#I selfishly and horribly hope you can never find a best friend in the person you love

[blugrlgroup]

I gave you the power to completely hurt me, and I trusted you completely not to.

And then you did.

In the worst way I could have never imagined from you.

[daydreamingyuta]

congrats on 300 followers, it’s so deserved :D could you do 1, 6, and 21 for Chenle?

Hidden Feelings | Chenle

summary: bestfriend!chenle was in love with you, even though he's never admitted that to you. however, after another bad date that left you crying in his arms, he decides to confess his feelings. wc: 788 genre: fluff, bestfriend!chenle prompts: 1.) "I couldn't be more in love with you." & 6.) "are you flirting with me?" & 21.) best friends to lovers a/n: thank you!! <3 and thank you sm for requesting, I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it!! :)

It really was no secret as to how Chenle felt about you. Or to be more precise, it was clear to everyone but you, how Chenle felt about you. It wasn’t your fault though, you couldn’t help the fact that you were oblivious to his subtle hints and flirtatious remarks. Honestly, if it was anyone's fault, it was Chenle’s. After years of being his best friend, you had been the subject of countless jokes and teases from him, so it was almost impossible to tell the difference between a joke and him being for real.

Because you weren’t aware of how he felt about you, you found yourself seeking love from men that simply weren’t worth your time. Tonight was no exception. You didn’t even bother texting Chenle that you were on the way over to his place, he was already expecting you since you had told him earlier that you were going out on a date. 

This has been your routine for a while now. Go out on a date, find out that he’s horrible, and then go to Chenle’s place for comfort. Of course, not every date was bad, but most were and you hated that.

“Did you even get to eat anything before you left this time?” Chenle asks, opening up his door for you.

“Three pieces of bread. I didn’t even get to the main course, Chenle.” You say, as you place your purse on his kitchen table. 

“I already ordered us some pizza, it’s on the way.”

“Thank you, Chenle.” You say, coming to a hug, resting your head on his chest. “Why do I always end up with these kinds of guys?” You say, your voice muffled because you're speaking into his shirt.

Chenle rubs your back while you’re still in the hug for a little while. He can’t help but feel saddened every time he has to see you like this. A part of him is selfishly glad that you haven’t found anyone yet, while another part of him is angry that these guys can’t see how much of an amazing person you are.

“Why don’t you stop seeing guys like that and be my girl? Then you wouldn’t have to come to me crying ever again.” He says, with humor in his tone trying to soften the mood. 

“Are you flirting with me?” You say, lifting your head up from out of his chest so you can look at him. The tears were coming to a stop, but you knew you still looked like a mess. If it was anyone else, you would have kept your face hidden, you only let Chenle see you like this.

“Hm.” He hums. He doesn’t give you a straight answer, he never does. He tucks your hair behind your ear and he’s looking at you like you’ve never seen him look at you before. Little did you know, he always looked at you with loving eyes, he just never allowed you to see.

You weren’t expecting it, but he gently grabs your face. He first presses a kiss on your left cheek and then on the right, effectively wiping away your tears. He then presses the softest kiss on your forehead before he rests his forehead against yours. 

“You’re questioning if I’m flirting with you?” He says in a whisper as he closes his eyes. “If you only knew how I felt about you, y/n. If you only knew how badly seeing you like this hurts my heart.”

“How do you feel about me, Chenle?” You say, matching his whispering voice.

“Y/n…I couldn’t be more in love with you.” 

You push away from him slightly after hearing his words. “Chenle, don’t you dare say that just to make me feel better.”

“You think that’s what I’m doing? You think I would say anything like that to you if I didn’t mean it?”

You knew the answer before he even finished the question. He isn’t the type to lie about something like this. The realization that he’s telling you the truth hits you hard. To tell the truth, you’ve never allowed yourself to look at Chenle in a romantic way. You fought against your heart for years because you knew that once you started liking him, there would be no going back. Nobody treated you like he did. Even just being his best friend, he made you feel so beautiful every day. 

You look up at him with a soft smile, feeling like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders, a weight that you didn’t even know was there. It was such a relief, knowing that you didn’t have to fight against what your heart has really wanted this whole time.

[diary-from-a-thoughtful-girl]

stanford boy and breakups

Oliver and I broke up officially close to a month ago. For some reason and also for reasons I've overanalyzed, I'm not as sad as I feel like I should be and I feel pretty guilty about it. I almost feel relieved. I definitely still love him and have never lied to him about how I felt, but he just constantly would tell me nasty and purposefully hurtful things that resonated and genuinely killed me. He's been begging me to give him a second chance and the temptation is horribly so present, but I need this time for myself. He told me that I should have the respect to tell him if I hooked up with someone else and I lied and told him I didn't. I could hear how much it would hurt him and being a shit person and so so selfishly, I didn't want to forever lose him. It's been weighing on me though and I feel like an absolute piece of shit who will rot in hell because of it. I should tell him, I have to tell him... I do love him, I just need the time for myself.

In lighter tones, single life has been weird and interesting. I'm visiting home right now. Although my grades are absolute shit and I'm having a crisis on what I want to do with my life and have been a little scared if I'm going to be struggling my whole life, I've been pretty good. Being by myself has become comforting rather than depressing during my freshman year of college. I'm starting to journal as you can see, I've been talking to friends I lose contact with, and I've been reading a good amount.

Recently, I've finished The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo (3.8/5), Verity (2.3/5 - just because I hate scary stuff), and One Day (4.7/5). One Day had the potential to be my favorite book ever, it had thought processes that were similar to mine and written anecdotes that just made you wanting more and whole-heartedly rooting for Em and Dex to get together. The negative is that we barely got to see them together which is fine, but then Dex dated the manager of his store after the love of his life died. What the fuck is that?? A book love or true love that ends in one of them dying should leave the other scarred for life. The significant other shouldn't be able to move on. They should live the rest of their life in sorrow, constantly thinking about them. Is that toxic? I think anyone whose together for more than seven years or older than 40 years old. I don't know. I'm only nineteen.

I've been home for about a week and am leaving to go back to college in a week. I knew this before, but I only had Oliver to hang out with here so I've been annoying my sister a good amount. With being around her in her environment, I've realized that she's probably my best friend, but I am not hers. She's at the age where she's bitchy and feels above literally everything which is the most annoying thing in the world. She's still someone who makes me genuinely die from laughter, I just hope she grows out of it. One thing that I'm addicted to is how we look walking around, especially where I am in college. Because we're styling and young (and maybe because we're asian), we get stares and comments of flattery. Although I'm being vain, I completely adore it. I get them with other people in my life, but it's always more fun and more a scene from a movie when it's with your sister. I've also never cared about fashion until her. Now I'm obsessed with it and have a shopping addiction.

I haven't been doing much at home. I downloaded a dating app and have some guilt about it with Oliver. Anyways, along with Tik Tok, they have been so addictive with people liking how I look, giving me cheesy compliments, meaningless conversations, and the feeling of being validated - all with a swipe of a finger. It's so much judgment solely based on somebody's physical attributes. It's honestly horrible and I'm never going to find anyone serious on here and there's a big part of me that hates it, but I am so so addicted to it.

It's also where I met LB. I went to high school with him and we've been in the same classes or group projects, but we didn't really know each other. It didn't stop us though from swiping right and from him messaging me "Haha no way what's good" as if we were lifelong friends that were rekindling a friendship and was the validation that he knew who I was. He flirted with me, I flirted back - making up the story that I watched a scary movie and that I was scared so that he would respond with being the protective man who held me while I was scared. One thing that girls learn easily is that men are so predictable when you know they think you're attractive and want to hook up with you to some degree (which is exactly what Tinder gives you). I was still nervous as I haven't hooked up with anyone since Oliver. I had anxiety about it and kept ranting about it to M and C.

But, even though I barely knew him, I felt safe with him and knew I could get over my first hook-up after Oliver with L. I obviously didn't and will never tell L that, but it was true. My anxiety pushed it off as far as it could with still constant snapchats and boring talks about work and what the other was doing and excuses that came about in my family and the lack of car. Then, he snapchatted me saying that he was leaving that day and if I wanted to hang out.

I knew that if I was going to do this, I would have to make that decision quickly. I was able to pull off seeing him at the very last minute I could due to my anxiety with the lack of responding from me and the bringing up of having my sister. This changed almost completely when I saw him.

I remember him from high school - this gigantic teddy bear jock who, besides looking cluelessly around in APUSH and seeming like he doesn't have a care in the world, was annoyingly smart. Looking at him now, he's gotten more attractive with kept facial hair, routine hair cuts, and a body that became more built somehow.

But, what I thought was his lack of care before became nervousness by the moment he sat down next to me at the beach. It was adorable and with his nerves came my confidence. We talked like we were old friends that lost touch. I put on my best attentive looks while pretending like I didn't know that he was on the Stanford Football team and that that wasn't the most attractive thing in the world for me. Athleticism and intelligence - I get so obsessed.

When our catching up came to a close, he offered to drive me home which I gratefully, and expectantly, accepted. We walked around 4 blocks talking about how we wanted dogs and I could feel the intentional movements towards me. His hand would graze mine that would send a wave of excitement through me. Honestly, I loved it. Loved how easily he made me laugh and how he thought he was being smooth. He tried putting his arm around me, but I personally hate when any guy does that. It's awkward - your arm is heavy, weighing and messing up my hair and I clearly have a bag. Anyway, we got to his car which was a mini cooper - nearly the opposite type of car I'd think he would have. He threw my bag as well as my towel I lent him into his trunk. I climbed into his passenger seat, telling myself to breath and that he was as nervous as me.

He started driving in the direction of my house. I pretended like I was interested in stick shift which he could definitely see through. By the way, stick shift sucks. It was starting and stopping then starting and stopping. When we got onto the highway, his hand touched my thigh, his fingers tracing my skin. I could feel my breathing become shallow as my mind attached to his hand. When he had to change gears, I was able to focus on whatever stupid thing we were talking about. It went on like this and I became to resent stick shift. L was able to put me into this trance where I was so aware of his hand and the soft touch that he had then he would have to change gears.

The only thing was that I had no idea what to do with my hands. His arm and hand took most of the space in the tiny mini cooper so I awkwardly sat there with my arms crossed. He was inching towards where I wanted him to go and when the stick shift finally let him, I felt that feeling in the pit of my stomach that craved him. I didn't know how much I wanted it until my mouth fell open and my head tilted back. I began to loath myself for not shaving and claiming that I was on my period. I think he could tell that I was getting turned on because when he asked me where I wanted to go, his voice became darker, rougher, and more attractive then I could imagine.

We ended up going to the pool house in my neighborhood. I won't be disgusting and share details, but in the middle of it, after I, regrettingly, told him I was self-conscious about not shaving, he grabbed the waistband of my jeans and, mumbling to himself and to me, growled saying, "I'm sorry, but I need to touch you". I genuinely became weak. Like jello. I've had those words said to me, but to be told by basically a stranger was the most hottest thing ever. Something I never thought would happen was that my moans and my whimpers were matching his. When it was over and he was driving me back, he filled the silence with thank you's which pissed me off. Don't thank me like I did a service for you, it was a mutual thing.

It's been around three days and I keep randomly thinking about him. Not in an emotional way or in an attached way, but in a thinking about the way he wanted me way and the fact that I'll never see him again. Honestly, if all hook ups were like that, I would do it all the time.

I'm curious if I"ll ever see him again. Kind of scared that he thought of my insecurities too much, but I'm not going to get into that. If I ever do see him, you'll know about it. That's it for right now. Suddenly feeling embarrassed about all of this.

[thatshithurted8]

Could’ve Been

Summary: In which Jeff deals with the repercussions of not acting on his feelings towards reader. 

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: angst, drinking and swear words.

You couldn’t help yourself, but to giggle while you made dinner for Jeff, Jonah and yourself. The sound of your laugh causes Jeff to look up from his barbers station and over to you, a smile appearing on his face at the sound of it. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“Just thinking about yours and Jonah’s bits.” You state. Jeff just finished filming a barbershop episode with Bryce Hall, but by now the crew and Bryce were long gone. 

Jeff smiles to himself as he puts his multiple hair clippers away. Even though you told Jeff and Jonah from the beginning you didn’t want to be in any of the episodes you always found yourself being in them anyway. Whether that be you doing the boys hair for an episode to having your witty remarks and contagious laugh be heard in every video. 

Little did you know though, there was a reason why you were such a consistent guest on the show. This reason being the developing feelings both Jeff and Jonah harbored for you. Despite both boys openly flirting with you in seemingly every episode you were in you still remained oblivious to their feelings. However, as time went on unbeknownst to either Jeff or Jonah you started to reciprocate feelings for Jeff. You loved Jonah, but he was more like a brother to you than anything. 

 As more episodes of you appearing in were published to YouTube it was clear to not only the fans, but to Jeff as well what was happening. Fans constantly pointed out that it was obvious there was a love triangle going on whether it be a bit or not. They concluded this from all of the clips of both boys openly flirting with you along with all of the longing stares they gave you. It made Jeff giddy to know you most likely felt the same way about him the way he felt about you, but he never acted on it. He couldn’t do that to Jonah especially with how obvious it was the boy was in love with you. 

“What’re ya making?” Jeff asks walking into the kitchen and peering over your shoulder after finally cleaning up his station. Jonah looks up from his phone from his spot at the kitchen’s island and he can feel his stomach drop at the proximity of you two. He watches as you pick up the spoon you were using to stir and allowed Jeff to taste the homemade tomato sauce for the spaghetti you were making. 

“Tastes like what my ma makes, maybe even better, but don’t let her know I said that.” Jeff compliments causing heat to rush to your face and ears as he smiles at your reaction. This seemingly wholesome interaction between you two gets cut short by Jonah coughing and standing up. 

“I’m not feeling spaghetti tonight I’m gonna eat out instead.” He says pushing his chair in underneath the island before walking out of his apartment without saying another word. 

You look over at Jeff confused, but he just looks down at the ground not knowing what to say while slowly moving away from you. Jeff knew why Jonah was upset. After all Jonah has told him many times he likes you and Jeff did go a little over board with the flirting with you in today’s episode. 

“That was weird. What was that about?” You ask Jeff as he sits down at the island and pulls his phone out to text Jonah. Jonah loved your cooking and never missed an opportunity to have some. 

Jeff shrugs his shoulders and puts his phone away. “He’s been stressed lately, I don’t know why.” He lies. “We should move up to my apartment he’s gonna probably want to be alone when he gets back.” 

“Poor Jonah, I hope he can relax.” You pout while you turn off the stove to bring the food you were cooking up to Jeff’s. The brunette helps you, but can’t help but to feel guilty at your obliviousness. Jeff loved flirting with you after all his feelings for you were strong, but he felt bad for his best friend. It was obvious you didn’t reciprocate Jonah’s feelings let alone were you aware of them. 

The two of you carefully maneuver up to Jeff’s apartment with kitchen towels underneath the hot pots so neither of you would burn yourselves. As you get back into the groove of cooking again Jeff turns his stereo on, the Beatles echoing throughout the apartment. 

Ever since Jonah seemingly stormed off earlier Jeff has been acting kind of stand offish which you couldn’t help but to notice. However, as each Beatles track played he started to return back to his playful self and your laughs of encouragement egged him on to continue singing along horribly to the music. 

After an intense performance of Jeff playing the air guitar and singing to Helter Skelter Come Together came on, making you squeal. That was your go to song for karaoke night. Jeff smiles at you as you grab a ladle and start to sing into it as if it was a microphone. 

“He got hair down to his knees. He got to be a joker, he just do what he please.” You horribly sing out while slowly moving your hips back and forth while slowly making your way down to your knees in front of Jeff. 

You continue your performance while Jeff tries his hardest to not let his mind wander due to the position you were in. 

“One thing I can tell you, you just got to be free.” You sing getting up fast while shaking your head back and forth to the beat of the song. As you fully immerse yourself into your performance Jeff laughs at you with loving eyes, but he is interrupted from watching when his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

It was a text from Jonah. “You know my feelings towards Y/N the least you can do is not flirt with her around me.” 

Suddenly a wave of guilt washes over Jeff. The moment Jeff met you he could feel the spark between you two and just as he was about to tell Jonah how he was feeling about you he beat Jeff to it and started gushing about you the next time Jonah saw Jeff. This resulted in Jeff never opening up to his best friend to let him know he had feelings for you as well. 

“What’s wrong?” You furrow your eyebrows while watching Jeff sit down at his dinning table with an upset facial expression. 

Jeff quickly sends out an “I’m sorry” text to Jonah before putting his phone away and nervously running his fingers through his hair. “Nothin.” 

Furrowing your eyebrows even more you put down the ladle and make your way over to Jeff, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders from behind. “Seriously what’s up?” 

“Nothin Y/N.” Jeff says standing up abruptly and gently pushing you off of him, causing your heart to drop. 

“Yea okay.” You sassily say back while returning to the stove to cook, the playful mood ruined. There was now an unwanted awkward tension in the air that both you and Jeff felt, but neither of you knew what to say. 

Finally Jeff speaks up, not really wanting to say what he was about to, but he felt like he owed it to Jonah to. “Y/N I think you should give Jonah a shot.” 

You slowly turn around from the stove to look at Jeff with a confused expression etched onto your face. “What?”

“You guys have so much in common and click well. You guys could be a solid couple.” 

Your heart sank initially thinking Jeff didn’t reciprocate your feelings, but the way he was looking everywhere, but you while saying this had you thinking otherwise. “Where is this coming from?” You ask starting to connect the dots and stepping closer to Jeff who doesn’t move away this time. 

He remains silent. 

“Jeff? Does Jonah have feelings for me?” 

Jeff simply nods his head yes as if it was hurting him to say that. He didn’t want you to find out this way. After all, it should be up to Jonah to tell you when he’s ready, but from what Jeff just said he had no choice to tell you.

You let out a sigh. This was not how things were supposed to happen. “I feel bad, but I don’t feel the same for him.” You say inching closer to Jeff. His heartbreaks for Jonah, but he can’t help but selfishly feel hopeful that he may get a chance with you. 

“Do you know who I do have feelings for?” You ask placing your hand on Jeff’s chest while a spike of confidence flows through you. Jeff’s breath catches in his throat when you get closer to him, but he instinctively melts into your touch. 

“Who Y/N?” He stutters out, nervous that you were going to say Todd or some shit. Jeff wasn’t typically a nervous person, but when it came to you and his strong feelings for you he was. 

You roll your eyes at his obliviousness. “You for fuck’s sake. I thought it was obvious.” 

A blush and smile washes over Jeff’s face as he looks down at you, but his smile quickly disappears when he remembers Jonah. Seeing his reaction makes you release an annoyed sigh. Although you were oblivious to Jonah’s feelings and sometimes got in your head about Jeff there was no denying he felt the same for you. You just knew he did. 

