#canon angst
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regulusmoonbeam · 1 month ago
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not a single character in harry potter DIDNT grow up in war? what? none of them arent traumatized?
i mention this as a way for us all to remember the actions people made in those situations.
what comes to mind is when remus left his pregnant wife in a panic, and it was left to a moony issue
the thing with that though, is it clearly was not just a moony issue
all his friends are dead, all his classmates died in the war, and now hes bringing a child into it? its practically a death sentence.
remus grew up as a werewolf in one of the most dangerous and prejudiced times inthe wizarding world, there was an active war that could kill them all, and he was finding out he was going to be a father. like it or not, that version of remus was not ready for fatherhood. he had barely processed james and lilys deaths, found out about sirius, had to both reprocess his relationships and their deaths, then sirius' death, its far too much.
remus has been processing his own death since he was a young, scared, little boy who had been bitten. you cannot expect him to raise a child.
they all were traumatized. and somehow, it was still the halloween when they were twenty-two.
sometimes, remus could still remember loving sirius.
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rwrbficrecs · 1 year ago
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Can you recommend me some angst-y canon universe fics? TIA
Hello! There are some really heavy topics & situations discussed in these fics so please read the tags very carefully before proceeding! all that glitters (is not gold) by @indomitable-love God Save the Blessed American President Mom by @zipadeea I can't breathe, if you're not there by softcinnamonroll it's all me (just don't go) by weather_stained How wonderful life is (while you’re in the world) by mlvdybug let it all out by Fxckxxp sink beneath the waves by @indomitable-love Someday Soon I’ll See You (But Now You’re Out Of Sight) by MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays Someday We'll Know If Love Can Move a Mountain by @three-drink-amy Watch me Crash and Watch me Burn by Al_in_the_air (this one is incomplete) What Do I Know? by @three-drink-amy Huge thanks to my lovely new team of volunteers for collecting these ❤️ If you’d like to help out too, check out the Volunteers Page 🥰
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eydilily · 1 month ago
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i'll tell you what, its really cute
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hinamie · 4 months ago
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to moving forward
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk fanart#jujutsu kaisen fanart#jjk art#yuji itadori#gojo satoru#fushiguro megumi#nobara kugisaki#itadori yuuji#megumi fushiguro#jjk spoilers#satoru gojo#jjk manga spoilers#hina.comic#before any1 says anything i KNOw his birthday is in december ik ik ik this is just 2 show some post-battle bonding after the trauma#its winter in canon n megumi's birthday has passed and he spent it being piloted like a mech so they need to celebrate Now!!#also this was technically a request lmao anon wanted megumi birthday angst hehehehhe i hope u like it <3 bc it KILLED ME DEAD#im going to collapse remember when i said this wasnt harder than the hydrangeas im having second thoughts#page 8 made me want to bash my head in#could have stuck with one flashback image could have left them monochrome could have done literally anything 2 ease the workload#but noooo the chronic overachiever in me would not allow it#rule of threes i had to include all of them and they Had to be in colour it wouldn't have hit the same if i had kept it monochrome#i needed it to look how childhood memories look i needed it to look oversaturated and hazy and fond but unmistakably Gone#it may have killed me but im so proud of this rn like from an art style perspective these megumis and yuujis r top tier by my standards#personal favourites r the first and last panel of crying megumi like not 2 pat myself on th back but expression?????? hello??????#enjoy your cake megumi you've earned it <333 sorry fr hurting ur feelings it will happen again#oh my god i can sleep tonight bless <333 and i met my 3 day deadline NICE im so good at what i do
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meliorism-numinous · 4 months ago
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Moonlight
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If he ever manages to escape there will be nothing left for him to return to.
He is a dead man walking.
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taitavva · 24 days ago
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tired of running (tired of hunting. my own kind)
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rafecameronssl4t · 1 month ago
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What's ours || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
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Summary: canon fic based off this scene in s4 ep6!!!!
Warnings: angst!!!
Word count: 2, 458
A/n: HAD to write abt this scene
MASTERLIST
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divider by @h-aewo
"Rafey?" your voice rings out as you step out of the shared bedroom, the soft sound of your bare feet padding against the wooden floor. "'M out here on the porch," his voice calls back, low and calm, carrying just a hint of warmth. A smile spreads across your lips as you pick up your pace, excitement bubbling in your chest. Sliding the glass door, you step onto the porch, the late afternoon sunlight casting a golden glow across everything it touches.
There he is, lounging casually on the couch, his polo clinging to his broad shoulders and biceps in a way that makes your stomach flutter. "Hey, baby," Rafe greets, his smile wide and genuine, the kind that always has a way of making you feel like the most important person in the room. "Hey," you murmur, your eyes locking with his. You pause for a moment, giving him the chance to drink in the sight of you.
With a playful glint in your eye, you do a small twirl, letting the flow of your new dress spin out around you, the fabric catching the evening light. You watch Rafe’s reaction carefully, feeling a thrill at how his gaze moves down your figure. "What do you think?" You ask, the words soft but full of a quiet confidence. "It looks good," Rafe says after a beat, his eyes lingering on you for a fraction longer than you expect.
There’s a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his lips, and when he leans back against the cushions of the couch, his eyes never leave you. "You look good," he adds, his voice deeper now, like the words are heavy with more than just praise. You beam at his words, crossing the porch to close the distance between you. "Where you going lookin’ all pretty?" he teases, spreading his legs slightly as he pats his thighs, his grin turning sly.
The gesture is an open invitation, and you happily accept, settling onto his lap. Your arm slides naturally around his shoulders, and his hands find their place on your knee, the warmth of his touch grounding you. "Just shopping with the girls," you explain, playing with the collar of his shirt absentmindedly. "There's this new boutique that just opened up—" You’re cut off by the sound of the front door creaking open and a hesitant voice calling out, "Hello?"
Your brows furrow as you glance at Rafe. "Were you expecting someone?" you ask, your voice laced with curiosity. Rafe exhales a sharp breath, "Yeah," he admits nonchalantly. "Sarah." Your surprise is instant, and your voice reflects it. "Sarah? She agreed to meet up with you?" He chuckles, the sound warm and a little cynical. "Yeah, well… desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess." Before you can process his words, Sarah’s footsteps sound on the porch, slow but deliberate.
Your eyes shift to the doorway, and soon enough, her figure appears. She glances at you briefly as you move to sit beside Rafe, her gaze cool but not unfriendly, before turning her attention to Rafe. "Hey," he greets her with exaggerated enthusiasm, clapping his hands together with theatrical flair. "Thanks for showing up. Good work." Sarah doesn’t miss a beat, rolling her eyes as if she’s heard this act too many times. "Please, stop," she says flatly.
Rafe grins even wider, running a hand through his buzzed hair, clearly enjoying the reaction. You shift slightly, about to stand to give them space, but Rafe’s hand tightens gently on your waist, silently urging you to stay. "I don’t want to argue, Rafe," Sarah sighs, crossing her arms as she looks at him. Her tone is exasperated, but there’s something softer beneath it. "We already have enough people against us."
An awkward silence settles over the porch, the only sound being the occasional chirping of birds in the trees. The air grows heavy with the weight of unspoken things, a tension that seems to hum between them. You clear your throat, trying to ease the tension. "Can I get you something to drink? Iced tea, maybe?" you offer, your voice polite, even as your eyes flicker between Sarah and Rafe, sensing the undercurrent of frustration.
Sarah’s eyes meet yours, her gaze flicking over the space with an almost detached interest before she shakes her head. "No, thanks. I don’t plan on staying long." You nod, the smile on your lips soft but understanding. There’s something about the way she holds herself—tired, wary—that makes you feel a strange sense of empathy. It’s clear she’s not here for pleasantries.
"Kiara mentioned…" Sarah starts, her voice uncertain as she scans the porch, her eyes flitting from the furniture to the surroundings, clearly uncomfortable. "That you might be able to help." She directs the latter half of her sentence at Rafe, her gaze lingering on him, but there’s a hesitation in her tone, a quiet pleading buried beneath the words. Rafe pulls at the sleeve of his polo, his fingers tugging at the fabric.
He doesn’t look up immediately but instead turns his attention to the ground in front of him, gathering his thoughts. "Uh, no. No, not with the land stuff. You guys are on your own with that," he responds firmly, his gaze briefly flicking up to meet Sarah's. There's an almost apologetic edge to his words, but it's clear that he's drawing a hard line in the sand. Sarah’s expression falls, disappointment flashing across her face, her shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of unspoken words is pulling her down.
"Right," she mutters softly, the edge of frustration in her voice barely concealed. She pauses, taking a breath before looking back at Rafe. "Sorry," Rafe adds, his voice quieter, almost regretful, but the frustration is still evident. "But…" He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the papers scattered across the table before him, the flicker of something heavier passing through his eyes.
"But there's… there's something else I wanted to talk to you about," he says, his tone shifting. It’s not just business now—there’s a vulnerability that creeps in, something raw beneath the surface. You watch him, your eyes tracing the subtle movements of his hand as he runs his fingers across his lips, trying to gather the right words. You stay silent, your own gaze fixed on his profile, your heart picking up pace as you sense the shift in the air.
This is no longer just a casual conversation—it feels more like a breaking point, something much deeper. "So when…" Rafe starts, his voice faltering slightly, the words coming out with an almost painful deliberation. He takes a moment, his eyes lingering on the papers again, then he looks down at your left hand resting on his shoulder, his gaze momentarily softening when it lands on the ring you wear—the one his mother gave him.
"Dad died," he finally says, the words coming out like a slow exhale, as if speaking them is harder than he’d like to admit. You feel the change in his tone immediately, the sadness in his voice gripping you, and you instinctively start rubbing gentle circles on his shoulder with your thumb, your mind connecting the dots, knowing how touchy the subject of Ward’s death always is for Rafe.
"...the first time," Rafe adds, his voice quiet, as though even acknowledging that death was not the final one is too painful to process fully. "um, he said I got a quarter of what he had," Rafe continues, his voice distant now, lost in the past as he leans forward, flicking through the papers with a focus that feels almost obsessive. "Yeah, he said I got a quarter too," Sarah chimes in, nodding slowly.
There’s something tired in her voice, a recognition of the weight of their father’s legacy that neither of them ever truly asked for. "But you didn’t get it, did you?" Rafe’s words are sharp, his gaze intense as it locks onto Sarah. There’s a challenge in his eyes, a quiet demand for the truth. Sarah hesitates for a moment, the silence stretching longer than it should. You can see her thinking, weighing her words carefully before answering.
"No," Sarah says finally, her voice quiet but firm. "Yeah, well, good luck trying to get that from Rose's greedy paws," Rafe scoffs, the bitterness dripping from his words. "She's got that money locked down tight." Sarah’s brows knit together, "well, I keep trying to call," she retorts, her tone sharp. "She won’t even let me talk to Wheezie." She crosses her arms, her gaze flickering away as if saying it out loud makes the situation even more real.
Rafe leans forward, his elbows digging into his knees as his expression hardens. "Yes, yes, that’s what I’m saying," he says, his voice rising slightly. He locks eyes with Sarah, a fiery determination in his blue gaze. "We’re a family, and I’m not—" He cuts himself off, inhaling deeply as he shakes his head. "I’m not even allowed to talk to my own sister? That’s not fair, Sarah. You know that."
