#Portrait of a Boy with Grief

[the-fatale]

Portrait of a Boy with Grief / Poetry by Wale Ayinla

sing and sing till your voice is a bullet you are waiting inside your father’s shadow

take your hands beyond the starlight

perhaps it is the lullabies of sheet mistaking you for a pillow

only that there is no water in the river anymore 

and fire too is a tongue waiting to be caressed to live

you can’t have the world to yourself maybe you should give yourself to the world

your legs on the floor: like this and like that your tongue mistaking blood for wine

your voice is shawled with a magnifying glass 

you will open your wounds and make them a garden & explain to the wind the origin of pain

[lamentofspring]

all of us strangers (2023), adam & harry / portrait of a boy with grief, wale ayinla / sonnet of the wreath of roses, federico garcia lorca / an oresteia, anne carson / dancing with ghosts, hania rani & patrick wilson / every poem is a child of love, marina tsvetaeva / meditation: my grief, the sun, sanna wani

[dcxdpdabbles]

Phantom's Number 1 Fan Part 3

John Constantine calls a joint Justice League and Justice League Dark meeting.

It's not something he wants to do. He barely works with the LJD, but at least that lot understands his work and knows what to do and where to go.

The JL members always ask questions and forget proper manners when working with the paranormal- John isn't the most well-mannered bloke around, but even he knows to permanently say goodbye to ghosts so that they don't follow him home- and it's like trying to teach an intern while dodging bullets.

He prefers to avoid the whole origination, especially since Bruce's death; everyone has been walking on eggshells, and there is a sense of disorganization drenched in grief that John breaks into hives just thinking about, but this is big.

Bigger than he can handle it on his own or with just the JLD. Even if the whole group gives the bats not-so-stable glances as they filter in.

John notices that one of Batman's brats is missing- the smart one- but he has heard that the kid suffered some kind of psychotic break from his father's death. It's sad, really, mainly because John used to believe that the third Robin was the one with the good head on his shoulders.

What's worse is that the Third Robin up and ran off, having gone off the grid when he refused to accept Batman's death. The boy hadn't said anything besides, "The portraits told me!" after having a miniature breakdown in his home.

It didn't help that around this time, the boy teammates had all dropped like flies except for one. So yes, John knows it wasn't a big surprise that he lost it, but it was still sad to see. Kid is only seventeen.

He hopes they find him soon to give him the help he needs. John would offer a spell to try and find him, but he needs to learn about the kid better, which means his spell can only point in a general direction.

Nightwing looked downright ragged, but losing a father on the battlefield and a younger brother to his grief did a number on anyone.

John hates himself just a little for dragging the grieving family here. He does, but again, this is bigger than all of them. This is a matter of life and death- literally.

"Listen up. We have a bloody level ten on its way to Earth if it's not already here." His words cut through the muttering crowd, shutting everyone up. A level ten makes even the big, lousy Superman sweat. He snaps his fingers, allowing his magic to shift into the image of a King Phantom sitting on his throne- painted in the early 1200s and the picture that can be used to identify him.

The art style would have been almost modern if it wasn't for the unease that the painting could cause due to the glowing green from his majesty's portrait. They say the green was ectoplasm from the king himself- and that alone should warn others to not mess with him.

Everyone Justice League Dark member hissed through their teeth, sitting up straighter and a few even pale. John is once again grateful that they understand just how deep in shit they genuinely are.

"This is the Ghost King. He is not to be confused with a god or king of gods. He's something else entirely because he makes gods nervous. He is on his way here to kill whoever is dumb enough to threaten his pregnant fiancee, and I fear the rest of Earth will be collateral if we don't prepare-"

"That's Danny Phantom," A young voice cuts John off. He is surprised someone would talk over him in a level ten briefing. All eyes turn to Robin- er, the new Robin.

The kid is frowning at the image, his signature scowl already deeper than usual. He's also heard the new Robin was a spoiled boy who was not a team player.

"You know King Phantom?" John asks.

Robin nods. "Placeholder is obsessed with him. Half his room is covered with King Phantom's heroics."

"Do not call him that.," Nightwing hisses a second later. He frowned when Robin ignored him but returned to the room without further comment on the boy's cheek. "Danny Phantom is a low-level search and rescue hero. He pops up around the world but only sometimes interacts with people. Robin- Young Justice Robin- was obsessed with him."

The room gains an awkward weight as no one is willing to bring up the mentally unsound MIA teenager.

It's too bad for them. John has never cared about making anyone comfortable. "You said his room is covered in images of King Phantom?"

From the corner of his eyes, John catches sight of Zatanna's face. She's pale white, with a horrified expression as if though she was standing before the grim itself. Every other member of the Justice League Dark is in a similar state.

"Yes, he has a whole wall of posters and stuff." Nightwing conforms, and shit John knows who Phantom's after now.

The thing is, one just doesn't have pictures of King Phantom. No one knows why, but the Ghost King can not be documented. Not without having some kind of connection to the King.

Throughout history, the only ones who have ever had even one solid picture of the king- John's magic doesn't count cause he can't well hold the thing up forever- usually meant that the King would appear before them at one point.

There is also a myth if one could beat a member of the royal ghost family, then one wish is granted to them. If one can kill a royal ghost member, death can be overturned.

It's not true, obviously, for death is not easily beaten like that, but John knows that as an expert, would a mentally unwell teenager know the same?

It was also known that if the King appeared before you, something terrible would happen. The sighting of King Phantom often came as an omen and usually right before a terrible disaster.

In the last disaster, they lost Batman, and if King Phantom had shown up, where the Third Robin have spotted him? Where the Third Robin have thought the King could return the dead?

Not to mention the rumors!

King Phantom was hunting down a group of humans known as "The Bats." John hadn't put that much stock in that rumor simply because it could have been anyone- hell, when he looked up the bats seven different groups appeared, varying from boy bands to zoologists.

But if he placed the name "The Bats" next to the Third Robin's psychotic break, his obsession with King Phantom, and his intertwined fates...well, shit.

There is a slight chance that the Third Robin's fate could be intertwined with the Ghost King in a positive light, but John has learned to not be optimistic in his line of work.

"I think the Third Robin is gunning after the Ghost King's fiancee and unborn child in a misguided attempt to bring Batman back to life. He may have kicked started a war that humanity can not win," He announces. He hates to say. hates to even suggest it, but the needs of the many outweigh those of the few. "We have to find the Third Robin and attempt to stop him. If we can't reason with him, we must put him down."

Wonder Girl gasps a sob, pressing her hand against her mouth.

John hates himself a little more as she sobs; a few rushes to confront her, but no one is unaffected by the news.

"I'm ordering a hunt for the Third Robin," Wonderwoman speaks up to her steady leadership, returning everyone from their despair. "Every available hero will help. Do not use lethal force unless there is no other choice. We may be able to find him before King Phantom's armies arrive."

John just hopes they are not too late.

Meanwhile, across the plane of existence, unaware of the manhunt for his head, Tim Drake is trying to stare down a Yeti, attempting to put him in silk clothes that are just fabrics held together by strings.

"No."

"But-But- but you have such a flattering figure! You must flaunt it! The Great One will barely be able to contain himself if he sees you in this!"

"No. It looks like something you wear on a honeymoon to seduce your spouse. I'm not walking around in that."

"Well, you don't need to bewitch his majesty. You already have a child on the way." The Yeit mutters, considering the fabric in his claws with a frown. He is Frostbite's royal tailor and has been attempting to dress Tim for over an hour. Everything he's suggested so far looks like it came from those romantic fantasy games.

It's like they want to make him a sexy consort or something.

Tim's teeth grind against each other. He hates how often his role is reminded, how casually the yetis mention that Ra's expects a child from Tim.

He doesn't even know how that child will come to be, and it makes him sick. He's been bidding his time, waiting for his wounds to heal and to find a weakness in the frozen fortress, but so far, he is unsure how he will escape.

And Bruce is still out there, waiting for Tim to get him. He can't waste any more time here.

"How about this cloak?" The Yeti offers, holding up a dark metallic fabric that reminds TIm of his Robin cape. "If we are going for a more conservative look, something that screams power is just the way to make the masses wild!"

Ugh, he really needs to think of a plan soon.

[mvltisstuff]

going, going, gone pt. 2 - c.f

summary: y/n leaves to do what susannah always wanted for her boys.

conrad fisher x conklin!reader

a/n: gif is not mine, but i was so so happy to see how much everyone loved part one!! i’ve never had to tag people, but i will try and do that at the end of the story <3 this is also not following the books, that i haven’t read because i’m the worst reader 😭

y/n stood on the opposite side of susannah’s bed, visiting her in boston after she was waiting to see her girls. her connection to laurels daughters was always something susannah felt from the moment they were born. she always wanted girls of her own, but she was still blessed with her two sons.

belly was sitting on the bed, a bright blue dress as susannah looked into her eyes. laurel had gone out to run errands for her friend, so the girls had stayed with susannah.

it was clear that her condition was declining, and rapidly. her face didn’t have the usual sunshine look, and she appeared weaker than y/n and belly were ever used to. her skinny hands trailed to theirs and wrapped together. her touch went from a warm comfort to as light as a feather. somehow, through the cloudy day, the sun poked through and her angelic smile blessed the girls.

“i’ve been missing you so much,” susannah grinned, placing a hand on belly’s thigh and grabbing y/n’s hand with the other. “i’m so glad you came to see me. i needed to see you girls.”

the look on belly’s face was almost coated with uncomfortableness, her naïve self not used to seeing people in this condition. y/n didn’t want susannah to see her fall apart in her grasp, so she made herself blend with tranquility.

the time had passed where they wanted to attempt to save susannah. now, they knew it was only a matter of time until they lost her. they may not have physically lost susannah, but they lost the spark in her a long time ago.

“the boys love you, you know,” she tells belly, and then turning her head to y/n. “both of you.”

“i know,” y/n replies, seeing belly trying to find the right words.

“promise me something?” she asks, looking at belly who’s head perks up. “look after them for me.”

“you’re going to do that yourself,” belly remarks barely over a whisper, moments away from letting the dam break. y/n’s cried enough tears for susannah, but somehow they don’t seem to stop. watching her whole family experience this grief makes her feel less alone, but seeing her baby sister fall apart is near unbearable.

she watched as belly crumpled on the bed into susannah’s arms, and her once warm grasp felt lighter than ever.

ever since her death, y/n wants to look at belly the same. her actions make it so hard. she promised susannah to take care of her boys, and she failed. she let jeremiah sit around knowing he wasn’t the one she truly wanted. afterwards, she made conrad watch in heartbreak her new self with jeremiah.

that scares y/n, knowing that she’ll never truly be able to pick between them. in the long run, no matter who she “picks”, she’s hurting more people than she thinks.

she figures the best thing she can do is be there for conrad, as belly and jeremiah don’t think it’s necessary.

as she drove further and further away, the music she normally sings to turned into static. conrad would probably still be in cousins, not wanting to face his family back in boston. the traffic had quieted down, for people would be home with their families.

she pulled up the the house that had gotten it’s life back before julia took it all away. conrad and y/n were the main ones trying to save the house from being invaded by another family. even if they couldn’t, the cousins house would always have the fisher’s name on it. when y/n walked up to the front door, she slowly turned the doorknob and stepped in.

her footsteps lightly echoed due to the emptiness of the house, some of the front rooms still looking lifeless. y/n walked around, picturing everything exactly how susannah had it, all the portraits and loving decor she had around. she knew, though, that’s how conrad will set everything up.

the sun was just starting to dip down below the horizon, and when she spotted conrad sitting with his feet dipped in the pool, he looked lower than the sun ever could get.

she quietly stepped out onto the back, not saying a word until he noticed her. his head slowly tilted around, feeling her sweet eyes burning through him. he felt more relieved. she’s the only person he wants to see. she’s the one person who hasn’t ripped his heart out and used it.