“We can’t do this to Jonah.” 

Rolling your eyes you move away from Jeff. The confidence that you had was now annoyance. From the moment you became friends with the two boys you learned that Jonah had a track record of seemingly liking every girl Jeff liked as well. Ultimately causing Jeff to step back so Jonah could have a shot. Yes, Jeff’s being a good friend, but you were sick and tired seeing Jeff’s happiness be put on the line for a guy who wouldn’t do the same for him. 

“I know you feel what I feel. I’ve felt it the moment we met two years ago. For the love of everything good stop denying your feelings and finally own up to them for once! You have let Jonah stop you from being happy for so long now. Advocate for yourself Jeff, be selfish for once in your life cause I know you want this as much as I do!” 

Jeff looks at you with wide eyes. He was happy that you finally confessed your feelings for him, but he didn’t see this outburst coming even though he knows every word you said was true. 

“I can’t Jonah’s my best friend.”

You internally groan, getting even more agitated that Jeff wasn’t seeing what you were seeing. “I understand that, he’s my friend too, but given the opportunity he would push you to the side if that meant he had a shot. I’m not asking you to drop him. I’m asking you to allow yourself to be happy for once.” You say rolling your eyes before turning back to the food cooking on the stove that you seemingly abandoned. 

The tension in the air was now thicker than before and Jeff felt awkward in his own apartment. A few minutes go by and he finally speaks up. “Y/N look at me.” 

You look over at him with an unimpressed expression, but you notice how close he’s gotten to you. Jeff grabs your hand and starts to gently rub his thumb across the back of it. “You’re right. I do have feelings for you.” He says inching closer to you, causing your heart rate to speed up. 

“Then act like it.” You say looking up into his beautiful brown eyes. 

Without hesitating Jeff pulls you to his chest by your hand before smashing his lips against yours and caressing your cheek with his free hand. Automatically you kiss back, placing your hand on the nape of his neck while deepening the kiss. 

You were the first to pull away, but you rest your forehead against his. “Wow.” That was probably the best kiss you’ve ever had. 

Jeff’s cheeks were flushed red and you knew he felt the butterflies from the kiss as well. You two stare into each others eyes seemingly relishing in the moment before guilt begins to wash over Jeff’s face as he realizes what he just did. 

“What?” You ask backing away concerned.

He sighs and scratches at his beard. “I want this as much as you do, but I can’t for Jonah’s sake.” 

You close your eyes and let out a deep breathe at his words, trying your best to control your emotions. He just said the last thing you wanted to hear. Without saying another word you walk by the brunette and to the front door where you put on your shoes and grab your purse. 

“Where are you goin?” 

“I’m sorry Jeff, but I can’t be friends with you especially after that kiss. My feelings are just going to keep growing and there’s no point in torturing myself by being around you when I can’t be yours.” You simply state, hurt evident in your voice before opening the door and leaving Jeff’s apartment without another word. 

As the door shuts the smoke alarm goes off signaling the food you were cooking was burning, which only made Jeff’s heartbroken mood worse.  

- 

“Oh my god Y/N is here! I haven’t seen her in so long!” Zane yells to Jeff over the music before rushing over to you who just arrived to Todd’s birthday party. Ever since that night 8 months ago in Jeff’s apartment you started to distance yourself from Jeff and Jonah along with the Vlog Squad since they were always with either boy. However, you weren’t going to miss Todd’s birthday for the world. After all he was one of your closest friends. 

The moment Jeff’s eyes fall onto your frame while you greet the first few people you know his heart rate began to increase. You looked good. Hell even better than you did 8 months ago if that was possible. 

You made your rounds through the party, saying hi and having conversations with your friends that you haven’t seen in almost a year while the music filled the large house. Although, it was Todd’s birthday you were hesitant to come. After all you knew Jonah was going to be there and more importantly Jeff as well. But today wasn’t about you it was about Todd. With that being said you decided to swallow your pride and show up for one of your best friends. 

However, you tried your best to avoid Jonah and Jeff for the night. Which was working out fine until you ran into Jonah. You guys hugged and caught up and to your surprise Jonah introduces his girlfriend, Francesca to you. Of course you were happy for him, he deserved to be happy, but the two started dating two months after that night at Jeff’s. That meant if you stayed around you and Jeff could’ve been a couple. Yet, you couldn’t help, but to feel hurt. Surely Jeff would’ve jumped on the opportunity to make you his now that Jonah was off the market, but you haven’t heard from the Staten Island stud since a week after what happened. Clearly Jeff’s feelings towards you weren’t as strong as you thought.

As the night continues Jeff builds up enough confidence to approach you. So that’s what he did. Feeling a tap on your shoulder you turn around from your conversation with Todd and are shocked to see Jeff standing in front of you. 

“Oh my gosh Jeff! It’s been so long!” You exclaim before pulling the brunette in for a hug, fighting off the awkward tension. This was seemingly a friendly hug, but as you were in his embrace all of the feelings you thought you didn’t feel anymore came rushing back. Jeff felt the same from the moment he saw you walk in. And the familiar but nostalgic smell of your perfume only amplified it.

“How’ve you been?” He asks pulling away, but laughing at your reaction. You didn’t realize how much you missed his laugh until now.

“I’ve been pretty busy with school, but still good. What about you?” Jeff was happy to hear that you were still in school. After months of Jeff convincing you to chase your dreams you finally applied to a university to become a physiotherapist and got in, putting your influencer career on the back burner. He was proud of you for not giving into your fears of having a late start in your degree and quitting.

“I’ve been good as well. The guys and I have been pumping out barbershop episodes basically every week now.” By now Todd was now gone, talking to his other guests.

Although, both of you were telling the truth of what has been up lately neither of you delved into the fact your minds would always wander back to each other. Especially late at night when neither of you could fall asleep.

“How are ya liking school?” Jeff asks stepping a bit closer for you to hear him due to the loud music.Just as you were about to answer his question you feel arms wrap around your waist and a kiss being placed on your cheek. 

Justin. Not your boyfriend, but not your friend either.

“Hey baby sorry that I’m late.”

As Jeff watched the guy that looks a bit like him display affection to you a pang of jealously and hurt hits him. Clearly your feelings for him weren’t as strong as Jeff thought they were.

You mumble a “hi” back to Justin and discreetly push him off of you. Suddenly you were all too aware of who you were standing in front of with your rebound by your side.

“Who’s this?” Justin asks pointing at Jeff then looking at you.

“Justin this is Jeff, a friend I haven’t seen in a while.” Another pang of hurt hits Jeff at being friendzoned. “And Jeff this is Justin.”

Jeff swallows the lump in his throat and cuts directly to the chase. “So are you guys a couple?”

You almost choke on your drink at Jeff’s boldness, but Justin answers his question before you could cough out a reply. “Nah, not yet man. Y/N wants to take things slow. Something about not wanting to get her hopes up if things turn sour.” Justin laughs. 

Jeff looks at you knowing exactly why you want to take things slow with this guy. You didn’t want to be let down the way you did with Jeff. It was obvious you were still hurt and Jeff’s suspicions of that were proven by your avoidance from his analytical gaze. 

An awkward silence falls upon you guys, but Justin doesn’t seem to acknowledge it as he was vibing out to the music. You and Jeff exchange awkward looks while you anxiously bite on the rim of your solo cup. 

Just as you were to speak up to bid goodbye to Jeff and get away from the tension Erin comes running up to you. “Y/N it’s our song!” She yells, clearly intoxicated. Before you could protest what was about to happen she drags you over to an open spot in the crowded house to dance to Britney Spears, Toxic. Ultimately leaving Justin and Jeff alone. 

As you danced to one of your favourite songs you were grateful that Erin pulled you away because your mind was starting to drift away from Jeff and the way his presence made you feel. The next thing you know the song was over, but you continued to dance with Erin to five other songs while Zane supplied shots for you two. 

While each song passed you were oblivious to Jeff’s eyes on you. Justin was talking his ear off about the mixtape he was working on and quite frankly Jeff couldn’t give less of a shit. Every time Justin asked him a question Jeff would simply respond with vague answers, trying his best to suppress his emotions. 

Seeing you after all of these months apart it made Jeff realize just how much he missed you. There was no denying he missed you from the moment you walked out of his apartment, but ever since then he tried his best to distract himself with creating. And it was working, but that was until now. 

You continued to let loose occasionally glancing over to Jeff’s direction without realizing what you were doing. It wasn’t until you felt arms wrap around your waist that your dance moves come to a stop. You quickly turn around and smile while stumbling into Justin’s arms. 

“Hey baby.” You say while wrapping your arms around Justin’s neck while continuing to sway to the music, the alcohol you drank flooding throughout your blood.

“I’m going to get a drink do you want anything?” 

You simply nod your head as Mariah walks over to catch up with you and Justin walks away to find the kitchen. Your conversation with Mariah was going great until you felt someone place their hands on the small of your back. 

“Excuse me.” 

You turn to look and see the person was Jeff walking past you. He makes eye contact with you and you could’ve sworn time stopped in that moment, making you automatically sober up. His eyes were full of longing as well as hurt. Jeff doesn’t stop to talk to you. Instead he keeps on moving through the crowd of people to leave, your eyes yearning after him.

Your focus on the brunette is ultimately broken when Justin hands you a beer. You shake your head and turn back to your conversation with Mariah and introduce Justin to her. As you do this you miss Jeff turning to look back at you one last time, his heart breaking even more as he watches you grasp onto Justin’s arm while laughing loudly. 

As he walks out of the party Jeff’s mind wanders to what you two could’ve been ultimately hurting himself more at the thought. 

tags: @jeffywittek2020

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

i don't wanna die yet

listen to lost by christian gates for a truly sad time (linked at the bottom)

CW: major character death; canon typical violence; grief; gore descriptions

[image has alt text]

Dying as it turns out, feels a disturbing amount like accidentally slipping into a meat grinder and then spending the entire time terrified someone will turn it on before they realise you’re in there. At least that’s the only way Leo Valdez can describe it. A rotting festering acid churning through every system in his body. Blood turned rancid. Lymph nodes leaking sanies. Nerve fibres seizing. Disgusting. That’s what it feels like.

He wishes he had been braver. Wishes he had looked death in the face, metaphorical death anyway— Thanatos doesn’t show up till later on, and by then it really is too late— but he wishes he had stared his dying in the face and said ‘fuck you” or “not today” or “try me bitch”. No, instead he had suffered and screamed and cried his way through it. This last moment of bravery and he couldn’t even be brave.

Maybe it was those blue eyes he looked into, or the way a gentle hand was always resting against his burning cheek. But he couldn’t be anything but miserable as he left it all. How does anyone expect him to be brave when the weight of what he’s leaving behind presses against his final visions. Friendship beyond time and space and person. Love encapsulated in every hug, folding around him like stars curve around the universe. Jason Grace could laugh and Leo thinks he’d go to war to hear it again. Surrounded by all this lightning goodness, how can he be expected to die anything but wretchedly.

*One hour earlier*

No matter what happens his friends could not find out what he had planned. No matter what. The loop plays in his head, scratched vinyl, stuck cd. They deserve to know he will die but he cannot give them that knowledge. They will try to stop him. Maybe worse, maybe horribly selfishly worse, they will agree with him. He doesn’t know if his heart will be able to handle that confirmation. “It’s the best course of action,” he can just see Annabeth nodding. Piper’s eyes filled with tears but no words of protest escaping her lips. Frank’s half-hearted attempt to stop him. Percy may fight, say there must be another way, he and Annabeth will have one of their silent conversations and it will end with the son of Posiedon storming off and the plan going through anyway. He doesn’t want to think about Jason’s reaction. The good roman soldier who will die for his cause. “We are not here to live for ourselves. We must represent the bigger picture.” And Leo will want to know why dying is so lonely if living must always be for something bigger. Nonetheless today he must stop breathing. Today he stops. The boy who never stops moving, finally dead still.

He strokes a hand down Festus’ cool metal back, feels the hum of his engine, The sound is comforting, enough so that the heart racing behind his ribcage slows down a fraction. Running a marathon instead of a sprint.

“I dont want to die.” He whispers to the air. No-one responds.

He turns to Festus, “Will you miss me buddy?” It has come to this. Asking the dragon he created if he will be missed. He wonders if this is what Frakenstein felt like? If the doctor ever asked the monster created if he would be missed. Maybe gods ask the same things of humans.

“Leo?” The tent flaps open and a head of blonde hair and electric shockwaves fills the room. “What are you hiding in here for?” Even now with war at their doorstep, his blonde Superman has high spirits and so much hope.

“Wanted to get a little air before this whole thing blows up.” He smiles and he feels it reach his eyes, his head, his breaking heart. “You know i work best in suffocating heat.”

And gods the tent is hot. Air thick and heavy with the anticipation of war, and the unrelenting summer heat.

A breeze prickles against his skin and he looks up to see eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Better?”

“My hero! When this is all done would you mind if I hired you for the bunker?”

Jason’s laugh is carried along the breeze, brushing against his hot skin again and again and again.

“When this is done I'm taking a very very long vacation in the most remote area of the world.”

“Can I join?” Leo wants to live in this moment forever.

And then his friend smiles and maybe his mind starts writing sonnets of all the ways this convolutes time and space.

“You never had a choice, Valdez. I was dragging you with me whether you liked it or not.”

He’s laughing now. At a time like this. Forty five minutes before he ends a war. “For the record Grace,” He pronounces every curve of the surname, “I would like it very much.”

“Oh good!” The blonde wraps an arm around his shoulders, knocks their heads together. “I’ve got snacks and to-go bags waiting at the camp border.”

“So I don't have to bring anything?”

“Just Festus.” Jason strokes his hand over the dragon’s head. “We can’t leave you behind buddy.”

A horn blares outside, the signal that more enemy armies are fast approaching. Jason’s entire demeanor changes. Gone is the friend, enters is the soldier.

“See you out there?”

He nods, words caught in his throat. He is trying to pour every single fatal droplet of love into the hug they share. When the son of Jupiter pulls away, the entire world gets a little colder.

Leo takes a final steadying breath, sucking up the lingering breeze left behind by the demigod.

Festus whines at him, a clicking noise stumbling from his long throat. Leo strokes a hand down the metal again, all the comfort he can offer. Life is a worthy one if you leave it being missed. And if no-one else Festus will miss him. Of that he is sure.

“Okay buddy,” He clambers onto the dragon’s back, letting the familiar warmth of working parts settle into his bones. “We’re gonna take it to the skies and then you’re gonna find Jason for me while i sort some stuff out. Got it?”

They had been over this plan a hundred times, and every time Festus had protested and every time Leo had swallowed his sadness and did not change the path he had coursed.

The tent flaps billow open just as a conch shell sounds. He wonders, for the umpteenth time, why the call of war was so beautiful. Sorrowful, yes, but beautiful? It seemed cruel, and violent. As if this destruction could be made pretty with the exact right note. Not even Apollo had discovered such a sound yet.

With a final glance around, he knocks on the dragon’s side twice, and they take to the skies. Immediately he is engulfed with noise: yelling, and clashing metal, and roaring from various beasts. It sounds sort of like his mind. Loud. Engulfing. Inescapable.

“HEY LEO!” He hears a yell from below.

Peering over the side of Festus he sees Frank racing towards a pack of vicious looking wolves. Something about them didn’t sit right, as if they had been stretched and pulled into a different shape and then unsuccessfully put back. “Try for the other side of Gaia with your fire bombs.”

His friend is now a war strategist. No longer the scared little kid with too much grief, and a stickler for authority. He is the authority. And he wields it like a carved bow.

“Will do!” He gives a thumbs up in case his words are lost to the wind. Then he’s looking up and out into the mass of earth stretching itself from below to above above above. As if Gaia was once more trying to meet her husband.

“LET'S CHANGE THIS WAR!” He screams.

Him and Festus are barrelling towards the mass. He shoots fire from his hands, and the little kid in him obsessed with superheroes is proud of how far he has come. Festus breathes fire of his own, and the child in him obsessed with fairytales is looking at him with wide bright eyes. If he has made anyone proud, it’s the kid he used to be. He doesn’t have to worry about any adult version of himself being proud of him.

“Okay Festus.” He presses his chest into his dragon’s back so they’re head to head. “It’s time buddy.”

Another metallic whine. Enough clicks to mean “I love you”.

“I love you too my friend.” He keeps a warm hand on the dragon’s neck. “Remember to find Jason after this.”

And then Leo is standing up. On the golden back of Festus. And then Leo is taking a final deep breath, a final encompassing look at the world, at his friends scattered across the battlefield.

“Thank you for being with me.” He whispers.

“Leo?” Jason’s voice carries across the entire world.

He looks down, sees those blue eyes even across this violence. There is confusion in them, a starting gleam of worry and… horror.

He waves, smiles softly.

Jason is already shaking his head, feet stumbling, stuttering, sprinting towards him.

“I love you.” Leo mouths.

“NO!”

Leo Valdez leaps.

And his heart is so quiet as he falls directly into the dark swirling earth.

He explodes from within himself.

Heat pouring from every pore in his body, overwhelming the world, turning his vision white.

For the first time in his life, Leo’s fire burns him.

But the pain is inescapable. Charring at his fingertips. Gut-wrenching. Blistering. Bubbling. He feels like a cauldron melting into the earth. He feels searing with this pain. Food burning in an oven. Ripped apart by this being with no teeth. Scorching. He understand why stars turn into blackholes. Anything to escape this mind-numbing inferno. Gods he’s burning so much he doesn’t know the meaning of cold.

He knows he’s falling but how far or to where he cannot say. All he can focus on, all he understands, is this flame. Eating at him like a monster gorging on grotesque delicacy.

He hits the ground with a sickening crunch. Eyes failing to open. Doesn’t matter anyway, all he can see is endless blinding white.

He feels something at his side, a hand, or a leg, or a… someone. Someone is there. He can’t hear anything. There’s no ringing in his head, no crying, or wretching. It’s just quiet. Somewhere, he exists, but it is no longer here.

The white of his vision obscures with a dark figure. A person, with dark brown skin, dressed in silver and black looks at him, nods his head. “It’s time Leo, you can let go now.”

And he takes their hand, and he realises they’re a god and he sinks into their support. He takes a step, another, another. He doesn’t stop. Nor look back. Not this time. This time he’s home for sure.

***

Jason Grace has felt fear so many times he recognises it like a warm meal. It has kept him company, fed him lies and truths, and strange revelation. But nothing, not a single thing, living, dead, or abstract in this world has ever given him more of this poisoned meal than right now.

He is kneeling besides the burnt, broken body of his best friend and there is nothing but acid salivating in his mouth. He can’t touch the body, it is burning too hot, too fast. A self-made cremation.

