#(and HE STILL LOSES HER AT THE END??? ILL. ABSOLUTELY ILL.)

[sufferu]

Damn, I saw one (and some) of your and I really wanna know. It feels like you really dislike Priscilla lmao. (With her accepting fate and all)

I wanna hear your detailed response, may I?

Sure, alright.

Okay, so — I want to start off by saying that my analysis of her as an embodiment of fate isn’t actually connected to any sort of personal sense of like/dislike that I might have of her (that would be a terrible way to do character analysis lmao). It’s that — the more you look at the scenes she’s in with that lens in mind, the more obvious that symbolism becomes. Her first meeting and gamble for the appas with Subaru in that alley in Arc 3 is blatant foreshadowing for Subaru’s fight against fate in the rest of the arc, for example, with him losing every round of rock-paper-scissors due to the world turning in her favor right up to the point where he finally wins by being clever and breaking the rules a little. Her relationship with him, too, resembles that of his with fate: she only favors him when he fights back. Her relationship with basically everyone in the cast is like this, actually. Priscilla and fate only begin to smile on Emilia when she starts standing on her own two feet instead of shying away due to her insecurities, they both beat Heinkel into the goddamn dirt, they both lead Aldebaran around by the nose due to him being a Stargazer — hell, the whole Arc 5 scene where she just shows up and challenges every other Royal Candidate gets a whole new level with this framework, with every other candidate explicitly resolving to rise to HER challenge, specifically. Which makes even more sense when you realize that they’re all challenging fate in some way (Crusch and Gluttony, Anastasia and her terminal illness, Felt and her defying her fate as a street rat, Emilia and Subaru and all their bullshit). I could go on, but my main point is that interpreting Priscilla as a symbol of fate makes all of her scenes MORE interesting, not less — and also that there’s too much here for it to be a coincidence.

As for my personal opinion of her character…it’s not so much that I dislike HER as that I dislike the interpretation of her as a moral center.

Priscilla works best as a villain. On a Doylist level, her whole character is being arrogantly self-assured that she is in the right at all times. If she were supposed to ACTUALLY be in the right all the time, then that would make her absolutely infuriating to listen to, because it would arguably turn her into nothing more than a mouthpiece for the author. I’d even go as far as to say that it would…arguably basically turn her into the most annoying example of a Mary Sue. BUT, giving her a perspective that is off-center from that of the narrative — while still allowing for her to maintain her dignity, right up to the very end — that makes her SO much more interesting. She turns from just “the person who says the correct thing all the time” to this very multifaceted, self-contained juggernaut of a character with her own very unique perspective and ideology separate from the narrative as a whole, and that makes her stand out as an actual powerhouse within the meta of the story. And her perspective IS off-center. Priscilla may value integrity and being true to oneself, just as the story does, but she also values the use of the ultimate sacrifice in favor of one’s goals, and heroism, and all the things that Subaru COULD accomplish through Return By Death that he absolutely should not attempt. And that is very, very pointed and purposeful.

And on a more Watsonian level — Priscilla is just a horrible person. Like, she’s not someone who goes around kicking puppies or anything, and she has some genuine moments of kindness, but she’s also got moments where she’s completely unapologetically horrible. She murders Aldebaran regularly. She almost slaughters Heinkel on the spot due to his accidentally shaming her with his poor behavior (Heinkel was in the wrong but that would absolutely have been an overreaction). Her response to Subaru in that failed Arc 3 loop was absolutely nasty and vindictive in a manner that was genuinely overblown, especially because she wasn’t just abandoning HIM, but also abandoning everyone in Irlam just to SPITE him. And again, it’s not like this is all there is to her — she’s got her moments — but like, you can’t ignore All That. Because there is a lot.

And I think ignoring it would do her a disservice, frankly, because it’s part of what makes her so fascinating. Tappei said in an interview once that she was “born complete,” and how I interpret that is that she has had this ideology and self-assuredness of hers basically from birth, has never had any reason or willingness to change, and eventually passed adhering to her own sense of morality and integrity down to her final breath. Priscilla isn’t a character that works if you try to reduce her to being “good” or “bad,” because above all else she is unapologetic about being herself, and so the point is not to judge her but to just…let yourself see everything that she is. —But then again, that’s also how Tappei writes all of the monsters in his story. Rowan, Cecilus, Elsa, Arakiya — all of the monsters are people who will absolutely never change, to the point where the narrative doesn’t even try to make them do so. And in Priscilla’s case, this isn’t even really a condemnation: it’s more…the story allowing her to maintain her dignity right up through the very end.

Anyways — I guess my point here is that Priscilla is genuinely a very fascinating character, but trying to interpret her as a Good Person (or worse, a moral center) shaves off a lot of what makes her so interesting just by design. Also her ideological framework is actively antithetical to a lot of what Re:Zero is about and I think that trying to ignore that misses the point of what her place in the story is there to accomplish.

[reiverreturns]

whoever in the arcane writing room stood up and said "two queer couples isn't enough, i need someone in the only het couple to die like nine fucking times" you're a true ally to the people

[drsunshineee]

whats worse than having only like 1-5 friends?

having only that many friends and you talk to only 1 more than once every two months!

[vigilante-3073]

Diamonds

Carlisle Cullen x Human Female Reader

Summary: Carlisle and his significant other take a final trip together before her transformation.

TW: Mentions of illness and death.

Y/N and Carlisle sat across from eachother at a table on the Trocadéro platform in Paris. They had been in Paris for almost a month and it was their last night before returning to Forks. Y/N sat back in her chair, taking a sip from her wine glass before her eyes shifted to the Eiffel tower. The lights of the tower began to twinkle, lighting up the structure and bringing a soft smile to Y/N's face.

She looked over at Carlisle, cheeks flushing when she noticed that he was already looking at her. Y/N set her wine glass on the table, Carlisle picked up the bottle and wordlessly refilled her glass.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were trying to get me drunk, Carlisle," Y/N said with a teasing smile.

"You should take the opportunity to enjoy every part of being human, especially fine food and drink," Carlisle said, setting the bottle back down on the table.

"Very well said," Y/N nodded, sliding the glass closer to herself.

Carlisle watched her for a moment, "How are you feeling?" He asked, her smile fell, "I thought we weren't going to talk about that tonight," Y/N said softly.

"We should," Carlisle replied.

Y/N sighed, "Well, I have a brain tumor that over 30 oncologists and specialists have told me is going to kill me within two years... But aside from that, I feel fine," She stated.

"Are you worried about what will happen when we return to Forks?" Carlisle asked, searching her face for any sign of uncertainty.

Carlisle knew that losing her would destroy him, but he still offered her the choice of whether or not she changed into a vampire.

Carlisle left the decision up to her and tried his best to keep his own feelings out of equation. He explained to her what the transformation would feel like, how long it could take and what life could be like as a newborn.

The decision was an easy one for Y/N.

The couple had decided to get away from Forks for a bit to enjoy some time together before she was turned. The Paris trip was coming to an end and Carlisle knew that the time to change her was coming up fast.

They would return to Forks and the family would help her through the transformation as they had done for Bella. The werewolves were aware of the situation and agreed to allow the Cullens to add another vampire to their coven.

"I'm not worried at all, Carlisle... I'm excited to live out the rest of my very long life with you," Y/N said.

Carlisle smiled softly, "On the topic of our future," Carlisle began, reaching into the pocket of his coat.

Y/N straightened up in her seat when he pulled out a small velvet box. Carlisle stood from his chair and moved over to her side of the table, lowering himself down onto one knee beside her chair. He flipped open the lid of the box, holding it up for her to see. The engagement ring glittered underneath the soft lighting of the restaurant.

"Y/N, you mean absolutely everything to me. Every day that I have spent with you makes me long for more and I couldn't imagine my life without you in it. All of my love belongs to you and it always will... So, will you marry me?" He asked.

"Yes," Y/N said, tears gathering in her eyes, "Yes, I'll marry you," Y/N said shakily.

Carlisle smiled, plucking the ring from the box and sliding it onto her finger. Y/N cupped his cheeks, pressing her lips to his in a passionate kiss.

"I love you so much," She mumbled against his lips before pulling him back in for another kiss.

....

Y/N and Carlisle returned to Forks the next day. That night Carlisle held her in his arms and told her how much he loved her before sinking his teeth into the soft skin of her neck.

Carlisle's venom coursed through her bloodstream, igniting every nerve with white-hot pain. Carlisle stayed by her side throughout the transformation, holding her close to himself as she writhed in pain.

Seeing her go through the transformation was awful and knowing that he was responsible for causing her that pain made it so much worse.

Her transformation took almost two days before she woke up with bright red eyes.

The hardest part of living as a vampire was coping was the sudden bloodlust, especially with Renesmee in the house. It took a while for Y/N to adjust to being a vampire, but the Cullen family was there to support her through every challenge.

After Y/N learned to control her thirst, she and Carlisle were able to look into planning their wedding. Y/N couldn't care less about having a big wedding, she only needed her family and Carlisle.

Luckily for them, Alice had been planning the wedding from the minute she discovered that Carlisle was going to propose. The only adjustment made by the Y/N and Carlisle was a decrease in the amount of attendees.

They were married in the backyard of the Cullen house as Edward and Bella had. It was an intimate affair meant to celebrate the love that they fought so hard for.

...

Y/N stood on the balcony of the Cullen house, staring out into the woods. The air was cold, morning dew shimmering on the dark green foliage of the forest in the soft morning sunlight. The door to the balcony opened as Carlisle moved outside to join his mate.

He stepped up behind her, his hands resting on her hips as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "What are you thinking about?" He asked softly.

"It's been three years since you changed me," Y/N stated.

"It has," Carlisle nodded, staring down at her as he waited for her to continue.

"I would be dead right now if you hadn't saved me," Y/N said.

Carlisle frowned, "Can I ask why you're bringing this up, darling?" He questioned.

"After I got my diagnosis, I just stopped living my life... I never planned a future for myself because I didn't think I would have one. Now there is just endless possibilities and I don't even know what to think," Y/N said.

"It's a normal response to feel overwhelmed after a sudden change. Is there anything I can do to help you adjust?" Carlisle asked.

Y/N turned to face him, "I don't know, but having you with me definitely helps," She said, sliding her arms around him and pressing her body against his chest.

Carlisle smiled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer to himself. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, "I think we should get away from Forks for a bit, just you and me," He said.

"Where would you want to go?" Y/N asked, tilting her head to look up at him.

"Wherever you'd like. We've got all the time in the world," He smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her lips.

[81folklore]

as good as new - ALBON

pairings: alex albon x ex!girlfriend!reader (fc: quarterjade)

summary: alex soft launches his ex girlfriend after they find eachother again

type: social media au (smau)

authors note: ok so welcome to the start of the voulez-vous fic list! i hope this makes sense but incase it doesnt, alex and yn used to be dating before they split due to just growing apart, but they were meant to be😁

authors note 2: kinda rushed at the end so sorry about that! got a couple of requests to work on so ill try and get them done along with this fic list! and you cant still join the taglist!!

voulez-vous main masterlist

yourusername

liked by alex_albon, brookeabb and 122,268 others

happy new years!!🥂

view comments

user7 happy new year gorgeous!!

yourfriend2 SHINING SHIMMERING SPLENDIDDDD

brookeab SHE IS SO FINE AND SO CUTE AND PRETTY AND LOVELY

user82 JAW IS ON THE FLOOR??

user90 im so in love with you

user26 GET IN LINE

user38 so so so so stunning

twitter

alex_albon

liked by williamsracing, yourusername and 253,080 others

last dump of the year🇦🇪

view comments

williamsracing see you next year king🫡

user84 yn liking :’)

user9 THE FIFTH PIC?!

user47 is that..shirtless alex

user83 WHOS HOLDING THE BOX??

user97 technically its already 2024 but we’ll let it slide

user55 imagine its yn in the 5th pic..

user1 can we not? 1. its none of our business and 2. alex can move on and imagine being that girl and seeing people think its her bfs ex like..

yourusername

liked by pokimanelol, alex_albon and 92,389 others

me and my boy ⭐️

view comments

tinakitten CUTE AS HECK!!

yourfriend4 i miss him☹️

yourusername even though he hates you??

yourfriend4 he doesnt hate me, just not fond!!

user77 whos that in the second slide👀

user52 no tag either🤨

user13 moms weekend with the kids i see

user9 does alex get weekends? i thought the cats were yns?

user2 tbh we have no idea, i assumed he did but maybe not🤷‍♀️

user26 so so cute!! we need more pics of you and genji!!

alex_albon added to their story

caption:☀️🐈

replies

user66 GENJI AND MABEL!!

user73 we missed them :’)

user8 oh how i love cat dad alex

twitter

alex_albon • mallorca

liked by jensonbutton, yourusername and 293,286 others

me gusta la playa

view comments

user4 THE CENSORSHIP??

user89 three shirtless pics?? someone call george

georgerussell63 someones coming for my brand🤣

user9 the softlaunch..oh im losing my mind

user33 yn liking alexs softlaunch post..shes checking up on the ex😭

user12 ran into george and lando in the last pic

user1 alex is so hot😮‍💨

user912 alex is FEEDING us at the moment

yourusername • mallorca

liked by alex_albon, carmenmundt and 182,196 others

sorry cant talk rn im too busy being hot

view comments

carmenmundt absolute beauty💞🫶

user94 I CAN TREAT YOU SO WELL

user63 so so gorgeous

user9 alex and yn both being in mallorca and alex softlaunching..

user111 you are a dream

twitter

yourusername

liked by alex_albon, landonorris and 210,692 others

darling, we were always meant to stay together💫

i was searching for photos to post and decided on 6 that really showed my life these past months

1. a photo on the first day i went out after we split, i felt lost and alone and decided to start documenting my journey alone

2. this is a photo i took when i went home and felt peace for the first time since our break

3. a selfie we took in the taxi after our ‘first date’. we met up for the first time since, and spoke about our feelings and decided to start taking things slow

4. a day out with you and my sister, i felt so happy knowing i had the two most important people with me again

5. our first holiday, this will always mean alot to me. we both said i love you for the first time, we spent all day, every day together just loving and holding each other

6. we were leaving and instead of being sad we knew that this part of our life wasnt over but instead we were moving on to bigger and better things

i love you so much and im so thankful that i have someone has caring and loving as you

tagged alex_albon

view comments

alex_albon just like it used to be and even better🌟

alex_albon i love you so so much

alex_albon i promise to love you forever and ever

yourusername my loveliest boy

user71 THEYRE BACK

yourusername AND BETTER THAN EVER BABY

user111 MY FAVORITES

user9 i didnt read the caption and experienced genuine shock when i saw alex

user8 so proper just say you were shocked😭

user88 i need everything to apologize to mads RIGHT NOW

user61 all the hate on her WHEN SHE WAS RIGHT

taglist: @smartstupyd

[muchanmocha]

According to the information released about the segyein, Guardian Shine respects Mizi's choice in whether or not she wants to participate in Alien Stage. Looking at this tidbit again, new questions popped up for me. More specifically — one question.