Sarah’s jaw tightens, and she slowly nods, her lips pressed together as she looks down. "And then Rose," Rafe continues, his arm gesturing wide as his frustration boils over. "She just gets to keep all that gold for herself? What gives her the right? That’s not what Dad intended." His fist slams into the wooden coffee table with a resounding thud, causing Sarah to flinch in her seat. The tension spikes in the air, and you instinctively place your hand on his shoulder, your touch firm yet gentle, hoping to ground him.
"That’s not what Dad wanted," Rafe repeats, his voice cracking slightly as he pounds the table again. Sarah visibly recoils this time, her discomfort palpable. "And it pisses me off!" Rafe’s voice rises, his anger spilling out unchecked. But before his hand can connect with the table a third time, you reach forward and grab it, your fingers curling around his. "Rafe," you say softly, your voice calm but firm. His eyes dart to you, and for a moment, the fire in them dims.
He exhales sharply, leaning back slightly as he glances at Sarah, who keeps her gaze down, avoiding his. "That’s our money, okay?" Rafe insists, his tone quieter but still edged with frustration. Sarah lets out a shaky exhale, her hands fidgeting in her lap as Rafe sighs heavily, running a hand over his buzzed hair. The silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable, until you place your palm on Rafe’s thigh, your thumb brushing soothingly against the fabric of his shorts.
He glances at you, and you offer him a small, reassuring smile. He manages a faint one in return before looking back at Sarah. "I don’t know about you, but I really—I need that money," Rafe admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability. Sarah’s gaze snaps to him, her expression hardening. "And what about the gold cross you stole?" she counters, her tone sharp and accusatory.
"It was gold-plated," Rafe shoots back with a shrug, rubbing his eyes as if the conversation is draining him. "It was a good score. It’s not endless. It’s not like the Merchant gold, so..." His voice trails off, exhaustion creeping in. "I’m so sorry to hear that," Sarah says, her words laced with sarcasm. Rafe exhales through his nose, standing abruptly, "I don't know. I was just thinking, um." Both you and Sarah track his movements as he walks to the porch railing, gripping it tightly before turning to face her.
"You know, you and me," he starts, gesturing between them, "we try to get Wheezie back." Sarah’s eyes narrow in disbelief. "How?" she asks, her voice flat, as if she’s waiting for him to say something ridiculous. "I don’t know, but..." Rafe admits, pacing back to the table. He moves the glass in front of him before perching on the edge, leaning closer to Sarah. His proximity makes her shift uncomfortably, but she doesn’t move away.
"And then we try to get the money back," Rafe continues, his voice steady and resolute. You can see the determination etched into his features, the way his jaw sets and his eyes gleam with a fervour you know all too well. He pauses, his gaze fixed on Sarah. "Which is why we need to work together," he says, his tone almost pleading now. "Just like Dad taught us. We align our interests." Sarah’s lips press into a thin line, her eyes fixed on the table as Rafe quietly watches.
"I just thought, you and me," Rafe begins again, his voice softer. "We can get back what’s ours." There’s a beat of silence, the weight of his words hanging between them. Sarah bites her lip, her gaze darting to Rafe, then away again. "Look, I’m trying here—" Rafe says, but Sarah cuts him off, rising to her feet abruptly. "No," she says firmly, shaking her head. "I’m sorry."
She turns and strides off the deck, the sound of the front door slamming shut echoing behind her. You stand, moving to where Rafe is still perched on the table, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. Your hands find his shoulders, squeezing gently as he lets out a frustrated groan. "Can’t she see that I’m trying?" he mutters, his voice laced with annoyance. "Like seriously—" "Shh," you murmur, your thumbs massaging the tense muscles in his shoulders.
"I know, baby. I know you’re trying." You move to stand in front of him, slotting yourself between his legs as he rests his forehead against your stomach. Your manicured fingers run through his buzzed hair, the rhythmic motion calming him as he exhales deeply. "When will she realise that we’re on her side here?" he whispers, his voice tinged with despair.
"You just have to give her time," you reply softly, your fingers stilling for a moment. "She wants to trust you, but she can’t just yet, Rafe." He tilts his head to look up at you, his blue eyes glassy. "I’ve already lost Dad," he says quietly, his voice cracking. "I don’t want to lose her—I don’t want our family to fall apart." Your heart clenches at the raw vulnerability in his tone. You cradle his face gently, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as you hold his gaze.
"Listen to me, Rafe," you say, your voice steady and full of conviction. "You won’t lose Sarah, and your family won’t fall apart." His lips press into a thin line, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. "How can you be so sure?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just know," you reply softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "Because I believe in you."
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technically-human · 5 months ago
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St. Hilarion's ghost story
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bluegiragi · 10 months ago
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human.
early access + nsfw on patreon
more backstory that i wrote up for patreon heh:
Simon and Tommy had a complicated relationship as brothers. 
At a young age, Simon basically wrote himself off as a lost cause, and did the best he could to make sure at least Tommy had a chance to be a functioning human being. After all, Tommy was the gentler brother, the dreamer, the one who looked like their mother (who'd walked out on them years ago to escape their father). But Tommy got bitter, got sick of the one always being protected, being babied. He lost respect for Simon, for the way he wouldn't fight back, and in a twisted way, grew closer to his father as a way to learn how to be powerful, strong. It backfired, and Tommy got wrapped up in some bad business.
Simon's kid brother died while he was deployed. He got the news in the letter, and it broke him in a big way. In the story timeline, it was years and years ago but it still hurts like hell whenever Simon thinks about him. 
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undertalethingems · 4 months ago
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How do you think Sans reacts to Papyrus’s death during the runs?
If you mean in the base game, uh... we kinda already know? If Papyrus is killed, Sans doesn't show up again until the final corridor, where he'll ask "if you have some sort of special power, isn't it your responsibility to do the right thing?"
If you answer yes (that you do have that responsibility), then he responds, without eyelights or sound font, "Then why'd you kill my brother?"
And if you answer no (you aren't responsible), you get "well, that's your viewpoint. i won't judge you for it.... You dirty brother killer."
There's also the line of description you get if you go on to have a concert with Shyren after killing Papyrus: "A hooded figure watches the commotion from afar." It replaces the line that mentions Sans selling toilet paper tickets to your concert, and of course, of all the characters with hoods in the game, he's the one who would be most concerned with tracking your actions after killing Papyrus. So, it makes the most sense to infer that this hooded figure is Sans.
So his reactions, to me at least, suggest that not only is he heartbroken, he's furious with you. But Sans isn't one for direct confrontations and shouting like Undyne is, so he watches, and I think he still tries to understand why you'd do something so horrible. But that doesn't stop him from being angry because there's no excuse for killing his brother, but sparing other monsters, that he can fathom.
I'm personally not a fan of depictions of Sans sobbing over Papyrus' dusty scarf--he just doesn't strike me as a guy whose first reaction is to cry. For my understanding of him, it makes more sense for him to go numb, initially, then save his anger for his parting shot in the last corridor. No matter what you answer, Sans gets the last word in, and it's always to remind you that you did not have to kill his brother.
So uh, yeah. that's what I think.
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kaysdenofchaos · 5 months ago
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cough so i read that future rise comic
and thinking back on the battle scars au, i always wanted it to be canon compliant with just some adjustments and well
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haha ill go see myself out now
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tsuutarr · 5 months ago
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Pairing: Tokyo Debunker Ghouls x Reader
Word count: 12K
Content: angst, pining, loss
Summary:
Your potential death due to your curse was no secret, yet there was still a promise of time – time for you (and those who’re willing to help you) to find a cure, a solution to your plight. 
No one expected your death to come so suddenly.
(Or, a look into how the Darkwick Academy ghouls may react to your passing)
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You’re no stranger to tragedy, but your death still comes as a surprise to you. Perhaps you should’ve expected it, what with your luck continuing its downward spiral to misfortune. Maybe you should’ve expected someone who despised you to take matters into their own hands, deciding to rid this world of your existence before you became a disastrous anomaly – before you even had a chance to fight your fate.
Regret upon regret builds a castle inside your bleeding body. Apologies, confessions – all of them slowly die in your throat.
You should’ve expected it all.
But you didn’t.
So now you lay, your blood a perfect canvas to frame your loss of life.
Your sage’s ring glows dimly on your finger.
.
.
.
“The Honor Student has passed away,” the Masterpiece Newscasters proclaim, their monotone voice ringing clearly throughout Darkwick Academy. “The culprit is yet to be found. All residents are forbidden to leave the premises until the criminal is found.”
As the Masterpiece Newscasters continue to prattle on about the false information of the Honor Student’s – your – passing, Yuri can feel a headache erupt from behind his eyelids. He’s already slept less than the recommended amount today, he doesn’t need this added stress! There’s no way you’re gone, it’s just not possible. You so bravely faced that immortal anomaly after all, so how could you be dead?
Yuri Isami is only heading to your place of residence to put these bizarre rumors to a rest.
Even when he sees your crumpled body on the floor, Yuri doesn’t believe it – you must have chosen to sleep oddly!
Even when he feels the coldness of your skin, he doesn’t believe it – you just need a blanket!
Even when he doesn’t hear your heartbeat, he doesn’t believe it – you must be acting!
No, no, he has to be realistic. You’re definitely sick. He has to help you. He has to save you! He can save you! He’s the greatest doctor, after all! He can think of so many ways to save you. He can, if you just enhance his stigma, so why don’t you do it? Yuri clutches your hand in his, hands trembling.
“Why won’t you enhance my stigma, worm?” he mumbles. “You can do at least this much, can’t you? You have the opportunity to help the great Yuri Isami! It’s an honor!”
“Yes, it’s an honor to help you,” you had said, laughing. Yuri could be quite particular about laughs, but he didn’t mind yours because there wasn’t anything patronizing about it. “You’re amazing, Yuri.”
“Hmph, well, it’s good that you know your place,” he had responded haughtily. He wishes he could’ve told you how grateful he was that you believed in him. That you were interested in him and his research. That you cared for him.
Yuri’s grip on your hand gets firmer, the coldness of your skin seeping into his. He looks at your eyes, thinking of the way your eyes would light up when he would showcase his scientific discoveries.
He looks at your lips, remembering how you’d smile so grandly at him whenever you two would talk. He remembers how you’d learn what song he was humming just to hum with him.
He looks at your hand, recalling the warmth and strength he felt when he first held it. The way your hand shook due to your own fear remains engraved in his brain – the way that you supported him despite looking like you’d fall. You’ve been able to stand so long, haven’t you? You can’t be gone now.
“Jiro!” he calls, voice cracking. This surgery needs to be a success. He can’t – he won’t – hand you over to another researcher. “Bring the Honor Student to Mortkranken! They need treatment immediately!”
At Yuri’s call, Jiro immediately reaches for you, cradling you in his arms as he lifts you up. He’s never really been one to be gentle, especially in regards to corpses. As long as the corpse is intact, is there any reason to be “gentle”? Jiro doesn’t really think so. But, even so, Jiro can’t bring himself to manhandle you, tossing you around like he would anyone else.
