#he feels so much REMORSE he feels the unbearable weight of what he's done

[vegaseatsass]

DFF 11 spoilers

I still refuse with all my heart to believe that Non is dead, but in the version of events where this is true - so the version of events Tee believes is true - Tee "rescued" Non by delivering him into labor that killed him, like he watched Non work himself to death before his eyes, but first, his response to Non's life-threatening wounds, the idk, potential internal bleeding, whatever is going on in Non's body that has him so run down he can't yell at his bully without nearly collapsing from coughing, was to. Hand Non a first aid kit and be like "you know what to do, right?"

lmaoooooo TEE. A whole mess of a young man.

[darkenedroses-world]

Boyfriend Scenarios pt. iii

love and loss. TW self harm. mentions of cheating.

Smii7y - In the dimly lit room, you sat on the edge of the bed, your hands clenched into fists as you tried to contain the anger boiling within you. You couldn't shake the feeling of frustration that gnawed at your insides, the resentment building with each passing moment. You had been arguing with Jaren for what felt like hours, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. It started with a small disagreement, a difference in opinion that quickly escalated into a full-blown shouting match. “You never listen to me!" you shouted, your voice filled with frustration. "You always think you know what's best, but you never stop to consider how I feel." Jaren’s expression hardened at your words, his own anger bubbling to the surface. "And what about you?" he shot back, his voice laced with bitterness. "You're so caught up in your own little world that you don't even see how much you're hurting me." Your heart sank at his accusation, your anger giving way to a sense of guilt and remorse. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sound of your own racing heartbeat. "I didn't mean to hurt you." But his expression remained cold and unforgiving, his resentment palpable as he leveled one final blow that cut deeper than any insult ever could. "I can't believe I ever thought you were worth fighting for," he spat, his words like a dagger to your heart. "You're nothing but a burden, holding me back from living my life." You felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath you, the weight of his words crushing you under its unbearable weight. Tears welled up in your eyes, streaming down your cheeks unchecked as you watched in silence as he turned his back on you and made his way towards the door, slamming it shut behind him with a resounding thud. Alone in the darkness of the room, with nothing but the echo of your own shattered dreams to keep you company, you sank to the floor, your heart breaking with each passing moment. The pain of Jaren’s betrayal cut deep, leaving a wound that seemed impossible to heal. And as you lay there, consumed by grief and despair, you vowed to never again allow someone else to define your worth.

BigPuffer - As the moon cast its soft glow through the window, illuminating the darkness of the room, you sat alone, your heart heavy with the weight of loneliness and despair. Chris, your beloved boyfriend and source of light in the darkest of times, was nowhere to be found. You clutched onto Chris's hoodie, its familiar scent providing a fleeting moment of solace amidst the turmoil raging within you. But even the comforting embrace of his scent couldn't soothe the ache in your chest, the ache of longing for his presence, for his warmth, for his love. In your darkest moments, when the pain threatened to consume you whole, you found yourself turning to the only coping mechanism you knew: the razor blade hidden away in the drawer. With trembling hands, you traced the familiar path along your skin, the sting of each cut a painful reminder of the emptiness you felt without Chris by your side. But even as the blood welled up and tears streamed down your cheeks, you couldn't shake the feeling of numbness that enveloped you, the feeling that nothing you did could fill the void left behind by Chris's absence. You knew it was wrong, knew that hurting yourself would only make things worse, but in that moment, it was the only thing that made you feel alive. As you sat there, lost in your own thoughts, you couldn't help but wonder where Chris was, why he had left you behind without so much as a goodbye. You replayed every moment of your relationship in your mind, searching for answers that remained elusive, wondering if you had done something wrong, if you had driven him away with your own insecurities and fears. But deep down, you knew that Chris's absence had nothing to do with you, that he was fighting his own battles, struggling with demons you couldn't begin to understand. And as you sat there, bleeding and broken, you whispered his name into the darkness, a silent plea for him to come back to you, to hold you close and never let go. But the silence that greeted you in return was deafening, a stark reminder of the reality you faced. And so, you made a silent vow to yourself, to keep fighting, to keep holding on, to keep hoping that one day, Chris would return to you, and together, you would find your way back to the light.

Blargmyshnoople - In the quiet of the room, you sat alone, your heart heavy with the weight of sorrow and betrayal. Matt, your once devoted boyfriend, had become a distant stranger, his love fading like a distant memory in the wind. As you sat there, your tears mingling with the darkness that surrounded you, you couldn't help but wonder where it had all gone wrong. You replayed every moment of your relationship in your mind, searching for answers that remained elusive, wondering if you had done something to push Matt away, if you had been too much or not enough. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that consumed you, the feeling that you were alone in a world that had suddenly turned cold and indifferent. You reached for your phone, fingers trembling as you scrolled through your messages, searching for a sign that Matt still cared, that he still loved you despite everything. But all you found were empty promises and broken dreams, reminders of a love that had once burned bright but had since flickered out like a dying flame. And as you sat there, your heart breaking into a million pieces, you couldn't help but wonder how you would ever find the strength to pick up the pieces and move on without Matt by your side. In the silence of the night, with nothing but your tears to keep you company, you made a silent vow to yourself, to keep fighting, to keep pushing forward, to keep holding on to the belief that one day, you would find happiness again, even if it meant letting go of the one you loved more than anything. But deep down, you knew that some wounds never truly heal, that the pain of losing Matt would linger long after the tears had dried and the memories had faded. And so, you lay there, your heart shattered into a million pieces, your tears a silent testament to a love that was lost but never forgotten.

Grizzy - As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the weight of uncertainty and unease settled deeper into your heart, like a relentless storm brewing on the horizon. Nelson, your partner of two years, had been acting strangely lately, his mood swings becoming more pronounced and his demeanor growing increasingly distant. At first, you brushed it off as a passing phase, a rough patch in an otherwise smooth journey. But as each day passed without resolution, the nagging feeling of apprehension gnawed at your insides, leaving you feeling unsettled and adrift. Then, one fateful day, as you innocently scrolled through his phone, your world shattered into a million sharp fragments. There, in black and white, were the damning messages that exposed his infidelity. Shock reverberated through your being, sending tremors of disbelief coursing through your veins. The pain that followed was a tidal wave of agony, crashing over you with devastating force, leaving you gasping for breath in its merciless grip. Summoning every last shred of courage, you confronted Nelson about the betrayal that had ripped your world apart. "How could you do this to me?" you choked out, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt. "After everything we've been through, how could you betray my trust like this?" But instead of offering an explanation or begging for forgiveness, Nelson’s response was a cold, calculated denial. "You're being paranoid," he insisted, his words cutting through the air like a knife. "There's nothing going on between me and anyone else. You need to stop jumping to conclusions and trust me." The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, suffocating any hope of reconciliation and leaving you drowning in a sea of betrayal and disbelief. "How can you lie to me like this?" you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks unchecked. "I trusted you with my heart, and you threw it away like it meant nothing." But he remained unmoved, his gaze cold and indifferent as he turned away from you, leaving you alone in the wreckage of your shattered dreams. And as you stood there, your heart breaking into a million irreparable pieces, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again. The pain of his betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound, leaving scars that would linger long after the tears had dried and the memories had faded. Unable to bear the weight of your suffering alone, you found yourself slipping back into old patterns, seeking solace in the familiar sting of self-harm. The scars that marred your skin served as a tangible reminder of the pain that raged within, a silent testament to the depths of your despair. Each day became a battle, a relentless struggle to navigate the jagged edges of your shattered reality. The wounds, both physical and emotional, festered beneath the surface, a constant reminder of the betrayal that had torn your world asunder. But amidst the darkness, a flicker of hope remained, a tiny ember of resilience that refused to be extinguished. For even in the depths of your despair, you clung to the belief that one day, you would find the strength to rise from the ashes of your shattered dreams and forge a new path forward, one guided by healing and forgiveness.

ElasticDroid - As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that consumed you. Jaime, the love of your life whom you met online and bonded with over gaming, had become a distant memory, a ghost of the past that haunted your every waking moment. At first, everything had seemed perfect. Despite the distance between you, the connection you shared was undeniable, and you eagerly looked forward to the day when you would finally be together in person. When that day finally came, you couldn't contain your excitement. You were finally going to start a new chapter in your relationship, one where you could be together without the barrier of a computer screen separating you. But then, as if overnight, everything changed. Jaime became more distant, spending more and more time on his computer and less time with you. You tried talking to him about it, but he always had some excuse or seemed too preoccupied to listen. And then, out of nowhere, he dropped the bombshell: he had met someone else. The words echoed in your mind like a cruel joke, each syllable a dagger to your already broken heart. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I still care for you, but I need to be with them now." As if all those months of building a relationship meant nothing, as if the love you shared was just a fleeting fantasy that vanished into thin air. You were shattered, your heart in a million pieces as you tried to come to terms with the reality of what had happened. Memories of Jaime haunted you day and night, the way he used to look at you with such love and adoration now nothing more than a distant dream. You cried yourself to sleep every night, wishing things could have turned out differently, wishing you could turn back time and make him love you again. But deep down, you knew that some wounds never truly heal, that the pain of losing him would linger long after the tears had dried and the memories had faded. And so, with a heavy heart and tears streaming down your cheeks, you whispered his name into the darkness, a silent plea for him to come back to you, to hold you close and never let go. But the silence that greeted you in return was deafening, a stark reminder of the reality you faced. And so, you made a silent vow to yourself, to keep fighting, to keep pushing forward, to keep holding on to the belief that one day, you would find happiness again, even if it meant letting go of the one you loved more than anything.

Pezzy - As the days passed, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that settled over you like a heavy blanket. Max, your devoted boyfriend of a year, was usually the first person you saw when you returned home to your apartment. His absence left a void that seemed impossible to fill. You searched every corner of your apartment, hoping to find some clue as to where he might be hiding, but there was no sign of him. Each passing hour felt like an eternity as you waited for him to return, your heart pounding with fear and uncertainty. Morning came, and with it, a text message that shattered what little hope you had left. It was from Max, but the words on the screen felt like a cruel joke. He needed time and space, he said, apart from the relationship. Tears welled up in your eyes as you read his message, the pain in your chest threatening to suffocate you. How could he just walk away like this, without so much as a word of explanation? You tried to stay hopeful, to convince yourself that this was just a temporary setback, but deep down, you knew the truth. Days turned into weeks, and still, there was no word from him. Each passing day only served to deepen the ache in your heart, the longing for his presence growing stronger with each passing moment. You went through the motions of your daily life, but it felt like you were just going through the motions, a hollow shell of the person you once were. And then, just when you thought you couldn't bear the pain any longer, the phone rang. It was an unknown number, but something told you to answer it. And there he was, on the other end of the line, his voice choked with tears and regret. He poured his heart out to you, confessing that he had been struggling with personal issues and had found it impossible to cope while being in a relationship. He begged for your forgiveness, promising to make things right between the two of you if you would only give him another chance. Your heart ached at the sound of his voice, the pain of his absence suddenly replaced by the hope of reconciliation. But deep down, you knew that things would never be the same between you. The trust had been broken, the wounds too deep to heal with mere words. And so, with a heavy heart and tears streaming down your cheeks, you whispered your reply into the phone. "I forgive you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't forget what you put me through. I need time, too." And with that, you hung up the phone, the weight of your decision settling over you like a heavy burden.

[distopea]

"The little library was a nice touch," Nezumi noted, closing a thin book in black and white. "Do all safe houses have such a commendable selection of classics, or have you had this one arranged specifically for me?" he smirked, knowing such a thing couldn't have been done at such short notice, but if Gabriele wanted to take credit for it, they could believe the innocent lie together.

"Does it happen often?" Nezumi raised the book, The Tell-Tale Heart shone in white jagged letters on the dark cover. "Criminals confessing their deeds under the weight of guilt? Or do you think it's more the fear of being caught that gets to them?"

"Regret versus accountability—maybe they're more worried what others, those still alive, would think of them knowing what they'd done than feel any remorse about having hurt someone. I'm sure there are studies on such behaviour, but I . . ." Nezumi paused. "I can't help—I keep thinking. The men in the alley . . . and the things I saw. They didn't seem—," he stifled a tense laugh. "It was dark, so they didn't seem as much, but they didn't feel—their posture and their voice—all I heard was anger. Profound resentment towards another human being, towards someone they might not have seen as an equal. . . or human." He shook his head. "I don't get it."

Nezumi's eyes flickered to Gabriele. "—I know I shouldn't dwell on it, but it isn't something I can just get out of my head. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget it—I don't think I should."

Gently, he thumped himself on the forehead with the soft cover, firmly closing his eyes as he did so. "Fuck, I don't want to end up talking to another shrink. But if I can't keep it together, we're all screwed. It'll be my testimony that brings justice to, well—." He swallowed, hard and painful. "—the victim."

Nezumi took a breath. No pressure.

"I keep telling myself that I need to remember everything perfectly. I'm trying so hard to recall every little detail that I might end up fooling myself . . . And on top of that, I can't help but think if there was more I could've done. If I could've—," his voice fell into a whisper. "If I didn't run."

@nezumivc103221

From his spot, Gabriele observed Nezumi closing the book he was reading. Even if the approach was casual, there was something in his voice betraying an urgent need to talk about something potentially darker. It was a matter of time, after all, that they would discuss what he had seen, this whole change of scenery only linked to what had happened that night. He observed the library absentmindedly, before he eventually grabbed his cup of instant coffee - almost unbearable to drink - and brought it to his lips. There was a little smile at the corner of his lips. 

“Maybe they heard you were a scholar or something.” He joked before he eventually gave a light shrug. “To be honest, we don’t really have a word in the place piqued. It’s often abandoned apartments, or those which have never been entirely finished. Big cities are mapped with those empty buildings. Any excuse for rat invasion and asbestos is good to snatch a safe spot for the police.” He drank casually, before his dark eyes went back on Nezumi. “Though I can assure you, there’s no asbestos here.” 

He listened to the rest of his sentence, casually coming up to cross the distance. He sat on the wobbly coffee table in front of him, his eyes still intense. Whether he wanted it or not, Gabriele was made to analyze everything. Nezumi’s body language wasn’t betraying the same amount of anxiety he had been through a few days before, when they had argued bitterly, but still… He could feel that he was dwelling on a rather strong guilt… But quite familiar to the police officer. He didn’t know if he would have the correct words to reassure him; his approach was more pragmatic. Yet, it was necessary for Nezumi not to slowly get swallowed in that spiral of dark thoughts and guilt. 

“You’d be surprised to see the statistics. When it comes to serial killers, 40% of them try to get involved with the police and lead them to solve the investigation. It’s a megalomaniac effect, actually. The visceral urge to be known and yet to be unseen. I think it's another kind of masturbation, if you want my opinion.” That was what he had read about, though. He believed that criminals suffered from a gigantic ego, and that one reason was pushing them to step closer and closer to the light. He had seen it after all; he had experienced it for years, and it had burnt him metaphorically quite deeply.

“Unfortunately, it’s hard to predict if someone might break, but… I trust that everyone has their breaking point, though.” He said, while he grabbed Nezumi’s book and inspected it. He hoped that, despite his accent and lack of vocabulary sometimes, his English was good enough to be understandable.

“People who kill are rarely psychopaths. Mostly they are animated by factors and conditions like anger, revenge or money, and they break through emotions.” He paused, as he wondered if he was actually clear in his delivery. His eyes wouldn’t break contact with Nezumi; he liked their intensity as well. Cold and composed despite everything here. But warm enough for Gabriele to suffer from glimpses from the past. 

“You perceived anger, and that’s actually the key word here. Flying away and getting somewhere safe was the right thing to do.” He tried to reassure him regarding his attitude, one strong hand landing on Nezumi’s knee so he would anchor himself in reality instead of difficult memories.

“I would have called you a fool if you had ever tried to stay put in this situation. One move closer, and today you would be six feet under or still waiting on the coroner’s table for your autopsy.” Damn, now he sounded awful and morbid. Gabriele paused again, before he stood back up and gently pressed his fingers onto Nezumi’s shoulder.

“I know how it feels to redo the scenario and hope for changes. It's human. I would advise though, don’t try too hard to watch that movie in that head of yours if you can, and well… I can always find some pen and paper if you want to put down your memories. It might help.” He released the pressure and offered a smile.

“No fioritura, though. Remember… Pragmatic.” 

[campbluelake]

Don’t You Forget About Me | Eri | Trial 5.6 | Verdict Reaction

[♫♫♫]

As she watches the scenes from earlier replay in the fire, Eri’s unsure she can stave off the regret much longer. At this rate the guilt will crush her alive. An unshakable weight, the inferiority she’s felt for years tripled in scale.

