#&. answered ———— half truths & false promises.

[draconic-desire]

hiiiii ive been brainrotting abt sunday and his triple face god thing abababah thinking abt him handcuffing reader and interrogating them with the truth thing he does to aventurine ARGHH omg questioning abt who they were with cos hes jealousssss AUGH you dont have to write anything off of this i just hope this inspires you ily

oh you have read my MIND. I’m currently in the middle of writing a fic with dr ratio interrogating reader like he did with mx. stellaron…but now imagining that with sunday?? wow.

i’m totally normal about this man. i swear.

Yan!Sunday x Gn!Reader

Fingers drum on the table, the only break in the suffocating silence engulfing the room.

“I’ll ask you one. Last. Time.” Sunday punctuates each word with another tap of his finger, and you gasp as you feel the Harmony sink its influence another inch further into your skull.

Despite the futility, despite knowing you’ve been trying the same thing over and over again for the past half an hour, you pull at your restraints. The metal chain of the handcuffs skitters along the table, the sound like nails on a chalkboard, but it does not budge from its steel attachment. You’re firmly and inescapably chained to the table in Sunday’s office, with said perpetrator sitting opposite.

He appears calm, but you’ve learned to notice the slight twitch of his eye, the falter in his normal smirk. His patience is one wrong answer away from shattering.

At your silence, he leans back in his chair, shaking his head. His golden gaze is chastising, almost disappointed. “Angel, you know I don’t want to hurt you. Just tell me who you were with.”

You only glare at him in response. Bullshit. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s forced truths out of you or affections upon you through the Harmony. The psychedelic pest in your brain is almost the norm by now, a poison he has slowly been feeding you.

Oh, Triple Faced-Soul, please sear their tongue and palms with a hot iron, so that they will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.

Those words are branded into the flesh of your brain, your soul. And tonight, if you tell him what he wants, even more blood will be spilled.

Sunday’s jealously is as calculating as he is. It’s a knife poised at the right angle to spear you, to pin you with accusations that you can’t talk your way out of.

Like in this instance, where he has deluded himself into thinking you are trying to leave him. He’s finally let you out of Dewlight Pavilion (you’ve learned that trying to escape the dreamscape is pointless, so you’ll take your freedoms when you can), and this is the first reaction you’re met with? Being dragged to his office as soon as you returned and invaded, prodded, and violated by the Harmony?

The pressure around your temples tightens another fraction, and you cannot stop the pained cry that escapes you. Rainbow streaks cloud your vision and practically pull the words from your mouth. “I was with friends! We were at the Dreamjolt Hosterly for a couple drinks, that’s it!”

Sunday merely hums as he stands and pads towards you, taking a position at your back. You’re unable to turn around to face him, but you can feel the weight of his presence, the promise of his power, as he wraps a hand around the back of your neck.

His breath tickles the shell of your ear as he leans in and whispers, “Liar.”

One word chills your blood to ice. “I’m not!”

The grip around your neck tightens in tandem with the pressure in your head. “Do you really think you can evade me, (Y/n)? My gales are perched in every region of Penacony, and THEY are by my side. THEY see all, hear all, know all.”

As if on cue, the Harmony rips through your consciousness, and it takes all your willpower not to pass out. Exhausted, you involuntarily lean back into Sunday’s hand, which seems to please him. “Now, tell me the name of the man who dared to touch what is mine.”

Clenching your eyes shut, you shake your head. You’re out of breath and stumbling along your words. “He was just being friendly, and he was drunk, we all were, and all he did was kiss my cheek; it was a dare, and I swear to you, Sunday, we’re just friends—”

“(Y/n),” Sunday interrupts. “His name.”

The finality in the Family head’s words sends your heart plummeting. You feel your resolve slip as the Harmony tightens its grip and goes in for the kill. You speak the name aloud, barely a whisper, and know that you’ve just delivered the man’s fate.

In your half-conscious state, you barely register Sunday removing your cuffs and scooping you into his arms. He tucks you into his chest bridal-style, his wings fluttering across your face. “You did well, my angel.”

“Please,” you breathe, your voice wobbly with tears, even as you feel the Harmony retreat from your senses—for now. “Don’t hurt him.”

Sunday merely leans his head down to place a kiss along your temple. “Enough of that,” he scolds. “The only man you should be thinking about is me. After all, it is an angel’s duty to obey their god without question.”

And Sunday is, if anything, a vengeful god.

For that night was the last that you ever saw your friend. Death in dreams was your only reality.

[telanadasvhenan]

thinking more about the psychological aspect of solavellan, and before I start, I'd like to stress that this is NOT CRITICAL of it, I actually think it's what makes part of the dynamic interesting. My word isn't the be all and end all, however, this is just my musings on the topic :] Also, REALLY long post! so, more under the read more lol

From Lavellan's point of view, I would personally struggle to see her trusting another lover or close one again for a long time, if ever again. I don't really think people ever talk about the real impact of the things she goes through, or what solas put her through, and the hurt as a result of it. The relationship is never defined between the two of them, it's always spoken about in vague undetermined words from their companions and poetic elvish between the two of them. Are they lovers? companions? partners? it's really up to the player. Leliana says that "you were close", Sera says Lavellan is "in it." Vhenan means home, heart, it's not a word said lightly imo and he tells you he loves her by their second kiss. It's never an official thing, so how secure can Lavellan truly feel?

This could go both ways when it comes to the break up. Crestwood, as a scene, is so interesting to me because the first portion seems like a man brought to his knees by weakness for the woman he loves. The two of them never cease to touch, fingers entwined, shoulders brushing, skin to skin. It's so reminiscent of how Lavellan matches his Hallelujah cadence. They're two parts of a song singing together. It's a gorgeous scene and it's understandable how so many are angry at how it ends because the whiplash between how it starts and what it leaves you with is severe. Imagine this from lavellan's shoes.

You're desperately in love with someone at odds with your people, who is wonderful and enticing and smart. Loving solas feels like loving the whole world, like being free and connected with the stars. But you don't know what this is. And, if you thought you did, how far can you presume? Is Lavellan always on edge, scared to love him deeper and richer than he loves her? or is she in a false sense of security, assuming his affection is forever hers. So when he not only breaks away your faith and trust in your history, plus potentially the vallaslin, she is clearly deeply upset. This isn't a minor fact that simply can be swept aside. The vallaslin is important. And Solas, even with the best intentions, has hurt her. He knows it and there's a reason why he apologises (bc he wimped out on the real truth). How much more does he know about her people that he has refused to tell her or kept from her by omission? Can you imagine the embarrassment, the utter humiliation of that secret? how many memories of them together where she replays his distaste for her people in her mind, knowing that he has access to knowledge that could change her perception of her past? Its ALOT. and thats even before the breakup.

Solas is not kind about the break up. It's rushed (impulsive to me) and doesn't do their connection justice. His composure cracks in places and it's very unlike him. It absolutely blindsides the player, so imagine being in Lavellan's place, AFTER THE VALLASLIN? personally, I wouldn't have been able to function. I half suspect that a sad, calm Lavellan is also in shock or disassociation. Because how else do you cope? The lack of communication between them alone is enough to raise my eyebrows. He promises answers. He confides that she saw through his mask and doesn't tell her what was real, and what was fake. He has given her a kernel truth whilst keeping her in the dark. Everything he told her could be a false, imaginary polite mask or it could be the truth. Where does it end? Where does he begin? Where does she stand?

I don't know if everyone has experienced what it's like to be ghosted or for a friend to simply disappear one day, but it changes you. I say this as someone who has both been avoidant as well as anxious, but you never recover. Someone disappearing like that makes you doubt any reassurance that people won't just evaporate from your life. So when Solas just disappears, the game's single conversation with Leliana feels a little lacking to me. I understand that they can't really dedicate a lot to it, I get that, so I'd like to fill it in. At first, it's search parties. Solas wouldn't just leave her like that. He promised her answers. He started another mural just before they left for corypheus. He didn't intend to just leave, surely.

Days, weeks and months pass. The question is worse than the truth. Is he dead? Did he use them? Was he being truthful when he spoke to her in those ruins, or another polite mask he could hide behind? Is it better if he's dead or better than he didn't deem her worthy enough to even say goodbye? We, as the players, obviously know this isn't true, but she doesn't know that. Does your lavellan assume the worst and be overcome with grief that her one love, her heart, her home, was nothing more than a lie of omission? or is there anger there at his betrayal of her trust once more? I seriously doubt it was easy to forget or dismiss. That kind of disappearance ruins your trust with people. Something. Anything would have been enough.

Again, this is all my opinion on how these emotions would play out and DEFINITELY NOT canon nor do they have to be! But I seriously struggle to see how Lavellan could even come to heal from these wounds within even a two year time skip. By the time of trespasser, almost everyone has left her side. She's almost entirely alone again, save Cullen and Josie (and leliana if she's not divine). And thats okay: they all have rich lives to return to. But that must just reaffirm to her that no one will stay. She is alone. How does she trust again?

And then there is Fen'harel. Lavellan's reaction to fen'harel has always lacked the fear I kind of hoped would be there? I mean this isn't just a minor deity, this IS THE antagonist of her entire faith. I'm assuming that she's lost hope in the gods, even though it's confirmed to her that they're real, but that message has been a part of her since childhood. So learning that he is the dreadwolf, again not from him, but from the fragments of his past must cut her deeply.

Her love was never who he said he was, she knows this, but who is the real man? She's never known him in a context where he can truly show her. Her love is fragmented between each identity he holds. Her trust that he is who he said he is fragments with it. The knowledge that not only has he been watching the inquisition, her, for years without a single hint that he lives or is okay must destroy her. Could you imagine how insignificant you must feel to him? And he essentially affirms to her that yes, in the greater scheme of things, his love and hers are inconsequential. They cannot matter to him because he cannot strive from his path. His indulgence was a mistake. And it's undeniably cruel. I love solas and I cannot argue that he was kind to Lavellan because he wasn't. To me, there is no way to see his actions as kind. Understandable, absolutely and definitely without malicious intent.

Lavellan learns that he loved her just as deeply, if not more. He loved her with all his heart and it did not matter. She changed him and it has only brought him more pain. He loves her too much to even allow her near him, to even give himself that weakness. They are apart from each other in an endless distance, only the two of them in the world. No one else.

Obviously, each Lavellan is different, and I've made a lot of assumptions, but I think it's worth considering. How do you love someone again after all of that? How much can you rebuild your faith after what you have learnt. Lavellan has loved a "god" (I know he's not a god, but for all intents and purposes, he has the power of a god and wears an evanuris crown.) and in turn, a god has loved her. And he left her with one last embrace that will leave its mark on her forever, then he leaves once more. Lavellan is alone.

Each love after is met with suspicion, distrust and comparison. Lavellan is entirely changed. How many pieces of her can be taken away until she is no longer herself? Each person wears a new mask she cannot determine. Where do they begin? Where can she find herself?

