#How could anybody bear such awful knowledge?

[patchwork-crow-writes]

78 - Against Time's Tides

Time rolls in like the breaking of a wave over a sandy shore, inexorable and unstoppable, rendering the day's labours to nothing more than memory. And in this way, our days together shall soon come to an unceremonious end.

It seems such a cruel twist of Fate, that the very prophecy which allowed us to meet should so quickly part us. I've always known that it has to be this way, but it's one thing to know something intellectually, and quite another to feel the fabric of your heart fraying at the thought of it...

...wouldn't it be better if we...?

...no, I cannot think that - I mustn't. I have to be strong for us, I have to keep smiling for us, because if you found out... if you knew what I know, you'd... you'd definitely try and stop it. And oh, how bittersweet my heart sings to think of such defiance for our sake...!

But neither time nor destiny can be fought or negotiated with. You could no sooner prevent this than stop the sun from rising in the morning. You would be utterly crushed if you were to even attempt it, and I cannot allow any harm to come to either of you.

So don't ask those questions anymore, my dearest ones; let us while away the few hours we have left as friends ought, with laughter and idle chatter, adventures of no consequence and happy memories that will endure across time and space...

...and I'll try not to count the seconds until you have to go.

______________________________

The Dark Menagerie No. 78

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[feefivefoe]

The Astral Express. Brought back to life by Himeko, and on it's seemingly endless journey through the cosmos. A journey to the beginning.

How the Astral Express crew sees their Aeon (Spoilers for end of Penacony under the cut, I'm using both Trailblazers as twins)

Full disclosure, I don't play 3rd, so I have no back knowledge on Welt. He is Mister Yang and that's about it for me.

Caelus/Stelle

"The less thoughts I keep in my head, the more room I save for you, [name]!"

"Anybody who wants near you has to get through the Galactic Baseballer 10x over!"

The two of them essentially turn into a puppy the moment you enter the room. Neither acknowledge any boundary you try and place between you. Hey, you picked them first, didn't you? Doesn't that mean they're your favorites? Why else would they be able to follow so many different paths?

Caleus is the more empty headed of the two, though that isn't saying much. He's the one more willing to share you with the rest of the crew, so long as he's allowed to be there, too. Stelle is more protective and possessive of your time, sometimes not even willing to share with her brother. Fine, he can sit on the other side of the room while she lies her head in your lap. She'll be generous this time.

For the both of them, the circumstances of their awakening was weird, and a little terrifying. Being woken up by strangers in an unfamiliar location, immediately thrust into danger, then having to make a major, life changing decision. Meeting you was the first sense of security either of them really got. Even if their head didn't remember you, something from their very being knew who you were. You were safety. You were home.

Expect the both of them to cling to your side like no other. Even considering bringing you to the dangerous parts of their missions because they can't bear the thought of separating from you.

Dan Heng

"The Vidyadhara's cycle of rebirth...they are, in essence, new beginnings, no?"

Forced to take a new life beyond his homeworld, due to the actions of his previous incarnation. For a bit, he might have resented you. Why force such an unwelcome beginning on him? Were you also punishing him for Dan Feng's mistakes?

He's long grown out of this resentment by the time he meets you in the flesh, having now found solace in the family he's established within the Express.

Dan Heng doesn't mind as much falling to the background amist the crew. He's content to be in the same room as the twins and March demand your attention, observing your reactions and taking notes. Not for the data bank, no. He's a bit selfish in that regard, keeping his notes about you stored either on his phone, or physically in a drawer he keeps locked.

Staunch about your safety. Gets into arguments with Caleus and Stelle when they want to take you with them into potentially dangerous scenarios. He straight up locked you in the archive with him while his companions went onto the Luofu, the idea of you running into Blade nearly sending him into a panic attack. When he eventually decided to board it himself, he very reluctantly sent you with Sushang once they made it back into the safe area. Sure, he'd prefer having visual on you to ensure your safety, but where he was going was undoubtedly more dangerous, and he didn't know if he could protect you through all of it.

When he's in his Vidyadhara form, he's more possessive than when he suppresses it. It doesn't hurt that he has more power, able to protect you with both Cloud Piercer and Cloudhymn magic.

March 7th

"Say cheese! Aw, come on! How do you manage to be cuter than me in every photo???"

It goes without saying you have your own photo album. The ones she hangs of you on her walls have both you and the crew, while the ones she keeps in her book are either just you, or pictures she takes together with you. Yes, she has cut other people out of them.

She may not know where she came from, or what she might have lost from her previous life. But so long as it resulted in meeting you, she's happy to have lost it.

Being around you gives March a sense of familiarity, much like her fellow amnesiacs. Even if she doesn't know where her homeworld is, you're more home than any planet could possibly be. She's happy to go out or spend nights in, but physical contact is non negotiable. Walking around town? Linked arms or holding hands. Watching a movie? She's leaned against you. Whether that's beside you, standing above you with her head on yours, or tilting her head against your lap as she sits beneath you.

March loves dressing you up in different outfits, shopping for you more than she shops for herself. Your clothes are kept in Stelle's wardrobe, considering those two have the biggest room and only wear one outfit-

Affectionate and full of spirit, March refuses to let the twins monopolize your attention. It's always a race between the 3 of them as to which 2 get to sit next to you. And yes, you always have to have 2 spots open! They will physically squabble if there's only 1. Which usually leads to Dan Heng taking the spot while the others fight over it.

Welt

"The creator of this world...and yet, even I feel a familiarity around them."

By all reasoning, you shouldn't matter more than any of the others to him. Even if you created this world with your own being, he isn't from it.

Maybe it's just the attachments he's formed with his companions that's rubbed off on him, getting him invested in the universe surrounding them. Maybe it's an intellectual interest, wondering how you have physical form with the universe still intact.

Maybe it doesn't need a reason, and he should just accept it.

Logically, he knows letting himself get sucked into this senseless affection isn't a good idea. Welt has wondered before if you've forced this emotion upon all of them, ensnaring their hearts as the Stellaron Hunter Kafka does with minds. But watching you trying to placate the more spirited trio of March, Stelle, and Caelus, it's clear you don't always want their feelings to be what they are. That there are moments you'd prefer what they have with each other, rather than being the center of their universe.

Welt takes on the role as a refresher. Someone who doesn't keep their focus on you at all times, at least to your knowledge. Somebody you can talk to without feeling like your every word is being dissected. He acts as if you're just another part of the crew.

A steady, gravitational pull. And by the time you realize he's just as obsessed as the others, you're too far entrenched to pull away.

Himeko

"Please, make yourself comfortable. Until the end of your journey, you're always welcome aboard the Express."

Surely you're the reason she found the Express to begin with. The Trailblaze found their worship of you through visiting as much of your universe as they conceivably could. Exploring every part of what you gave your being to create. Finding their vessel, and then you ending up on it...it must have been purposeful, no?

When you protested being an awakened Aeon, being next to powerless and without any divine memories, a revelation hit Himeko.

You must be a fragment. This journey of hers isn't just to follow the path of the Trailblaze, it's to recreate the Beginning. To find fragments of your former self throughout the journey, piecing together the first and most powerful Aeon.

Himeko feels almost maternal at times, creating awkward patches in your relationship (especially if you see her romantically). It's not that she sees you a child, or her responsibility, but rather that she's eager to see how you grow and progress as the journey continues.

That being said, she's always happy to join in on your activities with the others, or even just having a relaxing morning or evening with just the both of you. Her with a cup of coffee, and you with tea, hot chocolate, or another warm beverage. She's happy to share her coffee with you sometimes, but too much caffeine is bad for you, you know?

Sunday

"A new beginning..."

The arbiter of second chances has elected to allow him in their presence, even after his fall from grace. How undeserving he is...and how selfish of him to indulge so eagerly.

Your meeting was brief, and from your standpoint, unremarkable. It happened the same as in game. Sunday appeared to resolve the issue at the front desk, and briefly introduced the dreamscape to the Family's guests.

From his point of view? He couldn't have possibly prepared to meet you in a lifetime. Even channeling the power of the Harmony as he does isn't something he would have ever expected as a child. To meet the Aeon that started it all? Inconceivable.

He has to wonder if this is how others feel when interacting with the Harmony. Every ounce of your being, falling into place. Feeling entirely joined together, and whole. At peace. Needless to say, it was love at first sight. Even before he knew, he knew.

Your existence has him both terrified and elated to travel with the Express. Expect him to not outwardly demand your attention, but to steal it through acts of service, or words of affirmation. To find small gifts placed gingerly in your room when you wake or go to bed. For him to be consistently lingering, never out of earshot just in case you need something.

You may be the world, but he still wants to find a way to give it to you.

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Love Created In Blood | Antinous x reader|

Link to Warnings/Both sfw and nsfw masterlists Click here

Chapter Four ~Amatheia and Althea~

With so much to achieve and with no knowledge of when the monster that calls himself a king may approach again, you must work quickly. 

The warmth of the sun against your skin is nothing compared to the rushing blood in your veins and the pounding of your heart. You had been able to wake up this morning alone and without anybody dragging you off. You wonder if the time you are given is a grace period. Perhaps he’s allowing you to settle in? Those thoughts are quickly discarded and shaken off for much later.

Right now there is one goal, find the soft woman from before, try to pry what you can.

Which is surprisingly easy to do? She seems to wander around, eyes distant and yet there. You can’t help but stare at her, the way she moves with innocent grace, the way her clothes fall with her movements. The curls that add to her sweet doe look. How does a woman like that survive in a place like this? How does she still look so… Sweet? Two days in and you are already on edge, already trying to find a quiet corner to hide in. You do not want to be involved in whatever battle of favor and status goes on within the ranks of these women. You’d be content to be ignored, tossed to the side.

You take a step forward towards the short woman only for a voice, sultry, and yet somehow enticingly sweet to whisper by your ear. “Can I help you?” There’s a note of protectiveness in the way she curls those words. 

When you turn towards the sound of the voice, you face a tall woman whose golden skin causes the blue of her eyes to shine like sharp icicles. She stands imposing and assertive, dressed in the colors of the ocean. Her dreads hand past her hips adorned in gold. She’s stunning, much like the other women you have met. She wears sharp and distinct colors and a lot of jewels. You swallow, trying to hold yourself as tall and sure as she does. She’s another concubine, high ranking if how she holds herself is any tell. Now it makes sense that somebody like Lyra survives… Guard dog? “I’m just meeting the others? Is there an issue with that?” You bite back, matching her attitude. 

She raises a brow as if she’s assessing you, gathering every bit of information that she can about you. For a moment, you consider shrinking under her gaze. She intimidates you more than Philomela did. She doesn’t show her hostility, no, she keeps it wrapped in an icy look, a protective stance. In a way, it reminds you of a cat protecting territory it’s deemed as hers. Could she tell you were approaching Lyra for personal gain? 

“In that case, you could ask a servant instead of bothering her.” You nod, forcing away the instinct to fidget under the way her gaze bears into you.

Before you can respond and try to break the force of her gaze, the soft, almost melodic voice of the small woman flows through the hall. “Ama, I forgot where I was going and why…” You look towards Lyra and tilt your head. Is she really that much of an airhead?

“Awe, poor thing.” The woman’s demure changes in a blink, her eyes softening into the tides of the ocean rather than ice. Her posture loses the pressure of status and she reaches out to softly cusp the smaller woman’s cheek. “Eurymachus called you. I’ll walk you there, don’t worry.” Her voice is hard to discern. You can’t tell if her emotions are genuine or forced in a way to manipulate. 

Lyra seems to sink into the other woman’s touch, content and happy as could possibly be. When her eyes meet you, she seems to pause, her brain working overtime to recall the recollection she has before she smiles. Your name sounds sickeningly sweet of her tongue. It’s disturbing how sweet she is, how airy that head of hers is. “You again! We met uh… A bit ago?” A bit? Is she blind to time as well? “Now You’ve met Ama. Well Amatheia.”

You glance between the two women before stepping back. Alright, so this won’t work in your favor. You’ll have to go through the tall one to get to the airhead… You don’t doubt that this woman would cause problems if you did anything to hurt her friend. Alright, you’ll have to find a way around that somehow. Maybe she’ll approach on her own? She doesn’t seem the type to have too many friends. “If you’re looking to see the last of our rank, Althea should be around the medical area.” 

You narrow your eyes a little. She’s neutral and yet simultaneously clearly hostile. There’s a warning in her gaze, an obvious one. You nod, forcing yourself to smile. “Thank you.” It’s a simple response and all you want to say. The faster you get out of her way, the better. 

The halls are a bit disorienting, if you’re honest. It takes a lot of wrong turns to find the small office room. The door is unlocked and you step inside and scan the room. It’s not small but not very large either, just enough to act as a medical ward. The shelves are stacked with herbs and labeled vials. There’s a woman in the corner wrapping a bandage around a man’s arm. Her walnut colored hair is kept in a half-up, half down style tied back with a gold embellishment. The chains go from the bun to her ear where emeralds dangle. You clear your throat and the woman holds up a finger.

You tilt your head but wait until she finishes what she’s doing. You smile as she turns to you. Her forest colored eyes widen when she sees you before they return to resting. She nods to a chair and you take it. “Hello?” 

She nods again… Does she… not talk? That’s fine. You just wanted to meet her. 

“So, you’re a healer? A concubine and a healer?” You observe the clothes she wears, green, like her eyes and a lot less revealing than the others you have met. She’s clearly important, but she doesn’t strike you as dangerous the way the others have. She’s gentle? It’s hard to get a grasp on a person who doesn’t speak and relies on actions and gestures.

As she nods at your question, she stands, grabbing something off the shelf. She hands it to you and you take it, looking over the label she’s written. It’s to help with pain and bruising.

“You noticed that small detail.” She nods with a small smile. So she’s not hostile at all like the others and hyper observant. You wonder if her only goal is to survive and look after herself. She seems to have a relatively stable thing going on here. “Thanks?” You smile and she hums, fidgeting a bit.

Aright, then out of everybody she does seem the easiest to approach, however possibly not the most helpful. You’ll figure this out and go over your options later. For now, you are going back to your room and using this stuff to try to relieve the lingering pain and marks from yesterday.

Sitting in your room, you sigh, going over what you have learned. 

In terms of status, Philomela and Amatheia seem to hold the highest influence over the other. However, in terms of getting anything or anywhere with them… Dead end.

Lyra is airheaded, seems like she’s an open book and would be easy to become something like friends with, but she’s got Amatheia looking over her. 

Then there is Altheia… You don’t know her status among the others yet, but she doesn’t seem like an immediate threat to your life like the others do. 

As of right now, you’ll avoid all of them until you know more about them. It’s hard to find the best way to survive this nightmare with no little information about the people who hold the most influence. You just need to survive long enough to escape. That’s the goal… Figure out who you can use to help you achieve that.

Chapter 3 (Click here)

Chapter 5: sfw (Click here) nsfw (Click here)

[the-desolated-quill]

Okay. So. Lucky Day. Let’s give credit where it’s due. So far this is probably the least awful episode in the series. That being said, I still don’t think it works, but we’ll come to it.

