#emotional breakdown

[aventurineswife]

reader is a very accomplished student with amazing grades and a high IQ. They were constantly the top of their classes and were praised by many. However, something happened that took a toll on them physically and mentally. Making it hard for them to study. This caused a decrease in their grades, slowly dropping. This caused so much stress for the reader. Making them worry about their final score and whether they'll be able to pass the year. So when they sat across their pc screen. Their eyes were wide in disbelief as they saw that they didn't pass the final exam and would have to take the same class for the next semester. Their lover/s words came out with the intention of comforting the reader, but they came across as harsh/dismissive of their feelings. So it caused the reader to break down right there and then. Tears stream down their face in humiliation. Making them want to run and hide from everything and everyone. (Kaveritas, Shadow, Feixiao, Alhaitham, Kinich.)

It's Not the End of the World

Tags: Kaveh x Reader x Ratio, Shadow (OC) x Reader, Alhaitham x Reader, Angst, Emotional Breakdown, Hurt/Comfort, Failure, Supportive Relationships, Mental Health Struggles, Stress, Self-Doubt, Comforting Partners, Tear-Jerker, Slow Comfort.

Warnings: Mentions of failure and academic stress, Emotional distress and breakdown, Mild swearing (in some instances), Angst and sadness, Descriptions of humiliation and self-worth issues, Heavy emotional and psychological stress.

A/N: oohhhhh, this req triggered me so bad that I almost wanted to cry 😭🙏 WTF is wrong with me...

You sat in front of your computer, your heart pounding as the results loaded. The weight of weeks of stress, sleepless nights, and relentless self-doubt bore down on you. When the screen displayed the words “Failed: Must Retake Next Semester,” your chest tightened, your vision blurred, and your breath hitched. This couldn’t be real. All your efforts, all your struggles—wasted.

The door to your room opened, and Kaveh and Ratio entered together. They had been your pillars of support, though their methods couldn’t be more different. Kaveh’s warm empathy and Ratio’s calculated pragmatism often balanced each other perfectly. But tonight, that balance felt painfully off.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” Kaveh said gently, his eyes softening as he approached. “What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t find the words, but your screen said it all. Ratio’s gaze fell on the results, and he frowned.

“You didn’t pass,” he said bluntly.

Kaveh’s face twisted in concern, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay. We can figure this out together.”

Ratio, however, crossed his arms, his analytical mind already dissecting the situation. “This isn’t the end of the world. It’s one exam. You’re capable of doing better next time.”

His words, though logical, felt like knives. They didn’t acknowledge the suffocating pressure you’d been under, the exhaustion, the constant weight of expectations.

“I know it’s one exam!” you snapped, your voice breaking. “But it’s not just that. It’s everything. I tried so hard, and I still failed. Do you know how humiliating that is?”

Kaveh winced, his empathy evident, but Ratio’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re overthinking this,” he said, his tone frustratingly even. “You’re smart. You’ll get through it.”

It was the final straw. Tears streamed down your face as you buried your head in your hands. “You don’t understand. I’m not just disappointed—I feel worthless. Like no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be good enough.”

Kaveh knelt in front of you, his eyes wide with guilt and concern. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like this.” He gently took your hands, his touch grounding you as his voice broke. “You’re not worthless. You’ve been through so much, and I see how hard you work every day. Please don’t think for a second that you’re alone in this.”

Ratio, standing silently, seemed to wrestle with his own guilt. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than before. “I didn’t mean to dismiss your feelings. I’m sorry.” He crouched beside Kaveh, his hand hesitantly brushing yours. “You’ve achieved so much, and one failure doesn’t erase that. If you need help, we’ll make a plan together. But for now…you need to let yourself feel this.”

Their words, though imperfect, began to break through the walls of your despair. Kaveh pulled you into a tight embrace, his warmth chasing away the cold, while Ratio rested a hand on your back, a steady anchor amidst the storm.

“We’ll get through this together,” Kaveh murmured. “You don’t have to face it alone.”

And for the first time that night, you allowed yourself to believe him.

The clock struck midnight, but you hadn’t moved from your desk. Your hands trembled as you stared at the glowing screen. The results confirmed your worst fear: you hadn’t passed. Months of struggle and sacrifice, undone by a single number.

You barely heard Shadow enter the room, her commanding presence filling the space. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Still working?” she asked, her deep voice tinged with concern.

You shook your head, unable to speak. When she glanced at the screen, her eyes narrowed. “Oh…” she said softly, her tone unreadable.

“It’s over,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I failed.”

Shadow’s brows knit together, and she crouched beside you, searching your face. “Hey, it’s not the end of the world. You can retake the class and do better next time.”

Her words, though well-intentioned, felt like a slap. You recoiled, shaking your head furiously. “You don’t get it. I’ve worked so hard, and now I have to do it all over again. I can’t—I just can’t.”

Shadow’s expression softened as tears began streaming down your face. She reached out to touch your hand, but you pulled away, burying your face in your arms. “I’m such a failure,” you sobbed.

“Stop,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through your despair. You looked up, startled. Shadow’s gaze was fierce but not unkind. “You are not a failure. You’re human. You’ve been pushing yourself to the limit, and it’s okay to fall short sometimes. It doesn’t make you any less incredible.”

Her words hit something deep inside you, and the dam broke. She pulled you into a strong embrace, her warmth grounding you as your tears soaked her shoulder. “Let it out,” she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”

As your sobs quieted, she pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “You’re going to get through this,” she said, her tone resolute. “And when you do, I’ll be right here, cheering you on.”

For the first time that night, you felt a flicker of hope.

