#early death cab lovers don't @ me

[semiotomatics]

i know it's been 18 years or whatever but can we just talk abt how absolutely gut-wrenching what sarah said is?? specifically the line "love is watching someone die / so who's gonna watch you die?". LIKE—

[awriterinthenight]

"I'm Sorry"-Anthony Lockwood

Warnings: Swearing, Kissing, talks of gruesome death, small talk about abusive and abusive lovers, and arguing

"Why can't you just listen to me," I screamed while pacing in the kitchen.

"It wasn't that big of a deal, love," Anthony said, brushing off what I had been trying to tell him for the past hour.

I groan in frustration, "Maybe not to you, but to me it was," I say angrily at him, "I don't appreciate the fact that you can't put away your petty differences with Kipps, and not cause a massive scene in public," I say referring to earlier when Lockwood and Kipps had a run in with each other as we were leaving the archive. You would think two almost adults can just ignore each other and act civil, but alas no they can't. They both started insulting each other making their dumb jabs, as a crowd of people were watching, which gives our agency a bad rep.

He breathes out a sigh before speaking, "It was one time, and it wasn't like we started actually fighting each other," he says much to calmly for my liking.

"But, it wasn't just one time. You've done this before, and I know you'll do it again, no matter what I say," I yell raising my voice a bit, "You starting a contest of who can come up with the worse insult, gives our agency a bad reputation, since people will think that our head of the agency, is some asshole who has anger issues and can't talk to people," I say, a bit more bitterly than I mean to.

He starts to speak, but I cut him off, "Save your breath, I'm going to bed before I end up yelling at you all night," I say tired from our long day, and all of my yelling.

I head back to my room and lie on my bed. Maybe I was being a bit harsh, but I loved this agency. I didn't want to see us lose business and have to close down because Lockwood couldn't help but start a pissing contest when he ran into Kipps.

Eventually I fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

I was awoken by a knock on my door.

Please don't be Lockwood, please don't be Lockwood. I chanted in my head, not wanting to talk to him this early in the morning after our fight.

Luckily it was just Lucy waking me up to tell me to get ready for the day, since we were going to Satchell's to pick up supplies for tonight. I reluctantly got up after Lucy promised me coffee if I did.

I threw on basic clothes, consisting of jeans, one of my favorite shirts, and a jacket. Then I did my hair opting for (insert favorite hairstyle here), and makeup consisting of (insert makeup routine here).

When I was done I went downstairs to find Lucy waiting my the door. I was tugging my boots on and tying the laces on the second one when I saw Lockwood walking towards us. Not wanting to talk to him, I quickly exited the house, dragging Lucy with me.

"I knew you guys had a fight, but I didn't know it was so bad you're avoiding him now," she said, being generally concerned for me and Lockwood.

I took a heavy sigh before saying, "I'd rather not talk about it." Lucy just nods, understanding how I feel currently.

***

When me and Lucy arrive home, we find George and Lockwood preparing our stuff. I don't even look at Lockwood as I help George pack up our kit bags for the night. Lockwood tries to talk to me, but I brush him off, not wanting him to make me feel worse before a case.

Our cab ride was silent, except for George going over our research. I sat in the front seat tuning George out, since I had heard it all about a thousand times.

When we finally arrived at the old house we all get out, and let ourselves in, since the lady didn't want to be near the house, and just gave us the key instead. We started making tea going over the research one last time, and going over our plans. Originally me and Lockwood would be together, but George sensing the tension between us, switched it so I was with Lucy, and he was with Lockwood. Me and Lucy would take the basement, and Lockwood and George would take the second floor, since we determined the haunting was definitely not on the ground floor.

We split ways when the clock struck 6, and me and Lucy started our descent to the basement. I felt along the walls looking for something to jump out at me, as Lucy stood and listened for anything useful.

"You got anything Lucy," I asked after a few minutes.

She shook her head, "Not much, just what seems like a light sound that I can't make out coming from that wall," she said, pointing to the wall in front of her. I put my hand on the wall trying to feel something. My breathing started to slow, and it felt like my throat was being restricted.

It wasn't the worst, and I could still breath, so the source was most likely upstairs around the same area I was. "Do you remember the what room was above here," I ask, looking up at the ceiling.

"Uhh, I think it was a bedroom," Lucy said, quite unconfidently.

"Well let's hope Lockwood and George find it soon. The fact that I we can feel it from all the way down here doesn't seem like a good sign, and I definitely don't want to stick around to meet it's ghosts," I tell Lucy.