“You’re not gonna die,” he’s muttering, trying to cool everything with wind he’s breaking to his will. It doesn’t work. It’s not WORKING! “Do you hear me Leo Valdez!” he’s crying and his tears don’t make it to the ground before they’re up in sickening sizzling steam. “You. Are. Not. Going. To. Die.”

There’s a shift in the air, a rippling of power and then Thanatos is over them. His shadow longer than it has right to be, as if his body can be made into a human form but his shadow is still that of a god’s.

“No, no, no, no, no,” He’s sobbing, and he still can’t touch Leo. “Please, Please save him. Please don’t take him away Please.”

“I am sorry Jason Grace.” The God gives a small bow.

He is fading away, disappearing the way Nico does. Into the thickening blackness.

Leo’s body goes quiet, scorch turning to simmer, turning to coolness. As if his soul had been burning like that. It wouldn’t be a surprise.

He reaches out, touches a blistered, broken hand. Holds it within his own bloodied, scraped ones.

“Why did you do that?” The silence is deafening. “Why did you leave me?” His friend that could never stop moving, is still at last.

“Please come back.” Tears choke him. “Please don’t leave me. Not like this.” There is nothing but violent calm surrounding them.

“I love you.” He strangles through the syllables, not wanting to let them out in case they too die in this catastrophe. “Please open your eyes. Please finish this war by my side.”

Jason tilts his head up. The sky is clear and bright blue. “Leo—” He trembles.

His head falls back down to his chest. The earth is flat, unmoving.

“We’re not supposed to be here.”

Leo Valdez does not protest. Leo Valdez does not move again.

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

[sparklingdemon]

morpheus backstory, let’s go! i’m excited for this one, because it’s something i’ve been tight-lipped about ever since i first started running their blog over 7 years ago... you guys will finally know what morpheus’s deal with aggron is!!

[part 1] / [part 2] / [part 3]

In Morpheus's early life, they fell as a meteor/egg and crash landed in a mountain where an Aron named Rocco was digging.

Rocco is really fascinated with this little alien, as they don't seem to be able to hear, see, or speak... but they can sense Rocco via psychic powers, and can read his immediate thoughts, and can communicate via telepathy. Rocco names them "Buddy."

Rocco wants more out of life than just hiding and struggling for survival, and thinks that it's possible to build a society someday. Rocco ends up sharing these hopes and dreams with Buddy.

The duo become best friends, and end up making friends with Crag the Archen and Pebbles the Shieldon. Crag is impish and the clown of the group, while Pebbles is more levelheaded and reasonable. The four all explore the dinosaur world together and it's super cute.

Buddy and Rocco come across a colony of Kabuto resting in a beach cave, and notice the green one. Rocco feels bad because without a society to care for the green one, it'll probably die off.

Meanwhile, there's the feral Tyrantrum king, and his son who calls himself Fang. Fang seems to be evolving into a less feral Pokémon compared to his father. He's got a spunky Bowser Jr.-esque  personality and likes bullying Rocco and friends, but never actually harms them. Unlike the king though, who often times would attack them on sight.

Rocco has been spending a lot of his life training to be stronger, though. He wants to defeat the Tyrantrum king who's been terrorizing the Pokémon population, and rally them together. He eventually learns that Buddy can grant wishes, and uses that power frequently to help him evolve. This starts putting a strain on Buddy though. Buddy suffers a lot of pain through their stomach eye, but granting wishes seems to relieve it. However, this leaves Buddy really tired.

But eventually Rocco is strong enough that he evolves into an Aggron and is ready to challenge the Tyrantrum king. He asks for Buddy to stay away from the fight, but Buddy grants him a surge of power before the battle. With buddy's powers, Rocco mega evolves and takes the king down. However, cowering behind a couple rocks is Fang, who, despite not having a true emotional connection to the king, is still horrified by the display. Rocco doesn't want to risk Fang coming back for revenge one day, so he easily kills Fang as well.

He takes the King's Rock from the fallen Tyrantrum king's head and becomes the new king.

The whole dino squad eventually evolves, and despite Rocco's horrible murder of Fang, he actually manages to create a stable society where Pokémon are working together to create shelters and find food. It's actually thriving really well.

Rocco decides he wants to raise an heir to carry on once he's gone though, so he asks his old childhood friend Spring the Lairon if she'd be willing to carry the child, and she agrees. 

They name the daughter Silver, who Buddy adores as she grows up.

But as Rocco has been using Buddy's wish-granting powers to help society thrive, Buddy's pain spikes have been fluctuating at a dangerous rate that often causes them massive amounts of pain. Rocco tries to comfort and distract Buddy, but it doesn't seem to work. It puts a huge strain on their relationship. Rocco also selfishly wished to extend his own lifespan, which is an intense wish for a Jirachi to grant, and this causes Buddy additional strain.

Buddy feels like they're going to die every day.  Pebbles ends up talking with Buddy, wondering if this is a terminal issue and that Buddy may eventually die. Buddy considers this. But Rocco overhears this conversation and is outraged by it. He confronts Pebbles about it, and he decides he won't allow Pebbles to put those thoughts in Buddy's head any more, so he kills her by leaving her to sink in a tar pit.

This distresses Crag immensely, as them and Pebbles were actually romantic partners by then, and Archeops mate for life. Crag goes out to look for Pebbles. Rocco told Buddy not to go with them, but Buddy didn't listen.

While searching, the two are ambushed by Tide, the shiny Kabutops. Rocco had taken them under his wing when he started building society, and they were now Rocco's assassin for people who threatened Rocco's rule. Tide attacked Crag, and Buddy tried to protect them, but in the process got their face and eyes cut. Tide realizes their mistake and flees, but Buddy is too late to help Crag. Buddy passes out, and awakens to find their face bandaged and under Rocco's care. He feigns sympathy for Crag's death but assures Buddy that Tide will “no longer be an issue.” (As punishment for harming Buddy, Rocco had sought out Tide and killed them.)

After two of their close friends dying, though, Buddy isn't the same. They're emotionally distant and their pain spikes have never been worse. Their powers seem to be enhancing though, and they use this power to dig deeper into Rocco's memories, where they discover the truth.

During Buddy's power spike, they turn into a Jirachi form known as "Red Giant". It's a form Buddy turns into when they're about to die.

In this state, Buddy is erratic and angry and bursting with power, so they use that adrenaline to kill Rocco. After which, their powers became so unstable that they unleashed a Doom Desire attack that wiped out the dinosaurs, and would have proceeded to destroy the whole planet if left unchecked.

(old art again sorry!!!)

A shiny Arceus appears to Buddy, and puts them into an everlasting sleep that they cannot wake from, in order to protect the Earth.

Buddy wasn't able to travel to others' dreams right away, but after a time they were conscious in their sleep from their pain.

Having recently gone through this experience, they're suffering through chronic nightmares and trauma. Jirachi can also literally die of heartbreak, as when you have a strong psychic connection, your mind is rewired for your partner. When your relationships are gone, it's like critical parts of a machine getting ripped out, and you're left dynfunctional, and sometimes dying. Being asleep, though,  Buddy's mind is conserved and they won't go into that lethal catatonic shutdown and can't die.

Their Doom Desire energy is also building up again, even in their sleep.

Oliver, the Being of Knowledge (including knowledge of the end of the world), was very concerned about Buddy, this bomb-waiting-to-happen. Arceus put them to sleep to "save the world", but Oliver was concerned about how their Doom Desire energy would just build up again. Now that Buddy is having emotional distress, and rapid energy buildup again, Oliver is seeing apocalyptic future sights.

Lake trio members can have their souls leave their body while they're asleep at their lakes. Knowing Buddy's location in space, Oliver's soul goes to check up on them and visit them in their dreams.

Ollie discovers that Buddy is very conscious, and attempts to befriend them. Their goals are to keep Buddy's emotions calm, and study them, hopefully finding a way to prevent the explosion.

They approach Buddy and interact with them. After gaining their trust, Oliver teaches Buddy about the world. They teach them about other legendary Pokémon, all that's in the universe, and many things in general. They learned of other Jirachi, and then was able to have friends of their same lifespan alongside the lake trio, and learn about their own species/behavior.

They also met Solaris and Artemis, the Jirachi leaders of the Milky Way galaxy, who gave them the name Morpheus, replacing the name that Rocco had given them.

Eventually, Oliver and Morpheus become good friends, and Oliver establishes a psychic connection with Morpheus. Once close enough friends, Oliver is able to use their powers to suppress some of Morpheus' emotions and memories. Once very close, Ollie's able to do what's equivalent to an "emotional pain split", where they take the brunt of half of Morpheus's emotions, and give Morpheus their positive emotions instead.

Because of Oliver, Morpheus is substantially more emotionally stable. Morpheus used Oliver to cope with everything and projected their feelings onto Oliver, and became a bit clingy. Oliver replaced Morpheus's missing psychic connection from their previous relationships, making them immensely more stable.

Oliver teaches Morpheus how to use their psychic powers to their full potential. They also show Morpheus how to completely control their dreams, and suppress their nightmares and constantly lucid dream, so their mind won't create dreams for them. While asleep, you're connected to long-term memories, and Morpheus learns how to disconnect from them. Oliver also studies Morpheus, and kept all studies and findings in journals. They did many low-key "experiments" to discover how Morpheus worked. With their psychic connection, Oliver teaches Morpheus how to find their dream location, and how to visit other people in their dreams.

Oliver is also the one who gave Morpheus the idea to make deals with people. Oliver discovered that Morpheus needs to relieve their wish energy, so they suggested the deal making high-low energy cycle that Morpheus does in present day.

Morpheus was able to abandon their old self, and be generally happy again. Knowing that the world would recover from their past destruction, Oliver helped Morpheus forgive themself and repress it. They was able to see the earth through Oliver's memories, and relive all their past earth sensations. Oliver showed them every way how the new world developed, and Morpheus was excited - they had always truly loved the earth, and were very eager to learn anything about it from Oliver.

There were no more apocalyptic future sights as Oliver was able to keep Morpheus stable. The outlook was positive for everyone, believing that a way could be discovered to prevent or negate the explosion.

But as millions of years passed, Morpheus's pain progressed. As Oliver's studies continued and they analyzed Morpheus, they only discovered more and more that nothing could be done about the pent up Doom Desire energy. Morpheus began to adopt a more spiteful and volatile attitude towards everything, gave up their friends, and cut out Artemis and Solaris for being unable to convince Arceus to just let them die.

Oliver was the last person Morpheus cut off from. Oliver had been calm and never spoke against Morpheus, but was internally very concerned and worried about the impending explosion. Morpheus got angry at knowing Oliver was scared of them, and angry at themself - how they were hopeless, dying, and internally devastated that it turns out they were only going to cause mass death again. Oliver's presence hurt them, so they blocked them out as well.

Because of this, Morpheus's emotions are no longer in check, and erratic again. Oliver, still holding a psychic connection with Morpheus, continued to be in-tune with Morpheus's emotions. They tried to keep them suppressed from a far distance, but much less successfully. Because of the close connection, they also received many apocalyptic future visions.

Oliver's depression eventually got to them, and they wiped their own memories.

Because of Oliver's memory wipe, absolutely nothing was left to suppress Morpheus's emotions or memories, which will lead to Morpheus eventually recollecting all of their suppressed memories at once. They don't know that Oliver wiped their memories since it happened recently.

So Morpheus's "cruel/evil" behavior in the Undead/Reborn Mew plotline is a recent change due to Oliver's absence. But even at their absolute worst, they still preferred to target the souls of evil Pokémon, or Pokémon with the potential to become evil. Sometimes innocent Pokémon like Caroline/Michelle are caught in the crossfire, but Morpheus is too desperate to keep themself and the universe alive to be picky about the souls they can get.

Jackie would go on to watch as Morpheus recollects all these memories, comforting them and helping them come to terms with their death. 

-

that’s all, folks! HOOWEE that was a lot to write out!

morpheus is one of my fav pokemon ocs i’ve made just because of how influential they were to me in my teen years.

even if i never got to do this story in full,  it means a lot that you kept reading these summaries in full and kept asking for me to continue! 

thank you for listening to me ramble! maybe now i can put these characters to bed.

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

all gone, all gone, all gone

part 5: i gotta get away from myself, i gotta get help

this is the last part before the epilogue! I hope you enjoyed it! i borrowed a few lines from leigh bardugo, i hope she doesn't mind :)

this is mostly resolution, but there is obviously still discussion of a suicide attempt! i would also say there's a bit of implied ableism that's not supported by the story

happy early birthday to @littlx-songbxrd!!!! the thomastair part is for you

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Masterlist | AO3

Cordelia took a deep breath and opened the door.

Will, Sophie, the Consul, and the Inquisitor appeared to be in the middle of their discussion. Solemn expressions rested on their faces, with the exception of Maurice Bridgestock, who appeared utterly disinterested.

The Inquisitor glared when she entered. “You cannot be in here, young lady.”

“You can’t send him away. You can’t send him to the Basilias.”

“That decision is not yours to make, Ms. Herondale,” Maurice said.

“I’m not naive. I know that he needs help. I understand that. But he won’t find it in the Basilias; you know that as well as I. He needs to be here. He needs to be with his family. Barely two days after our father died, Belial went to Alastair and threatened his life. He altered his mind and ordered him to do terrible things. That is fact. What he was doing when Belial sought him out is irrelevant. Acquit him and allow us to handle the rest as a personal matter.”

“When it leads to consorting with a Prince of Hell to carry out acts of evil, it can no longer be considered a personal matter. Your brother is a risk to himself and everyone around him.”

She wanted to scream. Why weren’t the rest of them saying anything? Why would they not defend him? “Please. If it were Matthew, what would you do?”

“Ms. Herondale! That is uncalled for,” Bridgestock scolded. “And you are intruding on a private matter of the Nephilim Council.”

Cordelia continued. “You cannot truly tell me that it is unreasonable to imagine Matthew in a similar situation, if he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. You see Alastair as a risk because you do not wish to be responsible for him. It is easier for you to send him away, but it will not be easier for him, nor for our family. If you truly care for my family as you claim to-”

“That is enough,” Inquisitor Bridgestock interrupted.

Cordelia wasn’t finished. There was so much more she wished to say. She wanted to ask Will why he and Tessa were so blind to what was truly happening within her family. Why they never asked questions. Why, even after her father’s arrest, they still refused to see it. Why the most there was to offer was Will’s comment about his own father. She wanted to ask him what she should think now, now that her own father was dead, now that the evidence of his harm was laid out before them. Was he merely human? Was that supposed to make any of the irreparable harm he caused not only Alastair, but her, too, any better? Was it supposed to be placating? She even wanted to ask the Consul how she could raise such a callous son, a son who began a relationship with someone who was a child while he was an adult. A son who made her brother feel undeserving of anything good. As she attempted to collect her thoughts, it no longer became necessary.

“She’s right,” Sophie said. “Alastair made a mistake, but it was made under horrible, bizarre circumstances. Irreplicable circumstances, most likely. Anything he did that is punishable by Nephilim law was done under magical control by Belial. The best place for him to recover is with his family.”

“I find it very irresponsible-” Bridgestock continued, but Sophie interrupted.

“He will be taken off of active duties until he is deemed both physically and mentally ready to return to them. I could meet with him each week, assess how he is doing and how much of a risk he is, as Inquisitor Bridgestock put it. Consider it a recompense for my indiscretion.”

Will was oddly silent, something Cordelia hadn’t known he could be before. Finally, the Consul spoke. “I find those terms to be reasonable. Thank you, Sophie. If he agrees to them, I don’t see any reason to send him anywhere but back home.”

The Inquisitor seemed like he was about to object, but Will spoke up, “I agree.”

Cordelia sighed in relief as the Inquisitor backed down. Perhaps, somehow, this story could have a happy ending after all.

* * *

Alastair looked away the moment Thomas entered the infirmary. His memories of the past two weeks were strange, as if someone else had been controlling his body while he merely watched on, while at the same time not. Regardless, he could remember every moment of it. There was no way he could ever look him in the eyes again after all that he’d revealed back in that warehouse, not after looking into his beautiful hazel eyes with the sole intention of crushing him, not after making him weep. Perhaps he’d not been able to raise his blade against Thomas, but he hurt him all the same, and he could never forgive himself for that.

“You look like you’re doing better,” Thomas offered.

“Thank you,” he replied. “I feel very well-rested after my coma.”

Thomas hesitated, then added, “Well, if that’s all it took, why didn’t you try that ages ago?”

Alastair exhaled, glad that he understood his humor, however bleak. “Are you saying I usually look tired?” He bit the inside of his cheek. This was far too close to flirting for comfort.

“No more than the rest of us. Perhaps I should try it next.”

"I have a feeling your mother wouldn't appreciate that." He thought of the terms he agreed to earlier. “Didn’t you hear? She’s meant to counsel me. I’d prefer her in good spirits.”

“True enough.” Thomas hesitated for a moment. “Why won’t you look at me?”

Alastair allowed himself to look up for one brief moment before looking back down. Thomas’ eyes were worried. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“No one blames you for what happened. I certainly don’t.”

He exhaled. “I don’t need your pity, Thomas. I don’t want it. Yours or anyone else’s. You hated me before this whole ordeal and you should still. I’ve done many terrible things, not just those under Belial’s influence. I deserve your disdain. The only reason you look at me differently now, the only reason any of you have given me a second glance is because you can finally see me for what I am: broken. So don’t come here offering me your pity and your kindness and your support when all you truly see me as is something to fix. I apologize for everything I’ve done, for all the ways I’ve hurt you, directly or not. Let us leave it at that. I know what I said in the warehouse, but-”

“You don’t need saving. You never did,” Thomas finished for him. “I know you feel vulnerable and exposed right now. You clung to this visage of cruelty and unfeeling as protection. Words were your armor, but it's fragile stuff, all show. It’s not what you’re made of. What’s underneath it, that’s adamas. Tougher than diamond, rare and beautiful, brave and resilient, utterly unbreakable. And it doesn’t need fixing.

“I know we’ve both made mistakes. I know you need time to heal. But I… I care for you, Alastair. I have for a long time, even when I was trying so hard to deny it. I don’t know which parts of the things you said were truthful and which were lies and I don’t need to. All I need to know is whether or not you’ll take me as your friend. Perhaps, one day, if we both so desire it, something more, but for now, I can think of nothing I want more than to be your friend.”

Alastair only nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Thomas reached then, slowly, to cup his cheeks in his hands, giving him the opportunity to pull away if he wanted to. He did not. For a moment, he thought Thomas was going to lean in to kiss him, despite his insistence a few moments earlier that for the time being they would only be friends. Instead, he gently pulled Alastair’s head towards his chest, wrapping his arms firmly around him, strong and steady. In that moment, Alastair knew only one thing with complete certainty: he never wanted Thomas to let go.

