#and she would communicate with Point Man through her ghost child form

[xmrnothingx]

Alma Wade from F.E.A.R.

wanted to draw a fancy Alma Wade from my AU where she joins F.E.A.R.. Making up for not drawing Alma last October when I was feeling unmotivated. (if her company isn't going to do anything with her, I might as well)

[yawnderu]

Mine — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Art by @ave661!

Synopsis: knowing he couldn't provide you with the life you wanted, Simon breaks things off with you. Two years later, you come back to base with a baby that isn't his.

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, established relationships, breeding, erotic lactation, romantic love making, praising. No beta we die like Roach.

Ghost always knew his lifestyle would forever be considered out of the norm. A soldier who risks his life every single mission, a man who has built an entire plethora of enemies in multiple countries should never even bother settling down, yet why does it hurt to bad to see you come back to base with a baby that isn't his? It was his idea to break up— not wanting to destroy your dreams of wanting a family in a gated community, even when you reassured him living together as soldiers wouldn't be an issue at all.

"Say 'hi, Simon'." You tell the baby you're carrying, the tiny thing wearing a bear onesie is looking up at Simon, pure curiosity in her eyes. She simply babbles, short arms reaching out to touch his skull mask. To your surprise and to his heart break, he leans down so your daughter can play with the hard plate of the mask, not worried at all about her breaking it.

"She looks like you." He said with a choked voice, trying his best to sound calm. He doesn't even dare look at you, his gaze focused on the tiny girl you're holding.

"Dada!" She babbles out while touching his mask and Simon's eyes immediately go towards you, soul almost leaving his body in fear of seeing disgust on your face, yet all he sees is a bashful smile adorning your pretty features. He holds in his breath, eyebrows furrowed under the balaclava as he waits for your response.

"Astrid, that's—" You begin and she interrupts, one of her tiny hands barely being able to hold one of his big skull gloved fingers. "Dada!" She insists, louder this time. There's only 3 words the little girl can say including 'Dada', so you're not all that concerned about her seeing him that way.

"Sorry, she—" You get interrupted once again, this time by Simon.

"It's okay." If being delusional and pretending this tiny thing is his daughter helps him deal with the heartbreak making his chest hurt, he doesn't mind. The girl clings to Simon's neck and you lean closer, giving her a questioning look. She never liked being held by anyone but you, often crying whenever friends tried to hold her.

"This might sound strange, but..." His gaze shifted from you to the child, heart melting at the little girl holding onto the neck of his jacket for dear life.

"Can I hold her?" His voice was hoarse, hands almost shaking from all the emotions that hit him at once.

"Of course." Your warm smile reassured him, gently passing him the baby. He supported the back of her head with his hand, easily dwarfing her entire skull, yet being so delicate with his touch you could swear he thinks your daughter is made of glass.

Simon felt light headed as the little girl was slipped into his arms, fitting perfectly in his hands. His eyes lit up when he looked down and saw her soft, chubby fingers wrap around the chain of his dog tags, a small smile forming under the balaclava. He brought her close and cradled her, heart thundering in his chest at holding this lovely girl you created.

"Dada." She pointed at him with her finger, looking back at you as she squeezed his chain with her free hand. You could swear you saw one of his eyebrows lifting in amusement under the mask, the same cocky look you know too well.

"Maybe she wants me to be her daddy." He teased you, cradling the baby delicately in his strong arms, shielding her from any danger. He was instantly smitten the second he saw her, content to have your permission to hold her even after all you both went through.

"Don't be so smug about it, bastard." You playfully roll your eyes, leaning your head on his shoulder to give your little girl a kiss on the forehead, her hand holding onto your hair softly the same way you managed to teach her after one too many times of having your hair pulled by the tiny creature.

"Mama." She attempted to pet your hair the same you taught her how to pet a cat, albeit her tiny limbs moved much sloppier and with surprising strength.

"I think it's sweet." He said with a cheeky smirk, the pain in his chest going away more and more the longer he held your daughter. He was secretly hoping to get a reaction out of you after almost two years of not being able to tease you.

"You can tell her no all you want, but if she wants a dada, she's got one." As if to prove his point, he pointed with his eyes to the girl in his arms, the child reaching out towards Ghost with a giggle. His fingers tickled the baby gently, making her laugh even more. You look between Simon and the baby, a fond smile on your lips when you see just how easily they get along, the pupils in his brown eyes fully dilated as he looks down at her.

"Look at her." Ghost spoke softly, one of his skull gloved fingers running down the length of her short hair.

"She looks like an angel." He looked down at the child with nothing short of raw adoration, gaze drifting back to you, taking in the sweet moment of your body leaning against his while you both fawn over the infant. You hesitantly move away from his shoulder after a few seconds and he gives you a questioning side eye.

"I've got a meeting with Price, let me—" You reach out for your baby and he looks down at you, gaze softening.

"I can babysit for you." He offers with a hopeful look in his eyes. How can you deny anything to this man when he's holding your little girl as if he would die for her no questions asked? When those big brown eyes are looking down at you, the moisture in them clear as day? You nod your head, offering a warm smile as you give your baby one last kiss in the cheek, accidentally tickling her and making her giggle even more.

"There's a few baby bottles in the fridge, just run them over hot water for a few seconds until it's warm— but not too warm." He nods his head as you give him instructions on how to take care of the baby, listening intently. He doesn't have the heart to tell you he knows how to take care of a child— he babysat his former nephew many, many times before. He doesn't even realize he dissociated until you gently pat his shoulder, walking to Price's office.

"You and me, yeah?" He asks your baby who simply giggles in return, tiny hands going back to play with the hard plate of his skull mask.

The meeting took much longer than expected, catching up with Price and talking about your possible return to the 141. It isn't until three hours later that you go back to your quarters, heart in your throat when you turn on the lights.

Ghost is laying on your bed, civilian clothes on with a hoodie covering half of his upper face, your baby safely secured on his chest. You don't have the heart to wake them up, instead grabbing your phone and snapping a quick picture, making sure not a single feature of his face is seen for his own safety and privacy.

The change of lighting slowly wakes him up, offering you a tired smile before his eyes close again once he realizes it's just you. You take off your boots and turn off the light, sneaking into bed with your lovely baby and... your ex.

It feels too natural to even think much about it, one of his arms instantly wrapping around your shoulders to bring you closer, head resting on his chest along with the tiny offspring. He drifts off to sleep soundly with his two girls and for the first time in a long time, he's able to get a full night's sleep, not being woken up by his violent nightmares.

Weeks pass as Simon spends more and more time with you, your new contract signed the same day you had a meeting with Price, though he's not putting you on any missions yet until they figure out who will take care of your daughter while you're away. Today Gaz and Soap asked to take her out, claiming they wanted to buy some new clothes for her since she's growing up fast.

"Hey, big guy." You greet Simon, who seems to have relocated to your quarters for whatever reason— the man literally spends his whole time there and you don't even question it anymore, simply assuming he wanted to spend more time with your daughter. You know details here and there about his family, though he was never clear about the full story. You sit down next to him and he nods his head in acknowledgment, too busy looking at his phone.

"Can I buy her this?" He points his phone at you, showing you a website selling pajama pants for babies, the ones he's showing you are grey and have a skull pattern all over. You playfully roll your eyes, nodding your head before laying down next to him, head laying on his chest while you look at his phone, browsing the website together.

"You don't have to buy her things, you know?" You take a few seconds to admire his unmasked features iluminated by his phone—the soft jawline, thin pink lips, high nose and skin around his eyes that always seemed to be tainted with eye black no matter how well he washed it off.

"Telling me what to do, Sargeant?" He teased, raising an eyebrow at you and being an asshole jokingly just to make you laugh. It only earns him a slap on the arm, phone dropping right on his face. He turns his head slowly to look at you and you can recognize the look in his eyes— you try to run away but he holds you down, fingers already tickling your ribs as you laugh and struggle, trying your best to get out of his grasp to no avail.

"Pause." You kick and scream, laughter escaping your lips due to the tickles. As soon as you speak he stops, looking down at you with a tender look in his face. You gasp for air and he takes the chance to look down at your lips, so close, so inviting...

"I saw that." You tease and he jokingly pushes your head into the pillow, laying down next to you with an arm wrapped around your waist. You giggle at the remaining feeling of the tickles before laying back down on your side, hand absent-mindedly tracing patters on his defined, clothed stomach. You don't know when you both started becoming so close again, yet the comfort is always welcome in the turbulent life of a soldier.

"When's that lot coming back?" He looks down at you, longing mixed with curiosity. Truth to be told, he knows the boys will keep your baby safe, but he wants to have her right back where she belongs— in his arms.

"Like... two hours, I think. If they don't find anything too distracting. Don't worry, I made them take a jacket for her in case it gets cold." He would never tell you he was the one to put the baby jacket in the car because they all forgot.

"Good, good." He sighs, looking up at the ceiling, deep in thought. It's quiet for a few minutes, both of you finding comfort in the silence before he speaks again.

"Are you planning on having another one?" He asks curiously, gaze drifting down towards you, doing his best to hide the longing and hope in his tone.

"Maybe." You keep in simple, eyes staying closed as you trace patterns on the muscles of his stomach, feeling them flex involuntarily at your touch.

"Why? Interested on having a family with me now, Simon?" You tease, an eyebrow raised at him as you finally open your eyes. He seems to be thinking about it for a few seconds before hesitantly nodding.

"Bullshit." You sit up, looking down at him with a mix of confusion and hope.

"S' the truth." He plays it off casually as if he didn't confess being ready to do the same thing that broke both of you off two years ago. He pulls you back down to his chest, fingers gently massaging your scalp. You can hear his heart beat fast, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows the knot in his throat.

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say. It's too much all at once— knowing Simon actually wanted to settle down with you bringing a mix of anxiety and fear to both of you equally. He never had a normal family, and though deep down he was scared of being like his father, he already proved to himself he can be gentle and tender, the same way he is with your daughter.

His hand slowly drifted down from your waist to the curve of your ass, softly squeezing it while looking at you for any signs of hesitation. He finds none, and instead sees you leaning closer and closer until your lips crash, the passion of two lovers who never got over one another present in the kiss.

Clothes are discharged all over the room with no care at all, the quarter walls bouncing off with a mix of your moans and his low groans, a pillow under your hips while he fucked into your cunt, slow and deep thrusts making the tip of his fat cock slam into your willing cervix.

"Gonna look so fucking pretty with my kid." He whispers into your ear, breathy groans leaving his lips as his thrusts slow down, making love to you rather than just fucking you for a quick nut. One of his hands cups your cheek, forcing you to look up at him.

"Tell me. Tell me how pretty you'll be all swollen with my baby." You hesitate and he kisses your lips gently, gaze tender while he looks down at you, thrusts hitting deeper and deeper each time as he waits for you to speak.

"I'll look... so pretty—fuck— with your child." You manage to speak out between whiny moans, the way he's looking at you with pure love and adoration is all you need to confirm he does find you attractive. Truth to be told, it's difficult being confident after glint through something that permanently alters your body, yet he's looking at you like you're even more beautiful than before. In his eyes, you are.

"That's a good girl." He praises, hips rutting faster against yours as he drove himself deeper and deeper into your cunt, the nasty squelching sound every time he goes hits it hard making this even more exciting. He holds himself up with his elbows, large hands cupping your tits while he pops one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it like a starved man finding shelter.

"These tits are gonna be so big too." He murmurs, swallowing the milk coming out of your tits with no hesitation. His hand gets busy with your other nipple, gently pulling and squeezing the sensitive bud, not minding the milk squirting all over. It's too good to be true— your body changing so much to keep your baby healthy and soon enough, it'll change for his baby too.

"So fuckin' perfect, baby." He praises, eyes closing as he focuses on how good your wet walls are wrapping around his unprotected cock, tongue swirling around your nipple before he latches onto it again, drinking the sweet milk coming out.

"This cock's all yours." He lets go of your nipple, face seeking shelter on the crook of your neck as his thrusts get sloppier by the second, embarrassingly nasty words coming out of his lips like prayer. You're the only one allowed to ever see him like this, to have him in any possibly way. He doesn't even care how he's promising you the world, offering all of himself to you without having any doubts.

"Everyone's gonna know you're mine, love." He whispers into your ear, voice hoarse and full emotion, hips stuttering before he buries himself all the way into your cunt, cum splurging out directly into your willing, fertile womb. He keeps himself inside, caging you in with his strong arms into a protective embrace, wanting to make sure not a single drop of cum is wasted.

"All mine."

[the-annotated-antichrist]

Act I, Track 03 - Through Dust, Through Rain

Song links: Spotify - YT Music - Apple - Tidal

In this track, we meet Helena Orsini, played by Lori Lewis, and her mother Sophia, played by Melissa Ferlaak. Lori needs no introduction to fans of the band, she's been one of their singers for many years. Melissa is also known as a metal singer - fun fact, both Melissa and Lori were the singer of Aesma Daeva at one point!

Left: Melissa Ferlaak photographed by Emilio Vaquer Right: Lori Lewis photographed by Tim Tronckoe

But back to the song...

In this track, Sophia is on her death bed and Helena, who has been taking care of her, is by her side to ease her passing. Sophia, whose husband is long dead, is an accomplished occultist and Helena is a faithful Christian, so both are sure that death will not be the end for Sophia - and indeed we will meet her again much later in this story. But for now, the sorrow of parting dominates the conversation between the two women.

[Sophia:] Dear child of mine, pain turns to destiny... Down from the mountains, in the form of a rose The thunder of oceans shall bring forth the ghost Of an infinite star that will rest in my tree Like the full moon of night Descending like me Such is my journey No matter where my spirit shall travel You will be there... [Helena:] Winter sheds its grief in snow Summer weeps It must be so Thus let thee live Unseen, unknown Light is the body and no more than a shell Releasing our spirits to heaven or hell While embracing my love to let go of your hand And to reach for a kingdom forgotten by man

The lyrics (or libretto, whichever you prefer) here, as will often be the case in BA, are closer to poetry than to regular conversation and narration. The lyricist, Per Albinsson, also has some history as a filmmaker - fun fact, he directed Therion's Summer Night City video - and personally I get the impression that he has quite a visual imagination. It's like he paints with words. In some cases, I think his words are more easily felt than rationally understood. Some lines tell the story, others are more akin to poetry, maybe meant to evoke emotions rather than communicate facts.

I would have liked to post a photo of Per as well, but I only found pictures that felt too private to use and/or did not credit the photographer. I will instead link an interview with him on YT.

In order to not write a novel for each song and also in order to not over-interpret the lyrics, I won't do much "poetry analysis" in these texts and focus on the coarser approach of storytelling, but I do think much of the imagery in these lyrics deserves to be considered, savoured, thought about, if you so choose. For example, you can follow the thread of dawn/spring symbolism through this entire work.

In the song, the conversation turns to a more practical matter next:

[Helena:] Forgive my sister, she would not come This travel, she said, you must do alone... [Sophia:] Bring to heart Johanna's name Through my blood you share the same To hold, to keep through dust, through rain

Helena's sister Johanna, whom we will meet shortly, did not wish to visit Sophia in her final hour. Why? As it turns out, Johanna is estranged from her family due to her strongly held religious beliefs - she is busy leading a radical Catholic sisterhood in Rome. The text in the inlay also seems to suggest that Johanna might not be there because she considers Sophia a sinner due to her magical work. The scene description goes into more detail, which sadly did not make it into the finished lyrics:

Sophia is fondling Helena's hand in hers. She utters that Johanna cannot yet accept her mother's deep insight in magical work nor in anything that enriches the human spirit. Helena stresses that she understands. The mother says that one day even Johanna will understand that humanity needs both light and darkness. [...] She asks Helena not to reject Johanna, to continually try to bring her into the real light.

The song ends with more poetry:

[Helena:] Say you knew Yes only you could grow the seeds of time Run and flow through silver snow Of mountains spring must climb From this hill, to waters still My heart will guide your way Love and wrath, my epitaph before your name I lay

If you remember the "seeds of time" image for a reeeaaaally long time, you will encounter it again eventually.

[sunfloo-wers]

This is giving me IDEAS

also @skyward-floored and @bokettochild if you want me to take this down because it was your idea(s) originally (or you were planning on doing it yourself and this feels like copy-ing, or literally anything else bad) I will in a heartbeat, just wanted to make that clear off the bat :D

why is this the thing that gets my creative juices flowing???? (I swear, my brain latches on to the weirdest things)

Half of this is from Wiki pages and half is from my own playthroughs of the games, if anyone wants to correct some characterization please feel free to!

I've chosen to include as many kings as I can, not just one per game or one per hero. If there's a king, or an old man, or old man type character, they're probably going to be here in one shape or form!

Each King is meant to be there for a reason, beyond just, oh funny grandpa. Each one is meant to represent a lesson that Rhoam needs to learn, and each one will teach him that lesson.

I have no idea what to name the ones that don't have canonical names because they do need like, person names because it would be weird to have Daphnes and Gustaf and Clock and Daltus. So yeah, if anyone has suggestions for names I'm all ears!

Skyward Sword:

So, this one I have a few ideas for, because there isn't really a "king" in SS, 1) just put the old headmaster guy Gaepora because he fits in with the vibes and is very clearly meant to represent the "king of hyrule" type character(just look at his colors and his name, also he is Zelda's father soooo), OR 2) Link. This works with the idea of SS!Link and SS!Zelda founding Hyrule and becoming the first King and Queen, obviously it would be old man link, really really post adventure, but still the adorable sleepy guy just old and wise. Now, the one that I think works the best (and is the funniest) is Groose. Okay, hear me out, I know that I fucking love Groose and his character and his arc and that may not be how everyone feels (wait, what is the general consensus on Groose? is it positive or do people just go "he's a big bully at the beginning so I don't like him >:( ". ), but just hear me out. I am a full hearted Groosezelink shipper and I both don't think that SS!Link would really enjoy the role of a leader, and the Skyloft Surface Community probably wouldn't need a monarchy in the first place, so Hylia might just put old man Groose in with the Old Kings as a bit of a joke and/or she thought he would be good at helping this story of apologizing, because he would be! He would be great at it, this man's whole character arc is going from being an asshole to being a sweet guy who lives with Grandma. He 100% knows how to apologize, and knows the importance of doing so.

Minish Cap:

Daltus(current ruler): One of the only kings to be a good sword fighter, has a fairly good head on his shoulders and does really care about his Zelda. His main fault is sending or allowing the sending of MC Link on that traumatizing an adventure as a kid between 8-12 years old. He probably feels really bad about that, but Hyrule Town is a fairly small town and Link might have been the only child old enough and skilled enough to wield a sword and see the Minish, so he's not irredeemable. He teaches Rhoam the importance of looking deeper into things, don't always take things at face value without taking a peek yourself.

Gustaf(Ghost)(married to the past wind tribe leader; He/She because it felt right): Plays a minor role, due to being a ghost of the past and all. They might eventually meet a younger, alive, Gustaf at some point through the adventure of "Rhoam needs to apologize to his daughter" but maybe not. He's outwardly gruff, but does really care about his land and her people, and once he realizes you're not a threat to that, she's a big teddy bear. Shows Rhoam that you can be a strong leader and still show affection to those you care about.

I really want to put Grandpa Smith here too, but he's really not King-ey at all, and also knows Daltus, so I don't think he'd be on the actual adventure, but if they ever ended up in Hyrule Town, they'd absolutely go find Grandpa Smith. I can't think of what exact lesson he'd teach Rhoam but it would probably be something to do with affection.

Four Swords and Four Swords Adventures:

Lonely Old Man: I couldn't find like, any info on the FS(A) royal family besides that Zelda, and there wasn't any "old man" type character either besides the depressed "no friends and my wife's dead and/or I'm dead" old man, so that's someone else that they will come across, but isn't on the adventure, probably shows Rhoam how sometimes you have to let go, and just be happier without the weights on your ankles.

Ocarina of Time:

As with FS(A), this game didn't really focus on the king directly, but I think he can teach an important lesson, so he needs to be included as least a little bit. The importance of listening to your citizens, even if they're a child, or don't align exactly with what you think they should be.

A Link to the Past:

Currently Unnamed because the wiki has him as just "King of Hyrule" but yeah. This guy strikes me as someone who may be a little naive, because of the whole Agahnim thing, but does want and work for the good of the people at the end of the day. Slight Red vibes, but not as much happy-go-lucky ness if that makes sense? Happy grandpa, and shows Rhoam how you can bear a smile and rely on others instead of ruling alone.

Oracle Games:

okay, hear me out, Queen Ambi. I know she's not a grandpa, but she fits the bill, she's a just ruler who got convinced by an evildoer to do bad things, she fits in with this grandpa gang, okay? So, old lady Ambi? cool, yeah. Not sure what lesson she would give.

Link's Awakening:

Ulrira: Phone grandpa! Due to his shy nature, I can't imagine him going on the quest himself, but they would definitely have him on the phone for some of it, then meet him once and he could clam up like he does in game. Teaches Rhoam to respect your researchers! He helped them out of many a pickles with his wide knowledge, and it helped Rhoam realized how valuable research, specifically Zelda's, is. We don't need to talk about how he doesn't exist because of the whole Wind Fish thing, no we don't.

A Link Between Worlds:

Gramps: okay, I was going to do old Hilda, and still might say that she's someone they come across on the adventure cause why not, but Gramps is just too good to not talk about. Unless the wiki is lying to me (it might be, who knows), he's a maybe 80 year-old who is a great sword fighter who can summon Shadow Link and wield the master sword?????? (does this mean he's a hero of courage? and shouldn't be on this list because this isn't about link? I don't know) so beefy old man! I guess he shows Rhoam that looks can be deceiving and just because your daughter is a young woman doesn't mean she doesn't know things just as this old man could absolutely kill you in an instant.

Hilda: She's going on here too because I think she could work similarly to Groose, someone who wasn't great but learned along the way and got better. She could show Rhoam how important it is that despite any mistakes you make as a ruler, you can always work to be better.

The Legend Of Zelda (I):

I have no idea how to characterize the old men in the caves into one guy so uhhh, there's a funny reference that someone makes to the "it's dangerous to go alone, take this", or every single character says it at least once, okie?