The results had barely loaded when your vision blurred with tears. The failure stared back at you, mocking all your efforts. You pushed your chair away from the desk, your hands shaking.

Alhaitham entered the room, his sharp gaze immediately landing on you. “What happened?” he asked, his voice calm but laced with curiosity.

“I failed,” you muttered, your voice hollow. “I have to retake the class next semester.”

He approached, his expression thoughtful. “I see,” he said, crossing his arms. “While disappointing, it’s not irreversible. You’ll have another chance.”

His words, logical as always, felt like a dismissal of your pain. “Another chance?” you snapped, your voice rising. “Do you know how much I’ve sacrificed for this? And now I’m back at square one. It’s humiliating.”

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow. “Getting emotional won’t solve anything. The logical approach is to identify what went wrong and address it.”

His detachment only deepened your frustration, and tears spilled over. “Why do you always have to be so clinical? Can’t you just…be here for me? I don’t need solutions. I need you to understand how much this hurts.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, with an uncharacteristic softness, he stepped closer and placed a hand on your shoulder. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I underestimated how much this means to you. I’m sorry.”

His sincerity disarmed you, and you let out a shaky breath. “I just feel like a failure,” you whispered.

“You’re not,” he said firmly. “Failure is a step, not a destination. You’re allowed to feel this, but don’t let it define you. You’re capable of more than you realize.”

His words, though pragmatic, carried an unexpected warmth. He pulled you into a brief but comforting embrace. “You’re not alone in this,” he murmured. “We’ll figure it out together.”

For the first time that night, you felt a glimmer of hope.

[nephalem-da]

HELLOOOOOOOOOO

I COME WITH A REQUEST.

Can you please write an Bill Cipher x GN! reader, where reader is just insanely tired of his antics and his behaviour and just lashes out at him? (love me some angst, especially for triangle..)

Like, they come home and he's just trashed their house or messes with personal/memorable stuff or brings weird objects in the house to torture them? (maybe he makes bugs randomly appear in rooms for no good reason or he sets the kitchen table on fire and makes all the water disappear) and they are just fed up.

So they come home one day and there he is again, as usual. And obviously, it's Bill Cipher (their partner), so he's going to act like it's completely normal or even appropriate so he just doesn't care about anything, but on this day they've had enough. So they start yelling and screaming out of frustration, yelling at him at how 'annoying' and 'horrific' he is and how 'he only has an existence in being an asshole' and just making comments about how tired they are of him..

And he just sits back, shocked. He's not really one to care or even be shocked at something, (especially something along these lines) so to see them just cry out of frustration and get so angry because of him? Oh he'd fucking freak out. Like, he's just gone pale, blank, he's silent while they're just pouring their soul out the open wound where their heart should've rested.

After all the screaming/yelling/crying, they throw their things to the floor (maybe some glasses for more angsty stuff, hehe) they storm to their room and lock their door, and Bill's just... motionless. He takes a moment to think over how he's acted and how they've been visibly more angry/depressed over the past couple weeks (especially around him) and he just breaks down.

Cue to him, crying (I don't even know if he can, please forgive me, but I need to make him sob) and he's frantically banging at the door and crying while mumbling something that sounds like apologies(??) and trying to get in.

After a few minutes of their silence from the other side, he just teleports into their room and tries to reconcile with them but after a few nudges and pleads, they stand up and scream at him, tears running down their face as they talk about how badly he's been treating them and so on, (he doesn't fail to notice their shaking hands, the heavy choked breaths when they try to calm themselves to keep talking, their posture and how their muscles ached as they moved) and he just has to sit there and listen while he breaks down at the sight.

(OH- AND ALSO AT THE END THEY GO BACK TO BEING HAPPY AND WORK THINGS OUT, ALBEIT A BIT SLOWER ON READERS SIDE BUT IT ALL WORKS OUT, AND YAY!! HAPPY TIMES AT THE ENDD :3)

I'm so sorry if this is a huge burden or anything but I'm obsessed with how you write and I'm a big fan,, keep doing what you do!! I will be here to read your works, :D HAVE A LOVELY DAYYYYYY

Breaking Point

(Bill Cipher x GN!Reader)

Thank you so much for the kind words!! (o_ _)ﾉ彡☆ I might've teared up a little while writing this hehe

This fic is a little lengthy than the others how I usually write. But I want ya'll to feel the raw emotion of pure anger and sadness from the reader, and the panic from Bill. ヾ( ￣O￣)ツ

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Drama

Warning: Emotional Outbursts, Depiction of Verbal Conflict, Reader experiencing high levels of frustration and stress, Brief mention of destruction (fire, water disappearing, bugs appearing), Bill Cipher struggling with remorse and regret, Themes of toxic behavior in a relationship.

Summary: After reaching your limit with Bill Cipher's chaotic behavior, you snap and confront him, leaving Bill stunned and remorseful. Now, both of you must navigate through an emotional journey of healing and reconciliation.

The door creaked as you stepped into the house, the familiar weight of exhaustion pressing against your bones. Work had drained you, life had drained you, and now all you wanted was to come home to some peace. But of course, there was no peace where Bill Cipher was concerned.

Your nostrils flared as the scent of smoke hit you before anything else. The kitchen table was scorched, a blackened mess, and small embers still smoldered in the corners. Water pooled around your feet from where the sink should’ve been, now bone-dry despite the mess. Your gaze darted across the room, scanning for more disasters, and—unsurprisingly—you spotted bugs skittering across the walls and floors. Spiders, centipedes, beetles. All manner of crawling things making themselves at home in what was once your sanctuary.

And then there he was.