* * *

Alastair didn’t know how long Thomas stayed, but at some point he fell asleep, and when he woke, Thomas was gone. He felt a pang in his chest at the realization. He selfishly, dangerously wanted him back beside him. He noticed a book beside his bed that he was certain was not there before. He opened it and found a short note inside. He recognized the handwriting before reading the signature: it was from Thomas. Alastair despised the warmth in his chest when he realized this, but mainly because he feared it.

I don’t know if you like poetry, but I enjoyed these. They comforted me when I felt alone, and I thought perhaps they could keep you company while you’re in the infirmary. -Tom

Flipping through it, he could see that it was a collection of poems, most in Farsi but a few in Arabic as well. He was certain he’d mocked Cordelia for reading the same poems at some point, back when he believed love to be cold and pointless. Perhaps what he believed was love was never truly love at all. Perhaps now he could attempt to find out.

He shut the book as he heard the door to the infirmary open. Sophie Lightwood appeared.

“Hello, Alastair. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” He shook his head. “Good. I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. That was entirely inappropriate of me.”

“It’s alright. You needed to know. You needed to be sure. I would have done the same thing.”

“I- That doesn’t make it right, but thank you for understanding.” She paused. “I thought it would be helpful to discuss our arrangement, as well as what you plan to tell your mother about what’s happened.”

Alastair had expected the first part, but his mother? “What?”

“I suspect you’ve not told her the truth, have you? Do you plan to?”

“I-” he swallowed anxiously. “Cordelia told her I got sent out of town.”

“Alastair, you’re not in any trouble. What you choose to tell her and not tell her is not mine to judge. I simply believe it would be helpful to be prepared.”

“We’re- we’re not supposed to cause her any extra stress because of the baby.”

“Do you wish to tell her the truth?”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t want any more secrets.” He had enough of them to contend with.

“I think that’s wise. Your mother is strong, and so is the baby. If telling her the truth will help you, it will help her. I believe that more than anything, she wishes to know that you’re okay. There is just as much stress in secrecy as there is in truth.”

He thought for a moment. “How am I meant to explain this to her?” His voice broke as he spoke.

She considered it, sat down, and considered it some more. “I don’t know.”

“Why are you helping me? And don’t tell me it’s because you asked a single question during my interrogation.”

There was silence for a moment. “Alastair, Shadowhunters are people of scars. Many of them are sustained in battle, but not all of them are. Perhaps not even most. The way I see it, there are three types of people. There are those who see battle scars as the only true sign of wound, such as the Inquisitor. All else is merely a weakness in constitution. It is that belief that is built into Nephilim society, and it is the view that most hold.

“There are also those who understand that other types of scars exist, ones that are sustained at home, but they do not know that hurt personally, and they do not truly understand it. I see people like Will falling into this category.

“Finally, there are those of us who are not haunted by demons because we know that there is so much more to fear. We know that scars sustained outside of battle, both physical and not, often run much deeper than that of a demon’s claw. Those wounds cannot be healed by runes or magic. You cannot do it alone. I don’t know how much you know about my past, but when Charlotte found me, I was broken and alone. The Silent Brothers healed me physically, but the rest took time and support. It took many people who refused to turn their back on me, and I will not turn my back on you.”

“I… I don’t deserve it,” was all he could think to respond.

“Perhaps it is not something deserved, then, but simply something given.”

“In school, I spread terrible rumors about you, your husband, the Consul… I said-”

“I don’t care. Whatever you said, it doesn’t matter. I am an adult, Alastair. Whatever lies you repeated as a child don’t bother me. Your past doesn’t define you. It merely gives you a chance to be better, to learn.”

Alastair didn’t respond. He’d never thought of it from that perspective.

“I should go. You need time to rest. But consider what I’ve said, alright? I’ll be in touch again and we can arrange times to meet, perhaps over tea.”

He nodded. “Thank you.” He hadn’t meant to say it, he wasn’t even entirely certain what he was grateful for, but he knew the words were true.

She gave him a small smile. “Take care, Alastair.”

thanks so much for reading! taglist: @jem-nasium @littlx-songbxrd @fortheloveofthecarstairs @cant-think-of-anything @shadowrunner2000 @writeforjordelia @jurdan-my-beloved

[autisticzukka]

what is this hakoda zuko arranged marriage you speak of? i am intrigued

okay so the long story short is that it’s a slight rebuttal of a popular post that is very fun but i find like... unrealistic in a really intriguing way like, how would this ACTUALLY play out. I’ve talked about it at length in my server a few times, and it’s one of those AU’s -- like the genderbend zukka ATLA rewrite or the zukki fic that starts with sokka failing to assassinate zuko -- that lives rent free in my head and I’ve written a couple thousand words for.

tw for like VERY unrequited zuko in love with hakoda and the inherent comedy of sokka being in love with his fire nation stepmom.

so here’s hakoda, chief of the southern water tribe, happily not-married to Bato. and here is a more balanced war, where the north and the south are actually  allies, rather than whatever the fuck they were in ATLA. Yue already has a fiance and the Northern chief refuses to remarry. that leaves hakoda responsible for biting the bullet and doing a political marriage even though, as he points out at length, he is an elected official and if he stops being elected it’s no longer a marriage with the chief of the south pole. intelligently but mostly selfishly motivated (yue’s fiance is his nephew, after all) pakku points out that its not like the fire nation knows... that. the fire nation is dumb. ozai’s stupid.

faced with such inarguable points hakoda stiffens his upper lip, pre-emptively ends things with bato on the understanding that if this is another kya situation they’ll get back together and that he’s still the most important person to him but the tribe comes first yada yada, and deals with katara throwing the mother of all tantrums. it is slightly softened by the fact that in return for him marrying the fire nation noble, a thing everyone can agree isn’t traditional, the north has finally agreed to train katara. she heads out before the wedding, in protest but also so as to not cause an international incident.

(on her way, she’ll find aang. with the war less dire, katara will be sympathetic towards his desire to live without committing violence, even if she deeply can’t relate. they’ll have a hot girl romcom summer of self discovery and coming to terms with the dichotomy between duty and love as they become master benders. at some point they pick up toph. they ARE a throuple.)

sokka meanwhile is like.. not cool with it.. but ? kind of relieved? like. he’s the eldest kid. he’s 18, and he’s been a man of the tribe as far as legalities for several years. it would have been entirely understandable if his dad had asked HIM to do it. he had his emotionally crushing romance with yue, and as much as he was like ‘im kind of a prince’, he finds he doesn’t actually want some of the responsibilities and demands that would bring. yue’s life sucks.

back in the fire nation, zuko never demanded a quest and never went on it. he’s spent years hardening into something that, while brittle, can survive the pressures of the court around him. he still has his scar. he still wants his father to love him, but he knows by now that it’s not something he’s capable of earning. he watches his sister, never the most stable person, start to have complete breakdowns of sanity once she hits puberty, and helps her cover for it and receive medical treatment on the down low. he’s the heir, but he lives knowing that if he was ever in a position to inherit his choices are to abdicate or have the baby sister who he raised kill him and destroy herself and the country in the process.

when he realizes the plan is to marry azula off rather than someone more reasonable-- mai is RIGHT there, for fucks sake-- he doesn’t realize ozai’s true intent is to fuck this up through malicious compliance and false shows of good faith. he panics, and does the zuko thing: he blurts out that this is unacceptable and immoral and she’s only 16 and Ozai sees the true opportunity for two birds with one stone. send zuko, let him piss someone off so badly he gets killed or divorced, and he gets rid of zuko from the line of succession permanently. there are those who are incredibly attached to teh idea of a firstborn for firelord, and it’s been a constant thorn in unpopular ozai’s side to nto be able to name azula his heir apparent without costly rebellion. but if he can taint him in the mind of the fire nation so much that birthright is easy to supercede-- yeah. this’ll work PERFECTLY.

so zuko is sent to marry hakoda, chief of the water tribe.

literally NO ONE was expecting it to be a member of Ozai’s immediate family. besides the fact that his oldest child is half hakoda’s age and his brother has 20 years on hakoda, it would have been sus as fuck - the treaty is not favorable enough to grant that kind of secession of interests. it becomes quickly apparent that this young man -- hakoda reminds himself of that repeatedly. not kid. not kid. young man. don’t think of him like a kid, it’s hard enough on both of us already. -- is not a horrible threat. he’s scared shitless and shakes with what he thinks is bravado. he’s desperate to make the marriage work. he’s desperate to not go home. he’s got a giant fucking scar on his face from where the fire lord punished him for some grievous but unstated offense.

zuko “daddy issues” fire nation sees his husband to be and, despite being scared shitless, immediately begins to soften a little. like... he’s not nearly as scary as he thought he’d be. his face can be stern, but it just as easily breaks into huge smiles, and his eyes are crinkled with laughter. he’s incredibly handsome. and his biceps are. his biceps. are. his hands are...

like. zuko thinks. okay. maybe. maybe his marriage duties. won’t be so horrible as he thought. maybe he’s ready for this. and he knows what to expect, Uncle had discreetly provided him the means and the contacts to acquire an intimate education in the whirlwind of activity that was the two months before leaving. and like, once he’d gotten past the nerves, it was often even... good? or at least... not bad? he thinks that even if hakoda isn’t a professional expert, he has a certain.... je ne sais quoi, if you will.

((DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF))

sokka sees his new stepfather and immediately falls in love because he’s that kind of dumb bitch. (the core of this au is that i cant breathe thinking about sokka falling in love with his hot young stepmom his age who his dad doesnt even want to fuck. like. i CANT. sokka masturbates to ‘hand caught in the washing tub’ fantasies which are even more absurd for requiring zuko to be DOING LAUNDRY. i find it so funny.)

bato watches them at the wedding feast while hakoda is very clearly trying to treat zuko as an Equal Adult Partner and mostly managing to seem like someone having a serious conversation with a seven year old about the game they’ve made up. zuko is clearly enamored with it, soaking up the attention, blushing and doing his best to Bravely Flirt, which at one point includes awkwardly attempting to feed Hakoda by hand. bato has to excuse himself to have a teary eyed giggle, hoping that Kya is in the spirit world looking down and laughing with him. he can’t resent the kid even a little bit, when hakoda is sitting there looking so incredibly fucking befuddled as to what he’s supposed to do with this star struck infant he’s legally wed to

anyways all of this... is very funny. their wedding night... is less so. zuko does not take the rejection from hakoda very well, especially because he’d been caught wanting. HE’S the one who should be rejecting hakoda. and he catastrophizes almost immediately about his potential value to the water tribe, his future treatment, that endless inescapable freezing cold loneliness is the good ending for him here... hakoda, meanwhile, drops zuko off at his home, reassuringly informs him that there’s NOTHING else expected of him and he will be well taken care of, and books it to bato’s. bato refuses to let him in on grounds of ‘you can’t sleep under the same shelter as me on your wedding night to that kid, have a fucking brain’, and he ends up crashing at sokka’s.

sokka, who had KNOWN that his dad wouldnt, but also upon seeing zuko and zuko’s awkward flirting was like... but how COULDNT he???? sokka is relieved.

the core of this fic is that i find it endlessly hilarious for zuko to try and seduce his husband while sokka simps around zuko and bato tries to be heartbroken or betrayed but mostly ends up with a giant case of hysterical schadenfreude. but the thing that CLINCHED it for me, like THE scene. several years after being married, settled into their life. they’re partners and they see each other as people. and zuko just fucking snaps one night

he just kisses him, desperate and clawing and climbing and maybe a little drunk. he knows hakoda is going to push him away, maybe even hit him, but he doesn’t care anymore, he doesn’t care. he can do anything he wants to him as long as he just-- finally does something. zuko is 21 and married to the surface of the sun and the surface of the sun jr is his best friend and clearly in love with him-- so clearly not even zuko can miss it-- and like. listen. listen. zuko is not a patient person. but he’s been patient for this. he waited and he matured and he is a fucking amazing husband and he wants this, he wants him. he wants to be wanted.

but hakoda doesn’t push him away. hakoda doesnt yell at him, or hit him. hakoda gentles the kiss into something soft and closed lipped. he pulls away slowly, and his eyes are so sad for zuko, so pitying. he strokes his cheek with the back of his hand so gently. he says, I’m sorry. I don’t want you.

and zuko daddy issues fire nation swallows

and he nods

and he leaves, even though its his own fucking house

and he knows he’s never going to be good enough

like FUUUCK i am OBSESSED WITH THAT

[kojinnie]

tis is ranon! i wanna try the twisted match-up eventho it'll probably hurts. my worst traits would be

1. Not knowing myself well enough, having to ask others how i actually am from their eyes instead of looking through my own lense because I care of other's judgement better than mine.

2. I suck at handling compliment. Everytime anybody says anything good about me, I always get defensive by saying no, change the topic of the conversation, or saying "thank you, but [insert why i don't deserve compliment]"

3. Similar to the 2nd one, I have horrible horrible self esteem. I never really look at myself in a good light, I think I am horrible. Sometimes I feel like "im the worst" yet some of the times I feel like "woah I'm a queen". Even worse, sometimes I don't have the motivation to better myself in order to raise my self esteem.

My favourite(s) would be reiner and jean, you can choose the one with the worst(or whoever you prefer) compatibility with my traits. tears up already as I slip 1 dollar to your hand, whispering happy ending please..

Pairing: Jean x Reader

Summary: You accidentally meet Jean, your high school sweetheart, thirteen years later. While he has turned into a successful man whose face you'd see on TV a lot, you think of your life and what could have been with him, if only...

Tags: Angst/Fluff, coming of age, slice of life

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: Oh Ranon my sweet child, hereby I present to thee... hopefully an antidote to the despair Yams had given us with 138. Hope you like it love!

Song mentioned: Linger by The Cranberries

"It's nice to see a familiar face 'round here."

There was no word that could describe the feelings you had upon hearing that voice. A voice that was once the first sound you hear in the morning and the one you say goodbye to before falling asleep. A voice that you had not heard for what felt like forever.

You didn't have to turn around to tell who it was, "Jean?"

The two of you erupted in laughter, both surprised by the mere coincidence of meeting each other at this old and ran-down department store, on the outskirt of the town you both grew up in.

Jean was quick to pull you into a big embrace that you gladly came into. A familiar piece of warmth was his hug, and yet it had struck you as odd that it did not feel foreign at the closest, although it had been years since the last time you met him.

Jean had grown very tall. There was no longer his signature undercut as he had let his hairs to grow past his ear. His chiseled jaw hid beneath dark brown beard he now had. You pretended to check him out and be shocked with the view, "You really grew! Like grew, GREW!" as if you hadn't seen him on the news station or the daily mail. As if you didn't follow his Instagram with your second account. As if you never thought of him at all.

He held your shoulder and pulled away to look at you, "Thirteen years and you don't look any different."

Your face grew hot and the compliment sent an uncanny discomfort to your guts, "Ah the lighting sucks here - to my advantage, fortunately."

There was a disapproving look in Jean's eyes for a passing moment before he carried on with the conversation. He didn't expect to see you at the old department store the two of you used to roam in after school, he said. Neither did you to ever meet him again, especially here. A place so awfully ordinary for someone who had grown to be the best version of himself. Jean had finally achieved his dream to be a household name in the country as one of the rising young attorneys.

The celebrity status he had achieved, all the actresses and models he had dated - it all inflicted you with some kind of inexplicable pain. One that made you feel worthless, to say the least. Someone who used to be so close to your heart, had grown so magnificently, leaving you with the painful fate of being ordinary. Yet, still your face lit up in distant pride each time a mention of Jean’s name surfaced, be it from the passing conversation your friend had, or to see it announced by the news anchor for some big public case he was working on.

Jean said that he returned home for a funeral. His uncle died, and he needed a spare sandal. He didn't know any other store, as the area both of you grew up in had changed a lot. Leaving this old department store the only place he could remember.

You passed your condolence but he was more curious with what you were up to. You chuckled because he seemed so serious when he asked, "Didn't you move out to the city? Why the hell are you coming back?" as if the misplacement of seeing someone so glitzy in this boring, dilapidated town didn't apply to him.

So you answered, and Jean turned silent for a moment. He tilted his head downward, and you noticed that he was the same person with the same mannerism. Although he was no longer the 17-year-old boy who used to get all ruffed up in school fight, trying to defend you from some stupid jocks; nor was he still the tall, lanky kid from your Home Economics class that you gave your first kiss to.

Your mind couldn’t help but to race to all the what-ifs, and the presence of Jean before your eyes right now only made the wonderings more palpable.

Jean smiled faintly to your answer, “Congratulations,” he still made his way to pat the side of your head, something he used to do every time, “big step, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s scary.”

“So, who’s the lucky guy? Anyone I know from school?” Jean said, faking the enthusiasm in his tone, but you didn’t notice. Because in your mind, it would be an absurd idea to think that you would still have the tiniest bit of effect on Jean, for he had outgrown all the memories he ever had with you.

“No, no,” you tried to mask the bitterness that suddenly emerged on the back of your tongue, “we met at work. He’s a great guy.”

Indeed, he was. The reason why you returned home was because you were getting married, and your fiancée wanted to be close with your family, for he didn’t have one growing up. He was an exceptional man, he had this magnetism in him, with the way he perceived things, to the abiding tenacity he had in him.

Your fiancée was a man you knew you could lean on in the eye of adversity. That’s why you agreed to marry him. But then again, there was always a void inside your heart that had no resolve to it for so many years. Your fiancée was your foundation, and yet, perhaps selfishly, you still yearned for the childish laughter and the irreplaceable feeling of freedom you once had with the man standing tall before you. Whose glance never failed to make you feel the most at ease with.

“He must be a pretty great guy to get you,” Jean’s faint smile grew into a grin, he was trying to down play the commotion he started to feel within his chest, “what’s his name? So, I can picture him.”

You laughed, because it was only natural for you to do so in the presence of the first guy you had fallen for, the first guy to ever told you how pretty you were and how all your imperfections never mattered to him, the first one to bring your teary face into his embrace after a gruesome day, before saying, ‘I never thought it’s possible. But, crazy, seeing you cry hurts me too.’

However, you knew, that all those memories had passed by and you were happy with where you were now. “Reiner,” you smiled at the mention of his name, “my fiancée’s name is Reiner Braun. He’s… amazing.”

“Wow. Tough name. Probably someone I’d stay clear from in high school.”

Both of you laughed, and the two of you continued to talk, as you walked him through the desolated alleys to find the sandal that he wanted to buy, and Jean walking you to the towel aisle that you had meant to buy one for Reiner, only to find out that they had stopped selling towels since long time ago. The laughter and reminiscing persisted until the cashier row when Jean heard your stomach grumble. Both of you exchanged glances and broke into yet another laughter.

“Salerno’s?” Jean said, suggesting the pizza place off the highway, where you had spent so many dates with him back then.

“How could I ever say no to that?”

“Settled, then. Did you drive here?” Jean’s eyes gazed afar to the parking lot, strangely looking for the old car you used to drive back in school, before realizing that thirteen years had passed and there was no chance that sickly car could ever survive the time.