“what are you doing back?” he questions, keeping his collected expression.

“i didn’t think you really wanted to be alone. you can’t fool me, conrad,” she smirks softly, moving over to sit next to him on the edge of the pool. she dips her feet into the cool water, not yet graced by the hot summer air.

“i don’t need you to be here for me, i don’t think i’m too good of company right now.”

“i think that’s exactly why you need me,” y/n says as conrad looks back to her. he’s always noticed y/n’s beauty on the outside, but he never got to really appreciate the inside. her mind was just as beautiful as her hair when the wind blows it, or the dimples on her cheeks when she’s happy. “you don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

“yeah,” he sighs, swaying his feet in the pool. “i thought jere would at least help me.”

“i talked to belly,” y/n tells him, seeing him quickly freeze and lean his head back.

“it’s not a big deal, y/n, really,” conrad says.

“it is to me. i never thought of her like this, but i don’t understand how she could do that to you.”

“it’s a me problem, clearly jeremiah’s better than i am.”

“that’s not true. belly’s young and thinks she’s innocent. she doesn’t deserve someone like you. she’ll never take the time to know you, but she’s going to jeremiah because he’s ‘easier’.” y/n replies. “you’re perfectly fine the way you are, and you never have to change for her, or me.”

“my mom always saw me with belly. i think that’s the worst part.”

“but your mom didn’t see what belly’s done to you. susannah would never want you to change in order to be with her.” y/n says, clearly to him. “susannah asked belly to be there, and she failed.”

“what do you mean?”

“when belly and i went to visit, she asked us to take care of you and jeremiah. belly barely looked after you, and i don’t even know if she’s helping jeremiah.”

“i get it, though. i left her at prom, and broke her heart.”

“was it shitty of you? yes, i’m not gonna lie to you. at this point, she’s taking it too far by playing with you and now it’s jeremiah’s turn.”

“maybe my mom was wrong,” he looks away, connecting his eyes back with the minute waves in the water. “i miss her. she was like a breath of fresh air, and i feel like i haven’t gotten that since she died.”

“she’s still here,” y/n tells him, seeing the corner of his mouth turn up a bit.

“i still feel her sometimes. if i’m home and i hear a noise, i’ll think she’s cooking, or painting. i don’t need people to see me fall apart.”

“you never have to hide, conrad. not anymore, and not from me.”

the next time he locks eyes with y/n, he can majorly see the sincerity in her face. there’s still a hint of when they were young in their eyes, memories swimming back into conrad’s head. every time she talked to him, all the time she spent with him. every party she skipped because conrad didn’t feel up to it, and she didn’t want him to be alone. he never felt nervous around y/n the way he did with her sister. they always had a complex relationship, but never once did y/n fail to be next to him. conrad let his inch closer to y/n’s, letting her hand lay on top of his, leaving solace in him. he never noticed how soft her hands were, literally and figuratively. she never once used him and glued his pieces back together. it’s then that he realizes that’s something belly never did.

impulsively, he moves his body more toward y/n, trying to get all the gladdening she can give. she’s more than happy to give it to him, letting conrad hold onto her and have her help him. the world around the boy became lighter, almost forgetting about his former despondency caused by belly. the closer he got to y/n, the more he thought that his mother had mistaken belly for the one.

he brushes a stand of y/n’s hair behind her ear, placing his hand on the side of her neck. she breathes lightly, knowing what conrad wants from her, but not knowing if he needs it.

“conrad,” she whispers, his name coming across incredibly from her lips. “you know i love you.”

“of course,” he says back, his hand trailing down her arm.

“but i won’t be a redemption because you cannot have belly. i’ve been the second choice once and i destroyed myself. i won’t do it again.”

“belly’s not who i want. i don’t think i’ve ever loved belly the way i have for you.” it all felt so sudden, the tension growing thicker between them as conrad only wanted to deepen the connection. y/n was just so horrified of hurting him more. she knows that she could help him and love him how he should, but she needs to know that he’s not just trying to get belly back.

“i think we need time, conrad. please?” she asks, and he nods, slipping his hand back down and grabbing her hand. “but trust me when i say that’s it’s not over with us.”

the meaning behind her words is stronger. in reality, she just wants to dive into conrad and accept anything he has to give, but he needs to strengthen his own heart first. he needs to know what he wants. if y/n needs time, he will wait for her.

tags: @historygeekqueen @am-i-shit-or-am-i-the-shit @celesteblack08 @parkerdayaa @shelby-x

[sassydefendorflower]

It's actually so important to me that the first time we see Ed actually cry in Fullmetal Alchemist (Brotherhood and Manga) - apart from the automail surgery - is when Hohenheim offers him his life to bring back Alphonse.

Throughout the entire story Ed doesn't cry because of his misguided love-filled promise to Al. No matter how horrible their odds, no matter how traumatizing their journey, Ed refuses to cry. He comes close. So, so close. When Izumi tells them it's okay to be sad, offering comfort after a long time without. After Nina dies and Ed and Al let the rain wash away their sorrow. When Hughes dies and guilt becomes an even heavier cloak weighing their shoulders down. When death comes knocking on Ed's door and he decidedly sends it packing.

Ed laughs and rages and smiles and screams.

But he doesn't cry.

Just because Al can't.

Ed was eleven when he made that promise. He was a child suffering through something truly horrific when he promised himself and the world that he wouldn't cry as long as his brother wasn't allowed to do the same.

Which is painful to watch - especially since it tells us that Ed knows how much crying is a part of life. He gave something up, not out of some misguided idea of masculinity, but because he knew it would be a sacrifice to keep himself from crying. A punishment since his brother could no longer offer his tears in the face of sorrow.

But by the end of the story Ed has cried. And it's not tears of joy, like the ones he promised Winry. No, Ed is angry when he cries - and Alphonse is no longer there.

In a way Ed kept his promise to Al - he only cried when the person he made this promise to (be it silent and secretive) was gone.

As far as they knew Al was dead.

But that truth alone didn't bring tears to Ed's eyes, though it certainly shattered his heart and made him quiver in desperation. No, in the end it was Hohenheim who finally allowed Ed to spill tears kept locked away for four long years.

And I love it.

I love that Hohenheim trying to do something truly loving, something completely selfish, something absolutely sacrificial was the thing that pushed Ed over the edge.

Because Ed never forgave his father for leaving, but by the end of the story he understands why he left.

Because Ed is so unbelievably angry with this man who abandoned him, and he still cares for him - partially because he knows Alphonse does.

Because Ed was never forced to forgive Hohenheim, but we still know that Hohenheim loves his children and his wife and would do everything for them.

Even, no, especially if it means dying.

And Ed can't take it.

So many others have died by this point, they are all painted in blood and pain, and Ed has lost his only constant - and now his father wants to make an ultimate sacrifice?

No.

So, Ed gets angry. And he cries. And he saves Al on his own - with the help of all of his friends, and Hohenheim.

Because no matter Ed's feelings on the man who gave him life, he doesn't want to see anyone else die. He doesn't want anyone else's blood on his hands.

And he wants Hohenheim to get a chance to be a rotten father - because at the end of the day Hohenheim is someone worth crying over even, no, especially by the boy who promised he wouldn't cry.

(there is something to be said about Hohenheim crying on their family portrait, only to be mirrored by Ed grinning while holding his own child - there is something to be said about Hohenheim willingly offering his life, only to be stopped by the tears running down his son's angry face - there is something to be said about Ed's anger and Hohenheim's soft grief and their shared past)

[bridenore]

HD eight year fic recs : 10k to 20k words

Here are a few drarry eight year fic recs that are between 10k and 20k words. Posted in alphabetical order, as always.

All the Sense in the World by @l0vegl0wsinthedark [10k]

He had absolutely no idea what was about to happen. Maybe Malfoy would kick him in the face. Maybe he’d scream loud enough that the whole school would rush in and see him lying there between Malfoy’s legs with his cock rock hard. Maybe he’d hex Harry’s rock hard cock off. Hell, maybe Harry’d wake in his own bed in a few minutes with a rock hard cock and would never again be able to look at Malfoy without sprouting an instant hard-on. Or maybe he and Malfoy would have sex.

All Your Stars In View by @alpha-exodus [18k]

Life after the war is difficult for Harry, especially when the only thing that makes him feel better is, oddly enough, being around Malfoy. So when Malfoy asks to paint his portrait, Harry can’t refuse, even if it means baring himself in more ways than one.

Deep Waters by @huldrejenta  [13k]

Back at Hogwarts, eighth year turns out to be just as miserable as Draco had suspected. Struggling with post-war apathy, he tries to find something positive he can do for himself. Like secretly learning how to swim in the Great Lake. Only things don’t go as planned when Potter somehow finds out.

Dreaming of Harry by @writcraft [11k]

The first night Draco Malfoy dreams of Harry Potter, everything changes.

Famished by LadyGaGalion [10k]

Draco thought his life couldn’t get any worse. He was wrong. Now Harry Potter’s stuck to his arm.

He Was a Skater Boy by @m0srael [19k]

Harry Potter intends to spend his eighth year at Hogwarts avoiding the endless stares, whispers, and nosy questions that never seem to leave him be. He wants nothing more than to hide in the quiet solitude of his dorm room, keep his head down, and wallow in his grief. At least, that’s his plan right up until the moment Draco Malfoy kick-flips his life upside down.

Hold Close Your Heart and Take the Leap by  @dracogotgame  [19k]

Draco knows he needs to tell Potter their lives are about to change forever. But ‘knowing’ and ‘doing’ are two very different things. 

Hung Like a Hippogriff by Magnolia822 [16k]

After Dean Thomas catches Malfoy wanking and tells everyone about his giant cock, Harry can’t stop thinking about it. Not because he’s attracted to Malfoy, mind, but because he’s concerned Malfoy is up to something. Er … 

In the Interest of Interhouse Cooperation by @firethesound [11k]

Organizing a Duelling Club was supposed to be a fun extracurricular activity for Harry’s 8th year. But add in Draco Malfoy and a malfunctioning Room of Requirement, and things can’t help but get complicated. 

‘Ohana by plumeria47 [11k]

It started off so simple: sex whenever they wanted it, with no further expectations.  But life has a funny way of turning everything up on its head.

Pure Imagination by @aibidil [14k]

An eighth-year tale of depressed happiness, reluctant imagination, and conflicted hope. And skateboarding.

The Room that Changed Everything by @multiverse-of-fanfic [18k]

When a sabotaged potion lands Harry and Draco in detention, Harry must wrestle with two uncomfortable truths: One, Malfoy the nemesis no longer exists. And Two, Harry is embarrassingly attracted to him. With the war behind them, can Harry and Malfoy build something from the ashes, or are they doomed to be enemies forever?

Said and Unsaid (or, The Value of Knowing When to Stop Talking) by bryoneybrynn [14k]

When the Interrogator asked if he had anything to say on his own behalf, Draco shook his head, his lips pressed tight in a thin line. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

Say It Out Loud by @pheaphilus [11k]

Eighth year was bollocks, as far as Draco could tell.