How lonely it must be to love someone like Solas and be at the other side of an endless distance.

[amywritesthings]

hiii! for the hallosleepover, can I get jean x reader + enemies to lovers who unintentionally wear a couple’s costume to a Halloween party? 🥺

hallo-sleepover '24!

hello, anon! thank you for sending this in. i've never written jean as a main character before, so let's see how this goes, yeah?

saving horses, matching costumes.

pairing: jean kirstein x f!reader word count: 1.1k+ warnings: halloween party mishaps, miscommunication, enemies to kinda lovers, fluffy, banter, jean is a cowboy bc of the s4 mullet i dont make the rules credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

read on ao3.

“Oh, you have to be joking.”

The complaint comes out of your mouth faster than you can stop it.

As much as you hate that your eyes lock onto Jean Kirstein every time he walks into a room (a sixth sense, if you will, after putting up with him throughout college and beyond) you’re glad it’s you who spotted him first.

You’d never hear the end of it if it’d been Sasha, who’s busy shoveling yet another candy apple in her mouth like she’s discovered the wonders of life — while dressed in a cozy yet outrageous inflatable cow costume.

Be friends! she says. 

(As fucking if.)

He likes you, but he thinks you hate him! she claims.

(False. He hated you first, so you hated him second.)

This year’s costume had been a panicked choice when Sasha reminded you of Mikasa’s costume party a mere twelve hours ago.

Scrambling through your closet before work, the outfit basically built itself: a pink hat, some old cowboy boots, jeans and a denim vest and ta-da—

A cowgirl!

To be fair, you thought Sasha changed her outfit to a silly cow to match you when you texted her the outfit a few hours before the party.

The foreboding dots, however, are connecting in real time:

Jean walks into the house with a bandana tied around his neck, a deep brown hat, a half-buttoned white shirt, and fringed chaps. 

He holds the door open, waiting for someone else.

Behind him waddles in Connie, dressed identically to Sasha as an inflatable cow. He sandwiches the puffy middle through the door before jumping out like a bursting star to greet the people mingling at the front of the house.

This?

This was an ambush.

“Whassajo?” Sasha slurs, cheeks puffed with food. She turns on a heel towards you, not in the least aware of her bulky surroundings.

But before you can answer, she recognizes the two walking through the front door, lights up and flings a hand to the sky. 

“Connie!”

Sharing the same brain cell, the man in question pauses, posing in his cow costume, before pointing at his wonder twin. He lets out a battle cry and rushes over the best an inflatable costumed-person can.

Of course that gets Jean’s attention, his eyes searching the crowd until they land on you, and the drop of his smile confronts the uncomfortable truth:

You’re the only cowgirl at the party, and as far as you can see, he’s the only cowboy.

God.

Damn.

It.

“Yoooo, you matched us!” Connie yelps, slinging a puffy arm around Sasha.

“For the record I didn’t try to, but I also didn’t know you both had matching cow costumes,” you state, trying to make it abundantly clear that this? Not your idea.

“Oh, these ol’ things were a last minute thing,” Sasha states once she’s swallowed her food, grinning ear to ear. “And they were on sale at Spirit, so—”

Jean cautiously makes his way over to your little corner of the party with his hands shoved into his jean pockets.

Either the lighting is making his face red as a tomato or he’s genuinely as embarrassed to be wearing a matching costume with you.

He mumbles a greeting, keeping his chin down.

The Monster Mash plays for the fourth time from the speakers — no doubt a takeover from Yeager, wherever he’s hiding at this party.

Connie pipes up after a minute, letting go of his partner in crime. “Where’d you get one of those, anyway? I want apples.”

“Kitchen,” Sasha states, looping her inflatable arm around his. “C’mon, to the promise land we go.”

Like clockwork, they leave.

They fucking leave you — and Jean, for that matter, because he still stands across from you with his head down and hands in his pockets. His mullet is neatly combed under the hat, stubble grown out for the occasion.

(He looks good, but you don’t have to admit it.)

“...so.” Jean speaks, though it’s barely audible. “This is a thing.”

“Yep.”

“Designed for us to get along?”

“Probably.”

“Sasha told me to go as a cowboy.”

“Probably after I told her I was going as a cowgirl.”

“At least we’re not wearing the same colored hat and stuff, right?” he tries to joke, shuffling his boot to poke at one of the plastic pumpkins lining the room. “Because that would’ve been really damn freaky.”

After acknowledging his statement with a grunt, silence meets you.

For a moment, you wonder if maybe that’s the end of the conversation.

This presumed couple’s costume will be a mere coincidence and no one will think otherwise and the night will go on its merry drunken little—

“Sorry.”

The word surprises you to the point of looking his way, but before you can, he’s already sliding closer to talk directly to you.

“Okay. Hear me out, alright?”

Your brows slide up your forehead. “Hear you… out?”

“It…”

Trailing off, Jean scrunches his nose and takes the hat off his head to smooth back his hair.

“Ah, fuck, just let me get this out one time and one time only and if it’s a shitty idea? We’ll pretend it never happened.”

“Uh—”

“What if tonight’s a truce?” he interrupts, gesturing between your denim-and-pleather-clad bodies. “Whatever beef we have with each other could be fixed or something.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Jean keeps going.

“Because I don’t hate you. Connie says you think I hate you, or something, and I don’t really know why you would ever think I—”

“I thought it because you hated me… first,” you try to remind him, tilting your head in confusion. “You literally declared it freshman year in front of—”

“I didn’t actually hate you!” he whisper-shouts over the mouth, conveying his emotion without the outburst. “I didn’t. Seriously. I said some stupid shit to get Yeager off my damn back about you and I regretted it as soon as I said it—”

“What?”

“I just want a chance, okay?”

Finally, with his hands flexed before you, Jean seems to get to the point of his ramble.

Squeezing his eyes shut for a brief second, he exhales and softens in defeat.

“One chance — to show you I’m not some sort of douchebag because I got tongue-tied years ago. I’m not that moron anymore. Just… let me get you a drink or water or something, and I’ll fix it. And if I still suck to you, then at least I’ll have said my peace.”

For what feels like ages, you simply stare at him.

He stares back as the party lights twinkle like a halo over his cowboy hat, eyes rounded and pleading.

As much as you hate to say it, you’re intrigued.

Jean’s right: it’s been years.

Why hold an arbitrary grudge if it was genuinely an accident?

“...fine,” you relent. “But just one.”

Relief floods his expression, and he sheepishly tips his hat to you. “Yes, ma’am, just one.”

[zuffer-weird-girl]

anon request: hi queen of fluffiness 🤭 (is it okay to call you that?) Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I love your scenarios! Even if the villains ones are majestic to read I have to admit I love the most when you write for Hawks. Can I pretty pls have a imagine where Keigo just can be himself? I hc that outside the walls he is cocky and all what we saw on anime but inside this man just needs a hug and a chance to just be a child for once. Like, reader is just minding her business and kei walks in and bumps on something and starts to tear up because "doveeee I hurt myself 😢' or he gets a flu and is so whiny about it.

"Can't we just order take out instead and eat cake?" He mumbled, face supported by his hand as you arched an eyebrow at him in a very disappointed expression.

"You want to get diabetes bird brain? Just about three days ago you stuffed your face with the goodies we had for your birthday. We can't eat unhealthy food all of the time... even if we want to." You mumbled, going back to the golden looking omelet on your pan as you stirred it carefully.

"Pff. Party pooper." You heard him chuff jokingly and go right behind you to wrap his arms around your body as you could only rolled your eyes at his attics.

Going back in time, your old self would never have believed that the flirtatious, teasing lil shit and a bit arrogant Hawks, the number 2 hero and the fastest man alive... could be such a man child.

Now with almost two years of dating you knew the truth.

This guy had been through hell and back in his childhood days, so of course you couldn't be bothered or annoyed when he acted like this. It just meant he trusted you to just... losen up that hero persona he was forced by the comission to have.

Although that didn't meant you could spoil him too much. Nah, that wouldn't do.

"Here." You placed the omelet on a plate and handed it to him as his brown eyes, which were closed as he rested his face on your shoulder, widened at the sign "You need to eat before you go to work. None of that canned coffee crap you drink so much."

"Hey, is good that thing, not crap." Be mumbled as he reluctantly let go of you so he could grab the plate with a smile and a kiss on your temple "Thanks love~"

"No need. Especially when I can just steal some of that." You grabbed a fork and jokingly aimed to his plate as be gawked at you and put up his arms up with the plate still secure on his hold.

"No way thief, I deserved and earned this. Back off."

"But I was the one who cooked!" You jokingly pouted and smiled at seeing him trying to maintain a serious expression instead of just burst out in laughter "Don't I deserve at least a lil bite?"

"No. You can cook. I can't. Have some mercy on me." He said monotonously before both of you couldn't contain your laughter anymore.

It sadly didn't take long after he sat down to eat for the hero comission to already start calling for him. You didn't even bothered to hold your annoying sigh when he got up to answer it.

You could notice how his demeanor changed in less than a second when the chief woman's voice echoed on the line. His voice wasn't as carefree and soft as it was with you. It held a tinge of seriousness and false charisma and charm thar you now could detect.

'Would he be a little more laid back with others if he wasn't forced to just grow up before the right time?' You thought this to yourself every damn day...

"Gotta go. Word needs saving." He muttered while grabbing his jacket until he made a pained expression at seeing the half eaten omelet still on the table "Sorry about that dove."

"Don't worry. I will either eat or just put in refrigerator." You waved him off before going to the door to hug him tightly, inhaling his scent deeply before placing a sweet peck on his lips "It won't go to waste. Promise."

"Yet I wanted to eat." He mumbled, closing his eyes in bliss at your hands doing wonders to his hair before it got tangled once again when he took his flight.

"I know. But I was thinking of maybe for dinner a hot pot?"

"Sounds nice. But please I beg of you to not put carrots on it." You snorted before placing another kiss to his lips.

"You're such a baby."

"Stop that. I'm not." He chuckled before placing his visor glasses on "See you at dinner?"

"You better."

You watched as he opted to leave by the windows instead of the door as you sighed while shaking your head at him sending you a kiss before taking flight. You prompted your elbows on the edge of your balcony as you watched slowly got even farther away from you with a worried glance.

Dating a hero always made your anxiety even more difficult to deal with...

.

.

It was already way past dinner time as you tapped your foot anxiously. Watching the clock you heaved a sigh until you flinched at the loud 'thud" coming from your balcony.

"Ouch..."

There he is.

You got up rather quickly as you rushed outside, opening your glass window to frown at him rubbing his forehead, his closed tight eyes having a tinge of evidence of small tears which you immediately grew worried off.

"There you are!" You kneeled down besides as he finally opened his eyes to look at you, shoulders visibly relaxing at just seeing you near him. " I was worried sick, what the hell happened this time?"