Bill Cipher. Floating lazily above the chaos with a smug grin plastered across his face, looking so utterly proud of his handiwork. His golden glow practically mocked you, making everything feel more twisted than it already was. You wanted to cry, scream—something—but the exhaustion in your limbs wouldn’t even let you feel anything. Not yet.

“Heya, kiddo! You’re back earlier than I thought! Guess you’re lucky—you get to witness all the ‘improvements’ I made to the place in real-time!” His voice was sing-songy, obnoxious, as if setting your house on fire and filling it with bugs was some sort of quirky joke.

You dropped your bag to the floor with a heavy thud. “Improvements?” you asked, your voice hollow. “You set the kitchen on fire.”

He spun in a lazy circle. “Oh, that? Pfft, it’ll go out eventually! You know, fire’s just nature’s way of cleaning up! No big deal, kid. You humans get so worked up about the little things.”

“Little things?” Your voice trembled as you repeated his words. “My house is a wreck, Bill.”

His eye rolled dramatically. “It’s just a house. You live here, what? 80, maybe 90 years? Tops? Come on, I’ve seen the multiverse—this is nothing! A little fire, a little infestation… it’s all temporary!” He waved his hand, making a centipede crawl up the wall behind him like it was nothing. Like you should just accept this madness.

Something inside you snapped.

Maybe it was the months of putting up with his antics, the countless moments of chaos that you tried to brush aside because, well, it was Bill. Maybe it was the sleepless nights, the days where he would whisk you into the Mindscape without warning, messing with your head until you couldn’t tell if you were dreaming or awake. Or maybe it was just this day—this awful, grueling day, where you came home hoping for some semblance of normalcy only to find more destruction.

Whatever it was, you’d hit your breaking point.

“No,” you said, your voice starting soft but trembling with barely-contained fury. “It’s not nothing, Bill. It’s not just a little fire, or a few bugs, or some weird object you brought into my life to mess with me.”

Bill raised an eyebrow. “Uh, okay? You’re acting like this is a big deal—”

“Because it is a big deal!” The words exploded from you, your voice rising into a full-on scream. “I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE!”

Your voice echoed off the walls, loud enough to make Bill pause in mid-air. His expression shifted, his eye narrowing in what looked like confusion. “Whoa, calm down there, kid. No need to get all dramatic—”

“Dramatic?” You felt the surge of frustration and exhaustion hit you all at once. “You think I’m being dramatic? You set the kitchen on fire, Bill! You fill the house with bugs, you mess with my things, you bring chaos into every single moment of my life like it’s a joke, and you think I’m being dramatic?!”

He floated closer, but you shoved past him, your heart hammering in your chest. “I’m tired, Bill! I am so tired of you making my life hell! You don’t care about me—you never have! You only care about yourself, about causing chaos, about proving how powerful you are while you tear my life apart!”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Bill said, his voice wavering slightly. But you weren’t stopping. Not now. Not when everything you’d held back for weeks, months, was finally coming out.

“You’re not fair!” you yelled, your voice cracking. “I’m so sick of cleaning up after you, of pretending that it’s okay for you to ruin everything I care about! You think it’s funny to mess with me, to make my life miserable? It’s not! It’s—”

Your voice caught in your throat as the sobs you’d been holding in for too long finally broke free. “It’s not fair, Bill. It’s just… not fair.”

For the first time since you’d known him, Bill Cipher was silent.

He just hovered there, his triangular form still, his single eye wide and blinking rapidly as if he couldn’t quite process what was happening. He’d seen you angry before, annoyed even—but this? This was different. This was raw. You were breaking down right in front of him, and he didn’t know what to do.

You wiped at your eyes, your breath coming in ragged, shaky bursts as the last of your strength crumbled beneath the weight of everything. You looked at him, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Then, with a trembling hand, you threw your things to the floor—your bag, your keys, the glasses you’d been holding. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room, but you didn’t even care. You turned away from him, storming to your bedroom and slamming the door shut behind you. The lock clicked into place, sealing you in the only place left where you could hide from him.

For a moment, there was silence.

But then came the knock. Soft at first, barely audible. Then louder. “Hey uh... Y/N?” His voice was shaky, unsure, and for the first time since you’d met him, you could hear something like fear in it. “Come on, open the door…”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

“I… I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. I was just… I thought we were having fun? You know, me messing around a little… spicing things up!” His voice wavered again, growing more frantic. “Just… open the door. Please?”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, okay?” His voice cracked. “I didn’t think it was that bad. I didn’t… I didn’t realize…”

Still, you didn’t move. Your body felt heavy, drained. You didn’t have the energy to answer him, not after everything that had just happened. The silence from your side must have been too much for him, because after a few moments, you heard that familiar soft pop and felt the air shift.

Bill teleported into your room, appearing right beside you.

He hovered there for a moment, unsure of himself, his usual arrogance nowhere to be seen. “Y/N…” His voice was softer now, almost tentative. He reached out a hand toward you, but you pulled away, still too raw, too hurt.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you said, your voice low and thick with emotion. “I’m tired, Bill. I’m tired of you, of this, of everything. You don’t care about me. You only care about yourself.”

He flinched, his entire form flickering as if your words had struck him physically. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I do care. I just… I don’t know how to stop. This is who I am.”

You stood up, your body shaking as the anger and frustration surged through you once again. “No, Bill. This is who you choose to be. You choose to hurt me. You choose to make me miserable, and I can’t take it anymore.” Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. “I can’t keep being the person who puts up with this.”

His eye widened, and for the first time, you saw genuine fear there. “I can change,” he said quickly, desperately. “I can stop, I swear! No more fires, no more bugs, no more chaos! Just… don’t leave me.”

You turned to face him fully, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Why should I believe you?”

