#Thank you to everyone who puts up with my fading into the abyss

[okkennymay]

HoO BOI! Now that was a dishearteningly long hiatus 👀 But good news! My brother and I were finally able to move back out after 6 long months, the week before Christmas at that! It’s been such a whirlwind since then, recovering from the holidays and ensuring the new house meets all my tricky needs took longer than I’d have liked but goodness-

It feels good to be back 💖

Thank you all for being so patient with me, I’d regretfully fell into my “recovery mode” to deal with how consistently sick I was from the stress and effort of trying to move back out, which made the ordeal take oh so much longer- a vicious circle indeed @v@ But I got my Christmas Miracle and here I am! 

I missed you guys so much ;C; 💖

The time off did give me a lot of time to think, and I realized I need to be lot kinder to myself in regards to my own expectations, I always want to give 110%, to my art and to each and every single person I talk to, to each one of you, but I have got to learn to accept that’s just going to drive me into the ground time and time again ‘cause I just don’t have it in me no matter how much I want it, my heart too big for my got dayum good- I can’t stand the idea of anyone feeling left out or forgotten but I force that to be the inevitable by pushing myself too far time and time again and crashing 9v9″

I try, try again, this time as OKKennyMay, ‘cause it’s good enough to just be Okay and I need to remind myself of that 😤

[do-it-jakey-baby]

An Unlikely Encounter

Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: language, physical violence, mentions of agoraphobia (I think that’s it, sorry if there’s more!)

18+, MINORS DNI

TAGLIST: @torniturntomyarrow

Sorry, no smut in this one! But I promise there’s more juicy content around the corner. 😉

Chapter 3

3.6k word count

You froze solid as her words sunk in.

You’re trending.

Everyone thinks you’re Jake Kiszka’s new girlfriend.

Your world seemed to spin at a nauseating pace. You could hear your best friend still speaking to you on the other end of the phone but her words fizzled into the abyss. Your fingers frantically darted across the screen of your phone as you searched across social media, finding your face plastered across every site, every Greta Van Fleet hashtag. You were there in every nook, cranny and corner of the fandom. People were asking the same questions. Who is she? Does anyone know her? Where did she come from? Is she British? Is she Jake Kiszka’s girlfriend? Is she nice?

“Y/N!! Hello?!” You hear blaring from your outstretched palm.

“Katrina, what the fuck is happening?!” You babbled, barely fighting back the sob that was threatening to bubble up from your chest. All of the commotion had Jake running back into the room, his eyes wide and hands flailing.

“Y/N, what is it? Are you ok?”

You put your phone on speaker. “Kat, please, you tell him. I can’t think straight right now.”

“Uhh… ok, I’m guessing that’s Jake with you? Hi, Jake. I’m Katrina, Y/N’s best friend.”

“Hi, Katrina. Yeah, it’s Jake. What the fuck is going on?”

“You might want to see for yourself, my guess is if you check any of your social media accounts it’ll be there ready and waiting.”

Jake scoured the floor to find his jeans and retrieved his phone from the pocket. Unlocking the screen, he clicked into an app and sighed. He knew this all too well, anyone who got even remotely close to one of the band members was dissected by their fanbase almost instantaneously.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I should have known better before asking you to get in the picture with us earlier.”

You were still in a state of shock, going from a nobody to a somebody within the space of 24 hours was eating away at you. You’d never experienced anything like this before, you always faded into the crowd. You rarely received attention and you kinda liked it that way.

“What happens now?” You speak up, your voice meek and raspy.

“I’ll call the guys, but it’s not a big deal. Shit like this blows over, it’s not a controversy. Danny has a lot of female friends, he’s well versed in this.”

“Ok, in your world it might not be a big deal, but it is in mine. I am a nobody from a small town in South England, Jake. Now my face is all over the internet!” You throw yourself down onto the bed in frustration, hiding your face in the peaks of the duvet.

“If it helps, babe, most people are just commenting on how pretty you are.” Kat chimes in. You’d almost forgot she was still on the phone.

“I’ll leave you to it, but I want you to call me ASAP and fill me in. I want to know how the hell you managed to meet our favourite band. Sorry, Jake, but a girl needs the deets.”

“I understand. Well, hey, I’m sure we could arrange something so that you get to meet your favourite band too.” Jake chuckled.

“I’ll take that as payment for holding my best friend captive for the last 24 hours, Kiszka. Y/N, I’ll call tomorrow. Love you, bye.”

Jake sat beside you and placed a gentle hand on your back. You let out an exaggerated groan and lifted your face up to look at him.

“Make all of your accounts private, if they aren’t already. It’ll blow over, angel.”

He placed a soft kiss to your forehead and handed you the damp washcloth.

“Thank you, but I actually just think I’ll jump in the shower, if that’s ok?”

“Of course, angel. I’ll go warm it up for you.” He squeezed your thigh and moved to the bathroom. You heard him flip the water on, the sound of it splashing down onto the shower tray instantly soothing you. It was just what you needed, you longed to feel the steam on your face and wash away the stress you’d ensued over the complete bomb your best friend had dropped onto your life. Yeah, maybe you were overreacting, but the thought of your face being burnt into every fan’s memory was filling you with dread. You began to sweat again, pulling yourself back into a panic, but just as you started slipping Jake was there again. The comfort of his presence lulled you back into a feeling of security. He grounded you, and that was a difficult thing for anyone to do, let alone a man you’d known for a mere 48 hours. He took your hand and guided you off the bed, pressing it against the small of your back and drawing you in. His other hand manoeuvred to cup your jaw and he captured you in a kiss that was sweeter than honey. You were falling under his spell so quickly, you hadn’t even realised the extent yet.

“Mind if I join you?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” You breathed, grasping at his hair as you pulled him back in for another kiss.

~

You and Jake spent the entire week together. You’d made passing comments about how you were intruding on his time with his band and should probably get going, but he was having none of it and always insisted you stayed. You couldn’t help the incessant intrusive thoughts from bouncing off every corner of your brain.

Why would he want to spend time with me?

Surely I’m just something to pass the time?

He’s going to get bored of me soon and move onto the next girl…

But each time, he silently proved you wrong. You’d never experienced intimacy like this. He was so attentive to your every need, always making sure you were comfortable, thinking about even the smallest of details. He had learnt so much about you and continuously surprised you with how much he absorbed. He knew your favourite bubble tea place that was tucked away secretly behind the bustling streets, and that your go-to was the honeydew melon milk tea (soy milk, you were lactose intolerant), light ice, semi-sweetness, with lychee popping bubbles. He knew you struggled in public and had previously battled with agoraphobia. He knew all the right places to touch you and could turn you into a whining, shaking mess at the snap of his fingers. He was unlike any other man you’d met before and any other man you’d ever meet again. The feelings that you felt after your week together were terrifying, because you knew he could disappear at the drop of a hat and all of the walls you’d meticulously built up over time would come crashing down around you, crushing you under the rubble and burying you alive. The unknown left you feeling nauseous with crippling anxiety. You liked control, craved it. If you were in control, the only person who could hurt you, was you. But here you were, your fragile heart entirely in the hands of another being.

On his last evening in London before they left for Dublin, Kat invited them over to her flat for dinner. You had joined her early to help her prep, your hands shaking as you chopped the tomatoes.

“Y/N, dude. Will you chill, please? I don’t fancy a trip to A&E tonight because you’ve severed your finger.” She rolls her eyes and places her hand on top of yours, signalling for you to put the knife down.

“But I want to help! You can’t do everything Katrina, even if you’d prefer that I wasn’t in your way.” You giggle at her, picking the tea towel up off the side to wipe your hands.

“Yeah you’re right, get the fuck out of my kitchen before you burn the place down.” She winks. You ball the tea towel up in your hands and throw it at her, it landing on her head, draping over her face.

“You have 3 seconds to get out of my sight before I kick your ass.”

“Ok, ok. I’ll go and get ready. Call me if you need me.”

“I won’t!”

You walk away, chuckling to yourself. You loved your friendship with Kat. She was more like your sister than your best friend, the only person who was a constant in your life, and she held a special place in your heart. There wasn’t much room in there for anyone else, you’d closed yourself off from the world long ago. Too many disappointments, people came and went and you weren’t interested in temporary. You sat down at your vanity and stared at the reflection in the mirror. Did tonight have to come around so soon?

You’d just finished off your hair when you heard the doorbell chime. Standing up, you smoothed the front of your satin skirt and took a deep breath. As you opened the door you were greeted by 4 beaming faces.

“Y/N, you look positively radiant, my dear!” Josh’s voice rang out as he pushed to the front and wrapped his arms around you.

“Hi Josh.” You smiled into his curls.

One by one the boys greeted you with friendly embraces and entered the flat, until it was just you and Jake stood there.

“Hi, Angel.” He grinned, bending to press a kiss to your cheek. You turned your face and your hand found your way up into his hair as your lips crashed against his. Jake, seemingly taken aback by your forwardness, relaxed and melted into your kiss. His hands snaked around your waist and he pulled you closer into him.

“Miss me?” He teased, lips still pressed against yours. You pulled back, raising an eyebrow, before turning to make your way in. You hear him chuckle to himself softly.

“Thank you all so much for coming.” You address the room.

“It is our pleasure, thank you lovely ladies for hosting.” Sam replies. He’s over by the oven next to Kat, watching her intently as she stirs the sauce on the hob. Kat is probably one of the most beautiful women you���ve ever seen, her features are sharp and pixie-like, with big green eyes like pools of molten emerald. Her long, auburn hair is naturally curly and is styled in a half up-do. It’s not hard to see why Sam is hovering.

“So, Kat, how long have you been a fan?” Sam questions, leaning on the counter next to her.

“Who says I’m a fan?” She responds with a wink.

“I did!” Jake yells from the sofa.

“I never said who I was a fan of.” You think you can just about see Sam’s heart pounding in his chest, like something out of the Looney Tunes. The thought makes you snort on your drink, but you quickly re-direct the attention away.

“Who’s hungry? Kat’s made her family’s famous spaghetti.”

“And no, you may not have the recipe.” Kat smirks.

Everyone tucks in and you hear a symphony of slurps and mmms.

“Kat, where did you learn to cook like this? It’s amazing!” Danny asks.

“My Nonna is Italian, so she’s very strict about how my family cook. This recipe has been passed down through generations.”

“Jake is somewhat of a chef himself.” Josh offers, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs by Jake.

“I’m not that good!”

When everyone has finished eating and complimenting Kat on her culinary skills, Sam jumps up from the table to retrieve the dirty plates and carries them to the sink.

“Oh yeah, who are you trying to impress, Sam?” You probe.

His head snaps to look at you and his cheeks flush. “Uhh no, no one. Just being a helpful guest.” He grins sheepishly. Kat walks over to him, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s appreciated Samuel, thank you.” She places a quick kiss to his cheek and opens the dishwasher for him.

“Oooo Sam’s got a girlfriend!”You tease.

The evening seems to pass in a flash, everyone seeming to love Kat just as much as they love you. As they prepare to leave, Jake stands and clears his throat. You look at him in anticipation.

“So, as you know we’re continuing our tour in Dublin tomorrow, then we have another two UK venues before we head further South.” He pauses, glancing at the boys. “We’ve all been talking, and if you want to we’d love you to come to our last stop in Europe.” You stand, wide-eyed, wondering if you’ve heard him correctly.

“Your last show is in Portugal.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, everything would be taken care of. Your flights, hotel, tickets and VIP passes.”

“Jake, that’s too much.”

“Y/N, we’ve made two fantastic friends this week. We want you to be there.” Josh smiles, placing his hand over yours that you didn’t event realise was nervously clawing into your knee. Kat looks over at you and nods. She runs her own business so is free to to clear her schedule, and you’re currently in between jobs and in the meantime have been helping her out with admin and other ‘tedious shit’ she has no care for.

“Ok.” You breathe. The lads whoop and cheer around you, pulling you both into a group hug. Danny pulls out his phone and gathers you round, flipping his camera to the front and yelling “Say cheese!”. Jake loops his arms around your waist as you all huddle together to get into the frame. Just as Danny presses the button to take the photo, Sam plants a kiss onto Kat’s cheek.

“Mind if I post this to my story?” Danny asks.

“Yeah, fuck it. My face is everywhere now anyway.” You laugh. Kat nods her approval and the photo is uploaded. You all say your goodbyes and Jake lingers by the door, his face sombre.

“Hey, you’ll see me in two weeks.” You place a hand on his cheek.

“Two weeks too long.” He huffs, lacing his fingers between yours. You stand there for a few moments, soaking up the last moments with him for a while. He caresses your cheek and captures you in a tender kiss. The world seems to slow to a stop and it’s just you and Jake in that moment, nothing else matters but him. Jake Jake Jake.

He pulls away, eyes filled with sorrow. “Goodbye, angel. Take care of yourself. I’ll message you every day.”

“Bye, Jake.” The door shuts and then he’s gone. You sink down to the floor, warm tears rolling down your cheeks and onto your hands.

Why are you crying? Sort yourself out, woman!

Kat’s footsteps echo down the hall and she finds a space on the floor next to you, wrapping her arms around you.

“Hey, you just think about us tearing it up in Portugal. None of that, please.” She gestures to your tear streaked face and hands. “I’m going to the shop to pick up some tequila, god knows you need it tonight. We’ll stick on a shitty movie and talk about all the carnage we’ll create, they’ll never invite us anywhere again after this.” She laughs and you join in, always finding her playfulness infectious.

“I’ll be back before you can say ‘I miss my rockstar boyfriend’”.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” You smack her arm, then allow her to pull you off the floor. You plod into the bathroom and remove your makeup, then slip into some cosy pyjamas and settle down onto the sofa. A few moments pass and you hear a knock at the door. Chuckling to yourself, you assume Kat has forgotten her keys for the millionth time, so begin making your way to the front door.

“When will you learn to-”

Your blood runs cold at the sight before you.

“Connor, what the fuck are you doing here?” Your ex-boyfriend stands there, disheveled and reeking of cheap vodka and cigarettes.

“What the fuck are you doing? Not just giving it out to any randomer like the filthy slut you are. You’re fucking Jake Kiszka?!”

“It’s none of your fucking business who I’m fucking!”You huff.

The fury bubbling from within him is evident, he’s shaking in blind rage with his fists balled at his sides, knuckles white.

“How long have you been fucking him? You’ve always oozed groupie mentality, you disgusting whore. I’m sure he’s just using you for an easy lay.” He spits.

“Get the fuck out of here you freak! What you’re stalking me now?! You don’t own me, Connor!”

He charges into the door, knocking you down in the process. As he lunges forwards, two men walking past spot the commotion and run to pull him off you. They throw him onto the pavement outside and he shuffles to his feet before fleeing the scene.

“Are you ok, love?”

You can’t even respond, your whole body wracking with sobs as they roll from deep within your chest.

“Y/N, what the fuck?! What’s happened?!” Kat screeches from across the road, her arms littered with shopping bags.

You zone out as the two men explain what they witnessed. How had your evening taken this much of a turn? In your trance you’re being lifted and placed into your bed. Kat thanks the men and sees them out, then crawls into bed behind you and holds you, stroking your hair gently until you cry yourself to sleep.

[ghostinthegallery]

Can you overanalyze Zahndrekh and Obyron. They are my two favorite named necron characters.

Ah yes, the mad nemesor and his loyal bodyguard. The ineffable husbands of wh40k. The bond so deep you can't talk about one without the other.

First, credit to Nate Crowley for Severed the story that really drove the amazingness of this relationship home for me. Man knows how to put a space robot (and me) through the emotional ringer.

Okay, so...how about that time Obyron was about 2-5 minutes away from actually murdering Zahndrekh?

Put a pin in that, we need some background first.

Obyron and Zahndrekh are amazing because on paper I feel like the relationship between them should not work. Obyron is suffering so deeply as he watches the people around him, who he fought with and cared about, fade away. And this is a pain Zahndrekh fundamentally cannot share because Zahndrekh doesn't realize it's happening thanks to his intense denial about biotransference (sort of, put a pin in that too). Add in some command protocols and power imbalance and this should be a tragic combo but it isn't. It's possibly the most wholesome relationship in the 40k universe between two of its best characters, and I credit that to some fantastic writing.

First off, it helps that Zahndrekh is a genuinely good person (or close as 40k can get anyway). He's honorable, he has a sense of humor, he respects his enemies, and doesn't kill when he doesn't have to. He's clever, cultured, and a brilliant tactician. He's also way too trusting because he assumes everyone is as honorable as he is. That should have gotten him killed ages ago but it doesn't because of Obyron. Obyron protects him from threats immediate and more subtle. He's not just a meat shield, Obyron is shrewd and he outplays Zahndrekh's enemies politically as well as physically. And yes, it is Obyron's duty to do this. He's a vargard, he's programmed to protect his lord (because biotransference constantly finds all new ways to suck) but there's more to it than that.

Taking the pin out, let's talk about that attempted murder.

So in Severed, Obyron believes that Zahndrekh's mind has finally snapped. If someone doesn't take over their armies, their mission will fail and a lot of their people will die. Obyron's comrades (what's left of them) have already died. The only way to salvage the situation is to kill Zahndrekh and take over. And after a disastrous battle (plus some emotional manipulation from Zahndrekh's shitty ex) Obyron decides to do it. He is literally about to go kill his lord, he is just taking a quick moment to prepare himself which...yeah fair.

Except Obyron sees Zahndrekh and chooses not to kill him. Luckily for all, it turns out Zahndrekh is no more insane than normal and the merry adventure continues.

Emphasis: Obyron chooses not to kill him. And I think that is a hugely important for their relationship because it shows that Obyron isn't with Zahndrekh because of programming or doctrines, he is there because he wants to protect him. Zahndrekh drives him up the wall sometimes, but when the chips are down, Obyron chooses him. He would literally jump into the abyss for him. Obyron loves him.

Zahndrekh knows full well if Obyron wanted to betray him, he would be dead. Obyron could become an overlord, and the only reason he hasn't is the loyalty and love they have for each other.

"What can love but a being with a soul?" might be one of the most incredible lines in a 40k book (or maybe just a book). Because aside from being unbelievably sweet, itshows that Zahndrekh does see the pain Obyron is in. And he finds a way to comfort him that fits within his...creative worldview. How much of the necrons' situation Zahndrekh does understand is a liiiiiiiitle ambiguous, but he definitely has his coping mechanism for everything: just enjoying life and focusing on the good, and he wants to share that optimism with Obyron. He realizes that Obyron fears what being a soulless machine means, but how can he truly be a soulless machine when he can choose love over ambition?

If there is one thing the necrons demonstrate, it is that immortality sucks. They all need some purpose to keep from going insane, and for Obyron and Zahndrekh that purpose is each other. Zahndrekh lives in his own reality, protected physically and emotionally by Obyron. And Obyron finds purpose in protecting the person who shields him from his own despair.

And I cannot get enough of it.

[iamtaran]

WIP Title Game! oh good lord

rules: in a new post, post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how nondescriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet and tell us about it!

thanks @allyunabridged for the tag! Lmao I stared down the barrel of not one, but two google drives to gather these and all I can say is

😬

IN AN ORDER ONLY THE GODS UNDERSTAND:

The Twilit Gate (BG3, when in want of more fey bullshit in your BG3, do it yourself!!! TavxAstarionxGalexliterally everyone i'm gay alright???)