The idea is solid. People have compared it to Love And Monsters, and yeah I agree. This episode feels like what Love And Monsters could have been had they not been lumbered with a monster designed by a nine year old. Gold star. Thumbs up. 👍🏻

Also, Ruby finally has something to do. As much as I love Millie Gibson and her natural chemistry with Ncuti Gatwa, her role and characterisation in the previous series was piss poor due to the restricted episode count and RTD’s unwillingness to do anything with her character beyond the stupid series arc. The closest she ever got to character development was 73 Yards, and even then RTD did absolutely nothing with that afterward. So this automatically feels like a standout episode purely because this is the first time Ruby feels like an actual person. And the fact that it took someone other than RTD to make it happen speaks volumes to how bad his second stewardship of the show has been.

All good stuff. Unfortunately the episode doesn’t really work for me, and in fairness this isn’t entirely the fault of the writer Pete McTighe, but rather the larger context surrounding this episode. How does this world work?

Seriously, does anybody know? What are the politics of present day Whoniverse? The first RTD era made aliens public knowledge on Earth. Everyone and their mums knew aliens existed, the Earth would get invaded every Christmas and so on. Then Moffat turned up with his crack of doom, erasing things from existence, only for those things to come back when the cracks disappeared… I think. Did they come back? I don’t know and I’m willing to bet you don’t either because Moffat was a terrible writer and worse showrunner. But anyway, back on topic, let’s assume the cracks disappearing put history back… except in the Chibnall era nobody knew what Daleks were. Which they should because Earth was invaded by the Daleks in 2009. Okay, so maybe not everything was brought back. So after the Dalek invasion that may or may not have happened, the Earth was invaded by black cubes, spoon people, and Cybermen, we have Zygon refugees claiming asylum, a Judoon platoon, another Dalek invasion, a Sontaran occupation that may or may not be canon because of the Flux, dog warriors, a squadron of insect police chasing a psychopathic fluff ball, the Giggle and Sutekh’s dust of death.

So, bearing all that mind, you can’t then tell me that there’s a community of conspiracy nuts within the Whoniverse that doesn’t believe aliens exist. That’s just stupid. I get that it’s meant to be a critique of COVID deniers and the manosphere, but it’s one thing to deny something you can’t see with your own eyes. It’s another thing entirely to deny something you can see. That’s like me starting a podcast telling you that cars don’t exist. You would quite rightly mock me. If aliens are a fact of life in the Whoniverse that everyone has seen, there is no way a cottage industry of alien deniers could possibly exist. Unless… all that stuff I just described has been retconned… which it could have been. I don’t know. And that’s the point. Thanks to 15 years worth of writers pissing about with the basics in a desperate attempt to appear clever, there is no longer any internal logic or consistency within the show’s lore. I haven’t a clue how the world works, what people know and what they don’t know, and what the stakes are. It’s like the MCU on speed.

And it only gets worse when you factor UNIT into the equation. In 20 years of New Who, UNIT has gone from being secret to public, international to global, then merged with Torchwood to get all that sweet alien tech, then they had their budgets slashed, then got shut down because of Brexit or something, then got brought back with a brand spanking new Avengers tower, and now they’re at risk of being shut down again because… why?

Oh and let’s not forget Kate. Introduced as a scientific advisor who hates guns, she’s now a military leader who loves guns, and recruits ex-companions and child soldiers for her private army like a female Gaddafi.

Again, what are the politics of this world?!

This is what ruined Lucky Day for me because I had no frame of reference for where this episode fits with the rest of the show. Even if you disregard everything that came before RTD’s return for the 60th anniversary, the current state of affairs in this episode completely contradicts what happened in the previous series. There is no longer any synergy or continuity, and it completely takes me out of it. It’s hard to be shocked by Conrad’s betrayal when you’re too busy thinking how can people possibly believe aliens are a hoax in a world where London gets divebombed by spaceships at least once a fortnight!

So while Lucky Day is definitely an improvement over the past three episodes, I’m going to have to label it a palpable miss. But props to McTighe for trying. I’m glad somebody is.

[catt-nuevenor]

Hello 😍 , ros reaction to very sick and in pain mc?( you say there's angst so I want a sample if you don't mind of course 😘).

Okay, this is going to be a heavy one, though I shall try to avoid lingering on the symptoms. I'm sure most of you are here for the angst and fluff, not a crash course in Historical Epidemics.

But do take this as your warning, if you have dealt with severe illness recently, experiencing it as patient, or carer, or bystander, please do consider carefully reading through the react. I want everyone to enjoy their time on this blog, not to unnecessarily relive traumas.

I've selected Sweating Sickness as the malady in question. Mostly due to it's prevalence in rural communities, its rapid onset and culmination (you live or you succumb after typically one day of the onset of symptoms), its questioned transmissibility between humans (some modern theories think it was an exterior infection that could not be passed on through contact alone), and it's lack of grotesque symptoms.

So, context: The MC has come down with Sweating Sickness, the RO has been tasked with attending them through the night by Erda. By this stage the RO and MC are a exclusive couple. The Child is being kept away for their own safety.

I HIGHLY recommend you head over to the reacts page to read this. There you can enter your own names and pronouns for the characters.

Reacts Page

P

MC felt so small in their arms. Quivering like the last leaf on the bough, their hands clutched desperately over P's.

"I'm right here." They soothed, holding their bodies together, rocking them both steadily back and forth. "I'm not going anywhere."

 MC whimpered. "Please... please..."

 Burying the agonised expression of their face in the burning skin of MC's shoulder, P tried as best they could to suppress the sob that threatened them.

 "I'm here." They repeated, their voice wavering as a convulsion made the soul in their arms jerk and writhe.

 They called for them. Their voice so fragile, yet so desperate for comfort it tore into P's soul.

 "I'm here. MC, my darling, I'm right here."

 But their darling couldn't hear them. No matter how often they said it, no matter how they might plead, might beg to be heard through the terrible delirium that brutalised them, MC never seemed to hear a word.

 When they started to weep, P could not stem the tide of their own tears.

 It would be over by the morning. In either the best of ways, or the ways in which P could not bear to think of, this horror would be over by sunrise. Erda had wanted to stay with them, but with another four cases of the same terrible malady spread throughout the town, she was forced to leave them in P's care.

The bitterness of the word made them want to vomit.

 Care.

 What care could they provide in the face of this? Nothing they did seemed in any way to help, nothing alleviated their suffering. Their own helplessness disgusted them.

 "Be with them." The old woman had said. "So long as you are there, they won't have to face the worst of it alone."

 P clutched their quaking frame as close to their own body as they could. Even if MC could hear them, perhaps they could still feel that they were there.

 "You're not alone." They whispered, kissing the sweat slicked skin with pale lips that shook. "I'm here darling, and I'll stay here... until the end."

  L

 L was the wrong person for this.

 They just were.

 No ifs, no buts.

 Anybody, ANYBODY, would have been better than them.

 "Be with them." The old woman had said. "So long as you are there, they won't have to face the worst of it alone."

 Sure, L groaned silently, pressing their tear stained cheeks into their hands. Easy for the top Cunningwoman in the county to say.

 It had been awful.

 The screams still rang in their ears. MC's screams. Those terrible, torn wails that ripped their sound from them. And what had L done? They hid.

 L hid behind fractured smiles and broken promises that it would all be over soon. Just a little more, just a little longer.

 "Just hold on."

 "You just need to get through tonight."

 "It'll all be better tomorrow, just stay with me, okay?"

 They muffled their cry of frustration as best they could, biting into their own palm to suffocate the emotional torment with the physical sting.

 Just!?

 There was no just about it. This wasn't just a sniffle, or just a bit of bad food. This could kill them.

 Is that what Erda meant when she said 'the worst of it'?

 L was there so MC wouldn't be alone when they died?

 "L?"

 The blankets shifted a little as MC shifted in their fractured sleep, curling closer into the warmth of L's stomach, weakly nuzzling at the spot just above their belly button.

 MC had succumbed to the exhaustion of their body a few hours after the delirium had peaked. Collapsing into L, slumping, boneless, and limp until their heavy head came to rest upon their trembling lap.

 Fresh tears scoured their cheeks as MC whimpered softly, tormented by fevered horrors L couldn't protect them from. Gentling their movements, parting their fingers, they tentatively reached down and traced their fingertips over their partner's burning cheek.

 "Please..." They whispered, heart fluttering as MC turned weakly into their touch. There were so many things they wanted to ask, so many things they would readily beg for.

 But MC couldn't hear them. Anything L could say felt pointless when the one person they wanted to hear, was so out of reach.

 Instead, bending low to lightly touch their foreheads together, L only said a single word.

 "Please."

  A

  It was always going to be bad. A knew this. They knew what Sweating Sickness did to people, they knew how it made the sufferer twist and writhe, how it turned the sensation of their own skin into the prickle of a thousand barbed needles, how it either passed or killed the victim in a day.

 All of this and more he'd learnt from Erda's books, page after page of symptoms and remedies, always underlined with the brutal truth that no amount of craft could cure everyone. They should have been ready for this.

 All the theoretical knowledge in the world could never have prepared them for what it was to see MC like this. Erda had offered to tend to them in their place, they could go and support the other families in town laid low.

 No. As much as it shattered his, to watch them at the mercies of a pestilence without pity, A knew they had to stay with MC.

 The first few hours passed as they knew they would, with confusion, pain, and a deep aching weariness which made MC's limbs lead. They settled on the bed, A's arms cradling their lover's body as the waves of crashing chills rolled over them. The discomfort could be eased, the warmth of their embrace could chase away the worst of the cold, and speaking softly, A could still whisper sweetly into MC's ear, keeping the spectres of delirium away.

 There was no comfort to be given when the true onslaught began. A could only hold them, and try to keep their own desperate sobs from choking them. Nothing could have prepared them for their helplessness.

 It lasted for most of the night, until MC's body collapsed in upon itself and they succumbed to a deep yet fitful sleep.

 A watched the rise and fall of their chest desperately, their pulse leaping every time a breath came too slowly, or sped into breathless wheezing gasps. They counted, every time MC whimpered, every time their features contorted into terror, every time they seemed to blindly reach out for the comfort of A's waiting embrace.

 For every terrible suffering, A would find a way to show MC how much they adored them, once they woke, once they were well again.

 It was an utterly foolish thing to promise. Erda would have scolded them. Or perhaps she would smile in sombre understanding.

 A placed their hand over MC's heart, felt the irregular beat pulsing beneath their fingertips.

 "I won't let you die." They whispered. "I promise, I won't let you die."

  K

  K could understand their protests. They knew nothing of sickness. Had the affliction been one that could be nursed, they may have stepped aside to let Erda or A attend MC. It was not. So, K stayed with their efenhlytta.

 It was strange at first. As they watched MC's sanity began to slip. The odd word as they spoke, an erratic flick of their gaze to the empty air beside them. Then their words faltered, sticking to their tongue thickly as MC's hands began to tremble.

 "Sorry." Their efenhlytta gasped when K moved to embrace them. "It's... I can feel..."

 With sharp jerks they stabbed their fingers into the already sweating skin, moving rapidly in attempt to explain the sensation.

 K had no context for the irritation, but they knew pain. Every living creature knew pain.

 MC's skin began to swelter, the heat rising up from a ravenous flame that seemed devoted to their destruction. Perhaps in this one regard K could help where all others could not.

 On a slow outward breath they let the warmth of their own blood ease away, letting the cool tide return in it's wake. The unnatural chill took the bite from the fever, and though MC still lashed out, driven to fight the demons of the fever, they were not made to suffer their terrible fire.

 "I forbid you to die." K said, while their efenhlytta thrashed once again in their supple embrace.

 It was clear MC couldn't hear them, but K wasn't really talking to the part of them that could listen. What they addressed was deeper, behind the consciousness that fronted MC's being.

 "Do you hear me?" They hissed, fixing their ice blue eyes on a single point in seemingly empty air.

 "I forbid you to die."

Extra material:

Just in case folks were interested in historical context, below I’ve linked my source material for a contempary description of the sickness.

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/42686/42686-h/42686-h.htm

pg.241 C.Creighton 1891 "A History of Epidemics in Britain"

Dr Forrestier 1485

"...This sickness cometh with a grete swetyng and stynkyng, with rednesse of the face and of all the body, and a contynual thurst, with a grete hete and hedache because of the fumes and venoms.....pricking the brains,... some appear red and yellow, as we have seen many, and in two grete ladies that we saw, the which were sick in all their bodies and they felt grete pricking in their bodies. And some had black spots, as it appeared in our frere (?) Alban, a noble leech on whose soul God have mercy!”

Modern English Translation:

"This sickness comes with a great sweating and stinking, with redness of the face and of all the body, and a continual thirst, with a great heat and headache because due to the fumes and venoms... with a prickling sensation seeming to come from inside the skull... some appear red and yellow in pallor, we witnessed such in two noble ladies, both of whom were severely sick and who also felt great pricking in their bodies. Some of the infected had black spots across their skin, as it appeared in our fair Alban, a noble leech on whose soul God have mercy!"

[percabethfiles]

Charlie

Uh... Hello? Anybody still here? I haven't been around in years and years. But I keep my fandoms stored in some corner of my brain waiting for something to tug them out. And of all things this time it was Taylor Swift re-releasing her old songs, because I used to imagine so many percabeth scenes listening to "Fearless". So have this little something that's been sitting unfinished in my archives for years now.

Remember that time Percy saw Sadie Kane and thought “Hey, this is what mine and Annabeth’s daughter would look like”? Yes.

(Also there are small nods to that fic I wrote about Logan, Hidden Heritage, but I've been meaning to re-write it someday because there were SO MANY PLOT HOLES omg)

When they find out it’s a girl it’s a bit too soon to know for sure, or so the doctor tells them. They’ll have to wait for the next appointment to know for certain. “So don’t go buying any tiny dresses yet,” he jokes and they laugh along, but they’ve been together for approximately eighteen years now, they can tell what the other’s thinking with a glance and the ecstatic grin that breaks through their lips lets him know they’re on the same page. Too late. They’re already thinking plush bow and arrows and a Merida costume for her first Halloween.

Percy tries to keep his cool. As the weeks progress, he tries not to get his hopes up, but in his heart he knows already. They hadn’t really had a preference before, they’d been too happy knowing their baby was fully human and had all its limbs (with the number of deities they’d pissed off, you never knew), but a little girl? It feels right after their two boys, it feels like their family will be complete.

(He thinks about a slight blonde girl with streaked hair and a British accent dropping from the sky on a magic camel, remembers thinking “if Annabeth and I had a daughter…” and his chest squeezes tight with happiness so raw he has a little trouble breathing)

When the doctor beams at them next appointment and says “Congratulations, Jackson family, it really is a girl,” he’s not surprised, but no less elated. He doesn’t hear the lame joke about Jackson Five, he’s too busy trying to be a manly man and not burst into tears because he’s going to have a daughter. When Annabeth’s in the other room paying for the appointment, and he’s waiting for the doctor to print the really impressive high tech 3D picture of the ultrasound, the man asks him “So did you go ahead and buy a tiny dress anyway?”

Percy blushes.

The man shakes his head in amusement. “Every time”.

His work colleagues, proud dads of little girls themselves, try to terrorize him with tales of tea parties and future boyfriends, and Percy thinks somewhere in the middle of all that teasing they mean well, but really, he’s mostly annoyed. It’s not like he’s new to parenthood, he’s got two sons already and they seem to be turning out okay, and before, when Logan and Nathan were just a nice dream for the future, there was Estelle, the little sister Percy had never expected, but loved to bits all the same.

And then Charlie is born.

