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silvfyre-writings · 1 year

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The Boy with Emerald Eyes Pt. 4 (BSD Fanfic)

Hello, hello, welcome back to paperboy, it's certainly been a while hasn't it? A lot's been happening recently, and I do apologise for the delay it took in getting this chapter out. Life's just been hectic, and I've been struggling a bit, but I managed to do it.

Tbh with you all, I've lost the plot for this story entirely, I have no idea where it's going because the original plan I had was derailed (thank you Edgar), but I think I'm getting back on track, BUT IN SAYING THAT!

Do not expect an update until the new year. Why? Because I need a break. I'm tired, and this fic takes a lot of energy out of me. Of course, if I do happen to finish the next chapter before the new year, I will post it, but do not rush me; I am only human after all.

Anyway, without further ado, I bring you the new chapter, and I hope you enjoy <3

It was January 30th when Edgar opened his eyes and discovered that his attempt to drink himself to death had failed. Unlike last time where he had felt nothing but anger and despair over his failure, this time he felt nothing. It was as if he’d woken up with absolutely no feelings whatsoever. The anger and despair he’d expected to feel was nowhere to be found, and he didn’t even feel depressed at the realisation that he’d survived yet another attempt on his life. He just felt… empty, like his very soul had been sucked dry, but by what, he couldn’t say. All he could say, was that the emptiness wasn’t just in his mind, it was in his body too; limbs heavy and unwilling to move, eyes slow to blink and struggling to stay open.

Yes, Edgar was an empty man, and he’d finally come to accept it.

As his mind slowly came back to awareness, Edgar continued to stare at the ceiling, staring at the markings and indentations that marred the surface. He just stared and stared, counting cracks, and observing stains and—wait, I know this ceiling. The moment the thought came to him, the realisation dawned on him and he recognised where it was he’d ended up, and honestly, he would much rather have woken up on the streets. How was it, that both of his suicide attempts had failed and landed him in Ougai Mori’s clinic? Surely he couldn’t be that unlucky? Oh, but apparently he was, for the door to the room opened to reveal the doctor in question, and that was when Edgar began to pray for the building to just collapse on top of him and put him out of his misery. Because anything was better than being at the mercy of the man that had already treated and lectured him once before—never mind the incident with Ranpo—and the last thing Edgar wanted right now was another lecture about how bad he treated himself.

He'd had more than enough of that already.

The bed dipped by his side, and Edgar glanced over to see Mori sitting beside him. The doctor wasn’t looking at him, but Edgar could see the pensive look on his face, a look that could only come from dealing with someone like him; he didn’t fault Mori for wearing such a look, but he wished that he didn’t have to see it. He turned away, and rasped, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for this time, Mr Poe?” Mori sighed, leaning back on his hands as he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling. “For taking up one of my beds again? For scaring my friend’s ward again? For failing to commit suicide again? Please, do tell, Mr Poe, why are you sorry?” The words were harsh, but not spoken in anger, yet Edgar couldn’t stop himself from flinching as he heard them. He didn’t know how to answer Mori, didn’t know if he even wanted to. But he owed the man an answer, so he’d try at least.

“I don’t know…” Edgar sighed and closed his eyes. “I just… keep inconveniencing you, and your family. And you don’t deserve it, so I am sorry.”

“Then why do you continue down this path of self destruction?” Was it just him, or was there genuine sadness on Mori’s face?

Edgar sighed. “Because it’s the only path I know to walk on.”

Mori looked over his shoulder, staring right at Edgar as he asked. “Then why not ask for help?”

At that, Edgar laughed, a hollow sound devoid of the usual joy a laugh should be filled with. “Who would want to help me?”

Mori didn’t respond to Edgar’s question, just sighed, and pushed himself up from the bed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat as he continued to just stand there in silence. It was clear that the man was thinking about something, so Edgar didn’t say anything—not that he had anything to say in the first place—and just let the silence grow between them. Finally, after what felt like hours, Mori moved, making to leave the room seemingly without speaking whatever was on his mind. But when the doctor reached the door to Edgar’s room, he stopped, hand on the doorframe, and turned back to face him. The expression on Mori’s face was one of despair, and it was so strange to see it on Mori’s face that Edgar couldn’t turn away. Mori’s lips twitched into a sad smile, his eyes falling out of focus just enough to be noticed. “You’ll find that there were plenty of people willing to give you help, Mr Poe. You just drove them away before you realized that you needed the help in the first place.”

And if that didn’t just make Edgar feel even more guilty than he already was.

Nothing more was said as Mori left the room, shutting the door behind him, leaving Edgar alone to his thoughts. They weren’t thoughts he particularly wanted to be having, but it wasn’t like he had a choice, not unless he could get back to sleep within the next five seconds. Which he couldn’t, because once Edgar’s mind started thinking, it was hard for him to stop it. So as he lay there, thinking, he couldn’t help but start to think about how he’d ended up in the clinic again. His memory was completely unreliable; foggy at best, blank at worst, but Edgar usually was able to piece the basics back together whenever he struggled to remember.

The last thing he remembered was drinking an entire bottle of liquor; after that, there was nothing for him to recall. It was like someone had reached into his brain and plucked the memory from inside of it, taking it from him, hiding it where he’d never be able to find it. But there was something that he could remember. Green and warmth. He couldn’t recall what the green and what the warmth belonged to, but whenever he tried to think back, that was what he remembered.

And for once, he wished that he could remember, because that warm green seemed important.

He just didn’t know why.

Edgar was left alone until sunset, when the door creaked open and Fukuzawa stepped into the room with a tray of food in hand. Their eyes met—violet and steel blue—and Edgar began to regret ever waking up in the first place, because the expression on Fukuzawa’s face was not a happy one. Truly, out of all the expressions that Edgar had seen on that stoic face before now, this one was the worst, and that clearly told him just how much he’d messed up. Because he vaguely remembered the argument that he’d had with Fukuzawa’s ward upstairs, and the way he’d walked out without apologising despite the sheer amount of guilt he’d felt.

Ranpo…

And just like that, a memory slipped into place; worried green eyes attached to an equally worried face that mouthed words he couldn’t remember in the slightest, and from there it didn’t take long for him to realize that Ranpo had been the one to find him and bring him here. Again. No wonder Fukuzawa was staring at him with utter discontent; he would too if he were the older man. There was no forgiving what he’d done, especially when all that Fukuzawa and his family had done was show him kindness that he’d done nothing but throw back in their faces.

“You’ll find that there were plenty of people willing to give you help, Mr Poe.”

Edgar turned away first, casting his gaze to the blankets beneath his hands. His hands clutched at the blankets and he listened as Fukuzawa moved about, first placing the tray on the bedside table before sitting in the chair that’d taken up residence beside his bed. He waited until silence fell upon the room before he lifted his head, drawing in a breath. “I am sorry.”

Fukuzawa didn’t say anything, and Edgar did not dare look at him.

But he forced himself to keep speaking. “You, and Dr Mori, and Ranpo showed me nothing but kindness when I did not deserve it, and all I did was cast it aside. None of you deserved that, so I apologize.” Edgar risked looking up, and felt encouraged when he saw Fukuzawa focused on him, not angry or upset, but listening. “And I’m not expecting you to answer me, but… I think I remember Ranpo being the one to find me. Is he… alright?”

For a long time, Fukuzawa sat there, arms in his sleeves and eyes closed. And for a long time, Edgar sat there and waited for a response, fidgeting as time continued to pass by and still, Fukuzawa said nothing. Another minute passed, and Fukuzawa sighed, head dipping. “Ranpo is alright. But I have made the decision to keep you two from seeing each other.” The older man stood and tilted his head towards the tray of food. “I ask that you respect my decision and do not ask about Ranpo again. I also ask that you eat at least one thing. I will return in the morning.”

Right… makes sense. He’s just doing what he can to protect Ranpo. The words hurt, but Edgar understood why they were said in the first place. He nodded. “I understand.”

“Sleep well, Mr Poe.” Fukuzawa gave a slight bow before he turned on his heel and left the room.

And Edgar was alone, but this time he welcomed it, because it allowed him to think.

And he had a lot of thinking to do.

At first, Edgar tried to think back to his missing memories, hoping to recall at least something that would give him an inkling as to what had happened. There was a few things he recalled, such as the argument with Ranpo—that wasn’t really an argument, but more Edgar lashing out—along with the disagreement that he’d had with John and Frances. Now that had been an argument, at least… in Edgar’s drunken mind it had been, but suddenly he wasn’t too sure, and he couldn’t remember enough of it to accurately tell what actually happened. They were bits and pieces that were just out of reach—there and visible, but taunting him by flickering in and out of existence right in front of him.

He really wanted to remember.

But did he really? What good would remembering do him when the damage had already been done? Whatever he’d said and done had already happened, and that was that, there was no going back. There were no do-overs, no going back in time to tell his past self to stop and think, there was only the future; a future that he was apparently supposed to live for. How, he didn’t know, nor was he sure if he really wanted to, but it didn’t seem like he was being given much of a choice in the matter. Two failed suicides was enough to tell him that.

“We can’t help you if you don’t want to help yourself.”

Those were Frances’ words, one of the few things he did remember from that day, and he had to admit that his adoptive mother might’ve actually been right. If he actually wanted to be helped, then perhaps he had to actually ask for it and accept it. He wasn’t sure if that was possible, considering it was him, and that he’d been stuck in this spiral of alcohol and melancholy for two years now, but… maybe he could. Maybe he could reach out and ask for help? Maybe he could learn to stand on his feet again and find his way out the hole he’d long curled up in.

Because despite everything, there was still this little weird and obscure group of foreigners in some sort of makeshift family that were willing to lend a hand.

He remembered Ranpo telling him that pride was pointless, that it was overrated, and that it was better to live the way you wanted to live without thinking too much about what society thought, and Edgar remembered telling Ranpo that it didn’t really work like that. Because in the end, he and Ranpo lived wildly different lives, so of course it couldn’t work like that. But what if it did? What if Ranpo had had the right idea this entire time and Edgar had just been too blind to see it?

“Sure, I could take pride in myself, but what’ll that get me, really? Kicked to the ground by people who had more pride?”

At first, the words hadn’t made sense to him, but now they kind of did, because that was exactly what had happened to him. He’d taken pride in himself once upon a time, only to be beaten down by those who held much more pride; he’d been kicked to the ground and left to burn, all because he’d been too prideful and thought that nothing could touch him from his little cloud of happiness. Only, he had, and he’d been sent crashing to the ground, losing everything from his pride to his happiness all in one go, all because he and the man he’d loved hadn’t been careful enough, and they’d been caught and thrown into the spotlight.

Edgar sighed and rolled over, facing the wall as he tried to figure out just what it was that he needed to do. It would be so much simpler if someone would just come and straight up tell him what path awaited him, but no one would because that just wasn’t how life worked—well his life at least. There probably was some lucky soul out there in the world that had their life put together and knew exactly what to do whenever something bad happened, but Edgar was not that soul. He was the soul that fell apart the moment bad things happened, unable to find a solution in an ocean that threatened to drown him. But maybe… that was okay.

Maybe he didn’t have to know what to do next.

Maybe he could just take it one day at a time, and see what that brought him.

“Mr Poe, it is time to get up.” Edgar groaned, reluctantly opening his eyes as Fukuzawa’s voice invaded his dreams and dragged him out of sleep. He was greeted by the sun, the morning rays blinding him momentarily, and he immediately squeezed his eyes shut again, rolling away to avoid getting up. It was too early for him to be awake; sunrise was a time that he not seen for years, because he went out of his way to avoid it, much preferring the comfort of the dark. Night time was a much simpler time; when he’d been actively writing, he’d often stared out his window at the moon as it rose into the sky, watching and using it for inspiration in his novels.

If he’d tried to do that with the sun, he would’ve gone blind a long time ago.

Fukuzawa’s voice echoed again, and this time, it was accompanied by a hand tugging his blankets away. “Mr Poe, I will drag you out of this bed.”

Edgar looked over his shoulder, annoyed, and huffed. “Why?”

Fukuzawa raised an eyebrow. “You have been in that bed for a week. Now that you are awake, it is time to bathe.”

“A week?” Edgar’s eyes went wide, struggling to comprehend that he’d actually managed to knock himself out for an entire week. Just how much did I drink? Just as the thought crossed his mind, another one quickly followed, this one having him eye Fukuzawa warily. “What do you mean by bathe?”

“You need to clean yourself. Or do the nobility not take care of their own personal hygiene?” Fukuzawa tugged on the blankets more, and this time, Edgar allowed them to be pulled away from him. Mostly because he was trying to juggle what Fukuzawa was telling him, but also because he was still somewhat shocked about how long he’d been at the clinic. No wonder Mori had sounded so exhausted the last time they spoke.

Edgar swung his legs over the edge of the bed. As much as he didn’t want to get up, he could already tell from the no-nonsense look on Fukuzawa’s face that he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. Hell, the older man probably took joy in forcing the patients of the clinic up and out of bed the moment the sun was up. It was as Fukuzawa reached down to wrap his hands around Edgar’s forearms, that Edgar answered his question. “Of course we do! It’s just that… well… people of your class—”

“People of our class bathe as well, Mr Poe. If we didn’t there would be a lot more sickness. We may not have the fancy bathtubs that you are familiar with, but we still have our ways.” Fukuzawa only sounded mildly annoyed as he dragged Edgar upright and guided him over to the chair, and Edgar was surprised. If he’d been in Fukuzawa’s shoes, he probably would’ve been annoyed at such a stupid question.

But he wasn’t going to question it, not when Fukuzawa was the only reason he was even standing, his legs so shaky from disuse that he could barely put one foot in front of the other. But he managed, and collapsed into the chair. “I didn’t know.” He murmured, watching Fukuzawa as the other man stripped the bed of its bedding. “So, um… how do you bathe?”

Fukuzawa paused in his actions and looked over at Edgar. He could’ve sworn he saw the man’s lips twitch in amusement. “With a washcloth and basin.”

Edgar threw his head into his hands and groaned. Of course. “Excuse my ignorance.”

“It is excused.” Fukuzawa folded the dirty bedding and placed it by the door, no doubt to be taken and washed later, before he placed new bedding on the bed. “Mori and I have dealt with nobility before, so we are aware there are things you might not understand.”

Ignoring the jab towards him, Edgar leaned forward in the chair, a little curious at the information Fukuzawa was letting slip; he had started to think that Fukuzawa was incapable of talking about himself. “You have?”

“Mori is good at what he does.” Fukuzawa continued to make the bed without looking up. “Not all nobles are as fixated on race as some are, and the ones that don’t, pay well.”

Edgar bristled. He refused to be lumped in with the nobles that wouldn’t interact with other people purely because they weren’t from England. He wasn’t like the nobles that would beat down, mock, and ridicule people just because they had a different skin colour to himself. No, he’d always done his best to treat other people with respect… well, in theory at least. Edgar wasn’t so sure that he’d actually succeeded in showing it. But Fukuzawa didn’t know that, nor did he need to; either way, his comment was more than enough to get Edgar’s blood boiling. He wasn’t a cruel person. “I don’t fixate on race.”

