#but it's also about what you DO with that grief

[swappermanent]

Normal Kids

“I’m 19! I’m old enough to make decisions about my own body!” I yelled, my voice echoing off the kitchen walls. My chest heaved as I stood across from my parents, their expressions a cocktail of disbelief, frustration, and something I couldn’t quite place—grief, maybe?

My mom crossed her arms tightly over her chest, looking anywhere but at me. “I’m sorry, we just… we can’t let you do that.”

“Let me?” I spat, the word tasting bitter. “You can’t let me? Do you even hear yourselves? This isn’t something you control! This is my life. My body.”

Dad rubbed his temples, his fingers digging into his skin like he could will the conversation away. “You’re too young to make a decision like this,” he said finally, his voice low but strained. “You don’t even know what you’re doing.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life,” I shot back, feeling my hands shake. “I’ve spent years figuring this out—every sleepless night, every time I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself, every time I wanted to scream because I couldn’t be who I am. Don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Mom finally looked up, her face pale but her eyes blazing. “This isn’t about us not loving you. We just…” She paused, her voice trembling. “We don’t understand why you have to keep doing this to us.”

My stomach dropped, but I held my ground. “This isn’t something I’m doing to you. This is me—this is who I am. It’s not a phase or a rebellion or whatever else you want to call it. You’ve already been through this once with Liam. Are you seriously telling me you didn’t learn anything?”

Dad flinched, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. Liam, my older brother, had been their golden boy until he came out as gay a few years ago. It wasn’t pretty—he’d waited until he was moving out to tell them, probably because he knew exactly how they’d react. The disappointment in their eyes, the long silences, the occasional outburst when they thought no one else could hear… it had been brutal. But Liam had stood his ground, just like I was now.

When he left, I’d thought it couldn’t get worse. But then, a few months later, I’d come out as a lesbian. Their reaction had been less dramatic that time—probably because they were already so exhausted from Liam—but it wasn’t exactly warm, either. They’d treated it like a wound that would heal if they just ignored it long enough.

But this… this was different. A few weeks ago, I’d finally found the courage to tell them I was trans. And the look on their faces when I said those words—it was like I’d detonated a bomb in the living room.

“First Liam, and now this,” Mom had whispered that night, her voice shaking. “Why can’t we just have normal kids?”

That phrase had been replaying in my head ever since. Normal kids. Like there was some checklist of qualities that made you acceptable, and Liam and I had failed to meet every single one of them.

Now, as I stood in the kitchen, I felt that familiar mix of anger and sadness bubbling up. “I’m sorry I’m not the daughter you wanted,” I said, my voice breaking despite my best efforts. “But I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not just to make you comfortable.”

“Why can’t you wait?” Dad said, his voice softer now. “Just give it a few years, until you’re older. Until you’re absolutely sure.”

“I am sure,” I said, looking him directly in the eyes. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. And I’m not going to waste any more time being someone I’m not.”

Silence hung in the air like a heavy fog. My parents exchanged a glance, but neither of them said anything. For a moment, I thought I saw something shift in my mom’s expression—something that looked almost like understanding. But then it was gone, replaced by the same tight-lipped resolve.

“We just need time,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is… a lot.”

I nodded, biting back the sharp response I wanted to give. I knew I wouldn’t change their minds tonight. But I also knew that I wasn’t going to stop fighting. For Liam, for myself, for every other kid who’d ever been told they weren’t enough—I wasn’t going to give up.

For months, I begged and badgered my parents to let me start transitioning. Every conversation ended in a brick wall—excuses about my age, about not understanding the “gravity” of my decision, about the costs. They controlled the insurance, and they paid my college tuition. Without their approval, I was stuck. Trapped in a body that didn’t feel like mine and a life that didn’t feel like it fit.

But then, one evening, they relented.

“We’ve… been thinking about your request,” my mom said hesitantly over dinner. I immediately froze, my fork halfway to my mouth.

My dad chimed in. “We found a clinic that might be able to help.”

I blinked, surprised but cautious. “Really?” I asked, my voice laced with doubt.

“Yes,” my mom replied, forcing a smile. “It’s… unconventional, but we think it might be what you’re looking for. They specialize in full-body transformations.”

Something about her tone set me on edge, but I didn’t press. I was too desperate for their approval. If they were finally agreeing to help me, I wasn’t about to question it. The only condition? Liam had to take me.

I love my brother. He’s my rock, the only person who truly gets me. So, I didn’t mind the idea of him tagging along. In fact, I was relieved to have him there. I told myself that having his support would make this feel less terrifying.

The clinic was nothing like I expected. It wasn’t a sterile hospital or some dingy back-alley operation. It was sleek, modern, and impossibly fancy. Marble floors, pristine white walls, the faint smell of lavender in the air. The kind of place you’d expect celebrities to visit for some high-end spa treatment.

A woman in a crisp white suit greeted us at the front desk. Her smile was warm but unnervingly perfect. “Welcome,” she said. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Liam raised an eyebrow at me, but I shrugged. We were led into a private lounge, where they offered us water and reassured me that the procedure was safe and effective. A doctor arrived shortly after and explained that Liam and I would be separated for a brief consultation. That seemed odd, but I didn’t overthink it. Maybe they wanted to talk about medical history or something.

The moment I stepped into my consultation room, my gut told me something was off. It wasn’t the room itself—it was just as fancy as the rest of the place, with plush chairs and soft lighting—but there was an odd energy in the air. The doctor who entered was an older man with kind eyes, but his words sent a chill down my spine.

“This isn’t your typical hormone therapy clinic,” he began. “What we offer here is… revolutionary. Instead of months or years of transitioning, we provide an immediate solution.”

I frowned. “Immediate?”

“Yes,” he said, leaning forward. “We specialize in body-swapping technology. You would be able to inhabit a different body entirely—one that aligns with who you truly are.”

My stomach flipped. “Body-swapping?” I repeated, barely able to process what he was saying.

The doctor nodded, his expression calm, like this was the most normal thing in the world. “In your case, your parents have arranged for a body that they believe would suit you. Strong, male, conventionally attractive. We’re ready to begin the process, provided we have your consent.”

My heart was pounding now. “What body?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Your brother’s,” the doctor said simply.

The room spun. “What?” I croaked. “You’re saying… you want me to swap bodies with Liam?”

The doctor nodded again. “Yes. Your parents thought this would provide you with the life you’re seeking—male, straight, and socially acceptable. Liam has already been sedated and prepped for the procedure. He’ll retain his memories and sense of self, but he’ll wake up in your body.”

My mind raced, trying to piece everything together. “Does Liam… does he know about this?”

“No,” the doctor admitted. “He doesn’t need to. He’ll adapt in time. All we need is your consent.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. This was insane. They wanted to rip apart my brother’s life without his knowledge, without his consent. It was horrifying. And yet… the image of Liam’s body flashed in my mind. He was everything I’d ever wanted to be—handsome, muscular, confident. I imagined the life I could have in his shoes. The ease, the acceptance. The chance to finally feel right in my own skin.

“You’ll be happy,” the doctor said, as though reading my thoughts. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”

I clenched my fists, my heart racing. Every fiber of my being screamed that this was wrong, that Liam didn’t deserve this. But at the same time, the temptation was undeniable. How could I say no to something I’d dreamed of my entire life?

“I…” My voice wavered. I glanced at the door, imagining Liam just a room away, completely unaware of what was happening.

But the thought of waking up in his body, of finally feeling at home, was too powerful to ignore.

“I’ll do it,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I’ll do it.”

The doctor’s smile widened. “Excellent. Let’s get started.”

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the weight. Not the kind that dragged you down, but something grounding, solid, like my body was finally my own. My eyelids fluttered open, and my heart skipped as I caught sight of my arm resting against the pristine white sheets. Strong, defined, dusted with dark hair that caught the soft light streaming in through the window. I flexed my fingers experimentally, watching tendons shift under the skin.

It felt… right.

I sat up, the sheets pooling around my waist, and ran a hand over my chest. The sensation of my fingers brushing through coarse hair was electric. My pecs were firm, rising and falling with each breath, and I couldn’t stop myself from tracing the ridges of muscle down to my abs. Every touch felt like discovering a secret, a hidden part of myself I’d been waiting my entire life to meet.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I caught sight of my reflection in the full-length mirror across the room. My breath hitched. Liam’s body—no, my body—looked even more incredible in motion. Broad shoulders, a tapered waist, the kind of build that turned heads. I stood slowly, marveling at the way my thighs tensed with the movement, the muscles taut and powerful beneath the skin.

I stepped closer to the mirror, placing a hand on the glass as though I needed to prove this was real. My other hand drifted up to my jaw, rough with stubble. I dragged my fingers across it, savoring the gritty sensation. The shadow of a beard framed my face, making my features sharper, more defined. I tilted my head, flexing experimentally, watching my shoulders and arms ripple with strength.

A shiver ran down my spine as I splayed my fingers across my chest, the dark hair soft yet coarse against my palm. My nipples stiffened under my touch, the sensation sparking an unfamiliar but intoxicating heat. I trailed my hand lower, tracing the faint line of hair that led down my stomach, feeling the muscles shift beneath my fingertips.

I turned to the side, marveling at the broadness of my back, the way it tapered into my hips. My hand skimmed over the curve of my biceps, then down to my forearm, where veins snaked beneath the skin, pulsing faintly with life. Every inch of me felt alive, thrumming with energy I’d never known before.

A sudden laugh escaped my lips, low and rich, surprising me with its depth. I couldn’t help but grin, running a hand through my hair, which was thick and slightly messy from sleep. The movement flexed my arm, and I turned back to the mirror, caught up in the intoxicating sight of strength and masculinity. This was me—finally me.

The knock at the door was soft but purposeful, and when I turned, the nurse from earlier stepped in. She was petite but poised, her blonde hair swept into a neat ponytail, her cheeks tinged pink as she glanced at me. I realized I was still shirtless, standing in all my glory, and I couldn’t help but smirk. The confidence in this body felt second nature, like slipping on a well-tailored suit.

“Just checking to see how you’re feeling,” she said, her voice warm but a little breathy. Her eyes lingered on my chest a beat too long before darting away, her blush deepening.

“I’m feeling incredible,” I said, letting my voice drop an octave. “But you probably hear that a lot.”

She chuckled nervously, her hands fiddling with the clipboard she carried. “Well, we do aim to please.”

I stepped closer, the smooth strength of my legs propelling me forward effortlessly. “You’ve done more than that.” I flexed my arm casually, the muscles swelling under my skin. “I’m guessing Liam—uh, I—had an arms workout yesterday. Feel that.” I offered my bicep, and her eyes widened slightly before she hesitantly reached out.

Her fingers brushed my skin, and I tensed the muscle, watching her expression shift as she gave a quiet, appreciative gasp. “Wow,” she murmured. “That’s… impressive.”

“Thanks,” I said, grinning. “All yours to admire.”

Her blush deepened, but she didn’t pull away. Emboldened, I let my hand rest lightly on her waist. Her breath hitched, and I could feel the warmth of her body through her scrubs. My touch was gentle, but I knew the strength behind it was unmistakable—controlled, deliberate, intoxicating.

“You’re incredible,” I said softly, my thumb tracing small circles on her side. She shivered under my touch, her gaze locking with mine. The tension in the room was electric, every second stretching out tantalizingly. My hand drifted lower, just brushing the curve of her hip.

I reached for the waistband of my pants, ready to strip down and revel in this moment fully when—

The door burst open with a crash, and I whipped around to see myself—my old self—standing there, wide-eyed and furious.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Idea for a angsty and hurt/comfort-y scenario

Firefly and Kafka with a mecha pilot!s/o... but with a twist.

Rather than the mech suit being (essentially) a Gundam from the hit anime franchise "Mobile Suit Gundam, it's more like a Dreadnought from Warhammer 40k, a machine that keeps their mangled for just barely alive. Maybe in this scenario, Firefly and Kafka are seeing S/O directly for them first time since they'd met.

(H:SR) Firefly and Kafka's S/O's body being trapped in a machine

"I would have liked to see the skies of Baal one last time..."

Firefly, to some extent, knew what it was like to be kept on life support by a machine.

Even though it kept her alive and able to move, constant use of her armor was already draining what time she had left remaining.

And she joined the Stellaron Hunters to fight that fate.

When she met S/O for the first time; she had assumed they just kept their armor on to keep their identity secret like her.

Though to Firefly's horror, she soon learned that was not the case at all.

Their mech was massive, more akin to a metal box with stubby legs, a gatling cannon and a claw arm strapped to the sides.

She had asked before what they looked like underneath the suit, but she had never gotten a definitive answer, either usually being brushed off or told "I'd rather not show you."

But on a quiet night with the two of them overlooking the hills and into the stars, Firefly sat with the mech in silence.

And now, she wanted to ask again.

(Firefly) "S/O...if it's alright for me to ask, why do you not want to show yourself to me?"

S/O remained silent, not even a whir or hiss of their servos responded.

(Firefly) "If you're worried about how I'd react, I'll still love you the same no matter what."

After a brief moment, S/O finally answered.

(S/O) "...This is not only a vehicle for me, Firefly...It is also my tomb."

The way they had uttered the last phrase, it sent a shiver up her spine, making her turn fully towards them.

(Firefly) "A life support system?"

(S/O) "Yes. And...there is not much left of me to see."

(Firefly) "...Even so, I still want to see you."

S/O didn't bother moving, as it would cause too much noise. Instead, Firefly walked toward the front of their machine, where a sarcophagus-like structure laid in the center.

And with a click and hiss, the sarcophagus opened, Firefly's hands covering her mouth on instinct.

All she could see was a single heart beating, connected to several wires that lead to Aeons knows where.

Though the heart wasn't completely exposed to the elements as it had a layer of what looked like glass in front of the components.

And now, S/O's voice was unobstructed by machine, hearing their voice echo so much clearer.

(S/O) "It's...been so long since I've felt the cold..."

Firefly walked slowly up near the open sarcophagus, resting her hand on the metal plates that laid next to the center.

She had a tear running down her cheek, but she couldn't find the words to express her grief for them.

Thankfully, it wasn't needed.

S/O's claw arm lifted slowly up, letting Firefly rest her hand on it, while looking directly at their heart one last time before it closed.

(Firefly) "How do you...?-"

(S/O) "Cope with it? I don't...Rather, I didn't. Before I met you...I was in stasis whenever I wasn't active, only awakened to fight."

Firefly let her hand grab one of the fingers, the intimate gesture not lost on S/O as the machine made an audible click to lean further into her hold.

(S/O) "Elio promised me that I'd be able to walk and live again outside this machine...until then...I have you. And I won't let you die either, Firefly."

Firefly smiled at that, looking back up to the sky with renewed hope. But before she leaned back into them like a makeshift bench, she looked where their heart was covered directly.

(Firefly) "...Thank you for showing me the real you."

Kafka didn't know what fear was. Rather, she didn't know how it felt.

She knew she caused it in others, but couldn't grasp on how it personally felt.

But everytime she thought about what S/O was in, it gave her at least a little semblance of what it'd be like.

Firefly's situation was already horrid enough with the Entropy Syndrome, S/O's seemed to be somehow worse much to her disbelief.

Upon first recruiting S/O to the Stellaron Hunters, she thought they just liked to pilot the hulking mech, not that they were one. Much less that they had been alive for centuries within the machine.

Though she liked to tease and bicker with her colleagues, she was always a little softer on S/O, as was everyone else.

(Kafka) "Rise and shine, old one."