Island (The Guest/손 AU, horror and survivalism; Hwa Pyung, Choi Yoon, and Gil Young follow Park Hong Joo's and Park Il Do's machinations out to open sea, to an island with long forgotten history where the real struggle for survival begins.)

But For Grace (SW:Preq's, modern-character in GFFA aka "what to do when you accidentally change things and the Chosen One dies?", started as a silly question but now I'm committed; Qui-Gon Jinn lives; what would happen in a galaxy without Anakin Skywalker?)

The Mage's War (DA2 + DA:I, what if Bethany Hawke was the Herald, Modern/Avvar OC, playing Fade chicken with the Dread Wolf nbd, put on my tinfoil hat for this one re: the Fade, the Abyss/Void, Forgotten Ones, etc.)

In God's Eye (Vampyr, human!Jonathan, ekon!McCullum, Mary lives, I'm a hobby WWI & Spanish Flu researcher so hold your britches I have FEELINGS)

For Want Of Two (Vampyr, wanted more mythological beings & nemrod lore so I'll do it myself gdi, put-that-thing-back-where-you-found-it-or-so-help-me-god.gif ; JxMcCxOC)

Lights All Hung On Nothing (Star Wars Preq's to Clone Wars era, modern-character-in-SW with a big twist, Force + time fuckery, Ani + Obi focus, the butterfly effect changes everything)

The 72nd Cycle (SW: Mandalorian, AU - Grogu is not the only Force sensitive prisoner Gideon had captured. Without room in his ship for multiple students, Luke tags along, not expecting the sad Mando's ride Boba Fett (w h a t) to show up and offer the poor guy use of his bacta tank; well, soon-to-be-his. He just has to kill its current owner, Bib Fortuna, first. You know. On Tatooine(WHAT!!). Meanwhile, on Tattooine: Cobb Vanth gets the nagging feeling his life is about to become much more stressful.)

A Heavy Thing (KOTOR, amnesiac Revan works a shitty food service job on Taris and definitely isn't a Jedi/Sith/Soldier, I mean, clearly. Slice of life becomes tragedy becomes adventure becomes mystery becomes ??? RevanxCanderousxCarth DON'T LOOK AT ME)

Life, Happening (The Shining/Doctor Sleep introspective piece on Danny Torrance, life & death, what it means to be gone, and not gone.)

Led To Water (Mandalorian, Din takes off the armor having broken his Creed and, unsure what to do next, returns to Kuiil's homestead to brood and sweat manfully through his existential crisis; his friends help him through it.)

Mando'ad'ika (Mandalorian/Original SW movies, The Mandalorian is taken into custody and now Leia has to deal with a sweet but stressed frog lady, a green gremlin with too much Force power, and this intimidating tin can who won't budge. Since Han laughed at her, she decides to make it his problem, too.)

Time Travel, & Other Ways To Die (Mandalorian/SW:Bounty Hunter video game, Din & Jango centric, whilst trying to get to Grogu on his magical big rock, Din & Grogu end up chucked through time onto an outlaw space station. Jango Fett's no good very bad day begins. Coincidentally, it coincides with Din Djarin's SUPER no good very bad day. They most assuredly do not bond over this.)

I am, or was. (Dragon Age: Inquisition, a spirit takes an interest in Solas after he helps it in the Fallow Mire and begins following him around like a lost puppy. Which would be cute, if it weren't possessing more and more alarming vessels to do so. The Andrastians are starting to get a bit twitchy.)

Rookie, Shiny, Soldier, Spy (Mandalorian/Clone Wars, Din Djarin accidental time travel into the Clone Wars AU. Caught without his 'gam on a battle field and forced once again to wear trooper armor, he is Not Impressed--and why do all these guys look like Boba?)

This Prodigal Son (Hades/Dragon Age: Inq, Zagreus goes through the wrong Chaos portal. Magister Alexius finds a powerful spirit in the Fade and, as is his way, decides fuck it, we ball. Also his way, it doesn't go very well for him.)

Send me a title via ask and I'll post my favorite bit I've currently written!

Lmao this was wild to throw together given how many WIPs of age past are staring me down; these are just all the recents. Go ahead and chuck some WIPs out there if you're interested @singoallala @narwhalninja @mauverawrites @in-a-trans-like-state @terresdebrume and @jackironsides ! And if you don't/aren't currently writing, everyone loves to see the pet tax paid C:

[xihe1874]

An Icemav one-shot inspired by "Silhouette" (Aquilo).

Let's go out in flames so everyone knows who we are, Cause these city walls never knew that we'd make it this far. We've become echoes, but echoes that faded away. So let's dance like two shadows burning out our glory days.

The devils on your shoulder, strangers in your head. As if you don't remember, as if you can forget. It's only been a moment, it's only been a lifetime. But tonight you're a stranger, or some silhouette.

---- "Silhouette", by Aquilo

————————

Pairing: Iceman/Maverick

Word Count: 1308

Rating: T

Tags: Post-Break Up, Getting Back Together, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Flashbacks, POV Iceman, Inspired by Music, Past Relationship(s), Sad, Soft, Ex's to Lovers, One Shot, Post-Canon, Post-Movie: Top Gun (1986)

————————

Iceman hates parties and gatherings, especially those that demand his reluctant interaction with the brass. Being the ambitious and promising young Commander he is, Tom Kazansky understands the inevitability of such social events perfectly, but he still loathes them.

He holds the glass of red wine in his hand, swirling it elegantly. The shirt he wears is too tight around the neck, and the tie isn't helping with the situation at all - he already sweats a little under the stuffy material. Despite his callsign, Ice is constantly feeling hot. That's because you are hot, babe. A fond and teasing voice sneaks into his mind from the abyss of memories, sounding eerily like…

No. Ice scolds his brain, no, don't, I am not thinking of him in some Navy balls, for fuck's sake. At least for tonight, let me have some peace of mind without being tangled in my messy past.

You are always thinking, Ice, does your mind ever rest? Is it tired? 

Stop. 

I love how you say "stop", Ice, especially when you are ordering me not to…

NO.

——————————

"So, Commander Kazansky." Vice Admiral Carlson gives him a curt nod. "Your reputation precedes you." Ice raises his glass towards the admiral. "Sir, I hope all you heard are good things." 

"You bet. Flawless service record, marvellous combatting experience, the youngest Commander Navy has ever had… You are a rising star, son."

"Thank you, sir. I am just doing what I can for my country and people." He takes a sip from his glass and lets the liquid slide into his throat. Ice likes red wine, though he is more of a Vodka guy. Beer is OK, too, though Mav loves it much more than…

Stop. Stop, stop, stop.

"You went to Top Gun five years ago and won the trophy?"

Ice struggles out of his stupor and manages to keep his voice even. "Yes, sir."

"Then you must have met Lieutenant Commander Mitchell before."

The following few things all happen in a blur. Carlson stands aside, revealing a short brunette behind him. The said brunette reverts his eyes sharply and makes an awkwardly failed attempt to run away, almost dropping his glass. He puts the glass on a nearby table, squares his shoulders, and turns to face Ice. The emerald eyes are shining brightly in the light like a long-lost dream.

"Commander."

Ice forgets how to breathe. 

Two years. It has been two years since those eyes studied him like that, and two years since he heard the voice. The air around him turns to solid metal and squeezes his body and heart, leaving no place to survive. He suddenly feels he is going to throw up.

"Lieutenant Commander." The words are spoken automatically, like a machine on the verge of breaking down.

Maverick looks exactly the same, with blazing eyes and a rebellious stance, his lips always on the way to forming a smirk. No, stop thinking about his lips. He is in a black suit that wraps around his body perfectly. And his body is a no-no either.

"You two know each other?"

He is staring, Ice realizes distantly, but he can't bring himself to care.

Let's eat out tonight, Ice, I know a nice restaurant; their soft-boiled eggs are perfect, exactly the way you like…

Can I, can I kiss you, Ice? I've always wanted to do that…

Ice, need you, need you, please… 

Let go, Ice, let go, I've got you, I am here, let go for me… That's it, good boy, my darling… 

Mine, mine, you are mine, Ice, mine forever…

"Commander?"

Ice snaps back to reality.

"Yes, sir, we know each other." He answers hoarsely.

————————

"Ice?"

Ice tenses at the sound of the door opening and refuses to look in the mirror. Leave it to Mitchell to follow him to the fucking bathroom at a Navy party.

Ice hears the door lock behind him. He grips the tub basin so tightly that his knuckles turn white. In the last five minutes, Ice has washed his face with freezing water several times, but he can still feel the gaze lingering on his skin. The gaze that is burning on the back of his neck now. 

"So you are into red wine now?"

Ice turns on the faucet to unnecessarily wash his hands and realizes they are trembling slightly. He deliberately avoids the question as well as the pair of eyes.

"Ice." 

Ice, Tom, yes, just like that, fuck, yes, please, please please please — "People change, Maverick." That comes out more bitter and harsh than he originally intended. Ice stares at the paper handkerchief in his hand, glances at the mirror from the corner of his eyes, and vaguely sees Maverick flinching. He winces to himself - they are really not good at this.

After wiping his hands scrupulously, Ice decides that they can't stay like this forever and that it is better to get it over with. So he raises his head and finds Maverick already looking back at him intensely in the mirror. His arms are crossed in front of the chest, a perfect posture of confidence and nonchalance, but Ice knows him too well to ignore the tightness in his shoulders.

"How much?"

Ice frowns. "What?"

"How much have you changed?"

A thousand thoughts run through his head, but Ice settles with a lame "more than you think." He tries to shrug but finds himself too stiff to do that. Maverick's jaw is working, a telling sign that he is worrying his inner lips because he is either nervous and anxious or setting his mind to do something stupid and dangerous. Or both.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"No, Ice. I think you haven't changed, not a little bit."

A familiar rush of irritation blinds him for a second, and Ice says between clenched teeth, "And who the fuck do you think you are to assume…" His angry words are brought to a halt by a pair of strong arms around his waist.

Maverick is holding him from behind. Clinging and clasping for dear life, more accurately, his right hand gripping the left wrist in front of Ice's stomach like he is afraid Ice will break away. "Ice." His call sign sounds choked, and Ice realizes suddenly that the shorter man is shaking as a leaf. He can almost feel Maverick's warmth soaking his back. 

"Ice."

The blonde closes his eyes.

It's so strange that after two years, he almost forgot why they broke up in the first place. Maybe it started with some stupid and trivial argument - he didn't remember who initiated that - and then evolved into a full-on row. Insults were delivered unnecessarily, and misunderstandings were deepened. Then both believed that the other was accusing this relationship of being detrimental and was regretting it. A door was slammed, and "Bye" was said in not-good ways. They were both too proud and scared to reconcile, as it turned out, until now.

It takes him two minutes to register that Mav is talking. "... ain't care now, Ice, I don't give it a fucking damn. I don't care what they think; I just miss you so much."

So Ice takes Mav's right hand and left wrist into his hands. He hears Mav suck in a breath, because of the touch, probably, or the belief that Ice is going to break free and punch him in the face. But Ice is tired and cold, and Mav is warm. And maybe, as the brunette points out, he hasn't changed a bit. 

He doesn't turn around, just gently stroking the marks on Maverick's wrist that were left because the shorter pilot was digging himself too hard. Maverick's pulse feels solid and intimate, like a long-lost piece to the puzzle that is Ice's life.

"Your fingernails are too long." Ice hears himself saying. "You are gonna hurt yourself."

[peepaaaawh]

It was too warm. Family hearth. Joyful laughter. smiles. It was too much for Aiden tonight. Sitting on the steps of the "fortress", Hope fell into his usual abyss of thought. Even the snow didn't disturb him. Throwing on a jacket along with shoes, he asked for a walk around the district, but he could not go further than the porch.

Slowly pulling off his glove, he let one of the snowflakes fall on his palm. Realizing that the crystal star had not melted, Aiden chuckled. Nothing has changed in him. But why does everything seem so fake? Or was there a problem with him? Squeezing his palm, the snowflake shattered into dust.

All with him.

— You said that you went for a walk, but now you sit here for at least half an hour and look at one point.

A low, velvety voice brought him out of his disgusting thoughts. It was the average Hope. Meadow. A brother in misfortune and, seemingly native cracked mask. Although, Aiden was honest with himself. He would never wish to someone be like him. But sometimes such "miracles" happen.

— Cannot do anything. Your house is very comfortable. I don't even want to leave.

A beautiful smile on duty. Anyone who didn't know Yato could take that as sincerity. But the brunette saw that self—loathing was hidden behind the trained gait.

— Don’t lie to me at least, okay? You are uncomfortable.

The smile faded from his face and was replaced by a wry grin. He had let him get too close to him. Reads him at the level of Rowan.

—Don't think like this, really. I appreciate your warm welcome and etc, just...

Aiden opened the other's hand and placed the snowflake directly into it. She melted as soon as met the heat of the of swarthy skin hand.

— I've been weaned from it for a long time. My house is cold and empty. It doesn't matter how big it is. There is nothing important in it. And I did not even tried to notice that “important”, therefore, I probably hate Christmas.

The last sentence gave Meadow a mild shock. Perhaps, after all, Yato had several layers that he did not notice. Actually, it can be said about the other side.

— Why did you accept on it then?

— Wanted to see how much did I... Atrophied. Yes, you are my friend. Well, I can even say good friend. It would be embarrassing to refuse somehow. And the excuse is even dumber than awkwardness.

He laughed, smiling tightly. He wanted to make it all jest. But worrying foreign eyes did not allow to do this.

—"Hey, hi, Meadow. I'd love to come visit you for the holidays, but I hate Christmas because I'm jealous of those who have a family!"

Laugh became silent really soon and almost black eyes started to look somewhere in the distance.

— Thank you, really, but this is already at the ... Completely different level. When you are alone, at home, year after year, many holidays begin to lose their meaning... That's all.

Aiden looked away in shame, pursing his lips. Still, the secret was his alone. It was a big stupidity on his part. He understands it by himself. After all, it’s holiday, and people are not to blame for his own misfortune. But at least , needs to pour out this pain somewhere.

But, unexpectedly for Aiden, he was squeezed in these arms, like someone else's life depended on it. There was a sharp sob from the door. Then quiet, but then the sobs became more and they were louder.

— YATO, YOU'RE A PIECE OF SUGAR ICE-!

And with the same surprise, Eugene flew into them, deceiving and knocking the young men into the snow.

— EUGENE, WE'LL ALL GET SICK BECAUSE OF YOU!

Meadow yelled, detection to get up, but the carcass of the younger sister did not allow it, holding everyone in a vise, saying the chain.

— I DON'T CARE, LET ME HUG YOU, ICUCLE!

Eugene retorted, continuing to whimper and hug the already confused Irishman. And then, put two and two together, he understood. She just stood outside the door the whole time. Breathing out, he just laughed. Sincere. All the same, it was absurd, but so ... Humanly. And now they are all covered in snow.

It hardly changed his attitude towards Christmas. But... The first steps have already been taken.

***

– And w-w-why didn’t you get sick?

Two swarthy snouts peeked out from the blankets as Aiden sat across from him, sipping cocoa in a way that looked like it was meant to be. Nasty asshole.

— The ice curse has its own advantages. For example, seeing this.

— P-pest...

He winked at them as he sipped more.

Yes. The first steps are well taken.

MERRY (AGAIN LATE) CHRISTMAS

(to one who still read me)

Its was really uneasy year for me. WILD ride i can say. But hey. Happy holidays everyone. Don't make any misfortune make you sad okay?

@witchy-push

(давай залеза�� сюда)

[cowboycakes]

Hi! ur writing is incredible and i saw that requests were open and i just had to go for it. could you possible write a ReinerxFem! reader where she’s really seriously injured and tries to hide it from everyone, until she passes out in Reiner’s arms (cliche i’m sorry) and he’s just SO mad at himself for not noticing before and he’s so worried and he cares for the reader so much while she’s unconscious and after she wakes up? Just like so much fluff and angst and Reiner being a guilty fucker as he is but also like extremely protective and caring? Sorry it’s so specific. Thank you!🥺❤️

Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this fluffy little piece!

Tender Loving Care 

Pairing: Reiner Braun x fem!Reader

Themes: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, Reiner’s guilty ass 

Warnings: Reader uses she/her pronouns, severe injury/blood and bleeding/recovery, fainting, hospital setting, profanity

Word Count: 1.5k

You stumble into the medical tent, plopping your sweaty body down on a cot. Dirt covered hands rummage through a med kit until they come across a bundle of white bandages. You form them tightly around your thigh, applying pressure that you hoped would stop the bleeding. You’d really messed up on the mission today, completely misfiring your ODM gear when the first titan came into view. Your legs hit a tree branch, hard. Nerves would often get the best of you like that.

And now you’re left with the consequence - a giant gash. The sight of it made you feel faint. Blood wouldn’t cease to seep through the mesh material surrounding your wound, even after rewrapping it a few times.

You pack some extra gauze into it before trying to stand up and go to find the rest of the group. Before you take your first step, the tent door flies open. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! What’s wrong?” Reiner shouts, rushing over to your side. 

You secretly relished in the feeling of him worrying for you sometimes. 

This whole dynamic between the two of you began from a chance pairing in some training exercises. Reiner had played the cocky tough guy at first, trying to show off and take over every exercise the two of you were supposed to do together. This irritated you to no end, obviously. Your solution was to get under his skin: make him laugh, tease him and poke at him until that hard headed exterior of his cracked. With time, it eventually did, revealing a big softie who cared for you more than he’d like to admit. 

“Just me folding under pressure. The usual,” you sigh, taping your bandages down, “it’s just a scratch.”

“Don’t lie, let me see it,” he says gently, crouching down in front of you to inspect your injury. 

“No!” you laugh as you press a hand onto your bandage, “I’m perfectly fine! We need to get going, anyway.”

Reiner looks up to you, unimpressed. He could always see right through your fibs. You smile guiltily at him as he stands up. 

“I’m not convinced that’s just a scratch,” Reiner mumbles.

“Sure it is! Just watch,” you declare as you walk toward the exit. 

You couldn’t hide your limp. 

“Nope. Absolutely not,” Reiner interrupts. He stands in front of you and motions for you to get on his back. You sigh, but reluctantly climb on anyway. 

You loop your arms around his neck as he moves his hands to support your thighs, being extra careful around your injury. 

The pain wasn’t getting any duller, even though you weren’t trying to walk now. You lay your cheek down on Reiner’s shoulder as his big strides carried you toward the horse and cart that was set to take everyone back to headquarters. Your body goes limp on the short journey, feet dangling and heavy eyes closing. 

Reiner gently sets you down beside him whenever you two reach your ride. He instinctively puts a big arm around your sore shoulders, pulling your body in close to his warm chest. 

“That better just be a scratch, or you’re never gonna hear the end of it,” Reiner teases, squeezing your arm. 

You huff in response, closing your eyes again. 

The rest of the group eventually arrives at the cart - most of them as sweaty and beat up as you were. However, you were feeling weaker by the minute. 

“Woah, y/n, you ok? You look pale...” you hear Annie question as she boards the cart.

You look down to your leg, quick to cover it with your hands before Reiner could see. Blood had made its way through your bandaging again.

“Yeah, I’m just fine,” you laugh nervously, “thanks Annie.”