Adventure of Link / Zelda II:

There's a lot of old men here, but I also don't know how to characterize them sooooooo... uhhhhh... randomly they happen to come across a lot of old men in their adventures... sure.

Majora's Mask:

Goron Elder: (though I would call him Doyen, because that's one of the things he's called in the French version and it's got a bit more character than Goron Elder or Goron Grandfather, and we already have Gramps and...) I think that he probablyyyy wouldn't be on the official adventure because I sure don't know how to get him out of Termina without throwing everything to the wind, but I think he'd probably show Rhoam something about getting your children to forgive you or being gruff but still caring.

Twilight Princess:

Impaz: I know I'm opening a box of worms by including an Impa, but I couldn't find any other grandpa esc character sooooooo, Impaz! She would absolutely show Rhoam how one can follow the will of the goddess while still being, y'know a person first and foremost, which is absolutely something he needs to learn. Despite the fact that she stayed in the Hidden Village, she still helped Ilia even though it technically had nothing to do with her quest.

Wind Waker:

Daphnes: would totally be a boat sometimes, as @/hybinger-nova and @/vaegtersang were talking about in the replies of the original post, he would probably surprise the rest of the grandpas by being boat. Or, instead of Daphnes, he could insist on being called Red or Lions or something that reminds them of his Link, hmmmmmm that's interesting. The sentimental type, and probably the most likely to listen to others after being WW!Link's companion through the journey. They teach Rhoam about how it's okay to be less uptight, it will let you form better bonds if you take the stick out of your ass.

Phantom Hourglass:

Oshus: Now, I genuinely don't know how to write this guy, on the one hand he adopted Celia and is an actual grandfather, on the other hand he's a fucking god and also maybe is the Wind Fish too, and like, that's not a good guy, god?????? so... how about he's just not here? unless someone can explain how he works...

But! I would love to include Linebeck, obviously older Linebeck, because he's not quite an old man yet! The thing he would teach Rhoam could be... caring about people over objects? because of his character arc about treasure vs getting his boat back? not sure about this one but ehhhhh

Spirit Tracks:

Anjean: I'm also not sure how to include or characterize her, but wanted to talk about her at least a little, or side character her because she's very cool.

Hyrule Warriors:

I couldn't find anyone with grandpa esc vibes soooooooo... sorry Hyrule Warriors, there could technically be an aged up character but there aren't that many original hw characters... WAIT what if it was just Proxi, like idk I feel like that could be something, it would be funny I think at least.

Breath of the Wild:

Rhoam: the bitch himself. need I say more.

Tears of the Kingdom:

Rauru: maybe???? maybe not, is a king, but doesn't really strike me as a "grandpa" type, y'know? I also really don't know how to write him soooooooooo...

anyways!

PS. I mention a problem of "they know each other" and wanted to elaborate on that. In my mind I need them to all be strangers, and with my sometimes including more than one "king" per game/per game(s) that are connected, that becomes a bit of a problem that wouldn't otherwise occur. I just think it would be more beneficial to the plot if they were all strangers or at most both knew one character but not each other. Like Daph and Linebeck and Anjean all know Tetra but not each other, or Gramps and Hilda both know albw!Link, and so on. Proxi technically knows quite a few of these people's people, or they themself but she's the exception because I said so and there's literally nothing else I can do

This is the culmination of like 4 days worth of just constant thinking about them. I'll probably draw them at some point, maybe one fic? I am not in a position to fully flesh out an au like this but it was a fun idea to think about! Anyone who read through this I hope if gave you a bit of joy or a laugh! :D

What if there was a Links meet kind of au but it was just all the kings of Hyrule. Buncha old guys go on a journey for some reason or other

[into-daylight-hope]

Qui-Gon Jinn: Certified Hypocrite, Fascinating Failure, Mass of Contradictions

For starters, I am just going to let direct quotes from the man speak for itself.

Some excerpts from Master & Apprentice

Wise words.

Wait a minute...

😯😯 What the hell is happening here? All quotes are from the same man in one book.

Qui-Gon Jinn doesn't have an ounce of self-awareness and it is so hilariously terrible.

What is even better (or worse), this is perfectly in line with The Phantom Menace characterization .

I mean,

Remember when he said all this than spent the rest of the movie obsessing over prophecies, the chosen one and literally the future?

"He still has so much to learn of the living force." Qui-Gon Jinn about Obi-Wan in the council scene

After that scene

"The boy is dangerous. They all sense it why can't you?" Obi-Wan Kenobi about Anakin Skywalker to Qui-Gon Jinn

You see Obi-Wan, Master Jinn here has completely lost any sense of "here and now" between his crusade against darkness and divine mission to save the Galaxy.

This in turn, unsurprisingly blinds him to the fact Anakin is not suitable to become a Jedi. Or at least not ready to directly move on to becoming a padawan.

Anakin himself would suffer in a road that is not meant for him. But he is not planning for Anakin the child. He is thinking about The Glorious Chose One.

He is the chosen one. You all must, see it.

And yet from Qui-Gon's perspective it is Obi-Wan who doesn't understand the Living Force.

I have to say if he is truly a student of the living force as many fans claim he has been failing the class for at least 8 years.

Let's move on to another set of entertaining and horrifyingly oblivious quotes from M&A.

If you look upward you can observe Mr. Here and Now in his natural habitat.

He really acts like future is set in stone than thinks he is the right person to talk about about concentrating in the moment. Unbelievable.

Let's look at this dialogue again. In contrast with the excerpt from above.

He is all about the future when it suits him. But when Obi-Wan makes a remark on it he obviously should just focus on the moment. This is actually the third time in this post where he contradicts himself while specifically chastising or criticizing Obi-Wan for something Qui-Gon actually does.

Now I don't think Qui-Gon acts with malice. But it is important to point out his obliviousness has become a way of ensuring he is never in the wrong.

He suffers from an immense hubris. And a man obsessed with prophecies and chosen ones definitely has some kind of savior complex.

But notably Jinn doesn't actually want to put any effort into enacting real change with his limited yet existent capabilities.

He turns down a council seat in M&A because he thinks it would hold him down. From what? Dear God, the reason they offered him a seat was for different opinions. Qui-Gon can complain all he wants but one time he actually had a chance to make his opinions a reality he freaking bailed.

Why? He doesn't want to face his own limits. He can't bare to try and fail. It is much easier to sustain a superiority complex when you are complaining from the sidewalk.

So he fixates all this belief onto prophecies, visions that will magically cure the Galaxy. And of course his place to help fulfill them. To the point where it is the one thing that keeps him standing.

He has binded meaning of his life and belief for goodness dangerously close to his supposed importance in the Galaxy. (You can feel the influences of his former master)

His absolute refusal to engage with reality turns him into mass of contradictions. Cause he doesn't know what he will find or become if he is mistaken in his belief of himself.

He can't face reinvention on the event of defeat.

But this situation was different. It had to be, because the only thing Qui-Gon knew to be absolutely true was that his vision was real.

Oh by the way, it turned out he misunderstood the vision. But when does being wrong ever stopped Qui-Gon Jinn?

No words.

Only Qui-Gon could have come near declaring himself a prophet after making a mistake. Maybe stop and reflect man? Just stop and think about your actions.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: I have a bad feeling about this.

Qui-Gon Jinn: I don't sense anything.

Of course you don't.

Honestly he doesn't have much to speak for in the cosmic force department either.

(There is the whole force ghost thing I guess. But I have no idea if that is more connected with living or cosmic force. It seems to be more about spiritual enlightenment. Which is ridiculous when you consider Yoda had go through so many trials, face his darkside, learn to truly let go just for Force priestesses to deem him worthy enough to study immortality. Yes Qui-Gon never became a force ghost but he had started his training before he died. And much of Yoda's tests on TCW was about self-awareness. It is not just about being a good person. How did Force Priestesses approve Qui-Gon "I was meant to misinterpret this vision." Jinn? I would understand if he became wiser after death and faced his flaws and all but he never was on that level before he died. You might say even Anakin became a force ghost. But I would remind you, Anakin in the end broke out of denial, acknowledged the wrong of his ways and took that leap to the light side. Self-awareness seems such an important key to becoming a force ghost. Right there with selflessness. Personally it doesn't quite feel right for a character whose biggest flaws are their lack of introspection and hubris which we never see him rise above to be the one that discovers immortality again. It feels more like a rushed plot point to explain how we get from A to B.)

This post got out of control 😂. I honestly just wanted to point out lack of communication might be one of the reasons Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon have trouble understanding each other but it is sometimes even harder to understand Qui-Gon when he actually says something. Cause ration is not what drives him.

Qui-Gon is such a complex character. He is undeniably good especially compared to other SW characters. Yet for all fandom's deifying he might be the most flawed Jedi we see on the franchise. (The ones that fell to the dark side not included.)

It is a shame wider fandom completely write off his flaws to the degree I can't even recognize the character when they talk about Jinn. Cause that Qui-Gon is so hard to feel empathy for.

When people constantly make statements like "He is The Wisest sw character." his hypocrisy stops being amusing. It doesn't end on screen or page instead often used to bash other characters.

An unbelievable analysis from Wookiepedia:

When Jinn saved the Gungan exile Jar Jar Binks, who in turn swore a life-debt to him, his compassionate nature was such that Jinn took the hapless Gungan under his wing, much to Kenobi's dismay. His empathy toward all life forms, including the most pitiful and unfortunate, was Jinn's greatest strength. Additionally, he remained understanding and patient with Queen Padmé Amidala. During the short time they knew each other, he never asked for her to do more than she was willing to.

You know out of the two, Qui-Gon was the one who insulted Jar Jar to his face. And he didn't took Jar Jar under his wing. They forced him to take them to a city where Jar Jar could have been punished for entering. Now it was the pragmatic thing to do. For all three's survival not for their own gain. Understandable. But compassion is just pushing it.

Also he never asked Padme to do more than she was willing to do?

Padmé : Are you sure about this? Trusting our fate to a boy we hardly know? The Queen will not approve.

Qui-Gon Jinn : The Queen does not need to know.

Padmé : Well, I don't approve.

And he is aware she is the queen, herself. Padme was nearly tearing out her because of this man in TPM.

What is weird, Jinn in his bewildering hypocrisy probably thinks he is being admirably compassionate with Jar Jar, highly understanding and patient with Padme. We clearly see he is not.

Out of universe he has been a force ghost for decades now but fandom is nowhere near acknowledging his flaws than he is.

And honestly SW doesn't have that many major morally complex characters. People like Maul, Palpatine, Anakin,Ventress don't think they are serving a higher purpose or oblivious to the evils they commit.

Emotionally complicated, yes. Going through moral dilemmas, no.

Three major characters come to mind who make huge mistakes, condone or commit atrocities while thinking they are in the right/with good intentions/for a greater cause. With varying degrees of culpability.

Qui-Gon. Padme. Dooku.

In that order.

Let these characters be interesting instead of demonizing nearly inhumanly selfless Jedi characters. (They make mistakes too but funnily enough they are still way better beings than most people on our planet.)

By the way I found the epitaph "Fascinating Failure" from the article here. Especially the last paragraphs make some interesting points. ⬇️

👀

This post might seem harsh but that is expected since it focuses on Qui-Gon's flaws.

"People are more than their worst act,” Quote from Qui-Gon Jinn in Master & Apprentice

[allisondraste]

Death and Other Things That Should Have Been Fatal

Fandom: Mass Effect

Pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

Word Count: 4715

Summary: A follow up to Cockroaches and Other Things That Just Keep Living, Shepard wakes up after destroying the Reapers and copes with the fallout. Thankfully, she doesn't have to do so alone.

[Click Here for AO3]

“Shepard?”

The voice was little more than static in her ear, jarring her back into excruciating consciousness, head throbbing, extremities numb.  Spears of pain coursed through her chest with each and every breath, and she didn’t know whether it was the several broken ribs or the sight of Anderson's lifeless body slouched next to her.  She tore her gaze away from the closest thing she’d ever had to a good father figure, eyes fluttering closed as she attempted to focus only on the person speaking to her.

“Garrus?”  His was the first name that rolled off her tongue, the only person in the galaxy she wanted that disembodied voice to be.

“No.” Came the stern reply.  There was a long pause as any hope for comfort in her final moments came crashing down around her.  Then the voice spoke again. “It’s Hackett.”

A jolt of resentment toward the Admiral coursed through her at his introduction.  What more could he possibly want from her?  Had she not already done enough, sacrificed enough for just a ghost of a chance to stop the reapers.  Surely someone else could take it from there.  Why did everything fall on her?

Because someone else would have gotten it wrong.

She shook herself out of her head and back to the present. She would have been mortified under normal circumstances, but she couldn’t bring herself to give a damn now. “I apologize sir, I’m— What do you need me to do?”

“The Crucible is docked, but is not activated,” he explained, “We think there’s something that needs to be done on your end.  Is there a trigger? Some sort of terminal?”

His words clung to the air around her, and her eyes locked onto the terminal the Illusive Man had used earlier.  It was just a few feet in front of her and still so far away. She tried and failed to bring herself to her feet, legs buckling beneath her and sending her plummeting to the floor.  Hot tears burned in her eyes as a new array of pain shot through her body, and she groaned in agony.

“Shepard?”

“I’m here, sir,” she growled, forcing herself up onto an elbow and dragging her body to the terminal, vision beginning to blur at the corners.. Not yet , she pleaded with her consciousness as she reached up toward the terminal, hand sweeping clumsily across the haptic display. Not. Yet.   “I’m at the terminal but I… I don’t— I can’t find—”

Her vision went dark, supporting arm trembling and giving out as her consciousness faded.  Hackett’s voice called out to her repeatedly, further and further away until it was gone entirely.

She awoke to bright, burning light, buzzing in her ears, sensations anyone else would have associated with death.  But Shepard had been dead before, and this was nothing like the last time.  She’d never forget that dark, quiet empty.

“Shepard,” shouted a voice, both familiar and foreign, “Wake up.”

“What?” Blood dripped into her eyes from a wound she couldn’t feel. “Where am I?”

She scrubbed her face with the back of her hand, blinking until her vision cleared.  Her body screamed in protest as she rose to her knees, louder still as she brought herself to her feet and searched for who—or what— had spoken to her.

“The Citadel,” came the reply, “It is my home.”

She snapped her head in the direction of the voice, it’s owner a glowing, translucent entity in the shape of a ghost.  Her heart slammed against her aching ribs, and a name rushed to her mouth before she could stop it. “Kaidan?”

The entity examined her for a moment that felt more like an eternity, long enough for her initial relief to fade, consumed by dread as she awaited its answer.

“No,” it stated in a cold, matter-of-fact way Kaidan could never have managed, “I am the Catalyst.”

Rage ignited in her stomach and chest at the sound of him twisted and distorted by a chorus of synthetic echoes, and she growled. “I thought the Citadel was the Catalyst.”

“The Citadel is part of me,” it explained, then paused, tilting its head in examination of her again, “My appearance disturbs you.”

Shepard let out a derisive snort. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“I apologize,” it said, “I chose a form that I believed would help us communicate. You had fond memories of this one.”

“Too fond.”  She looked down, unable to meet its vacant eyes. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Is this one more suitable?”  It’s voice shifted registers and when she glanced up Thane stood before her.

Hot tears burned in her eyes but she held them back and shook her head. “No.”

“Perhaps you would prefer this?” This time it’s tone was higher pitched, clipped.  Mordin.

“No,” she spat through clenched teeth, “I’d prefer if you’d just pick a nightmare and tell me whether you can help me or not. ”

“Very well,” it said, Kaidan once again as it motioned for her to follow after it toward the beam of light before them. “Perhaps we can help each other.”

She limped after it, listening as it spoke, as it explained its creation, it’s function, the purpose for its very existence.  It was nothing the Leviathan had not already revealed to her, but spun in a way that painted the Reapers as innocent pawns simply fulfilling their duty, wiping out entire civilizations to ensure galactic balance, to protect organic life from its own chaos.

Bullshit , she thought as flashes of destruction played behind her eyelids with each laborious blink.  She remembered the sinking void in her gut as she fled Earth, watching it burn beneath Reaper hands.  She thought of Palaven, the harrowed Turian faces as their military and government collapsed, the anger and disbelief that vibrated in Garrus’ voice and beneath his skin. She recalled Thessia, the most advanced civilization in the galaxy reduced to rubble before her eyes and she, helpless to even salvage one artifact, Liara’s anguished sobs as she trembled in her arms.

The Catalyst and its Reapers were responsible for every lost colony in Batarian space that Shepard had shouldered instead.  Every single face on the memorial wall at the Citadel, every orphaned child and refugee, every life touched by this goddamn war, and the lives of those in every cycle that came before— it was all their fault.  They had corrupted and indoctrinated some of the greatest minds of her time, broken some of the strongest wills.  She wondered what had been said to convince Saren and Benezia. What had the Catalyst become to take hold of The Illusive Man?

The echoes of Sovereign’s boasts of supremacy and Harbinger’s threats of annihilation rang out in her ears as clear as the days they’d been spoken. And this entity, this artificial intelligence with the power and capability to stop it all, expected her to believe they were simply creatures bound to a purpose. The Catalyst truly believed she would help it achieve its pinnacle of evolution.

No, just because it was in a shark’s nature to eat her, did not mean she would allow it to do so. Despite the original intent behind their creations, the Reapers were monsters, and they had to be stopped. The galaxy deserved justice. She took one lumbering step toward the trigger on the right, one step closer to settling things once and for all.

“It will happen again,” the Catalyst called after her, “Machines will be rebuilt, and chaos will continue. Organics and synthetics cannot coexist separately.

“That’s…not true,” she grunted, and took another step, “The geth and the quarians have brokered peace.”

“It will not last.”

“You don’t know that,” she shouted, fists clenched at her sides, “The beauty of chaos is that you can’t know that.”

The entity fell silent, briefly considering what she said, then continued. “Perhaps not; however if you choose to destroy the Reapers, the geth will be destroyed as well. The two will not have the opportunity to disprove your hypothesis.”

A pang of guilt pierced her and she halted in her tracks.“All of them?”

“Yes.  The Crucible’s beam is powerful but unfocused.  It will be unable to distinguish between Reaper technology and other forms of synthetic life.”

Another pang of guilt as realization dawned on her. That meant EDI would die, too. Someone who was every bit a friend and member of her crew as anyone else, someone who had put herself on the line multiple times to protect Shepard, to make certain she could get the job done.  EDI, who confessed just before the battle that she finally felt alive. Now, Shepard was forced to weigh her newfound life and the newfound intelligence of the geth race, against the destruction of the Reapers.

What was it Garrus had called it? Ruthless calculus, that brutal math that awaited anyone who spent enough time at war.  Shepard had done plenty of those calculations, had made more than her fair share of difficult decisions, and she’d dealt with the consequences, good and bad.

This time, it was different, more final.  And she was entirely alone.  The future of the galaxy lay upon her weary back, and she was far past the point of compromise.

Shepard wanted the Reapers to pay for what they had done for millennia, wanted to watch them disintegrate in space as the cheers of her fleet rang out over the comms.  She wanted to know with certainty that the war was over.

More than anything, however, and most heavy on her mind,  she wanted to survive. It was a potent wave of selfishness that overwhelmed her as she thought of her friends back on the Normandy, of the relationships she’d forged and that had forged her.  Her heart ached at the thought of never seeing them again, never hearing their voices. She was sick at the possibility that her last moments with those who had carried her through every storm were hurried and spent in a war torn camp on Earth.

Knowing that they were worried and waiting for her to return, remembering Garrus’ desperate plea that she come back alive, it was more than she needed to motivate her to do so.  For the first time in her three decades of life, she had something to go home to. She had given so much of herself to save the galaxy, and she had more than earned the right to live in it.

There was no certainty that destroying the Reapers would ensure her survival, but it was the only choice without the certainty that she would die.  She was willing to take her chances. She had to. With a trembling arm she raised her pistol, aimed at the glass case guarding the trigger mechanism, and fired.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as the glass shattered and her vision faded to white. “I’m so sorry.”

Shepard had been dead enough times to know that sound always came first, the discomforting beeping of medical equipment and garbled chatter ringing out in the darkness as her nervous system attempted to orient itself. Smell and taste came next, a package deal.  This time the antiseptic and the metallic tang of blood barely masked the rank of burnt flesh.

Then the pain set in, dull but constant and everywhere, numbed only slightly by neural blockers and local anesthetic.  She did not need to see her injuries to know how serious they were, how fatal they should have been.  Yet there she lay, once again waking up from something that would have killed anyone else.

And she was alone.  Again.

She began to panic as her eyes opened to the empty, sterile room, setting off the many monitors she was hooked up to.  Her heart pounded violently, each breath she took sharp and shallow as she yanked herself free from the dozens of tubes and IVs constraining her. How long had she been out this time? What covert operation for which secret, extremist organization had found and resurrected her for their benefit? How much more could one galaxy ask of her?

There was a hiss of opening doors and an unfamiliar asari entered the room urgently, arms extended out in front of her.  In one breath she reassured Shepard that everything was going to be all right  and in the next called for a medical restraint, a sedative.  She stepped slowly toward Shepard as one would approach a frightened, feral animal, and two more uniformed aliens entered the room.  Shepard stood tall, despite the ache in her bones and glared at the three of them.

“Ma’am, I know you must be very disoriented right now, and I am happy to answer any and all of your questions,” the asari said, holding her hands up, “But you are in no shape to be out of bed.  I need you to calm down before you hurt yourself further.”

Shepard glanced from the asari to the two salarians on either side of her.  They all wore generic attire that was standard for medical professionals across the galaxy, but their uniforms had no indication of their names or who they worked for.  She crossed her arms and winced through the pain as she argued. “How about you start by telling me where I am, then I’ll decide if I want to calm down or not.”

Just as she finished speaking the doors opened again, this time to faces she knew, and the subsequent wave of relief that washed over her nearly knocked her back into the bed on it’s own.  On the right stood Dr. Michel, who she remembered helping out on several occasions during the Reaper War.  A bit sweet on Garrus, if she remembered correctly. On the left, wearing a smirk and a raised eyebrow, was none other than Miranda Lawson.