S/O's visor on the sarcophagus blinked to life as the mech's limbs slowly twitched before whirring alive.

(S/O) "...I suppose waking me up for something pleasant for once is out of the question."

(Kafka) "Sorry, need ya on this mission."

(S/O) "And what mess have you gotten yourselves into this time?"

Kafka simply let out a sultry chuckle.

(Kafka) "One that if you take care of, I'll treat you to something nice."

Kafka made it a point to not ask what they had looked like underneath the machine.

If they wanted to do it, they'd have done it by now considering they had been with them long enough for the Trailblazer to have joined and then since left the group.

More importantly, she could hear the sorrow in their voice. Like Blade, she could tell when someone lamented being alive.

And yet one quiet evening, she finally got one of her questions answered, what did they look like?

Kafka's eyes slightly widened at the heart that was beating before her. That and the machine was all that remained of her lover.

(Kafka) "Well...you weren't lying when you said there wasn't much left."

Her tone became much softer as one finger dragged down the metal plate near the sarcophagus, stopping at the same level as their heart.

(Kafka) "Guess that also explains why you always asked us to put you to sleep...Yet you stopped."

(S/O) "No point. I've spent a long while trying to avoid it, and with Elio's goals, I'm only needed more and more."

Kafka's finger tapped against their mechanical body before resting her palm against them.

(Kafka) "Could go off script for a little. I'm sure we can find some mad genius to get you a proper body back."

S/O's mechanical chuckle echoed throughout the room.

(S/O) "Were it so easy."

Kafka's hand pulled back as she sat on their arm, giving S/O a more genuine smile than her usual one.

(Kafka) "First chance we get? We'll get you one, script or not."

(S/O) "...Thank you, Kafka."

Their voice became shaky, even though they were almost entirely machine, S/O never seemed more vulnerable than now as one of the claw arm's fingers trembled.

Whether that was just a machine glitch or S/O's emotion coming through, Kafka didn't care.

She still held onto it, giving one last smile before stepping away.

(Kafka) "Gotta say: I like this side of you too."

[in-finitesuns]

i feel like i need to have a list of mass effect 2 things i'll never stop thinking about, in no particular order

the entirety of the Overlord DLC and the fact that the paragon interrupt is pistol whipping Archer lmao

tali's response to the paragon interrupt (hugging her) after finding her father's body in her loyalty mission (the 'damn it. damn it, i'm sorry.)

liara and femshep's reunion during lair of the shadow broker (romanced)

joker's jump (i got him killed once SORRY JOKER)

how strong kelly chambers comes off IMMEDIATELY AND HOW OUT OF POCKET SHE CAN BE (bbgirl you would be the most unethical therapist ever)

legion's loyalty quest and the heretical geth reveal

so i destroyed the heretical geth and having a max out paragon meter but then getting that +30 renegade oops (i understand why but i would do ANYTHING for tali)

samara after killing morinth and her three lines: "Shepard. What do you think I will say? What can I say? I just killed the bravest and smartest of my daughters." and "There are no words. I will try another time. For now, show mercy on a broken old warrior and let us leave." and "I am a ruined vessel of sorrow and regret, but I am free." i wept

the little interlude femshep had with the liara picture on her desk

also rip to all my fish that i tried and failed to keep alive

[edit] I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT TALI CALLING SHEP CAPTAIN AT THE END OF TREASON INSTEAD OF COMMANDER - both the absolute DEVASTATION and GRIEF SHE MUST BE FEELING and also HONOR she bestows on you in that moment i'm screaming crying throwing up

[edit 2] I FORGOT ABOUT THE GIANT HUMAN REAPER AT THE END?

[lu-is-not-ok]

What do you suppose is the underlying difference that determines someone getting Magic Bullet or Fell Bullet E.G.O.?

It's something that's been on mind since WP5 began and remembering there being a lot of E.G.O overlap between Heathcliff and Outis (Ya Śūnyatā Tad Rūpam, Holiday, Binds, and Sunshower if you count Heath's TLA ID).

I keep thinking about this ask and turning it in my brain so I think it's about time to figure out an answer here.

So. Der Freischütz (who I will refer to as Der Frei from now on) and Der Fluchschütze (who I will refer to as Der Fluch).

Der Frei comes from an opera of the same name, and literally translates to The Marksman or The Freeshooter.

Der Frei's concept as an abnormality is a man who recieved a gun from the Devil, one that had bullets that could never miss, but the last of which would kill the one he loved. In response, Der Frei chose to kill everyone he loved first, so that he would never reach that final bullet. This act had unknowingly still fulfilled the Devil's contract, causing the man to become a sort of Devil himself, now being the one offering the bullet to others himself.

The Lobcorp flavor text "Long ago, Der Freischütz’s heart was pierced by the magic bullet, which always hits its mark." implies that the target of that final bullet was actually Der Frei himself, leaving him unable to feel joy or love, only the impulse to hunt and kill.

Der Fluch doesn't appear to have a direct name inspiration, but his name translates to The Curse/Cursed Shooter.

Der Fluch's concept as an abnormality is similar to Der Frei, but with notable differences. Just like Der Frei, he recieved a gun from the Devil on the condition that its final bullet would hit the one he loved.

The first difference comes from what the gun is enchanted to do. For Der Frei, the bullets are said to never miss. For Der Fluch the bullets are said to be able to "blow up anything". Notably the type of gun differs between the two as well, Der Frei using a sniper rifle (a gun associated with precision at a distance), while Der Fluch uses a shotgun (a gun associated with large damage at short range).

The second difference is the way the two tried to wiggle their way out of their deals. Der Frei simply killed all of his loved ones before ever reaching the final bullet, showing he never actually loved them and cared more about himself, thus the final bullet hit his heart.

Der Fluch on the other hand simply doesn't remember who his beloved is, having been a part of the war for so long that he simply forgot. As such, he believes himself to be able to kill without any worry about harming whoever his beloved might be, even finding it exhilarating to imagine those he kills to still remember their loved ones. However, Der Fluch is always carrying a pendant holding a picture of that beloved, and if he's made to look into it, he's filled with fear and grief as the next bullet he shoots immediately goes for that beloved, and he laments that he didn't want to remember the people he loved anymore.

There's also the interesting choice of the name of the E.G.O. Der Frei's Magic Bullet brings to mind a miraculous item, something that he finds to be desireable, which reflects how he had no qualms with taking out his loved ones for the sake of keeping the gun and bullets. On the other hand, Der Fluch's Fell Bullet gives the impression that the bullet is actively harmful, dangerous and cruel, reflecting Der Fluch's own cruelty in the warzone and how in the end the bullet will still find its true mark.

...That was a lot of yapping. Ok. Let's get back to the question.

I think these are the main differences between Magic Bullet and Fell Bullet that might be determining which goes to what Sinner. The ascribed purpose of the Bullet, the method for avoiding the consequences of the deal, and the actual consequences in question.

Magic Bullet is the promise of precise results, to reach the target regardless of what is in the way. The one who accepts it is someone who is willing to sacrifice everyone and everything around them, even those they believe they care about. In consequence they lose their heart, being left alone and unable to turn back to the way things were.

Fell Bullet is the promise of mindless destruction, to do whatever one wants just cause. The one who accepts it is someone who wishes to forget their past, who ignores their surroundings just so they can live without thinking about those they care about. The consequence is that, eventually, they cannot ignore what's in front of them and end up bringing destruction to those they wished to protect by forgetting.

Focus on the goal vs mindlessly indulging. Sacrifices that lead to losing oneself vs willful ignorance that leads to hurting someone else.

[thedreadvampy]

lmao it is undeniably true that I am Depressi Spaghetti but you know. fuck it we continue.

[ruiniel]

Another Way - XII

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Summary: what if someone in the 21st century stumbled upon this stranger during a turbulent storm, narrowly avoiding running them over, and what’s more they can’t understand a word coming out of their mouth.

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Rating: Mature / 18+ only

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, References to Depression, First Meetings, character-meets-world, Near Death Experiences, References to loss, Grief/Mourning, Fantasy, POV Second Person, Language Barrier, Violence, Portal Fantasy, Isekai, Slow burn, References to canon, Rewriting show canon, Because why not, POV Alucard, POV original character, More tags to be added

Also on AO3

Part I

AN: been a while

XII.

He doesn’t like coffee.

This becomes quite apparent with the different flavor of mild disgust over his features after each sip.

“It’s an acquired taste for some,” you try saying with a straight face, because it is more amusing than you’d thought to see a grown man with a perfect jaw and bedroom hair seated at your small table, coming up with the most telling, candid expressions. 

After breakfast—during which he insists on turning the cooker on and off, ‘to learn’, and during which, once again, he eats little to nothing—you head over to your desk and obtain for him the work Adrian asked for. It’s not difficult to find, and happens to be the first book printed in the English language, in the 1400s. 

“Is… this it?”

His enthusiasm says ‘yes’ when seeing the title page, and you let him take your place and scroll through as you head to get ready for the adventure of helping him look less conspicuous. “All right, enjoy your courtly romance, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“All right.”

You pause, turning to stare but his eyes are feverish on the screen, attention absorbed by the text. Whatever works. You decided to stop wondering. 

Having made yourself presentable enough to be outside, you tap back into the room on bare feet. “Ready to g—...” you trail off at the sound. His voice. His voice, with that same mild inflection, but the words are oddly shaped to the ear.

He’s reading aloud from the online scan you fetched him, nodding, writing in the agenda.

“What’s… this?” You near him, narrowing your eyes at the screen. 

Adrian turns to you with an excitement you’d not seen or felt in a long, long while. Somehow, it’s endearing. This side feels like him too, a natural expression in contrast with all those confused, dour moods he’d been mired in. 

“I need…” He pauses, hand in his hair, eyebrows pinched together. 

“What… do you need?...” 

He points at the scan of the text, long fingers gliding along the little black rows of archaic words. “... from now.”

“From now?... Oh! A modern version, you mean? From our time?”

Adrian nods. “Possible?”

“Y-yeah. There might be one… wait…” As you search it for him, Adrian waits patiently with his arms crossed, rubbing at his chin. “I get it. You want to learn modern vocabulary equivalents, don't you?” You bring up the 1400s version of the work again. “Wait… you understand this one?” Not that it's impossible, shouldn’t be. But you didn't exactly take him for someone pursuing comparative historical linguistics.

“Yes,” comes the answer, leaving you bemused.

“You know what? I won't even ask. Go ham. Here, I found it.” 

As he nears and glues himself to the screen, you dare to gently pull on his sleeve.

“Remember…clothes?”

Adrian blinks in realization, then stares back at the screen with a sort of longing. You get it. He’s making a breakthrough here, or so he thinks, one that’ll be of help in wading through terrain unfamiliar to him. 

But the rare practical side of you insists. “You can pick this up when we get back, right?”

He meets your eyes, nodding in acceptance. “Right.”

~~

The bell rings as you open the door to the second hand shop you sometimes frequent, looking behind you to see Adrian entering with care, gazing about with mild interest. 

“Well, here we are,” you say as he meets your stare, before looking towards the shop attendant who’s sitting behind a desk, phone in hand, chewing on some gum and watching the both of you with piqued interest—no, rather, watching him.

You cough, “Hi, we’re looking for some—” 

“Men’s wear is over there,” she answers, not taking her eyes off Adrian.

“All right, thanks.” Starting to think this is a typical reaction. You make a gesture, urging him to follow. 

He has a befuddled look on his face, but walks after you as you reach the rows of clothing boasting jeans, t-shirts and jackets. 

“So, listen.” You turn, waving a hand around the space. “You look for something you like.” You pull at your own blouse, pants, and coat. “And there’s a cabin over there, where you can try stuff out, if you like.”

He seems to understand, nodding and tentatively following your lead as you rummage through the merch on display. You notice the way he feels the garments, looking at you with a question in his eyes.

“Take your time,” you offer, going over and taking a seat on a chair. 

It doesn’t take long, really. Soon enough he’s gathered a few items under his arm, a bundle of… mostly black, cream and white garments. “Want to try these on?” you ask when he nears, standing before you, uncertain.

When Adrian doesn’t reply but tilts his head in slight confusion, you rise and walk towards the cabin, drawing the curtain and showing him the space. “In you go, let me know if…” You pause as he pulls the worn shirt over his head without much ado, spinning around and drawing the curtain behind him. “... call if you need help,” you mumble, stiffly walking away.

Your heart beats strangely, faster as you meet the stare of the shop clerk, who apparently has less important things to do than follow your exchange. 

Whatever. You go and idly sift through the items of clothing, humming to yourself. 

“Your boyfriend’s out,” comes the clerk’s voice after a while, and you blink in confusion, head swiveling to stare at her.

 “Oh, he’s not my—” Before you can finish that thought, movement has you turning in time to see Adrian emerging from the cabin. 

“Right, uh, you look… they fit, don’t they?" Heat rises to your face, damn the air conditioning. 

Black faded jeans, tight. A simple, white fitted t-shirt—was he always this…slim? Fit? A dark blue coat, reaching to his knees. “They look like they fit,” you follow, scratching your head. 

“Oh yeah, they sure do,” comes the young shop attendant’s voice, and a niggling sensation you’ve been unfamiliar with pinches at your mood. 

Adrian seems to agree, looking at himself, then at you. “Good?” he says in English.

You nod. “Yeah, good. That’s one round. Things here are affordable, so uh…” you retrieve your phone, type it in, and translate. “Find another item of each, to have spare clothing.”

He’s surprisingly efficient after that, and it’s not long before you’re returning to your apartment block, Adrian following with a bag in each hand. 

“Okay, that was relatively painless,” you comment, turning to look over your shoulder at him, and—

“Adrian?...”

His expression is frozen, light-amber eyes wide and lips parted. It’s not out of fear as much as it is… consternation?

You turn back around, a different tremor running through your limbs at the person approaching.

A tall woman, wearing a flowing white dress suit, her red coat slung over one forearm. Her long, straight dark hair is done up in a ponytail, swinging languidly with each step taken on black pumps. She’s always had a distinct sense of style. Her attitude is the usual—one of those people carrying themselves like the world lies in wait at their feet. You never did know how to feel about her, nor do you know much about her. You do know this is but one of many businesses she has under her care. Well to do, in any case.

Guess it had to happen sooner or later. “Mrs. Hawke, hello.”

The landlady smiles in greeting, blue eyes alighting first on you, then focusing beyond your shoulder. She lands a hand on her hip, “How have you been, my dear?” 

The question was directed at you, but you’re perceptive enough—you like to think—to notice the unspoken query following the first. 

“Doing well, um. You know how it is…”

“Mm.” Her eyes are still on Adrian, but her gaze is different from that of the store clerk earlier. It holds no fascination, merely a calculating sort of curiosity that disappears the moment she stares back at you.

“I actually wanted to contact you, but didn’t get to until now. You see, Adrian here will be staying for a while, and I know that affects the rent, so…”

Mrs. Hawke tilts her chin. “That’s right, normally so—do you have an idea as to how long your additional tenant will be staying?...”

“Um. Well, I…” You feel an urge to turn and look at Adrian, but somehow her stare arrests you enough that you can’t.

Just then, she waves a hand. “You know, nevermind. I know you’ve had a difficult time lately. Consider no fee added to the rent, for now.”

The impossible has happened. Mrs. Hawke, being… lenient? Forgoing business? Not asking the ‘how’ and the ‘who’ and the ‘why’?

“Er… you mean it? Really?” Your jaw might be somewhere on the floor for all you know.