As soon as he saw you on the floor, he wanted to gather you in his arms and carry you back to bed. He wanted to open up his suitcase and conduct your weekly health checkup. He wanted to ensure that you weren’t dead.
Unfortunately, Jiro is cursed with objectivity and he knows – knows – that there’s no way you’re still alive. He also knows that there’s no way to bring you back. Maybe if they had found you faster. Maybe if you were a ghoul. Maybe, maybe, maybe…
But it’s too late now, isn’t it?
He thinks about how you reacted whenever you saw blood and gore. He thinks about how much you fret over him and his injuries, even though he reassures you constantly. He thinks about the warmth of your palms.
He thinks about the ridiculous care you put into everyone.
“What’s this packet? I can’t eat solids,” Jiro had stated bluntly when you passed him a box. It was pink and cutesy, decorated with ribbons.
“It’s not a solid,” you said, grinning cheekily. “Look inside!”
Jiro looked at you blankly, but still did as you instructed. Yuri was strange, but you could be quite strange, too. “...Oh.”
“It’s chocolate milk! It should hopefully be easier to eat,” you beam at him. “Happy Valentine's Day, Jiro!”
Jiro cradles you closer to his chest, like you’re made of glass. You’re so cold, your skin feeling like his. He never thought that someone who was as warm-hearted as you could ever feel so desolate. “...I told you it’d be a problem for me if you died,” he murmured, softly, as he quietly trailed behind Yuri to head to Mortkraken.
When Rui hears the news of your passing, he’s pretty sure the world just stopped moving around him. He has to hear the news several more times to really come to terms with it. It’s unfair, he thinks, it’s so unfair.
You were fighting so hard. You were working so hard.
How could that come crashing down so suddenly?
It’s not fair. You of all people should’ve been able to live a long life. You of all people should’ve been able to be happy. 
He tried so hard to stay away from you, to prevent him from accidentally killing you with his curse. You tried so hard to bring him comfort, despite the looming danger of his power. He’s flirted with plenty of people, but you’re the only person he’s ever thought he’d actually love to spend forever with. He cursed himself for those thoughts, knowing that longing for something that can’t be will only hurt him more. But there isn’t an easy end to longing.
“Sometimes, I wish I could’ve met you as a regular guy,” Rui had confided in you, one day, as the two of you sat in his bar. He swirled his wine, his cheeks slightly ruddy from the alcohol. “I guess you wouldn’t have given me the time of day if we had, though.” His laugh left his lips, hollowly bouncing around his glass as he took another sip.
“You’re drunk, Rui,” you had said, though your tone didn’t hold any malice. “...But sometimes, I wish I could’ve met you before our curses, too.”
This is why he couldn’t get over you, no matter how much he tried. This is why he couldn’t distance himself from you, no matter how much he tried. You drew him in closer and closer like a trap, and he was more than okay with being ensnared, even if he was scared of being hurt.
“Chuu!”
Rui blinked, surprised, as a cute teddy bear smooches him on the cheek.
“Sorry, you seemed distracted,” you hummed, making Rui laugh.
“Ah, yeah– yeah! Sorry about that,” he responded, “I def wasn’t trying to be.”
“I know,” you replied. “But you got to pay attention now, okay? I want you to meet someone!” You waved the teddy bear’s paw. “This is Honor Student Teddy!” Through your puppeteering, Honor Student Teddy offered Rui a hand, which Rui took with an amused look.
“You’re so cute.”
“Beep! Incorrect! The one that’s cute is Honor Student Teddy!” you said, looking away bashfully. Cute. “...So, I was thinking. Since we can’t touch, maybe we could use Honor Student Teddy as my replacement?” You grabbed Honor Student Teddy’s other hand, the one not in Rui’s grasp. “See? Doesn’t it kind of seem like we’re holding hands?”
Honor Student Teddy remains in Rui’s room, pampered and loved as it should be. As you should’ve been. A dry laugh escapes Rui. 
“...Maybe this time, we can really hold hands.”
Blearily, Lyca opens his eyes, the sound of his phone buzzing waking him up. He sees that the message is from the blonde gigolo, which initially makes him annoyed. But Lyca has good instincts – his gut feeling is telling him to pay attention. So, instead of ignoring Rui, Lyca sleepily reads Rui’s texts.
His sleep soon evaporates from his being.
“It’s a lie!” he yells, jumping out of his bed and running to his bedroom’s door. There’s no way you’re gone. There’s no way he’ll never be able to smell your sweet scent ever again. There’s no way you won’t lay down with him and gently thread your fingers through his hair. There’s no way you won’t be able to draw together again. There’s just no way. There’s no way!
But even if Lyca wants to burst out of his bedroom, following your scent to find you, he can’t open the door. He can’t open the door to confirm if you’re really gone. He doesn’t want to go downstairs to see that you’re not waiting for him. He doesn’t want to go to the balcony where you’ll no longer be able to eat with him.
Lyca doesn’t want to lose you. Opening the door to the bedroom feels like he’ll lose you. Carefully, he goes back to his bed, where the blanket from Neros and the blanket from you lay side by side.
“Lyca!” you beammed, making Lyca tilt his head. You had a sweeter scent than usual today. Something that indicated that you were quite happy.
“What’re you so egg-cited about?”
“Heh.” You gave him a big grin. It was something he’d come to like seeing, especially since so many on campus gave him a grimace. “Ta-dah!” With a flourish, you presented Lyca with a soft blanket. “I got you a gift!”
Lyca frowned, looking at the blanket in confusion. “I already got one.”
“Yeah, I know,” you responded, not at all discouraged by the bite in Lyca’s tone. “It’s an extra one! I thought it’d be nice if you could have some more blankets. You can be twice as warm and cozy now!” There was a hint of hesitation as you say your next words, “I can take it back, though. Sorry, I guess I got ahead of myself.”
“...S’okay.” Lyca took the blanket from you, feeling cozier as soon as he touched the soft fabric. It smelt like you. He liked how you smelled – in some ways, it reminded him of home.
Lyca looks at the blanket on his bed, the one that you got him. He grabs it, softly, in his palms. He remembers your encouragement when he had told you that he’d work hard so that he could live with humans. You said he could do it and when you said it, he really did feel like he could. So, you can’t be gone yet. He needs you.
With a deep inhale, Lyca snuggles the blanket that smells like you because maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to chase you and tell you not to leave him if he memorizes your scent.
Rui’s message about your death comes as a surprise to Ed even though he knows that human lives are fleeting – they’re fragile and easily broken. In some ways, that is why Ed has always thought that human life is so beautiful. 
Still, he thinks your life would’ve been so much more beautiful if you had lived it to its full extent. If you could’ve continued to laugh like you had, if you could’ve continued to shine bright like you had – he thinks you’d have made the world a better place. 
He’s lived for many years, yet the loss of someone he considers dear somehow still stings. He thought he managed to rid himself of such stinging emotions, yet it appears that even age does not make you immune to loss. 
Or perhaps you're just one of those humans – one of those humans that make a lasting impact on those around them. But how could you not make an impact? After all, you were so hardworking, both for your sake and for others. 
Who wouldn’t find you precious?
“Okay, Ed! Let’s watch some sad movies!”
Ed had texted you a few minutes ago, bemoaning his exhaustion. He hadn’t expected you to barrel into his room, a bag of snacks in your hand.
“My, my. What brought this on? Not that I am opposed, of course.”
“Well, you said you were tired, right? And you also said you drink tears, right? Well, I brought over some movies I’ll definitely cry to!” you gave him a confident grin. “Don’t worry, Ed. You’ll feel better really soon!”
“How reassuring,” he mused, welcoming you into his messy room. Rui had cleaned it up a few days ago, but Ed found it quite difficult to maintain cleanliness. You didn’t comment on it as you made your way over to him, settling yourself by his side. It was quite cozy.
Laying in his bed isn’t quite as cozy if you’re not there, he realizes. He scrolls through the videos you’ve sent him, imagining how you reacted to these videos. It is reassuring in some ways to have remnants of you left behind, but the pain that he can now only reach you through the remnants of your memory leaves him feeling vacant.
“Being with you really does bring up old, old memories,” he muses. “Perhaps it’s because you remind me a little of her.”
He wonders if there’ll be anyone who reminds him of you.
Not everyone who dies becomes a ghost. Yet, deep inside, Zenji had hoped that you’d have turned into one like him. He had hoped that you’d be able to spend time together, finally being able to hold your hand in his. However, he knows that it’s a selfish desire, one that cannot come true. He scoured the entire campus for any sign of your soul, after all, and came up empty handed.
He wishes that you could’ve been alive instead, then.
He’d rather live by your side, unable to touch you, than not be able to see you at all.
He’d rather you live your life like you want to, happily.
He wishes he could’ve done something more for you – after all, you’ve done so much for him. He’s a ghost, someone that most don’t know the existence of. Yet you made sure to greet him and spend time with him whenever you had time. You’ve been a source of his inspiration, his muse, because of how much you make his heart swell with joy.
He is an artist, so creating is in his blood. However, how do you create when you lose a piece of your hope? How do you create when you lose your source of inspiration?
“My dear, what do you think about this piece?” Zenji had asked, flourishing his biwa with grandeur. 
“It’s great!” you said, earnestly. “I especially like how it felt like a full narrative – I got so tense when the biwa’s sound got deeper in the middle, just like the climax of a story!”
“Astute observation, my dear! That is indeed what I was aiming for.” Zenji couldn’t express the unexplainable joy that blossomed inside his heart when he heard your praise. You were a beacon of light that shined in the desolate lands. You were the purple wisteria that danced from the tree branches over the Hotarubi lake. Your beauty, your kindness – it was all so beautiful to him. He felt like the moon to your sun. “I really am the luckiest fella around.”
And now, he’s the unluckiest fella around, Zenji thinks. You’re no longer by his side. You’ll never be by his side, at least, not in this lifetime. The thought makes Zenji’s heart throb painfully. “Maybe we really did meet too late,” Zenji murmurs, watching wisteria petals float around the lake. “But it’s all right. I promise I’ll find you in the next life.”
 Haku can’t say he’s ever been too happy to be able to see ghosts. Sure, Zenji’s fun to be around and it’s not like his ability really harmed him in any way, but he can’t really think of many times he’s been glad to have his ability. When he hears of your death, denial is the first thing that settles in his brain. Then, the grief follows. But hope blossoms in a corner of his mind. He can see ghosts – maybe he’ll be able to see you? Hope glimmers in the corner of Haku’s heart as he tries to find you.
The glimmer soon dies out, however, because it’s all for naught. Not everyone becomes a ghost. It was foolish of him to think that you’d have become one.
But then what’s the point of his power – his stupid ability to see ghosts? What’s the point of it if he can’t even see the one he wants to see?
Haku feels like it’s all a big practical joke from the universe, and he wants to be in on it because he’s failing to see what’s so funny.
Living an ordinary life, dying an ordinary death – that’s something you deserved to experience, and now you’re gone. It’s an inexplicably painful feeling that stabs at his heart. How is he supposed to fill the hole you left behind?
“I don’t know if this is a good idea…” you murmured, looking shy.