She’s tiny, warm and pink, all curled up in her yellow cable-knit blanket, a tuft of blonde hair peeking out of a tiny, tiny beanie, features scrunched into the most adorable variation of a grumpy face. He’s not new to parenthood, he’s been here twice before, but the rush of affection and protectiveness and awe and raw love is just as genuine. He’s smiling like a dork, can’t seem to stop, walking from side to side, avidly searching her traits. She’s bigger than Nate was when he’d been born, but smaller than Logan. Her hair was light, like Nate’s, would it stay blonde or darken with time? Would her eyes be like his or Annabeth’s? And oh, she had her mother’s nose (they all did).

It never fails to amaze him how such a small, vulnerable being can shake up his whole world until it’s made a space for her. And he’s done this before, he’s no first time sailor this time, he’d thought he had it all under control. But she blinks and looks up at him with half-lidded eyes and a frowny face and—they’re green. Her eyes are the blue-green Logan’s are, Percy’s are.

(He’s got two sons who are his life, and he does love all his children equally, but holding his daughter for the first time, he thinks he understands his friends’ warnings. He doesn’t love her more, it’s just… different. It’s special.)

When he goes back to work, Nick takes one look at him and bursts into laughter. He claps him on the shoulder in commiseration.

“I told you.”

He’s completely wrapped around her finger already.

It’s not too different, he finds out. Especially having been pre-trained by Estelle. He’s got to brush up on his Disney princess knowledge, and hair braiding skills. He hasn’t gotten much better at color coordinating the polka dotted bows and tiny shoes, but Charlie is really forgiving. She is a very happy baby, much happier and easy going than any of the boys had been.

She’s also fucking crazy.

She is smaller and skinnier than her brothers, likes to wear frilly dresses and talk to plush animals and dance around the house in a pink tutu, but she’s wild. She never learned to crawl, just held on to the couch until she was wobbling on two feet, and it seemed like the very next day she was running across the house, the mall, the park, and if he turned his eyes away for one second, she was shooting off in the streets and nearly getting run over.

He’d found her dangling from the kitchen cabinets, trying to reach the cowering cat. She had a phase when she thought she could fly and she would climb furniture and stairs and the window sill and just… Launch herself into the air expecting her flying powers to manifest spontaneously. If they hadn’t been trying to raise them away from the whole mythological world, he would have sat her down and clarified that she had the wrong Olympian Grandparent in mind. She might have had more luck jumping into the ocean.

She had a way to jut out her lower lip, and turn those big green eyes on him that could render his every effort to be a responsible parental presence useless.

Besides, she was so funny. He could never muster enough anger to discipline her, because if he found her on the kitchen table covered in peanut butter, somehow sporting a very sticky Mohawk, and looking entirely unapologetic, well, he just couldn’t stop laughing.

One day he’s coming home from work and he hasn’t even pulled the key from the lock when Charlie calls out ‘you’re back daddy,’ in what sounds vaguely like a new jersey accent. He finds her sitting on the floor of the living room, drowning in one of Annabeth’s bathrobes, pink plastic barbie sunglasses on, holding a pooh bear sippy cup with one hand and a pinky stretched out.

“Charlie, what are you doing?”

“It’s wine Wednesday, daddy.”

“It’s what?”

“Wine Wednesday.”

He had half a mind to check if her sippy cup actually contained wine because they hid their alcohol way up in the cabinets she can’t reach but that girl could climb like a monkey. He knows he should follow that remark up with some kind of questioning of where she’d even heard of ‘wine Wednesdays’ and then explain that kids don’t drink wine or some other kind of responsible parent speech, but a sudden burst of incredulous laughter bubbles up in his throat and he takes refuge in the kitchen, lest he encourages her behavior.

He finds Annabeth there, hand over her mouth, clearly in stitches over their daughter’s performance. He wants to question if she gave her permission to wear her bathrobe but finding his wife nearly doubled over in silent laughter in the kitchen is too much and he finally lets out the guffaw he’d been trying to hold on to.

It’s not the first time Charlie leaves them breathless with laughter, and he’s almost scared of what she’s going to cook up in the future.

Charlie is a hellion.

There isn’t one person safe from her pranks, but she’s so adorable she hardly ever catches hell for it, and she’s learning to use it in her favor – thankfully, just in time for her parents to develop immunity to her puppy eyes. And she’s… difficult, yes, but not always, and not in a terrible way. For all her climbing the roof, organizing illegal cookie sales, getting in fights with her classmates, she’s not a bad kid. She’s got Percy’s penchant for befriending the kids no one wants to go near, and defending her ragtag team of losers. She’s loyal to a fault, and it gets her in trouble often.

She and Nate have epic jealousy fights over everything, including – but not limited to – Logan’s attention, the crayons, the biggest piece of cake and all the videogame characters in the world are not enough, they will always want whatever the other picked. It gives them many, many headaches. Logan, on the other hand, positively spoils her, and whenever Charlie gets in trouble they can be sure to find her hiding behind her big brother while he gives them this solemn look and says “It’s ok, mom and dad, Charlie promises she won’t do it again. We’ve talked.”

When the whole “Logan being attacked by a dracanae in school and thus finding out his Olympian heritage” debacle came to pass, and they started frequenting camp again, there was nowhere in the entire Camp Charlie would rather be than the stables. She’d spend hours there with the Aphrodite kids, brushing the pegasi and talking to them endlessly about all her classmates and her friends, and her dolls, and her new dress, and the new book grandma gave her. It was all really cute until Percy realized the pegasi were talking back, and she fully understood their replies.

And it’s funny, really, because Logan had taken after Percy, to a point where bathing him had been hard as a child because he tended to stay dry in the tub, and Nathan was Annabeth to a T, but Charlie was a perfect mix of them both.

He guesses it makes sense it would be so explosive.

When Charlie is twelve, she gets kicked out of school.

Percy is not overly worried about it himself – the number of schools he’d been kicked out of reached double digits, and this was only her first – but he is worried about how she will feel. Getting the boot from a place that’s housed you for years, where your friends are, where everyone already knows you and having to start over is never pleasant, no matter how used to it you were.

He’d expected the school to have gotten tired of all her pranks and misbehaving, which was fair, he guessed. But when Annabeth comes home from the meeting with the school director, she is seething, and not at their daughter. Charlie is angry too. In fact, it’s the first time he’s ever seen his daughter well and truly pissed off. The two of them are a sight for nightmares, both blondes standing side by side ranting with righteous fury, they look ready to start a revolution. What he gets from her angry snarls and Charlie’s rushed rambling is that Charlie had talked back to a teacher that was picking on the autistic kid and demeaning the thirteen year old who was repeating sixth grade.

She’d called him a brain-washing small minded overgrown bully who, he was quoting, didn’t get enough love from his parents.

And Percy is so proud his eyes even get a little misty.

Because he’s getting old and sentimental and raising kids is very hard. No one knows what they’re doing, not one person, not even the fancy psychologists with those books on raising perfect, well rounded, high-achieving members of society that Annabeth insisted on reading when she was pregnant with Logan. You do your best and you hope for the best, and you don’t know what you get until it’s basically too late to do anything about it. And even if he did have the best mom in the history of the entire world to draw example from, he was also half of an absent Olympian father whose heritage condemned him to dance in and out of battlefields half his life.

He’s always been terrified of being a crap father.

He looks at Charlie cussing out with every mild version of actual cuss words, stalking around the kitchen like a little lioness in a cage, furious at the unfairness of the whole situation, caring less about being expelled and more about who was going to defend her friends from that awful teacher when she’s gone.

His daughter is only twelve, but she’s already so brave, such a force of nature. She won’t stand for injustice, and she won’t take insult lying down. And she’s so kind. She’s growing up, and the person she is slowly turning out to be… is good.

And something in his heart shifts and settles down, smooths over old fears and anxious thoughts.

Percy doesn’t mean to brag, but he thinks he’s not doing half bad as a parent.

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

I feel like the reason why autistic!Aziraphale is so important to me is precisely because he's "just enough of a bastard".

And it's not because of his autism. Well, okay, sometimes it is. There are points— see a lot of the negative comments he makes about Crowley being a demon— where you get the sense that he's not actually intending to be mean, it's just that he's not necessarily aware of the effect his words could have on the other person.

But there are also an awful lot of moments where you know that Aziraphale is totally aware of the effect his words could have on the other person, and he is using that knowledge to be a snarky bitch because he can. "Do you have a better idea? One single better idea?" isn't an example of Aziraphale not realising that he's coming across as kinda snippy and sarcastic, it's Aziraphale being pissed off at the world in general and letting off steam by being deliberately snippy and sarcastic to Crowley because he knows the demon can take it.

(Crowley, btw, is by far the one bearing the brunt of Aziraphale's bastardry, and it's for this very reason. Aziraphale has to be polite and respectful in Heaven, or he'll be labelled a 'bad angel'. He has to be nice to the humans (barring those who try to buy his books), because Heaven and God are, officially at least, judging him based on how he treats them. But Crowley? Aziraphale can be an absolute asshole to Crowley, and Crowley will just say something equally dickish back, and then they'll both brush it off and go have lunch. Crowley is the only one who ever gets to see the real Aziraphale, because their relationship is the only one in the angel's existence where he doesn't live in constant fear of what would happen if he let the 'good angel' façade slip for a moment.)

And the thing is, autistic people, we don't get characters like that. Your typical autistic character in media is either a sweet cinnamon roll who would never hurt a fly, or a total and utter bastard who nobody is actually allowed to be annoyed at, because they can't help it, they don't know what they're doing.

And again, there are absolutely times when autistic people say things that come across as rude because we genuinely don't realise how they can be interpreted! That's a thing and it's something that you should totally bear in mind when talking with an autistic person! But also sometimes we're just being dicks on purpose, and to deny that we could possibly have the ability and/or inclination to do that sort of thing is kind of infantilising.

My point being, Aziraphale is a prick sometimes. Deliberately. But he's also a character that a lot of people see as autistic, and I think it's so cool that I don't think I've ever seen anybody try and claim that all his bastard traits are purely down to having a communication disorder. As a fellow snarky and sarcastic autistic person, I feel represented.

[dent-de-leon]

Hey Leo! I hope you don't mind me rambling about critical role in your inbox... Remember how Tal said that Molly wouldn't change much? I think that's impossible in a D&D game (but it's Tal we're talking about so who knows). If Molly didn't die and if Matt had thrown Lucien at the party wanting his original body back as planned... Do you think (alive) Molly would have those visceral reactions like (our) Lucien does because of how similar they were thus eventually changing?

Hi! Oh I don’t mind at all, I love talking about this stuff too! I think this is a really interesting concept, because we actually do know that Mollymauk has felt these faint touches of Lucien’s presence for sometime. It might not have escalated to these very physical manifestations we’re seeing in Lucien now. But Lucien definitely left behind enough of an impression for Molly to feel something:

“Few months after I came to, I started noticing I could do things, knew things that I didn't necessarily know I knew.”

“Okay, here’s the thing that you’re not catching. That wasn’t me. This is mine...That person is someone else...I did not feel good coming out of that.”  

“Whoever that was came to that end, and I want nothing to do with it. Whatever it was, it doesn't feel good when I--the moment when something creeps through, I don't like it. I don't want anything to do with it...”

“That sounds terrible. I don't want to remember anything. I don't want anybody else's baggage in my head and I don't want anybody else's problems, thoughts, ideas. I like this person--this person, right now, is a good person. Is a fine person. A happy person.”

I think part of what actually drives Molly to embrace his own identity and completely distance himself from Lucien is the fact that he’s already felt these echoes of him. And whatever remained of Lucien, Molly realized that he hated him. In Zone of Truth, Mollymauk admits he believes himself to be a good person--and he tries to be one entirely in spite of these remnants of Lucien that he can’t bear.

Beau: “Molly, you seem to have a pretty solidified identity for someone who has only had consciousness for two years.”

Mollymauk: “Things came back quick, and the circus helped. They were good people. They did a lot for me, and joy can fill an awful lot of a person’s life.”

Beau: “Things came back quick. Do you feel like there’s still remnants of who you once were that have informed who you are now?”

Mollymauk: “Maybe. I feel tinges of things on occasion, nothing I like.”

These errant pieces of Lucien creeping in terrified him. Molly likes his joyful, charmed life, the fun and freedom of a traveling carnival, with no burden of heavy memories attached. I think Lucien had already been changing Mollymauk, in the sense that Molly caught these glimpses of a life that wasn’t his, and made the conscious decision to tear himself free of it. Because he’s happier shutting out these remnants of Lucien’s, a better person than what chasing after those impulses would have made him.

Molly tried to tattoo over the Eyes of Nine. And when that wouldn’t work, he took back his body piece by piece, decorating himself in his own art to hide and conceal these marks Lucien left behind. He tells Cree to abandon the book, because it will only bring more trouble for her. He has what Taliesin describes as, “a mild nervous breakdown” when he first actives his Rite of the Dawn--likely because he’s terrified of gaining anymore of this stranger’s powers, these abilities and this knowledge that still don’t quite feel like his. He makes a point of telling the Nein that, in spite of his bullshit and games, he tried to be a good person. To leave every place better than he found it. I think Lucien’s influence was enough to change Molly, in the sense that he actively tried to be better than whatever person left this body behind.

But I also think Molly was in a very different place before. Because Lucien was mostly shattered and scattered in another plane of existence, Molly was mostly free of him. We knew from Matt that Lucien was going to try to take his body back, but that would be quite a way’s off, I think. For the most part, Lucien was cut off from the body. But now, it seems to me as though that shard of Molly is...suppressed. Quieted, but still present. And as time goes on, it seems Molly himself is developing more of a presence--enough that he could possibly wrestle control of the body from Lucien. It’s the kind of thing I don’t think Lucien would have been able to do to Molly unless he was returned to the material plan and had considerable help, but it’s an interesting thought. I could definitely see it playing out something like this.

For context, whenever I throw out stuff like this, I’m speculating under the assumption that Molly is still a wholly separate entity from Lucien, a broken piece who grew into his own person because of all his bonds and beliefs and experiences. Think the Velveteen Rabbit. Molly is just a speck, a fragment. A hollow vessel. Empty. But, he was loved by his little circus family and grew to love them and this colorful world all around him in turn. He filled his life with joy. And that made him more than just a shard of a soul, made him real.

The reason Molly believed he was free of Lucien was because, well, he was dead. But Lucien seems to think Molly isn’t even a person to begin with, little more than a forgotten fragment. “I believe you seemed to fall for one of these pieces left behind.” “You felt for this empty speck?” Lucien cannot fathom why the Nein would ever care for a broken piece, or how something without a “whole” soul could care for others in turn. And that will be his undoing, I think.

But, despite Molly now being his own soul, I think he and Lucien are kind of still inexorably tied together. So sometimes, the feelings and vague impressions of one bleeds through into the other. I hope that makes sense? That might not be entirely accurate, but that’s just how I see it. So, just like how Molly admitted he sometimes felt this residual influence of Lucien and was haunted by it, I think Lucien is very much experiencing the same. Only, much more pronounced. Whereas Lucien was shattered and mostly scattered, I think that shard of Molly is still trying to cling to the body. And that’s why it seems like he’s gaining more of a presence and even fighting Lucien for control. I hope that makes sense?