Now Fukuzawa did look up, expression neutral, if a little surprised. “I didn’t say you did.” And before Edgar could even open his mouth, Fukuzawa continued, turning around to sit on the edge of the bed. “You know, you are a very hostile person.”

“What do you mean?” Edgar asked, suddenly unsure of himself.

“My comment was not directed at you, yet you took it as if I did.”

“Oh…” Edgar hunched in on himself, feeling like an absolute fool of a person. Of course Fukuzawa hadn’t been talking about him specifically, he’d just been talking about the nobility in general. Yet another case of him screwing everything up, all because he hadn’t stopped to actually listen and take note of what Fukuzawa was saying. The worst thing was that Fukuzawa was right, he was being hostile for no reason. Well… not no reason, because becoming hostile was a familiar path to him, one he’d taken many times, and the reason why he had no one left in his life in the first place.

A sigh came from the man in front of him, and Edgar flinched away as Fukuzawa stood, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for the man to get angry and throw him out. Only, nothing happened, except a hand coming to rest on his shoulder, squeezing it. Edgar cracked open one eye to see Fukuzawa standing above him. That same hand began to pull, unrelenting until he was standing once again. “Come on. I have some errands to run in a little bit.”

“And?” Edgar blinked, bewildered at the sudden change in topic.

“You are going to accompany me, of course. After your bath, that is.”

Edgar had had a lot of embarrassing moments in his life. That was simply the case when one used alcohol has an escape mechanism, but nothing was more embarrassing than being bathed by someone else. Really, there wasn’t. Edgar had thrown up over himself and other people, he’d passed out in the streets, and he’d failed twice at suicide, but not once, had he been seen naked by another human being that wasn’t his family. And sure, Fukuzawa was kind about it, and not judgemental at all, and had probably even kept him clean when he’d been unconscious, but it was still embarrassing to have the other man hold onto his arms to keep him upright—because his legs were still shaking like a newborn foal—whilst he stripped himself of his clothing and then climbed into the tub that was as different from the one in his own home as could be. And then he bathed, scrubbing at his skin with a cloth and the tiniest bit of soap until Fukuzawa deemed him clean enough and helped him out of the tub, offering him clothes that certainly weren’t Edgar’s own, but were his size. He couldn’t help but give Fukuzawa a look.

“There’s a family that makes clothes, and they donate some to us for patients to wear when their own clothes are too tattered or dirty to wear.” Fukuzawa explained as he helped Edgar into the pants. “They caught wind that you were a patient here, and were very quick to make something for you to wear.”

“Wait, what? They—they knew who I was?” Edgar froze, fingers halfway through threading a button, stress growing within him at the idea of being recognized by anyone, especially in his current state.

“There are not many in this part of London that wouldn’t recognize you, Mr Poe. But before you can work yourself into a panic, they do not recognize you as Lord Allan the noble, but as Mr Poe, the writer.”

The writer? What do you mean by that? Edgar thought, but when he went to ask Fukuzawa what he’d meant by that, the man was already moving, taking Edgar’s dirty clothes into his arms, and leaving the room with them, and leaving Edgar alone. It only took him a second to realize that he probably needed to follow Fukuzawa, and somehow managed to get his legs working well enough to stumble after the man. And sure enough, Fukuzawa wasn’t far, having stopped to wait for him. Edgar chose that moment to open his mouth and ask Fukuzawa what he’d meant, but he was interrupted before he even formed the first word.

“You will help me deliver medicine to the families that need it today.” Fukuzawa said, entering a room to dump the clothes, before he returned and then ventured into the room on the opposite side of the hallway, once again, returning a moment later, but this time with a satchel. “It will do you some good to get out of the clinic and get some fresh air, and then we will get you something to eat.”

“Um… do I get a choice here?” Edgar asked. The last thing he wanted to do was go outside and walk around, where he would no doubt be harassed by people whose curiosity was greater than their tact. Because these were people that would recognize Fukuzawa and not him, and honestly, Edgar just didn’t want to deal with it.

Fukuzawa paused and looked at him. “You are a patient here, Mr Poe, and this is part of your treatment, so no, you do not get a choice. Of course, you can refuse, but then I will be forced to tell Dr Mori that you have, and you will find he will not be as kind as I am.”

Edgar sighed, and resigned himself to his fate. “Fine then. I’ll go with you.”

“A wise decision, Mr Poe.”

It was an interesting experience, to wander the streets of London with another human being, even if that human being was a man from a foreign land that stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of the population because he refused to wear anything but traditional clothing. At least, Edgar thought it traditional, because it certainly wasn’t British, even though the British did sometimes wear some outrageous things.

He'd seen his fair share of over the top dresses at all the balls he’d been invited to over the years.

Of course, Edgar had no intention of asking Fukuzawa what his clothes were called because not only was it not his business, the man still scared him. But he was curious; very curious.

But what surprised Edgar the most, was how nice people were; it didn’t matter if they were children or elders, as he and Fukuzawa walked down the streets, people called out greetings, and stopped to talk to them about mindless things. Edgar always stayed quiet and out the way when they were stopped, more than content to let Fukuzawa do the talking. He was just grateful that his hair covered most of his face, because the last thing he wanted was to be recognized by someone—he didn’t think he’d be able to answer whatever questions they would have for him. He could barely answer Mori’s as is.

It was nice though, to see how the common people interacted with each other, because it was so different to the way that the nobility interacted. The world that Edgar lived in was filled with politics and false friendships, where the slightest misstep resulted in being backstabbed by those you thought you could trust. Sure, there were some genuine friendships amongst those that were higher in class than Edgar and his family could ever hope to be, but for everyone else, it was a fight to gain favour, to win the right to call yourself part of the inner circle. Edgar had set foot in the inner circle once, and once only, back when he’d actively been publishing his stories.

But after… that, he’d fallen out of that circle and been forbidden from ever setting foot into it again.

So it was… interesting to say the least, to see the difference in the way that commoners interacted with each other. From what he’d heard, the lower class was supposed to be filled with turmoil, people fighting amongst each other for scraps of food and clothing, leaving the sick and injured to fend for themselves, things like that. But there was none of that here. Edgar didn’t know if it was just this particular area of London, or if it was the same all over, but the people here had a sort of camaraderie that he could only have ever dreamed of having.

Children ran about the streets, laughing and playing in tattered clothes, but with smiles on their faces. Shopkeepers, rather than chase away the people that loitered outside their stores, chatted with them instead; Edgar watched as a café owner excused himself and returned with a box of sweets, handing them over to an elderly gentleman who then approached the group of children hiding around the corner and began to hand them out. He watched as the tailor took one look at woman with a torn shirt that was barely hanging on, and offered to fix it for her—for free.

It was all so kind, and Edgar honestly couldn’t believe that such a world existed.

“What are you thinking about, Mr Poe?” Fukuzawa asked him as they left the home of a family they’d just delivered medicine to, carefully pulling the bag of food he’d been gifted over his shoulder, taking great care to not break anything.

Edgar stared at the bag for a moment as he thought about what answer to give. “The people in this area are… really nice. I’ve never… seen such kindness before.”

Fukuzawa gave him a long look as the two of them walked down the street, before he sighed and turned to the road ahead of them, slowing his pace from a brisk walk to a gentle stroll. “Mr Poe, can I ask you a question?”

“What kind of question?” Edgar felt himself tense, immediately cautious about what kind of question he would be asked. It was impossible for him to decipher just what exactly Fukuzawa was thinking about, and this time was no different. In fact, it was even more impossible because the man was just in front of him, his face hidden and therefore expression unreadable. Yet… Fukuzawa’s questions had never been cruel or insulting, only genuine, and that was reason enough for Edgar to listen, even if he still feared what was about to come.

“Why don’t you believe in kindness?”

“Excuse me? I do believe in kindness…” Even as he said the words, they felt fake, like he was trying to talk through a mouthful of mud. It left a horrible aftertaste in his mouth.

Fukuzawa hummed and glanced over his shoulder towards Edgar. “Then let me rephrase; why do you not believe that you deserve kindness?”

Edgar ducked his head and came to a stop. “Because I don’t. Who would want to be kind to someone like me? I’m just… not someone who people love or care enough about to befriend. I’m just someone who came on a boat, that used to write stories for people until I exchanged my quill for the bottle and threw it all away. So, yeah, I don’t deserve kindness because I have done nothing to warrant any kindness. And really, that’s okay, it’s something I’ve come to accept.”

There was another hum, before a hand came to rest between his shoulders, causing Edgar to flinch from the suddenness of the touch. He raised his head and stared at Fukuzawa, eyes wide, and arms curled towards himself. Fukuzawa’s hand continued to remain on his back, but his expression was kind as he guided Edgar into moving forward again, and it was that kind look that loosened Edgar’s lips.

“It’s not fair.” Edgar began, allowing his arms to curl around himself as he walked. “It’s not fair that I was plucked off streets of America and brought here, just to be forced to conform to his country’s societal standards that I never understood. I did my best, I followed what Frances and John did, and did as they told me, dressed as they told me, and played nice as they told me, but even then, I was still the little American boy trying to play the lord he never would be. So I just ignored them and wrote stories—good stories—that the other noble children liked, and I kept writing, and writing, until a company offered to publish my books and things got good.”

He paused just long enough to take a breath before he pushed on. “People started to take an interest in me and talk to me; asking me about my books and my life, and seeing me for me instead of the adopted child of the Allan’s family. It’s why I used Poe when I published my stories actually, because… I could separate myself from Lord Allan, the noble, and Edgar Poe, the writer.”

Silence followed his words, and Edgar began to stress that maybe he shouldn’t have just blurted all of that out to someone who barely even knew him, yet Fukuzawa was still walking, still staring straight ahead, but also clearly listening to what Edgar had been saying. Still, he kept quiet, his face flushed and palms sweaty from where they still clutched at his shirt.

Fukuzawa stopped and turned to face him, wearing a look of interest. “So what went wrong?”

And that question, that simple question, was all it took for Edgar to continue, his eyes pricking slightly as he spoke, this time in a much calmer tone than before. “I fell in love with the wrong person, that’s what went wrong.” His fists tightened their grip as he strode past Fukuzawa and kept walking. “A group of American’s came over for business ventures just after I turned eighteen, and my family worked with them. It was an experience, to get to know people from the country I’d been born into, and they were nice. One of them especially. He was… kind.”

“You fell in love with him.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, and a truthful one at that.

Edgar nodded. “I did. I fell for him, and he fell for me, and we pursued each other for two years. It was a secret, of course, no one knew what we did or how we felt. He had his own house in the city that I would visit him at, and we would just spend time together, him working, and me writing.” He couldn’t help but smile as he remembered the gentle way that his old love had handled him, treating him like he was buried treasure pulled from the ocean, always telling him how talented and gentle he was, kissing him and running his beautiful hands across Edgar’s bare skin. “It was—It was nice.”

And then he sighed, and the smile fell from his face. “But we were foolish. We got too complacent and someone caught us in bed together and told everyone. Soon enough, instead of being praised for my literary pieces, I was seen as nothing but a sodomite, a molly, someone who just whored himself out to men because he found them attractive instead of the countless women that tried to get my attention. And—And—” Edgar broke off as his eyes began to sting and swallowed, desperately trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall and make him look even more pathetic than he already was.

He heard footsteps behind him, and an arm wrap around his shoulders, providing a comforting, warm weight. “And what, Mr Poe?”

“And instead of standing beside me, the man I loved said that I made a move on him, and that he never loved me in that way, that he was just playing along because he thought I was lonely.” Edgar sobbed, ignoring the tears that ran down his cheeks. “After two years of loving each other, he just threw it all away to protect his precious reputation and let me take the fall for it. Alone! And it hurt. It hurt so much. I tried to talk to him the day after the papers ran the first article, but he wouldn’t hear me out, and the person that caught us continued to spread rumours and lies about me, and soon enough, everyone that had once liked or tolerated my existence wanted nothing to do with me. I was nothing but a piece of shit that needed to be shovelled out of the street.

It was the worst time of my life… everything I’d done prior, and everything I tried to do after… reduced to nothing and forgotten about just because I loved a man. The nobility refused to acknowledge me, and soon enough I was thrown from every social circle I’d once had the luxury of being in. And John and Frances, they tried, at first, they really did try to help, but they didn’t understand the pain I was going through and I knew that they thought me a freak of nature as well. I just felt so lonely after it all, that I dressed myself in peasant clothes and found a bar that didn’t recognize me. And drank myself into oblivion for the first time.” Edgar chuckled to himself and wiped away the tears that continued to fall. “And well, the papers pretty much covered everything after that.”

He waited for Fukuzawa to say something, hoped he would say something after allowing Edgar to go off like that, but the man stood there, silent with his arm around Edgar’s shoulders, and he began to grow worried that he’d upset the man or somehow angered him—which was irrational because Fukuzawa didn’t look angry, but also he couldn’t be too sure since he didn’t really know the man at all. The hand on his shoulder tightened and Edgar flinched, only to find himself pulled into an embrace, something that he hadn’t experienced in well over two years, and he could feel the tears returning.

“You are right that it wasn’t fair.” Fukuzawa’s voice was gentle as he held Edgar tightly in his arms. “It wasn’t fair that you were cast aside just because you found happiness in someone who didn’t fit the norm, and it certainly wasn’t fair that the man you loved and trusted, abandoned you to deal with it on your own. It should never have happened, and although I did not know you two years ago, I apologize for the way that no one stopped to lend you a helping hand when you needed it the most.” There was a brief pause, no longer than a few seconds. “But know that now you have that helping hand, and sure, it’s probably not from the people you expected it to come from, but it’s there, waiting for you to reach out and take it. Only if you are ready to take it, of course.”

And just like that, the dam holding back Edgar’s tears cracked and crumbled away, and he began to sob in earnest, hands reaching up to clutch at the front of Fukuzawa’s shirt as he cried into the man’s chest. His entire body shook with the force of his tears as an entire two years’ worth of pent up emotions broke free and made themselves known. Edgar couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried like this; surely it had to have been that day when, in the pouring rain, he’d banged on his former love’s door, begging for him to just come out or let him in so that they could talk.

His knocks and pleas hadn’t been answered, but he knew they’d been heard when a curtain had shifted, falling back into place in the way it only could’ve done so if someone had been watching him through it to begin with. And Edgar’s heart had broken entirely at the realization that he’d been completely and utterly abandoned by the one person he’d thought would stand by him through all the slander and hatred. But it seemed that he’d placed his heart and trust in the wrong person; obviously Edgar was just as unlovable as he’d always been.

So yeah, that night was probably the last time he’d cried so much.

And still, Fukuzawa continued to hold him, doing nothing more but being the pillar that kept him upright. He didn’t move to stroke Edgar’s back like his family might have once done for him, but his arms remained wrapped around him, strong and firm, more than enough to remind Edgar that he wasn’t alone. I should let go. Edgar told himself. I’m making a scene and a mess. He continued to think, but made no attempt to actually do something about it. Why is he doing this? I don’t deserve this—this kindness. He just continued to stand there and cling, desperately holding onto that kindness he’d been shown before it could be taken from him again.