Why didn't Sua convince Mizi not to participate?

Alright let's back up a bit.

What do we know about Alien Stage and its relationship with the Anakt Garden kids?

From the magazine interview and old stream commentary, we know they've been brainwashed from childhood to believe participation in Alien Stage is an honor. They're fully aware that losing means death, but that itself is taught to be yet another privilege.

Mizi vs Sua, Ivan, and Till

It's generally accepted that among our cast, Mizi is the most sheltered one — the one shielded the most from the horrific side of the post-alien apocalypse world, whereas due to the abuse from their respective guardians, Sua, Ivan, and Till do not have such a rosy outlook.

Sua and Ivan in particular appear to be jaded and much more in tune with their place in this system. So if they didn't buy into the propaganda, if they were fully aware of the implications of death and the worthlessness of receiving such an "honor" on stage, why didn't they convince Mizi to step out of it?

Ivan's reason is easy — simply, why would he?

But Sua? Why... wouldn't she? Surely she would want Mizi to avoid Alien Stage at all costs, when she is not as naive as to believe they'd be able to tie all the way to the finals?

Let's take another look at Sua's interview responses.

Sua and Mizi both share a dream, and in a world as small and enclosed as theirs, that dream is enough to be their everything.

Mizi may have had a chance to opt out of AS, but Sua doesn't. Her guardian, Nigeh, has always intended for her to participate, going as far as to build up her fanbase before Season 50 even started to tip the odds in favor of her victory. Sua has been prepared her whole life for Alien Stage, whether it ends in her victory, or her death.

She goes in knowing her life will likely end there.

Perhaps it was to indulge in the one selfishness of her short life — in the dream she and Mizi cherished above all.

Perhaps it was because she has absolute, unshakable confidence in Mizi taking the throne of Season 50 for herself.

Perhaps it was because a small part of her believed in Mizi's optimism — that they really can make it to the top together.

I think all of these possibilities are valid interpretations of what may have gone on inside Sua.

But here's a thought —

Sua, like Mizi, was unfamiliar with the true nature of death.

Sua's loss was Mizi's first, intimate encounter with death. Death was supposed to be a glorious thing, a blessed thing on Alien Stage.

It is not.

It's gruesome, and ugly, and she can still feel the hot blood splatter on her.

Anakt Garden is toted as a kindergarten that can provide your pet-humans with the perfect environment to thrive, looking after your pet-human's health not only physically, but psychologically!

Sua, like Mizi, has been raised in such a curated environment. Even under Nigeh's care, she was simply one of many dolled up pet-humans. Whether she was taking lessons in Anakt Garden, or left to sit in the corner in her ill-fitting doll outfit, we have not seen any opportunities for Sua to come in contact with "death." (Ivan, on the other hand, came from the slums. He may be the only one of the four who was intimately acquainted with death.)

Hence, I propose — Mizi was not the only one who went in without actually grasping the concept. Perhaps Sua too, while having an inkling of what's to come, did not truly understand what death entails either.

(But yeah possibility number 1263 why Sua didn't tell Mizi not to do the murder survival show)

-

Edit 10.02.24 — Debunked by this comic

[sxftkxssxs]

If you are free and in the mood, can you write about the M6 or just Asra, lucio, and Nadia reaction to MC donating third of what they make from working in their magic shop, like they donate it to charities or families that need money.

I can never resist adding the slightest bit of hurt to Asra's part (he makes me violently ill.)

I don't really know how I ended up having all of them giving to charities themselves but they all definitely would at one point or another.

M6 with a MC who donates to charity

Asra

He'll offer more ideas on how to donate or give to the charity of MC's choosing. He'll try to slip some goofy things in if they're donating to kids, he wants them to have fun!

They definitely kept this tradition up if MC started it before the Plague, since it was something important to them. Though, he'll always be a little teary eyed while he does it.

Once MC is able to walk and talk on their own, they'll ask them to pick charities every so often to give to. If they pick one they used to give to a lot he gets a sad look on his face they can't understand.

When they go on their trips they make sure to bring enough supplies back to donate a good amount and still have some for themselves.

Asra likes to donate to charities that focus on kids. Especially ones that include orphans.

Julian

He'll mostly tease at first.

Even though he's teasing, he gets a warm feeling in his chest seeing you be so kind to all these people.

Julian gets somber when he sees families struggling to stay together. It reminds him of having to leave Portia.

He'll absolutely want to be part of it but uh, MC, what do you expect this man to give?? He's been on the run for years!!

He likes to donate to medical related charities, but still varies often. His second most donated to is family charities.

Nadia

She loves that MC cares so much for her (and possibly, eventually, their) people so much.

She knows that the time she was asleep and with Lucio, she neglected her people. Even if she never meant or wanted to, it happened.

It warms her heart that they still cared enough to help others less fortunate.

She'd love to join! Just, tell her not to overwhelm these people. Please.

Muriel

He's honestly not thought about charities for...a long time.

Before him and MC get close he'll be on edge about it. He doesn't trust apperances.

Once he gets closer and realizes MC just wants to do it to be a good/nice person, he relaxes.

We've seen this man be so kind when he's finally allowing himself to be his own person. Apply here!

He likes to make things for charities. Blankets, Furs, etc.

Muriel would likely want to donate to charities that focus on family or orphaned children.

Portia

she is ecstatic!!

This woman has donated since she got herself into a good stable position and you cannot tell me otherwise.

She's been donating to charities that revolve around keeping families together or children. She understands the pain of losing family more than they realize.

She would want MC to donate to wherever they wanted, give as many people a chance as you can!

Pre-Upright Lucio

He's genuinely confused

They'd rather give that money away?? They could've spent that on something extravagant for him themselves!

The whole idea confuses him immensely.

Once MC starts dragging him through the magic realms and lovingly forcing him to face his own consequences, he'll start to grasp the concept much more.

Post-Upright Lucio

This is a new and improved man right here!

He'll even participate with you! if you help him decide on what all to give? He's still lost on what is best there

Surprisingly, he's the one to suggest donating to families or children.

He still holds so much guilt over his actions. He knows that he's gonna live with that the rest of his life, but at least he can do something good with his second chance, right?

[burningcheese-merchant]

Yes,more please!

More Yandere Beast stuff? At your service, three short headcanons for each one

SHADOW MILK

Has one specific Pure Vanilla puppet that he treasures and never brings any harm to. It's the most well-crafted and detailed one of all. He calls it his Mini Silly-Vanilly and he makes it and the puppet he also made of himself kiss and do NSFW things

Tries to be A Bro™️ and help his fellow yanderes win over their respective loves. He eggs them on when they feel like ranting and raving about their love lives (or maybe he just likes gossip and drama idk), helps mastermind courting plans, gives romantic advice of dubious quality, solicited and not (mostly not). His help gets mixed reactions. Tough crowd :/

Already planned their wedding way in advance, but keeps making changes because he's always hit with new inspiration (making them playfully chase each other all the way up the stairs of the Spire of Truth and Deceit, and publicly executing their enemies in increasingly ridiculous ways are staying put, though)

ETERNAL SUGAR

Got Shadow Milk to make her a Hollyberry body pillow. It's nice, but she ended up tired of it really quickly. She wants the real Hollyberry to snuggle and squeeze and use as a pillow. (She still uses the body pillow though)

Would very much like to steal Holly's dresses and wear them herself, even if they might not fit. Would also like a lock or two of her hair to put in a necklace, or make into a bracelet, or weave into the strings of her harp (wtf lol)

Has mastered dozens of love songs on her harp, both written and composed by others and by she herself, all to be played and sung to Holly. A significant portion of them are very dark and unsettling, but she either doesn't notice or doesn't care

MYSTIC FLOUR

Once thought of the concept of playing "strip Go" (like strip poker, just with Go) with Dark Cacao. No one has ever seen her turn so red before. She immediately barricaded herself in her room and did not come out for almost a whole week

Keeps replaying that moment where he was beaten and on his knees and she was caressing his cheek, tempting him to look up and into her eyes, in her mind over and over and over and over and over and over again. It has practically tattooed itself to the insides of her eyelids. She can't make it stop nor does she want to

Ends up wandering along the exact same path through the mountains that Cacao took while he was lost and alone whenever she leaves the Ivory Pagoda. Some deranged part of her insists that she might find him again if she keeps looking, and the other, equally deranged parts of her seem to agree...

BURNING SPICE

Absolutely fucking loses his shit if and when any of the Wild Spices speak ill of Golden Cheese at all. He can roast her all he wants, but the second anyone else tries, he 180s to "KEEP MY WIFE'S NAME OUT YO FUCKIN MOUTH" mode

Is so out of his goddamn mind that he's already attuned himself to both Golden's aura and her scent, so he can literally track her and hunt her down like a ravenous animal no matter where she goes. He is a predator in the truest sense of the word

Also often fantasizes about marrying Golden, like how Milk wants to marry Vanilla. But what he thinks the most about is the wedding night... and the night after that, too. And the night after that. Every night is going to be their wedding night, once he gets his hands on her... Every single fucking night

SILENT SALT

Keeps trying to write White Lily letters and poems detailing his feelings. They keep coming out wrong (aka they are extremely long and rambling, not to mention fucking weird and creepy), so he keeps throwing them away and starting over repeatedly

Has considered learning magic to impress Lily, but can't get the hang of it. (Has also tried to brew a love potion for her, but can't get the hang of that, either)

He never takes that helmet off, but his stare is nevertheless so damn pointed and downright oppressive that Lily can sense whenever he's watching her, even if he's dozens of feet away and she can't even spot where he is. He comes out when she asks him to, at least...

[deathbxnny]

Have I watched/read JJBA kinda. Is it my new hyper fixation yes. Anyways Giorno Giovanna, Jotaro Kujo, & Jolyne Cujoh with a reader (platonic or romantic idc) that’s like Firefly and her stance is just Sam but it’s called Iron Maiden!

(＃＞＜)

JJBA characters with a Firefly-like! Fem! Reader | Jolyne Cujoh, Jotaro Kujo, Giorno Giovanna

As someone who can easily say that JJBA is their favorite anime, I absolutely love this idea, Anon!! I made this a romantic hc, so I hope you'll like it!<33

Content: Vague mentions of chronical illness, mentions of potential future death by illness, angst, hurt/comfort, sfw

Reader is fem/afab in this, but no pronouns are mentioned!

((Not proofread))

》JOLYNE CUJOH

Jolyne met you in jail as a cell mate, one she quickly found a lot in common with, especially regarding your rather special stand abilities. But your illness is what really drew her to you and made her determined to keep you safe after you became a couple. Her heart ached knowing you were stuck in a prison, when you should be out there experiencing life as much as you still could, but alas, you were here with her, and she tried to make things easier for you with her presence.

She was left stunned however, when you were attacked by some stand users and quickly found out that you perhaps didn't need the extensive help and care she had given you after all. Sam, your stand, was more than enough to destroy any enemy in sight, something she found absolutely awesome. Jolyne would absolutely cheer you on from the sidelines, completely forgetting that she had to fight too.

It makes her proud to see how strong you are despite your potential deadly fate and hopes to stay at your side until the end.

》JOTARO KUJO

You both were childhood friends turned lovers, and so he was very much aware of your condition from day one. He watched as your illness progressed to become worse and worse until you were left unable to walk properly anywhere. But what hurt the most deep down was that you always remind me so gentle and calm with him anyway, despite his rather aloof and indifferent personality. His mother often teased him playfully for being so soft with you and only you, but he'd just stubbornly deny it every time.

With that said, anyone that hurts you is practically dead before they know it. He doesn't play around when it comes to your health or well-being, and so it does come to some sort of relief that your stand is extremely powerful. It made protecting and keeping you safe a lot easier when you could just do it yourself, too. This doesn't mean he won't keep his eyes on you at all times anyway.

Jotaro is somewhat in denial about what's most likely going to be your early passing due to your sickness, despite his rational mind. He doesn't want to think or hear about it, as it hurts too much to lose you as well.

》GIORNO GIOVANNA

Giorno met you through Bucciarati, and whilst you weren't directly a part of the gang, you were still an important person in it due to your stands immense strength. You immideatly introduced him to it through a battle against an enemy stand user, which made him take interest in you initially. You were gentle and soft-spoken, so it was definitely a contrast he quickly became infatuated with over time. But what really got him about you was that you were able to do all these great things despite being gravely ill.

It served as a reminder that life was cruel, and yet Giorno wasn't phased by it. In fact, he hoped that once he was successful with the mission of overtaking the boss, he'd eventually be able to get you the medical care you needed. He was determined to find a way to stop the illness or at least make life better for you, so you became another goal for him to fight for.

You can always count on him for anything and everything, that's for sure. He loves you greatly and wants to show you that by staying by you even when things get worse. So if you inevitably die, then he'll be there until your last breath.

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Shades of Red

art in the cover by @ave661 and @shkretart !

chapter one | chapter two | ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x civilian f! reader ✦ Summary: The sole survivor of a terrorist attack that killed over a hundred. The soldier responsible for saving her. He wants to help you, but his own trauma make him withdraw when he wants to get closer and intoxicate when he wants to remedy. He kisses your scars and hopes you'll runaway. He wants you to run away. But you won't. ✦ TW: NSFW, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, canon typical violence, mentions of abuse and trauma/PTSD, bit of gore, mental illness mentions, slowburn;

A/N: Hello girlies! This is the very first time I get the courage to actually post something I wrote. I've been reading y'all fics behind my screen for so much time now I figured I could start postingggg; so please be gentle with the feedbacks, but be also sincere ♥ also, English is not my first language and although I'm fluent, there might be a mistake or two along the way. Don't feel shy in pointing it out if you see any! Moreover, this will be a long ass one I'm pretty sure, but I might get myself some more courage to post my smut oneshots in some near future. Hope you enjoy! x

Chapter 1 - The Incident | 3.3k

There was ash in the air everywhere. That scenario didn’t frighten him – in fact, Ghost was absolutely sure that at that point in his life, almost nothing could fright him. He had seen much worse things before, he thought silently as he walked towards the building completely destroyed. There was debris everywhere – the building had not collapsed completely, but some parts did not survive the flames and now there seemed to be not even a little bit of life in that place. There were still small portions of flames spread through a few heaps of debris, a terrible smell of wood and burnt concrete; but nothing of that could be worse than the smells of dead, flattered human flesh that once or again invaded his nostrils.