You weren’t fine. You were becoming increasingly lightheaded - feeling yourself break into a cold sweat as your breathing becomes shallow.

The cart eventually starts to move, its wooden wheels creaking as it makes its way over the bumpy path home. You try to focus on the scenery moving around you, but your vision is too blurred. 

The state of your body was now making you nervous. You decide to close your eyes and lean your head against Reiner’s chest, gripping a sweaty hand on the back of his shirt, trying to ground yourself.  He rubs his hand up and down your arm slowly in response, calming you down a bit.

“We’re almost home. I’ll get you feeling better once we’re there, ok?” Reiner says.

“Ok…” you smile, beginning to feel yourself fade in and out a bit.

The cart finally comes to a halt. Reiner stands up before you and helps your woozy legs to straighten with the support of his hand in yours. He steps off the wooden cart first, opening his arms up so he could pick you up again. 

“Reiner, I’m okay,” you say, letting go of his hand, “promise.”

You look down at the dusty ground from your position on the cart, now standing completely unassisted.

Ok, just a small step, right? Three feet at most. Just move your foot forward, out into the abyss below the cart. 

Suddenly, your vision is a mere tunnel, blackness encroaching rapidly from the outsides of your eyes. Your body is in free fall, no longer under control of your mind. 

The last thing you sense is a pair of big arms catching you princess style. 

••••••••

“Dammit!” Reiner hisses, turning fast on his heels toward the infirmary. He’s quick to dodge the other scouts walking away from the cart, moving as fast as he could while keeping your limp body still in his arms. 

I’m always so fucking oblivious. Why do I ever listen to her? Always trying so hard to make sure she’s not being a burden. Of course she was lying to me, why couldn’t I have just taken better care of her from the start?

He slides through the infirmary front doors, alerting some nurses behind the desk of your condition. He keeps you tight in his arms as they swiftly guide you to a room. You let out a little groan once he sets you down on the hospital cot. 

God dammit. This is all my fault. Damn I can’t stand to see her face like this, all tensed up - she must be in so much pain. Shit, I am not about to tear up right now. 

Nurses rush over to you, quick to put you on some fluids and start sewing up your leg. Your condition quickly stabilizes, allowing the nurses to give you some much needed time to sleep off your injuries. 

Reiner insisted on taking over the nurses' duties after that point. Big, gentle hands would change out your bandaging every so often, along with keeping cold rags on your head and holding your hand when looks of discomfort appeared on your face. In his mind, it was the least he could do to subdue his guilt - to make it up to you.

He sat there all night, a big nervous mess in the chair he pulled up next to you. He hated getting so emotional like this, especially around someone who he needed to believe he was invincible. Luckily for him, you were still sleeping like a baby, unaware of his concerns. 

You finally open your groggy eyes early in the morning - the sun hasn't even peaked over the horizon yet. Your unfocused gaze wanders to the side of the bed. 

There he is - his head sits in his hand as he stares out the dark window from his chair. His short blonde hair is disheveled, probably from nervous hands running through it all night. Dark circles encompass his upper cheeks. He clearly hadn’t slept a wink.

“Hey,” you whisper.

Reiner jumps a little bit from his daze, quickly turning to look at you. He lets out a long sigh of relief, wiping a hand down his tense face.

“You had me worried sick,” he grumbles. You hum in response, a sleepy smile accidentally forms across your cheeks.

He half-smiles back, studying the sweet look on your face, “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Did you sleep?” you question.

He blushes a little, “You don’t need to be worrying about me, y/n.”

You scoot over on your cot, pulling the sheets down to expose a little spot for him to lay. His eyes get wide, darting back and forth between you and the empty half of the bed a few times.

He gets up from his chair quietly and makes his way to your bed, sliding under the white sheets and placing his tired head on the pillow. You move in close, placing your head in the nook between his chest and his bicep. A muscular arm wraps around your waist as his head leans over to rest against yours.

The two of you lay together in the silence of the hospital, chests rising and falling at slowing rates. You felt completely at ease now, knowing all the lengths Reiner had gone to in order to keep you safe.

“You know, once I wake up,” he yawns, his words becoming slower and slower as sleep creeps over him, “you're never… gonna… hear… the end of it.”

[babytaes]

afterglow

➳  summary:  You, too, lived in a colorless world, trying to connect with it. How long would you have to wait for that one to brighten it up and let you see the real world?

❥  pairing: wonwoo x female reader

❥ genre: angst, fluff, kinda soulmate au.....?

❥ word count: 7k (sorry, mans is my bias and I had to ;)

❥ warning: mentions of death.

➳ part of the song series

↳  Imagine a world like that,

We go like up 'til I'm 'sleep on your chest

Love how my face fits so good in your neck

You had a twin brother who was everything to you. Everything was always you two, from the endless amounts of laughter to the sneaky efforts to take Christmas cookies early in the morning.

With him, everything seems to be so colorful; in your lifetime, everyone was given a companion who may be a friend, sibling, or lover. It was simply something that you treasured. As a result, the alternatives were numerous.

You had no idea how much his life meant to you. He was your second half, and now you'd been split in half, with one gone and the other remaining.

Months passed, and your relationship with him became increasingly dimmer and dimmer. The brilliant hues faded in and out, with black and white patches becoming more prominent.

That awful day, unfortunately, was the last time you saw color. His light had faded from the world, and all that was left was black and white.

With him gone, your entire life seemed pointless, even your day-to-day existence. No splash of color to brighten things up.

“Y/N, I'll never forget you, big sister. Thank you for the enjoyable and considerate memories, and don't let this stunt your growth, please do that for me. As the beeper went off, he began to cough incessantly.

“Helpppp anyone.” As your parents draw you back into their arms, you hear many doctors rush into the room.

There was nothing they could do; his hue had vanished from this world. When you opened your tear-streaked eyes and examined your hands, you noticed that the formerly vivid cream palms had turned gray.

As if all colors were abruptly bleached out of the world, revealing a universe of whiteness—the rainbow, flowers, trees, and art, everything freshly bleached and pearled. The last vestige of color had vanished from your life, and you had been broken since then, heartbroken over the loss of your dearest friend.

“Y/n, hey you're good, we could use your help.” As you glanced to the side, you noticed that one of your employees had just spilled some water from the mop bucket.

As you approach their side, you assist them in mopping up the mess while sweeping aimlessly across the floor, making sure to get every spot. Due to your new life of no color it reflected on your life emotionally.

As the days passed, you became increasingly depressed and unmotivated. There wasn't a single day when you didn't feel mopey or lonely. It wasn't like anyone could help me; it was just the challenge of living a life without color.

Although you sincerely desired to overcome this phase of your life and simply find the right person to fill that void, life did not work in your favor at the time. Everyone around you seemed to be looking for or had already found their "person."

All you wanted was to find the person who could restore your hope and love, which had been taken away when your brother died. Your parents did everything they could to assist you, including setting you up on strange and ineffective dates that just added to your unhappiness.

Nobody could replace that color that your brother provided for you, or maybe someone could? 

"I'm off," you remarked as you pulled off your apron and clocked out in the back. As you stepped out the door, you heard a flurry of goodbyes before closing it behind you.

The world never shifted when the clock struck five.

As you strolled down the crowded streets, the sky before and above you remained grey, never letting up that cloak of shade. A melodious music gradually pours into your ears as you go down the bustling sidewalk.

You follow the dazzling yet tranquil sound of the guitar aimlessly as you imagine music notes flying through the fall air. You cautiously open your tired eyes and spot the crowd to figure out where these tunes are coming from.

Looking up, you spotted a swarm encircling a male, but you couldn't tell who it was. However, it was the music that drew you in; you'd heard that melody before. Even if you weren't musically inclined, you could hear that tune anywhere.

It was his, the one he wrote for you.

--

You dashed outside to see your brother strumming a tune on the grass with his guitar. Your brother possessed a talent for music. It is a condition that many people are born with, and you were fortunate that your brother was one of them.

He didn't go a day without making up or humming something he'd learned. It was frustrating to hear it every day, but it was still lovely to witness his enthusiasm for it.

“Hey, what are you cooking up this time?”  As he began to strum the guitar, he turned around and grinned at you. You couldn't understand what he was mumbling, but it sounded lovely as his fingers casually slid across the strings.

“I don't have the lyrics yet, but I'm sure they'll come. You laughed and nudged his shoulder.

“Just don’t go play at 3 in the morning. Okay?”

“It's not my fault that's typically when the inspiration comes,” he grumbled as he rolled his eyes.

As you raced away from him, you swiftly took his guitar, saying, "Well, I guess that inspiration will have to wait." He leapt from his seat and dashed towards you, yelling your name.

You had no idea that would be his final song; you regret not listening to the finished product; you never knew if he finished it. However, when you got closer to the enticing sound, you observed a young man strumming a guitar, and your ears perked up.

A slender man with long fingers and a quirky side smile, perhaps a musician, delicately touched a golden acoustic guitar, playing her ever so elegantly. You stand there, enthralled by the song, as his hands strum and tug the steel strings of the guitar. You take a cautious step closer to him in order to get a better look.

Allowing the music to take control of your body, you take a deep breath and allow an ounce of hope to creep in. From miles away, the formerly lovely and alive girl could be seen racing to you as you opened your arms to her.

You tried desperately to reach her before she vanished into thin air. The glint had disappeared. As you slowly open your eyes, you notice the man stop playing and gazes up at the audience.

As a smile crept across your face, the edges of your lips began to curl up. You'd forgotten what a smile looked like; you hadn't seen one in a long time, and it just felt natural. Even though he was gone, you could sense his presence. As you began to back away from the mob, tears began to flow freely from your eyes.

As you faded from his view and moved away from the crowd, the boy cast a peek at you. You swear you saw a glimpse of color rushing through your orbs, even if it was just for a split second. You couldn't tell if this was a joke or a new experience for you because you were more terrified than excited.

Could you trust that vision? Would they leave your life like he once did or would they stay? (IT)

Although you wanted to stay and figure it out you had somewhere to be and you didn’t want anyone to waste that special time.

(1 hour later)

Opening the rusted gate and looking at the wrought iron fences sends shivers down your spine as you are whisked back to that tragic day.

--

As you headed towards the pit, a crack formed in your heart. As they lowered his casket into the black abyss, the steady steps of feet carried it there. Countless shadowy figures form a procession, speaking in unison to pay their respects to the one you cherish. Your inner essence is corrupted by despair, and your heart bleeds like a river inside. Nothing could ever make you feel better.

As they began to fill the hole with dirt, tears welled up in your eyes, prompting you to lower your head. He didn't want you to be sad; he knew his time was coming to an end, yet he felt so safe in his final days.

He wasn't going to abandon you; he'd promised you that he'd left you something to aid you along the path. Even if that were the case, you never discovered it after four years. You rummaged through his room and tore it apart.

You quickly recognized that he was either joking or that the drug had taken effect in his brain and he was talking gibberish. In any case, you made a pledge to visit his grave every day from that day forward to keep him company and to keep yourself sane.

---

Clutching onto your bag, the leaves crunched beneath your feet as you peered about. You see specks of people strewn throughout the cemetery as you hear some speak in low whispers. It didn't take you long to find his gravestone.

You noticed the dead flowers drooping over as you took them out of their vase beside the tomb. Replacing them always brought joy to your heart as the sight of a fresh bouquet of flowers brightened the somber ambiance, which contrasted with the mold-infested tomb.

Taking out your cleaning supplies and speaker, you start working on his tomb while listening to his favorite music. As you hummed along with the song, your soft-bristle brush softly scrubbed the headstone in an orbital motion from bottom to top, carefully avoiding the fissures.

As you finished the soap, you began to rinse the stone as dirt and debris began to fall off the tomb. Although you couldn't determine if everything was off, you could plainly see the phrases and symbols, which was a good hint to stop cleaning everything off.

You wanted to do more for him and not leave any dirt on the surface. But because everything was gray, you couldn't tell, which made you sulk as you put down your brush. As you check the clock on your phone, you exhale a sigh of relief.

7:23p.m

Looking around, you noticed the stragglers had dispersed, leaving you alone as you gazed up at the sky.

“I hope the sunset looks beautiful today, I do miss it.”

The late evening sunset was the one thing you missed more than your brother; you had always admired how everything just flowed and fit together in the evening sky. It's almost as if someone began painting and simply let their hand float through the air.

As you turned to face his tomb, another smile appeared on your face, prompting you to go into your bag for something. As you placed down a cup for you and him, you chuckled at the bottle revealed beneath the sky.

“Lucas, here's to another day. It's been difficult in recent years, but today was a good day. I sensed your presence through the music of some random person; it was strange, but I'm glad I was there to see it. So thank you,” you say, raising your shot glass in the air and taking a sip.

As you heard a voice, you wiped a stray tear from your face.

“I'm sorry for bothering you.”

“Shit, what the hell,” you cursed the dark figure, startled and terrified. Who is there? As you squint your eyes at him, a male emerges from the shadows.

It's him.

----

You cough as you stand up and face the nameless man, he extends his hand as his glasses slide down his narrow nose, “Hi I’m Wonwoo.”

You take his hand in yours and shake it slowly, his grip firm until you let go.

“Hi..wonwoo? “I'm Y/n.” As the boy grinned at you, your voice was barely audible.

He takes a careful step alongside you and sits down close to your brother's grave, placing a case beside him. As you enlarged your eyes and sat down next to him, still observing him, the atmosphere felt reassuring but strange.

“I apologize for startling you; I didn't know that you were there. I’m not sure if your brother mentioned me but I was his friend, we used to write songs together.” As he turned to face you, you noticed the tall man attempting to cross his legs.

You shook your head as you began to gather your belongings, unsure of who this man was. For all you knew, he may be lying to you, so you needed to get out of there as soon as possible. You rose up and began walking away after securing the zipper on your backpack.

“Wait, you don’t have to leave. I can come back another time. I am truly sorry if I interrupted anything."

“No, it's fine,” you say with a shake of your head and outstretched hands.

“Are you sure?”

You walk away again, nodding your head as you hear his voice and a familiar tune.

You came to a halt in your tracks as you slowly turned around to face the boy after hearing a faint melody. As your ears perked up, you heard a low voice.

‘I stand still before you before me. I’m okay, not okay..” The lyrics faded out as you started to find your bearings again as you made your way out of the cemetery. As you stepped toward the road, you strapped your bag on, making sure you had everything you needed.

A girl out on a walk is something you can see every day, yet you were unique. You walked as if you and the road had reached an agreement, as if the concrete was more than eager to support your feet.

The road understood you.

*Ping*

The light of your phone lit up as you clicked on the message.

Mom: Hey sweetie, I dropped off some food at your apartment and did some tidying up. Get home safety. 

You: Thanks mom.

Her message brought back memories of days when you and her would cook together and simply bond over the end result. You missed it. Because you live in different places, you don't get to see your parents very frequently, yet they always made time for you.

I wish you could do the same; home is just too much for you to stomach, and you'd rather avoid it.

You reach the corner street after a few more steps, ready to begin your one-mile trek home. As you look back after exhaling a sigh, you hear rumbling on your feet. An automobile approached you, its bright headlights blazing directly at you.

You shifted to the side, squinting your eyes at the sight, and wonwoo greeted you again before you realized it. He grinned at you with his dazzling whites as he bent his head down.

what is with this guy?

Hey, hop in, I'll give you a ride. It's becoming late, and I don't want you walking through here.”  As you took a step back, wary of the stranger, he moved his hand closer to you.

“Um.. No-no I’m okay. However, thank you.” As you heard his engine trailing behind you, you began to walk faster. He followed you for a few seconds longer before you came to a complete halt and stared at him.

Through the windshield, you could see him smirk as he waved his hand to you.

“It'll be a lot faster, and if you're worried I'll kidnap you or anything, don't fret. I'm allergic to cats, and I'm a cat person myself. As a result, I assure you that I will not harm you. I just wanted to help a friend.” You moved over to his car, smiled a little, and hopped in, securing yourself with your seatbelt.

“If you do anything I have some bleach and I’m not afraid to use it,” he chuckled at you as he started the car and proceeded to exit the cemetery.

“You’re funny.”

As you gave wonwoo your address he proceeded to drive out of the rural neighborhood as you put your head on the window. You didn't realize it at the time, but you could feel his penetrating glances.

The car was quiet as the low sounds of music vibrated through the car. When you weren't driving, car journeys were the best since they enabled your mind to fantasize and paint over the enormous landscape you were seeing. That haven you built in your imagination calms you and makes you feel protected. The place where you may get away from reality.

As soon as your eyes close for the night, you hear him humming a familiar tune. Rather than remaining silent, you begin a conversation with him, inquiring as to how he learned the song.

“So how did you meet Lucas?” As he laughed, he cast a peek at you.

“Well, I met him at a college party a long time ago and discovered he makes music, so we used to meet up at a friend's studio and just create.” You lightly chuckled as a tear fell down your face as you nodded your head.

It was good to hear other people talk about your other half; it was almost as if he was there with you right now.

You were worried when he gave you brief glances since his eyes were off the road, but as he spoke, you felt protected because he spoke highly of your brother.

“Well, I'm not sure if he mentioned you, but the last song we were working on was one he wrote for you, and he said it was a gift.” As you turned to face him after hearing that final statement, your eyes widened.

“He—he said those exact words, a gift?”

As he rounded the corner and approached your apartment complex building, he shook his head. You could see his shoulder resting on the window sill as he put the car in park.

You hesitantly walk out of the car, stuttering as you gather your belongings, and turn to face him.

“Thank you for the ride; did Lucas mention anything else about the song?” “He wasn't quite finished with it, but he did give me and my other friend some crucial stuff to get it done,” he said as you pressed your face closer to the window.

Your heart began to race as you realized that things were beginning to turn around for you; perhaps this wonwoo boy was destined to be in your life. Lucas' way of demonstrating that he took great care of you.

“Would you like to work on it together sometime?”

Inside, it felt as if the creatures were finally waking up from their rehabilitation and making their way into the real world. Even if it took a while, this new form of relief made you feel alive again. You were adamant about working more to reclaim your color.

In some way, wonwoo was the key to it all. 

“Yes, a hundred times yes,” you answered, smiling like a kid in a candy store as you handed him your phone. “Just let me know when you're free.”

Wonwoo returned your phone to you, which you joyfully accepted and placed in your pocket. As you walked to your door, you waved your hand at him and cried out to him one final time.

“Thank you”

“For what?” As you entered the flat and locked the door behind you, you waved your hand at him. You let out a sigh and shake your head as you slid down to the floor.

“What a day” 

---

(4 weeks later)

It seemed like you and wonwoo had entered a very unique connection in the last few weeks. He made every effort not to cross any boundaries, both physically and emotionally. Regardless of the fact that you were his closest friend's sister, he was always respectful to you.

Even if that is what he sees from his perspective, you felt more alive when you were with him. Although you could still see gray and couldn't bask in all of his glory, it gave you hope that one day, whenever that time came, you'd be able to see him and everything else.

That was something you lacked previously: hope. Everyone around you including your parents could see a significant change in your life.

--

“Hey, honey, how's it going at work?” Before taking your purse, your mother kissed your cheek and opened the door for you.

As you met her at your old house, a smile emerged on your face. It was your first visit home in a while, and seeing you there brought joy to their hearts, despite the difficult years you've had.

“Everything has been going well, and I just wanted to drop by and see how you're doing. I miss seeing you and dad.”