“No, actually Reiner dropped me and—” As if staged by the universe, your phone rung and Reiner was calling, “—right in time, it’s him!”

You walked away from Jean for a moment as he looked for his car key inside jacket. Across the line, Reiner was gruntling, his voice was hazy, “Babe—”

“Reiner, I bumped into an old friend!” there was a sing-songy tone in your words. Through the phone, Reiner chuckled, picking up the excitement in your voice, even though it was getting more apparent that Reiner was drowsy, “Anyway babe, can you get an Uber? I took the cough syrup your mum gave me, and now I’m sleepy as fuck. ‘Fraid I won’t be able to drive.”

You turned to Jean and saw him jingling his car key at you, before returning back to Reiner on the phone, “Rei, I think my friend can drive me home. I’ll be stopping at Salerno’s, do you want anything? The calzone maybe?”

Reiner yawned, “That sounds nice but—” yet another yawn, “I’m gonna pass out. Come home soon, okay? Tuck me in.”

You cackled at the buff man whining before you said goodbye and followed Jean into his car.

The trip to Salerno’s was nourishing with memories. The poplar trees along the avenue had been replaced by lines of billboards – from advertisement of real estate agent to divorce attorney, they all reminded you of how much the town had changed. Yet the sense of comfort you shared with Jean as you joked about all of the absurd things you saw along the way, had not changed at all.

If for one second you forgot that you were driving in Jean’s expensive car, and that you imagined he was wearing a shabby soccer jersey instead of a tailored-fit shirt – if you closed your eyes and thought that thirteen years hadn’t gone by between the two of you, it almost felt like you rode a time machine to a time when Jean was yours and you were his. And something about the thought of it just broke your heart.

When Jean pulled over at Salerno’s and found out that it’s past the time for dine-in, the two of you decided to eat at his car instead. Jean didn’t even ask what you want and he returned with exactly what you had in mind, the classic calzone, something you always used to have. He remembered.

The two of you laughed, bantered and joked at each other. It felt almost as if no distance had ever been laid out between the two of you, like you hadn’t lived an entirely different life, like he was the same person after all. He hadn’t once made you self-conscious like you thought you would, considering the amount of success he had attained for himself. You felt bad for accusing Jean of the worst, when all it was just a projection of your own insecurity.

“So, you’re getting married on the 15th, and your annoying aunt is not invited?”

“Yeah, thank God for the pandemic somehow. Legit excuse, when all I wanted was not to have her talk shit about Reiner on my wedding day,” you munched through your calzone, talking mindlessly, “as for you, sir, you’re invited. That’s a no-brainer. Hereby I invite thee to my humble dwelling. Bring your model girlfriend, please, so I can brag to my cousins.”

His grin subsided into a weak smile and then into nothing at all, as he sipped on his coke. Suddenly awkward silence loomed within the small space of his car.

“Jean,” you shifted in your seat as the guilt grew on you, realizing the error in your judgment, “sorry I was being presumptuous.”

“No worries, it wasn’t serious. None of it ever was.”

You nodded, engulfed in your own guilt for bringing a bad topic up. The silence let the radio’s murmur to become noticeable, and an old song had just been played through the local radio, a tune that you used to listen with him on the back of your old creaking car after a make-out session filled with enraging teenage hormones.

And I’m in so deep~

You know I’m such a fool for you~

You got me wrapped around your finger I—

Do you have to let it linger?

You sighed and finally looked at Jean with his head hanging low, “Do you want to settle down someday?”

“Eventually.” Jean answered nonchalantly, “Not even sure about the whole relationship thingy.”

“Oh.” An acknowledgment you voiced, before succumbing to yet another silence.

Jean called your name softly and when you turned to face him, he was looking at you. Even in the darkness of the parking lot, you could see his honey eyes gleamed in a look that was so familiar to you—a look of disappointment, “Tell me, how could you never end up working where you’ve always wanted to be?”

You were pulled even deeper into your silence as you looked away. Suddenly a hot rash of sadness started to swallow you whole, “I—”

You tried to voice out a tangible reason, but you had realized that all of it was your own doing. Your insecurity, your self-consciousness, the thought that you were never good enough for the thing you once wanted so bad; all of it led to a life unlived, and to have someone finally putting you in your place was embarrassing, if not painful, “—wasn’t sure if I really wanted it and—”

“—wasn’t sure if I was good enough to pass the test.”

“So, after college, you never ended up applying there? Not even a try?”

You shook your head embarrassed, looking down at your shoes.

Jean sighed and laid his food on the dashboard, before reaching for your right hand and held it warmly into his grasp. He called your name which propelled you to look back at him, “Weren’t you the one who talked me into getting into law school? Even when I thought it was impossible? Weren’t you the one who wrote on my yearbook to-my-future-attorney when everyone was convinced that I’d end up working a mediocre office job? Or a mechanic in my Dad’s shop?”

Jean carried on, “I just… I just don’t understand. How could you have so much conviction for other people but—but yourself?”

You passed a grim smile, as vulnerability started to catch up with you, “Nevermind Jean, it’s passed. I am where I am now.”

“But, wasn’t it your dream?” Jean grew antsy on his seat, it was obvious that he truly didn’t understand, “The pages and pages and pages of diary you wrote about wanting to work there? What happened?”

You sighed, running out of words to say, until you caved in, “Maybe I never knew what I truly wanted.”

“Is that why?” Jean shot another look at you, there was an intensity in his eyes that you had never seen before. There you wondered what had happened to Jean’s life in all those years passed at your absence, had he led a difficult life before getting the success he was enjoying now? “Is that why you left me—because you didn’t know what you truly want?”

Jean understood the consequence of his action, he was a well-accomplished attorney after all. He also understood the vivid pain painted all over your face, but he was taking his shot. Years of wondering where had you gone, what kind of live had you lived – you never ceased to haunt him, all the what-ifs with you he always thought about whenever he broke off yet another meaningless relationship with yet another woman he’d never cared for in his life. Over the years, he’d taken a close look at you. He’d find you on the internet, he’d asked about you to friends of a friend that was still in touch with you, he’d ‘accidentally’ found your legal documents just to see that you had gotten your college degree one year earlier than him. He didn’t know why the thought of you lingered, you just did. Arriving into his dreams where he was seventeen again and unassuming, only for him to wake up disappointed at seeing a woman that wasn’t you in his bed.

For the longest time, Jean had fended for himself to be where he’s now. When survival had finally bore fruits, what else could there be for him? Still, he felt lonely in the embrace of another woman, still he felt the void persisted even if he spent his money on things he didn’t need. Jean never thought, that after years of dreaming to be the person he’s now, all he yearned for was to have a piece of simple, ordinary and innocent happiness he once had with you.

You were, after all, the only thing that could remind him of the innocence Jean had lost after years of grueling work as an attorney—seeing how corrupt and insidious men can be. So, when his wearied eyes landed on the sight of you this evening, in the alley of that long-forgotten Department Store, Jean had no choice but to finally face his haunting.

“Jean, it’s a long time ago,” you smile, cupping his hand with your free hand, “besides, I’m no longer your type, right?” A grin, a playful grin, painfully fabricated and Jean saw right through it.

You could feel the air had gotten thick in his car, and you shifted closer to the door. Jean let go of your hand as he moved closer to you, running his long fingers through your hair. His voice had gotten deep and you could sense a hint of pain in his words, “Maybe I never had a type.”

He dragged his gaze all over your face; your eyes, your nose, your lips – the way he used to reassure that you were so beautiful in his eyes despite the self-hate you inflicted upon yourself, “Maybe all I ever wanted was you and all I ever did with those girls was to try finding you in them,” he forced a smile, so stale, so painful, “to no avail.”

You could feel the air into your lung was compromised as you battled the tears, “Jean…”

“Out of so many things that I have been brave for, I was never brave enough for one thing that I needed the most: to tell you that it’s always been you,” Jean slithered his hands through your waist and pulled you into his embrace. He laid his head, heavy with loneliness and exhaustion on to the nook of your shoulder. For lack of better term, Jean was finally back home, as he muttered, letting go of all his inhibitions, “Baby, it’s always been you. It’s always been you.”

Your whole body was weak with emotions. The thoughts, the persistent ones – the what-ifs you could have had with Jean, the life you could have lived and the dream that could have been fulfilled. Without your permission, the tears fell to your dismay as you thought of one last thing remaining in your heart: Reiner. The way he smiled and listened all through your nightly despairs, caressing you close until you fell asleep, exhausted with tears dried up all over your face. The way Reiner whispered on to your ear, amidst your drowsiness, that he loved you and that he promised to make you whole, to fill the void you had always feared for. All the little things he had done without you asking, or the way he loved your family as if they were his own.

You cursed yourself for being surprised at how much you realized that you truly loved Reiner, even when you were in the embrace of someone you wondered about often. You realized, the best way to prove to someone that you love them was to stick around. And Reiner had stuck around, as much as you stuck around for him.

You left Jean long time ago for reasons you only vaguely remembered now, but life went on and sooner or later you should make it in your heart to accept it. You smiled and thought of your life. Sure, there was a lot of thing you need to patch up, but what is life if not persevering?

You pulled away from Jean, surprised to see a beaten look on his face. Far away from the dandy and sharp young attorney you would see on the news. Once, you loved this man, but years had passed and the one he wanted was no longer there. You were no longer the person you were thirteen years ago. You were no longer the girl Jean longed for, all he wished for was a passing ghost that you have left behind in your adolescence.

You caressed his cheek for the last time and landed a kiss to his forehead, “Jean, I’m so proud of you. How far you have gone. I’m sorry I wouldn’t be the one you’d share your future achievement with, but for all the things you have done to me, for seeing the good in me when I could hardly see it… I want to say thank you,” you smiled although pain was searing within your chest, “there’s a world out there where this would work out. But not this world.”

The unexpected rendezvous you had with the man whom you had given your first love to ended with both of you crying at each other’s embrace, until Salerno’s closed and turned off their lights.

When Jean finally dropped you at your childhood home, the place he used to spend all the times in, Jean smiled and pointed at your room with the lights still lit, “He’s waiting?”

“I think he’s asleep. He’s a deep sleeper, he forgets to turn off the lights every time.”

“Does he even fit in your tiny bed?”

“Well, you did fit.”

“For a time.”

“Yeah, for a time.”

“So, you’ll be Mrs. Braun?”

“Yep, Mrs. Braun I will be.”

Jean scoffed, pretending to be annoyed, but smiling nonetheless, “Lucky bastard, that Mr. Braun.”

[junova]

Wishful Thinking [P.P] [S.R.]

Summary: AU!Peter just can't seem to let the past go and you with it. 

Pairing: AU!Peter Parker x Reader, AU!Steve Rogers x Reader im really a whore for au scenarios for reference peter is early 20s and reader as well (its just how imagined it tho)

Word Count: 3.5K+ 

A/N: Hey guys! It has been a hot ass minute since I have posted anything I have written and I’m little nervous if I’m being honest. Any feedback is welcome and appreciated! If you wanna give this post a little love, you would own my fucking heart. I really hope you enjoy reading this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it. It’s really close to my heart, as always pushing my emotional trauma into fictional characters! Yay! Anyhow, happy reading! 

“Don’t.” The moment those words left her mouth, he felt attacked. Who was she to tell him to not go for it? He hadn’t seen her in years and of all the places he could possibly run in to her, it was the place they met. The building which their love used to stand on and she had the audacity to say “don’t”. 

“Excuse me?” Hopefully, if he played dumb enough she wouldn’t know what he was planning. She wouldn’t be suspicious, but the way her eyebrow was arched told him differently. He definitely was not going to get away with this, easily. “Look at her. She’s happy.” 

“But do you know that for certainty? How do you know she’s getting what she deserves?” Wanda laughed. The audacity Peter had sometimes over you. Disgustingly, claiming you as if he owned you. “Because she’s no longer with you. The universe was doing her a favor.” He frowned. He wasn’t that bad of a boyfriend. Was he? 

“I loved her.” 

“Not nearly as much as you love yourself. Everyone in this room knows that. You showed everyone exactly who you were really are. After everything you put her through, do you really think it’s best to bring up the past? Just leave it alone.” 

Wanda words pierced through him roughly, but he had always been stubborn. Yes, he lied, but only because he was trying to protect you. He had a itching feeling if you knew the truth, you would have never been with him in the first place. In the moment, he had needed you terribly and even know with you a world away and wrapped in another man, he still needed you. For Peter, it went past a want. 

“But I-“ He countered back, before he was interrupted by the one person he had been trying to avoid. 

“Parker! You finally decided to show your face, huh?” Michelle hollered at her friend, but all he could focus on was who stood beside her. There she was. Less than five feet away from him, looking like a complete goddess. Obviously, she hadn’t changed one bit. Still appearing as beautiful as the last time he saw her, only this time they were all gathered for celebration. Instead of the unfortunate circumstances they had met under last time. 

Peter hated to admit, but she looked much happier. Her aura was practically glowing and he hated it. Selfishly, he hated that you looked happy because he was wrecked. Even if he had been the one to break your trust and heart in on crushing punch, it still pained him. Constantly, you were on his mind. Replaying the last conversation he had with over and over like a broken record. Maybe if he had chosen different words to break it down, you would have been able to forgive him. Maybe if he had actually told you, instead of you finding out on your own, your relationship towards him wold have been salvageable. 

Looking at you now, Peter began to feel even more of a goddamn idiot. Even now more than ever, he felt the insecurities of you being out of his league. He always knew it was a little too good to be true. That you, goddess in the flesh, chose Peter Parker to be your boyfriend. Out of every guy that came your way, you chose to be with someone like him. He swore you were the most beautiful person he had ever met in his life. The moment he looked into your eyes, he knew he was fucked. The purity of which they held made Peter forget about every little horrible event which happened in his miserable life. Wanting nothing more than to focus on you and he did for a while. He had the privilege to be the man on your arm. 

Well, until now when Peter realized there was another heavy arm wrapped around her waist. One which certainly didn’t belong to him. Had she already moved on? So, quickly might he add. There were parts of him that didn’t blame you. He didn’t blame you for moving on so quickly to another, even if it was the man he had always been insecure of. God, how he wanted to say something to you when he found out. He wanted to be offensive about and blame you for everything. Even went as far getting hammered one night, mumbling to Wanda how you had broken his heart by finally getting with Steve. You had been the one to ruin the magical bond between the both of you. Nearly pressing your contact in his phone, before Wanda confiscated it from him. 

It was the first time it dawned on him that he wasn’t worthy of you. Not anymore. 

“Yeah, I did. Not feeling so sure about it now.” His eyes directed towards yours, which caused you to divert your own towards the floor. Peter giving you his full attention, even if everything inside of you was hoping he would look in any direction but your own. God, why couldn’t you just look at him like you used to. 

“Aww, lighten up Pete. It’s only going to get worse by the second.” The distaste in Michelle’s tone was rightfully placed. She was sticking up for you. Even when you had always been too polite to say anything negative towards Peter, she wasn’t that nice. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it. 

It did in fact get worse by the second. 

Obviously, you were uncomfortable being here. The body language you presented showed it all. Your body was turned towards the man holding onto you, your own body leaning against his. Peter noticed the grip you had on Steve like he was the anchor centering you. The one thing bringing you back down from your anxiety which liked to hold you above ground. 

This exact stance, is the one who you took with him many times. You shifted your body from side to side because you were anxious, scared even. You did it when you were uncomfortable and were contemplating one what to do next. Then, there was the head on his chest. Often, you had told Peter it was comforting. Instead of focusing on your heartbeat which only seemed to increase rapidly during a heightened situation, you liked to listen to something steady. Something that could bring you out of the distress you felt yourself taking a part of.  But the hand holding, that was new. 

Whenever you were having a panic attack, you always claimed you couldn’t be touched. But here you were having one, and Steve was touching you. Maybe you had lied to Peter, too. Maybe you liked to have your hand held when panic speed throughout your mind. Maybe it was just Peter’s hand you didn’t want to hold. 

“Michelle.” Wanda warned, but frankly she didn’t care. If anyone should feel like the bad guy, it wasn’t her but Peter. 

Peter fucking Parker. 

“Are you kidding me? We’re all just gonna act like nothing happened? Like we all haven’t seen each other in months because of this imbecile.” Peter flinched, leave it to Michelle to expose the elephant in the room and shoot it dead on the living room floor. 

“MJ, just leave it. Okay?” You finally spoke up. It was obvious you were uncomfortable. Hell, everyone had to be. You didn’t want to bring conflict within the group, even though Michelle had no problem with it. 

“He doesn’t deserve to be let off the hook just because we’re all friends.” Michelle was hell bent on defending you, but you just thought the past was best left behind. You certainly didn’t want to rehash the heartache you’ve been trying to move on from. 

“Clearly, I’m not, Michelle. Okay? Tonight isn’t even about me. Can we just focus on Natasha and Bucky? Please.” She finally caved, giving him one last glare before storming away. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go talk to Bucky. I’ll be right back. Promise.” Steve whispered in your ear, before kissing your temple. “Will you be okay?” He gave your hand which was intertwined with his own a small squeeze, as if to let you know he was speaking. You gave him a small nod, before giving him a light peck, letting him know you were going to fine.  Strutted off in the opposite direction, Wanda took that as her opportunity to stay. She sure as hell wasn’t going to let Peter do something unbelievably stupid with your boyfriend mingling in the same room. 

Peter was about to speak before you beat him to the punch. 

“Well, huh. That was….interesting.” Wanda breaking the unbearable silence between you and Peter. Huh, she expected him to say something. Guess he wasn’t as confident as he appeared. 

“Michelle’s sure on one tonight.” 

“More like on her second bottle of red wine for the night. Definitely, will not remember anything she says or does tonight.” Trying to forget Peter was sitting right there you continued to talk to Wanda. It had been months since you’d seen her and you really missed her. 

She was just asking you about Steve, when her husband called her, politely dismissing herself for just a moment. Cursing Vis for calling her, how was she supposed to cockblock the biggest asshole there was from across the room? 

Minutes passed until Peter found the courage to speak anything in her presence. “You look nice.” God, he really wanted to beat himself up. How could those be the first words he spoke to you after everything had happened? 

“Peter, really?” You questioned. Even now, he liked to play the dumbass. The oblivious boy who had done nothing wrong and that only made you want to cry in anger. But you had indulged yourself in those feeling for far too long. If he wanted to play, you were out for the win. Even if your entire body was shaking in fear, you wouldn’t let him know that. 

“What? You do look nice.” Endearingly enough, his chocolate brown swirls peered out with an innocence he no longer held. How could it after he had hurt the one who he promised to love? “I don’t know. I just figured you might wanna apologize first, before handing me a compliment like we’re friends.” Peter’s body shifted, adjusting the button on his dress shirt he was sporting. Now suddenly feeling suffocated by it. Pondering, if it had always been buttoned up to the collar or if he was just starting to feel it now. 