His eyes rolled around in search of any record of life. In vain, he knew: there was no chance that any civilian had survived that. A cruel, dark bombing, a violent and destructive terrorist act. The only goal was to destroy any form of life that could inhabit there, and possibly it had been obtained without any further circumstances. When Price sent the radio search order to all members of the 141, he made it very clear that those efforts were in vain. They would find nothing. We lost today, he said. We could not foresee this, nor can we remedy it. It was a burden they had to cope with on a daily basis - the often inability to do something, to act, was a burden that a soldier should carry. It was part of the job.

Ghost pressed the point button in his ear. “Is anyone listening?” He asked, his eyes checking the entire perimeter of the building behind the skull mask that covered his face. “Have you found something, LT?” Soap answered, his voice hushed by the efforts. “No. I’m making an entrance, there’s nothing out here.” the lieutenant stated, kicking off a few remaining pieces of concrete from the front of his feet and laying the rifle in his hands. Ghost stood in front of the main entrance to the building – that place that should have looked like a reception at some point in the near past - and the movement of his boots against the ground caused the roof above his head to shake a little, and some ash particles fell onto his helmet. He observed the movement, standing still for a few seconds, only for warranty; he did not want to end up becoming one more of those burial victims. 

When the concrete whisper finally stopped stirring his ears, he entered. The lamp of his helmet lit up, and he looked around. His eagle eyes did not lose an inch of that entire perimeter, his ears attentive as those of a bat. He was looking for a sign, whatever it was: a presence, a scream, voices, calls for help. Anything. Anyone.

All he could hear were the sounds of the structure of the building, apparently ready to give in. Ghost tried to enter one of the apartments; his boots sole hit the semi-destroyed grinded surface of the door, and he broke in. He looked around. An enormous smashed chandelier rested violently against the bloody body of a child. 

Many people said Simon was the type of man to have no feelings anymore. That time, scars and trauma had taken from him all and every kind of humanity. He had become a soldier—one of the good, one of the invincible, but nothing aside from that. Nothing but a soldier.

Perhaps that sentence became so repetitive that at some point, he, himself began to believe it. His face remained motionless. The sound of the blood drops hanging on the floor filled his ears, and he snorted for a moment, pressing the point into his ear. “First floor, apartment 102,” he said, coordinating other operators to head to start collecting the bodies. 

His eyes went up to the ceiling, facing the huge blunt in the structure that caused the luster to fall. Maybe the parents' bodies were still there somewhere to be found, he thought. But that wasn’t his job, and unfortunately he didn’t have all the time in the world. He then traced his steps out of the apartment, looking around. As he kept going upstairs, the lantern lit up one hand or another thrown out of a pile of debris. Broken legs, the kinds of horrors that haunt the dreams of ordinary people. 

As Price had said and as he imagined to be fact, there were no survivors. Even when he reached the last floor, without any hope that he would find any movement that were not spasms of lifeless bodies, he tried. He tried to find someone, to do his job with all the mastery he could. His voice echoed through the entire floor, looking for anyone who could answer, but as expected, there was no response.

All that was left was the subsoil, the garage. When he came down the lobby again and found a portion of the staff dragging out some bodies, placing them in black bags, one of the doctors caught his attention. “Lieutenant. Have you finished checking around? Nothing up there?” The man asked, pulling his glasses from the tip of his nose. Ghost is negative. “No, nothing,” he said bluntly.

The doctor seemed to bite his own jaw with some strength, in disappointment. He has baffled. “You don’t even have to check down there. If those above didn’t survive...” he said, giving on his shoulders. Ghost watched him in silence for a few seconds, before finally answering, “Focus on your work, doc. I’ll finish my own.” He said in a nod before starting to push with his crude hands the stones that covered the entrance to the stairs that led to the garage.

His steps echoed. Ghost walked through the parking lot, passed pillar by pillar, checked every car. There were bursting pipes releasing hot steam, a gas leak as well he could tell – and he didn’t want to be there to see what would happen if some kind of ignition occurred. He hastened his steps. He took a deep breath; he was about to press his point and give up, claiming that there were no survivors, but a stifling sound interrupted his action. He looked around, looking for the source of the heavy breath and the little grumbling of pain he heard. His eyebrows cracked almost instantly and he turned around himself, looking around. All his senses were activated at that moment – he began to walk through among the few cars there, following the sound he had heard and then, a hand hitting the air dropped debris to the side of what seemed to be a body. He approached cautiously, throwing the light from his helmet’s lantern in the direction of the sound, and to his surprise, although not perceptible, there was the only survivor of the bombing: you.

A small, female frame shrunk from a pile of debris. Your hair was covered in ashes, your face - the dirty cheeks with the blackness of the material, your arms painted in the scarlet of your blood flowing freely to the ground, glass blades attached painfully to your soft skin. There was a cut down from the top of your forehead until the beginning of your left eyebrow. The completely messy strands of your hair fell against your face, opaque, bright. The expression of fear on your eyes turned into pure terror the moment they met his own, those small cold orbs inside the mask. You instinctively tried to move away from him, push your body away from those debris, away from that huge and frightening man.

When you threw your body to the side, all you could feel was your back against the cold floor, your left leg refused to work. You felt nauseous, stupid, your head turned. Your mouth trembled in a failed attempt to say something, the silence already lasted for seconds enough for you to fear his frame standing ever so tall and quiet. “Please don’t hurt me.” You managed to say, your voice engulfed in a cry that refused to go out. It wasn’t as if it was going to work; if he was one of the terrorists who caused this incident and really wanted to hurt you, then you were at his mercy and there was little you could do about it.

Maybe, if you were in a better mental and physical condition, you’d be able to identify that the rifle in the hands of the man in front of yourself was of a military model. That all his gear pointed out that he was an operator, someone willing to help. Your mind could not process all the necessary information about him at the given moment, although.

“I will not hurt you, lass.” He explained, and for a moment you felt your chest swell in air and it was hard to contain the immense desire to cry. The heavy steps of the man were made against your small, wounded body. He lowered himself, letting the rifle rest next to him quietly. You gulped in dry, still nervous with your eyes raised to his, now a little closer to you. He wasn’t looking at you — he was looking down, seeming to assess how hurt you were. “I’ll tell you what’s happening now. Okay?” He asked, slowly and calmly, his cold eyes now facing your own, visualizing your soul behind the cover of this hurt shell of yours. You stumbled, and he continued. “I’ll take that away from you, and I need you to help me helping you. Alright? You will be well. I just need you to hold your leg and when I push it over, you roll. Understood?” The man asked, his firm and deep voice being the first source of human contact you had since the lightning caused you to wipe out unconscious hours before. You came in for confirmation.

Ghost nodded back and raised his fingers, counting to three. Contrary to what you might have imagined, he didn’t need to do much to lift the huge concrete block that blocked his left leg from moving — he even had some ease in doing so. He held the concrete above his body, his arms backed over you, he sat down. “Roll.” he commanded, and you obeyed as you could. You leaned her hands on the ground and gave a boost; one of your hands instinctively went to the wounded leg, in an attempt to warm up the pain now felt by finally having released it from the rubble. You couldn’t hold a moan of pain, but he was quickly stifled by the sound of concrete hitting the ground when Ghost let it fall back.

You mentally begged that you could endure that. Your eyes were filled with tears, and a certain despair arose through your throat, your mouth. The anguish of finally feeling the unpleasant smell of the environment, the nervousness of realizing that very possibly, few other people survived that disaster, it was overwhelming your already troubled mind. 

Ghost didn’t lose a second in time; he finished positioning the rifle around his body and you felt his arms wrapping you by the waist and the folds of your knees, and he lifted it up with immense ease – it was as if you were featherweight. The gloves in his hands were rough against the sensitivity of your skin, but his touch was as cautious as possible. You could say without a doubt that this soldier of at least twice your height was doing his best not to hurt you any more than you’re already wounded.

“What is your name?” He finally asked, his rifle resting on his back, and you resting over his arms. He wasn’t looking at you – his eyes were fixed ahead, in the direction he was carrying you to, the exit. You answered, and he nodded in acknowledgement. “You can call me Ghost. I am a soldier, yes? We will take care of you.” He said in a clear tactical attempt to calm your nervousness down.

You sat down with your head. “Amelie Miller... Did you find her? My friend, she... did you find her?” You asked, your body trembled as you came to realize his eyes were now boring into yours.

He seemed to look for words that would not hurt you as much as the ones he had to say, but he for one, was not good with words or comforting.

“I’m sorry, girl,” he whispered, in a sigh. “there are no more survivors. You were the only one.”

~ x ~

Your head hurt. Everything hurt; body, arms. There was a blanket around your shoulders and a bottle of water still sealed in your hands. The look in your eyes was empty, blurred; there were a lot of people there. Many doctors, many operators - soldiers like Ghost. One of them wore a mohican, the other had thick eyebrows. The captain was talking to them in an isolated corner, the doctors were talking to each other about your condition, about what should be done from now on. There were agents from the British intelligence surrounding the site, and there were about hundreds of black bags stretched on the floor, closed. You still felt pain, although the healings now prevented blood from flowing freely through your forehead as before. The glass pieces had been removed from your arms, your face was clean now and even so, you never felt so dirty in your entire life.

Every time you dare to blink, you could swear that you would faint. Your hands were getting weaker, loosening around the bottle. The sudden sound of the bottle falling to the ground caught the attention of one of the men there – the captain. As far as you could realize, he called himself something Price.

“Miss.” He said, coming closer to you. Suddenly, there were eyes on you from every angle possible; all of the other soldiers turned to the ambulance where you were sitting now. You slowly raised your face to look back at Price, and he continued. “I’m not going to ask if it’s okay, this question is rhetorical. You need to be hydrated.” He was bowing down in front of you, taking the bottle he dropped and opening it, offering it to you. Your eyes checked at the bottle for a few seconds and your trembling hand finally grabbed it, drinking until the last drop you could - all at once. You could feel your throat burning, your skin seemed to be in living flesh. The appearance of your wounds was not as unpleasant as the feeling of having them, but you knew that all that would leave you some ugly scars.

You could not care about it now – in fact, couldn’t care about anything at all. Your mind was empty and you never felt so apathetic in such a distressful situation. 

“What am I going to do now?” You asked, in a whisper, your eyes completely lost. “I—what am I going to do...?,” you repeated, and there was nothing but an absolute feeling of raw pain and loss in your voice right at that moment, for as much as you tried to hide it.

Price swelled his chest, and his lips compressed into a line. “You don’t have to worry about anything now. We’ll take care of everything,” he assured. “The government has a great defense program for disasters like this, you won’t be without a roof,” he finished, trying to calm you down. You closed your eyes and shaken your head, but you did not respond. There was nothing to say, nothing to do; what could be done besides trusting that everything would go well? Trust that they would have a plan for you, a shelter, doctors, a chance of living after you were supposed to die in such a horrific way?

You didn’t even know if you wanted all that. Didn’t even knew if you wanted to be the only survivor. Surely not: at that time, you would rather have died among the other more than a hundred people who were now in black bags scattered on the floor in front of you. You felt so much - you felt gratitude for their work, for saving you, but at the same time you couldn’t help but to feel like a fraud for surviving while other died. Others that, somewhat, deserved more than you to live. There was so much in your mind now, but little that you could really synthesize and make sense of.

You drowned your face between your hands, unable to cry, but wanting so deeply to hide from them, from those men, from doctors, from the press, from everything. Wanting to be away from everything, wanting to be dead for once.

A little further away, Ghost observed you. His broad arms crossed, his posture relentlessly perfect as always. His eyes looked at your gestures, scanned your body —all those wounds, poor girl, he thought. Although he was sure there was no more of a heart in his chest, he felt comprehensive towards your emotions. The horrors you had lived in such a short space of time, the unbearable consequences that that meant for your poor mind. The trauma. The pain.

He could not help but think that he saw a bit of himself in you. Not a bit of Ghost – a little bit of Simon. A little bit of the little Simon who felt an immeasurable strain in his chest, a void that could not be filled. 

When the doctors finally helped you to get up in the ambulance and sit on one of the available chairs, your face turned over your own shoulder and you found his eyes stuck to yours. It felt intimidating in some way; perhaps the way his confidence didn’t allow him to look away while you stared at him, or something in the way he seemed capable of reading right through you like a good book of his. He was a savior to you, and somehow it still seemed his persona was conflicting with the one of a savior. He was something else, perhaps still a benefactor, but somehow, a very dangerous man.

There was not a single feeling in his eyes, quite the opposite. There was pure coldness, and yours on the other hand carried some gratitude and ingratitude at the same time. You felt grateful that he had saved you, but at the same time, felt angry at him for not having let you die. You entered the ambulance, and your eyes continued to lock a gaze against his until the moment someone closed the car door from outside.

Ghost turned his eyes at last, and saw Price approaching.

“Fuck.” The captain whispered, laying his hands on his waist, looking at all the misfortune that the incident had caused to that place. “How many bodies?” He asked, looking at Simon with the corner of his eyes.

“A hundred and two so far.” Ghost answered quietly.

“And have you found the bodies of the sons of bitches who did this?” Price said with some disgust and hatred attached to his voice. Ghost assented positively, which made Price crack the dust almost instantly into a distressed expression.

“Motherfuckers.” He grunted, turning to the rest of the team. Soap, who had been remaining in silence for thorough all the search, dared to finally speak.

“We have a lot to report, hm?” He raised his eyebrows, and received a Price assent in response.

“To the headquarters." The captain ordered, making his way to the helicopter that awaited for them, and they left.

[megsironthrone]

Panicking

Based on this request: : if requests are still open could i please request a sandor/reader where they escape kings landing together but she falls ill as they travel and he’s worried about losing her but is afraid to show it? she’s okay at the end and they confess ☺️💓

Here you are, lovely! I apologize for the wait! *Familiar characters are NEVER mine!*

Warnings: mentions of illness, cute fluff, it's a little short

Pairings/Characters: Sandor Clegane x fem!reader

Sandor Clegane was panicking. Sure, he hid it well, but you’d spent enough time with him in recent months to know. He had absolutely no clue what to do here. That didn’t faze you much. You knew how to care for yourself. The only question was why? Why was he panicking? You’d certainly gotten closer since you left King’s Landing together, but surely he didn’t care enough about you that a little illness would make him so antsy. Did he?