“Is that my beautiful daughter, am I seeing things right?” your father exclaimed as he emerged from the back. As a tear trickled down your cheek, you watched as he raced over to you and hugged you.

As he stared at your face and admired it, the hue in front of you remained gray.

“Such lovely brown eyes,"  It pained your soul that you couldn't remember what they looked like since gray dulled everything and made you forget.

“Thank you, dad, but instead of fawning me, let's play some games. Just because life is bleak doesn't mean I can't be your ass at Monopoly.”

Your mother, gasping at your remark, watched from the back, her eyes welling up with tears as she marveled at a sight she hadn't seen in a long time.

“Moooom, don't start sobbing or dad will start crying,” you said as you turned around.

She comes over to your side and wraps you and your father in a hug, sandwiching you between them. It felt good because you were missing these times with your folks. You couldn't stay at home when your brother died; you had to leave and get away. Everything was just too much for you as things started to remind you of him.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“I'm really proud of you for coming here and having the confidence to do so. I understand how difficult it must be for you, but thank you.” Through the loud sniffles between you all, you started to feel warm as you wiped your tears.

“All right, no more crying; let's get down to business.” You dashed over to the couch and snatched up Monopoly from the board game box, motioning for them to join you. They chuckled as you began to pull everything out as they made their way over.

As loud yells and laughter echoed out throughout the home, the night was fresh and enjoyable. There were times when you were terrified you'd lose, but you couldn't let your champion status lapse.

Your mother said, "Noo, you're cheating."

“No, I'm not; there's a house there, and you need to pay up or I'll put you in jail.” Between the two, your father snickers and keeps his mouth shut. He was well aware of the rules.

“All right, but that wasn't there before.”

With a chuckle, you shook your head and held out your hand, saying, "excuses excuses."

As you turned off your alarm, it rang at 8:00 p.m. You wouldn't have realized the difference between night and day if it hadn't been for alarm clocks. You jumped up in triumph after placing one more piece on the board.

“And that's why I remain Monopoly's ruler.”

You witnessed your parents give up as they lifted their hands in surrender. They both remark, "Fine, you win," as they begin to clean up the mess. Taking the stray cups and bowls from the tables you set them in the sink as you turned to watch your parents.

It's been a long time since you've been back here, and you've certainly missed the atmosphere. Lucas wouldn't want me to miss out on this opportunity.

“Why don't I come on weekends and bring back board game nights?” As your parents turned back, you uttered, "Next time, I'll bring a friend."

“Oh, it would be wonderful; the more the better.”

As you walked back over to them, you hugged them as they kissed your head.

“You go, we'll take care of this; the drive back is long,” your father remarked as he took your bag and handed it to you.

“Thank you guys, and I love you and the night we just had.” As you approached the door, you waved goodbye before closing it.

“No thank you, love,” your mother said as she and your father watched you leave the home and get into your car.

After one last look at the house, you back out of the driveway and go down the street, looking forward to the day ahead.

Studio day!

--

You yawn as your body startles you up after taking a deep breath of fresh air. As you slowly open your eyes and look out the window, you breathe a sigh of relief. Something felt different. The chirping of the birds outside made you feel cheerful, not sad.

As your vision remained a little lighter, you began to blink your eyes faster. It wasn't your typical gray morning, and you thought it was growing lighter. The gray was gradually dissipating. You grinned as you considered your color returning.

What prompted this?

It didn't matter because today was dedicated to finishing your song; you, wonwoo, and his friend Mingyu had completed all but the title. You stretch one more time before heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

When you get to the mirror, you take a look at yourself. The person in front of you had radically transformed; she had forgotten about her flaws and insecurities, and her heart now held more love. This woman didn't pick apart everything that was wrong with her; instead, she supported herself.

She was unrecognizable, and the old girl in the mirror was finally slipping away. You began to smile more frequently and laugh a little more, and the air around you became warmer rather than frigid. Someone's love had seeped into her heart and begun to unfreeze its hardness.

And that person was wonwoo, which you didn't realize until you looked in the mirror. If you've observed it, chances are that others have as well. And you were grateful for his help in getting you out of that gloomy situation. You were able to regain your trust and begin letting people in again, which made you pleased.

Lucas would be incredibly proud of you, and you didn't want to disappoint him again. You intended to honor his memory and keep him alive in your heart, rather than allowing the past to plague you and prevent you from living your life.

He would have wanted that. 

As you stepped inside, you turned on the shower and stripped off your clothing. You had to find a method to repay wonwoo for his compassion. You would not have gotten this far without him and his musical gift, and you were grateful for him.

"I could take him to our place," you offer as you turn off the water and grab a towel from the shower.

“Yeah he would like that.”

----

Work seemed to fly by as your mind raced at a hundred miles per hour. You had everything planned out and had recruited the support of your parents to help you set up.

Your manager tapped your shoulder and asked, "Hey y/n, you okay?" As you dropped the pencil, you flinched.

“Oh sorry, just spacing out.” He shook his head as he spoke out, “For the rest of your shift you can take off if you want, we’re going to close earlier than usual. If you're leaving, clean out the coffee machine and be on your way.”

You enlarged your eyes as your jaw dropped, and you raced into his arms, squeezing him tightly. Your boss chuckled awkwardly as he gently pushed you away from him. For some reason, everything seemed to be working in your favor today. As you rush to get ready, you begin working on the machine, your smile never leaving your face.

You sped to the back room, clocking out and placing your apron into your locker, as you were done in no time. As you walked to the front, you waved goodbye to your manager before heading to your car in the parking area.

“What's the matter with her? That's the first time I've ever seen her that happy. Hmm”

And with that you were on your way to your parents house as you sent a quick text to wonwoo. As you grinned as you placed your phone in the dash holder, you came to a stop light.

You: Hey cancel today's session, I have a place to go to. It may also provide us with better title recommendations. You down??

Wonwoo:) Yes, that sounds excellent; the studio can become claustrophobic. Send me the address and a time frame for my arrival.

You: *address name*. Bring your guitar and meet there in 2 hours.

Wonwoo:) Oh okay. Can’t wait to see you there!

(read 5:45 p.m.)

Even though you weren’t nervous you wanted everything to be special, wonwoo deserved it for all that he has done for you in the past weeks.

You let yourself go as you blast songs down the road, pressing play on your playlist. You didn't notice it at first, but the color was gently sneaking in as you drove around. As creams and beige colors drifted in and out, the outsides of your eyes began to lift.

As you turned off the headlights and opened the door, it didn't take long for you to arrive at your destination. You smiled as you got your belongings from the car and made your way up the hill, finding your parents already set up.

You drop your belongings on the blanket and walk up to hug them, saying, "Hey guys." As they begin to chat with you, they embrace you in a friendly hug.

“So we set up all of the essential elements, such as lighting, a seating area, and refreshments in the cooler and basket.” As she began to indicate the various components, your mother explained. As she brought you around the hill to the tree, she took your hand in hers.

“You remember when you and Lucas did this?” You laugh as you remember that day as you place your palm on the antique carving.

-- “Noo I'd like to go first; you always go first.” You sighed as Lucas took up the knife and began carving his name into the tree.

“You better not cry and tell mom,” he remarked, turning to face you and seeing your glum demeanor. As you passed past him, you stood up straighter, rolling your eyes at him and snatching the knife from his grip.

“I'm not a baby like you,” you say. As he huffed and hurried toward mom, you heard him scoff.

“Mommmm y/n referring to me as a baby. And I'm not one of them. You stood there watching as he stomped his foot and landed on Mom's lap. Your father chuckles, rubbing his back and shaking his head at his wife.

As you return to the blanket, you cross your arms and say, "Well, then, quit acting like one."

That erupted in an outburst as he started to whine on mommy lap.

He did, in fact, act like a baby. Wiping a tear from your eyes as you chuckle, you hold your mother closer as you kiss her on the forehead.

“Hey we have an hour left before wonwoo get here, I'm going to head to the house to clean up. If he arrives early, keep him entertained.” As she watches you descend the hill, your mother shakes her head.

As you pull out of the parking lot, you put your foot down on the accelerator and drive over to your parents' house.

(45 minutes later)

Wonwoo approaches the destination, looking out the windshield as he spots some lights on the hill. As he steps out of the automobile, he notices two people moving around. He smiles as he collects his guitar from the rear and walks up the hill, noting the serene atmosphere.

“Those should go over by the tree and make sure they don't fall.” Wonwoo enters the place, his eyes widening. Fluorescent bulbs fanned out along the tops of the trees, each with a different picture on it, surrounding him.

As he looks down, he notices a blanket with a speaker playing music and the champagne.

Your parents finally turn around, gasping, when your mother rushes over to welcome him, saying, "Forgive us, we didn't hear anything, you must be wonwoo." That's y/n father over there, and I'm y/n mother.” As she introduces you to your father, she smiles and gives you a motherly look.

On this magnificent evening, only a few minutes had passed when you approached the hill once more. You take a brief glance in the mirror before applying some Chapstick. Rubbing it in you open the door as you look up on the hill, you hear conversations as you panic up the hill.

“So this is y/n, she was quite the messy twin when she was a baby-”

“What are you doing, Mom?” You walk over to her, ashamed, and place yourself between you and wonwoo, speaking quietly to her.

“I said to entertain him not embarrass me.”

“Oh, you're overthinking things; did you know he's friends with Lucas?” You chuckle as you grab your father and mother and begin bickering as you force them out of the location. As they descend the slope, they wave goodbye to you and wonwoo.

Taking one look at him, you notice his amusing state; he was cheesing so hard that his rosy cheeks were visible.

“Sorry about them.”

“It's fine; all parents do it.” They simply adore you.” You cross your legs and shake your head as you sit on the blanket, passing him a wine cup.

“To another wonderful day and a wonderful friendship.” Wonwoo takes out the champagne from the cooler as he opens it and sprays the excess in front of you.

“Ahh, you're spilling it” As you giggle at his action, the extra juice pours on your face. You reach for a napkin to wipe the wetness off your face as he takes one in front of you.

“Here, let me take care of it.” He leans in closer as he wipes the liquid from your face before resuming his seat. As your stomach begins to become a #1 gymnast, that simple action sends you spiraling.

“Th-thanks”

He smiles as he pours you a drink for both of you, and as he does so, you grab his guitar box and pry it open, admiring the golden beauty inside. Picking it up, you begin strumming a few chords of the nameless song while moving your head to the beat.

“Wow, you're actually pretty good.”

“I did have a good teacher, Lucas taught me a few things, but I only recall a few chords, so it may become irritating after a while.”

Wonwoo hands you the glass as you take it in your hand, and as you take a sip of the bubbly drink, you hand him the guitar.

As you take another sip, your spirits lift as you stare out at the scenery in front of you. You hear wonwoo begin to play the tune while you stare off towards the colorless world.

“Ruinous imagination consumes me. Makes me dream sweeter dreams, I close my eyes but thoughts of you. Bring noisy night, to you & me, real and dreamy.” 

You sway back and forth as his voice soothes your body, his palm brushing over the guitar while his eyelids close, taking in the lyrics.

As you look up at him, you say, "Thank you." It's unavoidable, but tears stream down your face with no attempt to wipe them away.

“Th-thank you foreverythingyouhave-“ you say quickly and brokenly.

���Hey hey, calm down, I can't understand what you're saying,” he says as he scoots over to you and pats your shoulder. You both laugh as you start over, this time with more poise.

“I wanted to express my gratitude to you for genuinely improving my life. You probably don't know, but my relationship with Lucas was incredible; we were never apart, and when he passed, I couldn't live without him. I've struck rock bottom a few times and done some unfathomable things that I'm ashamed of, and I'm sincerely grateful that I've survived another day.”

Wonwoo drew you into a hug and caressed your back as he ceased patting your shoulder. As you sob into his shoulder, the tears begin to flow again.

“Sorry for interrupting, but it seemed like you needed one,” he says as you continue, releasing leave of you.

“To put it simply, you have brought me so much joy and optimism that I am overwhelmed. It's not the same without Lucas, but I'm grateful you entered my life at this point. So thank you; I don't know how to express my gratitude.”

You come to a halt as he looks at you through his round spectacles, and as you become concerned, you begin to look down.

“Sorry if I just spewed all that out.”

“No, it's fine.” I truly appreciate it, and I'm glad I was able to restore a sense of hope in your life. I may not be Lucas, but I will do my best to pay tribute to his memory.

You smile as you feel a wave of self-assurance and an overpowering sensation of bravery wash over you.

When you bring wonwoo closer to you and kiss him on the lips, everything inside of you turns on, and your body begins to feel alive again, exactly like it did before.

“I'm sorry I should have asked you first-“ You release him and lean back as you watch him.

He silenced your words with his lips as his hands wrapped around your neck.

Everything comes rushing back to you in an instant, like a blanket being pulled off of you. As you open your eyes again, you let go of each other. The difference this time is that you can see him.

As he smiled at you, you could see his cheeks flush with scarlet. You can see his silver rings around his slender fingers as his hands slip away from your neck.

You slowly turn around to face the sinking light on the horizon. As if a million scarlet petals have ignited, the sunset blooms on the horizon.

You expected the tears to flow this time as you stood up and walked closer to the cliff's edge. As you stared at the gorgeous view in front of you, you undoubtedly looked a mess.

You collapse to your knees and exclaim, "I can see it!"

Wonwoo approaches you slowly, bending down with you and holding you in his arms.

“See what?”

As you held him again, your snot-filled tear-streaked face turned to his.

“The color has returned, and I can see it now.” As he gasps, he pulls you back.

“Wait, are you serious, what color shirt am I wearing?” 

“IT'S GREEN, YOUR SHIRT IS GREEN!!” Wonwoo scoops you up and spins you again in an instant. You lay another kiss on his lips as you chuckle into his lips, unsure of what to do.

The clouds floated into my life, not to bring rain or storms, but to add color to the sunset sky.

He picks up the polaroid camera off the ground and takes a candid shot of you. After he pecked your cheek once more, he smiled as he wanted to remember this special day.

You send wonwoo off to find a knife from the basket as the photo develops. You observe him as he runs around the area like a child, and you smile as the photo develops.

You've probably seen images where the background is blurred and the only thing in focus is the subject of the photograph. That was us. Every other detail became hazy as I concentrated on every facet of him.

You didn't realize how fortunate you were until now; he was the special someone you had wished for eons ago.

Everything felt even better when your color returned, and you knew deep down that everything was going to be well.

It was all because of wonwoo.

Your brother left you a gift, the lovely gift of music, which was seen via wonwoo.

Yes, your brother had been your best friend, and yes, he had left you. But, as you found a great friend, the life he presumably wanted for you had only just begun.

You hoped that with him, you would be able to treasure the love you had just as much as you did while you were together.

“Hey, wonwoo, I have a song title, also follow me.”

As he began heading toward you, he turned around and looked at you. You've both arrived at the same tree that was planted many years ago.

He gives you the knife as you start placing your name under your past self. As he watches you cry, Wonwoo does the same.

*Forever, Y/n, Wonwoo, and Lucas*

As he finishes up, you grab his hand and stroll back to the blanket setup. He takes a seat beside you and wraps his arm over your body.

“So, what are your thoughts?” 

“Bittersweet, that's the title,” you said as you turned to face him.

“I love it,” he says as he pulls you closer to him with a nod of his head.

And with that, your brother's memory was carefully preserved, shared, and intended for all to hear.

“Lucas, I'll never forget you.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

➳ Navigate to the Maze

[libraryofnesta]

Tied to Ruin

ao3 link

Summary:

Cassian and Nesta were lovers, partners in crime. They did everything together. That is until tragedy strikes, causing Nesta to run away, far from everything she once knew.

Over five years later, Nesta is living life to as full as it can get. It’s not until an incident occurs that drags her into far more than she bargained for.

Notes:

thanks so much for reading. i'm a huge hoe for exes to lovers, so i have like 20 ideas in my head, and this is one of them. It's multichapter. i'm not sure how long this is gonna be, but definitely over ten chapter. this fic has two timelines. One will show them from when they're kids to teens, and one while they're adults. Both will occur at the same time, so things will start to unravel as you read.btw! velaris is gonna be like a super small town in new york. like no one knows about it.

TW: implied domestic violence, nothing graphic.

Chapter 1: lonely beds, different cities

Words, how little they mean

When you're a little too late

I stood right by the tracks

Your face in a locket

Good girls, hopeful they'll be and long they will wait

-

Sad Beautiful Tragic

Taylor Swift

2016, Small Town Velaris

“Please,” she whispers, voice hoarse. Nesta is practically begging at this point, but she has nothing else to relent to. “We can get out of here.” She swallows hard when he doesn’t reply. “We’re still young Cassian, we can still-”

“Nesta.” He says. It's one word, but it makes her pause. He rarely calls her Nesta. It’s always ‘Nes’ or ‘Sweetheart.’

“I can’t.”

Their lives have changed so drastically over the past few weeks. Nesta’s whole childhood is here. Everything she’s ever known. She’s not sure how much more of it she can handle now.

She’s well aware of the tears streaming down her face. Nesta doesn’t know what she can say to convince him, so she says the one thing that she’s been repeating over and over.

“You can…”

Cassian’s face seems to harden. The look he gives her makes her take a step back. He hasn’t looked at her like that in years. “Go ahead and leave Nesta.”, he says, voice rising. “Go live that picture perfect you always wanted. I won’t stop you.”

“Not everyone wants what you do.”

2021 New York, Manhattan

Something about leaving Valkyrians still makes her feel at odds. She’s not as resistant to the sight of blood anymore, and she’s not sure if she can ride a motorcycle as well as she used to. There are still parts that linger though. She still remembers how to throw a punch. A damn good one too. She still feels uneasy when someone walks in the same direction for too long though. It might be the worst part of it all.

Nesta doesn’t do much for fun.  She doesn’t dance as much as she likes. The amount of books she reads has decreased. Her days consist of work and eating, even though she skips more meals than she should. But she’s free. That’s what really matters, doesn’t it?

The muscles in Nesta’s body ache. She just finished a seven hour shift, and got a promotion that pays much better. Nesta wants to celebrate. She wants to talk to someone. It’s been so long since she’s talked to anyone. The fear of someone finding out about her past is lodged so deep in her head it caused her to isolate. The simple way of putting it is she has no friends.

Coworkers are the only source of non-work related conversation she engages in. It’s always small talk too. Just as Nesta is about to fall asleep, she rubs her eyes and forces herself to stay awake. Getting up from the lumpy couch, Nesta walks to her cabinet, grabbing a random mug and pouring wine into it. Once she gets a better look at the mug, she can’t help but scoff.

It’s ironic. Complaining about being lonely. It’s almost like she chose loneliness. She loves the quiet. When she was younger, all she wanted was alone time. She dreads it now. Nesta gets up after finishing her glass.  She’s a bit drowsy, and is way too tired to walk all the way to her room. Instead Nesta walks back over to her couch. She lies horizontally, staring into the abyss until she eventually falls asleep.

She dreams of seeing him that night. It’s a regular occurrence. It’s lessened over the years, but never fully disappeared. The image of him is blurry. It’s not as precise as it used to be. She hates still thinking of him. It doesn’t stop her from reminiscing a little though.

Her being upset makes sense of course. They’d known each other for over ten years, hating one another at first. Eventually, he began to grow on her. Their bickering had become playful, before they once again became estranged.

