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violent-darkness · 1 month

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Monsters

Billy Butcher x OFC/Second person POV

“Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

Chapter I: A Stranger Comes to Town

Warnings: 18+ mdni. Throughout this series, there will be a significant amount of explicit, dark, and triggering content, such as: killing, violence, smut, kinks, trauma, PTSD, loss of loved ones, child abuse (including sexual, no explicit descriptions), and other potentially disturbing themes.

Summary: You are the newest member of Billy Butcher's team the Boys.

*At its core, this is a story about how people deal with their inner demons. Are monsters truly capable of love, or do they only seek to destroy? Can broken parts be mended?*

Notes: This will be quite a long series with a bit of everything—slow burn, fluff, angst, smut. Many things differ from the show: some characters don’t exist, and others behave differently from canon, reflecting how I envision them. I really hope you enjoy it. Reblogs, comments, and feedback are always welcome. :)

Chapter II

“No fuckin way,” Butcher retorded. “The Boys is mine. I get to choose who joins the team and who can fuck off and mind his own damn business.”

“Butcher, please. Listen to me for once and give her a chance. She is a perfect fit. Her skills could be extremely useful, considering she is the finest shot I’ve ever seen and so much more. Have you at least read through her file?” Mallory desperately tried to plead with what little common sense Butcher had left. She knew it was a wasted effort, but she was a stubborn woman.

Butcher skipped through the brown file placed on the desk in front of him. Two names, a passport photo, standart bio. He saw that you joined the army when you were just 18, did a couple of tours in Afghanistan and were recruited by the CIA there. Most of the stuff was redacted.

"Bloody hell, what exactly do you want me to see there, since all them juicy parts are redacted anyway, innit?"

"Why don't you invite her here and ask her about them yourself, particularly about why she is facing a disciplinary discharge?"

Butcher's brow arched. His curiosity was sparked. He fell perfectly into Mallory’s trap. "Fuckin hell, fine. Tell ‘er to come in."

Mallory left the room with a smug smile and invited you in. Butcher was definitely surprised at the sight of you. He was expecting some tight-ass, suit wearing overachiever and there you were: hair in a ponytail, regular black t-shirt and jeans, boots and a couple of tattoos here and there. It definitely piqued his interest.

"Well, well, well, so t'is you who wanna join me team?" he sized you up from head to toe.

You were caught off guard too. You have heard here and there about the so-called Boys - the super off the books team that deals with supe's affairs, but you certainly didn't expect that its leader would look like this. What's with the ridiculous unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and that thick British accent. For a moment you wondered whether someone was doing a prank on you. You did your best to conceal these thoughts and grabbed the nearest chair to sit in.

"Want" is a bit of a strong term. Let's just say I wouldn't mind it.”

A note of irritation flickered across Butcher's face. "It's not an obligatory thing, luv. If you don't wanna join me team, you can leave."

"It's either that or disciplinary discharge for me, so..."

"What did you do exactly?" Butcher was still very much curious to know.

"I beat up my station chief with his prosthetic leg," you dropped it off as if it was the most casual thing ever.

"You fuckin what?!?!" Butcher was rarely surprised and extremely rarely shocked.

“The fucker tried to grope me. What was I supposed to do, just sit there and watch? I took his leg and gave him a good lesson. And of course now it’s me who is in trouble,” irritation simmered beneath your calm demeanor.

Butcher flashed a grin at you, really amused by your explanation. “Does this happen often, men coming at you?”

“Of course it does. I am used to it by now. But that doesn’t mean I am gonna let them get away with it,” you scoffed.

Butcher heard enough. He was intrigued enough to give you a chance. “Okay, luv, that about seals it for me. Welcome to the Boys!” he proclaimed, giving you a firm handshake.

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

“What are you thinking about?'' Hughie interrupted your train of thought. The boat was shaking slightly and the ocean breeze was gently playing with your hair. The velvet sea and the sunset hitting the water at just the right angle created an ethereal feeling. You really liked all the members of the team, apart from Butcher, who was continuously proving himself to be a lying, selfish and manipulative asshole. MM was always the sensible one, ready to offer advice in any situation. You could spend hours texting with Kimiko about girl stuff. And Frenchie was an amazing pot-smoking buddie. You had a particularly soft spot for Hughie. He was such a cutie pie and so out of his depth. You naturally felt the urge to protect and look after him, while he was always there for you with his friendly smile.

“Nothing much. Just how it all began for me. And how quickly it turned into the current shitshow. I mean, look at us. We are wanted fugitives, we had to live in a basement for months and now we hide on a boat in the middle of the ocean. This is fucking nuts,” admitting your feelings to Hughie immediately made you feel better.

“Yeah, and I can’t help but feel that it’s entirely Butcher’s fault. This mess is all because of him,” Hughie clenched his fist. You noticed how tense and angry he was, which was very atypical of him.

“His problem is, he only thinks of himself,” you sighed. “Guys like him, they have their own internal demons that they never seem able to conquer.” That’s when you noticed it. There was visible bruising on Hughie’s left cheek and upper lip. “That wasn’t there yesterday,” you frowned and patted his cheek with your thumb. “Hughie, who did this?”

"It doesn’t matter,” he was averting your gaze.

“Did Butcher do this?” you already knew the answer and your anger started building up. Just as he was about to reply Butcher himself stormed in and interrupted you.

“Oi, Hughie, mate, come 'ere. I wanna speak to ya,” he declared cheerfully as though he wasn't affected at all by the fucked up situation you were all currently in. He positioned himself on the right side of Hughie, next to you two on the deck.

“Listen, mate. Last night I went a wee bit over the top, ya know. It was wrong of me to punch ya like this. All the bloody whiskey's fault. So let 'em bygones be bygones, alright?” Butcher announced and offered his hand to Hughie. From that point on, everything happened very fast. You saw the blinding rage in Hughie’s eyes, as his whole body tensed and his hand curled into a fist. You immediately placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him away. Then with a swift move you kicked Butcher in the face with enough force to knock him to the floor. He was caught completely off guard, but oddly enough seemed to enjoy the situation in his own twisted way. His lips curled into a devilish smirk, teeth stained with blood as you stood over him.

“Touch Hughie again and I will end you, asshole,” you snarled at him and then turned to Hughie, who was shocked by what happened, but clearly found it enjoyable. “Come on, Hughie. It’s not worth it. Let’s go somewhere else.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the stairs.

Two days later you were still slowly losing your minds on the damn boat. You and Butcher generally avoided each other. Until the second night, when he called you all for a team meeting on the upper deck. You were all reluctant to attend, feeling a bit jumpy from the boredom that had settled over the boat. MM stayed near the stairs, arms crossed. Frenchie and Kimiko seemed more engrossed in their silent conversation than in what Butcher had to say. You and Hughie leaned against the railing, looking skeptical as hell.

"All right, you lot, don't look so grim, will ya? I found us a golden ticket out of this mess as I promised ya," Butcher appeared and proclaimed triumphally.

"What is it this time, Butcher? What is the latest mess you’ve gotten us into?" MM scoffed.

"Nah, it's not like that, mate. Listen, I spoke with Mallory. They'll give us full immunity, budget, office, the full package. We just have to do one tiny job for them in exchange."

"Mon Dieu, here we go," Frenchie cast a wary look. Butcher gave him a stare, but remained silent.

"There's this supe Mindstorm. Cheeky little bugger. Apparently the guy has gone a bit bonkers and hides in a cabin deep in the woods, shitting his pants from paranoia. CIA wants him captured or killed. Easy peasy, nothing that we can't handle."

You couldn't help but snort. It always started like this with him before quickly going sideways. Butcher's gaze shifted to you instantly, his piercing hazel eyes fixing on you. “Unless the Queen of fuckin England here has something to say. Let’s hear it, love.”

You held his gaze. "Let's just do it and hopefully, we’ll be able to put an end to this nightmare and return home."

The others agreed with you. A plan was formulated and the next couple of hours were spent discussing the details. Just as everyone was leaving and you were about to follow them, Butcher approached you and blocked your way with his large hand. "Hold up for a second, will ya?"

"What do you want?" your defenses went up immediately.

"Do we have a problem ‘ere?" he gestured between you and him. "Cause if there is some unfinished business we better sort it out right now and don't let it affect the mission." He noticeably shortened the distance between you two. His intense gaze, full of spite and menace, was fixed directly on you. For a brief moment you thought you picked up something else in it, something more...unexpected. But you quickly dismissed this notion and maintained your defenses.

"We are even, so long as you keep your hands off Hughie."

Butcher chuckled, "I get it, you love the kid. But he is a grown ass man and just maybe you should let him stand up for himself occasionally, don't ya think?"

You opted not to reply and instead gave him a look filled with contempt before leaving the deck. Butcher remained staring in your direction. The truth was that he was impressed by you. He would never admit it out loud, but Mallory was right: you were an excellent addition to the team. Your skills were impressive, especially with guns; you were independent, confident, a quick thinker and had a very calm demeanor under pressure. On top of that, you were wickedly funny. And hot. If only you weren’t such a massive cunt. Sometimes your mere presence was irritating to him. Butcher sighed.

#billy butcher #the boys #monsters fic #billy butcher fic #billy butcher brainrot go brr #karl urban #billy butcher x you #the boys tv #the boys amazon #the boys prime #william butcher #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x ofc

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justmeinadaze · 4 months

Note

Hi! I’m 23 but requesting anonymously because this is a similar situation I experienced and wished someone would have been there for me.

I was wondering if you would be interested in writing a Steddie x reader story where the reader recently lost her grandma who she lived with in a two bedroom apartment. It’s left the reader financially strapped and she posts an ad for a roommate. Steve and Eddie are looking for a place and sees the ad. Steve is a nurse and Eddie is a mechanic or masseuse (two extremes but I feel like Eddie is always a mechanic lol).

The reader is really withdrawn and struggling with grief because her grandma was all she had. She is working two jobs and not taking care of herself. She wears herself out and gets sick. She’s really resistant to letting anyone take care of her. And she doesn’t talk to Steve and Eddie much because she’s trying to hide her struggles and doesn’t want to bother them. And it’s an adjustment to living with other people. Steve and Eddie have a huge soft spot for the reader and want to take care of her.

There can be smut or no smut in this or if it would happen to turn into two or more parts! You’re a talented writer so I have no doubt you will write this beautifully!

A/N: It took me awhile to get to this because it struck a cord with me. I get this. I am this minus a Steve and Eddie.

I think I've mentioned it before but my father suddenly passed away 10 years ago and it destroyed me. I still deal with the aftermath of that to this day. Not only do I struggle with that grief but I struggle with how I was and have been treated which is why I am a big advocate on taking the time to feel what you feel and no matter what anyone says THERE IS NO TIME LIMIT ON GRIEF.

The doctor experience I write in this story happened to me and the chaos of that...I can't even... But yeah...more than anything I want anyone who's grieving a loved one to know, you are not alone, you are not broken, your feelings are valid, and I love you <3.

The title of this comes from "Guernica" by Brand New. I was thinking of this song when I got the request because the lead singer wrote it for his grandfather who was sick in the hospital.

P.S. I am more than willing to write another part to this. I wanted to focus on the emotional aspect more than a smutty aspect for this first part.

Warnings: Topic of Grief and loss of a family member, panic attack mentioned in slight detail, Steve and Eddie have an established relationship here.

"I submit no excuse

If this is what I have to do

I owe you every day I wake

If I could I would shrink myself

Sink through your skin to your blood cells

Remove whatever makes you hurt

But I am too weak to be your cure

Is this the way a toy feels when its batteries run dry?

I am the watch you always wear but you forget to wind."

“So, um, yeah the rent is $1300 including utilities and it’s due on the first of the month. You can leave it on the counter here and I can take it down to make the payment.”

Watching them go through her room was like being stabbed in the chest. When your grandmother passed, a part of you died with her and it killed you even more when you had to slowly begin removing things from her room to make space for a new roommate. Your grandma was your everything basically being a mother to you when everyone else disappeared. When she got sick it, it was no brainer to have her move in so you could look out for her with as much love and care as she had you growing up.

For four years, she fought her disease until heaven decided it was time for her to go home. After that you began to spiral and not just personally but within life. When did everything become so expensive? Even in your rent-controlled apartment, you could barely afford the bills because everything else around you escalated to the point where now you couldn’t even take out a small loan to get groceries because your credit was so fucked up.

You didn’t want to get a roommate and avoided the notion as long as possible but when it was becoming harder and harder to live day to day, you finally gave in.

You were surprised when a boy answered your ad you had placed in the paper but when he told you their story, you couldn’t help but sympathize.

“Yeah, my boyfriend and I are looking for a nice, safe place. The small town we were living in was already harassing him for the way he looks but when they found out we were together… I knew I needed to get us both out of there.”

