s surely not an angel, but he will be your saviour and your light ‘till kingdome come.

warnings. tread with caution. yandere/possesive themes, religious themes, violence, mentions of gore, swearing, mentions of ptsd, mentions of physical abuse, a lot of character deaths, manipulation, stalking, and implications of suicide

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think xiaojun from wayv would act like this in real life.

a soul’s vulnerability gives him strength. he has scourged far and wide and has yet to encounter a soul as interesting as yours. he never thought a heart filled with hatred and a fragile mentality can be such a sweet combination. xiaojun would be stupid not to latch his greedy talons onto you.

he hides in the darkest corners of your room at night, unseen and unheard, just watching over you like a predator to his poor unsuspecting gazelle before diving into the anticipated chase.

he moves in with you into the cheap apartment you got for yourself here in the big city—which he thinks is an awful move because of how lonely it’ll be. but hey, it wasn’t anyone’s fault that you got chased out of your own home by your stepdad, your very own biological mom too scared to say a peep of defense to your name.

your downfalls became xiaojun’s highlights.

he would’ve felt sorry for you after finding out about that abusive old man. ugh, he scowls. your stepdad makes the entity’s blood boil and he doesn’t even have blood to begin with. the same man who holds the bible in his left hand when he preaches sermons for the people, is the same hand he uses to hit you across the face.

the same hand he uses to pull at your hair. the same hand he uses to punch your gut. the same hand he uses to shove your mom down when she tries interfering.

xiaojun may hate men of god but above all, he absolutely detests the kind your old man is—a faker, who thinks he can get away with the shit mess he’s making. xiaojun would never take that preacher’s murky soul even if he offered it to the entity voluntarily. fake. fake. fake. fake. fake. xiaojun should’ve killed him. xiaojun should’ve slit his throat. xiaojun should’ve torn his eyes out—

ah, ah, ah.

he can’t afford to make you any less vulnerable than you already are, now, can he? after all, he can be anything you want but he’s no angel.

so he watched from the sidelines.

watched you cry. watched you bleed. watched your scars form. watched the hate and resentment you have for your own family fester in your heart until it grew to a size you can’t hide within yourself anymore.

and then you left home.

xiaojun has to admit, for a second, maybe leaving home will make your soul unworthy, will break the mold he’s already had of you and will completely spoil his well-thought out plans.

so really, he can only scoff when he watches you walk around the apartment wearing that pretty dress on a sunday morning, darting around with calculated steps to shove everything inside your bag to go to church. the dress hangs nicely against your skin but he’d rather you stay and wear nothing.

maybe you’d finally find contentment and happiness in this place, in this city, on your own. soaring high without a cage, without someone to hold you back—these things fill his thoughts like a plague until you come barging back into the door 30 minutes later.

he’s been watching you long enough to know church service wouldn’t end for another 30 minutes or so. xiaojun’s eyebrows quirk up. why would his fragile little gazelle come back oh so early? but his question is immediately answered when he detects your shaky breaths and the unshed tears in your glistening eyes

you’re suffering the post-traumatic effects your shit stepdad has caused. seeing another preacher must’ve been a trigger, he thinks, eyeing you with a look on his face. xiaojun felt a little stupid. of course, swimming to the surface will be tough with all that trauma anchoring you down.

it’ll be tough, indeed… so why not sink you even deeper?

it didn’t take much energy for him to start manipulating your dreams. every nap, every deep sleep, he’d replay all the horrible things your stepdad has done to you and he realizes how dreams depicted from his perspective took a larger toll on you versus the ones from your own point of view—witnessing for yourself how weak and helpless you had been seemed to chip away bigger parts of you, he notices. your terrified screams when waking up in cold sweat getting louder and louder with every passing nightmare.

he pushed, and pushed, and pushed until you were standing right at the edge of sanity. until you start questioning your own self-worth and judgment, the invisible chains of the trauma too strong to break. until your radiant skin looked deathly, with gaunt cheeks and white lips. until you developed a fear of sleeping because no, you don’t want to witness those horrors again. no. no. no. no, please don’t hit me—

xiaojun can’t help but admire his handiwork but no, he doesn’t have time for that!

the next time you fell asleep you had been desperately holding onto your 5th bottle of gatorade like it was a torch breaking through the darkness. you’ve intake so much of the energy drink that your body has grown used to it. you would’ve switched to caffeine, but from how much you drank it prior to the energy drinks, your blood is practically coffee at this point.

“you’re living in my house now, young lady! i’d like to see some respect from your or i’ll fucking beat it into you!”

“stop! please. hit me instead, hit me!”

“this is all your fault, bitch! how can you raise one daughter wrong? no wonder your husband left you!”

murky and black, you can’t even see the bottom at this point. it keeps pulling you down, and down, and down, until you couldn’t breathe. until your head feels light. until your heart beats erratically within your ribcage as you fought to the surface.

with all the negative emotions surging through you in thunderous waves, it’s a wonder how no other lonesome, starving entity has latched onto you like xiaojun. although realistically, he was here first, as if he’ll let any other being like him go near you.

it took a greater amount of energy to twist and manipulate the plotline of certain events in a dream. if xiaojun hadn’t grown strong from all your negativity, he’d never be able to do it.

he can never forget the day he first appeared to you in a dream. to have you cling onto him as you willingly took his hand—not that he was caught by surprise, anyway. every second of every hour of every day xiaojun spent plotting your demise has led to this fruitful day of “meeting” you for the first time.