He knew it would, because his life wasn’t meant to be a happy one, it wasn’t meant to be filled with kindness and people that cared.

Happiness wasn’t made for people like him.

Edgar didn’t know how long it was until he stopped crying, but by the time he was aware that he’d stopped, his eyes burned and his jaw hurt, and there was that exhaustion clinging to him that made him want nothing more than to curl up on the ground and sleep. For a while—he didn’t know how long—he stood there until slowly, his hands uncurled and dropped back to his side and he stepped back, Fukuzawa’s arms falling away. He raised his hands to wipe at his eyes.

“Do you feel better now?” Fukuzawa asked.

Edgar nodded. He did feel better after crying, as embarrassing as it was. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to apologize.” Fukuzawa said, reaching out to grab Edgar’s sleeve and tug him into moving. “Come along.”

That was when Edgar realized that they were no longer on the street they’d been walking on before Edgar had broken down, but hidden in a little side alley where it was just the two of them. At some point, Fukuzawa must’ve dragged him somewhere quiet—private, for Edgar to break down where no one could see him. And now he was just following Fukuzawa like a lost puppy, trailing behind the man as he led him to wherever it was that they were going. No words were spoken as they walked, not that any needed to be, for Edgar was still embarrassed about the way that he’d dumped his entire life story upon Fukuzawa, and Fukuzawa wasn’t the kind of person that talked much at all.

And honestly, just this once, Edgar preferred the silence.

He didn’t know what he would say anyway.

Edgar found himself back at the clinic, although he didn’t really take much notice as Fukuzawa guided him back to the room he was currently staying in; Edgar didn’t hesitate to just collapse onto the bed and let his exhaustion sweep him into the peaceful ocean that was sleep. As he drifted off, he felt hands—no doubt Fukuzawa’s—pulling his shoes off and removing his coat, and the last thing he felt as he went to sleep, was the feeling of a blanket being pulled over him. And then that was it, Edgar was lost to the realm of dreams, and for once, they were pleasant dreams.

Of course, that was where his luck ran out, because when Edgar woke up the next morning, it was to Mori sitting in the chair beside him, and Edgar regretted waking up immediately.

“I brought breakfast.” Mori gestured towards the tray that was sitting on Edgar’s bedside table; some sort of porridge looking meal that wasn’t anything like what Edgar had eaten before. If porridge had a class system then this would no doubt be ‘poor porridge.’

But with one look from Mori, Edgar picked up the bowl and began to eat. “Thank you. But… uh, why are you bringing me breakfast?”

“Because Ranpo decided to exert himself yesterday and woke up unable to breath properly this morning. Fukuzawa’s watching over him, so I volunteered to bring you breakfast instead.” Mori shrugged, as if it Ranpo struggling to breath wasn’t a serious problem, but rather, an everyday issue. Actually… it probably is now that I think about it. Edgar thought, because he remembered the way that Fukuzawa and Mori had been worried about Ranpo that day Edgar had helped him, but not panicked.

“Oh.”

“Besides, it also gives me the chance to talk to you.” Mori went on to say, leaning back in his chair to study Edgar carefully. “Fukuzawa told me a little bit of what happened yesterday. Not a lot, because god forbid that man ever tells me the whole story of anything without me having to pull his teeth, but enough to give me some idea as to how you’re feeling.”

“Oh.”

Mori sighed. “Perhaps you could say something other than oh?”

What is it that you want me to say? Edgar wanted to cry out, but refrained from doing so in favour of eating more of his lumpy porridge, which was as tasteless as it looked, but again, he wasn’t going to say anything. And he didn’t really know what else to say either, so he just kept quiet and avoided making eye contact. Because unlike Fukuzawa, who was more than content to let Edgar speak when he was ready—within reason of course—Mori was not as lenient, digging and pushing until he was given the answer, regardless of how the person he was questioning felt.

He knew it was just Mori doing his job, and if Edgar was being honest, the man was a great doctor and the questions he asked, while difficult, undoubtedly did more to help. It was just that Edgar was far too broken of a human being to handle those questions easily; it was much easier to ignore or redirect Mori’s attention elsewhere—well, attempt to at least, for it hadn’t really worked in the short time he’d come to know the man.

“Mr Poe.” Mori said after he received no answer to his question. “Allow me to be blunt for a moment?”

Edgar nodded, already preparing himself for the worst question.

“If I were to discharge you, would you attempt to kill yourself again, or not?”

“I…” Edgar hesitated, letting the spoon fall back into the bowl with a small clang. Would he try to die again if he was left alone? The answer was eventually, because while he felt okay now, he knew it wouldn’t take long for him to fall apart and want to die again. The only reason he even felt okay now was because he’d been unconscious for a week, and aside from that first day where he’d had all the time to think about how he’d ended up in the clinic, he hadn’t had much time to think about his situation at all. He hadn’t been left alone long enough to be given the chance to acknowledge the clawing sensation inside of him that was his need for a drink, nor was he given a chance to really, truly, listen to that nagging voice in his head, the one that told him that dying was what was best.

But now that Mori had asked him if he still wished to die, Edgar was more than aware of these feelings that lay inside him, but rather than accept them like he usually did… a small part of him wanted to reject those feelings. Edgar let out a sigh and worried his lip between his teeth as he slowly put the words together. “I… don’t know. Probably, I guess, if I had to be truthful. I’m alone in a big empty house with no one around… so there’s not much for me to do other than die.”

“If that’s the case, then I won’t discharge you.” Mori said matter-of-factly, standing from the chair and crossing his arms. “However, I do need this bed—”

“Then I will leave.” Edgar said, fingers tightening around the bowl. “I have no desire to take up a bed when—ow!” He flinched as Mori whacked him over the head with a… newspaper? Where did that even come from?

Mori’s look was one of annoyance. “If you would let me finish, Mr Poe, I am not throwing you out. The opposite, in fact.”

Edgar raised his head, confused. If he wasn’t being thrown out, then what was going to happen to him?

“Until I deem you fit, you will stay with us and help out.”

On second thought, being thrown out doesn’t sound half-bad.

“Such an interesting look on your face.” Mori hid a smile behind his hand, chuckling at the look of displeasure on Edgar’s face.

Who could blame him really? Ever since he had decided to die, Mori and his strange little put-together family had interfered at every step. First, it had been Ranpo, dragging him away from the bridge with quips and insults that no lower class person would’ve dared to say to a Lord—not that Edgar had been a Lord at that point to begin with. And then it had been Mori and Fukuzawa, butting into business that wasn’t their own in a way that Edgar couldn’t help but give in to; there was just something about the two older men, something that he couldn’t quite understand, a kind of gentleness that said they understood the pain he was going through, but didn’t quite know how to help.

And Edgar just didn’t know how to handle it.

“I do not wish to inconvenience you and your family.” Edgar said.

“I would not have suggested it if it was an inconvenience.” Mori countered. “It will not be as simple as you think, for as you have seen, we do not have much space. You will help out, and you will work, and in exchange we will feed you and provide a place to sleep.”

“Why though? Why go to so much effort for me?”

“Because, Mr Poe.” Mori crouched before the bed and lifted his head to meet Edgar’s eyes. “We once lost someone to the very illness that plagues you, and call it selfish of us, but if we can prevent someone else from following that path, we will do everything we can to help.”

The words hit Edgar hard, and he wanted to turn away from the raw emotion in Mori’s voice, the kind that came from losing someone you cared about deeply, but he couldn’t. All he could do was stare back at Mori as the silence grew between the two of them. He tried to think of something to say, anything to say, but there was nothing, like all the words had been stolen from within him. He could feel his mouth open and close over and over as he tried to think.

But there was nothing.

He could offer condolences, he could offer apologies, but what good would they do in the end? The loss had already happened, long before Edgar had ever known of the man in front of him. Besides, what good would words do from him of all people? Edgar realized in that moment, just how painful of a reminder he must’ve been to Mori; how painful it must’ve been for the doctor to offer his help, only for Edgar to reject it again and again, to watch him try to die again and again.

He didn’t know how Mori had the strength.

He didn’t know how any of them had the strength.

And it was that lack of knowledge that gave him strength.

He reached out and rested his hand on top of Mori’s head, smiling when the doctor’s eyes went wide. “Okay. I’ll—I’ll give it a try. Just… don’t expect much from me…”

Mori chuckled, and climbed to his feet. “Don’t worry, we have no expectations.”

Somehow, despite the insulting nature of Mori’s words, all they did was make Edgar feel warm inside.

It was nice, to have no expectations placed upon him for once in his life.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #angst #edgar allan poe #edogawa ranpo #fukuzawa yukichi #mori ougai #ranpoe #hurt/comfort #writing #fanfic

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shallowseeker · 1 year

Text

Dean, stricken

(His vision is) fuzzy at the edges, a little warped. The voices have an echo.

///

Again, the odd, hazy POV.

AU Michael is ofc wrong in 14x10 about Dean ONLY feeling sadness "on the outside." (It's indeed a little bit true that Dean feels that Jack is a new burden foisted upon him, that he feels he owes Cas for rescuing him, and that he feels freer and relieved when Sam is off doing his own thing, but human feelings are murky and contradictory and overlaid with so much love that it's not the whole story. Michael is twisting and emphasizing certain parts to create a one-dimensional anxiety.)

Anyway, the crux of the series is that Dean's almost always tortured with sadness and guilt. Sometimes, he's incredibly turbulent inside, even when his outside seems calm. Like all SPN characters, sometimes Dean longs to feel nothing, or to be in a simpler Purgatory of life, with simple kill-or-be-killed rules, like a programmed automaton.

But that's not how Dean is 99% of the time.

This hazy response, often accompanied by nstagmus, is how Dean experiences emotional, traumatic events. His father's death, Sam's death, Jack's death, Mary's death and all of Cas's deaths, especially the one in Despair. When Cas started confessing, you know he was struggling to catch it all, especially if reality switched to this warped, echoey monstrosity.

14x07 Unhuman Nature

(All scripts here.)

#dean stuff #spn 14x07 #spn unhuman nature #spn nihilism #spn vs nihilism #complex contradictory human feelings #spn 14x10 #spn au michael #jack stuff

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naffeclipse · 1 year

Note

Surprise!!! >:D

I come here fashionably late to deliver the comment I owed with interest and all! And oh boy oh boy, get ready because this one might be the longest one yet! At least that’s what it’s looking like in my notes app at the moment kñjfdhgkj (Me: writes my thought not usually longer than a sentence long because each note has a not huge word limit. Also me: nearly reaches the limit and every sentence is basically a paragraph here fkjdhgkjh)

Anyways! Let’s start! :D

Ohhh man, that poor old man. What a scene to come back to! Considering the hunters seemed to have secured the area for the confrontation I can only imagine what must be going through his mind after his last interaction with them all! Meanwhile Sun and Moon are over here just like. “Great. Someone else that thinks we killed them all. :( ”

But ahhh I just love how it’s a slow scene that builds the tension! Because we know what happened at the end of the last chapter so we experience the restlessness as the clock ticks by. And then, they get free, and things get going.

Oh it was so interesting when they found Vanessa. The fact that she was wearing their jacket! I can’t imagine Glitchtrap would be the one to put it on her after he took the white patched one, so it’s such a sad image thinking about her dragging herself towards the discarded green jacket like it’s the last thing she’ll get to keep of y/n after this D:

Also how they identified her! It makes me wonder how much they can know from a heart. It does get explained later but it immediately got me speculating about different levels of rulebreakers. So I imagine other people who might be considered guilty but not rulebreakers might be those that were in compliance with the harm, or those that were neglectful. It seems to Eclipse both are just as bad as any rulebreaker and deserve the same fate. Thank goodness for their vow!

Also gfkjhgfjh poor Vanessa, fr XD Just got freed from a heart eating demon and she can’t get a full rest before another heart eating demon is roughly shaking her awake. Though gotta give her credit! It’s sad, but also very badass of her that she’s just so done that she won’t show any fear to them. Just that she despises them. Also respect for her for refusing to sell y/n to the new demon. From her perspective she already feels guilty for one demon taking them and she wasn’t gonna make their troubles even worse, even if that might have meant this demon ended her right then. But also I love that that’s what makes them start to reel their anger in a little, because they know that, exactly like her, y/n also thought Eclipse would kill them. They realize all Vanessa sees right now is a demon after its quarry.

And aaaahh, Vanessa noticing the patches! She must have looked at the patch in her own jacket enough times to recognize y/n’s handiwork and all the implications for that. Even so exhausted, she’s very sharp still! But oof the dread in all of them when she admits what happened. Gosh the part where they clutch the hair clip with one blue hand and one red one! Ahhh that had me feeling so many things. It’s a small moment of despair and trying not to grief, snapping themselves to action instead of thinking the worst!

And then they go back to not giving Vanessa a single break sheesh XD Oh man, the dreaded acceptance in her face when they accuse her of not protecting the children. Punching right where it hurts the most. And like, she read the book. She knows what being considered guilty means when encountering a demon that follows the sacred rules. And it’s so sad to think that she might even consider that if they had killed she would have deserved it. Ooough my heart. But then they don’t and she just has to accept that they truly do care about finding y/n, they sound desperate in telling her that the hunter needed her to not give up on them, even if for Vanessa right now giving up might be the only way to find some rest after what she’s been through. And so Vanessa just has to go “this might as well just happen huh”. Not to mention the whiplash fdkjfhdgjkh This demon that just admitted to wanting to kill her suddenly referring to themselves as the cutesy nickname y/n assigned them just like “we’re their sweetie <3” is sure gotta be something from her perspective XD

But at least as they start to calm down and form a sketch of a plan for what to do they do truly start to notice how badly Vanessa had it with how often Glitchtrap used her. Even for someone they deem guilty the act of possession is simply horrific to them. But aaaah I love how they keep reminding themselves that Vanessa is y/n’s friend and they take their hunter as an example. They try to take care of her as they know y/n would aaaaa!

Oh, Vanessa has the scar too! This definitely makes me think Glitchtrap likes to mark what he thinks it’s his. Seems like a signature since it was also done near a finger in Vanessa’s case. At least for his vessels.

And jfkhdkjhg the amused “What do they see in you?” comment XD Boys please. I guess it would be surprising to them because she’s much more snarky and hardened than y/n haha. But glad that as they really start paying attention to her they are reminded that there is more nuance where they only bothered to see black and white. They know the guilt when they sense it, but it might not always be due to evil or negligence. Sometimes it’s powerlessness. They really are learning, and it’s thanks to their time with y/n that they are forced to dig a little deeper into what they already thought they knew. It’s learning they do on their own right now, but yet another proof of how their heart has influenced them greatly! They get to see Vanessa does care! She always did! If not for the vow, they might actually just have killed her and not learned the truth, and also not gotten the information to save the hunter.