Sandor’s POV

What the Seven Hells was he supposed to do now?! This was not part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to fall ill. Illness out in the wilderness almost certainly led to death. You couldn’t die. You couldn’t. Not when Sandor-

“Sandor?” your weak voice broke through Sandor’s racing thoughts. He turned his sharp gaze to you and you attempted a smile. “We should probably make camp somewhere. I need to sleep.” Sandor didn’t reply, but nodded as his mind went back to imagining every scenario and outcome of this. All of them: bad. 

After finding somewhere to set up camp, you insisted on helping which Sandor tried to fight against. You argued back and forth until a fit of coughing led you to agree with Sandor and lie down for the night. Sandor stayed awake, keeping watch and listening to your labored breathing. He wondered if you would survive the night. Once you were asleep, Sandor sighed heavily and whispered, “Don’t die on me. The world’s taken so much from me and given me nothing…except you.” He spent the rest of the night hoping you’d get better.

*time skip*

You were finally feeling well again. It had been nearly a week since you’d fallen ill and both you and Sandor were beginning to feel like it would never pass. Sandor didn’t know who or what to thank. If the gods did exist, they had spared you. If they didn’t, then you were clearly tougher than anyone thought. An occasional cough still escaped you every now and again, but other than that, you were better. 

However, for a few days after that, you didn’t speak much. You seemed to be lost in thought so Sandor didn’t push. You would talk when you were ready and, until then, Sandor would enjoy the quiet for once. He would end up wishing the quiet would last longer when you finally did speak one night. 

“Sandor?” you asked and he hummed in response so you continued, “I heard you. The night you asked me not to die.” Sandor froze. You were not meant to hear that moment of weakness on his part. Not at all. Embarrassment worked its way through Sandor and almost instantly turned into anger. Something you picked up on almost immediately. 

“Please don’t be embarrassed!” you pleaded, “I-I’m glad I heard. If I hadn’t, I don’t think you ever would have told me that you…care for me.” Sandor let out a frustrated sigh through his nose. You went on quickly, “And then I wouldn’t have the chance to tell you that I care for you too. Very much. I don’t know if I could imagine life without you in it anymore.” 

Sandor pulled his horse to an abrupt stop, causing the animal to whinny. He stroked the beast's mane while staring at you. No one had ever admitted to caring for him before. “I don’t know if what I feel is love. At least not yet, but I am sure it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to it,” you confessed, your voice growing softer.

Nothing more was said, but Sandor felt himself blushing. The two of you carried on your journey after that. He would occasionally glance over at you and, when your eyes inevitably met, you would both look away quickly. You kept biting your lip, but Sandor could see the hint of a smile trying to fight its way onto your face. His face grew even hotter, if that was possible, but inside, Sandor felt a warmth he’d never felt before. A warmth that grew every time he looked at you. It was pleasant and foreign and Sandor liked it. It was a feeling the giant of a man would hold onto for the remainder of his life. Hopefully with you by his side.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @supernatural4life2022 @line-viper @etherealpotter @gruffle1 @frozenhuntress67 @cd1242 @smalltownbigheart @asgards-princess-of-mischief

Sandor "The Hound" Clegane Tags: @songoficecreamandfireworks @nkjktk @silversprings98

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Hi love ❤️ I was wondering if you could do Dabi, Shigaraki, chrono and Kai with a S/O who who just grabs them and shoves their face in to her chest when they monologue. Like the S/O is just tired of their endless ranting so she does that to shut them up

*cracks fingers* I would love to-

Listen, you and Dabi rarely fights, so usually a argument is more like the kind of "Oh I like cheese" while the other is staring at you in disgust with a "You are mentally ill."

Really. That's it.

Is actually pretty funny, but now? You were almost throwing a chair at the mktherfucker since he was mocking you about not winning a bet you both made over a movie.

"Another loss doll, what a shame." He muttered, resting his smug face on his hands as he leaned on the kitchen counter as you deadpanned at him.

"Yeah yeah you won, now leave me alone." You hissed.

"Nah. I just need to see your expression at losing again. I can't even remember the count now, do you? I think I won on our lil discussions about of... 100 times already?" He made a false thinking expression as you threw a towel at him...

He obviously dodged with a cackle.

"SHUT UP!"

"I'm just speaking the truth here." He spat with a snort.

You had enough and just went to where he was. Thankfully he was sitting down so it would be more easy.

"Oh. Someone wants a round 2?" He smirked devilish before his eyes went wide open when your hands just grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his face right into your tatas.

Well... that was unexpected but surely not unwelcome.

"You're done?" You grumbled with a smile on your face as you nuzzle on his tainted hair before you felt a pair of rough hands squeezing your waist and surely felt a warmth emitting from his face.

"Yeah. I'm shutting up now." The vibrations of his rough voice made you ticklish.

He wouldn't. If you do this every time he will never shut his mouth.

Probably was complaining about heroes or a game he didn't won or smth.

And you were just like "hey chill os not the end of world."

Okay, not LITERALLY because if you say that it will surely cause trouble between you two.

But you got it.

I will go with the second option since I kinda feel bad for him considering the recents events (both manga and anime)

"Tomu is okay."

"No its not." He growled, fingers already at work on scratching his neck "Didn't you see it? That guy obviously cheated. Probably is a momma or daddy boy and got those cheats on games paying billions for it."

"Huh?" You let out. Sometimes in the middle of his angry ramblings you couldn't understand or just the dots didn't connected.

But something you didn't want was for this man to mess up his skin more than it was. His neck was a victim of abuse from his nails already.

You got up in the kindle of his rambling and gently started to caress the oily hair he had before sucefully hushing him and bringing him to a hug with his face other between your chest.

The rambling immediately stopped as his hands started to tremble and for a moment you were afraid you did something to piss him off even more when he just straight up pushed himself away abruptly.

But the sign his face was now a deep shade of red that matched his ruby eyes immediately melted your worry away as you muffled your giggle with your hand.

"Sorry, that got you out of guard tomu?"

He glared up at you before standing up from his chair before just burning his face on your neck, not touching you with his hands still.

He can't even remember why he was so mad about.

Look how effective your love was!

ALL HE KNOWS IS COMPLAIN I SWEAR TO GOD-

Sorry, this man drives me crazy

Anyway-

Surely was bitching about heroes and diseases and how they shouldn't exist/need a cure after bumling with one of them on his walk.

And normally you would sit and listen with pleasure since you were basically the only one Chisaki was open with absolutely everything.

But today was not your day.

You were just staring at him pacing around the room while you were sat on the bed just wanting to go to sleep.

It was a bold and dangerous move considering that normally you warn Chisaki or he just sees so he can prepare himself.

But nope. You just got up and pulled him abruptly to a hug with his face right on your minimum covered chest.

"Please Kai just go to bed... " You sighed while trying to carres the back of his skull.

Only later realizing the fair uncomfortable position he might been.

Chisaki was a bit taller than you... and the angle he was now made him arch his back rather... awkwardly.

You were about to pull away until his gloved hands grabbed the back of your night shirt as he exhaled shakily on you.

Oh...

Guess you guys found a coping mechanism for when he gets nervous.

He doesn't complain. He is an angel.

But he does go a rambling sometimes.

We saw that before he got attacked by a majority he was on ramble about to just kill aizawa.

Okay, maybe not a angel-

I totally can see Kurono as one of those dorky guys that goes mumbling without a care about something he enjoys it a lot.

And got shut out many times when he was a kid due to this habit (many times was Chisaki that ass-)

So he just tends to try to control it

Keyword try.

Because he is so comfortable around you that he can't just out of no where stop.

You're just watching him with a dreamy sigh as he explained in each detail about his favorite gun until he noticed your lack of response.

"Ha.. sorry about that." He scratched his cheek lightly

You weren't having that.

This man was so FLUSTERED when you scorched over and pulled him to nuzzle on your chest on the bed.

Face was 50 shades of red.

"Don't apologize for that. You like those things and I love hearing you talk. Please keep going."

I swear this man had heart eyes when staring up at you from his chest before he resumed his explanations but far more at ease at the position

Might have popped a boner

[infinite-criseas]

Sirius and James were truly inseparable, they did absolutely everything together. Unfortunately, this included getting sick at the same time.

Remus and Lily walk into the kitchen to see a very delirious Sirius Black baking cookies. James sits on the couch, covered in blankets and surrounded by tissues. His nose is rudolf red and eyes watering, he sniffles a sigh of relief as he sees his girlfriend and Remus entering. “Thank Merlin you’re here! I am quite literally dying of the plague and Pads is in complete denial of being ill. He tried to make me this awful soup earlier and now he’s baking cookies.”

“I’m completely fibe, strog as a castle. Picture of health.” Sirius half slurred. His hair was a frizzy mess, and his complexion was paler than usual. “Jabes on the other hand is very sick, he needs cookies”

Remus and Lily, very concerned and confused as to how cookies would solve anything hurried to Sirius to force him to put down the bowl. Remus stroked Sirius’ back, and murmured “Love, you’re sick…” Sirius relaxed a little into Remus’ shoulder, suddenly he became hyper aware of the body aches and pounding migraine.

Lily ran a hand over James’ forehead. “Oh my, you’re burning up James”

“I’m telling you Lils, Death has come for me. The aches, the pain. I’m a goner. Write something memorable on my tombstone” James whined dramatically.

“Ok drama queen. Let’s get you some actual soup and medicine. Remus could you run to the infirmiry and fetch some fever medication?” Lily asked, ready to solve this sickness. Remus nodded, still holding a very frail Sirius in his arms. “I’ll start the soup, and you two go to bed and rest. I don’t want to see either of you up until the soups ready.” Lily scolded.

“Whatever you say my love. Always knew you could fight death itself,” lovesick James replied. James and Remus half carried and half dragged Sirius to their room.

“Nobt sick….” Sirius murmured. His body was failing to agree. His eyes refused to stay open. They laid him in his bed and tucked him in. Remus sat next to him, stroking his hair until he fell asleep.

….

Lily was finishing up the soup, a recipe she knew would cure any sickness. Remus walked in with a handful of medicinal herbs and potions and dumped them on the table.

“mmm smells spectacular” Remus remarked.

“It’s a family recipe! It’ll cure absolutely anything.” Lily stated proudly. “and I hope it works fast because if little mrs melodrama says death is coming one more time I might actually lose it” Remus laughed, recalling how James was always this dramatic when he was sick or injured. It’s almost as if he put on an extra big show to hide any actual pain he might’ve felt, and rather replace it with the loving feeling of being cared for. Remus’ thoughts wandered, if only Sirius let people care for him like that instead of always putting up a fight of independence first. “You’re lucky,” Lily commented, “ Sirius isn’t dramatic when he’s sick - he’s just in denial”

To this Remus smirked. “Denial is just the first phase. Sirius becomes very silent and clingy when he’s sick, it’s quite adorable actually. Although, it does make getting stuff to make him feel better nearly impossible” Remus gushed.

Lily’s eyes widened “a quiet Sirius?! This I have to see,” she joked. “Anyways, soups ready want to bring the boys down?”

Remus and Lily went up to see James in a Shakespearean pose, grasping at the air.

“The light, it comes for me. The end is here.” James gasped. “Mayhaps this soup whose elegant aroma which fills the air will answer my prayers. Hark! A goddess, she enters with such grace” He said looking at Lily. Lily giggles, of course James would still be hitting on her in this state. “I am famished! Looks like Pads is still sleeping though.”

On the other bed, Sirius was curled up in a ball not moving. Remus, very concerned, sat at the edge of his bed and rubbed a hand across Sirius. Sirius was shaking softly, perhaps in response to his touch. “Let’s let him sleep, clearly he needs rest.” Remus said and made a motion to get up. Sirius’s hand grasped Remus’s thigh to make him stay. “Actually, why don’t you two go ahead. I’ll stay with Sirius til he wakes”

After James and Lily closed the door, Remus snuggled Sirius into the nook of his arms. He tried to find his boyfriend’s face in the bundle of blankets, and found a Sirius with tears flowing from his eyes. “Siri- what’s wrong babe?” Remus crooned.

“I don’t like being sick.” Sirius responded through sniffles. “I don’t want to have to be taken care of, it’s not fair” Tears poured down his face. When he was younger, he resolved to never be a burden to people like he was at home. And moments like these when he was sick, unable to be useful - all the haunting memories of Grimmauld place came rushing back all at once. All the yelling, the screaming. Reiterating how worthless he was unless he followed exactly what Walburga wanted him to be. He wasn’t even allowed to be sick as a child - just work through it, it will dissipate.

“Love, I want to care for you. You take care of all of us, let me love you back. You quite literally take care of me every full moon, why can’t I take care of you this once - if you ask me that’s not fair” Remus assured. Sirius melted into Remus’ body. He looked up at his boyfriend’s eyes, tears still welling up in his own.

“Thanks Moony” Sirius let out a relieved sigh. He was no longer at his childhood home, this was home now. He finally closed his eyes, while snuggling deeper into Moony and for the first time today was able to properly rest.

[hollowsart]

Thaal Sinestro of Korugar

-cracks knuckles-

Here's ALL of his lore that I cooked up:

(warning for: the sheer ungodly length of this, mentions of death, and a low-key humorous mention of alien physiology at the end cuz I couldn't help myself--)

(Some of this might still be a slight work in progress and/or may be subject to change later on. I'm not sure yet.)

-----

Backstory:

It wasn’t supposed to end that way. He wanted her to be safe and far away from the threat of action. Unfortunately.. he had made a mistake and it cost him greatly. Both heart and mind.

The loss of his wife.. the loss of his best friend, Abin Sur’s sister.. it caused quite the disruption in their friendship.

Some time well after that horrible event, Sinestro and Abin got into an altercation. An argument while out on duty. Abin had heard of Sinestro’s plans, but he didn’t agree with them. Both men were already still rocky and broken from the loss of Arin. So, when Sinestro was plotting some way of utilizing his GL powers to enforce order and protection.. no matter how unreasonable. Abin Sur lashed out. Calling him crazy, delusional, that nothing will ever bring her back.

Sinestro.. well.. he wasn’t thinking and without any ill intention.. he attacked Abin Sur. He only wanted to try and reason with him. He didn’t mean to do it.. but a stray blast from his ring managed to wreck the ship they were traveling in.. and the blast severely damaged Abin Sur.