“i’m right here,” he said, shaking fingers tracing over your cheeks. a soft caress you have never experienced.

the man in your dreams is someone you’ve never met before—you’re positive that you haven’t because you’d never forget a face as handsome as his. he appears like an angel casted over divine light, with a soft smile that can cure the plague as he offers his hands for you to take. it was beautiful, how your nightmares turned into dreams the moment the mysterious man arrived.

how’d you ever know, that the hand you grabbed is the wolf in sheep’s clothing?

it’s sad really, how you’ve only managed to escape one horror only to jump into the next but xiaojun can’t find it in himself to feel bad. well, maybe a little, it’s a fleeting thought. something that disappeared as quickly as it had passed by.

it was only after a few weeks of constantly appearing in your dreams did his plan start to backfire. the change in your behavior isn’t subtle, either, and it angered him all the more. he didn’t see this coming, not even from lightyears away.

simple to say you’ve grown a little more… how can xiaojun put this into words? well, a little more outgoing. adventurous. meeting new people and going to new places and experiencing new things. he can see everything as clear as day—you were healing from your past, leaving the dark chapters in your life to write newer and brighter ones that revolved on having actual healthy relationships for once.

his seething anger of his failed plans had made all the windows in your apartment burst into thousand little pieces. if you had fine china dishes displayed on your kitchen cabinets he would’ve broken those too. how can you go against him like this? look at you all happy and smiley even as the room turned ice cold because of xiaojun’s suffocating presence. you never even thought once about it—how naive.

tormenting you through dreams isn’t working anymore. xiaojun has to up his game if he wants to break you down and revert you back to that paranoid, sensitive, and frail self that couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and couldn’t talk to any other human being without feeling the ghost of your abusive step-father’s hands against your skin.

who says he can only control you through mind games alone? after he’s done what needs to be done, grief and self-pity will go hand in hand. a combination so cruel and heavy on your shoulders that xiaojun can already savor the metallic tangy taste of victory.

“no! yeji—!”

xiaojun watches unblinking when he makes one of your new friends walk out the sidewalk and right into an overspeeding car.

tires skidding across the pavement, the breaks not working, glass shattering, bones cracking against the force of the hit—dead, right on the fucking spot.

he’s never heard you scream that loud and he shudders in pleasure as the vibrations of your shrill voice courses through his veins.

he missed this, your complete and utter misery.

but he wasn’t done yet.

“don’t you think it’s a ‘lil chilly in here?” ryujin asks, looking over to your side before drinking the hot chocolate she prepared for both of you.

grieving together with a friend can be good, hence why you’re now in her apartment a month later after yeji’s funeral.

you answer after taking a sip. “no, not really.”

xiaojun grins, giddy and a skip in his step while making his way towards you as he side-eyes your friend, who religiously drank her hot chocolate all the while bundling up next to you so you both can watch the movie together playing on the laptop.

this one, well, he particularly doesn’t like this one.

if your other friend was meant to be a casualty, a death borne from not one smidge of personal vendetta, this one, this ryujin is different. heck, he even remembers her fucking name.

no, no, no. xiaojun can feel his skin crawl as ryujin cuddles intimately closer as she stares at you from her peripheral, feeling out whether you’d react or not as she sneaks an arm around your waist. his anger turns a fever pitch, seeing you with someone else driving him up the wall. you were meant to be his sad and hopeless little gazelle and his alone.

xiaojun hoped the poison travels fast or so help him he’ll fucking rip her off of you—and he would’ve, when he saw you and ryujin slowly leaning into one another, head angled and obviously going in for a kiss. he would’ve, when one of ryujin’s hands come up to cup your face. he would’ve… until the poison reached its destination in her body, right when your lips were about to touch.

ryujin’s lungs seized, breathing becoming an agent to her demise as the oxygen from her lungs disappear into nothingness. the last thing she saw is your horrified face, tears streaming. she swore you were shouting something, probably her name, but it’s overpowered by the incessant ring in her ears.

when her mouth foamed and she laid limp on the couch right next to you, you knew ryujin would never wake again to give you that kiss.

xiaojun steps back to admire the havoc he wreaked. two of your friends dead, that should be enough to incapacitate you—whether it be permanent or not, he just wants to see you drown in misery.

and as he slowly dissipates into the void, there’s a little smile on his face as he stares you down, burning the image of your histeria in his head, the echoes of your woeful cries music to his ears.

you never dared step foot out of your apartment.

groceries were delivered to your door, trash is slowly but surely building up, and the place was a whole mess. the entity haunting you has never seen you this… shattered, even when you left home. it was like your brain has stopped working and your body turned into nothing more but a cusp of who you used to be.

it’s scary looking in the mirror and not recognizing the reflection—so, you painted all of them black. it was an in the heat of a moment kind of thing that took place the moment you came home from the police station, on the exact day she passed away before your eyes.

xiaojun just has to “misplace” a few pints of paint you had used from when you renovated the apartment in the past, putting the cans where you can easily see them and think that the idea belonged to you when in reality, it’s the entity that put the idea in your head.