“We are friends. Before everything, we were friends.” You leaned closer, and suddenly he had forgotten how to breathe. “We were friends, Peter. Then we dated, then we broke up.” 

“And now, friends.” Peter weakly argued. Such a child, if only he would give up and learn his lesson. “Peter that’s not exactly how the timeline goes. You have to apologize. Maybe? Just a fucking thought.” He could hear the disappointment drip in your voice, scolding him like a child who touched a lit stove top. He should apologized. Scratch that. He should have already apologized, but Peter was stubborn. Something you knew a little too well. 

“For what? The feelings I felt were obviously justified, you’re with Steve.” There it was. The one thing you felt guilty for. Steve. Your precious Steve Rogers. The perfect partner which stayed hidden, right under your nose until he made himself known. It was quite recent, but it didn’t matter if you told Peter that. It wouldn’t matter that Steve waited until you were ready. It wouldn’t matter to him that Steve had waited until you stopped crying over Peter every night for three months straight. Not pouncing on you at your most vulnerable, but waiting for you until you stood on your own two feet. All of it didn’t matter to Peter. In his mind, the only thing he knew saw was you were with Steve and not him. Furiously enough, it made his blood boil. Even if he had dug his own grave, you just had to be with him. Out of anyone you could have picked, it was the man he felt inferior to. 

“Leave Steve out of this. He is none of your business. My relationship with him is none of your concern. The moment you lied to me about her, we were dead, Peter. You used me from the very get go. You didn’t want me, Peter. You never did. I was just a rebound for you.” Then it started, always with the hands. Fingers hidden under the bar, began to shake. You were scared of this conversation. Confrontation wasn’t something that came easy to you and Peter being the most stubborn man in the world, didn’t make it any easier for you. 

“Of course, I did. I only wanted you.” And the lying started. Again. 

“You wanted me for your own selfish reasons! I wanted a life with you, a future with you. I was a complete idiot and put my trust in you. Where did it get me Peter? It left me with everything blowing right up in my fucking face.” Peter’s face paled. Never had he seen you this angry, entirely filled with rage and it was all because of him. Every negative feeling you had ever felt for him was evidently suppressed, and now your emotions were resurfacing. You didn’t even care if you were making a scene. You needed to say what had been itching at you for months. 

“I-I-I d-do-n’t. What?” Quickly, Peter became a blubbering mess. He was sitting there not knowing what to say, when all you wanted was an apology. In fact, the only thing you wanted from him. You just wanted him to realize how selfish he had been, but he simply couldn’t meet the expectations set for him. 

“You still don’t get it. Do you?” His eye twitching and his hands shaking, entangled with his own revelation. Peter thought he was good boyfriend. He showed up when it mattered. Yeah, the ending of the relationship had been a little rough around the edges, but he though he was just protecting you. He would have never been good enough for you, so he settled for someone who was. At the time, he thought he was making the right desicison. 

He really was a complete dumbass. As he was here in front of you, he realized he had really fucked up. I mean, he knew he already had but actually hearing you say you wanted a future with him messed with his head. It mad had something to do with you never actually uttering those words to him in the entirety of relationship, but only when the t’s were crossed the i’s were dotted. It just seemed terribly cruel when you were so clearly out of reach for him to grip onto. 

“Pete, I loved you and I didn’t want anyone else other than you. Then, you made me your second choice. How do you think that felt? One day were solid, and then the next you were gone. You didn’t even give me a choice because you had already made one. You didn’t talk to me. You certainly didn’t trust me with your feelings and you no regard for my own. You ruined us, Pete.” Just like that the tears began to fall and you wanted to get the hell out of here. But you had to get through this conversation, not for Peter but for you. 

There went his heart, but it wasn’t for the tears cascading down your cheek, but for what you had called him. You called him Pete. He only let you call him that, always claiming he hated and much rather his full name. Ever since he was little, he was really never fond of nicknames. Of course, until he heard you say it. Then, he fell in love with the name Pete which was sung to the tune of your voice. Deeply, did he wish you were saying it different circumstances. He dreamed of it even, but this was reality. Not his fantasy where you would come back running into his open arms. 

This was it. If he ever wanted to be friends with you again, he had to make his peace with what he had done. Peter Parker was finally giving in. “I never felt good enough for you. After college, when Gwen and I had split up, I was miserable. I didn’t what I was doing with my life. Until I met you and this whole other side of me was unleashed. Every terrible feeling I had ever felt vanished whenever I was with you. You became this light in my life, quite literally guiding me through without even realizing it. Maybe I put you on a pedestal and that’s probably why I thought I can never give you what you needed, but I was scared. Okay? I was scared you would do the same thing Gwen did to me.” You laughed bitterly, the irony of becoming what he was so afraid of you. 

“You could have just talked to me. I always there for you, always. I never left until you made me. You could have just communicated what you were feeling and I would have listened.” 

“I wasn’t ready. How was I supposed to tell you? I was paralyzed with fear as you can tell.” You sighed, as he was staring at you with those honey eyes. The nagging, forgiving side of you just wanted to bring him back in. To comfort him until all of his pain vanished, but the stronger part how he left you for Gwen consumed you. 

“Pete, I know now, but can you honestly tell me that were completely over Gwen. If you went back to her, don’t you think there were still some unresolved feelings. Love or not, you still had feelings for her. It’s okay, I just, I’m really tired of everything going on between us. How it’s effecting our friends. Michelle can barely stand to be around you and that’s partly my fault. I probably told her too much and now she thinks differently of you. The mess should have stayed between us. I just want to clean it up, Peter. I want this all to be over with. I need us to be done. Clean slate. For you. For me. For Steve. For our friends. A new beginning where our baggage stays in the past.” 

Even when you were angry, you were still kind. You truly had the purest of intentions, even after he drug your heart through the mud, you held yourself with grace and mercy. None of which he knew how you held such a tight grip on. 

Suddenly it the revelation dawned on Peter, you were forgiving him. 

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Peter sighed, any plans he had to win you back had fled and the only thing he felt now was guilt. Even though he was one hundred percent in the wrong, you were the one to wave the red flag in surrender. Always being the bigger person when he was incapable of it. Really, when he didn’t have the will for it, but you did. For the both of you, no matter how much it hurt. 

Even if you weren’t getting the answers you had originally came for.  

_______________

“How’d it go?” Steve’s arms found your waist, pulling you close to his chest. “Good, for the most part. I think we’ll finally be on speaking terms now. More accurately, I will finally speak with him.” Giving you a small peck to your shoulder, before turning you around so you were facing him. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Hmm.” You looked in his deep, ocean eyes. The love he poured into you, truly unmatched to anything you had ever felt. “Do you still love him?” 

“Like in love? Or just love? Two very different things, peach.” 

“Just, um, like in love?” His voice going up an octave higher, slightly afraid of the answer you would give him. If Steve could count on one thing, it was your honesty. Time and time again, you had showed him it was what you valued most. Considering your past, he understood why. 

“I was in love with my boyfriend, Peter Parker. The man who I thought loved me through and through. I pictured a life with him, and future with him. God, he met my parents even and they loved him to absolute death. My dad told me after we broke up, he even asked for his blessing. That he wasn’t ready, but some day he would be. Of course, the golden boy image Peter sold to them was more than believable so he gave it to him. Shit, like, how could he you know? Obviously, he was clearly still so in love with Gwen since he left me for her. I just wish I would have known about her, but he never alluded to anything about her and I never had a reason to doubt him. He was perfect with me. Right until it wasn’t. 

“So, no. I don’t. My love for him died the very moment he chose her over me.” You began to cry again, and god did Steve hate seeing you cry. Silently, cursing himself for even bringing it up in the first place, but the insecurity of Peter being your first love crept in. What if you had changed your mind one day? What if you decided one morning all was forgiven and left him? It wasn’t the most unreasonable thought. People can change. What if you would? But little did Steve know that you forgave Peter, but still were very much in love with the blue, eyed man in front of you. 

Immediately, Steve embraced you, holding you in his arms like they could protect you from any harm which came your way. Quite frankly, they very well could. In moments like these, everything else seemed to fade. He could make you forget about all the hurts of the past and center you on the future. 

“I wish I would have manned up and asked you before you met Peter.” Steve whimpered. He really had a want to protect you and it only made you love him more. You wanted to tell him so badly, but it just didn’t feel right. “I don’t. I wasn’t ready for you back then.” You joked half-heartedly. 

“I’m gonna pretend that you didn’t just gut me.” Once you started kissing him, he didn’t really have much to complain about. Sweet and soft, his lips slanted over yours perfectly. The familiar taste of strawberries invading your senses, slightly ecstatic he had finally started using the chapstick you had begged him to start using. You didn’t mind kissing his slight chapped lips, since it was Steve, but smooth was so much better in your opinion. 

“Doll, I’m sorry. I brought it up. I know it isn’t the easiest for you to talk about it. I really should be more mindful of it.” Even when he wasn’t trying, he was an absolute sweetheart. It only caused your heart to soar, more than ever. “No, don’t be. It’s important to me to talk about these things. To work through, them. You know? Evidently, I’ve never really been the greatest communicator, but I want to be. With you, I want to be better because this is the most important relationship in my life. Just you and I, peach.” 

You lowered your hands that were wrapped around his waist, before resting them on his perfectly shaped bum. You certainly didn’t miss the blush which spilled out over Steve’s cheeks, at your new position. “God, I hope no one ever finds out the reason you call me that.” Steve shamefully admitted. 

“Peach, have you seen your ass? It’s not like it’s a secret.” You giggled when he grabbed yours, and honestly you were surprised. He was never this forward, at least not in public. “Trust me when I saw no one is staring at mine, when you have an ass like that.” He gifted you with light peck before dragging you along to the group of your friends. 

But Peter? He watched the entire interaction. His eyes focused on you since you conversation had ended. It was clear you were over him, but he wasn’t over you. Surely, he could change your mind. He had done it once and he would stop at nothing to do it again. 

________________

[remywrites5]

Angst 10 and 14 please! Thank you💚

Remus knew he was making a mistake going to the party but Lily was practically forcing him to go.  Lily had recently gotten over her hatred of James Potter and had decided to give him a chance. They were going to James’ party so that she could finally tell him she fancied him. She’d threatened Remus with bodily harm if he didn’t go with her for moral support and he knew Lily was the type to follow through. It was a month before Graduation and there was a party pretty much every weekend as people got ready to never see each other again. Normally Remus wouldn’t have had an issue attending a party with his friends except that his ex-boyfriend was going to be there.

Remus and Sirius had had a very intense on again off again relationship for the past two years.  The whole school liked to talk about them and follow their relationship, something that Remus wasn’t wholly comfortable with. There was actually a twitter that followed whether they were together or not. And if that wasn’t accurate you could usually tell by Sirius’ Instagram. When he and Remus were together he hardly posted pictures about anything else. When they were apart his Insta was mostly pictures of him and James, football practices and selfies.

It wouldn’t have been so bad except that during one of their good periods Sirius and Remus had decided to live together during University. There were both going to the same school and so it had made sense. Remus had saved all his money from his part time weekend job just to be able to afford the security deposit, which they had already put down on the flat. They had yet to talk about what they were going to do about it seeing as it was a one bedroom and neither of them could really afford it on by themselves. Maybe Sirius could if the Potters helped him out but Remus certainly couldn’t.

Their most recent breakup had been because Remus had dared to mention in Sirius’ presence that he thought Fabian Prewitt was fit. It had been an idle comment and one he hadn’t thought would be a big deal except that Sirius Black was a jealous prick and a drama queen. It wasn’t like Remus had wanted to get off with Fabian Prewitt, he had just been making an observation. It had been blown out of proportion and ended in a huge row that resulted in yet another breakup.

Sirius was guaranteed to be there seeing as it was his best mate’s party and was also being thrown where Sirius currently lived after running away from home. Remus knew he was playing with fire stepping into the house but between the two of them Lily was much scarier than Sirius.

As they walked into the party, Remus stayed close to Lily. It was fairly crowded already for still being early in the evening and Remus hoped he’d be able to make it through the evening without being noticed by Sirius. Pretty much everyone he had ever known was crammed into the house with loud music playing. He thought maybe he could make it through the night without seeing the one person he was most dreading.

All his hopes were dashed as they made their way into the kitchen to find drinks. Sirius was sitting on the kitchen counter, his legs dangling over the side, with James standing beside him and laughing. Sirius grinned until his eyes settled on Remus and suddenly all trace of mirth was gone and his face fell.

Remus really hated the affect Sirius Black had on him even after all this time. He had his long hair swept up into a messy bun, pieces of it falling down and framing his handsome face. He had on his favorite pair of ripped jeans, a Bowie t-shirt and his usual leather jacket. Remus shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away quickly, unable to continue to meet Sirius’ gaze. Why couldn’t help love someone a little less complicated?

“Alright Remus?” James spoke up. “Evans? Can I get you two something to drink?”

Lily gaze Remus’ hand a squeeze and then disappeared with James to go procure some alcohol. Remus felt himself immediately start sweating at the idea of being alone with Sirius. Just a few minutes into the party and his worst fear was coming to fruition. Sirius huffed and knocked his drink back, finishing what was left in his cup. He slid off the counter and got directly into Remus’ personal space. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here.”

“Lily dragged me,” Remus said, narrowing his eyes at Sirius, not backing down. “It’s called being a good friend.”

Sirius snorted in derision. “Yeah? And what about being a good boyfriend?”

Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “We’re not going to go through all that again, are we?”

Sirius scowled at him in response. “I’m sure Fab’s around here somewhere if you’re looking to pull.”

Remus couldn’t resist anymore and rolled his eyes. “I’m not interested in Fabian Prewitt.”

“Then why did you say you were?”

“I didn’t,” Remus said for the umpteenth time. “You’re infuriating. You can think someone is good-looking without wanting to fuck them. Like you for example. Still think you’re fit, don’t want to fuck you.”

Sirius stepped closer and Remus took a step back. “That’s a load of bollocks if I’ve ever heard it.”

“You’re an unbelievable dickhead.”

Sirius’ gaze flickered to the floor and suddenly his bravado from a moment before was gone. “Do you even still love me anymore?”

Remus took another step back, caught off guard by the question and the earnestness in which Sirius had asked it. “Pads, you’re the one who broke up with me.”

Sirius shrugged. “We do that all the time, though. It’s like a game we play with each other. But – but we had plans, Moony. We were going to have a future. Our flat –“

“You don’t get to just bat me around like a tennis ball and think I’ll always come back,” Remus said, interrupting Sirius. He couldn’t help being annoyed and angry that Sirius thought he was always just a sure thing. That he could treat Remus however he wanted because Remus was a sucker who couldn’t resist him. “That’s not fair, Sirius.”

“I know,” Sirius said softly, finally lifting his head up, his grey eyes soft and sad. “But youdon’t get to hurt my feelings and expect me to just shrug it off.”

Remus groaned and tugged his fingers through his curls. “For the last time, I don’t want to shag Fabian Prewitt! I had no idea your ego was so fucking fragile, Pads.”

“Then why did you say it?” Sirius shot back, crushing his red solo cup in his hand angrily. “We’re just deliberately trying to be a wanker?”

“It was just a dumb fucking comment!” Remus said defensively. “Like oh that was a tough maths quiz. I could really go for some Chinese Food. Fabian Prewitt is kind of fit. It wasn’t like I maliciously thought oh I know what I’ll say something to make my boyfriend feel bad. Won’t that be fun?”

“Maybe I just selfishly want my boyfriend to not talk about other guys in front of me. Wouldn’t that be novel?”

Remus took a deep breath and let it out slowly to try and compose himself. “It’s a good thing we never moved in together then. We’d kill each other within a week. It’s for the best that we ended things when we did.”

Sirius’ eyes went wide and he looked more hurt than Remus had ever seen him. Remus had to fight the urge to reach out to him and offer him some sort of comfort. “Right,” Sirius said, schooling his expression. “For the best.”

Sirius turned on his heel and rushed through the party, disappearing into the crowd. Remus pressed himself back against the counter and buried his face in his hands. Well done, Lupin, he thought to himself.

                                               ***

Remus had decided to ditch the party early and just go home. Lily had disappeared somewhere and things had gone horribly with Sirius. All Remus wanted was to just go home and wallow in misery and maybe chain smoke some cigarettes on the walk back to help calm him down. But when he started towards the exit, someone grabbed his arm.

Remus whirled around to find James. “What do you want?” Remus asked, knowing that James must be seeking him out on behalf of Sirius.

“Look, I know things are bad between you two right now but please go talk to him?” James asked, his eyes wide and pleading behind his glasses.

“I already tried that,” Remus informed him with a deep sigh.

“I know,” James said, releasing Remus’ arm. “He’s upstairs sulking. There’s only a few weeks left of school. You two are only going to have a limited amount of time to fix this. He loves you, you know? Maybe even more than you realize. I know he’s a difficult sod but he’s absolutely mad for you. Why do you think his Instagram becomes nothing but the Moony show when you’re together?”

Remus chewed his bottom lip as he considered it. He knew that Sirius and James were practically brothers and James would always stick up for Sirius. But that also meant he knew him better than anyone else. He did have a point, Sirius did become nearly obsessive when they were together. When things were good between them they were really good. Remus just wished one or both of them weren’t so bloody stubborn all the time.

“Fine,” he said, glancing towards the stairs. “I’m not guaranteeing anything but I’ll go speak to him.”

“That’s all I ask,” James said, grinning at him. “Thanks Moony.”

Remus made his way through the crowd of people, being careful not to bump anyone’s drink, and finally got to the stairs. He found Sirius in his bedroom, sitting by the window with his knees pulled up to his chest. He didn’t say anything as Remus entered the room and came to sit down beside him.

“Sirius – “

“No.”

“Come on – “

“I said no,” Sirius said, uncurling himself and dropping his feet onto the floor loudly. “Just shut up for once in your fucking life, Remus.”

“Fine,” Remus snapped, standing up to leave. He worked his jaw for a moment and then sat back down obstinately. “You know what, no.”

Sirius glowered at him. “This is my room. Get out.”

“I’m still in love with you,” Remus told him, staring him down. “And if you don’t stop you’re going to run out of chances.”

“Me?” Sirius said incredulously. “It’s not just me, Remus. Don’t pull that shite. You fuck up just as much as I do.”

“Okay fine, I’ll admit that,” Remus said, conceding that just as many of the breakups had been his doing as well. “But we can’t keep up the way we’ve been going because eventually one of us is going to stop coming back. I’m not going to let you keep pushing me away. We have to get better at talking to each other and not just exploding. I don’t want to keep doing this, Sirius. I want things to be good.”

“I want that too,” Sirius said softly, reaching out and taking Remus hand, lacing their fingers together. “Every time we break up I’m a fucking mess. You can ask James.”