[folderolsfollies]

Sangyao Arranged Marriage.... III

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Word Count: 2.7k  Rating: T Warnings: None to date (Besides discussion of canon events)

Nie Huaisang idly notes that it had taken three servants blanching and running through the halls of the Jinlintai at the sight of him freely wandering through its gilded passageways before he’s caught. He tears his gaze away from a beautiful and entirely inaccurate mural commemorating Jin victories during the Sunshot campaign. There’s Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun in front of him, pieced out in larger-than-life gold. Jin Guangyao, the hero of the Sunshot campaign, is absent from the scene.

He fully turns when he recognizes a quiet but unmistakable pair of footsteps. Jin Guangyao, alone, moves with a leopard’s prowling grace.

“San-ge, thank god you’re here! I got so lost…” he lies hurriedly before Jin Guangyao can say anything, clasping onto his arm. This close, the warm, spicy smell of cloves curls towards him. “Oh! You smell nice,” he says, entranced into losing his train of thought, and leans forward, to where the scent is deepened by the heat radiating out from Jin Guangyao’s jugular. “Have you remembered my trick with the incense?” he says, remembering frozen nights in Qinghe carefully draping his long sleeves over the incense burners. At the time, Meng Yao had kept his sleeves sensibly bound to the wrist, but Nie Huaisang had noticed the hungry way that he had stilled to watch all these invisible tricks of the gentry from out of the corner of his eyes, even back then. It had been the first time anybody had wanted to imitate Nie Huaisang. It had been the first time Nie Huaisang had felt the urge to impress someone, stirring new and strange within him.

“I will always remember your kindnesses, Nie Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao replies in the present, polite to a fault, and admirably suppressing his clear desire to ask what exactly Nie Huaisang is doing in Koi Tower. His San-ge, always so thoughtful! “The Jinlintai welcomes you.”

Nie Huaisang finally remembers his twice-stated promise, and, releasing his arm, darts backwards from him like a startled fawn.

“Jin-er-gongzi, thank you for the hospitality,” he says formally, and bows as deeply and as properly as any Lan.

Strong hands catch him from beneath the elbows before the arc of his bow is complete, and he’s hauled back into a standing position. They stand there for a long moment, with Jin Guangyao’s hands wrapped tight around his forearms, and Nie Huaisang’s hands gently draped on his arms. For a moment, Jin Guangyao’s face is startled into openness, as he looks at Huaisang with his large deer-soft eyes, and Huaisang looks back at him.

There’s a lock of Nie Huaisang’s hair, braided for the dust of summer travel, curling around Jin Guangyao’s sleeve and tickling his wrist. Jin Guangyao swiftly tucks it behind Nie Huaisang’s ear, his thin, cold thumb briefly brushing over Huaisang’s cheekbone. His fingers flex against Nie Huaisang’s scalp, briefly, before he releases him, and Huaisang beats down the brief impulse to envelop those cold hands in his own warm ones.

“Let’s go to my office,” Jin Guangyao finally says, and smiles, a small, reflexive thing.

The room Jin Guangyao brings them to is bright and well appointed, and utterly impersonal. There are no decorations. It is the office of a bureaucrat. It is the office of someone who can leave it at any time. Nie Huaisang, kneeling across from Jin Guangyao at his plain desk, feels suddenly desolate at the idea of bright Jin Guangyao entombed in this dingy room. Even in Qinghe, stark as it was, Meng Yao’s office had a few scattered effects, even if it was mostly scraps given by Nie Huaisang. Huaisang wants to give him something beautiful, something that would chisel him into the very walls.

He’s been silent too long. “San-ge, if I get you a fan, would you hang it there?” Nie Huaisang says, pointing randomly at an alcove in the corner. He’s sure to make the words sound artless, casual. Nie Huaisang knows enough to spare Jin Guangyao the sensation of pity.

It must work well enough, because Jin Guangyao says indulgently, “Of course, Huaisang.”

“Don’t just agree with me! What if it’s awful?” Nie Huaisang says.

“I doubt you would ever choose anything that was not in exquisite taste,” Jin Guangyao demurs.

For some reason, at that, Nie Huaisang flops on his elbows and sighs heavily. He thinks he sees Jin Guangyao’s lips twitch up briefly from the corner of his eyes, but when he darts a glance up at him his face is smoothed into placidity once more.

A servant comes in, bearing a tray laden with the dainty little walnut cakes Nie Huaisang favors, placing them on the table to Jin Guangyao’s polite murmur of thanks.

When she leaves, Nie Huaisang leans in, hiding them both under his fan. “Ah, San-ge, what was her name?” he asks.

“Tang Zhu,” Jin Guangyao says in response, and doesn’t ask why Nie Huaisang was curious, sparing Nie Huaisang from having to answer that he simply wanted to see how quickly he would answer, plucking facts out of his well-ordered brain. Sometimes Nie Huaisang’s thoughts spin out from him, wild and untethered and frightening; at those times, Jin Guangyao’s straight-pathed mind settles something deep within him.

When Meng Yao had first entered the Unclean Realm, there had been a long stretch of months when Nie Huaisang had been anxious and sulky about this new addition to Qinghe’s roster, the slight figure at his brother’s right side who carried no saber and who had nevertheless earned such a large portion of his brother’s respect. It had lasted until the day Huaisang had trailed him silently through the secret passageways of the realm to see him pinching off crumbs of bread for one of the stray cats that jostled around the gates. He had felt an affection tinged with the bloody edge of loneliness. He’s like me, he had thought. He could be like me.

He had looked at him then. Jin Guangyao, only two years older than Huaisang, had seemed to have a steady presence that burned brightly within him, outshining any golden core. And Nie Huaisang never really stopped looking at him.

He spreads his fan in front of his face. He has a sudden hope that Meng Yao remembers how they’d use his fan as a silent method of communication with each other back in Qinghe, the way a brisk tap meant rescue me, a shift from hand to hand meaning, watch out! Da-ge coming. When he twists his wrist he thinks with each flutter: trust me, trust me, trust me. “Jin-er-gongzi, how are you settling in?”

Jin Guangyao looks trapped between exasperation and banked amusement, and Nie Huaisang feels such a rush of nostalgic affection that it makes his teeth hurt. “It would be best if you do not refer to me as such in Koi Tower,” he says instead of replying, lightly scolding. “Our positions are dissimilar.”

Nie Huaisang tilts his head unhappily, but smiles to cover it. “Then you’ll be my San-ge. What would you like to do while I’m in here distracting you?”

“I’d like to do my work , Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao says, pointedly, picking up a sheaf of papers on the table.

It gives him pause. In Qinghe, Meng Yao was as familiar to him as the downbeat of his own heart; Jin Guangyao in his Lanling gold has new expressions he doesn’t know how to read. Has he been presuming too much on a friendship grown stale through time? He doesn’t know. He has to know.

“Then forgive me for encroaching on your time, San-ge,” he says, penitently. He may have pulled the words from a drama. “I can see myself out.” He stirs to leave.

“Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao says, and stops. Hope blooms in Nie Huaisang’s chest like a rose, flowered but barbed. Jin Guangyao’s lies are quick and fluent, easy to surface. Deliberation means he’s close to the truth. His smile is a little sad at the edges. “I can spare some time,” is what he settles on. “What brings you to Lanling?”

“Mostly, just avoiding Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang says, shamelessly. He feels giddy, pricked all over with excitement at the familiar cadence of the conversation.  “He’s been after me to keep to a training schedule.”

“He only worries for you, you know that,” Jin Guangyao says patiently.

“Ah, I know, I know that,” Nie Huaisang says, “but this is peacetime! Surely the point of the war was to actually enjoy the rewards of peace.”

“Sometimes leadership demands sacrifice, even if it is peacetime, Huaisang,” says Jin Guangyao, offhandedly. Nie Huaisang puts his fan on the table.

Are you happy? He thinks. But then again, when he knew him best, Jin Guangyao was many things, and happy wasn’t necessarily one of them. When he thinks that he feels such a melting tenderness towards his old friend he has to hold his own hands.

“You always work very hard,” Nie Huaisang agrees. “But San-ge, shouldn’t you enjoy some of the rewards of peace too?”

“Nie Huaisang, you are not subtle,” Jin Guangyao chides, but his smile has turned more fond.

Caught out, Nie Huaisang grins back at him. “I’ve badgered Da-ge into finally letting me host a yaji for the next full moon, you should come, if you can make the time.”

“If I can make the time,” Jin Guangyao echoes neutrally.

“San-ge,” Nie Huaisang, pouting, “I’ll even sweeten the pot; should I invite someone for you?” Jin Guangyao will suggest Lan Xichen, who will be a good buffer between Da-ge and San-ge; he waits for confirmation.

Jin Guangyao looks down at his papers. “It would be a good opportunity to strengthen your relationship with some of the tributary sects. Some of the smaller sects produce fine artisans, like Laoling or Dingtao,” he says, neutrally.

Nie Huaisang tosses his hair back in exasperation. Jin Guangyao looks up again, tracing the arc of its movement. “You know that’s not what I meant, San-ge - wait, since when does Laoling produce artisans?” Laoling, a minor city kissing Lanling’s borders, produces golden maize in the summer, sticky purple jujubes in winter; it does not, to Nie Huaisang’s knowledge, produce any scholars of the Great Arts. Jin Guangyao’s smile freezes; Nie Huaisang feels triumphant. “You’ve been holding out on me, San-ge! Who’s in Laoling?”

Jin Guangyao ducks his head, affecting a modesty Nie Huaisang is sure is feigned: “Lord Qin’s eldest daughter. Now that my brother’s engagement is secure, it’s time to start thinking about my own marital duties.”

“You wish to marry... Qin Su?” Nie Huaisang asks, astonished. Qin Su is sweet, Qin Su is pretty, in a delicate fashion, and Qin Su has a winsome manner that would, Nie Huaisang imagines, make a person who cares for such things want to sweep her up in their arms. Nie Huaisang would rather be swept up, but he is not blind to the appeal.

“She is a generous and loving woman, and she would make anyone a fine wife.” says Jin Guangyao, and there is an admonishment cloaked in his even tone. There’s Jin Guangyao’s protective streak again, and it sends warmth into Nie Huaisang’s chest even as it feels odd, to hear it directed on the behalf of someone else.

“No, I know that,” says Nie Huaisang, so blankly that it seems to mollify Jin Guangyao. “But I had thought… Zewu-Jun…” he trails off, suddenly aware that he is shown more of his hand than he had planned, but helpless against the rush of curiosity. Zewu-Jun is the top cultivator of the cultivation world, the pride of Gusu Lan. Nie Huaisang could never possibly strive to his heights - it exhausts him thinking of trying.

That would be the caliber of a suitor that he would find for Jin Guangyao. That was the caliber of a suitor he had thought he had found for Jin Guangyao.

Jin Guangyao’s eyes glint, and for a second Nie Huaisang is pinned under a piercing gaze. Jin Guangyao has not looked at him like that for a long time, and there is a small, hungry part of Nie Huaisang that would take the anger, if it means having the honesty. “You should be careful about what you think, and who you tell your thoughts to,” Jin Guangyao says. There you are, Nie Huaisang thinks.

Nie Huaisang makes his mouth twist. “Ah, I’ve upset you,” he says mournfully, “I only want you to be happy.” Jin Guangyao doesn’t smile, precisely, but his gaze softens slightly.

“I’m sure you do,” he says.

But something within Nie Huaisang thrums like a badly plucked qin. So that’s the type he likes, he thinks, without knowing why. Agitated, he taps blindly at his wrist with his fan. It’s then when he realizes that to many, a betrothal to Jin Guangyao would be seen as an insult. It feels like a betrayal to remember, but a greater betrayal to have forgotten.

(Once, Da-ge and him had overheard a chef say “What a pretty child the young master is, too bad about the mother.” Da-ge had her thrown out the next day.)

“I’ll set aside your usual room, Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao says, in lieu of asking how long Nie Huaisang is planning on staying, which is rather deft of him. Nie Huaisang squirrels the phrasing away for safekeeping and raises his hands placatingly.

“Ah, no need, no need, San-ge, I just stopped by to say hello before proceeding to Lanling! Between the two of us, it’s a little difficult going shopping in Qinghe, everybody knows Da-ge there,” he says, knowing that his face is steadily turning more flushed and batting cool air at his face with his fan.

Jin Guangyao’s face is as smooth and impassive as a creamy block of white jade. “And what would Nie-er-gongzi need in Lanling that you wouldn’t want your brother to know that you’re buying?” He tilts his head, smiling as serenely as ever.

Nie Huaisang squirms and points at him with his fan accusingly. “Ah, you’re teasing me! That’s so unfair, nobody would ever believe me if I tell them that you have a sense of humor.” He wrinkles his nose against the laughter that threatens to bubble out of him. Decorum, Huaisang.

Jin Guangyao raises his eyebrows. The dimples deepen. “And who would you plan on telling?”

Nie Huaisang grins back at him. “You know I can’t tell anyone, you’re the only person I can actually gossip with.”

“I don’t indulge in gossip, Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao says primly, which is an obvious lie, and has been since the day Nie Huaisang had first met him. “It’s frivolous, and detrimental to the spirit.”

“But San-ge, I’m very frivolous,” Nie Huaisang points out. “Spare a thought for us lost causes.”

“You’re not a lost cause,” Jin Guangyao says, and for a moment he looks almost angry, the raw emotion rippling across his features the way a shark fin breaches water. He calms, and smiles placatingly. “You’ve been raised to this, you and your brother both.”

Jin Guangyao lies. Huaisang knows this. But sometimes, he lies to craft the world into a better shape than it is.

Nie Huaisang smiles at him. “I’ll invite the Qin family at the end of the month; I want to help you.”

He watches Jin Guangyao come to a decision. “You’d be putting me in your debt,” he says, as if doubtful.

Nie Huaisang thrills. “No debts between us, San-ge, we’re brothers!” he says, full of innocence, and watches Jin Guangyao relax in increments - softening his brow, the corners of his eyes, the rigid line of his shoulders entombed in layers and layers of fine silk. That’s never been true, but what would the thoughtless Second Young Master know about obligation? The trick with trapping a wild animal is that you can’t let them know that you see them, or it gives the whole game away.

“I have to go now, there’s only so much time before Da-ge figures out I’m not actually at Lotus Pier,” Nie Huaisang explains, with a trace of regret. He places a hand on Jin Guangyao’s slim wrist as he moves to leave, silk and skin nearly indistinguishable to the touch. “But it was good to see you again, Yao-ge.”

Jin Guangyao blinks slowly down at the hand at his wrist, and then upwards at him. “The pleasure was mine entirely, Huaisang.”

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Madelaine//i wasn’t ready then, i’m ready now, i’m heading straight for you

Request: Maybe you could do an imagine for Madeleine where reader is pregnant and is hanging out with cami Lili and Vanessa while Madeleine films a scene and she goes into labor and the girls start to panic and Madeleine has to cut the scene short & just fluff?

hey! its returned!! wooo! i hope you like this!!! also, thank you @statticghost for helping me with the title! it’s from adele’s ‘sweetest devotion’ which she wrote for her kid, which is quite nice. anyway, go check out @stattic-writes because they’re great and i like them a lot!! and have a nice day!! 

To most people, the behind the scenes of the Riverdale set is one huge maze that takes an eternity to walk through. With giant sets, an uncertain amount of rooms used for anything from storage to nap rooms and an unlimited amount of wiring lining the walls and floors. 