there was a blanket over your shoulder when you came back from the station. it wasn’t yours, they gave it to you while you sat opposite to a stoic detective in a cold interrogation room, yet you made no move to shrug it off even after arriving at your apartment, fingers clutching the fabric like a lifeline and refusing to believe whatever that had transpired in ryujin’s apartment.

eyes unseeing, stumbling with your steps, back hunched with the curse of the universe weighing down on your back—xiaojun couldn’t’ve been more proud of what he had done.

you were spiraling out of control. a self-destructive cycle you cannot seem to fight your way out of as your nightmares came back to haunt you. the tall waves of anxiety and paranoia drowning and pushing you under the surface.

for once you don’t fight the current, you just let it pull you under.

every time you close your eyes, you can hear the deafening screech of rubber tires against concrete before the car hits yeji. can vividly see the foams of the poison coming out of ryujin’s mouth as if it was caught on tape and is now playing on loop.

your other friends have donned you as bad luck, cursed to have a fucked up life and will fuck up other people’s lives too if they get even as close as an arm length to you. too scared to lose any more people, you decided to completely push everyone away and had completely shut yourself out from the world beyond the four corners of your apartment.

it’s like your trauma from before has come crawling back to you, only now, he brings himself a little friend called guilt.

what are the odds that your two friends died after the other when the person they’ve each last spent time with was you? even the police found it too much a coincidence. if it wasn’t for the cctv cams in the corners of ryujin’s apartment, you’d be facing trial for a murder you didn’t commit.

you eye the usb stuck in one of your laptop’s ports. it’s black, with an srj poisoning case written in red ink on the small patch of masking tape pasted onto the back of the plastic.

after being stuck in an interrogation room for the last two hours, you had sneakily swiped it out of the detective's desk on your way out of the station. you remembered it was the usb with a copy of ryujin’s cctv cams, some underling busting into the interrogation room while in the middle of your questioning, holding the tiny usb between his fingers.

your stomach churned when the detective looked at you spitefully, as if he couldn’t fucking care less of the evidence presented to him in a silver platter and would thoroughly take pleasure in throwing you in jail himself, guilty or not. the last look he shot you still sends shivers down your spine, the sharpness in his gaze as he regarded you. “you killed them. i know you did.”

a week of self-induced isolation later and you start to believe in it yourself.

in the middle of screaming your lungs out and cursing the gods above for your sorry excuse of a life, you had thrown the usb somewhere in the apartment. not that you bothered to look for it right after, you were too busy wallowing in self pity before passing out on the living room floor. when you wake up, you’ve forgotten all about it.

so it was interesting, seeing the usb again after days and days of wallowing in grief. you had fallen off the couch while in the middle of a slumber and you spotted the small piece of tech lying underneath it with the other empty coke cans.

eyeing the laptop on the coffee table, you remember you haven’t taken a look at the evidence yourself—the detective had given you the stink eye when you tried shuffling closer to peep a look. carelessly, you shove all other objects off the table to pull the laptop closer. you plant yourself on the ground cross-legged, not batting an eyelash even when you feel the crumbs of chips against your skin.

you boot the laptop on, thankful you’ve yet to forget its password, and plugged the usb in again. it was simple to navigate, to say the least, the folder popping up in a matter of seconds. you thought it stored a whole collection of her cctv footages but alas, it didn’t, saving you the time and energy scourging through unwanted boring files.

hands shaking, you clicked on the video.

and it was as if you’re thrown back into that event in your life that has now become a distant memory. the hug ryujin gave you when she opened the door, her words of comfort when you opened up about your deteriorating mental health after your friend passed away, and finally, the warm feel of the mug against the palm of your hand.

wait a minute.

you perk up from your seat, groaning aloud when your knee hits the underside of the coffee table at your haste, fingers darting around to press the back 10 seconds button. the sweat starts forming in your forehead and palms, making your hand feel clammy and disgusting but it was the last of your worries.

did you see that correctly?

the quality is a bit low and the camera angle isn’t optimal. you can only see ryujin’s side profile but her glassy eyes are unmistakable and her actions look robotic at best.

this is after she made your hot cocoa and had delivered it to your shivering, sniffling form on the couch, all bundled up snug and cozy in the blanket she provided. you remember ryujin winking as she walked back towards her kitchen after you thanked her.

the way she poured poison in her own mug ruled her case as suicice. the evidence is right there in your face but the unease still sits heavy on your stomach and confusion clouds your brain like cannabis.

this doesn’t make any sense.

you knew her, ryujin. she’s never one to succumb to her negative emotions, always facing her problems with head held high. her overall mindset, in general, made her the last person you’d think would ever commit suicide. you’ve replayed the video a thousand times by now, still unable to wrap your head around the fact that she killed herself.

having the sudden urge for another bottle of gatorade, you pressed the pause button as you try hauling yourself up with your arms.

you pause. pushing your face closer to the laptop screen, rubbing at your eyes incredulously as you eye the corner of her kitchen.

ryujin’s apartment isn’t that luxurious, nor is it too rundown, but there can be little exceptions here and there.