But of course, Vanessa is learning a bit herself! I’m sure that the boys willing to be present during an exorcism, knowing how dangerous it can be for them to trust her with it, just to be there for y/n is really something for her to think about. Not then though, she really needed that nap.

(sidenote: “They will get you back, even if they must rip the demonic cryptid out of you themselves” the foreshadowing though! I read the chapter again to write this comment and I was pointing at everything with a gasp once I realized XD)

Oh gosh then we get the possession POV oof! This demon really likes to multitask. Hunting while torturing y/n with the hunters’ deaths! And aahhh what a way to hurt them. Since their mind is basically his to rummage through it wouldn’t surprise if he chose the word “gift” specifically to drive the knife into the wound. Referring to it like the boys did to the cryptid hearts they consumed thanks to y/n. Maybe a way for Glitchtrap to tell them that any gifts will be now for him alone and that they don’t belong to Eclipse anymore.

And oh! Does this mean it was Vanessa who assigned him his name? Oooo that really goes with the parallels of each of the cryptid hunters and their experience with the prolonged stay of a demon near them! Interesting!

Also interesting that Vanessa investigated on her own! FEI really are idiots for having trapped him and not gotten rid of him. Maybe they really thought they got Bonnie and were insisting the deaths were someone else’s fault, or maybe they just wanted to keep him as a way to experiment on what they could force the demons to do. Either way, they really messed up.

And aaah the boys console Vanessa! I think it helps that she let them know that the reason she got into this whole deal was precisely because she was trying to prevent more children’s deaths, even against her employer’s wishes. She did quite the opposite of what they believed at first. Everything in her power to do the right thing. And so they truly have the full picture now. They know why y/n loves Vanessa so much.

But oh, things start to pick up then!

Immediately, the line “your wild hair is untucked” hits so good because it’s a clear reference to how they are missing the pin AAAAA (actually, I love the emphasis you put in the descriptions of their being loose and moving so much. The hair clip logically is such an inconsequential detail in this whole equation, but it means so much actually. It calls attention to the small hope they are clinging to, and also to the wrongness of it all. The very cause that the hunter is missing it in the first place)

Ooooo the “why did you come back”, Glitchtrap knows all of y/n’s insecurities, but also can estimate some of Eclipse’s through their memories. And the worse part is that it works, because even if they don’t show it, it’s a recent still painful moment.

And oh then we get that good juicy demon lore!! I loved reading through all the encounters they’ve had with him through the years! Glitchtrap causes trauma even to other demons kfjdhdkhs And omg the security puppet bit! Ahhhhh!!! That’s seriously one of the moments in the entire fnaf franchise that stayed with me for its impact and I was so excited when I saw you referred to it! If it hasn’t been asked, I’d love to know about how you chose all their true names! Does Glitchtrap have one too? (don’t worry if it has been asked though! I’ll be going through your blog to catch up anyways haha)

And oooh Vanessa coming up with the plan!!! Ruthless but effective. And aaaahh this part gave me so many feelings though! Because this must have meant so much for her! Finally, finally, she gets to save at least one child from Glitchtrap’s claws. After watching every kid die, likely right in front of her, wanting to do everything to save them. She got the chance to save one, and she succeeded. She might feel responsible for all the others, but it was thanks to her this one lived. It would have been so unlikely that Sun or Moon could have snatched the kid without Glitchtrap hurting them or killing them. Just… aaaaah I love that she got this. The relief that it didn’t end the same way as always!

(sidenote: fkdjhgkjgh that’s 2 kids now that will probably be traumatized by y/n’s face without it actually being y/n doing the bad thing oof)

More possession POV! I want to make a note how I love the way you emphasize that it’s him moving y/n’s body. Very much giving the feeling of a puppetmaster! Even if it’s him “wearing” the body I could very clearly imagine his hands physically moving y/n’s head to look back. And oof, the way he was tearing them apart from the inside, making very sure that he would make as much damage as possible if he himself had to die. And once again, y/n would have been willing to sacrifice themselves if it hadn’t been because it would have meant Eclipse’s end also. They better never admit that or they will earn a well deserved shaking by the shoulders, I swear dksgkjñh

Oh, Glitchtrap just really likes to mock wherever he can. The way he mocked the almost kiss, not only angering the boys but worsening y/n’s guilt at not having noticed the demon and Vanessa just out of their reach. Oh and then! Using y/n to try and get Sun and Moon away! It’s terrifying how a demon can have more control over a human body than the human in question.

AND THEN! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

The double possession! The kiss!! AAAAAA The way they push Glitchtrap out together! How it was inevitable that he would lose that fight because even if their body rejected both, their mind would reject Glitchtrap specifically! The way that he can’t try to tear them apart like he did moments earlier because Sun and Moon are making sure to cut his contact with them! And aaah it’s so intense and sad how the process is so painful that for a moment y/n thinks they really will die. How in their mind they think of Vanessa and the kid being safe as what is important, but then they realize how they would not die without regrets if they did not apologize to them. The fact that Eclipse is the main reason not to give up, when their self-sacrificial nature made y/n so alright with dying if it meant they could take down the monster AAAAAA

And aaaaa the boys instantly let go as soon as Glitchtrap is out. Not a millisecond more than necessary is spent in the hunter’s body to make sure not to hurt them more. And ok, this is just gonna be some ramblings about the battle because gosh I just loved it so much. I love the fact that the boys declared Glitchtrap would never hurt another innocent. Not just children. Ahh I’m so proud of them!

And oof ooooooouch the part where they get their chest ripped open. More parallels! Just like they did to Shoh what came naturally to them, so did they receive what another heart eating demon would do. And aaa Vanessa keeps helping! She’s so prepared!! She knew it took her a moment to find the incantation, so she got the book ready to be easy to find!

Aaaugh our boys received so much damage there, but they kept getting up for their heart aaaaa And oh you could feel the fury when Glitchtrap got so close to the hunter’s heart with his claws. He really went for it thinking he had won and the boys said don’t you dare!

(sidenote: hehe they Eclipsed the sun X3)

And whoooo boy they really did start ripping him apart, piece by piece like promised!

And what a finale to the battle! I love, LOVE, how Glitchtrap’s brought his own undoing upon himself. It was his sick fondness for the plushie that caused so many deaths, (and its image of the golden bunny suit that allowed him access to children) that meant there would be a vessel for him to be trapped in. And also his cruelty for wanting Vanessa to live and suffer through the effects, physical and mental, of the constant possession. Thanks to her being alive, they were able to find him and predict him. And through one of the beings he considered “nothing”, he was erased from existence. I find it interesting that he was willing to let Eclipse walk away after he thought enough damage had been dealt with. Not out of any kindness, I’m sure (probably to make them live with failure like the others) but he seemed to feel some kinship in a twisted way, with how he tried to convince them to also hunt innocent hearts and leave the sacred rules. Meanwhile humans are just toys. Too bad for him a toy is the last thing he was before he was exorcized.

Aaaaa what an amazing battle Naff! Brutal and tense and so so good!

And then the aftermath! The boys tasting their blood to be sure they would be okay! They must have tasted all the pain and fear from the past day. The past hours. And then y/n admitting, now genuinely, how scared they are. Of losing them. And then make not one, but two vows! One to really drive it home how they will not betray their trust again. And aaaaah they finally coming to terms with their love for cryptids! Accepting a part of themselves by accepting them! AAAAAAA

And man, the boys really are amazing. Healing so quickly after such a battle! Once things have calmed down I can definitely see y/n fascinated (and thankful) for this ability to heal so thoroughly after a single meal.

(sidenote: Y/n seriously about to become a mechanic for their boys haha, that knee needs some fixing XD)

(other sidenote: oh they picked the plushie up! Maybe to destroy it? hmmm)

The reunion with Vanessa was so sweet! And it was so funny that Sun was so offended that she didn’t immediately assumed they won XD And aaa she gets a hug! And a good cry too! She really needed that. And oh yeah, she will likely never eat a piece of candy again. Might as well be demonic goo in her eyes.

But ha! The “only you”. Called out! Wheeze!

And oh when y/n is thinking about telling her all they’ve been through my first thought was “Oh Vanessa gets to hear Cryptid Sightings from the start! Lucky her!” XD

And my last thought for this chapter was that if y/n is worried about making a good impression with the demon in laws they really shouldn’t be haha! I’m sure banishing The Enemy they’ve been hunting for millenia will absolutely get them in the good graces of the others effortlessly kfgdjhgj

Oh and! Now that Glitchtrap is gone, while the night terrors won’t disappear, I’m very glad there is some closure for them now. The demon is no longer out there. And when they wake up, they can breathe easy knowing that now, it really is only a nightmare. He has no power anymore.

Okay, for the epilogue!

Yay! Vanessa gets to go to a hospital! Too bad demonic possession is not really in their treatment list dkjhfkjdgh But I’m glad she’s not as bad off as we feared! And oh I’m curious about something she said! Human food tastes like ash to demons, but she said Glitchtrap was obsessed with sugar. Does that mean then that demons can taste things if they are possessing a human? hmmm interesting! (but morbid kjdgh)

(sidenote: “you can’t lingered on what would have happened if you had succumbed to the vampire bite”, well the hunter can’t but WE sure can XP)

Ahhh that’s a long stay at the hospital, but it’s nice how they establish some calm and get to figuring things out. And the fact that Vanessa’s tears are clear when they leave! Finally she is physically free from him!! Aaaaaaa

And it’s so sweet how the boy’s care extends to Vanessa now. How they keep patting her head and there’s a certain camaraderie forming. The way they tried to deal with her nightmares too how they did with y/n! It’s sweet, but a bit sad that they couldn’t help. But Vanessa did say Glitchtrap watched her sleep to make sure she wouldn’t escape. Waking to a demon isn’t what she needed. She needs time. To heal from the freshest wounds at least. Her saying that he’s still here says it all. His effects will always linger and her knowing what happened with Henry… well, it’s no wonder she still fears Eclipse could betray them. Thankfully, they’re all together though. They’ll figure it out.

And aaaaa that final dance was everything! I cackled at the “missing what’s right in front of you” part, because I feel like they were not even including the cryptid part of the equation just the being obvious about their feelings and y/n logic-ing themselves away from noticing fjdhñkjgh

AAAA the getting out of their vessel in front of them though! When before they were so unsure about it! The fact that it’s y/n pulling them out, feeling safe, and wanting to see them! And omg them sharing their name! Something that feels so important to them, because only their loved ones know it, and it feels like they truly are giving them their being. A part of themselves that’s so personal. In a way, they are giving them what is closest to being their heart. What is theirs and only theirs. And the way they yearn for them to repeat it aaaaa! They finally get their heart knowing them as they crave. And there’s so much more for them to get to know too!

AND AAAAA THE KISS!!! Naff you describe kisses so well! So sweet, and intimate, and full of so many emotions, and it’s the hunter’s pov but you can just tell how much it affects the boys too, like it’s something they tried to imagine but didn’t know how much better it would be than that until now. Just the absolute trust in them, and sharing all those feelings and AAAAAAAA-

(sidenote: “They sink into your touch as if you felled them in one swoop” oh this line encapsulates so many thoughts I’ve had about love in general. The one person that could hurt Eclipse the most in the world right now is y/n. But they know they won’t. They know the person they can lower all defenses around and trust with their life is their little hunter, who would access their most vulnerable parts not to hurt but to cherish. To show them kindness and care and so they are happy to give themselves to their heart. To let them know how much they are able to affect them)

And that’s it!

Naff, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for this fic! Filled with wonder and tension and so many cool creatures! The relationships all so easy to get invested in! All the themes about love, and the internal struggles, and growing together, and fighting to right the wrongs that were done towards those you love, and what means to be brave and trying to do the right thing! What an amazing adventure! Not to mention how much I love your writing because honestly, it’s just so good! You know how much I love it hehe <3 This is the first fic I’ve followed from early on all the way to end too! And what a fantastic one at that! Thank you for all the time and care you have put into this story! I cannot wait to read whatever you have planned for the future!

So to end this, once again! Thank you so much for this fic, Naff! You really are amazing! <3

Ah, Chaotik! I have been rereading this over and over the past few days and I love how detailed your thoughts are and I adore how you connect the crumbs I laid out! I'm almost so happy that you enjoyed it! You are amazing. I have enjoyed your every comment/thought and appreciate you so much ♥

To answer one question: Does that mean then that demons can taste things if they are possessing a human? hmmm interesting! (but morbid kjdgh)

Yes! Demons can taste regular food while possessing a human vessel, and some even get crazy about it, like Glitchtrap obsessing over sugar. When not possessing vessels, human food is gross/tasteless to them!

Thank you, Chaotik! I treasure each and every word you leave on my fics! ♥

#rattles you gently #*smooch ya on the head*#chaotikanvas #cryptid sightings spoilers #compliments #moots

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ohwynne · 10 months

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TIMING: A few days after Rhett attacked Cass PARTIES: Cass @magmahearts & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: Alex & Andy's place SUMMARY: Wynne shows up to comfort Cass. They also have an overdue conversation about what Wynne went through and what they recently did. It's soft. CONTENT WARNINGS: Sibling death

She was trying to be better. It was a desperate thing, the way she carefully schooled her features in front of Alex, the way she tried to pretend that nothing ached. It was stupid, too, because she knew Alex saw through it. She knew her girlfriend could hear the way her heart pounded in her chest, the way her pulse raced and her breaths came a little too quick. Alex knew she was scared, and Alex was fine with it. Alex wanted to help. But accepting help felt like a confession that Cass didn’t want to make. She wasn’t supposed to need it. She was supposed to be a superhero. She wasn’t supposed to be afraid.

But she was anyway.

So she clung to distractions. She asked her friends to come over so she could practice her performance, pretended to be fine in front of all of them so she could start to believe the act. She laughed with them, and she pretended it didn’t hurt. She focused so hard on keeping her glamour up that she was exhausted when company left. She invited more people over the next day. It was an easy enough pattern. She was getting good at it.

Wynne was here today. They were one of the ones she’d felt the worst about leaving hanging when she’d gone through her messages after waking up. They’d clearly been worried, and the fact that Cass’s experience had prevented Wynne from being able to share whatever news they’d had to share made her feel guilty, because Wynne deserved to share that news no matter what it might be. Cass looked at them now, smiling softly. She reached out, taking their hands in hers. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Did you want to talk? About the news. It’s okay if you don’t, but if you do, I’d really like to hear it!”

—

The fatigue that had overtaken their body after they’d finished the ritual had never really left their body. Wynne felt the tiredness in their very bones, weighing them down like lead. They wanted to be happy and relieved, and though some part of them was, it all seemed numbed by that exhaustion. What broke through that numbness, though, was the news of what had happened to Cass. Suddenly there was something to do again, something clear to feel again. Anger on behalf of another. Concern. There was something like purpose, even.

It felt crude to think of it in such a way, so they tried not to. They just wanted to be there for their friend, to seem like something solid to lean on. Like someone who did and had faced their problems head-on, and had done so without feeling like they’d destroyed part of themself in the process.