“Cassian?”

The figure turns around, and he knocks the wind out of her. His hair is out of it’s usual bun.  He gives her that familiar boyish smile, walking towards her and putting an arm on her.

“Missed me Sweetheart?”, he says, ruffling her hair a bit. Nesta scrunches her nose in response.

“You wish.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah whatever.” He talks for a while. Nesta’s barely paying attention. It’s just nice to hear his voice again. He asks her what she’s reading, and she replies the same every time. It’s silent after a while. They’ve talked themselves out. It’s a nice silence though. Her favorite silence.

Cassian stares at her for a few seconds, giving her a soft smile and pushing a loose hair behind her ear.

“Come back,” he whispers.

Her breath stutters. “It’s been five years, Cass,” she mutters, breaking eye contact. Her eyes flicker between the ground and his face, gauging his reaction.

He doesn’t stop looking at her.

“I didn’t want to leave,” said Nesta. There’s a lump in her throat.

He scrubs a hand over his face. “Yet here we are.”

“You know why I left.”

Her eyes feel like they’re beginning to water. “I asked you to come with me. You’re the one who didn’t.”

Cassian looks to the side. He looks impassive, yet also emotionless. “You’re the one who ran away, Nesta.”

“I didn’t run away.”

He scoffs in response. “Keep telling yourself that.” Cassian starts walking away. It’s cloudy and has no solid ground or sky. At that moment she remembers where she really is. Nesta stands there, waiting until he fully fades away. It always feels too real.

The dreams always end like that.

Nesta can barely pry her eyes open when she wakes up. She has the next two weeks off. Her boss, Helion, had insisted she take a week or two off, since the bar was under a small renovation. She checks her phone and it reads 12:03. Jesus, she really had overslept.

In all honesty Nesta had no idea what to do with her free time. Maybe she’ll finally finish that book she started months ago. But in reality Nesta knows all she’ll do is go to a bar and let a stranger fuck her into oblivion until she kicks them out or leaves.

By the time Nesta leaves her house it’s around 3:00.  She goes to the coffee shop next door. She orders a coffee and sits in the corner of the room. Nesta somehow feels like the center of attention. It’s an empty shop, but it feels like all eyes on her. The room feels too cold.

The feeling follows her when she goes to the local bookstore. It’s crowded, but the area is quiet. Nesta browses through the shelves, sticking to the romance section. She holds a few books. It’s not until Nesta drops one, people begin to look at her. It makes a loud thump hitting the floor. Several pairs of eyes turn to her. The cover is of a shirtless man too.

Fuck , she thinks, This is embarrassing. Nesta purses her lips, hand curling into a fist as she puts the book back on it’s shelf.

It’s around 5:00 when she takes the train home. Nesta spent the rest of her day at the park, not wanting to stay at home. It doesn’t feel like home as much as she’d like it to though. Finally, Nesta makes it home.

She’s in an empty parking lot. The area she lives in is pretty small.  Nesta knows basically everyone in her apartment complex. It’s a tiny place. She never talks to anyone, but they do acknowledge each other. Barely anyone has a car either, herself included. So it is a bit weird to see an unrecognizable car. It’s odd, but Nesta thinks nothing of it. It’s probably just someone visiting.

Nesta goes into her apartment, before leaving once more to go to the bar that’s the second closest to her apartment. She’s usually working at this time, flirting with customers and taking them home when her shift ends.

The bar is crowded and loud. Lights are flashing, voices yelling, bodies moving. It’s out of her comfort zone. She’s been doing this for years and is still isn’t used to it. She sits on one of the stools where the drinks are served. A girl approaches her. Nesta never approaches anyone. She can’t see clearly in the light. The girl’s hair is brunette, though her roots are dark. Her brown skin illuminates in the flickering light.

“Hey”, she says “I’m Nora” Nora extends her hand to her. Nesta smirks in response, resting her elbow on the counter grasping her hand with the other.

“I’m Mila,” she says. No matter what she does, Nesta will never use her real name. Nora’s eyebrows raise. Nesta can see her lick tongue move as it pushes on her skin.

“Pretty name.”

They talk for around five minutes. It’s all small talk. They drink while they talk. Most of the things she responds with are lies anyways. Nora grasp’s her arm with her hand. “Wanna get out of here?” she asks. Her words are slurred, and Nesta has to restrain herself from flinching.

Something in her head tells her not to let anyone in her house though. Something is wrong, but she can’t put her mind on it. The idea of letting a stranger in her house sends goosebumps across her arms. Before, she’d never question it twice. Now that she thinks of it, doing this practically screams stranger danger. Especially with her past, this person could be anyone. Nesta slowly probes herself from the girl.

“I’ve gotta go”, she says. “Sorry, but there's something I need to do.” The girl doesn't seem to mind, either too drunk to care, or only looking for a one night stand. She nods, before introducing herself to someone else. Nesta feels her chest lighten, exiting the crowded bar to call an uber.

Whenever it’s quiet, she always reminisces.

2006, Small Town Velaris

Nesta wakes up and finds herself stranded. She has no idea where she is. She’s lying in a bed inside a mostly empty room. There’s only a few pieces of furniture, a stool and a drawer. It’s relatively small.  The last thing she remembers is being in a car with her sisters and parents. She hears voices outside of the room yelling.

“You expect me to leave-”

“Her father is-”

“She’s nine what would she-”

“So what if she’s young!”

“-s innocent so what if-”

She hears a loud smack. The silence after is deafening. The voices are quiet after, whispers. Afterwards, Nesta hears footsteps approaching. She scrunches her eyes shut, trying to pretend to be asleep. Nesta hears the door open and close. A hand lays on her forehead. As the person removes it, a calming voice talks. “Are you awake?” Nesta slowly looks at the person, opening only one eye, then another. She sees a woman with black hair and tan skin. Her cheeks are flushed and she has a small smile on her face.

The woman squats down so she’s the same height as the bed Nesta is laying on. “Hi,” the woman whispers, voice solemn and comforting. “My names Aurora,” she says. Nesta squishes her lips together. She’s confused and feels like crying. Nesta doesn’t cry though. She’s pretty sure her eyes water though, because Aurora strokes her hair and whispers, “It’s okay to cry.”

Nesta gasps and shakes her head. “Mommy says I’m not supposed to cry.” Aurora seems to be shocked silent. The silence makes Nesta become aware of everything that is happening. She slowly sits up. Once her feet are off the bed, Nesta quickly sprints to the door, opening it and running out. She has no idea where she’s going.

Suddenly, Nesta is hit with a hard impact, and falls down on her butt. She looks up and sees two boys. They’re both around the same height. They have the same dark hair too, except one is longer than the other. Nesta gets up and brushes off the dust on her leggings.

She notices it then. The leggings. She’s never worn pants before.

It’s also when she notices the juice smeared across one of the boy's shirts. It’s the long haired one’s. He drops the red cup to the ground and makes an angry noise. “That was my favorite shirt.”

Nesta feels sheepish as she whispers a quiet, “Sorry.”

The one with longer hair whispers to the other boy, obviously meaning for her to hear too. “She’s probably not even double digits.” The other boy is quiet, looking at the ground. He seems nervous and shy.

Nesta feels a sense of outrage course through her. She pouts, crossing her arms. “I’m almost ten. I’m nine and a half” The boy crosses his arms too.

“Well I’m ten and a half,” he says.

“Cassian,” Aurora scolds. “Play nice.” She puts a hand on Nesta’s shoulder and bends down. “I need to talk to…” She doesn’t continue.

Nesta turns towards her, and realizes she needs her name. “Nesta,” she says.

Aurora smiles, “That’s a wonderful name.”

Cassian still seems angry. “I think it’s stupid.” Aurora sighs and gets up. “Azriel”, she says to the other boy. He hadn’t talked the whole time, Nesta almost forgot he was there. “Make sure he stays out of trouble. And Cassian, please change your shirt.” The two (stupid) boys walk away. Once they’re from a far enough distance, Aurora looks back down at her. “I have to talk to you about something.”

2021 New York, Manhattan

Nesta walks into her apartment tired and half asleep. Once inside her apartment, she changes into more comfortable clothes, sweatpants and a grey t-shirt.

Nesta’s about to go to bed, until she hears the sound of glass shattering and liquid spilling. She freezes, thinking about the mug of wine she left out.  

No.

Nesta scrambles towards the kitchen and grabs a flashlight from a cabinet, flashing the light to the ground. The mug is shattered to pieces, and she can still see little droplets of wine. The words aren’t visible anymore, letters broken and unreadable.

There’s no way it could’ve fallen on its own. It was in the middle of her counter. Unless...

Suddenly it all makes sense. The unrecognizable car in the parking lot. The uneasy feeling in her stomach. The constant nagging in her head, telling her that something is wrong.

She thinks about calling the police but goes against it. Years in a fucking biker gang taught her better then to trust those scumbags.

She always kept a gun in her house. Just in case. She really hates how no matter what she does. she’ll always be connected to this.

The person inside her apartment most definitely knows where she is. Nesta grabs a broom, sweeping the glass shards into an empty bag. She can fix it later. Tying it up, Nesta leaves it on her counter.

There's a wall blocking the entrance to her bathroom. She walks towards it, opening and closing the door so it seems she went inside. Grabbing her gun from the small drawer, Nesta lays her back against the wall, barely peeking out the wall, but just enough so she can see them as they crawl out from behind her couch.

The figure moves stealthily, back turned towards her. If she weren’t directly staring at it, there would be no way of knowing it was there. The moves look familiar, but she can’t put her mind on it. The moonlight shines on them so she can see the most obvious features. It’s not until the floor creaks the figure turns towards her direction. Nesta turns back to face her bathroom door, hands drawn to tight fists. There’s no way they hadn’t seen her. She moved too slow. Nesta peeks her head out to look again.

It’s not until she sees a familiar pair of scarred hands in the moonlight, it all comes together.

“Azriel Night?”

In dreams

I meet you in warm conversation

We both wake

In lonely beds

In different cities

And time

Is taking its sweet time erasing you

And you've got your demons

And darlin' they all look like me

PSA!! go to ask’s to be added to tag list

[seimeinotaka]

Rêverie (An OberonXGudako fic)

MASSIVE LOSTBELT 6 SPOILERS INCLUDING OBERON'S PROFILE AND BOND CE

Summary: Oberon has been unexpectedly summoned to Chaldea. He wonders why he is even there as he reminisces what happened in Avalon Le Fae. But it seems Ritsuka isn't leaving him alone, much to his annoyance.

Thanks to jellyfishy for beta-reading this!

Once again, the story has major spoilers for LB6, Oberon's profile and Bond CE, as well as important plot points of Solomon, LB1 and LB5.

There's implied one-sided love, mentions of heavy topics such as loss, and mentions of deceased characters.

"Master, Master, you've gotten better at this!"

"Thank you, Gogh! I've been practicing a lot using the tips you and Oui gave me. Even Jeanne Alter praised my background, hehe!"

"Hey, I said it was passable. Pas-sa-ble!"

Ritsuka Fujimaru has been drawing something in the cafeteria, surrounded by many servants that come and go. No one asks what she is doing, they all seem to know or if they don’t, they don’t bother to ask.

It is so bothersome. Annoying.

So many people surrounding her, like an ultraviolet lamp that attracts all the bugs. Never mind that they end up getting zapped the moment they ever dare to touch it.

The people, the sound, the merriment, it all annoys Oberon, who only watches in silence as he eats some ice cream with melon.

To be able to smile like that, even after discarding all of those stories...Oberon doesn't hide a crooked smile. In the end, the lostbelts are no more than faint dreams doomed to end, forgotten by the winners, the panhuman history citizens. Ritsuka Fujimaru isn't different. For her, it's like reading the doujin the swimsuit berserker is making. Once the pages are closed, the story ends and it ceases to exist. She can choose to forget.

Truly detestable.

-

Oberon stares and then walks away, just as Ritsuka lifts her face. She looks around, the feeling of being watched faintly breaking her concentration.

But in the end he doesn't say a word as he leaves.

-

“Hey, you keep looking at Master!” Jeanne Alter slams her hands on the table where Oberon is sitting. Said Master is working again, too enthralled talking with Gogh to notice Jeanne Alter slipping away to talk to him.

“Does it bother if I do?” He gives her a crooked smile as she huffs and scowls. Though of course her face turns slightly pink.

“Tch, of course not! It's just your stare is getting on my nerves! Wouldn't you get distracted if someone is looking at you intensely?”

“I am a creation, not a creator. I wouldn't understand what you're saying. Besides, I wasn’t looking at her or you anyway,” he says mockingly.

“Hmph, whatever you say. Leave when Master is drawing, what she is doing is very important and I won't let you make it messy.”

“Hah, a page of your little comic? As if you need a lot of care. But fret not, I am certain that with your keen insight and guidance it will be something so memorable, up to the level of the famous writers here in Chaldea.”

“You bug...Bring it, I will burn you to a crisp! Moths do like fire, don't they? Surely you will feel at home then!” Jeanne Alter laughs. “I'll let you know that it is something so impressive that it would make you cry, if you're capable of that anyway.”

Though her Saint Graph right now is one of a Berserker, it seems the insight of the Avenger still exists deep within. After all, only those who are similar can recognize each other. Fake recognizes fake. Emptiness recognizes emptiness. Hate can only recognize hate.

Though come to think about it, Ritsuka has always been writing, he noticed she kept a small book on her, during quiet times. Perhaps a diary of sorts. It wouldn’t be surprising, to record everything she has experienced, as the writer of the winning history.

-

When we die, we'll become like those stories. Our lives are stories that might be discussed and forgotten, so it's not that different from your midsummer night dream.

A dream you forget once you wake up from your slumber.

“You're a tsundere,” Ritsuka says flatly as she rests her chin on her hand. She even dares to give Oberon a shrug and a smile, as if she can tell the truth between the lies.

“Ah, you're annoying.”

“That's exactly what I'm talking about, hehe!”

An obnoxious smile continues to be on her face, and he simply looks at her with unveiled disgust and apathy.

“Why am I even here?”

“Well, you answered the call, so you can only blame yourself for that.”

“What.”

“The rayshift system call can be refused. That's an inescapable truth. You lie a lot but there are some truths in your words. Or actions in this case. You wanted to be in Chaldea, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“Ah there it is, your virtuous nature shining through. One day you'll be fooled by someone who is pretending to be your ally...ah, my bad, that has already happened, isn't that right? Maybe you should learn your lesson.”

“Ah, yes. But it doesn't change that you are here. And because you lie often, that means I can just take it whatever way I like. You'll just deny it even if I'm right. But you can't deny we get along pretty well!”

“We do not!”

“See, that's a lie!”

“Ah, I'm going to the cafeteria! Don't follow me!”

Yet we thrive on dreams, don’t we?

“How long do you think I've been in this business? Have you interacted already with some of the servants here? I can tell you don’t mind my company.”

“I quit, I'll break the contract!”

“So, one cube or two?” Ritsuka dares to offer him the sugar cube container, even holding some tongs, just to put the amount he requests in his cup.

“You really want a poisoned tea, right, wonderful Master?~”

Even if they are something that doesn’t exist, we yearn for them, even to make them a reality. No matter how impossible. No matter how painful.

That is why we can never get rid of them.

Even if we forget once the veil of dawn has ended, something of it remains.

-

“There's so much that is subjective. For example, you were Artoria's Merlin, weren't you? For a moment you were Merlin, that was her truth. There's different Merlins, I mean we have different Artorias here from different eras and classes. You were a different Merlin than the one I know.”

Ritsuka is busy trying different colors. Oui and Gogh got into a discussion on how to best get the tones she was aiming for, and they even went to do some research on their own. The reds of a forest seem familiar yet not quite right, not that Oberon was looking at the notebook.

It has to have a dreamlike feeling, that’s what she wanted, but that’s not easy to pour into a painting.

“What we see as a lie or as truth, it changes with our perception. Your lies and my truths might be different, but it's ok. In the end we have only one perspective. That's why lies and truths can mix, that's why contradictions exist. I mean, that is why you are here.”

“Here's some advice from the bottom of my heart, don't quit your day job, Master. Stick to the world saving and leave the philosophical dissertation to virtually anyone else.”

In the end, does the truth really matter?

Something that can change when you close your eyes. Something that is as fleeting as a moth's life.

Would anything change in the grand scheme of things?

To protect Ritsuka, Chaldea forged a story, one where Romani Archaman was at fault for everything that happened.

To the world that is on the verge of disappearing, that became the truth.

To everyone in Chaldea, the truth is that this girl worked harder than anyone to protect this world.

That was what Sherlock Holmes said once they met. Oberon didn’t like him, but in a way he seems familiar. Holmes is a great detective, but since he keeps everything to himself, he might be wrong the entire time until the last minute.

So it’s not like Oberon can take him that seriously.

Even so, he told him the story of the great journey before Panhuman History was at risk by the Alien God. A story of which he was somehow aware, but it seems different when it is told by someone else.

To Oberon, it was a story of selfish survival. A fitting story of those who fight in the mud to continue existing.

To Holmes, it was a story of humanity bravely fighting to avoid destruction. An unlikely event that might have inspired others. Or rather, that is how the Leonardo Da Vinci from that time would have framed it, since Holmes isn’t an author and the current Da Vinci is someone different now.

The events are there, what changes is our perception of them. Perhaps this is where truths and lies take root, the lie of today becomes the truth of tomorrow.

The lie allows the fake existence to continue even when the dream has already ended.

But in the end, everything will fade, so nothing really matters.

-

"Well, I don't know if it has a meaning, but doesn't that mean you can give it your own? Just like how I can take your lies the way I want."

"Aren't you a simplistic one? No, perhaps it is that kind of thinking that has let you get this far. What a naive Master Chaldea has. Though it helps you accomplish your goals. "

He is not sure why they are taking tea while chatting, but here he is. Perhaps it is to hide his annoyance, the Master won’t stop until she gets what she wants anyway, so he is just avoiding a pointless squabble.

"You can think whatever you want~ and in any case, even if the feelings of today will be nothing in the future, that doesn't mean they are worthless. Because they affect the you of today and that is the moment when you are alive.”

The joy of living, that is something Oberon can’t understand nor tolerate. It angers him.

Of course, he is an entity of the abyss so how could he comprehend that?

The will of self-destruction, the cessation of existence. That something is so fundamentally wrong that it must wiped out, for there is no way to fix something that crooked.

Faerie Britain wished for him because it had to be wiped away from all records, because it had no way of being salvaged.

Therefore, he can only listen to those words.

(Perhaps it is the envy of not having something? Perhaps it is the bitterness of no longer having something to do, to dream for? Or simple ennui that no matter what, in the end it doesn’t matter?)

Ritsuka ignores his silence, as she continues.

“I don't know but for someone who likes stories you don't seem like you're actually enjoying them.”

“Would you enjoy a story where you fade away like everyone in the lostbelts you have erased? Ah, my bad. Surely, as the winner you can afford to disregard those stories. Silly me, of course you would be able to believe that as the victor you can claim to be the true history. Panhuman history is in the end mankind's right path, after all, and everything else can fade into the abyss.”

Her smile is complex, almost a facade. From one angle it looks like a forlorn frown, from the other a faint smile. She plays with the spoon on her table.

"Hmmm, I wonder..."