..Sinestro fled the ship in horror, not seeing the fate of his friend as the ship hurtled down to a particular blue planet. The thought of having presumably killed his own partner and friend on top of having already dealt with the loss of his wife.. well.

That absolutely destroyed him. Shattered him so deeply.. he’s grown distant. Disconnected and apathetic. Bottling up, locking away, and throwing the key away with his emotions..

This was the beginning of the end of his GL career.. and the lead up to him being picked up by the Yellow Corps. The immense fear and angst building up inside him being strong enough he found a new life with the Yellow Lanterns. However, he couldn’t take the life and went rogue. Taking the ring with him and starting his own little sect.

----

imagine. some late series episode that ends with a little close up of some guy who looks a bit like Vincent Price for some reason lowering his newspaper and staring in Guy & Feste's direction as they head back home for the day after having a chat at some outdoor cafe.

you don't know who this weird guy is until it's later revealed that it was Sinestro. He ALSO used his ring to go incognito and appear human so as not to attract any attention while he "stalks" Guy & Feste for some reason idk I didn't think this far.

---

it kinda adds weight to the act of killing him. but like.. it probably killed Sinestro, too.. to do it. maybe it was an accident..? unintentional… during a fight.. and Sinestro was hiding it. and although Guy reminds him of Abin Sur… he hates Guy because he reminds him of Abin Sur and what he did to him. like a weird sort of "reincarnation" thing?? if that makes sense??

Guy being so angry at Sinestro for what he did feels almost cathartic for Sinestro cuz he knows he deserves it.

---

Sinestro sees occasional visions of his wife and friend begging and pleading for his help that will never come. This fuels his fear to power his ring. he needs fear to wield it. and that is a big fear. the repetitive action of losing his wife and friend and not being able to do anything about it.

---

Miscellaneous:

Soranik Natu was given the Natu surname as she was raised by another family. whether on Ungara or Korugar is undecided, but she does keep it.

Sinestro was unable to continue raising her as he was in no condition to do so, and Arin was.. well. out of the picture.

Sinestro sees Soranik and hears her name and he knows that's his daughter and he feels sick. She looks like her mother, he can see it. There's the underlying fear of what she may think of him and how much she may take after him. He is very aware of the terrible things he has done but he is blinded, in a sense, thinking what he is doing is for the greater good. to protect people..

To protect Soranik.

From a fate that fell upon Arin Sur and many others.

---

Soranik is like a combination of the two. her horns are smaller and so are her ears. she has tiny "tusks" (fangs?) compared to her mom.

but she also has elements similar to her dad.

also I can't help but think about Sinestro saying he wishes for his daughter to not become like him, but to instead become more like her mother. honor her memory. it's a terrible loss for the universe for someone like Arin Sur to no longer be in it..

---

I 100% want there to be a moment in an episode where Sinestro's backstory is revealed. like… his life he had up to when Guy first met him. We get to see just how tragic his backstory is.

There's been some subtle little hints here and there before, like someone from on Oa hearing Guy make a remark about Sinestro's weird earring and they tell him what they know.. how it's actually something very meaningful, a combination of two races and their culture. how it is a show of respect and mourning..

the mourning rituals of both Ungarans and Korugarians came together when Sinestro lost Arin. The piercings worn by those who lost a partner from Korugar.. and the wearing of a specific flora from Ungara..

Sinestro's mournful earring has a unique flora depicted hanging from it. A custom metal made to resemble that flora from Ungara.. to honor the memory of Arin Sur. He wears it always except when bathing or resting, but he keeps it with him ever so close at all times.

Should he lose that earring at all… well…

we might just see Sinestro become a Red Lantern.

---

I do kinda like the idea that Ungara and Korugar are relatively close planets with their own races inhabiting them. and because of this, the two races are uniquely compatible, genetically speaking, which leads to how Soranik Natu was born at all when Thaal Sinestro got with Abin Sur's sister, Arin Sur. Sinestro & Arin were the first ones to discover this.

Also, Ungarans are taller than Korugarians. Soranik stands a little taller than Sinestro.

Sinestro is 5'5" (average)

Soranik is 5'9"

Arin & Abin Sur: 6'6" 6'8" (average)

---

(Warning for alien physiology talk & humor)

what if Sinestro has never seen a human before and the first time he sees Guy shirtless in the Oa locker room he notices Guy only has 2 n1ps and Sinestro is like:

"Only 2? However will you feed all your young? Surely they should starve with such a lack of bodily provisions."

And Guy stands there extremely confused. Asks him what in the ever-loving heck he's talking about. Sinestro responds by merely removing his own clothes and presents his 8 n1ps.

Guy is understandably disturbed by the implications now registering in his mind.

If Guy ever mentions pregnancy, Sinestro responds "The women carry the young and the men provide for the young. ..What does your kind do? Don't tell me the women do all the work and that you're utterly useless? You humans are quite the odd creature."

Guy is very much offended.

[serawritesthings]

hi! do you take requests? if not you can discard this but i really love the way you write emotionally charged moments so i’d love your writing style on this prompt, it can be a one shot or more of a blurb whichever you like: so perhaps taking place post canon where arthur is found half dead on that cliff and reader is nursing him back to health, trying hard to stay strong and believe he’ll get better but arthur is just waiting to die any day now and wishing he hadn’t been found, until he hears reader in another room crying to herself having to see him so deathly ill like that and slowly losing hope. so he starts feeling more determined to at least try for her sake and maybe see her smile one last time. but in the end he does get better, not quite back to his full strength yet but better 🥹 hope i didn’t ramble too much, i absolutely love your work and the way you write and i can’t wait to see what you post next 🫶🏻

IN TREMBLING ARMS

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | While the world you had built around yourself seemed to crumble right before you, the last measures to sustain your happiness grew hard to take as the man you love fell deeper into his own despair. Tags | Angst-heavy, description of violence and wounds, fluff somewhere... :o Word Count | 11.4k A/N | Hiiii lovelies! ♡ I recently got this request that I really liked the sound of, which meant I obviously had to write it;) I hope what I wrote was in tune with what you had in mind! Enjoy! Also, thank you for the kind words♡

The pain of recalling an old life is surely something we’re all familiar with. Undoubtedly, it’s a brutal world we live in, one that sometimes takes too much and only gives small crumbles in return. You often found yourself crawling the ground to pick up these crumbs, laden with dust and dirt, just like your joyous memories are tainted in blood and pain–small glimpses of happiness amidst the hardship in day-to-day life, the tiny things that make living worth fighting for.

They were all thanks to Arthur. You’d been aware for quite a while that he didn’t think highly of himself, meaning he couldn’t possibly estimate how much his presence impacted your life. He couldn’t see that every good memory lately was in his favor–how he held your entire world in the bare palm of his hands. He could never understand, and you could tell he didn’t.

Every part of you was clinging to the last remains of a man who dropped the world’s weight off his shoulders, preparing to breathe the last breaths on this earth, alone and without you. It was so close now that you could almost taste it. You could tell by how his shoulders dropped heavily in resignation, the words that grew dull and lifeless, and his wit that never failed to bring a smile to your lips disappeared. 

Even so, you saw glimpses of the man you fell for, and if you looked closely, you could find those few crumbles that gave you hope, even though they were ridden with filth. He’d still pinch your waist lightly to jest when you were in a bad mood, always putting your comfort above his own, even though he needed it more.

The burden on his shoulders was heavier than ever when he returned from being out. He was no doubt following Dutch's careless orders that, with time, became more uncaring and, worst of all, unsafe. It bothered you heavily that there was no regret anymore as he bid his orders around like Arthur wasn’t hunching down in exhaust with every step, more often than not needing a seat as coughs so rough wrecked through him, never failing to make you cringe.

Of course, Arthur could take care of himself, never stopping short of explaining that to you. But now, times were different, and you could see his eyes grow slightly more hollow every time he returned to you, and his bloodshot eyes grew into normality.

So naturally, you never stopped short when voicing your concerns to Arthur, but he was so headstrong he refused to acknowledge the toll everything was taking on his body. Deep down, you wondered if he continued since he had come to terms with his fate, putting other’s safety before his own because he had simply stopped trying. 

He damned you for not listening to him, but his words held no real threat because he couldn't find it in himself to force you away against your will. So he let you stay, and through his violent coughs and wheezing, he always felt you rub his back soothingly, knowing that his time was running short. Because of this, he took every chance to bask in your gentle touches that felt more like home than anything else.

"Did you find out anything about John today?" Speaking softly, you run your fingers through his tousled hair, undoubtedly from wearing his rugged hat all day, observing his tired face as you were on his lap, Arthur sitting down as he came back to rest his aching legs.

"Mmm, we did." Thumbing at the fabric of the shirt you had stolen from him, he let the words rumble softly against you, breathing warmly against the chilled skin of your cheek.

"Abigail's real worried, you know, begged to come with us." Humming, you pondered over his words. Your dear friend has been over her head in worry as of late, the disappearance of John not doing the slightest to ease her anxiety.

"We'll get him back." You weren't sure if you were reassuring Arthur or yourself, but then again, there wasn't much you were sure of anymore. It seemed unlikely that anything you would say would comfort him, but that didn’t mean you didn’t try–every chance you got, you wanted to make him see reason.

Bringing you closer, he breathed heavily into your shoulder, throat whistling slightly from the strain, as his hands gripped your waist firmly, sighing in contentment when you hugged him back.

"How are you feeling?" you whispered, earlier taking notice of his eyes that had grown redder than usual and the slight blood stain he hastily wiped when you approached him, hoping you didn't get the time to spot it.

"The usual, I guess." Nodding slightly to appear positive before you, he let out a heavy sigh.

As the silence stretched, he kissed the top of your head lovingly after a while when you nuzzled your head further into his shoulder, savoring the moment since you hadn’t seen him much these past days. 

"Tomorrow, me and Sadie thought about goin’-" You didn't give him a chance to finish, lifting your head from his shoulder as a frown appeared. God, you knew it was coming, but you had hoped he would still see reason and not do something stupid like that in his condition.

"Couldn't someone else go with Sadie? You not-" Catching yourself before you said the words you knew would get him riled up, you sighed slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm just so worried about you, Arthur. About everything."

"Hey." Cradling you closer, he softly grabbed your chin between his calloused fingers, beckoning you to meet his warm gaze. "What did we talk about, hm? I'll be alright." 

You grabbed his cheek and stroked your thumbs against the scarred skin. He was so beautiful to you, just like he had always been, and you were sure he would scoff at you if you voiced your thoughts. But it was true. That face had seen you through the most challenging times of your life, and never had they been the reason for your tribulations and sadness. 

"Now you're just lying to me to make me feel better." A long silence followed as you stared at each other, both stubborn beyond means, until the corners of his mouth raised slightly, a low chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but smile against your will, trying to keep your previous frown on your face. 

His eyes, often weathered and wise, turned into soft pools of warmth and affection as they gazed at you. The world’s weight seemed to lift every time, even now, leaving only the tender vulnerability of a man deeply in love.

"Now, now," he spoke, words growing into his usual teasing tone as he grazed his hands along the fabric covering your sides, a wicked smirk growing on his lips. There’s an intoxicating allure to how his lips curve, never stopping short of making the butterflies in your stomach go haywire. "There's that smile I've been looking for." 

Slightly tickling the sides of your stomach, you gasped as you tried peeling his hands away when a giggle left you from the unexpected sensation. Damned be Arthur and his refusal to let you worry about him, always trying to lessen your pain when he was severely worse. 

"No, Arthur! Stop it!" Laughing merrily, he placed small kisses in the small crevice of your neck, relentlessly tickling your sides as you squirmed in his arms, an ugly laugh leaving you as you found it harder and harder to breathe amidst his torture. He snickered audibly at the sound leaving you, always finding humor in the strange quirks he loved so much.

The moment didn't last long, though, for the gut-wrenching coughs that left him amidst your banter made the cheerfulness of the moment quickly grow into a distant memory. Arthur would tell you he was okay and that all he needed was a few moments, just like he always did, but you both knew the disease was growing more severe as time passed.

Your precious memories grew less and less, though, and as time passed, there were hardly any crumbs left for you to pick up. The ugly paint of power, distrust, and hatred covered them. A hatred that grew so deep in every single being that surrounded you, and even in yourself. Hostility from one’s upbringing, misfortune, and wrong-doings. Bitterness for striving towards a goal that doesn’t have a finishing line, only a no-return sign at both the start and end. 

A selfish disdain, it is, and oh so human. How could you possibly find the end where everyone could make amends when they had no will to change? How could you save him when he didn’t want to be saved? His only interest now was to get everyone away from the gang that he could for the time being. It had been apparent for some time now that whatever this was, it was over.

Because of this, Arthur told you to leave some time ago. He had begged you on his hands and knees as the blood he coughed up dripped like rain down his paled, gray skin. A beautiful tragedy it was, one that would leave people in a theater with tears glistening down their cheeks as the sight before them clenched at their hearts. That wasn’t how you experienced it, though. It was more like someone cutting through your numb skin and laying your heart down on the table to unfold every crevice and nook to prod at every part that hurt so terribly with a knife. 

It made you wonder if hearts could bleed. You weren’t sure, but somehow you knew yours did as every strained cough from the man you love caused the tears that fell from your eyes to turn into a deep red, mingling with his on the ground. 

As he begged, you could only stare at the ghost of a man you once loved: the warm skin turning cold under the palm of your hands, calculating and mischievous eyes growing vulnerable and exposed, and strong arms that once held you tightly, weak and skinny. They gripped your skirt for dear life like the sullen fabric covered with filth kept his weary body alive. And god, how you tried, despite the pitying looks thrown your way and resistance from Arthur's side, you wanted to keep him alive.

You had hated no one in your meager, seemingly insignificant life, but you hated Arthur. You hated him passionately for trying to make you leave behind the only thing that made you feel even the slightest bit of happiness. The only reason you had stayed with these people for so long was him, only him, and now he asked you to leave so he could spend the rest of his short time either getting shot or dying from his disease?

“You go now, or I’ll drag you on that train myself and tie you to the seat.” Silence had followed his last attempt to push you away, thick with a wave of heated anger from both of you as the remnants of your love grew shrouded in an unwillingness to understand. You didn’t want to recognize his worry, for you knew it would be the end for you and him.

“I ain’t got much left to lose now, so I must do this. You have to understand. Go.” The bitterness in his words grew colder as he spoke; the conversation that started so filled with passion grew harsh.