However to a very pregnant woman, it’s almost impossible to get through without getting lost at least twice, tripping at least five times (made even worse when you can’t see past your own stomach) and having to sit down every five minutes. Plus, the dull ache in your back you’ve been feeling all morning hasn’t really helped you. You’ve spent a good hour walking around and looking for your friends, and you’ve only now just found them, sat in what is usually the student lounge of Riverdale High. 

“Y/n? Did you swallow a planet?” Lili asks and you send her a sarcastic smile as you waddle towards her. 

Vanessa and Cami stop talking at the mention of your name, and large smiles appear on their faces once they see you. Cami and Vanessa stand to help you the last few feet to where they’re all sat while Lili moves along on the brown sofa so you can sit down. 

“It certainly looks like I did.” You huff once you’ve sat down. Your hands rest on your stomach as you take a few minutes to catch your breath. 

“Don’t listen to her. You look great.”

“You are a terrible liar Cami.”

“I’m not lying, you look amazing, especially considering the fact that you’re 38 weeks pregnant.” She argues, both Vanessa and Lili agreeing with her and you roll your eyes at your friends. They’re very sweet, but they’re all awful liars. 

“39 actually.”

“Shouldn’t you be at home?” Vanessa shifts in her seat so she’s facing you and you huff loudly, crossing your arms over your chest. You probably look like a grumpy toddler right now, with a pout on your lips and your arms crossed, but so would anybody that had been asked the same question every time they had a conversation with someone over the past few weeks.

“I should.” You nod. “But there’s only so much day time television I can take. My god its boring, I need to do something.”

“You’re gonna miss boring when they come along.” Lili glances at your stomach and you smile softly. 

“I know. But right now I couldn’t care less. I just want to talk to somebody that isn’t myself or a baby that can’t reply.”

“You’ve been talking to yourself?” Cami asks with a hint of concern in her voice. 

“I spend hours alone in the house, who else am I supposed to talk to.”

“Your friends?” She shrugs. 

“You try answering the door, or the phone with this attached to you making everything ten times harder.” You reply, sending her a look. 

“Fair point.” She nods. 

“How’d you get here then?” Lili asks. 

“With great difficulty.” You say, despite the lack of humour in your tone, the girls still laugh at your comment and even though you don’t want to, you feel a small smile breaking through your grumpy facade, until all four of you are giggling quietly. “Is Madelaine around?” 

“She’s filming at the minute, but she should be done soon.” Vanessa tells you, grabbing her phone and checking the time. You nod slowly, weighing up your lunch options while you look around. 

“Who’s facing Cheryl Blossom’s wrath today?” You ask. 

“Archie.” Lili replies, sending you a look and you grimace. 

“Poor KJ.”

“I think the stress of the baby is making her acting even better. She seems to channel all of that stress into making Cheryl the bitchiest woman ever. Its fascinating to watch.” Cami says and you smile at your friend. 

“And kind of scary.” Lili adds making you laugh. 

“Yeah. She’s kind of gone a little crazy over the past few weeks. She’s been planning literally everything. She has notebooks filled with baby things, the nursery was finished within the first month that we found out I was pregnant. And last week, she started setting alarms at weird hours of the night to get used to the sleep schedule.” You explain and they look at you with varying amounts of alarm. 

“Its sweet that she’s excited though.” Vanessa says. 

“Yeah it is.” You smile. They’ve never seen you smile like that before, full of excitement and joy and it makes them all smile too. Madelaine has the same look whenever somebody mentions you or the baby, and its very sweet to witness.

Your fingers draw light patterns over your stomach, and the baby kicks in return. Despite the pain, you smile anyway, wondering if they can hear you take about their mom.

They could come at any time really and you and Madelaine are waiting eagerly to welcome them into the world. Its something you’ve been wanting and waiting for, for two years, so you’re more than excited. Its been a long and draining journey filled with high exceptions and disappointing realities, doctors surgeries and needles and tears and frustration, but its all been leading up to this, and so its more than worth it. 

“I can’t wait to meet them.” Cami interrupts your thoughts and you look at her slightly dazed. 

“Yeah, me too.” Both Vanessa and Lili nod in agreement and you smile at the three of them. 

“Do you have any names?” Vanessa asks. 

“Nothing for certain yet. I think Madelaine’s convinced that when it comes out, it’ll just have a face that fits a name.” 

“So the answer is no then?” Cami teases. 

“Basically yeah.” You agree, laughing a little. 

“I don’t know if Madelaine has told you but, I hope you know you’re probably going to need a bigger house with all of the stuff you’re going to get just from us three.”

“Yep.” You nod. “She’s told me. And she told me about all the other cast and crew. Is it true that Casey got a huge 6ft teddy bear.” 

“Yes.” Lili laughs. “It lives in his spare room and he’s become quite attached to it.” 

“I’m pretty sure he said he was keeping that one and just buying you a new one.” Vanessa continues and the four of you laugh loudly. 

Yours however, is cut short by a sharp pain in your lower stomach. Your sudden inhale stops all laughter and the three of them look at you quickly. Your eyes screw shut while one hand grips your lower back and the other holds your stomach. 

“Y/n?” Vanessa asks quietly. “Is everything okay.” 

“Nope.” You force out through gritted teeth, slowly opening your eyes to look at them. 

Even though you’re fully prepared for this, you’ve read every book and article, some even twice because of Madelaine, now that its actually happening, all of that knowledge has gone out the window and all you want to do is cry. Nothing is right, Madelaine is busy, and its a week early and even though you love your friends dearly, the way they are looking at you is making you feel more panicked. 

The pain dulls a little at you let out a long breath, gripping the corner of the sofa and all three of the girls wince as they watch you. You feel something shift, and then another wave of pain rolls around and you grit your teeth again, pressure building up in your lower abdomen. 

“Is it happening?” Vanessa asks and you nod quickly. 

“Are you sure?” Lili asks, helping you stand when you try and do it yourself. Vanessa and Cami surround you, all of them steadying you while you’re doubled over in pain. 

“No. I’m just trying to tell this apart from a stomach ache, yes of course I’m sure. How can you not be sure that a human life is coming out of you?!” You grumble angrily, trying to focus your breathing. 

“Okay, just checking.” She apologizes. “Why don’t you sit down?” 

“I don’t want to sit down.” 

“Okay, me and Cami will help you stand, and Lili will go find Mads. Okay?” Vanessa takes charge of the situation and you’re glad somebody has. You don’t know what you would have done if all three of them stayed this panicked. 

“Okay.” You nod and Cami takes over from Lili. “Please hurry.” You hear Lili walk away, her footsteps getting quieter and you try to focus on listening for her coming back. 

“Okay, right. What do we do? I’ve never been in this situation before, what do we do?” Vanessa says frantically, looking around and trying to find something to help. Okay, maybe you were a little quick to think that she would know what to do. 

“We...breathe!” Cami says quickly. “Okay, Y/n, Y/n? Take deep breaths. In and out. In and out.” 

“Please stop saying in and out.” You cry, another contraction coming and going and the grip on her t-shirt tightens. 

“Sorry.” 

“Do you want anything? A drink or something?” Vanessa asks.

“I’m, ow, ow, ow, fuck, fuck fucking, shit OW.” 

“Owwww.” Cami cries, her legs buckling slightly as you squeeze her hand. 

“Stop being a baby.” Vanessa scolds and she sends her a glare back. 

“You’re not the one thats having the life squeezed out of their hand.” 

“You’re not the one pushing a melon sized thing out of your vagina! I get to say ow and nobody else.” You interrupt, getting more and more annoyed by the second. Where the hell is Lili? 

She’s only gone for two minutes, but two minutes feel like a life time when you’re pushing a human out of you. And so when she returns with a very panicked Madelaine in tow, you don’t know whether to hug her or hit her. 

Either one wouldn’t do much to stop the pain you’re feeling, but when Madelaine places a gentle hand on your back, taking over from Vanessa and Cami, you do feel a little bit better. 

“Hi babe.” Her voice is soft and comforting and dulls the pain slightly. You manage to stand up a little to look at her, and the smile thats lighting up her face is the best thing you’ve ever seen. She looks happier than you’ve ever seen her before and if you weren’t in so much pain, you’d definitely tell her how cute she looks. 

“Hi.” You manage to reply, despite it feeling like you’re being stabbed repeatedly. Her smile fades as she watches you grimace, and now she looks worried. But she tries to hide it, painting on a slightly wonky smile as she looks back at you. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.” She says, trying to distract you and a you let out a small laugh. 

“I got bored.” 

“Not so bored now are you?” She teases. 

“Nope.” You steel yourself against her and she wraps an arm around your waist, the other holds your hand tightly as she leads you towards the door. 

“Can one of you grab my bag please?” She asks the girls and Vanessa quickly runs off to grab it. Madelaine continues to lead you out of the door and after a lifetime (a minute) of walking, you’re stood by the doors that lead into the cast and crew parking lot. Vanessa catches up with you, and follows you to the car, putting Madelaine and yours’ bag in the backseat. 

“Are you telling me I could have just walked through that door instead of wandering around for an hour.” You huff as Madelaine helps you into the car. 

“Well, I told you to stay in bed but you wouldn’t listen to me.” She replies while fastening your seatbelt and you catch her gaze, sending her a hard glare. 

“Do you really want to argue with me right now?” 

“...nope.” She shakes her head quickly, double checking that you’re safe and you have everything before moving around the car and climbing into the drivers seat. The girls have already left, off to tell various people what is happening so its just the two of you. 

Madelaine starts the car, but takes a moment to look over at you, sat panting and sweaty in the passenger seat, but she knows she’s never loved anyone more. There’s nobody else in this world that she’d rather be doing this with, you’re her best friend and her soulmate and she’s going to love you and this baby for the rest of her life and beyond. 

“I love you.” She reaches her hand over the console to hold yours and you stop what you’re doing to look back at her, a small smile twitching at your lips. 

“I love you too.” You reply and press a soft kiss to her hand. 

“Are you ready?” She asks. 

“No.” You say honestly. “Are you?” 

“Absolutely not.” She laughs. 

Neither of you are worried though, because you know you have each other. 

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

When I Find You

If somebody wants to adopt this fic, feel free. I love to see more of this trope and you all are amazing <3

Notes: :’) I needed a break from work so I wrote a little snippet that I may or may not finish later because I have other things to worry about and another fic that I wanted to really focus on. So, in the meantime, here’s some angst with fluffy ending because reasons :’)  

Au Setting: Au of some sort I guess lol. I um...couldn’t help but make Tai-chan look like the hunter from Little Red Riding Hood, so he’s basically a lumberjack because I have needs.

Warnings: Angst because I love torturing our poor reader ig? Living in fear of the possibility of non-con, reader kinda being a stalker? Improper knowledge of wolf dynamics and other things because of plot, and Fatgum being too heckin’ sweet and understanding. Also, reader is too thirsty lol.

…………

 The pack had adopted you when you were a lone pup, whose rogue mother hadn’t returned to her den with food for you. Your little howls of despair reached the alpha, who decided that it wouldn’t hurt to take you in. It was against the usual behavior and tradition of your wolf-blooded packs, and although the elderly alpha accepted you, your kin did not.

You thought for sure that over time, they would accept you and treat you as your own, but you were wrong. Your smell wasn’t close to theirs, and your furry ears and tail were a different color. An oddball is what you were. Sure you had the same behaviors and characteristics of your fellow wolves, but this was not your pack, and growing up with the obvious glares, odd stares, and blatant ignoring or snapping at you, you knew that you could never fit in.

You had always felt so alone, and when the alpha had passed away, a new one took his place, and all but chased you off. Being stubborn, you tried to talk your way into staying, because not only this had been your home, but you had nothing and nobody else.

It led to a fight, and you were badly wounded in the forest. With a few last harsh words, your new but former alpha had left you to die as the pack ignored your whimpers. Blacking out from the pain, you awoke, snow covered and cold in your human hybrid form with your own blood surrounding you. The wound must have dried over or froze, because now you had a permanent scar on your throat. Not near your scent gland, but close enough to your heart.

You were alone, scared, and scarred, and it confused and horrified you to no end. You needed a pack, you needed stability, and you vaguely thought that if you ran into humans, there might be a small chance that they’d take you in. Your kind was considered a monster in their folklore and myths, but what choices did you have? A lone wolf would surely be snatched up by either enemy packs, poachers, or whatever else. Not to mention, that you were a young and fertile omega who’s scent could lure unwanted attention. Even humans could smell the potent smells that your kind gave off during heats or ruts. You shuddered.

You couldn’t stay here. The blood had coated your human fur coat, making it sticky and smell awful, as well as it’ll leave more questions than answers that you weren’t emotionally ready to give. Chucking it off, you shivered but knew that you would survive if you stayed in your lycan form. Maybe you could scent out a human village and linger there.

 A sigh escaped your lips, knowing that it wouldn’t be easy. Human villages and kingdoms were a rarity in this part of the country. It was nothing but snow and ice and certain death. South is where the old alpha mentioned that although it was productive and rich with food and trade, they were a little more strict around monsters such as the wolf kin. Your legs felt wobbly as you got up from the ground. Your neck was in constant pain and everything was so cold. Yet you started walking. It was an odd feeling, you didn’t really know where to go or what to do, but you felt a determination. You didn’t want to die here. You always wanted a mate with pups and a caring pack, and although your chances of survival was questionable, you wanted to try to live for yourself. The thought of love and acceptance burned hotter than any star that you wanted to chase.  

Shifting into your wolf form, you went from prodding to full out running on all fours. The chilly wind hitting your face and the aurora borealis kissing the stars above you was your only company, for now.

You couldn’t be in your form, forever. You took breaks during your travel, letting your human self sleep in old dens, burrows, or short trees during the day time, and let your wolf form take over during night. Your scar healed over more nicely than you thought it did, but it still showed. You weren’t too weak to catch fish from the river, quickly snapping the lazy salmon in your jaws, but you had to be careful of bears and other predators.

It was as if shock never left you. You were in the twilight zone of being a lone wolf, and it scared you. You had nobody to protect your sleeping self from predators, to hunt with you, nor did you feel at least a little secure like you did in your old pack.  You were very vulnerable, and couldn’t wait to see a human village, soon.  

The thought of having your heat terrified you. Although it happened once every five months, it lasted two weeks, and even then your intoxicating scent lingered on you for three more days before fading. It was close to time for you to gather food for three weeks and try your best to keep safe held within a den. Although a monster to people, you weren’t the only one. Dragons, ogres, orcs, and even fellow hybrids had the capability of scenting you out and entering a rut because of your scent.

It was terrifying. You weren’t accustomed to such trivial, because although your old pack didn’t really care for you, your former father figure, the alpha, would always to make sure that you were protected and left alone. Wolf kin mated for life, but you didn’t know about other dynamics or beings, and the thought of being used and discarded with the possibility of pups from an unwanted encounter scared you.

Just like your mother, a dark thought cut to you. It made you try your best to push forward, and hopefully find safety, soon.

Six months had gone by, and it was late June, and the summer was more evident in the south than your cold northern home. You sweated easily and were huffy and upset. Time dragged on and you felt hopeless as you saw no signs of any human life so far. There were always more “monsters” such as yourself that you tried to avoid. Curious onlookers were the majority, thankfully.