“We can take it if you want. I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of everything.”, the pretty boy who introduced himself as Steve responded as he leaned against the wall next to you.

“I mean it’s no problem. I work a couple of jobs so I usually leave pretty early anyway.”

“Me to. Well, it’s more like me coming in early because I work overnights from time to time. I’m not sure if the hospital over here is the same but… yeah. What, um, what do you think, babe?”

The longhaired boy who told you his name was Eddie beamed widely your way.

“I love it. Are you sure we won’t be bothering you, sweetheart? We’re nice guys, we swear.”

“No. No bother.”

Both men glance towards each other at your sullen tone before Steve extended his hand towards you with an equal large but soft smile of his own.

“We’ll take it.”

***

You didn’t anticipate how hard it was going to be having someone in the apartment again let alone people that reminded you of her. Before she retired, your grandmother was a nurse and when the scent of hand sanitizer and hospital lingered on Steve’s admittedly beautiful hands, your mind shifted to the stories she would tell you about her late nights talking with patients in her care.

Through smell alone, you learned Eddie got a job as a mechanic at the shop down the street and the first night when the aroma of gasoline lingered you cried at the memories of being a little girl with your grandparents, sitting by your grandfather’s truck as he attempted to fix it for the 400th time.

Loneliness began to set in almost immediately after they moved in. They never actively displayed affection in front of you but there were moments when you were leaving for work and you’d pass by their open bedroom door to see them cuddled together. Sometimes at night when you would come home from your second job, you would hear Eddie talking to Steve over the phone while he was at work and he would giggle at something the man said on the other line before telling him how much he loved him.

You missed having someone care about you…

Your grandparents had always been there for you through everything; every breakup, rough patch in life, or just to have someone remind you that you were loved unconditionally…they were there.

When your grandmother lived with you, you laughed harder, smiled wider, and loved waking up in the morning. Now that all seemed so far away, so unattainable. You couldn’t ever picture yourself being happy like that again.

To avoid that pain, you ran around constantly. It’s not like you could stop anyway with how hard things got around you. Life moves on…you can’t stop just because you’re numb. You suffer through it just like everyone else.

“Y/N?”

At the sound of Eddie’s voice, you jumped shattering the glass in your hand.

“Fuck, I’m sorry—”

“No, no. That was my fault. You seemed lost in thought. Don’t move, I can clean this up here.”

Nodding, you stood still as you watched him run to grab a broom before your brain caught up with you.

“Wait! Wait, um, don’t…don’t throw away the glass. This was, um, someone in my family gave me this cup.”

“Oh, uh, ok. Well, I don’t see a lot of little pieces. I can try and fix it for you. Do you feel comfortable coming into our room?”

Silently, you headed in that direction, pausing in front of the bed as the metalhead shimmed around you to dig in the desk drawer by the window. Everything in the room was completely different. Where her bed with her yellow comforter used to be was now a bigger bed, higher off the ground with black sheets and blue pillowcases. Where her dresser used to be with the vanity that had photos taped to the mirror was now a much smaller 3 drawer shelf with a guitar hanging above it. On the nightstand, instead of medication and a photo of you with your grandparents, there was now a pack of cigarettes, empty beer cans, a photo of both men, and a book that was half read.

“Ok, I knew Steve had it around here somewhere. I’m clumsy as hell so he’s always fixing things I accidently break.”, Eddie mused as he sat on the floor and began to focus on his task. “So, um, how are you?”

You couldn’t help but breathily laugh at the awkward way he asked that making him smirk at the sound as you took a seat in front of him.

“I’m alright. I just have a lot going on, you know?”

“Yeah, you come and go a lot like Steve but he gets to sleep. What do you do if I may ask?”

“I’m actually a photographer for the paper.”

“Oooo paparazzi girl!” Eddie’s grin grows as his eyes take you in watching you genuinely laugh for the first time since they met you. “Is that why you come and go at weird hours?”

“Oh, no. When I’m not there, I have another job at the mall taking photos of like families and kids at Glamour Shots.”

“Yeah? Those shiny, glimmering photos? I keep trying to get Steve to take a couple of those with me but he gets adorably embarrassed.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Geez, uh, almost 3 years now. Spent the first couple hiding our relationship because of our town and his parents, rich fuckers who think they control the moral high ground.”, he rolls his eyes. “A few months ago, he finally told them we were together and his parents kicked him out of his house. A couple weeks later, I got harassed at my job and that was the final straw. Steve packed our things and we drove out here.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No reason for you to be, princess. You’ve been nothing but nice to us. Well, when we see you.”, he chuckles. “Steve gets worried sometimes that you push yourself too hard.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m strong. I’ll be ok.”

“No one’s saying your weak, Y/N.”

“Good because I’m not!” You snap as silence falls over the room before Eddie displays the cup for you with his palm on the bottom.

“You may not want to use it for its purpose but keep it as a display.”

Without taking it from him, you rise to your feet and run to your room, slamming the door.

###########

Everything was loud.

Why is everything so loud?

You were running late for your second job and you couldn’t find the polo you wore for it. You felt disgusting, not having time to shower in what felt like an eternity and you were just so fucking exhausted. You couldn’t afford to lose this job nor calling in to rest. You had to make money. It’s what everyone else does.

Why is everything so loud?

As you opened your door, you were met with Eddie standing at the counter in the kitchen.

“Have, um, have you seen…”

“Y/N, are you alright?” Tears cloud your vision as you run your fingers through your hair and absently look around the apartment with your eyes. “BABE.”

You flinched at the metalhead’s loud but stern tone not even realizing that Steve was suddenly in front of you with his hands on your biceps.

“Y/N, what’s going on?”

“Let me go! I have…I have to…to go to work…”, you sobbed before your legs gave out and the world went black.

***

When your eyes finally fluttered open, it was pitch dark outside and your body felt incredibly drained. It felt like every bone in your body had become stiff as you carefully tried to sit up.

“Hey, no, no, no. Don’t move to quickly or we’ll lose you again.”, Steve cooed softly as he came up from behind you and sat down on his knees to help adjust you. “Good. Here, drink some of this but not too fast.”

When he handed you the bottle of water, you gladly sipped it as his concerned eyes scanned you over.

“How are you feeling?”

“Heavy.”

“I’m not surprised. When you push your body as hard as you have at some point it pushes back. Do you think you can eat something while we talk?”

When you nodded, a plate appeared beside you as Eddie handed it to his partner.

“I’m going to ask you some questions purely from a medical standpoint, ok? Do you feel comfortable if Ed stays? He had a bit of a panic attack to when we couldn’t wake you up.”

“That’s fine.”, you whisper. “Is that what happened? I panicked?”

“Um, kind of, honey. This kind of seems like a slow build so I would say anxiety attack. We know you work pretty much around the clock and you told me when I called that you were struggling with cash. Has anything else been going on?”

“Someone…that mattered to me…is gone. Died.”

Eddie sat on the couch next you and without thinking brushed some of your hair behind your ear so they could see your face better.

“I’m sorry. How long ago?”, the nurse continued to inquire.

“On the 18th it will be 8 months.”

“And you’ve been doing everything you have?! Y/N.”, the metalhead sighed as his boyfriend gave him a look of warning as if to say tread carefully. “Sweetheart, you should be taking it easy so you can grieve.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m supposed to be fine by now.”, you murmur as you shrug your shoulders. “After my grandmother died, I got 2 weeks paid leave for bereavement. Two weeks. Two weeks of fucking casseroles, sympathies, and people checking in. After that time, everyone began to slowly disappear and I went back to work but I never…I never felt whole. I didn’t understand why everyone else seemed fine while I was still felt like I was dying.”

“After two months, I went to a doctor and told them how I felt. Do you know what she said? ‘After 6 weeks, it’s no longer grief but depression.’ That shook me. I thought to myself ‘well shit. I guess there is a time limit on grieving and there must be something wrong with me because I can’t get better!’”

The tears begin to fall at a faster pace and you let them go.

“I still have to work, pay my bills, live my life… but no one ever walked me through how to do that. No one ever showed me how to continue existing without the person you love…without someone who meant the most to you… I wasn’t prepared to be left alone without her.”

Eddie presses your head to his chest as you sob, his arms squeezing you tightly as he whispered that you were ok. Sudden heat warmed your side as Steve leaned his head against your shoulder as he intertwined his fingers with yours while your body trembled against them.

This had been a long time coming and you allowed the pain to wash over you till you fell asleep in their arms.

***

This time when you opened your eyes, you were bundled up in a blanket with your head still against Eddie’s chest with one hand comfortingly rubbing your arm while the other held a book he was reading.

“What are you reading?”

Tilting his head, his gentle eyes take you in as he grins and closes the book to show you the cover.

The Vampire Lestat.

“I love vampires but Steve likes werewolves. Should have known he’d break my heart one day.”, he teased as the other boy comes around and places a soda with more food on the coffee table in front of you.

“They are big dog like animals. How can you not like them? Y/N, I want you to at least eat a little bit of this, ok? You need to refuel.”

Not wanting to leave the metalheads comfortable embrace, you whine as you sit up until the smell of the pasta hits your nostrils and you realize how hungry you actually are.

“Slow! Goodness.”, Steve chuckles as he takes a seat on floor after serving his partner and himself as well.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had a home cooked meal. Usually, I’m eating microwaved food or something I pick up on the way to and from work. This is delicious, Steve, thank you.”

The three of you casually talk allowing you to really get to the know the men you had been living with. Eddie loved music and had been playing guitar since he was a little boy. He and his uncle had been fixing up cars since he moved in with him after his father went to jail. Steve learned in high school he enjoyed helping people and after he graduated he went to nursing school.

“My dad gave me shit because I’m ‘settling’ and not becoming a doctor. I like what I do though. As a nurse I get more one on one with patients and make them feel cared for which as you noticed is hard in today’s society. Doctors seem to care more about the money and not the person.”

His eyes drink in your demeanor as you smile, agreeing with his words. Your entire energy seemed different since the first time they met you. You seemed to be relaxing a bit more and some of what he assumed was your normal personality began to shine through.

“What about you, honey? Eddie told me you’re a photographer.”

Silently, you unraveled the blanket you had been tangled in and bounced to your bedroom, returning with some photos that you placed on the coffee table in front of them.

“This man here proposed to this girlfriend by painting a mural on the side of an abandoned building that the city was going to tear down. The mayor called it graffiti and they tried arresting him for it.”

“Oh, wow. That’s gorgeous. I hope this guy is making a ton of money in like New York or something.”, the longhaired boy grins.

“This young lady saved her baby brother from a fire.”

“This are amazing, Y/N. You are extremely talented. “

“What was this story about?”, Steve asked as he held up a photo of an older woman smiling on the couch by a window watching the rain.

“That’s my grandma.”, you softly smile as you take it from his hands. “This was about a year before she… I remember we were talking about some trivial stuff and suddenly she turned to me and said ‘Life is beautiful. Even something as small as listening to the rain is never something you should take for granted.’”

“I like that.”, Eddie responded with a tender tone that made you feel safe. “She was right. I know it’s hard with all the bullshit going on in the world but… I think we do need to stop and take a look around, you know?”

“Y/N, honey, we hope you know that you don’t have to do everything yourself. We can help you. We have some money in savings if you need to take a break and—”

“No. No, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, we’re offering.”, Steve insisted. “At least, quit your second job. You need a moment to breathe. We can help with any extra bills you may have until you really get back on your feet.”

Tilting forward, you kissed his cheek before leaning towards Eddie to do the same.

“Thank you…so much…”

################

Over the next week, you felt more motivated to do things you hadn’t wanted to do over the past 8 months. You did what Steve suggested and quit your job at the mall. You began moving around and leaving the apartment for fun things instead of work. You accompanied the boys to a movie at the theater and took them to the lake where you basked in the sunlight all day.

You took the time to eat healthier, home cooked meals even offering to make your roommates a meal every now and again. Sometimes when you knew Steve would be out all night, you left some leftovers in the refrigerator and wake up the next morning with a note on the counter thanking you with a big smiley face.

One morning, however, you were surprised with something different. When you opened your bedroom door to get some coffee, you noticed a box with a big red bow on the top and a piece of paper attached to the side.

“Y/N,

There’s no bottom to the box so all you need to do is lift. I was afraid if we put this in an actual box it may break. Steve said it would be ok but I reminded him he fixes people not objects : ).

Eddie’s been working on this for a while but we thought after how well you’ve been doing, we just wanted to show you how proud we are of you and how much we’ve enjoyed having you in our lives.

Eddie & Steve”

Carefully lifting the wrapped box and placing it aside, you picked up the glass you had dropped and Eddie had tried to fix. The blank material now had an image of your grandmother you had showed them illustrated on to it with her head turned towards the window. Instead of watching the rain, when she looked out the window there was a detailed drawing of you grinning with your fingers tangled in your hair as you were moving it behind your ear.