“You look beautiful,” Haku said, easily, a teasing grin on his face at how flustered you looked. His words were far from teasing, though. They were filled with an earnest praise of how gorgeous you looked decorated in white. Just seeing you in wedding attire made him think that it’d be a shame if anyone else got to see how beautiful you looked, but also a shame if no one else got to see. A weird balance of wanting to show you off, yet wanting to keep you to himself lingered inside him.
“Sure, sure,” you grumbled without any bite. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Thanks for agreeing to help, by the way,” Haku said, offering you his hand to take. You took it gratefully, before you shook your head with a laugh.
“It’s nothing. I’m glad I can help your junior in some way, though.”
“Yeah, she really appreciates your help.”
“Good.” The satisfaction on your face made you glow with a sort of shine one could only find in gold. It was precious, it was soft, it was so darling that Haku wanted to make sure that you continued to glow and shine forever. Even if it meant that you weren’t by his side (even though he so desperately wanted you by his side).
“...I know I’m being selfish – but sometimes, I wish you’d forget about me…” he murmured, low enough that he hoped you wouldn’t hear it. You gave him a glance, only squeezing his hand in response. He wasn’t sure how to interpret your reaction, but a part of him wants it to indicate that you wouldn’t ever forget him, even if forgetting him would most likely make you happier.
It’s hard to balance the desire of being remembered and the desire of being forgotten.
He wasn’t sure what he was feeling.
“But I guess that doesn’t really matter now, does it?” Haku muses, looking at the skies above. Stars sprinkle the navy-colored sky like diamonds. He can only hope you’re out there, shining.
From the age of four, Subaru was molded to perfect the performing arts. A child star, a prodigy – those are the titles given to him. He never feels like he deserves that praise – he’s not sure if he’ll ever feel like he deserves that praise. After all, growing up, anxiety was his most reliable companion, following him everywhere he went. How can he not doubt himself?
Yet while he breathed the performing arts, he’s developed mannerisms most around him find peculiar and odd. It’s hard not to think of himself as a bother when he can’t seem to blend into society as well as he’d like.
Because of his oddities, he never thought he’d ever be able to have a normal school life. Somehow, however, he's able to come to Darkwick Academy, experiencing pleasant social interactions due to the kindness of the people around him – people like yourself. You’re someone who Subaru can find a semblance of comfort in, despite his anxiety.
He knows he’s probably annoying you, but you’re always there, always so patient. You don’t make fun of him for his discomfort, nor do you push him beyond his boundaries. Instead, you patiently wait for him, allowing him to walk alongside you at his pace.
So when Subaru hears the news that you’re no longer with the living – no longer with him, he can't stop his mind from spinning. You’ve always been someone that waited for him patiently, yet now you’ve gone off by yourself to somewhere he can’t reach.
Emptily, he looks at the sakura mochi on the shelf – he had bought it for you. You’d eat his meager offerings with gusto, even if not all of them suited your palette.
He’s not sure how he’ll stomach some of the food he’s eaten with you from this point onwards. You’re not here physically, only your memories lingering in the ingredients of his meals. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the food you’ve made for him if someone else makes it, either.
“I’m sorry,” he had said, running up to you, out of breath.“I didn’t mean to be late.”
“You’re not!” you responded cheerily, patting the spot next to you. “Come, sit!”
“Thank you.” Gingerly, Subaru took the spot next to you, placing his hands on his lap. You peered at him curiously.
“Where’s your lunch, Subaru?”
“Ah.” Subaru ducked his head in embarrassment. “I ended up not being able to get anything.” Despite making you wait, despite his best efforts, he just wasn’t able to secure anything. How shameful. “But it’s all right. I can drink water for lunch.”
“No, don’t do that,” you chastised, lightly. “I actually packed my own lunch today because I thought it’d be busy everywhere. I packed a lot, so why don’t we share?”
“Ah–” Subaru looked at the delectable way your lunch box was crafted. “No, I’d hate to intrude.”
“You aren’t intruding, Subaru.” You nudged one of your lunchboxes into his hand along with some chopsticks. “I’m offering! I’m actually pretty happy with how some of these came out. Won’t you try some?”
At the delicious smell of your lunchbox, Subaru’s stomach let out an embarrassing growl. His face flushed, mortified, but you made no comment on it, instead offering your lunch again. “Well, if you insist,” he murmured, finally taking a box from you. 
Once he took you up on your offer, you dug into your own lunch. Though, Subaru couldn’t help but notice how you’d glance at him nervously. It was kind of cute.
Not wanting to waste your kindness, Subaru took a bite of the lunch, before his eyes widened with glee. “This is delicious!”
“Whew– I mean, great! I’m so glad,” you beamed. “If you tell me some of your favorite food, I can try to make it for you! I can’t guarantee it’ll be as good as Sho’s, but I can try!”
“I couldn’t ask you to,” Subaru responded, bashfully. The thought that you cared for him was enough to satisfy him. “I would hate to be a bother.”
“You’re never a bother, Subaru.” Your voice was so kind, so soft and genuine that Subaru didn’t really know how to react.
“Really?” Disbelief laced his voice. He hated being a bother but always felt like he was. He knew that you were already spending your precious lunch with him when you could spend it with anyone else. There wasn’t any way you’d care about him to that extent, right? 
“Subaru?” you asked, concerned.
“I just can’t believe it – why…” Subaru paused, suddenly hit with a bout of embarrassment. “Ah– I don’t want to seem like I’m testing you, I just… I get really anxious sometimes… I’m sorry. I’m being weird, aren’t I?”
“You’re not.” Your voice rang clear inside the storm in Subaru’s head, letting sunshine stream through the clouds. “I’ve never thought you were a bother. I actually really enjoy my lunches with you.”
“Really?”
“Yup! So if I’m not too much of a bother, let’s eat more lunches together!”
Subaru had promised, promised that he would. He promised that you’d always eat your lunches together because that’s what he sincerely believed. He believed that you two would be able to bask underneath the sunrays, seated on your favorite bench, laughing.
He wants to believe that you’ll still be able to eat together. He wants to believe so desperately. Because who else could bring him the comfort you did? Who else will patiently wait for him to catch up, gently guiding him when he needs it?
But now you’re gone – you’re gone. You won’t be able to come back. It tears at Subaru because his anxiety and inferiority complex tell him that it’s his fault – that he could’ve done something, anything, to save you. 
Why couldn’t he save you?
Why couldn’t you have been saved?
The room that Subaru is in feels too big for him as it slowly fills with his grief.
According to Article 230 in the Japanese penal code, “a person who defames another by publicly alleging facts shall, regardless of whether such facts are true or false, be punished with penal servitude or imprisonment not to exceed three years or a fine of not more than 500,000 yen.” Doesn’t Darkwick know that? Why would Darkwick allege such odd things like your death, Ritsu wonders. Still, he’ll record what the Masterpiece Newscasters are saying – after all, it’ll be useful to leverage against Darkwick when he takes you to argue his cases.
There is little he finds more important than being able to argue his cases, which indicate his proficiency. He needs to be proficient in order to be able to become a fantastic lawyer like his father – this has always been his goal. Even after meeting you, it’s been his goal.
Some may have thought that you would’ve been a distraction for Ritsu, but he’s certain that your presence in his life has been for the better. You’re a fantastic business partner, being perfect to bounce his ideas off of. It’s admirable that you’ve taken on the mantle of ridding yourself of your curse, too. Ritsu finds that most people aren’t that hard working or really worth his time (unless they’re clients), but you’re different. You’re worth his time.
“Could I ask you to accompany me a little longer?” he had asked one day as you’re about to leave the diner. “I realize it’s outside of business hours, but… I would appreciate it if you could make a special exception.”
“Oh?” you looked surprised, though it was soon replaced with a smile. Your smile was something Ritsu appreciated seeing nowadays – something that felt like visible proof of Ritsu’s hard work. “Yeah, sure! I have time. What do you need?”
“I have to go over a few notes,” Ritsu responded, passing a notebook over to you. “I’ve already gone through these once, but I’d appreciate it if you could go through it, too. It’ll prove beneficial for you.”
“Yeah, sure, leave it to me!”
Your eagerness to help Ritsu cemented the fact that you were the right choice for his business partner. As the hour slowly trailed on, the both of you focused on your respective reading, Ritsu found that he didn’t quite mind spending time with you like this, outside of business hours. He found your presence calming, yet also helpful – he found it easier to focus when you were around.
It was nice. Even as the two of you began to wrap up, Ritsu wasn’t in as much of a hurry to disappear. 
“I’ll take your thoughts into consideration,” Ritsu said as you two left the diner. The night sky stretched out beautifully above you two. Ritsu had never noticed it before.
“Sounds good!”
Ritsu cleared his throat, offering you a hand to shake. You shook his hand without much preamble. He appreciated it. “It seems we make better business partners than I would have expected. I look forward to a long and prosperous relationship with you.”
“Likewise.”
He still thought about the smile you’d given him that night, bright like the moon. It was a smile that made it obvious that he had someone by his side to support him – someone that he can support in return. 
So, there’s no way you’re gone. Not when you have him as a business partner. That’s a ludicrous thought.
Still, he can’t seem to shake the ill feeling from his body. Why aren’t you responding to your texts? You’re usually quite timely unless something has come up. Something…
No, there’s no way you’re gone. There’s just no way.
Ritsu’s grip on his briefcase tightens.
He feels like he’s going to be sick.
Romeo wants to scream, so he does. “Everyone, leave!” His voice echoes in his room, his workers trying to scramble out of Romeo’s wrath. With a frustrated string of curses, Romeo collapses on his expensive chair, the one encrusted with diamond – the one that you’d complimented.
Romeo truly, utterly, feels sick. He feels annoyed. He feels disgusting. His perfect porcelain skin is marred with wrinkles, a frown deep set in his face. How dare you – how dare you have the audacity to leave him. He never gave you permission to do things like this, so how could you go away? He’s always known you were bad at following directions, but this is too much, even for you.
No.
What’s too much is that someone, someone, thought that they could come in and take you from him. How dare they! They didn’t even get permission from him! They didn’t… So why would they? They can’t take you away from him, not when you’re the only one that listens to him. Not when you’re the only one who seems to care about not making wrinkles appear on his face. Not when you’ve been doing your best.
It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.
“Why are you carrying that?! What if you drop it and it breaks?” Romeo exclaimed, watching you carry a very expensive vase.
“Ah – I heard you say that the guys who’re supposed to move this haven’t done their job, so I thought I could help!”
Help?! Romeo couldn’t help but look at the way your arms trembled with the weight of a price that far exceeded your budget, doubt coloring his face. “I’ll get one of our young guys to do it, so put it down already!”
You huffed, putting the vase down carefully, with a defeated sigh. “Sorry, I just wanted to help.”
“Help where you’re actually useful,” Romeo grumbled, crossing his arms. If those idiots that he’d asked to move the vase actually moved the vase, then he wouldn’t be in this predicament. “Those WTWUT make my life much harder.”
“Wall-to-wall useless trash, huh?” you mused. Romeo thought that amusement looked good on you – it gave you a cocky look that suited you. If only everyone else could be like you, then he wouldn’t be as stressed as he was. 
“I need a face pack,” he muttered.
“Do you want me to get it for you?”
“Hm. Sure.” Romeo paused. “Get one for yourself while you’re at it.”