You knew it wasn't his fault when things like that happened. Your anger only was directioned by that dreadfully hero comission and the villains he had to deal with on daily basis.

"Got stuck up on a fight near the center with endeavour. Asides from the whole "being beaten up" part it was pretty cool." He mumbled with a pout before glancing up at you, tears threatened to fall "Was tired from paperwork and fights of today and when I got here I bumped on this shit." He knocked with his knuckles at the glass window

"Oh God poor thing." You accidentally let out a chuckle when brushing his hair back you saw the redness on his forehead already making its appearance.

"Why are those even a thing?!" He whispered shouted as you hugged him close and caressing the back of his head.

"You normally don't even bother when bumping into something that much love.." You muttered in amusement as he clinged on you.

"I had a long day, let me be..." he muttered in your neck as you frowned at the tears hitting your skin as you hummed.

"Must have been to take such a hit on you like that..." You sighed before parting from the hug while cupping his cheeks as he tired eyes stared down at you "do you need any patching up or you just want to go eat something? You must be starving."

"Famished." He mumbled before wordless pointing at his forehead... chuckling at his demeanor you kissed it gently the red spot as he finally smiled for a bit since he got home.

"Baby." You poked his sides as he rolled his eyes with false annoyance.

"Shut up."

.

.

"No. He can't go to work. Not even a chance." You talked with a hushed voice on the phone outside of your room.

"And why exactly is that?"

"Because he woke up not even being able to get out of bed? Because the last mission you guys sended him took a big hit out of him? Oh, should I tell you that he even puked this morning?" You hissed on the phone, expecting any retorts of those who worked for the comission only to hear a heavy sigh.

"Fine. I guess we can grant him a few days off due to his healthy. It would surely ruin his image to the public if he went to work looking like what you told me. So I guess we can provide that."

Thats your main concern? You thought with a angry expression.

"Thanks. I sure think he appreciate that." You mumbled as they hanged the phone.... you could only mentally flipp them the bird for their rudeness.

You cringed at the coughs coming from your room as you placed your phone down and walked towards the sound.

"How you're feeling?" You asked while sitting down next to him and feeling his forehead... he was burning up.

"Eh... could be worse." He panted before cracking an eye open with a smirk "Hey.. is in hot in here or just me?"

"Not the time Keigo." You deadpanned as he coughed once again.

"Fine fine... but seriously is it warm? I think I'm having a heatstroke..." he growled while tilting his head up as he flapped his wings a bit to emmit some sorta of wind to cool him off.

You frowned... it wasn't THAT hot.

"Sorry hun, but I think you got one nasty flu." You mumbled as he groaned once again.

"Should have expected... a kid with a runny nose came to me asking for a hug and their parent asked me for a picture with the... the poor fella sounded so badly sick."

"Well, the good point? You made a kid happy which surely is something good and I'm proud of you for it." You spoke silently with a smile as you caressed his face and helped him lay down "The bad point is that now you need to be on bed rest until you get better."

"Ah come one is not like I'm dy-" a violent fit of coughs interrupted him as you massaged his chest with a frown still present ".. shit..."

"I know, it sucks. But you at least don't have to go to work..." You whispered while adjusting his blankets as you saw him start to shiver.

"W-What? Since when?"

"They called. Wanting to know why you were taking so long. And I gave them a good hearing." You mumbled as he frowned while you caressed his looks "Is alright, they didn't made a fuss and even granted you a few days off to get better."

"Man... I was hoping to take those days off to at least get to enjoy them with you... and not mentally stress myself in worry to pass whatever this shit is to my girlfriend..." he covered his face with one of his hands on a growl as you snorted.

"We will bird brain. But you need to get better first.." You mumbled before gently prying his hand out of his face to place a kiss to his forehead.

"No fair..." You chuckled at his whine "I want a proper kiss..." he pouted, looking uo at you as you smiled sweetly.

"I need to be the health one here to take care of you dummy." He grumbled while pulling the covers close to him with a 'fair enough.' Mumble .... you chuckled at his attics before getting up to suddenly stop at a hand gripping your wrist for dear life.

"Uh?"

"Where...?" He coughed "Where you going..?"

"Make at least a toast for you. You need to have something on your stomach before you take the meds."

"No." He whined "I don't want to puke again, and I don't want to taste that crappy médico of coughs. It's just awful."

"Is pills bird brain. You won't taste it." You deadpanned "And you need to have something on your stomach love or else if you do eventually puke, trust me is only going to be worse since it will only come out bile. And is awfull." You explained as he scoffed and weakly got up "No no. You stay on the bed."

"But I don't want to be away from you...." he mumbled, leaning his head on your shoulder while his whole body trembled "Just stay a bit.. please?"

"Kei..."

"Noo noo..." he whined while smashing his face on the crook of your neck, nuzzling it as his arms caged you with him "Don't call me that... call me baby..."

"But I thought you hated when I called you that?" You giggled before caressing his back up and down as he hummed in appreciation.

"I lied..." he mumbled on your neck. His voice mot only hoarse but also muffled by your skin as you sighed "... dove?"

"Yes..?"

"Do you see a problem?" You arched an eyebrow "Y'know... with me acting out like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like a damn spoiled kid..." he chuckled humorless.. "A guy from work saw me once... like I usually act with you and commented how it must be hell for you to date a man child like myself." He chuckled once again, nuzzling on you even more as if he wanted tk be one with you.

"I like when you are like this around me though..." You mumbled, a bit flustered at your confession "It makes me feel special..."

"Don't I make you feel like that asides from that?" He looked up at you and you cooed at the puffy eyes he had.

"Kei you make me feel the most lucky woman in the whole world." You whispered while gently cradling his face on your hands "of course is not only because of that. Really. Your kisses make me feel like I'm walking on clouds, your hugs are like a open gate to heaven and I will not even speak about sex from how much you mind blow me from it." You smiled at the little cackle he let out.

"But what I meant is that I feel special when you "act out" around me is because you only act like that with me, you know? You trust me to just... be yourself. You don't bother anymore to keep the "hero hawks" image with me anymore. And I'm overjoyed with that... even if you are a brat who don't like to eat carrots."

"They're gross!" He laughed with a whine while placing his face once again on your chest.

A comfortable silence was stabilized until you felt his rough finger tips moving and... it seemed like he was drawing something on your arm?

"Whatcha doing?" You mimic his tone of voice as he chuckled on your neck, still with closed eyes.

"Guess it.." he mumbled, his nose still congestioned..

You paid more attention at his movements before finally realizing with a smile before kissing his forehead lovingly.

"I love you too." You got up carefully as he once again whines for about the fourth time of the day "I need to get you to eat and take your medice."

"Nooo..." he groaned when you got pass the door "BABY ME WOMAN!"

"Don't I do this already every day?" You poked your head on your room as he coughed before sending you a glare but still with a pout. "Behave."

"You're evil." He mumbled before giving his back to you with a bratty huff as you shaked your head once again at his attics.

You were about to pick the butter for his throat until cringed at the sounds of your boyfriend once again puking.

You soon saw a him walking towards the sofa with a blanket secure in his hold as he plopped down on it. You placed the toasts on a plate along with the pills he needed to take... walking towards and putting the plate down on the coffee table to just scrunch down to his level as he gave you a teary look.

"The bitter taste thing that sounds like it's stabbing your throat.. is that the bile you said before?" He weakly whispered, tears clinging on his lashes as you nodded while gently wiping them away "It was awful..." he whimpered as you frowned.

"Told you..." You sighed in worry until you saw him making grabbed hands at you "Eat one toast at least and then we can cuddle, alright?"

"... couldn't it be fried chicken..?"

"You just puked Takami Keigo." You deadpanned as he cracked a smile at your fed up tone of voice.

[dani-luminae]

At All Costs

(part/chapter 1(?) of this random idea. I don't know, the scene came to me last night and I sat up 'til midnight typing it out on my iPad, so that's too much effort for this to go unseen lol)

~~~

“You’re not being entirely truthful about that, are you?”

Adam raised his head, hardly able to disguise the sneer on his face. It was bad enough this villain - a charlatan, at least - no formal pardon could erase that - had come to his home, asking politely enough for an audience. But after the incident that had resulted in his curse, he tried to turn no one away.

Magnifico had asked the former king what his greatest wish was. Vaguely, Adam recalled something from Auradon’s history books - King Magnifico, protector of the wishes of his Kingdom of Rosas, turned power-hungry and volatile by calling on the wrong sort of magic - and he thought nothing of offering some half-baked lie, that his deepest wish had been to see his son become the strong, kind, and powerful King of Auradon that Adam had always known he would be.

And Magnifico saw right through it.

“My greatest wish can never be granted,” Adam said, gripping the arms of his chair tightly. A common reaction, his way of trying to hold back his grief and fury that flooded him every time he so much as thought of her.

“Your daughter,” Magnifico said knowingly, and the look that flashed across Adam’s face confirmed it.

“Don’t talk about her!” He growled in a tone that was a vivid reminder of the fierce and frightening Beast he had once been. 

“I understand, Your Highness,” Magnifico said serenely, unruffled by the former king’s snarl. “It is the greatest tragedy when families are torn apart. But I think that I can -”

“No! Whatever you think you can do, you can’t!” Adam snapped, his voice echoing in the vaulted eves of the office. For all the great powers that magic possessed, it could not return his greatest treasure to him. “No magic can restore the dead. No trick you can pull would bring her back to me as she was!”

“Restore the dead?” Magnifico echoed, looking taken aback, and Adam was almost pleased that the old trickster’s guise of calm and control had been fractured. “Oh. Oh, you don’t know?”

“Know what?!” Adam answered. “That my daughter’s in a marble tomb and I mourn her every day? That not an hour goes by that I don’t miss her smile?”

“That you were tricked,” Magnifico told him.

Those words struck Adam like a knife to the heart. Tears immediately sprang to his eyes, and in an instant he bolted to his feet, turning his back on the villain, furious that he’d lost his composure. No, he couldn’t let false hope lure him like that. 

“You lie,” he snarled lowly.

“No, Your Highness. I don’t. I promise you that,” Magnifico responded. At least that ugly, self-assured smirk had been wiped off his face. “I can show you.”

Show him? No. Adam shook his head, trying to fight back that new, hurtful little spark of hope that gnawed at the edge of his thoughts. That couldn’t be possible. Villains could not be trusted, pardoned or not. He’d believed in a pardon before, and that had only resulted in tragedy. If he had been more careful - if he hadn’t been so foolish to forgive - his daughter might still be here with him today.

But then Adam turned back to Magnifico, and the old villain smiled. From his belt, Magnifico withdrew a small, angular, diamond-shaped mirror; this was the very mirror that he had been freed from moments before he was imprisoned on the Isle of the Lost. It was startling to remember the association. The mirror looked sinister and dark, a far cry from Magnifico’s gold, beige, and white robes. 

Magnifico raised the mirror to Adam, and the surface misted over. Adam scowled, already chiding himself for even giving this foolish hope a chance, before the mirror’s surface cleared and he saw… a person. 

A teenager with brown hair trailing over the shoulders of a royal-blue jacket. She stood with her shoulders squared, her hands braced on the tabletop in front of her, frowning slightly as if she were listening to something serious. 

No. It couldn’t be. But he knew her instantly, somehow, without mistake.

“Ma petite bête,” Adam whispered. My little beast.

“She can’t hear you,” Magnifico said quietly. 

In the mirror, the teenager turned her head, like someone knew was talking. Then she opened her mouth, her lips forming words, but they heard nothing.

“How,” Adam said, struggling to keep his voice from trembling. “How is this possible?”

“She didn’t die, Your Highness,�� Magnifico said. “You and all the kingdom were simply tricked to think so. So that she could be taken far away from Auradon, with no one the wiser.”

No. Adam clenched his fists. How - who would dare to take her from her family, from him - 

No.

He knew exactly who. 

In the mirrors surfaced the teenager turned her head again. The light caught her eyes just so and reflected a familiar amber, like the prismatic eyes of an animal. 

Adam knew those eyes. Unmistakable. 

Then the image faded.

“So,” Magnifico said coolly, lowering the mirror. “Your greatest wish can be granted.”

“Not by you,” Adam said without thinking, too focused on trying to mentored every detail of the teenager in the mirror, from the curls of her hair - still so much like Belle’s - and her eyes - her eyes changed. She has my eyes…

“Ouch.” Magnifico didn’t look hurt much, just snidely insulted. “I just revealed the truth about your kid and you still have no faith in me?”

“Unless you know exactly where she is, how to get her back, then no, I don’t really have faith,” Adam responded.

Magnifico inclined his head. “I do know where she is. And how to get her back.”

Adam hesitated. It was not wise to trust a villain. That was why his daughter was lost in the first place. And who knew if Magnifico was telling the truth?

But what if this was his only chance? The only way he might get her back where she belonged, at his side?

“And how exactly do we get her back?” Adam whispered, hating every syllable.

Magnifico’s smile had return, though Adam had no way of knowing it with his back to him. “Same way this conversation started. With you… trusting me with your greatest wish.”