She nods. “I do. If the time of stay extends indefinitely, then that’s another matter, of course… but for now, we should be fine.”

“Thank… you…?”

She laughs, a light, glittering sound. “Oh don’t look at me like that. After all…” her gaze flicks back behind you, only briefly. “Life does seem to hold all manner of… surprises, doesn’t it?”

There’s something unusual in her tone, but, ah, the prospect of not having to scrounge up more money regularly is a godsend. “You can say that again…”

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to run!” And she does just that, without another glance, leaving the two of you alone in the hallway.

“Well, I’ll be…” you murmur, then remember Adrian. “What is it about you, seriously? It's either the worst of luck or the strangest change... Adrian?”

His stare is unfocused, like something blew a fuse behind his eyes. When you touch his arm, he snaps out of it with a start. “Let’s go up?... You wanted to continue reading, didn’t you?”

Shaking his head like someone having been splashed with ice-cold water, Adrian looks down at you. “... reading. Yes. Let’s…let’s go.”

Picking up fast, you think as he walks ahead of you towards the elevator. And maybe it’s just you, but his steps are more determined than before.

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX - Part X - Part XI

Taglist: @hornyf0ckers @the-keep-under-gresit @pencildrawer12 (this is old, let me know if you want to be removed!)

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MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]

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AN:

Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye (1464) is a translation by William Caxton of a French courtly romance written by Raoul Lefèvre.

[novaursa]

A Lion's Folly (to let go)

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the hopeful

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @butterflygxril @lordofthunderthr @mrsnms @itisjustwhatitis

The Sept of Baelor was heavy with silence, the kind that seemed to seep into the bones and weigh down the soul. The flickering candlelight cast specters on the marble walls, illuminating the somber faces of the Seven carved in stone above. At the center of the Sept, Joffrey Baratheon’s body lay on a slab of white marble, his golden crown resting beside him. His once-smirking face was now cold and lifeless, his lips tinged with blue.

Jaime stood a few steps away from the bier, his gaze fixed on his son—no, the king. He forced himself to think of Joffrey as the king, as he had always been told to. But the boy lying there wasn’t just the king. He was also the child of his and Cersei’s forbidden union, the boy who had grown into something monstrous under their watch.

Cersei stood at the head of the bier, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her knuckles white. Her golden hair fell loose around her shoulders, and her face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at her son’s lifeless form.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said finally, her voice low but cutting. She didn’t turn to look at him, her gaze fixed on Joffrey’s face.

“This is my place as much as it is yours,” Jaime replied, his tone calm but firm.

Cersei let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Your place? You abandoned your place the moment you left the Kingsguard. The moment you decided that she was more important than us.”

Jaime tensed, his jaw tightening. “Don’t do this, Cersei.”

“Do what?” she snapped, finally turning to face him. Her green eyes blazed with fury, and the grief etched into her face only made her anger more potent. “Speak the truth? If you had been where you were supposed to be, if you had done your duty, Joffrey would still be alive.”

He stared at her, unflinching. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” Cersei hissed, stepping closer. “You left us, Jaime. You left me. For what? For her? For some pathetic notion of redemption? You’ve betrayed everything we were for a Stark—a Stark, of all people!”

“This isn’t about her,” Jaime said, his voice rising slightly.

“Isn’t it?” Cersei shot back. “You think I didn’t see the way you couldn't keep your gaze away from her? And now, you’ve abandoned everything we’ve built for her. You’ve made yourself weak.”

Jaime took a step closer, his golden hand glinting in the candlelight as he pointed it toward her. “You don’t get to blame this on me, Cersei. Not this time.”

“Why not?” she demanded, her voice cracking. “Everything else is your fault. Why not this too?”

“Because Joffrey wasn’t killed because I left the Kingsguard,” Jaime said firmly, his voice cold. “He was killed because he was a monster. And that wasn’t my doing, Cersei. That was ours.”

The words hit her like a slap, and for a moment, Cersei was silent, her chest heaving with the effort to contain her rage. Her eyes darted to Joffrey’s body, and for a fleeting moment, her face crumpled with grief. But she quickly masked it, turning her fury back on Jaime.

“You’re a coward,” she spat. “You’ve always been a coward, hiding behind that armor of yours. But now? Now you don’t even have that. You’re just a broken man clinging to a girl who will never love you.”

Jaime’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze steady as he met her glare. “And what does that make you, Cersei? A queen who’s lost her kingdom, her son, and her grip on reality? Blame me all you want, but it won’t bring him back. And it won’t change the fact that you’ve destroyed everything you’ve touched.”

The words hung heavy in the air, the silence between them thick and suffocating. For a moment, it seemed as though Cersei might strike him, her hands trembling at her sides. But instead, she turned away, her shoulders trembling as she faced Joffrey’s body once more.

“You don’t understand,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve never understood what it’s like to be powerless. To watch everything you love slip through your fingers.”

Jaime took a step closer, his voice softer now. “I understand more than you think.”

Cersei didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on Joffrey’s lifeless face. The room felt colder, the weight of grief and anger pressing down on them both.

After a long moment, Jaime turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the vast space of the Sept. The golden hand at his side felt heavier than ever, a constant reminder of the things he had lost—and the things he was still trying to hold on to.

But as he stepped into the fading light of the afternoon, Jaime couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of clarity. Cersei’s accusations stung, but they no longer cut as deeply as they once had. The strings that had bound him to her for so long were fraying, and he was beginning to see the shape of a life beyond her—a life he wasn’t sure he deserved, but one he couldn’t stop himself from wanting.

And for the first time, he didn’t look back.

The dungeons of the Red Keep were damp and suffocating, the air thick with the stench of mildew and decay. Jaime descended the steps slowly, his hand brushing against the rough stone railing as he made his way toward his brother’s cell.

He hadn’t wanted to come here. Seeing Tyrion like this felt wrong, unjust, and it stirred something bitter in his chest. But he had to see him, to hear from the man himself what had truly happened at Joffrey’s wedding.

When Jaime reached the iron bars of Tyrion’s cell, his brother was seated on a crude wooden bench, his hands resting casually on his knees. Despite his predicament, Tyrion looked remarkably composed, his eyes gleaming in the low light.

��Ah, brother,” Tyrion said, his voice dripping with mock cheerfulness as he leaned back against the wall. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit? Come to see the family disgrace wallowing in filth?”

Jaime ignored the jab, his expression neutral as he stepped closer. “I came to see how you’re holding up.”

Tyrion let out a short, bitter laugh. “Oh, splendidly, thank you. The accommodations are as luxurious as ever, and the company…” He gestured to the empty space around him. “…absolutely riveting.”

Jaime’s lips twitched into a faint smirk despite himself. “You’ve always had a way of making the best of things.”

“Ah, yes,” Tyrion said with a flourish. “A talent I inherited from our dear father, no doubt. Speaking of whom, I hear he’s been busy planning your grand wedding.”

Jaime stiffened slightly, but Tyrion pressed on, his voice laced with mock sincerity. “I must apologize, brother. It seems I won’t be able to attend. A shame, really. I’m sure Tywin’s been dreaming of this day for years—his golden son marrying the last Stark. A union to secure the North further and stroke his ego all at once. How wonderful.”

Jaime sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t what I wanted, Tyrion. Not like this.”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, his tone softening slightly. “No? Then what do you want, Jaime? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re letting Father pull your strings just as easily as he pulls mine, now that you accepted to be his heir.”

Jaime’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. “This isn’t about me. Or you. It’s about what’s best for the realm.”

For her. But the words stopped in Jaime's throat.

“The realm,” Tyrion repeated with a bitter chuckle. “Yes, of course. Father’s favorite excuse. Tell me, Jaime, do you really believe that? Are you just trying to convince yourself that you’re still the honorable one in this family? Or are you are still pretending not to have feelings for the daughter of late Eddard Stark?”

Jaime didn’t respond immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. “You didn’t poison Joffrey.”

Tyrion’s smirk faded, his expression hardening. “No. I didn’t.”

“And neither did Sansa,” Jaime added, meeting his brother’s gaze.

Tyrion leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing. “You’re certain of that?”

Jaime nodded. “She’s gone. Disappeared from the Keep after the feast. If she were guilty, she wouldn’t have fled without a word. Someone helped her escape.”

Tyrion exhaled slowly, leaning back against the wall once more. “Gone, you say. I suppose that’s for the best. She’s safer away from here, away from Cersei.”

Jaime frowned, stepping closer to the bars. “Tyrion… who do you think did this?”

Tyrion let out a low, bitter laugh. “Oh, take your pick, brother. The list of people who wanted Joffrey dead is long and distinguished. Perhaps we should start with his dear, grieving mother. Or maybe his loving grandsire, who saw him more as a liability than an asset.”

Jaime’s frown deepened, but he said nothing.

“Don’t look so shocked, Jaime,” Tyrion said, his voice softening. “You’ve always known what this family is capable of. You just never wanted to admit it.”

For a moment, Jaime felt the weight of those words settle heavily on his shoulders. Tyrion’s accusations weren’t entirely baseless, but Jaime couldn’t bring himself to believe that Cersei or Tywin would stoop to something like this—not with Joffrey, at least.

“I’ll find out the truth,” Jaime said finally, his voice firm. “And I’ll make sure you’re not punished for something you didn’t do.”

Tyrion tilted his head, a faint smile playing at his lips. “Ah, the noble Jaime Lannister. Always trying to do the right thing, even when it’s too late. But thank you, brother. For whatever that’s worth.”

Jaime nodded, turning to leave, but Tyrion called after him.

“And Jaime?”

He paused, glancing back.

“If you ever figure out what you actually want, I hope it’s worth the trouble you’re going through for it.”

Jaime didn’t respond, his footsteps echoing softly as he made his way back up the stairs, the weight of his brother’s words lingering with him long after he’d left the dungeons.

The room was small and dimly lit, a faint haze of smoke curling in the air from a nearby lantern. The soft shuffle of cards broke the quiet, followed by the occasional clink of a goblet against the wooden table. You sat across from Bronn, your expression unreadable as you studied your hand. Jaime sat beside you, his golden hand resting heavily on the table, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as he watched the game unfold.

Bronn leaned back in his chair, his usual swagger on full display as he swirled the wine in his goblet. “Not bad, Stark,” he drawled, glancing at you over the rim. “But I wouldn’t get too comfortable. I’ve been known to wipe out entire armies at this game.”

You didn’t even look up, your tone dry as you placed a card on the table. “That’s funny. I didn’t know armies played cards.”

Jaime chuckled softly, earning a stern glance from Bronn. “Careful, Lannister,” Bronn warned, though his grin betrayed his amusement. “Your little bride-to-be’s got a sharp tongue.”

You finally looked up, fixing Bronn with a withering stare. “And you’ve got a big mouth. Pity neither one will win you this game.”

Bronn blinked, clearly caught off guard. He opened his mouth to retort, but no words came out, leaving him uncharacteristically speechless. Jaime leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the exchange as his smirk widened.

“Well, this is new,” Jaime said, glancing at Bronn. “You’ve actually managed to render him silent.”

Bronn recovered quickly, raising his goblet in mock salute. “Well done, my lady. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I didn’t think you had the ability to think at all,” you replied smoothly, placing another card on the table. “Seems we’re both full of surprises.”

Jaime laughed, shaking his head as he reached for his own goblet. “You’re wasting your time, Bronn. She’s not easily impressed.”

“Clearly,” Bronn muttered, his gaze narrowing at you before turning to Jaime. “I’ve got to say, you’ve got strange taste in women, Lannister.”

Jaime’s smirk faltered slightly, though he recovered quickly, his tone casual. “And yet here you are, sitting across from her, trying to win her favor.”

“I’m just here for the game,” Bronn said, raising his hands defensively. “And the wine. The rest is just entertainment.”

You rolled your eyes, returning your focus to your cards. “If this is your idea of entertainment, I pity the company you keep.”

Bronn barked a laugh, leaning forward as he placed his cards on the table. “I like her,” he said to Jaime. “She’s got fire.”

Jaime glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his smirk softening into something almost fond. “She certainly does,” he said quietly.

You caught the look and frowned, shifting in your seat as you addressed him. “What am I doing here anyway with the two of you? Don’t you have better things to do than sit in a smoky room losing at cards?”

Jaime leaned forward to met your gaze. “Father’s orders,” he said simply. “He wants me to keep an eye on you. Especially after what happened to Joffrey.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you placed another card on the table. “Of course. Tywin Lannister, ever the vigilant warden. Tell me, does he think I poisoned Joffrey as well, or am I just a convenient excuse for his paranoia?”

Jaime’s smirk returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wouldn’t take it personally. He’s paranoid about everyone.”

Bronn laughed again, pouring himself more wine. “Well, if you’re stuck with him, Stark, you might as well make the best of it. Could be worse, you know.”

“Could it?” you replied, raising an eyebrow as you glanced between the two of them. “I’m not so sure.”

Bronn opened his mouth to reply, but you held up a hand, cutting him off. “And before you say anything, yes, it could be worse. I could be married to you.”

Jaime nearly choked on his wine, coughing as he laughed. Bronn stared at you for a moment before shaking his head, a wide grin spreading across his face. “You’re brutal, Stark. I’ll give you that.”

“I try,” you replied with a faint smirk, turning back to your cards.

The game continued, the banter flowing easily between the three of you. Despite yourself, you felt a small flicker of amusement at Jaime’s exasperation and Bronn’s failed attempts to rattle you. For a moment, the weight of your circumstances seemed a little lighter, though you knew it wouldn’t last.

But for now, you allowed yourself to enjoy the rare reprieve, even if it came at the expense of the two men seated across from you.

The mood in the room shifted subtly as Jaime leaned back in his chair, the smirk on his face fading into something more contemplative. He swirled the wine in his goblet absently. After a moment, he cleared his throat, drawing your attention.

“There’s something else,” Jaime said, his tone unusually subdued.

You placed your cards down, leveling him with a skeptical look. “Let me guess—another Lannister edict I’m meant to obey without question?”

He quirked an eyebrow, his lips twitching faintly. “You’re not entirely wrong. Tywin has started preparations for a feast.”

Your frown deepened. “A feast? For what? Joffrey’s funeral was hardly three days ago.”

Jaime hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to Bronn, who raised an eyebrow in silent curiosity. “For our betrothal,” Jaime said finally.

The words hung in the air like an unwelcome specter, the weight of them pressing down on the room. You stared at him, your expression caught between disbelief and anger.

“A betrothal feast?” you repeated, your voice steady. “So soon after Joffrey’s death? Is your father so eager to celebrate while the rest of the city mourns?”

Jaime sighed, setting his goblet down with a faint clink. “You know my father. He doesn’t waste time on sentiment. This is about securing alliances, appearances, and ensuring the realm sees stability.”

Bronn leaned forward, his grin faint but amused. “He’s not wrong, Stark. Lannisters don’t dawdle, especially when it comes to marriage. They’ve already got a new king to crown, too—young Tommen. And you’d best believe they’re moving quickly to tie up every loose end.”

You folded your arms, your gaze narrowing at Jaime. “Tommen’s to be crowned already?”

Jaime nodded, his expression guarded. “Soon. Father’s made it clear that there’s no time to waste. The realm needs a king, and Tommen…” He hesitated, his voice softening. “Tommen’s a good boy. He’ll be a better king than Joffrey ever was.”

Bronn chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Not a high bar to clear, is it? And then there’s Margaery. The queen widowed twice over but still determined as ever to keep her crown.”