“Sit down, Shepard,” Miranda asserted in her trademark tone.  She flashed the hint of a smile and continued, “The residents aren’t being paid enough for you to harass them.”

Shepard’s eyes flicked over to the three aliens who’d been tending to her just moments before.  They were now speaking nervously with the doctor, who muttered something about tests they needed to run followed by some other medical jargon that Shepard couldn’t decipher.  She did as her friend directed and eased herself back down onto her bed, offering a sheepish grin as she did so. “I feel like such an ass.”

“Don’t,” Dr. Michel chimed in as she approached the bed, and began to scan Shepard with her omni-tool, “You have been in a coma for almost a month.  It was expected that you would be agitated when you awoke, especially considering everything you’ve been through.”

Shepard’s chest swelled with something like gratitude.  A month .  She’d only been out for a month, and she had woken up in what she could now tell was Huerta Memorial under the care of a physician she trusted and one of her closest friends.  This was nothing like the last time she died. She looked up at Miranda and asked,“Had to put me back together again, I see?”

“I only helped this time,” Miranda explained as she worked to reconnect some of the IVs Shepard had ripped out, “Dr. Michel contacted me a few weeks ago for a consultation about your cybernetic augmentation.  I was already on the Citadel, so I came in person to oversee the repairs.”

“Is everything working?”

“Mostly,” Miranda shrugged, “Not quite up to specifications, but your injuries are still healing. With time, you should be fine.”

“And hopefully far away from any more life-threatening battles, yes,” remarked Michel, moving to a terminal near the wall and transferring data collected from her omni-tool scans.

Shepard let out a huff, and let herself recline onto the bed, walls crumbling away at the comforting conversation.  She took a breath and let her eyes flutter closed for just a minute, and said, “If I can. If the galaxy will let me.”

“The galaxy’s going to have to,” announced an unmistakable voice from the door, and Shepard bolted upright to face it.  To face him .

She hadn’t even heard the door open, and yet there stood her turian, with all that easy confidence he’d always carried himself with and a bouquet of indistinguishable gift shop flowers in each hand.  Her pulse jumped, a fact the vitals monitor in the corner was quick to inform her and everyone in the room about. She would never live that one down.

“Garrus!”

“Is that cardiac arrest—“ he motioned toward the screen with one of the bouquets— “Or, uh… are you just happy to see me?”

Shepard just rolled her eyes, unable to stop the grin that twitched at the corners of her mouth as he sauntered up to the bedside.

“I wasn’t sure which you’d like better,” Garrus explained, glancing with uncertainty between the flowers in each hand, “So I got both.  There’s also some chocolate and a few books of hanar poetry back at the gift shop if you just absolutely hate the flowers. I can run back down and—“

She laughed and shook her head at him. “They’re perfect.”

“Are you sure?” He examined each bouquet again.  “You might need the poetry to bore you back into a coma.”

“I thought that anthology was quite beautiful and romantic, myself,” Michel remarked, amused.  She approached Shepard again and administered something that relieved the throbbing pain in her head she’d barely noticed in all the commotion. “There, that should keep you comfortable for a time. I will come and check on you in a  few hours ”

“I’ll be going as well,” Miranda said, eyeing Shepard and Garrus knowingly. “Call me if you need anything.”

She turned to follow the doctor out of the room but stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, and Shepard?  I’m glad we got to see each other again “

Shepard nodded. “So am I.”

With that Miranda left the room, the door sliding shut behind her.  Shepard turned her gaze up to Garrus who was already looking at her, pale eyes scanning every inch of her face intently.  His mandibles twitched and flared in the very specific way they always did when he was agitated or worried.  He shook his head, discarded both bundles of flowers onto the nearby bedside table, and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, staring off at the wall in silence.

“Shepard I— I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he said finally, turning to look at her and placing a hand on her leg, “I’d just gone to get some air…I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“It’s okay,” she reassured him, reaching for his hand and wondering just how many sleepless hours he’d sat by her bed waiting for her to come to. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers, lingering there for several long moments.  She brought a hand up to trace the rough ridges of scarring along the right side of his face.  His eyes fluttered closed at the touch, and he let out a heavy sigh, as if she’d lifted some invisible weight off of him with just the tips of her fingers.

“You know,” she spoke up, breaking the powerful silence between them, “I think I finally have some scars that’ll give you a run for your credits.”

Garrus laughed, but it was quiet—almost sad— and he pulled back to examine her.

“How bad is it,” she asked, “There aren’t any mirrors in here.”

He laughed again, this time with more enthusiasm. “Hell, Shepard, I don’t know. You always were ugly, so it’s hard for me to say.”

“Okay,” she admitted with a smirk, “I had that one coming.”

The room went quiet again, with the exception of the buzzing and whirring of the equipment around them.  It wasn’t uncomfortable, though— nothing had ever been uncomfortable with Garrus— but it was heavy with unspoken pain and unasked questions for which Shepard wasn’t sure she wanted answers.

“How’s everyone else,” she ventured.

“Recovering,” he answered with a sigh, “Joker tried to outrun the blast, but even the Normandy wasn’t quick enough.  Crash landed on some human colony world. Everyone made it except—“

“EDI,” she said, name bitter on her tongue. She’d hoped the catalyst had been lying about the Crucible’s effect on synthetic life.

“Yes… how did you—“

This time, she was not able to dam up the wave of emotions that crashed into her.  Tears rushed to her eyes, shame and remorse tightening her chest like a vice. She was a soldier, and she knew that sacrifices won wars, but that did not make it any easier.

“It’s a long story,” she said with a sniff, looking away from him and attempting to wipe away the tears before he could see them, as if he hadn’t already.

“Well—” Garrus reached out and grabbed her chin, gently, giving it a tug until she brought her gaze back to him. “It’s a good thing I cleared my afternoon schedule, then. Tell me everything.”

And so she did. With a shaky voice, she recounted everything that happened from the time she called the evac for Garrus and Liara to the moment she was struck by the Crucible’s blast.  She told him about The Illusive Man, Anderson, the Catalyst who wore Kaidan’s face, and the impossible choice she was given.  He listened to every word, offered her his hand, and didn’t complain as her grip grew tighter and tighter with each devastating revelation.

When she was finished, eyes swollen and head throbbing, she looked at him and said, “I fucked up, Garrus. I had a chance to save EDI and the geth, but I just… couldn’t do it.  I was so angry and… scared , and—“

“Shepard,” Garrus interrupted her, laughing and shaking his head.

“What?”

“You’re about the only person I know who could save the whole damn galaxy and feel guilty because you didn’t save it better.”

“My life isn’t worth more than EDI’s was, and it definitely isn’t more important than the entire geth race,” Shepard argued.

Garrus blinked back at her a few times, then responded.  “It is to me.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come, so she clamped it shut and frowned.  Her entire argument fell apart in the wake of his blunt confession. How the hell was she supposed to respond to something like that?

“It was selfish,” she finally managed past the lump in her throat, “It was genocide.”

“Maybe,” he answered, firmly, “Maybe not. We have no way of knowing that anything the Catalyst told you was true.”

“Why would it lie?”

“I don’t know, maybe to save it’s own ass?”  His words were pointed but not directed to her.  “It was clearly trying to get in your head, Shepard, using Alenko like that.”

“But—”

“No,” he snapped, “You made the right call, and no one is going to fault you for it except you.”

“ Garrus …” she began, but trailed off when she noticed him looking down at their intertwined fingers, shaking his head and seeming to struggle with his emotions.

When he spoke up, his voice was hoarse.  “You’ll forgive me if I say I don’t think you owe anyone—not EDI, not the geth, not the Alliance, not the rest of the galaxy— any more than you’ve already given.”

He paused for a beat, then added in a lighter tone, “Except me. You owe me a long retirement on your fancy Alliance pension.”

Shepard snorted out a laugh, despite everything, and reached up to take his face in her hands.  She pulled him closer to her, just so that she could press a kiss against the side of his mouth.

“I’ll think about it,” she whispered.

Just as they pulled apart, the door opened and they both turned to see who had entered. Dr. Michel stood at the threshold smiling at them apologetically.  “I am sorry for the interruption, but—”

“Someone tell Garrus to quit hogging the Commander,” complained an all too familiar voice as he pushed past the doctor and into the room. “The rest of us have been waiting just as long as he has.”

“Joker,” Shepard exclaimed, nearly jumping up out of the bed to greet him.

“The one and only,” he said proudly then held up a small plastic crate to show her, “And I brought you something.  Basically had to wrestle the Alliance brass for it when they declared you dead.”

“What—,” she asked as she squinted at the box, noticing movement in the corner, “Is that my hamster?”

He sat the container down carefully on the table next to the flowers Garrus had tossed aside,  “It’s not two bouquets of useless flowers or anything, but, well…you know.”

“We can’t all be as romantic as you,” Garrus said sarcastically as he stood up and stepped away from the bed, allowing the other man space to approach Shepard.

“Thank you, Joker,” Shepard said with a nod as she sat up in the bed, “And about EDI, I—“

He cut her off with the shake of his head, clearly not ready to discuss it. “Not your fault, Commander.”

Shepard just nodded, sorry, but not wanting to force the issue.  Joker puffed his chest out and saluted her, just as more commotion rang out from the door.  She darted her eyes across the room again to see the flood of other people pouring in from the hallway.

Ash was the first to rush to the bedside, throwing appropriate Alliance protocol out the window as she threw her arms unceremoniously around Shepard.  The embrace was firm, but not so forceful that it caused her aching body any extra pain, and when Ash pulled away, Shepard could see the tears glistening in her eyes. She stiffened up and saluted just as Joker had done, and said “Ma’am.”

Much to Shepard’s surprise, Ash then approached Garrus and embraced him briefly as well, pulling away and then giving him a pat on the arm.

The others followed suit after that, offering words of gratitude that she had saved the galaxy, and relief that she’d managed to pull through.  Tali and Liara had followed Ash’s example and hugged her.  The others didn’t but greeted her with enthusiasm all the same.  Vega mentioned how “epic” it was when the fleet realized she’d made it to the Citadel and got the arms opened while Traynor and Cortez nodded along.  Javik, in his typical fashion stood quietly in the corner but nodded at her with a look of admiration she had yet to see from the Prothean.  Dr. Chakwas and the crew from engineering squeezed themselves in the now cramped space as well. Chakwas approached the bed and gave Shepard’s hand a firm squeeze.

Humbling was not a strong enough word to describe the experience of seeing everyone who’d been on the Normandy with her in that final journey to Earth gathered around celebrating her survival.  They had all meant so much to her, and only now did she realize that she’d meant the same to them.

She’d grown accustomed to being a sole survivor, watching her own back and carrying on alone with each of her mistakes strapped to her shoulders.  She was used to blaming herself with the voices of those she lost, of nightmares and flashbacks and consoling herself back to sleep in the middle of the night.  She had trained herself to be numb because she could not bear feeling guilty.

Now, she didn’t have to.  For the first time in as long as she could remember, she had people who cared about her, people who she trusted, and they had survived. For the first time, she wasn’t alone with her grief and she didn’t have to be numb.  She had friends who would hold her together while she sorted herself out, just as she had done for each and every one of them.

“You okay,” Garrus asked as he approached the bedside again, letting a hand tousle her hair gently before falling to her shoulder.

“Yeah.” She nodded and glanced around the room slowly, taking it all in. “I really actually am.”

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Being Human - Chapter 24 (END)

<= Chapter 23

Summary : Snatcher meets familiar people again Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/75085263

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

(TW injury)

New chapter today, and it's actually the 24th and the 25th combined. It's 15 pages long, now.

I could only draw a picture for them both, so I supposed it was useless to keep you waiting for nothing. So, yeah, here's the ending of "Being Human". I hope you'll like it !

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings​​ !

Uh if you’re interested, I post my progress on my chapters on Hatty Fan Time (the AHIT Discord server I’m moderating with two friends), so if you wanna join, go ahead !

Happy reading !

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Chapter 24 : “ Is… Is it over? ”

Snatcher was doing his best to walk down the hallways as quietly as he could. His ankle, while not broken anymore, was still giving him quite a lot of pain, so much that he was wincing at each new step. But he knew this was just temporary and that he needed to ignore the suffering for now: Vanessa was busy, sure, but for how long? She had said she would be baking cookies for him, and he knew very well that this wouldn’t last forever. This was his first and last chance of escaping: if she spotted him trying to leave, the child had no doubt she would lock him up again, perhaps in the cellar once more…- The young Prince shook his head and gulped down with difficulty. This definitely wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

Snatcher could feel and hear the floor creaking under his feet, forcing him to stop several times and listen closely. But thankfully, there was no sound indicating the Queen had heard him. Thank God. The child stopped in front of the door leading to the first floor- oh, he was not reassured, not in the slightest, he had the feeling this would not go well… As he was going to open the door, however, a light sound caught his attention, making him look at the window. A look of confusion crossed the young man’s features: there was nothing there, so what could have made such a nois- but then, his eyes spotted something: a little rock had been thrown onto the glass, making a small sound because of the impact. Detaching himself from the door, Snatcher made a few silent steps to the window… And his face lightened up with shock and surprise as he noticed a form floating above the window- no, two forms, actually.

Moonjumper and the hatted brat !

A feeling of hope grew inside of him, just as a wave of relief washed over him: they were alive! He had saved them! He really had managed to help them!

The child stepped closer to the window and reached for it, trying to open it- but in vain. The frame was deeply frozen, preventing anyone to open it, especially not a kid like him. He quickly stopped, as his attempts at opening it were quite… Noisy. It was getting really dangerous, and if he kept on trying, he was eventually going to alert Vanessa, which was definitely not what he wanted.

Moonjumper and the kid floated closer, a clear look of worry and confusion on their faces. The hatted girl gestured to the lock on the window, but Snatcher replied by shaking his head. It wasn’t locked, just… Frozen. He gave a concerned shrug, indicating he didn’t really know how to help them enter the manor. And, of course, they couldn’t really communicate vocally through the glass, as it was sure to be noticed by his ex. So that wasn’t a solution- until one hit him, making his eyes widen.

The attic.

Driven by a new motivation, the child pointed up, trying to make them understand his idea. The hatted brat seemed rather confused and frowned in reaction, trying to look up without understanding. However, the corpse seemed to get it and explained it to her- or so Snatcher believed. He couldn’t really hear them, so all he could do was to guess. In any case, his counterpart nodded to him, as a way to show him they had understood what he had meant to them. Not long after that, they started to float higher, indeed reaching the attic.

There was his escape plan !

Fueled by a new motivation, especially now that he knew his friends were alive, the former ghost turned away from the window, a new objective in mind. Still doing his best to remain discreet, Snatcher walked the other way, making his way to the attic rather than to the first floor. He was particularly on edge, especially when it came to his own footsteps on the floor, and to the creaking of the parquet floor under his weight. When he reached the door leading upstairs, he kept praying for it to be unlocked, oh, he prayed so much- and when the doorknob actually let itself be lowered, thus opening the door… A huge feeling of relief hit the young Prince one more time.

Oh, thank God…

Looking behind him, just to make sure the Queen hadn’t come upstairs to see if he was still in the nursery… He eventually climbed up the stairs, not forgetting to close the door slowly in his back. This was it, there was no turning back now.

Snatcher soon reached the attic door and opened it, his vision greeted by the sight of an old, forgotten room. But the former ghost didn’t lose any time in looking around- there was no time for that. All he needed to do now, was to find a way to let the other two-

Speaking of the devil, Snatcher spotted their floating silhouette right  in front of the central window. However, it was safe to assume than opening any of the window here would be complicated. After all, none of them had locks to begin with, so even if they weren’t as frozen, they couldn’t be opened either way.

That… He hadn’t thought of that, exactly. All he had thought about was to get farther away from Vanessa, which worked in that case. But he still couldn’t leave like this… As for Moonjumper and the hatted brat, the two were inspecting each window, trying to find one that could be opened easily, in vain. Snatcher stepped closer to the central window, the gears in his mind turning to find a solution. This was… Not going the way he wanted to, he had to admit that much. His eyes met the others’, and they both came to the same conclusion.

Leaving the manor this way wouldn’t-

Snatcher’s thoughts were instantly interrupted as a tremor shook him and the room, making him stumble to the wooden floor. He cried in pain as it only hurt his already injured ankle, but before he was even able to realize what was going on, a loud, piercing scream echoed in the whole manor. Immediately, the young Prince’s expression fell, only to be replaced with panic.

Vanessa.

As on cue, the former ghost heard her muffling yelling in the floor below- oh God, she had heard him!

-“Where are you?!” shouted the Queen, her tone clearly showing how livid she was, and the sound of her voice making the house shake even more. Oh no, no, no, no, no! Behind the window, Moonjumper and the brat’s face paled up just like his did, and it was obvious they had heard her too. Oh, crap, no, he needed to be out of here!

Not thinking anymore, the child ran to the window, pounding on it as hard he could, feeling dread spreading inside of him as he could hear Vanessa’s furious steps coming closer and closer.

-“Get me out of here!” he yelled through the glass, to his friends on the other side, fear more and more audible in his voice than ever: “Help me!” Tears started to fill his eyes, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he was in a child’s body or if it was because he was genuinely terrified.

Behind the glass, Moonjumper seemed to be just as scared as him, and was scratching at the glass, even pounding on it all while still holding the hatted kid. The latter seemed to be more than nervous, looking for a solution too, until… Her face lit up, as if she just had had an epiphany. The young Prince saw her shouting something at the corpse, pointing at the window at the same time. What was she suggesting? But as he was asking himself that question, Snatcher saw the two of them floating away from the window- no, no, no! They weren’t leaving him here, weren’t they ?! They couldn’t do that, they couldn’t abandon him!

-“Come back!!” he yelled, and now tears were rolling down his cheeks, sobs cutting his breathing short: “Don’t leave me here!” He pounded on the glass harder, despair filling him whole. No, this couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening!

His cries intensified as Vanessa’s steps could be heard just behind the door, and suddenly, he froze. The footsteps had stopped. He looked back at the door in utter terror and saw the door slowly opening, a claw being the first thing he saw coming out of it.

-“I told you…” her tone was low and threatening, and the child span around, horrified. Oh no, no, no- : “… That there would be consequences…” And little by little, the old Queen’s body appeared in the room, her dark aura even more visible than ever, her claws sharper, and her eyes murderous.

Oh no, he was going to die, he was so going to die, he-

-“Snatcher!” The former ghost’s terrified inner-rambling was put to an end as he heard his name being called out behind him, and he glanced back, recognizing the brat’s voice- didn’t they leave, though…? However, his eyes widened as he saw the hat-wearing child being carried by Moonjumper on his shoulders, both at a distance from the window, and what caught his attention was… That she was not wearing her usual hat.

She was wearing another one, one that was familiar because he had seen her wearing in his forest, when she was ransacking the tombs in Subcon For- and before his mind had the time to finish that sentence, a glowing potion materialized in the kid’s hand, and she shook it while urging him to move with the other.

The young Prince didn’t waste any more time and ran to the side, hiding behind a nearby crate not to feel the explosion, and he covered his ears. But just before he was able to, the Queen’s voice echoed in the room, giving him chills.

-“I saw you!” she yelled at him, as if she hadn’t noticed the two outside- but it was most likely the case, as her mind seemed to be only focused on him, and only him… Which was not reassuring in the slightest, obviously.

-“Come here this instan-” And then, her shout was cut short by an explosion, and Snatcher just curled up more, crying out in fear as the whole floor shook again and as he heard the loud and deafening sound of the detonation. Glass and wood flew everywhere, shattering and breaking at their impact to the floor. Panicked, the former ghost glanced back at the window that had just been exploded- and his eyes widened as he saw his two friends entering the room through the large hole caused by the explosion.

Another wave of relief hit him once more, contrasting greatly with the spike of fear he had felt earlier- Snatcher felt like his heart was riding a very, very intense roller-coaster. As soon as the hatted child spot him, hidden behind the crate, her expression instantly turned into worry, and she dashed to him, soon placing herself in a position to defend him should Vanessa decide to attack them first. She had taken out her umbrella, ready to fight with all of her might, determination visible on her face. As for Moonjumper, the corpse was summoning countless strings, preparing himself for an imminent fight. His face looked nothing like what Snatcher had seen before, it was full of anger, of bravery, of courage… But also full of fear. His hands were trembling, his eyes were fixed on the Queen, while many memories of Snatcher’s past life seemed to be blinding him, forcing him to relive past moments that weren’t even his in the first place.

And yet Moonjumper was still ready to fight despite this.

-“You…” The Queen’s voice was full of hatred as she recognized the duo she had frozen earlier. Her intonation definitely had an impact on them, as they both faltered for a few moments- and he couldn’t blame them for it.

He knew what it was like to be frozen to death.

-“You… You will not hurt anyone else,” Moonjumper trembling voice echoed in the room, and it was now clear that he was scared to no end, though he was still trying to appear brave. Whether it was bluff or not, Snatcher couldn’t tell… But he really hoped it wasn’t.

-“Yeah, back off!” added the brat, lifting her umbrella as a way to show she was not kidding. Then again, the former spirit couldn’t help but wonder if they really had a chance against someone who had already frozen them all at least once.

Vanessa glared at them, her eyes glancing to each other, as if she were trying to determine who, out of the trio, was the biggest threat to her. And, unsurprisingly… Her survival instincts told her to attack Moonjumper first. Screaming in absolute anger, she stomped her feet on the wooden floor, summoning ice all around her and, more precisely, a series of ice stalagmites which she quickly sent to her enemy’s direction.

-“Moonjumper!” yelled Snatcher, extending his hand to the corpse, only to be held back by the hatted brat, preventing him from getting himself hurt. Fortunately, the body-stealing spirit had been expecting her to target him first, and dodged her attack, though one of the stalagmites nearly touched him. Thank God it hadn’t. The corpse was quick to react though and counter-attacked, throwing all of the strings he had prepared to her. Taken aback by his sudden retaliation, the Queen was too slow to move before the strings actually caught her, Moonjumper quickly tightening the grip around them.