“Then stop breaking up with me, you plonker.” Remus lifted their joined hands up and kissed the back of Sirius’ hand tenderly. “We might have to actually learn how to apologize to each other,” he managed to joke.

Sirius chuckled quietly and gave Remus’ hand a squeeze. “I still want to live together.”

“Me too,” Remus said, giving Sirius a small reassuring smile. “It’ll be a disaster, but fuck me, I want it.”

“It’s only you, Moony,” Sirius said, wiggling closer and kissing him sweetly. “For me. It’s only you. We’ll figure everything else out but I want you to know that.”

Remus slipped his free hand into Sirius’ hair, resting it on the back of Sirius’ head, bringing their lips together again. “I don’t want anyone else,” he whispered against Sirius’ lips. “Even though most of the time you drive me fucking crazy.”

Sirius smiled and pressed kisses along Remus’ jawline before burying his face in Remus’ neck and nuzzling him affectionately. “I’ll try my best not to drive you crazy anymore.”

Remus laughed and pressed a kiss to Sirius’ temple. “I don’t mind as much as I let on,” he confessed. He supposed that was just the nature of being in love with Sirius Black.

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 17: From Protector to Pathetic

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16

Word count: 1580

A/N: 👀😗 I hope you all like angsty cliches as much as I dooooo!

It seemed to Jonathan that Elianna had learned from her first experience with the fear toxin. While she still fell unconscious once it began to wear off, the effects didn't last as long, and in lieu of frightened screaming, she had managed to restrict herself to quieter sounds of terror.

Upon seeing his friend's distress diminish as her eyelids grew heavy, Jonathan unfastened the restraints and took the belt from her mouth. When he turned his attention back to her, he found that El had already curled in on her side; she would twitch every few seconds, each one accompanied by a soft whimper, whether from perceived pain or from fear he couldn't tell.

Even so, he once again felt pride well up in him as her body relaxed more and more. He was surprised to find that she was still barely lucid when he laid down and pulled the blankets over them. Magnet-like, she was suddenly tucked against him, seeking warmth. Once the shock by the speed of her movement wore off, he allowed himself a tiny smile and secured his arms around her as Scarecrow piped up with his usual assortment of vulgar persuasion; easily ignored at this point.

Elianna finally relaxed into a deep, exhausted sleep, the material of Jonathan's shirt bunched up in her hand.  He was very quickly growing reaccustomed to her unconscious insistence for closeness in her sleep. He found his fingertips skimming up and down her arm lightly as his thoughts returned to the execution of the attack on Gotham.

Admittedly, Elianna's insistent reminder of all that he had accomplished in the process took away much of the stress and replaced it with a sense of premature victory, which was very welcome in comparison. Jonathan found himself slipping into sleep more quickly than he had in a long time.

.xXx.

That didn't last for very long, however, as he was tugged back into semi-consciousness after a few short hours by El shifting uncomfortably in her sleep while muttering to herself. Jonathan blinked in the darkness (he had forgotten to turn on the bathroom light, damn), trying to bring her face into focus. He had only barely made out her furrowed brow and defiant frown when her voice began to raise, along with her poorly coordinated movements.

Jonathan had long been accustomed to soothing her back into sleep without waking her up when she had nightmares (which was concerningly often), but this one was clearly escalating faster than he could wake himself up.

That was, until whatever she was experiencing reached a crescendo, and she bolted upright, sucking in a deep, shuddering breath, followed by a short cry of torment. In an instant, Jonathan found himself next to her, his hand on her back. Instinctively, she leaned into the touch, pressing sideways into his chest with another anguished sob as her friend tried desperately to unscramble his tired brain.

This was troubling, to say the least. Generally speaking, El didn't really cry. Not like that, anyway. She hated to cry; she considered it a 'waste of energy,' in her own words. Even when she had occasion to, it was usually just a quiet tear or two and didn't hinder whatever else she may be doing.

But sitting there, listening to his friend actually sob in earnest, Jonathan found himself getting worried. Quietly shushing her (what the hell is that going to do, idiot?), he put a hand on the back of her head to hold her in place as she sucked in another shuddering breath.

"Breathe, El, breathe." She didn't respond, but she did make a second, slightly more successful attempt to take in a normal breath. "That's it; everything is fine." Jonathan cursed the brusqueness of his voice, still barely awake enough to even speak, let alone police his tone. "It's okay," he tried again—better.

Gradually, El's breathing evened out, but she continued to cling to Jonathan like a lifeline, trembling. Once again, he found himself disturbed by the extreme reaction; this was not normal.

Eventually, she sat back up, still shivering and with tear tracks just beginning to dry on her face, which bore no expression as she stared blankly forward at the opposite wall. Jonathan waited patiently for her to speak first; his hand had returned to her back, still uneasy.

However, he was comforted when she finally let out a frustrated sigh, disgusted by her own lack of control. "Round two nightmares are a bitch," she offered flimsily. Caught off guard, he couldn't help an amused scoff.

"Clearly."

"I can't remember the last time I cried like that, ugh," she wiped at her face, all fear replaced with frustration. "That was so annoying. I'm sorry." The apology was punctuated with an awkward half-laugh as she feigned confidence. It wasn't convincing, however, as she wouldn't look at him as she spoke. "Go back to sleep; I'm just going to get some water."

Jonathan considered joining El in the kitchen as she shambled in the direction of the kitchen, but he was just...so tired... Surely a moment to herself would do her some good anyway.

Once in the kitchen, Elianna flicked on the light and took a moment to brace herself against the counter as she scrambled to compose herself. What a stupid situation. She was no stranger to nightmares, having often been plagued by them for her entire life. So why was this one so different?

She knew why. Being in such proximity to Jonathan again had not only stirred up old worries but had given them new form as well. When he had first confessed to her his situation with Granny, many of her dreams had depicted her finding him dead somewhere, pecked to death by crows, or starved to death, or any other horrible possibility.

But their dynamic had shifted so much since they were teenagers. Whereas back then, she had been the protector, their roles had been reversed drastically, and as such, her Jonathan-fueled nightmare had borne a very different image.

Doing her best not to think about it, El finally filled a glass of water and drank it slowly.

In the meantime, Jonathan was facing a dawning realization of guilt. In all of the times that she had been woken by a nightmare when he was around, Elianna had never...snapped like that before. She had blamed it on the toxin, and maybe that was true to an extent, but he was sure that the impending attack on Gotham had played a larger part.

And the only reason she was even in the city was that he had selfishly orchestrated for her to be there. If he had just ignored the application on Warden Sharpe's desk, she was sure to still be in California, bored but safe. As such, he felt a sense of responsibility for her continued wellbeing, and to his mind, this episode made clear what a dismal job he was doing. She was even smoking again, for God's sake.

When she ambled back into the bedroom a few minutes later, Jonathan had resumed a horizontal position, one elbow covering his eyes. Thinking he had fallen back asleep and not wanting to wake him again, El crept back onto her side of the bed carefully.

It was just another nightmare. Just go back to sleep, she commanded herself, shaking off the remaining worry. Just another really intense, very real feeling, vivid, horrible nightmare, she thought grimly as she remembered flashes of what she had seen.

The city in chaos, fire, destruction, screaming, pain; Jonathan standing over her, watching as she begged for help ("please, don't leave me here, you promised!") before he walked off, leaving her alone, injured, and at the mercy of the panicked, violent citizens of what used to be Gotham...

A movement from the other side of the bed startled her out of her thoughts as she released her breath from her tight chest. Blinking through the darkness, she saw that the arm that had been previously thrown over Jonathan's face was now stretched out between them.

"Come on, you know you're going to end up over here anyway," came his tired voice by way of invitation. After a moment's hesitation, El obeyed and once again found herself tucked up against her friend's torso. "So, what happened?" Jonathan asked as his arm wrapped around her and felt a sharp intake of breath from the redhead.

"It doesn't matter." He waited patiently for her to elaborate. "I already know you wouldn't leave me behind." Oh. Almost subconsciously, he squeezed her tighter.

"No, I wouldn't." The finality in his tone did well to reassure El and quell the final remnants of her apprehension.

"No, of course not. Doesn't matter," she murmured to herself, holding him close.

"Doesn't matter," Jonathan repeated affirmatively, clearly drifting back to sleep judging by his voice, and El found herself at last in a similar state. She hummed a response and kissed his shoulder before the pair finally slipped back into slumber.

[fraybaness]

such sweet sorrow

ao3

before she leaves, clary writes eight letters.

I. JACE

Dear Jace,

By the time you read this letter, my memories of you and the Shadow World will be gone.

It was the price the angels made me pay for the runes I’ve created.

It seems strange - and a bit cruel - that after everything you and I have been together, this is how we end. With me a mundane again and you reading a letter stained with tears I won’t remember crying.

But I have no regrets. These have been some of the best times of my life because of the people I was lucky enough to share them with. Because of you. You  were right to think I loved you unconditionally. I do. And I always will. No angel or demon could ever change that.

And even if I don’t remember you, you will always be in my heart.

Love,

Clary

II. SIMON

Dear Simon,

This is really hard to say. I think it’s especially hard to say it to you, but I owe you an explanation. Well, I owe you much more than that, but this is all I can give you for now: when I created that rune today, to stop Jonathan, I made Raziel angry. So by the time you read this, I’m not going to know you’re a daylighter. I’m going to think you’re dead.

The hardest thing to come to terms with these past few hours has been the fact that I will never see you again. I can’t imagine my world without you, Simon Lewis. That can’t possibly be real. Life without you is just a horrible nightmare. But I’m going to have to face that nightmare soon, and I won’t be able to wake up. I’m just sorry that you’re going to lose a friend, too.

Please don’t do anything stupid like come looking for me or try to change this. You can’t change this. I’ve made my choice and I would make it again. Because this sucks. This really fucking sucks and I don’t think I’ve been in this much pain since my mom died but at least this time there is a point to all this pain: I saved people. I saved you. I’d give up anything to keep you safe. I wish I didn’t have to break your heart to do it, but I can’t change that, either.

I love you. I’m going to miss you. I wish we had more time.

Love,

Your Clary, always

III. ISABELLE

Dearest Isabelle,

I scrapped so many drafts of this letter. I don’t know where to begin in telling you what you mean to me. Asking you to be my parabatai was supposed to be my way of telling you how much I love you and how you make me better. A better Shadowhunter, a better friend, a better person overall.

But that’s no longer a possibility, seeing as by the end of the night, I won’t remember you or this life. Apparently Raziel doesn’t approve of my rune mixing angel and demon blood.

I know. I want to be angry too. But I killed my brother this morning and my runes are already disappearing. There isn’t a lot of fight left in me.

Give ‘em hell on my behalf, won’t you?

I should end this letter now, before I go off on tangent after tangent and run out of time and realize I haven’t written to anyone else. But before I do, I just want to thank you for being the kindest, strongest, most amazing woman in the world. I’m very sorry that I will never get to call you my parabatai, but I know that in some way, our souls are already bound together.

Love,

Clary

IV. MAGNUS

Dear Magnus,

A part of me wanted to write this letter and give it to you before anyone else’s. Before anything became permanent. I wanted you to run after and me and tell me that we can fix this, you and me. Point out a loophole, help me come up with a solution, help me do something. But there is nothing either of us can do this time around. Which is why I really hope you didn’t find this until after your honeymoon.

At times, I think you know me better than I know myself, so I doubt there is anything I can say that you don’t already know. But let me just say: thank you. For everything. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.

With love,

Biscuit

 V. ALEC

Dear Alec,

If a couple months ago someone told me that I would be tearfully writing a goodbye letter to Alec Lightwood of all people on his wedding day, I would’ve laughed in their face. But that’s exactly what I’m doing right now, so I guess you were right: nothing in this world is impossible.

All jokes aside, I’m proud of how far we’ve come, both in our weird relationship and as individuals. During my time in the Shadow World, I’ve managed to build a whole new family, and you’re undoubtedly a part of that. You’ve been more like a big brother to me than my own could ever be.

I hope you and Magnus live a long and happy life together (by the way, congratulations! I can't think of a more perfect couple.) and I hope you don’t miss me driving you crazy too much. And I really hope I don’t forget the things I’ve learned from you all.

Love,

Clary

VI. MAIA

Dear Maia,

It seemed plain wrong to write to everyone but you. Truthfully, I don’t even know if you still kinda-sorta like me, or if Luke leaving the pack and you and Simon breaking up means you and I can’t be on good terms anymore. But I hope that’s not the case, because I really like you, and I don’t want you to think I’m an idiot for writing a heartfelt farewell letter to someone who hates my guts.

On the off-chance that you do, in fact, still like me, here is my heartfelt farewell letter:

I don’t know if the others told you, or if you even want to hear, but tonight is my last night in the Shadow World. By tomorrow, I won’t remember any of this, and I won’t remember any of you.

I wish you were going to be at Magnus and Alec’s wedding so we could use some of my borrowed time to get to know each other. I know it sounds like a waste, because I’m going to forget anyway, but I don’t see it that way. I mean, isn’t everyone living on borrowed time in one way or another? I wish I could use mine to do everything I’ve been putting off and get to know everyone I haven’t had a chance to.

Sorry, I’m probably being a little weird and depressing. I initially started writing this to tell you that I wish we’d hung out more, yes, but mostly to say I heard you were alpha now, and that’s how I know the New York pack is going to be just fine, and I’m more than a little disappointed that I won’t be around to see just how amazing you’re going to be.

(Also, Simon’s an idiot for letting you go.)

Sincerely (hoping this wasn’t too weird),

Clary

VII. MARYSE

Dear Maryse,

I’ve recounted this in too many letters tonight, and every time I bring it up or think about it my heart hurts, but here goes: tonight, Raziel is going to take my memories and my powers. I’m going to just be Clary Fray again, and I’m not even going to know what I’ve lost.

But that’s not why I’m writing to you. I’m writing to ask you to give Luke's letter to him when he gets back, and to  say that I’m happy you’re in Luke’s life, and that you were in my life, however briefly. I’ll admit I didn’t like you very much when we first met, but seeing how much you’ve changed and how much Izzy and Alec and Jace and Luke and Magnus love you has certainly changed that. I wish the two of us had the chance to get to know each other, too.

Especially because right now, I could really use a mom.

-Clary

VIII. LUKE

Dad,

I’m sure the others have already told you what’s happened, so I won’t waste ink and precious time going into details. I’ll just say what I need to say. The important things. Which are these: I love you more than I could possibly ever say, I want you to be happy, and you should grow your beard back.

And this: I don’t know what’s going to happen now.

It’s only to you that I can admit just how scared I am, just how badly I wish this wasn’t happening. I don’t want to break your heart any more than I already have but I don’t think I could have said (or written) this to anyone else. And I needed to say it to someone. I'm no stranger to going blindly into dark, dangerous adventures, but I still hate doing it alone.

Selfishly, I hope to see you again. I don’t know if I will even remember you in a few hours (I don’t see how I could ever forget you, but the angels have their ways, I suppose), but I can’t imagine a life without you. You have always kept me grounded in this crazy, messed-up life every day since before I can remember, and even if I’m a whole different person tomorrow, that won’t change, and neither will my love for you.

But, anyways, I didn’t mean to make this letter so depressing. All I want to say is that I love you, and I’m going to be okay, somehow, so please just live your best life and be happy, because you deserve it.

And maybe be a little proud of me? I’m trying very hard not to let anyone down today.

Love,

Clary

 IX. UNWRITTEN

Dear Clary,

You’re going to be okay.

[angelofthequeers]

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

No, I did not use YOI because it's the only anime I've ever seen

Chapter 17 | Chapter 19 | AO3 link

There’s a soft tapping on Marinette’s hatch door as she’s just finishing off the last of the homework that Alya had dropped off after school. She frowns and looks up from her desk. Is that Chat Noir? Or just a stray stick dropping on her balcony? When the tapping sounds again, Marinette has her answer, and she sets her homework aside with a sigh, then climbs up the ladder to her bed and slowly reaches up to push the hatch open.

“Chat Noir?” she says when a familiar face appears in the hatch entrance, the illumination of Marinette’s room reflecting off the person’s skin and golden hair, contrasting starkly with the night sky outside. Chat Noir grins, but it’s nowhere near as cocky as usual.

“Hey, princess,” he says. “Just thought I’d drop by while I was out on the town. It’s been a wild night, y’know. Parties, dancing, making out…”

“Only in your dreams,” Marinette teases, rolling her eyes. Chat Noir rolls his eyes back.

“Okay, yeah, it sucks. So did my day, to be honest. Got any room in there for a stray?”

How can Marinette resist those green eyes? With a smile, she shuffles aside on her bed and says, “Well, I suppose I do need a good deed for the week.”

“How kind of you,” Chat Noir deadpans. He slips through the opening with all the grace of a real cat, landing lightly on her bed and leaping off as she pulls the hatch shut. “Pretend I just took my boots off.”

Marinette rolls her eyes at the shoes comment. “You said you talk to Adrien, right?” she says as Chat Noir makes himself comfortable on the chaise lounge. “Did you get to talk to him today? The only time he messaged me was to tell me that he’s alright, but…I’m worried about him. His father’s been getting stricter and stricter lately.”

For a split second, Chat Noir looks at Marinette as though she’s some kind of angel, although the look is so fleeting that she’d probably just imagined it. Then he shrugs and says, “He’s okay. As well as he can be with his father breathing down his neck. But trust me, he wouldn’t want you to worry about him.”

“I can’t help it. He’s a really good friend. And it’s finally sinking in that he’s not “just” a friend and that being friends isn’t, like, second place to being with him.”

“He must be a really good friend, if you jump in front of an akuma for him,” Chat Noir says. Marinette sits down on the chaise lounge with him, hugging her knees to her chest, so he shuffles over to give her more room and curls up in a very cat-like manner.

“I don’t even know what I was thinking,” Marinette says, undoing her pigtails. She might have started changing up her hairstyle every now and then, but pigtails are still a comforting constant for her. And her autistic brain loves comforting constants. “I saw Adrien in danger, and I just…wow. All I could think was that I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

“You still shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that. You’re my favourite civilian.”

“Aww, I’m honoured that the great Chat Noir likes me,” Marinette teases. Chat Noir gives her a sly grin.

“You should be, princess. We both know I’m the prettier superhero.”

“I thought that was Ladybug.”

“That’s what she wants you to think.” Chat Noir winks. “But between you and me, I’m a real cat-ch.”

Marinette groans and gently kicks him. “You can get out of here if you start making puns. Although I would wonder if an akuma had gotten you if you didn’t make your puns. I’m already questioning the universe because Chloé’s trying to be nice?”

“She is?” Chat Noir says. “I heard about the whole fire department thing, and Adrien told me that he’s not her friend anymore.”