“Me?” you looked at him with curiosity and shock written across the apples of your cheeks.
“Who else?”
“I just… I dunno. Do you think it’s okay?”
“Of course. What could you possibly be afraid of?” Romeo asked. “You’re one of my people! Who’s going to say anything?”
You looked contemplative, before a light smile crossed your features. “That’s true. I guess no one can really say anything to you.”
Your words make him feel powerful. Your actions do, too. When he’s with you, he feels like the world is in his palms. But now he’s without you. Now, he’ll always be without you.
Anger thrums through his veins. 
You’re one of his people. How dare they take you away from him? Romeo won’t stand for it. He’ll snipe down the bastard that did this to him – that did this to you.
“You BTH!” Romeo yells, storming into Taiga’s room with the fury of a thousand bulls. “You’re still lazing around?”
Taiga doesn’t respond, twirling a gun in his hand. He’s not entirely in his right mind right now, but he can still pick up “revenge” and “snipe” among the various words Romeo spews.
“You better do your part,” Romeo hisses, finally deciding to leave Taiga alone. Maybe Romeo would’ve stayed longer to nag at Taiga if Romeo were in a better state of mind. Taiga can’t really bring himself to care at the moment, though, his own state of mind is a jumbled mess.
Flashes of memories, flashes of thoughts – they alternate inside his head, before phasing out of existence. He’s not sure when it started, but his mind has been deteriorating, memories floating in and out of his head. What most would consider “common sense” is also something Taiga has been losing grasp of.
Even in spite of that, somehow, you’ve made your way into his brain, like a little parasite that burrows into his thoughts. He didn’t think he could remember someone – not in his current state of mind, anyway. He didn’t think he could form an attachment to you either, not with how he just doesn’t want to care anymore. The world’s going to burn, everything unfurling into a messy pile of futures that could be and won't be. It’s all messed up, it’s all gonna be messed up. Yet, somehow, despite all that, Taiga can’t help but think of you as some source of light, a beacon of hope that he kept around to stop him from completely drowning in the dark murkiness of the future.
“That’s it, kitty-cat,” he had said, placing you in his lap as he prepared to play another round of blackjack. “I feel like my luck’ll change if you’re around.”
“I don’t know about that,” you responded, watching as the dealer handed out everyone’s cards. You fidgeted in his lap like a cute little cat, clearly trying to break your discomfort.
“Quit failing around,” Taiga said, looking at his cards. To Taiga’s amusement, you settled in his lap to the best of your abilities, leaning into his chest. He pulled you closer, as he continued to play blackjack. 
The longer he played, the more he felt some odd sense of peace with you snuggled in his lap. Your smell and warmth wrapped around him like a little security blanket. In some ways, it made him want to consume you wholly until you couldn’t think of anything else that wasn’t him. It made him hungry.
But now, there’s a hollow feeling inside of him, something that bypasses physical hunger. He hungers for your soul that’s now no longer here. The pitch-black murkiness of the future spreads even further across his eyelids, being the only thing he can see. Fate has dealt him a bad hand that he had tried to win against.
He never could win, though, could he?
“Tell me something, would you?” Taiga laughs in his empty room, eyes staring at the ceiling. He searches and searches, but can’t find any sight of you. “What could I have done different to change this outcome?”
Ren has always thought that coming to Darkwick Academy was a mistake. His experience didn’t exactly start off nicely, what with him being sorted into Jabberwock and having to deal with the annoying Jabberwock captain. All those stupid anomalous animals made it so that he rarely had time to himself, even if he tried his best to lock himself in his room.
Still, there’s a silver lining to everything. Sure, Towa keeps trying to feed some odd looking porridge. Sure, Haru is still meddlesome and annoying. But they’re… not bad. And you’re here, so it’s kind of okay. 
He’s always thought that people doing annoying things for the sake of friends or whatever were delusional – frankly speaking, he could care less. Yet, when he looks at you, he thinks that maybe there are people out there who do things because they want to. Initially, you’d been somewhat of a doormat to him, but then he realized that your voluntary help came because you care about others – about him.
He can’t count the number of times you’ve come to help him out, whether it’s with the anomalous animals or a raid in his new game. You’ve just… always been there. He didn’t think it was possible, but your constant presence had carved out a you-shaped hole in his life, a place only you could fit.
So how’s he supposed to fill that emptiness now? It’s all your fault, Ren thinks. If only he hadn’t met you… but then, if he hadn’t met you, he doesn’t think he could’ve survived.
“Well done me for surviving another day…” Ren had grumbled, dusting his jumpsuit off. He hated getting dirty, but it wasn’t like he could avoid it in Jabberwock, especially if Haru was going to hound him continuously. 
“Good job, Ren!”
He looked up, seeing how you still looked cute despite the mud and disheveled hair. He found it kind of unfair. “Oh, same to you,” he said. “I don’t know how you can do this stuff voluntarily.”
“The animals are cute and you guys need the help,” you replied, waving at him to bend down. “Ren, there’s some mud on your face. Do you mind if I wipe it off?”
“Huh? You’re the type who does this kind of stuff, huh?”
“Ah, sorry–”
“No, you can,” Ren said. It wasn’t like he gave you permission to help him because he wanted to feel your touch, though. It was because he couldn’t stand the mud on him. Yup. That was definitely the reason. Still, even then, he couldn’t help the way his heart thudded against his chest as you gently wiped the grime off of his face. “It’s from that stupid bull anomaly kicking dirt in my face, isn’t it?”
“I think that’s when it happened, yeah,” you responded with a laugh. “But I’m here if you need me, so I can help you.”
Ren didn’t know what to say to your honest desire to help him, it was oddly sweet of you. You had been his only real source of comfort, what with everyone else wanting so much from him. You were the only one who watched his B-horror movies with him – the only one who’d game with him.
“There, all done! Let’s go back to the dorms. I’m sure you’ll feel better after a shower.”
“...Thanks,” he muttered, walking with you back to the Jabberwock dorms. The skies were painted shades of pink and purple, the sun ready to head to bed.
“Even though it’s hard work, it’s nice to be able to see the sunset, huh?” you hummed. Ren liked the sound of your voice – not too loud like Haru’s and not too incomprehensible like Towa’s.
“Yeah.” He breathed in deeply, feeling the fresh air purify his lungs. “Every day here is a fresh hell, though.”
“Aw, Ren,” you laughed. “Yeah, it’s pretty hard work, huh?”
“...Yeah. But, you’re suffering through it with me, so I guess I’ll stick it out for a little longer…”
But how’s he supposed to stick it out now? You’re not here anymore. You’re not going to be there to help him. You’re not going to be there when he wants to watch his B-horror movies or play games. You’re not going to be there when he buys you a drink as he walks you home.
You’re not going to be here. And he didn’t even get to say goodbye…
Ren’s always been bad at goodbyes – he couldn’t even wish Calamari farewell. But he’d have rather been able to say something to you since he’s not going to be able to say anything to you ever again now. Never, ever again.
Ren doesn’t know how he’s going to survive.
Ever since Towa found out about your death, the skies in Jabberwock have been marred with thick clouds and thunder. His precious, precious Dandelion – how can you be gone? You can’t be gone yet. You haven’t told him all the love stories you had in your arsenal. You haven’t tried all the flowers Towa wants to offer you. You haven’t shown him all the reactions you’ve stored away for him to slowly bring to the surface.
You can’t be gone just yet, he won’t allow it.
Murkiness swims inside Towa’s heart as he grapples with the anger and sadness that fight and merge into an incomprehensible seed of emotion that is planted deeply within Towa’s heart. Should he just strike everyone down? You’re not here, so as long as he avoids Haru, it doesn’t matter who he hurts. It’s not like he particularly cares about anyone else on campus anyway. 
But he can’t allow his emotions to explode out of him just yet, not when the tree on the hill is dying. You care about that tree as well, after all. 
But then where is he supposed to spill his anger? His grief? Where does it all go?
Is this what love is? This agony?
Towa hasn’t ever really been certain about what “love” is. 
“Well, love can be a lot of things,” you had said, laying by his side on the hill with the tree. You were enraptured with the stars, but Towa couldn’t help but look at you. You were so much like a dandelion, your resilience and strength shining through despite your troubles. And you were cute like a Dandelion. Your voice was nice, too, like the wind that carried dandelion seeds across the world. “Like… there’s romantic love, platonic love, familial love, and all of that, you know? Even within romantic love, it can be a lot of different things.”
“Like what?” Towa asked, making you hum in thought.
“Uh… like soulmates, I guess? Some people meet their soulmates, some don’t. But even if you don’t meet your soulmate, you can still find someone you romantically love. Maybe you’ll meet your soulmate but not realize they’re your soulmate too. It’d be hard to tell, right?”
“When you meet your soulmate, it feels like getting struck by lightning. Did you know that? Have you felt it, Dandelion?” Towa’s words made you turn your head towards him, finally paying attention to him instead of the stars. Towa liked the way you looked at him.
“I don’t think I have,” you responded, truthfully. “But I’m not in a rush. I’m sure I’ll find the person I love, even if they’re not my soulmate. Hell, maybe anyone can be your soulmate. Maybe soulmates are made when you love and grow with each other. Who knows?” A yawn escaped your mouth as you finished your thought.
“Heh heh.” Towa’s eyes crinkled at the sight. “Are you tired, Dandelion? You’re so weak. It’s cute.”
“Hey!” you laughed. “I’m getting stronger, y’know.” Flexing your arm, you show off a small bit of the muscle you’ve been building up. Towa couldn’t help but be amused at your little display of strength, miniscule in front of his own power. It was hard not to find it cute that you tried to carry so many burdens on your shoulders despite your own weaknesses. Towa could only surmise that your resilience came from the love within you. He hoped that he could be a part of that love inside of you.
“Do you like me, Dandelion?” Towa inquired, smile bright. “Because I love you!”
Towa doesn’t fully know what love is – it’s an idea he’s always been in love with, but has no experience and understanding of. You’re the closest he’s ever gotten to potentially finding the answer he’s been looking for. But now you’re gone. He doesn’t know how he’ll understand love now.
He hugs the great tree on the hill, tears trickling down his face.
 When the little mermaid turned into seafoam, did she feel this way too?
Haru is always busy. He wakes up busy and sleeps busy. Nothing ever seems to stop for him, time constantly slipping through his fingers like sand no matter how fast he runs.
So why did time have to stop for you?
Even as Haru makes his rounds, Towa’s lightning in the backdrop as he works, he can’t seem to keep his mind busy enough to not think of you. Thoughts and memories of you run around his head again and again and again. They run so fast that he can’t seem to catch up.
So Haru does what he can do to maintain routine. At the very least, maintaining routine should help him adjust, shouldn’t it? But as he carries out his daily chores, all he can think about is how you’d help him around Jabberwock. How you would give him sweets to amp up his energy. How you loved Peekaboo like it was your own.
“Boo…” Peekaboo says, aware of the tenseness and wariness on Haru’s shoulders – aware of the fact you’re no longer there. Peekaboo’s tears make your death weigh even heavier on Haru’s heart as he cuddles the small beast in his arms.