 Dr. Roman, we finally beat the British Lostbelt. It was unlike any other places we were, and I keep thinking of Percival's words...

   I wish you were still here.

The sacrifice of someone can mean the whole world for a single person. The sacrifices of millions can become a mere statistic, a simple cold number to show how bad an event was. In the end, it doesn't matter.

What was once lost will never come back.

The void left in one's soul will never heal, it only becomes more bearable with time.

But even so, that lingering pain is the proof that someone was alive, that they left a mark on the others they met as one looks at the twinkling stars and reminisces of the never-happening-again past.

“Did you know the true opposite of love isn't hate but indifference?”

“Haaah? Perhaps you didn't think so but I was being honest about my suggestion. Thinking too much will only hurt your head. You should only focus on what's in front of you.”

“Whether you love or hate, you end up putting a lot of attention to the object of your affections, but if you're indifferent to it, it ceases to exist. Perhaps your hatred of everything is because there's something you cannot afford to lose.”

Titania was the wife of Oberon in Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. She was the only one who could accept the king's eccentric personality.

But in reality, she was just a creation for the story, a being who was never real.

Of course, there isn't a person like that in the world.

Someone who accepts a hollow entity like me.

“I don’t know, if Arjuna Alter was able to come to terms with his own humanity, well...nevermind. I was just thinking aloud.”

(Ideals are just that.

A concept not belonging to this world.

It is when you reconcile with the flawed reality that you can grasp your happiness, the one you have.)

“Heh-Hahahaha, that's rich, Master!”

This is so sickening.

Only Titania could have loved(tolerated) such an unpleasant existence. Only Titania could have loved(tolerated) a being born of hate, a destructive force whose only purpose is to rend everything to ashes.

But the fact is, Titania doesn't exist. This means no one could accept someone like him.

That is the unpleasant truth.

That is why people are entranced(poisoned) by falsehoods, lies to sweeten the body and protect the soul. It's a sweet elixir to hide from the harsh reality, the ultimate end of the journey of everyone, a pointless, worthless life. Because at the end of the dream, no matter what one has accomplished, it doesn't change the finale of this story and it is doomed to be forgotten. 

Just as the one princess from before, who also fell in love with the Fairy King. The one who tried to give fire to his cold body. But he didn't notice this, not even when her snow body had ceased to move, a protection of love.

So in the end, if it's not acknowledged, it is the same as it never had happened.

“Tell me, does it matter to you? Are you going to tell me you know how I feel? That you understand what I'm going through? Come on, tell me your important story, that everything is going to be alright as long as I'm not alone-”

“I can't. I don't know how you feel. Even if we had suffered the same, I wouldn't know how you feel.”

Her words or her smile, the same as before. He doesn’t know which but it cuts him short.

“All I know is the pain of losing someone important to me, but that's not what you're feeling, right?”

The Titania I wish for doesn't exist in this world. The Faerie Britain that gave birth to me no longer exists, even if I have accomplished my goal. 

I am merely a dream whose purpose has been fulfilled and thus, the curtain shall be down as I exit the stage.

The things I yearn for are merely dreams. Even so, I hope, because I saw it existed for someone else. For another Oberon, not the one I am.

The illusion of happiness, the hope of a love.

I don't know how it is to not be Oberon, the lying king. The king without any other purpose. The villain that has exited the stage having won, but now even that victory is pointless.

Then, why am I still here? 

“For what it's worth, I like you. You're nice company, lies and all.”

“You’re an odd one.”

“I've been told that often.”

“It's not a compliment, you have no taste.”

“You know, for Panhuman history I am the hero, ensuring our world survives. But to everyone else from every lostbelt erased...I am the worst of the worst, the villain that destroys their world.”

Ritsuka traces the notebook on her hands. The contents of the rest could be disclosed but Oberon doesn’t open any of the other pile of notebooks, so they all lie on her bed.

“Patxi cursed me for showing him a world that he thought was happier than his.”

Tears fell from her eyes as she smiled weakly. “I wonder if that was ever the right choice.”

“Panhuman history isn't the perfect utopia you can imagine. Humans seek hatred and war, there's suffering and agony. While some can lead happy lives, there's so many who can't even enjoy a warm meal or think of a future. Kirshtaria saw that, he wanted to make a better world because ours was so imperfect.”

“Why are we still going?”

“Why was ours the correct one?”

“Even now, I don't know. And I'm not sure if I'll ever know. Any justification might seem a rationalization, something to feel less guilty for killing all those people.”

“That is why I cannot forget, I cannot let the history of those lostbelts be erased. Even if I'm the only one who remembers,” her grip on the notebook tightened, “I can never forget them.”

Like a dream, one time Oberon caught sight of what she was drawing, finally reaching the dreamy red hue she long sought, depicting the autumn forest Oberon knew and hated.

The words depicting what happened in Faerie Britain, the stories of Artoria, Morgan, of Barghest, Baobhan Sith and Melusine, of Aurora, of Mike, of Ector, of Knocknarea, of him.

“Even if the rest of the world forgets, I cannot. That's why I want to record as much as I can. I caused them to disappear, remembering all of them is the least I can do.”

“That's guilt for you.”

“...Yes, I can't deny that. I've caused many people to suffer, that is why I cannot stop.”

“You're an idiot. Pursuing a fleeting dream that will only cause you to hurt, as your heart tears itself apart with these thorns you surround yourself with.”

“I guess. But someone has to do it right? But even so…

“I enjoy the moments with everyone here in Chaldea and I can say I'm happy.

But I also feel deep sadness for everything that I have done and continue to do.”

There are many contradicting truths, woven into each other.

Like overlapping threads in a beautiful(horrible) story.

“I could think Panhuman history is the correct one because it was there. There was a reason why it was chosen.”

“And if there isn't? If there is truly no meaning to your journey? That the reason your world was chosen was a mere whim of fate, a sudden lucky roll of the dice? That there is nothing special to your world that makes you worthy of the title of proper human history?”

“Then I guess I will have to make it so that there is one.”

“And if you can't?”

“Just because I can't doesn't mean I shouldn't try.”

“Trying doesn't mean you will succeed. Morgan tried her hardest, but in the end, she still failed, crumbling in despair as her Faerie kingdom burnt to ashes.”

“Well, that will come bite me when the time comes, but for now, that’s all I can do, right?”

In the end, as long as it entertains, does it matter?

What is the purpose of a story? To bring joy(tears)? To break one from that moment of boredom, of despair, and heal the soul even if just a little?

And in the end, does it even matter?

-

“I like this Saint Graph more.”

It’s been a long time since he has donned the clothes as King Oberon. Once the façade was over, once he could ascend, he has never worn anything but the colors of the depths of the abyss. Anyone else would think they are unsightly, hateful, depressing.

After all, the warmth of King Oberon’s butterfly wings makes children smile, makes people trust him. His monstruous limbs right now are not enchanting.

“I thought you were a butterfly girl. And I have been wearing these ever since, why are you even saying this up until now?”

“I just wanted to say that. I like the fluffy cape and the butterfly wings, but you sound less pained right now. And this outfit is cool too.”

In the end, perhaps Titania isn't meant to be someone who brings the sun to your eyes, with laughter so contagious that she makes the bitterness of a day go away. She's not a neverending warmth on a cold winter, nor a guiding bright star up in the dark sky. She's not the simple to your complicated, the light to your dark, the smile to your frown, the opposite of your miserable existence that brings joy to your life. An illogical being that accepts you in spite of your incompatibility. 

Was I wrong all along? 

A companion when watching a wonderful(decadent) play.

Someone who walks by your side in a crumbling world.

Someone whose company makes the poison more bearable and hell, tolerable.

Someone who simply loves me for who I am. Who gazed at the abyss, saw the void yet didn't run away.

Ah, this is so laughable, an amateur terrible tragicomedy, a hideous play with no sickeningly sweet ending.

(Perhaps it is because Titania is a wretched creature herself. Or perhaps because Titania's wings have been torn off that she understands a small fragment of you. Even if true understanding is a lie, a pipe dream. Titania has seen her own hell and can sympathize with yours, with the emptiness and resentment you hold. Not fearing it, not judging it. Just accepting you as the flawed existence you are.

If that is the case, then there is nothing beautiful about Titania.)

But even so...

"...You are..."

"Did you say something?"

"No, nevermind."

Ritsuka smiles as Oberon looks away. He grumbles about the cramped space as he hoards the bed, swatting a mosquito away while she writes in her diary. The boring stories she writes that he doesn't care about even if his fingers have traced those letters.

But even so, he stays.

Ah, love is a bothersome thing.

-

Thank you for reading!

Now, OH BOY WHERE TO BEGIN. Title comes from Debussy's Rêverie. I wanted to play with it, seeing that Oberon's Bond CE is called Pavane for a Dead Princess, which is the title of a melody by Ravel. I am sure it is no coincidence. Both Ravel and Debussy were considered the cornerstones of Impressionism in music, however, they both HATED being labeled like that.

Pavane for a Dead Princess is one of Ravel's solo compositions for the piano. However, unlike what the title implies, Ravel specifically said that it wasn't meant to be a melody of a funeral, but he wanted to evoke the idea of a princess dancing to the pavane. However, some people didn't really listen to him. So in this case, I think that rather than to see Oberon's CE as a funeral to Blanca, it is a way to celebrate her story, even if it didn't end on the happier note we would have wished. You can listen to it here

Now Rêverie is by Debussy and it's meant to feel like a dream, hence the name. The melody became a massive hit, though Debussy later hated this piece because he felt that he had written better pieces but this one was the one that made him famous. Since it was written when he was young, he felt he was still lacking a lot, but the melody became one of his most popular compositions nonetheless. I think that story ties nicely with what we perceive vs what others perceive. You can listen to it here

Now onto the actual fic, I had this vague idea when part 3 was released, especially after all the spoilers about Oberon's true identity. I really wanted to get him, and I was super lucky. In between getting him, his profile and bond lines being translated, I just got possessed to write this as a way to honor and thank him for coming home AND to give him a sort of happy ending after Avalon.

Oberon in that bed is thanks to that comic on Twitter where he is eating chips without any care and the kind reminder of his voice lines that in spite of him constantly complaining, he spends an awful lot of time on our room. Hehehe.

Best of luck if you are pulling for him! And once again, thank you for reading!

[mochiimiiki]

| Act one: Possibility |

[Xiao x F!reader]

[Pyro vision reader]

Summary: Feelings are something of a concept, humans determine their meaning and everyone else simply accepts. But what if he has no concept of emotions and you’re in denial? What becomes of it then?

Warnings: spoilers for xiao’s story, angst, violence, blood, slow burn

A/N: first time writing a proper fic sooo be nice! also italics are being used for past events!!

Masterlist

- - - - - -

Your encounter was an accident. A mistake, a flaw in the matrix. However, It was a memory you held onto even after all of those years. Staring across Dihua Marsh, your mind couldn’t help but wonder, wonder all the way back to the vigilant yaksha. Whom refused to converse his name. His real name.

It was in the depths of night where the demons lurked, and as an adventurer you often encountered such mutated creatures. It was not your duty to defend the land nor protect the innocent from the midnight stalkers. Yet, you felt obligated to. Perhaps it was a form of misconception or the chivalry in which your father had brought you up with. Nevertheless, you found yourself stalking a possessed abyss mage. In hopes of vanquishing it before the mutant could perform damage upon any civillians.

The moon guided you, luring you to where the beast crept. Through squinted eyes, you could just about see a sleeping village a few hundred metres from where you stood. Determination pumped through your veins, urging you onwards with a singular goal; vanquish your opponent.

In the brief moments that you were distracted the target had vanished. Frantically, you begun searching. ‘Where’d it go...?’ You breathed to yourself. Fear creeping along your spine and infecting your mind.

Suddenly, a cryo shot sent you flying back into a rock. Your back hit it with a thud and the wind was knocked from you. Dazed it took you a moment to adjust your senses. As your vision became focused you quickly rolled out of the way as another cryo shot narrowly missed you. Reaching for your bow you aimed at the abyss mage.

You scoffed. A cryo abyss mage? The fight would be over in no time. Your bow charged quickly and you launched your attack. You jumped with glee, You’d hit the shield directly in a patch you’d grown accustomed to know as a weak spot. However, as the steam cleared from the melt combination you realised you’d done little to no damage. The unsettling anxiety seeped it’s way into your heart once more. “I-Impossible!” You declared, to no one in particular. “I hit you!” The abyss mage let out a low chuckle. It’s sonar voice vibrating off of the trees and rocks that littered your midnight hunt. However, you realised something was off with this mage. Not only was it’s voice an octave lower but a strange black mist eminated from its being. Was it possible this was the kind of creature your father had warned you about...?

Before you got a chance to react the abyss mage launched you backwards once more. This time you landed in the soggy pits of the marsh. You blindly fumbled with your bow attempting to ignite it with your pyro element. However, the dampness of both yourself and the weapon caused evaporate. You silently cursed. No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening not now, not when you were so close. Repeatedly you tried again. Only looking up as you heard the familiar chuckle of your enemy.

Squeezing your eyes shut you begged Rex Lapis to not let your life end so soon. You had so much to learn! So many places to be and you still had to find the truth of...

You thoughts came to an abrupt end.

Suddenly, a gush of wind sped past your face, in turn your eyes shot open. It was just in time too, as you witnessed your saviour.

In the moonlight his hair appeared dark grey and his clothings multiple shades of silver however, black and turquoise mist eminated off of his being. Your eyes widened in shock as one blast of his power shattered the cryo abyss mage’s shield. “EVIL CONQUERING!” He cried throwing it back into the same rock it had once thrown you into.

Pulling enough energy from your damaged body you limped over to your saviour. “You saved me!” Exclaiming in delight. “How did you... no I should be thanking you! Thank-” Yet, before you could continue your praise a final blast of cryo hit you from the dying mage. Falling to the ground you felt your senses dim. Blurry vision caught sight of your masked hero finishing off the job only to finally pass out. A deep, charcoal black enveloping you in an everlasting grip.

- - -

Upon awakening you had found yourself placed in a bed in a familiar building. One you had only viewed on the outside: Wangshu Inn. Clambering out of the comfort of the bed you stumbled to the doorway.

A violet sky was clear from the room in which you occupied. Dim stars twinkled as a rouge sun dawned. You stumbled over to the balcony, confusion clouding your thoughts and erroding the pain.

You collapsed onto the railing of the balcony, thanking the red painted wood for the sturdiness it granted. You glanced out across Dihua Marsh. It’s landscape accentuated by the red light from the dawning sun, her face glowing brightly and guiding adventurers and monsters alike into the unknown.

“What are you doing?” A low voice growled behind you. Instantly you jumped from the disturbance to the peace, immediately after regretting it as a sharp pain jolted through your side. Glancing down your eyes settled upon a bandage wrapped around your waist. You realised the only material shielding you against the harshness of the cool autumn morn was the bandages that started at your chest and ending at your waist. Instantaneously a flush crept over your face and along your neck. “Y-You did this? Pervert!” You shouted, a finger pointing accusingly.

For a moment the boy appeared taken aback before scoffing. “First of all.” He growled taking a menacing step towards you. “I didn’t do that.” He glanced down, taking another step. “Second I saved your life, so even if I had you should have been grateful.” Another step. “And last of all, it was the Inn keeper who helped you. You can thank her later.” He was inches away from you, his brows furrowed in irritation and it was clear your comment had irked him.

You swallowed thickly and uncomfortably. You pushed against his chest, attempting to create distance between himself and you. However, he remained rooted in place. Whether, or not he intended to intimidate you or was simply setting straight facts you were unsure of.

Eventually, he acknowledged your efforts and with a grunt stepped backwards. You tried to steady your thoughts, and clear your mind. Up until now you’d been thinking irrationally and it had ended with you in a critical state.

You opened your mouth to speak once more when with a dismissal of his hand the man spoke first, “Unfortunately, there are other matters that require my assistance. If you’ll excuse me.” Though he seemingly asked for his departure you knew that it was more of a statement than a request. “W-wait!” you cried suddenly, grasping his wrist as he leaped onto the railing of the Wangshu inn.

The man stared puzzlingly at your hand, almost in a way that suggested he’d never been touched by a mortal before. “I didn’t ask your name.”

“I go by many names.” The figure retorted bluntly, an action that caused your hand to retract and your face to drop. With a sigh he spoke once more, his tone etched with a little less aggression. “However, you may call me vigilant Yaksha Xiao. Or for short Xiao. Should you ever need my help, or cannot face killing a monster call my name. I will aid you.”

With that he vanished before your eyes. Taking on the form of shadows and fleeing into the Abyss.

- - -

Staring across the Marsh now it appeared so different. Not only had it been two years since your return to Liyue but it was also daytime upon your arrival, a splintering summer sun sparkled brightly amongst the leaping clouds. It suddenly occurred to you amongst your reminiscing that you had never gazed upon the marsh in the daylight. To bestow it the title of breath taking was an understatement, to simply put it, it was exquisite. How the summer rays of light bounced across the murky waters of the marsh and that they illuminated the once gloomy surroundings. It was a sight to behold, it was beyond enchanting as it bewitched its onlookers and lured them to an untimely death.

“Ma’am?” A voice called for you, intruding your thoughts. She gave you a gentle smile, one you knew was plastered on to appease customers. “Your room is ready madam.” She spoke so softly that had you been immersed in a conversation with another you may not have heard her. You exchanged a polite nod as she led you up the stairs of the Wangshu Inn.

Despite your absence from Liyue for two years the Inn had not particularly changed. It was still lined in the same ruby red railings albeit faded to a salmon blush. And it had the same wooden floors, that creaked and squeaked ever so slightly under foot.

“Here is your room, I hope you enjoy your stay.” Quietly excused the girl as she departed. Leaving you standing alone in the doorway to a room too large to fit a single person.

Hauling in your luggage you flopped down onto the bed. The scent of Fresh linen tickled your nostrils, a particularly summery smell.

As the night progressed you had departed from your room and explored a little more of the grounds belonging to the Wangshu Inn. Fully satisfied with your miniature expedition you retired to the cafe and settled in for a long night.

- - -

The evening wore on tranquility reflected in the expressionless faces of the Inn stayers and keepers alike. As the café grew quieter you had taken it upon yourself to mark out your journey on your map. Small red exes marked the spots of your previous journeys, and although you wanted to pursue the land of the unmarked you had unfinished business to complete in Liyue harbour. Tapping your pencil on the page as you pondered your next move a shout caught your attention. Your quiet night had come to an abrupt end when a face you believed you’d never set your eyes on again appeared before you.

It was the dead of night. The only two souls that remained in the lobby of the Inn were you and the owner’s wife. When suddenly, a third party joined.

In stumbled an extremely battered and bruised man. His hair was knotted in scruffs and a deep gash seeped into the skin in his chest. With a startled cry the woman behind the reception desk ran to his side.

You stared in horror into the cat like eyes of this man. A flash of a familiarity flickered in them, in a brief possibility that he recognised you a bubbling emotion of hope fluttered in your stomach. However, the feeling was all but short lived as his eyes fluttered closed and he collapsed, toppling to the floor. Completely unconscious.