You turned to Bronn, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Bronn smirked, gesturing vaguely. “Oh, she’s not wasting time, that one. Already making eyes at the little king, I hear. Determined to go three for three in royal husbands.”

Jaime shot him a warning look. “That’s enough, Bronn.”

“What?” Bronn said, shrugging. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking. The Tyrells didn’t come all this way to leave empty-handed. Margaery’s no fool—she’ll do whatever it takes to secure her position.”

You snorted softly, leaning back in your chair. “Of course she will. And why not? It seems to be the way of things in King’s Landing—scheming, marrying, and killing your way to the top.”

Jaime’s jaw tightened, though he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached for his goblet, taking a slow sip before speaking. “It’s not always like this,” he said quietly. “Or at least, it shouldn’t be.”

You glanced at him, noting the faint shadow of regret in his eyes. “And yet, here we are,” you said pointedly.

The room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of the conversation settling over the three of you. Bronn broke the tension with a low chuckle, leaning forward again.

“Well, Stark,” he said, his tone light but teasing. “Looks like you’re in for quite the celebration. A grand feast, a shiny new betrothal, and a front-row seat to all the madness this city has to offer. Should be fun.”

You gave him a withering look, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I can hardly wait.”

Jaime sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Bronn, maybe you should focus on the cards instead of stirring the pot.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Bronn quipped, tossing a card onto the table with a grin.

You shook your head, returning your attention to the game, though your thoughts lingered on Jaime’s words. The idea of a feast in your honor felt absurd, especially with the weight of recent events pressing down on the city.

Still, a small, defiant part of you wondered how much chaos you could cause before Tywin Lannister’s perfectly laid plans unraveled.

The corridors of the Red Keep were quiet as Jaime escorted you back to your chambers. His steps were unhurried, his demeanor unusually light. He walked beside you, his golden hand resting casually at his side, and every now and then, he glanced your way with a faint smirk.

“You know,” Jaime said, breaking the silence, “I should probably be careful around Bronn.”

You raised an eyebrow, not bothering to look at him. “Why is that?”

“Because he might try to steal you away,” Jaime replied, his tone laced with amusement. “He seemed quite taken with you during that game. I’ve never seen him so… speechless.”

You scoffed, your tone dry. “Bronn isn’t the type to ‘steal’ anything unless it’s worth a considerable amount of gold. I assure you, I’m far from his idea of treasure.”

Jaime chuckled softly, his smirk widening. “I wouldn’t be so sure. You’ve got a way of leaving an impression, whether you mean to or not.”

You rolled your eyes, your voice laced with irritation. “If this is your idea of flattery, Lannister, it’s as unimpressive as your swordsmanship with your left hand.”

He placed a hand over his chest in mock offense, the gesture only accentuated by his golden prosthetic. “You wound me, my lady. And here I thought we were finally getting along.”

“Getting along?” you repeated, giving him a sidelong glance. “Let’s not get carried away. Tolerating your presence is a far cry from liking it.”

Jaime laughed, the sound softer and more genuine than you expected. “Tolerating is a start. I’ll take what I can get.”

You didn’t reply, your gaze fixed ahead as the corridor stretched into shadows. Despite yourself, you couldn’t entirely ignore the faint warmth in his tone, the way his usual sharpness had softened around the edges. It was… disarming, and you hated that it unsettled you.

When you finally reached your chambers, two Lannister guards were already posted outside, their expressions stoic as they stood at attention. Jaime slowed to a stop, turning to face you fully as you approached the door.

“Well,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I suppose this is where I leave you for the night.”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “How gallant of you.”

Jaime smirked faintly, stepping closer, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your stomach twist—not entirely unpleasantly, though you refused to admit it. “You know,” he said, his tone softer, almost hesitant, “you surprised me tonight.”

You frowned slightly, your guard instinctively rising. “How so?”

“You didn’t bite my head off as much as I expected,” he said with a faint chuckle. “I might even dare to say you enjoyed yourself, if only a little.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, your tone sharp. “Don’t mistake tolerance for enjoyment, Jaime. This doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to entertain this farce willingly.”

His smirk faltered slightly, though his gaze remained steady. “I know,” he said simply, his voice quieter now. “But… it’s nice to see you without your walls up, even if it’s just for a moment.”

Your chest tightened, the unexpected sincerity in his tone catching you off guard. For a fleeting second, you thought you saw something raw in his eyes—something vulnerable. But you quickly pushed the thought aside, straightening your posture.

“Don’t read too much into it,” you said curtly, stepping toward the door.

Jaime nodded, stepping back as you reached for the handle. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he said softly.

You paused, glancing back at him briefly before opening the door. “Goodnight, Jaime,” you replied, though your tone was more neutral than warm.

As the door closed behind you, Jaime stood there for a moment. Despite your words, despite your warning, he couldn’t help but feel the faintest flicker of hope.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough.

The chambers Jaime now called his own were vast and ornate, the sort of luxury befitting the heir to Casterly Rock. Yet, as he lay awake in the massive bed, staring at the carved canopy above him, the grandeur felt hollow. The gold-threaded curtains, the fine linens, and the roaring fire in the hearth offered no comfort.

His golden hand rested on his chest, its cold, unyielding weight a stark reminder of what he’d lost. The stump where his hand used to be ached faintly, a dull throb that seemed to echo the turmoil in his mind. He flexed his left hand absently, as though trying to remind himself that he was still whole in some way.

Jaime sighed, turning his head to look at the window. Moonlight streamed through the glass, casting pale patterns on the stone floor. The city beyond was quiet, but his thoughts were anything but.

He’d spent his entire life as Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, the golden lion of Casterly Rock. The son who had defied his father’s wishes, who had stood at the side of kings and queens, wielding his sword with confidence and precision. He’d been many things, but he had never imagined himself as this: a lord, a husband.

The thought made his stomach twist.

Jaime had never wanted to be Lord of Casterly Rock. That role had always been Tywin’s, looming over him like a shadow, the unrelenting standard against which he’d always been measured. And now, with Tywin’s decree, the title was his to inherit. He would oversee the Westerlands, the mines, the bannermen. He would bear the weight of the lion’s legacy, a burden he had spent most of his life avoiding.

But it wasn’t just the title or the lands that haunted him. It was the marriage.

You.

Jaime turned onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow as he stared into the flames of the hearth. He thought of your wit, your unyielding defiance, the fire in your eyes that never seemed to dim. You were nothing like the women he’d grown up around—nothing like Cersei.

And that was what unsettled him most of all.

Cersei had been his constant, his twin, his other half. Their bond had been unbreakable—or so he’d thought. But now, as he lay in this unfamiliar bed, he found himself thinking less of her and more of you. He still wasn't sure what he felt. But it was something, something he couldn’t quite name.

He thought of the way you’d looked at him earlier, your eyes full of anger and defiance. Even now, you refused to yield, to let him in. And yet, there had been moments—fleeting, fragile moments—where your guard had slipped, and he had seen something else. Something softer.

Could he truly be a husband? The idea felt foreign, almost laughable. Jaime Lannister, the husband. Jaime Lannister, the father. He let out a humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

The door creaked open slightly, and Jaime turned his head, his muscles tensing. A servant stepped inside, bowing deeply before speaking.

“My lord,” the servant said quietly. “Do you require anything before the night’s end?”

Jaime shook his head, his tone curt. “No. Leave me.”

The servant bowed again and retreated, the door clicking softly shut behind them.

Jaime leaned back against the pillows, exhaling slowly. The silence of the room was oppressive, pressing down on him like a physical weight.

For years, he had lived without thought for the future, content to be the sword at someone else’s side. Now, the future loomed before him, uncertain and vast. He thought of Casterly Rock, the sprawling fortress he had left behind so many years ago. He thought of his father, of Tywin’s cold, calculating gaze as he handed down orders that would shape the rest of Jaime’s life.

And he thought of you.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth as Jaime closed his eyes, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Jaime Lannister dared himself to wonder if there might be something beyond the Kingslayer. Something worth fighting for.

[mysterylilycheeta]

ONYX STORM REVIEW:

After 2 days of catching up on all the work I had postponed for the sake of reading OS, and organising my thoughts, I'm here with my spoiler free review of Onyx Storm. Please remember that these are my personal thoughts and opinions and you're free to agree or disagree based on your views

Rating: 3.25 stars

The Good:

The absolute lack of miscommunication between Xaden and Violet: This book is a gift for all those people who were annoyed to their wit's end by the repetitive stupid fights between Xaden and Violet in Iron Flame. They trust each other, communicate with each other and don't get mad about secrets. I was so pleasantly surprised

Ridoc: Ridoc went through such amazing character development, he easily became one of my favourite characters in the story. We saw him as only the comic relief friend till now but man, he shows such badassery in this book while still being his clown self. And, let's not forget his favourite dick jokes!

The Dragons: Anyone who knows me knows my favourite part about the series is Tairn and the other dragons. Love seeing my grumpy dad dragon, he's such a mood. We also have our sassy teenager Andarna to give him grief. I love all the moments Tairn started boasting about his lineage and his feat: he's such a dork!

Dain and Cat: I never truly hated Dain because I knew from Fourth Wing itself he never intentionally wanted to harm Violet. My only gripe with him was about breaking her trust and looking through her memories without her consent. But man, does he redeem himself. Needless to say, Dain is on my "need to protect" list. I really hated Cat in Iron Flame because she was such a stereotypical cringey evil ex and the way she attacked Violet was so crass and below the belt. She still has some shitty moments in the beginning of the book but she gets a lot better so much so that I want good things to happen to her in the next books. RY did a great job writing these two

Jealous Xaden: My o my was it a treat to see Xaden so jealous. RY fed us with those entertaining af moments. Read the book and you'll find out what I mean

Aaric: I was intrigued by Aaric in book 2 but he stepped up the game so much in this book. He is an amazing character and I'll throw hands if RY even tries to harm him in any way, istg.

The Bad:

Very mediocre worldbuilding: This might be just a timing issue, but the last fantasy book I read was the Mistborn series by Brandon Sanderson, and every fantasy fan knows the kind of world-building Sanderson does. Onyx Storm tries to introduce us to new places beside the continent, but it is not well done. We spend half the book in the Isle Kingdoms, yet they're not even mentioned on the map. They talk about routes to get to the kingdoms, but how am I supposed to follow them if you won't even mention them on the maps? Every Island has a god it worships and things go according to that but I think we could've had a little more information about them beforehand instead of being presented basic info right before we arrive at the next island. "We're going to said island, this is the god they believe in, here's a five point bullet lost of their customs"- NO, THAT'S NOT HOW YOU DO IT! Like I said, it might be because my last book was by Sanderson so my expectations were higher but the world felt so lacking.

Lack of Glossary: A glossary should be a must in every fantasy book, especially if you're branching out and diving deeper into worldbuilding. We are introduced to gods, islands, uprisings and groups of people we haven't even heard of before and we get hardly one or two lines about them in a chapter and then they are mentioned again 2 chapters later and we're supposed to follow. There were so many new names in OS, it was difficult to keep track of them after a while. I still don't completely understand who the Krovlan people were and what was their deal.

Lack of Basgiath: My favourite book in the series till now has been Fourth Wing and one of the biggest reasons for that was Basgiath. I loved that place and the way it felt an actual character in the story. That Basgiath charm is missing in this book. Basgiath is the biggest strength of this series, it's the reason why FW was so successful, the war college and it's deadly atmosphere, the challenges, the interpersonal relations, it was entertaining af. However as the series is progressing, it's turning into another typical romantasy involving young adults leading revolutions, making alliances, fighting wars etc. I started reading Fourth Wing because of it's setting and yet with each new book, we spend less and less time in Basgiath and it's just dampening my mood.

No real surprises: Let me be brutally honest- this book felt like a filler. Of course there are a few shocking moments with new information but it hardly hit the mark like the previous two books. There were no moments that essentially packed a punch. It's just a bunch of random sidequests to gain alliances which didn't up feeling all that meaningful because of worldbuilding problems. It also seemed like fanservice because of a lot of reasons but I won't mention them as they can be accounted as minor spoilers. Some characters died but it didn't feel impactful at all. It seemed more like Ry was just filling up the death quota because we can't have a book where no one dies

Violet and Xaden: Okay so here's the thing, I like both of them as characters and I think they make a good pair. However, I didn't ever truly feel the romance and this has been a problem since Fourth Wing. They have a shit ton of lusty moments but hardly any soft romantic domestic moments that make the relationship feel organic. I have always been disappointed by the lack of proper romantic development between these two. The problem in this book however is the dialogue- they felt so cheesy and downright cringe at times. Maybe show more and say less?? The way they keep saying nothing else matters as much and I know people are feral for how Xaden and Violet are ready to throw off the entire rebellion for each other but it irks me so much. Xaden, you are leading these people and you have accepted that responsibility. Stop endangering the lives of people you swore to protect because Violet might be in danger. She has other people to support her. Violet, don't get mad when people tell you your needs and wants will come second to Xaden's duty towards the people. He is their leader, he has to make those sacrifices, If you think that's unfair then find someone else to fill his position. You can't have the leadership position yet be each other's top priority. It might seem unfair but that is the right thing to do. I really don't feel like the two of them are fit to lead people. Agree with @thequietesthing's review about Violet's god level power feeling over dramatic and out of character at times.

The Ending: If any of you have talked to me about the book in the last few days, you'll know I'm frustrated af with the ending. It doesn't exactly feel like a well done cliffhanger, it's just plain messy. A bunch of unanswered questions to keep the reader confused and hooked for the next book but it just ruined the whole book for me. I have no issues with cliffhangers but the book should feel complete. The way Onyx Storm ended, it feels there were at least two more chapters that got deleted. It's just all over the place.

That was the review guys. I'll still wait for the next book to get published but my excitement has gone down quite a lot. I was expecting more of a Harry Potter style story where the main still occurs in the school/college itself but it seems like that isn't gonna be the case. I honestly believe this series should've been just 3 books instead of 5 but oh well, what can we say. Really agree with @justallihere and @justascrollingghost. We have almost the same complaints with the books lol P.S: The best surprise in this book: Broccoli, the kitten

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Aftermath

Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Synopsis: In the aftermath of Eddie’s death, you visit Wayne and you grieve Eddie together. You admit to him you never got to tell Eddie how you feel, but unbeknownst to you, Eddie hears your confession and is trying to make his way back home to you from the Upside Down. 

Warnings: heavy angst; grief; depression; mention of character death; smut (18+ minors dni); oral (m receiving); piv/unprotected sex; dirty talk; sub/sort of switch!eddie; smoking

A/N: I wanna shout out @punkrockmlchael @keeryhours @losingmygrasponreality and @munsonsmixtapes y'all are great- thank you for letting me talk to y'all about this fic <3

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! And requests are currently open :)

Everything still didn’t feel real. As the dust settles and Hawkins begins to pick up the pieces, you still feel like you’re stuck underwater. He’s gone- and everyone around you celebrates like they're better off for it. People rise from the ashes, content to keep the world turning- so much progress yet you are completely paralyzed. And it feels like no one else cares. 

They do care. They’re just happy. Relieved to be rid of the devil worshiping, fork tongued, serial killer that they fabricated and made the villain of this nightmare. They celebrate, and embrace, treating the aftermath like an uplifting time. You’re stuck- paralyzed by the immense pain that sits deep in your chest. It weighs you down, and you wished for anything but this. 

You wished for Eddie, because he’s the one person who’d pull you out of this when you’d spiral. You can’t feel grounded because your rock is gone. Your heart hangs so heavy with regret as you mourn your best friend and the love of your life. And you never got to tell him. 