He had painted it with light colors, giving her an angelic glow that broke you as you began to cry.

Your feet scooted against the floor as you hurried towards their door and knocked on it a bit too enthusiastically causing it to fly open with a panicked look on the metalhead’s half asleep face.

“What!? What’s going on? Where’s the fire?!”

You tackled your arms around his neck, not even realizing he was only in boxers. From the bed, Steve saw what was in your hand, smirking as he fell back against the pillow and slung his arm over his eyes.

“Thank you for this. You have no idea how much this means to me.”, you whispered.

When he finally realized nothing was wrong, his arms settled around your waist.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. You’re not alone, Y/N. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself, ok?” As you pull away and let him go, his hands cup your face as he dries your tears. “Now go back to bed, you fucking weirdo. It’s too early.”, he teases as he lightly pushes you away making you giggle as he turns back around and crawls into bed.

“May I—”

Before you can finish your sentence, he lifts up the covers and Steve pats the mattress between them. Once you climb in, the pretty boy lifts his arm and circles it around you to tug you closer to his side. When your head rests on his bare chest, your surprised at how warm and comfortable he feels against you, looping your arm around him as you nuzzle into his skin. Another set of arms wrap around your waist pressing you against Eddie’s equally comforting frame.

His steady breath hitting your shoulder mixed with the other man’s heartbeat lulls you into the heaviest sleep you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

#############

Steddie Asks

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judasgot-it · 1 year

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Argument with Dazai Part 2

Here's a link to part 1 if you haven't read that, people asked for a second part (I love you guys I will always write second parts if you ask btw no matter how old the post is) so I am now finally delivering !! Sorry I'm a slow writer lol I can't help it

This almost makes me seem like I hate Dazai but I try to follow canon and dude is a menace when it comes to relationships, but I tried to redeem him best I can! LOL

Scenario: Getting into an argument with Dazai; making up <3

You could feel the heat from the day leaving beads of sweat on the back of your neck, your thick shirt sticking to your back as you carried your bags on your lower arms. It was uncomfortable, threatening to slip off as you tried to unlock your door.

Inside your head, you were praying that Dazai had left for the day.

But you watched as your keys, still stuck into your door, jingled as the door swung open on its own. Behind the door, you saw your walkway, with your usually haphazardly thrown shoes now neatly put away, and there were a pair of chestnut eyes looking shyly at you, waiting for you to step in.

Taking your keys, you tried to avoid those eyes, instead focusing intently on resettling yourself back into your home. You tried to ignore the hand that hung your keys next to his, fingers doing so as if the metal were made of glass. You turned your head as you felt those hands slipping the plastic bags off of your arms, ignoring how cold his hand felt next to your own skin.

You merely observed as your body did the same as it always did, walking into your apartment and observing the changes.

For once, you were surprised.

"Do you wanna sit down?"

Dazai put a feather-light touch on your shoulder, leaning so close you could feel his hair sticking to the sweat on your face. You pushed him away.

"Dazai."

You finally turned to look at him. The man you usually knew to stand tall and straight had his shoulders slumped over - his entire body gave into you, as if it were already an apology in itself.

You could see him eating his ego as he looked at you, his eyebrows taught as he kept his hands at his sides.

"I'm sorry about what happened."

He rushed it out as if trying to prevent your harsh words from hurting him more than your mere presence did. Guilt was eating him alive.

You looked down at the floor. What you had expected to do when you came home was clean up the rest of his mess - but right now, instead of stepping on sticky alcohol, the floor you were standing on was spotless.

"There's no point."

You moved to sit on the couch, crossing your ankle over your knee. Dazai's shadow was near your foot, begging to be acknowledged. Its cold static wisps were clawing at your white sock, although the man himself had made no move to come closer towards you.

In all your time of knowing him, sharing space with him, you had never known him to be scared.

"You won't tell me why you acted like that, besides the alcohol. Dazai, I've known you for years, but I don't even know who you are. I don't know if anyone knows who you really are, anyhow. And I don't think you're going to tell me."

A weight settled a small distance from you, only enough to feel the disturbance in the cushions he made with his weight. You passed a glance at his hands, which were kept firmly on his thighs, twisting and picking at his nails. They were red and raw as if he were set on destroying himself all day.

"I don't know how to tell you. There's a beginning that I can't even look for myself. The worst parts are too painful to bring up, but I know you want to know at least why I do the things I do, right?"

A nothing answer, maybe a lead. Dazai was vague at best with this, but with the way he was trying to peel even the tiniest piece of skin away from his thumb, it was clearly difficult for him to spit it out.

You gave pause, having a moment of silence between the two of you, before you replied.

"Is it loss?"

There was a deep breath that Dazai released at that. You finally looked up at his face, watching as his brown eyes were carefully trying to conceal the emotions that he felt. You could see clear as day, past the mask that he had carefully built up, that his eyes were large and wet, with a pulled-back lip to hide the shaking.

This affected him. Deeply.

It was so apparent but he seemed to hide it better than you would ever suspect. He only seemed to show his grief in self-destruction. Self-inflicted punishment for a crime he didn't commit - how Dazai of him.

"Yes. It was a few years ago now, but he was the closest thing I had to a father. After he died, um..."

You reached out to Dazai, placing your hand over his, peeling his other hand away from his now bleeding thumb. His eyes met yours.

"Sorry. I was never a good person before I knew him. I promised to be better for him, but I'm not good at it."

You looked to your hands, where you felt his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. You could feel the callouses on his skin as they brushed against the back of your hand, back and forth in a languid Dazai-esque pattern.

"Well. You try. It's why I came back. I think he would be proud of you for that - if he saw that you were trying. That's the only thing you can do when you make these kinds of mistakes."

You took your other hand, reaching up to brush away Dazai's hair that stuck to his neck due to the sweat. His skin was cold and clammy as he leaned into your touch.

Pulling him closer, you let the brow fall against your collarbone as you gently stroked the back of his neck, feeling the small stubble of hairs that were growing from his last haircut. Dazai pressed himself closer against you, trying to hide his face in his bangs and in your shirt, although you could feel the tears that he tried to hide.

Dazai held your hand a little tighter.

You pulled him a little closer.

The apartment you shared felt more like a home today.

Idk if I like the ending LOL but um this is kinda long?? also sorry if this reads different than usual cause im trying to improve my writing style im just figuring it out aaaahhhhhhh

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x y/n #dazai x y/n #dazai x you

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buckera · 6 months

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Fuck It Friday 🧇

Aalrighty. First of all; BI BUCK IS CANON, WHAT A DAY TO BE ALIVE?! Second of all; check out my new header, isn't he ever so pretty?? 🥹

Anyway, I have been sitting on this for ages and I thought since 1) this is literally the beginning of the fic and 2) it is more than likely getting scrapped at this point (or just majorly reworked, we'll see what will the finale bring), why not share one of my favourite bits from it?

(And for the people keep asking me why I wanna scrap them just because they aren't canon compliant: because I don't care to write something that doesn't line up with canon unless it's an actual AU where I can tweak things, this is just my personal neurosis but I'd appreciate if everyone just left it at that, thank you. 💛)

Buck had always thought that the term ‘love of one’s life’ was too broad. For starters, how do you even go about defining it? How would you even know?

When he was with Abby, he thought that she was the love of his life — and probably that was the truth at the time — it was an affection that burned with the uncareful fire of first love, destroying much of everything in its wake when pushed off balance by the winds of eagerness and fear of loss.

With Ali, it was more casual and Buck liked her a lot, truly, but in the end, they barely had the time to settle into anything more serious, before a ladder truck crushed Buck’s leg and put an unexpected strain on their relationship.

How can you really tell when you love someone so much that it’s actually not possible to love anyone else more, ever again?

He learned the answer to his question just before he started dating Taylor.

Apparently, the love of your life doesn’t always come into your life with loud fanfares and bright neon lights reading “HERE I AM”. No.

Instead, you meet them, you learn to like them and somewhere down the line you fall; you fall so deep and so gradually that you don’t even realize that you stepped into a bottomless pit until you’re too far from the mouth of the tunnel to crawl back up.

It came in stages and yet the realization hit Buck like a punch to the gut, sucking all the air out of his lungs and leaving him numb in his fingers.

✨I've been tagged by and am totally no pressure tagging the marvelous @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @goforkinard @exhuastedpigeon @nmcggg @bidisasterbuckdiaz @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @honestlydarkprincess @watchyourbuck @actualalligator mwuahhh 💛

#what a night #what a day #bi buck is canon and i can't stop thinking about how lucky we are to have a cast like this #buddie #911 #the jealous eddie fic #wip

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peculiar-peculiars · 2 years

Text

Right On Time| Enoch O’Connor X Fem! Reader Pt. 2

A/N: I know it’s been months y’all, I’m so sorry (writers block is a bitch and a half lol) but just recently, inspiration struck and now, part 2 is finally here and hopefully just as good as part 1 sdfghjkl. Please enjoy!

(part 1 here)

As the afternoon sun began to raise higher above the peculiar children's home, Enoch stood at the doorway to (Y/n)'s room as she rummaged around underneath her bed.

“Well, the jar’s not under here either, this is the last place that I could think of to search.”

"So, what do we do now? We've looked everywhere around the house and the jar is nowhere to be found. At this point, we're better off cutting our losses and going about our days." Shrugged Enoch as he picked at the chipping paint of the door.

"Yeah, I don't think so! You said you would help me find it, so that is exactly what you will do, no matter how long it takes."

"And what will you do if I don't? Destroy my room and the kitchen again like some kind of tornado?" Enoch smirked as he knelt down next to (Y/n).

"Haha, very funny! If I didn't need your help, I would absolutely be kicking your butt right now..." (Y/n) replied sarcastically as she got up from the floor to sit on her bed and put on her shoes.

"That doesn't answer my question, (L/n)."

"Must you be so annoying all the time?! You're always so impatient!"

"And I'll keep being impatient until we actually end up finding your heart! So where do we look now?!"

"Well, if its not anywhere around the house then that leaves just one place that it could be..."

"And that is?"

"Somewhere just outside the shop in town." (Y/n) sighed as she crossed her arms with a sputter of her lips.

"What? Why would it be there?" Asked Enoch with a confused expression.

"Sometimes, Hugh will take it and sell it to the shopkeepers son for money for candy. I told him not to do it again, but he never listens. I always get it back, of course, but it's frustrating when he does that."

"If that's the case, then should we start walking to town? If we want to get there and back before The Bird resets the loop, We'll have to go now."

"Ugh, I hate it when you're right... Let's go and get this over with, corpse-brain." Groaned (Y/n) as she pushed herself off of her mattress.

"After you, cuckoo's nest!"

As the pair quickly made their way out of the house and down the path to Cairnholm Village, the air was filled with nothing but the sound of small animals chittering and footsteps against gravel. Walking side by side, Enoch and (Y/n) tried to avoid any and all eye contact as they looked at the plants and hills they passed.

Eventually getting sick of the deafening emptiness growing between them, Enoch finally spoke as he rubbed the back of his head.

“So, why exactly is the heart so important to you? It isn’t like you need it anymore since you obviously have your clock in it’s place.”

(Y/n) scoffed as she spun her head to look at him with an slightly annoyed glint in her eyes.

“Why do you want to know so badly?”

“If I’m gonna be forced to help you find it, I might as well know why it means so much for you to still have it in your room.”

(Y/n) looked at the boy with with watchful eyes before sighing and glancing back down to her feet. With a shrug of her shoulders as she watched her shoes stamp against the pathway, she began to speak again.

“Honestly, I’m not entirely sure... I think part of it is that it’s the one thing that reminds me I’m still human. I mean, I’ve got a mechanical heart and have been living in an eternal loop for over half a century, so it’s hard not to feel like some kind of freak on occasion...”

Enoch stopped in place as he turned to look at the girl by his side. Without realizing what he was doing, he placed a hand on her shoulder to spin her towards him.

“Hey, you are not a freak. If anything, you’re the most boring ward at the house, and I mean that as a compliment.”

“That’s a weird way to compliment someone, O’Connor.”

“It’s the truth, though. Being boring is a good thing when it comes to peculiars like us. You’re able to live a simpler life than someone like Millard or Claire or even me. To be honest, I envy you at times.”

“Really? You, of all people, envy me?”

“Of course. I would give the world to be more like you. Your simple peculiarity is what makes you special, (L/n), whether you think so or not.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate that.” (Y/n) smiled softly.

Enoch gently smiled and nodded his head in reply before the distant sound of a bell reached his ears.

Focusing back to what was ahead of them, the two peculiars looked back up to see a black roof pop over the edge of the hill they had been climbing.