[meistwentyinchheels]

his wish

; diluc ragnvindr x gn!reader

; fluff to angst

; warnings: mentions of blood and injury, ANGST, not proofread, possibly grammar errors

; form: imagine

; word count: 1.2k

; published: 02.04.21

; author’s note: heyyyy this is my first time writing a fanfic, but please do note that english is not my native language so i’m very much prone to making grammatical errors. the beginning is also a bit wonky cuz i wrote it at 1am lmao

The silence was unbearable. All you could hear was the crackling of the fireplace and Diluc’s sigh as he looked at you. “I thought I specifically told you not to take that commission and look where you are now” Diluc said as he stepped closer to you, “I got worried when I heard that you’d been injured badly and in need of immediate medical assistance”. You looked down and pouted, “I know and I regret it now. Look at me I now have a stupid cast on my leg”. Diluc sighed once again and stepped even closer nearly touching and whispered, “At least next time avoid taking commissions with a higher risk, but if you do still wish to do so at least ask me for help”. As soon as you heard him say that you slightly laughed and looked at him in the eyes. He leaned down so your lips touched and it was as if you were made for each other. His lips were soft and always made your head slightly dizzy. He was never too harsh with you, always putting your own needs above his. “I love you”, he whispered to you after he pulled away.

His eyes were much softer when he was looking at you. With others, especially Kaeya, he had a cold look in his eyes showing that he isn’t the slightest bit interested in whatever the person talking to him was saying. But you, you broke down his walls enough for him to come completely undone. It was as if he was complete putty when you were around. His eyes always looked for you when he heard your voice. He was completely enamored by you. You were the one person who broke down his walls and loved him as who he is and not as the handsome and rich bachelor from Mondstadt. You made him feel like he was on cloud nine whenever he was around you and he loved you for that. You made him feel alive, like he was indeed breathing and right by your side. So why were you taken away from him like that?

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It was as if the archons were ridiculing him. He had his father taken away from him right in front of his eyes, so why did you have to suffer the same fate? The rain, the blood and whatever mess he just stumbled upon reminded him so much of his father’s fate.

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You had just recovered from your broken leg, that you had gotten due to a stupid decision to climb up onto a tree to “sneak attack” the Abyss Mage you had been after. You fell off the tree, broke your leg and had your butt handed to you by the Abyss Mage. Sounds bad, right? Compared to the situation you had just gotten yourself into, that was nothing. It was raining more than it usually did, but you didn’t let that bother you as you went to seek out the Abyss Herald for a commission. You needed the money you could obtain from this commission as you didn’t want Diluc to constantly pay for your expenses. When you had first accepted the commission Katheryne had advised you to get at least two others to help on this commission as it was an incredibly dangerous one. You should have listened to her more carefully.

The Herald’s movements were fast as you just nearly avoided another spinning attack. You had already been hit several times and now you were rapidly losing blood. “Damn Abyss Herald!” you shouted as you swung your sword and managed to injure the abyssal creature. The Herald stepped back slightly and aimed at your neck, but you ducked just in time to avoid it, its blades cutting your hair instead. This one-sided battle of you being on constant defense and the Herald on constant offense had been going on for at least a few hours. The sun was already starting to set and a part of you hoped that someone, anyone, would save you before you ultimately meet your demise. That someone would arrive moments too late.

An adventurer had heard the clashing of blades and screams of agony from far away as he rushed towards the noise. There he saw you fighting the Abyss Herald. “They’re the one who took that commission?” he asked himself quietly, but quickly realized you require immediate assistance. He knew he was no match for it so he went back to Mondstadt to quickly get anyone to help with defeating the thing. Diluc had overheard the ruckus that was going on outside the Angel’s Share and told Charles to take care of the tavern for a bit as he went to see what was going on. A group of adventurers were arguing amongst themselves and Diluc widened his eyes when he heard what one of them said. “Didn’t (Y/N) take the Abyss Herald commission by themselves?”.

Diluc narrowed his eyes and immediately approached the adventurers. “May I know just where (Y/N) is?” he asked them with a dangerous glint in his eyes. The adventurers immediately recognized the man as Master Diluc and shared a look with each other. Everyone in Mondstadt knew about their relationship and they were beyond terrified to see Diluc himself right in front of them. “They’re near Stormterror’s Lair and last I saw they were fighting the Abyss Herald, albeit injured” one of the adventurers spoke up and nearly missed the look of worry that flashed in his eyes. “Thank you” Diluc said and immediately went out to look for (Y/N). He ran straight towards the Stormterror’s Lair to find you and save you.

He arrived just mere seconds too late. The moment he found you the Herald had just stabbed you straight through your stomach. It felt as if his heart stopped when he saw what happened. The Herald noticed Diluc approaching and fled, not wanting to deal with him as it was able to tell that Diluc is incredibly strong. As soon as the Herald vanished, Diluc dropped his claymore and ran towards you. You were covered in stab wounds and blood as blood dribbled down your mouth. “I’m sorry”, you whispered as Diluc held you. The light in your eyes was fading and Diluc panicked, knowing you would die if he does absolutely nothing. “I’ll get someone to help you, okay? Just hang in there a bit more” he said in a whisper, but you grabbed his wrist and said, “Don’t. We both know I’m not making out of this alive. Just know that I will always love you”.

At this point Diluc’s tears were starting to cloud his vision as your grip on his wrist was getting weaker. The rain was mixing with your blood and Diluc could see your breathing had slowed even further. “Damn it, I’m so sorry I was late, I love you so much so why are you leaving me” he sobbed as he held your near lifeless body. By the time more help had arrived you were already gone, the light in your eyes forever on Diluc’s mind. He wished he had said “I love you” more often, he wished he had gotten to hold you tight once more and he wished he could have put a ring on your finger. But now you were gone, leaving him alone with his sorrow. He started focusing more on his vigilante life, ending all members of the Abyss Order he encountered. And he swore, he will one day avenge your death by killing the Abyss Herald.

© meistwentyinchheels; written by meistwentyinchheels - do not edit or repost

[shurelyasreverie]

Hi! Could you do a oneshot where the reader (male) is thrown to the ocean by some people because he looks like a girl due to his shoulder length hair, the reader doesn't know how to swim but Pyke saves the reader, teaches him how to swim, becomes his friend and he protects him? Have a nice day!

I'm really sorry this plot isn't specifically what you requested! Your request just gave me an amazing plot idea and it sort of took a life of it's own, I hope the final product is still okay with you!

Pyke x Reader: To the Depths

Word Count: 1806

Warning: Physical and verbal harassment based on gender stereotypes (feminine), violence, drowning and swearing. Please read with caution.

Only when you felt the salty wind against your cheek did you fully register where you were. Hauled up to deck by your own mates, their hands everywhere on your body, their grip strangling all your limbs. They laughed as you thrashed against their hold, trying to stand up but they forced your knees onto the splintered timber.

You should've known this was going to happen. You could do your duties as efficiently and quietly as possible, avoid conflict with everyone on this godforsaken ship, and they'll still find a way to make you bait if they wanted to. Pirates were pirates after all, they thrived off destruction, stooping lower than the low for some short-term gain.

“C'mon, won't you give me some attention, lass?” A pirate asked, twirling a lock of your hair. When you jerked your head away he immediately spat in your face in retaliation. Multiple pirates pinned you down.

“We'll take 'em to the depths, aye?” Another suggested to the crew and they cheered in agreement. A pirate searched through your pockets, searching for any valuables and you squirmed. Through teary eyes, you managed to see a figure passing in the distance, a small sliver of hope.

“Captain!” You screamed. The crew stopped. The captain stopped in his tracks and started walking towards you. Looking down at your pitiful form, he regarded the rest of the pirates.

“What's this, then?” The captain looked at one of the pirates leading the harassment. In response, he hesitated, stuttering to explain himself. The captain tutted and you started to wiggle free from some of the hands that were on you.

The captain smirked, his expression darkening.

“You've got t' send the princess off properly!”

The crew cheered as the captain retrieved a ball and chain and your heart dropped. Panic rose within you, making you feel nauseous as you tried harder to run but all hands were on you, pushing your back into the ground. Your limbs were pinned to the floor as the captain approached you, attaching the chained cannonball to your ankle. Through your tears of fear, there were tears of rage. You screamed not only for your innocence but also at the world for your unfair treatment. You screamed at the crew who had wronged you. All of them you damned to hell as they threw you overboard.

You sunk deeper into the sea. You weren't able to get a proper breath of air before entering the waters, your throat was already burning. Reaching down, you pushed at the chain, hoping it'll slip off of your leg and let you swim free. Eyes stinging at the salt, you could see brief lights and movement all around you. The seas of Bilgewater were known for its thriving creatures that attacked and ate many. Hopefully one would take pity on you and feast on you before you ran out of oxygen. It'd be quicker anyway.

But you continued to sink, deeper into the abyss. The waters so dark you couldn't see ahead, the pressure making every limb hurt. Your head was pounding, your pulse was slowing, white spots were fielding your vision. As numbness started to prick at your extremities and spread further up your limbs, you gave up and let your consciousness fade.

You were certain you were on the way to meet your maker. The weight on your ankle had disappeared, you felt a pressure on your chest, lifting you up. Water rushing around you, the pressure of the sea was starting to alleviate, you sensed the world was becoming lighter as you faded further into darkness.

The next sensation you ever felt was a pounding on your chest. Not the pounding of your heartbeat but hands on your ribs, forcing a pulse back into you. A rush of water exited your lungs and you choked it out, turning to your side to cough as you gasped for air. Yet when you finally opened your eyes, you weren't at an unfamiliar looking spirit realm, instead you were back at the all-too familiar docks of Bilgewater.

Looking up, you noticed a man sitting cross-legged, watching you with glowing blue eyes. His lower face obscured by a red bandana, yet when he spoke his voice didn't sound muffled at all. Instead it was deep and gurgling, encompassing you, as if you were back in the abyss.

“Thought you'd never wake,” he stated and you stared at him.

“Did you-” you choked as your voice came out raspy. You coughed up some more water but the man seemed patient enough, waiting for you. “Did you save me?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“The depths ain't a place for the livin',” he responded.

“I'm only living thanks to you,” you admitted. Not knowing what else to do, you held out your hand to him. “(Y/N).”

The man took your hand, shaking it firmly but he didn't reply and looked out to the docks. It was fully night, the line where the sky ended and the sea begun had blurred. You frowned as you went through what you thought would be your final memories. How you were engulfed in darkness, warmth absent and the pressure crushing.

“How did you save me?”

There was a low, rumbling chuckle in response. He took his time, calculating his answer. The man seemed nonchalant but you noticed his eyes cautiously dart to you occasionally.

“I didn't do any savin', I just put you back where you belonged, with the livin'.”

“But how?” You tried to pry. “You only have your harpoon, possibly a hunters knife. How did you reach me in time?”

“I was already in the depths.”

Your head tilted in confusion trying to piece together his ambiguous answers. Was he implying he wasn't even alive? A human just like you? But you looked at his scarred face, how his eyes glowed. How the very essence of the abyss seemed to emanate around him. Perhaps he wasn't so human after all.

Sighing, you stood up, trying to shake off your nerves. You thanked him for his aid, checking your pockets to possibly give him some gold out of thanks. But it was only then you realised, everything you owned was back on that cursed ship. Any change of clothes, the few valuables you had, were all in the quarters you shared with the crew. Without a doubt they would have raided all your belongings and taken everything.

By now the shock had started to leave your body. The cold of the depths had left you and now you were only burning with rage. You didn't deserve any of this. Only a day ago you were living a tolerable life. You thought you had the respect of the crew and captain, rations were decent and the work wasn't so strenuous. Now you had nothing.

“I'll make them pay.”

“Hm?” Your rescuer looked at you with raised eyebrows. You hadn't even noticed that the words escaped your lips, but you looked at him with pure intent. All these years you tried to take the peaceful, high moral ground. Your unfortunate social standing meant you had no choice but to take a life aboard a ship but you tried to maintain a moral code, you tried to give those who wronged you the benefit of the doubt. No more.

“My crew,” you spat out the words. “I did everything by the damn book. I helped them out, I did my part.”

“You a pirate?” he asked. The tone in his voice changed, cautious, a hint of hostility.

“In the loosest sense of the word,” you huffed. “I was on a pirate ship, I helped a crew and worked for a captain but don't group me up with those bastards.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “They wronged you?”

“Who do you think threw me overboard?” You seethed.

“You want them dead?”

The simple question made you hesitate. You had never condemned someone to such a fate before, let alone multiple. The word “dead” held such a strong grip on you, especially now you had such a close experience to it. But you remembered how you were dragged out onto the decks, the jeering faces of the entire ship as they wanted to see you gone. How they strung you along for so many months, using your aid until they deemed it more entertaining to throw you overboard. They used you.

“Yes.”

Like a judge that had slammed down the gavel, you made your verdict and decided the sentence.

“I see,” the man stood up. “And what're you willin' to give for that?”

“Everything,” you replied. Admittedly, you had nothing left to give right now, but you were determined to build yourself back up. For the entire ship to feel just a fraction of the pain you felt. For them to pay for their crime against you and all the crimes they've committed before.

The man looked out thoughtfully. He took out one of the many daggers strapped to him, offering the handle out to you.

“The name's Pyke.”

You felt the name had a special importance, since he was reluctant to tell you before. You almost felt proud that he told you, it was a symbol of trust. You reached to take the knife, fingers curling around the handle.

“A tavern down the docks takes payment in work. You can stay with 'em, they're good people,” Pyke instructed. “I'll find you in the morning. You've got a lot to learn.”

“Thank you,” your were stunned. “But why?”

“Why?”

“Why're you helping me?”

“They've got a debt to pay. All of 'em” Pyke replied. “You're a rare one. Good people ain't easy to come by, even less willin' to do what I do, I'll take 'em when I can.”

“Who are you?” You asked.

“You know me as Pyke.”

“No, more than that. Who – or what – are you?”

“You'll figure out soon enough,” he chuckled, his glowing eyes turning into crescents as he grinned through the bandana. He jerked his head towards his dagger that was still in your hands. “You'll need to learn how to use that well.”

“I already know a couple of tricks,” you admitted. Pyke sent an approving look as you attached the blade to your belt. “And just how exactly do you plan to eliminate an entire crew and their captain?”

Even though you could only see half his face, you could tell how his smile changed. How it became sadistic, wild, his eyes shining with the green light you thought you only saw in the monsters of the sea.

“We drag 'em to the depths.”

[root-admins]

SINoALICE x NieR Replicant - Weapon Stories

A complete compilation of all weapon stories from SINoALICE’s NieR Replicant collab... well, the ones that has lore to do with NieR anyways.

Whatever grammar mistakes/translation errors belongs to Pokelabo, and you will tell there are some. Most are stories are pretty self-explanatory tho.

Grimoire Weiss

We fought for what seemed like ages. To kill those things that took a twisted human form. To protect those precious to me, with my own hands. We were deceived for so long. Deceived by people in a land we've never been, whose faces we've never seen Issuing orders from a safe distance. We must have been in love. And despite the fact I couldn't save you, but I never got to thank you for saving me. These fragments glimmering deep in my depths... they seem to be the vague memories of people... the faded remnants of human wisdom... H-hold on! I’ll have you know my name is not “Booky Wooky!” You may call me "Grimoire Weiss" I am a great compendium of ancient wisdom. Treat me with respect!

Grimoire Noir

My name is the Black Book. Are you the king who will lead the world to salvation? Don't be so surprised, Your Majesty. For me, it is a simple matter to speak human words. I sympathize with your distress, Your Majesty. On this occasion, however, we have no choice but to let them deal with your sister. When sorrow overtakes you, you may come to me and speak of your tribulations. Reading is an admirable pursuit. Your Majesty--for me?? I shall peruse this volume if it comes on your recommendation... What is that? You think it odd for a book to read a book? Noir? I would prefer to dispense with this nickname. My name, Your Majesty, is the Black Book. I am a grand tome of human wisdom... thus, to refer to me by such a curious moniker is, dare I say, inappropriate.

Kaine’s Sword

She was slender, with smooth, white skin. The hint of a dark shadow in her expression highlighted her beautiful features. But something about the sword in her hand didn't seem to fit the picture. Anger, sorrow, hatred. When emotions overwhelmed her, she would swing the sword, so there was never a lack of blood to quench its thirst. The problem was that she couldn't put the sword down. A heart and body in constant conflict. No one in the world could understand her. And loneliness was eating her alive. The long war came to an end, and darkness devoured her. But her heart remained at peace. Because she faced fate in the arms of the one she loved.

Halua Head

File_25_10: Update Soon twins will be arriving. There is nothing at all in the white-walled, prison-like room except for a white bed. If only there were something to do in there... File_25_12: Update I went to look in on them, and the girl was kindly encouraging her anxious younger brother. The two of them had heavy expectations to fulfill. The weight of all humanity's hope bore down upon them. File_26_06: Update The day of the experiment, the girl passed me a letter. To the very end, she wanted someone to watch over her brother. Once I agreed, she quickly ran away. Report: Human Weapon Development Things seem to be progressing as expected with Experimental Subject A (Sister), but her condition has changed drastically. In her present state, she seems to have no sense of self. I am urgently beginning work on Experimental Subject B (Brother).

Devola & Popola’s Staff

－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, Thanks for that soup recipe! My mom loved it!  －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ A note received from a child in the village. Does this mean they are developing a sense of self? －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, Thanks to the medicine you gave me, I'm feeling a lot better, though I can't leave home yet. Just sending a note to say thanks. －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ According to our records, humans wrote their feelings down on pieces of paper, and sent them to others. Where did they learn to do such a thing? －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, I like you a lot. Will you be my girlfriend? Waiting to hear back. －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ I simply cannot understand the things they have written on these scraps of paper. I feel an unfamiliar feeling, my heart saying “no”… －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, Sorry I couldn't tell you in person, but I'm coming home late tonight. Go ahead and sleep if you're tired. －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Ah, Devola. No need to worry about me this way. Tee-hee.

Favorite Pot

Yonah, I learned a special recipe! When you eat it, all your injuries will be gone! Oh! I want everyone to feed it to those they care about!

The ingredients are deer meat, sea turtle eggs, fresh veggies and herbs from the garden, and lastly tons of scorpion claws! Next, fill a pot up with all your ingredients, place the top on, and let it simmer overnight! The white steam rising from it is just so mesmerizing. ...Oh! I think it's ready! Smell for a soft scent when you take the lid off. That means it's done! I can't wait to give it to grandpa.

Transience

"Rule 0: You have the right to disband a rule by vote." I am the king's aide and second-in-command. Until now, all rules have be absolute, however, a "Voting Rite" was held where citizens could vote to change rules. Now, let's see what sort of ballots were made...

"Rule 451: Consuming alcohol is forbidden during the daytime." And stated as the reason is: because I like drinking... Because it's anonymous, all these votes are based off selfish desires. We need to improve the system somehow that reflects public opinion.

"Rule 356: Royal inquiries are limited once per day." And stated as the reason is: because I long to be with the King more...? Could this Fyra's vote...? No. Of course not. She's not the type to be interested in love. Moving on...

"Rule 68: The King's aides are to forever serve at his side" Reason being: Thank you for all your hard work. You deserve a break once in awhile... Could this be from the King himself? I'm honored to have stood by your side all these years. And the citizens of this country are proud of your work. There's no doubt of it.

Note: After rigorous deliberation, "Rule 451: Consuming alcohol is forbidden during the daytime", the most voted for rule, was repealed.