~~~

There probably will be more parts to this. Dunno when, how many, or any other details yet.

[blackjackkent]

Zevlor and the two Flaming Fist always wreck absolute face (no pun intended) in this fight against the mind flayers. It's a joy to watch Zevlor set everyone on fire with Searing Smite.

Annoyingly, I had to do the fight a couple times because one little intellect devourer kept showing up late to the fight and interrupting our conversation with Zevlor afterwards. XD

"Hells. I didn't think I was going to make it."

Zevlor looks terribly drained and considerably more battered than Rakha last saw him. He manages a slight smile as he looks past her at Wyll, but it seems to take most of the energy he has left.

"The Blade of Frontiers," he murmurs. "The savior I needed, if not the one I deserved."

(A/N: LOL. Further proof that Wyll is Faerun Batman.)

Wyll smiles slightly in return, but doesn't say anything. His eyes are troubled and he watches Zevlor with a certain amount of caution.

Rakha can guess why - and it's clear that Zevlor knows it too.

"I... owe you an explanation," he says quietly. "Much more than that. But first... please..." He swallows. "The others. The ambush... tell me they survived?"

Rakha raises and lowers one shoulder in a half-shrug. She could give him some placating answer, but why? He knows his failure; he would not believe her anyway.

"Some," she says flatly. "Not all. Because of you."(*) Her tone isn't really accusatory so much as simply factual - but Zevlor flinches from it all the same.

"Somehow, I suspect it's worse than you imagine," he mutters. "Likely you heard that I broke, or froze, or some other lie kinder than the truth." There's a pause, in which he visibly squares his shoulders, a soldier providing a report that tastes bitter in his mouth.

"We were ambushed by cultists, yes," he says. "And then I heard... Her. Their false god, whispering promises in my mind..." His gaze goes distant over Rakha's shoulder. "I would be a paladin again - with a god's purpose, a god's power. Everything I needed to protect my people. And all the while, the cult tortured them. They fought, and ran, and died around me while I imagined myself their savior. By the time I regained my senses... it was too late. I did not just surrender to the Absolute. For a moment... I welcomed it."

Rakha listens in silence. Her head twinges sharply. She remembers the strange joy that filled her in the presence of that orb in the laboratory - the influence of the Absolute, overwhelming, saturating. She remembers how ready she was, in that brief moment, to surrender to its influence in exchange for a sense of peace...

And before that, she remembers the terrible night the beast almost ripped out Wyll's throat, while she watched from behind her eyes and could do nothing to stop it. In that moment, everything was rage and violence and everything that she was... was lost.

For a moment... I welcomed it.

She knows the same failings Zevlor speaks of. Mental surrender. Loss of control. And, just as she did with Madeline in the ritual circle out in the dark, she wants to lash out at him, and in doing so, lash out at herself.

But Wyll stopped her, with Madeline. Is this justice? he asked her. Is there purpose?

Zevlor was not in control of himself at the ambush. She was not in control of herself that night in camp. Wyll... Wyll has not turned away from her for it...

"It sounds like you were enthralled," she mutters haltingly. "It's... not your fault."

It's not your fault.

She is sure she can sense Zevlor's response as clearly as she hears it in her own mind. Then whose is it?

"It would be nice to think so," he says, with the same flatness to his voice as to her own. "But whatever these monsters twist us into... I believe it begins in us."

It is Rakha's turn to flinch, to look away. He cannot know how those words cut her to the heart. He doesn't mean the beast, of course, only the tadpoles... but they are both flavors of the same poison.

Maybe he's right, and there is no distinction between her and the things in her head after all.

"I won't make excuses," Zevlor goes on, too caught up in his own turmoil to notice hers. "I can't make amends. But I know something of what you came to do. I want to help, if you'll let me. Ketheric is below. He thinks you're no longer a menace. Descend and show him how wrong he is. If there are any more survivors to be found, I'll find them - and lead them out of this place."

Rakha shrugs. She doesn't care what he does. She has far too many other things occupying her mind. "Fine," she mutters. "Good luck, Zevlor."

"And you, my friend," Zevlor says gravely. "And pathetic, inadequate as it is... thank you."

-----

He turns and walks away, deeper into the flesh-lined corridor beyond. Rakha watches him go and then straightens her gloves with a sudden, forceful jerk.

Wyll is watching her. Perhaps he has some inkling of what is going on in her mind, because he puts a hand on her arm and starts to speak. "Rakha--"

She jerks her arm away from him. "He said Ketheric is still further below," she says curtly. "Keep moving."

------

(*) Slight artistic license here to truncate Rakha's line to be more her speaking style. The full line is: "Some. Others ended up in a cell in Moonrise. That's on you." Honestly the oddest thing about the line options here is all of them seem to indicate that more people survived than actually did. There's no option, for instance, to mention that all the kids except Mol are gone.

[problemnyatic]

How do you find worth in yourself? I try to tell myself im worth it but it still feels like im being ripped in half when someone ignores me.

i was very tired when I got this ask, so I decided to sleep on it; this is a big question, after all. The truth is, there is no simple answer to this question. The reason you lack it is a complex interweaving of trauma that I can't unpack for you over the internet so anonymously, and you'd be better served by a theraist in that regard. Nevertheless, i have some pointers.

There are two major prongs you gotta work on. Forcing yourself to change your assumptions of others' intentions, and forcing yourself to be patient with and kind to yourself in your own head no matter what.

A lot of people don't realize just how much they inadvertantly project their insecurities onto others. This isn't to point blame- it's simply a side effect of trauma. You have been hurt the same way, over and over again, for so long that your brain and body flinch at the things that would come before, as though they're the wind-up to getting hurt, and then those things feel the same as getting hurt that way, even if the blow never actually comes.

Of course, some people are still inconsiderate, or cruel, but when something feels like a signal that someone has decided to be hurtful, try to slow down and ask, "are there other reasons this could be happening? Am I being ignored on purpose? Or are they just away from their phone right now?" The objective here is to try and train your brain out of essentially creating false-positive signals of "I'm being hurt on purpose right now." Trauma can be a vicious cycle where triggers reinforce themselves, because even if the triggering thing is not itself abuse, being triggered is traumatic enough to reinforce your brain's sense of "this is traumatic and dangerous to us."

I must note- this is not to say it's your own fault. Your trauma is a horrible thing that was unjustly inflicted upon you by the cruel and/or careless, and you do not deserve even a moment of the pain it causes you. It is, though, unfortunately and unfairly, it is our own responsibility to handle our traumas as best we can. So see this not as a Job you can Fail, but as a journey, something you'll struggle with, but get better with time and practice.

The same holds true for the second prong - kindness to yourself. It's not about what you deserve, it's about what you need. Gentleness and grace are not rewards for being worthy, but the signals you can use to show your brain that you already are.

This one is hard. This one is really hard. And that's okay. I myself am working on it with mixed, but slowly improving, success. Forgive yourself for your maladaptive thoughts, forgive yourself for your self-sabotaging habits. When your internal monologue screams at you and you notice, shame is not the answer, but forgiveness. Ask patiently to reword that thought kindly, let yourself try again.

I promise you, it works, given time. It never feels like anything's changing, but slowly, imperceptibly, it does. You'll feel more deserving of it, given enough tries. It'll feel easier, make more sense to forgive yourself and retry with kindness. Let yourself ask others for clarification, and seek out trading "sorry I'm like this" for "thank you for understanding".

If there's any one thing I can ask you internalize, it's this:

You never need to apologize for existing as yourself. You never need to apologize for your pain.

Your friends care about you. If they're any good, they understand that your trauma is a reflection of the cruelty of others, not a moral failing on your part to simply Be Strong Enough.

Your trauma is not a moral failing, okay?

I wish I could give you a better answer, but I hope at least something from this helps you on your path to recovery.

Some days, weeks even, you'll feel like you're slipping back, losing progress. That's okay, that's a part of it, too. You've never truly lost progress, okay? You still have all that practice, the cycles will cycle again and again, but you, too, are learning every time. Forgive yourself, and practice the tools you have been working on.

If it feels like you're punishing yourself for wrongthink, pause, forgive yourself for the error, for hurting yourself, understand that trying means failing before you succeed and that's okay, and try again, but differently. Use the pain not as a punishment, but as a guide. If it hurts because you feel ashamed, ask why. If it hurts because you are terrified, maybe that's because you have trauma that needs to be gently taught that it can be safe to do that, be there, what have you.

Good luck, friend.