like the cheap LED bulbs attached rather messily onto her ceiling, one of the six sources of light flickering on and off. you remember how many times you’ve told her to get it fixed yet she never really paid you any heed.

with shaking fingers, you replayed it one more time, hoping on everything you believe in that it wasn’t what it looks like. this can’t be it—how is that possible—

it’s him, the man who has appeared like an angel in your dream to sweep you away from evil. but standing in the corner, under the flickering lights of your friend’s kitchen, he looked anything but an angelic.

your mind is going haywire, your body shook in confusion, and sweat started dribbling down your neck. you would’ve thought you made a mistake because how is this even possible? the angelic man in your dreams isn’t real—he can’t be real, he can’t appear like this when you aren’t even sleeping because he’s not real!

he can’t… right?

he doesn’t look too harmless, what with his hands crossed and leisurely leaning against the wall. but one look at his eyes and you know you’re wrong. even through the shit quality of the cctv footage you can still feel the fury and the absolute hate his eyes held as he stared her down menacingly, unblinking.

stared her down as she made her own cocoa, as she hunches down to open the sink cabinets to get that pesky rat poison, as she poured it on her mug, as she swirls the spoon around to mix the deadly concoction all together in a hauntingly robotic way that looked too much like ryujin was being told what to do.

and as you let the video play the rest of its content and felt like the tragedy was unfolding right before your very eyes again—you couldn’t breathe, panic gripping onto you like a vice, the sharp talons of fear sinking deep under your skin.

you don’t register the coffee table toppling over in your haste to stand up. desperately putting a distance between you and the laptop as you turned and stumbled towards the hallway leading to your bedroom.

you stop, pathetically landing on your knees before the open archway. if you hadn’t been shaking in fear before, then you surely were now.

he’s here—can you even call it a he?

the man stands at the end of the hallway. in that similar, non-threatening stature with his arms crossed and body leaning against the wall.

but the mischief in his eyes is enough of a warning.

he’s come for you.

he’s come to finish the job.

“finally figured it out?”

you screamed, throwing the closest thing you can at him as you shuffle someplace else in your apartment. his laugh sounded pleasant in the ear when you were off in dreamland, but now? it sounded like nails grating against a chalkboard.

your legs eventually led you to the front door. appearances be damned. you weren’t even wearing a bra and you haven’t showered for days but fuck no you’re not going to stay here with that—that—that monster!

“baby, don’t leave! the fun hasn’t even started yet!”

you grab the doorknob and twist, practically throwing yourself out into the hallway, eyes frantic as you stumble and land face first against—

sticky. the floor’s sticky and there was a smell you can’t seem to pinpoint. it’s tangy, metallic, and you can almost taste the scent yourself in your tongue and when you look down—you want to throw up.

lying next to each other in pools of their own blood, lies yeji and ryujin side by side, faces towards each other. their eyes hauntingly empty and unseeing as they stared up at you.

you shrieked, voice scratching against your dry throat as you threw yourself back into your apartment, the door slamming shut in itself. you didn’t care if there’s now a huge mess of blood staining the carpets on the foyer. you curl in on yourself, hair sticking to your face as you covered your ears and shut your eyes.

“oh, my love…”

you felt his presence before you can hear him.

a flashback plays in your head—hot chocolate, soft blankets, and a friend who you loved with all your heart. “don’t you think it’s a little chilly in here?"

you answered. “no, not really?”

the tears start streaming like waterfalls, mixing with the blood and sweat already caked in your face. ryujin knew, she felt it back at her apartment yet you disregarded her completely.

“it’s not your fault,” the entity’s hands are ice cold when he gently pulls at your wrist. “everything is as it should be. now, open your eyes. there’s nothing to be afraid of. i’m not going to hurt you.”

stubbornly, you shook your head as you squeezed your lids even tighter, refusing to look at the monster dead in the eye.

“don’t be like that, my love. if i wanted to hurt you, i would’ve done it a long time ago.”

you don’t listen, hunching and curling your knees even more against your torso as you try to block out his voice. it’s unfair how gentle it sounded but your blood ran cold when you realize this is how he got ryujin to poison herself, this is how he got yeji to walk in front of a speeding car—

“hail mary, full—full of grace,” you pray under your breath, shaking like a leaf. “the lord… the lord is with thee. blessed art thou among women…”

“you’re praying?” there’s an underlying mocking to e in his voice. “this is fucking hilarious!”

your incessant mumbling partnered with how you rocked your body back and forth, made something snap within xiaojun. he already stated he won’t hurt you! did he break you so much that now you’re unable to hear stuff properly, too?

“holy mary, mo—mother of god, pray for us sinners, now and—and at the hour of our death, amen. hail mary, full of grace…”

“stop.” his body twitches, having the sudden urge to pull all his hair out and burn this fucking building to the ground.

yet you continue. “the lord is with thee, blessed art thou among—among women and blessed is the… the fruit of thy womb, jesus…”

“i said stop, [name]. don’t fucking test me.”

“holy mary, mother of god—pray—pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our—”

you screeched in pain as your forehead comes in contact with a mirror, the sound of it shattering is deafening to the ears. his icy fingers let go of your nape, letting you fall hard to the ground. your ears perk up at the sound of streaming water.

you weren’t in the foyer anymore, you feel cold tiles instead of the rough texture of the dirty carpet underneath you. eyes fluttering, you slowly pry them open, and the first thing you see is the faulty pipes found underneath your bathroom’s sink. patches of your clothes start getting wet.