“Hey, look! We’re here!” (Y/n) announced, speeding up her walk as the edge of town had finally been spotted.

As they wandered through the village, people gave the two teens suspicious glances, but decided not to do anything as they passed by, opting to go back to whatever work they had been previously doing. Before too long, they approached an alleyway, where a small crowd parted revealing a teenaged boy showing his friends the jar with (Y/n)’s heart.

"There he is. Follow me!" (Y/n) said as she began to jog over to the red-haired boy.

As the two peculiars approached the shop-keep's son, he turned around to acknowledge their presence with a tilt of his head.

"Excuse us! I think you have something that belongs to us, so could we have it back please?"

"No way, I worked long and hard to get this heart right here. I'm gonna sell it to a scientist, it's a fine specimen for analysis if I do say so m'self!"

"Ok, first off, I know that my friend Hugh sold it to you a few hours ago and second, it's mine anyway, so could you please just give it back?" (Y/n) requested as she pinched at the bridge of her nose.

"Well, what's in it for me, little missy?” The teenager smirked to his friends as he looked down upon her.

"How about you getting to keep all of your teeth, you little brat?!" Hissed (Y/n) as the ticking of her heart slowly grew faster and louder as she grew angrier.

When Enoch realized that the noise of the cuckoo clock chiming could get the both of them caught by the villagers and in big trouble with Miss Peregrine, he stepped in between the two to try and diffuse the situation.

(Y/n) huffed angrily as Enoch gave her a warning glimpse before pivoting back around to speak to the puzzled red-head.

"Ok, listen up, we don't have a lot of time or a lot of patience for this right now, so if you give us that jar, I’ll give you these in exchange."

Turning around to reach into his pocket to grab something, he pulled out a handful of tiny hearts, possibly taken from mice and small rabbits.

"Why do you have those in your pocket?” The boy asked with a slightly disgusted look on his face.

"C’mon, man, Are you gonna take them or not?!" Enoch urged angrily as he shoved his hand towards the boy.

Warily looking at the hearts in Enoch's hand for a moment, the boy shrugged before handing the jar to (Y/n) and taking the pile of miniscule organs.

“Shame you have to leave so soon, that heart of yours is quite the beauty!” The teen teased (Y/n) before spinning around with a brash laugh.

As the boy departed with his friends, she scowled at them before sighing in relief as she held the jar up to inspect for any cracks or leaks. When she saw it was unharmed, she carefully placed it into one arm and pulled Enoch into an embrace with the other.

“Oh, thank you so much, Enoch! You have no idea how much this means to me!”

A fire-red blush arose on to Enoch’s face as he felt (Y/n)’s face grow wide with a smile. Hurriedly clearing his throat to dispel his nerves, he pulled away from the hug as he tried to hide his bashful expression.

“Ok, we’ve got it back, now let’s go.” Enoch grumbled, glaring angrily at the shopkeepers son before taking (Y/n)’s hand and pulling her back the way they came.

As they traveled back down the roads to the children’s home, (Y/n) hummed joyfully as she talked to Enoch.

“I still can’t believe you did that for me! You needed those hearts for your homunculi, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, well, I figured today would be as good a day as any to give them up. That guy needed a heart that matched the size of his brain, so I figured I’d give him a few of them.” Quipped Enoch with a sly smile.

Seeing (Y/n) smile in his presence was rare for him, so when she started giggling softly at his joke, he found that his own heart matched the speed of her clocks ticking hands.

"You know, you're not so scary sometimes, O'Connor. When you come out of your shell, you can actually be kind of funny." Sighed (Y/n) as she kicked at a few pebbles on the ground.

"I can say the same about you yelling at me all the time. You're pretty nice for a cuckoo bird who won’t stop chirping in my face."

"Oh, you wound me, sir! And here I thought we were becoming friends!”

“Whoa, I never said that!” Enoch laughed as he held up his hands in surrender.

“You didn’t have to! I could tell just by looking at you that you want to be my very best friend!” Joked (Y/n) as they climbed an incline in the road.

“Ok, ok, we can be friends! Just be careful, you’re going to fall if you don’t watch where you’re stepping.”

“Oh, please, I’m as careful as careful can-” (Y/n) began to claim before she yelped out a shrill shriek.

Not having paid attention to where she was going, (Y/n) had slipped on a pile of loose rocks, falling towards a ditch that ran along the side of the treelined path.

"(Y/n)!" Shouted Enoch as she stumble after she lost her footing.

Not wanting to break the jar by dropping it or falling on it, she hastily tried to move her body so that her back hit the grimy pit . Bracing herself for a rough landing, (Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut as she fell through the air.

Expecting to come in contact with bumpy, jagged stones and wet dirt, (Y/n) was surprised when the only thing she could feel was the soft breeze in the air and something around her waist.

Opening her eyes again, she looked down to see a pair of arms circling around her middle.

Cautiously bringing her head back up, (Y/n) held in a breath as she realized she was face to face with Enoch, who had caught her just before she had hit the rocky ground.

The two stood unmoving for a moment, looking into each others eyes before the boy decided to break the awkward silence that filled the air.

"Are you okay?..." Enoch questioned carefully.

"Yes, I- I think so... thank you for... catching me." (Y/n) responded as she timidly cast her eyes to the side.

"You're welcome..."

"Uh... you can let me go now..."

"Oh, yeah, sorry...” Enoch muttered, letting go of (Y/n) and smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt.

With a mumble of appreciation, (Y/n) stood up straight and took a step back before shaking her head.

“Um, I think I’m gonna stay here for a minute. You know, just to make sure the jar didn’t break...”

“Are you sure? I can wait with you.”

“I’ll be fine, you go on ahead. I might be a little while anyway, just make sure Miss Peregrine doesn’t realize I’m not there .”

“Alright, if you’re sure... See you back at home, then...”

Enoch waved half-heartedly before stuffing his hands in his pockets and continuing to hike his way back towards the house.

As (Y/n) watched him walk further down the path, a warm heat rose to her cheeks as she thought about the events from earlier.

Despite their constant arguments with each other, Enoch still offered to help her look for her heart and gave up some of his own collection to get it back, and not one minute ago, he caught her from falling when he could just as easily have let her hit the ground.

Even with their past fights, they would always try to make up later by giving each other small gifts or leaving dinner at each others door when they were late to eat.

Yes, she might have hated his guts earlier that day, but now? She wasn’t so sure that was the case.

As the quiet ticking of her heart started to pound in her ears, she froze in place as she came to a realization.

Even though they argued sometimes, she still cared about Enoch.

“Oh...”

A lot.

“Oh, no.” She whispered to herself.

#enoch o'connor #enoch o'connor x reader #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #mphfpc #yes there will eventually be a part 3 don't worry y'all

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rahuratna · 3 months

Note

I finished watching JJK Season 2 Ep. 18, and it is literally not okay. I take foreverrrr when I watch a new series because I *have to* savor every moment of it. Anyways, I finished Ep. 17 on July 2, so I purposely prolonged the next episode until after Nanami’s birthday since I knew what was going to happen but ended up procrastinating longer than intended…

I’m in literal tears right now and won’t sleep well for the next three nights. This is like the hardest I’ve ever cried for a character in forever 😭 😭

Can we discuss everything Nanami talked about on that episode? I’m sorry if I’m not clear in explaining my thoughts, the enormity of the loss of a fictional man feels incredibly real. I need more closure, and I am going to be rereading your fics too after for some much needed comfort ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Nanami expressed his exhaustion. He was so tired. He wanted to go to Malaysia and read the books he meant to read but never had the time for. Instead he chose to “[come] back over some vague reason like a job worth doing.” Here he was confiding to Haibara about his purpose, one of the biggest motifs in JJK. It feels so raw and human, how Nanami has such simple and peaceful desires but he chose to give them up without a clear reason. Did he regret it? Did Nanami have a fulfilling life? Did he sacrifice too much?

(Speaking of regrets, have you watched Attack on Titan? It’s such a big theme in that show and I can’t help but draw parallels.)

Even though he said that he did enough (more than enough I believe), he followed this up with wondering how Fushiguro and Maki and Naobito were doing. It’s like an oxymoron. The implications here… I’m actually not okay 🥹. I think this means he had fulfilled his role as a jujutsu sorcerer, but it wasn’t enough to save all of his friends. He’d always continue to look out for them. Nanami cares so much and wants to protect them, and I think this answers my first question: he didn’t regret it in the end because he did the best he could. I don’t want to come off as overlooking all of Nanami’s losses and setbacks… I just want to know if Nanami’s fulfillment, his search for his enough, outweighed all of his sacrifices. That’s the closure I’m looking for.

Rest in peace, Nanami. I wish I could tell him that he was more than enough and beyond everything we could ever ask for. I learned so much from his character, and without him, I wouldn’t have such wonderful discussions with wonderful people. 💙💙🕊️🏝️

Oh my God, that episode destroyed me. I also had to take some time to process what had happened to a character who I genuinely loved and admired so much.

I think what hurts the most is that Nanami had such simple desires. He wanted to live his simple life and enjoy little pleasures, but his desire to protect and serve others, the way his heart was all-encompassing of these few people he cared about, really led him down a different path. He cared about the world. He cared about the younger generation. He cared about his colleagues and friends and he was such a kind and genuine person. This is what makes his death all the harder to cope with.

I also wondered, for so long, why the reasons surrounding his return to being a sorcerer were so vague. The part where he expresses how 'exhausted' he was was very significant to me. The flashbacks to his time as a salaryman, and also the way he deals with Haibara's death, show a common theme. He was always tired. Tired of having to live in a world where selfishness and greed is rewarded, tired of having to run in a meaningless rat race to achieve the small peace he so desired, exhausted by all the burdens placed on the shoulders of jujutsu sorcerers, on HIS shoulders.

What you mentioned really is the answer. He was exhausted, but for a much longer time than just in the scene leading up to his death. In that scene, he asks 'haven't I done enough?' in a way that's heartbreakingly plaintive, and to me, almost childlike in its simplicity. Yes, he'd done more than enough. He knew it. And yet, his own conscience, his own body, would not let him run from duty, from the people who he felt needed him.

If the timing has been slightly different, maybe Yuuji arriving earlier, or Nanami missing Mahito, then we could speculate on what may have occurred. Maybe he would have survived, if badly injured. Maybe he would have retired and found the life he always wanted. But his duty to the world of sorcery, since his life was empty of true purpose, would probably always have sucked him back in.

On the question of regret, I know exactly what you mean. There's too much for me to put in one post, but I will say this. The only occasions when Nanami appeared truly at peace, or when he actually smiled, were occasions when he was in mortal danger (like being trapped in Mahito's domain in their second fight at the school). When he takes his glasses off and remains so cool, looks so peaceful even, he says that he has no regrets, because he chose to live a life where he could use his skills to help people. He says that their gratitude is all he needs, implying that he defines himself by how much he can help others.

I think, at the end, that Nanami's exhausted plea was the cry of a human being, as if to a parent or deity. Why me? Why do I have to suffer like this? Everyone asks that question at some point. In his case, he answers that immediately by wondering about the safety of the others. I do think that Nanami would have wanted, desperately, that peaceful life for himself. I think he would have, as an ordinary man, harbored resentment and questioned why he had to give up so much for a corrupt and greed-driven world. What he didn't regret was saving the people who he cared about, the people who inhabit that world, and that thought gives me some peace. 🧡🧡💛💛

I have watched AoT, so let me know your thoughts about sacrifice, too, and the parallels you draw. I'd love to hear them!

#rahu answers #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #character analysis

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art-blogge · 5 months

Text

FGO/PM Mirror-World

Master Candidate number 48. The young man stood in the hallway of Chaldea, almost pouting, having been kicked out of orientation by the Ms. Director. He'd barely gotten to meet one of the other candidates before passing out, and he was being punished for it. That wasn't how things were supposed to go for his first day, but something about it also felt oddly right. The Flow, as he called it, called for him to go elsewhere. The other candidate- What was their name? Dante?- Had suggested he go lay down for a while with a sneer, so he may as well. He could always catch up on the orientation later.

He'd barely gotten to meet Doctor Garnet before alarms blared. Central Command had caught fire, and the Doctor had already run off. Then and there, the young candidate decided to go with him. The Flow be damned. People needed help!

There! In the rubble, Dante's body!

He tried his best to push it off of them, but it was no use. Their head was probably crushed, but they were still moving. As the computer continued to read off scripts, he grabbed Dante's hand. He could at least be there for them, even as everything went black.

He heard a clock in his ear, yet didn't. He heard words, but no voice.

<"Wake up! Do I use the official title?? Master Vergilius?? Wake up before I kill you!">

That woke him up quickly.

"What?"

Dante had a bright red clock for a head with flames completely dissimilar to the fires surrounding them. He forgot what they looked like before, but it wasn't that! The ticking was new, too.