As Jason and his friends created a witch hunt, everyone’s priority was to keep Eddie safe- there  \were so many times you felt like you should’ve said something. Your inner voice yelling at you to do anything- something before it was too late. You chickened out every time, petrified of rejection and worried you’d ruin what you had more than it had already been threatened. 

Now you don’t know how to feel anything at all. He’s just gone. And the rest of the town moves on. And you can hardly breathe, covered with dust as you stay exactly where you were. You weren’t there at the end, and you wish you’d had. To be with him, comfort him, make him know just how much he means. You’re angry you didn’t stick up for yourself when the group suggested you didn’t follow them. You’re angry you let Eddie convince you to stay behind when they traveled into the Upside Down. You should have been there. 

So now, like a body possessed, you go through the motions to get by with hardly living. You’re a shell, floating aimlessly from one thing to the next but you aren’t there. Because Eddie isn’t there. You miss him so much your brain can’t handle the amount of grief that’s overtaking you. You feel consumed by such an immense sadness just all the time. 

Dustin was the first person you saw, and you both held each other as you both wailed. He didn’t have to say anything, you instinctively knew. Both of you, tangled up in pain, holding on to the last bit of him you both had in that moment- each other. You both crumbled , and you cried so hard until your bodies exhausted themselves. 

Compelled to just make yourself feel anything, sick of the numbness- just wanting to expel the dark cloud sitting inside you, you find the strength to make your way to the Munson trailer, just hoping Wayne would be there. You knew Wayne needed you, and you needed him. You needed Wayne in your life- the father figure that stepped up for Eddie, but also for you. 

When Wayne opens the door, you notice he looks completely destroyed. His eyes, like yours, are bloodshot from tears and a man who you once thought was the tallest man in the world, looks so very small. The same small cloud that has dwelled in you since he died, also festered and plagued Wayne. 

The second he opens the door, you need a hug. Suddenly, you feel like a little kid again, safer now that Wayne is around. In his embrace, you feel heard, without needing to speak. You know he’s feeling the same pain, the same loss, and he’s the only person in the whole world that you need to be near right now. You just pray that he lets you in.

“He didn’t do it,” you sob, clinging to Wayne’s flannel shirt. He rubs your back comfortingly. 

“I know he didn’t,” he soothes you, but you can still hear that he’s crying as well. 

Wayne holds you and it gives him some solace for the first time in weeks. He’s relieved that you’ve come back to visit. You're the first of Eddie’s friends to make the journey over. But, of course you were. 

Once you manage to pull yourself somewhat together, you pull away from the hug. “I wanted to know if I could still come visit,” you ask meekly, desperate to encase yourself back into Eddie’s world. Wayne nods, hugging you again, stroking your head to comfort you as the tears begin to fall again. 

“I loved him, I love him,” you confess pathetically and Wayne shushes you like a child needing to be comforted. It’s a sound you’re familiar with. There have been many moments in your life where Wayne was the one there to pick up the pieces. Bullies would be mean to both you at school, Eddie and you would run home with tear stained cheeks, and he’d hold you both like how he’s holding you now. 

“I know, kiddo,” he soothed. “I know.” 

“Can- can I go to his room? Just for a minute,” you plead. 

“You can stay as long as you want,” Wayne promises, stepping aside to let you in. 

The trailer hasn’t changed- it’s got that look about it, always. It’s comforting to look around it and just feel him. It sounds so crazy but you swear you can feel Eddie- your senses are just overwhelmed with so much of him after weeks of an extreme emptiness. 

His room is untouched, you can tell Wayne hasn’t been ready to go in. His unmade bed, his dirty laundry, his tapes- everything is exactly as he left it. The bed he won’t crawl back into, the tshirts he won’t wear, the new tape that he’ll never hear- it’s all paused. A room that was once as lively as the boy who lived in it now felt like a time capsule that is the only proof that he was there. 

You sit on his bed, trying to commit it all to your memory. You feel so dizzy, and all you can do is fixate on every detail. Petrified you’ll forget something, which will turn into something else, and then before you know it you’ve lost all of the pieces that make Eddie. 

Laying on his bed, you stare up at the ceiling, you just let yourself sink into your sadness. You feel engulfed by him, his essence. It’s the closest you know you’ll ever get to the real thing again. You burrow into his pillow and blankets and just let yourself become fully cased in, you close your eyes and you can almost pretend he’ll be there when you open your eyes. He’ll be there, sitting on the floor strumming his guitar like he had done a million times before. You swear you can feel him there. 

He’s screaming for you, begging you to hear him. He’s scared and alone and can’t get out. He’s stuck in this limbo. He can see you, he can see everyone- no one knows he’s alive. He’s trying to reach out to you as he stands in his room, only in the Upside Down. His face is messy with grime and tears, his whole body aches. He can’t muster up the strength to run anymore. Seeing you like this though? Worse than anything else he feels like he’s been through. He needed to get back home, but he couldn’t figure out how. 

 He hears a gentle knock on the door, and it feels like a million miles away. Even if it doesn’t matter, he steps aside still trying to talk to you when he watches Wayne walk in. For the first time, Eddie’s speechless. He gives up on his talking for just a moment, he scrambles around his room, looking for any way to send the two of you a sign. 

Wayne takes a seat on the edge of the bed. He rubs your back gently over Eddie’s comforter. He doesn’t want you to think he wants you to leave. Eddie’s looking through the wreckage of his bedroom in the Upside Down, he needs to find his radio. He can see it on top of his dresser in the real world, and he’s trying to find the one there. If he can play something, anything, maybe he has a shot that the two of you will hear it. 

“I called your house, they know you’re with me,” Wayne says soothingly. He can see the blanket move so he knows you nodded. “I was hoping you’d take me up on having dinner here,” he adds. “I’m so used to cooking for two..,” he trails off, not wanting to make you any sadder. He sees the comforter nod again, and he pats your shoulder to make his exit. 

“Did you know?” you ask suddenly, Wayne turning around in the doorway. “Do you think he knew?” You ask, sitting up a little and wiping your eyes. Eddie stops his search and his eyes are just focused on you. 

“Did I know what, sweetheart?” Wayne asks softly. You take a few shaky breaths. 

“Was it obvious..,” you are embarrassed, “Was it obvious that I liked him? I never told him…”

“We didn’t really talk about stuff like that,” he responds. “But, you and Eddie had such a special bond… You meant so much to him, don’t let that be the thing you focus on.”

“I waited and then it was too late,” you sniffle. 

“Eddie loved you more than anything,” Wayne reiterates, and you know it’s true. You just didn’t know in what way. 

Eddie thinks he might be sick. He jumps over a pile of his dirty clothes to kneel on the bed in front of you. He knows you can’t see him, it doesn’t matter. He stares into your eyes even though he knows you aren’t seeing him back. 

“The whole time?” he laughs, tears welling up again, he hits his fist to the mattress. “Of course I liked you, oh my god. I couldn’t have been more obvious! On what planet would I not be completely head over heels in love with you?” He exclaims. His laughter sounds almost delirious- he feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind. “Oh my god, baby, I- Fuck this,” he grumbles. “This is bullshit,” he says, looking around the room again for something to use. “I’m getting back there,” he announces to the void, “I’m getting back there and I swear to god, the first thing after I kiss you- I’m making fun of you for being so stupid to think I wouldn’t like you. Christ, where the fuck is my stereo?” 

His foot kicks something and he curses, but then he laughs triumphantly because he hears static. He uncovers the stereo from under one of his shirts and thankfully it looks salvageable. He sits down, pulling it onto his lap, and messes with the frequency. “Please, please, please,” he mutters over and over again, hoping to get some sort of signal out. Nothing. He tosses it aside, racking his brain trying to remember anything the group told him. “Lights, lights!” he says, scurrying over to the switch on the wall, frantically flicking it on and off. 

The lights in the room suddenly flicker, and your head tilts, looking up at the ceiling light. Your first instinct is to brush it off, the bulb probably just needs to be replaced. The annoyance of the flickering switch is enough to get you out of bed to turn off the light. You walk over to flip the switch to off, and you realize the overhead light is already switched to off. Puzzled, you look over, and see the lamp on Eddie’s bedside table is flickering now too. Then, the hall light flickers, like some electric current is running the length of the house messing with the lights. The lights over the kitchenette start to flicker next, and it makes Wayne jump. 

You follow the light trail, trying to figure out what’s going on. You look to Wayne and he looks just as mystified as you. Eddie, in the meantime, is banging the walls, flipping the switches, trying anything to get your attention. He’s yelling incoherent nonsense, jumping around, hitting things- fuck the monsters, he’s not afraid anymore. He’s not letting an opportunity to let you know that he’s there slip by. 

“Might be the generator acting up,” Wayne muses, explaining the odd sight away. You aren’t convinced, but you don’t know any better. So many parts of the journey, you were left out- you didn’t know about the electromagnetic elements of the Upside Down. You were left out of the loop, Eddie insisting you stay back for your own safety more times than not. You were mad at him still for that, honestly. Eddie knew Jason could’ve used you in some way to get to him. The less you knew, the better he felt. You resented it, knowing you could’ve handled Jason and his goons. It doesn’t matter anymore. 

“You think so?” You mumble, unconvinced. You observe as there seems to be an obvious pattern to the flickering of the lights. It was like someone was running up and down the length of the trailer, messing with the switches. The generator is the easiest answer, and the rational side of you tells you to just let it be. The other side of you, maybe the delusional side- looking for any sort of sign, thinks it’s something. 

“Can I use the phone?” You ask, and Wayne nods. You grab the receiver off of the base and start dialing Dustin’s home phone number. Wayne continues to work on dinner, turning on his portable radio to offer you some privacy as you make a call. 

“Hi Mrs. Henderson,” you say when Dustin’s mother answers. “I understand that it’s dinner time, I’m sorry. I was just hoping Dustin could talk for just a few minutes? I understand, ma’am. Please, just this once? Thank you, ma’am.” 

Dustin sounds confused when he says your name on the other end of the phone. “What’s going on?” He asks, understandably confused. 

“The lights in Eddie’s trailer are going haywire,” you explain, not sure how to explain it to him. “It’s so weird, I don’t know how to describe it. It’s random- but it doesn’t feel that way. It’s just Wayne and I here, but it’s like someone is flipping the switches over and over again.” 

Eddie says a little prayer that Henderson will pick up on the fact that he’s trying to let you guys know he’s there. He watches you intently as you listen to Dustin, and answer his follow-up questions. He watched as you try to hold back a smile, the first one in weeks to Grace your pretty face. 

“Are you sure?” You ask again in disbelief, listening to Dustin’s theory. You’re skeptical, you can’t let yourself believe Eddie might be alive. You couldn’t bear the disappointment. 

“We’ve seen it before,” Dustin says, and you can tell he’s rushing off the phone. “Trust me, let me figure something out. Do you know Morse code?” 

“No,” you answer dejectedly. You also don’t know if Eddie would know any Morse code, but maybe Dustin knew more than you. 

“That’s okay,” Dustin says, you hear him scribbling something down. “See if there’s something you can figure out. A pattern, anything- I got to go. My mom is gonna flip out if I’m not back like now.  I can call you back after dinner- use Eddie’s walkie.” 

Dustin hangs up abruptly and you place the receiver down, dejectedly. You smile towards Wayne and the lights finally settle down. You offer to help and Wayne happily takes you up on the offer. It’s a small space, but the two of you make it work. It’s a nice silence, but it also weighs heavy among you. It shouldn’t be like this. It should be chaotic and messy and loud and he should be here. 

“Remember that one Halloween you took Eddie and I trick or treating, and we both wanted to be Casper,” you reminisce. Wayne offers a deep, throaty chuckle. 

“You both tricked me, I dropped Eddie off at your house and it wasn’t until I was halfway back home that I realized I had the wrong kid,” Wayne huffs, and you break into a fit of giggles. “Just like that,” he points at you, “you laughed just like that under the sheet and you gave yourself away.” 

Wayne hands you a plate and you both sit down at the tiny kitchen table. You’re happy to see him like this. He’s not okay, and you’re not okay. But for now, he’s letting you in- and he’s letting you in so he can heal, even if never fully. He knows Eddie would want you here. 

You settle back into a comfortable silence again as you both eat. Both of you just happy to not be alone. You know your other friends feel this loss- everyone is just pained with losing Eddie. Everyone’s spirits are broken. Wayne and you knew Eddie best, the longest. Everyone is mourning their friend. Wayne and you are mourning Eddie in every phase of his life. 

Grief is a fickle thing. It comes down in waves. Unpredictable and always messy. And always uniquely different. It’s an anchor that sits on your chest and the seams that hold you together in the moments where you miss them the most. It also makes you emboldened. Too sad to care about anything- it lowers inhibitions and makes you realize how life is too short to be embarrassed. And it hits you all at once, and you don’t even know when you started crying into your food. 

It’s an ugly cry- the kind where you struggle to breathe, your nose runs uncontrollably and it sounds inhuman. Wayne comforts you the best he can, resting a hand on your shoulder. You can hardly speak as you manage to talk between heavy sobs. 

Eddie’s devastated. It hurts him so much to see you like this. He’s never seen this and he hopes soon he won’t have to again. Because he’ll figure out how to get home to you. As Wayne pulls you into a hug, Eddie makes a vow that no matter what he’s getting back. He racks his brain, trying to remember what his friends told him about the Upside Down. He wishes he could contact Dustin- he’s in no condition to even try to head over to his house. He needs to stay here- hoping you will continue to pick up on the clues. 

You ask Wayne if you can stay in Eddie’s room a little longer after dinner. He of course says yes. You help him with the dishes, and then head back to Eddie’s room. On his desk, you’re shifting through the clutter to try to find paper. So you can make notes of any weird occurrences. Eddie watched intently as you carefully move the amps, and find a composition book he had stashed away. It’s just a junk notebook, he’d use it to scribble or write down song ideas or brainstorm campaigns. 

You flip to a blank page as you take a seat at his desk chair. Eddie’s thankful he remembers a little Morse code- at least he learned something for the very brief time he was a scout (before he was kicked out). He walks over to the switch on the wall. 

One short flash, one long flash 

One short flash, one king flash, two short flashes 

Two short flashes 

Three short flashes, one long flash 

One short flash 

He repeats this over and over again, not sure what else he can do or what else he can relay. He knows you don’t know Morse code, and it needs to be simple enough that you can pick up the sequence and tell it to Dustin. He watches over your shoulder as you write down what you’ve seen. 

He watches as you look around until you locate his walkie. You press the button to speak. 

“Dustin?” You ask hesitantly, feeling a little foolish. 

“Dustin, over,” you hear him say, and you roll your eyes. 

“Yeah- there’s definitely a pattern here,” you say. 

“Say over when your done talking, over.”

“That’s stupid, over,” you quip. 

“Do you want my help or not? Over,” Dustin replies, obviously getting frustrated. 

You read off your notes to Dustin and it takes a few minutes for him to respond. The waiting is what’s killing you. Eddie tries to think of something else he can relay with the lights. Hopefully what he's done is enough, he thinks. 

“It spells alive, over,” Dustin says at last. You can hear the excitement in his voice, and it makes you feel like you’ve been able to take a full deep breath for the first time in weeks. 

“Are you sure?” You ask, trying to hold back. You can’t let yourself spiral. You can’t let yourself get your hopes up. It would break you. “Oh shit, the lights are doing something else now!”