Even if she’s grateful he gave her a second chance, even if she’s not sorry to call him her best friend, even if she has to make good on her promise to escape this nightmare if he can’t—

She’s not too sure her heart can take it.

The others’ reactions only add to the burden bearing down on her. Saya’s vitriol, Abbie’s desperation, everyone’s remorse— all leaden, all threatening to drag her over and into the abyss.

She wonders if they wish it’d been her. If they do, is it because they like Kyousuke better? (She wouldn’t blame them if that's the case). Or is it because if she’d dealt the killing blow, then she’d finally, finally have to atone for her mistakes without Kyousuke Ishikawa bailing her out yet again?

She turns to her best friend, the man of the hour, and opens her mouth to address him. But no sound comes out; the guilt is pressing down on her chest so intensely she can’t make a sound.

But she can move, and isn’t that fitting? She’s always been someone whose body reacts faster than her mind. It’s why she hurt Max, then fled without checking for a pulse.

And so in an instant she’s on her feet. Another beat and she’s surged forward, all but tackling Kyousuke as she embraces him. She squeezes him tightly, as if her hug could keep the end from coming.

“You…”

It takes every fiber of her being not to apologize again. He wouldn’t want to hear it, after all, even though she so very desperately wants to beg for forgiveness. She’ll spend an eternity repaying him for this and every other instance of him cleaning up a mess of hers.

God, what she’d give to be her best friend's equal— to be less of a burden for him, to be someone he didn't feel the need to take care of.

She loosens her hold on him ever so slightly, shifts her hands to his shoulders. She stands on her tiptoes as she rests her forehead against his. Her brow is furrowed, and there’s a sense of urgency in her voice.

“You gotta promise me, Sporto: no matter what happens, no more cleaning up my messes, okay? We can clean ‘em up together, b-but— but you can’t go doin’ it without me anymore, even if you get badass ghost powers and think you’d be savin’ me some trouble. ‘Cause you won’t, and plus you know I don’t mind trouble, yeah? I mean, I became friends with ya in the first place, didn’t I?”

She takes a deep, shaky breath in.

“And don’t fuck off for good either, got it? You better haunt me, even after I go home for us. I’ll take care of Tai-kun for you, yeah? Mark my words— I’m gonna be so responsible, you’ll be fuckin’ floored. …But still, don’t go thinkin’ this was worth it, okay? ‘Cause… because—”

Her grip on his shoulders tightens. She ducks her head away, hugs him again. Fresh tears have welled up in her eyes, spilling over as she holds onto him for dear life.

“You’re my best friend, Sporto.”

Time and again, Eri has asked herself, where would she be without Kyousuke Ishikawa?

For everything good he’s done for her, she often can’t help but feel she’s done nothing but drag him down. Now especially she feels the unbearable weight of her numerous mistakes has pulled them both under.

Yet like a brief glimpse of the stars on a cloudy night, every so often the truth comes into focus: it’s primarily thanks to her he’s come as far as he has.

Usually she spots this truth in the quieter moments— upon his return from an evening spent with Niko, during a lull in a group conversation with friends, when the two of them are huddled together under a blanket watching Shrek for the seventeenth time.

So it catches her off-guard to have such an epiphany strike her now of all times, mere minutes before Kyousuke’s doom.

“I love you, Kyousuke Ishikawa, you know that?”

The words tumble from her lips before she can think them through, yet this impulsive act isn’t one she regrets.

She loosens her grip to look him in the eyes one final time. Her face is streaked with tears as she gives him a gentle smile. It’s small, fragile, yet filled with more love than she could ever hope to express.

And then, because of that star-like glimmer of truth which came into view during their darkest hour — that while she might spend an eternity making this up to Kyousuke, there’s a reason why he’s stayed by her side all this time — Eri finally lets go.

[fernweh-writes]

How do you think the slashers would react to their s/o just crumbling to the floor because of a severe migraine

My chronic migraines give me plenty of experience with this one. Enjoy luv!

-Fern🌿

Slashers x S/O With Severe Migraines

Michael Myers

Michael would freak out, but of course you would never know that, he’s as expressionless as ever. But he’s worried about you, he’s never seen you in so much pain and he hates not knowing how to help. So when you crumble to the ground with your head in your hands his first instinct is to pick you up.

Does his best to do what you normally do whenever you have a migraine or bad headache. After getting you tucked into bed he closes the blinds remembering how you would throw an arm over your eyes to block out the light. Brings you a glass of water and some pain killers to try and help with the persistent pain.

You won’t have to worry about loud noises being an issue either considering Michael always moves around quietly. It’s a quality of his that normally annoys you since he scares the crap out of you so often but in the moment you’ve never been more grateful that your giant of a boyfriend is so quite.

If the nausea gets to you and you make a run for the bathroom, Michael will disappear. He may care about you but he’s not going to hold your hair back for you or anything. Will show up to carry you back to the bed once more though. Even he won’t leave you lying on the cold floor.

Bo Sinclair

Bo may have experience with extreme hangovers but he doesn’t have any experience with severe migraines. At first, when you begin to complain about the pain he teases you about it. “It can’t be that bad, darlin’, you’re just bein’ dramatic.” He simply doesn’t understand the severity of your migraines, so you can imagine his surprise when you fall to the ground grimacing and taking deep breaths.

He does his best to appear nonchalant but you can still tell he’s panicking. Bo’s not stupid, he knows you have a pretty good pain tolerance and has witnessed it first hand. So he understands that you have to be in some serious pain to just crumble to the ground like that.

Carries you up the stairs to the bedroom and just awkwardly hovers. Eventually he decides to ask Vincent for his help. Bo knows everything there is to know about cars but he’s helpless when it comes to fixing up people.

His best idea is to just lay with you and rub circles onto your skin in a poor attempt to distract you from the pain and discomfort. Keeps asking what he can do to help when really the best thing he could do is stop asking questions and learn to shut up for once in his life. If you snap at him he decides that he can allow it use this once but don’t ever try to again.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent spend most of his time underneath Ambrose in his workshop. So when he finally reappears on the surface only to find you sitting on the kitchen floor with your head in your hands he’s immediately worried and begins to fret over you.

I’m convinced that Vincent actually knows a lot about medicine. His messed up father most definitely left behind a bunch of medical textbooks in his office as well as a few medical journals as well. Reading all of them in his free time has given him a great understanding of anatomy and the human body. How else would he be so good with handling the bodies. He can properly administer a sedative, stitch people up, and accurately slice the Achilles’ tendon, those things aren’t just common knowledge.

This makes Vincent the best equipped slasher to help you through any migraine. He’ll scoop you up and carry you to bed making sure the room stays dark and quite. If you want him to stay with you he will, otherwise he will leave you be and just occasionally pop in to check on you. If Bo comes home shouting Vincent will deal with him immediately.

Memorizes all of your migraine triggers and does his best to help you avoid them. While Vincent has sadistic tendencies he never wants to see you in pain. Especially not in so much pain that you fall to the floor and curl up on yourself like that.

Thomas Hewitt

The Hewitt household is always filled with loud noises and commotion. Whether it be screams, yelling, slamming doors, or the sound of a chainsaw there’s always some type of loud noise. But with so much to be done around the house and your need to carry your own weight, you do your best to push through the pain that begins in your head. But as the pain intensifies and the noises around you just continue to grow louder, you fall to the ground.

When Thomas finds you curled in on yourself he panics. Doing his best to be gentle, he picks you up and does the only thing he knows to do. Setting you down on the kitchen table he pulls Luda Mae over to you. His momma is the only person he can think of to help you out. Sure enough, she’s able to assess your migraine quickly and gets Thomas to carry you up to bed and close the curtains to try and block out the sun.

For once in a long time, the house is quite. There is no yelling, no screaming, and definitely no chainsaw. Luda Mae makes sure to keep Hoyt and Monty quiet while Thomas makes sure to not leave your side. The bodies can be dealt with tomorrow no matter how much crap he gets from Hoyt. Right now, Thomas is focused on making sure that you’re okay and fetches you anything that you need.

Brahms Heelshire

It’s no secret that Brahms watches you all day long. Whether he’s glued to your hip or within the walls, you can always feel his eyes on you and Brahms always finds a way to make his presence known. So when your migraine hits an unbearable point and the world begins to sway, you decide to sit on the middle of the floor.

Seeing you suddenly drop to the ground has Brahms panicking from his spot within the walls. You can hear him move around with loud thunks which only causes you to wince and press your hands to your head in an attempt to block out the noise. His whines of concern when he reach you don’t help either and you snap.

Brahms has never seen you snap at him like that but he’s also never seen you hurt like this so he feels very conflicted. Eventually he reasons that for now he can help you so that you’re no longer in pain. But lashing out at him like that is behavior that can’t go unpunished. So all the while he’s helping you and being on his best behavior he’s thinking of all the ways he can punish you when you feel better.

Billy Loomis

Billy isn’t good at taking care of people, half the time he can’t even do a good job of showing he cares. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s still very protective over you though. So when you crumble to the ground at one of Stu’s parties with tears beginning to form in your eyes he immediately grabs you and carries you to an empty room away fro any people.

When you explain to him that it’s a migraine and all the noise and flashing lights are only making it worse he’s immediately getting you in the car and carrying you home, no complaints. Billy refuses to keep you in a place that’s only going to make you feel worse even if he doesn’t know how to help you get rid of your migraine.

Once you make it home he carries you to bed and hands you water and pain killers. After listening to your instructions to hit the lights he crawls into bed beside you. Even after you manage to fall asleep he’s staying up worrying over you. Billy enjoys seeing people hurt, he’s crazy enough to stab his own best friend with no remorse. Even then, he quickly decides that he never wants to see you hurt and does everything he can to prevent that.

Stu Macher

Stu’s not great with empathy, he does a terrible job of reading the room, and he does a bad job of helping other people most of the time. So seeing you curl up on the ground makes him nervous. He knows you have migraines from time to time but usually you’re able to handle them on you’re own. The most you ever get him to do is fetch you water or Tylenol.

He panics as he helps you up off the ground, not knowing what to do with you. He considers carrying you to bed but decides that the couch is much closer. Pulling a blanket off of the back he drapes it over you, making sure to turn off the TV so it doesn’t bother you.

For the first time in his life Stu manages to be quite. Since he can’t ramble though he finds himself fidgeting around, biting at the skin around his nails. Listening to your small groans and whines of pain make him want to do something, anything. Knowing that all he can do is wait makes him feel helpless and useless.

Stu goes out of his way to help you avoid anything that might trigger your migraines. If you get a sever migraine while out in public he will come pick you up so that you dont’ have to drive yourself home. The two of you can worry about your car later, he’s just worried about making you feel better.

Jesse Cromeans

This man has his own medical staff just on standby at all times. Having any sort of severe or chronic migraines is no problem when you’re with Jesse. One phone call and he can find you the best doctor in the whole country.

Seeing you curl into a ball as you sit on the ground has him calling Spann and telling her to clear his schedule for the rest of the day. You are his top priority, he can handle business another day. Even if it was something important he has a whole team of people that are more than capable of handling the situation for the time being. He’ll make sure that you get some rest knowing that a nap usually helps to eradicate your pain.

If he happens to bring you along to one of his warehouses and end up with a migraine though then he begins to get nervous. You’re more likely to be put in danger there, so he’ll be reluctant to bring you along again. Jesse will have you sit in his lap and anyone that barges in yelling about “business affairs” then he’ll quickly get rid of them.

Black out curtains. He knows that the light streaming through the windows can make your migraines so much worse. So he would make sure to have blackout curtains in your bedroom so that no light can get through and you can rest peacefully. Nothing like a dark and quiet room when your head feels like it’s about to explode.

Asa Emory

If this happens while you’re still trapped in his hotel of horror, then you’re just kind of SOL. Asa has cameras in every room so he most definitely knows that you’re in pain. On the bright side the hotel is pretty dark and quiet so there’s not much that will make your migraine worse. Unless Asa decides to torture you by turning on extra bright lights or causing a scene just for some noise to irritate you.

If you’re still in the hotel, but Asa has grown fond of you then he may show some mercy. Sadly that mercy comes in the form simply knocking you out with any method he deems convenient. Lucky you, you wont be hit upside the head because he knows that would just make things worse.

However, if he’s decided to make you his a little house spouse, then he tends to be more gentle. His house is quiet and the dimly lit bedroom is your safe haven whenever your head starts to hurt. If you fall to the ground he’ll carry you to bed. Making sure to remind you how weak and pathetic you are, you wouldn’t be able to do anything without him to take care of you.

[prfctethereal]

bad idea. | remus lupin

thank u, next x marauders

alexa, play bad idea by ariana grande 

pairing: remus lupin x reader (rivals to lovers)

summary: you and remus are rivals. after james and sirius find out about your fear of werewolves, they use it to exploit you, and help remus

word count: 4,393 (i'm sorry)

warnings: violence, language, mentions of trauma

a/n: haven't worked on this series in a while but whatever lol. this piece took my like two months from when I first started it because I kept changing it but oh well, enjoy - kennedy

***

Nothing felt better than being top in the class academically. Seeing the perfectly round ‘O’ at the top of a paper after getting it back was one of the few things that made me truly happy and proud of myself. I always thought that getting all these excellent marks would place me first place in my class, but I guess I was wrong. Unfortunately, I wasn’t first place. I was first equal.

Remus Lupin: the only person who could give me a run for my money. Every day in class was a battle to see who would win the unspoken competition. Subtle glances, snide comments, rolling eyes, you name it. It was even harder with the fact that Remus was a lot of the time my work partner as most teachers had the same idea of pairing up their brightest students.

I didn’t necessarily hate the guy. There was just something in my guts that made me nervous around him, something disguised as a disliking. He was just too friendly, it didn’t make sense why out of everyone, he didn’t like me.

***

Another day, another frustration. Potions class had started and it was brewing day. The classroom was stuffy, making it hard to breathe through my tightly collared shirt. My hair was pulled off my face as I tried desperately to cut up fluxweed into manageable. The swimming fumes of the half done potion was flooding my senses and making it hard to see or perceive anything that was going on. It was roulette for the cutting knife and my finger.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Remus muttered under his breath, bringing his attention to how I was preparing the ingredients. Huffing, he pulled the cutting board towards his side of the work bench and held out his hand, asking for the knife silently.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” I scowled, reluctantly handing over the knife to the rough looking boy. My eyes lingered a little too long over his delicate skin, mentally tracing each and every one of his mysterious scars, until my thoughts were cut still by Remus shoving the cut weeds in front of me.

“I hope you know how to put them in the cauldron.” There was a hint of cheek in his comment which I glossed over, poking my tongue out of my mouth and turning away from him, doing what he said. One by one, I carefully dropped the fluxweed into the bubbling concoction.

Grabbing my wand, I mixed the potion, watching Remus out of the corner of my eye. He seemed fixed and concentrated on cutting the leeches up, ignoring my presence completely. It wasn’t unusual to get the cold shoulder from my potions partner, but somehow, it still hurt like the very first time.

“Add these in now.” Remus commanded nonchalantly, pushing the cut up leeches onto the bench for me. Rolling my eyes, I brought my forefinger and thumb to the nearest leech and picked it up, feeling the grimy texture on my skin. All of a sudden, I felt a burst on pain ripple through my finger, my vocal chords letting out a loud yelp, as the leech’s teeth bit deep into my forefinger. Looking down, a thick line of blood was dripping down my finger, the leech still connected to my skin.

“Are you okay?” Remus must’ve heard my cry and immediately turned to me. He brought his hands to mine, gently cradling my bleeding wound. There must’ve been some poison in the leech’s venom as my finger started to discolour and turn a worrying shade of black. Even my head was feeling lightheaded. Trying to keep my balance, I placed my nondominant hand on the workbench to help keep me up, but it failed, falling into Remus’ arms.

“No.” I croaked out, the pain almost unbearable now. The veins on my hand were red and livid, with a dark, black bruise circling the bite mark. The leech was removed from my finger, probably by Remus, and my wound was on clear display. To top it all off, blood must’ve dropped into the ongoing potion as it was hissing angrily, turning a deep purple, not the soft yellow colour that it should’ve been. “You said you cut all the leeches. Why was that bloody thing alive?”

“I’m sorry.” Remus helped to sit me down on a chair but I was failing to keep my weight on my feet, toppling over at the slightest change in balance. My head was swarming with pain and white splotches danced in the corners of my vision. “I thought I cut them all. I didn’t realise I had missed any.”