[rafent]

the end has come for you, but you have served your purpose well. all that lies behind you has crumbled to dust, buried along with your name and your deed. you seek no recognition, no accolade, no succor — only the promised end, baptised in memory of the ones you've seen to safety. when at last you shut your eyes, it is the angel of good works who reaches their shining hand to you. peace be the bloodied son, for reparations have been made.

fondness of your loved ones, your sister, your friends. the acceptance of the divine one; the trust of your brethren. far in the distance, even the approval of a father's ambitious eye. in this blooming lythos garden, acceptance awaits with open hand, promising that you knew a lesser love once. your mistakes will be guided here, your failures cooled in understanding. here you have flourished, basking in warmth like the sun.

son of chaos, your footsteps tread heavy with sin. know that you walk beside the shadows of all who bore that weight before you. to end one thousand lives is to create one thousand ghosts. which path will you grasp with all your might?

On one hand, an inexorable death for the sinner; on the other, a new and promising life for the child. The quixotic paradise which he had not even dared to dream into nonexistence, supplied with happy faces untouched by his bloody history of ambition. A space for Rafal among them. Between Nel and the living Divine One; in view of Zelestia, Gregory, Madeline, and Mauvier; valued by their watchful Father; amid smiling brothers and sisters and. . .Nil.

Before he could place his own yearning he stirred first to the awareness of his outstretched hand. Body tugging him forward in want all its own, then falling back, quietly, to its original paces. He rooted his feet as if doing otherwise would leap him into flame, onto hooked fangs baring at him in the form of two choices; between them, a deep and forbearing void he felt to be awaiting his very answer.

". . .Foolish. My choice is clear." Had Rafal been more dishonest, he would have claimed that it had not ever strayed. "I am a dragon among dragons. I will not honor an ideal world, unstained by blood and wiped clean of its unhappy scars. It is the truth and reality I choose. It is the dream already within my grasp."

That at least was the truth. To live an honest life under his true name, to be one half of a long-desired whole, and to hold his sister's regard - these were the priceless gifts already seized in Rafal's hand. He would not drool slavering jaws after a fraudulent sweetness, forgotten of the atrocities that piled one atop the other by his own folly. No, even faced with the wastes of his world, he had not retracted his journey to strength. Never gazed back on what might have transpired of others. Never once regretted.

"From the day I took on Nil's name it was like I—Rafal—had already died. In a sense, I am a corpse walking." A fateful day where all might be redressed with the ultimate deed; his shattered stone and shimmering bones blanketed in the quiet of an unknown sepulcher; he inched closer to the picture of his absolution with one confident step forward. Four winds at his heel. "—that is why I have no fear."

Another step. Another.

"That is why. . .I. . ."

But the fork in the path dissolved before he could surpass it. Blooms wilting, the tranquility of the false garden no longer warmed the back that turned on it. Even release and atonement and rust faded away. All of it, dispelled, as Rafal snapped abruptly from a troubling vision, perceiving that something had been irreversibly decided. Or perhaps, even, that nothing had changed.

[yourfavoritehorseman]

Confessions: A Jason Todd (Red Hood) Oneshot!

A/n: This is primarily self-indulgent fluff I wrote as a little treat after a stressful Thanksgiving situation. Enjoy!

-----

It's always easy to tell when Jason Todd has something on his mind. His family might say he becomes even more explosive than normal, but that's false. When Jason is truly upset, he grows quiet. Calculating. Those beautiful eyes lose focus and he seems to look past you.

There's no doubt he has something on his mind now. He was barely answering to what you had to say as you both circled around the Gotham fair, only sparing you the occasional nod or half-hearted smile. You suspected maybe it had something to do with the fact his siblings had decided to tag along, but perhaps you'd said something that had ruined his mood? Or, more likely, he was tired of the swarms of people and too much noise that had dampened his spirits.

Dick, Tim, and Barb had disappeared somewhere in the lengthy lines leading to the food truck. Meanwhile, you walked the grounds with Jason following leisurely behind you. He pretended to be taking in the sights as well, but the expression on his face never changed from being deadpan.

Sighing, you stopped and turned to face him. "What's going on with you tonight?"

Jason cocked his head and looked at you in a way that made your stomach jump despite his strange mood. "What do ya mean?"

"You know what I mean, Todd. You've been quiet tonight."

"'Not really the best place for conversation, is it?"

You huffed. "No, but you've been such a wallflower. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, y/n, you haven't done anything wrong," he sighed.

"Fine. Then let's at least try to enjoy the rest of our evening."

You turned to walk away, making a quick scan for his siblings. Truth be told, you'd been hoping to sneak away with Jason from the beginning. The date had started off promising, but the pleasant feelings tapered away after he had won you one of the oversized stuffed bears and now you missed having the support of the group.

"Y/n, wait. I'm sorry. I'm not very good with this kind of thing," he said, raking his hand through his hair.

"Good with what, exactly? You didn't have to come tonight if you weren't feeling up to it. I would've understood," you say, still scanning the crowd in an effort not to face him. It was easier to be angry with him that way.

Jason heaved a deep sigh. "That's not what I mean. Will you just look at me for a second?"

You relented by glaring at him out of the corner of your eye, but this didn't suit him. Gently, he placed one large hand under your chin and turned your face towards his. "Listen here, you little shit. I just wanted to you that I, huh, I love you, y/n."

[qelattes]

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

Some of my favorite notes:

“I resolve once again that the answer is somewhere in the middle”

“But I’m pretty sure that’s simply hindsight bias. I’m seeing what I want to see, based on how i know it all turns out”

“I need to know that you will listen to exactly what I’m trying to tell you and not place your own assumptions into my story”

“The part where you accept the apology because it’s easier than addressing the root of the problem”

“Praise is just like an addiction. The more you get it, the more of it you just to stay even”

“Sometimes I hated myself for wanting him, for finding myself brightening up when his attention was on me, for still needing his approval”

“It just goes to show that money can’t buy happiness”

“You could desire someone even when you don’t like him, that you can desire someone especially when you don’t like him”

“But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them bare and their response is “You’re safe with me” —that’s intimacy.”

“I’m just saying it’s not so great being loved for something you didn’t do”

“Please never forget that the sun rises and sets with your smile. At least to me it does. You’re the only thing on this planet worth worshipping”

“Already realizing that no amount would ever really be enough”

“But no medium can capture what is is to be in someone’s presence, certainly not someone like her. Someone who makes you feel important simply because she’s choosing to look at you”

“Sometimes things happen so quickly you aren’t sure when you even realized they were about to begin”

“It's always been fascinating to me how things can be simultaneously true and false, how people can be good and bad all in one, how someone can love you in a way that is beautifully selfless while serving themselves ruthlessly.”

“We all can’t go around treating people like dog shit and then expecting that a simple I’m sorry erases it.”

“Women have sex for intikacy. Men have sex for pleasure.”

“Guilt is a feeling I’ve never made much peace with”

“I hurt her with these tiny scratches, day after day. And then I got surprised when it left a wound too big to heal.”

“I’d rather survive it than never feel it.”

“I knew he was always doing the very best he could with the pain he felt at any given moment. And this, however tragic, had been the best he could do”

“I missed the only man I’d ever loved with any lasting meaning”

“Those things would come in time.”

“He never replaced Harry. No one could. But he did ease the pain, a little bit.”

“Connor began to trust that the world was a reasonably safe place to open your heart to. knew the wounds of losing her father would never truly heal, that scar tissue was forming all through her high school years.”

“No matter how perfect the day seemed, there was kne ache looking over us night after night”

“We both knew she was making a promise she couldn’t keep.”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of losing her again, losing her in a deeper way than I’d ever lost her before.”

“I have been married seven times, and never once has it felt half as right as this. I think that loving you has been the truest thing about me.”

“I had been my truest self, searching for the help of my best friend to ease the pain of the loss of my lover.”

“I really loved having someone look out for me, having someone to look out”

“I think I’d be willing to omit the truth from public knowledge in the interest of the happiness and sanity of a person I love dearly.”

“she loved Celia in a way that was in turns breathtaking and heartbreaking.”

“I promise that I will repay the favor by loving you unconditionally and accepting you always, so that you feel strong enough and safe enough to do anything you set your mind to. ”

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Proposition (Part 1?)- Caius Volturi x OC

Caius Volturi x Juliet Hale

Description: After the success of the confrontation against the Volturi Juliet gets a surprise visit later in the woods from none other than one of the Volturi Kings himself.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: I may make a part 2 for this, but I’m still undecided. Either way I hope you enjoy!

“The Redcoats are coming,” Garrett muttered disdainfully. The Cullens and their allies stood in the clearing in which the confrontation would take place. They watched intently as Aro and the rest of the Volturi became visible, walking towards them. As they walked Juliet noticed the leader’s eyes glance over the many faces of their foes.

“Aro’s looking for Alice,” Edward explained, using his power to communicate.

“He’s not the only one,” Juliet answered somewhat bitterly in the same manner. Once the Volturi came to a stop the wolf pack emerged from behind the Cullens, taking a place beside their allies. Juliet took a step to the right so Jacob could stand beside Bella, Renesmee and Edward, then looked at Carlisle as he walked forward.

“Aro, Iet us discuss things as we used to. In a civilized manner,” he pleaded calmly.

“Fair words, Carlisle,” Aro answered simply. “But a little out of place, given the battalion you've assembled against us.”

“I can promise you, that was never my intent,” the blonde answered smoothly. “No laws have been broken.”

“We see the child,” snapped Caius from beside Aro. “Do not treat us as fools.”

“She is not an lmmortal!” Juliet interjected before she could stop herself. She just couldn’t help it though; this was her niece’s life on the line. Caius’ hardened eyes turned to her, though they became sad as their eyes met. She kept a stern expression however. He may have been her mate, but that meant nothing when her family was in danger.

“These witnesses can attest to that,” Carlisle continued, which broke their gaze. “Or you can look. See the flush of human blood in her cheeks.”

“Artifice,” Caius snarled defensively. Aro, meanwhile, held up a hand to his brother, signaling him to stand down.

“I will collect every facet of the truth. But from someone more central to the story,” he said before turning to Edward. “Edward, as the child clings to your newborn mate, I assume you are involved.” The boy in question looked at Bella, then made his way towards Aro, Bella using her powers to shield her mate in the process. Once Edwards reached Aro he extended his hand to him. The Volturi leader took it and read the younger vampire’s thoughts. After a moment he looked at Edward once again.

“I'd like to meet her.” The boy nodded then looked at Bella who, along with Jacob and Emmett, walked Renesmee over to join them.

“Ah, young Bella,” Aro greeted. “Immortality becomes you.” He smiled, then promptly shrieked with laughter when he heard Renesmee’s heartbeat. The sound sent chills down Juliet’s spine, which only put her more on edge.

“I hear her strange heart,” the leader muttered excitedly, holding out his hand to the young girl. Renesmee greeted him then lifted a hand to his cheek, using her powers on him. The others watched intently until Aro pulled back with a wondrous look on his face.

“Magnifico! Half mortal, half immortal. Conceived and carried by this newborn while she was still human.”