He blinked, his form trembling. “Because…” His voice cracked again, and for a moment, he was silent. Then, he dropped lower, sinking to the floor as if bowing before you. “Because I love you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. The words hung in the air between you, heavy and fragile.

Bill Cipher, the embodiment of chaos, destruction, and madness… was on the floor, broken and pleading.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I thought I was just… being me. But I see it now. I see what I’ve done to you.” His eye glistened with something you’d never seen before—tears. Real, honest tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Your heart clenched at the sight of him—Bill Cipher, the all-powerful, indestructible entity you’d grown so used to, now reduced to this broken, fragile figure. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that he could change, that this was the turning point. But you couldn’t deny the gnawing ache in your chest, the voice in the back of your mind reminding you of all the chaos, all the hurt.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” you said, your voice shaking. “You’ve said things like this before, Bill. You’ve promised to dial it back, to stop messing with me, but you never do. You always go back to your old ways, and I—”

Your voice cracked, the weight of everything too much to bear. “I can’t keep going through this. It hurts too much.”

Bill flinched again, his whole form flickering as if he might disappear at any moment. “I know,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I know I’ve messed up—over and over again. I’ve pushed you too far. I’ve made you cry, made you scream, and I never thought about how it was affecting you.” He paused, his eye locking onto yours, his voice trembling with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N. I thought… I thought we were having fun. But I see now that I was wrong.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight with emotion. His words felt sincere, but the pain was still fresh. “You always think it’s fun,” you said quietly. “But it’s not fun for me. I’ve been hurting for so long, Bill. Every day, I feel like I’m walking on eggshells, waiting for the next disaster. I can’t live like that.”

Bill floated closer to you, his glow dimming. “I don’t want you to live like that anymore,” he said softly. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re miserable. I’ll change, Y/N. I’ll stop. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.” His voice cracked again, and he hovered just inches from you, his single eye glistening with tears. “Please, don’t leave me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You closed your eyes, your heart heavy with conflicting emotions. You wanted to believe him, to hold onto the hope that he could really change. But you were scared. Scared that this was just another empty promise, another cycle of chaos waiting to happen.

“I need time,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I need time to think. To figure out if I can keep doing this.”

Bill’s form flickered again, his eye wide with panic. “Time? But… what if you decide you don’t want me anymore?”

Your chest tightened at the raw fear in his voice. You’d never seen him like this—vulnerable, desperate, clinging to you like you were his only lifeline. “I don’t know, Bill,” you said softly. “I don’t know what I’ll decide. But I can’t just forgive everything right now. I need space.”

Bill stared at you for a long moment, his eye searching yours, before he slowly nodded. “Okay,” he said, his voice small. “Okay. I’ll give you space. Just… please, don’t shut me out completely. Let me prove that I can be better.”

You took a shaky breath and nodded. “I won’t shut you out. But I need you to respect what I’m asking for. No more chaos. No more tricks. No more pushing me to my limit.”

He blinked, his form flickering once more as he processed your words. Then, with a small, sad smile, he nodded. “You’ve got it, kid. No more tricks. No more chaos. I’ll… I’ll be good.” He tried to sound upbeat, but the strain in his voice was evident.

You watched as he floated back a bit, his usual cocky posture gone. He looked small, almost lost, and it tugged at something deep inside you. Despite everything, despite all the pain he’d caused, you couldn’t help but feel for him.

“Bill…” you began, your voice softening. He looked up at you, hope flickering in his eye. “I do love you,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “But this… this isn’t healthy. We both need to work on this. If you really care about me, you’ll prove it. Not with words, but with actions.”

He floated closer again, his eye wide and solemn. “I will, Y/N. I swear. I’ll show you that I’m serious. I won’t mess this up again.”

You nodded, feeling a small weight lift from your chest. “Okay.”

There was a long, heavy silence between the two of you, the air thick with tension and the lingering emotions of the night. But for the first time in a long while, there was also something else—a sliver of hope. It was fragile, but it was there.

Bill hovered in place for a few more moments before he slowly floated toward the door. He paused just before leaving, turning back to you with a soft, almost shy smile. “I’ll let you rest. But… I’ll be around. If you need me.”

You nodded again, and with that, he disappeared with a soft pop, leaving you alone in the quiet of your room.

You exhaled deeply, your body sagging with the weight of the night’s emotions. It wasn’t over—not by a long shot—but there was a chance. A chance that things could get better, that Bill could change. It would take time, and you’d need to see real progress, but for the first time, you felt like he truly understood the gravity of his actions.

It would take work. It would take patience. But maybe, just maybe, things could heal.

The days passed slowly after that. Bill kept his distance, honoring your request for space. You still saw him, floating around the house or popping in to check on you, but he was different now. Calmer. Quieter. He didn’t wreak havoc or bring chaos into your life anymore. Instead, he seemed to go out of his way to make things easier for you.

He fixed the scorched kitchen, repaired the broken table, and even got rid of the bugs without so much as a snarky comment. It was strange at first—seeing him so subdued—but it also gave you hope.

You weren’t ready to forgive him completely, not yet. But you were willing to give him a chance.

One night, as you sat in the living room, you heard the familiar pop of Bill teleporting in. You looked up to see him hovering nearby, holding something in his hands—or rather, what looked like a bouquet of floating, glowing flowers. They shimmered in the dim light, casting soft shadows on the walls.

“I, uh, brought these for you,” he said awkwardly, floating closer. “I know they’re not your typical flowers, but I thought… you might like them.”

You stared at the glowing bouquet for a moment before a small smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Bill,” you said softly, accepting the flowers.