Suddenly we heard a loud thump from upstairs. Me and Lucy looked at each other, before running upstairs.

'Shit'

There at the top of the stairs was Lockwood slumped against the wall, his head lolling to the side, while George was fighting off the ghost in the other room. "Lucy go help George, I'll make sure Lockwood is alive," I say frantically.

Lucy follows my directions, running to help George. "Come on wake up," I kept repeating, while trying to shake Lockwood awake. After a minute or two of trying to wake Lockwood he was still in his comatose state. Lucy was now yelling out to me that they needed help. Lockwood was still breathing, and Lucy was in need of assistance, so I left Lockwood and ran towards the room where Lucy and George were.

"She isn't appearing as much, so we think we tired her out a bit, but hurry up and find the source," George uttered, urging me to find the source quick. I wasted no time feeling along the walls looking for the source. I felt a pull towards a certain spot. There was a little outline and what looked like an opening on the wall. I took out a pocket knife and cut at that part of the wall.

Once I got it open, unluckily for me, the ghost had come back almost ghost touching me, as Lucy quickly ran her rapier through the ghost. But even then she kept showing up again, and again. I pried my knife into the wall, opening a small part of it, where a necklace was hidden.

The second I touched the necklace I was hit by the feeling of not being able to breath, and was suddenly seeing the death play out. The ghost was a lady who had been murdered by what seemed to be an abusive lover, who strangled her to death with the necklace in my hands.

Suddenly the ghost was gone, and we all looked around in relief. Unfortunately we celebrated a bit too early because now she was in the hall closing in on Lockwood. I quickly pulled out the iron net, wrapping the source in it, before Lockwood could get ghost touched. She was only inches away from Lockwood as she disappeared.

I quickly dropped the source running towards Lockwood. I kept trying to shake him awake, and saying his name repeatedly hoping he would wake up. When his eyelids fluttered open I hugged him tight as he ran his fingers through my hair comfortingly.

"I'm alright, love. You got the source and I'm ok," he reassured me.

Lucy help out a hand saying, "Come on let's get out of here, and patch you up." Lockwood took her hand as I help him up, and then down the stairs where the night cab was waiting.

We made it home after a silent cab ride. Everyone tiredly put their rapiers and boots away. I was heading upstairs to my room, when I passed Lockwood who was just about to close the door to his room.

"I'm sorry," I said a bit quietly, "I shouldn't have yelled at you yesterday," I say, taking a step closer, so that I was in front of his room now only steps away from entering.

He turned around and slid his hand through my hair, "I'm sorry, love. You have nothing to apologize for, you were right I should be more mature about my encounters with Kipps, and I promise, no, I swear I will be more mature from now on," he promises me.

I move his hand so I can kiss the palm of his hand, "I'm just glad you're ok," I say softly.

We're now so close we can feel each other's breathes, as we look at each other. He closes the gap between us, pressing our lips together. The kiss is soft, and gentle as his hand stays in my hair, and the other goes to my waist.

"Why don't you stay in here tonight, if you want to," Anthony suggests as we pull apart.

I smile softly, "I would love to," I say, as he pulls me into his room.

[dabistits]

12 and/or 18, but say someone besides Spinner or Rei cuz I already love them

the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

you've made this hard for me by excluding those two... rei is one of those characters who is "unpopular" as in, ime, actually disliked rather than just ignored, and the target of a lot of unfair assessments by virtue of being an abused spouse; spinner is a character who is "unpopular" as in ignored, which is also puzzling because he's one of the few characters who actually sustains an emotional arc throughout the last half of the series, which is gay enough that people would go crazy over if he was drawn to be conventionally attractive. if he wasn't off-limits i would put in a strong argument for spinner... u_u

i don't think there are other, more important characters whose popularity are disproportionate to their screentime/role in the story, and i don't really like most random side characters anymore (rip dabistits jirou fan 2017-2019). imo bnha is one of those stories where you have more characters who are disproportionately popular for doing nothing than characters who are disproportionately unpopular (because 80% of the cast does nothing fr). but okay. in order to not be a copout i will still answer:

himiko. HEAR ME OUT, yes, she gets a lot of merch and made a strong showing early on the series. (take the following with a grain of salt because i only interact with 5 people in the fandom,) but i think himiko has recently been less favored in comparison to the other villains. dabi has a lot of haters but also diehard fans, and i think even normie bnha readers have come around to tomura. himiko hasn't really kept up with the growth of that diehard fanbase or general popularity, despite originally being one of the "villain trio." her motives aren't given the same depth as other characters, and there's usually very little focus on her as her own character. maybe people like her as part of the lov, as the "little sister," or worse as part of a ship with some adult, but rarely for herself. she's one of the few fleshed out female characters in the series, and people don't even take advantage of that.