“Don’t get much to lose?” Your meek voice was choked up with frustration as you felt your heart drop to the ground. “What about me?!” 

Everything hurt deeply, like he had set your whole body alight and then stomped on the remaining ashes. You had tried so hard to keep your head straight for Arthur through these challenging times, following every step he took loyally, never once questioning his decisions. Him telling you to leave had been the final straw. For him to expect you to give up everything you had done for him made you wonder how much you were worth to him.

“You can’t just tell me to leave!” Broken sobs left you when you spoke, hands trembling where you tried to rip his hands off your skirt, anything to lessen the tightening in your chest. When he didn’t ease his grip, your hands hit his chest as tears flowed down your warm cheeks. He closed his eyes from where he sat, the grip on your skirt turning his skin ghostly pale as you tried to create some distance, refusing to let you back away. 

In your head, he was supposed to want you with him until the last second, and you could not dare imagine it any other way. Because of this, it wounded you deeper than he could imagine.

The hands that never once had grown harsh with you only pulled you closer, letting you bat tirelessly at him while your eyes grew heavy with a furious sadness gnawing at your insides. The surrounding air had become thicker than it usually was in the confines of Beaver Hollow, so it left you gasping for air as the distress wound its way around your throat.

His eyes were as warm as they always seemed when looking at you, and you damned him for it. Even when Arthur broke your heart, he rendered you entirely at his mercy the way he kept this gaze reserved for only you–like he understood you.

“I hate you.” Growing weak, you sank to your knees and rested your weary head on his chest, letting him hold you as you trembled in his sickly arms. 

Soon after that, it seemed everything had reached a breaking point, and it couldn’t have been late enough. Arthur put you behind Sadie on the tall horse, making her promise to get you somewhere safe while he went and risked his life. Risk it for what you thought, kicking and screaming at him as he lifted you. Sadie was trying to comfort you, her hand on your waist as the worry for you and Arthur filled her mind.

"Let me down!" Tears were falling from your bloodshot eyes, filled with endless pools of agony and sorrow as the man before you avoided your gaze. "You're not sending me away!" You attempted to swing your leg over the saddle as you spoke through the hiccups that wrecked through you, fighting against Sadie’s hold.

"Please, sweetheart, come on." Broad arms caught your waist hastily, lifting you to put you back behind the worried woman. "Go with Sadie, now; she'll keep you safe." His voice grew distressed as you resisted, a deep worry for your safety that he always kept as a priority clouding his thoughts when you didn’t comply.

Not listening to him, you shimmered down the horse and threw your arms around Arthur's familiar embrace, burying your head in his shoulder as you breathed in his familiar scent. "Don't leave me here; please take me with you." 

You knew now that his death was inevitable, an end you had refused to acknowledge as possible ever since you first set your eyes on him. Despite this, the love you kept for him made everything pale in comparison, not wanting to spend the endless days of the remaining part of your life without him. If he would find his solace in death, so would you.

He didn't answer you, instead wounding his arms around your smaller frame as he hugged you tightly against him, trying to map out every part of you into his mind so that even in death, he could remember the feeling of you forever. 

"Don't go." You begged him without shame, holding onto him tightly as your tears darkened the material of his shirt. "I'm begging you."

You felt a pair of hands cover your cheeks, the blue orbs you knew so well staring reassuringly into yours, hiding the endless anguish taking cover behind its facade.

"I love you, sweetheart." His voice shook as he spoke, gazing with a terrible agony into yours. "I love you so much, you hear me?" Shaking your head slightly as he said, you could only weep as you realized your attempts to save him were useless. 

"I love you too, Arthur," you said through sobs. Arthur was stroking the tears from your eyes as he pulled you in one last time, face scrunching together from having to leave you as he kissed the top of your hair.  

So, in the end, he watched you leave as you stared after him in disbelief when Sadie set off, your body growing numb as he disappeared between the forest trees, hugging the woman as sobs wrecked through you.

"God." Crouching down, he panted as coughs broke through the silence surrounding him after you departed. But it didn’t seem to be the only thing rendering him on his knee as the dirty ground prodded at his knees, the all-to-consuming thought of never seeing you again clamping at his heart something so fierce he thought he might heave.

He had never been a stranger to heartache, having lived a life full of gut-wrenching memories and stories that were not for the faint-heartedly. But this, this was something entirely else. All these years of fighting, never knowing where he would rest his head the next night, and for what? So he could be free? He had been angry, so very angry at the world. 

It all felt meaningless now, the constant blood on his hands, the pain he had brought others that might as well have been him had he chosen another path, the choice to drag you with him to the gates of hell instead of taking your hand and running off so he could keep you forever. 

And in the end, as he lay there on the mountain, bleak eyes staring at the rising sun, he could feel an unfamiliar peace crawl up his feet, relaxing the very troubled muscles that had never rested up to his chest where a heavy weight had been present his whole life. In it, the heaviness had torn a big hole in his chest that pulled every good thing that had found him in his life into the prolonged darkness. 

 But somehow, a relief was spreading in his mind as he figured peace was closer than he thought, slowly and surely beginning to unfold in front of him. Darkness spread around him as the last lights reached his eyes before the tired lids grew shut, the now ever-so-strong memory of you branded into his mind.

–

You were no stranger to the rain. As a child, you reveled in the droplets that fell from the sky when the clouds formed. It was so simple, yet a memory so strong that it stuck with you throughout your life. Now, though, the rain that clung to your clothes only made the numbness grow worse, unable to feel your fingers as you rode on the muddy path that stretched before you, slippery and treacherous. It was no longer comforting, raking through your body like ice, chilling you from tip to toe.

Although not sure of your actions, there wasn't a single regret in your body for leaving both Sadie and Abigail when they found John, taking the first chance to head back the way you came from, the glimmer of hope that you would discover Arthur alive pushing you on, even though it dimmed with time. 

When John returned, he could only look at you sadly while shaking his head, the look in his eyes enough for you to understand that Arthur hadn’t come with him. But you knew, of course you did, that he wasn’t coming back to you; his words and your knowledge of his ways are telling enough.

You had calmed down now, thinking more logically, but you preferred how you felt before instead of the hole beginning to form in your chest. It consumed you, growing bleaker and bleaker with time, making you wonder if you would ever find Arthur.

You found him eventually, but the torment of seeing him lying lifeless as the warm, lingering evening sun glazed over his skin beat at your bruised heart. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looked so small, like his body was cowering against the ground, seeking shelter from the cold breeze and a world that had grown so cruel, so malicious. 

If the anguish following his departure was anything to go by, the sheer pain that shot through you after your bewildered moment of silence could only be likened to a thousand times worse. What you had feared the most seemed to be reality now, and it couldn’t have hurt any less.

Your aching feet, sore from climbing the far way up the mountain, ran the muddy path up to him as your hands enclosed his cold cheeks–swollen and purple with bruises as dried blood covered the majority of his skin. 

“No, no, no!” You mouthed the words since you couldn’t get a single sound to leave you, a force so firmly clamping at your throat. You grabbed his clothes, shaking him as if it would make a difference and show a sign of life. It didn’t work, so you could only wrap your trembling arms around his neck, wailing out his name while begging the heavens above to bring him back to you, for the pain was too much to bear.

How would you continue life without him? The thought was too heavy to consider, your distressed mind refusing to believe he was gone. He’d always rise back up the moment something brought him down, so strong mentally and physically that you sometimes wondered how he was real. Why couldn’t he do that now and spare you all this hurt?

“Do you remember when we first met, how you always told me we would run away, just you and me?" Grabbing his hand, you placed small, lingering kisses on the battered knuckles, intertwining his fingers with yours as your voice trembled fiercely. 

There had been a magnetic pull in the way his gaze had lingered on you when he spoke of his deepest wishes as if every word was a silent vow etched into the very fabric of your relationship. It’s something you both said of often when everything grew heavy, like an escape from reality to what things could be.

“How can we do that now if you’re going to leave me?” Sobs wrecked through you, gazing at his closed eyes while you internally begged for them to open. “Why are you leaving me?!”

Resting your head on his chest, you breathed in the scent solely your Arthur as he flooded your senses. Your guttural cries of anguish filled the air until your voice broke, eyes growing heavy with strain while you could only lay there with him, imagining he was alive under you.

Your head had grown empty after that, laying upon the body you had so many times before. You remembered the moments of complete and utter peace when he held you in the confines of his tent, warm hands always managing to find sanction around your waist no matter how exhausted he was.

The thought made you smile, remembering how his heartbeat would pick up as you intertwined your fingers. He was in many ways stoic, rarely sharing how you affected him, but you knew. In secret, of course, you knew, and you would kill to feel that again.

But when he fell asleep underneath you, the beating pattern would cease and instead follow a slower thud, never failing to bring you to sleep. Just like it beat now, you felt the lids of your eyes that were still wet with tears grow heavy under the comforting thudding of his heart, lulling you closer and closer to sleep.

Your eyes shot open so fast that you almost got a whiplash, raising your knees in disbelief. Arthur was lying still even now, body still beaten and bruised, but as you put your fingers on his pulse, you could feel it.

There it was, the slight thud of a pulse buried deep between the layers of skin and flesh, keeping Arthur alive despite the turmoil that had rendered his body almost inert. Grabbing the sides of his face, you shook it slightly, hope now filling your mind even though he didn’t move a single muscle. 

God, he was alive, even though barely. The air got lodged in your throat as you felt puzzled, having been dead set on having to bury a corpse. 

“Arthur, can you hear me?” Not a single indication left him as you spoke, wiping the hair covering his eyes so you could get a better look at him. A slight fluttering of his eyelashes could be seen as your voice broke through the stillness of the mountain. The more you grabbed his body in disbelief, the more movements you saw from him: fingers twitching slightly, small intakes of breath, and brows furrowing in small motions. 

Raising on your feet, you sat down with his head in your lap, stroking his cheeks gently before you started tapping at them briskly, anything to wake him up. It didn’t work, so you started calling for him loudly, hoping it would reach him wherever he was. 

“God dammit, Arthur, wake up!” 

That did it. Unfocused eyes began to open up from underneath you, though Arthur found it difficult because of the swelling around the eyes. Seeing him so beaten up hurt you heavily, but you put all your energy into making him regain consciousness, forcing the turmoil far away from your mind. 

“Hey, look at me. Can you see me?” The slightest motion of a nod could be seen, and you thanked whoever above that he responded to you.

Although through blurry eyes, he could see a slight indication of you hovering above him, wondering if he somehow had ended up in heaven to be able to gaze at you one last time. But maybe it was hell after all, the torturing fire replaced with you, barely in reach where he couldn’t touch you, which was the worst kind of torture he could conjure up.

You could see his fingers flex slightly, in your mind trying to show signs that he heard you, but in his stretching so he could reach out to you to touch the softness of your skin with his sinful hands.

“I need your help, Arthur. I can’t carry you alone, so you need to try, okay?” To be quite honest with yourself, you had no idea what you were doing, never mind if it was even possible to get him to move to the state he was in. But you had to try, at least. You weren’t leaving him here to fend for himself in search of help, pondering if those few moments could lead to his death. It was the only way.

“I told you to leave.” Amidst his close-to-death confusion, Arthur had grown more conscious, managing to speak as his eyes closed again. He realized you weren’t conjured up; instead, you were as real as could be as you prodded at his exhausted limbs. 

You ignored his hurtful words, putting your arms under his head so you could assist in getting him to raise. He wasn’t light, that was for sure, but still, you tried until he was sitting up, although his head was hanging low and his back was arched forward in exhaustion.

“Come on, Arthur, I need you to help me.” Amidst your tries to keep him upright, you felt the all too familiar flood of tears threatening to flood from your eyes when the challenge felt impossible. You never felt so weak as you did right now, the possibility of helping him stay alive fading against the man's heaviness and your weary muscles. 

“Honey, go. You-” Arthur slurred out as he almost dropped. “You shouldn’t be here.” Yelling in frustration as he once again fell towards the muddy ground, you put your hand over your face as the dam of tears broke.

“I’m not leaving you here to die, Arthur!” Taking a deep breath, you bent down again to try once more. His eyes were barely open now, staring at you in pain. “Please, just try.”

A loud grunt left him as he raised again, hands gripping the soil underneath him, damning your stubbornness. Although weak, you managed to get him to stand, leaning most of his weight on you. It was hard, no doubt, to feel his body supporting your smaller one, but it worked, for now. The breaths leaving him were awful, and he gasped out loud as you stepped forward slowly. 

“This ain’t gonna work, honey,” Arthur mumbled, not a single hope left in his body to survive the long way to safety.

“Yes, it is.” You refused to listen to him, mind set straight on getting him to the horse. 

Far back in your mind, you remembered a place Arthur used to take you, always going on about a man he used to hunt with until your ears bled. He had told you of its location when the poor man had died, bringing you there once. That should be fine, you thought. Hopefully, it was empty. If not, you have another problem on your hands. 

The way back to the mare was challenging, with both of you falling countless times as the ground underneath you was uneven and riddled with stones. But your stubbornness wasn’t in vain because, after some time, you saw the familiar black coat of the horse appearing in front of you like an angel.

Not a single sound left him, eyes now almost closed as coughs left him then and again, both body and mind tired. He was taller than you, so he got on the horse much faster than you initially thought possible. Soon after, you swung your legs over the saddle in front of him, letting him lean his weight on you as you circled his arms around your waist so he wouldn’t fall off. 

“Stay awake, Arthur.” Glancing back when you didn’t get an answer, you only met a tuft of hair as his head fell on your shoulder. “Come on, I can’t do this without your help.” 

The road to the house you barely remembered was long, and you couldn’t ride too fast, worried about the grip on you that grew less by the minute. Thankfully, he had managed to stay awake the whole ride, but you felt his breathing grow more unstable and shallow. 

The weather on that mountain had been forgiving, like time and space had stopped moving in sorrow, the warm sun covering you in its blanket. Now, though, the howling wind surrounding you made your surroundings bitterly cold, arms held in front of you to see where you were going.

Many times, you tried to speak to make sure he was still with you, but your voice grew muted against the forceful wind, so you gave up, hoping his weight on you meant he held some sort of consciousness.

As time passed and darkness began to spread around you, a small house by a lake appeared behind many trees and foliage. It was different from what you remembered, but still, somehow the same, staring back at you like some sort of angel, the promise of comfort egging you forward.

Not a word was exchanged as you helped him down the horse, a solemn resignation making him follow your will without a complaint, or maybe he was too tired to complain; you weren’t sure.