One short flash 

One long flash, two short flashes 

One long flash, two short flashes 

Two short flashes 

One short flash

“What’s it say?” You ask impatiently. 

“It spells out Eddie,” Dustin responds, and Eddie can hear the happiness in his voice. 

“Oh fuck,” you exclaim, excitedly. You get up and pace anxiously. “How do we get him back, Dustin?” You ask, panicked, “How do I get him home?” 

“Shit,” Dustin replied, “We need to open the gate.” 

“How do we do that?” You insist. 

“Standby,” Dustin states matter of factly. “Can you stay at Eddie’s tonight?” 

“Sure, of course- whatever I need to do,” you say with certainty. 

“See if you can get anything else. Maybe he’ll send us something,” Dustin instructs. “We need to rope everyone else in on this. So we can do anything until tomorrow.” 

“We just found out that Eddie’s alive, stranded in hell and you’re saying we aren’t waking everyone else up and dealing with this immediately?” You’re angry. 

“We need to strategize, we can’t just half ass this,” Dustin rationalizes. “We need to figure out what to do,  we can’t exactly just call Eleven and just have her open a gate. Everyone is still looking for her. Besides, we don’t know if it’s actually Eddie yet either.”

“Of course it’s Eddie!” You interject. 

“We also can’t hurt him,” Dustin explains. “If we open the gate, it might send creatures his way that he isn’t strong enough to deal with. We need to do this right.” 

You can’t explain how it happened. It was really Dustin who headed the whole operation. You did your best to help, remembering some things from before. You watched your friends in awe, everyone banded together- no one stopping round the clock. It was incredible to witness. Your heart swelled. Everyone just loved Eddie, and no one was stopping until he was home safe. It was a group effort. Even Susie was phoned in from out of state to help out. It was sweet, watching Dustin get flustered as the two of them talked over walk-in talkie. You’d been waiting in the back of Nancy’s car,  Robin anxiously playing with the walkie- the three of you on stand-by as Steve, Jonathan and the others disappeared into the woods, hoping to bring Eddie out. You all wait, silently begging for any sort of update. And then you see them, huddled together- a group effort to carry Eddie. 

Eddie. 

He feels like he can finally breathe. The clean air fills his lungs and he feels like part of his old self again. Slung around Steve for support, he’s limping still from his injuries but he might as well have been running up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Real life doesn’t feel real, it suddenly feels better. Especially, when he lifts his head and sees you right there, waiting for him. 

He smiles, that dopey perfect smile of his, like nothing happened. All he can do is just see you, it’s all he’s thought about and he’s just taking it all in- just you. In the flesh, standing right in front of him, waiting for him and loving him. He made it back to you, his girl, just like he promised himself he would. 

You can’t bear it any longer, you rush to his side, taking the weight of him from Steve- pulling Eddie in to a panicked embrace, like you might lose him again. He’s here, he’s actually really here. You realize you can’t squander this- not taking time for granted again. Not when he’s made it back to you like this. You sob, overwhelmed. The feeling of him after all this time has left you stunned. Everything else just fades- nothing matters now except him and the feeling of him against you like this. 

“Hi to you too, sweetheart,” he coughs, happily throwing his arms around you. Steve steps back to give you both space. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles against your hair, kissing your forehead. Although it makes him wince to move his arm, he tilts your chin up to look at him. “And I’m so sorry I never did this sooner.” 

He presses his lips to yours, and you gasp softly in surprise at first. His hand cups your jaw and you feel his smile when you begin to kiss him back. His lips are so soft, except for the small cut that’s starting to heal. You’re too wrapped up in him to even notice. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in close. 

“I love you,” you rush, pulling away from the kiss- desperate to finally tell him. “I love you so much-“ he cuts you off with another kiss, not able to get enough of you. He knows! Oh God, he knows and he wants to sing it from the rooftops when his body doesn’t ache like this. But, fuck- he knows. And that is the best feeling. 

Wayne waits patiently, watching the two of you. He always knew you’d end up like this. He wasn’t one to interfere- but he knew before either of you. He considers himself so lucky to have watched your story together unfold. Shit, tears well in his eyes. His Eddie is home and safe. That’s all he cares about. His boy is alive and well and loved. Everything is going to be alright again. You all can move through this, together. 

“Love you so much,” Eddie says, pulling back. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “I gotta see Wayne,” he whispers and you nod, helping him walk the rest of the way up the small dirt road to the trailer where Wayne waits in the doorway. You pass Eddie off to him, and it makes your heart swell watching Wayne pull him into a big hug as Eddie buried his face in Wayne’s shoulder like he would when he was little. 

Wayne helps Eddie into the trailer, and you follow closely behind after everyone says their goodbyes for now. You and Wayne help ease Eddie onto his bed, and all of the muscles in his body relax. He sighs, relieved, resting his head against his squished, unkempt pillows. Wayne pulls the blanket over him, and you head to the kitchenette to get Eddie water. A few seconds later, Wayne emerges from the room, slowly to avoid making noise.

“He passed out,” Wayne chuckles and you smile. He looks back to the closed bedroom door and then back to you. “I can’t believe I have to leave him already and go back to work,” he sighs. He looks to the clock on the wall, he’ll be due for his shift tonight. “I hate to have to go, but he’ll probably sleep the whole time.. right?”

“I think so,” you reassure Wayne. “Can I stay?” You ask hopefully. 

“Honey, you’re family. You stay as long as you want- you don’t need to ask me that.”

“I know, I just- I always just want to make sure I’m not overstaying my welcome.” 

“You’re a good kid.” 

With that, Wayne’s gone for now. Somehow miraculously back to the same Wayne you always knew. Everything has begun to settle. All of the parts that fragmented and tore him up are all falling back into place. He can do what he’s always done. His life revolved around Eddie- and he’s so relieved it can continue to do so. So for Eddie’s sake, he forgoes missing work again, and heads to his next shift. 

You look to the door of Eddie’s bedroom, suddenly a place that filled you was such an immense pain sparks butterflies and giddiness in your stomach. The space feels alive again even though he’s sleeping so soundly when you slip back inside. Your sweet, beautiful Eddie- taking up all the space in the room again and captivating your attention. He looks so exhausted but you still think he looks so angelic, as always. 

You don’t want to hurt him, so you keep your distance the best you can when you slide into the bed to lay next to him. Settling in on your side, you watch his gentle inhales and exhales and study all of the little details on his face like you have before- just so happy that you can do it again. Eddie wakes up shortly after, his brown eyes, that always make you seem to melt, are looking at you- taking in all of you again, just like you to him. How could ever not know he loved you when he looked at you like that? 

“C’mere,” he mumbles, his good arm reaching out to pull you in closer to his side. Hesitantly, you scoot closer, not wanting to hurt him. He picks up on that, always so good at reading you, and pulls you flush against his side. “So much better,” he sighs, kissing the tip of your nose. “There’s my girl.” His lazy smile makes you feel so warm. Your eyes linger on his lips, wanting desperately to kiss him again, just all the time- so you do, because you finally can. 

He helped save the world and he got the girl. This was not the way Eddie thought life would turn out for him. He’s not the main character, he’s not the hero- not like this, never like this. These were the stories he’d write about- a story like this is something he would just live through vicariously. But after everything, after all the heartache and the loss and the tragedy, he feels like he’s finally lived. But most of all, he feels like that because of you- he’s unapologetically yours. After years of silent, hopeless pining- secret yearning that he keeps hidden deep in himself- he feels so indescribably happy. It’s all due to you, and the way you’re looking at him at this moment. 

You offer Eddie nothing but sweet, soft kisses- scared to take it further because of his injuries. You don’t know how he’s feeling, so you feel yourself holding back. It’s still just as perfect as you always imagined kissing him would be. Tangled up in his sheets, your leg rests over his and your hands delicately rest on his chest. You fill his senses, and he swears despite how he must look, he’s never felt better. He wants to deepen the kiss- hell, there’s so many things he wants to do right now. His fingertips graze under the hem of your shirt, touching your soft skin. 

“Is this too much?” you ask, biting your lip. You’ve shifted so you’re hovering over him. Your hands rest on his shoulders. You’re worried about taking things too far, you don’t want to hurt him, but god, you don’t think you can keep holding back much longer. 

“Fuck no,” he exhales, his hands find your hips and pulls you down so you’re resting your weight on him so your stradling him. You can feel how hard he is, and it makes you surge with a little bit of pride, just knowing how you have this effect on him. Experimentally, you grind against him as you kiss him again. He moans against your lips and it sounds so strangled and desperate- it goes right to your core. He wishes he could reciprocate more- god, he really did. As soon as he’s better, he promises. 

You smirk, against his lips, pleased with yourself that you can make him sound like that. It’s addicting. You need more, you want to experience everything. Testing the waters, you kiss his neck as you reach down to unzip his jeans. His head falls back against the pillows and he sighs, contently as you free his hard cock from the confines of his jeans and his boxers. Fuck, he’s gorgeous like this. You can tell he’s insecure- the scars on his body from what he went through, and you’re going to show him that you think he’s stunning. 

“You’re so pretty, Eds,” you reassure him, trailing your fingertips down his torso and then pulling up his Hellfire t-shirt. You bat your lashes at him and he feels his knees grow weak. You pull your own shirt over your head and toss it haphazardly aside. His mouth suddenly feels dry, and his eyes widen. The sight is almost too much for him to take. There’d been so many nights where he’d imagined you like this- but nothing, absolutely nothing in his head measured up to this. It’s all you- his best friend, the love of his love, perched on his lap oh so prettily looking at him with a mischievous sparkle in your eyes. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest and he’s speechless. 

You move so you can bend down and press your lips to his leaking tip. You kiss and lick the precum away before slowly taking his cock in your mouth. The noises he’s making are filthy, breathy moans and it only fuels your desire to unravel him. You’re only getting started. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he wines, and you bob your head up and down the length of his shaft teasingly slow. It’s almost methodical, you pulling him apart like this. Slow and purposeful- long drawn out fucking teasing thats making his entire body shake with need. You hum content, pleased with how he’s responding to you. You look at him, from behind your eyelashes, wide doe eyes connecting with his before you pull away, a string of your saliva stretching between your swollen lips and his head. He thinks he might pass out and your hand wraps around his cock. 

“Is this okay?” you ask, smirk forming on your lips as you feign innocence. You watch as his mind stutters, unable to form a coherent response. He nods, his eyes closing tight from the sensation. It’s all too much. You press your lips to his neck, trailing kisses across his jaw. “Use your words, baby,” you purr, your breath warm on his face. “Don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, and then suck gently leaving a little mark on his neck. 

“Please,” he whimpers, not even sure what he’s asking for. He pants, it’s all too much. 

“Please what, love?” you smile, kissing down his chest and your fingertips trace his scars lovingly as you admire his exposed skin. You move his bangs out of his eyes delicately as you gaze down at him. 

“Need you,” he pleads, leaning up as much as he can to reconnect his lips to yours. “Fuck, need you so bad, baby.” 

You pull off your jeans and toss them to the floor near your shirt. Now, you’re just left in your bra and panties. You’re a little nervous- but you shouldn’t be. There’d been so many instances over past summers where you and Eddie have gone swimming together. This isn’t showing any more than that, but this is different. This is so different. Because you wouldn’t see him staring at you, gawking at how you’d look in your two pieces. He’d keep his desire hidden away, so you never knew how crazy you made him. Now, there’s no stolen glances. It’s all laid out in the open, and he’s staring at you with such an intensity that you can’t focus on anything else. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he sighs, reaching out to feel you. His hand trails across your side, running down your curves. He rests his hand on your hip, feeling the soft fabric of your panties. “I like these,” he winks, releasing the band and watching it snap back into place against your hip. “So pretty.”

You reach behind you as he smiles up at you, and unhook your bra letting it fall. You watch his Adam's apple bob as you pull the material away. His eyes darken as he gulps, god you were so fucking perfect. “Fuck, you have perfect fucking tits,” he groans, reaching down to stroke his cock, needing to relieve himself if only just a bit, as he takes in all of you. You shimmy out of your panties quickly, wanting to be close to him again as soon as possible. You press your lips against his, and you straddle his lap again. 

You can feel the coolness of his rings against you as he lines himself up with your entrance. You slide down onto his cock and the stretch feels so goddamn good. You moan, holding onto his shoulders to stabilize you. “Mmm Eddie,” you gasp, surprised when he thrusts up and his hands rest on your hips. He guides you, letting your hips do most of the work then- guiding you to fuck yourself on his cock. Your brain is fogged with lust- it feels so fucking good. He feels so good. It’s all so incredible, you can’t think straight as you lose yourself in the movement, working up to a steady rhythm. 

“That’s it baby,” he praises. “You’re doing so good, fuck. Use me, sweetheart. Want you to get yourself off with my cock.” He smirks when you whimper, loving the way he’s speaking a little too much. Your whines are his favorite sound, he decides. It’s all too much, he doesn’t know how long he can hold out. Your blissed out expression, your tits bouncing in his face, your hips moving against him, your pussy taking his cock so well… it’s so much better than he could’ve dreamed. You’re like an angel, and he’s mesmerized taking it all in. 

“Fuck, your so big, Eds,” you whine, moving your hips and grinding against him. Without losing your pace, you lean and kiss him hungrily, and you feel the all too familiar knot start to form in your stomach. “‘M so close,” you mumble, cock drunk and chasing your own orgasm. “Wanna cum together,” you plead against his lips. You straighten your back, and you decide to give him a show. You bring your hands up, massaging your tits and tug at your hardened nipples as you continue to bounce on his cock. 

“Fuck, baby, I-“ he strains, reaching around you and grabbing your ass, squeezing as he matches your pace and thrusts up into you. His fingernails dig into your flesh and the sensation makes you dizzy. It’s all too much, it all feels too good. You feel like everything is heightened, your senses are all too overwhelmed in him. He sits up fully, pressing fevered kisses on your torso, mumbling how much he fucking loves you, and it’s enough to send you over the edge. 

The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock, is enough to make Eddie orgasm shortly after you. Whimpered sighs of relief escape his pretty lips as he finishes inside you, you moving your hips until he’s pulling out, all of his energy spent. He collapses back into his pillows, his chest rising and falling heavily to catch his breath. His hair strewn about on his pillow messily as his eyes fall heavy as he basks in the feeling of this total bliss. 

You lay down next to him, both of your bodies glistening with sweat. You take a moment to also catch your breath and you catch his eye. “Shit,” you exhale, and giggle. He smiles softly, reaching across to tuck your hair back out of your face. “That was..” you begin, not able to finish your thought and you stare at his ceiling. 

“Yeah,” he sighs in agreement. He turns his head to look at you, smirking. “You had a crush on me,” he teases. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you grumble, hiding your face in your hands. “You’re such a dork,” you mumble, tossing a pillow at him playfully.

“You really didn’t know I was in love with you?” He asks with a chuckle, leaning over carefully to grab his box of cigarettes from his dresser. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Well you didn’t know either,” you say defensively, getting up to go to the restroom. You grab your shirt and pull your panties back on- just to have something on when you go to the bathroom. When you return, Eddie’s taking a drag and he beckons you back to lay down beside him. He lifts his arm so you can take your place snuggled up to his side. He lets out a long exhale and the smoke wafts up and out of the vent in the ceiling. He kisses your forehead, and Eddie just watches as you slowly drift off. 