Looking at Cass was a little hard, with the way she didn’t look her bright self. She was smiling and warm, as always, but there was something about her that seemed paler. Wynne fought their fatigue at the reality they were in where they felt that more hurt was inevitable. And though they knew pain was a part of life, some of this just seemed pointless. Rhett’s violence was pointless in how cruel it was and how it left nothing but despair. They didn’t get it. What they did get was how mad they were at it all.

“I’m glad you’re here,” they said, giving a sad little smile before tucking their legs closer. They had felt so certain when they had announced to Cass that they wanted to talk, but that was gone now. But their friend was eager, and Wynne wanted nothing but to appease her and they should tell her. They owed some kind of truth, didn’t they? “Well, I don’t really know if it’s news, if that’s the right term you know? But I guess I wanted to tell you about something that happened, that I did or went through, I don’t know.” They rubbed their knee. “It’s about where I’m from and all. It’s a bit heavy, though, I guess? So if you would rather talk of light things, that’s okay.”

—

Wynne looked tired, and Cass wondered if it was egotistical of her to think that some of that exhaustion might have something to do with her. She wasn’t the center of anyone’s universe, she knew, but Wynne was her friend. They’d been worried about her, she’d seen it. In the messages they’d sent, the way they’d kept poking her for contact even when those messages went unanswered. Some people gave up the first time a message went with no reply, and Cass got that. It was easy to convince yourself that someone was just busy, that they didn’t feel like talking. But Wynne hadn’t. And didn’t that mean something? Wasn’t there a message being sent there, a good one?

So maybe Wynne was tired because of her. Maybe they looked so withdrawn because the same man who’d hurt Ariadne had hurt Cass, too. Maybe there was some righteous anger there, the kind no one had ever felt for Cass before she’d come to this town and met all these people. She decided not to ask about it. If she asked, the answer might be no. And she wanted it to be yes. She really, really did.

She smiled a little as Wynne spoke, trying not to feel the heaviness under the words. They were glad she was here because she almost wasn’t. Because if that knife had found purchase in her head, the way Rhett had meant for it to, she’d be gone now. It was a scary thing to think about, a heavy weight hanging over her head. She’d almost died. She wasn’t sure how to conceptualize it.

She couldn’t think of what to say in response, so she said nothing. She’d rather have the distraction, rather hear the news Wynne would have delivered to her if she hadn’t been writhing on an autopsy table with an impossibly pounding heart. “I don’t mind,” she said quickly. “I don’t mind heavy. I — I want to hear it. You’re my friend. I want to know more about you, if you want to tell me.”

—

It was getting a little easier to tell this tale now. Wynne would prefer not to, on one hand. To just let the past rot and fester where it belonged. But how could they, when there was so much that went unsaid? When their own friends opened up and told them about their pasts because they trusted them? It felt unfair to keep it quiet and besides, it was hard to explain the things that were happening and had happened.

It wasn’t like they didn’t trust Cass. They trusted her, as they had trusted Emilio, Zack and Arden, Ariadne and Nora. They just didn’t want to say those words aloud, to see the response to revealing that they used to partake in human sacrifice, to feel that fear of condemnation. Because what if Cass did think that they should have died? So far no one outside the commune had, but there was a first time for everything, was there not? Besides, sometimes they still thought they should have died, if only to save Iwan. Even now, after all that had been done, all they had dragged people into — they wondered if it might have been better.

Where was that supposed relief? Sometimes it came and sometimes it went, and right now as they sat in anticipation for Cass’ response, it was nowhere to be found. Wynne crossed their legs, grasping their ankles. “Okay, it’s about … well, why I ran away from home.” There was a deep inhale. “My commune used to worship this demon. And it required gifts and sacrifices and stuff, so it could give us good things. Mostly just food or small animals but also sometimes humans. Me.” They stared at their ankles, jaw growing tight.

“I didn’t want to die, so I ran.” The words hung in the air. They wanted to continue, to rattle on about what had happened since and what they had done to the demon, about Padrig and all the grief and anger in their chest. But Wynne was quiet. “And bad things happened because of it afterwards. I was —” They pushed their finger into the flesh of their foot. “Selfish, just like they all were, but bad things happened.”

—

When you lived most of your life on the defense, you got good at reading people. It was a necessary thing. If you were sharing an abandoned warehouse with someone you’d only met a few hours before, it was important to be able to know if they were planning on stabbing you and making off with your stuff the moment you turned your back. If you were working with another thief on a big score, you had to be able to determine whether or not they’d leave you hanging at the first sign of trouble. If your greatest nightmare was to be left behind, you learned to pinpoint the exact moment someone decided to walk away.

So it was easy to see Wynne’s discomfort as they festered in the silence for a moment, preparing to say whatever it was they wanted to say. Cass took a moment to think about the unfairness of it all, of the way everyone she loved had some terrible shadow lurking in their past. Alex’s experience with her parents, Ariadne’s death and the fear surrounding it, Metzli’s issues with their clan… There wasn’t a single person in Cass’s life who didn’t have some tragic tale to speak of. And it wasn’t right. They were good people, all of them. None of them deserved anything heavy enough to make Wynne look the way they looked now.

Cass offered her friend an encouraging smile as they began their tale. But whatever she’d expected to hear, it wasn’t… this. Demons and human sacrifices and Wynne almost being one of them. She ached, deep in her chest, for what that must have felt like. For the burden it must have carried with it. She thought she would have run, too, if it had been her. She thought anyone would have.

But Wynne didn’t seem so sure. Cass reached a hand forward, hiding a wince at the way even that smallest motion pulled at her injuries. She placed her palm on top of Wynne’s hand, shaking her head just a little. “No,” she said quietly. “No. It’s not — It isn’t selfish to want to live, Wynne. It’s not. They were the selfish ones for… expecting that of you. For wanting you to die for them. That’s selfish. What you did — You had to do it. You had to run. I would have, too, okay?”

—

Part of them wanted to look away as they told the story and waited for Cass to response, to simply not have to face whatever reaction was waiting for them. They expected judgment, even if that was not fair, even if that did not fit with who Cass was and who she had proven to be. But they expected it all the same, as if lifting this part of the veil would suddenly turn the tide and make Cass see them for what they were — selfish, a failed martyr, a blight upon their community. Wynne almost held their breath, unsure of how to continue.

And then there was Cass’ hand, reaching for their tensing knuckles around their ankles. Soft and warm and reassuring, followed by the same sentiments they’d heard before. Sentiments they tried so hard to believe but they still couldn’t — because Iwan was still dead, and that was a direct consequence of their actions or lack thereof. It was so easy to say it was the elders and their parents and the demon who were to blame, but even so it didn’t change the cold hard facts. If Wynne had died, their brother would still be alive.

They looked at that hand on theirs and wanted to burst out in tears. “I — I guess. I don’t … I know it’s wrong, that they want that of people. That a demon would expect that and that they’d all follow along. But …” They shook their head. There was no avoiding it, that one thing it always came back to: their dead brother, the tragedy they could have avoided. Never mind how they had sentenced Padrig to death and had felt justified in it. Never mind how much they all had seemed to hate them.

“But they killed my brother in stead. I could have — I could have saved him. I should have just –” Wynne shrugged, shook their head. It all didn’t make sense. It hadn’t been wrong to run, they understood that. But it had led to something horrible. “I wish no one had to die like that and that no one had to be hurt like you were hurt and I thought … I thought that me running would be good, but it was also bad and it’s just …” They looked up now, finally. “There has to be a right answer, right? A way to stop it without causing more carnage?” But they knew better, didn’t they? The world was cyclical. Everything acted in correspondence with one another. “We went there. That’s – that’s why I was ready to talk. We went there and we killed the demon, but someone else had to die too. And it’s just … endless. I just want it all to stop hurting.”

—

It must have been lonely, what Wynne was going through. Cass couldn’t begin to understand the weight of it, the things they must have felt growing up the way they had. She’d been rejected from her own community, and maybe that was kinder. Maybe it was better to have no one care about you at all than it was to have them want you for the wrong reasons, though Cass had a difficult time believing it. She’d rather be loved for something she wasn’t than hated for something she was. She wondered what she might have done if it were her in Wynne’s place, if her aos si had wanted her to die for them instead of simply leave them alone. She liked to think she’d have been brave the way Wynne was brave. She knew the truth was probably something far less admirable.

She might not have been able to comprehend the weight, but she did think she understood the loneliness. After all, wasn’t loneliness the only thing she was, most days? Hadn’t it been the thing to shape her, to raise her? Loneliness had stepped in to make her who she was when everyone else had stepped away, a pseudo parent in its consistency. She was alone, and she was nothing. And Wynne was alone, too, at least for a while. It was better, Cass thought, to be alone together. She liked it more.

She swallowed as Wynne went on, as they detailed the consequences of their actions. Was there a right answer, in situations like that one? Was there a perfect response? If Wynne had taken their brother with them when they’d left, Cass was pretty sure someone else would have died instead. If they’d replaced Wynne as a sacrifice, they would have replaced their brother in a similar manner, wouldn’t they? It was endless, this cycle of what if. You could make up a thousand different scenarios and still have more left unexplored.

“I think…” She trailed off, a little uncertain. “I think nothing is all good or all bad. Everything’s a little bit of both. And — And it sucks sometimes. It sucks most of the time. I don’t think there’s a right answer. I don’t think there’s such a thing.” There was no perfect solution to any problem. It had taken Cass a long time to learn that. You did what you could, but it was never going to be flawless. “I — I’m glad you ran. I’m glad you came here so I could meet you. I think I’m better because I know you. And you make Aria happy, too. She wouldn’t be as happy as she is if she’d never met you.” She wondered what it had felt like, going back. Choosing someone else to die the way they had chosen Wynne to die. Privately, she thought… it might have felt good. And the thought scared her a little, the idea that hurting people who’d wronged you could be an exhilarating thing, the concept that she’d do it herself if given a chance. She didn’t want to be like that. She wanted to be a hero, brave and true and flawless. But no one really was, were they? “You saved people,” she said quietly. “By going back, by — by ending it. You saved a lot of people, you know.” Shouldn’t that count more?

—

They wanted the verbalisation of what had happened to feel more powerful, to feel more like they were lifting a weight from their chest as they put it all to words. But it wasn’t working. It was good to reveal the things they had been keeping unspoken the past months, but it didn’t really alleviate the crux of the issue. That this was constant. The pain Wynne was feeling, the pain Cass must be feeling, the pain Alex and Ariadne and everyone else had and would feel. And that pain wasn’t just caused by stubbing a toe or hitting a head — it was caused by others. By people so cruel that they’d make others suffer for their own gain.

It was an overwhelming truth and one they were only now really starting to understand. They had never really thought the people at home cruel, after all: they all did what was to be done. They were dutiful and dedicated, just as they were. Sometimes that duty and dedication hurt them or others — but they didn’t hurt people because they wanted to. And yet, somehow, it had been wrong, hadn’t it? Everyone kept saying it was, so it had to be. It was wrong that they expected them to die and that they hadn’t been allowed to speak of any doubt that lived within them. It was wrong that they had strict measures for people who broke the rules. It was wrong that they had killed their brother in order to appease a cruel demon.

Everyone at home had failed what Wynne had done in the end: say no and fight. In a way, it had made them feel empowered. In a way, it made them hopeful — because maybe they could say no and fight the other cruel people out there. The people like Rhett or those now-dead vampires. And yet, here they sat. With their good intentions, staring at a hurt Cass and feeling their own chest cave in. They would fight, if given the opportunity — but when would they? How could they muster up the energy to always be ready or it? How could they know that they were capable? Because they hadn’t been able to defeat that demon by themself. By themself they were just this pitiful thing, weeping and shaking and angry with no resolution.

Cass spoke with a kind of insight that made them wonder where she had found it. Wynne tried to take her words at face value and not add any but’s. “That makes sense, I guess. Like … it’s not as black and white as sometimes I might think. And maybe there was no good thing to do in my situation, because if I had died then it would have just kept happening. But then my brother would have been alive. And if I had taken him with me maybe we would have been caught and … I don’t know.” They traced their nail with an absentminded thumb. “I’m glad I met you too. That I got to come here. For that I am glad. That I found friends and Ariadne and everything.” That was what they clung to, when it all felt like it shouldn’t have happened. They had people they loved here.

And sometimes it was hard, because they had spent their formative years convinced that they were going to die before properly reaching adulthood. Sometimes they still thought they were going to die, before metaphorically pinching themself to remember that they had a future now. Wynne looked up at Cass. “I hope I did. I spared someone from the fate that took my brother, at least. I’m glad I could end that. At least.”

—

In comic books, things were simple. That was part of what had drawn Cass to the medium all those years ago, part of what made her dedicate such a large part of her life to it. The battles were hard fought, sometimes, but good always came out on top. The villains were cartoonish more often than not, two dimensional and foolish. They did inexcusable things and they twirled mustaches and no one could ever look at them and think, even for a moment, that they were anything but bad. And the heroes, by comparison, were all light and brave and powerful. They had strong morals and strong powers, and they were difficult to hurt. They fell sometimes, died sometimes, but it was always only a temporary thing. The reader knew that, within a matter of months, the dead would rise and the status quo would return. The Fantastic Four would defeat Doctor Doom. The Joker would be placed back in Arkham. The world would not end, the city would not burn. It was a given, a forgone conclusion.

But real life wasn’t like that.

In real life, things were messy. Things were complicated. Good people did bad things, and it didn’t make them villains. Bad people did good things, but they still weren’t heroes. People who were supposed to love you abandoned you or marked you for death or mistreated you or loved you in all the wrong ways, and there was no narrative reason to ease the pain of it. There was no overarching story to make the things you suffered worth it. Heroes fell and heroes died, and they didn’t come back a few issues later to kick the status quo back into place. Cass was supposed to be a hero, but she didn’t feel like one. Rhett must have been a villain, but he’d been so easy to trust. Superman didn’t have problems like this, she thought. How enviable it was to be so unbreakable that your enemies needed kryptonite just to try it.

“I wish it were easier,” she admitted quietly. She wished there was some ‘right’ answer that Wynne could have gone with, some way that would have saved them and their brother without damning the future children of the community they’d left to repeat the same fate every few years like clockwork. She wished this were a comic book, wished she had a cape that fit her right. She wished everything was different. For her, for Alex, for Aria, for Wynne. For all of them.

But they had each other, at least. Wynne was here, had been worried enough to want to check up on her, and hadn’t that been something Cass had wanted all her life? Hadn’t she spent two decades yearning for it? Things were what they were. There were still villains, even if it didn’t feel much like there were heroes to combat them. But, in the midst of it all, there was this. Quiet moments with a friend who loved her, a friend she loved back. She offered Wynne a small smile as they spoke, nodding her head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys,” she admitted. Without Alex, she would be dead in the woods now, Rhett’s knife having found its home in her head. Without Wynne, she’d be lost in this cabin, alone and afraid. Her friends made her better. She liked that.