He smiled back, that familiar spark of mischief in his eye, but this time it wasn’t overwhelming. It wasn’t destructive. It was… soft.

And as you looked at him, at the effort he was putting in, you felt the tiniest flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, things would work out.

I love me some vulnerable Bill hehe (￣ε￣＠) Anyways! Hope you guys enjoyed it! ^^

[b0bthebuilder35]

[justbreakonme]

When the whumpee is so stressed that they just…snap and burst into laughter that soon turns to tears.

That’s my shit.

[itsalliny0urhead]

Only When It’s You – Part II (Draco Malfoy x reader)

No one sees Draco Malfoy fall apart — no one but you. When he knocks on your door past midnight, you already know. The pressure, the fear, the guilt he's never been allowed to feel — he brings it to you, trembling and silent. And in your arms, he finally breaks. Not because he’s weak, but because he finally feels safe enough to stop pretending.

Draco Malfoy x reader

You heard him before he knocked.

It was the way the castle shifted — the whisper of footsteps in the corridor, the pause outside your door, the way the air felt heavy all of a sudden. Your heart beat faster, like it knew.

And then: one soft knock.

You were already at the door.

Draco stood just outside, his shoulders hunched, fists jammed deep into his robes. His hair was a mess — not windswept or charmingly tousled, just messy, like he’d been pacing for hours, running his hands through it without realizing.

He didn’t look at you.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“You are.”

That was all it took. His chest rose with a shaky breath, and he stepped inside, brushing past you like it hurt to be seen.

He stood in the middle of your room like a boy lost in the wrong memory.

You watched him carefully. He didn’t sit. Didn’t speak. Just pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose like it might hold back the weight behind his eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

You waited. Let him come to you in his own time.

“I kept hearing it,” he said. “The screaming. The silence after.”

Your chest ached.

“They made me watch.” His voice cracked. “They told me not to move. That it was better that way.”

“Draco—”

“I stood there like I was made of stone,” he said, sharper now. “Like I wasn’t shaking. Like I didn’t want to scream and tear it all down just to make it stop.”

He turned to you. Finally.

And his eyes— gods, his eyes.

There was so much there: guilt, fear, fury — but beneath it, grief. That aching, helpless kind that never really leaves.

“I hate this,” he whispered. “I hate that they think I’m like them. That I’m meant to be like them.”

You crossed the room slowly, carefully — like approaching something fragile. Your arms went around him before he could pull away. Before he could tell you he was fine.

Because he wasn’t.

And you knew.

Draco didn’t move at first. Didn’t breathe. Then slowly, slowly, his arms wrapped around your back, squeezing you like you were the only thing keeping him from coming undone.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he said. “I don’t know how to be who you think I am.”

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered. “You’re enough. Even when you’re breaking.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were glassy now, rimmed in red.

“You see something in me I can’t.”

“I see you,” you said. “Even when you’re hiding from yourself.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, voice raw.

“I can’t breathe without you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Draco kissed you like he was scared to fall apart mid-way through. His lips were trembling, soft, more desperate than demanding. His hands curled into your jumper, like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

When he kissed you again, slower this time, something cracked in his chest — a sound like a breath breaking in half.

You guided him gently down onto your bed, not because he asked — but because he didn’t have to. You held him as he lay beside you, curled toward your warmth, arms tangled with yours, face buried in the hollow of your throat like he could hide there forever.

You felt it when the tears came.

Silent, slow. He didn’t make a sound. But you held him tighter anyway. Ran your fingers through his hair. Whispered his name into the dark like a vow.

And when he finally slept — breath evening, grip on your waist loosening just slightly — you stayed awake a little longer. Just to be sure.

Because he only let himself fall apart when no one was watching.

And tonight, he let it be you.

p1

[love-princess-coco]

[oddsconvert]

Shattered #9 - It's Cruel To be Kind

Previous / Masterlist / Next

Apologies for the wait!!! 🥺❤️

CW: Whumpee thinks Caretaker is new master/whumper, vampire caretaker, bloodbag whumpee, reference to vampire whumper/previous abuse/captivity, bloodbag whumpee, recovery whump, aftermath of nightmare, emotional breakdown/self doubt (August going through it!!!) [Pls lemme know if I missed any! 🫶]

---

The wind is swept from August’s sails. It feels as though he’s adrift in the open ocean. Lost at sea with no waves or wind to carry him to shore. A storm rages overhead, lightning splitting through the pitch-black sky, dark clouds rolling in. There’s an island on the horizon, a glimmer of hope. It calls August - it beckons him. And he tries with all his might to paddle there, waiting for the gust of gaia’s wind to propel him towards salvation.

It never comes. The ferocious ocean waves sway August further away. Totally stranded and utterly helpless. 

August skulks out of Declan’s bedroom in bruised defeat. The desperate screams for mercy and freedom fade until they’re nothing but a distant echo, swallowed up by the silence of the house. This isn’t working. This isn’t fair. They’re getting nowhere. The road they are paving for the human’s recovery is nothing more than them blindly stumbling in the dark and feeling their way around, and it’s to Declan’s detriment. At his expense. Torturing the already tortured soul. 

It’s cruel, August thinks. He took an oath when he devoted his life to medicine; he swore to alleviate pain and suffering, to do no harm, and uphold ethical practices. This cannot be ethical. Surely. What he’s doing feels downright criminal and inhumane. Is it worth the healing of Declan’s body only to terrorise his mind? Leaving him in perpetual anguish and dazing confusion day in and day out. Keeping him hidden and isolated far away from his loved ones.

August slides his back down the wall, head buried in his hands. He can still hear Declan’s shrill cries ringing in his ears, piercing through his heart. Honestly? He always hears them. Day and night. Since that first day Declan woke up and nearly burst his eardrums with his terrified screams. August’s conscience won’t let him forget them, it’s harrowing.