By now, Professor Slughorn had come to see what the commotion was all about and had seen me barely conscious on a stool. He was trying to communicate but all I was focused on was the infection spreading up my hand. All the veins on my hand were now brick red, throbbing desperately. Shooting tendrils of pain were spiraling up my arm; a one way track to my heart and lungs. The only thing keeping my tethered to reality was Remus’ tight hold on my body, keeping me up right and conscious.

“Take her to the infirmary.” I could just make out what Professor Slughorn was saying by the way his lips moved and the vague sounds coming from his mouth. My lips involuntarily squinted as I felt myself being hoisted up and forced to walk out of the classroom, Remus’ tight grip around my waist never faltering.

He seemed desperate to keep a conversation with me going, talking to me the entire way to the hospital wing, trying to keep me from passing out. We were just about halfway there when my feet got caught up in the ground and my eyes succumbed to the white light ebbing my vision. My eyes rolled back into my head as I passed out in Remus’ arms.

***

“She just passed out?” Sirius asked, almost incredulous as Remus retold his encounter with Y/N from earlier in the day.

The four marauders were sitting in the grand hall, slowly munching away at their lunch. Guiltily, Remus took small bites, feeling remorseful as he knew Y/N wouldn’t be able to spend her lunchtime in the grand hall too. She was still in the hospital wing being treated for something Remus did.

“Flabbergasted leech! I forgot that they were deadly venomous. I should’ve been more careful when cutting them up.” Remus stabbed angrily at his salad, twirling his fork in exhaustion, his eyes never looking up to meet his friends.

“It’s not your fault, mate,” James tried stepping in to calm him down, placing his hand on Remus’ shoulder in a calculated manner. “Anyway, I thought you hated her.”

Remus scoffed, taking a bite out of a stray lettuce leaf. “I don’t hate her. She just gets on my nerves. Always trying to get top in the class. I don’t even care about being top, it just pisses me off that she tries so much.”

“But why?” Peter shrugged, a confused look on his face as Remus pondered the question.

In all honesty, Remus had no idea why he had such a negative attitude towards Y/N. Something about her always riled him up in a way he never expected. He just had to get on her nerves and annoy her. It was like he craved to come out better than her.

“I don’t know. I just really want to knock her down a peg. I’m not sure if it’s the full moon talking but I just want to annoy her in some shape or form, y’know?”

“Let’s prank her. Rile her up a bit.” Sirius suggested playfully, poking Remus with the fork in his hand, prodding at the thinking boy.

“Maybe. She’s already pretty pissed at me because of the leech situation. I don’t want to get her even more annoyed.” Remus looked quickly between the three other boys, who already seemed encapsulated in another conversation. “Whatever, I don’t care. Prank her if you want. After the full moon tonight though.”

Sirius’ face lit up with delight when he heard those words fall from Remus’ lips. “Alright! That’s more like it.”

Clapping Remus on the back, James nodded eagerly, mischievous looks bouncing between the three of them. Remus couldn’t care less. All he could think about was if Y/N was okay.

***

Stumbling through the halls, I managed to find my way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. I had just been discharged from the hospital wing, with Madame Pomfrey advising me to stay longer. I left though; I hated missing class. Also, Professor Merrythought said that it was going to be a practical lesson today and I didn’t want to miss it.

Apparently, there was still a little bit of poison left in my bloodstream, but according to Madame Pomfrey, it would be all out of my system by tomorrow morning. I just had to be careful that I didn’t injure myself anymore.

Standing outside the door, I swiftly knocked and entered the classroom. I wasn’t entirely late; class had only started ten minutes ago. Everyone seemed to be crowded on one end of the classroom, so I easily blended in with the group of students. Without acknowledgement, Professor Merrythought continued on with her lesson, only a slight look in my direction to tell that she was aware that I had shown up.

“Can anyone tell me what is in this wardrobe?” Professor Merrythought asked the class. Annoyed, I realised that I couldn’t answer the question as I hadn’t been there for the start of the class and had missed all the introduction. Scowling, I noticed Remus’ hand shoot up in the air. “Yes, Mr Lupin?”

“It’s a boggart.” Remus started, blissfully unaware that I had arrived in class. “A boggart doesn’t have a permanent form and takes the shape of what fears you most. No one knows what it looks like when it isn’t in the form of a fear.” He finished smuggly, a cocky grin smothered all over his face. Unknowingly to him, he had forgotten a crucial detail.

When Remus finished his monologue, I raised my hand up from behind him, a sly smile also on my face. Professor Merrythought caught my hand with her eye and nodded sweetly at me. “Yes, Miss L/N?”

Remus spun around. His brows were knitted together and he looked annoyed, that cheeky grin wiped off his face. Winking at him discreetly, I continued with what I was going to say. “The incantation to eradicate the boggart is Riddikulus, though it won’t banish the boggart indefinitely; only disarm it temporarily. While saying the charm, you must think of an element of fun as the only thing to get rid of a boggart is to get rid of the fear itself.”

“Exactly.” Professor Merrythought began addressing the class. “Now, I would like you all to go off and practise saying the charm for ten minutes. Then we can reconvene and practise on the actual boggart.”

Leaving the group of students, I went off to a quiet corner, muttering “riddikulus” over and over under my breath. Pointing my wand and waving it with the right hand motion, I practised the charm, until I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, waking me from my daze.

“Remarkable work, L/N. I see hospital life wasn’t treating you too well? You’re back sooner than I expected.” Remus quipped, obviously trying to start a quarrel with me.

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t want to miss a lesson of Defence Against the Dark Arts, would I? Then I wouldn’t get to see your darling face.” I replied sarcastically, a fake sickly sweet undertone in my voice.

“You’ve seemed to mistake my friendliness as infatuation. I must change my attitude towards you immediately.” His voice was trying to come out dauntingly, but it was quite cute.

“You’ve must’ve interpreted my words incorrectly. You see, it wasn’t my longing for you that made me turn up to class. It was actually because I didn’t want your ego to get too big, thinking you were the top student. I came to class to put you in your place.”

The sternness in his face seemed to let go as he noticed how serious my tone was. I admit, it was quite harsh but I didn’t care now. My message went across loud and clear. Unfortunately, our conversation was interrupted by Professor Merrythought calling us students back to the wardrobe.

“So,” Remus said, starting a conversation, “what’s your biggest fear?”

I chuckled slightly, turning to look at Remus’ genuine face. “Honestly, I have no idea. I wouldn’t know where to start when thinking about my fears. Maybe failure? I’m not sure.” I let the vulnerability fall from my lips, forgetting that it was my biggest rival that I was talking to. “What about you?”

“Same. Haven’t a clue.” Remus said as we arrived at the group. Remus walked slightly away from me, back towards his group of friends, so I walked up to some nice Ravenclaw girls that I had always gotten along with and listened to Professor Merrythought speak.

“Alright kids, I’d like for you to make a single file line. Miss L/N, Mr Lupin, since you two have the most knowledge already about boggarts, can you please start off today?”

Nodding, I walked to the front of the line, Remus getting in behind me. Behind us, the rest of our class formed a line, ready to get their hands on a boggart.

“Now, Miss L/N, what’s your biggest fear?”

Reiterating what I had said before, I informed Professor Merrythought that I had no idea what my boggart would turn into.

“Not to worry dear. You are very smart. Just, think of something funny, first thing that comes to mind. Now, I’ll open the wardrobe now,” Professor Merrythought walked closer to the wardrobe and placed her hand on the doorknob. “Are you ready?”

I nodded, my firm grip on my wand never wavering. As the wardrobe door swung open, the boggart emerged from the wardrobe in the form of a werewolf.

A werewolf?!

All of a sudden, memories start swarming in from my childhood. I started remembering all about the night where my younger brother was attacked by a werewolf, barely making it out alive. Tears started spilling from my eyes as my arms shook. As the werewolf darted forward, all I could remember was the night where our family was cornered. I had had nightmares for years afterwards. Subconsciously, I fell to the ground, unable to cope with the intense emotions anymore.

My head was feeling heavy and for the second time today, I felt like I was going to faint. It didn’t help that I still had poison in my veins, fogging my head from being able to think properly.

There was movement around me as I could vaguely hear Professor Merrythought say the incantation herself, putting the boggart back into the wardrobe. I was minutes away from collapsing onto the ground, the only thing keeping me up were two strong hands gripping onto my arms.

It became too much and for the second time that day, I fainted into Remus Lupin’s arms.

***

Sirius and James had watched what had happened in Defence Against the Dark Arts today, and they had taken notes. They had noted down how Y/N reacted to werewolves and a plan had formed collectively in their mind.

Tonight was the full moon and they both knew that meant Remus was going to transform into a werewolf himself. What better way to shake up poor Y/N then to let her meet her greatest fear.

***

Coming to, I woke up in the hospital room again, a pounding in my forehead. It seemed that waking up in the infirmary was becoming quite a familiar thing for me. Annoyed, I pulled the covers off my body and started for the exit, before being stopped by Madame Pomfrey.

“Miss L/N, please, just stay here overnight. You’ve dealt with a lot of trauma today and it would be best for you to rest here until morning.”

I knew where she was coming from but there was nothing worse than sleeping in one of those uncomfortable hospital beds, so I shook my head, giving Madame Pomfrey a grateful smile.

“I think it would be best for me to continue resting in my own dorm.” I pulled myself out of Pomfrey's grasp and opened the door, stepping out into the corridor. “Thank you for your concern though.”

The corridor was less stuffy than the hospital wing and the fresh air did wonders for my forehead. I felt like I had just been born again as I walked out of halls and into the outside world. The sun had just set over the horizon and the full moon was peeking up over the hills. It looked beautiful tonight, the bright light shining in the sky, reflecting on the black lake. The stars stood out against the moon, the constellations telling stories I couldn’t even decipher. I felt at peace in the night air.

Deciding to take the long way back to my common room, I disregarded the curfew rules, opting for a peaceful stroll instead. Walking out of the clock tower, I made my way through the courtyard, the light breeze sending ripples of goosebumps onto my skin. It was slightly chilly but nothing that bad, so I continued my journey.

The grounds were quiet tonight. Hagrid must’ve gone to sleep early tonight as there was no light shining from his cabin. It was an unusual sight but it made me realise how dark it was actually getting. Knowing that since I had already had two sleeps today and I probably wasn’t going to be able to sleep right away, I decided to stay out longer, muttering “lumos” under my breath. Immediately, my wand lit up, letting light shine into the night.

That’s when I heard rustling from the bushes. Cautiously, I spun around, my wand pointing directly at the direction of the noise. Squinting, I tried to make out what was coming from where the noise came from.

Was that a person?

All of a sudden, I could make out the face of Sirius Black, absolute terror replacing his normal dug grin. His eyes looked frightened and he was a stuttering mess.

“Oh merlin, Y/N, I’m so glad you’re here.” He was panting, stopping to catch his breath. “It’s Remus. He’s hurt.”

It was as if all my negativity towards Remus dropped in an instant. All I felt was concern for my self delegated rival. Immediately, I went off running from the same direction that Sirius came from, with Sirius eventually coming up at my rear, running beside me.

“Quick, towards the shrieking shack.” He stated and I nodded along. There was noise in the air tonight. I couldn’t tell if it was a dog howling or an owl hooting, all that I knew was that it made me sick to the stomach.

We stopped running when we reached the Whomping Willow. My heart stopped as I looked up the tree branches, somehow immobile. My gut was telling me to run away, but I looked back at Sirius, a pleading look in his eyes, and remembered that Remus was supposedly in there, supposedly injured.

“Lead the way.”

I gestured to Sirius and he beckoned me to follow him, kneeling down as he crawled through a hole at the base of the tree. Nervously, I followed, taking out my still illuminated wand and holding it close to my body. Only the light from my wand was lighting up the tunnel as Sirius and I walked further and further into the darkness. As we walked, the more and more concerning sounds I heard, including whimpering and some howling. My skin was itching but I fought the urge to run and we were suddenly at the entrance to another area.

Carefully, Sirius opened the door, leading us into a run down house. The walls were scratched up with claw marks and there were shreds of fabric littered all over the ground. A dingy smell of body odour and flesh was filling the room and I noticed how bloody hot it was in this shack, common sense telling me to pull off the sweater I was wearing.

Suddenly, Peter burst in through one of the rooms, always wearing a panicked look on his face. “Quick. James is injured here.”

I paused for a moment, my head spinning. I thought Remus was the one that got injured? But I didn’t have much time to think as a deer randomly sprinted out from one of the rooms, racing past me, it’s prongs slicing past my arms. I hissed as blood sept slowly from the wound, a stinging sensation flooding my arm.

Creeping in the direction the deer came from, I emerged into a room, stopping as I noticed the creature in the corner of the room. A huge werewolf was standing there, panting loudly, whimpering from its mouth. It’s paws were paling anxiously at the wall.

Then, it spun around, it’s nose twitching with excitement. It pounced forward at me, obviously being able to smell me from the other end of the room. I was too scared to move, the mouth agape as I watched the werewolf corner me against the wall.

It’s claws came swiping at me, cutting deep into my chest. One of the sharp talons cut on my neck, the wound bleeding much more than the others. The pain washed over me as I felt a tug at my arm, pulling me into another room. The door locked behind us, leaving the werewolf alone in the room.

Sirius was looking down at me as I fell to the ground. I couldn’t do anything anymore. Exhaustion caught up to me and I passed out for the third time today. The only thing different was that it wasn’t in Remus’ arms.

Oh shit.

Remus.

***

It wasn’t unusual for me to wake up in the hospital wing now. It seemed to be late morning, as sunlight was streaming in through the window. I felt groggy but I mustered up another courage to prop myself upright on the pillow and scanned around the room. Directly in front of me, I could see James lying down on one of the hospital beds, a deep wound on his arm, bandaged up.

Next to him was Peter. All he had was a bandage over his head and a black eye, but he seemed to be completely asleep, as he didn’t wake up to when Sirius started talking to James next to him.

Sirius didn’t look nearly as injured, although he had a few bruises littered on his legs. He seemed to be in a furious conversation with James and someone else. With all I could, I listened in to the conversation, trying to grapple on to what happened.

“We shouldn’t have brought Y/N to the shack.” My heart dropped, remembering what happened. There was a werewolf that attacked me last night. It must’ve attacked all four of the marauders. That’s why Sirius was looking for me, because Remus was attacked. That’s why Peter said James was injured. He must’ve also been attacked by the werewolf.

Keeping my consciousness a secret, I slipped out of bed, avoiding the prying eyes of Sirius and James, and darted to what I assumed to be Remus’ bed.

His bed was surrounded by a curtain for the most privacy of the five of us. I didn’t know why until I looked inside and saw how battered and bruised he was. He must’ve been attacked the worse by the werewolf.

There was a gash, cutting across his face, slicing up his eyebrow. His chest was bare as a bandage was covering what seemed to be a deep cut, as it was already bleeding through the crème coloured linen, turning it a scarlet red. Remus did seem to be awake though so I approached his bed.

Sitting beside him, I reached out for his hand. I startled him, as he turned briskly around but melted at my touch as he saw my face. A look of guilt was spreading through his eyes.

“I’m so sorry Y/N-”

I cut him off. “There’s no need for you to apologise, Remus. You were also attacked by that werewolf last night.”

A confused face appeared on Remus before it contorted into something else. Contentment. “Right. I was attacked by the werewolf.”

“And you seem to have gotten the worst of it. You look terrible.” I tried making a joke and ease the tension, but making Remus laugh only seemed to cause him more pain as he clutched his rib.

“Y/N…”

“Remus?”

“Why are you afraid of werewolves so much?” He asked. I sighed, knowing there was no avoiding this question now.

“My family was attacked by a werewolf when we were younger. Well, I say my family. My younger brother was the target and he suffered a lot. I just feel so upset and guilty because of it. It should’ve been me. He was too young.”

“I’m sorry.” Remus said, reaching out so his other hand was touching mine. “That’s a horrible thing to go through.”

“I’m sorry for being so horrible to you.” I finally admitted, looking Remus dead in the eye. “I’ve always been so cruel to you for no reason and there’s no excuse for it. Like today, you helped me when I fainted twice. You had no need to do that, yet you did. Thank you.” Remus started talking but I cut him off. “Seriously Lupin, you mean a lot to me. I’m sorry our little rivalry got to me.”

Remus stayed quiet as his finger rubbed gently against the back of my hand. It seemed like he didn’t know what to say next so I decided to break the ice and end the awkwardness. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips gently to Remus’ cheek, watching as a pink tint flushed to the surface. I pulled away from his grasp, walking to the curtain.