“Impossible!” Caius scoffed.

“Do you think they fooled me, brother?” Aro questioned with an unimpressed look as Bella, Edward and Renesmee rejoined the rest of their family.

“Bring the informer forward,” Caius instructed. Juliet frowned when Demetri and Felix brought Irina forward. Once she was in front of Aro and Caius, the latter spoke.

“Is that the child you saw?” Irina looked nervous by his question.

“I'm not sure.” The blonde hummed thoughtfully then called Jane’s name. It was a threat, and it worked.

“She's changed,” she said quickly. “This child is bigger.”

“Then your allegations were false,” Caius concluded, earning a nod from the girl.

“The Cullens are innocent. I take full responsibility for my mistake. I'm sorry.” Caius nodded, then Edward suddenly called out.

“Caius, no!” He was too late though. Without a word Felix stepped forward and hit Irina, snapping her head off.

“Irina!” Tanya cried out in despair. Caius paid her no mind as he set fire to the rest of Irina’s body, which made both her and Kate scream. They began to run towards the Volturi, but were quickly stopped. While Kate was stopped by Lucy and Garrett, Juliet used her power to freeze Tanya long enough to grab hold of her. The Denali girl struggled against her grip, but Juliet refused to let go of her.

“We must attack!” Tanya cried, holding onto the girl’s arm.

“No, that is what they want, Tanya,” Juliet said quickly. “If you attack now, we will all die.” That seemed to knock some sense into both her and Kate, and they eventually stopped struggling.

“Aro, you see there's no law broken here,” Carlisle spoke out.

“Agreed,” said the leader. “But does it then follow that there is no danger? For the first time in our history humans pose a threat to our kind. Their modern technology has given birth to weapon that could destroy us. Maintaining our secret has never been more imperative. In such perilous times, only the known is safe. Only the known is tolerable. And we know nothing of what this child will become. Can we live with such uncertainty? Spare ourselves a fight today, only to die tomorrow?” At that very moment two figures emerged from the woods that surrounded them. Relief coursed through Juliet at the sight of Alice and Jasper. Both Edward and Aro called Alice’s name but they didn’t stop their journey towards Aro until two of his guards stopped them.

“My dear, dear Alice, we're so glad to see you here, after all,” the older vampire greeted.

“I have evidence the child won't be a risk to our kind,” she said simply, which caused Aro to look at her suspiciously. “Let me show you.” She extended her hand to him without hesitation, and so Aro motioned for the guards to let her go.

“Brother?” Caius called unsurely. Alice walked up to Aro and he took hold of her hand, reading her thoughts. The field was deathly silent as everyone waited for whatever Alice was showing him to end. Finally, after several minutes, Aro pulled away from Alice with an astounded look on his face.

“Now you know,” Alice said firmly. “That's your future. Unless you decide on another course.”

“We cannot alter our course,” Caius shot back. “The child still poses a grave threat.”

“But what if you were sure she could remain concealed from the human world? Could we leave in peace?” Asked Edward.

“Of course. But that cannot be known.”

“Actually, it can.” They had no time to question Edward before two more figures emerged from the woods. And that was when everyone was introduced to Nahuel, the vampire/human hybrid, and his vampire aunt Huilen. Several questions were asked of him, such as his age and maturity, then Marcus finally spoke.

“These children are much like us.” Caius:

“Regardless,” interjected Caius. “The Cullens have been consorting with werewolves. Our natural enemies.” Aro all but disregarded his brother and turned to address his army.

“Dear ones, there is no danger here. We will not fight today,” he announced, which made some of them (namely Caius and Jane). Nevertheless they obeyed and turned to leave. Aro stayed back for a moment, muttering something about how Bella and Alice were prizes, before following the others. It took Juliet a minute to realize that another Volturi King had stayed back. Her eyes met Caius’, and he shot her a wistful look.

“Amore mio (my love),” he whispered before turning to leave as well. As she watched him leave she couldn’t help but sigh. She should have been happy that he was no longer a problem, and yet she felt an impalpable sadness at the sight of her mate walking away from her. It was a difficult situation that the fates put her in.

Later that evening after everyone had returned to the Cullen home, Juliet offered condolences to the Denali coven and wished them goodbyes before deciding that she needed to be alone for a while. It had been a while since she’d traversed the woods for leisure rather than for hunting, but it felt nice. She was still relatively close to home that she could smell her coven as well as their guests but far enough that she could feel alone.

And yet, she didn’t. As she walked along the trails she made up as she went, Juliet got the distinct feeling that she wasn’t alone. The feeling was enhanced when she smelled another vampire’s scent. She couldn’t immediately recognize the scent, which meant it was neither her coven or their allies. But she still knew that it was familiar despite not being able to readily name them.

The person continued to follow her, though they stayed a respectable distance. Juliet opted not to look back until she knew for sure who she was dealing with. So, while she walked she attempted to figure out where she knew the scent from. She’d been around it several times, and she found the smell almost comforting. She could recognize the smoky tone as if she was standing beside a fireplace, and old books as well as paint. Yet, despite the array of smells, they still managed to smell…sweet? An intoxicating kind of sweet that made her want to all but inhale the person (as weird as it sounded). And it was at that moment Juliet understood who was following her.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve being this close to the house while Tanya and Kate are still here, Caius,” she muttered neutrally, still refusing to look at him.

“I’m aware, but I had to see you again, amore,” the older vampire responded in an unusually soft voice, picking up his pace until he was walking beside her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see he no longer wore the signature Volturi cape, but instead black slacks and a sleek long black shirt. Likely what he’d been wearing under the cape during the confrontation.

“And what makes you think I would want to see you again?” She shot back. “You threatened my coven.”

“I wouldn’t have let them kill you.”

“But you would have let them kill my coven,” she snapped. “I would be alive but I would have been broken without my family, especially my sister.” Her response made Caius sigh.

“Can you blame me, amore?”

“Yes, I can,” she exclaimed exasperatedly, stopping mid step to face him. “And stop calling me that! You haven’t earned the right to call me amore.”

“I am your mate!”

“You and your brothers have been targeting my coven for like two years!” Caius opened his mouth, likely to yell back at her, but he stopped and instead took a deep breath.

“I did not come here to argue with you am- Juliet,” he answered, much calmer now. “I wanted to come to you with a proposition. Come back to Volterra with me-”

“What?” Juliet cut him off, almost shouting. The boy shot her a stern look before catching himself.

“Let me finish. Come back to Volterra with me and live amongst royalty for a few months. Consider it a test period of sorts. You will not have to follow our diet, nor will you be forced to do our bidding. You will simply be living there with us. If you don’t like it, or me, you can return to Forks with no problems or protest.” The girl’s eyes narrowed in suspicion at his proposal.

“What’s the catch?” She questioned wearily.

“Catch?” Caius tilted his head curiously.

“This sort of opportunity can’t be that good without a catch, so give it to me.”

“The catch is that I will be allowed to be around you for those few months,” he answered simply. “And it will give me the chance to redeem myself. I have accidentally and unfortunately shown you the dark side of me, but give me the chance to show you the other side. Allow me to at least attempt to make it up to you, please.”

He was practically begging by the time he finished his explanation, which admittedly surprised Juliet. In all her years of living as a vampire she’d never heard of any of the Kings begging for anything. Perhaps that’s what made her stop and consider it for a moment. Caius remained silent, allowing her to think while he watched her eagerly. After several minutes of mulling over her options, Juliet finally sighed.

“Alright. We’ll do this your way.” A wide smile formed on the King’s face upon hearing her answer.

“I promise you, you will not regret this,” he said, holding out his hand for her.

“You better hope so,” she answered, finally taking his hand. This would be tough to explain to her coven.

[grymmnox]

weekly fic recs #30 + #31

weeee it's just gonna be like if i didn't miss it. all one post. not separating them by week it's just all going together. ok anyways

fandom(s): bungo stray dogs

ship(s): soukoku, kunikidazai, fyozai, fyolai, odango, and ofc some gen fics

Oneshots

let me in if i break, and be quiet if i shatter; lenasgaylaxy - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 1.7k words | dazai & kunikida, dazai & yosano, ADA & dazai | READ TAGS

summary:

"They say breaking a mirror brings you seven years of bad luck. Dazai must've been born amidst the shards of a hundred shattered mirrors, because terrible luck has been following him around since he was young, and he's sure that it will stick around until his death."

About breaking down and needing help picking up the pieces.

It Would be a Hundred Times Easier; Gigglemite - bungo stray dogs

mature | 4.4k words | chuuya/dazai, chuuya & dazai, atsushi & dazai, dazai & kunikida, ADA & dazai | READ TAGS

summary:

On the worst of the bad days they start out just like the easier ones. They’re deceptive like that, lulling him into a false sense of security before one thing sets him off and he spirals. There is no real trigger for these days unlike the other ones, these days are just bad simply to be bad. His senses are heightened to the point of overwhelming overstimulation; his brain is foggy but coherent enough to send him down a dark and a very deep tunnel if given the chance; his fingers twitch and itch to grab something, anything that could be used to inflict harm on himself; despite his half working mind for everything else, it works 100% just for paranoia to the point he has to keep checking behind himself because the feeling of eyes on his back is achingly uncomfortable. These days also tend to include bouts of an inability to speak that always come out of nowhere. It’s rather disconcerting to be asked a question and yet when you open your mouth to answer absolutely nothing comes out.

Or: Dazai is used to bad days. He’s used to pain, and the weakness, and the anxiety that comes with them. But they’re getting easier to manage.

The Emperor's New Clothes; ScarletRequiem - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 4.3k words | chuuya & dazai, dazai & oda, ADA & dazai | READ TAGS

summary:

dazai gets hit with a truth-serum ability. ranpo thinks it's fucking hilarious, but ranpo isn't there when he unintentionally tells the whole office the reason he's suicidal.

point of injection; quitepossiblyjanuary - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 3.1k words | chuuya/dazai | READ NOTES (additional warnings r in there)

summary:

Dazai wouldn’t call himself an honest man – lying used to be half his job, and now that he’s out of the Mafia it feels like lying is half his life.

incandescent (and it's your fault); Colourful_skies - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 2.2k words | chuuya/dazai

summary:

An ability makes Dazai’s hair glow whenever he feels embarrassing (read: romantic) feelings. It’s temporary, so he thinks he’ll get away with keeping it a secret—but then a certain slug pays the Agency a visit. What could go wrong?

Introspection (of idiots and ideals); gev_ao3 - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 4.9k words | dazai & kunikida, dazai/kunikida | READ TAGS

summary:

------------------------------------------------------ “Kunikida-kun despises me,” he wails. “No, I don’t.” “Kuni-chan hates me.” “I don’t, Dazai.” “Kunikida--” “Stop.” ------------------------------------------------------

A look at Kunikida and Dazai’s relationship through the years. (can be read as platonic or romantic)

where we're from, there's no sun; codhya - bungo stray dogs

not rated | 15.8k words | dazai & yosano, dazai & fukuzawa | READ TAGS (additional warnings in notes)

summary:

"-I’m not asking you to trust that I’m a good person or whatever. Just trust that I won’t kill you, at least not here. And in return, you have to promise not to kill me. And set my cleaver in between us both, you have a clear advantage. You can keep the gun, though.”