it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

there's so many possibilities the fandom sleeps on but lets just say spinaraki. i think it deserves to have people making genuinely unhinged posts about them and moodboards and quotes about walking with your lover into hell or whatever. there should be amvs set to i'll follow you into the dark by death cab for cutie. there should be artists devoted to them and fixating on just This One Ship. the amount of canon backing they have is unreal but everyone would rather draw two cute guys who canonically hate each other or something.

[desertofsnowflakes]

Incorrect Order Chapter 6 (Nessian AU)

A/N: I'm sooo sorry I haven't been updated in more than two weeks. I had exams :/ Also, do inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: Language

1572 words | Incorrect Order Masterlist | Read on AO3 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The smile Cassian plastered on his face didn’t reach his eyes. His brothers saw that. Feyre and Elain saw that. Mor and Amren knew that. He himself did. But they didn’t say anything. If it weren’t Feyre’s anniversary, he would’ve even gone home. He couldn’t though. He wouldn’t do anything that would hurt his family. So he stayed. Smiled. Joked. Laughed. Did everything he could to keep his mind from straying to a grey-eyed masterpiece.

Az and Rhys saw, he knew. They always seemed to realise everything about each other. Even if one of them had a minor headache, the other two would know. Tonight, however, none of them pushed him. They probably thought he wanted to be alone. But did he? Truly?

He wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to be alone. That would make memories of their lunch rise. Of her shirt splattered with coffee on one day and blood on another. Of her pale form laying on his bed. Of her, enjoying his food. Of their shared jokes. He didn’t think he could take that.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to be around people either. He didn’t know if he could stay around people who laughed and teased. He didn’t know if he could laugh with them and actually mean it. He didn’t know if he could anytime soon.

Cass glanced at the clock. 3.00 a.m. He smiled. Whenever they gathered around in the living room, retiring early was totally off the table. The earliest they dispersed was four in the morning.

To his right, Rhys sighed. “It’s late,” he said, tucking Feyre close to his side. “Gotta go to bed.”

He smirked, but held back the joke on the tip of his tongue. After a chorus of goodnights, Rhys and Feyre told them they could stay here tonight if they wanted to and rose to go upstairs. Feyre laughed at something Rhys said and Cass felt a pang of sadness hit him.

Sadness… and something else. He knew he shouldn’t, but he envied the both of them. How easily they bantered and teased. How smooth their relationship was. He remembered how Feyre locked herself in the cabin after Rhys proposed. He remembered how she asked Mor not to let anyone in, especially Rhys. He sighed. He felt an amount of the jealousy dissipate. Probably Nesta would get together with him after their slight misunderstanding passed. If it did.

He got up to leave when Az stopped him. “You sure you’re going back?” Cass didn’t remember telling Az that he was going back. Then again he didn't need to. Az always saw everything. “You're not that… somber.”

Ah. Cass smiled. “I'll be fine, ” he reassured. Az still didn't let him go. “I'll send you a text once I'm home,” he tried. Az sighed.

“I'll be waiting for it.”

Cass looked at Mor, drunk and blabbering before stepping out of the house. He kept replaying that memory till he reached home, keeping his mind occupied. He was scared of what would happen if he kept his thoughts idle.

He informed Az that he reached home. He didn't know why going back home felt like preparing for a battle. It probably was a battle. Between her and his self-restraint. What was at stake here was his sanity. Cass sighed. He stepped in through the threshold and welcomed the darkness that enveloped him.

***

Stop crying like a baby, Nesta repeatedly reminded herself. Why should she cry? Nothing here was her fault. Nothing.

Not the fact that she let his charmed smiles bring her guards down. Not the fact that she felt alive when he said something stupidly funny. Certainly not the fact that she was slowly falling for him.

None of it was her fault. So why should she cry? Why should she stop herself from attending her own sister's anniversary? When it was all his fault.

She shouldn't be crying. She should be thinking about ways of exploiting his weaknesses. She should think about how she would portray him as the weak one. She should think about how she was going to make him regret everything.