But this couldn’t be so simple.

Another scream left Vanessa’s mouth and soon enough, she turned the strings into ice, her magic rapidly going up the corpse’s strings and thus soon reaching him- until the hat-wearing brat intervened, hitting the strings with her umbrella, deflecting the spell to her umbrella instead, which she immediately let go of with a surprised cry.

Now that the trio was distracted with the current turn of event, the Queen broke free of the strings holding her, the ice having made them easy to break. No, this was not good, they had to find a solution… But Moonjumper’s strings were their best bet! Fighting hand-to-hand was not possible, all they could do was fighting her from afar, if they didn’t want to end up frozen to death. His eyes looked around, trying to find an idea, something they would be able to use to gain an advantage against that monster. The crates, no, the chandelier, no, too heavy to make it fall down and too large to be useful… And his eyes fell onto the huge gap in the floor and the wall, caused by the previous explosion. His eyes widened, an idea growing in his mind.

Maybe… Maybe they could be able to use that!

In the meantime, the fight had continued, and the corpse was still trying to immobilize her with his strings- but this wasn’t the right option, this wouldn’t work like this! The woman was always managing to break free. And so, as soon as Vanessa’s attention was at the lowest, the young Prince took this as an opportunity to call out to Moonjumper without putting him too much at risk:

-“The- the hole, lead her to the hole!” he shouted, using both of his hands as a way to make his voice louder. The corpse gave him a quick and confused glance, as if he were trying to understand what Snatcher had in mind- until his eyes widened, realization crossing his features. He had gotten the message.

Not wasting any more time, the corpse changed his tactic and instead of trying to keep her trapped and motionless… He tried to pull her closer to the window, floating back more and more. Of course, the Queen was always managing to get free with her powers, but she was still being slowly led to the huge gap in the floor. The corpse was immensely focused on the fight, doing everything he could to avoid her stalagmites- but his focus and his unbelievable calm was winning over Vanessa’s screaming and aggressive attitude- her attacks were having the same patterns, she was not thinking strategically when trying to hit Moonjumper… On the contrary, Snatcher had to admit she was being predictable, and while she couldn’t be kept trapped in the other’s strings for too long, Snatcher’s strategy was working little by little.

When she reached the gap, her eyes had widened, as if she was only understanding now what the trio had in mind. With another deafening scream, Vanessa created an ice path under her feet, like a bridge above everything, above… Nothing, above the void under her feet. No matter how hard Moonjumper was pulling on her, she was not loosing her balance and she kept on creating ice under her feet, although… Now she was looking to escape much more than actually attacking any of them. Her expression was not just livid anymore- no, there were some worry and fear in it too, now.

They had to take the matter in their own hand, now! Moonjumper had already done much more than Snatcher would have asked of him considering his same fear of her- and now it was his time to help.

Ignoring the pain in his ankle, the child dashed to the frozen umbrella the hatted brat had abandoned on the floor, and picked it up, not caring about the ice partially trapping it- no, this didn’t matter. What he was about to do, however… Mattered much, much more.

-“Snatcher!” he heard the little girl calling him out- but he didn’t stop.

No, this had to stop. Now.

Fueled by a new energy and by adrenaline, the former ghost ran onto the ice platform Vanessa had created… And he charged at his ex-lover, holding the umbrella before him and using him as a spear. He felt his borrowed weapon hit something, and he knew it was her- and almost instantly, a cry of fear and surprise left the Queen’s mouth… And the impact made her lose her balance, her body falling backward as she tried to turn back… But it was too late.

He had done it, he had managed to-

But things never, ever were that easy, were they?

-“Snatcher !!” His friends’ voice echoed behind him, panic clearly audible as the woman made a last movement as an attempt to save herself from her fall- she had grabbed Snatcher’s arm and was now taking him with her, bringing him with her for what was going to be her death… And the young Prince’s.

And now, they were both falling.

Snatcher had thought about dying again, multiple times, actually. Being stuck in his this human body definitely had him wonder a lot of things such as “if I die, would I become a ghost again? Would I just go to wherever souls go when no one eats them?” There had been no way to know, and still wasn’t. The doubt actually prevented him from trying to put an end to his human life and see what happened afterwards. However, now… It wasn’t doubt that was making Snatcher fear death. No…

That was the fear of actually dying, mixed with the fear of losing all the sensations he had become accustomed to, even though it took him so long. Sure, there were plenty of unwanted senses he disliked, but… Was it really worth losing all of it? Even the good ones? Like the feeling of a warm shower, the feeling of lying down on a pile of soft pillows, the feeling of tasting things, even bad things…

Did he really want to just not feel anything at all? It had felt so overwhelming when he had recovered all of his senses, but now, the thought of losing everything was… Just as crushing.

And so… That was why Snatcher was terrified, terrified as his body was falling to his demise, taken with Vanessa. Her claws were gripping at his arm tightly, freezing his clothes and skin, making him cry out in pain. His breath quickened while he felt the cold air outside scratching his cheeks from how fast they were falling.

He didn’t want to die…!

The young Prince started to kick her, trying everything he could to do get away from her- but what was the point if they were both going to die by crashing themselves to the ground?

-“Let me go!” he shouted, his voice hysterical and his expression both panicked and livid: “Let-let go of me!”

-“N-no!” retorted the Queen, and the child could see frozen tears leaving her eyes as well as a despaired expression on her face: “I don’t want to!!”

She tried to hold him tighter in her arms, bringing him for a hug- No, no, no, he didn’t want this, he didn’t want this! The kid kept trying to hit her, his fear growing more and more as they both got closer and closer to the ground- he didn’t want to die! Not like this, not anymore!

Snatcher shut his eyes hard, readying himself for the impact, for the death he had wanted so much and yet didn’t want anymore, for the confirmation of whether he’d come back as a ghost or not, this was not fair, this was not fair…!

The young Prince let out a startled scream when he felt something slipped under his arms, pulling him up and abruptly stopping his fall. Snatcher reopened his eyes instantly- Moonjumper! The corpse had hurled himself towards his small counterpart, barely saving him from his death and quickly trying to float back up again or, at the very least, slow down his dangerous fall.

Vanessa, on the other hand, was not being held by anyone and, thus, her claws severely scratching the child’s arms as she attempted to save herself, but her own weight dragged her down. A loud, painful scream left Snatcher lips as he felt his skin being torn open by her long, sharp claws… But soon enough, his eyes saw her falling down, falling to her death, while Moonjumper was now holding him still in the air, floating. And soon enough… A muffled sound echoed up to them, with the Queen crashed into the snow, creating a flurry of snow around her.

-“Are… Are you okay ?!” the corpse managed to say, panic clearly audible in his tone of voice, his eyes inspecting the young prince, and widening when he noticed the gaping wound on the other’s arm: “O-oh, Goodness, we better… Oh, my God…”

Snatcher only replied by a long hiss, feeling the snowflakes falling onto his injury- oh, that hurt so much…! Tears came back in his eyes, stinging the skin in the corners from how cold it was. Blood was leaking from his arm, falling down near where Vanessa’s body lied down. With a very concerned expression, Moonjumper quickly floated lower and lower, in order to bring them back to the ground. A movement in Snatcher’s vision caught the latter’s attention, and he glanced in that direction, his mind clearly in a state of shock, ready to react to the littlest threat- but what he saw was the hat-wearing brat, watching them from the attic. It was a bit hard to see her clearly because of the distance and the blizzard, but the former ghost was almost sure he saw her putting her hand where her heart was, seemingly sighing in relief.

Yeah… Yeah, he could definitely relate to that…

The young Prince jumped when he finally felt the ground under his feet, letting out a startled cry from how shocked he was. Slowly, ever so slowly, Moonjumper loosened his grip on him, only for Snatcher to fall to his knees, unable to stand up in his state. Around him, the snow was starting to get a reddish hue due to the blood falling and leaking on it, staining it.

-“H-hey…!” The corpse tried to help him get back to his feet, in vain. He had just experienced a near-death experience, how could he stand up again so easily?! His eyes looked around and… Noticed a dark spot in the snow.

Vanessa.

The child stared at her, afraid she’d get up again, ready to attack them again, ready to kill them all- But she wasn’t moving.

-“Is… Is it over?” he breathed out, unable to look away from the old Queen, his fear preventing from doing so.

-“I… I think so, yes,” Moonjumper floated lower, down to his level, his voice calmer and yet his nervousness was still very much there.

A loud noise suddenly caught the duo’s attention, making them lift their head to see what it was- and as much as Snatcher had expected quite a lot of things… Seeing the spaceship flying above their head was not one of these things. That… That was where the bow-wearing kid was! She hadn’t been there in the group’s rescue mission, and it made sense that at least someone had to stay in the ship in case things turned sour.

Not so long after that, the front door of the manor opened abruptly, revealing the hatted brat, soon dashing in their direction.

-“Snatcher!” she called out to him, stopping in front of him and almost slipping from how fast she was running. Her eyes noticed his injury and instant worry appeared on her features: “Oh, peck, are you okay?!”

The child took a moment to pull himself together- this was a lot to take in after all.

-“I… I don’t know,” he gasped, and now that the adrenaline was slowly dying down, the pain was getting much, much stronger. Wincing, Snatcher tried to move his arm, only to whine at the sensation. Yeah, that was not happening… And he was bleeding quite a lot too- oh, no, no, this was not good, was it…?

Another weird, high pitched sound caught their attention, this time behind them. The former ghost turned his head back, not knowing what it was- until he saw a beam of light coming from the spaceship to the ground, a silhouette quickly appearing where the light was touching the snow. The other kid! Even though he knew she had to be safe, considering Vanessa had forgotten about her when she brought the young Prince home, he was… Really happy to see her safe, now. However, something else caught his attention.

She was holding the Time Piece again.

Not wasting any more time, the other joined the trio, reacting the exact same way as the rest of the group did at the sight of Snatcher’s injury. Then again… He had no idea how bad it was, but from the look of everyone else, he could guess that it was… Not good.

-“Is… Is she…?” the bow-wearing child pointed to the Queen’s body, still not moving, except for her shadows, carried away by the wind.

-“I… I’m not sure,” Snatcher confessed, still very much afraid to see her getting up- but she wasn’t.

The group remained silent for a moment, staring at what now seemed to be a corpse- And Snatcher couldn’t help but stand up, his stance unstable and his legs trembling both from the blood loss and from how shaken he still was.

-“W-wait, what are you doing?” called out the hatted brat behind him. Moonjumper also tried to get his attention, his tone much more nervous than the little girl’s. The bow-wearing kid, however, remained silent, paralyzed by the fear of what he was trying to do.

Not listening to the group’s advice to sit back down, not to approach Vanessa, as they didn’t know if she was still alive yet- but he didn’t care. And so, silently if not for the sound of his boots in the snow, the young Prince stopped in front of his ex, looking at her with a deep expression of regret on his face. So this was the end of the story, then? The end of a tale that had lasted for many centuries, of a horrifying nightmare that had caused the death of so many people?

Was that it?

The young Prince jumped a bit when the Queen slowly opened her eyes, afraid she would be ready to fight again- but she didn’t move. Instead… She merely smiled at him, that same smile he had loved for years, that same smile from the person he wanted to marry so many years ago- and before he could realize it, his heart started to ache, his mind filled with bitterness.

-“Oh… Hello,” she greeted him, with a tone that was so familiar, much too familiar- and Snatcher’s face hardened, countless of memories blinding him as they came back to him, almost hitting him like a wave.

This was… Not a good ending for him- a good ending would have been to solve their problems before she caused the freezing, would have been to prevent the deaths of everyone- but this? This was a bittersweet ending.

This wasn’t the ending Snatcher wanted, but in the end… This was the only one he could get.

The light in Vanessa’s eyes became dimmer and dimmer as seconds passed and, soon, the former ghost just knew she had passed away, taking with her the threat she had always represented to Subcon Forest. Now… Now, the forest would be safe again.

-“Sna… Snatcher?” the bow wearing child called out to him again, and when he turned back to her… His cheeks started to sting- he was crying now. Tears, countless of them, were rolling down his cheeks and he couldn’t stop, the emotions flooding his mind, so much that it needed to get out somehow- Sobs started to leave his mouth… Before his legs gave up from the blood loss. Before anyone was able to react, the young Prince fell into the snow, mentally and physically exhausted. The group gathered around him, worry and fear visible on their features. Oh.

Was… Was this going to be it? Was this… The end? His end?

His thoughts were cut short when the bow-wearing kid lifted his hand, putting inside it a cold yet familiar object- the Time Piece.

-“Qu-quick!” she urged him, her face deadly pale: “I… I fixed it while you were fighting her! It’ll save you, but you need to break it and wish to become a ghost again!”

-“Hurry!” the hatted brat insisted, trying to hide her worry behind a mask of determination.

Was… Was it really what he wanted? To come back as a ghost, unable to feel a single thing, good or bad? To remain here for eternity and see the world change without him? To take care of a Forest that no longer needed protection? Was this really what he truly, truly wanted? To live in the past forever?

Snatcher winced at the thought.

He… Wasn’t so sure about becoming a ghost again. He had wanted this so much before, but now… Now, something didn’t feel right about this. Was Vanessa’s death the reason for that? Or had he thought this way for a while, just… Being in denial about all of this?

How could he know? What should he do?

-“Wh-what are you waiting for!” urged Moonjumper, and soon, the kids started to shake him lightly, fearing he would lose consciousness from his injuries, if not worse.

All he wanted… All he wanted was…

Slowly, much too slowly for the taste of the group… The former shade lifted the hand holding the Time Piece, ready to smash it to the ground.

-“I wish to be happy,” he murmured, before finally smashing the hourglass down.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-______________________________-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-“And then, add a bit of salt- yes, just like that!”

The voice of Cooking Cat could be heard in the kitchen of the spaceship, alongside sounds of something cooking in the background, sizzling on a frying pan. Next to her, a young man was standing up, his right hand holding the tool and the left one putting down a cup of salt. Once done, he grabbed the spatula on the nearby counter and started to move the ingredients around inside of the pan, intensifying all the crackling caused by their cooking.

-“Am… Am I doing fine?” he asked, wincing as he was receiving a few splashes, to the point he was tempted to step back- but he knew better than to do that. Cooking Cat seemed to notice his discomfort and came to her friend’s rescue, covering the frying pan with its lid and then lowering the temperature of the gas stove.

The young man couldn’t help but give an awkward and frustrated smile- well, at least, the food wasn’t burnt -yet-, so there was that!

-“You’re improving day after day,” assured the bipedal cat with a warm expression: “You’ll see, someday you won’t even need me anymore to cook for the girls!” she gave him a friendly tap on the back, though perhaps a bit too strong for the thin man, who stumbled a bit.

-“I doubt that,” he answered, before using an familiar sarcastic tone: “I mean, unless you all want me to burn the ship down, of course. That, I can do!”

The Cat snorted and shook her head, though not out of disapproval.

-“You’re underestimating yourself, you know?” she retorted, a bit amused by his previous words: “It’s only been a few months and you’ve made quite a lot of progress. You might not be the best cook in the world right now, but credit where it’s due, now you can make things that are edible!”

-“Oh man, what an improvement! ‘Poisonous’ to ‘barely digestible’! When do I open a restaurant?” he mocked her, but there wasn’t any real animosity, just friendly teasing… To which he received a light punch on the arm:

-“Oh, hush, you,” she snickered: “You know what I mean!”

The two laughed for a bit, and eventually washed their hands, waiting for the food to finish cooking. They kept doing some small talk as they tidied the kitchen a little bit, cleaning and putting back in cupboards all the tools they had needed to prepare the next meal, which smell was slowly invading the room.

Yeah, he had to admit that at least… Well, the smell was good enough to make him hungry, something that hadn’t been possible a few months back.

The duo’s attention was caught by the door opening, revealing the hatted brat, the bow-wearing kid, and Moonjumper, who had started to wear new clothes, clothes that fitted him and his personality much better.

-“Hey, the food’s not ready yet,” the young man taunted them, giving them a shooing gesture: “Come on, away with you!”

-“Can’t we have at a least a bit?” tried to bargain the bow-wearing girl, putting her hands on her stomach as if she hadn’t eaten anything for the past two weeks- and of course, she was imitated by her older friend: “We’re starving!”

-“Yeah, Snatcher, don’t be such a peck-ne-”

-“Language!” the word came from both Cooking Cat and Moonjumper, who floated closer to Snatcher- although it was clear that from the two of them, the bipedal Cat was the one having the more authority. Perhaps she was kind of like a mother-figure, or at least, that’s what the young man couldn’t help but think of her and what her aura seemed like.

-“Fiiine,” grunted the hatted brat, sighing with exaggeration, before giving the cook the look of a nice and innocent kid in dire need of something: “We’re super hungry though,” she repeated and, as on cue, a gurgling sound echoed in the room, causing everyone to stop talking. Eventually, the bow-wearing child giggled with embarrassment and looked away.

-“Y-yeah, we are,” she confirmed, and Cooking Cat just snorted in response. She moved to one of the cupboards and grabbed three plates and silverware, soon handing them to the little, impatient girls.

-“Listen, let’s set the table, and then we’ll eat, alright?” she told them, and it barely took the kids a couple of seconds to grab all of it and running away with it to the living room.

-“Hey, no running with the knifes!” Snatcher called them out, but all he heard were carefree giggles. Ugh. Kids. And yet, he was smiling.

Cooking Cat snorted again, shaking her head with a warm grin, before glancing at the other two :

-“I better go and help them,” she told Snatcher and Moonjumper: “I mean, not that they’re unable to set the table, but. You know.”

-“Yeah, we don’t want any injury, I got it. I’ll take care of the food in the meantime,” he assured, returning her smile with his own, and leaning against one of the kitchen counters. The Cat thanked him and left the room, leaving the young man and the corpse alone. Snatcher soon got back to work and prepared a few crudités for the first course. Somehow, there was some kind of tension in the room, and that was probably due to the fact that Moonjumper hadn’t followed their friend to help the kids. The silence went on for a few more seconds, and… Yeah, there was definitely something.

-“Anything on your mind?” asked the young man casually, glancing at him briefly while he was cutting the vegetables, doing his best to remain focused on the task at hand- not wanting any injury also applied to him. There were quite a few scars on the former Prince’s fingers, due to him not being careful enough while cutting food. After all, not only had he never cooked for a few centuries as a ghost, but he had never really cooked anything while being alive either… Being part of a royal family had its pros and cons after all.

The corpse seemed to be lost in thought, only to jump slightly at Snatcher’s voice, coming back to reality. Moonjumper looked away, scratching his arm in embarrassment:

-“Am I that obvious?” he asked, an awkward smile on his face.

-“Frankly?” the man raised his eyebrow, before giving the other a smug grin: “You have no idea.”

The two snorted, and it did indeed make the tension go away, if only a little. Snatcher knew something was up, and he waited for his friend to make the first step, not wanting to rush anything. If there was anything being human taught him again, it was being patient. Well… Among a lot of other things, of course. And soon enough… This proved to be the right choice, as Moonjumper spoke once more, giving the former Prince a more serious look:

-“Are you… Are you okay?” was his question, and Snatcher was quite taken aback by it, not really expecting something like this. To be fair, he had thought this would be about Subcon, who was now primarily handled by the corpse, though Snatcher did visit quite a lot. This could have also been about the girls or anything like that, really… But him?

Now that was something he hadn’t seen coming.

The young man’s face showed his surprise and confusion, and he quickly put his attention back on his cutting work. No need to cut a finger because he wasn’t attentive enough… Still:

-“Wh- Yeah, I am?” he replied, puzzled by this sudden question: “Why?”

Moonjumper remained silent for a moment, to the point Snatcher thought this conversation would end here- but the other proved him wrong:

-“It’s just that… You wanted to become a ghost again so much, a few months back,” admitted his counterpart with a wince: “And yet, while you had the opportunity to make this happen, you… Didn’t.”

He paused for a few seconds, as if he were looking for the right words, as if he were walking on eggshells- well, it was a figure of speech, given his lack of legs. In any case…

-“I guess, I just… I just wanted to know if you were fine with it.”

Snatcher stopped his cutting work, his stare lost into space. Yeah, he could see where that was coming from… To be fair, his old self would have probably screamed at him, not understanding why he was still a human despite getting the opportunity to change that, despite getting the chance he had waited for since the moment he woke up in that body.

In that body which reminded him of so many things, some good and some… Bad, very bad. And so, he wasn’t really surprised to see this question coming, especially from Moonjumper, who, well… Shared quite a lot of memories with him, even if they still weren’t the same person. If there was anyone in the world knowing him the best, it was the corpse, no doubt about that.

… Which meant quite a lot, being asked this question by his counterpart.

-“You know… If I had gotten the possibility to turn back into what I used to be when it happened…” started Snatcher, referring to the moment he had been turned into a human, months ago: “… Then I’m pretty sure I’d have taken that opportunity without hesitation.”

-“… So what changed?” retorted the other, though there was no judgment in his tone of voice- just pure curiosity and a lot of concerns.

-“I guess…” the man stopped to think, sighing again, before continuing, his face full of regret: “You know, back there, when I… When I almost died,” he managed to say, his body starting to shake from the emotion and from the memories. Snatcher was… Still trying to ignore them, but despite this, he remained haunted by them, haunted by what had happened, by what could have happened to him and to his friends.

The corpse nodded, silently and gently nudging him into talking once more.

-“I… I realized that I… Didn’t really want to die?” he wondered to himself, having done his best not to think about that whole thing until now, and he shrugged, though it was visible that this was clearly upsetting him: “I just… Understood that if I were to die again, even if I came back as a ghost I would just… Not be able to feel anything at all, you know?”

He glanced back to Moonjumper, and he mindlessly started to rub the counter with his hands, as if he were enjoying the sense of touch for the last time, contemplating what could have been if he had indeed died again that day.

-“That kinda scared me,” he admitted, this time with a frown, because being afraid was still something he didn’t like saying: “And after Vanessa’s death, I guess that I felt… Guilty, but also better? As if, there wasn’t that weight on my shoulder anymore, right? And so… So when Bow gave me the Time Piece, I… Hesitated.”