Sex and the Art of Castle Maintenance  by birdsofshore [14k]

“Come on, boys,” Zabini drawled. “You’re only delaying the inevitable.” Trouble always had a way of finding Harry, and eighth year was obviously going to be no exception.

so scarlet it was by Olena [19k]

Draco’s back for his Eighth Year as part of his parole. He’s doing his best not to annoy any war heroes and avoid Harry Potter as if his life depends on it. Too bad Harry has other ideas.

The Slytherin Host Club by shushu_yaoi_lj / @orange-peony​ [14k]

Harry is simply looking for a quiet place to finish his Potions essay. It’s a pity he ends up at the Slytherin Host Club instead. Or maybe it’s a blessing in disguise, since he’s had a secret crush on Malfoy for a while…

Through the Looking Glass and What Draco Found There by @magpiefngrl [17k]

Draco discovers the Mirror of Erised is a portal and he enters an alternate reality where your deepest  desires come true. Or how Draco found himself in the world of his dreams and Potter had to come and ruin it.

Truffles, Noble Lord of the Sky by megyal [10k]

Fuck fairies; and Longbottom, too.

Truths, Dares, and Love Affairs by @ronbinary [17k]

NEWTs are approaching, Mind Healing is mandatory, and something is wrong with the castle. And then, there’s Potter.

Tug-O-Want by @dysonrules [16k]

Harry is back at Hogwarts minding his own business when he finds himself magically drawn to Draco Malfoy. Over and over again.

Twice as Much as an Earthquake by @firethesound [18k]

Accidental bonding. Breaking and entering. Conspiring, however unwillingly, in the strange one-man war Malfoy’s waging against detention. This isn’t the normal school year Harry anticipated having, but at least it’s not boring. 

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[kyoukamybeloved]

Yet again, Chuuya wouldnt get out of my sight today. I wish he would get out of my sight. Needless to say, I don't want to have to look away first.

more soukoku webweaves: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9

this is the tenth soukoku web weave of mine and I made it on my birthday when I was in a real taylor swift mood so enjoy this skk and swiftie brainrot

creds :

love lines - Olga Broumas// art by @taxolotl // exhibits from the water american museum - Natalie Diaz// peace - Taylor Swift// cowboy like me - Taylor Swift// art by @twilicidity // wishbone - Richard Siken// art by @liyv // spellbound - Ophelia Silk// love opened a mortal wound - Sor Juana Inès de la Cruz// david foster wallace// high infidelity - Taylor Swift// the archer - Taylor Swift// we were that joke - Gregory Orr// art by @taxolotl // litany in which certain things are crossed out - Richard Siken// is it over now? - Taylor Swift// the story of us - Taylor Swift// the becoming of Noah Shaw - Michelle Hodkin// art by @thornedarrow // south and west - Joan Didion// art by @lotus-pear // wishbone - Richard Siken// long live - Taylor Swift// ivy - Taylor Swift// portrait of a boy with grief - Wale Ayinla// the chronology of water: a memoir - Lidia Yuknavitch// art by @thornedarrow// Andrea Dworkin// bigger than the whole sky - Taylor Swift// ‘tis the damn season - Taylor Swift// a love letter to a dead thing - Layana Clouet// art by @twilicidity// art from @/mizumoe_ on twitter// august - Taylor Swift// is it over now? - Taylor Swift// souvenir - Warsan Shire// don’t blame me - Taylor Swift// cruel summer - Taylor Swift// the waves - Virginia Woolf// art by @carrotkicks //

tags:

@philzokman @dinosaur-mayonnaise @amagami-hime @the-gayest-sky-kid @galaxitic @ghostsinacoat @gorotic @lotus-reblogs @vivid-vices @zamxii @autistic-ranpo @pendragonstar @sskk-brainrot @oatmilkbasic @underthetree845 @thesunshinebard @whiteapplesandblackblood @sigskk @pastel-paramour @vinylbiohazard @jacuzziwaters @sommmee @evermorehypewoman

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my dad to let out his emotions?

(cw: this entire post is about animal death)

Long story short, my dad (58M) has wanted a dog for decades. My mom (54F) has been refusing a dog for all 25 years they've been together. A few years ago, she finally agreed to get a puppy, and my dad was more excited than I've ever seen him be for anything.

Our dog passed away from a tumor a few months ago. He wasn't even three years old. This practically destroyed all of us, especially my dad, since he'd fought so hard for a dog for years. On top of that, he hasn't had much of a chance to let out his emotions since my mom keeps stopping him, and also making it worse.

A couple of weeks ago, on the way home from a party, something reminded my dad of the dog, and he started to cry in the car. We all comforted him, but after a few minutes my mom rolled her eyes and told him to stop crying. When we got home, my dad apologized for getting emotional. I (18M) told him he didn't have to apologize, since crying in grief is a completely normal thing to do. My mom told me I shouldn't say that, since he would just "wallow in his sadness all night" and it was better to just tell him not to do that.

I was baffled by this. I realized that she wasn't trying to make him feel better, she just didn't want to deal with him crying anymore. (I also recently noticed that she does the same thing to my sister (14F) and I.) Apparently this has been going on for pretty much their entire marriage of ~20 years.

On top of all of that, my mom brings up the topic of our dog and his death to people at Every. Single. Opportunity. And it always makes the rest of us feel like shit. She ordered a custom portrait of our dog as a Father's Day present for my dad. When I implied that this might be a bad idea, she said "So you hate it. Great." She also wants another dog exactly like our old one, despite the fact that he was a purebred, and had some health problems because of it. At this point, she wouldn't shock me if she said she wanted to clone the poor dog.

My dad has struggled with depression for years. He lived a very difficult life growing up, and was basically taught that showing sadness or fear was weak. Throughout my life, though, he's always made sure to tell my sister and I that he never wants us to have to bottle up how we feel and that the "boys don't cry" attitude is stupid.

So you can imagine my surprise when I tried to comfort him earlier tonight and he said "No, no, I'm fine. Boys don't cry. Don't worry about me." After that, my parents got into an argument about my mom telling my dad that he needs to "move past this".

TLDR: My mom keeps doing things that remind my dad of our dead dog, but then when he gets overwhelmed and starts crying she tells him to stop because she doesn't want to deal with his crying. AITA for telling my dad that she's wrong?

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Lost and Found (dp x dc)

Alfred sighed as he looked over the wide gymnasium, thinking to himself that he shouldn’t have listened to Leslie. Community service was all well and good as a way to connect with people, but overseeing an inter-school bakery-sale-and-science-fair combined event was proving to be more chaotic than anything else.

As another child dropped yet another just-bought desert on the floor, Alfred slunk into the shadows deciding to let the clean-up be someone else’s task for once. As he got further and further from the main hubbub, the ex(?)-butler arrived near a small exit door and snuck out quitely. As the fresh air hit his face, Alfred let out a breath. Seeing so many children around had him thinking of his charge and where he could possibly be.

The older man hadn’t brought a pack, since he’s been going to a school, but in the moment he wished he had. Sighing once again, Alfred shook off the craving as he took a few steps towards the communal school garden when the sight of a black-haired boy sitting with his back to him had him freezing. A second later his brain caught up to him, reminding him that this was not young master Bruce. The crushing disappointment he felt as he recognized the boy in front of him was much to small to be his little master Bruce surprised him by its intensity.

Alfred took a moment to compose himself before he cleared his throat. The noise had the figure flinching and turning their head towards the older man. Then, as the boy caught sight of the older man, he seemed to slump. Seeing that he was unlikely to speak up first, Alfred took it upon himself to start the conversation.

“Might I inquire what you are doing outside, young man?”

The boy’s shoulder slumped even more though he still answered. “Haven’t got any sweets to sell,” he mumbled.

“Oh?” Alfred sounded out. “Why is that?”

“My cookies ate my homework so I had to put them down,” said the boy as he finally raised his head, long-suffering

But Alfred could only breathe a faint “Indeed?” as the boy’s features were exposed. The resemblance with master Bruce was so uncanny that the butler had trouble looking away. But as he examined him more closely he could see some minute differences. The boy didn’t have the sharp jawline both mister Wayne and master Bruce had shared. His nose was smaller than master Bruce’s and his eyes were paler than the darker blue passed down through the Wayne line. The sight of a face so similar and yet not quite like master Bruce had his mind jumping to the portrait hung above the manor’s fireplace and the face of the toddler sitting on his mother’s lap as a slightly older child stood beside her with his father’s hand on his shoulder.

Everyone had bemoaned the two-fold tragedy of the Waynes. First to lose their youngest son at such a young age, only to be themselves brutally murdered only a few months later. All was left of the previously illustrious Waynes was a grief-stricken eight-year-old who had just lost his brother and parents in such a short period of time. Alfred sighed as he remembered how angry master Bruce was at his inability to find out to this day what had happened to his brother. The man half-suspected this was how the young man had developed such an obsession with solving mysteries.

Once again having to focus back on the boy in front of him, Alfred smiled at the boy. Then, the boy’s word registered and the man let out an amused huff. “You had no choice but to put an end to that, I suppose. Cookies as spirited as yours would sell poorly in any case.”

“Oh you’ve got no idea,” muttered the young man as he pushed himself to his feet only for his hand to slip on the wet wood surrounding the gardening plots and falling face-first onto the hard wooden surface.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Alfred as he darted to assist the boy in straightening up. The boy groaned in pain as he held his nose and Alfred could see drops of red falling down.

“Here,” said the older man as he handed the boy a fabric handkerchief.

“Thanks,” the teen croaked as he accepted it.

“Put your head between your knees,” Alfred instructed. “Breathe through your mouth.”

The boy offered a thumbs-up as he complied. Alfred waited patiently by the teen as he kept the handkerchief held against his nose. After a moment, the boy held it away experimentally and when he felt no more blood flowing he turned towards Alfred.

“Thanks,” he said before he looked down at the red-stained white fabric. “I can wash it and return it if you give me a return address.”

“It’s alright,” Alfred refused. “I don’t mind washing it.”

“Thanks,” repeated the boy as he handed the older man the handkerchief back, as he got to his feet, this time more gingerly. “I best get back before my friends start looking for me.”

“Be careful on the way back,” Alfred couldn’t help saying.

The boy hummed and as he turned around for a final wave goodbye, their eyes connected and Alfred felt a jolt travel through his body. Though the pale blue of Danny’s eyes was not the distinctive shade of the Waynes, it was however identical to the color of the late Martha Wayne’s eyes. As the boy opened the exit door and disappeared in the crowd of people, Alfred looked down at the blood-stained handkerchief.

He knew there was a less than infinitesimal chance. Still. What would it hurt to make absolutely sure?

[aheathen-conceivably]

Dearest Zelda,

First let me say what a joy it was to receive your latest letter! Truly I was so delighted upon seeing it in the mailbox that I ran straight for Isaiah. He is not one to worry, but when our latest contact to the address we had for you in New Orleans once again went unanswered, I fear even he had begun to grow concerned. 

I am delighted to read that your silence was not without good reason, and to see the wedding portrait you sent of you and Antoine as well as the photo of your daughter. How she has grown since we last saw her! She is not much younger than our eldest now, who I fear every day is so like your brother there is simply no one thing in this world that can tame her.

It does sound like your Violette is much the same, and how much joy it brings me to think that perhaps it is Florence’s spirit manifesting through them.

Our youngest have also begun to grow like weeds, much to my chagrin. Does it ever seem like sometimes you awaken and it’s as though the grass has grown a foot overnight? That is oft how I feel looking at them, and Rosalie seems to desire all the independence of her namesake. 