“You sure are fond of the Honor Student, aren’t you, Peekaboo?” Haru had asked, looking at how Peekaboo cuddled up against your chest as you fed it. “You did nothing but bite me for the first three days after we met.”
You laughed brightly, releasing a sound that Haru was quite fond of. “The only reason Peekaboo’s not biting me is because it’s used to you, you know.”
“You reckon?” Haru responded, reaching out to pet Peekaboo who welcomed the touch.
“See? Look at that. Peekaboo loves you so much.” You gave Peekaboo a kiss on its cute fluffy forward, making the small anomalous animal make happy little squeaks. “You like your dad quite a bit, don’t you?”
The sight of you and Peekaboo together made Haru’s heart warm. He was constantly managing things by himself that he never really expected to find a stable support system. Towa, while competent, could be quite moody. Ren, too, while able bodied, refused to do a lot of the work. So, of course, work always fell on Haru’s weary shoulders. He never expected to find someone that could provide him the support he needed – like the other parent of Jabberwock. “Then you’re a bit like Peekaboo’s mother, eh?”
“I wouldn’t mind – not when my child is as cute as Peekaboo!” you replied brightly, patting Peekaboo’s back to allow it to burp. After releasing a burp too large for such a small animal, Peekaboo cuddled into you, satisfied. You hummed out a little tune as you rocked the little anomalous animal to sleep. Seeing you made a smile stretch across Haru’s face.
“Really learned the ropes here, haven’t you?” he said, gently ruffling Peekaboo’s fur. “Once we have a little cash to spare, I’ll buy you your own Jabberwock uniform!”
You’d no longer need it, though, Haru thinks, thumb brushing against the fabric of the Jabberwock uniform he had gotten for you. While you aren’t officially a part of the Jabberwock House, it’s hard not to feel like you belonged. 
But you’re no longer here – you no longer belong to the living, so how could you belong to Jabberwock? Haru wishes that you were still here, though. It hasn’t even been a day, but he already misses you. Even if you couldn’t help him out every day, just getting a text message boosted his spirits. Just thinking about the fact that you’d help him with Jabberwock duties and his personal issues helped him get through his cumbersome day.
You were someone he could depend on and he wanted to be someone you could depend on. But, in the end, he couldn’t protect you.
His responsibilities sit heavily on his shoulders.
Sho has always kept himself busy. Whether it’s cooking, playing sports, training, or something else, Sho has always liked to do something. Maybe that’s why he’s in the kitchen, cooking your favorite meal, while he tries to process what the Masterpiece Newscasters had prattled on about earlier.
You’re dead?
There’s no way. You can’t be.
He thinks back to the first case you worked on together, the one with Takeru. He had failed to protect you then and vowed he wouldn’t put you in the way of danger like that again. So how? Why?
Who killed you?
Sho slams a fist on the kitchen counter, lips pressed in a thin line. Frustration bubbles inside him as curses leave his lips in rapid succession.
You can’t be dead. You can’t. Not when you’ve been working so hard. Not when you’ve been doing everything in your power to survive. Not when you’ve inspired and helped him to the point that he still feels like he has to repay you. Not when he hasn’t done or told you everything he wants to.
“Fuck!” he yells, slamming his fists on the kitchen counter once more.
You jolted when he yelled a curse, slamming a fist on the wall.
“Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Sho said, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck. You were fun to tease and get reactions out of, but that didn’t mean he wanted to scare you.
“What’s the matter, Sho?” you asked, putting down your knife. “Tell me. I might be able to help you.”
“It’s nothing,” Sho started to say, before the look on your face made him stop. He snorted at how displeased you looked. “It’s just that some back order stuff got delayed. I won’t have enough forks for tomorrow.”
“Oh, is that it?” you asked, looking relieved. “I have a bunch of plastic forks back at the cathedral, actually. Do you want me to get them?”
“Huh? Why do you have a bunch of plastic forks laying around?”
“Uh… let’s just say that I had some ordering issues.” You waved a hand to dismiss the question. “Anyway! I can go get them.”
“Nah, let’s go together.” He shuffled around, before pulling out a helmet and tossing it to you. “Here, this helmet’s for you.”
“Oh, this one looks awesome!” you beamed, turning the helmet around in your hands. It was in your favorite color with your favorite patterns. Sho huffed out a laugh at your response. You were so cute sometimes.
“Glad you like it. C’mon.” He pushed the door to the food truck open with his foot. “Let’s go.”
“Okay!”
“After this,” he began, closing and locking the door once you were both out of the food truck, “I got some time today, so I’ll take you somewhere. Anywhere you wanna go.”
He still remembers the way your arms felt around his waist as you clung to him while he drove. He still remembers the way your eyes sparkled watching your favorite scenery. He still remembers how his heart pounded in his chest, the feeling of liberation lifting his spirits, as he drove through the streets with you clinging to him.
Your determination has always felt like freedom to Sho – it’s what inspired him to put more effort into his life at Darkwick. It’s what inspired him to take things more seriously. 
But maybe he should’ve taken things more seriously when he had the chance. Now that you’re gone, so is his chance to prove himself to you. You've gone somewhere too far, somewhere no one else can reach. 
This isn’t the freedom he had envisioned for you.
Whenever Sho gets too emotional, Leo is quick to make fun of him. It's stupid to get too riled up, Leo thinks. The world is boring and easy to manipulate, after all. Why should he get upset? 
Leo has always been able to get what he wants – he even became vice-captain, for fuck's sake. He basically solved Takeru’s case by himself while also trying to get rid of you because your stupid stigma enhancement might overshadow him. Sure, he couldn't get rid of you then but it's not like he can't try again, especially when you keep sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.
But this isn’t how he wanted to get rid of you. Who said you could just die? It’s so stupid. It’s so dumb that it makes Leo feel angry. You stupidly kept going despite his scathing remarks, despite people walking all over you and disrespecting you, so why are you dead? You’re not allowed to be dead.
You still need to help him use Haxs. You still need to be there so he can get a sense of validation when he watches your reactions. You still need to be here because out of everyone on campus, your presence is somewhat tolerable. Who’s he gonna comfortably boss around now?
“Ha ha. You were photobombing one of my pics so I uploaded it and said I had a new girlfriend,” Leo snickered as you brushed his hair. He didn’t think you’d be so good at it, but he found that his hair was smoother when you brushed it. “10K interacts in less than an hour. Suckers.”
“Is that okay?” you asked, making Leo roll his eyes.
“It’s fine, Honor Roll. In fact, shouldn’t you be grateful?”
“That’s not what I meant.” you huffed, tugging his hair lightly as you untangled a knot. It felt nice. “I mean, are you okay? Don’t influencers get harassed if they post about their significant others?”
Leo hated this whole goody-two-shoes act you had going on. Why were you so concerned about him? It wasn’t like he was particularly nice to you and it wasn’t like you necessarily treated him better than you would anyone else. Were you just stupidly nice in general? “Being an influencer means you get hate mail anyway,” he responded, closing out of his social media app. It wasn’t really all that interesting anymore.
“Hm… I see.” You became silent, which made Leo feel oddly annoyed. “People can really suck sometimes.”
Leo snorted. He had been anything but kind to you, really, so he thought you’d have already come to that conclusion a while ago. “It’s whatever. They’re all basic.”
He knew that this was the point where you could say something about him coming to you to talk (which he would never do, barf), but you don’t. Instead, you continue to thread your fingers through his hair gently.
He hated to admit it, but it was relaxing.
“Okay, I think I’m done,” you hummed, removing your hands from him. He noted that it was slightly colder when you left, but chalked it up to the poor heat regulation in Vagastrom. “Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day, Leo! I got you something.”
Leo turned to you curiously as he combed his fingers through his hair, which definitely felt softer. He gingerly took your offering, before his eyes widened. “This is that ultra-spicy chocolate they only sell this time of year… I’m actually genuinely stoked right now.”
“I’m glad!” you beamed. It was a smile that Leo thought was slightly less ugly than usual. In general, you had been looking slightly less ugly lately, actually. That thought made him feel nauseous.
“Wanna make a bet, Honor Roll?”
You blinked at him, suddenly looking wary. He used to think that expression was so stupid, but now he thought it was kind of cute in a dumb kind of way. “What type of bet…?”
“A bet over which will come first – me falling for you, or you getting hooked on me.”
There’s no conclusive way to find out the end to this bet now, not with you gone. But he thinks you probably got hooked on him first – after all, it’s not like he’s thinks about your stupid laugh or dumb words of encouragement when he feels down or anything. Besides, as far as the internet’s concerned, you’re already dating him.
He briefly thinks about uploading a post about your death. Those suckers online would eat it up, sending him pity and sympathy. But the thought is so unappealing that he drops it. It’s not like your death is gonna matter to other people.
After all, life sucks and then you die, right? It’s just a part of living and he’s not pathetic enough to suddenly miss you. But there’s a disgustingly hollow feeling in his chest as his thoughts ring too loudly. You’re just an NPC – aren’t NPCs supposed to live quietly in the background while the main characters get their character development or whatever? 
Why couldn’t you just quietly live your life like that?
You’re so stupid.
Alan has always felt like a monster. His hands – his stigma – have crushed so many things until they’ve become nothing but dust. He’s never been proud of this strength, not when he causes so many to cower. 
He had expected you to cower, too, especially after he ripped Takeru’s ghost apart in front of you, so lost in the bloodlust. But you hadn’t. You stood by his side with as much care and compassion you could muster. When he wanted to keep looking into the case of Takeru’s ghost even after it was considered “finished” by Darkwick, you offered to help him even though you didn’t need to.
Alan’s never really been a conversationalist, so he didn’t expect you to spend time with him unless it was necessary. Still, he can’t say he dislikes having you around. Even when he’s tinkering with his car, it’s nice to have you sitting nearby, talking about your day.
You’re someone he appreciates – someone who does their best no matter how dire the situation is, someone who strives to do better. How could he not grow fond of how hard you work on a daily basis?
“I pat people on the head a lot? Didn’t notice,” Alan had said, after placing his hand on your hair. He really hadn’t realized – it was a force of habit, especially when you had done such a good job. “I’m doing it again?” he murmured, removing his hand, “...Sorry.”
“It’s nothing you have to be sorry for,” you responded, honestly. “It was just an observation.”
Despite knowing that his hands were akin to weapons, Alan couldn’t help but be drawn to touching you. Unlike him, you were soft and sweet. Still, he felt guilty. He hadn’t ever wanted you to feel uncomfortable, after all. 
“I actually kind of like it when you pat my head,” you said. “You’re really gentle with it, so it makes it feel like I did a good job!”
Alan would never describe his touch as gentle, but he felt like he could believe it if it came from you.“You’re doing a good job.”
“Thanks!” you responded, giving him a big smile that he couldn’t say he had seen from other people. Most other people here had cunning smiles or looked fearful of him. He liked how genuine yours looked. “I can keep trying my best because of you and the others, you know? Thanks a lot.”
Alan couldn’t really recall if he had done anything to receive this type of praise from you, but your words made him feel relaxed. He felt like you helped him feel more human. “I’m lucky I’ve got you,” he said, trying to express his gratitude. “As long as you’re with me, I feel like I won’t lose sight of who I am.”