<"Uhm. Sorry, I don't know where that came from!">

They rubbed their neck and turned their entire head to look at the ground. They hadn't been in combat garb earlier… Just lab gear. And were they being… Nicer than before?

<"Please work with me! We have threats coming in!">

According to Dante, they had fused with a Servant at the last moment, but they didn't recall much prior to that. In exchange for their memory, they'd been granted the power of a Servant. Servants needed a Master to survive, and they'd chosen him for their Master.

Him, a Master… A real, proper Master! The things he could change as a Master were countless, to say the least!

They survived, and he was the last Master alive. The fate of the City was on him, now. Him, and the rest of the staff. Doctor Garnet was promoted to Temporary Director, there being almost no one else alive. Despite his cowardice and inexperience, he had the makings of a good leader.

There was Caster Lapis, who he hadn't met before this point. She was brutally honest with him, and he liked that. She was now Second-in-Command, despite being a Servant.

And then there was Dante, who had been following him around like a lost puppy since they'd gotten back. There was nothing anyone was able to do about the memory loss- That'd been their own decision- But they seemed to retain faculties just fine despite the clock.

The Flow didn't stop. It would be followed until it ended.

----

"We're going to settle this now, Dragon Witch!" Ruler Faust cried.

"Shut up! Let's fight!" yelled Faust Alter, "Will despair win, or will hope win? Will murderous intent win, or will pity win? Let's see if you can surpass me, Me who gave up everything!"

Hope would win, of course. Vergilius was certain of that, and Dante resolutely stood by his side. They would win. The Flow continued on."

----

Are you going to stand in my way?" the opposition named Jia Huan calmly asked, staring Vergilius straight in the eyes.

"That's why we're here."

"I'll stand in your way as well," the still-living Hong Lu agreed, brandishing his spear. "The world is brimming with beauty. Flowers, songs, jade, love… And you'd destroy it all? Isn't that wasteful?"

Dante was still by his side, chained shield at the ready. They would win. The Flow continued on.

----

The enemy mage, the crazed Captain Ahab, had overwritten her last crewmate with the Identity of a Demon, and it now towered over them all with its hundreds of eyes on it's pallid body. Queequeg was no more, replaced with the monstrosity of the sea.

"If it can be hit, it can be defeated!," Captain Ishmael (Rider) declared, reloading her pistol. She could see it's heart, and she knew that it was her true target- Not the pathetic mage that summoned it.

"Come, Dante! This is our last battle together!"

She clapped her free hand on Dante's armored shoulder, a wide grin on her face.

"This is it! Be brave! Laugh those fears away! "

"Let's go, Dante!" Vergilius announced, pointing at their enemies.

<"Yes, Master! Commencing correction!">

They would win. The Flow continued on.

----

"Something is manifesting!" Dr. Garnet warned, "Something" is coming! It's an unknown phenomenon! Not a Servant manifestation! Unknown? No, it's actually more like a Rayshift? But that's impossible. Only we have that technology!"

Next to Vergilius, Dante shivered despite their coat.

<"Senpai, something's wrong here. I can't detect anything, but I'm freezing.">

Before them, the true enemy approached, wrapped in shadow. Vergil's companions of the Singularity all flinched away… And moments later, a branch had beheaded the nearest one.

Beside them, Saber Gregor cried out and threw himself at the manifestation that had named itself "Solomon". A single entity swatted him aside as easily as one would a fly.

"The only one that interests me here is the one with the clock," Solomon stated plainly. "Out of respect for your pure heart, I'll only bring four of them here with me. Show me everything you can do."

They wouldn't win, but they would survive. The Flow continued on.

----

"Let's get it started," the Effloresced man stated, his scythe at the ready.

"You don't intend to hand over the Bough, do you?" Assassin Yi Sang asked, already knowing the answer. His knife was already prepared for combat.

"Of course not. It's time to harvest the rewards I've rightfully earned. The past will be replaced."

Vergilius didn't need to be told that this was the final battle of the Singularity. Beside him, Dante stood as always.

<"Let's go, Vergil! Bring us victory again!">

They would win. The Flow continued on.

----

"I have this duty to stop you!" yelled out Heathcliff, brandishing the sword that would soon end his life. "As the Heathcliff that will end this accursed cycle! You won't take my Catherine from me, you fake deity twat!"

The opposing Catherine in white simply tilted her head as if she didn't understand. She didn't understand why Heathcliff had tears running down his face, or why she was being opposed. This was for everyone, wasn't it?

"Give me your final orders, Sir Vergilius! Let us end this. No one else should have to go through this."

Vergil looked at the ground briefly, then back to Heathcliff. Neither of them knew that Heathcliff would become a Servant after this by the will of the river deity, but this had to be done.

"If that's what you want to do, we're with you."

<"I'll do anything to help you, my Heathcliff!"> Dante chimed in, holding the burnt Holy Bough like a weapon, <"Our final enemy here is Ever'y Catherine! Let's finish correcting this mansion, Master!">

They would win. The Flow continued on.

----

"From the fiery abyss, I come, and only death do I bring. My name is Ryoshu, and you will be part of my canvas."

"I can't believe this!," Dr. Garnet chimed in from communications, pushing Lapis off screen entirely, "It's able to be killed now! Now, now! Vergilius, now is the time!"

"We've found the weakness!" Lapis announced offscreen, "It's the head! That Abnormality's weak point is in it's head!

"And now that she knows that she is mortal, she is fleeing," Grand Caster Meursault added, the tiniest smile gracing his usually stone-cold face. "Now is the time. This is the last chance we get. The storm is closing in. We can speak later. Prepare to fight."

<"Of course, Sir! This is the final battle of the Seventh Singularity! This is for all our friends who believed in us, and for King Outis! Let's do whatever's necessary to defeat that ALEPH!">

"Of course!"

On the sidelines, Mistress Rodion had finally regained control over her icy underworld. She willingly gave full permission to fight for the first, and possibly last time. Humanity would survive this.

They would win. The Flow continued on.

----

"Be careful, Vergilius! He's right in front of you!" crowed Lapis over the comms, panicked.

"I know," Vergilius responded, watching the false Solomon approach. "Solomon", true name Jumsoon, slowly strode up to him despite the failure of his lab, fully Distorted.

"We've both lost everything here," Vergilius plainly stated, holding Dante's shield at the ready. Garnet had sacrificed himself moments before to foil Hermann's plot, and Dante had been incinerated saving Vergilius' life. He barely had any reason to want to go on, but failing to would be a waste of the sacrifices.

"Everything here has been a waste, yes," Jumsoon agreed, his tail irritibly flicking about.

"I am all that remains here. There's nothing left but for one of us to be hung on the portrait wall, and the other to live. …My sworn enemy. My hatred. My destiny. I want you to witness this. This brief moment is now my story. This brief but precious time has given the creature called Jumsoon true life."

With all he wanted said, Jumsoon Effloresced.

Of course he won, and the Flow directed Vergilius to the Rayshift point. He wasn't going to make it-

<"Master, take my hand!!">

They both survived. They had won, and yet… The Flow did not stop.

Oh. OH.

With one success, a new threat emerged, wiping all progress and the City with it. The only survivors were "The Red-Gaze" Vergilius, Shielder Dante, and a few crew members. All Servants had been wiped away. Lapis had been killed in combat.

She'd predicted this and left a clone of herself to act in her stead, codenamed Charon. Charon's job was to drive New Chaldea's transportation- Named the Mephistopheles by Faust- to clear this new threat.

"This drags," Lancer Rodion complained from her seat, filing her axe.

<"HOW ARE YOU HERE?!"> Dante screamed, jumping so high that they nearly escaped their bandages.

"A bunch of us are," Rodion laughed, gesturing to the door at the back.

As Vergilius threw it open, a bunch of Servants they'd befriended poured out and ganged around him.

"Sir Vergilius! Tis fortunate to see you again!" yelled the Lancer Don Quixote of the second Sub-Singularity. She was so loud he couldn't hear anyone else.

<"You guys made it!!"> Dante cheerfully rang over her, and the Servants started to gang them instead.

Vergilius sighed in relief. Not everything was lost yet. It had come very close, but there was still some hope. They would win. The Flow continued on.

----

It was so, so hard. Millions of people killed just to restore the City they knew. The deaths were on Vergilius' hands. It didn't feel worth it to be a Grand Master with a title anymore. He never wanted this, but the Flow never stopped. He had to, they all had to Sin to get back the world they knew.

Next to him as always, Dante rested their head against his shoulder. They didn't need to speak. Vergilius knew what they were going to say. That they could do it. That everything would be right in the end.

Vergilius was so, so jaded compared to when he'd started, and yet… He knew they were right. It would end eventually. The Flow hadn't stopped, so they would win. They would survive, no matter what.

#writing tag #limbus company #vergilius #dante lcb #fgo

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elvenbeard · 1 year

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2077, November

"Heeey... All good? What're you doing out here, so early?"

"Couldn't sleep... Wanted to watch the sun rise."

"Well, here I am!"

2077 was a hell of a year. It left its marks, mental and physical, trauma and scars alike, memories and lack thereof. A year ago Vince was working at Arasaka, desperate to stay in the corporate world despite it slowly destroying him from the inside out. A year later Arasaka is only a shadow of it former self - and in a way Vince felt like a shadow, too.

Six months had been Alt's prognosis, at most... then he'd die. For good this time. Vince knew the drill. But he also knew he would try everything in his power, utilize all means possible and necessary... Because yes, 2077 had been one hell of a year, of loss, despair, betrayal and pain... But also of hope, trust, friendship and love, and connections, however unlikely they may have seemed.

The road ahead is still long, and it will be far from easy. But he is at peace knowing he won't be walking it alone.

Vince through the years (9/9)

Aaand the series is complete! ;A; Ending it on a somewhat bittersweet note with a few of more pictures this time cause look at them looking at each other ;___;

Vince has always been a deeply lonely person trying to find his place and purpose - as you'll surely have gathered reading along this far. By 2077 he finally finds his people, real friends in the most unlikely places, that he cares about and that care about him. And after how badly his previous relationship with his Arasaka-coworker Shou ended, he wouldn't have expected to get another shot at love, too. I definitely feel like he found a soulmate in Kerry, very scared in the beginning that his feelings for him were only brought on because of Johnny, and should he get rid of Johnny he'd also lose the connection to Kerry. He didn't though, thankfully. Vice versa, Kerry found someone who really understands his loneliness and struggles and takes them seriously. They really match very well on many levels and bring out the best in the other (on most days at least :P), something I neither planned for nor expected, and probably why I'm so obsessed with them at the moment XD They really are each other's sun, driving away shadows and doubts, a light in the darkness.

But yeah, Vince has a lot to lose really, and together with Kerry and everyone else they try and find a way to solve the Relic-problem so now that he found his place and people he can stay with them, live the balance of quiet and exciting life he deserves and always wished for.

The scars I gave him here (and damn, it hurt me to make them 😭) are not 100% canon yet... I'm gonna explore and explain what they are and how he got them in my post-ending fic soon-ish.

But yeah... V gets his happily ever after with his loved ones, in one way or another, and CDPR can take my headcanons from my cold dead hands xDD No but really, I get it. In a world like Cyberpunk there's no such thing as a sunshine-and-rainbows happy ending with world peace and all... and even mine is gonna come at a certain cost. But if anyone, V deserves some peace and love after that shitshow :D

That being said:

Before and after! The scars are drawn on, and I used the relief layer effect in Photohsop to give them some dimension. Was really a matter of playing around with colors and layer modes to make them somewhat convincing looking, but I'm really liking the result a lot!

Once again it gets me how different Vince looks without his iconic hair and makeup 😭 Believe me, he had a really really hard time when he was told "we gotta shave your head for this procedure" cause throughout his life his hair has been a really important part of his self-expression. From dyeing it blond as a teen to rebel against his parents, to going completely wild afterwards, conforming to Arasaka, then slowly finding himself again... With everything gone he felt like yet another part of him was gone and yeah... wasn't a good time, that time in late 2077.

If you've read along all the way: thanks so much!! I hope you enjoyed this series as much as I enjoyed creating it and sharing a bit more about Vince's background and how he became who he is. When I'm done writing my post-ending fic I might go back to writing and sharing his background story fic, detailing everything from this series a bit more, and you'll get to know some of the people I only mentioned in passing (his mother, his first real boyfriend, his coworkers, etc.) a bit better, too.