At wits end, you were about to just sleep the rest of the day away. Let yourself worry about nighttime. A strange scent hit your nose. Curiosity getting to the better of you, you wanted to follow it, and so you did. It was the smell of smoke, but burning meat and vegetables were mixed into it. It was so weird and foreign to you, for you ate only fish or what the earth grew, and you knew that you wanted to check it out.

It had taken you a week to get to this forest. The surrounding area had mostly nothing but trees with beautifully dying leaves, those of which were unlike the evergreens you were familiar with. Your feet crunched against the multiple of colors of green, yellow, brown and red and although usually silent, you didn’t mind.

The smells here are mostly faded, and the only fresh scents were those of wild animals, not the fellow beasts or humans that run within your homeland, so you knew that it was a safe place. The smell of smoke, however, was new and farther in the distance in which you have yet to explore. You knew that you should rest, first, but you endured months of no pack had you aching for structure and security, and this very well could be it. It didn’t take you very long to reach your destination.

 Awe didn’t began to cover on how you felt when the sight reached your eyes. Houses and other buildings were nestled within the center of the forest. Your heartbeat picked up when you noticed that there were small chickens running freely, a dog barking in the distance, and most importantly, people. Human people. It was as if a miracle happened, and although you wanted to step into the town, fear gripped you with bitter remembrance.

What if they feared you? Although in human form, you still had your physical wolf attributes such as your ears and tail, as well as you carried your own specific scent that didn’t scream human. You knew that all of that traveling wasn’t for nothing, but now faced with the real thing, you felt scared. You didn’t want to be ran off, again, or hated. Slipping further back into the woods, a sight caught your eye.

Soft and yellow hair poking out from a red cap, brilliant amber irises, a friendly wide grin, all belonged to a tall man walked out into the clearing. He wasn’t like anybody you’ve seen before. He was bulky, muscular, and had a roundness to his belly and face, he was unlike your lithe and limber brethren, and you found yourself appreciating the sight, if you were blunt with yourself. His attire was that of an odd shirt, it was orange and checkered, and he had leather boots with rabbit fur adorning them.

You noticed that he carried and ax, and was holding a bunch of split logs with just one arm. He was pretty strong for a human, and you liked that. Of all the humans, you couldn’t help but find this one the most attractive, and you hushed your omega instincts as they hummed with approval. You couldn’t find a mate, just yet.

 However, you decided that if you were to be accepted within the village, he was the first on your list for courting. Just wanting to get it over with, you kept your human form as you took mental breaths on how to breach the humans. Timidly, you approached the handsome blond first when he reached the edge of the forest. It was probably stupid to creep up on somebody with an ax in their hands when your kin wasn’t very welcomed, but your desires were far more greater than fear.

Alright, you still were a little scared. Hiding some odd feet away in hiding, you let your presence known by stepping on twigs, making them crack. His head snapped up to your direction, eyes squinting in confusion as he readied himself for possible danger. What he didn’t expect was your voice murmuring through the trees.

“Hello.” Was the first thing that came to your mind.

“Who’s there?” A soft yet husky accented voice answered you and you liked it.

“A monster.” Came the reply without a filter. You could have said something better, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“A monster, eh? You gonna eat me, or hide all day?” He chuckled, and you liked the way it reverberated through the trees as it reached you.

“Aren’t you going to kill me if I show myself? My kin really isn’t welcomed with humans. No we don’t eat people.” You kept blurting out. Years of anxiety and being basically alone didn’t grant you favors with talking to people, but your friendly woodcutter didn’t seem to care.

“Hm? What terrible awful being you must be, hidin’ behind those trees and talkin’ so softly? Besides, how do you know that I’m fully human?” He teased lightly, and you couldn’t help but feel your muscles relax a bit as curiosity gripped you.

“I’m a wolf.” You admitted.

A moment of silence followed after that, and then a laugh. You tried to keep yourself from feeling funny in your chest.

“What’s so funny?” You all but demanded

“Nothin’. Just that, you’re suppose to be big and bad, but you’re bein’ so shy and timid, and honestly? It’s kinda cute. Come out, Sugar, I won’t hurt ya. Promise.” He finished laughing, and you kept yourself from humming with approval with the complement and name. Taking a breath, you stepped outside from your hiding place, and the both of you froze as he took you in.

To him you must be a small, feral thing. Your long tunic and pants looked as if they were about to tear with age, your hair was a mess, although you bathed, you still couldn’t get all the dirt off of you, and you were sure that your tail and ears were unkempt, as well. You expected him to change his mind and turn on you, or just run you off. What you didn’t expect, was that his cheeks turned into a shade of pink as his amber eyes softened to a more yellow tone, something that you were unaware of.

“You’re not a monster. No, you’re alright. Come on, let’s get you somewhere to stay.” He broke the silence as he gently held out his hand, and feeling an odd burst of warmth shoot through you, you took it gingerly as he led you to who knows where.

  You were at a home where you can finally feel safe.

………….

I know, it’s short, but I’m focusing on another fic that took me many times to re-write because I wasn’t sure of it. For now, enjoy some stuff n’ thangs.    

[goldencursive]

Chapter Two: 1965 words

Title: bro, will you be my bro forever, bro?

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Kaminari Denki/Sero Hanta, Kaminari Denki & Sero Hanta

Characters: Kaminari Denki, Sero Hanta, Uraraka Ochako, Ashido Mina, Hagakure Tooru, Midoriya Izuku, Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki

Additional Tags: BNHA Rarepair Week 2021, Fake/Pretend Relationship, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Humor, or At Least an Attempt at Humor, Carnival, Meet the Family, a wedding wheeee, its not kamisero's lol, POV Kaminari Denki, POV Sero Hanta, POV Alternating, Mutual Pining

Summary:

alternatively titled: five times denki and hanta pretend to boyfriends and one time they actually are

“Brooooo, look at that!” Eijirou’s excited voice calls from ahead. The Bakusquad were hanging out at the fair during a rare day of relaxation. Most of the other members of their class are scattered around the fairgrounds somewhere, but right now, the five of them - minus Kyouka, who’s on a date with Yaomomo - are standing in front of a small contest stage.

“Wow,” Hanta remarks. “That is a giant Pikachu plushie.” Denki gapes at it. It’s in a sitting position, arms out, face beaming. It’s as big as he is. He wants it.

“I want it,” Denki announces out loud. “It looks so soft and cute and huggable. Can you imagine the cuddles you could get out of it?”

The Pikachu is sitting close enough to the front of the stage that they could touch it if they want to. Well, if they had really long arms. Like, arms twice as long as their legs, while holding one of those claw grabber thingys.

Okay, maybe they can’t touch it, but still. They can see it close up in its full, fluffy glory.

“Hey, you guys admiring our Pikachu plushie?” A bubbly girl with bright green hair pops up from behind it. “You can win it from our contest! Couples only, starts in an hour. I can give you a sign up sheet if you want it.”

Denki turns to Hanta immediately, because he might not have a boyfriend, but he does have a best friend who he’s totally not crushing on what do you mean and who owes him so many favors for charging his phone. “Hanta, bro, please. I have never wanted anything more in my life.”

Mina snickers and drapes her arm around him. “Didn’t you say that last week about the cake Sato made?”

“His cakes are like heaven and angel tears rolled up in the burrito of the gods, okay? Don’t judge me, Kiri said the same thing.” Denki crosses his arms, pouting. “Anyways, I have never wanted anything more in my life, Hanta, please help me.”

Katsuki smacks Denki in the back of the head (but nowhere near as hard as he would have in first year because they’re totally friends now, no matter how much he likes to deny it). “Idiot, you didn’t even see what kind of fucking contest it is. Don’t just jump into it without being prepared.”

“Says you,” Mina snickers.

“Oi, you wanna die?!”

“I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me,” she answers playfully, ducking behind Eijirou.

While Eijirou tries to defuse the Bakubomb, Denki turns to the sign next to the Pikachu. “How well do you know your partner?” he reads. “Hey, that doesn’t sound too hard! We know each other pretty well, I think,” he says, turning to Hanta. Although he’s not sure the kind of information he knows, like how Hanta still sleep with a blanket his mom made

“I mean, it’ll be fun,” shrugs the taller boy. “I’m down.”

Denki cheers, and accepts a sheet from the girl. “Let’s gooooo.”

<><><><><>

An hour later, they’re sitting across from each other with a whiteboard in their hands. The three couples sit at tables arranged in a row with the two hosts in front of them and the prize Pikachu on a raised pedestal behind them.

“All right, let’s get started!” cries the bubbly girl from earlier. “I’m Hina and this is Yumi.” She gestures to the pink haired girl beside her, who cheerfully waves to the crowd gathered in front of the stage. “This is our ‘How Well Do You Know Your Partner’ contest for couples. It’s a lot harder than you’d think! We host this every day at the same time, so if you wanna participate but missed out today, you can always come back tomorrow! Now, can we get some introductions from our couples? We’ll start with you two,” she says, gesturing to the couple on the right of Denki and Hanta, a shy looking boy and brown haired girl.

They wave to the audience, introducing themselves as Yui and Haruto. “We’ve been together for over a year now, so I’m certain we’ll win!” the girl, Yui, says, smiling.

“All right, long term relationships are the best for this kind of contest! How about you guys?” Hina continues, gesturing to Denki and Hanta.

“What up, people? I’m Denki, and this is Hanta, my best bro and the love of my life.” Denki gives Hanta a dopey smile that’s not hard to fake because it’s not fake, and playfully bats his eyelashes, making Hanta crack up.

“Bro, stop, you’re going to make me blush in front of all these people,” Hanta says between snickers.

“What a lovely relationship! We love the ones where you can play around with your partners,” Hina says with a grin. “Now, what about the last couple?”

“I’m Ayaka and my girlfriend is Sora,” grins a girl with hair red enough to rival Eijirou’s. “We’re just here for the Pikachu!” Her girlfriend smacks her arm for being so blunt, but Ayaka’s grin doesn’t falter.

“That’s right! Our lovely prize, a giant stuffed Pikachu plushie, will be in the possession of whoever wins our contest! Now, our rules.” Hina looks over to her partner, who smoothly jumps in.

“The rules are simple: we’ll ask twelve questions of varying difficulties. Each of our contestants have a different color based on the seat they sit in, red or blue. We’ll direct our questions to either color. For example, if we ask Blue what Red’s favorite color is, Blue will write their guess on their board, while Red writes the correct answer on theirs. You’ll have thirty seconds to answer the question. Everybody got it?” She looks back at the contestants, who all nod back at her.

“Then let’s get started!” smiles Hina. “First question: what is Blue’s favorite food?”

Okay, blue, that’s Hanta. Denki looks down at his whiteboard, thinking. The first two things that pop to mind are oranges and soy bean flavored food. But which does he like better? Can he write down both? Is that allowed?

“Ten seconds!” Yumi calls. Ok, no time to agonize over it. Denki quickly scribbles ‘soy bean flavored stuff’ down. Hanta drinks soy bean milk all the time and hardly ever steals Denki’s orange juice, unlike SOME people who shall remain unnamed (cough *mina* cough cough). “Time’s up! Please flip your boards around to show the audience!”

Denki cranes neck to see what Hanta wrote. “Hey, we wrote the same answer word for word,” he says, grinning at Hanta. “High five!”

“Looks like everybody got this question right! Congratulations!” says Yumi. Hina makes a show of adding points to a large whiteboard bearing their names. “Next question: when is Red’s birthday?”

Denki writes a neat “July 29th” on his board, smiling as he remembers the first time they told each other their birthdays. Denki had been so excited to find out that their birthdays were only a month apart.

“All right, another easy point for everybody,” cheers Hina. “Keep it up! The next question: what is Blue’s favorite hobby?”

Favorite hobby, huh? Well, they don’t really have time for any serious hobbies outside of hero-ing, but Denki remembers oohing and aahing with Mina and Eijirou over the beautifully hand-woven rugs and tapestries all over Hanta’s room. His family owns a crafts shop, and Hanta had gotten into weaving that way, saying it was fun playing with the patterns he could create and good stress relief as well. So, weaving then.

“Let’s check out your answers,” Yumi says, calling the time. “Hm, looks like Yui and Haruto are the only ones missing this question.” Yui, sitting in the blue seat, frowns at her boyfriend for getting it wrong, but softens when he murmurs something back.

“I’m surprised you remember I like to weave,” Hanta says, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Denki snorts. “Your room is covered in the stuff. It’s kinda hard to forget.”

The next few questions go by without a hitch for Denki and Hanta. “Hey, we’re doing pretty good,” Hanta says. “We’re the only ones who have a perfect score right now.”

“Heck yeah, that Pikachu’s gonna be mine,” grins Denki. He’s honestly kind of surprised that they were the ones with the perfect streak, even though they weren’t even dating. But he can’t deny the burst of satisfaction that comes with getting each question right, and further cementing their brohood.

“Okay, we’re getting into the last few questions now. Who was Red’s first kiss?” Hina asks deviously.

Aw, shucks, this might actually throw their score off. Denki’s not sure if he’s ever told Hanta who his first kiss was since the guy wasn’t really anybody special. Actually, Denki kinda feels bad for forgetting the dude’s name as he scribbles down “a boy in middle school.” When the timer runs out, Hanta’s board only has a question mark on it, and he smiles sheepishly at Denki.

“Sorry for not knowing,” he says.

“Nah, dude, you couldn’t have known since I never told you,” Denki says, brushing it off. “But, hey, we still have the lead!” he continues, beaming. Hanta returns his smile with a wider one. Honestly, Denki could get drunk off Hanta’s smile, sweet and goofy and always there, like the way All Might’s always smiling, but softer and infinitely cuter.

Get a grip, Denki, he scolds himself. He’s definitely going to notice if you keep staring at him. So he looks towards the two hosts and gets ready to answer the next question.

“What is Red’s weirdest fear?”

Huh. It would be an easy point if the question were biggest fear since it’s common knowledge that Denki hates spiders as much as Katsuki loves swearing, but weirdest fear? Denki has lots of fears, ranging from insects to angry pomeranians (thanks katsuki) to forgetting his homework to Midoriya with no sleep (you’d understand if you saw it). And it has to be one that Hanta knows, so what about...sand foxes.

Okay, listen, Denki knows next to nothing about sand foxes, but he does know that their faces are NOT NATURAL and CREEP HIM OUT, so DON’T laugh at him. Seriously, the first Denki saw one, he couldn’t stop thinking about that face for hours. It still haunts him to this day. And it's definitely a weird fear that Denki complains to Hanta about all the time.

“Alright, let’s see your answers!” Looking around, Denki sees that only he and Hanta got this question.

“Dude, we’re totally gonna win,” Denki whisper-shouts excitedly, leaning into the table. “Look at how far we are compared to everyone else!”

It comes as no surprise, then, that they do end up winning. The contestants line up in front of tables. “Hey, that was a great game! In third place, unfortunately, is Yui and Haruto, with six points.” Kinda strange, that the couple has been together for over a year and they have the lowest score, Denki muses. Meh. Worked out in his favor. “Second place, we have Sora and Ayaka, with eight points. And finally, our winners, Denki and Hanta, with eleven points!”

Denki whoops, turning to give Hanta a high five. The other two couples walk off the stage while Yumi and Hina hand over their prize. “I know this Pikachu is huge and kind of hard to carry, so you can leave it here until you’re ready to leave,” Hina tells them.

“Promise we won’t let anyone steal it,” Yumi adds, winking.