He narrows his eyes, “You’re not really in the place to make demands right now.”

She shrugs, leaning back, “We’re stuck in an elevator and my co-worker is trying to kill me because he’s convinced I’m an assassin. I’m trying to make the best of the situation.”

(On Dazai Osamu, Dahmer, and Yosano Akiko)

spine chilling; kuroissant - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 3.6k words | fyodor/nikolai

summary:

Fyodor pauses, staring down at the small bird in his hands.

Nikolai folds his arms behind his back. “It’s for you.”

“For me?” Fyodor parrots.

Over the course of a month, Nikolai had graced him with many other small trinkets and gifts. He never provided an explanation as to why—nor did he ever give his gifts in person. He always extended them towards Fyodor by using his ability.

grim's notes: some gore; it's. nikolai and fyodor. there's an organ involved.

the kitty confusion; Deca_Suffrage - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 3k words | chuuya & atsushi, akutagawa & atsushi, atsushi & kyouka, dazai/kunikida

summary:

Chuuya's cat has gone missing, so in a last bid effort he sends a mafioso down to the ADA to ask around.

When Atsushi is told that the Port Mafia is looking for a "big white and black cat" he assumes that he's being mocked and goes with them.

He is not being mocked.

Complete Fics

bet against the odds; advanced_fanatic - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 10 chapters, 15k words | ango & dazai & oda, dazai & yosano, ango/oda, ADA & dazai, akutagawa & atsushi, ayatsuji & tsujimura, dazai & kunikida

summary:

At ten years old, Dazai Osamu meets Yosano Akiko. At eleven years old, he starts spying for the Armed Detective Agency in the Port Mafia. At eighteen years old, he thinks there's no way things can go wrong. He's wrong, of course, but why on earth wouldn't he be?

The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger; Seito - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 11 chapters, 19.3k words | chuuya/dazai, ADA & dazai

summary:

“Dazai-san doesn’t like the Port Mafia,” Tanizaki explained.

“That’s too nice, Tanizaki-kun,” Dazai said as he tied up the woman with some rope. He looked over his shoulder at Tanizaki.

Atsushi suppressed a shudder at the sparkle of anger in Dazai’s eyes. Despite only knowing Dazai for three days now, there was something deeply wrong about seeing that kind of anger in Dazai. It gleamed so bright, an ill-contained rage that seemed just seconds away from exploding into an inferno that would consume everything.

“To say I hate them would be more accurate,” Dazai said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Masters of Pretense; vividder - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 9 chapters, 12.7k words | dazai & kunikida & yosano, ranpo & tanizaki, ADA & dazai | READ TAGS

summary:

Dazai is kidnapped and taken to a hospital. The problem is, no one knows he's been kidnapped, except for Dazai himself.

5 Things Dazai Still Does For Port Mafia ...; YunaYamiMouto - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 6 chapters, 11.8k words | chuuya/dazai, chuuya & dazai, dazai & elise & Q, dazai & hirotsu, akutagawa & dazai & gin, dazai & kouyou, ADA & dazai, atsushi & dazai, dazai & oda

summary:

... that he doesn't do for the Armed Detective Agency, and the 1 thing he won't do for anyone.

Incomplete Fics

tell me we do not live in vain; yuki_MXIVo - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 8/14 chapters, 32.3k words | dazai/fyodor, dazai & fyodor | READ TAGS (additional warnings in notes)

summary:

Fyodor’s weak heart thuds violently within its cage of flesh and bone, ba-thump. Dazai’s knife kisses cold on the skin of their throat. They swallow, and the bob of their Adam’s apple against it draws blood.

“Alright,” Fyodor decides, “let's find a way to die.”

// In the Decay’s aftermath, Fyodor and Dazai quietly slip through the cracks, and set on a journey

[boybasher]

An-o-rexic Feelings 💋 (my eat-ing-dis-order and trauma poem reading and thrift store style look book)

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•

.

my poem:

Anorxxic palm trees

Just like me

Black streets and smokey eyes

No one’s out at this time

Midnight is our sunrise

I’ll take your breath

If you ignite me

Light me up, til I burn alive

Fire in my hands

Warmth in my eyes

I’m not so dead inside

I play empty

To

Forget my regret

Let us remember ourselves tonight

Never been the Barbie doll

Was never skinny enough

And god I’ve tried

Skip my meals

And throwing them up

All the boys I shared

All the men I kissed

Counting my sins

I lose count after 3,000

Does God Think I’m A Slvt?

What’s the point of dreaming

When we can make them come true

I’ll be your secret wish

Pull me in and I’ll show you

All what I can do

I started early, and not by choice

Morphed me into something dirty

But I’m Somebody’s Dream

So what do you say

Wanna take a bite out of this Rotten Cherry

I’m loose with my body

I’ve been around

Everyone’s gotten a taste

I’m not worn out, just lived in

Stuck in my skin

Let me out

With a few inches and a shout

The ultimate sin

Love Before Marriage

Mommy’s Mistake

So I guess you can be my daddy

If you get cold

I’ll lend you my coat

Know you’ll love my perfume

I only spray half the bottle

Cat Calls from across the street

Burnt foil and broken glass on the floor

Welcome Home

Fuck toxic positivity and comatosed living

Taking selfies in the sunlight

God doesn’t have a bed time

So why should I?

I gotta brain

But forget to use it

Burden to everybody

How the hell do I get by

Ducking my head

As I chase the pavement

The only type of guys that want me

Kiss me with their eyes closed

And leave just as fast as they come

They come and they come

But never stay

What do i expect

I don’t even know how to drive

Without causing a traffic jam

Such a shame for the good guys who want a housewife pet

I don’t know how to clean, unless I’m angry and OCD

I wake up with glitter all over my face

Lipstick on my tooth brush

I keep swiping left and right

Scrolling the boredom away

Maybe this one can change my life

Calling a dead number

A disconnected pay phone

God only answers if you plead

That’s what I was taught

Live in fear

Bask in angst

Never use his name in vain

But god are you really always listening?

I wait for your heads up

A nudge on the shoulder

A “this songs playing just for me”

I’m sorry for wasting my youth

But how does one measure growth if not in size

I promise I’m not a waste of a life

Not dead beat like my dad

Forgive me as I light this gentle flower

For some false power

“Forgive me”

I say in my mind

To get me to sleep

Living as River Phoenix

In that gay movie

Making a quick buck with my little tricks

The lead role in nobody’s movie

Tell me the camera loves me

Give me a reason to wear my pretty

I’ll stay open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week

If you undress me with words like poetry

But I’m not studied

But I’ll let you study me

I don’t wanna change but I’ve changed

Still as young as yesterday

Still as naïve as tomorrow

You try to see the good in everything

I just see the truth

I’m not playing ball

Acting like god chose me

Or did I trap myself?

In a body

Once again

Another lifetime of wasted potential

Can’t waste my youth this time

Don’t wanna die old

But it’s written in the stars for me to live til I’m like 80

Just like my granddaddies

A generational curse

A karmic gift

To age with beauty

Or change your name and start from scratch

I’ll be your dark baby

But c’mon I’m way too pretty to be treated like a piece of f-cking meat

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•

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poem: An-o-rexic Feelings by dark baby, (2023).

[publicdomainbooks]

THE FIRST OF THE THREE SPIRITS. (3)

This was not addressed to Scrooge, or to any one whom he could see, but it produced an immediate effect. For again Scrooge saw himself. He was older now; a man in the prime of life. His face had not the harsh and rigid lines of later years; but it had begun to wear the signs of care and avarice. There was an eager, greedy, restless motion in the eye, which showed the passion that had taken root, and where the shadow of the growing tree would fall.

He was not alone, but sat by the side of a fair young girl in a mourning-dress: in whose eyes there were tears, which sparkled in the light that shone out of the Ghost of Christmas Past.

“It matters little,” she said, softly. “To you, very little. Another idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort you in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve.”

“What Idol has displaced you?” he rejoined.

“A golden one.”

“This is the even-handed dealing of the world!” he said. “There is nothing on which it is so hard as poverty; and there is nothing it professes to condemn with such severity as the pursuit of wealth!”

“You fear the world too much,” she answered, gently. “All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one by one, until the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?”

“What then?” he retorted. “Even if I have grown so much wiser, what then? I am not changed towards you.”

She shook her head.

“Am I?”

“Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were both poor and content to be so, until, in good season, we could improve our worldly fortune by our patient industry. You are changed. When it was made, you were another man.”

“I was a boy,” he said impatiently.

“Your own feeling tells you that you were not what you are,” she returned. “I am. That which promised happiness when we were one in heart, is fraught with misery now that we are two. How often and how keenly I have thought of this, I will not say. It is enough that I have thought of it, and can release you.”

“Have I ever sought release?”

“In words. No. Never.”

“In what, then?”

“In a changed nature; in an altered spirit; in another atmosphere of life; another Hope as its great end. In everything that made my love of any worth or value in your sight. If this had never been between us,” said the girl, looking mildly, but with steadiness, upon him; “tell me, would you seek me out and try to win me now? Ah, no!”

He seemed to yield to the justice of this supposition, in spite of himself. But he said with a struggle, “You think not.”

“I would gladly think otherwise if I could,” she answered, “Heaven knows! When I have learned a Truth like this, I know how strong and irresistible it must be. But if you were free to-day, to-morrow, yesterday, can even I believe that you would choose a dowerless girl—you who, in your very confidence with her, weigh everything by Gain: or, choosing her, if for a moment you were false enough to your one guiding principle to do so, do I not know that your repentance and regret would surely follow? I do; and I release you. With a full heart, for the love of him you once were.”

He was about to speak; but with her head turned from him, she resumed.

“You may—the memory of what is past half makes me hope you will—have pain in this. A very, very brief time, and you will dismiss the recollection of it, gladly, as an unprofitable dream, from which it happened well that you awoke. May you be happy in the life you have chosen!”

She left him, and they parted.

“Spirit!” said Scrooge, “show me no more! Conduct me home. Why do you delight to torture me?”

“One shadow more!” exclaimed the Ghost.

“No more!” cried Scrooge. “No more. I don’t wish to see it. Show me no more!”

But the relentless Ghost pinioned him in both his arms, and forced him to observe what happened next.