“you think a prayer of all things can stop me? i’m insulted!” you hiss when he grabs your face, hands so cold that it feels like you’re skin is burning off. “i was going to play nice.”

he pulls you towards him, hand encased around your throat. he shoves the open hair dryer into the half-filled bath tub as you feel him vibrate against you. “you don’t know how long i waited, how much energy i needed to appear to you like this.”

it’s with dread you realize that he’s actually giggling.

you whine, eyes feeling like it’ll pop out of their sockets when he squeezed your neck tighter. with a sudden rush of adrenaline, you anchor your wrists against his arm but it proves to be useless when he’s too strong.

“please,” you wheezed. “i did… i did nothing wrong. let go—please.”

in the corner of your eyes, you stare at him from the mirror, stomach twisting in discomfort when you see him throwing his head back, eyes rolling up after taking a long whiff of your hair. “this—this fear you have, my love, only makes me stronger.”

“nothing… i did nothing wrong—please! please… let, let me go…” you’re starting to feel lightheaded, black spots floating around your vision.

“nothing? are you sure about that?”

you cringe when he licks up the tears in your face, toes curling at the sheer disgust you feel. but the words he spews next is far worse than the hand he’s wrapped around your throat.

“didn’t you left your mom alone with that abusive asshole? didn’t you make yeji walk into that incoming car? didn’t you make ryujin drink that poison?”

he whispers them so softly, so gently that you almost mistook them as proclamations of love.

“no…” your voice breaks.

“yes. yes, you did,” he knew you like the back of his hand, knew what to say and how to say them for you to break in his arms. “you killed them, my love. you’re a murderer. you don’t even deserve to be alive after all of the things you’ve done.”

it’s almost pathetic how you shake your head, eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge the truth.

“that’s… that’s not true…”

“you’re a curse to the people you love, the embodiment of they're suffering. don’t you see it?”

“stop lying!—”

“am i?” he retorts, maneuvering you around to face the mirror. you swore you covered the whole thing with black paint. “just look at yourself.”

oh, how badly he wants to shove your face against the mirror but he mustn't get ahead of himself.

“did any of your friends even visit you to see how you’re doing?” no, they never did. he smiles like he knows what you’re thinking. “the answer is all before you now, my love. you need to see through the haze and accept it for what it really is. no one loves you. even the god you’re praying to didn’t answer. there’s nothing, no one, left.”

and for the first time since he has you in his tight hold, you stopped fighting. sobs wracking through your body as your shoulders slump and accept defeat.

xiaojun automatically lets you go, cooing like a lover in your ear as he tucks you into his embrace. “you want this all to stop, don’t you? someone to save you?”

you nodded, unable to look at him as his hand came up to wipe away your tears. no one has ever done that for you in months ever since yeji and ryujin died.

“i’m here,” xiaojun says, running fingers through your hair comfortingly. “i’m your light, your only saviour. you want that, right, my love?” choice is a mere illusion but he likes keeping up with formalities.

you fail to notice the steps he took towards the now overflowing bathtub, too lost in the new highs and lows of emotions you feel.

“yes.”

it only took seconds to push you into the tub. its water buzzing with a live electric current brought by the hair dryer he dropped only minutes ago.

the effect is instantaneous. he watches your muscle spasm, your skin growing darker as the live water fries your body alive. quickly, xiaojun reaches down to lift your head out the water, not wanting to ruin your pretty face.

the last thing you feel is xiaojun’s cold lips pressing against your own, the gentle caress as he wiped your tears away… and the electricity finally passing through your heart.

when the entity pulls away from your dead body, he only whispers three things—“mine, at last.”

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #xiaojun imagines #xiaojun scenarios #tw violence #tw religious themes #tw ptsd #tw swearing #tw mentions of suicide #tw murder #tw death #tw abuse #yandere xiaojun #yandere wayv

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ocean-stuck · 4 years

Text

A very long ??? post (+ some Arthur stuff)

Thinking ‘bout the scant information we have on ???, and what that might tell us about what it is plotwise and thematically.

So. ??? has exactly 3 appearances in the entire series. The Ghost flashback, the opening of Freaking Out, and...

well, you know.

These are all pretty brief, and they don’t really give any insight into its motivation (if it’s even sapient enough to have one), but its mechanics are readily apparent and there is the faintest scrap of backstory implied in Future, more on that later.

For now, let’s talk possession.

??? seems to gravitate toward the emotionally distressed. Envy may or may not be a preferred one, given Arthur’s mental state in the Ghost flashback and the association of green with envy (with the release of nearly every video, I’d spot at least a few not-very-sharp-eyed casuals who dismissed the green of Arthur’s possession as symbolic and failed to realize ??? existed at all; Future is the only one where this hasn’t happened, since at this point it’s literally impossible to miss). More notably, it also appears drawn to interpersonal distress, to people whose relationships are deteriorating. Both of its (sapient) targets, Arthur and Mystery, are at points of social turmoil when it enters them, and both, for varying reasons, opted to bottle their issues rather than discuss them.