She wasn’t but a day over six when she began poking into Rosella’s old room, curiously pulling forth toys and books from the gathered dust like a miniature treasure hunter. Truthfully, I could not tell you why your brother and I had yet to bring the room back into the light of day. Once you took the portrait from it it was like a pall had lifted, but I feared that stirring it would upset your brother’s long-standing grief over your mother, so I daren’t say a word. 

But as children often do, Rosalie saw little of that other than a space to call her own, and we have now finally found the heart through her to give it a new life. I do hope your sister would love to see her in there, playing dolls and writing grand romantic stories for them aloud to her ever attentive twin. It is a joy to see them rediscover the beauty in the world that pain often hides, is it not?

Have you written to Virginia as well? I fear she may not be quite as conscious of the time that has gone by. With the dissolution of The Women’s Political and Social Union, her work has turned increasingly to involvement with the Women’s Labor League, eventually coming to the attention of the Labor Party themselves. 

I will admit that I am not as informed on the goings on of London as I perhaps should be, but even still it came as no surprise when the party nominated her as their candidate for Member of Parliament. As she so painstakingly explained it, the party itself has suffered great losses from their prominence in the 20s, what with the general bias of their associations with the communists and their seeming inability to stop the rampant unemployment that has taken hold even here. 

I suppose she is fully aware that this was the cause for her nomination, as she was able to run more on the merit of her charitable associations than the negative reputation the party has recently taken on. Yet if she was surprised that this platform worked, she has never let on; but her work in the House of Commons has all but taken over her life since her election in 1931. How I do miss her and Wally, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing that she keeps her seat in the upcoming election of ‘35, even if it means we will see less of them than ever.

I imagine that what little free time she has is now spent nearby at Oxford, where Wally was accepted upon his graduation from secondary school. While I’m sure being the son of a governing member of parliament was not a mark against him, I have no doubt he was accepted there on the merits of his intelligence alone. Even from the small amount of time he spent here in his teen years, it was clear to me what a bright boy he was. 

I am told he is majoring in physics there, a field that even in the briefest explanations Virginia has given me is quite beyond my comprehension. I suppose what else are we to expect with Virginia as his mother? I’m sure he’s had but the most informative, intellectual upbringing, even when it must have been colored by the high expectations that I can only imagine your sister set for him.

Despite her near constant work and best attempts to shield her vulnerability, there are moments when we speak and it seems as though Wally's departure brought forth much of the buried sentimentality within her. I suppose under it all she is but a mother like us all, proud of her child and yet sorrowful as his life grows beyond her own.

Before I sign off your brother has instructed me to ask you to include the most minute of details regarding your predicaments with the soil in your next letter. He has also asked me to attach a veritable field guide of advice, although I have told him that everything you have written points to the fact that you are in waters we could not navigate any better even if we tried.

I must admit that when I hear the word soil I think simply of the ground beneath verdant green grasses or darkened Bramblewood canopies. It makes me realize just how little of the world I have seen, but also how lucky we have been even in the throes of what seem to be such tumultuous times. I can only hope that such good fortune will last in England for many years to come, and that some of our knowledge may bring success to your efforts as well.

I must once again thank you for the photo of you and Antoine on your wedding day. We’ve placed it in our living room next to the photo of your mother and father when they were wed, as seems only right. In return I have also included a photo of all of us when we were last together to visit Wally’s new home in Oxford; although I’ll be the first to admit I do hope we spend the next high holiday together in Henford instead. Anything that close to London makes me long for the forest more than anything else.

Your mother once told me that she sent you every photo we took, and that you have been collecting them over the years. I hope this can make a welcome addition to such a tradition, and do always know that you are welcome here should you ever find need of solace in the place you once called home. 

Your sister in marriage,

 Summer Darlington

[leighsartworks216]

57 perhaps? If inspiration happens to strike. I love a little desperation or uncertainty or pretty much any possible cause of trembling kisses. Can be nsfw or not. Thank you for all that you do, and please feel free to disregard entirely if it’s not your thing!

57 - kisses with trembling lips

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

OH BOY DID THE INSPIRATION STRIKE. IN THE WORST WAY POSSIBLE. I saw this prompt and my mind immediately went to the most painful idea. I legitimately almost started crying multiple times writing this, as someone who very rarely cries over fics at all. Soooo let that be a solid warning and good luck 👍

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST

Word Count: 578

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Kiss Prompts

It felt wrong to see you like this. You were surrounded by flowers from all your friends; Astarion despised the damn things more than ever. The only good thing was their potent fragrances masked the scent of death.

He took a deep breath, biting his cheek to force back his tears. It wasn’t working very well.

He stepped forward, leaning over the sides of the wooden coffin to peer down at your face. You looked peaceful. Much, much too pale, but peaceful. The thought of lowering you into the ground rubbed him the wrong way, but there was some comfort in knowing you would be laid right next to his own grave. When his time comes, however long from now, he’d be by your side once again.

He inhaled shakily. The tears burning his eyes broke free. He didn’t have the energy to wipe them away.

His hands shook as he reached in and cupped your cheek. The wrinkles and creases of age still felt exactly as they had a week ago, when you were scolding him for hovering over you. “I’m not helpless yet, Star. I can make it to the couch on my own.”

The thought of that house. Of going back to the emptiness… Gods, what would he do without you?

“Live. Live for me. You have so much life to live, my love. My star.”

He wished you’d open your eyes. Tell him it was all a joke. Come back to him, lay in his arms just one more time.

He couldn’t breathe. His chest was too damn tight, choking on half-contained sobs. The sun would be rising soon. He’d need to leave before then. For you. Gods know he was all too tempted to stay here, holding you one last time as he’s reduced to ash. But your voice rang all too clearly in his mind, as though you were commanding him on a battlefield. Live.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine you were still alive, merely fast asleep in your armchair by the fire, book slipping from your fingertips. But the smell of death flooded his nose too strongly. It was not the warm scent of the fire, or the soaps and oils he would bathe you with.

His lips trembled against your skin. His chin shook as emotion overwhelmed him. His entire body shuddered with the power of his sobs. His tears hit your skin; a holy aspersion from a lifetime of being loved. He reluctantly pulled away, vision blurred to hell as he delicately brushed them from your brow.

The horizon slowly grew pink and yellow. He had to leave.

His heart ached with the thought, now more than ever. He would never see your face again, not outside of portraits or magic mimicry. And he couldn’t even see worth a damn to be absolutely positive he would never forget it. He forgot his own face so long ago; he wouldn’t forget yours.

He tried to speak, tried to tell you he loved you, to thank you for spending your life with him, for never giving up on him despite it all, for being you. But the words never came. A golden beam creeped over the opposite edge of your coffin. The flowers came alive in the sun. He wished you would, too.

He passed from shadow to shadow back home, sobbing out his grief with every step.

---

Tag List:

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[sejanusarchive]

I love that no matter what, Coriolanus can’t get fully rid of Sejanus. Their identities are too intertwined.

Heirs to a munition empire with a cold father and a loving mother, except Sejanus got to keep his parents and a life of luxury which he didn’t want and Coriolanus, who desired exactly that, resented and envied Sejanus for having what he believed was his birthright. And in the end he caused his death and stole his entire life; stole his parents, the education he could have had, the money and the industry he would have inherited. And he has to live with that, knowing that everything that’s now his, is tainted by the blood of the kind boy who trusted and loved him, whom he replaced. Everything he has, he owes it to Sejanus dying. And he might not care, but it doesn’t change that it’s something he can’t not acknowledge. 

Doesn’t change that he grew up alongside him and there are going to be countless places, situations, smells and colors that are inevitably going to remind him of him. Doesn’t change that he has to look at Ma everyday and see the pain and grief in her eyes, listen to her talk about her baby that he ripped from her. Doesn’t change that the money and fancy clothes Strabo gives him would have all been his. That he’s able to fill his stomach everyday and still live in the Snow apartment because of him. Doesn’t change that he has to attend yearly dinners filled with sorrow, to commemorate Sejanus’s passing and birthdays; has to walk through the halls and rooms of the Plinth apartment and feel Sejanus's eyes pierce through him and follow him everywhere, from the portraits hanging on the walls and the pictures sitting in pretty frames on furniture. Has to hear his angry voice in the back of his mind when he’s working with Dr. Gaul and try as hard as he can to silence it and push it down without always succeeding. 

And it doesn’t change that Sejanus is not a life he wanted to take. Sure he wanted him out of his and ultimately his death was positively life changing for him, but it’s still not what he wanted. And we can also see from small, sparse, moments in the book when Coriolanus didn’t let his envy and sense of superiority cloud his mind, that deep down a part of him actually cared about Sejanus. His death is possibly the only one he never actively wanted to cause and the only one he mourned to some extent. Only one that caused him to break down in violent sobs and that made the weight of everything else, which he had once alleviated with his presence, finally be too much.

Whether he likes it or not, his life is too tangled with Sejanus and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it, if not try to push that knowledge down. But Sejanus is everywhere, haunting Coriolanus’s every step and he’ll never be able to get his looming presence out of his life. And it’s exactly what he deserves

(was thinking of this and this and ended up writing all that at like one am last night)

[districtunrest]

I shot myself in the foot by reading so many Haymitch's Games fics for years bc I truly am satisfied with that part of the canon, to the point where I've never wanted to write it in full myself and I don't even want it now from the actual author

if Sunrise is a Haymitch POV that begins the morning of the reaping, I worry it'll read like another fanfiction - we learn the names of his mother and brother and girlfriend and get a bit of their personality and their lives before he's reaped, and then he goes to the Capitol, and from there it's fun to see how different fics fill out the summary Katniss gave us and maybe even subvert some things. after that, a confrontation with Snow that Snow wins, and the terrible thing we all know was going to happen that our beloved boy didn't (how to take '2 weeks after crowned?' some portray it as they were killed while he was away, others as soon as the cameras left; there's a fire, there's spread out one-by-one accidents, etc etc), and the hard-to-write/painful-to-read portrait of grief that follows. and then *the* crackdown, the fraying community ties, the isolation, the tension with his friends we met briefly before the reaping. and then maybe... a bit of hope... a hint of the future rebellion to come: Haymitch meets intern Plutarch, meets [whichever named victor] on his Tour (where he'll surely come across that room in the D11 Justice Building) and knows things aren't done here, not like Snow wants him to believe...

like. I'll only be comparing it to all those other Haymitch POV fics that did the same exact thing. unless SC completely surprises us - a time skip? a revelation that blows all our interpretations out of the water? something??

but! I'm not entitled to have the story as I want it. I don't even think I'm the target audience anymore. I just wish, if she's going this direction, that she'd written it a little sooner, before I read almost every fan version of it since 2009 lol

[cafeinthemoon]

It's a Fire - Chapter IV

Chapter 4

Wordcount 4,3k

Title Difficult Task

Fandom Kimetsu no Yaiba / Demon Slayer

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3

Symbols ⭕ ➕ 🖤

Warnings: mentions of grief and loss; parent issues; feelings of abandonment and rejection; issues between employees and employer

Tagging @chiyokoemilia (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: This chapter took days to be finished, not only bc of its length, but mainly bc I was finding it a bit confusing. I wasn't sure of how I should portrait this "advance" in reader and Shinjuro's relationship, neither how much of reader and Senjuro's grief after the scene in the living room: sometimes I thought I just wrote enough, and other times I though it wasn't as emotional as it should be, so that what you're going to read is the best I could come up with.