He’s fighting against sleep so he can finish his cigarette. He eventually realizes he can’t force himself awake much longer. He taps it out and drops it in the ashtray, the temptation of dozing off with you overtaking everything else. He wraps his arm around you and pulls the blankets up, resting his chin on the top of your head. Wrapped up in each other, the two of you sleep better than you have in months.

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington @mrsjellymunson @fanficfantik @the-unforgivenn @punkrockmlchael @keeryhours

[minijenn]

That feel when you spend the past several days drawing for a forgotten niche AU you created years ago that you've just been having severe brainrot for lately and you have to get it out of your system somehow so you just... draw.

Anyway, Thorn in the Gut AU! Perhaps the most angsty little AU my brain ever did create back in the old UF days, I'm still quite fond of it. Its just chock full of drama, conflict, existential crisises, all that good stuff! And so, for those of you not in the know, here's a whole dump of info about it to go along with the art! (copied most of this from Discord so excuse any wierd formatting)

The basic gist of Thorn in the Gut spawns out of RMD (Rifts/Memories/Dimensions) and basically starts when Bill lands a practically fatal blow on Stepper (instead of cracking his Gem) and Steven, realizing both he and Dipper won't survive this, essentially "poofs" (lets his physical body disappear) and sacrifices his gem over to Dipper to keep him alive. Anyway, Dipper winds up back in Gravity Falls alone, much to the alarm and anger of the Crystal Gems especially when they realize Steven is basically dead (not them blaming a literal child who had no say in any of this). From there, the following ensues:

The Gems are A Wreck but they are still deeply attached to that gemstone (because of Steven and because of Rose) and they really don't know how to interact with Dipper now as a result; eventually, they force him to move up to the temple because he very quickly starts showing he has Steven's powers now but he can't control them because he is also A Wreck with survivor's guilt and grief over losing his boyfriend (did I mention this AU is Stedip? Well its Stedip) and his heavy emotions are making them wonky

They also watch him like a hawk because they think Steven could somehow return at any moment; they're also just like, hella impersonal with him; basically any sort of warmth or goodwill they had toward him has completely evaporated and they just view him as "the reason why steven is gone"

Garnet probably just... never talks to him like ever. Pearl is a sobbing wreck but is also surprisingly the most sympathetic towards Dipper out of the Gems (bc she knows about Rose and Bill's history to a certain extent and also knows thats at least in part why Bill attacked Stepper so viciously and why all this happened in the first place). Amethyst is just mad and probably prone to verbally lashing out at Dipper in frustration the most.

Stan and Ford are Fighting obvs bc Ford thinks Dipper staying with the Gems is for the best (also not Ford also kind of lowkey starting to negate his own nephew as a "fascinating breakthrough discovery" because of how scientifically impossible what's happened to him should be; Stan, meanwhile, is furious at how both Ford and the gems are acting, he's one of the few people still entirely in Dipper's coner, along with...

Mabel, who while mourning Steven herself wants to be there for her brother so badly but can't be because the Gems and Ford won't let her be, claiming that its for her own safety when really its just to keep her out of the way of a very delicate situation; even so, the twins still try to see each other as much as they can and comfort each other however possible (potential eventual fusion between the two?? maybe)

Connie is fucking mad, mad that Steven would sacrifice himself like this, mad that he'd sacrifice himself for Dipper, mad that Steven is gone and she can't do a damn thing about it. As a result, she distances herself from both the Pines and the Gems for a good long time to grieve on her own (but even after she comes back around, things remain hella tense between her and Dipper)

Other characters: Lapis is fuckin squicked the fuck out by what's happened here, because something something its comparable to permenant fusion, but even so she tries her best to support Dipper even though its difficult for her; Peridot is kind of lost in the shuffle of all this, like Mabel, so I feel like that's where she's lending most of her support; Pacifica? ehhh I mean this AU works under the assumption that Stedip is kind of the only currently canon MK ship so she probs wouldn't have much to do here 😛

Fucking forgot to talk about Dipper himself you know like he aint the damn focus character; so he's in Shambles, emotionally distraught for a number of reasons; his boyfriend is gone and he can only speak to him in his dreams (and those dreams are usually sweet… until one certain triangle starts showing up in them); amidst still reeling from losing Steven, the way the others are all treating him leads him into an existential crisis, because to the Gems, he's Steven, he's Rose, to Ford, he's an experiment, to Bill, he's an obstacle in the way of a prize, to the diamonds (if this continued on into UF2 which it could), he's Pink, and with all that in mind he truly starts to wonder if there's anything really left of Dipper at all

And the bad guys; Bill is furious, obvs. it doesn't take him long to start showing up during Steven and Dipper's little dream chats, causing all sorts of chaos and being just a general bastard all around; but he wants that gem, he has a deal with White to make good on after all, and he's determined to do whatever it takes to get it, even if he has to guilt trip Dipper into ripping it out of his stomach himself (which may or may not happen); as for the Diamonds I mean they'd probably just think this is "Pink" playing another one of their silly games, like they think about Steven so not a ton changes on that front? (even still, I summed up that this boy is in Danger in the span of time that would be UF2 in that one art)

Oh and of course, Steven's status. He is… aliveish? Of course, he doesn't have a physical body anymore, kind of gave that up entirely when he "poofed" bc he's half human. At first he's only able to communicate solely to Dipper through his dreams (and like Stan and Mabel, Steven is completely in Dipper's corner and is fucking mad as hell about how the Gems are acting towards him). And eventually, he makes that frustration known by using his possion powers to take control of Dipper (which Dipper allows, god who cares about past trauma, anything to make the Gems see reason) to tell the Gems off, but he isn't able to do that for very long or very frequently. I'd like to think Dipper can also sometimes "hear" Steven speaking to him through his thoughts when he's awake too. Basically, Steven is always with him ^_^

After getting steven's gem, Dipper maintains Stepper's hair color and skin hue :3 and he also starts wearing Steven's shirts bc fuckin gay grief compells him to wear his BF's clothes and then the Gems, fucking freaks that they are are like "nah you should keep wearing them" even when he doesn't want to anymore. Oh! and another thing, Dipper doesn't see himself when he sees his reflection in the mirror, he sees Stepper (represented in the art).

Since Dipper has to stay in Gravity Falls (because how the hell is he able to leave with all of these newfound manifesting magical powers), Mabel ends up going back home alone with a spare memory gun Ford gives her in tow. She remorsefully uses it to erase Aaron and Allison's memories of Dipper so they won't ask questions she isn't able to give answers to :3 Also, Dipper is unaware that this happens until some point in UF2 when Mabel breaks down and tells him. Suffice to say it basically ruins whatever is left of his relationship with Ford (not that it was good at that point anyway because well, Ford is basically using him as a lab rat)

Basically, without Steven around, most of the cast is just... fucking not acting right bc steven was basically their moral compass so they figure why even try anymore without him around (the gems and hell even dipper included, he makes some pretty questionable decisions in this AU himself)

Just, its all about identity, really, about how the way others around you treat you can impact how you view yourself for better or worse (in this case, worse); it's about loss of agency and how grief can drive people to act in some... pretty terrible ways.

Anyway yeah that's a Lot but its my current obsession in the In Between time of S1 and S2 and I figured I need to chase my bliss (bc how else will I cope with The Horrors if I don't put my favorite blorbos through Horrors of their own. Expect something to be written from this AU... eventually idk man probs not anytime in the immediate future tho lol it's just a silly fun little side thing. Anyway enjoy the Pain! ^_^

[blueraith]

People get way too caught up in "this character is a fighter" trope.

Okay. But why is the character fighting? What cause, person, or thing are they putting their body and life on the line for? It's gonna be something if the character is well written.

Which Vi is.

What happens if they lose that something they've been fighting for over and over and over again? When no matter what they seem to do, their efforts to fight back always end in failure?

Particularly in a story with a theme about the cycle of violence and how it only creates more? When her literal father/narrative mentor figure physically grasps her fist, shakes it and tells her they're only going to cause her more problems?

What do you think the story is trying to say here and throughout the work? It happens early enough to not only be foreshadowing, but a thesis statement for Vi's character.

A thesis statement isn't always just confined to a work overall, they can be applied to characters too. That entire talk with Vander right after the heist is Vi's.

"If people look up to you, you don't get to be selfish."

"This?" Grasps Vi's fist and gently shakes it* "They’re not gonna solve your problems. Just make more of them."

Those two quotes set Vi up as a character for the entire series. Vi is set on a path in which she must learn how to live for herself and she must learn how to live outside of fighting and violence.

Those are the only two directions Vi's character can possibly grow narratively. If there were other options, Vander's talk with her would have been about whatever the fuck her haters wanted. I don't know, maybe, "Well, Vi, you blew up a building, but those Piltie oppressors deserved it. Keep fighting and free Zaun from tyranny."

Obviously Vander didn't say any of that bullshit. My point is that the narrative never, ever sets Vi up as a freedom fighter doomed to always give her life and body for a revolutionary cause. In fact, it does the exact opposite as seen by the conversation above and the later talk Vander has with her about war on the bridge.

If you did not see a rock bottom moment for Vi followed by a drastic change to her character for S2 coming, I question your ability for literally analysis severely. Because Vi surely does not learn the lessons Vander tried to teach her in S1. She actually only ever fights harder and harder and her situation continously deteriorates. Make more problems.

Vi attacks Sevika > Sevika warns Silco she's back

Vi threatens Silco when he finds her > Silco worsens Jinx's mental state with his own trauma with Vander

Vi challenges Silco's relationship with Jinx to Jinx > Jinx feels she has to choose between them in the most violent way possible due to her own trauma

Vi convinces Jayce to attack Silco's operation directly > Furthers tensions between PnZ that culminate into the memorial attack in S2

This is not to say that Vi is solely responsible for the way these events spiraled out of control, but those are her contributions to the cycle of violence. At no point in this story have her confrontational, aggressive, or violent decisions have made anything better.

It gets worse in S2.

Vi joins Cait's taskforce to kill or capture Jinx > Finds out she can't truly harm her sister but not before Jinx turns their strategy with the Grey into yet another terrorist attack on Piltover. (She also loses Caitlyn to Cait's own zeal for violence during her grief.)

Vi succumbs to pit fighting to try and punch away her pain > Hits her lowest point of all, her fighting is now aimless and entirely self-destructive

It's not until she lowers her fists while fighting Warwick that her outlook changes. She finally learns that to make peace, one has to be willing to finally stop fighting.

She does this again at the commune when she takes the gauntlets off without much fight when requested.

This is the story Arcane was always going to tell with Vi. Her's is an introspective and internalized conflict. It was never with Piltover, never as a revolutionary, but always regarding her place as someone grappling with how to escape the cycle of violence and create a life of peace on her own terms.

She wasn’t forgotten, didn't become spineless, and didn't have "nothing" to do in S2.

I think people simply missed this setup with her character. They wrote their own fanwork in their heads in the three year gap between seasons, and have become upset that the version of Vi in their heads was never the Vi Arcane was actually portraying.

I thought Vi's story was poignant, and it's a shame some viewers out there not only completely missed the mark, they're too set in their ways to actually see Vi from this perspective.

[hlblng]

“I shall teach you old men the lesson you failed to learn when you were children” Clytemnestra in Aeschylus' Agamemnon (trans. Ted Hughes)

Clytemnestra is the wife of Agamemnon, the king of Atreus and commander of the Greek army that assails the walls of Troy. In order to placate the goddess Artemis, he sacrifices his oldest daughter Iphigenia on the goddess’ altar, spilling her blood and breaking the heart of his wife in the process. Clytemenestra, consumed by hatred and the desire for revenge after the murder of her daughter, invites Agamemmnon’s cousin and enemy Aigisthos into the palace and into her bed, while Agamemnon is away at Troy. Finally, after 10 years of waiting, Agamemmnon returns triumphant to his city, palace and wife. Finally, after 10 years of waiting, Clytemnestra gets her revenge and murders her husband in the bath. Through fear and intimidation tactics, she and her lover Aigisthos assume the throne and live happily - for a while. Years later, her now grown son Orestes, who grew up far away, and her daughter Electra conspire to kill their own mother as revenge for the murder of their father. She dies screaming, kicking, cursing and Orestes falls mad with the blood guilt of murdering your own mother. Only after the intervention of a god or two, order is restored in the house of Atreus. For now, at least.

To me, Clytemnestra is a character transcending boundaries. The adulterous wife, the villainess that kills her husband, the wronged mother revenging her daughter, the cold queen disowning her grieving children, “a man’s heart in a woman’s body”, as Aischylos puts it. She’s all that and more. In Euripides’ Electra she even is a doubting woman looking back on her life and her choices, maybe not regretting but perhaps questioning what it was all for. She’s all of these things, yet none of them wholly. You look at her and you feel for her because how could he, how could her beloved husband murder their perfect innocent daughter, all for the promise of Troy. You look at her and you revel in her bloodlust as she swings the axe at Agamemnon and gives the perfect villain speech at the steps of his, well now her, palace. You look at her and you’re repelled by the ice cold indifference towards her remaining children, abandoned like a toy no longer worth playing with. Was there only enough love for the one daughter in her? When she kills Agamemmnon does she feel relief, satisfaction, finally she has had her triumph over the one who wronged her more than any other? Or is there also a tinge of sadness, of grief, for the life she used to know, before the day her daughter’s blood got spilled in the name of a war she doesn’t care about? 

She certainly doesn’t tell us. None of the characters do.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Most of the takes I’ve seen about Caitlyn’s Jinx-hunting strike team and their bit of light chemical warfare tend to focus on either justifying or condemning Caitlyn’s actions as if the characters are on some kind of morality points leaderboard, which makes even less sense than usual in the Everybody Does Terrible Things show. Litigating whether Caitlyn did a limited police action intended to minimize harm or a war crime is not only kind of pointless, but imo not really the intended function of this story element at all.

The point of this story element in the overall arc of S2 is that you can’t expect to do just a little bit of state violence and then stop. It’s the beginning of Caitlyn’s slide into her dictator era—using her power both as an enforcer and as a Kiramman to get the revenge she has fixated on in her grief.

(A lot of discussion of this sequence of events slides right over what to me is by far the most horrifying detail—which is that it seems like the plans for a major public works project in Zaun are proprietary to one single rich family in Piltover. Why? Because the Council couldn’t care less whether people in the Undercity were dying of Fantasy Pollution Consumption. Which left any mitigation up to the benevolence of private charity from wealthy Piltover families. And as we learn very early on by watching how Jayce is treated, Kiramman charity comes with conditions attached, and can be indistinguishable from control.)

Of course Caitlyn sees her plan as the lesser evil; as a limited and proportionate response that will be less destructive than a full police occupation of the Undercity. But the problem with a limited and proportionate response intended to only target Bad Guys is that it rarely stays that way. Because people will react to repression in ways that are often used to justify more repression.

And we see that it is a VERY short slide from the strike team into tactics that do broadly target civilians for things that in our world we would call protected political speech—things like dyeing your hair a symbolic color or standing around in a square listening to someone give a speech. We go from the strike team to checkpoints, mass arrests, and violent interrogations in like. One episode. Which anyone familiar with the dynamics of state violence in the real world could tell you was exactly what was gonna fucking happen.

(The scene with the cops harassing people at the checkpoint into Piltover is very sharp imo because it shows quite accurately that whatever the stated purpose of a police checkpoint is, the actual effect of a checkpoint is to force interactions between civilians and police, and if police are looking for reasons to target people they will find them.)

So on one level, this storyline is not really about Caitlyn’s personal moral compass at all. It’s about how the logic of state violence tends to drive escalating cycles of conflict.