(Also, this bat no one cares about. Presumably non-sapient stuff is easier by nature. I mean, it commands that hand just fine.)

This also speaks to how ??? manages to overwhelm Mystery so easily, compared to Arthur who lasted long enough for Mystery to forcibly excise it and was aware throughout, despite the former being an ancient and powerful nine-tailed kitsune and the latter a normal human. Arthur is lonely from being the third wheel and not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings by talking about it. Mystery is bleeding out, has just watched his ex-partner possibly die (or so he believes) at the hands of his ward, who herself has just been seriously injured by said ex, and in trying and failing to prevent that same nightmare scenario has left the guys unattended, who last he saw one was trying to murder the other. Like not to invalidate Arthur but there’s a bit of a gap in severity here.

(image by artsy)

That still leaves some questions, though. How did it reach Mystery from such a long distance? Last we saw it, it was loitering outside the cavern. It could’ve followed Shiro, if not for the fact that it’d’ve had to keep pace with a high speed car chase while moving entirely on foot (hand?). Why is it still attached to the hand at all when it could surely find some random animal with less awkward means of locomotion? What was it doing at the cavern in the first place?

I’ve seen people speculate that remaining in the arm lets it remain connected to Arthur via his prosthesis, and while there’s definitely something fucky about that thing this seems strange to me as an explanation. The prosthesis consistently sparks yellow, Arthur’s own color, rather than green, with the only exception being while in direct contact with Lewis (pink). Speaking of, the prosthesis seems drawn to Lewis when active, which would be odd if ??? was trying to do harm through it since...what could it possibly do to a near-invulnerable ghost with power over fire and lifelike illusions using the body of a relatively fit but still normal human?

It could be that Mystery sealed it in the arm to prevent it from doing further harm, and this binding slipped as he became physically and emotionally vulnerable, while also giving ??? a magical line to Mystery for it to exploit. It’d answer the distance question as well.

I think there’s more, though.

I’ll save myself a paragraph or two and just plug this edit of a certain Future shot for the nth time.

Each stream seems to correspond to some form of harm done to a person significant to Mystery. We know or can intuit half of them (though this doesn’t seem to be the first time Vivi/Mushi or Shiro have been seriously harmed); the others, while not explained, match the rest of the cast’s secondary colors (which itself raises questions)...except green, which isn’t linked to any of the major characters except ???.

Has there been some deeper history between ??? and Mystery (haha rhyme) that we haven’t been let on until now?

Loved ones appear to be connected in essence as well as emotionally, at least when supernatural beings are involved. This essence can be drawn on and tracked.

Shiro uses this to locate people, though still has to physically travel in order to reach them. But ??? is a different sort of entity; it may be that it has more direct access to Mystery’s soul as an incorporeal being.

After all, one can affect someone at a distance with their essence on hand.

(??? being familiar with Mystery would also recontextualize this little surprised reaction it has to Shiro; it knows who she is, rather than just being wary of her as a stronger entity.)

This possibly points to a deliberateness to its actions in the Ghost flashback, to what happened being more than happenstance. But there’s still too little information to discern why, if so. Revenge for something? Power? Possessiveness? Was possessing Mystery the endgame the whole time? If so...now what? Why did it still linger around the cavern after the fact when everyone except Lewis had gtfo’d?

There’s not really anything to go on vis a vis motivations, so I’m not really gonna pursue this line further.

Some Funky Fresh Thematic Stuff

If Ghost can be said to be a cautionary tale about failing to communicate one’s emotional needs, ??? could be thought of as the interpersonal havoc that results from letting such issues stew too long.

Arthur keeps quiet about his loneliness and ends up vulnerable to ???. Mystery intervenes to prevent ??? from doing further harm, but by then the damage is done. What was once a typical relationship hurdle has become a full-blown traumatic event that creates a rift between the gang, particularly between Arthur and Mystery and between everyone and Lewis.

Furthermore, sealing ??? doesn’t stop things from collapsing, only prolongs it. Lewis is hurt and pissed and literally comes back with a vengeance. Shiro, one of Mystery’s failed pacts, is drawn into it trying to force him into whatever relationship they used to have. The mistakes of the past catch up, and Mystery’s loved ones nearly eat each other alive.

And at the end of it...??? is back.

I think if the gang wants to make it out of this one, it’ll take them confronting their pains and the ways they’ve failed each other in order to reconcile. By extension, I think saving Mystery is gonna be an everyone deal (including Shiro, who seems to be slowly waking up to her mistake when Vivi vibe checks her), though I think one in particular is likely to shine.

Arthur, the least assuming one of the main cast, the last person to have fallen under ???’s spell, who inadvertently enabled the plot through his insecurity, and also the one who’s bent backwards the hardest trying to fix what’s been broken since.

It’s like...poetic or something.

Also, I want an excuse for Arthur to do electric magic.

#mystery skulls #mystery skulls animated #msa spoilers #msa theory #msa ???#msa mystery #arthur kingsman

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karlnapity · 4 years

Text

we spent two years together, i thought in made her better.