Because Declan is scared half to death of August. The screams are because of him. 

Home might just be the best medicine for Declan. That is the true cure August is searching for. Declan may not be held here with ropes and chains or kept under the lull of persuasion; but he is wholly and unwillingly dependent on August for his survival. Declan has no choice now but to rely on the vampire for his entire humanity -  he’s too weak to fend for himself, let alone chase his own heart's desire. He is reliant on the vampire for his nourishment, for his health, safety and protection and even his communication. His whole way of life. The only way Declan can exercise his own free will, is if August helps him to.

And well…Declan keeps asking for home. Who is August to deny him that?

“He’s going to try some sleep again,” Lucas whispers across the hallway, careful to slowly and gently pull the bedroom door to. No loud or sudden noises. They’ve learned that the hard way. “I’ve promised him we’ll leave him to it for tonight. He just needs space to breathe.”

And then what? Declan jolts awake an hour later in floods of tears and hiccuping sobs again? Do they ignore it this time? Leave him be and let him cry it out? Or send Lucas back in…he likes Lucas. August knows he shouldn’t be, but he’s so envious of that. He’d never harm a hair on Declan’s head, he’s fought tooth and nail to save him. Why must he be branded the bad guy?

August knows the answer. That doesn’t make it any easier.

“I have never seen fear like that in my life,” Lucas slumps beside August on the floor, a far-away look on his face like he’s just seen a ghost. He stares blankly, dead ahead, at the floral wallpaper across from him, and shakes his head in disbelief, “What the hell do you put a man through to make him scream in his sleep?”

Hell. Exactly that. That’s what you put him through. You turn him into a zombie, living dead. A body forced to live when its mind is melted to a puddle. You send him to tango with death and live to tell the tale. Hurt him until he can’t feel it, and even then still hurt him some more. It’s impossible to comprehend the horrors Declan suffered, or fathom why or how someone could do that to another living, breathing being. But it happened, and August can’t change that no matter how hard he tries. 

“Lucas? Do you think we’re doing the right thing?”

It’s a question that’s been rattling inside August’s skull for a while now. Guilt and sympathy fighting each other to the death. He only ever wanted to help Declan back on his feet, bring him completely back to himself and, help deliver him home all in one piece. August could never live with himself if Declan went home to his family,  lifeless and comatose. They may as well have sent him with his casket too. And he can’t send him back as he is now; the tattered man weeping himself into another dread-fueled nightmare.

Or can he? Should he?

“Without a doubt in my mind,” Lucas asserts, certain as can be. He says it with his entire chest, and he seems almost offended by the question. He straightens himself from his slouched slump on the floor, sitting up against the wall and crossing his legs underneath him, “What makes you ask that?”

August opens his mouth, but no words come out. His jaw clicks shut before he can even dare try. If he says it, it makes it all real, doesn’t it? Every worry springs into existence, everything he’s frightened of is brought to life. August will have to face all his mistakes and misdeeds, every foolish mis-step he’s taken in Declan’s care. But he has to own up to it sooner or later. Face the music. So he can do what’s right by Declan.

“I fear…  I fear we’re doing more harm than good to the boy.”

“August-”

“W-What if I’m getting this all wrong?” August falters, his voice thick with shameful, threatening tears. As Lucas shuffles closer to console him, August crumbles even more into the floor and wishes the ground would swallow him whole. “What - What if we’re hurting him, and sure maybe not hurting him like that vile monster who stole him but... in a different way?”

Declan still thinks and feels like a prisoner. He was trapped in Vince’s basement, and then he was trapped in his mind, his body and now trapped all over again. This time as August’s patient, stuck helpless in bed. 

But Lucas shakes his head passionately, giving a reaffirming squeeze to August’s knee. Lucas is too good to August, too kind and forgiving. It’s more than he could ever deserve in this life or the next. But right now his words of encouragement fall on deaf ears, August needs to be told how it is. And it's plain as day that his presence is damaging Declan, not helping him. Declan is still suffering. He’s supposed to be free and thriving, and he’s still hurting.

“Were it not for you, Declan would have taken his last pained breath that first night you brought him home. Even worse, he could have died a broken shell of a man in that basement, alone and suffering. You revived him. You gave him a second life.”

It doesn’t feel like it. What kind of life is jumping at shadows and cowering behind blankets? Terrified of what’s around the corner. A thousand words trapped in his mind that he could never say.

“I bought him. Like livestock…he thinks he’s my property-”

It’s time to call it a day, and let him give up the fight and lay down his sword.

“He’s just scared, August. He’s so scared, and all alone and horribly confused. He’s been through hell and back. It’s not you.”

“It is me, Lucas,” August disagrees,  “It’s what I am.”

A blood-sucking monster that stalks the night looking for its next prey to feed from and drain dry. August has spent his whole life trying to break free from that mould, to run far away from what he’s supposed to be and never look back. Somehow Declan sees right through him, right down to his core. He sees what August refuses and tries to hide from. His own blood, his very nature.

“How could he ever heal at the hands of something he fears the most?” August asks, disgusted with himself. He should rip out his fangs and run outside to bathe in the sun’s agonising rays. It sickens him that he is associated with the brute that did this to Declan. That August’s kind hunt and kill humans for food… for sport. Who could blame Declan for being scared of vampires. August is scared of vampires.