He couldn’t help but scoff at the idea, now.

-“That’s stupid, right?”

Moonjumper seemed surprised by his words, and he titled his head to the side, confused and a little worried:

-“What do you mean?” asked the other, frowning too.

-“That… That I basically let that hourglass decide.”

-“Oh.”

Realization crossed the corpse’s features and he looked away, maybe feeling foolish for that dumb question. But to Snatcher, it wasn’t one, really. A few minutes passed in pure silence, and Snatcher got back to his cutting work. It took a little while before Moonjumper gathered the courage to speak again, visibly concerned for his friend:

-“And so… Are you happy?” he asked, making a reference to the wish Snatcher had made back then, when he was dying. The memory made the young man wince, and he couldn’t help but clench his fists, doing his best not to let his mind getting overwhelmed at the traumatizing recollection.

But this was a good question. Was he happy? Was he, really? It was quite hard to answer… How could he know? His old lives, as a Prince and as a soul-stealing ghost, were so different than this one that it was barely comparable. However… However, he couldn’t deny how miserable he had felt sometimes, as a spirit guarding Subcon Forest. But now…? While he still had nightmares, and while sensations were still a bit strong… Vanessa wasn’t a threat to Subcon and its inhabitants anymore, he felt free for the first time in centuries, not shackled to a place in order to protect it, no- he was really, truly free. Furthermore…

Snatcher had two people to care about now.

-“You know, it’s not so bad,” he eventually replied, a smile starting to appear on the corner of his lips.

-“What is?”

The young man turned his head to his friend, his smile widening, even though his expression still showed some regrets:

-“Being Human.”

The corpse fell silent, but eventually returned his smile, visibly satisfied with the answer. The duo’s attention were brought back to reality as a smell of something burning started to float in the room-

-“Oh fu- peck!” the former prince cursed as he turned off the gas stove, quickly removing the frying pan and putting it on the kitchen counter. His face fell when he noticed the meal had burnt- again. Next to him, Moonjumper was trying his best not to laugh, leading the young man to glare at him. Instantly, the corpse looked away innocently, whistling- ugh, that guy.

Snatcher looked at the burnt meal with frustration, and he rubbed his eyes- Yeah, he was getting tired of himself quite a lot, when it came to cooking. Nonetheless, he took a deep breath, and picked the frying pan again, while Moonjumper, still giggling, grabbed the plates of crudités. Both left the kitchen, and Snatcher lifted the pan for everyone to see, announcing loudly and comically:

-“Soooo, who wants some burnt food?”

A loud series of boo welcomes him, as well as some “again??”s, making him snicker in reaction… But yeah.

Being Human wasn’t so bad.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

Thank you for following me this far, I hope you liked this story ! My next fanfiction, still on AHIT, is a WIP for now. I hope you'll like it too. See you soon !

[domericstone]

Domeric liked his wife. She wasn’t pretty but she wasn’t ugly. Not in his viewing. Kindness. There was a genuine kindness in her, someone who sat in the middle of rooms and was seen by no one. She smiled so often and spoke so kindly. And as he begun to work on molding her she was becoming her truest self. The ruling lady of an old house, heritage, traditions, and customs for them to lean into.

House Lynderly were more First Man than they were, of course they would accept the seven and take part in what it took to be Valemen but rarely did you see Valemen traversing through the Snakewood without invite or without being from there. The people stuck to themselves within their villages, the treetop houses tied together by rope bridges going down into whole communities built in their old trees.

One was never alone in the Snakewood, there was someone always watching or something. And if one dared to venture into the ghost trees they would see more than stone trees. They would see the feet and in some cases the bones of the mountains that ventured too far down. His wife never got the chance to see his greatest work, the living art that would soon be the sisters. His mother was there, of course, someone needed to watch the girls while he procured a new wife. The Old Gods gave, and they took away. And he knew they would reap for his crimes of the North.

“Hiding?” Domeric sat down in the mouth of the basilisk, gesturing to the other chair for his brother, his King. The castle was abuzz, the people were alive, and they were moving quicker than he’d ever seen them. The Snake himself was a low maintenance lord. He spent much of his time within his solar, other time he was training because it was important to work all muscles. He took the Warhammer of the Snakewood, the handle of ebony wood carved and scaled like a snake, the mallet pointed on the edges. As long as everyone was where he wanted them to be when he got there he didn’t require much. They heard him announce the king would arrive soon and suddenly he was standing in King’s Landing.

“We can make our returns today. I’ve instructed mother to stay here with the girls for the time being. Mother is praying in the Sept and will be unavailable during your stay, your grace. You understand the ways of women.”

Two daughters. Domeric shook his head, at least they had Lynderly blood. He hoped there would be news of some surprise third child to take the castle. A ruling queen would not set a precedent of passing down a house to daughters. The shape of his plan slowly forming, names and locations. There would be much to do and not much time to do it in. “Well, perhaps not today. I dare say you would not enjoy an evening in the Snakewood.”

who: @domericstone where: the snakewood, following the death of lady lynderly. this is prior to the wedding of axell royce and yuna upcliff. graham checking in like a good big brother, only being reminded that domeric is an absolutely weirdo, woo

it were not uncommon for a woman to die from childbirth: and yet, none is truly expecting it until it happens to them. the letter that had been sent to his personal solar within the eyrie was only a simple note, informing of the delivery of the heirs to the snakewood, and the death of his lady wife. the note had caused some worry within graham royce, if only for how short and blunt it was, as though it were something utterly casual. he had blinked, and domeric was an outsider within the vale, his only link to property and a seat dead and raising the children she had born him.

were they sickly too? was there any lynderly bastard that could creep out of whatever gutter it were within and claim if a bastard were to have the snakewood, it should at least be them? in the end, the king consort had insisted that he would be visiting the region: if only because he knew should he make it sound as though he were checking in on his brother, the answer would be no.

he had insisted on meeting him at the regional border of the snakewood, something graham had argued, and yet domeric had consistently insisted. letters on letters on the pair debating on this small matter, and as the men had ridden through the twisted nature of the snakewood, he began to understand just why domeric had insisted on greeting and guiding him in. it were utterly strange, the formations of nature the trees took: light was difficult to penetrate through the overhanging trees, but there was something else about this place.

it was unsettling, and not in the same way runestone was: rather than simply feeling as though they were not alone, it felt like something was wrong. it were obvious that graham felt inherently bad about this area: not because of not feeling alone, but because it felt as though he were feeling the emotions of so many, all at once. the winds felt like whispers. the entire wood felt cursed, and he would not be the fool to claim it were not so. he knew where his line was, and that was always tampering with what he did not truly understand.

he waited to discuss the topic until they were within the walls of the snakewood itself, the actual keep of the lynderly family: he noted the way in which the horses themselves seemed more at ease as they rode into the courtyard, his own letting out a noise of what sounded honestly quite like relief. they slipped from their horses, and he noted the way in which the servants stared at him: it had been the first time in decades a ruler of the realm had come to this corner of their world. how strange it felt. "you have been hiding in this place too long." graham spoke, his accent wrapping around each word, reflective of his runestone heritage. "when will you return to court?"

[lunawritingspaceoxoxxx]

Unresponsive II

Three months

Three

Three months

Y/N thrived in the art world, their first displayed piece expressed the raw feeling of losing a love that was so exciting and heart racing and trying to manage in this bland, cold world. They glanced out towards the concrete jungle, watching people hustle and bustle around; single mothers, business men, ladies of the night, etc. They sighed, walking towards the canvas, rubbing their face as they tried to create anything from this creative funk. They knew this was coming from the trip to the falling out with Jennie, suppressing it until they couldn’t anymore, breaking down from just feeling absolute shit from just everything, they cried for their lost friendship, for Damiano, for everything that they sacrificed to get her. When they first started dating Damiano, they were in college for communications and journalism and for the most part, they enjoyed it for the most part and they thought it was going to stick for the most part and then they met Damiano. He came through like a hurricane, tearing through their world and showing them more than just their little small town as he sent pictures of places that he toured at, sending love letters and expensive jewelry.And they cherished every single one, keeping them in a small box underneath their bed, unable to stand even looking at them. Y/N rolled their neck as they pulled off their shirt, tossing it to the side as they grabbed a paint can as they stared at the blank canvas in determination.

TWO WEEKS LATER

“‘Up and coming painter,Y/N L/N, has been hospitalized at New York’s mental hospital. They’ve been experiencing vivid hallucinations and long periods of mania, breaking the glass of their high rise apartment. One theory is giving a little bit of insight to why they’re acting like this, some say she hasn’t been sleeping well or sleeping at all. They recently did a painting stream and you won’t believe this, for almost 30 hours. Some say that they didn’t move either, to eat or relieve themselves, so they potentially have an eating disorder as well.’'

Ethan scoffed as he changed the channel, tossing the remote to the side. “Lo sa ancora (Does he know yet)?” Ethan questioned as he opened a bottle of liquor, pouring himself a glass along with Thomas and Vic. “No, but he’ll probably know soon, you know he kept tabs on them. I don’t know why though, I’m pretty sure that they’re over with.” Damiano stepped through the door, looking worse for wear as he stomped through the room, taking the swing of the bottle. “Damiano….” “Just don’t. I don’t want to hear it, I know they’re in the hospital and-” “Dude, we’re just wondering if you’re okay, we don’t care about them-” Damiano stopped as he glared at Thomas, bending down in front of him. “I don’t give a shit how I feel, but you’re not going to disrespect Y/N in front of me. You can do it anywhere else, but around me.” Ethan quietly watched him as he slammed the door shut. “Maybe he’s onto something, he knows them better than us, maybe they’re nice.” Vic spoke up after a while, rubbing her neck as she felt an insane amount of guilt. She knew that Y/N knew that, and the rest of the band didn’t like them. They were so different from Damiano’s partners, none of his partners were foriegn, Y/N was an American and they did things differently than they do. “Are you okay, Vic, you look like you have an idea that none of us are going to like.” Vic was going to make this right and help these two useless lovebirds. “Pack all of your shit, we’re going to America.”

“What do you mean they’re not here? Where could they go?” The receptionist stared blankly at three before grabbing the phone. “If I knew that, I still couldn’t tell you because of HIPAA, if you don’t leave, I will call security.” They quickly stepped out of the building, disappointed as they looked at themselves. “Okay, so we’re going back home right?” Ethan looked done with everything, glaring at the paparazzi that made their way down the street. “We’re going to look for them, I’m not giving up, Damiano is close to shutting down completely and leaving the band. We owe it to him to at least help him either get back together or help him move on.” Vic realized during the ten-hour flight how well Damiano was doing much better with them in his life, they actively made sure that he was eating and remembering important small details. They were a match made in heaven and according to Vic, everyone needed someone to manage in the cruel world. “I know that they have a friend named Jennie, we just have to find where she’s at.”

“The world hasn’t been too kind to you, hasn’t it?” An older man glanced towards the backseat, frowning as he occasionally watched his child sleep. They looked exhausted and ready to throw in the towel from this brutal boxing match. He remembered them, crying into the phone, on the verge of a panic attack as they tried to form a coherent sentence and the next thing he knew, he was on a flight headed to New York. He knew that after the death of their mother, his wife, that they weren’t okay, but it was their senior year of high school and they got into a very prestigious school. They just kept going and going, no time to grieve and he was surprised that it took them so long to do so. As a father, he wanted to protect them from the outside world and yet, he couldn’t be there for them and it frustrated him so much. He pulled into a dirt road, sighing as they made their way down that familiar path. “I just want you to be happy again, just have this snarkier, larger than life attitude, and enjoy yourself. If you didn’t know, I’m proud of you and I’ll make sure that you know that for the rest of your life.”

“So you’re that Måneskin? Not going to lie, I thought Y/N was lying about him, you know? They seem a little...off the rails.” Ethan furrowed his eyebrows at Jennie as she basically walked around naked. “Is there another Måneskin band that we don’t know about? I’m getting sidetracked, where is Y/N? I know they had a breakdown and I thought in America you had to stay there for three days so?” Jennie just looked at the other woman, shrugging her shoulders as she walked into her kitchen, dancing to trashy pop music. “I really don’t know and I really don’t care, I didn’t consider Y/N as my friend. When they came to New York, I just took advantage of that, they were from the South. They came here and wanted to make all of the friends, wanting to get close with everybody and you know what? I could see them, slowly crack and not be their cheerful self and -” “God, no wonder they acted like that, they have you in their right ear, being a negative bitch and making themselves feel like shit.” Thomas spoke up as she pouted, making Ethan and Vic wear a puzzled look on their faces. “How are you making this about yourself? They’re obviously not in a good mental state, don’t make this about you.” Ethan shuffled uncomfortably in his seat as he looked around, coughing awkwardly. Jennie raised her eyebrows at them before she opened the door, pointing out. “Get the fuck out of my apartment and never come back. You’re lucky that I became friends with that hillbilly freak, no one else would ever deal with them.” Once again, they were stumped, they had no leads and they were pretty much ready to give up and call it a day. “...Vic, why are you doing this? Be honest with us, why do you feel this urge to help them? What have they done for you to help them?” “Because Damiano..has become a better person because of them, he’s been worse than this before. He would sleep around, not caring about who he hurt in the process and he was just sinking further and further. Then Y/N came along, they became friends and it took months of Damiano being called out for him to change and during that time frame, he fell in love with Y/N. ...I was jealous, he was more open with them than me. I’ve known him longer than anyone else and it was painful for me to hear him express his dreams and feelings to someone else. I wanted him to express himself with me instead of trying to act like he’s okay with whatever he was dealing with. That’s why I despised them, my jealousy got the best of me and it clouded my judgement.”

2 MONTHS LATER

Y/N watched the fields of corn as they seemed to continue on, never ending as the days went on. They were mounted on their childhood horse, Luna, as they explored the unchanging surroundings around them. Everything was the same, albeit, it really wasn’t, people passed away and some left to bigger and better things and the town that they grew up with just faded away. It was a ghost town, hardly anything stayed in town, all of the mom and pop shops shut down as the older generation retired and their children didn’t want to run a store. Y/N was lucky to have such great parents and allowed them to explore and learn everything they wanted to know. They never held that against their parents, they knew that just being the weird kid would have been sheltered because they knew how society treated children who didn’t fit into the norm. ”Whatca thinkin about?” “Nothing really, just relaxing, thinking, I don’t know what else to do, I don’t want to go back to New York quite yet. I don’t want to paint..it just reminds me of him, and losing him was the second worst pain that I've dealt with. I remember when mom died and I just pushed myself through, buried myself in my college work and...Damiano helped me decompress, I lost my rock and I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t want to see me. His group just won Eurovision and they’re getting international attention…” Their father watched them carefully, walking next to them. “Let me ask you a question, why did you and Damiano fight? Let’s start from there.” Y/N stopped Luna as they spun around to face the older man. “We fought because I traveled all the way to Rome and got drunk for two weeks. I thought we were going to spend time together and he would take me to see his favorite places-” “Did you tell him that? Before you confronted him?” Their father gave him that same look that they loved to give. Y/N had this bad habit where they'd daydream about important conversations and not have those said conversations in real life, they looked away shamefully. “No...I didn’t” “You know men are dumb as rocks, you need to tell us everything or we won’t pick up on hints that you drop. When your mother was pregnant with you, she would constantly get mad when I didn’t do things which led her to getting a chalkboard to let me know what I needed to do. Good communication makes a relationship thrive and survive, you can’t be silent and expect him to come to you. Now, do you want with this information, there’s someone who would love to speak to you.” A car sped down the dirt path, unfamiliar with this terrain, stopping as they rushed out of the car. “How did he even..” They urged Luna to slowly make their way back inwards, nervously glancing back towards their father, he only nodded as he urged them to continue on.

“Excuse me? I’m looking for…” Damiano trailed off as he watched them slowly trotted over to him. “..How did you even find me?” “Honestly, I spent hours upon hours looking through our facetimes and I just wanted to see you...I have so much to say and I just….Ti amo e voglio essere con te(I love you and I want to be with you), I’m hurting when you are and I realized that I can’t imagine myself without you. You’ve been there when I was at my lowest and you know me so personally and I don’t want to lose you.” Damiano grasped their waist as he pulled them into his chest. “Damia-” “No, let me talk first, you were absolutely right, we should’ve talked about what we should’ve done when you visited. I was stupid to think-” Y/N covered his mouth, shaking their head, “No, I’m partially to blame as well, I didn’t communicate what I wanted and I ended up causing a scene and I embarrassed you in front of everyone and your bandmates probably hate me even more.” Damiano wasn’t even listening to what they were saying, unable to focus on anything else but them, he quickly took their face in his hands, eagerly kissing as he ran his hands along their body, gripping their hips. “You weren’t listening to a word I said, did you?” “Diavolo, no(Hell no), you’re too distracting for me to focus.” He chuckled, pulling them closer to him, smirking when they gasped. “Don’t give me that look, I’ve always wanted to sleep with my amore on their childhood bedroom, let’s make that into a reality, shall we?”

[shimmershae]

The more I think about it, the more “Find Me” feels like an echo of “Ghosts.”

Allow me to explain.  In probably the most rambling and incoherent way possible, lol.  My earlier post on Twitter about Season 10 being an exercise in grief and longing really got me to thinking.  Not just thinking.  Ruminating.  

Anywho.  

Posting the rest of this beneath a cut because nobody asked for this (I swear I haven’t imbibed or ingested any illegal substances).  

It doesn’t take long for Carol to be established as an unreliable narrator in “Ghosts.”  At first it isn’t completely obvious because there’s just enough fact in the fiction that Carol’s triggered brain stirs up.  Daryl’s there and he’s concerned about her.  He’s supportive.  Both things he’d been before, especially since Henry’s death, but there are just enough elements in those chemically and grief induced hallucinations of hers that make you go--oh wait a minute.  Like she’s having a break from reality but she’s desperately grasping for that which grounds her and that’s Daryl.  

Am I making any sense here?  I feel like I’m not.  

Let me approach this from another angle.  

Following the airing of “Find Me” various people mentioned that Daryl, similarly to Carol in “Ghosts” wasn’t exactly the most reliable narrator.  That things weren’t necessarily as they seemed.  The word toxic was bandied about but other than Leah giving Daryl an ultimatum to choose her over his family and Daryl dwelling in deep, longstanding depression?  There wasn’t much else overtly deserving of that moniker. 

Argh.  I’m still not explaining myself well.  Let me just jump right in the deep end of probable delusion here.  Sometimes it’s fun to splash around, lol.   

Wouldn’t it be wild—sad AF but still wild—if Leah was already dead when Daryl met her?  

Bear with me here.   

Like Carol in “Ghosts” Daryl is obviously struggling.  He’s grief-stricken.  His brother is lost to him and after he betrayed him no less.  His close friend is mired in her own grief--she’s just lost her mate, probably recently discovered she was carrying RJ, and it wasn’t too long before that they had all lost Carl.  And that’s not even considering Carol, who’s allowed herself to be pulled away, lured by the tantalizing chance of doing things right this time.  Of rearing a child capable of surviving in the harsh world they live in.  Another thing to remember is Daryl is not that far removed from his torture at Negan’s hands.  So he’s more fragile than he’d willingly admit to anyone.  

He’s searching the woods for a man that isn’t there.  Now he’s no more aware that Rick was taken than the rest of Team Family, but he’s unwilling to give up hope and so he searches and because Rick’s not there and hasn’t been since shortly after that bridge blew up, Daryl’s doomed to always come up empty.  To always feel disappointment.  To never have his grief assuaged because as long as there’s no body in the form of a Walker, there’s still hope.  Or plausible denial.  Take your pick.  

He’s tireless in his search.  He’s methodical.  He plots out the places he’s already scoured on a hand-drawn map.  A map that just so happens to get ruined by an awful storm and Daryl seems to reach his breaking point, screaming out into the roar of that storm.  Walking through the barrage, the harsh rain and the violent lightning, unconcerned for his safety.  

Dude has a bit of a mental break.  He’s undeniably emotional.  

It’s not long after that he stumbles upon Dog.  Or, more aptly, Dog stumbles upon him.  

That puppy immediately lightens Daryl’s heavy heart and helping it find its way home gives him purpose.  He’s a tracker after all.  He could have easily traced Dog’s steps back to that cabin.  

Funny that Dog was always coming to him.  That he was roaming free in woods that were full of hidden dangers.  

I don’t know about the rest of ya’ll but that cabin looked abandoned when Daryl first discovered it.  Maybe not long abandoned, but it didn’t look inhabited by the living. And that’s the weird thing.  How did that Walker get into the cabin?  Did Leah just leave the door wide open for it?  Did she also leave the door wide open for Dog to escape?  Why was he always such an unaccompanied furry minor? 

The thoughts swirling around in my brain, lovelies.  They’re going to force me to go back and watch that fucking episode again aren’t they?

My point is that Dog essentially leads Daryl to the cabin. The Walker’s inside and then he stumbles upon Leah, who bursts onto the scene like she wants to be Sarah Connor or something. Daryl ends up in restraints and Leah questions him and ultimately lets him go and WTF, lovelies.  Who does that in the ZA?  As a woman all alone in a cabin miles from anybody else, in the company of a man she doesn’t know from Adam?  If ever there’s a time to have stranger danger...

Right from the start, this chick doesn’t really add up.

So Daryl leaves the cabin.  He resumes his search for Rick and he seems to give very little thought to this Leah or the cabin.  Until Dog finds him again.  

Strange isn’t it that he keeps stumbling back in her path around the times that Carol visits, when she draws further and further from his reach and closer to the fairytale he thinks she’s living at the Kingdom?  

Did Daryl ever go to that cabin without following Dog? I can’t remember.  The episode was beautifully shot but ultimately too painful to rewatch for my Caryl loving heart.  

Anywho.  

When Daryl and Carol come upon that cabin in the woods, Daryl’s flashbacks begin.  They’re hazy around the edges and not as clearly defined as the moments he spends with Carol.  Speaking of the moments he spends with Carol, how coincidinky that so many of them echo his moments with Leah?  Or do we have it all backwards?  Hmm?  