Soon I'm going to return to work, so Idk how things will be, so I ask you a bit of patience and thank you in advance for supporting me :)

It wasn’t shame what you felt when you looked into your stepson’s eyes, neither it was fear or irritation for being caught in a place where you shouldn’t be: it was the concern that he might have observed your face for long enough to read your emotions with too precision for someone his age. And, in fact, you were tempted to show a passionate reaction, whether to confirm or to deny your feelings, just for the sake of getting that weight off your chest, but you tightened the reigns around your tongue and didn’t do any of this.

This is adults’ problem. He doesn’t need to share this load with us.

Senjuro looked around, as if waiting for someone to show up suddenly and, after making sure it wouldn’t happen, stepped into the room.

– So… you found out about the living room? – he questioned with the usual hesitation – It’s been a while since this place was visited. Except for the maid.

You still felt your eyes burning with the things you were seeing there, but you wouldn’t burst out in tears. You sighed and crossed your arms.

– Yes, I can see that – after an embarrassing silence, you forced a smile while observing the photographs – Now I understand why I had no permission to enter this room. I should’ve obeyed the rules.

– But you’d find out about this sooner or later, I guess – was the boy’s reply – And my father isn’t here, anyway. Not even he uses to come here anymore.

You swallowed.

– If that’s the case, we better leave before he returns to the house.

He agreed and you walked out at that moment, taking care not to mess up anything, thus creating proof of your passage there.

***

You were sitting on a wood bench somewhere in the garden, as you used to do during the breaks between one training session and another or when you decide to eat lunch there, which was that day’s case. It was a safe spot to relax, as well as to talk.

And you had too much to talk.

Still embarrassed, you took the responsibility of starting the conversation.

– I should never enter that room. No matter if I escaped without being caught, it was wrong. But it’s too late for regrets now, I guess.

You said those things with a calm that surprised even yourself. When you first spotted Senjuro in the doorway, you swore you wouldn’t be able to look at him again, and even worse it would be to face your husband once he got back, trying your best to hide what you did from him, but that wasn’t how you felt now. You were rather sad for what you discovered, and for the things such discovery implied.

Senjuro noticed this too, and he said that to you.

– You don’t seem so mad about the photographs, y/n. I thought you’d be offended that my father keeps them in an entire room instead of, like, a drawer.

You gave him a sad smile.

– Why would I be mad by this? I mean, I could imagine him keeping photographs and other memories in drawers like you say, and seeing the whole room full of them was… unexpected. Still, I’m no one to judge – you lowered your tone, as if the next thing you’d share with him was more of a delicate conclusion – Instead, seeing them got me thinking about your situation here.

The boy frowned.

– Situation? What do you mean?

You moved on your spot, as to shake off the discomfort of entering that strange territory.

– Well, I’ve been avoiding intrusions, but this time I can’t help it. Senjuro-san, your family... was beautiful with your mother and your elder brother there. I’ve felt that as soon as I’ve put my eyes on those photographs. Your father… – you felt your cheeks getting hot with what you were about to say, but you ignored the sensation – He’s a completely different person by their side, and yours. He looks really happy there. I could never imagine him like that, you know? I guess this is what surprised me most – you bit your lip – Because, when I found out I’d have to live with you, I had no idea of what I’d see here, and after the things I’ve experienced, seeing our life together as something positive was impossible. But, then, I’ve saw your family as it once was… And understood that the issue is deeper than it first looked. The loss you’ve both endured… that’s too much…

A leaf fell from the tree behind your bench. Senjuro held it on his right hand.

– I understand what you’re trying to say. I was too little when my mother passed away, so I barely remember her except through the photographs and the things my father and my brother told me. I only remember what happened to my father when he lost her. My brother would speak more about this if he was here because he felt that too, even more after he became a Hashira – the leaf twirled between his fingers while he spoke – Slowly, that enthusiastic, gentle man who raised us turned into a bitter stranger. He started to drink. He spent most of his time in his room, and when he left it, he barely looked at us. Everything he held dear lost its value to him. It was strange, like watching someone you love dying in front of you, while another person takes their place. It was like losing him soon after losing my mother…

Senjuro’s voice cracked a bit in those last words. When you raised your eyes to him, you noticed him sobbing. You didn’t think twice: approaching the boy, you just passed your arms around him, as to assure his right to cry. You looked around, at the weather, and realized the blur in your sight: you were crying yourself too.

You did your best to put yourself together, and waited until your stepson was able to do the same.

– When my mother died, my father changed too – you adjusted yourself in your spot – He never had a problem with drinking or anything like this, but he wasn’t the same man who raised me. He started to isolate himself and making senseless decisions concerning our house, our business and everything else. Half of our staff left us, and even the people of our village noticed we were having problems. Our situation became worse when the stories about Oni started spreading among the common folk, and my father, not knowing how to deal with the financial problems and too proud to seek for help, was about to go insane – you swallowed – I’ve tried to help him, I’ve tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t let me. He thought it was easier to send me away and stay there, rotting inside that house while demons devastated our lands at night – you felt your lower lip starting to tremble and continued to speak, to avoid a stronger reaction – He abandoned himself, abandoned our people…

At that point you gave up and fell silent, but Senjuro finished the thought for you.

– ...And abandoned you – he glanced at you – No wonder you burned his letter without opening it.

Your heart ached with the memory, but it wasn’t remorse what you felt.

– This is something I don’t regret. As much as I don’t regret defending you from Rengoku-sama. I mean, now I can see that life showed no mercy on him, but treating you like that was terrible and unfair, and the same can be said about my father. Their suffering makes us comprehend them, but it doesn’t excuse their mistakes.

– And what do you think we must do, y/n?

You opened your mouth, but closed it again to think of a sensible response.

It’s strange to tell someone what to do. Is this what’s expected from parents? What a duty to fulfill...

– In your father’s case, I believe we can stay as we are – you spoke slowly – Since we know he’s been enduring so much, we won’t do anything to increase his load. At the same time, we can’t let him cross boundaries and treat us as he wants.

Senjuro seemed to approve the idea, but he still had concerns.

– It makes sense. I’ve been doing this since I can remember, but I still feel guilty. When I see my father in that state, I think I should be doing something for him – he sighed – Sometimes, I think this is what he expects from me, and that’s why he acts so harshly.

That was your time to be concerned. You’ve already noticed that, due to his easygoing nature, Senjuro had a tendency of taking heavy burdens to himself, but you wouldn’t sit and watch him giving in to this inclination and becoming an adult before his natural time just because the real adult was unable to act like one.

– But you already do what you can for him, Senjuro-san. You’re a good and respectful son. You keep your things organized and clean, and don’t mind doing hard work. It doesn’t matter if your father says that out loud or keeps it to himself, I’m sure he knows that.

– Do you think so? – his doubt was genuine; it was clear that he never tried to see things from such perspective.

– Yes – you replied with all the possible firmness – You can continue to act with kindness, but it’s not your duty to fix him. Honestly, even I don’t know if there’s something I can do for Rengoku-sama besides staying out of his way. Yet being too hard on ourselves because of this won’t help us at all.

Senjuro thought of that for a moment.

– It also means that you don’t know what you have to do to help your father?

You moved your head slowly in agreement.

– Yes. It does.

– But don’t you think you can find a way if you talk to him?

You looked away. You clearly weren’t expecting that. Still, you didn’t avoid the question.

– I don’t know. I really don’t know.

***

You could say you’ve worked hard to act according to your own words in the days that followed that conversation. You created a routine that included waking up early and taking time to organize your surroundings just like you used to do in your father’s house, then leaving to the kitchen to prepare breakfast (that was a task that Senjuro took to himself since the cook decided to quit, so having you there to take care of this spared him time and avoided more of his father’s scolding for minor mistakes and waste of ingredients); after that, you would leave with your stepson to your usual training session, and then you took separate ways in your daily activities: while he stood with tasks outside the house, you took the responsibility of cleaning and organizing the interior, thus giving the servants the chance of going back home while the sun was still high in the sky instead of being forced to spend the night there, away from their families; finally, while Senjuro returned to his room to study, you would go to your own to bathe and relax.

It was simple, and it worked for everyone… or so you told yourself every time you remembered that your husband wasn’t included in this perfect scheme. Thing was that, since the incident with the wood sword, he actively avoided you in the rooms and corridors, which didn’t make much to shake your moods – instead, you were relieved with this distance; however, after the day you found the photographs, you were the one mimicking such behavior, and your almost non existent relationship just turned into a sequence of unexpected, embarrassing encounters where opening your mouth to say “good morning” was harder than passing by each other and running away.

There was one day when, to answer the plead of a maid, you had to swallow this embarrassment and replace it with courage: while you were cleaning a room not so far from yours, she confided to you that her payment has been delayed, as well as the other servants’.

– I have some debts I need to pay, and I’ve been trying to gain some time with my creditors, but they’re getting impatient – she explained – In normal circumstances, I would’ve paid everything already, but now I’m really desperate, y/n-sama.

You frowned.

– I see. But how did everything turn out this way?

The girl approached you, as to reveal some shameful secret.

– I know it’s none of my concern, but I’ve seen things in this house, and the other servants, who have been here for longer than me, told me what they’ve saw – she whispered – Since the previous lady’s decease, problems concerning the house’s workers became common. The previous accountant left his position and no one was hired in his place, so the financial responsibility was on the young Senjuro. Of course, he’s an honest boy and did what he could to help, but he’s not a professional, and sometimes mistakes were made. The people who still work here haven’t left yet in consideration for him, and because they really need the jobs. It’s Takumi-san’s case. Last time he tried to reason with Rengoku-sama, he became furious and gave him two choices: to go back to work or to leave and never return – she shrugged – He decided to stay, but only if a solution appears. He’s one of our best workers. If he leaves, things will become even worse for us.

You had to stop for a moment to process the things you’ve just heard. You immediately remembered that young man who had a bottle of sake thrown at him in the corridor.

So, that was the cause of Shinjuro’s outburst. Unbelievable.

The situation at the Rengoku’s house was even worse than your father’s: the servants just gave up on their work and left, except for the few in desperate circumstances, and the whole responsibility over the finances has been tossed at a kid? That time, you couldn’t just ignore it.

– Listen, I… I’m really surprised with this situation, as much as I may seem – you told her, not hiding the shame even though it wasn’t your fault – Senjuro-san never told me anything about this, otherwise I would’ve already done something. I’m... really sorry for this. But now that I’m informed, what can I do to help you?

The maid hesitated. She knew the difficult of what she was going to ask.

– Please, y/n-sama, talk to Rengoku-sama in our name – she bowed her head – We know he has a… complex temper, but he seems to respect you. Maybe there’s a chance of him to listen to you.

Well, if the financial issues were surprising to you, the reasons behind the maid’s request were shocking. The servants thought Shinjuro respected you? That man who barely looked at your direction? What a situation you’ve gotten into… But you couldn’t make it even worse by bringing the maid’s – and the whole staff’s – expectations down by telling her that you were too insecure to speak to your husband about a domestic problem, so you did what in other circumstances you’d never consider possible.

– Don’t worry – you swallowed – I will speak to him as soon as possible.

After an effusive “Thank you”, she left to tell the others about your resolution.

The glow of relief and gratitude in the girl’s eyes soothed part of your anxiety, but solely because you knew you were doing the right thing – it had nothing to do with your task being easy. Truth was that you didn’t even know where you should start: should you look for Shinjuro in his room or to wait until you’d meet him in another part of the house? Was it better to bring the subject right in the beginning of the conversation, or should you warm up until the appropriate moment? And, of course, how was he going to react? That is, you saw what he did to the young man; there was nothing to assure you that he wouldn’t try anything like that toward you.