“Yeah, she cornered me in the bathroom and demanded that I help her learn how to be nice. But I don’t think she can be until she figures out why she wants to be nice beyond just getting Adrien back as a friend. I’ve been there when it comes to doing stuff to impress a boy.”

“You think she will find a reason?” Chat Noir says in an odd voice. Marinette shrugs.

“I sure hope so. Is it selfish for me to feel this way? Because if Chloé’s nice, she’s not making my life hell.”

“It’s not selfish if you think of everyone else who’ll also be spared,” Chat Noir says with a wink. Marinette’s lips twitch at that.

“Okay, yeah, you’ve got a point. I told her that she should try and be someone that Ladybug’s proud of, so I hope that’s a good enough starting point. Speaking of…did you end up telling Ladybug that you’re in love with her?”

Chat Noir’s smile melts into a serious look. He sits up, runs a hand through his hair, then sighs, “Yeah, after we defeated Despair Bear. She doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Aww. I’m sorry, kitty.” Marinette shuffles along the seat and sits so that her legs are tucked under her and she’s leaning against Chat in a casual kind of hug. She’s keenly aware that she’s Ladybug and she’s the one who rejected him, but Marinette’s not supposed to know that. And it would be very insensitive of Marinette to not follow up with her friend.

“Don’t be. I’m actually kind of glad that I know for sure, to be honest. I mean, she already told me she was in love with someone else but having her outright confirm that there wasn’t a chance for us…it’s helping me sort my feelings out.”

“You’re not in love with her anymore?” Marinette’s stomach twists, although she can’t possibly figure out why. This is a good thing, after all; now Chat Noir’s not stuck with unrequited feelings.

“I think I always will love her. But it’s like what you said about Adrien, isn’t it? About how being friends shouldn’t be a consolation prize?”

Marinette lets out a small laugh. “Here’s to close friendships. Want to watch something together? I can go and get snacks from downstairs.”

“Dupain-Cheng pastries?” Chat Noir practically has stars in his eyes. “Like I’d ever say no, princess.”

When Marinette comes back with a small box of chocolate croissants and macarons, Chat Noir’s already got a show lined up on her computer. She drags the chaise lounge across the room and squints at the screen, then groans and says, “Really, Chat? An anime?”

“It’s a good one!” Chat Noir says rather defensively. “So long as you don’t go too deep into the fanbase.”

“Okay, okay.” Marinette sits down next to him. “Yuri!!! On Ice? What’s it about?”

“Ice skating. Trust me, Marinette, you’ll love it.”

“I suppose I’ll have to trust your judgement.”

Marinette’s pleasantly surprised to find that Chat Noir’s right and she does end up really enjoying the show. She nearly cries at just how relatable Yuuri’s anxiety is – it’s like someone shoved her into the show, to be quite honest – and she’s so invested in his and Viktor’s relationship that when they finally share their ice kiss, she ends up squealing and clinging to Chat Noir’s arm. He just grins and leans into her touch.

Marinette tries to stay awake for the whole show, since it’s only got a few more episodes. But it’s late and she’s fairly tired after the sleepover from last night, so it’s inevitable that she ends up slipping away to the sandman soon after Viktor and Yuuri’s unofficial proposal. She’s lulled to sleep by the scent and warmth of her partner, like the world’s most comfortable blanket, and there’s a soft rumbling to soothe her as she drifts but she doesn’t have the energy to open her mouth and ask if he’s purring.

Huh. Maybe Adrien picked up the purring from him, because it’s just like having Adrien as her pillow as she drifts off.

.

This is both the best and worst situation that Chat Noir’s ever been in. Best because Marinette is asleep against him, but worst because Marinette is asleep against him. How exactly is he supposed to function when he’s got an angel asleep beside him, using him as a pillow?

Okay, so she’s not pursuing Adrien anymore, but still.

Unfortunately, he has to cut this short. He may have managed to sneak out for a few hours after “going to bed”, but he’s got no doubt that Nathalie will come and check on him at some point to make sure he’s “feeling better”. And the last thing he needs is for her to find an empty bed.

Marinette stirring and snuggling into his side, her loose hair draping over his chest and releasing the smell of strawberries, is almost enough to break his resolve. Almost. But if he selfishly grabs for a few more minutes of this, he won’t be able to come back at later dates due to heavier surveillance, so it’s really for the best that he leaves now.

Carefully, he reaches out to close the internet tab but leaves her browser up on Pinterest so that he doesn’t feel like he’s snooping; god knows how he would’ve felt if someone had found all his Ladybug pictures a few weeks ago. He scoops Marinette up bridal style and carries her to bed, although it’s a bit of a struggle to get up the ladder while not dropping her or waking her up. She’s still wearing her usual outfit rather than her pyjamas, but Chat Noir doesn’t even want to go near the implication of changing her into her pyjamas with a ten-foot pole, so he carefully tucks her into bed, jumps back down to turn off her bedroom lights, and then streaks out through the hatch and into the night before his head can explode at the thought of helping Marinette change.

“You make me sick,” is the first thing Plagg whines when Adrien’s at home and detransformed, then changing into his own pyjamas. “First Ladybug, then Marinette. You’re so disgustingly gooey.”

“I can’t help it, Plagg!” Adrien grabs their class photos off his desk and flops on his bed. His heart flutters wildly upon seeing Marinette’s smiling face in each one, and he sighs and smiles dreamily at them. “How did I never notice her like this before? She’s so – so sweet, and caring, and passionate –”

“Blech!” Plagg darts for his fridge of Camembert. “You’re horrible! You shoulda been one of Tikki’s, not mine!”

“What do I do, though?” Adrien’s face falls. “She doesn’t want to be with me anymore. And I’m happy being her friend, but…I feel like I’m going to melt every time she touches me!”

“Gross! I don’t need to hear this!”

“What – not like that!” Blood rushes to Adrien’s cheeks at Plagg’s implication. “Fine, you’re no help at all. I’ll just have to figure out for myself how to not die every time I’m around her.”

Plagg rolls his eyes and stuffs a wedge of cheese in his mouth. “You’re fifteen,” he deadpans. “You only just realised you liked her the other day. You’re literally like any other teenager.”

“I know that,” Adrien says rather sulkily. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Too bad, buttercup. Suck it up and deal with it. You wanted to be a real teenager? Now you get to be a real teenager. Not all sunshine and rainbows, huh?”

“Just eat your cheese,” Adrien scowls. Plagg cackles and returns to his feast, so Adrien turns away from him and looks back at the photos. Marinette once again brings a soft smile to his face. He’ll have to turn into Chat Noir and visit her again soon, and not for any creepy reasons like perving on her in her room or deceiving her with another identity. If Adrien can’t hang out with his friends as much as he’d like, well, there’s no reason why Chat Noir shouldn’t be able to do so.

[ruthfeiertag]

Random Ruminations on Depression

Preamble:

I want to take back the word ruminate. The Online Etymology Dictionary explains that the word “ruminate (v.)” dating from the 1530s, means “'to turn over in the mind,’ also ‘to chew cud’ (1540s), from Latin ruminatus, past participle of ruminare ‘to chew the cud; turn over in the mind,' from rumen (genitive ruminis) ‘gullet,’ of uncertain origin.” Merriam-Webster Online Gives the definition of ruminate as

transitive verb

1: to go over in the mind repeatedly and often casually or slowly 2: to chew repeatedly for an extended period

intransitive verb

1: to chew again what has been chewed slightly and swallowed : chew the cud 2: to engage in contemplation : REFLECT

https://pixabay.com/photos/pensive-female-woman-window-staring-580611/

But psychology — and in general I have real respect and genuine gratitude for the healing and support psychology and psychotherapists provide; if I kept a gratitude journal, my therapist’s name would be on every page — has come near to ruining this apt word that perfectly expresses the way many of us need or choose to take the time to ponder and deliberate rather than hasten to judge or get embroiled in the consequences of an ill-considered decision. Psychology, as a field, has decided ruminate should mean obsessively thinking about whatever is bothering one, over and over and over… 

I think one of the reasons this definition has become popular, not only among psychologists, but in the general public as well, is that we have such short attention spans and have come to prize speed over all else. We rush to embrace technology that robs us of our privacy, we don’t stay to watch the credits after a movie (unless there’s an added scene), we expect to know the results of every election before the votes are all counted. Take a breath, people. Being ruminative used to be a positive attribute, one that indicated one was a careful, thoughtful person, not inclined to fling one’s self pell-mell off a cliff. Now it is a weakness, a character flaw that indicates one brings one’s misfortunes upon one’s self because one can’t control one’s thoughts. 

Join me in my mission. Let’s rescue ruminate. Start using it in its proper sense. Fling it with abandon into your philosophical conversations: “I was ruminating upon the meaning of life the other day and wondering just what 42 really has to do with it.” If someone tries to push you into making a snap decision, say, “You know, in order to give you the thoughtful answer you deserve, I need to ruminate on that for a day or two.” When next asked to describe yourself, pause for a moment,  then declare, “I am an attentive, measured sort of person with a ruminative cast to my mind.” (Just don’t tell anyone you’re a ruminant. That will totally undermine our goal.) 

And after we save ruminate, we’re coming back for you, enable.

*****************************

Every so often, the New Yorker slips a suggestion for an archived article into the Inbox of my e-mail. That how I came across Andrew Solomon’s article, “Anatomy of Melancholy,” that appeared in New Yorker’s January 12, 1998 issue. It’s a pretty harrowing description of the depths down to which depression can pull person, and of the biases that still pertain when it comes to admitting to others or to ourselves that we have a mental illness and, worse, might be so “weak” as to need chemical (or electrical) interventions. As I moved through the essay, I can upon this proffered bit of wisdom:

Accuracy of perception is not an evolutionary priority. Too optimistic a world view results in foolish risk-taking, but moderate optimism gives you a strong selective advantage. “Normal human thought and perception,“ Shelley Taylor writes in her 1989 book, Positive Illusions, “is marked not by accuracy but by positive self-enhancing illusions about the self, the world, and the future. Moreover…these illusions are not merely characteristic of human thought; they appear actually to be adaptive.” As she notes, “The mildly depressed appear to have more accurate views of themselves, the world, and the future than normal people. [They] clearly lack the illusions that in normal people promote mental health and buffer them against setbacks.”

hulki-okan-tabak-SKadYI4E7OM-unsplash-scaled

So — why are those of us with depression and accurate perceptions the ones who are mentally ill, while the “normies” with their illusions are the ones who are considered sane? Why are we the ones who are seen as less evolved? Am I the only one who thinks this assessment is a little bit off?

************************************

  In a recent car commercial, actor and apparent guru Matthew McConaughey ruminates (see how easy it is to just slip the word right into a sentence?) out loud about the process of identity formation. He muses 

“Knowin’ who we are is hard — it’s hard. Eliminatin’ who you are are not, first, and you’re gonna find yourself where ya need to be.”

OK: first, shouldn’t the logic of the first sentence — the search for identity — lead to a statement about finding out who one is rather than where one is? I guess that’s what happens when one infuses manufactured sagacity into an advert for a vehicle. And never mind the lack of parallel structure in the second sentence.

But what I keep thinking is, “What if we, as is recommended by Mr. McConaughey, eliminate all the people we are not, only to realize there’s no one left?” That’s kind of who-where I keep finding myself.

*********************************

An ethical dilemma: At the recommendation of a friend, I picked up Change Your Brain, Change Your Life, by Daniel G. Amen. M.D. I haven’t read very far into it, but so far there are some sensible observations about the practicality of having one’s brain scanned for damage so one knows whether medical or psychotherapeutic remedies are most likely to be beneficial. However, on page twenty-nine, our friend the doctor discusses thing that hurt the brain and things that help the brain. Under malign influences, Dr. Amen notes that “even spending time with unhealthy people [is] bad for the brain.” OK: I can see how that can work.

In the next paragraph, Dr. Amen lists things that can boost the brain. This list includes the point that “In many ways, the best thing you can do for your brain is to spend time with healthy people. As we will see, they are contagious. I often say the fastest way to get healthy is to find the healthiest person you can stand and then spend as much time around him or her as possible.” That also makes sense.

BUT — and you may already see the problem here — let’s say I’m a healthy person. I know an unhealthy person, someone with, say, depression, someone who would immensely benefit from spending time with me. Yet if I do spend time with that person, I’ll be engaged in an activity that will be detrimental to my own grey matter. On the other hand, if I choose to protect myself by shunning the depressed person, I’m selfishly depriving her or him of my beneficial “contagion” and preventing that person from attaining the flourishing cerebrum she or he deserves. (Unless, of course, that person has been ruminating. In that case, she or he deserves all the melancholy that infests her or his soul. [That’s an example how NOT to use the word ruminating.]) I’m either allowing harm to come to myself or withholding aid from another, which makes me a pretty lousy human being, and knowing that I’m a pretty lousy human will depress me.

Now let’s imagine that I am the unhealthy person, and I know a tremendously healthy person, in whose salubrious presence I never fail to rally. I have a lot of time on my hands. I easily could spend days with this person and notably sharpen my dulled mental functions and ameliorate my debilitating mood. However, by latching on to this bloom-imparting individual, I will be causing harm to that person’s well-being and will likely disrupt her or his equilibrium. That would make me an insensitive parasite, sucking the life out of someone for my own ends, and being such a draining leech would make me feel horrible and depressed.

So what to do? I hate lose-lose, damned-if-you-do-or-don’t, caught-between- Scylla-and-a-hard-place options.

**********************************

And then Will Wheaton put this up on his Blog:

報復性熬夜

Revenge Bedtime Procrastination, which has a much more beautiful name in Chinese (the literal translation for revenge bedtime procrastination means “suffering through the night vengefully.”), is a phenomena unique to people who feel out of control in their daily lives, so we refuse to go to sleep early, to exert some control over our lives, and to enjoy some quiet time alone, when the rest of our people are sleeping.

I should confess, straight up, that I am, by nature, a night owl. It runs in the family. But I love both this concept and its name. Between the depression and the M.E. and the State of the Union, I’m having an increasingly hard time getting any sleep. I just wish being AWAKE YES I’M AWAKE YES I DO KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS OH ISN’T THAT A LOVELY SUNRISE? would wreak some actual vengeance on the conditions and people who are responsible for my near-insomnia. 

 *****************************

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay https://pixabay.com/photos/fantasy-face-branches-woman-3317298/

I hope my ruminations provide some conceptual cud for your synapses, dear reader, to masticate at the pace of your choosing. And don’t forget: enable is still waiting for us to effect an heroic rescue, one worthy of our idiom.

[silent--sonata]

writing wrongs - ineffable husbands

angst: in which poetry is a coping mechanism for crowley, who hates everything he writes

Crowley is not a poet. He is not a composer. He is not a lover. Crowley is not a creator, he is a destroyer, has been told this over and over again, and he makes sure to remind himself of it every day.

I don’t read, Crowley thinks. He is right. Crowley is a listener, one who has lent an ear to John Donne and Edgar Allan Poe and Wilfred Owen, who once sat with bated breath to hear the formless syllables take shape in front of him. He tries to grasp those abstract ideas, guide them into the black ink of his pen, and translate them into something sensible, something meaningful, something beautiful.

It is the 16th century, after all. Creativity abounds. Evidently not in his own hand, Crowley thinks.

Why did You break my wings to teach me how to fly?

Why did You stab my eyes to teach me how to cry?

No apple can, henceforth, be sweet to me.

Knowledge costs, and I gave it away for free.

The rest of the poem is scribbled out with harsh lines that tear the page and made even more illegible by ink splatters. It all seems horribly contrived to him. He hates it. None of the words have the depth he wants, nor the nuance and sensitivity he needs. The poem drowns in black ink and self-pity, and it is vulnerable. It can be dragged away from its pedestal of artistry, down through the oily sludge of interpretation, and become something else entirely. Crowley can’t tell whether it is him or the poetry itself that is selfishly emotional, and he settles, as do most people, on blaming him.

Writing, at best, is lonely. It is all give and no take, and all Crowley is ever left with is a page filled with sharp ink scribbles like black lightning bolts on a white sky.

Crowley hates the way humans talk about falling as it it’s a good thing, as if it’s easy to get back up to where you fell from. Do they know how much boiling sulphur hurts? Do they have no sympathy for the people who stay where they fell because they are too injured to claw their way back up?

Some say that the most important thing in life is to learn how to fall. Not if you don’t get a second chance. Others say that, falling is just another way to fly, and falling headfirst is the same as ascending. It doesn’t make sense to Crowley. The effects of falling are significantly different to the effects of flying. Falling is uncontrollable, and it is the blossoming of pain on the site of his injury but also the dull ache that throbs through both his mind and body. Flying is liberating. No more needs to be said.

Crowley tries his hand at free verse, hoping that it is as liberating as its name suggests. It is the turn of the 19th century.

Do I dare to

Fall

Again, for an apple

 Far, far from my grasp

 That I must corrupt, must rot

Before it falls from the tree

Watered by water so glass-like and pure

That it

Is poison to me

 Drink, fool, from the chalice

That contains the poison

Which takes all the evil

Out of your body

 When you are done

There will be nothing

Nothing

Of you left

 Keep reaching

The tree grows

And you will never

The poem lies unfinished. Crowley hates it too. The final words of it tug on Crowley’s mind every once in a while, but he smothers them with loud music and expels them with yelling. Perhaps he does not want to be liberated.

He never throws any of his work away. It is all stored in his desk, in a locked drawer, lest the one important person in his life finds it. This is also the one person to whom he dares not show weakness.

He turns to music when he becomes exasperated with words, listens to Paganini and Hans Zimmerman and lets the notes slither in one ear and out the other. Crowley doesn’t want anything in his head anyway. He likes it better when he doesn’t think, because then he won’t have to make the choice to ward off or accept his thoughts.

A small beige envelope is slid under his door one day, and his name is written in beautiful cursive in a familiar hand. He opens it like he is a museum curator taking out the most prized display the establishment has.

The journey into the unknown of night

Is good, not gentle, never has been kind.

And though the garden has long left my sight,

It clings like English ivy to my mind.

But quickly my white pages have been stained

By midnight thoughts and quotes and midnight ink.

Nocturnal struggles, twixt my growth, are chained;

The moon approaches dawn and slowly sinks.

And even when my lantern’s fuel runs low,

The starry night becomes my steadfast friend.

Recalling that, while in the dark, I glow,

I love this journey though it has no end.

 You’ve taught me how to find the doors you see,

And now the one to open them is me.

It is as if the poem is part of a book of spells designed to summon tears to his eyes. He is no teacher. He is of no help to anyone. He can’t be a guide, because all he does is get lost (and, eventually, forgotten). So why is Aziraphale telling him that he is?

Crowley is not a poet. He is not a composer. He is not a lover. Crowley is not a creator, he is a destroyer, has been told this over and over again, and he makes sure to remind himself of it every day.

Crowley is also a liar.