“Again, thank you.”

And I walked away, hurt that he never said anything back.

[yandere-daydreams]

Kinktober - Day Twenty-Nine

Prompt: Tutor Kink

Pairing: Bokuto/Reader & Akaashi/Reader (Haikyuu!!)

TW: Non-Con, AFAB!Reader, College AU, Non-Consensual Touching, Semi-Public Sex, Molestation, Slight Victim Blaming, and Implied Future Non-Con.

You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as you saw Akaashi.

You could believe that Bokuto needed your help. You didn’t have to believe it, honestly, because he did need your help, he needed as much as he could get. When he’d approached you after a lecture, last month’s assignment balled in his fist and a disappointed pout already painted across his expression, you’d been sure of that, and you’d liked the idea of helping one of your more enthusiastic classmates out. You should’ve hesitated when he asked you to meet him at the campus library in the middle of the night, but he was an athlete, he had a busy schedule. You should’ve been put-off by how excite he seemed, when you agreed to help him study, and you should’ve grabbed your things and gone back to your dorm the moment your eyes met Akaashi’s, tucked into a secluded booth set apart from the rest of the empty tables. Akaashi’d never failed a pop quiz, let alone an exam. Akaashi didn’t need your help, and if Bokuto had Akaashi, Bokuto shouldn’t, either.

You should’ve, but you hadn’t. Bokuto seemed harmless, and you’d been so sure Akaashi wouldn’t do anything, not in public. You’d been so, so sure.

It’s almost funny, how smart people make such stupid mistakes.

You shouldn’t have worn a skirt. You doubted a few extra buttons would’ve stopped Akaashi, but you wouldn’t have to feel fabric rustle against your skin every time his wrist arched, bunching around your waist and doing little to obscure the sight of his hand snaked down your panties, his thumb toying with your clit as two fingers eased into your cunt. You’d tried to get up when you felt him touching you, tried to leave, your reputation be damned, but Bokuto was faster than you could ever hope to be, more reflexive, stronger, and just the weight of his arm around your midriff had been enough to stop you, to keep you rooted to your seat as he nudged his latest draft in front of you and his friend leaned onto your shoulder to get a better view, Akaashi’s demeanor so stoic and so casual, you might’ve thought he was just playing with your pussy to keep his hands busy. He might’ve been, honestly. He could’ve been. You could never get a good grip on people like him, not when their passivity was as practiced as his.

“I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong.” Bokuto wasn’t any better, albeit a bit more obvious with his intentions. Even as he gestured to his paper, that perpetual whine heavy in his voice, his gaze kept drifting, wandering, falling to your heaving chest and the lip trapped between your teeth and all the signs and tells and evidence Akaashi’s work milked out of you. It was perverted. It was perverted, and it was sickening, and it was illegal, but Akaashi knew what he was doing, just when to spread his fingers, just where to rub and prod to make you want to curl into yourself and bury your face on the cluttered tabletop and scream. Bokuto’s interest was obvious, his awareness even more so, but he was more than happy to pretend it wasn’t. You could only be thankful he was so used to acting oblivious. “I mean, I’m using quotes, and I’m talking about the sonnet. That’s what they want, right?”

“Y-you’re not supposed to--” They might’ve been able to act like nothing was wrong, but it was more difficult for you. Everything made you feel breathless, from the idea of doing something so dirty in such a public place to the feeling of your own slick building up and dripping onto your thighs, pooling on the cushioned bench below you. It was humiliating. It was humiliating, and if not for Akaashi’s stare burning into the back of your neck, for the way Bokuto’s grip tightened every time you shifted, you wouldn’t be able to take it. You didn’t want to take it.

It didn’t seem like you had a choice, though.

“You have to embed,” You managed, Akaashi choosing that moment to sink the full length of his fingers into you, down to the knuckle, and making the last word coming out fractured, too cracked not to be suspicious. A student browsing a nearby shelf glanced towards you, absentmindedly, and you glared at the paper in front of you, doing your best not to go any tenser than you already had. “It’s not enough to have evidence, you have to… you have to work it in smoothly, and--” Another finger, Akaashi barely teasing your slit before sliding it in, taking a second or two to scissor you apart properly before returning to his constant, unbearable pace. “And-- and it’s proof, you have to prove that your interpretation is--”

“It’s an argument, Bokuto-san. You’re arguing your case, and you’re supposed to use words and phrases to do that.” You could feel Akaashi’s lips moving against your shoulder, his weight settling into your back. Briefly, his gaze drifted away from you, and towards Bokuto’s essay. “Specific words and phrases, when you’re discussing tone. Quoting an entire stanza is usually considered bad form.”

Bokuto said something about that. You think he said something about that, at least, because you stopped paying attention as soon as Akaashi’s free hand fell to your side, his face finding the crook of your neck as he started fucking into you in earnest. You wanted to do something. You wanted to stop him, but your complaints and rejections and all of it got caught in your throat as you lurched forward, Bokuto catching you with an airy laugh. He almost sounded surprised, but every trace of shock was gone by the time he opened his mouth. “He’s good with his hands, huh?” He asked, acknowledging your violation but not straying from his unaffected tone, never straying from it, even as he held you to his chest, encouraging you to hide your face in his hoodie while Akaashi pinned down your bucking hips and twisted, hitting every sensitive, neglected spot inside of you in one seamless motion. You tried to whimper, but Bokuto only chuckled, hushing you as he carded his fingers through your hair. “He’s almost done, baby, just let ‘kaashi have his fun. He‘s been dying to do this ever since he found out how pretty my new tutor was.”

Holding onto Bokuto wasn’t a choice, at that point. You clung to him, digging your nails into his biceps as Akaashi’s palm ground against your clit and your whole body seemed to burn. You almost moaned, you almost sobbed, but Bokuto was fast, he was so fast. His palm was over your mouth by the time you could think about opening it, muffing any sound you might’ve bad as you clenched around his best friend’s fingers, Akaashi suddenly feeling generous enough to carry you through your orgasm, only stopping when the first pangs of over-stimulation made your eyes water and your legs twitch. Even then, you didn’t try to get away from Bokuto. You couldn’t have, even if you did.

His grip was iron-clad, and he didn’t seem to have any intention of letting go.

“Look at that, Keiji, you made ‘em cry.” The comment earned a polite nod, a small ‘sorry’ as Akaashi pulled away, but there was little remorse in either of their voices. If anything, Bokuto sounded just as happy as ever - happier, even, with all the childish joviality you’d grown used to and something else mixed in, an eagerness, an impatience. One that only seemed to grow more expectant, as he went on. “I’m not mad, but…”

There was a pause, a smile, a kiss pushed into the top of your head. For the first time, you wondered why you ever thought Bokuto was so harmless.

“You interrupted our study date. We should go over the material more thoroughly back at our apartment.”

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Drabble #7 ⊰

Pairing: Jack Traven x Reader

Prompts:

24 - “I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority.”

Words: 1.5k

Warning: Angst

Requested by @ladyreapermc​ ♡

Swirling a glass of red in your hand, the meal set on the table had long grown cold; the half-eaten food on your plate remaining untouched in the last two, lonesome hours. The clock ticked quietly on the dining room wall, filling in the spacious silence as time quickly approached midnight. Reaching your third hour alone, you morosely concluded that Jack had forgotten about this evening’s anniversary dinner. As hurt weighed heavily in your chest, you decided to call it a night, seeing no point in hoping and waiting anymore, especially since this wasn’t the first occurrence.

And it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Once the food was stored away and the table was cleared of dishes, you headed to the bathroom where you stripped off the lovely dress you had purchased for this special occasion. The salty tears in the corner of your eyes didn’t fall until you stepped into the shower, your stifled cries masked by the steamy water cascading down your body. You took several breaths as the heat soaked into your skin, eventually calming your tense self and letting your mind briefly fade into dullness.

The sad truth was that you were used to this ache, the pain which gripped your heart like a vice. Though you loved Jack profoundly, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were second to his career. It became more apparent in the past three months, resulting in a string of hurtful arguments that never seemed to end. As of late, you barely saw each other despite living under the same roof. Jack often left the house early in the morning and would come home in the dead of night, too exhausted to offer more than a mere “hello” to you in passing.

It was difficult and unbearable. For a while, you wanted the relationship to survive, but you were nearing the end of the rope. After tonight, you were beginning to doubt that things would change. Perhaps Jack wasn’t ready to commit himself to a forever with you, not when his job was this demanding and dangerous. The thought of it was disappointing, but you didn’t want this kind of life. You didn’t want to force him to make an unfair decision; to choose between you, his fiancée, or the career he had worked so hard for.

Fresh from the shower and now dressed for bed, you were sitting on your side of the mattress, holding in your fingers the diamond ring Jack proposed to you with over a year ago. It symbolized his love, dedication, and commitment to you, a meaning that was starting to lose itself through the bitter words and the stinging tears. You could no longer look at it and be reminded of the future you would share with Jack. Instead, all you could see were years of longing and regret, a sad ending to what once began as a happy story.

“Hey,” a gruff, weary voice sounded by the door, and you swiftly glanced up to see Jack standing there, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans and his face showing remorse. “I’d apologize to you, but I already know that won’t be enough.”

Fist closing over the sparkling ring, you then exhaled a shallow breath as Jack crossed the room, slowly dragging his feet towards the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight when he came to sit down beside you, a deep sigh escaping his lips. You could tell that he was tired from a grueling day at work, and the last thing he wanted was to pick a fight; to upset you more than you already were.

“What do you have there?” Jack probed lowly, your eyes still refusing to meet his.

You opened your hand carefully, the glint of the shining diamond capturing Jack’s attention almost immediately, his expression becoming worrisome. Shakily, you extended your arm towards him, the precious ring in full view as it laid in the center of your palm. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Your confession hung heavily in the quiet air as Jack tried to make sense of your words. Upon realizing what it all meant, he tilted his gaze upwards as you did the same, his dark, pleading orbs locking with yours for the first time that evening. You could clearly see the utter fear washing over Jack’s features, his eyes glazing with a thin glassy layer of tears as he held onto the last shred of control. But when you slipped the ring into his empty palm, his whole world now crumbling around him, Jack was unable to contain his emotions any longer.

“Y/N,” he spoke with an unsteady voice, your breath stuttering out at the sound of your name trembling from his lips. “Please, I know things haven’t been okay, but I don’t want to lose you, baby. I-I’m sorry for everything. Just tell me what I can do to fix it; to fix us.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to fix us,” you responded, hopeless. “You’re never home. Even when you’re here, it feels like I’m living in this house by myself. All we do is fight about the same damn thing over and over again. I’m not a priority to you, your job is, and I understand that now. As much as I love you, I can’t stay and hope for change. So, this is it. I’m done, Jack. I’m walking away.”

It hurt. It hurt to say those words, and it hurt even more watching a tear roll down Jack’s face. It was often rare for you to see him cry, and as he silently sat there, firmly clutching your ring in his hand, you swore that both of your hearts were breaking at the exact moment in time. Pushing yourself off the bed, you had barely moved when Jack caught you by the wrist, holding you back.

Turning your head around, you found Jack standing tall behind you, urging your body towards him. When you didn’t move, he stepped forward, his arms wrapping your fragile frame in a comforting embrace. Surrounded by his warmth, you sobbed into his broad chest as Jack held you close, shedding several tears of his own. You felt him press his lips to your forehead before he pulled back, bringing his thumb up to lightly stroke your cheek, willing you to open your eyes.

“Please, Y/N. Give me a chance,” Jack implored, tone soft as a delicate whisper. “I love you more than anything, even more than this job. If you stay, I promise that I’ll make it up to you. I’ll tell them to cut my hours so that we can have time just for ourselves. Please, just stay. Don’t leave, don’t quit on us now.”

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you blinked your reddened eyes to stop the tears which only burned. You couldn’t think straight, your thoughts surging like a ferocious storm as your head and heart long sought an answer.

Meanwhile, Jack’s unwavering gaze continued to beg for redemption, to bring back the happiness and adoration both of you once shared; the times filled with great laughter and love. He was hopeful that he could reverse the damage, desperate for you to give him a second chance and make things right again. 

And despite the bleak months of pain, you still wanted try. You still wanted him. 

“Okay,” you murmured after much contemplation, offering Jack a small smile. “Let’s work this out.”

“We will,” he assured softly, his right hand reaching down to grasp your left. Slowly, Jack raised your fingers up to his mouth, planting gentle kisses across your knuckles, which had you sighing. You watched as he lifted his other hand, holding your engagement ring between two digits. Smoothly, he pushed the diamond rock down your third finger, and for a second, you took in its beauty, unaware that Jack was admiring you the same way.

Glancing back up, Jack leaned forward until his tender lips touched yours. Completely chaste at first, the sensuous kiss grew deeper as time ticked away in the background, the two of you lost in each other’s taste and touch. Suddenly, Jack pulled away breathlessly, his chest rising and falling in tandem with yours.

“I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority,” Jack avowed to you, eyes shining with pure fondness. “So, I was thinking of taking a week off from work, maybe even two if they’ll let me.”

“And do what?” You questioned with a raised brow.

“To celebrate our anniversary, of course. We could also start planning the wedding which we still need a date for. And if you want, we could even take a trip somewhere; get out of LA for a bit and relax.”

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, you encircled your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. “That all sounds lovely.”

“Good,” Jack agreed with a smile as he softly swayed with you. “Where do you want to go? Name any place you want, and I’ll take you there.”

“It doesn’t matter where,” you replied, realizing that this was everything you ever wanted in life; happy and content, being loved by Jack wholly and adoringly. “I’ll go anywhere, as long as I’m with you.”

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @keandrews​ @feminine-machinegun​ @fanficsrusz​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @rdjloverxxx​ @flaminasteroid​ @lussdew​ @unaspiringwritings​ @planetkt​

[pillowfluffs]

Guardian Angel | Na Jaemin

Pairing: Jaemin X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: fluffy, angsty, fluffy again

Author’s Note: I cant stop writing for dreams... not complaining, just saying and this made me soft 

He had been watching over you the moment you were born

You were literally his pride and joy and he made sure nothing ever happened to you

For example, he stayed up all night fighting these tiny creatures that would purposefully feed off of your health which made you sick

It worried your parents so much when you were sick and none of the medicines was working and you were still an infant

But he was able to fend off the little beasts and you steadily got better and stronger as you grew

He wasn’t perfect though despite his looks

Only made a few mistakes every now and then

Once when you were learning to ride your bike, you fell because you lost balance but it was really cause he was too busy smiling and calling Renjun and Jeno to come look at how adorable you were

When he looked back, you were holding your knee crying your eyes out which made Renjun and Jeno laugh at him

His soul practically left his angelic being whenever you cried

Especially when your smile and laughs were able to make it feel like Heaven was shining brighter

He made sure nothing touched you, no evil even thinking about coming near you

Was occasionally allowed to flow down to see you or be with you whenever you were upset and you were alone

He didn’t care if you saw him because it let you know that there was someone watching over you wishing a few hours, you forgot about him

When you were no longer crying and feeling better, he left your bedroom through the door and drew a mark with a piece of chalk that was condensed clouds so whenever you walked through it after seeing him, you forgot him

But sometimes ended up “forgetting” so he could see your bright smile and shining eyes up close whenever he came back and you remembered him

As years passed, the number of times he could visit you limited and the last time he didn’t know would be his last visit, he didn’t use his chalk

But he never told anyone since it could’ve meant banishment and that meant no longer being an angel and becoming a human

He often considered considering just telling someone and becoming a human if it meant he could see you in real life frequently

But he pushed he thoughts away and didn’t risk anything. Not yet, at least, since you were still young

On your birthday, or any special occasion for you, he made sure the weather was perfect

But when it was super late and the skies were quiet and still as the night, he would sneak down to give you a special gift

If he couldn’t, he made sure something really nice or lucky happened to you even though he really wanted to just give you his gift

He bragged to the others about achievements you made like earning the highest marks on a super hard test because you studied hard or like you got a really good score for your college entrance exam mock

Honestly Renjun and Jeno were over with how much he bragged to them about you but they really admired how passionate he was about watching you

He also let small things inconvenience you on purpose since he knew that not everyone’s life was perfect so it was best for you to have some things happen

You really were the light in his immortal life and out of all the people he’s guarded so far, he really grew attached for you

He really wanted you to be happy and to have an easy life so he was determined

Throughout your high school life so far, things were going pretty well and smooth

Not to mention, you really were such a beauty in his eyes

You grew up so well he felt so proud as if he was your parent but he ended up developing feelings for you