But now you’re no longer here. It makes Alan scared of himself in a way that he’s never felt before. He had treated you gently, like you were made of glass, because he was scared he’d break you. Yet you weren’t ever scared of him breaking you. Being with you softened up his edges and made him feel more human than monster.
You’re no longer here, though.
Perhaps it has always been his fate to become a monster.
Kaito hasn’t stopped crying since he’s heard the Masterpiece Newscasters relay the news of your death. It hurts so bad. 
Kaito doesn’t think he’s ever been so badly hurt in his life. 
Kaito’s never been one to like pain, which is why he avoids training and going on missions. He wants to be normal and being a ghoul is abnormal. The non-ghouls around him cement that on a daily basis. Yet you’re one of the only non-ghouls who has always treated him kindly no matter what.
Even when he’s a pathetic idiot or a stupid coward, you’ve always been so patient and kind to him. Kaito has liked a lot of girls on a surface level, but his feelings towards you have evolved beyond that. He thinks you’re pretty and lovely and all of that, of course, but more than that, he thinks you’re an amazing person. Amazingly strong, amazingly hard working – you’re someone he values so deeply. Even when he knows he’s being foolish, you’re there by his side because you care about him, aren’t you? So how could he not grow to care about you? You’re the few people that he feels he can truly be close to.
“Whoa, when did it get so late?!” Kaito gasped, looking at the window outside. You two had been baking since noon, but ended up goofing off at some point, delaying the baking process. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you…”
“I’m still good!” you responded, before taking a big bite out of your cookie. While chewing your sweet treat, you offered Kaito a piece, too.
“Really?” Kaito asked, taking the cookie you offered him.
“Yeah, I like spending time with you.”
Your words made Kaito’s heart swell with so much gratitude and affection that he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself. He always considered himself lackluster in practically everything, but he felt like he could do better and try to be better because you were there. He couldn’t help the cheesy grin that came onto his face.
“Oh, look, Kaito! The stars look so pretty!”
Kaito looked over at the large window in the kitchen, watching as the stars twinkled in the night sky.
“It kind of looks like granulated sugar if you squint, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I can see it!” Kaito responded, before tentatively asking, “...Do you like stars?”
“I do,” you replied, taking another bite of your cookie. “Why d’you ask?”
“Oh, um,” Kaito hesitated, feeling a little bashful all of a sudden. You weren’t the type to just reject him harshly, but sometimes Kaito felt nervous in more intimate moments. When you genuinely seemed to return his affections (romantic or not) it made him feel valued as a human being, but it also made him nervous. “I was just wondering ‘cause there’s this place where you can see them really well, so I thought you’d want to go some time…”
“I would love to!” you beamed at him with a smile that could rival the sun. Kaito didn’t think the sun needed to shine if you were around. “You always do find the best places.”
Your words of validation made Kaito feel teary. You’d always been by his side, no matter what. You didn’t have to be his princess or anything like that. In fact, you’d saved him a lot of times before. Still… “I know I’m weak, and a coward,” he began, “But I really do want to become your knight in shining armor.”
In the end, Kaito never could become your knight in shining armor. Not when you’re gone like this. He couldn’t protect you and it tears him up inside. If he had trained and went on missions, would things be different? If so, why couldn’t the other ghouls help you instead? You deserve to be alive – you deserve it so much more than anyone else.
Kaito continues to wail inside his room, frustrated that he’s upset at other people not saving you – it’s him that couldn’t save you. It’s his fault. It’s all his fault and he’ll never be able to make it up to you.
He’ll never become your knight in shining armor.
For the first time since coming to Darkwick, Luca feels numb. He’s not sure how to cope with the fact that your death has come so suddenly. He had promised you that he’d help you absolve your curse, just like you promised him you’d help him subjugate a demon. Yet… you’re gone. You’re not here. You cannot keep your promise to him and he cannot keep his promise to you. It makes him feel hollow.
Luca has always felt that honesty was the best policy, which contributed to his straightlaced nature. He’s been called inconsiderate because of this and he’s lost people who could’ve been his friend. Him being a ghoul hadn’t helped, either, since he was the only ghoul back in Emrys Academy. When he came to Darkwick Academy, all he expected was to learn ways to subjugate a demon. Sure, it would’ve been nice to make friends, but Luca wasn’t going to get his hopes up. Not when he was so set on his goal to find his brother, at least.
Most aren’t understanding of Luca’s honesty and desire to bring back his brother, thinking his one track mind is a hassle. But you’ve never treated him like he was a nuisance. You’ve always greeted him brightly and worked with him. Whether you guys looked for information on curses and demons or practiced meditation for a clearer mind, you’ve been there.
But you’re not going to be there anymore, are you? Not when he’s meditating, not when he’s looking things up in the library, not when he needs the encouragement – you’re not going to be there.
He at least has hope that he’ll be able to bring his brother back. With you, he knows he can never bring you back. You’re gone, forever. You’ll never be there to experience anything with him anymore.
“We have experienced many joys and sorrows together since becoming friends. I’m very glad we met. I look forward to walking the road ahead with you,” Luca had said one day, while you two were meditating. While meditating, Luca couldn’t seem to clear his mind from thinking about you and all you’d done for him, so he thought it was only right for him to express it.
“Me too,” you responded, earnestly. Luca liked talking with you because you were candid with him, but patient. Even when he interrupted your meditation. “You’ve been a great ally to me, so thanks a lot, Luca.” You stretched your arms over your head, before staring at the setting sun. Sometimes, Luca wasn’t sure what went through your head.
“You’ve been a great ally to me as well.” Luca could scarcely remember people who tried as hard as you. He was duty-bound to a fault that he had trouble abandoning his mission, so he had trouble understanding people who wanted to run away. You were one of the few that came back despite wanting to run away. How could he not be impressed with you?
“That makes me glad to hear!” you replied, beaming brightly. Luca liked your smile. It radiated a warmth that reminded him of home. “Let’s keep doing our best!”
“Yes, let’s.” Luca watched as you kept your gaze on the setting sun. The soft colors of the sky were quite a sight to behold, but Luca wasn’t sure why it was distracting you.
“You know, Luca?” you called, as if you could read his mind. “They say that as long as you’re on Earth, you’ll see the same sun as the people you love. Isn’t that nice?”
Luca could be slow to pick up on things sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid. He could tell that those words were meant to console you after you’d been stripped from your family so suddenly (he’d come to understand the reasons for your desire to leave that day when you were working on your first case after many conversations with you). Yet, your words carried an undertone that implied that you told him about the sun to console him as well. Him, who was far from his family. Him, whose brother had gone missing. Him.
Those words were meant for him, but he cannot see the value in them now. Not when you’re no longer on this Earth. Not when you’re no longer alive. The sun still shines so brightly over Darkwick as if undeterred by your death. It pains Luca because time feels like it’s stopped for him, yet the world seems to move on. 
Luca closes his eyes, heart throbbing.
“I’m sorry… Yet again I have failed to protect the people most important to me…”
The first thing Tohma does when he hears of your death is smoke to calm his nerves. He’s counting down the minutes until Jin calls him, but Tohma can’t seem to shake the sudden burst of numbness that shoots through his veins.
He hates to admit it, but your death has shaken him up more than he’d like. Of course, he’ll have to hide it. He’ll have to get a hold of himself – especially since everyone else will be in a tizzy. But even though he knows this, he’s having a hard time controlling his own emotions.
You’re the only one who is stupidly earnest in everything you do, allowing him bits of amusement in his life. You’re the only one that’s helped him feel like he could forget everything he’s got to do and be. You’re the only one who tries to lift the burden on his shoulders. You’re the only one and it makes Tohma’s lungs feel empty.
What vermin had killed someone as lovely as you?
“Welcome to high society,” Tohma had said, taking your hand in his for a dance. “That outfit suits you well. With that poise, you’ll have no trouble fitting in here.” And he was right, you looked beautiful, like the belle of the ball.
“Aha, sure,” you murmured, wincing as you stepped on his foot. “Oh god, I’m so sorry! I’m still so bad at this…”
“Inexperience is not a crime,” Tohma responded, twirling you in his arms. “The important thing is choosing to not remain ignorant when you don’t know something.” While most would assume Tohma was talking about your dancing capabilities, you knew that he meant something beyond that, too. You were smart like that, after all, and so hardworking. You chose to not remain ignorant.
“You’re right.” You nodded. “I’m gonna do my best.”
“I look forward to your efforts,” he hummed. “And in times of difficulty, I hope you’ll turn to those around you for help. I will be there to keep you safe.”
Tohma takes another drag of his cigarette, watching as the smoke fills the room. He told you he’d protect you. He told you, didn’t he? And yet he couldn’t.
Perhaps a lowly servant like him could never have protected you in the first place.
At the news of your death, Jin’s first move is to slash though the expensive furniture in his room, unsure of where else to let his emotions explode. His hand tightens around his sword as he stabs his sword in the ground, visualizing whoever had the audacity to touch what is his.
How dare they hurt you? How dare they take you away from him?
You, who’s been so stupidly obedient to him without any expectation of riches or glory. You, who’s been stupidly kind to him despite his terse nature. You, who’s been by his side without complaint as long as he ordered it. 
“...I was too active yesterday. Massage me, servant,” Jin muttered, rolling onto his stomach to give access to his back. Without a word of complaint, you do as you’re told, though Jin couldn’t say you could be a masseuse anytime soon. “...What the hell was that? Put some muscle into it.”
“What? I’ve been told I give really good massages, though.”
Jin frowned. “From?”
“My dad.”
Jin snorted out a laugh. “Try harder.”
“Fine, fine,” you muttered, stretching your arms in front of you. “I’m gonna put my back into it!” Jin wondered if you’d actually be able to give him a proper massage, but the effort in itself was amusing (cute, even). Still, regardless of your massages, it was nice to have your hands on his back. He liked being close to you. “How was that?”
“It was fine.”
“What!” you exclaimed, incredulous, before grumbling, “You give a guy a massage and all he does is say it’s bad. Not even a word of thanks.”
With how you were yapping, you must’ve gotten quite comfortable with him. Jin couldn’t say he disliked it. “Never learn, do you?” he asked, rolling onto his back so that he can pull you on to the bed next to him. “I don’t take you being here for granted. I know it won’t last forever.”
Your eyes widened. “Huh?”
“That’s all I’m going to say.”
“Wha– you’re so–” you huffed, before shaking your head, seemingly pleased. “Fine, you win, your majesty. I suppose it's time for this servant to leave.” You made a move to get up, but Jin stopped you.
“I’ve got plans early tomorrow. Your house is too far. Stay here tonight.”
He still can’t forget the way you looked that night – bashful, sweet. He wanted to lock you in with him so that he could have you for as long as possible. Maybe he should’ve. He never took your existence for granted, valuing every second he’s spent with you, but when he said that he knew that your relationship wouldn’t last forever, he never thought it’d be because someone killed you. The thought makes hot rage course through his veins again.
He’s going to kill whatever bastard took you from him.
.
.
.
Faintly, your sage’s ring glows on your finger. 
It asks you a question it’s asked you many times before: “What do you desire?”
You answer the question exactly as you’ve answered it before: “I want to go back.”
The sage ring glows brighter in response.
You wake up on a train.
Your phone beeps.