“Nah, I think we have to go now,” Hanta says, shaking his head. They say goodbye to the two ladies and rejoin their waiting friends, carrying the heavier-than-expected plush between them.

“Bro, it’s even bigger up close!” Eijirou raves.

“And it’s so fluffy I’m going to die!” squeals Mina. She strokes it reverently. “Denki, you have to bring it to our next Bakusquad sleepover.”

Denki laughs. “You know it!”

<>

one thing that i couldn't find a proper place to add in: i promise denki's not being inconsiderate in assuming the pikachu all for himself! they had a convo abt it while they were waiting for the contest to start

part one | part three

[angelsunflowers-fanfics]

Nathan Prescott x Female!reader (The Sketchbook incident)

Request: I had this idea for a Nathan Prescott and female reader imagine where he’s secretly her muse and she drawing him every day in her sketchbook but one day he sees and destroys her sketchbook and she gets so upset she stops drawing and he feels bad and realizes how special it was to her and buys her a new one Sorry if that long, it’s my first time Also love your writing <3

Fandom: Life is strange

Genre: Mix of Angst and fluff (Happy ending)

Linktree

~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Rough sketches, pencil marks, pen and an assortment of colors rubbed onto her fingers and arms as she shaded in a certain area of the model, of her picture of Nathan. As an artist, (y/n) needed a muse and without his knowledge, she had chosen Nathan Prescott to be it. She didn’t know how he’d react if he even found out. Would he be embarrassed? Angry?

Who knew?

(y/n) grunted in an effort as she finally finished shading the base of Nathan’s neck in her beloved sketchbook. The book itself had been used and filled up to the brim with photographs and sketches of the school, her friends but most importantly, of Nathan.

The two didn’t talk very often, but she saw how soft he could actually be; in the little moments, he let his facade vanish. She wanted to be closer to him, but… How do you approach a person like that? Not to mention, that he had a reputation for going too far.

(y/n) pulled herself away from the sketch, glancing around at the yard to admire everyone enjoying life peacefully.

Max was talking to a few people as always, being a bit nosy, but nice. Evan was taking pictures, Warren was probably watching another weird movie of his in his dorm. Everything was pretty normal except for Nathan Prescott storming up to (y/n) with rage-filled eyes and clenched fists. He was angry, anybody within 50 feet of his could see that. He was too obvious with his anger, didn’t even try to hide it.

(Y/n) gave a polite smile to the obviously Pissed off Prescott, nervous about what he might say or do. He could be a bit unpredictable. He stopped in front of her, glaring at the large sketchbook in her hands.

“Good morning Nathan. Lovely day, isn’t it?” (y/n) asked. 

Nathan only continued to glare harshly, the students in the surrounding area began to stare In curiosity.

No one dared to say a word, they didn’t want the wrath of Nathan directed toward them.

He dug a hand into his pocket to fish out his phone, he found the photo that could be the cause of his anger of the day and shoved it into (y/n’s) face. It took her a moment to realize that the photograph was of one of her drawings of Nathan.

And she knew exactly how it got onto the web. Victoria Chase.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked, anger seethed into his words.

(y/n) nervously laughed but soon stared up at his eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes and that pretty dirty blonde hair wasn’t helping. It was the perfect combination. There didn’t need to be a reason as to why she liked to draw him so much, the pretty face and different expressions he used in day-to-day life were amazing. So was he. (y/n) wanted to find a way to tell him that she actually liked him but knowing Nathan, she wasn’t sure if he would recuperate her feelings.

“Um, a drawing of you that I made… Nathan, I’m sorry. I showed it to Victoria, I didn’t know that she took a picture and posted it online,” She confessed. 

The taller boy slowly pocketed his phone before he grabbed the sketchbook out of (y/n)’s nimble fingers. 

“Wait, what are you doing?” (y/n) asked, panic seeped into her chest.

Nathan tossed the sketchbook into the trash can before lighting a match, (y/n) stood up quickly knowing what he was going to do. (y/n) rushed to him, trying to grab the match out of his hand but failing in the end as he dropped it into the trash can watching the sketchbook go up in flames.

The students surrounding (y/n), stared at her with empathy but didn’t say a word. Nathan slowly turned to (y/n), crossing his arms over his chest. He still looked angry, even after destroying the one thing that (y/n) held precious.

“I’m not your subject to use,” Nathan growled.

Nathan glanced into (y/n)’s eyes just in time to see her tears building up and drip from the pools in her eyes. Nathan felt a strike go through his heart, guilt. An ugly emotion that he felt all too often, but now toward (y/n)? Someone who was actually nice to him no matter what other people told her?

He clenched his jaw in anger, this time toward himself. He watched as (y/n) slowly turned around and walked into the dormitory building, needing to be alone for a while. He made her cry. Nathan Prescott made (y/n) cry. He messed up, big time. Was there even a way to fix what he broke?

The group surrounding Nathan slowly disbanded, not wanting his anger to blow up again in such a short period of time. 

Nathan was left alone with his thoughts, he ran a hand over his face and picked up his phone as it rang. Victoria. Fuck, what was he supposed to say?

“Hey,” Nathan whispered, his voice hoarse. 

Nathan slowly trudged back to his own dorm, he had thinking to do indeed. How was he going to make this up?

“Nathan, what the hell happened? Did you burn her sketchbook? I told you to go talk to her. There are videos all over social media… The comments are brutal,” Victoria said. 

Nathan barreled into his room and sat on his bed, running a hand through his hair to tangle it lightly. He didn’t know what he was thinking. If he was thinking at all during that moment. The sketchbook that he burned… sketchbook, maybe he could try to make it up by buying her another one? It was a start…

Nathan and Victoria conversed over his previous actions and how he could fix them while (y/n) on the other side of the dormitory building, stared out the window, wanting to fly away to get away from these gross feelings. Even after what happened, she still liked him. Anybody that found out about her feelings would call her insane. She had no will to draw anymore, what was the point if her own muse didn’t want to be drawn? Right?

She fumbled with her fingers lightly before glancing at her watch, great. She had physics in 10 minutes, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about art for a while now. She slowly grabbed the bag she threw onto the ground and slowly left the dormitory building, hesitantly. If it were her choice, she’d stay in her dorm all day, but she didn’t.

She slowly trudged into the academic building and into her class, wait. No. Nathan was in this class as well, how did she not realize that sooner? (y/n) ignored Nathan’s pleading stare and sat next to Victoria, hoping for some peace and quiet before class started.

“He feels awful you know. I know what he did was terrible but–” (y/n) shrugged her shoulders, cutting off Victoria’s plea.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m done,” (y/n) whispered. 

Victoria glanced to Nathan, giving him a pity look before turning her attention to the front of the class as it finally began. Maybe she and Nathan could try again later.

The class was boring and dull. All Nathan could think about was how to make it up to (y/n). For over a year now he had been trying to get closer to her but each time he talked, everything just blew up in his face. 

The bell for the end of class finally rung, Nathan quickly shoved all of his things into his bag before trying to talk to (y/n). She was almost out the door now. So close. Nathan maneuvered to be right in front of her, using his arms to block her from leaving before talking to her.

“Wait, just stop for a second. Look, I feel real–” Nathan spoke, regret spilled from his lips. 

(y/n) glanced around the room for a moment before ducking under one of his arms and leaving, using his height to her advantage. Nathan blinked for a few moments before leaving the classroom and trying to find a sight of her but (y/n) had quickly disappeared into the crowd of rowdy teenagers. 

“Fuck,” Nathan whispered to himself. 

The crowd slowly began to disperse as teenagers found their next class or left the building but there was still no sign of (y/n) anywhere. Nathan groaned and slowly walked back to his dorm to try to figure a way to talk to (y/n).

(y/n) on the other hand, was holding her breath as she watched Nathan walk past her hiding spot and to the dormitory building. She stood out of the spot and started to walk to her own dorm when she bumped into Kate Marsh, she was an absolute sweetheart.

“Hey, (y/n). I heard about what happened. Are you alright?” Kate asked.

(y/n) brushed her hair back stressfully, she didn’t even know where to begin in what was wrong at the moment. So many things. Too little time.

“Yeah, I just… I didn’t expect him to do that. I’m kind of thinking of giving up drawing,” (y/n) mentioned. 

Kate’s eyes widened slightly but that didn’t stop her from pulling a brand new sketchbook from behind her back. (y/n) was slow to grab the item, she had been thinking about not going to Blackwell anymore because of what happened.

“Well, in case you want to pick it up again. You can use that. Okay? Maybe things will turn out alright?” Kate offered.

(y/n) gave Kate a genuine smile before gesturing to the dorms, “I’m gonna head to my room for the night. I’ll see you later.” 

Kate stepped out of the way and watched as (Y/n) carried the sketchbook naturally and quickly walked to her dormitory. But what she didn’t know was that all of the girls in the dormitory building had a little surprise in store for her.

(y/n) rubbed her eyes tiredly and walked through the main door of the dormitory to see all of the girls crowding the hallway bearing gifts of the art variety; sketchbooks, pencils, markers, etc. She jumped back lightly at the picture in front of her.

“Um, hey?” (y/n) asked akwardly.

Max was the first to walk out and grab one of (y/n)’s hands, guiding her to the center of the hallway to talk to everyone. (y/n) wasn’t normally very social but with the girls that live in the same building as her? Quite close.

“The video of Nathan burning your sketchbook is everywhere… we just wanted to do something nice for you,” Max said. 

(y/n) smiled gratefully and took more sketchbooks from her neighbors. She knew that they were only trying to help but how could someone draw if their muse didn’t want to be a muse? It was difficult to find someone else.

Max grabbed half of the gifts from all of the girls and followed (y/n) into her dorm to put all of the gifts on her desk. She didn’t know if she’d even fill these out at all considering that her will to draw was drained because of what Nathan did…

“Oh, I get it… Nathan was your muse…” Max set everything down, taking a seat on (y/n)’s bed before continuing with her thought, “That’s why you’re not drawing… he gave you the will to draw…” Max gave her friend one last smile before approaching the exit of the dorm. “Oh, before I forget, Warren had something to talk to you about. He’s In his dorm.”

(Y/n) stared at all of the art supplies given to her a few short minutes ago. It was stacked high on the desk, about to topple over. She was happy that her friends cared so much.

Without much thought, (y/n) walked to the boys’ dormitory building to visit a friend. Hopefully, she wouldn’t run into Nathan. She just needed to be careful.

(y/n) walked through the main door to the dormitory building and made a beeline for Warren’s room, she didn’t even bother with knocking on the sophomore’s door and just let herself in. She didn’t want to be caught by Nathan again. She was not ready to face him.

“Warren? Max, said you wanted to see me?” (y/n) called out.

The younger student quickly popped out of his desk chair and strolled up to (y/n), arms spread out for a bear hug. He was the most touchy of the group of friends she had, which was perfectly fine. (y/n) gave him a soft smile before slowly closing the gap and letting him hold her fragile form.

“Everyone said you were having a hard time and then Nathan… I’m sorry. Maybe everything will be better soon?” Warren apologized sympathetically.

(y/n) could only shrug lightly before slowly pulling away, letting herself become comfortable in the small room. But the thought of being in the boy’s dormitory, where Nathan lived, was peaking from the back of her mind. Warren stepped out of her space for a moment before grabbing a pack of oil paints from his desk and slowly handing them to (y/n); cautious to not scare her. 

“I got you something, you said that you’ve been wanting to try oil paint for a while now, right?” Warren said.

Though, she wasn’t sure when or if she’d be able to draw again, she appreciates the kind gesture. (y/n) slowly slipped the paints into her bag for safekeeping as she slowly gave Warren a small smile.

“Thanks, Warren… I think I’m gonna head back to my dorm… Sleep everything off. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The younger classmate only nodded lightly and watched as (y/n) slowly walked out of the room to hide away for the rest of the evening. The events of the day were hectic and cruel, all she wanted to do was sleep it off and hope that the morning would be better.

(y/n) peaked around the hallway for a few moments before deciding that it was safe and leaving Warren’s room before heading toward the main entrance of the Dorm building, wanting to find her own dorm before Nathan caught onto the fact that she was even in the same building as him. 

She breathed a small sigh of relief as she slowly started to pass the last dorm room and reached a hand out for the door when a pair of hands reached out from the last dorm and grabbed (y/n) to pull her inside.

(y/n) started thrashing in the arms of her unknown attacker as they placed a hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream out for help. (y/n) stiffened as an exhale slowly reached her ear, causing her to shiver and listen closely.

“Stop squirming, It’s just me.” 

(y/n) roughly shoved Nathan away and faced him, her back pressed against the door. She stared up at him with a confused stare, why did he basically kidnap her? What for? He was fidgeting with his fingers nervously, he was scared to what will come next.

Her eyes were red and puffy from crying all day. The last thing she wanted to do was face the cause of her sorrow. Nathan Prescott, prestigious figure of Blackwell Academy… he was flustered by her mere appearance. He felt guilty about what happened this morning, he felt lower than low. To make it up to (y/n), Nathan wanted to get something for her… all she needed to do was open it.

“What do you want, Nathan? I should get back to my dorm, it’s late,” (y/n) said resentfully.  

It was not late, but everyone knew that (y/n) usually liked to return to her dorm after school and relax instead of partying like all of the other kids on campus.

Nathan took a step back to grab a wrapped box before presenting it to (y/n), a red hue was covering his features. He had never really apologized to someone, this was a first for him. Luckily, it was in the comfort of his own room and not the courtyard for everyone to see… again.

“Open it, please. This is my way of saying sorry… I… wasn’t thinking… I can be reckless and irritable…” He apologized.

(y/n) stared up at Nathan with an unknown look, she was not sure if she should take the gift. It could be anything, right? But Nathan didn’t go around giving just anybody random gifts… Maybe he really just wanted to try to redeem himself?

(y/n) ran a quick hand through her hair before making the mistake of glancing into Nathan’s eyes for a split second. His gaze was soft and pleading as he held the gift in his hands, his breath shaking only in the slightest from the nervousness of being near (y/n) once again; so soon.

“Fine… But if this is a joke–” (y/n) started to threaten but Nathan cut her off by carefully handing the recklessly wrapped gift into (y/n)’s paint-covered hands, their fingers brushed together lightly. The action quickly sent jolts of electricity through her and Nathan’s veins but neither person said a word about what they felt, too scared.

“It’s not. Promise. Open it,” Nathan said. 

(y/n) sighed lightly but gave him a half-smile before slowly opening the present before her hands run over the cover of a brand new sketchbook. Did he buy her a new sketchbook? She slowly let the wrapping paper fall to the floor so she could look at the sketchbook as whole, quickly glancing through the paper and the little accessories attached to it. (y/n) didn’t say a word as she discovered the feeling of the new gift. 

“I was angry and scared… Not about you or anything you did or said… I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I would never dream of doing that,” Nathan apologized.

(y/n)’s smile brightened as she realized that this was the sketchbook that she had been eyeballing for months now. She wasn’t able to buy it because it was far out of her price range for a sketchbook, but this one was special. It even came with pockets and sketching pencils. She glanced up and slowly placed the sketchbook onto his desk to grab both of his hands in her gentle grip.

“Nathan… I-” He was quick to cut her off, paranoid that she was going to yell at him like just about everyone in his life did. He was too used to it by now.