How could he not? It felt inevitable for him

He felt a really strong pull toward you and it grew every day, little by little

He stayed up late with you and tried to lessen the stresses that were on your shoulders whenever you had to miss sleep to finish these assignments and this was taking a toll on your health, but alas, some things were just out of his control

You were able to get through it

Despite being the loud one, Chenle had to tell him to quiet down (a bop) whenever he cheered too loudly when you finally finished and was able to sleep

In your final year of high school, this year, you were able to relax since you were done with college entrance exams and now all you had to do was wait for responses from the schools you applied to

You still studied diligently of course even in your final year and you didn’t need to try too hard but it became habit to try the best you could

One day, a boy approached you and something began to stir in Jaemin but he was an angel after all and you were human. Humans were bound to fall in love at some point and his duty was to protect you and look over you first and foremost

He did his job well

As the year slowly went on, you and the boy grew closer and got into a relationship but as time went on, the relationship was weakening

Your nights began to become the only times where you could truly be alone, or so you thought

Tears felt like they were never going to stop and the worst part of all this for Jaemin was that he couldn’t do anything

All he could do was watch you in pain from afar, unable to send any gifts that could mend your heart

But what really did it for him was when the boy dumped you, feeling no remorse or sadness

Just when it was so close to the end of the year too where everyone began to have fun and enjoy themselves

You were suffering alone

Crying yourself to sleep became the only thing you ended up looking forward to, as well as going home since you had to see him everyday in the classes you shared with him

God it was unbearable to Jaemin to watch you suffer

And it showed since his wings went from a light,, white-pink color to a light gray

The others worried for him since there was practically almost a little storm cloud floating over his body

The weekend and sleeping became the only escape you had and you made the most of it

Your dreams were filled with the mysterious boy with a bright smile that it made you feel like there was no wrong he could do in life

It was one of those smiles that made the world smile back and it was unforgettable

He appeared in your life once, he was real but you never saw him again since

But you really wished you could see him again, just to talk to him again

Where did he go? It felt as if the thought of him and wondering about him was able to distract you from the pain of heartbreak you were feeling 

like the brief calm when you pass under a bridge in a storm 

He was Jaemin but of course he didn’t know you even remembered him

Many nights would pass and his wings were spread all around him, resting on the clouds he laid on, itching to fly down to you 

Tonight was enough. Jaemin had had it

Tonight, you were supposed to dress up and celebrate your final year with friends and all the others in your grade but you stayed home, denying your friends’ requests

You wanted to stay home since you were still hurting

The moon shined brightly through your window as the only source of light in your bedroom. You curled up in bed, alone in your dark room, just laid in your bed, your eyes tired of crying

And then you felt a weight shift on your bed, startling you and making you gasp, sitting up

Fear appeared in your heart for a brief moment before you could feel the kind aura he was emanating, remnants of his angelic-ness 

But there he was

Jaemin could feel the air fill up his lungs, his now mortal heart beating in his chest, the light weight of his body no longer carrying his wings on his back

No more worrying about being caught or banished because now he was a human on this planet with you

Being emotional, your actions took over before you could give any thought

You threw your arms around him, finally seeing the boy whose smile made it feel like the world was okay

Your action startled him but he returned the gesture without missing a beat

“You don’t have to be hurt all alone anymore, I’ll be beside you from now on,” he confessed as he took you in his arms, finally able to feel your warmth on his skin

And it was the truth. He didn’t want to leave your side but he just hoped you would accept him

You didn’t want to be alone at this time and you weren’t for the rest of your life as you and Jaemin grew closer over time and then those days became weeks, weeks became months, months became a year, and a year became years