They were in another scene and place; a room, not very large or handsome, but full of comfort. Near to the winter fire sat a beautiful young girl, so like that last that Scrooge believed it was the same, until he saw her, now a comely matron, sitting opposite her daughter. The noise in this room was perfectly tumultuous, for there were more children there, than Scrooge in his agitated state of mind could count; and, unlike the celebrated herd in the poem, they were not forty children conducting themselves like one, but every child was conducting itself like forty. The consequences were uproarious beyond belief; but no one seemed to care; on the contrary, the mother and daughter laughed heartily, and enjoyed it very much; and the latter, soon beginning to mingle in the sports, got pillaged by the young brigands most ruthlessly. What would I not have given to be one of them! Though I never could have been so rude, no, no! I wouldn’t for the wealth of all the world have crushed that braided hair, and torn it down; and for the precious little shoe, I wouldn’t have plucked it off, God bless my soul! to save my life. As to measuring her waist in sport, as they did, bold young brood, I couldn’t have done it; I should have expected my arm to have grown round it for a punishment, and never come straight again. And yet I should have dearly liked, I own, to have touched her lips; to have questioned her, that she might have opened them; to have looked upon the lashes of her downcast eyes, and never raised a blush; to have let loose waves of hair, an inch of which would be a keepsake beyond price: in short, I should have liked, I do confess, to have had the lightest licence of a child, and yet to have been man enough to know its value.

But now a knocking at the door was heard, and such a rush immediately ensued that she with laughing face and plundered dress was borne towards it the centre of a flushed and boisterous group, just in time to greet the father, who came home attended by a man laden with Christmas toys and presents. Then the shouting and the struggling, and the onslaught that was made on the defenceless porter! The scaling him with chairs for ladders to dive into his pockets, despoil him of brown-paper parcels, hold on tight by his cravat, hug him round his neck, pommel his back, and kick his legs in irrepressible affection! The shouts of wonder and delight with which the development of every package was received! The terrible announcement that the baby had been taken in the act of putting a doll’s frying-pan into his mouth, and was more than suspected of having swallowed a fictitious turkey, glued on a wooden platter! The immense relief of finding this a false alarm! The joy, and gratitude, and ecstasy! They are all indescribable alike. It is enough that by degrees the children and their emotions got out of the parlour, and by one stair at a time, up to the top of the house; where they went to bed, and so subsided.

And now Scrooge looked on more attentively than ever, when the master of the house, having his daughter leaning fondly on him, sat down with her and her mother at his own fireside; and when he thought that such another creature, quite as graceful and as full of promise, might have called him father, and been a spring-time in the haggard winter of his life, his sight grew very dim indeed.

“Belle,” said the husband, turning to his wife with a smile, “I saw an old friend of yours this afternoon.”

“Who was it?”

“Guess!”

“How can I? Tut, don’t I know?” she added in the same breath, laughing as he laughed. “Mr. Scrooge.”

“Mr. Scrooge it was. I passed his office window; and as it was not shut up, and he had a candle inside, I could scarcely help seeing him. His partner lies upon the point of death, I hear; and there he sat alone. Quite alone in the world, I do believe.”

“Spirit!” said Scrooge in a broken voice, “remove me from this place.”

“I told you these were shadows of the things that have been,” said the Ghost. “That they are what they are, do not blame me!”

“Remove me!” Scrooge exclaimed, “I cannot bear it!”

He turned upon the Ghost, and seeing that it looked upon him with a face, in which in some strange way there were fragments of all the faces it had shown him, wrestled with it.

“Leave me! Take me back. Haunt me no longer!”

In the struggle, if that can be called a struggle in which the Ghost with no visible resistance on its own part was undisturbed by any effort of its adversary, Scrooge observed that its light was burning high and bright; and dimly connecting that with its influence over him, he seized the extinguisher-cap, and by a sudden action pressed it down upon its head.

The Spirit dropped beneath it, so that the extinguisher covered its whole form; but though Scrooge pressed it down with all his force, he could not hide the light: which streamed from under it, in an unbroken flood upon the ground.

He was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible drowsiness; and, further, of being in his own bedroom. He gave the cap a parting squeeze, in which his hand relaxed; and had barely time to reel to bed, before he sank into a heavy sleep.

[wthisw]

Plot Holes

I horde too many clothes They fill every chest & drawer Of a home that I don't own Every workday's buttoned down Each end's rests left still pressed Hung in an alter to Sunday dress What if I force both to fit? I'll wear away my loneliness

Swollen wardrobes store dual lives Only one of which steps outside

I sway alone without memories Of who you are or I used to be Waltz with plot holes & fall swiftly Twist my ankle, ice with whiskey Pick up my skirts, tip into the pit Meet me down in Tartarus Maybe if I turn to face this Plot holes cave in

Cold coals & profuse poetry be my lonely company Candles promise me concessions Rafters cackle at my questions I do not eat, I do not keep The garden laid out front In my boudoir I wain of want Lie back a lush covered in dust Condemned to my cabin of consciousness The cracks in my mirror cannot conceal The badged Blackbird's bad luck

I sway alone solo with my score of curio antiquities Pluck the pen from my corpse & compose your histories Pick up my skirts, tip into the pit Meet me down in Tartarus Maybe where query won't exist Plot holes cave in

Eyes mulled over, coughing up cork in haste Swathed in someone else Who won't reach past my waist Truth be known I size thirteen Lables babble trinities Pick at truths til holes are seen I'll lap up proofs til clues leave me be I sway alone! Without memories Of who you are or I used to be Waltz with plot holes & fall swiftly Twist my ankle, ice with whiskey

Apollo's jumped chariot out of sheer embarrassment Constellations tumble like lead My moon's a tumbler turned on it's head She shines on my lips akin to epiphany Choking me slow between twilight's knees

Pick up my skirts, tip into the pit Meet me down down down in Tartarus Where under the weight of temptation! Plot holes cave Like a stack of bricks with mortar omitted I quake at the stakes of my lack of foundations Swallow this house Sink it all down! Into the mouth of Magdalene She knows her own name but not faces I know my own home but not this place

It's

Broken windows Rotten floors! Obstinate hinges Open drawers! Knitted, fraying Entryway mazes the Beauty that babbled away from my memories Keep asking questions Answer me, dammit! Let me understand Maybe my identities only read vertically Trip & fall for continuity Of the woman who became of me I long for you, dawn's truth, to bury she But there's no grief where there lies no peace!

Forget me not! labor's lover left me fraught Such haste ever chase after old wanton loss! Food for thought left stomachs starved Paper tastes ever addled, spat ink spells out dabbles So clear to me like charcoal on chalkboard Who is this woman hung in my wardrobe? With gowns sewn from scorn Her girdled throat swore! Lifelines to nevermore Fallen to her knees to grieve garments never worn Her gilded fingers cling to Devil Palm's Apollo But she's a fools gold widow with no stone to show for I found cold vows between the floorboards Engraved to 'other half's' But who the fuck is that?!

I sway alone without memories Who let moth holes eat our love story? Shot of sorrow, chase with dissonance Disregard heartbreak, dance in ignorance Picked up our skirts, tip into damnation The long way down she's beckoning "Half's whole, jump in..."

Final speck of loyalty Hung on an apostrophe O, don't you turn away from me! Sweet duet of lost miseries You forgot your damn'd Eurydice! Alone I shriek obscenities!! So close at once so out of reach You never did belong to me...

Entwined in lace at false alters Tell me my name you gardener Show me your face in Tartarus Maybe if you turn to face me Forget me knots be unwoven

Waltzed with my woes awoke so cold Alone on old floors of our home I don't own Hidden in a chest Tucked beneath the bed I found twin wedding gowns One silken white, one satin red Which one was worn? And which Did you run away with?

[ghostkittypog]

"It's not--" the inventor paused, stewing over their words as they try to explain what makes this flower so special. Why it matters so much to them. "It's not just a flower, okay?" They rested their hand against their machine, feeling the thrum of energy they worked so hard to cultivate, meeting gaze with the confused, conflicted eyes of the hero sent to deal with them. They can see that she's confused, wary, from the stiffness ladened in her shoulders. They straighten their shoulders in kind, trying to bring forth a confidence they don't quite possess.

"Then what is it?" she asked, and the inventor...doesn't have an answer. The silence rings out as she looks them up and down, glancing between them, the machine, and the vulnerable flower sitting inside it. "What makes it so special? Why--Why did you do all of this for a single normal flower?"

They bite the inside of their cheek, breathing out a heavy sigh through their nose. Before the hero saw their flower, the two of them had exchanged blows; both still feeling the aftereffects of the harsh fight in panted breathes and trembling figures.

The hero shifts on their feet, seeming flighty and impatient. The inventor can't help but wonder what would happen if they spoke the truth. Would it truly be any better than making up a convoluted lie? They've come this far, the flower still lives, they've committed so many crimes in the name of purchasing parts to keep it alive--they're tired.

Even after all this effort, they can see the rot slowly seeping into the flower's stem. Even after everything they did to preserve it, they can see it all crumbling. They swallow back saliva at the thought.

"Because I had to prove I could keep it alive," they began, accidentally startling the hero who had begun to zone out gazing at the flower. "I had to--It's... The flower was a gift, a promise. My--He told me that he'd come back someday, before the flower rotted entirely."

They paused to take in a breath, which is more difficult than they had anticipated. "He promised and...and every day that I can keep the flower alive is more time that he has to fulfil that. If I let it wilt--If I let it fall to rot, he can't come back."

Their eyes lifted from the floor--though they're not sure when they evaded their gaze in the first place--and they can see sympathy and pity in the shining green irises of the hero. They shake their head at that, drawing up their weapon in this last-ditch effort to remain imposing.

Before they can utter any threat, her voice asked, "How long have you been keeping it alive?"

They swallowed, "You've known me as the villainous inventor for the past six, but before that, I tried for two years."

"Eight years..." she murmured, and again, in her voice, there is sorrow for them. They refused to think on that deeper, knows that if they do, the slight sting from their tear ducts will release and they'd be a mess. "That's a long time for a flower like that. I don't--I don't think he is going to come back..."

They shook their head adamantly. "No--No, he will. He promised, and the flower isn't rotting." Their words fall low, and they don't truly believe them either. They've known for a while now; just how improbable it was that he'd come back.

But it was hardly something they wanted to accept; he meant the world to them. If he truly abandoned them, it means that one of the last people they knew to care for them genuinely decided to leave and give them a cruel false hope as a final goodbye.

"I think you gotta let him go," she said, voice soft and warm in a tone she has never used for them before, one that makes them feel like they're a child. They aren't, but the comfort is something they've missed so much. "Him and the flower. Let them go. You can stop now."

The inventor collapsed to the ground, shaking their head profusely. They can't--they won't!

The hero approached them gently and slowly brought them into her lap, and began to slowly rock back and forth, a half-sung note leaving her lips. The complexities of their relationship fall to the wayside for the moment, the history they have irrelevant as she curled her hand through their hair.

“You built this massive machine, something as big as a warehouse, with the money you earn with your crimes… just to keep a single flower alive?”