So... Thanks for sticking around!! :D

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marinehero-a · 1 year

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" master garp ? " light of waning dusksuns drawing saintly halo 'pon holy commander's head, reminder oh so tragic of divine ichor that never would be erased from its true identity even whilst tainted in human reds, no matter how much he'd try to pass among them unnoticed or how so ardently he'd wish to truly experience all that made joy and anger and sadness as wholefully instead of always observing as if encased in glass, unable to reach forth —but he'd remain behind greatest hero of all marines, hesitating in his own oh so familiar silence that easily would kneel before him at each command, for even former dragon of the heavenly gates could perceive how tense and heavy air itself tethered aghast his own throat, as if ready to destroy every wall. " what are you doing out here by yourself? " ( from roci ofc )

ლ. “ Trying to stop myself from killing you old man, ” the reply slipped out with cutting brightness. His face contorted into a sharp grin, dripping with cyanide, though he only spared the other man a glance before returning his glaring gaze towards the sea. White-knuckled grip digging into the stone wall he stood by, deep cracks running in veins throughout it.

With difficulty, he did his best to steady his breathing. To reign in his temper and cull his rage, lest he found himself tearing down Marineford brick by brick. Or, worse, he crumbled first. For he was the hero, and heroes were not allowed to fall.

Even if he were to slip, even if he were to allow himself failure, Rocinante was among the last who he’d let see such a loss of control. Not for Sengoku’s sake, may the Sea damn him, but because the brat was one of the few innocent men caught in the upcoming storm. Garp wouldn’t allow him to get burned out of the quarrels he held with others.

“ You might’ve heard that the planning for the execution of Whitebeard’s First Division commander is nearly complete, ” voice still tight, grin feeling plastered on his face, carefully avoiding Rocinante’s face in favor of staring down at his weathered hands. They were capable of leveling an island, yet he’d never felt them so weary — so weak — before, “ Fleet Admiral Sengoku, ” the title spat out in clipped tone with as much respect as one might deign to the barnacles on a ship’s hull, “ Thought to only give me the news of the whole situation now. ”

Ace. They had Ace, and worse off, they knew. The Elders knew, and they were willing to go to war with the current king of the sea over it. He still couldn't figure out how the Elders had learned. Had Sengoku told them ? He couldn’t believe it, not when it’d gone unspoken for years. A silent agreement. A silent promise. But why else would Sengoku keep the damn news of Ace's capture from him until it was far too late to pull any strings ? No. There had to be something. Something he could do that wouldn't be betrayal. Some kind of loophole, some kind of —

He bit down on his lip and fought against the waves of rage and panic clogging his chest. Dammit all, he'd never been the one for complicated plans, that had always been Sengoku and Tsuru's role, and now his heart stood against them and he didn't know what to do. His duty, or the ones he loved ? A glance back towards Rocinante brought a silent huff of laughter fall past his lips, fleeting and distant envy towards the brat knocking him out of his spiral of uncertainty. With another deep breath, he forced himself to let go of the tension in his body with easier laughter.

“ Bwahaha ! But my role's none of your concern, brat, ” the cheer in his voice lighter now, his smile more sincere. A mask well worn in by age and experience, closer to a second skin than anything false. There’d be time to figure things out later ( when ? ) when there was no company to see him shout.

“ You ought to be more worried about yourself. I doubt your superior — ” facade nearly cracking, tremors of bitter betrayal ( but who betrayed who first ? ) slipping through before he could quite catch it, though he carried on as if he hadn’t noticed, “ — Will have you anywhere near the upcoming war, if he hasn’t already talked to you about it. Your brother’s going to be there. ”

The bird bastard would be there, and so Rocinante wouldn't. It was simple. The brat would be safe and fine, at the very least. Rocinante may not be one of his, but he was still part of the damnable family Garp had built and been given over the years. If he ended up failing in protecting Ace ( he couldn’t he already had ) than at least there was shallow comfort in the certainty that the blood of some brats his heart held fondly wouldn't stain his hands just yet.

#{ ic. } ✗ 「 genkotsu 」#{ verse } ✗ 「 main 」#taiixuan #[ peepaw is going through it.....#[ roci being the kid caught in between a divorce energy real--- /lh /lh #[ man </3

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yournightowl · 2 years

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Your Nightowl#013

i learned what a bastard is today. It was one hell of a rabbit hole.

These two jerks were arguing with each other- i don’t know why, it started, but with them its always something petty and dumb. (¬_¬") The whole class was just watching them (me included) in a pretty bored way, cause we’ve seen this before and it never goes further than namecalling. But then jerk A called jerk B a Bastard, and the whole mood shifted. Everyone else in class sat a little straighter. Eyes started darting around, looking for an adult to come and intervene. Jerk B got real red and pale at the same time, and i could see veins on his forehead from across the room. i thought he was gonna hit the other guy. ( o_o)

But then he just walked out real fast.

Bastard’s not exactly a common insult, but it isn’t rare either- and it’s really not that bad. i couldn’t understand why everyone was so static, but i knew it wasn’t right for me to just start asking. So i did what i usually do instead of engaging in the moment- i went and did some research. (⌐▨_▨)

First, some context- jerk B wasn’t raised by his parents; they’re dead. His family took care of him (well literally he was taken care of by a swathe of maids and butlers and Ads and whatever, but you know what i mean). He never knew his parents, but its still a dick move to bring them up during an argument over something petty and dumb (and remember, with these two, It Is Always Petty and Dumb).

Second, some historical context- Bastard originally meant someone born to parents who were not wed to each other. Obviously, not something anyone gives a shit about today, but for most of our recorded history, it was.

The term also more generally means anything of questionable origin, like a bastardized copy, or an inferior version. It was also sometimes used to describe an illegitimate heir.

All of those definitions are relevant here.

People have been freezing their eggs for a long time now. It’s less common, but people freeze their sperm, too. And when people die, their gametes aren’t always destroyed. It’s incredibly rare, and widely frowned upon, but if you have the rights it is entirely legal to make a child from two people’s DNA without their consent.

And it’s even possible to make a child from two people who are dead.

It’s possible…but why would you, right? There’s no shortage of DNA to go around. Why would you want the DNA of some dead person?

The answer to that depends a lot on how their will was set up.

Imagine your rich as hell aunt and uncle pass away. They never had kids of their own, so they give you a little something…and give the lion’s share away to charity. The story should end there- “Maybe i should’ve sucked up to them more while they were still kicking, oh well, i better move on,” but then you get a message from a biocorp.

“Sorry for your loss, standard copy, standard copy… hey, we’ve still got your rich fam’s gametes in the freezer. Wanna make some money?”

So that’s what Jerk A was calling Jerk B- not an asshole, but a Bastard Heir. A designer baby cooked up by his screwed-in-the-head relatives after his parents had already died. A person born just so that their “guardians” could rob their parent’s graves. An illegitimate knock-off of what a child is supposed to be.

(O∆O), right?

Jerk B’s parents died when he was two, so the accusation is total bullshit. But i can understand why he got so mad. He’s probably not still sore about his parents deaths’, not after so long, and not when he doesn’t remember them. But it's nasty to imply that his family only cares for him because they can use him to control his parents fortune.

And that implication could actually be true.

wincing as i type,

Your nightowl

#unfiction

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starport-seven-five · 2 years

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WIP Tag Game

Rules: Pick five fragments from your unfinished WIPs and then tag five people to keep it going. Let’s have fun with it and help each other shape those fragments into published fics!

I was tagged by both @dewdropreader and @insert-witty-user-name-here. Thank you both for the tags!

Unlike Dewdrop I have SO MANY to choose from 🤣🤣 and I’ll share the five closest to completion.

(It’s me, so there’s NSFW stuff mixed in here 🙃)

Struggling to get this one done before Christmas- or at least before New Years! It’s that same Sylvie/reader universe- the one with the crack smut that’s oddly hot and awkwardly personal!!:

Because Sylvie’s in your living room, dressed in the same festive red sweater from the first time you saw her, greeting you warmly like you’re just old friends (you know, who’ve only actually met twice and fucked both of those times), and more importantly, like Loki isn’t watching you both with wide eyes from beneath your Christmas tree, crouched on all fours and naked except for the shiny red ribbon tied into a gift bow around his neck, reindeer antlers atop his head, and a furry little reindeer tail protruding from his ass cheeks, which you can only assume is attached to a butt plug of some sort.

That squishy Mobius tummy needs sexy worship and I don’t even care how weird I am:

It’s strange, and he knows it. He’s done stranger, sure, but it was always a novelty, the pushing of a limit, something where the thrill lay in the taboo. But this… the thrill is in the act itself, pure and simple, and it feels impossibly different.

He grinds down, experimentally, into the welcoming give of Mobius’s soft belly, and all at once he’s certain he couldn’t stop himself no matter how strange he knows it is. A shaky moan spills from his lips as he does it again, and again.

The daggers/sword love story no one asked for:

Æsileif was passed from Minuteman to analyst to Minuteman, and so on, before being settled into the hands of Judge Ravonna Renslayer, whose energy and attitude were downright repugnant to her.

This was the woman who stole Sylvie’s life from her.

This was the woman Æsileif was made to destroy.

And yet, Æsileif was useless, helpless without a hand to wield her.

She’d never felt so maddeningly, vengefully, frustrated before in her entire existence.

But then he walked in.

This Mobius, she’d seen him briefly earlier, while she was being transported through the halls.

Another mindless drone, brainwashed by the TVA to do its bidding.

But no, something was different, Æsileif realized as she listened to him speak with Renslayer. He pushed, he questioned.

And when the time came, he acted.

The Lokius angst fest with a side of extreme dubcon (no dubcon or sexual content in this snippet):

“So tell me, Loki. Why are you really here?”

“I told you, Mobius, please—”

The tears that sting his eyes when he feels the back of Mobius’s hand strike him across the face are unexpected and humiliating. It isn’t the pain, really. It’s shock, it’s loss, it’s betrayal.

“Seeing how it seems you’re feeling uncooperative, I suppose we’ll have to continue this conversation a little later. It’s been fun.”

The time cell he’s thrown into is a far, far worse memory than the one he’d been trapped in before. Loki hears the awful screeching of the Chitauri before anything else, and the last image he has to hang onto before the cell door closes is that of the eyes he’s come to know so well, now devoid of any warmth or familiarity. He sinks into a crouch on the cold rock, hugging his knees against his chest and reaching desperately for the memory of kindness in those eyes.

That’s really it for things close to being finished that I have yet to share, so I’ll throw this one in, the McSylkius AU that I really don’t expect to ever finish:

Sylvie sighed heavily, pressing her forehead to the relatively cool tile wall beside the register. The night was almost over, thankfully—just a few more minutes and she could close the place up. She closed her eyes as she leaned into the wall, silently hoping that the rest of the evening would be uneventful.

The steady, chaotic stream of customers they’d experienced that evening was far from unusual for a night like this one. They were the nearest fast food—and the latest to close—from the hotel a couple of miles away, whose grand ballroom saw many events on Fridays and Saturdays, and it was standard for their weekend nights to be filled with latecomers barreling through after a long, stuffy evening, still dressed in their formal attire, looking for a greasy, satisfying after-dinner snack or meal—and tonight was no exception. The crowds had just died down from this night’s post-gala rush, though, and Sylvie was looking forward to having a moment to eat something, herself, and to putting her feet up at home.

The sudden whoosh of cool evening air and the sound of the door opening, though, snapped her out of those thoughts immediately. Fuck. Oh well, this’ll be the last of them, she thought, straightening up and plastering her best customer service face—which, truth be told, was not that great, even when she wasn’t this exhausted—back on, and turning to face into the restaurant.

I am really bad at tagging people but @playinggalaga I know you’ll enjoy getting in on this! Anyone else who wants to, please do! I just don’t want to bug anyone 🙈

#fanfic #sylki #lokius #sylkius #wips

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kinfriday · 2 years

Text

Grim

As consciousness caught, I was warm and comfortable on my sleeping mat. Cocooned in my sleeping quilt, the world still felt far away.

Still, it was time to get up, and get going. With a deep breath I threw off my quilt only for 26 degree air to hit me.

“Oh dear Gods!” That certainly woke me up. Clutching my quilt, laying back down immediately, my eyes focused on the frozen condensation clinging to the top of my tent.

What followed was a five minute pep up session.

“You have to do this, It's resupply day. It’s not going to get any easier waiting here, just a few minutes of discomfort, then its oatmeal time and you’ll be rolling.”

There was nothing to do, no way of getting rapidly warm, there was only facing and ultimately accepting the cold.

This was what I signed up for hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. Scorching hot days in the Mojave, then frigidly cold mornings in the High Sierras.

The world did not care that we were heading into June, it still found cause to be freezing.

Later on that morning, I’d lose feeling in my index finger and thumbs, and with that numbness, a loss of the ability to open and close them. It was miserable, my coldest day, no matter the gear I had, or the preparations I had made to be ready for those conditions.

My circulation is poor, I’m deeply affected by the cold and that was just another reality to face.