And maybe that was true of the rest of them, too. Maybe they all made each other better. She nodded again, thinking about how Wynne had certainly made their community better by ending the cycle that had been repeating for ages within it, of saving the next kid even if they hadn’t been able to save their brother. That had to count for something, didn’t it? “It was good,” she said firmly. “You are good. You’re kind of like a superhero, you know?”

—

There had never been much fiction for Wynne to use as escapism. There had been bedtime stories and tales told around a fireplace, but it had all been supplied by the same people who supplied everything. But even there, things were simple. The Protherians painted a simple picture of the world, one where their close bonds and the boons they received from their pact made everything go around. Everything was a balance, a giving and taking, a simple combination of good and bad, of winter and summer, of reaping and sowing. But it was not that simple, was it? The world was all out of balance. There were good people and there were bad, but it seemed it was the latter that kept winning out. The latter that had more impressive means, more ruthlessness, more chance.

They didn’t want balance any more, anyway. Not when it came to these things, at least. They wanted these people that hurt others out of this world, or changed and redeemed in some kind of way. They didn’t want to worry about it any more, there being people out there that had cruel intentions and nothing holding them back. Why did it always have to be balanced? Why couldn’t they have saved themself and Iwan, why couldn’t Alex and Aria and Cass not have gotten hurt? There was good in the world too, yes — Cass was proving that once more, but what if it wasn’t enough?

“Me too,” they said. “I wish all of it was easier and kinder.” They wanted the world to be bright again, to not feel so weighed down by their conscience and their past, to not feel afraid of all that was out there. They wanted to be overtaken by wonder at all these things that existed in the world, like Cass being a fae. But in stead they were afraid for her.

They reached forward, placing a hand on Cass’ knee. “Me neither. I’m really glad and grateful to have you. And I wouldn’t know what I’d have done if —” Wynne swallowed and blinked, as if trying to push away something. “Well, you know. But you’re here.” And she would be okay. She had to be. They inhaled sharply, thinking for a moment about Rhett again, about how afraid Ariadne had been after she’d been taken by him and how small Cass looked now. They wanted him to feel like that too. They wanted what had been done to Padrig to happen to him. For the tables to be turned on him. It wasn’t a pretty thought, but it swirled through them all the same.

They blinked and swallowed some more, but their eyes burned sharply. “Okay.” They nodded. They believed their friends, even if the things they said were hard to believe. Wynne wiped at their eyes. “You’re also — you’re also good. Don’t ever let them tell you any different.” They moved forward, pulling Cass into a gentle hug. “You got that?”

—

Even before this, Cass had known that the world wasn’t kind. She’d figured it out as a child, shoved into a boat and forced far away from the island she’d been born on. She’d had it proven to her time and time again living on the streets, experienced all the cruelness the world had to offer. This had been a harsh wakeup call, but it hadn’t entirely been a surprise. She’d known what hunters were since the first time Alex told her about them, known how dangerous they could be since the day one tried to kill her girlfriend. In a lot of ways, this had been a matter of time. A rite of passage she’d managed to avoid through luck that was always going to run out sooner or later. The world wasn’t easy or kind. Not for her, and not for Wynne, either. She knew that.

But she still wanted it to be.

She offered Wynne a small smile, starting to shrug before the motion sent a wave of pain through her shoulder and aborting it hastily. “Maybe… All we can do is try to make it easier and kinder for each other. All of us.” The world had been cruel to them both. To Alex and Aria, too. To Nora, to Milo, to everyone in their circle of friends. But that didn’t mean they had to be cruel. Maybe, if they were kind enough for long enough, they could change something.

She still felt small. And scared, and powerless, and weak. But with Wynne beside her, and the knowledge that the rest of her friends were in her corner as well… It wasn’t as bad as it would have been if this had happened when she was still on her own. It wasn’t as suffocating, wasn’t as unsurvivable. She’d be okay; she knew that now.

Reaching down, she placed her hand on top of Wynne’s where it rested on her knee, nodding carefully. “You, either,” she said. “You’re the best. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

#honey and wildfire.#threads.#cass.

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kuronekonerochan · 11 months

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The og November 5th was a chaotic fun mess. Last year's was less chaotic but still interesting.

This November 5th is just another day in an ongoing genocide ignored and allowed by global leaders.

There is no fun. The chaos is real life, live and tragic. There is no "interest". Just grief, despair and a sense of impotence.

Being online and watching live television this year just makes me outraged, angered and sad.

To the point that I just wanna shut it all off and watch some silly fiction instead for the sake of my mental health.

But I can't. I feel like it wouldn't be fair to become just another person ignoring what's going on.

I can't help but I feel like I owe it to the Palestinian dying and suffering the decency of having to be aware of their plight. Even if it pains me, I feel I should continue to be updated in the current events. I can't help and it seems like I can't support or fight for them in any other way. Even my country is mostly insignificant so even if I could somehow petition something, even if by some miracle I could help change the national stance, it wouldn't make much difference to the Palestinians. (Plus I'm sick at the moment so I can't even try and do that).

But I want to at least remember it. That's the least we owe them. Remember the key political players, the politicians who defended genocide and the ones who kept criminally quiet about it. Remember the rhetoric, the admissions of war crimes and the shattering of the mask of "free thinking" first world democracies and their stance on human rights. Remember the hipocrisy. Remember these feelings of helplessness, of outrage, the horror of it all. Remember it until I die so I'll never be complacent or complicit with anything of the sort in the future. So that even if I can't help in any way right now, I want to remember this feeling of helplessness forever, so I can guarantee that in the future, if I ever have a chance to help, to protest, to make a difference or at least voice out my opinion where it can be heard, I will not let it pass by and I will force myself to act.

But I do limit myself regarding time spent on this subject for my mental health. Just enough to be updated and not a minute more. I don't listen to the news commenters anymore. I can't take it. It's overwhelming. Just the factual news. Just an hour a day scrolling update posts. When I say I can't NOT shut it off, that is my personal situation. I'd feel worse if I didn't know what's going on ll than if I just limit it to the minimum. I am not trying to shame anyone into doing the same.

This is heavy and heartbreaking and as I said a lot of us can't do anything to help anyway. If you have a way of helping, do it. Please take care of not harming your own health by overexposure to this. That won't do any good to anyone. Protect yourselves. And if you aren't in a place mentally where you can handle this don't let anyone shame or force you to speak about it. Block the tags if you must. It's okay to do what you must to get better, healthier.

#november 5th #palestine #free palestine

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ageless-soul-au · 1 year

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hey so i’m reading faction rn and i just finished chapter 11 and. fucking ow

time has always been my one of favorite fellas of y’all’s and i already adore silas so damn much. you can’t just write abt a man who loves his wife and daughter more than anything and expect me to not adore him. what do you mean he carries a pocket watch with a picture of them inside. what do you mean he made fariah a crib. what do you mean (also i love that it’s a pocket watch that he has, a wonderful little homage to his hero title)

and the tension and rage is insane and so well written, the unbridled anger silas holds towards klaus is so fascinating to read. fr tho silas is better than me for letting him go 🏃‍♂️ my logical reasoning skills would’ve been out the window if i were him in that moment lmaoo

overall fantastic i love faction so damn much. literally every part of it is super fun to read, even if my heart feels like it’s been ripped out and stomped on over and over and over again just for y’all to put a few hello kitty bandaids on it (tho honestky that’s what makes it fun to read lmaoo.) i’m not often interested in historical fantasy politics but i am riveted so far <3

Omg thank you for taking the time to send us this!!! Ashes was a very good chapter imo, it's so heartwrenching and we LOOOOVE to put that man in situations. It was such a funny juxtaposition with what comes before and after it too, surrounding it is such low stakes and then DEATH, DESPAIR, AGONY, hehe more low stakes... I'm so sorry for ppl that binged it and got whiplash from that hdhdhsjsk

I haven't gone back to the chapter to look at it, but iirc there wasn't a lot of comments on Fariah, which made me kinda sad at the time bc we hyped it up gxhshsjs. It ended up not being a huge thing in the grand scheme of things and I'm chill about it now but like.... The parallels that y'all don't know about for mainline yet... We were very proud of them.

Sometimes you just gotta let your mans go a little psycho sometimes, let him get lost in grief and rage and see where that takes him. Fr he could have fucking murdered Klaus full stop, but he didn't! Speaks to the kind of person he is AND that Klaus was able to reach a part of him that still had empathy and reason locked away in there.

HONESTLY (at least for me) the pocket watch was an unintentional nod to his hero title, I was thinking more along the lines of FMA and the shit u see from like WWII of soldiers with a little photograph in their watch so they can keep it on them. If that was intentional on Mizu's part lmao go her. It's so funny how readers pick out symbolism that the authors don't intend, but it's there and it works anyway! Just like how if you think about plot points long enough they string themselves together...

THANK U FOR READING, we hope u enjoy the rest 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

-Kio

#Upon further review: Mizu says the pocket watch was at least a little bit intentional lol #Ask #Comments #asau faction au

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gjjokok · 5 months

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40 - May 13, 2024

Woke up in a sort of sense of despair. One reason because yesterday was Mother's day and I woke up to so many posts about it. Another reason because I am of course still very single and was around Nathan and Tommy being so cute all weekend...they are just such a cute couple.

Anyways, mom, there are so many things I wish I could talk to you about and im sad i cant talk to you about it.

Even though the healthcare system here is efficient, my bills are so high!! I owe like $2K for all the tests and appointments and stuff I had for my eye....at least its a lot better now but still...so expensive

I went to a festival over the weekend and that guy I went to Thailand with was there. I havent seen him or spoken to him since Thailand. I actually still didnt see him or speak to him, but my friends were telling me he was there...i was pretty anxious the first hour or so wondering when/if I would see him but I guess he wasnt hanging around where we were.

My friends Tommy and Kevin had their birthday on Friday and we did a murder mystery roleplaying type of game...as Im sure you could guess i was horrible and did not pick up on any of the clues but it was really fun...

I also definitely have a bit of a crush on both Tommy and Ricky (both of them have boyfriends) so that's something I should try to get over...

Going to a cabin trip with all of the guys next weekend so looking forward to that...will be interesting to spend a whole weekend with all of them and see how that goes in terms of my crushes on them and such...

Came out to my dad and wendy and they didn't seem to care/already knew so that was easy

There's probably a lot more things I'm forgetting. I really love you mom and miss you every day and just like Lizzy Mcalpine says, i dont really know how I'm supposed to grow up without you here because I still feel like I have a lot of growing up to do and could really use your help.

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mylittlesecrethaven · 8 months

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Bsd Is Kinda A Genius Anime: Pt 2

Ok, Ima do the Port Mafia for this go around.

Hopefully it won't take as long as last time.

And hopefully I remember how I formatted the last post.

So... let's go.

(Oh fuck there's even more people than the ADA....)

Ogai Mori

Ability: Vita Sexualis

Ok, fun thing I found out, this guy's RLC's (real life counterpart) real name is Rintaro Mori, which is what we hear Elise call Ogai, so maybe that's his real name? Ehhh.... let's see.... his RLC was also a doctor... and the book he wrote "Vita Sexualis," follows the main character's sexual experiences through life. So... that's something. Idk how that pairs into Elise besides Mori's borderline obsession with dressing her up with a doll, but we're gonna keep on rolling cause I wanna finish this in good time. Ok.... it says he was never a pedophile, but he also wrote a book about an adult man who's love interest is a 16 or 17 year old girl named Elise. So, that's fun. Also, while the RLC joined the military and then became a surgeon, Mori's got it backwards, where he was a doctor, then went into the Mafia. (Which I do wonder why he did that.)

Ace

Ability: Madness of the Jewel King

There's nothing actually confirmed for this guy, but it is widely thought that his character is based off of Alan Bennett's play, "The Madness of George III." I was actually able to find more about "The Madness of King George," which is a play based off "The Madness of George III," but basically, it's a "fictionalized biographical study" of the later part of King George III's reign. I couldn't really find much else, and I don't really see how that ties into Ace, (I'm not caught up on my England history, sorry), so Ima just move on. He dies pretty quick anyway, and he was an asshole, so I'm not too upset.

Chuya Nakahara

Ability: Upon the Tainted Sorrow

I had to do a deeper dive into this poem, so this post is already taking a lot longer than I'd like, but it's fine. Oh damn, this shit is sad. Ima put a link to a Reddit post explaining it better here, but basically, it's a rather sad poem about depression and recognizing the depression, but not being able or not wanting to do anything about it. Maybe it has a connection to Chuya being betrayed by the Sheep? Seems like a stretch. Maybe about how he doesn't remember any of his early life because he kinda just came into being after Rando did what he did? Idk. It's not really enough for me to figure anything out. Let's see.... the little chant he does before he activates Corruption? That's a part of a poem his RLC wrote called "Sheep Song", which that definitely does have a connection with the Sheep.

Koyo Ozaki

Ability: Golden Demon

Koyo's RLC is actually a man, just like Kyoka's RLC. Actually, Koyoka's RLC was a pupil of Koyo's RLC, so that's fun. "The Golden Demon" is actually a really sad book as well. Basically, the main character falls in love with the daughter of a man who he owes money to. They get engaged, but her dad breaks it off so she can marry a wealthy man instead. The main character then falls into despair, abandons his studies, and declared he has ceased to be human. (Dazai?) Em.... I can kinda see the connection? I mean, Koyo didn't want Kyoka to be tainted by the light, which could be a connection to not being tainted by money? A stretch, but maybe.

(I'm not doing Paul Verlaine cause he's not in the anime yet and he's basically a copy of Chuya from what I've read, so fuck him)

(Also, for clarification, I'm only doing characters with abilities. Sorry)

Rando (Arthur Rimbaud, whatever)

Ability: Illuminations

So, this guy has a little bit to talk about, so if this jumps around a lot, it's cause I'm trying to cover a lot of shit. Ok. Let's go. His RLC is from France. His RLC and Paul Verlaine's RLC had a slight romantic relationship, but (Paul) was abusive, and Rando's RLC was shot by Verlaine's RLC, which is referenced in Rando being shot by Verlaine before the explosion. After Rando's RLC wrote "Illuminations," he quit being a writer. Chuya's and Verlaine's RLC were both inspired by Rando's RLC. "Illuminations" is actually a giant book of a bunch of different poems, and because of that fact, I'm not going through every single on and analyzing them because there's a ton of them. So.... not finding a connection that way I guess. Sorry.

Ryunosuke Akutagawa

Ability: Rashomon

Apparently, Akutagawa's RLC actually killed himself at 35, and he has a literary prize names after himself. So.... highs and lows. The gist of "Rashomon" is that it's about a man struggling with the temptation to steal food to survive. Much like what Akutagawa probably had to do before he joined the Port Mafia. Also probably why Rashomon is always seen as a creature with a mouth, and why Akutagawa always says it's always hungry. Akutagawa was given a villain role not just because of his character, but also because his RLC wrote a lot about criminals. Also, the relationship between Akutagawa's and Dazai's RLCs are switched, where Dazai's RLC was influenced greatly by Akutagawa's RLC, including Akutagawa's RLC's suicide. Ehh.... let's seeee..... The reason Rashomon comes from his clothes is because in the beginning of "Rashomon," the main character steals clothes from an old lady.