“I know that this will never replace what I did to your last sketchbook and I didn’t realize that I was your… Your muse. But I’m hoping that this will be a star–” 

(y/n) reached her hands up to grab Nathan’s face to slam her lips onto his, surprising him surely. Nathan flailed his arms for a few moments before deciding to rest his hands; one on the door next to (y/n)’s head and the other tangled in her hair. Nathan slowly relaxed into the motions, pressing his body closer to (y/n)’s.

Nathan tugged on (y/n)’s hair as he deepened the kiss, eliciting a soft moan from (y/n)’s lips. Before Nathan could ponder on the small action further, she bit down on his bottom lip. She wanted him to know how long she had been wanting this kiss to happen.

Nathan felt the same way, but before things could escalate, (y/n) softly slid her hands from Nathan’s face down to his chest to lightly push him away. She didn’t want things to go too far tonight.

“I forgive you… I was never angry at you for what you did, just sad. It hurt to see my muse destroy my work but maybe you can help me?” (y/n) asked.

Nathan didn’t say a word as he launched himself to his bed, propping his head up with one of his hands as he brought one of his knees up; turning to the side to face (Y/n). a small smirk ignited his face as he says the simple line that made (y/n) burst out laughing.

“Draw me like one of your french girls.”

(y/n) ignored her phone as it lit up with a few texts from Warren and Max, both worried. But she couldn’t be bothered with the sweet scene in front of her.

Maybe everything would be okay?

(y/n) glanced up from her sketchbook to get a quick glance, the growing confidence in him caused Nathan to send a small smile her way.

Yep, everything was going to turn out okay. Her muse was still hers, this time with his knowledge.

Nathan liked the idea of being a muse, it felt foreign but fitting.

[heycallmeladytypewriter]

The Call of a Siren

Chapter One

She could not, for the life of her, find her goddamn charger. If she was going to make it the rest of the stupid day without music in her ears which blocked out most of the annoyances, she’d flip a table. Or she would when it was finally unloaded from the moving van on the street. 

“Cordelia, would you please come get your brother!” Her mother shrilled from the bottom of the steps. 

Delia sighed and flipped off the boxes stacked in her room who refused to give her back her charger before stomping down the stairs. Her little brother, Henry, was tugging on her mother's hair and yelling nonsense only a toddler of age three could understand. She walked past her mother and went straight to the luggage bags from the flight next to the doorway. Spotting her purple carry on, she rummaged through until she found some fruit snacks she packed but never ate. Coming back over, Cordelia waved them in Henry’s face until he took notice and reached for the snack. 

Grabbing Henry from her mother and putting him on her hip, “ Mom what do you want me to do with him? Fruit snacks are gonna last about two minutes.”

Her mother threw up her hands, “ I don’t know! Just keep him occupied until we have everything in the house.” 

Rolling her eyes, Cordelia fed him a fruit snack one at time trying to buy time until she thought of what to do with him. Most of his toys were still packed and the ones he had on the plane were of no use now as he was now done with them after a 14 hour flight from the States to Japan. Pursing her lips, she thought about seeing a playground not too far from here on the drive. 

“Mom, I’m taking Henry for a walk around. Be back in a bit.” Her mother nodded and waved her off from the kitchen. 

After wrangling Henry’s shoes and light jacket on, they set off with him still in her arms as she didn’t know where the stroller was in that mess which was her new life. Henry was lightly tugging on her hair and quietly babbling as she walked towards the small playground down the street. She already missed home. Well, previous home as she bounced around enough to never really know one place as home. Army brat problems, she thought with slight disdain. Well actually, detective/police brat? Is there even a word for that?

Her dad was former military but since the age of heroes, the military need was still there of course but not as much as it used to be. Her dad decided to go into police work afterwards when she was seven and has since climbed into a detective which made her mother happy as he was more or less off the streets but still dealt with the hardships of the job. Her mother was actually the one to want to move from the States to Musutafu, Japan. 

Thanks to the number one hero, All Might, crime in Japan has lessened significantly which made it a safer place to live in her mom’s eyes. It also helped that her mother had grown up in Tokyo when she was younger before her parents decided to move to Chicago. 

Cordelia didn’t have anything against Musutafu but it still was another move, another restart, another everything which isn't too fun when you are fifteen. 

“Del, we go swing?” A little voice broke her train of thought as she saw them reaching the playground. She smiled at his nickname for her as he couldn’t pronounce her full name yet. Sometimes it was ‘Del’ or ‘la’ but both always made her smile as it was so cute. 

“Sure, bud.” She walked over to the swings and placed him in the little toddler seat. “Ready?” Henry squealed and kicked his feet in excitement. “Ye-es!” 

Cordelia started to push him, preparing to do this for some time as Henry could be in the swing for the whole time. It definitely qualified as a workout.

“Tch, stupid Deku.” Cordelia glanced over to see a blonde boy angrily muttering to himself while kicking a rock on the sidewalk. He was wearing some kind of school uniform but all rumpled like he had some kind of fight or fall before walking home. 

“Del, keep pushin’!” Henry’s voice broke the silence. She didn’t realize she stopped after watching the boy on the sidewalk. “Sorry, buddy.” She murmured before resuming as she didn’t want to call attention to the fact she was being nosy. 

“Oi, what are you looking at?!” The angry boy had unfortunately caught that and was now facing her. 

“I’m not looking at anything. Just pushing my brother.” She replied coolly. 

“That's what I thought, extra.” 

Extra? What was that? “Actually, I was looking at you. Rough day, buddy?” Cordelia shouldn’t have goaded him, a complete stranger, but what the hell was calling her ‘extra?’

“Shut the fuck up!” 

“Hey, child present!” Cordelia waved around her brother. Thankfully, Henry didn’t seem to care as long as he was swinging. 

“Tch. He can mind his damn business too!” With that, he flipped us off. So she did too. Then he walked off, looking madder than before. Weirdly, she wanted to laugh. 

-------------------------------------------

After they got back to the house, Cordelia took her slices of pizza that her mother had ordered and slipped upstairs to organize her things a bit more and hopefully locate her freaking charger. Her room was towards the back and furthest from anybody else which she preferred with windows facing the small backyard and back alley street behind the houses. Quiet and isolated with the ability to blast her music a bit without getting yelled at as she liked. She wasn’t a complete loner but did like her space from her nosy family. 

She closed the door and plugged in her small dinky radio in, orange and covered in faded stickers from over the years, and found a decent radio station to unpack. Placing her hands on her hips, she faced the boxes and nodded. “ Okay, here we go.” She said sternly to herself. “Don’t get distracted by every little thing and get it over with.” 

It was three a.m by the time she got done but she was much further than before. There were still a few scattered boxes she stacked in the corner to deal with later but the essentials and whatnot were out and placed. 

Figuring she earned a break, she took out a bowl of water she filled earlier and placed it on her nightstand while sitting criss cross applesauce on her bed. 

Breathing deep, she raised her fingers towards the bowl and the water lifted out and into the air. 

Cordelia took her time and played with the water, trying to manipulate it into shapes before settling on her go-to weapon: a water whip of sorts. She had earlier set up her old stuffed animals along the furniture in the room and tried to knock them down one by one. 

Unfortunately, she whipped too strongly and made a divot in the wall and cut her teddy bear's arm off. 

“Aw crap. Sorry Mr. Tubbs.” Whipping the water back into the bowl, she sadly picked up the teddy’s arm off the floor  and then looked at the damage on the wall. “Yikes. Gonna cover that up with a poster..” Her dad will kill her for practicing in the house again since she usually damages something. 

Cordelia went to one of her leftover boxes to find something to tape on the wall when she found a paper she forgot about crumpled on top. 

U.A ENTRANCE EXAM APPLICATION

Biting her lip, she looked over her application she had printed before flying here. That was the one thing she was looking forward to with moving here: to be accepted in one of the world’s top hero schools. She wanted to be a hero more than anything. Unfortunately, her family did not share that dream nor like them very much. Her eyes flicked over to her family’s picture on her dresser, taken a few months ago on Henry’s third birthday, and sighed. Her mother, a prom queen in her day, had her arms around her dads buffed up arm with her wavy dark hair in a long plait down her shoulder. Her dad stood tall and proud over little Henry in his crooked yellow party hat while her sister, Josephine, grabbed their mother’s other arm. Like her mother, Josie held a sort of grace even in a casual stance and small smile with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Delia stood slightly off to the side, hair unbound and free flowing in the wind, and was held tied to the picture by only Henry’s small hand in hers as if to keep her in place. 

Her mother had a quirk of healing small cuts and wounds with water which helped since she was a nurse in the ER. Nothing to scoff at, in Cordelia’s opinion. Her father had a quirk of weapons; particularly the knowledge of them and how they work. Again, nothing to scoff at especially considering his line of work. Her older sibling, Josephine, took after their father but instead of weapons, it was machines like a typewriter or an air conditioner. Pretty useful but she decided that a career in accounting was for her. They didn’t speak much. 

Despite having quirks, they resented them. They believed the world would be better without them and hero work was not a true profession to aspire for. Thus, a discovery of your quirk at a young age wasn’t anything to celebrate nor was it encouraged to practice and train other than the bare minimum of control. That did not stop her from wanting to be a hero. Everything about it seemed amazing. She would collect articles about them and hide them in the back of her closet along with a poster or two. She’d watch videos on the internet about all the top heroes and wonder how she could be just like them. 

 Getting her parents to agree to this...would be so hard. Hence why she printed the paper but never filled it out. 

She stared at the divot in the wall for a moment before sighing and placing the paper back in the box. 

____________________________________________________________

After only having slept a measly three hours, Cordelia gave up and put on some shorts and a tank top. She snuck outside as her parents and brother would be getting ready soon and she wasn’t ready for any human interaction yet. She was not a morning person in the slightest. 

She favorited her new home’s address in her phone since she didn't know the neighborhood or have a specific route around yet. Then she set off. 

After thirty minutes of light running, she came upon a beach. A sign on a big rock read ‘Dagoba Municipal Beach Park.’ Cordelia felt her heart explode with joy at the sight. Water was close to her. No, the ocean was close to her!

“Oh my god!” She shrieked to herself. She found her place. This is where she would practice and train and just be and just...breathe. She jogged down the steps to the sand and couldn’t stop herself from giggling from pure happiness. The only sad part was the mountain of random trash and junk off to the left of her on the beach. Hell, maybe she’d move it all just to clear more space or put in a request to the city as she saw refrigerators and car pieces which looked way too heavy for her to just lug. 

All of a sudden, a giant boom and junk flew outward causing her to yelp and duck out of the way as a toaster almost took her head off. 

“The hell..?” She marched over to the source and stopped cold. A skinny boy looking around her age with a mess of green hair stood in a clearing in the mess. Her brain could only notice that much about him as her focus was being pulled to the shock before the boy. 

All Might.

All Might was in front of her.

ALL MIGHT WAS STANDING IN FRONT OF HER.

HOLY AJKFC SHIT!!

Cordelia couldn’t breathe. The number one hero in the world was right there and this boy was familiar with him enough to have a conversation. Holy wow. Thankfully, she was hidden by some of the junk so they didn’t seem to see her. 

“..towards being a hero.”

“Um..All this?” The boy looked back worriedly at the junk piled all around him. “But..There’s so much. That’s impossible!”

“ Young Midoriya, you wanna go to UA, right?” 

“Well, yeah. Of course! You went there. So it must be the best school around, right? It’s a long shot but still..I’m going to shoot for the moon.” She smiled at the sound of how earnest he was to try. To be honest, it made her want to try to despite her family’s lack of support. 

“You’ve got a lot of spirit, fanboy! But, as I’ve mentioned before, Heroeing isn’t easy to do without a quirk. It’s not fair but that's the reality. UA is the hardest hero course to get into. So that means..”

“..that I have to prepare my body for your Quirk really fast. UA’s exam is in ten months!” 

Ten months. 

Backing away slowly, she turned and ran back to the stairs to grab her shoes before running home. 

By the time she got home, she had made up her mind. 

After her shower, she grabbed the crumpled application out of the box and a pen off her desk. 

She wanted to go to UA and just like the boy on the beach, she was going to shoot for the moon.

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A/N: Hey guys! I decided to take a shot at a fanfiction I’ve had in my head for a while with everyone’s favorite (especially my favorite) angry boy. I could use some beta readers and maybe some coverart if anyone is willing?? Feedback is more than welcome and I plan on updating at least once a week! 

[snxwbird]

|| In her Strawhat au, who does Monet get along the best with? Are there moments when she's reminded of DQ family? Some members? What is her view on Doflamingo and his crew? Which strawhat does she spend the most time with? Is there someone she argues with or gets irritated by but controls it well? Did she hear about God Usopp? :D please share your hcs <3

I love these questions! 

who does Monet get along the best with?

There’s some things she loves about each and every one of them. From Luffy his endless selflessness and those smiles that can light up a room, from Nami all those hours discussing constellations, from Robin talking about books and history and morbid things, from Sanji his thoughtfulness, from Zoro? His calm and how imperturbable he is. From Brook how jolly he is about life after dying, how resourceful and upbeat Franky is, how fascinating she finds Jimbei, how ingenious Usopp is with his stories, or simply how adorable Chopper is. 

But she gets along best with Robin, Zoro, Nami and Jinbei.

Are there moments when she's reminded of DQ family? Some members?

So many moments that echo with her past, from the takeover of Dressrosa and before that when she did spend plenty of time with the Donquixote Family before being sent away on missions. So many parallels in the most simple things, like having dinner together or those blissful family moments and its anecdotes and laughter. Arguments and silly little things that remind her of them: and that always leave a bittersweet taste in her mouth. The bitterness from everything she’s lost, and although she has won so much, she still feels that ache of an absence of the life that could have been. 

Monet finds it very odd not having them to turn to. The knowledge that she can’t just pick up a Den den Mushi and ring Doffy, or Baby 5, or Dellinger, or any of them. The thought that they will hate her now and think she’s a traitor weighs heavy on her heart, but she can’t spend her whole life of penitence after living in servitude, and she knows this. 

What is her view on Doflamingo and his crew?

She does still love them, she always will. She misses them, but then remembers that there -being quite practical- wasn’t a lot of a difference between being on a mission and never being home and never seeing anyone because of it (bear in mind she was always gone for years at a time). She missed so many things, and in a way it was reassuring to come back to Sugar to find her always the same, like a constant in her life. But now she knows that it is very unlikely she will see her sister again.

If Monet ever feels the subtle claws of guilt gripping at her she needs to remind herself that as much as she loved and cared for them: their goals did no longer align, their interests were not the same anymore, and some of the things Doffy was allowing: like experimenting on the children, was a step too far. And ever since she found that Doflamingo was okay with that, she felt disappointed and hurt -because based on their background those children could have been her and Sugar so easily- and she never thought of Doffy so highly about again.

 Gosh, I digress but I could rant about this forever. 

Which strawhat does she spend the most time with? 

With Zoro -she spends an awful time in the crow’s nest and that’s where he trains- and Robin, quietly reading on opposite ends of the room. 

Is there someone she argues with or gets irritated by but controls it well? 

Monet doesn’t get irritated easily. She loves kids, and loves being surrounded by Usopp and Chopper and Luffy and their antics, and has more patience than anybody for them. 

Did she hear about God Usopp? 

She got told the story in a very theatrical manner one night after dinner, and it genuinely didn’t fail to make her laugh. She does get along very well with him. 

[cosmicjoke]

Garden of Light and the Processing of Grief

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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