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kittykalliarts · 1 year ago
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For decades, the blank vision that Iudex Neuvillette wears near his heart has been subject to much discussion in Fontaine. Nobody remembers who it had once belonged to or why the ancient dragon protected it so jealously. It is said that if the Chief Justice would to stare at it for a long while, it would be sure to rain right after. Oh, how beloved that person must've been.
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thatonekidxdd · 17 days ago
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“Another hour” comic by me (for my au :>)
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feralforbeanix · 6 months ago
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Manfred Von Karma did not burn Phoenix's letters to Miles.
Like, I'm not even saying this to defend Manfred's character (though the fanbase does get a little crazy with what he actually did and didn't do) I'm saying this because that's not canon. I'm not sure it was even possible in canon.
Phoenix didn't write letters to Germany. He didn't know Miles was in Germany, let alone Von Karma's address. He didn't even know who Von Karma was until Edgeworth told him about Manfred in Turnabout Goodbyes.
In the game canon, Miles just stopped showing up to school one day. All Phoenix seemed to know was that he transferred schools suddenly. He didn't know why or where to. Remember, Phoenix didn't even hear about DL-6 until Turnabout Sisters when Maya mentioned her family's involvement.
Even in the anime canon (I haven't watched the anime in a while so I might be off about this) where Phoenix and Miles get a chance to properly say goodbye, Phoenix still doesn't have a direct means of contacting him. His best way of doing so was dedicating a song through the radio using Signal Samurai codenames and hoping Miles would hear it.
Phoenix mentions trying to contact him several times when explaining their relationship to Maya, but this was after finding out Miles was this "Demon Attorney". Miles would have to be at least 20 at this point in time, living back in California with at least a few trials under his belt. With how young he reached success, it's not impossible Miles was living on his own at the time. Even if he wasn't, I doubt Manfred was going through this grown adult's mail.
No, what the game seems to be implying is that Miles ignored Phoenix. (Maya even says, "I guess he didn't want to hear from his old friends.") And I don't think this was out of hatred or anything, I think Miles just wanted to forget his past entirely because even the good memories of his childhood would be bittersweet at best.
And to be honest that makes it even more tragic to me. Why do we need Manfred to intercept their connection when Miles' trauma and guilt complex is already doing that?
I like to think Miles knew Phoenix would be asking questions if he ever responded to those initial attempts at contact. Questions he of course doesn't want to answer because they'd at best open old wounds or at worst risk his childhood friend finding out he might have committed patricide.
I also like to think he knew Phoenix of all people would stubbornly try to find the answers Miles wouldn't willingly give because he literally mentions Phoenix always being "single minded in his work" and "always seeing things through to the end". If anyone was going to press and bring those uncomfortable and painful memories out in the open for the sake of "helping him", it would be Phoenix Wright.
Why do we need Manfred to take away all that complexity and tragedy? That is such a waste!
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flowerandblood · 6 months ago
Text
Duty and desire (Oneshot)
[ canon • Aemond x niece • wife female ]
[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, smut, angst, praise kink activated, lactation kink, fluff ]
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[ description: An incident between her husband and their sons causes her uncle to completely break down. She decides to show him how deep her feelings are towards him and to comfort him. A heartbroken, vulnerable, infatuated Aemond in need of simple tenderness. ]
Author’s note: The events of this oneshot are part of the canon of The Fall from the Heavens series and feature the same characters. I couldn't sleep and that's how I mentally coped with what I saw in the second episode of the second season. You're welcome, lol. If you still didn't watch it, wait with reading it (if you don't like any kind of spoilers). It can be read as a standalone story.
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
My other works: Masterlist
_____
He had returned to their chamber earlier, tense and visibly frustrated despite the fact that he usually spent that part of the day sparring with their sons, training them in the wielding of the sword.
She smiled at him from above her book, watching as he involuntarily looked into the cradle where Visenya slept peacefully.
The birth of their first daughter was joyous news for the entire kingdom, including them.
"So early?" She asked, spreading out comfortably in her chair, curious about this change of plans. Her uncle only pursed his lips at her words, walking over to the table where she sat and reached for a cup, into which he poured himself a little wine.
He remained silent.
A bad sign.
"What's happened?" She asked immediately, seeing that hundreds of thoughts were currently running through his mind, which if they did not find an outlet would eventually explode in the form of his fury.
He took a few deep sips from his goblet without looking at her, setting it down with a loud clink of steel on the table.
"Viserys and Aegon have suggested that Ser Robert should be the one to train them today. They apparently want to become archers." He said with a sneer and anger that startled her. She swallowed hard, closing the book, understanding full well that his words were only the tip of what he was really thinking about.
"In your presence they always feel they have to prove themselves. They're afraid of being ridiculed in front of you. Maybe it's…"
"At their age I dreamt of my father doing for me what I do for them. This is our time together." He growled, looking out of the corner of his eye into the area where she sat, but not directly at her, immersed in his thoughts, memories and regrets.
"I know." She whispered and her words, something about the way she said them made his lip tremble, made him lower his head in shame and cover his face with his hand, drawing in air loudly.
"They are terrified at the sight of me. Both of them. They don't love me, they just fear me. Their own father." He mouthed, his quivering voice betraying that although he tried to control himself, something about the thought had broken him.
She stood up from her seat, shaking her head, coming up to him quickly, wanting to touch his arm with her hand, but he moved away and turned his head, not wanting her to see what was happening to him.
"If you could hear with what pride and admiration they speak of you when you are not there. They so desperately want to please you." She muttered in pain, feeling a squeeze in her heart at the thought that he might have believed he was a bad father, when they both knew how hard he tried.
"To please me? My sons, they live to please me? And if they don't then what will happen to them? Hm?" He asked and fell silent, looking at her at last, his eye red with grief and despair, his face simultaneously red and pale with emotion, his lips parted in a heavy breath.
He covered his eyes with his hand as he burst into silent sobs, as if he had not stifled the thought for a day or a month, but for years, ever since their first son had been born.
She looked at him in disbelief, stunned, at the same time hurt and saddened by his words, by the thought of how he judged and perceived himself.
"Looking into my eyes do you see anything other than love?" She asked, renewing her attempt, taking a step towards him, and this time he didn't pushed her away, looking at her uncertainly.
"– it's something else –" He whispered.
"– how can it be? – do you think I would love a man who is a bad father to my children? –" She asked further, and he swallowed hard, trying to calm his breathing, his cheeks red from tears.
"– stop it –" He said and turned away, wiping his face, walking to the other side of the room, embarrassed and ashamed of his weakness.
"– sit down on the bed, husband – I want to explain a few things to you –" She finally said.
He sighed heavily and did as she asked, making room beside himself, looking down at his hands, heartbroken. She, however, walked up to him and did not sit next to him, but on his lap, surprising him by taking his warm, red face in her hands, stroking his moist skin with her thumbs.
For a moment she simply looked at him, all helpless and vulnerable, feeling the heat in her chest.
"– you're defending our family – you're the rock that protects us – you have to show strength – be determined – and that's hard when you're king and father at the same time – the burden of the crown is great and you know it – you're trying to prepare them for it –" She whispered, with each successive word placing kisses on his red face: on his forehead, his temple, his eyebrows, his eyelid, his cheekbone, his lips, his jaw.
She felt his hands involuntarily rise to her waist, stroking her through the material of her gown.
"– so why don't they understand this? – why do they push me away? –" He muttered, focusing his gaze on her full, plump lips, his manhood hidden in his breeches pulsed softly in a natural reaction to her closeness.
"– because they are still children – children who need their father to love them no matter what – a father who will sometimes let them go their own way –" She said softly, in a gentle, light motion untying the black ribbon at the back of his head, making the front strands of his silver hair fall over his shoulders.
"– I just want to spend time with them like a father with his sons – I want them to need me –" He whispered, and she nodded, letting his broad hand move her hip closer, making her body press against his.
"– I know, my husband – my sweet, sweet husband –" She whispered and heard him draw in the air loudly, surprised, his erection pulsed hard between her thighs.
She licked her lips, wondering if he was aroused by what he was hearing.
"– my husband is so good to me –" She gasped softly, letting their lips join in hot, sticky, lazy kisses, making wonderful heat surge through her body. "– my sweet friend – my sweet boy –"
She shuddered as his fingers tightened on the material of her gown, his throat leaving a sound she had never heard before.
He moaned.
Not the way he usually did, low and deep, when it was on the verge of panting, but high, the way she did when he gave her sweet pleasure.
Their fingers tightened on their bodies, letting their mouths find each other in greedy, violent, deep kisses – his cock between her thighs swelled all over and pulsed, hot, betraying that he was now completely ready to possess her.
"– I love you – please –" He muttered, forcibly ripping her gown off her shoulders, exposing her naked breasts, all swollen with milk. Something like a sigh of delight and relief left his throat as he sank his face into her sternum, his thumbs stroking and teasing her nipples hard from the cold.
She moaned as she tilted her head back, untying the material of his breeches, feeling the wonderful, pleasurable wetness between her thighs, proving that she was ready to receive him deep inside her.
"– my sweet husband deserve to be soothed – doesn't he? – to feel his beloved wife – how warm she is – how wet she is –" She whispered, cupping his swollen, quivering erection in her palm, feeling how incredibly hard it was, its tip thick and smooth, dripping with his moisture.
"– yes –" He mumbled in shame, directing one of her breasts to his face, holding it in his hand, finding her nipple with his mouth, beginning to suck it loudly along with her milk as she guided the head of his cock against her pulsing slit.
"– ah – my husband is so hard for me – makes me feel so fucking good – so, so big –" She cooed, sinking slowly onto his manhood only to lift herself on it with a loud click of her wetness, opening her thirsty, fleshy cunt again and again on his long, throbbing erection.
"– f-fuck –" He exhaled, embarrassed, imposing a fast, aggressive pace on her at once, clearly aroused by what she was saying and how she was behaving, needing her affection, her acceptance, her closeness, everything he couldn't ask of anyone else outside the door of their chamber.
"– it's all yours, my dearest – I can ride you all night – you'll fill me with your seed as many times as I need, won't you? –" She gasped, and he groaned loudly into the skin of her breasts, clamping his hot hands on her hips, pounding into her like there was no tomorrow, panting and quivering along with her.
She wasn't sure she had ever experienced a similar orgasm, so overpowering, hot, soothing, delightful.
"– f-fuck – f-fuck, Aemond, yes –" She whimpered, throwing her head back as she felt his body convulse, his warm seed filling her womb wit his low moans of pleasure.
He released her nipple from his mouth, panting heavily, snuggling his cheek into her chest, letting her arms embrace him in a tight grip, her lips placing tender, hot kisses on his hair.
"– forgive me – I'm ashamed – I –"
"– you are my husband – let me give you relief when you need it –" She whispered, combing her fingers through his long hair.
"– but – it was –"
"– a husband can show tenderness and understanding to his wife, but a wife to her husband cannot? –" She asked in pain, and he swallowed hard, letting out a loud, shuddering breath.
"– it won't happen again –" He muttered, needing, apparently, for her to tell that lie so he could stop thinking about how weak he was, how he needed it, how pleasant it was.
That he would beg in his mind for more.
More of her tenderness.
More of her praise.
More of her love.
"– as you wish –"
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