Things are so convoluted sometimes on this fucking show it leads one to question their sanity.  

Let me ramble out a few wild thoughts for you lovelies again and you tell me if I’ve completely lost it, lol.  

What if Dog was simply an orphaned, abandoned Dog that found Daryl in the woods?

What if Daryl followed the trail Dog had traveled in reverse and stumbled upon the cabin?  

What if the cabin was abandoned because Leah was already dead?  What if she’d taken her own life?  What if Daryl saw the cross/grave outside and the picture inside and his grief-stricken brain conjured up a whole tragic story for this woman, this Walker roaming around inside this house, and she became his coping mechanism?  You know.  Kind of like Rick did Lori when he had his own break with reality.  They’ve all suffered so much, lovelies.  They’ve all got PTSD.  It’s just manifesting in different ways.  

I mean, all of this would fit the label of sad that NR and others have given this little tale.  It would even fit toxic because Daryl let grief and loneliness swallow him for a while.  

As Carol pulls farther away from him, Leah just keeps popping up more and more.  

Daryl essentially loses himself in his own fairy tale only it’s a nightmare painted in soft colors and Leah asking him to choose is basically his own psyche saying to him “do you wanna live here in this fantasy land and numb your pain or do you want to relive the awful reality of Rick being lost and Carol slowly fading from your life day by day?”  And at first he’s like, you can’t make me make that choice because Daryl doesn’t want to give up hope, no matter how futile it seems.  But then Carol makes what she tells him might be her final visit for a while and anger leads Daryl right back to that fucking cabin and oblivion.  Back to the solitude of his tortured thoughts.  

That note, lovelies.  It felt like by choosing Leah he was choosing a lifetime of being alone more than it did him choosing the hope of a new love.  That “find me” for all the world felt like he was willing hope to find him again.  Hope in the form of love in the form of Carol.  

Listen.  I never said this would make sense, lol.  

When Daryl gets back to that cabin, Leah is gone.  Her picture is gone. 

Truly it felt like she’d never been there.  

Even more so when you consider how run down the cabin looks in present day when Daryl and Carol seek shelter in it.  

I can’t help it.  Some small part of me?  Well, it thinks that Daryl told Carol about Leah (whether she existed or not) as a way to both make her feel better than he wasn’t out there in those woods completely alone and to maybe move the needle a little bit on the nature of their own relationship.  Both in the past and present day.  

And while he and Carol are struggling through the ever-shifting nature of their feelings for each other, Daryl has climbed out of his own darkness and found hope again in Judith and RJ.  In the family he’s embraced again. In the communities.  And he’s angry and unsettled because he wants the same for Carol but she doesn’t seem to want that for herself.  

He still wants her to find hope.  

He still wants her to find him.  

He still wants her to find love and peace.  

Help me, lovelies.  These two have broken me, lol.  I promise.  I’m stone cold sober.  A little, okay a lot, tired.  

Wouldn’t it be wild, though?  If Leah really wasn’t what she seemed?  If she were a figment of a broken, lonely man’s tortured imagination?  

Undeniably sad AF but wild all the same.  

[yannasunflower]

dust to dust | chapter two

chapter one | chapter two

ao3

You don't know what makes you save Kuroo Tetsurou's life. All you know is there is no world to save anymore, but damn if you're just stupid enough to try.

Genre: hurt/comfort/romance/angst Rating: Mature, subject to change (gore, violence) Kuroo x fem!Reader Word count: 3.5k

hey everyone! here's chapter two, as promised. this fic is also cross-posted to AO3, where i'm under the same username. linked above as well! next chapter, action picks up, plot picks up, and we get more Kuroo, promise. enjoy, and as always, please reblog, like, and comment <3

Nobody ever told you how absolutely boring a zombie apocalypse could be.

Your ragtag group of survivors have scavenged what entertainment they can - books and gym equipment, even a few board games. People like Suga and Takeda keep busy with the children, teaching them to read and garden and how to survive if mommy and daddy never come back for them.

You open one lazy eye as a gaggle of them stumble after Suga, hanging on to his every word.

You’re not sure how the two men handle placing a long knife in a child’s chubby hand, fingers barely able to grip it,and showing them how to strike right at a nighstalker’s heart, fast and deep. Their giggles float through the air and the sound is almost dreamlike and if you keep your eyes closed, you can pretend this is a movie and when you open them, the credits will roll and you can go home.

Others tend to the elderly, of which there are only three in your group. You try to keep them comfortable and as far from danger as possible. But your body constantly prickles with the knowledge that they aren’t just vulnerable - they are a vulnerability. A hole in the brick wall you are attempting to build around this little community.

The healthy and fit young people patrol and take rotations on the watchtowers. Teenagers help with the lessons. Takeda had been firm about this. Once a kid turned seventeen, they were allowed to join the patrols, but until then, they stayed sequestered away.

It was almost comical, telling a tall, strong, angry Tobio that he had to mind the children. He towers over you, but he had bent to your will after a brief glaring contest. And then a week later, Shoyo had bounded into everyone’s hearts, including his, and the pair were inseparable.

Kiyoko, for her part, had taken one look at Yachi, shivering at Hinata’s side, and adopted her, sweeping her under a protective wing and keeping her there.

For people like you, who have no “bedside manner” as Kiyoko puts it, there are chores and day to day mini emergencies to keep you busy. Somehow, in the months since the world finally decided to fall apart, you have become mediator and negotiator. It’s an unlikely role; you can see your mother’s arched brow if she was still alive to see you now.

You barely have the patience for grocery shopping.

She would have laughed, elbowing your father, who would have made a valiant attempt at a straight face.

These are useless memories but you allow yourself to indulge for a moment. You have nothing better to do. Lunch is cooking, inventory has been completed, the guard rotation is set for the next two weeks. Ukai had waved you off this morning when you finally managed to corner him, complaining about your ceaseless energy and the “mad glint” in your eye. His words.

“That look means trouble for me,” he had growled, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Go to your cell and get some sleep for the love of anything you find holy.” Without another word, the man had leaned against a wall, put his feet up on his desk, and closed his eyes. A clear dismissal. You tried not to huff but you definitely stomped a little bit on the way out.

You don’t know how to tell him that staying in your cell, with your eyes closed, is inviting the living nightmares. You don’t know how to tell anyone, really, that you are just as haunted as this prison, as Daichi’s eyes.

That the only holy thing left in this world is fear and if you succumb to that, you’ll never move again.

You let a sigh tumble out of you. Forcibly, you shove your thoughts in another direction.

It had been a week since you brought home your latest stray. Kuroo had spent the first three days doing little else but sleep and eat. Daichi has taken to walking him around the Pit every day, explaining the way things work, and Suga showed him his pride and joy just yesterday. Kuroo had been suitably impressed by the garden, if the generous second and third helpings Suga thought he was sneaking to him at dinnertime were anything to go by.

The man has filled out nicely. He looks less skeleton, more human after sleep and hot food. You had peeked in on him in the grey of dawn that morning after Daichi not-so-subtly hinted that Kuroo had been asking about you.

He sleeps curled up on his side, hair falling against his cheek. In another world, you would have taken a picture.

Kiyoko tells you that the men like him, that Tanaka has stopped regarding him with all the wariness of a stray cat, and that she’s pretty sure Yachi has a crush on him.

You open your eyes into a blazing afternoon, unsurprised to see the subject of your thoughts stretching in the courtyard, the weak sunlight rippling over his bare arms. His black hair is messy as ever and you are struck all over again by how tall he is.

Tobio got a new babysitter, you think with no small amount of amusement. The gangly teenager needs someone to keep him in line and frankly, you don’t have the time and Hinata is just as likely to suggest some stupid shit for them to get into as he is.

You are still stretched out like a cat on a bench, letting the sun warm you, half-hoping it will lull you into a nap.

It’s boredom, more than anything, that makes you turn your head toward Kuroo.

“If you’d like to get some exercise, we have equipment. I’m sure Noya can show you,” you call.

Kuroo jumps and swivels to look at you, eyes wide and so, so dark. You look away. Something about him is like staring at the sun; too long, and your eyes burn.

“Didn’t see you there,” he admits easily, sauntering over to your bench. You eye his approach, noting that he really must be feeling a lot better. His movements are more fluid now, lean muscles becoming apparent on his shoulders.

Daichi has blessed every woman, and a few men, in the Pit by finding Kuroo a pair of grey joggers and a muscle tank top for everyday wear.

“I don’t do well with sitting still,” he says, leaning over you. His head casts you in shadow, blotting out the sun. “This is something I think you can understand.”

Up close, you can see that the shadows beneath his eyes are retreating gradually. His smile looks less like a grimace today.

You hum, swinging your legs over the bench and sitting up. Blood rushes from your head and you lean back against your palms. Kuroo lowers himself to sit next to you.

“Daichi forces me to limit my rotations on the guard towers and patrols,” you answer. “When we first found this place and cleaned it out, I was working overtime and made myself sick. Him and Kiyoko have been conspirators against me ever since.”

Your fingers thrum against your thigh as you say this. You feel more than see Kuroo’s eyes on them.

“They love you,” he points out, a little unnecessarily.

You snort.

“Love is expensive nowadays and everyone in the Pit is broke.”

“You love them back even more.”

You glare at him but he is just looking at you, tracing the planes of your face. A frown tugs at your lips.

“How are you feeling?”

Kuroo rolls his shoulders experimentally, stretching his arms above his head.

“Better,” he affirms. “More like myself.”

“A nosy busybody who talks like a grandpa?”

“Exactly.”

He is grinning now and you have to fight to keep yourself from returning the expression.

The bruises on his face are yellow now. You estimate it will only take a couple more weeks of regular meals for his face to fill out and his skin to look youthful again. You don’t bother asking him how long he had been alone, what happened to his family. None of that matters now. The apocalypse is a great equalizer.

“I talked to Takeda and Kiyoko this morning,” you begin, leaning your head back and closing your eyes against the sun. “They agreed to give you another week before putting you on guard rotation.”

“I would appreciate that. I want to earn my keep, however I can.”

A ghost of a smile dances across your lips.

“You’re just bored,” you tease. It’s been a long time since you felt sleepy and loose enough to tease anyone.

“You say that now, but newbies get the shittiest schedule possible,” you warn him, unsure why you’re telling him this. “Be prepared. Once you’re back to top form, we’ll discuss sending you on patrols for medicine and expanding that garden of Suga’s.”

There’s silence but it’s comfortable, easy. You let yourself enjoy it for just a few moments before standing, opening your eyes and offering Kuroo a full smile and your hand.

As he shakes it, looking only a little confused, you wonder how much longer he would have survived on his own in the city.

“Welcome to the Pit,” you say before turning on your heel and walking away.

~~~

Nightmares are as plentiful as soil on Suga’s fingers.

A sliver of moonlight is all that keeps you from sinking into the darkness, skin clammy, chest heaving. Your fingers twist into the sheets. A prayer is whispered that you didn’t scream this time. You can’t bear the thought of Kiyoko running again, feet bare, knife in hand and tears glistening on her cheeks. Her utter, pure relief haunted you for a month.

It would be so easy, you think, to never get up again.

Kiyoko would care for you. Daichi would stop by, every day, and update you. Ukai would read to you, probably, or nap in your cell, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

These are the thoughts that force you up, out, stumbling into your worn boots, shrugging a jacket on.

Takeda finds you in the office hours later, hunched over inventory reports in his neat handwriting, hair pulled back. He puts a pot of coffee on and hands you a steaming mug, holding a hand out for the report you’re struggling to understand.

“Winter is coming,” you sigh as you hand it over. He doesn’t ask about the shadows beneath your eyes, doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s barely six-thirty in the morning and you’ve clearly been awake for a number of hours.

A smile quirks at his lips.

“I didn’t know Tanaka managed to get the TV’s up and running,” he jokes. You wave your hand in a vague gesture, taking another sip of the liquid heaven in your hand.

“We need to get winter supplies,” you answer and that sobers him up. He nods, slowly, eyes roving the paper.

“Winter isn’t for over six months,” he reminds you. An eyebrow is raised. A teacher, waiting for an explanation. In moments like these, you see the high school teacher that you’d found barricaded in his office, babbling a stream of students’ names that Daichi had quietly whispered as your group cut them down, reading them off their uniforms.

On Takeda’s worst nights, as you guarded the door to his cell, you’d heard those same names, apologies and nonsensical gibberish streaming from his mouth as he grappled with his dreams and feverish tremors.

You stand, stretching, before stepping in front of a map of the city that Suga had snagged on one of his patrols. It’s huge, taking up an entire wall. Little markers litter the paper, different colors, and you run your finger over the pale blue ones in the northeast corner.

“There’s a limited supply of winter clothes in the city. I don’t want other groups getting to it first - we don’t need that bastard holding it over our heads when we have food and they don’t,” you remind him. Your arms cross behind your back automatically. “With the snows, we’ll need snow boots. The kids need jackets and thermals. We need to completely outfit the prison’s entire water supply system to last through snowstorms. We need hot water before then or half of us are going to be too sick, and the other half will be taking care of them. We need medicine, too.”

You tick off each item on your fingers, pausing to consider if you’ve missed something. You’re probably missing ten somethings and you struggle to see what they are. You need more coffee.

Takeda is twenty-nine, but when you turn to look at him finally, he seems sixty, glasses dangling from his fingers, nose bridge pinched between his knuckles.

He mutters something suspiciously close to a curse under his breath before opening his eyes.

“You’re right,” he admits. “We’re going to need at least seven months to prepare.”

The morning is a whirlwind. You send the youngest children, always the earliest risers, to fetch Daichi and Kiyoko, both much more bright-eyed than they have any right to be. Takeda drags a yawning Ukai into the office moments later and Tanaka slouches after them. Suga pokes his head in to give you a little wave and knowing smirk that everyone else finds nonthreatening before ushering the children to the cafeteria for their breakfast.

You’re positive you’re not imagining the pale pink coating Daichi’s cheeks.

After explaining the situation, everyone sucks in a collective breath.

Tanaka never sits and always faces a door. From his corner of the room, he glowers at the map.

“Well, fuck,” he neatly summarizes. You nod your appreciation for his conciseness.

“We need to get a hold of meat,” Ukai points out. A something you had missed.

You grab a marker and the portable whiteboard Takeda had grabbed a few weeks ago. In neat characters, you begin documenting everything thrown around the table.

“Raising livestock will be another way to keep the little ones busy.”

“We can’t ask people to shower in cold water during winter, that’s cruel.”

“Tanaka, is there any way to get the heating system up and running by then?”

“What about air conditioning? We have to get through the summer to get to winter, and heat is just as likely to kill us.”

“If other groups realize what we’re doing, we could be in trouble.”

A headache is brewing somewhere behind your temples and you bite back a groan. Kiyoko pushes a cool water bottle into your hand and you know she isn’t fooled for one second.

“I think we’re missing someone here,” Kiyoko points out mildly after what feels like an eternity of circular conversation. All eyes turn to her and she’s unruffled, fingers still wrapped around her mug.

“Kuroo could be a huge help to a lot of this,” she continues. “I’m sure he can help Tanaka and Noya with everything on their list, and we need more able-bodied men on the patrols anyway. He can help us with medicine, our food supply, all of it.”

A furtive glance in Tanaka’s direction is not encouraging. He’s glowering, eyes hooded.

“We barely know him,” Tanaka hisses. You have to privately agree.

“We barely know each other,” Ukai shoots back. “We’ve been here, what, three months?”

“He hasn’t even been on a patrol yet and you want him helping us make important decisions that affect everyone, including the kids?”

“That’s unfair, and you know it, Tanaka,” Takeda says patiently, but somehow reproachfully at the same time. “Kuroo has been in no condition to patrol. The man was emaciated.”

Takeda continues, levying everyone at the table with a stern face.

“We all trust each other now because we took the gamble and brought people in and allowed time to prove it. It was always a risk, and it will always be a risk, but we can’t let that stop us. What we’re doing here is more important than just working together to survive.”

It’s a flowery, nice sentiment, to be expected from a literature teacher, and you barely hold back a snort at Ukai’s warning look.

“None of this matters,” you cut in. “Takeda’s right. And so is Kiyoko. He could be a huge help to you specifically, Tanaka, and he’s getting better every day but we have to give him time before he’s physically ready. You saw him when we brought him in – he was skin and bones.”

Tanaka subsides into grumbling acceptance and you take it as a win.

Daichi returns with Kuroo in tow just minutes later, and if Kuroo is at all confused, he doesn’t show it. He folds himself into a chair, all long limbs and wide feet.

The problems are laid out on the table again. You watch as Kuroo absorbs it, eyes narrowed, flicking sometimes to the map on the wall.

“Frankly, I wish we were in an apartment building,” Tanaka reveals after an hour of debating the best way to acquire livestock.

You sigh, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eyes hard enough to see colors. You know it’s not Tanaka’s fault, that he’s saying out loud something you’d privately thought before. That the electrical systems in apartment buildings would be much easier for him to coax into submission.

But you’re tired. Kiyoko is rubbing the old wound on her shoulder again, Ukai’s fingers are tapping a loud rhythm on the table, and Daichi is watching you lose your mind with that same placid smile in place.

“I wish the apocalypse didn’t happen and we all didn’t have nightmares every damn night, but here we are,” you snap. “I wish we were all cozy in furnished apartments right now, too, and I wish we didn’t have to talk about these things.”

You wish the children didn’t have to hold knives, you wish Suga would stop forcing you to eat, you wish you could forget your mother’s laugh, you wish and wish and wish.

Tanaka’s mouth is open and Daichi is sighing, rubbing a hand over his face. Kuroo’s eyes are expressionless and he just looks like he’s waiting, though for what, you can’t even begin to guess.

You find that you don’t have the energy to regret the words, so you barrel on.

“The apartment buildings are stacked with nightstalkers. It would take weeks to clear even one out, and we would lose people. Guaranteed. We lost one person clearing this prison out and that —”

You’re cut off by a strange choking noise in your throat. The memory of Ennoshita is sweet, cloying, poisonous. Takeda looks pale and strained at the mention of it. His last student.

Your voice is pitched low when you manage to blink away traitorous tears. The sound of your chair scraping is loud and grating against your ears as you stand. They all watch you silently. Waiting.

“Ennoshita is buried here,” you say and the surprise on their faces is almost insulting. “So is Ayasaki’s little girl. We have a life here, one we built and fought for. The kids love it here, it’s as safe as it can get, and it’s isolated from the turf wars in the city. You know why we chose this place, you were part of the vote that decided it, Tanaka.”

Deep breath in. Out.

“I know I’m asking for a lot, but it’s necessary, and we’re all up to the task simply because we have to be.”

As far as motivational speeches go, you’re sure this is ranked pretty low. But Daichi straightens and Kuroo’s eyes are gleaming as he stares at you. Kiyoko is almost smiling and you take that into both of your hands and hold on for dear life.

“I have to protect them.”

Everyone in the room opens their mouth at pretty much the same time but Ukai beats them all to the punch with his lazy drawl.

“You’re a moron,” he sneers. “An absolute idiot if you think you’re doing any of this alone. Now run along and get some breakfast before Suga drags you there by your hair.”

~~~

It doesn’t surprise you when Kiyoko finds you later, on the roof, scribbling half-mad ideas into a plain notebook. She always knows where to find you.

“I think you should stay home tomorrow,” she says without preamble. The word home nearly sends you stumbling off the roof.

“Why? Am I dying and I don’t know it?” you ask dryly. The look she levels at you nearly makes your heart stop.

“We agreed to let Kuroo go tomorrow,” she explains, settling into the spot next to you, peering curiously at the notebook in your hand. “But you haven’t been sleeping and we can’t afford to lose you because you’re too tired to stand properly.”

You scowl. Damn the four eyes. Her and Takeda know too much for their own good.

“I’m fine,” you wave a hand dismissively. “I’ll get some rest tonight, promise.”

She let’s the matter go, which is a point for you, but you watch warily as she opens her mouth again.

“Tanaka is looking for you.”

A sigh.

“I should apologize.”

“That’s what he said.”

A laugh, short and barking, escapes you. Kiyoko smiles at the sound.

“We’re all such idiots.”

[songtoyou]

Epiphany - Part One

Paring: Luke Crain x Female Reader

Chapter Rating: PG-13 

Word Count: 2,204

Warnings: Talks of drug use and recovery, mention death of a family member. 

Description: Life has never been easy for Luke Crain. After the death of Nell, Luke realizes that he needs to make some changes. He decided to stay in Massachusetts and attend rehab. He was determined to remain on his path of sobriety. When you get assigned to be Luke’s sponsor, it opens a new door of possibilities that neither you nor Luke expected.  

A/N: I finally watched the Haunting of Hill House a while back. I found Luke to be very interesting. This is my take on how Luke would go on with life after Nell’s death and how his continued path to remain sober would look like.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Updated: Cleaned up for grammar and punctuation errors.

An epiphany is when a sudden and intuitive perception of insight into reality. It can provide a great moment of revelation and present itself as symbolic insight. Some people experience it while others often search for it.

Life was not easy for Luke Crain or his siblings. After the recent events of Hill House, Luke was scared of a life without his twin sister, Nell. Despite Luke being ninety seconds older, he always felt that Nell was his big sister. She was his protector. The only person to believe in him when others constantly sowed doubt. Unfortunately, Hill House ended up taking Nell in the end, along with his father Hugh. Luke was scared. More scared than he had ever been now that Nell was gone.

However, Luke was determined to get clean. To remain clean. He had to do it, not only for Nell but for himself. Both Steve and Theo pitched in to help pay for a good rehab center for Luke to stay. At first, Luke told them, no, but it was Theo who adamantly expressed her desire to support him.

“Luke, you have made it to 90-days. I can tell you want to remain clean. We all see it. Nell still believes in you and so do we. I want to be supportive of you because you’re my little brother and I love you,” said Theo.