Stumbling through the doorway, it felt just as cold as outside, shivers shooting through you. It felt strange just barging into a dead man's home, but you deemed your selfishness just, Arthur’s health at the forefront of your mind. Empty of life, it was, and it made you relax slightly, not having to worry about someone else taking refuge here.

Soon, you could rest your heavy arms; you thought as the bed in the right corner of the house appeared before you like a halo. With the door closing behind you with a slam, you waste no time pulling Arthur with you in clumsy steps, letting him lay down on the soft mattress with a huff, dust flying around you as the bed creaked audibly under his weight. 

Glancing at Arthur, his face was still contorted in pain as it had been since you found him. You carefully lifted his legs on the bed, removing the filthy, wet shoes from his feet and throwing them to the floor. Leaning over him, you touched his freezing cheek, finding him already passed out.

Hastily, you removed the wet clothes from his shivering body, laying them by the foot of the bed as you hurried to drape the sheets as well as some pelts you found over him to warm him up. Looking around, you tried to get your hands on some firewood to warm up the house, thankfully finding some not too long after your search. Your arms complained, though, from the weight already spent from the strenuous day–blisters on your fingers only worsen it. 

The room soon filled itself with an orange glow, bouncing in heavy shadow on the walls, and your whole body huddled close to the fire as you warmed your hands for a moment, not realizing amidst your frenzy that you, also, were almost freezing to death in the chilly night.

It only lasted for a moment, though, the reminder of Arthur making you rise on your tired feet, rummaging through the cupboards and various wardrobes to find some supplies. Luckily, it appeared that the veteran kept quite the supplies on him, which you thanked him for under your breath. Some bandages you were sure you could still use were pushed into your arms, a few tonics that could lessen the pain, and, best of all, coughing medicine. 

Walking back on the creaking floor, you dragged a side table closer to the bed and placed what you had found in your search, running outside quickly to get the water pouch hanging off the mare. 

It wasn’t easy tending to Arthur; the number of hits he had taken was noticeable. Some kicks to his ribs, it seemed, amidst the various other bruises that loitered his skin. Stopping in your tracks, you wondered who could have done this. You hadn’t thought about it until now; your worry for his safety has been on your mind this entire time.

Micha.

The sudden thought of him sullied your mood even further, making you realize that no Pinkerton would leave him at the brink of death like that. Undoubtedly, they would have finished him off or taken him with them, another way to get to Dutch, for sure. 

Cringing deeply at every purple bruise you dragged your finger over, hatred for the man laying his hand on Arthur grew. It was more fierce now than ever, the persistent name-calling and teasing he put him through when the disease started taking its toll not nearly as severe as this. You knew Micha was capable of this; deep down, you had known.

And where was everyone else, you wondered. Thinking logically, everyone had most likely run away the second things went downhill, but Dutch and Charles? Javier? Had they lost Arthur as they escaped from Beaver Hollow? And why did John not return with him if he had been alive?

The questions were running wild in your mind, but you had to put your questions aside for now; there was enough time later to wallow in contempt and confusion. Instead, you focused on cleaning the rest of Arthur’s bloodied face and bandaging the more gruesome gashes on his body. You knew getting him better wouldn’t be easy, but you weren’t ready to give up.

Sighing audibly, you put your head on your knees when you had done all you could and dragged the sheets over his shivering form. Gods, you were tired. It felt like your whole body had been running on spurts of adrenaline until now, and now that you got the chance to sit down, it rushed over you like a tidal wave. The whole ordeal, by any means, had felt like a fever dream.

No, more like a nightmare, you concluded. It was strange, and everything had happened hastily like the time had been fast-forwarded. Quite the difference from now, as the only thing audible was you and Arthur’s breathing and the slosh as the water hit the bridge just outside, time seeming to stand still in the tiny house by the lake.

It felt nice, though, you concluded as your eyes grew heavy. It was like the air around here cleared your sullied head slightly from all the months of stress and worry–gaining some distance even though it wasn’t by much. You could see why the man who had lived here chose to stay, finding the landscape calming yourself. 

Often, Arthur would tell you about the man. Hamish, you believed his name was. A veteran, he said as he stroked your hair, telling you about the days he spent with him, softly lulling you to sleep. You had always found their relationship endearing but were only met with a scoff from Arthur every time you voiced your thoughts about their camaraderie. The idea made you smile.

You turned your gaze toward him, gazing thoughtfully. The swelling on his face was severe but not yet rendering him unrecognizable. You admired him for a moment, the rugged masterpiece under the purple bruises that the harsh strokes of life had always weathered. Yet he had always seemed to have been carved with a pen so beautiful everything it created couldn’t be anything less. Every scar, like poetic verses, had always added to his allure.

In many moments, Arthur’s gaze had been a haven for you, a refuge where you could peer into his most profound thoughts when he kept himself away from you. It was a place where you could find solace amidst all the chaos, a silent dialogue–a gaze that showed what he never said. But now they were closed, and the thought left you sadder than anything.

–

You had tended to Arthur many times before, and even though the scrapes had been nasty, this was something entirely else. His disease only worsened the state of his injuries, taking you ten steps back every time you thought you could see a flicker of consciousness in the following days.

Yet, he remained motionless on the bed for days on forward, awful coughing episodes making him shoot straight up from the mattress. Succumbing to the relentless coughing, it echoed in the room with harsh, hacking sounds. Each one seems to wrack his body, the force evident in how his shoulders tense and his grip tightens on whatever’s within reach, the strain etched on Arthur’s face, lines deepening with each cough. 

Your hands reach his back to reassuringly rub the warm skin, feeling helpless. Unable to stand his pain any longer, you retrieve the cough medicine you put on the side table, the label on the glass bottle promising relief. 

Too out of it to register what you were doing, he only lays there as you pour the liquid down his throat, and as soon as his sore throat swallows the last drops, his eyes flicker close, body relaxing in resignation on the bed.

“You would hate me if you were awake right now.” A breathless laugh left you, hand stroking the hair away from his face as you pondered how long he would stay like this. It seemed that’s what filled your days and nights now, constant worry as you sat plastered by the side of the bed, holding his hand tight as you prayed for whoever would listen to give him back to you. 

Rarely did you take the time to open the various cans loitering the cabins, filled with canned food and other things that would fill your stomach well? Instead, you grew nauseous at the thought of it. You took the chance to spoon Arthur some soup, though, the small moments between sleep and wakefulness, hoping it was enough to give him some energy.

Some nights, when the pain was too much to bear, you would wound yourself around Arthur like a snake, being mindful of his injuries as you rested your head on his chest. You would listen to the slow thumping of his heart that had grown steady, slowly falling into a deep sleep, letting your heart rest, if even for a moment.

–

You were unsure how much time had passed in that house, endless days bleeding into each other. Most time was spent looking after Arthur, and when you weren’t, you were perched on the wooden steps of the house, gazing into the flickering water of the lake. Your bleak eyes always stared heedlessly at the scenery before you, and although beautiful, it did nothing to lighten the intricate knot growing in your chest.

Despite trying to keep your head straight, doubts always come to mind whenever you don’t have your hands full. What if you had been wrong all this time, and Arthur wouldn’t get better? The possibility was big, but you couldn’t imagine doing it any other way as you thought more of it. But all this chaos and energy you put into keeping the very soul of him alive, what if it wasn’t enough? What could you do that would be enough?

You walked down the porch steps with light steps, bending down on the bridge to wash your face, hoping it would ease your mind. While it didn’t, seeing your drained face and bleak eyes greying your features worsened it. You could only sigh as the sight of your exhaust reflected in the water.

“God.” You said, sitting back on your heels as you stared into the distance, horrified. No wonder you hadn’t taken the moment to care for yourself in the drastic days of apprehension, having been too wrapped up in the horrifying complications. With closed eyes, you rinsed your face, refusing to give yourself another lookover as you walked back towards the house.

The sight that you saw when entering through the door made your heart rise your throat. Blue eyes you adored so much were staring back at you, and although laden with fatigue, they were halfway open, gazing at you indescribably.

Quietness followed your surprise, and after a moment of contemplation, Arthur mumbled out under his breath. “Why'd you come back?” 

His question hung heavy in the air; the only answer you could provide him was a face of bewilderment, mouth dry like cotton. 

“I can’t-” As Arthur closed his eyes, a sluggish arm came to rest over his eyes. “-can’t save you now.”

You motioned to speak, but the words were lodged somewhere deep down where you couldn’t bring it up. Instead, you stepped closer to Arthur with small steps, like he wasn’t real. He couldn’t be; you hadn’t been given that hope for the longest time. But he was breathing before you now, moving. 

You were so quiet at this moment you even surprised yourself, but as you crawled your way beside Arthur and draped your arms around his neck as you had done so many times before, you found that the bridge holding your tears at bay had blocked the words so they couldn’t escape you. But the bridge overflowed, tears now running freely down your cheeks as the feeling of his arms finally circled your waist. 

He held you in that cranky, old bed for a long while, drowsy, sunken-in eyes closing in content regardless of his earlier concern, basking in the warmth your body provided his shivery one as his hands memorized you. The sunlight mirrored its way on your skin, the feeling now warm and tender, unlike the cold and empty touch it grazed with you before.

Arthur’s raspy voice pulled you closer in his embrace as he consoled you, tears wetting the skin on his neck as you gripped the strands of his hair tightly in your grasp.

“Hush, now.” He murmured out, voice so comforting it only increased your sobs.

"Breathe, sweetheart, breathe." Whimpering into his shoulder, you gasped for air between your snivels, breathing erratic that grew somewhat more stable as he ran his broad hand over the small of your back, hushing soothingly.

Things seemed to ease up from that day onward, and now that Arthur grew more conscious, you didn’t feel the draft of loneliness waft through you anymore. Still, he wasn’t up on his feet yet, heavily bedridden as the slightest movement could set off his coughing.

While his recovery gladened you something immensely, you could tell it put a heavy strain on his confidence; not used to being so weak and counterproductive. You could see how his eyes faltered when you tended to his wounds and how he avoided your gaze as you helped him eat, a deep confliction noticeable.

In these moments, he grew quieter than he usually was now. It was like he was waiting for something–something that was just out of his reach, putting a distance between you that wounded you deeply. You had to tell yourself many times to give him some time, to provide him with some peace of mind as he recovered from the trauma to both his body and soul.

So, you took the struggles daily, and as you stayed with him, you could see a glimmer of the Arthur you knew–the stubbornness, the humor, the fierce loyalty. But they are fleeting moments, overshadowed by the weight of his conviction that he is destined for a different path that doesn’t intertwine with the life you could offer.

“You know,” He told you one night, surprising you as you were plastered on the chair beside his bed, stroking the back of his hand while deep in thought. “I always felt at peace out here, like the air is different somehow.” He only got a hum as your eyes were locked on his fingers, intertwined with your smaller ones. 

“It’s something I always imagined for us.” He murmured, staring at the ceiling as he searched for the words to voice his thoughts rightly. “Well, when times grew hard, I thought about it quite a lot.” 

After some time, a small smile graced the corners of your lips, never having heard him be so open with you. You often voiced your wishes to run away together, towards something more fulfilling, something that would ultimately be safe. An ordinary life with Arthur was more than you could ever ask for, always opting to tell him about it late at night when he was too tired to react fully to your words.

It wasn’t possible; you both knew it, so it was only decided as wishful thinking. Also, Arthur always shot the idea down when you steered the conversation that way. He was too loyal to Dutch, finding your words unthinkable, constantly shaking them off as nonsense. Now, if it was because he felt that way or finding the thought hurting too much, you didn’t know. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” You spoke quietly, meeting his warm gaze as he stared at you, lifting your hand to his chest, where he placed it against his heart. 

“Mmh. Well, every time I passed here, I thought about you.” He smiled slightly at you, continuing as a rumbling chuckle left him mid-sentence. “Hamish asked about you quite a lot, found you fascinating, he said.”

“Me?” You raised your eyebrows, half-endearingly for the thought that Arthur talked about you and half-suprised that you made an impression on the man. “How come?”

“He wondered why a woman like you stayed with someone like me. Said you were doin’ charity work or somethin’ like that.” You rolled your eyes slightly in jest, bringing his hand to your lips as you placed a nimble kiss on the coarse fingers.

“Well, I happen to like doing charity work,” you mumbled against the skin, breath warming the cold tip of his fingers, finding Arthur gazing at you indescribably.

But some days, he let the words that he pondered about day in and day out be heard, and those moments were the hardest for you.

“I don’t understand you.” He would mumble as his head finally began to clear. You told him that John, Abigail, and Jack had likely gone to safety. It made his mouth’s corners chirp slightly, content they got on alright. But as matters turned to you, he suddenly became cold, eyes crinkling when his eyebrows screwed together.

“You get the chance to go and live your life to the fullest, yet you go back to try and save a man that already died a long time ago.” It appeared impossible for him to wrap his head around the thought, looking at you as if you were a scientific experiment. 

“You’re not dying.” 

“YES, I AM!” You gasped slightly as his voice grew loud suddenly, yelling out the words as his hand pointed at you, eyes wide open where he lay glued to the bed. 

“And all I want before I die is to see you safe, and you can’t even give me that!” 

He had never yelled at you like this if he had even yelled at you at all. Arthur had always tended to take the image of the rugged, unforgiving brute, but never had he been that way with you. It was always tender touches, calculating glances, and a sense of utter contentment when you were around–acting like you would break if he didn’t keep calm and collected.

It differed from now, the usually calm sea of his eyes now a stormy whirlpool, harshness lining the edges, and it was pointed towards you. You pulled your hands against your chest nervously, wishing to shrink into the ground to avoid his, to you, unjust fury.

“Stop.” Your voice grew quiet as the air in the room seemed to lessen, eyes shooting towards the ground. 

Groaning, Arthur raised his arms, gasping when he had to support his weight on it. Stepping forward to help him, you were only faced with his palm begging you to stay away. 

“Of course, I couldn’t leave you,” you reply gently. “Besides, I had to know what happened to you.” 

“Stubborn woman, didn’t I tell you to go? It ain’t safe anymore.” You backed away, not wanting to listen.

“Now I don’t know where the hell Dutch is, where Micha is, which means this is far from over. That’s why I’m sayin’ you shouldn’t stay!” He tried to reason with you, make you realize that your part in this was over.

He felt conflicted. Whenever he thought of you, he struggled between being selfish and thinking of what was best for you and what he needed to do to keep you alive through all of this. On one side, he longed for every part of you to remain with him, but on the other side, he couldn’t stand you being hurt on his behalf more than you had already been. 