You finished your work and went out to deliberate. You walked around the house, in and out of the garden, trying to come up with a reasonable solution, but nothing occurred to you. That time you also weren’t going to talk to your stepson: Senjuro would be informed about the situation only after everything was solved, and the same would be in the case of the servants, to avoid a commotion.

I’m really alone in this.

As it used to happen when you were lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize where your wanderings were taking you to until you stopped and looked around… and recognized the front of Shinjuro’s porch. You froze in your spot, less because of this than because you almost bumped into him on the way.

You startled and covered your mouth to avoid a scream. You stepped back and stood there, staring at the man, who was also surprised to meet you so suddenly in a part of the building you weren’t often seen. But, just like it happened to you now, he seemed to anxious to inquire you.

Somehow you were the first to speak.

– Rengoku-sama… I…

You moved your lips, but no words were found to continue the sentence. Your eyes lowered to his hands, and it was with a sort of relief that you noticed the absence of a bottle. Did the sake finish and he was going to get more, or did he see you approaching and got rid of it before you saw it? You couldn’t tell, but at that moment you recalled your previous encounters with him and realized that, since the conflict at the garden, in each of them, he wasn’t drinking, yet sake was still being bought judging by the bottles you always saw piling up in the kitchen.

Is he avoiding to drink in my presence?

– You wanted to speak to me, y/n? – his voice brought you back to reality; your relief grew when you noticed the composed tone in it.

– Yes. Yes, I… – you hid your hands behind your back – There’s an issue I need to discuss with you.

Shinjuro showed no signs of being bothered by the word issue, unlike you were expecting. Instead, he seemed intrigued: you’ve been doing your things all by yourself since you were brought to his house, and now you wanted to talk to him about something? That was new.

– And what is it?

You breathed deep.

The time is now. What do I have to do?

You glanced behind him and saw his room’s door was open. That gave you an idea.

– Would you mind talking somewhere else? – you shrugged – A private place, maybe?

He didn’t make objections to this, indicating his room and inviting you to follow him.

***

As he sat with his legs crossed, you knelt in front of him, having the door, left open, at your right. Your hands were over your lap, as you waited to see what he was going to do.

By all means, Shinjuro was a practical man, so that fortunately he didn’t let this waiting to extend.

– So, what is it that you need to discuss with me? – he inquired – I suppose it must be too important, for you to seek for me so suddenly.

– In fact – you confirmed; and, taking a deep breath, – But it’s nothing related to myself, actually. It’s about the people who work in here.

You noticed a slight twist on his lips when he heard that, but you gave no time for him to react.

– I was told that the servants are facing struggles with the decreasing in the personnel, and that my stepson was left to take care of the matters despite this – you moved on your spot; your feet, folded under your legs, started causing you discomfort, but you ignored it – I won’t discuss this arrangement, but there are problems that need attention right now and, because I am your wife, I was asked to seek for a solution alongside you.

Unlike you imagined, Shinjuro listened to all of this in silence, and after you finished he kept quiet. No physical or verbal outbursts followed, but if he was measuring what he just heard or trying to control his irritation, you couldn’t tell, and that was worse: with the usual anger and bad moods you could deal with, whether by running away or facing him, but with the absence of them you didn’t know what to expect. You clenched your hands against each other.

Come on, say something. Even if it’s just to call me an intruder. Just odn’t let me without a response.

And, then, Shinjuro gave you a response… and though you didn’t know what you were waiting for, it was different from anything you could’ve expected.

– The servants’ payments are delayed. I know that – he started; no impatience was sensed in his tone, just a sort of boredom – Our accountant left, and no one was able to properly replace him. Senjuro found out about this and asked to do something, and I had no choice. He’s better with paper and ink than with a sword. Besides, having responsibilities would be good for him to grow up.

You made an inhuman effort not to gasp at his justifications. Did he really think leaving that work for a kid was a good idea? But you reminded yourself that you weren’t there to argue, but to fix the problem, so you let him continue.

– Of course, I knew it wouldn’t work forever, and if you came to talk about this, it’s because it needs to change – he sighed – But let me tell you that the payments aren’t delayed for no reason. Things have been difficult for us, and hiring someone to manage finances won’t be cheap. It’s something we can’t deal with it right now. So, what do you suggest? Should I hire a new accountant anyway?

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You understood that, if Shinjuro wasn’t even trying to hide those problems, they must have become really serious. You also knew that the services of accountants and administrators weren’t cheap, but that wasn’t a good reason to let everything to Senjuro.

I can’t believe I’m going to propose this…

Your husband asked a suggestion, and you ended up offering the only one you could think of.

– Let this task with me, Rengoku-sama – you bowed, leaning your hands on the floor but not touching it with your forehead – I used to do this sort of work while in my father’s house in the times we were on a budget and unable to hire someone for it. I didn’t continue to work on this when the crisis with the Oni started because I was sent here.

He thought of this for a moment… And the response he gave you brought out some unpleasantness, both in his words and the subject.

– Leaving the money in your hands to manage? Y/n, I do believe your father let you work on this, but I can’t help finding it strange that, exactly when your lands were facing the worst crisis in a long time, he decided to send you away instead of keeping you there to take care of everything.

Still with your head bowed, you bit your lip.

Are you calling me an incompetent or what?

Shinjuro was aware of the delicate state in which your relationship with father was, so bringing it to the table right now had no intention but to test you: would you have the necessary stability to take such responsibility? As if he had any right to speak of stability… Well, in spite of that, he was the head of that house, thus having the final word in this matter, so if he decided to decline your offer, he would do it without thinking twice, and then your attempt to help the workers – as well as their trust in you – would drift away.

Alright, start whining and all this conversation will end up useless. I’ll swallow my inflamed ego, then.

You raised your head, ignored the provocation and sent it back to your husband.

– I agree. It’s really strange when you put it that way, Rengoku-sama… – your hands relaxed on your lap – As much as it’s strange that, despite the similar issues in you house which you’ve just addressed, you accepted me as an extra mouth to feed under your roof.

Not so strange when we remember the existence of my dowry, I mean.

If Shinjuro guessed this very thought or if he was not in the mood to continue that discussion, you’d never know, but that was precisely what he did: gave up on arguing and just left it up to you.

He stood up and walked to the porch, indicating that the conversation was over.

– Do as you wish, then. The old accountant’s office is on the other side of the house. It’s easier to access it if you walk around the porch. Senjuro knows exactly where it is. Ask him for help if you need it.

You stared at him for a moment. So everything was solved so easily? Or was it just you who were exaggerating the difficult of your task? It was impossible to know, and you wouldn’t stay there to find out: you just accepted the results and stood up, heading to the exit.

You passed by your husband and bowed again.

– Thank you for accepting my proposal, Rengoku-sama. I’ll do my best.

The only response you had from him was a nod, and you left to find the said office thinking of how strange was that man you married, how tricky it has been for you to understand him and what sort of things were waiting for you in that corner of the house.

[hyacintheros]

As The World Caves In

|| (Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader)

Main Masterlist

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, a little swearing.

P.S: I woke up and craved angst, but is it angsty enough? Let me know!

“Dovey, have you seen the cardigan I bought last month? I’m sure I put it in the wardrobe..” Remus scratches his head, trying to recount his last use of the cardigan.

He ruffles through the wardrobe once more, grabbing at anything that looks remotely similar to the olive yarn. Abandoning his search within the wardrobe, he sets his sights on the dresser, thinking someone may have folded it away.

“I put it in the drawing room yesterday, thought you might’ve gotten cold,” his girlfriend says from the living room, waiting for him to finish up, checking the watch on her wrist. “Darling, we have to hurry! Dumbledore said this meeting’s important,” calling out to Remus, the arms tick closer to a quarter past 8:00 pm. 

Remus grabs his cardigan from the room finally, shrugging it on and meeting her in the living room. “D’you have a tissue? Nose is acting up..” She hands him a tissue from her purse, linking their arms together. “Floo or apparition?” He asks, not sure if she’s up for apparating today. She urges to use the floo, grabbing the green powder. 

Arriving at 12 Grimmauld Place, they’re greeted by Lily and James on the stairs sharing a goblet of pumpkin juice. They’re followed by Peter, coming down the fireplace behind them, Sirius popping out from the kitchen. “We’re getting the band back together!” Sirius jokes about, rarely ever having the gang together due to the circumstances. 

“Will everyone please make their way to the dining room? There are things needing to be discussed.” Dumbledore calls out to them, feeling as if they were all back in Hogwarts again.

As they make their way, the girl falls behind, a portrait of Regulus Black being displayed in the hall. She thinks back to her best friend, a guilty ache in her chest reverberates around. 

“Come on lovey, they’re waiting,” Remus urges her to continue walking, his eyes gazing at the portrait, understanding the grief she felt, pitying the poor boy for his situation. The dining room is filled with a thick, sombre air, no one knowing exactly what would come of this meeting. 

Clearing his throat, Albus starts, “It has come to my attention, through a trusted source, that we are in knowledge of a Death Eater hideout. Multiple, in fact. We must act fast, locations and words always changing. Please arrange yourselves into pairs, each pair will be given a location to ambush.”

Picking partners has always been easy for the group, having done this since potions in first year, the Lupin couple pairs up, while James and Lily take each other, leaving Sirius and Peter together. Albus comes around, giving them a piece of parchment with an address and an estimated number of people within the area.

Looking at theirs, the couple are tasked with going off to the Cambridge countryside, followed by an estimation of 3 of the Dark Lord’s followers within the area.

Thanking Dumbledore, they walk back to the living room preparing for their departure. “I’m just heading up to grab something, give me a moment.” She pecks Remus’ lips and goes up the stairs, her feet dragging her to Regulus’ room. She knocks on the door, knowing there will be no response, yet still doing so in respect for her friend.

Entering the room, she looks at the way he left it, knowing he left something in here for her. Before leaving, he left her a letter, meant for her eyes only. It had stated that she was to keep the necklace he had hidden in his childhood room, destroying it when he gave a signal she would know to look for.

She scours the room, lifting the books and looking behind the shelves, shimmying through the wardrobe, pawing under the bed. She finds the necklace in his potions set that had been tucked away in the dresser.

She hurries back downstairs, hiding the necklace under her shirt. “The brooms are ready, we should head there now if we want to arrive before midnight, love.” Remus grasps her hand, exchanging their goodbyes with their friends and telling each other to stay safe, not knowing the next time they’ll see each other next. 

They mount onto their respective brooms, slowly picking up their pace, flying gently through the night sky. The couple flies side by side, pointing out small things they pass by. “That star looks like you, Rem!” She says, smiling at him. “How could a star look like me??” He asks, confused by her statement. “It just does, don't question it, love,” her eyes look back up to the stars in amazement, never getting enough no matter how many times she’s done this before.

The pair arrive at a cottage 2 hours later, keeping their heads low and their ears open, hiding within the bushes. Lights are on in the small cottage, low chatter emitting from the window. Remus looks at the girl, signalling her to approach with him.

Getting to the back of the home, they enter quietly through a bedroom window, manoeuvring themselves throughout the house. Finally, they bust into the hallway leading to the living room, wands out and at the ready.

“Look who's come to play! Treasure? What are you doing here? You're wasting yourself away with the Order..?” Barty Crouch Jr, her dear friend whom she hasn't seen since graduation stands in front of her, putting down his wand at the sight of her. Evan Rosier, who had been a part of their Slytherin group is positioned next to him, also lowering his own wand.

“Junior.. Evan? What are you two doing here? Don't tell me you're with him…” The girl slowly walks over to them, Remus grabbing her arm to stop her. “Darling, don't go near them!” She rips her arm from him, her chest heavy with confusion at why she feels this way.