Ichiyo Higuchi

Ability: N/A

So... we don't actually know Higuchi's ability, but there is a book her RLC wrote called "Growing Pains," and it's actually kinda interesting? I'm not gonna summarize it, but you can read the plot from the Wiki here. However, I will talk about it. I've got two ideas from this. Either Akutagawa is supposed to represent Nobu, and it's the opposite, where Higuchi is drawn into the Port Mafia, or he doesn't and Higuchi was pushed into the mafia. Idk. There's not much else I can talk about on her, since the Fandom's kinda empty and the only thing I have to work with is the Wiki.

(I actually did go to sleep after this part, so if the formatting or the way I type of different, that's why.)

Ryuro Hirotsu

Ability: Falling Camellia

This guy and his RLC kinda fit well together? Hirotsu is a fighter, but he also seems like he could be one of those diplomatic guys in the government, and his RLC was actually a diplomat. (I think I'm pulling comparisons out of my ass on that though.) I couldn't actually find anything about a book or poem titled "Falling Camellia," but the Fandom says there is one.... So.... Idk. (It also says it's a really tragic novel) He did write a book titled "Black Lizard," and it's inspired by a character from one of Ranpo's RLC's books. And lemme just say, Hirtosu's RLC's "Black Lizard" is kinda insane. Basically, this woman has black blotches on her face, and it's probably more important in the actual novel, but not here. She marries this man who has had 6 other wives that left him because his father made advances on him. She has a kid with the dude, then the dude's father makes an advance on her and she poisons him to protect her child, then she throws herself into a well to commit suicide. Sooo.... yeah.... I think the Black Lizard only took the name.... Also, Hirotsu's RLC has a book titled "Imado Shinjyuu", which is technically translated to "Double Suicide at Imado," but the literal translation (which I got from Google Translate, so it's not exactly correct,) is "Next Time I'll Commit Suicide." A lot about "Black Lizard" and nothing about "Falling Camellia." Fun. Also, one other fun fact, that painting Hirotsu and Dazai sit in front of at the end of season 2? A real painting called "Landscape," which was actually made by Dazai's RLC. Isn't that fucking cool?

Michizo Tachihara

Ability: Midwinter Memento

(I'm aware this guy is a spy for some other group, but idk which group, so pls no spoilers. YouTube's already done enough.) Emmm... let's see... there's not really a lot for this guy, which is sad, cause I really like this character. (Also, mini fun fact, him and Karl have the same English va) The only important thing I can find is that his RLC's name isn't actually Michizo Tachihara, and that's just his artist/pen name. Which could tie into the whole spy thing? But tons of the other characters RLC's had different names, so I'm not gonna use that as an actual comparison. Um.... I couldn't find any summaries or analysis of "Midwinter Memento," and figuring out poems never was my strong suit, so I'm just gonna share the link from a Reddit post here, and y'all can try to figure it out I guess.

Kyusaku Yumeno

Ability: Dogra Magra

(Also, Q's gender is unknown, but if I mess up on pronouns, lemme know cause I do that sometimes, but for this post I'm just gonna use they/them and assume Q is non-binary cause.... yeah.) Q's RLC is actually a dude who used to work in a theatre that mainly focused on plays about supernatural events and gods. He later became an author, and actually got the pen name Kyusaku Yumeno from a description his father gave one of his stories. Dogra Magra is about a character that wakes up in a hospital with Amnesia, but soon comes to realize he was a part of an extremely horrific experiment done by a psychiatrist. You can definitely tell that Q got their ability for a reason. (Although, I do wonder if this means that maybe Q was experimented on?) Also, Q's RLC was greatly influenced by Lovecraft's RLC, so that's cool.

Motojiro Kajii

Ability: Lemonade

And now we get to this freak. I will say, his connection with his RLC and his RLC's book is so freakishly strong. Basically, his RLC had tuberculosis, and he wrote about his illness through a character in a book of short stories called "Lemon." In the same book, there's a story also called "Lemon" about the character going to a fruit shop and buying a lemon, then going to his favorite stationary shop and imagining the lemon is a time bomb. This has got to be the biggest connection between any character and their RLC I've seen so far. Holy shit, it's almost a carbon fucking copy. His RLC was sick, and that's why Mr. Lemon Bomber is so obsessed with death.

Sakunosuke Oda

Ability: Flawless

Oda, I'll make sure to make your part good. (I hope.) Oh.... wow.... there's not actually much about him... welp.... uh... His RLC, Dazai's RLC, and Ango's RLC were all actually kinda friends that hung out a bit, so that's something? "Flawless" is not really a connection piece? It's about a woman who marries a man through a matchmaker and she just can't stop complaining about him flawlessly. Eh.... let's see.... the book Oda is reading in the anime is thought to be "Kokoro," by Soseki Natsume. It's also not a really big connection. It's a three part story that's a part of a four book series (???), and it's basically about a young man and this older man, his sensei (kinda), interacting, and his sensei knows a secret about the young man's friend's death, and the third part is the sensei confessing this secret I guess.

IT'S FINALLY DONE!

HOLY SHIT THAT TOOK ME TWO DAYS!

AND ODA'S WAS NOWHERE NEAR AS GOOD AS I WANTED IT TO BE!

Anyway,

Next I'll be doing the Gifted Special Operations Division and The Guild, cause those two groups are kinda small, and then for the last one I'll do the Decay of Angels. (And I guess whatever group Tachihara's a part of, since he's apparently a spy.) (NO SPOILERS PLEASE)

(Ah fuck. This is from later. I'm going around a lot of these posts because I completely forgot about the fact that the Rats in the House of the Dead existed. Sooo.... I guess Ima do that group, too. There's also this The Seven Traitors group according to the Fandom? But they only have one member so I'm not gonna do it. I know that a lot of the other characters are also based off of real life people (I saw the Frankenstein people), but I'm only doing ability users. Sorry.)

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #anime

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heartstringhostage · 11 months

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Daily Writing Prompt:

What’s something most people don’t know about you?

I keep up appearences. I was not like this until I hit my early 20s. I was an open book, heart on sleeve type of person. I spoke with my hot-air balloon throat, I burst and crumbled into despair twice a year. My sadness these days is more diffused, but I keep up appearences.

I used to hate the image of the adult who conceals, who keeps their head down and pushes through life, but I see now: I do not owe anyone a narrative of my life. I do not shove my shiny report card, my CV, my list of trials and tribulations down strangers' throats. The status quo is the status quo because it is. The law is the law because some men said so.

I have lived how I have lived. I have enough knives on my back that if I simply do not repeat the same crime to anyone else, I would be secured a place in heaven. I am not a believer, but I admit that I have hurt people the same way they have hurt me and I talk about one scenario a great deal more than the other.

Anyway, I almost lost everything. So, I keep up appearances. Their pity is worth nothing. I entertain. I give. I keep up appearances.

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#dailyprompt #dailyprompt-2095

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annasova · 1 year

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Also want to vent about body image for a sec:

If you happen to be reading this and struggle with body image, please take a moment before proceeding and check in with yourself if you are mentally and emotionally in a place to think about this topic.

I have this friend who struggles quite a bit with confidence and body image; she’s shared it’s from years of bullying and fat-shaming and endless societal messaging about what it meant to grow up in a body that wasn’t straight sized. She’s hid her body practically all her life, covering up in large tshirts and options for a hoodie over anything ever form fitted. She frequently messages a group chat I’m in to complain about not feeling fashionable and being terrified of men seeing her body on a dating profile. She’s very much stuck in internalized fatphobia. And I wish I could help her but it’s something she needs to work through on her own. And it also affects me.

I relate to a lot of what she’s gone through but have also had different and privileged experiences, especially when I desperately “achieved” thinness in early adolescence.

When these comments come up, I go down my very own spiral of diet culture thoughts. I’ve read so much and have explored this topic for myself that I felt comfortable for a while, or at least as comfortable as I could be living in my body in a culture obsessed with thinness. And..this is where I’m triggered.

I get a lot of body comparison thoughts. With this friend being so vocal over her own discomfort I can’t help but think how we almost wear the same bra size just barely off by an inch or so. And how my hips and legs are a larger size.

I feel sadness to hear how much she hates her current body and has hated her body, while her body isn’t all that different from my own.

I recently bought two-piece swimsuits for summer. I ordered a size up than last year’s and went through what I had and donated them. The swimsuits are cute and comfortable; I feel like myself in them. And today, the group chat was filled with comments about never being able to wear a two-piece and struggling to find swimwear that fits and plans to cover up anyway in a large shirt and bike shorts.

But I don’t want to coverup. I’m done trying to shrink and hide my body. I am over diet culture and I don’t owe anyone thinness. I feel so much despair when I think of how influential this diet culture is and how hard I have to push back against self critical comments of my own body.

I wish I could find a way of talking with my friend and hearing her concerns without also feeling deeply triggered by them.

#personal blog

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 2 years

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HEART'S DESIRE - CHAPTER 27

*Warning: Adult Content*

Kit Montaine wakes to darkness and a dull pain in his head and he doesn't know where he is or how he got here.

He’s lying in a bed, in a room with a window through which he glimpses the bright white eye of the moon.

Something moves at his side, a mountainous figure shifting in sleep and fear explodes within his chest as memory bursts through his mind like a film played very fast in reverse.

The Dire and his violence, Kit’s torment and despair.

He thought he had escaped him.

Had it only been a dream?

The figure beside him lifts itself and with a half strangled cry, Kit falls from the bed in a tangle of blankets, landing with a muffled thump.

A light flicks on and he shuts his eyes as the pain in his head spikes.

He has no strength and he doesn't feel well and his only sad defense is to curl into a ball.

"Kit?"

The voice that speaks his name is low and mellow, a little rough with sleep and tinged with concern.

It's like a ray of warm sunlight piercing the fog and Kit’s confusion dissipates.

"Monty!"

Montreal Hunter kneels to help untangle Kit from the blankets and the young man throws himself into his arms, knocking him back against the side of the bed.

"Ow."

Monty grunts as he catches Kit but he holds on tight and lets him lean against his chest as the last shivers of fear run their course.

"You okay? What happened?"

"I thought I was back there," Kit whispers, breathing in the comfort of his scent.

"With... him."

"Well, you're not. You're here and you're safe," Monty says smoothing his hands up and down Kit’s back.

"How's your head?"

"Hurts."

"You remember what happened?"

Kit pushes myself away from Monty just far enough to see his face.

"Yes. Your mom and dad... Are they...?"

“They're fine. We're all fine, thanks to you."

Monty shakes his head, a slight smile on his lips.

"How'd you know Jake had a dart gun, anyway? I couldn't tell the difference with the light behind him."

"Neither could I," Kit admits.

Monty's eyes widen and he pulls Kit against his chest again.

"Lords, Kit. I'm supposed to be the one who jumps in front of bullets. Try not to do that again, okay?"

"Okay."

A quiet laugh rumbles in Monty’s chest.

"Alright, let's get back to bed. It's too early to be up yet."

Monty helps Kit to his feet, untangles the blankets and sheet and spreads them neatly back over the bed.

As he does, Kit sees that Monty’s shoulder is bandaged and he only uses one hand.

The other is wrapped tightly in gauze.

Monty lifts the covers for Kit, then slides in at the younger man’s side.

They lie face to face and Kit gently touches Monty’s injured hand.

"You got hurt."

"Not as badly as I would have, if not for you. You saved me, Kit. You saved everyone."

Kit blushes, feeling undeserving of his praise.

"I just wanted to protect my M..." Kit stops himself. That's the second time he’s almost said it.

"Your Mate," Monty affirms, surprising him.

His voice is very quiet and serious and when kit glances up, he can just make out the color of his dark amber eyes, lit by the pale moon.

"I know. I feel it, too."

"You do?" Kit whispers. he had known it was true for him but he’s hardly dared to hope Monty might feel the same.

"I do," he replies and lifts Kit’s hand to his lips.

"I didn't believe it was possible, at first but today you convinced me. Don't know why you'd want a big old giant like me but if you do, I'm all yours, Kit."

Happiness blossoms in Kit’s chest like a cherry tree bursting into bloom, so perfect and beautiful he can't contain the feeling and tears slip down his face.

Monty wipes them away with the pad of his thumb.

"Hey, no crying now. I wanna see you smile. You're my honeyed sunshine, Kit."

"You're my everything," Kit whispers in reply.

"Yeah," he sighs, settling back against the pillow.

"That's what I'm afraid of. We can talk about it later, though. For now, this is enough."

Kit is not quite sure what Monty means but he carry the happy feeling with him into sleep.

~ ☾ ~

The next time Kit wakes up, he’s not confused at all.

Strong arms trap him in a soft embrace and a leg like a tree trunk half-crushes his lower body but he’s not afraid.

Sunlight spills in through the window and he recognizes the guest room in Sasha's house.

Monty stirs and lifts himself a little.

"Sorry, Kit," he mumbles.

"I'm squishing you."

"It's okay," Kit says, still snuggled against his warmth.

"I like it when you squish me."

Monty’s cheeks darken with color and then he coughs.

"We best get up. I think I smell breakfast cooking."

He rises and pulls on a pair of loose cotton sweatpants. Kit follows and presses myself against Monty’s back, his arms looped about his waist.

"You'll complete the bond with me, won't you, Monty?" he asks.

"You'll take me as your own?"

Monty turns and Kit sees him swallow hard.

"Even if now were the time for that, it's not something to do lightly, Kit. We both need to be ready, in our hearts and minds and I don't think I am. For now, it's enough to know we're Mates, even if we aren't Mated yet."

"Sasha was lucky she wasn't, I suppose," Kit murmurs.

"Do you think Jake was really her Mate?"

"I don't know," Monty replies quietly.

"I don't know how she could've mistaken the feeling, now that I've felt it for myself. Maybe Mom and Dad can help clear that up. They know more about Wolf lore than anyone, aside from Dane, and he learned it all from them, anyways."

Monty finishes dressing and Kit gets dressed as well and follows him downstairs.

When Kit comes in search of the Hunters, a Mate was the last thing I expected to find and he still can't believe that he can call this great, gorgeous man his own.

Monty saved him and every day he taught him how to heal.

And despite what Kit told him, he'd jump in front of another bullet or a dart for him in a heartbeat, if it meant he could keep him just one minute more.

~ ☾ ~

Monty is right and breakfast is ready when they join the others in the dining area.

The table is laden with pancakes, sausages, bacon, toast, hash browns and chopped fruit.

Alpha Dane Hunter and his family sit around it, along with Freya.

Kit recognizes Mrs. Hunter as well, though she looks much cleaner and healthier than she did the last time he saw her.

An older man Kit hasn't seen before stands at the stove.

He has a slender build, very dark skin and short gray hair and he smiles broadly at the sight of them both.

"There's my big, gentle hero," he exclaims, giving Monty a hug with a spatula still in one hand.

"How are you this morning, my son?"

"Much better," Monty replies, patting his father's shoulder. He's a full foot taller than the older man.