(tws: death, violence, panic attacks)

jack manifold loses his last life on december sixteenth, and he crawls out of hell on the same day.

he has never stood down. he’s a stubborn bastard and he knows that, and he knows that standing against fucking technoblade is a bad idea, and he doesn’t care, because he won’t let him destroy his home.

technoblade looks him in the eye, laughs in his face, and drives an axe down the center of his skull.

he doesn’t quite register dying, doesn’t quite register the feeling of falling to the ground.

he does register pain. he does register overwhelming panic. he comes to laying on the ground, blood stuck to his scalp and in his eyes, rubble scratching his back.

he keens in pain, sits up slowly. he rubs his eyes, resting his head in his hands. he thinks, dimly, that everything seems dulled. explosions and screams in the background, the feeling of his hands on his face, the chill in the air. he can hardly feel any of it. he edges himself behind a large piece of rubble, safe from the conflict for now.

panic courses through his veins. what happened?

he grasps at his arms, curling in on himself. everything feels wrong. everything feels wrong.

his breath quickens as he grows hysterical. tears start to fall as he hiccups, and as they trickle down his face he can barely even feel them.

and then it stops.

his hand flies to his throat. he tries to start breathing again, but as the seconds pass he finds he doesn’t even need it.

oh god, he’s dead. he’s really fucking dead. is he a ghost?

“oh god,” he chokes, curling in even further into himself.

“hello?” someone else’s voice calls. he doesn’t bother sitting up.

“jack?” the voice continues, then, “oh fuck, jack!”

someone touches his arm, and he craves the contact. he can still hardly feel it, but he leans into it, arms wrapping around him and holding him so tight it would probably hurt, before.

“i’m so glad you’re ok,” they whisper. who is it? whose voice is that?

“niki.” his voice sounds raspy, contaminated from smoke and tnt and death.

“yes, yes, i’m here,” she chokes, and he can tell, faintly, that she’s crying. “you’re ok.”

he nods into her shoulder. he wants it to be true, but it can’t be. he can barely hear her over the ringing in his ears.

“i thought you were dead, i’ve been looking for you. how long have you been back here? didn’t you hear me calling for you?”

he almost snorts. what can he say?

her hand moves from his shoulders, cupping around the back of his head. she massages a thumb over the nape of his neck where she used to when he got upset. her thumb brushes over dried blood and he can feel it flake off.

her hand stills. “jack, you’re so cold. are you ok?”

he coughs. “i’m sorry, niki.”

he pulls back, looks her in the face. her eyes are sad.

“jack, please tell me what happened. what’s going on?”

“i died,” he breathes. a shiver runs through him as the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. oh god, he fucking died. he grasps for purchase on her arms, grounding himself as best he can. she grips him back.

a combination of confusion and horror fills her face. “you didn’t have any lives left, how…”

he shakes his head. a hysterical laugh bubbles from his chest. “i don’t fucking know, niki, i don’t fucking know.”

she cups his face then pulls him into a tight hug. “you’re gonna be ok, jack. we’re gonna be ok.”

it’s a hard thing, adjusting to death.

for one, he’s constantly cold. not only his temperature, but also his skin. it’s cold, clammy like a corpse. niki says it feels weird, but he can’t exactly tell. he piles on layers, spends as much time as he can in front of the fire and trying to warm the constant chill in his core, but it doesn’t work.

he doesn’t breathe anymore. occasionally he’ll hiccup or gasp, as if his brain is trying to kickstart his body again, and he’ll sit in silence for a few minutes while nothing but pure panic floods his brain, telling him something is deeply wrong. the first time it happens, tubbo slams on his back thinking he’d choked, and jack devolves into a vicious panic attack before tubbo even has a chance to realize.

he doesn’t need to eat, and he physically can’t sleep. he didn’t realize how much people slept, before, and now he finds himself sitting on the snowchester porch in the early morning and realizing how lonely the world is.

he can hardly feel much of anything, and he can hear even less. his vision’s gone a bit fuzzy, too. it feels like his senses have started closing in on himself, and it’s terrifying.

the others have adapted, and he’s thankful. if niki comes up behind him, she’ll grab his arm hard, and tubbo will usually pinch him or slap the back of his head so he knows he’s there.

he’s decided not to tell tubbo. the kid doesn’t deserve that. he doesn’t need to know, long as jack doesn’t start falling apart like some sort of zombie. he’s pretty sure tubbo just thinks he’s traumatized, or that he’s lost some of his hearing from explosions like tubbo has.

and, well, he’s not exactly wrong.

it’s niki who starts it. they’re sitting around the fireplace, jack as close as he can get to try to get rid of the chill, and she says,

“you know, when you think about it, it’s all kind of tommy’s fault.”

resentment has been festering since tommy killed him, so he’s not exactly shocked, just curious. “what d’you mean?”

“he’s caused so much trouble on the server, and now he’s just gotten away with it.” niki sounds angry, and when she sounds angry it’s never good, so he turns to look her in the eye. she’s practically shaking. “he needs to suffer for it like we did.”

when he was alive, he woke up from nightmares almost every night of drowning in lava, of burning while tommy laughed and sneered and laughed, and now it only solidifies. he hates him.

it’s tommy’s fault he’s dead. if tommy hadn’t killed him, he wouldn’t be dead now.

niki stumbles to her feet and falls to her knees in front of him, pulling him into a desperate hug.

he’s not sure if he can cry anymore, but the feeling’s there all the time as he clings to niki, grasping tightly to her shirt, and she pulls his head to her shoulder, curls around him protectively.

they stay there for a long time. every once in a while, niki will murmur an assurance. after long enough the words mutate, transform into something nasty, slimy.