Grimoire Weiss ver.1.224

My name is Grimoire Weiss. I am an ancient tome of profound wisdom. After awakening from my long slumber, I traveled the world with my most beloved friends. She was a woman lacking respect for her elders. She'd continuously talk down to me, calling me nothing but paper and even set me aflame. However... Her rash words were also the driving force that moved us all. He was a compassionate and gentle boy who loved his friends. His manor of dress was odd, but his kind words warmed everyone's hearts. This I know to be true. I wonder if he, too had felt any relief from his sins. He was a cheeky guy, but not one you could just leave behind. We've been through a number of rough times together. I'd tell ya about it, but... I'm running out of time. If... If only I had an arm... Then I could have...hugged...him...

Grimoire Rubrum

It's the silk of fate. Knowing you, I shall begin living a life of truth. It's the forbidden fruit. Protecting you, I shall sink into wisdom's abyss. Those are the flames of anxiety. Thinking of you, I shall endure eternity's darkness. That is a reunion of bitter tears. Who are they? Why is it not me who's besides you?

Kaine’s Dual Blades ver.1.224

I craved it. Blind violence and blood-thirsty carnage. And I found it. I finally found it. A vessel stained with anger and hatred, seeking vengeance for the murder of her parents. I possessed that woman and gave her "power." That power turned the woman into a beast. One swing of her blade was enough to cut through stone and her grazes healed in an instant. She began downing every foe before her in the name of vengeance. I was delighted to witness the fruition of my desires. The woman's destruction didn't end there. After having her revenge, she continued to exert her "power" for the sake of her friends. Along her journey, her anger and hatred showed signs of waning, however, I gave it no thought. All I desired was to continue bathing in her bloodshed. Because her body has reached its limit, her power has lost control. Still, in the midst of the clashing of blades, I could feel her desire to protect her friends. Yes, this is the violence and carnage I crave. But why is it deplorable and empty?

Devola & Popola’s Spear

Upon hearing an old lady from the village caught a cold, I immediately collected my medicinal herbs with some boiled water, and rushed out from the library. I nursed her and remained by her side until her symptoms calmed down. She was extremely grateful for it.

I read a picture book to a group of children from the village. It was of an old tale about a brave, courageous man who triumphs over evil. I watched their expressions alternated between joy to sorrow to the story's pacing. I'm glad they enjoyed it.

Devola and I performed a song for the people at the village tavern. In addition to the regulars who drank there, elders and children were part of the audience. At the end of our song, the entire crowd smiled and cheered.

Every day Devola and I have been staying late at the library thinking of a plan to make life easier for the villagers. They're indispensable "vessels" for the project, so we need to do what we can for them.

Letter to the Postman

I was in a dimly lit cabin when I met a kind man. He taught me how to write a letter. What should I write on a blank piece of paper...? ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

Apparently, a letter should start off with the name of the person you want to give it to. Of course, I'd want it to be his. I hope he'll be able to read my sloppy handwriting... ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― 　　Hans ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

At the end of the letter should be the name of the person who wrote it. Of course, that would be the name he gave me. Is it odd my chest feels warm writing it...? ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― 　　Hans 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Luiz ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

And in-between these two names, I'm supposed to write how I feel. And tell him what I want the most. I wonder if he'll be happy to receive this...?

―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― 　　Hans, Thank you　Thank you　Thank you Thank you　Thank you　Thank you　Thank you 　Thank you　Thank you. Luiz ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 15 (Kiro’s Chapter) Part 1 [15-1] Translation [CN]

***WARNING!!!! SPOILERS!!!! DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS OR ARE NOT UP-TO-DATE ABOUT THE CONTENT IN SEASON 2 OF MLQC!!!***

This is a translation of Kiro’s chapter from the latest chapter update on MLQC CN server(released on 6/3/2021). I’ll be posting his chapter in sections since I feel it’s easier for me this way. For those interested in reading more, please be patient over the course of the next several days. I do not know any Chinese so everything was done using Google Translate and took some liberties in rewording certain sentences to make it flow better. Thank you to the wonderful @link4eva​ for looking this over for me <3 Without further ado, enjoy!!!

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 15: Counterattack

[Bear Reunion]

The silver-white arc was fleeting and the power station returned to the previous dead silence.

I looked into the distance and the scattered light passed through the thick fog, faint but full of power.

However, everyone in the city is still trapped in the abyss of longing for survival.

I took a deep breath and looked at my phone. The screen showed one hour remaining.

The game continues.

I looked down at my palm as if I could feel the seemingly numb sensation when the current passed.

The original plan was to continue distributing aerosols after the power supply was restored in Loveland City.

Although it wasn’t successful in making Joker appear, at least it can help more disadvantaged people at the moment.

I raised my head and looked at the empty power supply station. Only the sound of equipment roaring in the air.

Shaw isn’t here. With my strength alone, it is difficult to influence players in more regions and maybe I will be overtaken by them.

Now I need more reliable people to join in the aerosol distribution plan.

Either the other party is trustworthy or has a certain degree of authority and can provide abundant human resources.

MC: ...Temporary rescue point!  

I thought of the place I have just visited. Since it is a temporary organization specially set up by the Special Task Force and the police, it meets this requirement.

If I tell them where the next replenishment will be restocked, the aerosols can be more effectively and reasonably distributed.

But the situation on the sports field just now was too chaotic and it was not a suitable choice.

I opened  the paper map. At the power station, located on the outskirts of the city, there is a large affiliated hospital a few kilometers away.

There is a high probability that there will be a temporary rescue point.

Even if it there isn’t, there should be certain service personnel and police officers who can provide some assistance.

That must be it.

After deciding where to go, I took a deep breath and put away the map. Once again, I looked back at the place where Shaw disappeared, turned and left the power station.

I followed the map and carefully watched the road under my feet, trying to protect myself from the fog.

But the visibility of the fog is too dense which more or less shifts my sense of direction.

MC: ….I should turn left here.

I walked along the shoulder of the road trying not to let myself miss the intersection.

The next second, the whistling wind sounded in my ears. I was stunned for a moment and my heart beat faster.

The fog in front of me seemed to fade a little. After I sped up my pace, I discovered that beside the residential area, there was a stable and powerful wind barrier covering the building.

This wind quietly surrounds the building and merges into a closed wind mass, trying to isolate the building from the foggy poisonous gas.

A familiar peace of mind and a certain guess surged in my heart. I gripped my fingers as if holding this courage.

I realized that the wind barrier was preventing others from approaching so I didn’t stay too long and continued forward.

Fog swept through my vision again and I tried to distinguish the reference objects along the way on the map but the fog was too thick.

I don’t know how long I have been walking but I know I can’t stop.

After stopping at an intersection, I checked the map and looked up at the road sign above.

The Second Affiliated Hospital of Medical University, 800 meters to the left.

I walked quickly in the direction indicated but was dumbfounded upon my arrival.

There seemed to have been a fight here and huge fallen rocks blocked the intersection. And not only here, another road is also blocked by stones.

Not willing to give up, I took out the map again, trying to find another route to the hospital but my vision became blurred.

I rubbed my eyes vigorously, only the sound of my rapid breathing remained in the air.

I can’t give up yet.

There must be another way.

Straightening up, I walked towards the only intersection left.

The vast white fog, like a dense and huge net, held me tightly within its grasp.

Suddenly, my eyes felt astringent, a little hot and a light spot appeared in my field of vision.

I thought it was a distant light but the dots of light continued to flicker and in the next moment it spread into many lines of light.

It seemed to be alive, rapidly growing and converging into a network and slowly being stretched away, clearly marking the supply point and the landmark building of the city.

A large urban grid pierced through the dense fog and laid out before my eyes, illuminating my entire world.

My heart was beating wildly and after seeing the image, I gasped.

This is a map of Loveland City.

Where I was, a little bear emerged out of thin air with a small flower on its head and nodded its head at me.

“Pi-pi-”

At the same time, my collar made a rush of electric noises.

After a few sounds, it finally stabilized, replaced by static. It seems that someone is controlling my collar.

MC: ….?!

I didn’t dare make a sound when I didn’t know why it was happening so I could only hold my breath and wait for the other party’s movement.

A few seconds later, a familiar and long-lost voice came from the microphone of the collar.

??: Kilo, show the connection.

MC: !!

As soon as I heard the words, a red line came from a distance on the map in front of me and was connected to the little flower bear.

The other little bear symbolizing Kiro is on the other end of the map. Its head nodding again and again as if greeting me.

Kiro: I have kept you waiting, MC.

-End of Part 1-

Continue to part 2

[i-am-not-a-who-i-am-a-what]

there was a moment from yesterday’s episode that set off so many alarm bells in my head and i haven’t seen anyone talking about it yet so i’m going to get my thoughts out there. i’m putting the majority of this post under a readmore bc it got very long thanks to all the transcript quotes i pulled but i really want to know what everyone else thinks about the Implications™

BASIRA

Okay. So… what do we know about Hill Top Road?

ARCHIVIST

Not much.

BASIRA

Another blind spot?

ARCHIVIST

No, it’s – I could look at it, but it… it was… it was like a… a hole. You know that feeling you get when you look down from a, a great height, like you’re being pulled into the abyss?

BASIRA

Kind of?

ARCHIVIST

[Getting lost in thought] Well it was… was like that. Normally I can see it, see the… webs, and feel the power of The Spider emanating from it, but… as I would look… it’s like my mind…. follows the paths of The Web,

[STATIC RISES]

the strands going down and… out… [Catching self] It’s quite disorientating.

[STATIC FADES]

my first thought after hearing this exchange was “huh, that sounds eerily similar to the description of the table the not-them was trapped in.” here it is from mag 3 - across the street:

I’d become enraptured by the table on which he’d placed my tea. It was an ornate wooden thing, with a snaking pattern of lines weaving their way around towards the centre. The pattern was hypnotic and shifted as I watched it, like an optical illusion. I found my eyes following the lines towards the middle of the table, where there was nothing but a small square hole.

my first instinct was that this was some foreshadowing for jon meeting some kind of horrible fate, because well... remember what happened the last time someone got mesmerized by the table?

SASHA

Oh, hey. I’ve found… I’ve found that table you were talking about. Don’t really see what all the fuss is about. Just a… basic… optical illusion. Nothing special… just… just a… wait…

[Hushed and panicked] Jon! Jon, I think there’s someone here. Hello? I see you. Show yourself!

but then i started thinking more about why the table specifically would be referenced, and i remembered the earliest we see it used as artifact of the web, and where: with raymond fielding in hill top road in mag 59 - recluse:

On Sunday evenings, however, we’d all gather for the evening meal, and before we sat down to eat, he would remove the bright white tablecloth that covered it, and we’d gather around the dark wood. I remember it was carved in all sorts of strange swirling designs and patterns. It felt like if you picked a line, any line, you could follow it through to the center, to some deep truth, if only your eye could keep track of the strands that had caught it.

it was while i was checking the transcripts to find the above quote that i also remembered the hole in center of the table that the web pattern leads towards wasn’t always empty - it used to contain a box, and that box contained an apple.

again from again from mag 59:

The center of the table looked, at first, like it was simply part of the wooden top, but if you looked closely, as I did so often, you could see an outline marking the very middle as a small, square box, carved with patterns just like the ones that laced their way over the rest of the table. I don’t remember how long we sat around the table those evenings, nor do I have any memory of what we might have eaten.

...

I reached over and pulled the wooden square from the center of the table. On its own, it appeared to be a small wooden box, and the lid opened smoothly, as my hands moved in a practiced motion. Inside was an apple, green and fresh and still wet with morning dew.

I knew I was going to eat it. I could feel tears desperately trying to push themselves out of my eyes, but I instead decided not to cry. I placed the box down on the table, reached over, and picked up the apple.

the box from the center of the table makes its first appearance in the very first hill top road statement, mag 8 - burned out, where we learn that apparently the apple was full of spiders. 

considering the web’s predilection for filling it’s victim’s bodies with spiders (carlos vittery, annabell cane, the spider husks trevor encountered, the victim of the chelicerae website, the old woman in annabell’s statement, francis, etc.) i think this goes a ways to explain what happened to raymond’s other victims, and what would have happened to mag 59′s statement giver if he’d bitten into the apple:

They lay still now, wrapped in their sticky cocoons. Their bodies seemed warped and bloated in a way I didn’t recognize. But that’s only because at that point in my life, I had never before seen a spider egg sac.

more importantly though, we also learn that the box was buried under the burnt up tree in hill top road’s garden, the one whose uprooting was implied to be linked to agnes’s death: 

STATEMENT

At that moment I made my decision. It was easy, like destroying this tree was the only thing to do, the only path to follow ... When the tree lay on its side, uprooted and powerless, I gazed into the hole where it had sat and noticed something lying there in the dirt.

Climbing down, I retrieved what turned out to be a small wooden box, about six inches square, with an intricate pattern carved along the outside. Engraved lines covered it, warping and weaving together, making it hard to look away.

...

ARCHIVIST

Except… We cannot prove any connection, but Martin unearthed a report on an Agnes Montague, who was found dead in her Sheffield flat on the evening of November 23rd 2006, the same day Mr. Lensik claims to have uprooted the tree.

and keep in mind that the only reason the statement giver in mag 59 didn’t eat the apple, didn’t succumb to the web... was agnes’s kiss:

As the man in the suit told me to follow him in a clipped BBC accent, Agnes walked over, and gestured for me to lean down and listen to her. I did so, but instead of a conspiratorial whisper, she just gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, then ran off down the hall.

...

All at once, my cheek erupted in pain. It was like someone had pressed a hot branding iron into my face, and I could swear that I heard the flesh sizzle as I let out a scream and fell to my knees. I raised my hands to my face and realized in that moment two very important things. The first is that my face seemed to be untouched; I could feel no injury or burn. The second was that raising my hand had been a truly voluntary act. I had willed it myself, and whatever power had been gripping me, tugging me into its web, I was free of it.

at this point you’re probably wondering why i think all this is relevant in terms of what might happen with hill top road, and i have two potential ideas: 

my first idea has to do with the theory that agnes is lingering on as a ghost. this theory isn’t mine, i first encountered it shortly after mag 167 - curiosity aired through this post’s attempt to fix what bits of the timeline were thrown out of wack by the new info. if anyone has any other posts or general thoughts about this theory feel free to share them, i’d love to read them!

this theory is relevant to my speculation that agnes might finally make an appearance because she might have been the ghost seen by one of the statement givers in mag 100 - i guess you had to be there:

MARTIN

Right. Right.

[THROAT CLEARING]

Statement of Lynne Hammond, er, recorded 2nd of May 2017, regarding…

Uh, what, what’s this one about?

LYNNE

I saw a ghost.

MARTIN

O-kay.. Regarding a… a ghost. Statement begins.

who appeared as one of the cultists in mag 190 - scavengers: 

MARTIN

[Puzzled] Celia?

CELIA

Probably. The, um… place I was trapped in, they took my name. I never got it back. But I like Celia, so… yeah! Celia it is.

MARTIN

Uh… H-Hello… Celia.

and was recognized and directly confirmed to be the same person by martin in mag 191 - what we lose:

MARTIN

…

Hey, I meant to ask. Do you recognise that woman, Celia?

ARCHIVIST

Um… no, I, I don’t think so. Why?

MARTIN

I’d swear she gave a statement once.

having her only pop up in mag 190 would have just been a fun easter egg, but having martin directly call out her presence the next episode sounds to me like jonny telling the audience to pay attention, to remember that her statement had to do with the ghost of a young woman on fire who might have been agnes. 

my second idea involves web lighter.

over various statements throughout the previous four seasons we’ve been shown that the web and the desolation have been at war, and hill top road has been their battlefield. the best examples of this come from mag 139 - chosen and mag 149 - infectious doubts respectively. 

on the one hand we have agnes being planted in hill top road by the cult of the lightless flame in an effort to both control her powers and derail the web’s plans, which seems to begin the conflict:

The compromise we came to was Hill Top Road. We knew it was a stronghold of the Web, full of other children Agnes’ age. We would supervise from a distance, but were confident she would be in no danger. The Mother of Puppets has always suffered at our hand; all the manipulation and subtle venom in the world means nothing against a pure and unrestrained force of destruction and ruin.

and on the other we have the web binding gertrude to agnes, thus thwarting the desolation’s ritual, which also involved hill top road:

ARTHUR

Alright. Agnes. How’d you do it? Never did understand it, not really.

GERTRUDE

Ah. That’s a fair enough question. It was the Web. I didn’t know it at the time, of course, and I would call it an accident, but it never is, with them. It’s only after the fact that you can see all the subtle manipulations

... 

So, I began researching what I thought was a counter-ritual of sorts. Like I said, I was young, naive. I somehow found just the right books, made just the right connections, and even got what I thought was a piece of blind good luck when I found a tin box in the ashes of Hill Top Road, containing some perfectly preserved cuttings of her hair.

wouldn’t it seem symbolic, fitting with the dream logic we’ve been working with all season (and that the fears have always tended to work with), if what ended the metaphysical war was an artifact touched by both the web and the desolation? 

say perhaps... a device that creates fire while being marked by a symbol of the spider? one that just so happened to be delivered to the institute at the same time as a certain table?

TIM

Er, what is it?

ARCHIVIST

A lighter. An old Zippo.

TIM

You smoke?

ARCHIVIST

No. And I don’t allow ignition sources in my archive!

TIM

Okay. Is there anything unusual about it?

ARCHIVIST

Not really. Just a sort of spider web design on the front. Doesn’t mean anything to me. You?

TIM

Ah no. No.

ARCHIVIST

Well… show it to the others, see what they think. You said there was something else as well?

TIM

Oh, ah yes, yeah, it was sent straight to the Artefact Storage, a table of some sort. Ah, looks old. Quite pretty, though. Fascinating design on it.

all signs point to the best hope of escaping whatever plans the web has for jon lying with the desolation, or at least with fire, and who should be waiting in hill top road than someone who’s been known to burn statements in the past... and someone who, as of mag 162 - a cozy cabin, was the last person to mention the lighter: 

MARTIN

So, should we destroy it? Before we go?

[THE CABIN CREAKS VERY LOUDLY.]

ARCHIVIST

I honestly don’t know if we can.

[HE SIGHS.]

MARTIN

Mm.

ARCHIVIST

Besides, there’s – far worse out there. Better to try and avoid it, I think.

MARTIN

We’re not even gonna try? Look, we’ve got your lighter; maybe if we just –

i haven’t even begun to touch on the multiple instances of spiral marked individuals interacting with hill top road, or the potential role of the rift leading from the world without the institute to the reality with the institute from mag 114 - cracked foundations, or the foreshadowing we’ve gotten throughout this season that the archive might be destroyed by fire and how it’s looking more and more like that means jon might die, or the significance of the tapes and what power might be behind them...

but it’s nearing five in the morning where i am and i’ve been working on this frankly gargantuan post since about midnight, so i’m going to let more meta-inclined minds take it from here. tell me what you think! where do you agree with me, where do you think i’ve gone astray? hell, tell me if you think i’m just spinning my wheels, this is the first real theory post i’ve ever made so i might be completely off base, at least i tried lol.

tl;dr: 

the call back to the imagery surrounding the web table and its long history with hill top road and the desolation is leading me to believe that whatever plans the web has in hill top road for jon, fire is going to have a significant role in whether or not the web gets what it wants; either agnes herself might finally make an appearance or the web lighter might finally come into play.