“Where's Reggie? Are you both alright, do they treat you well?” She hugs the two boys, terrified at the predicament they were placed in. One boy being forced into this by his family name, the other joining to spite his father.

“We're okay.. Regulus is okay, should be outside scanning the perimeter, we're just stationed here to keep an eye out. You joined the Order- still with the Lupin boy I see,” Evan speaks up, leaning his head to look at Remus briefly. 

“Remus, what are we to do? We can't hurt them..” The girl turns back to her boyfriend, wanting his opinion on the matter, knowing how much she values her friends. Remus sighs, thinking about how terribly complicated things just got. He pinches the bridge of his nose, then inhaling greatly.

“We can’t take them back with us, their mark will haunt them, love. Unless they decide they really want to change, we can't do anything for them.” He tells his girlfriend, trying to work this situation in his head for the best possible outcome.

“I will not leave them, not in his hands. There must be something we can do Rem..” She looks at the two boys. “Do you two truly wish to stay and be a part of the Dark Lord’s mission..? Tell me it isn't true.”

Barty looks at her with guilt in his eyes, “We can't leave, treasure, he'll always find us… we'll be okay, isn't that right Rosie?” Evan assures the girl, not wanting to make her upset.

She grabs onto Evan’s shoulder's, begging him to allow her to take them to a safe house, the thought of her closest friends being a part of something so horrid making her heart squeeze.

Remus looks at his girlfriend, his own heart pouring out for her, still doing his best to think of a way out of this for the boys. At that moment, a green cloud of smoke booms outside, the four of them going out of the cottage in a haste, trying to figure out the source.

A dark mark hangs in the air, meaning only one thing. The appearance of the Dark Lord. In a haste, the girl hands off the necklace to Remus, not giving much time to explain why she has it. She pulls him in for a kiss, one deeper than the couple has ever shared before.

“There isn't much time, Remus. Please understand that whatever I've done, I've done for you, for your own safety. I love you, solely and dearly.. when you look up into the sky, please be reminded of how bright you shine, of how dear you are to those around you. Forgive me for what I have to do. There are letters in my dresser, please deliver them.. I will keep you in my heart, forever and always.”

She doesn't give him any time to respond, kissing him once more and holding him in her arms for the last time. Regulus, hearing the commotion, apperates closer, now seeing the guests they have. There is no time for reunions, instead having to take their sides in the war. 

“My my… How cute, a small little gathering of sorts! So sorry to be a party crasher, but it seems that someone isn't supposed to be here..” Voldemort turns to Remus, eyes full of darkness.

“Come my dear, it's time to go.” The Dark Lord holds his hand out for the girl to take. She walks up, looking back to Remus with regretful eyes, tears spilling from them. Barty, Evan, and Regulus follow behind them, needing to leave with their Lord.

Remus calls out, desperate and terrified. Why would his darling girl, his angel, walk away willingly with the Dark Lord? His heart physically clenches, cheeks covered in shed tears, hands trembling and he falls on his knees, the necklace she gave him still in his hands. 

The group had apperated away long ago, while Remus still sobs on the grass of the Cambridge countryside, shedding away his cardigan due to the pure panic and heat he felt in his body, trying to relieve some part of him. He racks his mind for anything that had happened within the past few months that could have been deemed suspicious, not being able to find anything.

He stays there for hours, running out of tears at some point, staring at the place he last saw her before they apperated. It's almost dawn now, the sun rising and the wind blowing. He can't bear being here, needing to find his way back. 

Grabbing the brooms the two had arrived on, be apperates back to 12 Grimmauld Place, knowing The location like the back of his hand for all the wrong reasons. He collapses onto the couches in the living room, sobbing once more.

“Remus! Remus, what happened? Where is she?” Sirius says, referring to Remus’ girlfriend, noticing she didn't come back with him. Remus sobs even harder into Sirius’ chest, hugging him like a vice.

Remus was the last to come back from the mission, everyone else had finished things hours ago, praying to Merlin for the safety of the Lupin couple. Yet seeing only Remus come back terrified them.

He cries and sobs into Sirius’ chest for a few more minutes, finally calming down enough to say, “She went with them.. with Regulus, Barty, and Evan.. Voldemort took them away.. She walked into his arms!”

Anger overtakes him, how could his girlfriend betray them in such a way, claiming to love him, then walking away with the Dark Lord and his followers. Lily hugs Remus, still not entirely sure what to make out of this. 

“Before leaving, she gave me this.. What the fuck do I do with this!?” He cries out, confused, heartbroken, and fuming. Dumbledore takes the necklace to inspect.

“It seems to be a horcrux.. Terribly dark magic. Did she say anything else, Remus?” Dumbledore asks, needing to know the lore behind said necklace. Remus shakes his head, trying to make sense of everything. James supports his friend, holding him as he processes.

“She left letters in her dresser.. I need to go and retrieve them-” Remus is cut off by Sirius, “I will grab them, dresser you said?" The boy heads to the floo, calling out to the Lupin cottage.

Remus, still distraught by the whole situation, feels the need to throw up, cry until he passes out, and curl into a ball and sleep it all away, praying this is some fucked up nightmare.

Sirius is back, five letters in hand, addressed to Remus, James, Peter, Lily, and himself. He distributes it to their respective owners, terrified to read it.

Remus practically rips his letter open, dying for some form of comfort and explanation. It reads:

“To My Darling Remus,

What I have done has hurt you, and I know that no matter what I say, it will never satisfy your heart, so I will explain everything the best I can. 

Regulus had always confided in me at school, and I couldn't let the poor boy be alone in his situation. We couldn't help him the same way we did with Sirius, so I made the decision to join in hopes to protect Regulus.

The Dark Lord had figured out my relationship with the Order, demanding I make a sacrifice, or else he'd kill you. I couldn't allow that to happen, you deserve to live a life full of happiness, even if that isn't what you believe.

If everything has gone right, I have given you a necklace. Bring it to Dumbledore, Regulus has explained to me that it's a horcrux, holding a part of the Dark Lord’s soul in it. When destroyed, it will weaken him. Tell Albus that the sword must be pulled.

I need you to understand that what we had was real, and I will forever cherish you. Your laugh, your smile, your books, your cardigans, your moon. I love you, Remus. I love you like the sun loves the moon. I love you like a moth to a flame. Please live your life to the fullest, and don't have any regrets.

Forever, your love.”

Remus shakes, his whole body quivering, her tears drenching his cardigan and his sniffles taking over the room. After gripping his tears back, trying to lock them away behind his eyes, he says to Dumbledore, “The sword must be pulled.”

[thexmistress]

Happy Anniversary Pt. 2

5 years later Friday. March 20, 2023, 8:05am

It would be a lie if Satoru said he felt any regrets at this moment laying in bed with Utahime while their son came barging in their room and jumping on their bed making them laugh at his hyperness. “Look what I made dad! I drew a picture of me,” the boy pointed to the small blob on paper, “mommy,” pointing to the bigger blob in the middle, “and you!” Pointing to the even bigger blob making Satoru chuckle taking in the family portrait. Satoru sat up and placed Ren in the middle of him and Utahime.

He took the picture from the snaggle tooth child and examined it closer “This is a masterpiece Ren! I knew you took after me in many talents but this just takes the icing on the cake…. but why do I have black hair?” Satoru questioned the boy making the raven-haired child smile at him sheepishly “uh... I can’t find my white crayon, so I just made your hair the same as me and mommy” Utahime giggled and snuggled their child closer to her “well it’s perfect honey” she peppered kisses over Ren’s face making him giggle.

At that moment Satoru felt free watching the woman he loves with their child. He wanted nothing more than to savor this moment forever. Getting out of bed he looked towards them “Well how about we celebrate our son becoming the next Picasso and go out to eat for breakfast! I can call Uncle Suguru too so he can join us.” What Satoru thought was going to be another good day turned out to be the worst day ever in his life.

Breaking News: A car accident reported in Tokyo, Japan at 10:46am. A side-impact collision between 2 cars leaving 1 child in critical condition. The remaining passengers have been reported to face minor to no injuries.

JR Tokyo General Hospital 4:35pm

It has now been hours since they been at the hospital. Satoru never felt so scared and guilty in his life. It all happened so fast he didn’t see the truck coming from the side of them he blames himself for being too busy singing on the top of his lungs with his son and Utahime that he didn’t even had time to register the truck speeding towards them, towards Ren’s side. He had his face in his hands the entire time his son was in the operating room.

Utahime was embracing the sobbing man telling him it’s going to be okay trying to ease the pain they both were going through. They were so engrossed with one another they didn’t even notice Suguru running towards them looking frantic. Suguru stood in front of them and crouched down in front of Satoru before taking one of his hands, he turned to look at Utahime “Where is he? I came as soon as you called, what happened?”

Satoru was still looking down at the ground with tears that were silently flowing, face masked with guilt and anguish. “I-I… I didn’t see the truck Suguru, I swear I didn’t… we should’nt have left the house... it’s all my fault.” The man in front of them broke down again causing Utahime to reach out to him and pull him towards her into an embrace, rubbing her hands up and down his arm trying to console him. Suguru let go of his friend hand and looked at Utahime. They locked eyes for a few seconds sharing a moment of grief before she focused her attention on Satoru.

Another hour passed and the doctor came to them telling them their child was in stable condition but would need a blood transfusion due to the loss of blood during surgery. Satoru being the father hastily agreed to donate blood making Suguru glance at Utahime who was refusing to look the raven-haired man way. Satoru gave a quick kiss to Utahime before following the Doctor to do the blood transfusion while one of the nurses came to escort Utahime and Suguru to the new room Ren was transported.

Entering the room Utahime almost broke down seeing her child hooked up to an IV bag and a breathing tube. She quickly went to the side of the hospital bed and embraced her child’s hand tearing up at the sight of her baby. Suguru who was quiet this whole time was soaking everything in. It pained him to see Utahime and Ren in this state and he walked to the same side Utahime was on looking at her before glancing at the child that was unconscious……. “Is this our Karma?”

Blood transfusion denied. Reason: Not a match

“What?” Satoru srunched his face in confusion as he looked between Utahime, Suguru, and the nurse. Only two of them was refusing to make eye contact with him while the nurse looked at him with a look of pity. Utahime continued looking at their son laying in the hospital bed with tears threatening to flow down. “What do you mean it’s not a match? Is this a prank?” Satoru took a step towards the nurse “How am I not a match when that’s my son?!” Satoru yelled at the nurse who only looked at him with that same look that he didn’t want. She took a step towards him and placed her hand on his arm before saying the very thing Satoru was too blind to see. “It means you are not the father Mr.Gojo, I am sorry. But we need to find a match soon... When you all find a match, please come get me or the doctor so we can arrange the blood transfusion as soon as possible.”

With that the nurse left the 3 adults in the suffocating room. The tension in the room was unbearable and with Satoru still standing in the same position for the past 3 minutes the other 2 adults were starting to squirm in their seats. Suguru foot was tapping the moment the nurse told Satoru the news and it was at that moment Suguru realized he had enough, he couldn’t do this anymore so knowing the next few words that would come out his mouth would ruin the friendship him and Satoru shared he knows he couldn’t keep living in this lie. So, he stood up and faced Satoru who only looked at him with teary eyes and opened his mouth to say “It’s me. I’m the father of your child.”