And how did the PCT end up for me? Did I ultimately make it to the Northern Terminus?

I didn’t...

Right at the Washington border, with about a month left to go, a severe injury took me off the trail and sidelined me for four months.

Another goal missed, after countless work, countless dollars, and endless hours of effort.

Life is often like that, I’ve found. When you have a goal, there’s two ways it can go, success or failure. Some people are great are finding success, other people are more like me and often on the struggle bus.

No matter what though, failure is the base state, it’s the resting condition. Success is an active process, it must be perpetuated and maintained, which, in our world of entropy means that success will always degrade into failure.

Seems grim doesn’t it? Eventually you will get too old, too hurt, too sick, too burnt out, and the routine will fly off the rails, destroying the heady idea that your current motion will carry you on through whatever challenge.

Maybe it will, for a little while, but inevitably the cart will slow, come to a stop, and often roll back against the inevitable incline that you’ve encountered.

We will all encounter these moments, and this is where many people will give up. It’s a natural result of the process. You get knocked down hard enough, or enough times, and it can entirely reshape your world and focus.

I know this because I’ve been there many times, I’ve not just been knocked down, there have been moments where my entire world has burned to ashes, incinerating everything I ever thought I knew about myself, or the world before me, leaving me with nothing to do but start again.

Eventually, at least in my case, there’s a question that begins to float like a demon in my head, one I’ve given far too much power too in the past.

Why try at all? If it all ultimately comes to nothing, if I’m just going to fail, like I always fail, what’s the point in the effort? Relax, grab the pretzels, curl up in your chair and wait for the bus. Why do the work, when you can just coast. No ones going to blame you. Hell no one is even going to care much.

Define nihilism, yet it’s an unavoidable point, isn’t it? Memento Mori.... I could be the most successful person on earth, hit every goal I’ve ever tried to achieve and still, at the end, there’s ol’ Death. They make no exceptions for champions or losers, coming for us all.

But what was the reason for the goal? What was the point of the effort beyond reaching it? Something motivated me to try, to work hard, to set out from the Mexican border and go for it, even knowing that up to 60% don’t make it for whatever reason.

Something motivates me to get back on that treadmill too, no matter how many times my knees or hips give out, sidelining me for a week or longer.

Something keeps me coming back again and again, even though every routine I have eventually flies apart and burns before me and that’s what I call my “why.”

The Why is what transcends success or failure, it’s greater than me, it’s the point of me. It’s the reason I am.

It does not ultimately matter that injury took me off the trail, or that since I hit a peak in 2020, I haven’t been able to get anywhere near that peak again.... yet.

Deep down, there’s a focus beyond myself, there’s a purpose, and we all have one.

That’s our why, and that’s what you need to get back up, again and again when the world, or circumstance pushes you down, because it’s not tied to your emotions, your motivations, your passion, it’s tied to who you are.

Nihilism can't touch it, because it is pure meaning, unassailable in the face of the abyss.

It is far better to live the life you want than the lie you are given, because to live the life you want, to chase that purpose, is to honor the core of who you are, and no matter how it goes, to chase that is a success that many will never find, no matter how you have failed, because that’s what it means to be real.

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 2 years

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HEART'S PRICE - CHAPTER 38

*Warning: Adult Content*

Together, Noah Hunter and Thomas Flynn cross the street.

Dougal pulls at his lead, eager to reach the trees and begin an inventory of every possible scent he can find.

Thomas walks at Noah’s side, keeping a measured distance between them, as if they've both agreed not to get too close.

They reach the paved trail and Noah sets a slow pace, letting Dougal enjoy his olfactory explorations.

Thomas remains quiet and Noah gets the sense he's waiting for him to make the first move.

Noah just can't tell if he's doing so in the role of a repentant ex-lover or that of a chess opponent, waiting to base his strategy on Noah’s initial mistake.

"How'd you find me?" Noah asks, keeping his gaze on the path ahead.

It had rained earlier in the day and the black pavement, green lawns and fiery fall foliage all have a crisp, clean, almost hyper-real depth of color.

It makes Noah’s eyes hurt.

"It wasn't hard, actually," Thomas says.

He walks with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slightly slumped, his posture passive and non-threatening.

"Your family was the only thing you ever really talked about, you know, beside your studies. It's clear they mean a lot to you. The one you talked of most, though, was the 'detective,' out here on the West Coast. There aren't that many private investigators named 'Hunter,' after all."

Thomas laughs under his breath and shrugs.

"I looked up his business address, then tailed him until he led me to you. It took a bit longer than I'd anticipated but... Well, things worth doing are worth taking the time to do right."

Silence lapses again and Noah pauses as Dougal marks a tree and then begins a catalog of all the scents left by every dog who'd been there first.

"Why the note?" Noah asks, keeping his attention on Dougal, though he can feel Thomas's eyes on him.

"Because I knew you wouldn't answer anything else. An email can be deleted unread, a phone call, ignored. Texts are immediate and hard not to see but ephemeral. A letter though... Well, words in ink, on paper, that endures. Sure, you could throw it out, burn it, whatever you like. But first you'd have held it in your hand, felt it, read it, understood it, gave it its own moment in time. You could destroy it if you chose, sure but it would already have become a memory and that is harder to erase."

Noah swallows past the thick, sour lump in his throat.

Thomas sounds like he used to, when he was a lecturer and Noah was his student.

When he thought Thomas Flynn was so brilliant and talented and he was honored that he'd spare the time to talk to him.

"The note said you weren't well."

Thomas doesn't answer right away this time and when Noah finally look at him, he finds him staring up at the flame-tinted foliage above their heads.

When he does answer, he does so indirectly.

"You know, I've thought about the things I did and said, near every minute since I saw you last," he begins.

"And every time I do, I regret it a little more. And yet, when I did those things, there was another part of me didn't care at all. It was like there were two people inside me, one a decent, honest man, the other a monster."

Thomas sighs.

"Of course it was always at the back of my mind, a fear I've carried my whole life and when I finally went and had the tests, I had those fears confirmed."

He stops, removes his glasses and wipes them with the hem of his sweater.

His eyes look suspiciously damp.

"The same thing happened to my father, you see," he continues. "It's a... a rare sort of degenerative brain disease. Comes on slow, causes odd behaviour, changes in personality, loss of inhibition, loss of a clear sense of right and wrong... delusions of grandeur. I don't know how I missed the signs for so long."

Noah is not sure what to say and as Dougal completes his inspection of the tree, they resume walking.

"Anyway," Thomas says, clearing his throat.

"Bottom line is, one-to-three years to live and the last two are likely not to be of the best quality."

"I'm sorry."

‘I am, too. It doesn't change the fact he destroyed my life.’

"Not as sorry as I am," he says with a humourless laugh. "Noah, I... I know I can't undo the harm I've done. I know 'sorry' doesn't fix anything. But... I think there's a way for both of us to come out of this okay. Well, not 'okay,' in my case,but at least... not ruined."

Noah swallows.

"What do you mean?"

Again, Thomas doesn't answer immediately.

Instead, he steers them towards a bench and sits down.

After an awkward hesitation, Noah joins him.

Thomas takes a deep breath and gingerly reaches over to touch Noah’s arm who barely manages not to flinch.

"Noah, look, I... I miss you. I miss what we had together. I want you to come back. I don't want to face this alone."

Noah shakes his head and leans away from him, incredulous.

"What we had together? Thomas, what we had was a lie. What we had was..."

"No, listen..."

Thomas tightens his grip and this time Noah does flinch.

"What we had was real. What I said and did... that was the lie. Won't you at least let me prove that to you?"

Noah is relieved to find the idea isn't remotely appealing.

"Even if I wanted to come back, which I don't, there's nothing for me to come back to," Noah reminds him. "Not unless you admit that you stole my work, that you lied to the Board and that you're a fraud. Is that what you intend to do?"

Thomas releases Noah’s arm and sighs, his shoulders slumping once more.

He looks older, suddenly and sad and it's hard not to feel bad for him, despite everything.

If Noah’s guard had been slipping, though, his next words put it back up.

"Noah... I don’t have any children, you know," he says, twisting his hands in his lap.

"My work... my reputation... is my only legacy. I'd like to keep it and... I'd like your help."

Noah stares at him, not sure he believes or understands what he’s hearing.

"My help?"

Thomas nods, looking over and meeting Noah’s eyes.

"I want you to come back. Write for me. Help me keep publishing, until I have to admit I can't anymore. In the meantime, we can rebuild your reputation. I have friends on the Board who can get things done. All this talk of 'plagiarism' will go away, a mistake, a false rumor. You'll be reinstated and then your name will start to appear next to mine on a few papers, here and there. Then, once... well, once I'm gone, you'll be ready to spread your wings and soar."

Thomas says all this with the enthusiasm of someone offering Noah a wonderful opportunity.

It's so ludicrous Noah almost laughs.

"Thomas... I'm sorry you're sick. I really am. But I can't help you. Not like that."

Noah grimaces and looks out across the park, down the slope of the narrow strip of lawn towards the thickets of willow and aspen bordering the stream.

Sunlight sparkles on the shallow, swiftly moving stretch of water and he watches it as he tries to imagine what it would be like to know, for a certainty, the limit of one's time.

"I can't and won't help you like that, Thomas," Noah says again.

"I've started something new here and there's no going back to what we had, whatever it was. But... if you've got no-one else and if you help me prove the plagiarism claims were false and at least give me credit for the ideas in your book and all the papers you wrote, even if the words are your own, then... Well, I'll be a friend, when you need one. I'll come with you to doctor's visits, help you keep track of meds and stuff. Which hospital are you going to, anyway? St. Joseph', or somewhere else?"

Thomas's expression clouds and he looks away.

"Oh, er... Somewhere else," he says easily and smiles.

"I've got the info somewhere," he adds.

It's then that Noah knows he's lying.

Noah had never noticed it before, back when he had trusted Thomas Flynn but in the time since he’s had plenty of chances to review his memories of all the moments when he'd lied to him.

In each of them, Thomas had had that same distracted look, the same vaguely reassuring tone, the same demeanor that said 'Don't worry about it, just trust me.'

Noah doesn't know what he's lying about, or why or whether his whole story is false or only part.

He just knows that he needs to get away from him and that he’s come very close to falling into some sort of trap.

Pulling out his cell-phone, Noah checks the time.

"I need to get going," he says, standing and tugging on Dougal's leash.

"I'm sorry you're not well, Thomas. I'm sorry I can't help you the way you want. If you want to come clean, then we can talk. Otherwise, please don't contact me again. Goodbye."

With a sigh of relief, Noah gets in and drives home but by the time he gets there, he still haven't shaken off his feeling of unease.

~ ☾ ~

Noah’s mood takes a further turn for the worse when he sees what's waiting for him in front of the gate.

His brother, Alpha Dane Hunter leans against the low brick wall with his arms crossed, mirrored shades hiding his eyes and a characteristic frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He looks less like a cop at the moment and more like a bouncer, or a hired thug.

Noah finds himself returning his scowl as he parks, let Dougal out and walks towards him.

He brushes by and open the gate and Dougal runs through.

Dane doesn't move, instead waiting for Noah to acknowledge him.

Noah considers ignoring him altogether, just to see what he does but unfortunately his nature doesn't allow it.

He's an alpha, whether he considers Noah part of his Pack or not.

"What do you want?" Noah asks.

"To talk, for a start."

He still hasn't moved and instead Noah is compelled to close the gate and come back to where he stands.

"I have a cell-phone."

"Would you have answered it?"

‘Great.’

All the people he doesn't want to see are tracking him down in person today because they know him too well to even bother with anything less direct.

"I guess you'll never know."

Dane’s frown deepens.

"I also want to apologize."

Noah snorts.

"Probably should've led with that."

"Don't be a smartass. You know I'm not good at...this kinda thing."

He gestures between us with a vague wave of his hand.

"What, communication? I think you got your meaning across pretty clear, last time."

"Noah..."

Dane heaves a sigh and finally uncrosses his arms, takes off his sunglasses and pushes himself away from the wall, walking towards Noah with his eyes angled down.

"I can't make any excuses for hitting you or for pushing you away. You know why I did, though, right?"

"Dane, I don't know what kind of 'Pack' you want to have here but I don't want to be some Alpha's mindless subordinate, even if that Alpha is you. I want to be part of a family. I want..."

"I want that, too," Dane interrupts.

"And that's not what upset me. Not really. Noah... you know that, besides Julian, you and Freya are the people I love most in this world. Right now, I feel like Julian's slipping away from me, like I'm losing him even though he's still here. When you told me that not only had he been to Faerie but that you had as well... Jeez. You know what that could have meant, right? He might've never come back and you might've been killed and I woulda had no idea what had happened to either of you."

He wipes his hand over his mouth and chin and blows out his breath as if he's been holding it.