“He deserves better-”

“-Declan deserves you,”  Lucas’ tone was clipped, as if his word was final and there was no possible room for discussion. But August had known him so long, he could hear the affection underneath the terse words. “You are the best thing that could have ever happened to him. You were the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Lucas once looked at him the same way Declan looks at him now. With nothing but fear and disdain in his eyes. Backed into the corner like a scared small animal.  August remembers the way he felt when they both locked eyes for the first time, terror meeting terror; it felt like he wasn’t worthy of breathing the same oxygen. That he was a monster, and should whittle the stake himself and hand it to Lucas with an apologetic bow. 

Has August always mistook help for harm?  He must be doomed to repeat the same cycle of pain. Maybe it’s just in his cold-blood. His vile, worthless blood. Vampires hurt humans. That's how the story goes. There’s nothing he can do to escape that fate.

“My friend,” August chokes up, grabbing Lucas’ hands to squeeze in his own, and stroking his thumb over his wrists.  “I wronged you. I hurt you. Just like I’m hurting Declan now.”

A thousand apologies could never make up for what he’s done, the hurt he inflicted. Years down the line the shame and regret still plagues him, festers inside him deep down. Over and over he’s told he’s forgiven, more times than there are drops in the ocean. Again, it doesn’t change the fact it happened.

“You saved me,” Lucas gasps in awe, astounded by August’s confession. Something they’d both long agreed was water under the bridge. “ Just like you’re saving Declan. Would you have given up on me?”

“Never.”

“Then why give up on him? When he needs you more than I ever did?”

A fire lights inside of August, determination burns within him. This isn’t throwing in the towel, this is him fighting. Doing what’s right, even if it feels wrong. If it means letting go-

“I’m not giving up on him. I would never give up on him. I want to do what’s best by him.”

“I trust you, August. And I think if you just hold in there, Declan will learn to trust you too. It just needs time.”

Time does heal all wounds, as they say. And maybe Lucas is right. Maybe if they just play the waiting game, Declan could make it through to the other side, unharmed and unafraid. Yet August knows that these aren’t fresh wounds - not anymore - they’ve turned to ugly, withered scars. A permanent mark on the boy’s mind, body and soul. There’s no curing that. But could Declan learn to live with that?

“Tell yourself what you tell him. He’s not a captive. We’re going to take him home, yes?” Lucas quirks an interrogative brow, and August nods miserably in response. Declan is starting to feel like a captive against all intent and promises. “I think if we drop him off in human territory now - lame and pain-riddled, scared of everything that moves - that is what would be cruel. Us looking after him and building him back up for a little bit longer; that’s the mercy he’s begging for. Even if he doesn’t realise that right now.”

“How do I know which path to take?” August whispers with a wince, like the daunting thought threatens to implode inside his mind.

“Humans know so little of vampire persuasion, how it affects the brain and body. He could be stuck like this forever. His family will get half their son back at best. Who knows if his state will deteriorate? If he’ll ever walk or talk again. We can help him, August. You know that we can help him feel human again.”

“I don’t want to cause him any more unnecessary pain,” August laments, “He’s been through enough.”

August was never under any illusion this would be easy. He was prepared to weather the storm from the second he first laid eyes on Declan. Down in that basement; knelt and bound, small and fragile, unreachable and lifeless - drowning in Vince's power. August can help Declan, he’s got him this far already, he’s nearly out of the woods. They could do it, this could work. But at what cost? 

“Whatever you decide, I’m with you,” Lucas promises, “Wherever you go, I’ll follow. Always…”

August had saved Lucas before, hadn't he? Perhaps there is still hope. Perhaps he can still save Declan.

---

Thank you to @darkthingshappen for beta-ing this chapter!!!!

Next update will drop on Monday! (7/8) 🫶 Time for a lil flashback to how August and Lucas met... 🤫

Taglist: @octopus-reactivated @whatwasmyprevioususername @ramadiiiisme   @darkthingshappen  @whumpsday   @thecyrulik   @t0rture-me   @redwhump   @the-cryptid-finch   @snowstuffscuff   @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump   @wolfeyedwitch   @interdimensional-chaos   @termsnconditions-apply   @whump-blog   @leyswhumpdump  @not-a-space-alien   @onlybadendings   @darlingwhump  @sparrowsage   @flynnswhumpprompts  @whumpcereal  @wolves-and-winters  @ashh-ed  @idkmansomeusername @whuarri  @33-sdtr-45 @pigeonwhumps  @canislycaon24  @the-whumpers-grimm  @damienxozmoze  @predacon-skydrift  @morning-star-whump @neverthelass @espresso-depresso-system @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @mushroomlover554 @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @kadeee00 @that-one-small-world @doodlepoodle154 @sodacreampuff @cupcakes-and-pain @topsheepstudent

Let me know if you would like to be added or if I forgot you! 🥰

[aceofwhump]

Doctor who 60th Anniversary Special "Wild Blue Yonder"

[rosstrytobe]

[satubby]

Damn now I'm more depressed

I don't know how true it is but I'm screwed, now I hate Sukuna more and especially GEGE, for my sake they should all rot... I know that others don't think so much but Satoru Gojo is my husbando from 4 years ago , I don't want to live knowing that he is dead in canon. Now I understand Nanamilovers, it hurts A LOT...rest in peace my love

I will be making scenarios of him as a god to take away this anger and sadness, I love all my followers...

[showbizndentertainment]

Billie Eilish became emotional during her concert tonight in Nashville, Tennessee.

[snow23gem]

Helluva Boss Ghostfu*ckers vent

okay so I recently finished watching the new HB episode an hour ago and holy shit was there a lot to unpack there.

Like for starters I loved how we got more millie screentime since the episode mainly focused on her and blitz's friendship. It was pretty interesting that we got a backstory on how they first met, and how they formed IMP along with moxxie and loona.