“he’ll pay for this.”

the nukes are divisive. jack doesn’t want tubbo to get hurt. niki doesn’t want jack to get hurt. they both want tommy to get hurt.

he’s not sure when it changed into “kill him.” he’s not sure when it turned from a want to yell, to hit, to wanting to destroy him with nukes, but the anger is fire deep in his chest, the only thing he can feel, and he wants it to continue burning.

niki says she doesn’t want jack to get hurt.

“it’s not like i can get more dead,” he sneers. he doesn’t want to hurt her. he wants to hurt everyone.

tubbo can tell there’s something wrong. he can tell it in the way he rests his hand on jack’s back, even when he can’t feel it, in the way he stays up late and gets up early to spend time with him.

he comes up behind him, early one morning, and wraps his arms around jack’s chest. he buries his head in jack’s back and squeezes him tight. jack jumps at first, but soon relaxes into the content.

he can’t hear tubbo’s sobs, as quiet as they are, but he can almost feel the shaking of his shoulders.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, hesitant in case he’s reading it wrong. tubbo could be laughing, for all his addled senses can tell, but he deep down he knows. he can barely hear tubbo’s reply.

“i’m worried something is going to happen to you.”

something has already happened, he wants to yell. you just missed it.

he knows, faintly, that it’s not tubbo’s fault. tubbo doesn’t know, because he’s never told him, but he wants someone to focus on him, for once. he wants someone to realize, without him telling them. he wants someone to pay attention.

tubbo’s not that person. tubbo has friends, and a nation or two, and a history that extends beyond ‘stay alive.’

he pulls away, gently, promises something or other about him being fine, and goes back to planning destruction.

their plan doesn’t work. tommy shows up only thirty seconds late, while the crater is still smoking.

jack can’t help but feel like the universe is working against him.

niki is fuming. she’s shaking in anger, standing at the edge of the crater and staring at it, and jack goes to put his hand on her shoulder. she pulls away.

niki comes to join him on the porch that night. he doesn’t know she’s there until she says,

“why do you spend so much time out here?”

he doesn’t know how to explain that it’s comforting, being out in the cold, alone when he knows everyone is safe inside. he’s become a sentry almost accidentally, taking care of the only two people in the world he still cares about. he doesn’t know how to explain how comforting and devastating it is, and he doesn’t know how to explain that the cold calms him, so he just shrugs. she always understands him, anyways, or so he hopes.

she doesn’t stay outside for long.

he wonders, sometimes, if he’s doing something wrong. tommy and tubbo are still friends, somehow, even after everything. jack doesn’t know how to ask if tommy’s ever apologized. tubbo’s always had a heart too painfully big, so he kind of doubts it.

tommy’s never apologized to him. he’s not sure if he’d ever accept it.

he watches puffy and niki get pulled apart, and cringes a bit more each time niki comes home crying. he doesn’t know how to ask her if she still thinks they’re in the right.

he can tell she’s not sure either. maybe none of them are.

puffy approaches him one day. it’s her first time visiting snowchester, and her white first gleams in the sunlight reflecting off the snow. he’s at his usual post, and he gives her a half-hearted wave as he sees her.

she returns it, but her face is grim. she comes to stand beside him.

“i know what you’re trying to do,” she says, quietly, and he has to strain to hear her. he pretends he didn’t all the same.

“sorry. hearing loss.”

she gives him a look, but raises her voice all the same. “niki says it’s a bit more than that.”

he balks, stumbles back a few feet on the wood of the porch and almost his balance. puffy reaches out and steadies him. “pardon?”

“i’m sorry about what happened to you, jack,” she starts. he can’t tell what emotions he’s feeling, but it’s overwhelming. he tries to think of something to say, but she continues before he can force the words out.

her hand on his wrist twists, and he tries to pull it away when he realizes she’s searching for his pulse. she holds on, then her face tightens and she yanks him into a hug.

they’ve had hardly more than two conversations, but he feels safe in her embrace. he holds on tight, and she runs a hand through his short-shaven hair.

“i know you’re hurting,” she says, and he knows he’s made a mistake.

jack finds tommy back near l’manburg. it took him a couple more weeks to even gather up the courage, but eventually he spoke to niki.

he tries not to think about the conversation.

tommy seems surprised to see him, but they settle at the edge of the crater.

tommy looks better than the last time he saw him. he tries not to be jealous.

“i think i owe you an apology,” he says. tommy balks.

“what? i owe you an apology,” he comes back with. “i fucking killed you!”

“i tried to kill you too,” he starts, but tommy cuts him off.

“it was kinda deserved. can we just agree not to anymore?” he sticks out his hand.

jack smiles.

snowchester seems warmer, that night.

#personal #dsmp #dream smp #jack manifold #niki nihachu #tommyinnit #tubbo #captain puffy #mcyt #l'manburg #l'manberg #l'manhole #lmanburg #lmanberg #manburg #manberg

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