"I just snapped. I'm sorry."

Noah considers this.

"Why'd you say I wasn't Pack, then?"

Dane shrugs.

"Just a dumb reaction," he says.

"If I can't protect something, I push it away. I'm a shitty Alpha, I guess. I wanna get better, though. Will you give me another chance?"

Dane is keeping his Alpha influence tamped down as much as he can and Noah know he's doing it so he’ll know that whatever he says is completely his own choice.

"What about Julian? Did he talk to you?"

"He's not talking to me at all, at the moment. Says he won't until I work this out with you. That's not why I'm here though," he adds.

"I mean it, Noah, I love you and you scared me and a scared wolf will bite. Sorry."

Dane’s words remind Noah of what Shanti said to him earlier, about expecting a dog that bites to bite again.

Thomas had proved her wisdom true but while Thomas's nature eludes him, Dane's does not.

Noah nods and sighs.

He hates fighting with his older brother anyway.

"Okay, I forgive you. And I'm sorry, too, Dane. I didn't mean to go behind your back. I just wanted to help."

"I know," he says, and then he steps forward and pulls Noah into a close, fierce hug.

"I have a feeling I'm gonna need your help a lot more, brother, before this is done."

Noah is not sure whether Dane's talking about the case or the thing with Julian but he's probably right either way.

He kisses the top of Noah’s head and releases him with a deep sniff, putting his glasses back on but not before Noah catches a glimpse of the shine in his eyes.

"So, what did you really want to talk to me about?" Noah asks, maintaining his frown if only because he doesn't have mirrored lenses to hide his feelings behind.

Dane keeps his hand on Noah’s shoulder and he knows that in his mind he's reclaimed him as Pack, the contact strengthening their bond.

"It's about that guy you were seeing. Flynn," he says, an unhappy note in his voice.

"Noah, he's bad news. I think you might still be in some kind of danger and..."

Before he can say more, a familiar voice interrupts us.

"Excuse me but what do y'all think you're doing? Getting all emotional an' shit without me."

Noah spins in surprise and feels his jaw drop a little.

Their sister Freya Hunter stands on the sidewalk a few meters away, dressed in a black leather jacket, jeans and cowboy boots.

Her mass of long, gold-tipped curls falls around her face, which is split in a wide, toothy grin and her hands are on her hips in a posture of mock sternness.

There's an air of strength and glamour about her, like she just wandered off the set of an action film and her dark skin glows with the vibrant shine of good health and high spirits.

"Freya?" Dane sounds as astonished as Noah feels and stands dumbstruck as their sister stalks towards them and snatches Noah into a spine-crushing embrace.

"How did you... How are you here?" Noah squeaks.

She's almost as tall as Dane and nearly as strong but has only a fraction of his restraint.

"I flew, of course. I got your message last night. Couldn't answer 'cause I was finishing an, uh... an 'arrest' but as soon as I listened to it I bought a ticket and jumped on a plane."

"Why didn't you just... call me back?" Noah gasps, as she finally lets him get some air.

She looks at her brother skeptically, one perfect brow raised in a sharp arch.

"Would you have answered?"

Noah scowls and Dane snorts.

"Now you'll never know," Dane says, giving Noah’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, I do," she winks and grins.

"So, brother and bigger brother, what'd I miss and whose ass do you need me to kick?"

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stardust-in-my-mind-blog · 3 months

Text

when conflict resolves

like glowing the lunar sphere collects the sunlight

to radiate on the nights of her fullest reign

I'm learning it takes time to absorb the energy

of the emotions that impact us and that move us

but first they have to move through us

like the arrows of eros or artemis and even apollo

emotions hit our life force and stay in our bodies

we have to grasp the hilt of the arrow

pull it out of us and let it bleed into the sea

of our hearts and just feel the burn of it

understand why it hurt and what it means

inside us so we can release it back into the flow

and if you never learned how to feel them

or figured those feelings hadn't even mattered

well, you'll find yourself full of a bunch of arrows

but each one you pull out and examine

understand and comfort with your attention

if you do it right the arrow loses its stain of color

becomes starlight in your hands

and if you're wise you can put it back into your quiver

so that should another situation happen where

someone is aiming their bows at you

you can either shoot back

or build proper fortification

or catch it as it comes and grin slowly at the adversary

know that the intention and impact

are yours to take and use how you see fit

energy is energy and once purified

can neither be created nor destroyed

it just changes form and if you attach to the emotion

it will change form no matter what so the loss is always there

change is the only constant so look at the color of that arrow

remember the pain and then release it

watch the color fade into pure luminescence

this is the power we have in our consciousness

and I've counted so many of these arrows

transmuted them because it's all I've known

but now I know what I have to do

and where to fire them and like the light

everything in my life has to change

and I'm finally okay with that

not with bravado or determined confidence

but with this sense of sorrowful peace

because even when you want something else

so bad that you can almost taste it

it hurts to change everything

even if it's change you desperately want

maybe that's the price of your dreams

you have to take this arrow of sadness

and see it and feel it and know it to heal it

soothe the heart that feels the little deaths

of everything you thought you knew

I'm looking at mine now and it's cyan

stained in a scarlet that is wet in my hands

but I took it with my arms completely open

chest vulnerable and eyes flashing

HIT ME IN THE FUCKING HEART I DON'T GIVE A SHIT

and the deity of justice grinned and took sly aim

didn't even count just watched me with interest

as the shot hit and I fell and screamed and jerked

with the impact I asked for but was shit at the taking

by the time I recovered my composure they were gone

and I did what I knew and jerked it out

patched it up and cursed as it got inflected

healing doesn't happen best in isolation

and so I'm changing my direction and heading north

whatever the fuck that means

taking hands and trusting in darkness and it's not fun

but not many would describe the spiritual journey as fun

I've touched whispers of future and I have vague impressions

that's all the clarity they really give you as you begin

but each step makes the color lighter and brighter

and so I know to take another and another

until I know how to go from lost to found

do the next right thing and move with inspired action

not the shy avoidance of the deceiving but powerful fear

it feels like being blindfolded while I'm trying desperately to look

anticipate or understand of do anything besides

just keep walking toward my own sense of knowing

but that's the game and you just keep going

breathe and release up hills both ways in the snow

at least I know it's going to be worth it

all of this headache and changing and moving

growing is supposed to be painful

that's why so many choose not to

so here we go

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f1version · 9 months

Text

SILENT NIGHT ‧͙*̩̩͙❅ CL16

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader ( she/her )

summary: Loss doesn’t need to be lonely, grief doesn’t need to be an enemy.

warnings/info: hurt/comfort, mentions of death — loss of a loved one, grief, crying, hugs/cuddling, the internal conflict of loosing someone during the holidays.

word count: 1.2k words

note: the 27th of december has not been the happiest time of the year for me in a while, so yes, this is kind of self-indulgent. this is also for those who have lost someone during the holidays (or ever). i know how painful it can be to put on that fake smile, to force yourself, but please don’t. cry all you want, feel all you want, don’t destroy yourself for things out of your control or that are no longer under it. you are not alone, you are loved and cared for, always remember that. ♡

snowglobe, a holiday special

DECEMBER 27th.

Humans are not forever.

It’s evident, plain to see, to experience, but then why love so deeply we yearn for infinity? Care so strongly while knowing its definability? It’s what makes you human, everyone says—loving people who give so much to remember, getting your heart broken by them because, at some point, it’ll be your turn to break one, two, a hundred hearts.

They say a heart that's broken is a heart that's been loved, so you’re glad your heart’s broken. Even when mom’s not here to swipe your tears, hold you close, or tell you how to fix it—when she's not here to argue, talk it out, or stay silent—you're thankful she got to see you grow, see you fall, stand up, and succeed. She saw you fall in love and loved the man who held your hand.

Said man must be near—Charles must be somewhere near; you can hear heavy breaths leaving his lips every now and then, something he does when he’s overthinking. It’s strange, you think. Perhaps he’s become such a recognizable character in your life that it’s instinct to hear it, or, more realistically, the small sound assumes spotlight because of the silence embracing your apartment. You don’t know, and you don’t think further about it. It’s just Charles.

You think about the time lost, not knowing how long you’ve been here, cuddled on the beige couch in your living room as memories of your mom submerge your mind. You stare at the half-drunk cup of hot chocolate settled on the coffee table; it seems cold now. That’s a way to ensure time has passed.

Your slight change of focus leaves the dissipation of heavy breaths unnoticed. Now you hear their replacement, gentle steps that grow louder until they stop before you, crouching until green eyes meet yours. Charles looks beautiful. The dim lights of the fake fireplace and Christmas tree caress his features. His eyes don’t look as green, but a warmer color. He smiles close-mouthed, taking your hand in his, and you let yourself smile back.

He doesn’t talk, understanding you well enough to know you don't want to talk at all. His thumb starts making shapes on your skin, memories taking you back to that night a year ago, when Charles drove you home from the hospital, his hand never leaving yours, doing the same shapes he’s doing now. You remember how, upon arriving, he stayed next to you until you finished one glass of water, then made sure you dined, how he helped you shower, and the moment he cuddled you in bed while you cried, muttering sweet nothings in your ear, his voice quivering because he had been crying too—he had known your mom for eight years by then. He called Andrea the following day, asking to be instructed in soup making and taking care of the two of you all day.

A lot of those days were faint, blurry memories, but if there's one thing you are certain of, it's that Charles never left.

Your eyes travel around the room, landing on a photo on the wall. It’s Christmas 2021, you and your family are all warped up in each other—it’s one of the pictures your dad lent you early this year, once hung up on your mother’s office. Next to it is one of a younger Charles with your mom and dad. It was taken a little over six years ago, the day you told them you were dating. It makes you smile. Your mom always loved Charles; even before you started dating, he was her favorite friend of yours, always so kind and funny.

You’re about to travel back in time when there’s a small tug on your hand, turning your attention. Charles is moving around, sitting down on the floor. He looks up at you, then at the picture, he smiles saddened, the beautiful memory stinging as much as it does to you.

For the first time, you feel the need to say something, to explain yourself. But not knowing what to say, you say the simplest: “I miss her so much.”

He leans down to kiss your hand. “I know, baby, I know."

Silence falls over you once again, and the necessity to talk vanishes. You look back at the gallery, now focusing on the same type of picture as before, but it's a younger you with Charles, his mom, and brothers; there’s a bed between you and Charles, Hervé Leclerc smiling at the camera. There's writing on its frame: May 2017. You look at Charles, a small tear tempting to fall but a smile on his lips. You lean down to kiss his cheek, letting him know that it’s alright to cry. He brings you closer, kissing your lips—small pecks over and over again.

He stops, briefly glancing at the other two photos hanging on the wall, one of Charles' family and another of the two of you, promise rings on your hands, smiling at the camera. You think about your families, about you, and about how it's been a year since your mom left, and you still want to tear the world apart. A newfound feeling spreads across your body: guilt. Guilt of spending your night consumed by dread and grief, letting Charles fall into it.

You hate this feeling.

Charles let’s go of your face, cupping your hands together with his. You know he sensed the change; his big green eyes are asking questions you don’t want to answer. You want everything to stop hurting, the memories to stay happy, and the bittersweet taste on your tongue to be eradicated.

He waits, and you break. “I want it to stop,” you mumble. “I want the pain to go away; I don’t want to think about it. I want to go back and not feel like I did on the 24th, like I wanted to run away and cry in my room for hours. I don’t know how to deal with this, Charles; this is too much. I can’t, can't do it.”

The buildup is too much, your breathing is heavy and fast. Charles hurries towards you, his hands hovering over your frame. “No, non, bébé, I’m here; you know I’m here, just like you are always here for me,” he hesitates, but charges through. “Someone once told me that it’s okay to feel sad, it’s okay to cry, to, to grieve. She told me: Grief is part of love, never hold back from loving.”

And you don’t know what to do or say. He’s cupping your face, looking at you so lovingly as he continues, “You told me that, chérie, so don’t hold back; even if she’s gone, keep loving her." He says, “You will slowly let go of the loss, I promise, I know how it is, just never feel guilty for loving her.”

It occurs to you at that moment that you haven’t cried in weeks, tears forbidden by a nonexistent rule, so when the first sob leaves your lips, there’s no regret over it. Tear after tear, sob after sob, your heart grieves.

Charles crawls up the sofa, bringing you to his arms, your head now on his chest, wetting the soft material of his shirt. You are about to care when his hand brushes your hair and back, and there’s no use in stopping it.

“Thank you,” you say between sobs.

“I love you,” he answers, knowing you do too.

i miss my mom so much

taglist — @smartstupyd @ziarah @nouvellevqgue @iloveyou3000morgan @carsgovroomm @goldenalbon @doofenshmirtzevil-inc . . . add yourself here

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