He knew he crushed you in the process, it was undeniable, the cries that left you when placed behind Sadie before telling enough–but it had to be done, despite how much he despised himself for putting you through this. You were always so calm and level-headed that he couldn’t be anything more than heartbroken when you called after him that day, the distress so unlike you.

Arthur didn’t like it, which fueled him to push you away even further when he realized you didn’t see reason, deciding that the only plan left was to show you what kind of man he was, or rather, what kind of a man he was to everyone else. 

“This isn’t you talking, Arthur.” 

“What do you mean it ain’t me talkin’?” His face grew red with strain as he spoke, alerting you as you bent down to meet his gaze, placing your hands on either side of his cheek. He scrunched his eyes together, heart pleading to give into you as your ever–so-gentle hands closed around him.

“You're sick, Arthur, and you’ve been beaten to a pulp. Now, I don’t know what transpired on that mountain, and I’m not sure finding out would do me any good, but I thought-'' Stopping in your tracks, you closed your eyes. “I thought you had died, Arthur. I, I cried for you, thinking I would never see you alive again.” 

“I ain’t less than a ghost now, darlin’; you should have left when you had the chance.” He stared tiredly into your eyes and then turned away from you. “You have to accept that. It’d gone much easier if you left me on that mountain.” His heart beat as he voiced the reality of his thoughts, knowing it would hurt you, but the statement was also true.

Silence followed for a long time after that, the turmoil inside you breaking, seeping like blood from the cracks of your heart as you were left staring at the side of his face. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Arthur, but it has never felt like I’ve known you entirely.” While he gazed at you, the fury still raced deep in the blue orbs, coloring them darker with pain. 

“You have a barricade around your heart that I can never breach. And I tried; believe me, I did. For the longest time, I tried to be there for you, be something for you to come home to, to ease your mind that always was off somewhere else, somewhere I could never follow!” Your tone that started quietly grew loud as you spoke, heart racing inside your chest as the words fell like liquid out of your mouth.

“I can’t-” Your voice hitched, angry tears falling unwillingly from your eyes. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in!”

“I don’t need your help!” You could see Arthur close off from you even more, pushing you away as the harshness of his voice cut you like a razor. “I never had!” His voice broke as he yelled, panting as he sat on the bed, hunching forward as frustration rose.

“Arthur!” You felt anger grow in your chest, finding him unbelievable as you swatted at his chest lightly, standing up to put some distance between you, seeing him trailing after you. “I’m done with you telling me to go when all I live for is you!” Fiery and consuming anger flared within you, setting your cheeks ablaze as you spun around to face him.

“Well, I’m over you being so stubborn all the time! Never listen to me when I only want to see you off safe, caring for me like it’s a glimpse of hope that I’ll survive!” A scoff of disbelief left you, staring at him as you almost laughed in shock.

“Me!? Stubborn!?” Your palm found your forehead, voice laced with anger-filled frustration. “That is very rich coming from Mister. I never listen to anyone other than myself!” You paused before you yelled. “Ever!”

“Because I know what’s best, alright!? And I know that you should be far, far away from me!” A fire started to show in his voice, but it also crept into your bones, warmth spreading on your cheeks. 

“Oh, and what?! Find some boring, middle-aged asshole who’ll tie me to the kitchen and make me have tea-party with some lifeless, dreary, pompous, old ladies?!” Your breathing was hectic as the words spilled out in a heated rush.

“Yes, that’s what I want, ‘cause that would mean you would be safe!” He stalked closer, cornering you at the door.

“I’d rather die, Arthur,” you said. “I’d rather die with you than face the long, bleak years of this world alone! You backed away, feeling suffocated when he didn’t give you any space to breathe.

“The only place I feel safe is with you, Arthur!” Your voice broke slightly, gripping his shirt to shake some sense into him. “It’s with you I’ve always felt at home!” Gripping his stubbled cheeks in your palms tightly, you pleaded with him as he gazed into your eyes. “I’m not leaving you; get that through your thick, dumb skull!”

“Stop being so goddamn unselfish and think about yourself for once!” He met your gaze, dark as he stared at you from underneath his brows. “Get out the hell out, leave!” 

You only stared at him, cold shivers like freezing water wrecking through you, backing towards the door as his shadow grew more prominent, stepping unbalanced on his feet towards you. Grabbing your shoulders in his broad hands, he stepped so close that all you could see were his eyes blaring into yours.

“Come on!” He yelled, shaking your body as if to shake some sense into your stubborn mind. “GO!”

Choking on your tears in distress, you were left gasping for air as you tried to breathe, feeling his body falter above yours. The coughs that now raked through him made you sink on the floor with him, and as the blood splattered on your dress, covering your chest in a deep red that contrasted the ivory fabric, you sat on the dirty floor, a man devoid of the will to live anymore laying in your trembling arms. 

After that, you only felt his lips that sought yours, entangling your limbs together like snakes in a snake pit–not a gentle surrender but a clash of hunger, a collision of lips borne from ages of holding back the reality.

Bloodied lips against bloodied lips met in a fierce urgency after taking a quick breath, fueled by the unspoken desires and the acknowledgment that, despite your disagreements, the love you kept for one another was deeply engrained in both of you, hearts unable to stand the hate you felt.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping as if seeking reassurance as the world blurred. Anger melted into a raw vulnerability, frustration giving way to the unspoken plea, and the desperation grew more considerable than it ever had–and as you both pulled away, breaths heavy and gazed locked, the air crackled around you as he instead hoisted you up in his arms so you could fall into each other’s embrace yet again.

Your tears now rubbed their way down Arthur’s cheeks, your breath hitching as sobs still found their way through you. His broad hands pulled you tighter against him, the inner fight that took place in his mind showing as he wanted to push you away, only to draw you closer to his dying limbs.

“You know I ain’t a good man, honey. That ain’t going to change, ever.” His gaze was gravely and serious as he stared into your eyes, an uncanny vulnerability etching them deep down. “This life lives within me; I can’t escape it. I can’t escape the sins that I carry. I’ve done horrible things, things you couldn’t even dream of.” Sighing, he closed his eyes. “You know that.”

Your eyes softened as you saw the wrinkles in his face release, finally hearing something real coming from him. “You’re not your sins, Arthur. And even if you were, I’d carry them with you, lighten the burden.” Stroking his cheek with the tips of your fingers, he opened his forever lonely eyes, now staring into yours.

“God, I tried, honey. I tried to get you to leave, talkin’ to you in ways I’ve promised myself I never would–everything to get you to leave.” He pushed your head against his shoulder, resting his head on yours in defeat. “It was harder than I thought, see you cryin’ like that.” Sighing heavily, he continued. “But somehow, you always stay.”

“I’m not leaving.” You mumbled against his skin.

“There’s no mistaking that.” He chuckled, stroking your back. “Everything I do is to keep you safe; you’re so stubborn not to realize that.”

“I’m safe when I’m with you, Arthur.” He didn’t answer you for a while, holding you comfortingly. He felt the strings that held his will up loosen, giving up on trying to push you away, the sight of you sobbing tugging at his heart.

“I feel like all I do is make you cry lately.” Staring at your smaller arms that hugged him, the doubt that he still wasn’t good enough for you clouding his mind. 

“You make me cry when you push me away,” you admitted, your voice steadier now. “It hurts, Arthur.” He sighed, fingers still entangled in your hair, twisting your hair strands with his fingers.

“I know, honey,” he murmured, a concession to the unspoken ache.

“Then stop.” He lifted your head to make you look at him through wet eyes.

“Stop hurting me; I can’t handle it anymore.” He felt like you had shot him right in his chest as you begged him, staring through vulnerable eyes he rarely saw. He had done countless horrible acts in his life, but this was indeed to be pivoted as the worst, never having felt the pang of agony quite so brutal.

He couldn’t tell how long he would live now, down to his last breaths, but he didn’t have the power to keep you away from him any longer, not when you were so adamant about staying. Had you been angrier at him, he was sure you would take your things and leave him, but there was a part of you he so adoringly loved, a part that always seemed to care too much, love too hard. 

Somehow, he praised whoever made you that way because were you not, he would no longer have the light of his life in his arms, even if his time was running out. No longer would he be able to feel the graceful touch of your fingers on his skin and the sparkling in your eyes as you stared up at him in mischief, making him feel more alive than he had ever felt in his miserable life.

Hugging you closer to him, he captured your soft lips in his, feeling the ache only increase as he basked in the way you sighed, relieved. You felt the promise of not pushing you away anymore lingering in the corner of his mouth, dragging you closer to him as hope finally seemed in reach.

–

“And as the last light of day shone through the window, he realized how it felt like to hold the world in the palm of his hands, for her eyes were the window to everything he wishes for, and more.” Glancing mischievously into Arthur’s eyes through the pages, you conclude. “The end.”

Pushing the book’s pages close with a loud bang that echoed through the sunlit room dramatically, you presented him with a toothy smile.

“I never took our dear friend for being such a romantic, Arthur.” Raising from the bed, you spun around to face the man who seemed reluctant to let you go, bending down to stare into his eyes cheekily. “Are you sure you went hunting together? With all these books, maybe you spent your time cooped up here reading romance?” A giggle left you as you walked towards the stove, checking on the stew bubbling deliciously, the smell making your mouth water as it passed your nose when you opened the lid. 

Behind you, you could almost hear how Arthur’s eyes rolled back into his head, arms still outstretched towards you. “Sure,” he drawled, staring at you warmly as you teased him. “Our favorite pastime. How did you know?”

His sarcastic tone reached you as the warmth of the cooking burned your tongue slightly when you tried to get a taste, hissing as you dropped the spoon back into the pot. 

“You can’t fool me, Arthur; I know you’re a true romantic.” Pushing your finger against the sore part of your tongue, you turn to face him, resting against the counter. 

“It’s something I always imagined for us.” You mocked slightly, puffing out your chest as your voice grew into his familiar southern drawl, imitating your earlier talk with him some time ago.

Scoffing at you, he suddenly rose from the bed, the book falling from the floor as he stepped towards you. Perking up at his motion, you found yourself stuck as his arms encased around you, the warm scent of him mingling with the food as he stepped closer. 

Cowering slightly under his gaze, you giggled nervously as you leaned back. “Have you ever heard of personal space?” He didn’t answer you as you jested with him, palms finding each side of your face as his eyes observed you tenderly. 

God, he loved you like this. Ever since your fight, every obstacle that hindered you from growing closer to each other was breached. Every time you laughed, it filled his heart with warmth, finding the life he once fell in love with reaching you again as you settled; the hardest of times now passed.

He couldn’t help it as he pressed against you, sighing deeply as your lips found his in a loving caress, smoothing over one another as the sound of your slight humming broke through the silence. 

It felt like a blessing to have Arthur close again. Some time ago, you feared you had utterly lost him as he remained a shell of who he once was, shielding himself from you and everyone else. Although at ease now, the heavy shadow of his disease still lingered over you like a cloud, most times reminding you of the sad realization that all was not well.

Despite this, you could see how much better he was faring, now both up on his feet and with a sane mind–much more like the man you fell for. At times, the anxiety still clawed its way into your mind, wondering if all of this was too good too last. Although, since both you and Arthur realized that relying your thoughts and fears on one another was fatal if this was going to work, he always kissed your worries away, driving the somber mood gone with his hands.

“Where did you go?” The words rumbled quietly against your lips as your eyes lifted to gaze into his wondering ones, feeling him push your hair behind your ear. You gave him a small smile, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“Secret.” You whispered when you felt him lean closer again, the tension growing in sparks around you. 

“Oh, I see. We keepin’ secrets now?” Raising his brows in fake mock, you felt his hands circle your waist so he could lift you around his torso. An innocent smile covered your lips as he hoisted you up, slightly pinching your waist so you let out a breathless laugh.

Stalking back towards the bed, you realized his only plan had been to bring you back all this time, giving Arthur a knowing look. “I am allowed to have some secrets, you know.”

“Are you now?” He smirked at you, kissing your nose before laying you on the soft bed, hovering above you. “I think I know a few ways to get you to speak.” Crawling up your thigh was a hand filled with sinful intent.

“Well, I won’t tell, you brute!!” You laughed as you squirmed against him, wishing his hand away as they traveled further.

“Oh, I’ll show you, brute, darlin´.”

All the wounds and hurt weren’t healed by any means, but as time passed, it started to mend the damage it created. The crumbs that once were so few grew larger and larger, now swapped out with a special love that you were sure was destined just for you and the man who always had it in the palm of his hands–only the need to accept himself in order to let it reach you. 

And while this story certainly isn’t over, the worry about Arthur’s health and the glimmer in his eyes he still kept for the life he had lived and would never escape still existed. You could tell he was aware you saw it, noticing him staring longingly into the wild, fingers flexing with anticipation.

But those were thoughts for darker days. For now, as you lay with Arthur’s arms wound around you and the sparkling of the fire cracking into the silence, you would bask in it for as long as you could. With the soup long forgotten—you realized you would follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked you, even if it meant your death.

[diminuel]

Oh im hooked on the idea now that wani’s transition was preceded/spurred by a stunning sinatra-esq drag king performance. Normally so plain and practical and reserved. Loosened up with a couple drinks and Ivankov being pushy (its a one time thing! For fun! Live a little!)

And ivankov gets to watch this little flower of his bloom on stage (there you are darling… well ill be damed…)

And dragon is halfway to blackout drunk and absolutely losing it. He wasn’t even sure he liked men, but he’s scrambling not to fall to actual pieces in the audience. He didn’t realize how dehydrated he was all his life until he saw that tall drink of water. Oh fuck he’s looking at him oh fuck oh fuck

And Wani is slowly but continuously finding more and more unrealized confidence. They were never a performer, but everyone *likes* feeling attractive, the approving gaze of the crowd that slowly builds to deep hunger and fascination. The song selection increasingly sultry. She agreed to ONE song but does a full set. She feels *expensive* like a luxury silk garment or gold plated watch. Sophisticated. Like if she stepped into any room all eyes would be on her and would be hanging onto her every word. Important. Strong.

By the end Wani is pantsless (gotta show off those mens sock garters) and their shirt is fully unbuttoned (much to the crowd’s delight) and dragon has managed to accidentally pull himself *over* the table in his attempts to hold himself upright

Haha, nice!

I love that Dragon's a) still relaxed enough at this point to watch Iva's shows and get drunk and b) that he's absolutely delirious with lust over Wani's performance!

This clearly was an aha! moment (or the beginning of one in Wani's case) for both of them *lol*