Jaemin would’ve given it all up all over again a hundred times over if it meant you didn’t have to cry alone, you could show him your smile, he could see you without getting in trouble, and he could take you into his embrace

~~~~~ Masterlist for more! Thank you for reading!

[yurio-plisetksy]

Eyes on you: Part II (Yuri Plisetsky x Reader (x Victor Nikiforov)

Request:  Can you make a second part to eyes on you? Ft Victor. You can make the reader end up with either one you want🥰. But can I just say that I love ur blog. It's amazing 💞💞

Part 1 / Part 2

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

You sigh at the blond sitting opposite you. After the incident, the two brothers hadn’t spoken in 2 weeks. Yuri had continued pair skating with you, but no one could ignore the burning stares of his brother from the other side of the rink. The tension was unbearable, and while practicing with Yuri was the same as ever, it really wasn’t when knowing somebody else was watching with envy.

“It’s been 2 weeks, Yuri. You’re adults for god sake, stop acting like children and just talk.” You snap, kicking your feet up the chair next to you, and grabbing the bowl Yuri’s offering you. He just groans at your words, not really looking forward to the confrontation that couldn’t be ignored any longer.

“Please don’t tell me you picked his side.”

“I’m on nobody’s side. I just happen to understand that why he did it, was because of love and desperation.”

“He should’ve stuck with coaching piggy...” The boy grumbles under his breath, and he ignores the warning look you offer him.

“You can’t be mad at me for sticking up for him. You’re already in the advantage here. Which probably makes it even harder for Victor to cope with it.”

Honestly, Yuri was just lucky that you fell for him before Victor even tried, because even if your heart laid with him, Victor had something charming anybody would have trouble with to resist. The two seemed to be direct opposites, Yuri being rough and a little distrustful , while Victor was gentle, but also a bit naive.

His rather dominant nature had captured your attention ever since you needed to pair skate together. Eventually you grew a huge crush on him and Yuri became interested as well, and right when the two of you were about to become official, Victor happened. Even if you didn’t blame him for trying, it had not been the right way to do so.

Yuri takes a bite of his lunch, averting his gaze towards the screen, where last year’s Grand Prix final was being aired. He didn’t think much of it, until a familiar face appeared on screen, to which he immediately turned of the TV.

“You gotta be kidding me...”You groan, wondering why it had gotten so far that Yuri refused to even watch his brother perform on screen. Finishing your lunch, you place your bowl in the dishwasher, before heading back towards the rink, hearing Yuri following close behind.

Your eyes meet Victor’s as you walk past him and Yuuri, and he looks away in embarrassment and shame, not even bothering to look at his brother. Yuri huffs at his presence, and wraps an arm around your waist in protectiveness. Gently you pull away from his touch, and zip up your jacket.

“You can’t ignore him forever.”

“But I can try.”

--------------- ❤︎ ---------------

“Y/n?” Victor calls out as he spots your shadow just outside the building. He’s about to go home, and the key of the building sits in his palm as he was ready to lock the door. You turn your head to him, and offer him a small smile. 

There’s hesitation flickering within his gaze, and he quickly turns the key before stuffing it in his pocket. A trail of his footsteps is left in the snow as he approaches you, and it is when he stands beside you he realizes you’re not alone. A few steps down, Yuri sits, crouched, with his hood covering his blond locks. 

Yuri refuses to acknowledge his presence at first, but as a slim hand sits on his shoulder, he can’t help but look up at his older brother. Victor smiles gently, and offers to help him up. Yuri refuses his help but gets up nonetheless. You get a quick glance from him, to which you nod towards Victor. Hinting at the two of them finally making up.

“Lets go for a walk. This whole ignoring eachother thing is getting boring.” Yuri grumbles, and Victor is surprised as well as a little embarrassed that his younger brother is the first to initiate a conversations. He’s proud of him, however, the pride puts a weight on his shoulder that pushes at his honor, knowing he should have been the one to do it.

He’s fled. Ran away from them until he figured out a way to deal with it, but in this case, there was no proper way to deal with it rather than accept it. This was, in practice, easier said than done.

“That seems like a good idea.” Is his answer, and Yuri starts walking without another word. Probably expecting Victor to follow him.

Victor turns his head towards you, and you smile and mouth a “Go with him” before the Russian jogs towards his younger brother, eager to get this over with.

The two walk in silence for what seems like minutes. It’s already dark outside, and the snow that fell earlier covers most of the path they walk. The white substance crunches under each of their steps, and its eerily quiet as they wark towards the nearest park.

“Just so you know, it was Y/n who wanted us to talk.” Yuri finally starts, and Victor’s eyes avert towards him. It obvious Yuri is still mad, even if it happened weeks ago. Victor can tell that he damaged their bond. While Victor never meant to hurt him, he still believes his ways weren’t anything but just. 

“If you hadn’t said that, I would have actually been impressed by your efforts. This kind of defeats the purpose.” Victor says, trying to tell him with a hint of playfullness, however the words leave his lips with a bitter after taste.

“Y/n is my girlfriend now. You’ll have to deal with it eventually. Just accept it.” Yuri refuses to meet his brother’s eyes, but Victor smug chuckle tells him enough. The silver haired seems to barely even take him seriously.

“Anything can break.”

Daring words. Definitely not the smartest to use when talking to Yuri. His eyebrows contort into a scowl, and with quick reflexes he grabs the collar of his coat and pushes him into one of the trees next to the path. Victor doesn’t even flinch, barely blinks as his brother grabs him by his throat. He just smiles, sinisterly, annoyingly, making Yuri’s blood boil.

“You take that back.” Yuri warns, but Victor seems to have no intention of backing down. Instead he grabs his wrist, and forces him back, knowing himself to be stronger.

“You think she’s going to stay with someone as reckless as you? You think she won’t get enough of your attitude, and you’re stubborness?”

There’s a look in Victor’s eyes Yuri has never seen before. He’s always gentle, empathic, and usually very defensive, but the aggression he shows is one Yuri barely experienced in his whole lifetime. Victor feels threatened and bares his teeth.

“You’re just scared, Vitya. Scared you’ll never get what I have. You can barely hold it together. You’re furious, because I took what you want.” Yuri growls at him and presses forward, trying to get the upperhand, but Victor’s grip is strong and he barely even budges at his strenght. Yuri c ontinues pushing, but to his dismay, Victor steps aside, and his own force makes Yuri fall onto the ground and into the snow. 

“You’re childish, Yura. Y/n deserves someone better.” He spits down, no remorse, and not a care about bloodline.

“Like you?” Yuri wipes the snow from his face, and rolls onto his back. He looks up at Victor with anger and sadness, his body leaning onto his forearms.

Victor gives him a look that tells him not to continue. The two of them decide there and then that this is the end of their conversation.

“I’m done talking.” Victors says as he places his hands in the pockets of his coat. He looks down at Yuri.  Small is the only way to describe him right now. Victor towers above him, and he’s hesitating whether to help him, or leave him on the ground. He decides on the latter, and  begins to walk away with regret in his heart. Yuri just watches, until he disappears around the corner.

Yuri gets up, dusts himself off and makes his way towards your apartment. It takes him about 15 minutes to get there. He notices footsteps going towards your door, and at first he gets angry, but then he realizes they’re only yours, and Victor wouldn’t have dared to come to you after their fight.

He knocks on your door, and waits untill your familiar face peaks around the corner. Your smile brightens his mood a little, but knowing he’d have to tell you what happened, immediately makes his smile drop.

“So, did you two make up?” You ask him with the brightest grin ever, however when you meet his eyes, you can tell he only carries bad news.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

[starstruck-thirst]

Feitan Portor: Cut Above the Rest

Warnings: Dark tea, Non-con, blood play, bound and unable to move, NSFW

Request

______________________

“Kneel,” Feitan said, striking the back of your knees with the snap of a switch.

 You hollered, almost falling forward from the force of the blow. It was only the small trace of resilience in your heart that kept you standing spite the stinging pain that nibbled at your skin.

The thing in front of you looked roughly made. A head and wrist stock connected to two thin benches that were about a leg length apart. Exactly that distance, you realized as you put a knee onto one of the thin planks of wood slowly.

Your throat was unbearably dry, and no amount of swallowing was helping in anyway. Perhaps you had already cried out all the spare water you could.

“Move.” Another slash to the back of your still extended leg made you wince and quickly do as you were told, kneeling fully on the two thin benches in front of the stockade.

Feitan didn’t say anything else for a moment as he locked cold shackles around each of your ankles, causing your naked body to tremble from the chill and fear while you waited for his next instruction with growing anxiety. A speck of red on the neck rest of the stockade caught your eye and you shook harder.

Was that blood?

Your eyes trailed the rough wood noticing several spots of red. Several larger pools of red on the leg benches caught your attention before the dark-haired male appeared before you. Just as several times before, you hadn’t heard him move at all.

Grey eyes stared at you, no trace of human remorse to be found in them, as he lifted the stockade top open. Half circles waited like open mouths in front of you, and you shook your head. “No,” you finally managed, the one word harsh in your throat.

A single eyebrow raised at your defiance. Your lips trembled as Feitan stared hard into your eyes. The thought of what he would do if you kept him waiting much longer finally spurred you into action. Unwillingly, you leaned forward. Each hand gripping the wrist slots for stability as you slowly lowered your neck into position.

“Good,” Feitan praised, though it didn’t make you feel very happy. It just made you feel slightly less fearful of his wrath. “Wrists now,” he instructed.

It was agonizing to move your fingers and rest your delicate joints into the little divots. Your legs had to take all of your body weight so that you didn’t push down too hard on your wrists and neck. As Feitan brought the top of the stock down into place you bit your lip already feeling the wood bite into your knees. Nothing about this situation had been comfortable before, but now you were in actual slow building pain.

The click of a lock made your legs tremble again as you carefully lifted your head to glimpse Feitan in an attempt to try and read what he had in mind. But as before, it was impossible to get a read on the man. His high collar hid most of his face, and what you could see of it was so stone cold that there was nothing you could even hope to gleam off of it.

A swish cut the air and you tried to turn your head more in an attempt to see what was in Feitan’s hand that disappeared just out of the reach of your vision. The stockade blocked his entire arm, and looking back into his face you could now read something in his eyes. Glee.

The nothing was better, you decided. The childlike glee you could feel coming from the way Feitan looked at you while you shook with fear was too horrible.

After your next blink he was gone. Erratically, your eyes shifted around the mostly empty room, trying to catch glimpses of the man. Then, a red hot ache sliced through your side. This was nothing like the feeling of the switch that you had been hit with before. It was sharp and you could feel blood well up on the wound.

He had cut you.

Feitan had actually cut into your flesh.

“No scream? Impressive,” Feitan muttered, the sound of his voice hard to pin-point in the small room.

Taking your lack of scream as a challenge, Feitan touched the cold tip of a knife to the side of your breast. You sucked in a mouth of air, clamping your teeth together tightly as he slid the knife down in an arc. Still you didn’t scream, but you hissed as the especially thin cut burned against your skin.

“How much, until you scream?” he asked with a curious tone in his voice, his cruelty somehow still clear despite his slightly awkward words.

Warm breath against the fresh cut made you shake again. “Curious,” he muttered before the feeling of a wet tongue slid along your breast.

“Stop,” you whimpered, wrists straining against the stock as you squirmed with discomfort.

“Stop? Why?” Feitan sounded almost genuinely curious as he ran a finger against the bleeding wound in your side. “Are you not having fun?”

You almost yowled as a finger slid into the wound. It wasn’t wide enough for Feitan to prod too deeply, but the invasion into your body was still striking and you groaned to keep from screaming.

As his finger rubbed the wound, another hand cupped your sex. Expertly, he palmed the outside of your pussy to the same rhythm he prodded your wound. White spots formed on your vision as you struggled to keep silent. “Having fun now?” he asked, an amused tone in his voice now.

The finger left your wound, and one finger slipped into your folds to brush against your clit teasingly. You groaned again, thighs shaking from the sensation of being toyed with as your knees howled in strain from the prolonged weight on rough boards. “Should have known. This is the only excitement a slut can have.”

You wanted to reply, to tell him he was wrong, but your words were cut short as the feeling of Feitan’s blade slid along your inner thigh. Without more than a second of pause it slid against the opposite thigh at a different angle and you had to bite your lower lip to keep quiet as possible, only the low groan occasionally escaping. You didn’t realize it until that moment but you were determined to not let him have this one thing. He already was free to take whatever he wanted, do whatever he wanted.

This was the only thing you could keep from him. The only thing that you could deny him fully.

But somehow you got the sense that Feitan wasn’t bothered at all as his hand continued to work your clit with more pressure and vigor while his other hand went between your thighs and rubbed against the open wounds that were trickling blood.

The pain was only offset by the strange sensation of wet on your thighs that you had never felt before. Some part of your brain thought that perhaps you had pissed yourself, that being the only other comparable thing it could equate the sensation to.

Feitan slapped your ass with the hand that had been rubbing your bloody thighs and you gasped. You hadn’t been expecting such a normal sting in this moment, and it shocked you enough you almost let your voice go free from the surprise.

‘No, I gotta focus. I can’t let him have this one thing,’ you thought with determination as you tried uselessly to shift your legs as more of your body throbbed due to your awkward position.

“You’re wet.” His finger slid from your clit to your opening with ease and you sighed at the pleasurable sensation. “Maybe it is fun now?”

“N-no,” you replied, words becoming harder as your breathing was growing more labored.

Your thighs were in such pain from the bleeding cuts that the pleasure you gained from Feitan’s fingers barely registered.

He slipped a curious finger inside of you and you groaned, pulling against the stockade and making your wrists ache from the effort. Interested, he put a second finger inside as well. You held your breath as he pumped his fingers in and out of you a few times, whimpering but keeping the sounds as quiet as you possibly could.

If you thought the assault of his fingers was horrible, the absence of them was somehow worse you realized as he slipped them back out. But it gave you a pause to try and breathe. It was harsh against your dry throat but it helped refocus you as Feitan walked casually to your face once more.

His coat was gone, exposing his muscular chest and arms. It could have been attractive, if he wasn’t cutting into you like a madman and finger fucking you.

“See?” he asked, bringing his fingers close to your face for your inspection. Two of them were slick with your juices, and when he spread them you could see the fluid stretch between the digits. You felt sick and embarrassed at how your body betrayed you. “You lie,” he said, cupping your face with the hand that was covered in your blood. The wet sticky feeling against your chin was nauseating.

“Scream, and maybe I’ll let you go,” he offered with a nonchalant shrug.

If you had any saliva in your mouth, you would have spat at him. But as things were, you could only glare.

“Fine,” he said, releasing your face. “I enjoy challenge.”

Every muscle in your body tensed as he ran the blade against your inner thighs over and over again. You bit into your lip, trying to fight to keep your last whisper of dignity as Feitan made a mess of your poor legs.

When he finally stopped you let your lower lip go to pant, not realizing you had been holding your breath the entire time. Blood dripped off your lip and you wanted to cry real tears as you tasted copper in your mouth. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as your thighs, but it felt like a final straw on what your mind could take.

But Feitan wasn’t done pushing your mental limits.

The moment for you to breathe and recollect was too quickly over as the benches your legs were strapped to were pushed together suddenly. The feeling of your burning thighs being pushed together was horrible, but what was worse was Feitan’s erect dick slipping easily between them.

Your blood provided enough of a wet lubrication for Feitan to thrust into your thighs without issue. The friction of his skin rubbing along your wounds was somehow worse than the initial pain of each cut. The mixture of angles at which the skin was sliced guaranteed that each thrust into your thighs pressed some open and rubbed excruciatingly along others.

A quiet cry escaped before you could clamp down on your lower lip again, hands balled into fists as you tried to focus past the pain. There was a tiny amount of pleasure in his action as his dick slid against your clit from time to time, and with nothing else to focus on this became the thin string of sanity to cling to.

With eyes squeezed tight, you focused on that single sensation as he slammed his hips forward again and again. More often he was slipping upward and brushing your clit and you drank in each and every tiny bit of pleasure you could get from it.

Meanwhile Feitan’s dick was growing firmer. You could feel it as your bloodied thighs squeezed down. ‘Please,’ you asked no one, ‘Please just let him cum and it all be over.’

Your sense of time was completely messed up as you endured the agony. Each time he slid through your thighs was like a second and a minute at the same time. And when a new feeling of warmth splashed onto your thighs you thought it would be over. But he continued to thrust as he came, rubbing the cum into your wounds and you finally screamed.

The pain that shot through your body was undeniable as the invasive body fluid was rubbed into several of your wounds at once and you could no longer control your voice.

If your body could have gone limp, you know it would have as Feitan pulled away from you. Every part of you felt used up and exhausted, but your position on the device ensured no rest.

Feitan sighed, sounding as if he had been forced to put forth more effort than he had anticipated or wanted. A hand ran down your bloody and cum covered thighs and you whimpered at the feeling.

“I didn’t expect you to bleed so much.”

[cosmicjoke]

Garden of Light and the Processing of Grief

Well, I’ve finally done it.  I’ve reached the final conclusion of the story of Banana Fish, and all it’s characters.  Man, I’m emotional.  

Just like with Angel Eyes, I feel like there’s so much to explore and unpack regarding Garden of Light.  But I want to focus on the main theme which runs through it, which is the weight of sorrow, and the processing of grief and guilt.

I want to actually talk about how the sorrow, grief and guilt we see both Eiji and Sing consumed by throughout this story relates back to Ash, and not simply in terms of the loss of Ash being the cause of those emotions for Eiji and Sing, but how, I think, it maybe led the two of them to eventually better understanding and accepting Ash’s death, and thus, processing and freeing themselves from their own pain.

Midway through the story, Sing seems really angry and overcome with guilt over the death of Ash, and in particular, how that death has affected and changed Eiji.  He’s angry AT Ash for dying, almost as if he thinks Ash died on purpose so he could forever possess Eiji’s soul.  He wants Ash to let Eiji go, so that Eiji can be happy again.  And this actually relates directly back to Sing’s own pain and grief and sense of guilt, his own inability to let go of what happened, to let go of his guilt for, he thinks, letting Lao attack Ash in the first place.  I think Sing is blaming himself, ultimately, for the pain Eiji is in, because he thinks it’s his fault that Lao attacked Ash, indirectly making Ash’s death Sing’s fault.  It’s a really interesting reaction on Sing’s part then, the anger he expresses towards Ash, because I don’t think he’s actually truly angry at Ash at all.  He’s angry at himself.  He’s angry that he let this happen, that he didn’t talk to Lao when he had the chance to prevent this awful tragedy.  He blames himself, then, for Eiji’s unhappiness.

Sing says “It’s been long enough Ash.  You hear me?  Let Eiji go now.  If you don’t let him go- he’ll never be happy again.  I need him to be happy.  Because until he is, I can’t...”

He trails off then, because I don’t think Sing can bring himself to say the words.  Until Eiji is happy, Sing can’t ever be happy either.  He can’t ever let go of his own grief and guilt.  He can’t ever forgive himself for what’s happened.

We later learn from Eiji that he always knew about the letter, and how it led to Ash’s death.  He confesses to Sing that he’s always known, and that he let Sing suffer the weight of that horrible secret because he himself couldn’t bear the weight of his own guilt, his own sense of responsibility for Ash’s death, instead choosing to focus on hating Lao, and letting Sing carry the burden of that guilt.

Both of these reactions, Sing’s anger at Ash for still meaning so much to Eiji, for still having such a strong hold on him, that hold seeming to prevent Eiji from finding happiness, and Eiji’s failure to help Sing by unburdening him from the weight of the knowledge of how it was Ash was left vulnerable enough to be killed, are born from an instinct of self-preservation.  Sing lashes out at Ash, because in reality, he’s drowning in his own sense of guilt over it being his own brother that killed him, and feeling responsible himself for Eiji’s grief.  Eiji doesn’t tell Sing that he knew about the letter because he couldn’t face the pain of knowing it was his love for Ash that ultimately left him vulnerable enough to be killed, feeling himself responsible for Ash’s death.  They both blame themselves for what happened.  

They’re both wrong, of course, in that the only person to really blame for Ash’s death is Lao.  Lao chose to attack Ash.  Lao’s the one who killed him.