But also…we’re not supposed to just be okay with a bit of light chemical warfare either! I think the show is pretty unambiguous about that! The whole sequence with Caitlyn’s strike team using the Gray is supposed to be a warning that things are going nowhere good! There’s a reason why the scene in the abandoned arcade, where Jinx learns Vi has become an enforcer, is set up to mirror the scene of child Powder and Vi hiding from enforcers in the same location in S1. We are shown that scene from Jinx’s POV in a way that invites us to sympathize with her. Caitlyn and Vi look like monsters, stalking through the fog in their enforcer gas masks, because they are doing something monstrous.

[livesworthlivingau]

Memory of Lost Letters

Spoilers for ISAT and Two Hats below! CW: Panic Attacks, Suicidal/Death Ideation, Unhealthy Obsession, Grief/Loss

Yet another memories chapter! Heavily inspired by this fic I read recently and I realized it would be prime angst to make an LWL version of the idea, 30 years of 'lost letters' to Loop.

("… Hello?… Are you there Loop?… Does this still work?")

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("Thank you again, Loop... I don't know if you can hear me, but I think I can still feel you somehow... I can't wait to see you again, whenever you're ready!")

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("Loop... I understand if you need some time, you can take all the time you need, I'll be there for you whenever you want it... but please say something, anything... I just want to know you're okay...")

...

(Sigh)

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("We're gonna be leaving Dormont soon, last chance to come accept everyone's thanks in person, if you want... We're heading to Bambouche so uhh... hopefully we'll see you there if not.")

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("... It still doesn't feel real... leaving Dormont, being out of the loops... I can only imagine how it might feel for you... I miss you Loop...")

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("PLEASE JUST ANSWER ME!! I CAN'T DO THIS WITHOUT YOU!! I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!!!")

|"Sif, please hold on a second-!"|

("NO! YOU DON'T GET IT!! NO ONE GETS IT!! ONLY THEY DO!!! WHY WON'T THEY ANSWER ME?!?! I KNOW THEY'RE THERE!! WHY-")

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("I can't do this… I can't do this anymore Loop… I don't deserve them, I don't deserve any of this… You do. You should be here, not me… Please come home. Please take it all back… Please…" Stifled sobbing)

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(Deep breath "... I'm sorry Loop, it's been... a lot to deal with... I think I'm doing a bit better now... We met Nille finally, she's really nice, tough too, I think you'd like her." Chuckles "... If you don't want me to call you anymore, all you gotta do is say so, I'd understand, I promise...")

...

(Sigh "Thanks again for everything...")

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("Happy birthday Loop!... At least I think it's our birthday, can't know for sure, can we?... I hope it's a good one for you!")

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("Everyone helped me find a therapist, a really nice one too... Would you mind if I... told them... about you? 'Us'? They said it's all confidential, they wouldn't tell anyone else if I don't want them too... It would help me explain everything a bit more to them... I promise I won't tell anyone else, not without you...")

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("I TOLD THEM! I TOLD THEM AND I'M SORRY!!")

...

("... Is it bad that I kinda wanted you to scream at me for that?... at least I'd hear your voice again... They actually recommended that I write letters to you, as a little therapy exercise... I told them I was kinda already doing that, heh... They also said I should start being more true to my feelings and tell people what they mean to me so... I love you Loop... I really hope you're okay.")

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("They're throwing some big gala for the saviors back in Dormont soon. It's gonna be really weird going back there, but I think it might be good for us... You're invited too of course, we wouldn't have saved everyone without you after all! So we'll be back in Dormont in... 33 days, if you're still there or wanna meet up... I love you Loop.")

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("... I'm at the favor tree... I told myself no more wishes... I told myself it's a bad idea and would only bring more pain... b-but..." Heavy sobbing "I-I found a leaf... a-and it looks like you Loop... I just want to see you again... please stop me Loop... please... I-I...")

|"Siiiiiiiif? Siiiiiif, where'd you go?"|

("No... Not now... I need you! YOU PROMISED LOOP! YOU SUPER DUPER PROMISED!!! WHERE ARE YOU?!?!")

|"SIFFRIN?!"|

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("... Why didn't you do it Loop?... Why didn't you kill me?... You should have, you know... You deserve it all, not me... I... I love you Loop...")

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("...")

(Soft snoring)

("Mnffff..." Yaaawwwwn-)

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("Sorry... about the other night... I thought I was doing better but... My therapist warned me it's common to have a relapse now and then, especially so close to the source of trauma... I ruined everyone else's night, I'm sorry I had to ruin yours too... Thank you again Loop, I love you...")

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("Heh... I'm so pathetic Loop... I can't even see a shooting star now without crying... Thought you'd get a chuckle out of that at least... I love you Loop.")

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("Happy birthday Loop! Hehe~! Odile-" Hiccup "Odile bought some reaaally nice Ka Buan liquor, and IIIII'm drunk~!" Hiccup "Heh... Remember how you said you didn't know what you looked like? Well just between you and me... You were reaaaal pretty as a star~." Hiccup "Is it weird that I kinda wanted to kiss you~? Hah! I wonder if it'd tingle... Do you even have a mouth? Heh... I loooove you Loooooop~.")

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("... Stars I really hope you can't actually hear these...")

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(Sigh "Still thinking about you... I love you, Loop.")

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("Happy birthday Loop! So much has been changing around here, I don't know if you really wanna hear about it all, but life's been good! Still think about you a lot though... I'm in Jouvente now if you ever wanna stop by! Just look for the 'Savior's Style' shop and you'll find us! I love you, Loop!")

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("LOOP!?... Loop?... I thought I heard you, are you there?... Was it just a dream?...")

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("Happy birthday Loop. Sorry I haven't been calling more, but I'm sure you're sick of hearing from me anyways. Everyone says hi by the way! I haven't told them your secret, don't worry, but they got curious why I kept sneaking off for a little bit every year, so I told the truth, just a little ritual of mine to stay connected with you in some way... I love you, Loop!")

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("Okay, now!")

{|<=-"HEY LOOP!"-=>|}

("Hehe, everyone wanted to say hi themselves this year! Nille too! I love you, Loop! And happy birthday!")

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("Mmmm.. Happy birthday Loop... Long busy day, so had to sneak it in before bed..." Yaaaaawn "Good night, Loop. I love you...")

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("Happy birthday Loop! You know you're still more than welcome to come visit anytime, right? Just wanted to make sure you knew. I love you!")

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("Happy birthday Loop! I love you!")

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("Happy birthday Loop... I miss you... Love you...")

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("I love you Loop, hope you're having a good birthday.")

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("I hope you're not sick of this yet because you bet I'm gonna do it every year, only way to stop me is to come and make me~! So happy birthday Loop! I love you!")

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("I love you, Loop. Happy Birthday.")

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("Happy birthday Loop... I hope you're doing well, really. I love you, so much Loop.")

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("Happy Birthday Loop... I love you...")

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("... I miss you so blinding much Loop..." Shaky breaths "B-But I think I need to let you go... for both our sakes... I really hope you found the peace you were looking for... I love you, Loop... Happy Birthday...")

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...

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[...]

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...

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("Loop... It's Odile... She..." Choking up "She's not doing well... I-I don't think she has long left... I-I just thought you should know... I love you, Loop...")

[eriochromatic]

I love your Silco takes so I was wondering if you could share yours on Vander and the drowning incident because no matter what angle I look at, it doesn't make sense.

As far as I can tell from what we're shown, the riot was well under way before Silco threw that molotov, and it's confirmed that enforcers killed Felicia. Thing is, it's implicit that Felicia chose to participate in the riot because a.) Why else would she be there, and b.) She was down with Zaun being independent for HER KIDS. Also, anyone who participates in a riot, or even a peaceful protest, knows they're putting their life on the line. So while I understand reacting to loss with intense grief, it's not exactly a surprise? It's something you have to mentally prepare for when you take a stand against an oppressor?

But then, if you go the ideology route with Silco taking it too far and the riot was Silco's idea, that stunt on the bridge was most likely pre-planned, organized resistance. This means a sizable number in their community, including Felicia and Connol, supported it. Even if Vander had doubts, he went along with it. Otherwise, why does the show open with him beating an enforcer on the bridge? Vander had other options: he could have split the resistance group down the middle by sitting it out and/or trying to stop Silco, neither of which he did!

The letter highlights the loss of Felicia as Vander's triggering event, and Vander admits that there's blood on both their hands. To be honest, I kind of like this because it hints that Silco's violence was acceptable to Vander within the context of revolution, and he thought he could handle the sacrifices required. Ironically, when he couldn't handle it, HIS violence pushed Silco towards any-violence-necessary because you can't trust anyone ever anyway!

Anyway, I know this is the fault of flimsy writing in S2 and what feels like internal censorship with challenging political status quo during production, but two drowning attempts (which for Silco came out of nowhere), followed by expulsion from the Lanes (which he helped build), the guilt of Felicia's death, and the total loss of the friends and community he was fighting for ... I mean, at least Silco's villain era makes complete and total sense???

Ugh honestly I try not to think about the drowning incident or even make sense of it anymore because every time I do, it's just so obvious to me that the writers themselves had no idea what they're doing. Timelines are completely off, character motivations make no sense, so why is it up to me to untangle the mess they made?

I have a huge love hate relationship with season 2 because on one hand, I didn't expect as much Silco crumbs we got in the first place and I'm SO HAPPY we got to see him normally in episode 5 and thriving in episode 7. But the retcon… I was so pissed when Act 2 dropped because the whole bridge incident just stopped making sense like you said.

Then when Act 3 happened, it all clicked together, but not in the "ohhh the story makes sense now" way but in the "oh the writers needed to set up smth previously so this would work." and it completely took me out of it. Like. The writers wanted Vander and Silco to make up with each other. But they don't know how to do that. Let's add some underlying sentimentality between Vander and Silco and Vi's mom, then kill Vi off. That'll make them go back together (along with that STUPID LETTER Vander wrote). Sure that's a bandaid solution and on surface level it works, but I don't think the writers really thought we would think about Silco this much so the moment you peel back the layers nothing makes sense anymore. I think they could've crafted a way more interesting story if they ACTUALLY SAT DOWN AND TRIED to have Silco and Vander reconcile without using Felicia as a crutch, but season 2 has an overarching problem of "lets have all the important things happen offscreen and only imply that they happened" which is just… so lazy…. so I'm not surprised that this happened.

It just weakens so, so many parts of the story and raises way more questions than answer them. Why does Silco pull away and distance himself from Felicia's family? Surely Vi should know him from before? Does Silco only take in Powder because he knew she was Felicia's daughter? Why, WHY does Vander go like "there are worse things than enforcers out there" (implying Silco) in s1 while talking to Benzo????????? when he's apparently felt guilty this whole time ??????? what happened to "I've looked everywhere????" etc etc idk man. from s1 I always thought the bridge incident happened way, way earlier from Felicia dying bc Vi looked like she was about 7 years old during the bridge and around 14 during act one, but then if you see Silco during the s2 warwick flashback he looks like he's 25. maybe 30 at the maximum. aint no way he aged that much in 7 years, in act one he and Vander both feel like they're in their mid 40s idk.

This is lowkey why I kind of only want to draw young Silco.. I love old man yaoi but like. If everything I draw is just flashback version of him, I don't need to worry about logistics of the bridge thing bc it hasn't happened yet lmfao. Or the AU version where everything is solved and no one rlly thinks about that time anymore.

Honestly I've tried to write this response several times trying to spell out my version of the timeline but just. nothing makes any fucking sense. I don't like thinking about how badly the writers fucked up on this part. Silco magically gets an eye injury caused by Vander and they had yaoi divorce but it's fine now. That's just how it is for me and if I think about it even a little more in depth my head will explode and I have better things to do with my time like draw zaundads yaoi

[lenniexprime]

Rejection.

“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.”- C. S. Lewis

┍━━━━━»•» «•«━┑

tfa! optimus x teen! senior! reader.

rejection fucking sucks dude. I hate getting those rejection letters. I really do. But honestly, I can't help but appreciate and be thankful for the schools I've gotten into. However, something about this is grief is only letting me cope through writing it. Share it with me, yeah?

┕━»•» «•«━━━━━┙︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ - Not Edited

Look at you... A college-bound senior, getting ready to take on whatever comes your way.

You've made it thus far...what can stop you now? The challenges are getting good grades, staying on top of things, and doing well on every test. You stayed up most nights, studying or doing homework. You've skipped out on days at the base or to hang with the rest of your friends on days or weeks before tests.

You may have messed around years before, but this year, this is your senior year. No room for mistakes, no room for too much error.

You've impressed yourself and others with such determination to get good grades on everything.

If you were being honest with yourself, that really wasn't the hard part. The hard part was the fact that you had to apply to colleges, get the right documents in, and ask for recommendation letters.

The stress took and is still taking over the majority of your whole life.

If you didn't think the weekends were getting more like weekdays before, then you definitely are now. You could barely catch a break and if you ever did it was so hard to get back into the grind of things. As time went on, you found you had little interest in doing things you enjoyed before. You looked at your video games differently, you could barely stay entertained for a whole movie, and your homework wasn't getting any more interesting.

One day, you were sitting in base, telling Sari about the dangers that are ahead of her in the years coming, but when two bots came in just as you were talking about how you found no interest in things anymore, she couldn't stop but just stare back at you while staring at the bots behind her, working on something.

You honestly didn't care about talking in front of the bots about your problems though. You didn't think they'd care that much about the situation.

Sari couldn't get the look of worry off of her little face as she stared between you and the bots. You didn't care much about it until she got up and left as soon as Bumblebee came.

You sigh and lay back on the couch, looking to the side, hearing thumps behind you.

"We are no strangers to losing interest in what we may use to enjoy due to excessive stress, but that does not mean you can't try," Ratchet says crossing his arms. "It is always nice to have a hobby or something to distract you," Optimus chimes in, his deep voice making you finally look back. You sigh.

"Also we're here, it doesn't hurt to talk to others during times of struggle," He adds.

Ratchet then walks off, leaving Optimus and you behind.

"My communication issues suck, but not only that but it's hard for me to try to communicate my teenage feelings to a 8-year-old and alien robots who have little to no knowledge of what I could be going through in here," You point at your head.

"Yes, we may not know, but at least you know you have a support system," he says quietly. "You were talking to Sari earlier, yes?" he asks rhetorically.

You close your eyes, shaking your head, putting it down. "Yeah Optimus, thank you," you mumble. "It's just hard, plus not only do I have to stay on top of grades, but I'm really nervous about being accepted to these schools," you say, hands motioning how you feel.

You look up at him again. "I'm scared of getting rejected..denied..worse," I say mumbling again.

Optimus looked at you, living in his own stress and despair, it's not easy seeing such a young human like you stress like he does. Everyone has their own responsibilities, but it gets to a point. He doesn't want you to be scared of rejection, he wants you to accept it, to learn from it, to push you through it. He remembers how he was, getting kicked out of the academy, he felt rejected and denied. He was still trying to recover. He wants you to understand that it's okay to make mistakes, to make tough decisions, or to be okay with a school denying you. It didn't define who he was (partially) so it shouldn't defy you.

"I understand your fear, I was there once, I had the pain of being denied, of being rejected almost," He went on, sitting next to you. "You have to understand that rejection and failure make us stronger people," He finishes, looking at you. "Don't be afraid to be sad, but don't let it take over your whole life. It's one moment out of many successes you're yet to have." He smiles at you. You smile back, finding some peace in what he had spoken to you. Maybe he found peace in his own words too.