But how could she make him regret it when she never regretted a second of it? She hated that this was where her thoughts went first. To scheming and plotting. She thought she changed. Did she regret her wish to be good? No. She reveled in it. No, she vowed herself, I would not scheme to make him beg. I'm not that Nesta anymore. I'll never be.

She was proud of herself. She never realised her self restraint was this good.

But apparently not good enough. Her thoughts drifted back to him. No, not him. Cassian. Cauldron, it'll take some time to get used to calling him Cassian. Or maybe Cass. Feyre and Rhysand called him that. Probably she would too. She thought about what he called her. Nes. She flushed. That stupid name did stupid things to her. She pretended she didn't like it. In fact, she loved it. Somehow, she wasn't ready to tell him that yet.

***

Nesta blinked open her eyes against the morning light. Her eyes were closed? It was morning already? Huh.

It took her some time for her eyes to adjust. She screamed at what she saw. Nesta scrambled back from the looming figure of Tomas, leering at her face.

“Nesta, Nesta, ” he said in his eerie voice. It became scarier with his sing-song tone. “My Nesta.” He paused. “Though I suppose you aren't mine anymore. You were still mine last time, you know. When you handed me over to the police. ”

She bared her teeth, opened her mouth to say something when his hand closed around her throat.

“But now, I suppose I can't call you mine anymore, can I? That reminds me. Where is your bodyguard? Or is that brute your boyfriend?” He spat the last word. His hand tightened around her neck.

“Do you know what he did to me? Your bastard. Did you know how he threatened me? Did you know that he smashed my bones, that it took me this long to heal?”

Some sort of savage satisfaction filled her. The fact that Cassian did all this… she smirked. It didn't go unnoticed by Tomas. He growled, the sound sending icy fingers ghosting down her spine. She hoped she didn't have to hear it again.

His hand around her throat pushed her farther back on the bed. He drew back, she let loose a relieved breath. A mistake.

His hand cracked on her cheek. He came infinitely closer to her, his hot, rancid breath glancing off her cheeks. His hand kept tightening around her throat and she wondered how she wasn’t dead yet. It was certainly bruised now.

“Look at you. So vulnerable. So killable. I’ve imagined how I would slit your throat. So many ideas. If only I could kill you in all the ways I imagined. But do you know what is the best way I could kill you?”

Nesta let him talk. He loved to hear himself talk. She subtly looked around her room, searching for anything she could use as a weapon. She looked back at Tomas. He wasn’t talking. Did he ask her a question?

“Tell me, Nesta. Do you know what is the best way to kill you?” Nesta shook her head, his hand pressed around her throat. Tomas smiled. She cringed mentally.

“I think the best way to kill you and make it hurt is to kill you slowly. You know what makes it better? Having that bastard watch you die. Let him watch the life seep out of you. And then I’ll kill him too.” he said and she felt the room closing in. Panic was slowly rising in her.

“Now, now,” he said. She supposed he meant to be cajoling but the effect his voice gave was the exact opposite. “There’s no need to panic. I told you I’ll kill you only when your bodyguard is there.”

He pulled out a knife. She gasped and pain erupted around her throat. Her lungs were burning.

“But darling,” he said. She whimpered. She hated this. She hated that she was vulnerable here. She hated that she couldn’t do anything when her death was slowly nearing. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Then his knife struck. Nothing hurt at first. Then, fiery pain whipped through her, beginning at her arm. She screamed. Pain. There was so much pain. She screamed so loud she pondered how the whole neighborhood didn’t hear anything.

***

Nesta gasped. Her eyes darted through her room. Nothing. No one. She looked at her arm. No pain. No scars. No blood. She touched her throat. It wasn’t sore. It wasn’t swollen. She got out of bed and looked at her mirror. No bruises. She let out a frustrated sound. It was a dream. A fucking dream. Or she supposed it was a nightmare. Still. It wasn’t real.

It was still five in the morning. Still quite early. She released a breath. She wouldn’t find a cab now but she could walk. It wasn’t that far. She fixed her hair and changed her clothes. She wasn’t going because she missed him. She just didn’t want to be vulnerable again. That’s all. She just wanted to know how to defend herself. Nothing else. So Nesta went to Cassian’s house, hoping that she’s making the right choice.

taglist: @shadowsinger07 @im-someone-i-guess @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @nehemikkele @angelic-voice-1997 @heartless--aromantic @sv0430 @irenethaleia @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sjm-things @dontgetsalmonella @ganseys-jane