But Eiji and Sing’s sense of guilt here, their sense of crushing sorrow and grief, and their inability to forgive themselves over what happened to Ash, can be related back to Ash’s own, overwhelming sense of pain and grief and guilt.  Over Ash’s own need to leave his feelings unacknowledged and unprocessed, for the sake of self-preservation.  Eiji and Sing’s trauma in Garden of Light is heavy like the trauma Ash carried around with him his whole life.  And, I think, ultimately, both Eiji and Sing come to realize that.  They come to better understand, through their own suffering here, maybe how Ash actually, truly felt.  How Ash suffered every moment of every day, carrying the burden of the abuse he suffered through as a child, carrying the burden of his loneliness, carrying the burden of his remorse over the lives he had taken.  I think they finally understood the true cost  that such heavy pain can exact on a person, for their same inability to face or process their own, instead both of them running away from it, pretending it doesn’t exist, focusing their anger and pain on things and people who in reality have nothing to do with it.  Ash never had anyone to share the weight of his trauma and pain with.  He carried it around inside him, shoved down into the darkest corners of his being, never speaking of it to anyone, never unburdening himself to anyone, never allowed the process to grieve, to cry or deal with everything that had happened to him in his young, tragic life.  We only see him truly grieve for what’s been done to him in the famous scene with Eiji, when he cries in Eiji’s lap, and Eiji promises to stay with him forever.  It’s a single moment that Ash allows himself, and even in that moment, it’s but a fraction of the true horror of what Ash’s life consisted of.  Ash never had the luxury of the grieving process, for how his life was constantly under threat, and to stop and process his trauma for even a moment, to allow himself even to acknowledge it, would have meant his end.  He was never allowed to properly process the trauma of all the sexual abuse he suffered.  He was never allowed to grieve for his friends Skip and Shorter.  Never allowed to grieve for his brother, Griffin.  Never allowed to process the rejection of his mother and father.  Never allowed to come to terms with all he’d had to do in order to simply survive, out there on the streets.  Eiji and Sing, I think, at last understand they themselves have something that they’ve been taking for granted, a privilege that Ash never had.  The time to process their pain.  The time to come to terms with their suffering.  Another person, in one another, to share the weight of their shared guilt and sadness.  Ash had no one he could ever really talk to, because he knew no one who had gone through the same things he had.  His suffering was unique in it’s severity and nature.  Eiji and Sing went through the loss of Ash together.  They both shared the same hurt.  And they found in one another a person who could understand what they felt, once they actually acknowledged what it was they were feeling.

Ash’s trauma, in the end, was a burden he couldn’t overcome.  He never came to a place where he could love himself.  He never came to a place where he could forgive himself.  All of that pain, all of that sorrow, all of that loneliness and heartbreak, crushed him under it’s weight, and defined the parameters of his life in a way he could see no way out of.  He could see no escape from.  He dies in the end.  He lets himself die.  He lets himself go, into the peaceful embrace of death at last, Eiji’s love giving him the permission he always sought to let down the unbearable weight of his own pain.

I think, by the end of Garden of Light, Eiji and Sing understand this about Ash.  Sing struggled so hard to understand what was going through Ash’s mind in those final hours of his life.  Why he let himself suffer so much before death finally came for him.  He struggled to understand why Ash would let go like that.  And I don’t think he really understood until he allowed himself to acknowledge the pain of his own grief and guilt.  Until he acknowledged his own inability to deal with his suffering.  Eiji too.  Until they both realized and admitted to themselves, and each other, that they’d been avoiding it and running away from it because they couldn’t bear it’s weight.  I think then, Sing and Eiji both understood why Ash let go.  They finally understood that Ash was carrying a burden that he just simply could no longer hold, because they too were carrying a burden that was crushing them.  They understood that Ash letting go was his final release.  His final freedom from the pain of his life.  His salvation.  Eiji says to Sing he could never forget Ash.  That he wouldn’t ever want to forget him.  He says “Ash lived all out, one hundred percent.  You and I know that better than anybody else.  I’m just grateful, and proud... that I got to spend at least a short while in the company of that brilliant, miraculous life force.”  I think this is Eiji acknowledging that Ash always knew he was going to die young.  That he burned too bright to burn for very long.  That a person so brilliant and filled with light, so present and so real, simply couldn’t last.  Like a shooting star, or a flash of lightening, so bright it lights up the all of the darkness around it for just a brief moment.  And then it’s gone forever.  

I think this is Eiji finally accepting that Ash was okay with dying, and that, ultimately, it was in death that Ash could finally find peace.  That he at last found his rest, after a lifetime of fighting.  I think it’s Eiji’s realization about how he was dealing with his own pain that helps him to understand this about Ash, to understand why Ash would WANT to let go.  How, in the end, Ash could even find his one, true happiness in letting go.  With the wings of Eiji’s love to carry him away from all of his suffering.  Eiji’s love gave him permission to be free.  To finally fly.

And I think in this understanding, in this realization, Eiji is at last able to let go of his own grief and guilt and pain.  He’s able to accept Ash’s death, because he finally understands that Ash wanted more than anything to be free, and so finally, in death, he was.  And in that release of Eiji’s pain, Sing too is able to let go of his burden.  He too is able to again find happiness, because Eiji finds his own.  They’ll never stop missing Ash, but that isn’t a bad thing.  It’s a simple acceptance, an acknowledgement of their love for him, what he meant to them, and a gratitude for ever having gotten to spend time with such an extraordinary person at all.  They’re freed from their guilt and sorrow by understanding that Ash’s death was his release from his own suffering.  By the understanding that, for Ash, he found his own, true happiness in the end, knowing he loved, and was loved in return.  That he felt his own, overwhelming gratitude for the brief time he got to spend with Eiji, as Eiji feels for having gotten to spend time with him.  The acceptance that, for Ash, Eiji’s love was worth the price of his life.  That, for Ash, that love was the ultimate happiness, and with that feeling of love in his heart, he could finally just... stop.  Finally end his suffering and slip away.  Eiji and Sing are able to set down their own unbearable burden, as Ash was able to set down his, because Eiji and Sing finally understand why Ash did.  Why, in the end, he had to.

[awakenthereveal]

LIKE A CHILD - LIU YANGYANG

Ni: This is also on Wattpad, just felt like moving it here

Warnings: angst, toxic family, psycho, murder, blood 

To say that Liu Yangyang was not okay was an extreme understatement. Although he was still youthful, being only 19 years old, he was enclosed in the mindest of a young child. However, due to his toxic and challenging past, he couldn't mature no matter how hard he tried.

In the toxic environment he had grown up in, he didn't grow depressed or anxious, but his thoughts became dark and twisted. His only escape, his only method of letting them out was drawing. Just scribbling wherever he could. Unable to form proper shapes because there was no shape to describe thoughts like that. He couldn't put his thoughts into words either.

There was the slightest sliver, the sliver the size of an atom of hope that his life would get better. Of course, very unsurprisingly, that small sliver was crushed in the hands of schooling. The stress of exams and bullying added with the weight of the environment his parents -- if he could call them that -- had created only made him draw more. However, this time, he turned to graffiti because there was a certain rush of adrenaline that breaking the rules brought that Yangyang couldn't find elsewhere.

When he was fifteen, Yangyang's toxic family moved from China to Seoul for his useless drunkard of a father had somehow managed to earn a promotion at his job as a businessman. Yangyang would greatly miss the special wall next to the bar he would tail his father to and draw on, but what had to be done had to, unfortunately, be done. Throughout the flight, Yangyang twitched. His parents forbade him from drawing, saying that it was absolute trash and he shouldn't be doing something he had no skill in.

His mother, who hated him with a passion for absolutely no reason, ordered him to sit still, but Yangyang couldn't help it. When his dark thoughts and urges to hurt someone became unbearable, he would usually scribble it out, however, there was nothing he could do. They were on a plane with hundreds of other people. Yangyang knew all too well that reputation meant everything to his parents so he tried to sit still. All he wanted to feel was love of some sort. Was it too much to ask for?

At seventeen, Yangyang had established that his parents would never love him because they didn't even love one another. He knew that their relationship fell apart ever since he was born. He was too young to fathom what had or could have broken their relationship, but as he grew older, he understood that he was the problem. They were too reputation-focused to let him go, though. They were tying knots with a faulty rope.

He, of course, was forced to attend school. His parents wanted him away from them as long as they could. Yangyang knew this too, but he chose to act oblivious.

School, for poor Yangyang, was hell. He had to act childishly in front of his six friends. He had to act as if he was living a happy, privileged life when, in reality, he was living the complete opposite. No one knew of his deteriorating mental health, the psychotic thoughts that were staining the "morals" he had been taught.

He was the quiet guy who hardly ever talked, simply immersing himself in the notebook that Ten, a fellow art enthusiast, had gifted to him a week after he first arrived. That notebook meant everything to Yangyang. It was where he could scribble out his thoughts without anybody knowing. His notebook was private, but not many people understood.

"Yangyang, what do you keep doing in your notebook?" Ten asked, making Yangyang look up and shake his head to move his bangs that covered his eyes.

"Ten, I told you, this is basically like a diary, I'm not letting you have a look it," he whined, pouting.

"Can't you at least let us have one look at it?" Ten nagged, pretending to be cute to try and persuade him into letting them have a look at his notebook.

"Stop with the aegyo, you look cringe as fuck," Sicheng, the most sarcastic of them all, deadpanned, earning a glare from Ten.

"No, Ten," Yangyang rejected.

"Please," He whined. Yangyang's hand noticeably twitched, but no one seemed to pay heed to it. He was trying his genuine best to stay calm, but with the constant nagging from Ten, it proved to be hard. He had no choice but to stay calm. If his parents were to find out about this, they would find out about his beloved notebook and then he wouldn't have any form of venting left. Hell, he would probably end up homeschooled if he were to get into a fight.

"WHAT PART OF NO DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?" Yangyang shouted, losing the last of his patience. Everyone fell silent, their attention shifting to Yangyang, who was noticeably twitching a lot as if he was trying to refrain from hurting anyone. "Sorry, I lost my cool for a second." He apologised quietly, forcing himself to stop twitching so much.

When Yangyang returned home that afternoon, his mother shot him a death glare and his father was absent as per usual. As he headed to his room, he didn't notice that his black leather notebook had fallen out of his haphazardly closed bag, right in front of his curious mother.

Just when Yangyang had thrown himself onto his bed, he heard his mother angrily shout his name. He, of course, chose to ignore her angered shouts, knowing all too well of the consequences. When Yangyang decided to draw to pass the time,  he realised that his beloved notebook wasn't there and that his mother probably had it.

The door was kicked open before Yangyang had enough time to fathom the situation. His mother was steaming, her chest moving up and down as her anger grew.

"HOW DARE YOU!" She shouted. Her shout was followed by the loud sound of a hand hitting skin, and Yangyang hit his head against the corner of his desk from the impact of the slap. His cheek was bright red and stung, but he was used to it. Pain followed Yangyang the second he was cursed into this world. "YOU REALLY THOUGHT YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH DRAWING AFTER I TOLD YOU NOT TO!" She roared.

Yangyang didn't turn to face his mother, knowing the pig-like look of rage that would be on her face. He remained unmoving, holding his cheek. Nothing but the sound of Yangyang's mother's breathing could be heard.

Yangyang twitched and decided that would be the last of her bullshit that he would tolerate. In a quick movement, he stood up, grabbed the pocketknife he kept on his being at all times and charged at his mother. Due to her slow reaction time, Yangyang managed to stab her in her stomach, making her cough out blood on Yangyang's black and white sleeve.

Yangyang stabbed his mother again and again and again, concluding the murder by stabbing his mother in the head. He let her body fall limply on the ground and shook with anger. He scanned the room that was stained with blood and at his hands. Everything was soaked in that bastard's blood and the heaviness of the blood that stained his clothes brought a bright smile onto his face, a smile he had never felt his emotions force his face to form. It was genuine happiness, happiness without remorse.

"Yangyang won't be the victim anymore," he told his dead mother in a childish voice, kicking at her body. "Yangyang will do what he wants. Yangyang will draw on you. Yangyang will have fun." He giggled as he began using the knife to scribble into his mother's dead body, laughing and smiling psychotically as he did so.

"Liu Yangyang, what the fuck is this?" His father slurred demandingly as he entered the room. Yangyang glanced up innocently to see his drunk father struggling to stand by the doorframe.

"Mr Liu, how wonderful of you to join Yangyang! Yangyang was drawing pretty patterns on Mrs Liu!" Yangyang's childish voice sent shivers down his father's spine, the fear in his father growing as Yangyang strode over to him. He tilted his head with a psychotic smile and held the pocketknife to Mr Liu's neck, giggling quietly. "Would Mr Liu like to become Yangyang's canvases? Yangyang would love it."

Without hearing what his father had to say, Yangyang slit his neck cleanly, laughing as he did. It was healing to watch the blood seep so elegantly from the cut in his neck, falling down the cut since his father had fallen onto the floor on his side. Yangyang turned him over and did the same thing to him as he did to Mrs Liu. Yangyang could feel his smile grow unnaturally large because, for the first time in his life, he was having fun.

"Yangyang likes drawing," he said to both the dead bodies. "Especially when it's on people who wronged Yangyang." Bloodstained. That was all that could be used to describe the current state of the room. His bed, his floor, his clothing, his hands, his face, they were all stained a brilliant shade of red.

And that was how Yangyang slaughtered both of his parents at the age of seventeen.

[t-khalynn-tales]

Meetings and Farewells, Part 3:

So We Meet Again

Writing the letter had been hard. She had worked on the letter for hours, started it several times, only to throw her first few attempts into the trash. Only to start again from scratch. The whole process had been an ordeal -- an almost unbearable one.

But the anxiety she felt then was nothing compared to how she was feeling now.

Because now it was more than just words on paper. Now she was going to actually meet this other lalafell. Who might be family. And might actually know more about the things that she could not remember.

Tala’s mind was currently filled with anxiety and doubt.

What if she doesna come? If she got scared, or changed her mind? Or, or what if she just doesna wanna meet me? What if she does come, but doesna like me? Or if she gets mad, an’ then doesna like me? What if she doesna remember, either? Or, what if she does remember, an’ blames me fer forgettin?

In her distraction, she didn’t notice the figure beside her until a gentle hand ruffled her hair. With a huff, she pulled away and glared up at her sister. 

“You are worrying too much,” M’yrissa admonished softly. Her sister had tagged along with her on the trip to Ul’dah, claiming that there were some books at the thaumaturgy guild that she needed to access. “You’ll be fine, Tala. Now, are you positive that you want to do this alone?”

The lala nodded. “Yes. ‘M wantin ta make sure is not threatenin ta her. An’ ‘m not alone. Talin said she’d bring Mei ta th’ Silver Bazaar. Is close enough ta be familiar ta Mei, so she doesna feel ‘fraid. But is quieter than Ul’dah. Less nosy people.” 

“Alright. Are you all set for the journey?”

Tala rolled her eyes. “Is not that far, M’yr. An’ Stal is all packed up, an’ ready ta go, as soon as we land.”

M’yrissa smiled. “Then you’re all set.”

Tala nodded again, but a little uncertainly. “But, but what if…”

“No ‘what ifs’, Talathar Khalynn Tahl,” her sister insisted, kneeling down to meet Tala’s eyes. “You are worrying too much. It will be fine. Besides, do not forget -- I will be just in the city, doing some research at the Ossuary. If you need support, just let me know by linkpearl. I will be there as quickly as possible.”

“Okay. Okay. Thankee, M’yr.” Impulsively, she hugged the arcanist fiercely. 

“Of course,” M’yrissa hugged Tala back, just as tightly. “After all, you will always be my little big sister. And we will always look after each other, right?” 

“Right.”

__________

It was dry and dusty when they arrived. And as always, the wind made everything worse. From past experience, she knew that she’d no doubt find sand in the very seams of her overcoat later -- not to mention in very uncomfortable spots upon her person, at bath-time.

“Hate th’ desert,” Talathar grumbled under her breath, batting at her clothes futilely.

“Kweh,” Stalwart seemed to agree. The chocobo waited until the saddle was removed, before ruffling his feathers and giving himself a thorough shake.

“Gah! Stal, no!” the lala protested loudly. 

Too late. 

Tala could only cover her face with outstretched arms, a vain attempt to ward off the sudden whirlwind of dust, sand, and feathers that momentarily enveloped her. Once the assault ended, she found herself covered with even more travel dust than before, and gave her chocobo a dark look.

“Kwoo,” he said sheepishly, nuzzling her in apparent apology.

She sighed in resignation and pat his head gently. “Okay, okay, is okay, Stal. Now, inta th’ stable ya go. We’ll get ya some water, an’ somethin ta eat while ya wait.”

“Kwee!”

As the pair entered the stable, there was a stirring in one of the saddlebags. A head popped up from under the flap, and chittered inquisitively.

“Red. Here, jump here,” She held out her arm, patting it loudly, making the noise obvious so the half-blind red panda could locate the source. He chittered again, then scrambled onto the proffered arm gingerly, soon finding his favorite perch -- on Tala’s head.

“Be good, Red,” she grumbled distractedly, focusing once again on the chocobo. “An’ dun pull th’ hair too much.”

The panda just chirruped at her.

__________

The Silver Bazaar might have been a little worn and ragged along the edges, but it was still holding strong against the desert sands. The townsfolk diligently worked together to build their community back to its former glory. But perhaps more importantly, they were working together to help each other.

It was a nice enough place. Mei liked it.

Maybe it helped that she was clean, now. Or because the people at the Refuge had taught her some stuffs about rules and things. Or maybe it was just because she was with a respectable person, this time. She wasn’t sure. But the people seemed nicer, and not giving her so many looks.

At least, they weren’t trying to run her off, or throwing things at her. 

Talin had said that the other lala, the one called Talathar, would be arriving soon. She lived in the Black Shroud, Talin had said. She remembered that place -- lots of green, lots of trees. Far to walk, but faster by chocobo. Even faster by air, they said. She never went that way. Airships were loud, and a little scary. But by chocobo she had done, after she had come to an agreement with Rations. 

Mei would not try to eat the chocobo (anymore), and would give him food and a dry place to sleep. And in exchange, Rations would stop trying to bite or kick her, and carry her to places that were too far for her to run by herself.

They had come here by chocobo. Probably this Talathar would come by chocobo too. So Mei was half-hiding, up high, keeping watch on the entrance of the town. 

So she was the first to see the other lala’s arrival. She watched as the dust-covered lalafell guided the blue chocobo to the stable. She was a little too far away to make out any real details, beyond the fact that the other lala was really short, and wore a lot of blue. 

And there was something clinging to her head.

Mei tilted her head, watching. Trying to see if seeing this other lala made her feel anything, inside. If it triggered any sense of recognition, of connection. She closed her eyes, concentrating.

Nothing. At least, not yet.

“Mei?” she heard a call from nearby. She opened her eyes, and saw Talin, beckoning her. “It’s time. Are you ready?”

Mei nodded.

__________

Tala was just finishing with settling Stalwart when she heard the call.

“Tala!”

Talathar smiled as she saw Talin approaching. “Talin! Hallos!” She gave her chocobo one last thump, getting an affectionate nuzzle in return, which happened to unbalance the red panda perched on her head. Red chittered his indignation before scrambling to the ground in a huff.

The miquo’te woman smiled warmly, then turned to the lalafell trailing behind, a little hesitantly. Talin gently pulled the lala front and center, moving to stand behind, hands holding her shoulders supportively.

“So, Tala, this is Mei. And Mei, this is Talathar.”

“Umm,hi Mei. Thankee fer agreein’ ta meet…”

Tala’s voice drifted into silence, as Mei open her eyes. For a moment, it felt like those heterochromic eyes were staring into her very soul. Something sparked in those eyes. Something that felt familiar. And then...

~It IS!~

“...wha…?”

And she was suddenly engulfed in a fierce hug from the stranger. Tala found herself instinctively returning that hug.

__________

When she opened her eyes and saw the other lalafell, Mei couldn’t believe it! It really was her! She was here! Safe! They were both safe!

And she felt the bond, lost for so long, snap into place.

~It IS!~ Mei exclaimed, leaping forward and gripping the shorter woman fiercely. 

Although the other returned the hug, she could feel the hesitation and confusion.

~Is me! Is Mei! And is T! You… you are T! And T is ok! Not burned up and dead! Mei is so so happy!~ 

She had never known if the older lala -- Tala, she reminded herself, her name is Tala -- had managed to survive. It has been a lot of fire. And a lot of magic. And a lot of confusion, and mean people. 

“Uh, yeah? I mean, I guess?” Tala responded. “I… I dun really remember. Did we...? Are we…?“

She felt Tala pulling away slightly, and reluctantly loosened her hold. Their eyes met again, and she felt the questions bubbling in Tala’s mind.

Mei nodded. ~Yes. Is what T tole me. Mei was little then. But we were ‘family’ is what T said.~

Blue eyes widened. “Then, ya remember?”

She nodded again, some of the initial excitement fading from her expression. ~Yes. Mei remembers.~