With the support and help of his siblings, Luke decided to stay in Massachusetts for treatment. He took up residence with Shirley in the guest house since Theo decided to move out to live on her own. Despite her worries, Shirley believed in her little brother and his determination to remain clean. One could say it was her way to make amends for the guilt she held by not allowing Luke to attend Nell’s wedding.

It was actually Shirley’s husband Kevin, who recommended Banyan Treatment Center in Wilmington, Massachusetts. “One of my sisters went there for her alcohol addiction. She responded well to the program and has continued to stay sober for two-years. Banyan has a good family counseling program, along with outpatient therapy. Pretty much will have everything you need to continue your path for sobriety,” said Kevin one night after dinner.

It did not take long for Steve and Theo to be on board with Luke deciding on Banyan. Both liked what they read of the place. The treatment center was not uber fancy, like the one Shirley paid for all those years ago but also was a tad upscale compared to the rehab center in Los Angeles Luke recently attended.

The therapists and case managers at Banyan were nice and friendly. Rob, Luke’s primary therapist, helped ease him into a routine. Even though Luke was now over 90 days sober, Rob recommended intensive outpatient therapy every day for an hour session. Luke admitted to Rob, along with his siblings, that he was worried about relapsing due to Nell and Hugh’s deaths. He did not want to fall back into old and dangerous habits.

For 30 days, Luke was committed to his intensive outpatient therapy. Talking over his childhood trauma at Hill House and the recent events helped, not only explain his phobias but also tackle his post-traumatic stress. Hill House had a long-lasting effect that damaged his entire family. So much so, that all he wanted to be was numb. To not have to deal with the images in his mind or how the loss of his mother disturbed him.

When Luke “graduated” from intensive outpatient therapy to regular outpatient therapy, Rob recommended a sponsor for him. The Center’s alumni recovery program allowed for past patients who have succeeded in their program to help mentor those currently in the early stages of detox, treatment, and recovery. Having a strong and influential network of sober peers can make all of the difference between an addict relapsing or staying strong through hard times.

That is how you came into Luke Crain’s life. Rob recommended you to Luke as a sponsor. You had just celebrated your third anniversary of recovery. It was not that you had a bad childhood as the reason you turned to drugs. You were not abused, both of your parents were still alive, nor had you experienced any other forms of childhood trauma. Similar to Luke, heroin was your choice of escapism; the way to ease the feeling of pain and suffering. Not your own, but other peoples’.

That was the downside of being an empath.

Of course, no one believed you about being an empath. Your mother had always referred to you as an overly sensitive child and that stress was not something you handled very well. When having to deal with the ability to sense what people are feeling, whether the emotions are happy, sad, scared, stressed, disturbed, or angry, can be a lot for a person to handle. There came a time when taking on the pain of others became too much. You no longer wanted that burden. You no longer wanted to feel anything.

It did not matter how many rehab facilities your parents sent you to or how many times they pleaded; you did not care. For once, you put yourself first. Heroin helped you stop feeling. Helped you feel numb and content. You were happy. Of course, when the high wore off, as it always does, you were back to reality. You hated reality.

The last hit you had made you end up in the hospital. The doctor explained how you overdosed but were able to resuscitate you in time. That was when you finally realized you needed to change. Needed to get clean once and for all. You knew it would take time and patience. That you would not magically become clean and sober overnight. It was a process. Setbacks were a possibility. However, there was always a little voice in the back of your head that helped pull you through the dark times, to motivate you to keep going.

Now here you were about to meet the new mentee that Rob assigned you to. He only gave a little backstory about Luke, but not many other details. You ended up texting Luke asking him to meet you on Sunday at your favorite coffee shop, the As Good As It Gets Café. He promptly replied that he would see you there around noon.

 When Sunday finally rolled around, you headed to the café and waited. It was a quarter past twelve and Luke still had not shown up. You were starting to get nervous and wondering if he would ever appear. You were on the verge of texting him when the bell on the entry door chimed, indicating that someone was entering the café. You looked up and saw a very tall, scruffy, and attractive looking man standing by the door. The way he was looking around with a lost kind of look helped pinpoint that this was Luke. You got up from your booth and walked over to him.

“Luke?” you politely asked.

“Yes,” he said.

You introduced yourself and held your hand out for him to shake, which he took. You immediately became overwhelmed with the emotions that permeated this man. There was a lot of pain and loss underneath. But there was also a sense of hope and happiness that felt nice.

“Are you okay?” Luke asked wondering why all of a sudden you had a weird look on your face.

“Hmm? I’m sorry. I’m fine. I didn’t mean to…daze off for a second,” you laughed and pointed over to the booth you previously occupied. You walked over with Luke following.

“I’m sorry that I’m late. I was finishing up some homework and didn’t track the time properly,” Luke shared.

“Oh, where do you go to school?”

“Uh…I take a creative writing course at Bunker Hill Community College,” he replied.

“Nice. How are you liking it so far?” you asked him.

Before Luke could respond, one of the waitresses came over asking if Luke wanted anything to drink. Indicating that he just wanted coffee, the two of you were soon left alone.

“I like it. The instructor is really nice. It is the only course I am taking, so it doesn’t take up too much of my time. My older brother, Steve, actually encouraged me to enroll after I shared some of my writing with him. He’s a writer himself. I don’t know if you ever heard of him, Steven Crain? He has written a lot of books, mostly ghost stories. His most famous one is, ‘The Haunting of Hill House’. Have you read that book?”

“I have not. I tend to stay away from horror genres,” you told Luke.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you. Luke was adverting his gaze to anywhere but you. It was easy to tell that he was nervous and unsure of himself.

“Luke,” you spoke up to get his attention and said, “You don’t have to be anxious or feel uneasy. Getting here, to this step, is a big freaking deal. I get it, trust me. I absolutely get it. I never thought I’d be here. To be completely frank, I always pictured myself dead somewhere in the streets. I’m sure you pictured the same for yourself. But it didn’t. You’re here today because you wanted more for yourself. That is something to be proud of.”

Letting out a sigh, Luke sat back in the booth and crossed his arms over his chest. Sometimes he did not feel proud. He missed Nell. He missed her all of the time. She always believed in him no matter how many times he broke her heart. Nell always forgave him. She was always there when he needed someone to bail him out of trouble.

“You okay, Luke? If you would rather do this another time, that is okay. We can reschedule,” you offered. You could sense a feeling of grief underneath the surface of the man sitting before you.

“No. No, I’m sorry. I…uh…I was thinking about Nellie. My twin sister. She…she died recently. Well, not recent, two months ago. So, it’s still…very…it’s still a lot to handle.”

“I’m sorry,” you told him earnestly. “What was it like having a twin? I don’t have any siblings, so I always like to hear other people’s sibling stories.”

“Having siblings has its pros and cons,” Luke laughed, but continued, “They can be much at times, but I’m glad to have them. Especially now that Nellie is gone. They have been incredibly supportive, which makes all the difference in the world.”

“I really appreciate you sharing this with me, Luke. I know it can’t be easy. I am a stranger after all. You’re actually my second mentee from the alumni recovery program. My previous one …well her story didn’t have a happy ending,” you shared with Luke.

He could relate. When he left the clinic in Los Angeles to find Joey and bring her back to get her clean again. She was nine-months clean at the time but ended up using while being back on the streets. Luke would be lying to himself if he did not say he was rather disappointed in Joey. To him, Joey was someone who he could look up to while trying to get clean. He should have known something was off with her during what would be their last night at the clinic. Joey reminded him of Nell, so he could not stand by and do nothing. Joey helped him during his first week at the clinic. So, Luke felt that he owed it to her to return the favor.

Unfortunately, Joey did not want his help in the end. To this day, Luke still does not know what really happened to her after she swiped the drugs off him and headed towards that alley. But deep inside, Luke knew she did not make it. That her body would either be discovered or continue to rot in that alley. Theo would tell him that Joey was not his responsibility. That he had to put himself first when it came to recovery.

Luke pushed his coffee cup to the side and leaned on the table. You were so focused on your own coffee cup that you did not notice him staring at you intently. He was taking you in and assessing you. So far, he could admit that he found you attractive. You had a nice built. Your clothing was not too flashy. He could tell that you were the type to choose comfortable clothing over fashionable attire. However, it was your eyes that stood out. There was a softness and warmness to them that he found quite soothing. There were no ulterior motives behind them or any sense of malice. Luke could see that your intentions with him were good and that you really wanted to help him in his recovery by being a supportive mentor.

“Hey,” he said to get your attention. “I promised that I’ll come to talk to you if I ever feel like I might…. Or if I just feel like I need someone to talk to.”

“I appreciate that, Luke,” you told him sincerely.

[bloodredfirework-a]

@narcotlcs​ asked: “on a scale of one to ten, exactly how mad are you at me?”

There were times when the various forms of ghostly activity that plagued Shiloh would take a silent and sneaky approach with her, leaving her paranoid when it came to turning corners or opening closet doors, and other times it was given to her with foreboding expectancy. On this night, after she’d spent the evening hanging out on the beach with Felix, Hunter, and some of their other friends, it was the latter. The stairwell was echoing with the sound of footsteps and the faint whisper of heavy breathing, shadows dancing along the walls in the form of a slow-pacing man and reaching hands. The brunette knew the sounds and the telltale visuals all too well, and so there wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that when she went up those stairs, she would see him; the ghost with the twisted face, his mouth warped into an unnatural grin and his empty eye-sockets stretched out like they’d been pulled on. He might try to grab her again, or he might just stand there and stare at her. His purpose? She still didn’t know. He never spoke, only groaned and wheezed under his breath, and so she could never communicate with him.

Because Shiloh knew what awaited her in the stairwell, she’d told Felix to leave her alone that night. He’d driven her home once again, and while she’d played around in her head with the possibility of having him come up with her to hang out for a bit, the supernatural activity that was swirling through the stairwell was enough to make her change her mind completely. It wasn’t remotely surprising to her when Felix had protested and pushed the idea further though, repeatedly requesting that she re-think her decision until she’d been left with no choice but to get stern with him and snap. “No. I said no. Okay? Seriously, fuck off. Go home!” With that, she’d turned and began her ascent up the staircase, but her confidence was instantly shaken as soon as she’d had to turn the first corner, her footsteps becoming cautious as she glanced around the corner before taking it in full.

After climbing the first two floors, Shiloh saw him. The ghost that had been following her since she was a child stood on the landing of the third floor, staring down at her with both of his hands outstretched. He was groaning out some muffled words, his voice gruff and full of anger and frustration, but the noises he made were never anything more than just that; noises. Never a complete sentence.

Shiloh’s blood ran cold, her muscles tensing as she froze at the bottom of the staircase. “Go away,” she whispered. “Leave me alone.” She took a step back then as the apparition moved towards her, beginning his slow descent to where she stood, and then his footsteps began to hasten. As he got close, she bolted, turning to move past him and heading as quickly as her short legs would carry her up the stairs. She stopped, however, when he’d managed to grasp at her ankle, his firm hold yanking her off of her feet and back down the steps. There were only two times prior to this that he’d ever managed to make contact with her, but this was by far the most prominent. She screamed as she slid back down onto the landing, immediately beginning to scramble away across the floor before she was tugged back over to him. A short grappling match took place as the brunette squirmed beneath his hold, his hands always searching for her face whenever he’d managed to pin her down for a moment, and then she’d managed to clamber away up the steps. She was yanked down one more time before she’d escaped and Mr. Smiley dissipated.

When Shiloh stopped on the landing of the sixth floor to catch her breath, her entire body trembling and quiet sobs cracking in her throat, she’d noticed Felix. He had followed her, and judging by the look on his face as he approached her, she assumed that he’d caught some of that altercation. “What are you doing here?” She snapped, her tone venomous and full of fire. Her nerves were still on edge, all of her emotions mixing at a boiling point and falling onto the tattooed male. She was about to take everything out on him, and she knew it. She could feel it happening. She was about to push him away, just as she knew that she would. And he would run.

“I told you to leave. Are you stupid? I told you to fuck off! Fucking go! Stop following me!” Shiloh yelled at him, backing away towards the next set of stairs. Her chocolatey eyes were brimming with tears, spilling over the edges with every blink of her long lashes and causing the drops to roll down her scuffed cheeks. Along her cheekbone, a bruise was already forming, her chin suffering from an abrasion that was likely caused by the rough edges of the old cement stairs. The rest of her body hadn’t been spared either, her bare legs and arms speckled with various cuts, scrapes and bruises. It was minor in comparison to the injuries that she could have sustained, however, had Mr. Smiley been able to stick around a little longer.

The wall behind her stopped Shiloh from backing away any further, her back making contact with it and halting her escape. There was a scowl on her face, but the resolve of her anger was slowly cracking as she stared into Felix’s blue eyes, her lips trembling as she fought the sobs that were slowly slipping through the cracks in her armor. “Go. Away.” She spoke the words one more time, the anger and frustration and hurt all burning bright in the tone of her shaky voice. She’d thought for sure then that he would leave, perhaps after yelling at her, but instead, he asked her a simple question.

‘On a scale of one to ten, exactly how mad are you at me?’

Shiloh paused, confusion swirling itself into the mix of emotions that were already running through the chaos of her mind and etching itself into her features. “What?” She asked, a quiet sob causing a hitch in her breathing. After what he’d just seen, he was asking her if she was mad at him? She didn’t know if he was trying to make a joke, or if he was simply trying to survey the situation to see if he could approach her, but regardless, it had made her start to smile. She’d tried to mask it with a look of impressment and a tilt of her head, but the hint of a grin was still visible.

“A ten, Felix.” Shiloh answered him. “A hard fucking ten.”

[inkedstarlight]

Bittersweet: Chapter One

Summary: Nesta up and moved the minute she graduated high school. Now, seven years later, her father has died. After years of separation, Nesta is now living in the same city as her sisters, with Elain as her roommate. Feyre introduces Elain and Nesta to the Inner Circle. But they're missing a certain member... Cassian returns to the Marine Corps to find two new members of the Inner Circle. He pushes Nesta's buttons more than anyone ever has. Cue heavy angst, mutual pining, and a very, very slow burn. Note: So I’m reposting this because I made a lot of changes to the fic and just wanted to start fresh. I had deleted the last things I posted for it, but now it’s officially here! I also just uploaded it on AO3 too, and you can read chapter one here! Warnings: heavy angst Bittersweet Masterlist

June

Nesta was accepted into graduate school today, and she didn’t know whether to cry or smile.

To throw a pity party or a celebration.

To be or not to be.

She was trifling through her mail this morning when she saw the large envelope with the words ‘Prythian University’ printed front and center. She wasted no time ripping it open, and a gasp left her mouth when she read the first sentence.

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Master’s program of English at Prythian University.

She had grabbed her phone to tell someone about the news, but her smile quickly faded when she realized she had no one to call, no one to celebrate with. No one to tell her, “I’m proud of you.”

Nesta had scrolled through her contact list, which consisted of only fourteen people. Fourteen people and not one of them close enough with her to warrant such a text. Heart sinking in her chest, Nesta slammed her phone on the coffee table and fell on the couch. A lump formed in her throat, but she refused to let a single tear shed.

But she was in no position to complain. Nesta chose to move away. She chose to be alone. She was the only person to blame for her own unhappiness.  

Nesta had lived in the dreary state of Massachusetts since she graduated high school, leaving her family behind in Maine. The place that conjured nightmares, that was teeming with ghosts. Every corner she turned in her hometown, she was met face to face with her past – the one she so desperately tried to forget. Her family had lived there since Nesta was born. They didn’t have the funds to move to a better town or a bigger house. Up to this point, Nesta’s entire life happened in that horrible town.

Her younger sister, Elain, cried when Nesta announced her decision to move to Massachusetts for college. Feyre’s eyes remained dry, but she wished Nesta good luck.

Nesta and her two sisters had been close as little girls. Sure, they were wildly different from each other – Elain was intelligent and soft-spoken, Feyre creative and stubborn, Nesta hot-headed and brash. They argued. They resented each other in ways sisters did. But they looked out for each other. Since Nesta was just five years old, she did everything she could to protect her sisters, whether they knew it or not.

When Nesta was just fourteen years old, their mother left them. She walked out of the door forever, and everything changed. Elain was crushed but she continued to look out for their father, whose depression worsened when his wife left without saying goodbye. Feyre took her absence the hardest. She had the closest relationship with their mother as the baby of the family, relying on her more than her other sisters. Feyre was the last one to see her. Apparently, their mother made her promise to look out for the rest of the family. She said Feyre was the only one who could do it. And because Feyre was stubborn to a fault, she kept that promise every damned day.

And Nesta? Nesta was relieved and confused and angry and heartbroken. She still was.

So, when Nesta left for college, she promised that she would keep in touch with Elain and Feyre. They all promised. However, they inevitably got busy with their own lives and grew apart. When Elain graduated high school just two years after Nesta, she chose to remain in Maine to tend to their sick father. She attended community college, even though she’d dreamed of being a pediatrician since she was just nine years old. She sacrificed her opportunity for a higher education, and Nesta admired her for that. At the same time, however, she also wanted more for her sister. She had a habit of being too selfless. Always giving, never receiving.

Just a year later, Feyre became the last to graduate. She too flew from the nest, heading west to Colorado. Nesta wasn’t the only one who had a distaste for their hometown. Feyre was born an adventurer. She wants to explore, create, travel. More importantly, Feyre was doing something for herself. Feyre had assumed the role of provider when their mother left them in their youth. At only thirteen, she managed to find a job, and continued to do so until she was eighteen. Feyre had grand plans to visit every New England state during her high school career. She wouldn’t shut up about the places she would see, the people she would meet.

Feyre didn’t stepped foot outside of Maine until she graduated.

The only person Nesta completely cut loose was her father. Elain and Feyre had tried to rationalize with her about this many times, but Nesta put an end to every discussion.

Elain was very close with their father. Feyre was neutral. Nesta resented him. She knew they judged her for that, even if it wasn’t explicitly said. She also understood their reasoning.

They just didn’t understand hers.

Last Nesta heard, Feyre had found her niche at college. Back when they called more often, she had gushed about her new friends and latest conquest. His name was Rhysand (to which Nesta sniggered – who named their child that?), and the pair had recently begun dating after a year of pining for one another. Nesta told her that their love story sounded like the kind of fanfiction she (shamefully) loved. From what Feyre told her, it sounded like she was head over heels, despite her sarcastic deflections.

That was two years ago.

Of course, Nesta had spoken to both her sisters since then. It was rare for them to call, but they would share occasional text conversations. Just last month, Nesta texted Feyre to congratulate her on graduating Summa Cum Laude. It didn’t go much beyond that, though.

Nesta and Elain’s text message history was quite sad to look through. Once a month, Elain would send her an update on their father’s wellbeing. Nesta would not respond. The next month, she would receive another update. No response.

It never angered Nesta to see those texts; it only saddened her.

Elain wore her heart on her sleeve, ever the peacemaker in the family. Her intentions were pure, but she didn’t know the story of Nesta and their father’s relationship. She’d asked, but Nesta was always quick to shut her down.

Despite their one-sided texting, Elain called Nesta every couple of months. It was awkward, but it warmed Nesta’s heart to hear her sister’s voice. Their calls never lasted more than ten minutes, Nesta the one to end the conversation. When they hung up, however, guilt crushed her. Nesta was slowly losing everyone she loved, and it was entirely her fault.

After Nesta had gotten her undergraduate degree in Massachusetts, she worked at two minimum wage jobs for three years to save up enough money to pay for grad school (along with several loans). Her first choice, Prythian University, happened to be just outside of Boulder, the town where Feyre was living. It was also one of the best graduate schools for an English degree in the country.

Nesta considered telling Feyre her news. Obviously, she had to share it at some point. But anxiety crept into her chest whenever she picked up her phone to tell her. What if Feyre wasn’t happy about it? What if she didn’t want Nesta living near her? She had created her own life in a new state. Nesta couldn’t just interrupt after years of shutting her out.

After spending the entire day overthinking, Nesta decided to venture downtown in the evening for a small, lonesome celebration. She would treat herself to a drink (or two), go home, and read a romance novel or two while Iroh, her black, grumpy cat, snuggled in her lap.

So, there she was. Sitting at the local bar, legs crossed as she people watched. Nesta had even dressed up for the occasion. She wore a dress that fell to her ankles, the forest green color complimenting her golden-brown hair. Her arm sleeve tattoo was on full display, and her other ink that disappeared beneath her dress. Dark kohl coated her eyes with a smokey finish.

The bar itself was a welcoming environment. String lights latticed the ceiling, the bulbs providing dim lighting for those who had secrets to keep. Wooden tables faced a small stage at the opposite end of the building – presumably where they held open mic nights. Dark oak walls were plastered with photographs, license plates, and other décor.

It being a Tuesday night, there weren’t many people out. Nesta noticed a couple middle-aged men drinking beers together, an older couple sitting close in a booth, and a small group of what looked like college aged women. Smiles were etched on all their faces. Nesta lifted her hand to touch the frown she wore. It only deepened.

Just be happy for once, Nesta thought to herself.

As the bartender refilled her gin and tonic, someone approached the barstool to her left. Nesta glanced sideway to discover a young man with a hard face. He looked about her age with dark hair and a tanned complexion. He was handsome in a rugged kind of way. Removing his leather jacket, he revealed the fitted shirt he wore, which clung a body that screamed “I go to the gym every day.” Before he sat next to her, the man dropped a duffle bag on the floor with a loud thud.

He didn’t seem to notice her as he flagged down the bartender and ordered a drink. His voice was low, tired. She recognized the sound. It was the sound of someone who was exhausted, and not just in the physical sense.

“Running away from home?” Nesta asked. The man turned his head to find her gesturing to his oversized bag.

Why did I just say that? she asked herself. Nesta rarely made conversation, much less with some stranger at a bar. It was abundantly clear that she had certainly drunk enough alcohol to wash away any and all inhibitions.

He chuckled. “Something like that.” The man peered at her closer. His hazel eyes twinkled in the dim lights as he inspected her. “Bad day?”

“Care to elaborate?”

A sober Nesta would have shut him down before he had the chance to even ask. A sober Nesta wouldn’t have even made conversation with this dark, handsome man.