It all happened to quick for Suguru to react because next thing he knew he was on the ground after getting punched in the face by Satoru. Security was called after many of the nurses tried to get Satoru to let Suguru out of a chokehold and soon after the white-haired man whose strands were painted red with blood had to be escorted off the premises. As he was being escorted out the room by police Utahime was clinging on to his arm rambling her sorries to him.

Her crocodile tears were making his ears ring and at that moment for the first time he truly felt regret, he couldn’t believe he was living in a lie for 5 years. He yanked his arm from her grasp and looked down at her with a look that made her stop her ramblings, “I don’t want to hear shit from you anymore, we’re done! I wasted 5 years! 5 years! That’s not even my kid in there! If you can lie to me about that, what else were you lying about?!” Before she could answer the police nudged him to continue walking out the hospital doors leaving the tear faced woman alone watching his silhouette grow smaller in the distance.

(Y/n)’s Apartment 11:20pm

You were glad you finally had a night off and Aimi was fast asleep on the floor with her blanket wrapped around her. Her white hair (that unfortunately she took after her father) was sprawled out in a tangled mess from all the playing she did at Yuji’s 6th birthday party earlier. You groaned because you could’ve sworn you dropped her off with a nice ponytail and was mortified when you came to pick her up and watched her running out the house with a bird nest on top of her head.

‘It’s going to be a pain to brush her hair tomorrow’ you thought to yourself. ‘She’s still adorable though… even with that bird nest on her head.’ You giggled to yourself before turning your attention back on your show taking a few sips of your wine. You hate to admit it but ever since you gave birth to Aimi you’ve been drinking a lot more and now it became a habit, a routine. If you didn’t have at least 1 glass of wine before going to bed you were going to get a little cranky.

Your parents mentioned going to counseling because they were convinced you were depressed…. which they’re right of course but you felt like talking about the hurt you went through with your divorce and the 2nd half of your pregnancy wasn’t going to change anything. You just wanted to stop feeling hurt, but you wouldn’t even say you’re still hurt…... oh, who are you kidding, you’re still hurt but it’s more on the numb side. You don’t feel your heart leaking but it’s leaking.

Having to take care of a spitting image of him doesn’t help either and don’t even get you started on how Satoru’s instagram was filled with the birth of him and Utahime’s child but none of yours…. he didn’t even show up to the labor. He came the day after and in the words of Satoru “I guess that counts for something right?” You started feeling irritated again thinking about that while you take another sip or four of your wine. You weren’t even paying attention to your show at the moment. Just thinking how lousy of a baby father he is. He barely even sees his daughter, the agreement between you both was you have her on the weekdays, and he would have her on the weekends. Before she could even turn 1 the agreement of him having her on the weekends turned into every other weekend which now turned into once a month or whenever he can “make time”. ‘That lousy son of a-’

*ring**ring* *ring* your phone going off interrupted your thoughts and your face immediately sours after reading the name. Now what business do he have calling this late at night? “What is it Satoru?” You asked answering the phone. You were met with silence and white noise. You were starting to get impatient and almost hung up until he sighed and spoke in a low voice. “Sorry to call so late.. I-I was wondering if I can come over tomorrow night to see you and Aimi… I-I want to discuss some things… there’s some things I need to apologize to you for. To apologize to both of you.” It was now your turn to be silent. He wanted to apologize? ‘Aren’t you about five years too late?’ Is what you really wanted to say and end the call right then and there but at the same time it’s been about 4 months since Aimi got to see her dad and she has been asking about her “Toru-ru” (a nickname she came up with since she learned to talk) you sighed and internally rolled your eyes before saying “okay, come over around 7pm.” You hung up tossing your phone beside you and eyed the wine that you still had in your glass…. After 5 years now he wants to apologize. You gulped down the rest of the wine feeling it warm your belly. ‘I guess that counts for something right?’

Saturday. March 21st, 2023, 6:52pm

“Mommy! Are we really going to see Toru-ru?” Your daughter was excited, her blue eyes were gleaming as she swayed in her seat. You never thought to correct your daughter into saying daddy instead of the nickname she came up with because in your eyes he was never really a good father to her anyways. “Yep. He’ll be over here in a few minutes, and we’ll spend some time with him, he wants to see his little princess.” You gave her a kiss on the forehead and finished adding the final touches to dinner.

You made creamy shrimp pasta with sun-dried tomatoes since pasta was Aimi’s favorite meal to eat. She loves pasta so much you always tease her that she’s going to turn into one which she would reply “That would be the best thing to ever happen!” You turned the stove off and started to wonder to yourself if you were really cooking this for Aimi or for yourself. Well…. you’re really doing this for yourself. You hate to feel this way but you long for the look in your daughter eyes when the 3 of you are all together spending time even though it doesn’t happen that often. You can’t help but to feed your crazy delusions in having that family moment of just you 3 eating dinner together because you felt like you were robbed of it. Of everything. And it hurts you that you couldn’t provide Aimi with that stable family environment like her friends. She may not mention it, but you know deep down it affects her.

The doorbell to your apartment broke your thoughts and before you could react your daughter is already opening the door yelling “Toru-ru!” Holding her hands out for the blue-eyed devil to pick her up. He chuckled and tried to match her enthusiasm as he picked her up giving her kisses all over her face “Hey my princess, now why are you answering the door?? What if I was a stranger? That’s not safe” He gave her more kisses to her face making her giggle “But you’re not a stranger to me dad” She gave him a toothy grin. ‘Bullshit. He damn near is’ you thought to yourself before setting up the dinner table.

Satoru walked into the kitchen looking at you and taking the sight of you in. It’s been about 4 months since y’all seen each other and he can’t help but to feel a little awkward, not knowing what else to say he put Aimi back on the ground before walking closer to you making you look up at him. He smiled at you, and you noticed his eyes were a little puffy. ‘Was he crying?’

“Hey (y/n) thank you for allowing me to come over and spend time with you and Aimi” he took a seat at the table and you placed a plate in front of him, “I mean you are her dad, you’re supposed to spend time with her right?” You couldn’t help but to let the attitude show through your voice and you scolded yourself because you didn’t want Aimi to catch on, it wouldn’t be healthy for her to know you absolutely hated her dad’s guts. Aimi took the other chair and scooted it closer to her dad so she can soak up as much quality time with him as she can. “Toru-ru! You wouldn’t believe what happened at Yuji’s birthday party yesterday!” She started rambling to her dad and as you were placing the food on their plates you were started to relish this time

With Aimi catching up with her dad you glanced at Satoru who was giving his daughter all his devoted attention laughing when she would say something ridiculous. You started to feel your heart leak again. You took your seat at the table near them after you filled your plate with food telling them they can eat. “And one time mommy had a friend over, and he was helping make spaghetti, but they spilled ALL the sauce on the floor, and they fell! It was so funny!” At that Satoru head perked up from his plate and he glanced at you “Mommy has a friend?”

The question was geared more towards you, and you couldn’t help but to feel irritated of that accusing tone. “Yes, I had a friend over last week and his name is Toji. He came over with his son for a play date.” Satoru only looked at you as his ears perked up at the name and couldn’t help but to feel jealous. Throughout the whole 5 years he knew you were single so hearing you have a new ‘friend’ and it’s a guy that also has a kid was kind of eating at him as selfish as it sounds, he knows he has no place to say anything but Satoru being Satoru couldn’t help but to let his jealousy show. “So, you’re setting up my daughter on play dates with boys now?” You scoffed because you couldn’t believe the audacity this man has. “You’re daughter? Do you even have the right to say that?”

You both were glaring at each other and Aimi wasn’t a dumb child she started to have a feeling this family time wasn’t going to go well so she sneaked out carrying her plate to the living room with her iPad trying to hold in her tears. You noticed the change in your daughter demeanor which made you even angrier at the man glaring at you. “Do you see what you are doing? She wants to spend time with you and you’re just letting yourself absorbed feelings get in the way of that!” It was now his turn to scoff

“me? You’re the one who just denounced my fatherhood in front of our child!” You rubbed your forehead already getting tired. You’ve been so tired for so long and the emotions your heart was leaking was starting to get a bit too much for you to handle. You got up grabbing your plate “you know what, you’re right I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that in front of her. I’m going to go upstairs you can still spend time with her.” You put the scraps of food in the trash and the plate in the sink and began to head out the kitchen until Satoru grabbed your hand softly turning you to face him. You looked up at him trying to hold back tears. He looked at you with so much emotion and he bit his bottom lip to keep him for crying for the 10th time today.

“What is it Satoru?” You softly asked as you glanced away. You were suddenly taken aback when he embraced you into a hug. You felt him place his hand on the back of your head while his other arm was wrapped around your torso. He held you so close to him that you could hear his heartbeat and you swore you could hear his heart leaking like yours. “I’m so sorry (y/n), for everything, for cheating on you to abandoning you when you were pregnant, God, for not being there for Aimi,” he started sobbing on your shoulder and a part of you wanted to console him, but your arms just laid to your side. “Satoru please let me go so we can sit down and talk.” he didn’t want to let you go but he listened and sat down at the same table where he left you 5 years ago. It felt like déjà vu for him and if he could rewind time to stop himself from betraying you, he would. At this moment he would give up his kidney to be able to go back in time. He couldn’t help but to feel like this was his Karma and he never felt so wrong in his entire life.

“Why now? Why after 5 years?” You broke his train of thought as you stared at him from across the table with a stoic expression and arms crossed. “I –“ He began to answer but you cut him off, “why didn’t you show up when I was in labor? Why didn’t you keep your promise to see your little princess every weekend? How could you cheat on me while I was pregnant? While you were living with Utahime in her big house playing daddy I was here working overtime as a single mother…. And I still am, we would’ve got evicted out of this apartment if it wasn’t for Toji who paid our rent 3 months in advance to give me breathing room. God! I’ve only known him for half a year and he’s already been more of a father to Aimi than you ever been for the whole 5 years she’s been on this earth. He’s spent more time with her than you ever did, and I’m not even dating the guy, he does it because he wants to!” You sighed rubbing your face with your hands feeling the tingling sensation of your eyes water,

“I just felt so abandoned and alone Satoru. The trauma from the pregnancy to the birth to now is just too overwhelming for a simple Im sorry. I honestly don’t even want to hear it because it’s not going to change anything that I went through. It’s not going to change the hurt Aimi would feel when she can’t spend time with her dad cause she doesn’t ‘fit in his schedule’…. So why now after all of that are you here to apologize?”

You were breathing a little heavy after your rant and you still sat across from him waiting for his response. It was like your words knocked the wind out of him. He was so riddled with guilt and regret that he couldn’t keep his eyesight from blurring due to the tears. “I wasn’t a man… I’m not going to make excuses for my actions because there are none…. I found out yesterday that Ren isn’t my son. Suguru is the father and at that moment I felt so betrayed by both of them that I thought about you and how I betrayed you. I’m sorry that it took all this time for me to see that…. I... came here to apologize to you and I want to do better for our daughter. I wasted five years raising a son that wasn’t mine when I neglected my own daughter. I know what we had is over and what I did to you is unredeemable but,”

Satoru got up from the chair and walked in front of you and started to get on his knees keeping eye contact with you before bowing to the ground with his head touching the floor. “Please let me redeem myself to our daughter, please let me show you both that I will be a better father for her, please.” He was still bowing on the ground, and you couldn’t help but to feel a little pity for him…. But at the same time, you felt like why should you give grace to the man that was literally the cause of your depression until you remembered the sight of your daughter when Satoru came and how happy she was. You may not be as forgiving but a child seems to always forgive their parent for their shortcomings. You ran your fingers through your hair and sighed before giving in. “Okay... let’s start with you having her on the weekends.”