“But I… I dun r’member…”

This time, she closed her eyes and shook her head. ~No, T can’t. Mei knows.~

“D’ya know why I dun r’member?”

~Yes,~ she admitted, reluctantly. ~Memories, gone. Taken.~

The hands gripping her shoulders tightened their hold. “Who? Who took ‘em?”

Mei opened her eyes again, and met Tala’s angry gaze with one full of regretful, but stubborn resolve. ~Mei did.~

There was a long pause of stunned silence.

“WHY?” Tala demanded, suddenly very, very angry. “Why would ya STEAL tha’ away?”

All these years, all the uncertainty and confusion. All because a part of herself was actually missing. Because someone had taken that part away. Someone who was supposed to be family.

She felt betrayed.

~Had to,~ Mei insisted, sounding both determined, yet somehow also regretful. ~T was hurting, too much hurting. Had to stop it. Stop the hurting. Stop the Fire. But Mei couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop T. Because the memories hurt too much. So Mei took that pain, took it away, so T could stop hurting.~

A tear spilled from Mei’s purple eye, and the younger woman bit her trembling lip. Tala rocked back on her heels a moment, taken aback by the emotions that came over her like a wave.

Fear. Remorse. Sorrow. And so much loneliness. 

Her anger faded at the weight of it.

“Tala? Mei?” Talin interrupted gently, “Maybe we should go somewhere a little more private?” She was soothing the red panda in her arms.

The two looked up at the miquo’te woman, and both nodded. 

“Yeah, prolly best,” Tala agreed, as Mei started to pull away.

But for just a moment, Tala pulled the taller lala back into a gentle hug. “Is ok, Mei. ‘M a little mad, still, an’ ‘m gonna make ya explain everythin. But, if we’re family, then… then ya dun gotta be ‘lone anymore, kay?”

Mei clung to her fiercely, shaking with silent sobs, before nodding against her shoulder. 

Eventually Mei pulled away to lead them to a quieter spot, on the nondescript dock that served as the little fishing village's main connection to the sea. A perfect little place, really. At this time, most of the fishing boats were still out to sea, and they could easily spot anyone approaching. Not only that, the sound of the waves helped to mask their soft conversation.

For someone who could not talk, Mei was fairly clever about avoiding being overheard.

It was an odd sort of conversation -- between the two lalafell and their mutual miquo’te friend, only two of them could speak aloud, and only the first lala could understand the second lala. 

Both lalas were still clearly agitated by their earlier exchange -- mysteries and truths revealed, and not at all what any of them were expecting. Neither of the healers were able to explain why Talathar could ‘hear’ Mei’s voice in her mind.

“So, do you know why Tala can hear your thoughts, Mei?” Talin asked gently, hoping a somewhat neutral subject would give the cousins time to calm their distress.

~No. but isn’t real thoughts. Only talking thoughts. T hears those. Not real thoughts. Thinking thoughts is different.~

Tala repeated Mei’s words for Talin, confusion obvious in her voice. Mei rolled her eyes and tried again. 

~Mei can’t talk. But Mei knows talking. Talking thoughts is up-top,~ Mei explained. She held her open left hand up to her forehead, as if indicating height. ~Thinking thoughts, heart thoughts, is deeper,~ she closed her hand into a fist, and brought it down to her chest. 

“Okay, but why I can hear your talkin’ thoughts?” Talathar interjected, after translating her cousin’s words for Talin. 

The younger lala shrugged. ~Dunno. T always was hearing Mei’s talking thoughts, before. Always.~

“Would it work the other way, too?” Talin wondered out loud. “Could you hear Tala’s talking thoughts as well, Mei?”

~Before, was yes. But now? Dunno. Maybe?~ Mei shrugged. ~Can try an’ see?~

The two lalafell turned to study each other, their musing expressions nearly identical. Talin suppressed a sudden urge to chuckle at the sight.

Finally, Talathar shook her head. “No. Maybe later. Right now, I have questions.”

The younger lala grimaced, then nodded. ~K.~

“Ya said you had to take my memories. Why?”

Mei sighed. ~’Cause T was mad. REALLY mad. An’ woulda burned up EVERYTHING. Even Mei. Even T.~

Tala pulled back. “What? Why?”

Heterochromatic eyes closed against the memory, left hand reaching up to grip her own right shoulder. Where the hot brand, burning with twisted and unknown magicks, had been pressed into her back. ~Was the day of Fire. The day the bad men brought the Fire, an’ burned T. And then burned Mei.~

~An’ then everything broke. T broke. An’ everything was Fire.~

__________

A.N. Been sitting on this a while, but wasn’t quite satisfied with it for some reason, so ended up reworking it quite a bit. Chapter 4 is being worked on, but mental health issues make self-motivation a little rough, and not sure when Chapter 5 will get started. 

[jenovahh]

KYKM - 14 Months, 18 Days

Zenos has learned to feel many things in the past year since he had joined you.

He has learned the bitterness of regret, the lows of remorse, the sting of rejection.

He has felt the high of euphoria, the warmth of contentment, the fire of passion.

Oh, but what he would give to never, ever again feel fear.

To his credit, he hides it quite well as you kneel on the ground before him, his arms barely restrained by some incredibly powerful spell that the Exarch had turned on him, his teeth bared in a snarl as he fights to free himself.

The ones known as Urianger and Thancred use their weight to keep him pinned to the ground, knowing that if he was allowed any leeway he would slice the Exarch’s head clean from his body without a second thought.

“Do not...interfere...” Urianger grunts, using all his strength to keep him in place. Whatever spell is cast on him is doing the majority of the work, for his will is so strong that even without magic he can feel the bonds slowly breaking.

You look like you’re in unbearable pain, pain that he could not possibly relieve you of. Pain that was not caused by him and him alone. He roars in rage, hardly hearing the Exarch’s words of self sacrifice, uncaring of whatever higher purpose or so called greater cause he planned to serve.

What good is his sacrifice, if he had to watch you suffer?

“Can you not see?!” Urianger hisses, trying to strengthen the spell once more. “He is saving them!” 

The Elezen’s words only incite his fury, turning his head to sneer at him. “When have any of you, ever done,” His words are silenced by the sound of gunfire, whipping his head back around to look over your body, checking for any injury. Finding none save for the light spilling from you, he turns to watch as the Exarch falls to the ground in a heap.

“Exarch!” He hears the Scions shout, watching as his great-grandfather stands there alone, lowering his gun. “Only those who posses the Allagan eye may control the Crystal Tower. Such individuals do not exist on the First.” The gun vanishes into thin air, his arms hanging limp at his sides. “Therefore, in all likelihood, the Exarch arrived here with the tower. This much I had surmised, yet I could not discern his grand scheme.” With measured steps he moves toward the fallen Exarch, staring down at him with a bored expression that obviously got passed down the family line. “To think, that he went through all this trouble for the sake of a single hero. It’s almost admirable in its absurdity.”

Sighing, he speaks, “Alas, it is not your grand scheme that will succeed, but ours.” 

“You bastard!” Thancred snarls.

“Stay put. Your friend is still alive, but whether he remains so depends on you.” He gives a confident smirk, looking back toward the Exarch. “And I’m not feeling up to dealing with my unruly grandson quite yet. After all, you cannot challenge me without letting him go. How does your little proverb go again? Chase two rabbits and both will get away.” 

Turning to face you, the Warrior, the disdain on Emet-Selch’s face is clear as day. “What a disappointment you turned out to be.” Zenos feels affronted on your behalf, staring daggers into the back of his grandfather’s head. “I placed my faith in you. Let myself believe you could contain the Light. But look at you now, halfway to becoming a monster. You are unworthy of my patronage.”

“W-What did you intend to do?” He hears you choke out, hunched over impossibly further. 

Emet-Selch raises his arms, shakes his head. “I am an Ascian. My heart’s sole desire is to user in the Great Rejoining.” Looking upon the rest of the group, he speaks, “A hundred years ago, I entrusted my comrade Loghrif with the task of increasing Light’s sway over this world. This we sought to do by manipulating heroes. When that failed to achieve the desired result, I created Vauthry.”  Brows furrowing, the Ascian grumbles, “But thanks to your meddling, that too has ended in failure.” 

“What was your true purpose in approaching us?” Alphinaud demands.

“By your Twelve, boy, have I not told you before that everything I said was the truth?” He finally turns fully to them, his voice low. “You were specimens by which I might gauge man’s potential as it stands. I genuinely had an interest in you. Genuinely considered taking you on as allies.” His eyes wander back toward you, Zenos catching that earlier disappointment and...something more within those gold eyes. “Provided they, could contain and control the Light.” 

He turns to face you completely once more. “If not then them--and by extension you--would be of no use to me. ‘Twas as simple as that.” 

“So, we’ve been found wanting. How disheartening.” Thancred drawls, clearly not at all hurt by the thought. What angered Zenos further is how they all stood around, clearly too weak to do anything in your hour of need, merely watching as his grandfather monologued and degraded their precious tool. 

“Consider yourselves lucky. Had you managed to be worthy of my power and still stand against me, I would have killed you all. At the very least, it would restore the world to the way it was before you went about trouncing Lightwardens all willy-nilly.” Emet-Selch offers smugly, lips pulled into a smirk. 

You grab their attention by retching, light spilling from your mouth and onto the ground. Emet-Selch approaches slowly, that fear rising in Zenos’ chest til it forces him to speak. “Do not touch them!” He yells, fighting harder to break his bonds. 

“Hm...you still retain your form and your senses...but you have all but become a sin eater.” Emet-Selch muses, ignoring him as he crouches before you. “Whether you will it or no, your mere existence will serve to engulf the world in Light.” Zenos’ eyes widen as Emet-Selch whispers, wondering if he had meant his next words for anyone to hear. “I had believed in you. With that soul, I had thought...you have turned on me, once again. My friend...”

Standing, he takes one long look at you. “But I have overstayed my welcome.” He says louder this time. “I shall look forward to seeing you bring the world to its knees, hero.” With a snap, the Exarch vanishes, much to the horror of the Scions. Floating high above them, Emet-Selch gives another glance at your body as it shines even brighter. “I pity you, I do.”

His voice is somewhat soft, as if speaking to an old friend. “When it all becomes too much to bear, you may seek me out in my abode in the dark depths of the Tempest. There, you may complete your descent into madness with some dignity, far from prying eyes.” Shutting his eyes, his expression is almost pained. “It is the least I could do for you.”

As he vanishes, you finally collapse. His binds suddenly disperse and he all but throws the two men off of him, rushing to your side. “Warrior!” he shouts, bringing you into his arms. 

“Zenos!” He hears them shout but he pays them no mind, searching your face, shaking your body. “You are stronger than this,” he growls, mind racing a thousand malms a minute. He shifts to slides his arm under your legs, one under your back to keep you safe against him.

“Let them go you,”

“No, Thancred, wait.” Ryne interupts, quickly running to his side. Something in the young girl’s eyes shine wiser beyond her years; as if she can see past his anger and frustration gleaming in his own blue eyes.

As if she can see his fear.

“I will need him to carry the Warrior of Light until we can get them back to the Crystarium.” He can hear her voice waver, clearly unused to taking charge of the situation. “There, I can try to contain the light. At least long enough for us to figure something out. He’s clearly not going to hurt them, so please,”

“Do as she says.” He orders, his voice like ice as he stares them down. He did not expect the young girl to be able to help them, small as she is, but in the same breath he is not surprised that she the only one of actual use. Only her promise to help keep him from killing them all for failing you. The Scions visibly flinch beneath his cold stare, Urianger being the first to speak. “Very well. We have much to process. Quickly,”

Without another word, he hurries to descend the giant Talos. He clutches you tighter with each step, silently cursing his inability to teleport and return you to the Crystarium at a faster pace. Anger is the only thing that keeps that fear a at bay; at his grandfather, at your friends, at himself.

At you, for showing him yet another emotion.

To show him, what it’s like to feel helpless.

[bananafishmetas]

Garden of Light and the Processing of Grief

cosmicjoke

Well, I’ve finally done it.  I’ve reached the final conclusion of the story of Banana Fish, and all it’s characters.  Man, I’m emotional.  

Just like with Angel Eyes, I feel like there’s so much to explore and unpack regarding Garden of Light.  But I want to focus on the main theme which runs through it, which is the weight of sorrow, and the processing of grief and guilt.

I want to actually talk about how the sorrow, grief and guilt we see both Eiji and Sing consumed by throughout this story relates back to Ash, and not simply in terms of the loss of Ash being the cause of those emotions for Eiji and Sing, but how, I think, it maybe led the two of them to eventually better understanding and accepting Ash’s death, and thus, processing and freeing themselves from their own pain.

Midway through the story, Sing seems really angry and overcome with guilt over the death of Ash, and in particular, how that death has affected and changed Eiji.  He’s angry AT Ash for dying, almost as if he thinks Ash died on purpose so he could forever possess Eiji’s soul.  He wants Ash to let Eiji go, so that Eiji can be happy again.  And this actually relates directly back to Sing’s own pain and grief and sense of guilt, his own inability to let go of what happened, to let go of his guilt for, he thinks, letting Lao attack Ash in the first place.  I think Sing is blaming himself, ultimately, for the pain Eiji is in, because he thinks it’s his fault that Lao attacked Ash, indirectly making Ash’s death Sing’s fault.  It’s a really interesting reaction on Sing’s part then, the anger he expresses towards Ash, because I don’t think he’s actually truly angry at Ash at all.  He’s angry at himself.  He’s angry that he let this happen, that he didn’t talk to Lao when he had the chance to prevent this awful tragedy.  He blames himself, then, for Eiji’s unhappiness.

Sing says “It’s been long enough Ash.  You hear me?  Let Eiji go now.  If you don’t let him go- he’ll never be happy again.  I need him to be happy.  Because until he is, I can’t…”

He trails off then, because I don’t think Sing can bring himself to say the words.  Until Eiji is happy, Sing can’t ever be happy either.  He can’t ever let go of his own grief and guilt.  He can’t ever forgive himself for what’s happened.

We later learn from Eiji that he always knew about the letter, and how it led to Ash’s death.  He confesses to Sing that he’s always known, and that he let Sing suffer the weight of that horrible secret because he himself couldn’t bear the weight of his own guilt, his own sense of responsibility for Ash’s death, instead choosing to focus on hating Lao, and letting Sing carry the burden of that guilt.

Both of these reactions, Sing’s anger at Ash for still meaning so much to Eiji, for still having such a strong hold on him, that hold seeming to prevent Eiji from finding happiness, and Eiji’s failure to help Sing by unburdening him from the weight of the knowledge of how it was Ash was left vulnerable enough to be killed, are born from an instinct of self-preservation.  Sing lashes out at Ash, because in reality, he’s drowning in his own sense of guilt over it being his own brother that killed him, and feeling responsible himself for Eiji’s grief.  Eiji doesn’t tell Sing that he knew about the letter because he couldn’t face the pain of knowing it was his love for Ash that ultimately left him vulnerable enough to be killed, feeling himself responsible for Ash’s death.  They both blame themselves for what happened.  

They’re both wrong, of course, in that the only person to really blame for Ash’s death is Lao.  Lao chose to attack Ash.  Lao’s the one who killed him.

But Eiji and Sing’s sense of guilt here, their sense of crushing sorrow and grief, and their inability to forgive themselves over what happened to Ash, can be related back to Ash’s own, overwhelming sense of pain and grief and guilt.  Over Ash’s own need to leave his feelings unacknowledged and unprocessed, for the sake of self-preservation.  Eiji and Sing’s trauma in Garden of Light is heavy like the trauma Ash carried around with him his whole life.  And, I think, ultimately, both Eiji and Sing come to realize that.  They come to better understand, through their own suffering here, maybe how Ash actually, truly felt.  How Ash suffered every moment of every day, carrying the burden of the abuse he suffered through as a child, carrying the burden of his loneliness, carrying the burden of his remorse over the lives he had taken.  I think they finally understood the true cost  that such heavy pain can exact on a person, for their same inability to face or process their own, instead both of them running away from it, pretending it doesn’t exist, focusing their anger and pain on things and people who in reality have nothing to do with it.  Ash never had anyone to share the weight of his trauma and pain with.  He carried it around inside him, shoved down into the darkest corners of his being, never speaking of it to anyone, never unburdening himself to anyone, never allowed the process to grieve, to cry or deal with everything that had happened to him in his young, tragic life.  We only see him truly grieve for what’s been done to him in the famous scene with Eiji, when he cries in Eiji’s lap, and Eiji promises to stay with him forever.  It’s a single moment that Ash allows himself, and even in that moment, it’s but a fraction of the true horror of what Ash’s life consisted of.  Ash never had the luxury of the grieving process, for how his life was constantly under threat, and to stop and process his trauma for even a moment, to allow himself even to acknowledge it, would have meant his end.  He was never allowed to properly process the trauma of all the sexual abuse he suffered.  He was never allowed to grieve for his friends Skip and Shorter.  Never allowed to grieve for his brother, Griffin.  Never allowed to process the rejection of his mother and father.  Never allowed to come to terms with all he’d had to do in order to simply survive, out there on the streets.  Eiji and Sing, I think, at last understand they themselves have something that they’ve been taking for granted, a privilege that Ash never had.  The time to process their pain.  The time to come to terms with their suffering.  Another person, in one another, to share the weight of their shared guilt and sadness.  Ash had no one he could ever really talk to, because he knew no one who had gone through the same things he had.  His suffering was unique in it’s severity and nature.  Eiji and Sing went through the loss of Ash together.  They both shared the same hurt.  And they found in one another a person who could understand what they felt, once they actually acknowledged what it was they were feeling.

Ash’s trauma, in the end, was a burden he couldn’t overcome.  He never came to a place where he could love himself.  He never came to a place where he could forgive himself.  All of that pain, all of that sorrow, all of that loneliness and heartbreak, crushed him under it’s weight, and defined the parameters of his life in a way he could see no way out of.  He could see no escape from.  He dies in the end.  He lets himself die.  He lets himself go, into the peaceful embrace of death at last, Eiji’s love giving him the permission he always sought to let down the unbearable weight of his own pain.

I think, by the end of Garden of Light, Eiji and Sing understand this about Ash.  Sing struggled so hard to understand what was going through Ash’s mind in those final hours of his life.  Why he let himself suffer so much before death finally came for him.  He struggled to understand why Ash would let go like that.  And I don’t think he really understood until he allowed himself to acknowledge the pain of his own grief and guilt.  Until he acknowledged his own inability to deal with his suffering.  Eiji too.  Until they both realized and admitted to themselves, and each other, that they’d been avoiding it and running away from it because they couldn’t bear it’s weight.  I think then, Sing and Eiji both understood why Ash let go.  They finally understood that Ash was carrying a burden that he just simply could no longer hold, because they too were carrying a burden that was crushing them.  They understood that Ash letting go was his final release.  His final freedom from the pain of his life.  His salvation.  Eiji says to Sing he could never forget Ash.  That he wouldn’t ever want to forget him.  He says “Ash lived all out, one hundred percent.  You and I know that better than anybody else.  I’m just grateful, and proud… that I got to spend at least a short while in the company of that brilliant, miraculous life force.”  I think this is Eiji acknowledging that Ash always knew he was going to die young.  That he burned too bright to burn for very long.  That a person so brilliant and filled with light, so present and so real, simply couldn’t last.  Like a shooting star, or a flash of lightening, so bright it lights up the all of the darkness around it for just a brief moment.  And then it’s gone forever.  

I think this is Eiji finally accepting that Ash was okay with dying, and that, ultimately, it was in death that Ash could finally find peace.  That he at last found his rest, after a lifetime of fighting.  I think it’s Eiji’s realization about how he was dealing with his own pain that helps him to understand this about Ash, to understand why Ash would WANT to let go.  How, in the end, Ash could even find his one, true happiness in letting go.  With the wings of Eiji’s love to carry him away from all of his suffering.  Eiji’s love gave him permission to be free.  To finally fly.

And I think in this understanding, in this realization, Eiji is at last able to let go of his own grief and guilt and pain.  He’s able to accept Ash’s death, because he finally understands that Ash wanted more than anything to be free, and so finally, in death, he was.  And in that release of Eiji’s pain, Sing too is able to let go of his burden.  He too is able to again find happiness, because Eiji finds his own.  They’ll never stop missing Ash, but that isn’t a bad thing.  It’s a simple acceptance, an acknowledgement of their love for him, what he meant to them, and a gratitude for ever having gotten to spend time with such an extraordinary person at all.  They’re freed from their guilt and sorrow by understanding that Ash’s death was his release from his own suffering.  By the understanding that, for Ash, he found his own, true happiness in the end, knowing he loved, and was loved in return.  That he felt his own, overwhelming gratitude for the brief time he got to spend with Eiji, as Eiji feels for having gotten to spend time with him.  The acceptance that, for Ash, Eiji’s love was worth the price of his life.  That, for Ash, that love was the ultimate happiness, and with that feeling of love in his heart, he could finally just… stop.  Finally end his suffering and slip away.  Eiji and Sing are able to set down their own unbearable burden, as Ash was able to set down his, because Eiji and Sing finally understand why Ash did.  Why, in the end, he had to.