"What about you? You should be gettin' breakfast served to you in bed, not cooking it for everyone else."

"Pshh," his father waves him off.

"Doing something normal like this is just what I need. Makes me feel almost human again," he laughs and Monty laughs too but he still looks concerned.

Mr Hunter looks over at Kit and grins.

"And this must be our other hero, Kit."

"N-No, Sir," Kit stammers.

"I mean, y-yes, Sir... I'm Kit... but I'm not a hero. Not like Monty is."

"Sure you are," he insists, taking Kit’s hands in his.

"The way Monty tells it, we'd all be skins on Jake's wall by now, were it not for you. Oh and call me Joseph."

"Yes, Joseph," Kit whispers, unable to meet his eyes any longer.

He has never encountered an Alpha like him before with a strong, gentle energy like a slow-moving river but he's still an alpha, nonetheless. Kit quirks a brow at Monty.

"Well, have a seat and help yourselves. I got two eggs, sunny side up, coming your way, Monty. And how 'bout you, Kit? How you like your eggs?"

"S-Sunny," Kit whispers.

"Like Monty.," he adds because he doesn't really know any other kind.

“Sunny like Monty it is, then," he laughs but it's a good laugh and Kit finds himself returning his smile.

Monty and Kit join the others at the table and everyone greets them and inquires after Monty's injuries.

"And how are you, Kit?" Mrs Hunter asks.

Her blue eyes are clear and bright this morning and her long gray hair is neatly gathered in a braid.

Luna sits in her lap, playing with the end of it.

"I'm much better, thank you, Mrs. Hunter."

"It's Astrid. You're family now, from what I hear."

Kit feels himself flush and studies his plate.

"Y-Yes, Mrs... Astrid. I hope to be."

"Kit!" Luca Hunter yells, reaching for him across the table and struggles free of Julian's grasp, crawling between everyone's feet to get to him.

Laughing, Kit lifts the little boy into his lap and Luca giggles with delight as his sticky fingers grasp chunks of his hair.

"Eews! Eews!" he demands.

"Ears?" Astrid guesses.

"Yes," Kit blushes.

"To entertain them, sometimes... I Shift my ears."

"Well, go on, then," she says, watching with interest.

"Mom," Monty warns but Kit looks up quickly and smiles.

"It's alright. I don't mind, for them."

Kit shuts his eyes and Shifts his ears to the large, snowy-white ears of a fox.

Luca shrieks with delight and tugs on one, making Kit wince and Freya dissolves in a fit of laughter.

"He's like one of those... those anime thingies with the ears!"

"Alright, that's your last mimosa, missy," Julian says and moves her drink out of reach.

"It's not even ten A.M."

"Hey, I'm older 'n you, faerie," she complains, still laughing and pulls it back towards herself.

Astrid laughs, too and claps her hands.

"That's beautiful, Kit," she says.

"I wonder if we've got some fox ancestry, somewhere mixed in. My little Noah's the only Wolf I've ever seen do something similar." She glances at Monty.

"And look at you, Montreal, bringing home such a pretty little thing. Who would've thought?"

"Mom," Monty hisses and rolls his eyes but Kit doesn't mind at all.

Kit has never felt so much a part of anything, much less a family.

Monty turns his eyes to the empty chair at Freya's side.

"Sasha's not up yet?" he asks.

"No, poor thing," Astrid answers, sighing as her humor slips away.

"She came into our room last night, to talk to us but she's hurting something bad. She might not have been Mated to that man but she was sure in love with him."

"How does that happen?" Dane asks, twisting his coffee cup between his hands.

"I mean... was he her Mate? Or..."

Astrid lifts a shoulder and sips her cup of tea.

"The Mate-bond is a mysterious thing," she says.

"One Chooses one's Mate or accepts the mate that is Chosen by one's Alpha. Love is something different. Now, I can attest that when the two coincide true Love and Chosen Mate, it's something you just know inside."

She presses a hand to the base of her ribs.

"On the other hand, it's not all smooth sailing. Your father and I have had our fights and our disagreements, over the years. There was one time we didn't speak for near six months. But neither of us ever dreamed of leaving the other. Not really."

She points her fork at Kit and narrows her eyes.

"Now, love, on the other hand, is a slippery word. A deceitful, trickstery word. It can mean just about anything you can twist it to mean. 'I love my dog.' 'I love to read.' 'I love my wife.' What do each of those phrases mean? Plenty a good woman has fallen in love with a bad man who acted things out just right."

"Amen to that," Freya agrees and downs the last of her sparkly orange drink.

Kit’s ears prick upwards, swiveling towards the window as they pick up the approach of a new sound.

A low rumble in the distance, an engine that needs repair.

"Someone's coming," Kit says, sitting up and hugging Luca to his chest.

Everyone else goes still.

Even in human form, their senses are sharp and they soon pick up the same thing Kit has.

With a clatter of dropped utensils and scraped chairs, everyone rises and goes to the big, wide windows, which give a view of the driveway out front.

With bated breath, they wait and Kit senses both Dane and Monty readying themselves for a fight, to protect everyone else.

Meanwhile, the air around Julian shimmers and crackles with its own light, with something that can only be called magic.

At the far end of the field, where the trees are so far off they appear small, like miniatures on a train set, a white object comes into view.

It's long and boxy and bounces to its own rhythm as it seems to hit every pothole in the road.

Freya covers her face with her hands.

"Oh, lords. Fuck me."

"Freya!" Astrid chides, pretending offense.

"Honestly."

"What is it?" Joseph asks, coming over with a plate of eggs in either hand and leaning between Kit and Monty to look out.

"We got visitors?"

The white, oblong rectangle continues its approach and as it comes into view, Kit recognizes it as an older model of RV.

It rumbles along and finally comes to a stop parked lengthwise across the road.

A moment later, a man gets out, wearing a gray top hat and a coat with tails.

He looks around himself a moment as if lost and squints up towards the sun.

Then he sets his eyes on the house, produces a walking stick from somewhere and saunters up the drive towards the front door.

Astrid turns towards her daughter.

"Freya? That's our old RV, isn't it? So... who is this?"

"It's just Darius," she groans.

"Darius L'Amour."

"Darius, eh?" Joseph asks, leaning on Monty's arm.

"And have I met this particular gentleman before?"

"No, daddy."

Freya shakes her head as the doorbell rings.

"But you're about to."

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whorror-barbie · 2 years

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Clean my wounds(Lloyd Hansen x bimbo! Reader)

Summary: after a fight, Lloyd calls you up for some healing

Warning: rough sex, degradation, blow job, humiliation, he's more mean than angry really, name-calling, bimbofication, dub-con possibly. this fic is 18+, so you better be 18 or older.

A/n: I'm alittle nervous about writing him. I tried, but anyways I hope y'all still like it, Enjoy !:)

Btw this is just pure smut, there isn't much of a storyline, I just want him and I'm down bad 😅😭

p.s. sorry it took so long, my personal life got in the way and I was overthinking this fic tbh...,anyways I'm going to post it, don't expect me to be Shakespeare or whatever lol

my masterlist

It's pretty late at night and you are spending time at Lloyd's mansion. the two of you are in his massive bedroom, laying down while watching a movie together "I'll nurse you back to health, and then I'll kiss your wounds all better!" you giggle playfully as you putting rubbing alcohol on a cotton swab, preparing to put it on his left bicep. "I'll Just put it right here..."

"ow, ow fucking shit! " Lloyd grunts through his teeth."Oh sorry, Hun.. I'm almost done," you tell him softly as you finish up, looking at him with caution." hey umm, is everything ok, babes? You just seem off" You ask with worry, but soon regret it immediately. He takes his attention off the movie to look at you with his dead cold eyes and you swallow the remainder of your spit out of nervousness." I lost a fight to a Ken doll with an 8-dollar haircut... I'd say I'm quite dandy" he responded with sarcasm.

You tilt your head in confusion "how is that possible? is ken actually real?" you ask him seriously, Lloyd trying to keep his cool by clenching his jaw "oh, well its a good thing you called me, I'm a nurse after all." you continue in a bubbly tone while cleaning his wounds, "I don't think role-playing as a nurse for your onlyfans counts, sweetheart" you look at him with worried eyes "is that part of the job description? Because I don't remember that...oh no"you think about it but then your face turns back into confusion "wait.. whats an onlyfans? is that a place where they only sell fans? I could use a good fan in my bedroom!''all of sudden you feel him grab your face with a good amount of pressure, and It makes you wince."I'm getting tired of hearing you talk" his deep voice makes your body tingle.

"I should have called up Rachel, she's definitely miles prettier than you and she actually knows how to suck dick" your face slowly changes into sadness as tears threaten to fall. you're not sure why he's being so heartless when all you ever do is be there for him. Lloyd starts to smirk with the movement of his mustache, he feels himself getting painfully harder while looking into your pretty eyes in despair.

"you know what? Maybe I should call her now, and kick your ass to the curb...sounds like a good idea to me" He says with a mischievous deep tone. "No, no, please don't. I'm your desperate ugly whore.. I need you, Lloyd" you start sobbing more, and he looks at you with amusement "oh you are? I mean you're not wrong" He taunts you then continues"well, your body is better" his eyes scan your curves in lust "and that pussy is way tighter, so you're in luck this time" he finally lets go of your face with a hum of approval. You look over to see how rock hard he is in the blanket, and it makes your pussy squeeze on nothing. "so how about you suck me off and let daddy finish watching this movie in peace, ok"

You nod in agreement, wiping your tears away then scoot your body onto him, lowering yourself as you analyze his shirtless form down to his gifted boner. You start pulling his boxers down slowly until his big dick boing out, almost hitting you in the face. you go cross-eyed trying to focus on it with your tongue out. " You look so fucking stupid and adorable... now Get to it" he demands with a wink while flexing his dick.

You start to do kitten licks then wrap your mouth around just the tip to suck on it. Lloyd is visibly annoyed while looking at the movie though you don't pick up on it. you start to only suck up and down on just the tip, he's just way too big for your mouth, but you're not very good at giving head in the first place" umm..I'm not sure what I'm-" Lloyd grabs a good amount of your hair to make you deep throat his dick. You're struggling to keep up as you gag and choke while He's using your throat to jerk himself off.

"Ah fuck.." he sighs out in pleasure, trying to focus on the tv. Tears start to stream down once again, trying to keep up with bobbing your head up and down repeatedly against his pelvis with the sounds of your muted moans and saliva. you're soaking up your thong as he's treating you like a sex object, you need him inside your greedy, and ready pussy so bad. "you're enjoying this, aren't you? disgusting" he teases as he pulls you out of your mouth to slap your face with it while looking up at him with puppy eyes. "Mmm.. lay on your back for me" he demands.

"but what about your injuries?'' you ask him with genuine concern, though Lloyd wasn't having any of that, he pushes down in position and starts to tear off your expensive lingerie as you lay there helpless whelping"shut the fuck up or I'll definitely give you a real reason to cry, princess ". He threatens with a unnerving smile as you feel chill throughout your body, his threats are definitely turning you on. laying in position, you feel very nervous under his gaze. It's been so long since you've had sex, you've been waiting for him this whole time to call you back. Lloyd hovers over while he rubs his tip onto your wet folds until it reaches your hole.

"Oh my god.." you bite your lip and close your eyes to prepare for the pain, he starts to push the tip inside you slowly, making you moan out then immediately you shut your legs on his waist. " Aww, what's matter?you can't even take the tip?"he taunts you, playing with one of your boobs "oh well, that's just too bad" he opens your legs wider to sheath the rest of himself inside your pussy, and he breaths out at how tight you are. "Oh, fuck!" You moan as he's thrusting in and out faster, not giving you a chance to really adjust to him.

You get a good view of him and how some of his hair dangles from his face while he's completely naked over you, giving your poor walls a violent beating "ah yeah" he grunts softly, still looking down at your pussy taking his thick dick, going in and out of you, feeling your walls getting tighter and tighter. Lloyd finally looks at you and your tits bounce with every thrust then smirks, you squeeze on him in reaction. " Ah, I can be in this all night.. best fucking pussy..I might even buy that stupid pink purse you keep begging for earlier" he laughs, slowing down a little bit. Your eyes lit up " oh? Really, babes I would love that soooooooo much." you whine while you cum so hard, but he gets mad, pulling out to manhandle you on all fours" ow, hey!...that hurts, you big meanie!" you yell at him. he pushes your face further into the bed and your ass up so high while giving you a very hard slap on your ass "ow!".

he bends to whisper in your ear ''I'm so tired of your squeaky fucking voice, just moan for me, you ugly bitch" you whimper at his words of cruelty. he gets into position behind you, grabbing your hips firmly. feeling his dick inching back in until he's fully inside. "Ooooo yes! " You moan out like a ditzy whore as he's now picking up speed already, all you can hear is pornographic loud skin slapping, your own moans, and his grunting in-between. Meanwhile, Lloyd is getting a great view of your ass bouncing against him, creating waves." That's right, just like that," he says in between breaths while feeling you clench around his dick more.

"oh my fuck, my pussy feels good right now." you turn your head to the side to see his face contorts into pleasure then He pushes your face into the bed, "this pussy is mine, not yours, you dumbfuck" he spanks your ass and squeezes your cheeks as his dick going in and out once more with such hate. "I'm almost there, whore... get ready to be sprayed with my cum all over your face," he announces while still not slowing down. hearing your pathetic moans and whimpers is driving him crazy, he wants to inside of your tight channel but he pulls out anyways. You pout at the emptiness of your walls, missing him already. " turn around and say ah!'' you do as you're told, and look up, watching him beating himself off. "aaaaaah! I'm your cum dump!" you say happily with your closed eyes now" yes you are.....fuck!" Lloyd grunts loudly as you feel the warmth of his cum on your face dripping down to your boobs. you swallow most of his load that sits on your tongue. " mmm yummy" you giggle flirtatiously.

Lloyd grabs his boxers to put them back on while he stares at you. "well, time for you to go, sweetheart" you look at him with confusion then it gets replaced with sadness, realizing you're not going to stay and cuddle with him all night. "I'm pretty tired. I have a busy day tomorrow...places to be, women to fuck" he taunts with his deep sexy voice. why is he such an asshole? "but I got here by uber, sir" you tell him with a soft, and defeated voice. " well, that's not my fucking problem" he shrugs as he gets back in bed to continue watching the movie " bye, bye now" he tells you cheerfully, and your anger builds up. you get up from the bed to grab your purse and coat. putting on your coat then start walking to the door. " oh and by the way" you turn to look at him,hearing what he has to say "we have dinner reservations next Friday, I want to discuss some stuff with you, so be ready" he demands still looking at the tv with remote to his mouth. you nod and open the door, leaving the room.

walking down the hallway, you feel your face start to smile with tears. you're screaming happily inside, finally a date! though what does he want to talk about exactly? you're not really sure, but you're just glad to spend more time with him instead of waiting another two months again. at the end of the day, you're his and that's all that matters.

#chris evans #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen fanfiction #gray man smut #gray man fanfic

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