Alas, she was three drinks down and had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

“I got into my dream school,” she started. “It has a really great grad program. When I read the letter, I reached for my phone to tell someone. Only, I realized I had no one to call. I… I realized that I’m all on my own.”

He stared at her for a moment. “That’s quite a feat. You should be proud.”

Nesta shrugged, uncomfortable with the man’s genuine tone. She never figured out how to tolerate a compliment, much less accept it.

They fell silent before he spoke again.

“I’m about to be on my own, too,” he confessed, focusing his attention on his calloused hands that rested on the counter. “And I don’t know how to feel either.”

No wonder he looks so exhausted, Nesta thought. She could see the conflict in his body language, his tone. War was waging in the stranger’s eyes, and it didn’t seem like the first time he’d gone to battle.

She wanted to ask where he was going. What was in his bag. Who he was leaving behind. But Nesta only nodded with understanding.

I see you.

In that moment, they formed some sort of kinship. They weren’t just two strangers at the bar. It was longing, Nesta realized. Longing for a connection, a companionship. To escape from the perpetual loneliness.

They stared at each other until the man broke his gaze when he checked his watch. He cursed.

“I have to leave now if I want to catch the bus,” he explained. Nesta watched him down the rest of his drink and stand up.

“Good luck,” Nesta said feebly as he shrugged on his jacket.

She wanted to say more. He seemed to need it… and so did she. “Whenever you get lonely, just remember that strange girl at the bar. She’ll be thinking about you.”

His face softened. “Good luck,” he whispered.

[tanoraqui]

Grave dirt baby... 🥺✨

me, procrastinating my actual fic? no... GRAVE DIRT BABY A-YUAN

HEY TUMBLR FUCKED UP ALL MY BULLET POINTS ON THIS THE SECOND I HIT POST BUT IT’S 4AM SO I’M LEAVING IT UP ANYWAY. STUPID GODDAMN WEBSITE.

Wei Wuxian has been in the Burial Mounds for like 2.5 months out of what he doesn’t yet know will be about 3. He’s not even sure he’s going to survive yet. But he has managed to manifest an evil sword - the evil sword - out of the aether/ambient resentful energy/an attunement set with an unwise touch in the belly of an evil turtle

and he does know that he’s not going to survive if he doesn’t get the power of the Burial Mounds under some sort of control

so he cuts his arm and with blood running down the blade, draws something adjacent to the first demon-summoning flag but as an array in the dirt. He stands in the middle and - keep in mind that he more or less hasn’t slept in 2.5 months - plunges the sword into the center, still coated in his blood, and draws in all the resentful energy of the Burial Mounds

was it supposed to go into the sword? Into himself? Into just the single 4ft diameter array area, a column of bound death? who knows, not Wei Wuxian! it’s pure gut instinct

u know what else works on gut instinct, thought? Fairy tales.

And in a fairy tale, why, clay of the earth plus iron enough for a blade plus still-warm blood to show the way...

There’s an implosion and Wei Wuxian is standing - somehow still standing - in a small crater where the array used to be, and his evil sword is plunged into the belly of a baby

He yanks it out in horrified reflex, and realizes a moment later that the baby seems unfazed by this. If there was even a wound, it closes before his eyes, and the glimpse he had showed something more bloody clay than flesh beneath the skin

the iron sword crumbles as he pulls it away, as though rusted a thousand years. the baby turns its head from the iron shavings that falls on it, but then reaches up for Wei Wuxian with a cheerfully demanding cry

he picks it up, of course. (he’d think he was hallucinating if he wasn’t absolutely and utterly aware that he’s not)

it is, as far as he can tell, with physical and spiritual resentful inspection, an absolutely normal baby

oh, except when he looks really closely. Then he can sense the neutron star–dense knot of resentful energy where a golden core might (but will definitely not have room to) form. Also, it can command the dead, and when he holds it, so can he. He’s not sure if it’s a proximity-based power share or if he’s passing his desires through the baby, but even Wei Wuxian, at about 3 months with no food save the rage of the dead and no rest save the promise of final release, has to stop investigating at some point. He has things to do!

specifically, he has Wens to kill

so instead of the iconic shot of the dark flautist in the moonlight, we get the dark, uh...man singing a very spooky lullaby to his baby in the moonlight. It is still deeply creepy. It’s a making-it-up-as-he-goes tune based on a Yunmengi lullaby that he certainly learned from neither of his foster parents, and the lyrics are along the lines of, “let them remember what they did, sweet little potato, let them remember why they’re dying”

yeah he’s been calling this child “Little Potato” for 2 weeks 

why

is that not how you name a child

sometimes when he’s more annoyed at it, he calls it “Little Radish”, or even less appetizing root vegetables

by the time he walks in, the baby is asleep in his arms and he’s not singing anymore, just letting the dead do his will. This is what Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji see. The subsequent conversation, Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu at their feet, goes like this:

LWJ: Wei Ying. You have a baby.

WWX: Oh, uh...

PLAY DUMB!

WWX: What baby?

NOT THAT DUMB!

WWX: Oh, this baby! Haha yeah. I...found it.

JC: What the fuck

WWX: Yeah, weird, right? Right near the, uh...

LWJ: They said you were in the Burial Mounds

WWX: Yyyyup. Yes that is. I found this baby by the side of the road after I walked out of the Burial Mounds.

JC, briefly too morbidly fascinated to think about either the demonic cultivation they just watched or the fact that he wants to hug his brother like he’s never wanted to hug another being in his life: What did you name it?

WWX: ....

JC, desire to hug intensifying together with exasperation: oh my god

Sometime in the next couple days - after sleeping a bit, maybe - it occurs to Wei Wuxian that his raw instincts were right and things will go very badly for little A-Yuan (his siblings insisted he name it) if anyone finds out that he’s a not-yet-walking, not-yet-talking little neuron star of resentful energy. So he takes the iron shavings that are all that remain of the Stygian Turtle Sword and forges them into a Tiger-shaped Seal. He also carves a bamboo flute, like he’d been thinking about before the whole...baby thing. He loudly proclaims both to be dark and terrible weapons

(it really is helpful. The sword was...kind of A-Yuan’s other parent, after all, in addition to their third partner, the Burial Mounds. Chenqing gives him finer control of whatever stray resentful energy he chooses to pick up, and the Stygian Seal lets him channel A-Yuan’s power at need, even when not touching him. Which is good - a battlefield is no place for a baby)

even if that baby thinks ghosts and ghouls exist to pick him up and rock him or toss him around (babies like to be tossed)

Wei Wuxian puts so many goddamn spirit-repelling charms on that child, and lets it be marked down to the paranoia of a survivor

using whatever resentful energy he picks up is generally more effective, actually. Less strong, but it quickly becomes clear that the way this works does, in fact, involve Wei Wuxian communicating his desires through A-Yuan, or at least A-Yuan has to put up with the loan of power. There’s nothing quite like abruptly losing control of a field of corpses because the baby got abruptly uncooperative with anything that wasn’t barfing

the baby does eat, for the record. As far as Wei Wuxian can tell, he doesn’t actually need to, but once WWX fed him once, when they first left the Mounds, he wanted it all the time

he still takes A-Yuan with him when he can. That is the paranoia of a survivor. A-Yuan is...

“A battlefield is no place for a baby, A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli says gently, as he sets out from Carp Tower after another stolen visit, another failed attempt to convince Jin Guangshan off his ass. “And you are...so busy. LanlingJin takes in orphans, you know...”

“A-Yuan...he’s my blood,” Wei Wuxian says quietly. He’s never been good at lying to his shijie

Whatwherewhenhowwho, he’d see on her face if he was looking at it. But he isn’t. It’s not shame, though, she can see (it really never is, with Wei Wuxian). Fear of disappointing her, slight resignation...but mostly acceptance. Determination. Something almost like contentment.

(When Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangj first took him back to whatever resembled a base camp - somewhere in Qinghe, probably, or maybe Lanling - he had to let a trained healer look at A-Yuan, physical and spiritual examination, and he held his breath and calculated how many people he’d have to kill to get out of here, how fast he’d have to move to not hurt his brother or any particular friends; thought, oh, he’s mine, in a way he hadn’t before - as a child, a son, not just a very strange weapon - 

“He’s quite healthy,” said the doctor, mildly surprised, bouncing A-Yuan on one knee. A-Yuan gurgled happily. “About three months old?”

the longer Wei Wuxian took to answer, the more disapproving her stare got. But that did make sense)

Then all else can be dealt with later. “You should still leave him here,” Jiang Yanli says firmly. “You need to look after yourself and A-Cheng out there. I can look after A-Yuan.”

It takes a bit under two years to win back the lost and burnt territories, scour the Wens out of every crevice, corner Wen Ruohan in his precious Nightless City and bring it tumbling down. Nobody will know the timing but A-Yuan sleeps through the final battle, smiling at dreams that would make a grown man weep in horror. Somewhere, his father is playing a lullaby

About a week later, Jiang Cheng stalks into Wei Wuxian’s bedroom, which he shares with A-Yuan. One of the first rooms rebuilt in the new Lotus Pier. A-Yuan is there, too, playing with blocks while Wei Wuxian idly drafts talismans

“A-jie said the kid is yours,” he says, crossed arms. “Like, yours-yours. When the fuck did you do that?”

(Wei Wuxian has thought about this, by now; gone over the pros and cons of every possibility, the politics and potentials and maybe even the giddy possibility of telling something like the truth)

(the guiding principle is: he has no interest in drawing on the “Stygian Tiger Seal” ever again. The Sunshot Campaign is over. His loved ones are safe, and he sees no reason why they shouldn’t all live long, happy, normal lives)

(also/though, he will burn Jin Sect, Carp Tower, and all of Lanling to the ground before the new Chief Cultivator should touch his son)

“In Caiyi,” he lies. “Right before I got kicked out. I, uh, snuck out a lot more often than you noticed.”

His brother squints at him suspiciously. But Wei Wuxian can also watch him do the math in his head and reluctantly admit that it works.

“So are you claiming him or what?” he challenges. “’Wei Yuan’? You have a courtesy name - wait, no, you are not naming that kid again. You’re going to make his courtesy name be Carrothead or something.” 

“Should I let you pick it, oh wise and noble shidi - no, shushu?!” Wei Wuxian teases, as A-Yuan gets tired of his blocks and starts climbing up him like a jungle gym

Jiang Cheng sighs like the north wind - gusting long and hard, with just the faintest chill to suggest that the skies will be weeping, soon

But...

Despite some evidence to the contrary, Wei Wuxian is generally fully aware of when he’s about to cross a line that cannot be backtracked over. So he meets Wen Qing in the city, and before going to Lanling, he nips into Lotus Pier and picks up A-Yuan

He might leave A-Yuan with Wen Qing in the city when he goes to Glamour Hall, but Qiongqi Pass happens with a toddler watching silently from Wei Wuxian’s hip. Does Wei Wuxian tell him to look away, bury his face in baba’s shirt, or does he not bother, knowing the sort of song that makes up A-Yuan’s sweet dreams?

The Wens become the second through 51st or so people who learn what A-Yuan is. Wei Wuxian briefly considers trying to hide it, but, honestly, there are dead things everywhere on the Burial Mounds, and despite his genuine efforts, he cannot convince A-Yuan that a fierce corpse is anything but the ideal patty-cake companion. (They’ll play with him for hours! It’s a two-nearly-three-year-old’s dream!)

(he doesn’t want to convince him, not really. The last thing he wants to do ever is give A-Yuan anything to be scared of)

nor could he possibly wish that A-Yuan not be...obviously hale and hearty, running rosy-cheeked and strong around these hills of death that slowly seep the energy from any humans, animals, or even sturdy root crops

“So, uh, this is actually my demon baby,” said Wei Wuxian as they all settled in

“this day has been so weird already, this might as well goddamn happen”, said the Wens collectively

“You created a living child out of dead earth, so I’m going to take that as a yes that you can bring my brother back,” said Wen Qing specifically

“...fuck. I mean, yes. I mean - fuck,” said Wei Wuxian. “I- of course I will.”

(it doesn’t work like that, though)

The 52nd person to find out what A-Yuan is is Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian very much does not tell him. They have a pleasant toy-shopping trip and lunch in town, and then the alarm talisman goes off and Wei Wuxian grabs A-Yuan and Lan Wangji tugs them both onto Bichen and when they arrive, Wen Ning is roaring. Lan Wangji knows what’s important; he takes A-Yuan so Wei Wuxian’s hands are free and he doesn’t have to worry about his son

except Wen Ning, black-eyed with rage, throws Wei Wuxian into a tree hard enough to crack a rib, and even as Lan Wangji raises Bichen, A-Yuan shouts,

“Uncle Ning, stop!”

and Wen Ning stops

(as a rule, Wei Wuxian can’t take over with himself and Chenqing anything A-Yuan is controlling, unless A-Yuan lets him, and vice versa. To eliminate variables, Wei Wuxian had made sure that any reins on Wen Ning were his (Wei Wuxian’s) alone. But in that moment, before Wen Ning came fully back to himself, his reins were swinging free - and they were back within the bounds of the Burial Mounds, where A-Yuan was always strong)

and Lan Wangji puts several pieces together at once and prays to every single god in heaven and every ancestor he’s disappointing right now that this was a miracle of love and a very cute child piercing through a fierce corpse’s mindless rampage. That he simply...hallucinated the burst of resentful energy he just felt from the child in his arms

but he’s absolutely, utterly aware that he didn’t

Wei Wuxian explains, stilted and awkward at the bottom of the hill. Challenging and terrified. Holding on to A-Yuan. 

Lan Wangji promises to keep the secret. 

Wei Wuxian takes Hanguang-jun’s word

Remember, oh, remember, that Wei Wuxian walks A-Yuan back up the hill until A-Yuan gets tired and Wei Wuxian picks him up, on their one-and-a-half–man plank bridge through the dark. Remember remember remember that before he can finish speaking that line, there is light - the clearing is lit with lanterns and secret-keepers 2 through 51, and I suppose 53 now that Wen Ning is awake, are waiting with dinner and warmth and welcome. Reader, remember this.

But then...

Aunt Qing and Uncle Ning had gone, and then, with a terrible expression on his face, so had A-Yuan’s baba. Now his baba’s anger and sadness is so strong that the weight of it makes A-Yuan cry from hundreds of miles away, and he curls into Granny’s arms and sends his baba everything he can. Will everything be okay, then? Will everyone come home; will they be able to smile again?

(oh, A-Yuan...)

(No.)

A-Yuan - Wei Yuan, Little Potato (when he’s good for baba or bad for Aunt Qing) or Little Radish (inverse); one day to be Lan Yuan, Lan Sizhui - was born in the good old fairy tale way of earth and iron and blood. It’s a hard thing for any child to lose even a single parent - in one day, in one minute, A-Yuan loses two of three, as the father of his blood burns away in hand the last shreds of Stygian iron, and promptly loses control of his own resentful energy

(the Tiger Seal does nothing like explode, in this world. It was never more than a prop - but a vital one. the benefit of proving it destroyed would be worth the loss of a parent, if only a second didn’t follow on its heels)

A-Yuan has been a dead thing (or close enough) come to life all his life, and both dead and living have been his friends and family. But he’s never felt the transition the other way: from life to death

It’s no wonder, really, that he can’t remember it afterward. No wonder that even on the land that was the last part of him, he was feverish and barely conscious when Lan Wangji stumbled, bleeding, off of Bichen, and took in his arms. No wonder that he remembered very little at all, including the dead. 

But he would be okay. Under physical and spiritual inspection, he’s a perfectly normal boy. He may not be able to form a golden core (there's something in the way), but there are...workarounds. He’ll grow up in one of the most heavily spiritually warded enclaves in the world, safe and loved as he relearns (mostly in secret) what he can do

(For the sake of this story, and A-Yuan’s survival as something close to canon, let’s say there are some truly dark things in the forbidden section of the Lan Library, that could only be used for nefarious purposes - though, I suppose we already knew that. Let’s say there are talismans that will disguise the very nature of qi, so resentful energy may appear spiritual. Let’s say, Lan Xichen becomes the 53rd to know the truth, because his brother needs help - and it’s Wei Wuxian’s child, okay? It’s just Wei Wuxian’s child, quiet and unsure rather than laughing as he always was. If you were in the inner circle of leaders of the Sunshot Campaign, you have absolutely met this child, probably held him and bounced him on one knee)

(What keeps Lan Xichen up at night isn’t the concealing amulet he helped his brother make, which Lan Yuan wears at all times around his neck. It’s the silence he keeps every time he meets Jiang Wanyin’s eyes over a diplomatic table. If anyone had the right to know Wei Yuan survived... But Sandu Sengshou killed Wei Wuxian, everyone knows that, and now he hunts demonic cultivators - what might his pride drive him to do to his nephew, if he ever learned the truth? (Selfishly, Lan Xichen know that if Lan Wangji lost A-Yuan, even just to living at Lotus Pier, Lan Xichen might lose his brother. That fear ebbs with time passing, but the the longer he hasn’t spoken, the worse it would be to do so...))

They don’t restrict Lan Yuan to the Cloud Recesses, no more than any other novice. For memory of their mother, neither of them could bear that. Jiang Cheng does eventually see him at a conference, and stops dead. Years have passed, but that is an entire goddamn nephew, right there. But - how? No, it can’t be. That’s...everyone knows Lan Wangji hated Wei Wuxian. It’s just...and someone would have told him. The Lans value propriety above all, after all.

Anything that can be done with spiritual cultivation can be done with demonic cultivation, save heal. Lan Sizhui makes up for it with an encyclopedic knowledge of undead and monsters, and a prodigal talent for Inquiry

On their first night hunt, the young juniors face ghosts. Unfortunately, this is when Lan Jingyi learns that he’s terrified of ghosts. He’s hiding behind Lan Sizhui and panic is contagious, and the senior accompanying them is in a different room of the abandoned house, and Lan Sizhui forgets that he’s holding a sword and just shouts, “Stop! Go away!” 

the ghost, of course, obeys

Lan Jingyi peeks out form behind him. “Did- did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Lan Sizhui admits (except that he’s absolutely sure he did)

There’s another flicker of movement, just the wind blowing ashes but Jingyi whips around with wild eyes. “Can you do it again?”

[friendship. my point is, he’s a demon baby but he has family and friends who love and accept him.]

And one day, some absolute fucking morons are going to bring him back home, where he can never be anything but strong, and threaten his friends and family? And the threat is an army of his old playmates, commanded by an attempt at recreating some combination of Chenqing and the Tiger Seal? He couldn’t manage it in Yi City, but now A-Yuan, Wei Yuan, Lan Sizhui stands on earth that has never stopped being part of him, or maybe he’s never stopped being part of it. If he closed his eyes he could feel every foot on it, living and restless dead. And they’re threatening his baba - who he remembers, as the earth remembers its old partner, even though the blood is changed - and his father Hanguang-jun, and his extended family and friends?

No.

[girlbossfrankshepard]

So I have this idea for a Six modern/reincarnation/ghost...thing

Ok, the somewhat complicated premise is that there's these six modern women who, as their paths entangle, come to learn that they are the new incarnations of the six wives of Henry VIII as they gain memories of their past lives and ultimately become one with them. It's like advanced factkinning probably. Also the main thing that triggers this awakening in them is their lives that happen to echo their historical counterparts in certain ways. So when they decide to all write and perform in a musical together (which was Jane's idea btw) they're really expressing every part of themselves. They all have different distinct names, but for the purposes of this I'll be referring to them how we would recognize them. Here are the backstories I've come up with:

Catalina is a practical hard-working religious woman who married her high school sweetheart believing that they would be set for life, but to her disappointment she ended up being the one having to take up all the responsibility of supporting their family while he just screwed around. After years of her trying to keep everything together and them having a teenage daughter, he still ended up leaving her for a younger woman and she did not take that easily. She fought the divorce, but ultimately he got his way and all she got out of it was a settlement, a strained relationship with her daughter, and the pity of her friends.

Anne is a singer-songwriter who broke her way into the recording industry through a flirtatious relationship with a successful music producer. She really wasn't actually interested in pursuing anything physical with him, but she played along with it because she knew that was what was gonna help her career. Despite her success artistically, she got a pretty bad reputation among their social group for being petty and childish and manipulative and always starting shit. It got to the point where, even when her relationship with the guy became violently abusive and he almost killed her, she still suffered the most public consequences from it because of his ability to control the narrative and people being unwilling to sympathize with her.

Jane is a sweet simple woman who acts in community theatre and sells crafts she makes online. She was also deeply in love with a volatile and unpredictable man. He had baggage and various struggles that she hoped to ease while being with him. No matter what he put her through, she was patient and kind and forgiving. She truly wanted to spend her life with him and they even had a child together, but things ended tragically between them. His destructive habits resulted in his untimely death, leaving her to raise their infant son alone and blaming herself.

Anna began as a hopeful dancer, and all her life her family and friends had told her how beautiful she could be if she just tried hard enough. Inside, she wasn't comfortable with it and wished that she could just be recognized for her talent instead of being made to be something she wasn't. Then, when she finally got into the spotlight, she was ruthlessly mocked for her looks and received a lot of nasty harassment. But instead of it breaking her, she felt liberated from the desire to conform to anyone's expectations and embraced presenting herself the way that made her most happy. And, wouldn't you know it, she ended up making a lot of money doing that.

Kitty is a young star of Instagram and Tiktok and toying with the idea of a singing career, but underneath her charming and lively persona she holds much sorrow. She was groomed by multiple older men as a child, and part of that included them getting her into unsafe drug use. At this point in her life she's come to accept the belief that she's inevitably going to die young and acts rather blase about it, even though deep down she's terrified. She’s tried to commit to getting clean before, but didn’t have much success on account of her having too many enablers.

Cathy grew up poor and had to take many crummy jobs in order to get by. On top of her studies and her emotionally draining activist work, that made it very difficult for her to find the time and energy to form relationships with people. She did meet someone though, and she came very close to getting to have a stable love in her life. But then on cue her job demanded that she pack up and move to the UK asap. It was well-paying and secure and offered new opportunities to her, but it meant having to leave behind all the people and places she cared about.