I also got a emotional when blitz was having a panic attack when faced with the memories of his past and how he broke down in tears when he saw his mom tilla, that scene pretty much broke me (crying)

And the ghost possession scenes were pretty scary ngl the animation on that was both good and scary. And when they defeated the ghost, I think his name is Rolando, it was pretty funny how they had to put the machine in the pool after kicking the ghost fish demon in the pool to kill him.

I also noticed when blitz and Millie were doing the search around the hotel the room scene just gave me Scooby doo vibes. And the way moxxie kept freaking out over the finances was like watching people freak out over maths questions which was very funny. And it's really funny how loona just moved him to the TV to stop him from stressing about it and his mood was immediately fixed when a musical came on, I swear he is a theatre kid at heart.

NGL even tho loona can come off as mean and rude to other people with anger problem she can be nice to people she really cares about when she wants to like her dad blitz in the s1 finale episode, Octavia in the seeing stars episode and vortex.

And finally I kinda feel bad for blitz after his break up with stolas, I mean we can tell that he misses him and I really hope that they will both be able to emotionally develop and communicate with eachother so they can have a relationship. Bc I know in my heart that they are meant for eachother and there's still some scenes from the s2 trailer like blitz saving stolas from probably andrealphus or satan to prove it

Overall I give this episode 5 stars and recommend it to you guys to watch. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Happy Halloween 🎃

[aceofwhump]

Heroes 1x19 ".07%"

[bardic-tales]

Title: Monster Made From Memories

Pairing: Bianca / Sephiroth

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2948

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7

Warnings: abandonment, abuse, body horror, demonic imagery, emotional breakdown, emotional manipulation, existential dread, gaslighting, graphic violence, hallucinations, intense sorrow, loss of agency, mind control, psychological trauma, religious references, supernatural elements, trauma flashbacks, unrequited love, vivid depictions of fire, vivid descriptions of injury. Whump focused

Summary: In a dream-scape, the One-winged Angeal torments and gaslights by changing the dream-scape to the Nibelheim Incident. Bianca confronts Sephiroth and takes back control, attempting to reach the man she once loved despite his transformation into the One-Winged Angel.

tagging: @megandaisy9 @asirensrage @arrthurpendragon @themaradwrites @prehistoric-creatures

@creativechaosqueen

1.

“The only ramen I had was from those from the grocery store.” As Bianca Moore sat across from Sephiroth, the sun beat down upon her and warmed her bare shoulders. The wind swayed the crimson ruffles of her bandeau bikini top, flipping the ruffles up and down as the red and white fabric of their picnic table umbrella fluttered. She swept an unruly lock of her wavy, jet-black hair behind her right ear.

The piercing cry of the gulls echoed overhead, and Bianca and Sephiroth watched the birds dive bombed each other for a stray fry or two. The food tumbled across the boardwalk as another seagull landed on the wooden boards and pecked at it. Occasionally, a bird flew off and landed on the edge of a roof of a quaint beach-side cafe, screaming at the sun-kissed beachgoers who walked by.

Bianca leaned back in her chair and placed her hands behind her head, threading her fingers through her hair again. Her black, see-through sarong parted at her hip. The soft fabric separated over the curve of her hip, exposing her right knee and calf that was crossed over her left leg.

“You really never had authentic ramen?” Sephiroth scoffed. His husky voice softened more at the word ramen, causing a small twitch within Bianca’s core. A coy smirk pulled on the left corner of his lips, brightened his face, as she knew he could feel the erotic sensation through their psychic bond. His cyan, feline-like eyes sparkled in the sunlight. The corners of his eyes wrinkled in amusement while his hip-length silver hair danced on the sudden breeze. “That’s blasphemy, my dear angel. I can’t have you only experiencing ramen through those instant noodles and that little silver package of seasoning. Real ramen is more rich.”

As she opened her mouth to speak, she noticed a sole black feather fall from the heavens. It floated down to her, dancing from side to side, as if it were a leaf upon a dead wind: the last defense of a colorful autumn turning into the frigid winter. She reached for the familiar but unknown plumage and picked it up, examining it, but it was her surroundings that gave her pause.

While these plumes usually gave her joy, there was something about this one. The feathers radiated an aura that caused Bianca to drop it. It burst into a wispy, black smoke and disappeared.

Everything around her froze, as if they were in a status field. The seagulls hovered in the sky above Bianca. Their wings suspended in mid flight as if time itself had stopped. As she looked towards the side, she noticed that even the waiter pouring drinks froze with a perpetual grin crossing his angular face. The coffee tumbled out of the carafe. The dark liquid froze like a waterfall amid a deep freeze.

“What’s going on, Sephiroth?” She returned her attention to her companion, but he didn’t respond. Like everyone who surrounded her, Sephiroth remained still. His mouth hung opened as he was amid a quip. Most likely, he was going to tease her more about her ramen preferences or lack thereof.

As she looked at Sephiroth, he didn’t move. He looked blankly forward with his eyes unfocused. The wind that had been blowing their hair around stilled, and Sephiroth’s long, gray hair lay limply over his shoulders and cascaded down his back to the seat of his chair.

What the hell is happening? Bianca thought. She continued to look around. It was as if she were the only person alive in the world: the only one who could move around freely.

She felt the soft touch on her right shoulder; the leather creaked as his gloved-clad fingers curled over her bare shoulder. As she jumped, her heart thumped wildly in her chest. So, she wasn’t the only one who could move. The leather felt cool to her skin. Strands of long silver hair flowed over her shoulder and mixed with her dark locks. As she looked down, her heart raced, threatening to beat out of her chest. Her eyes widened. Bianca didn’t move.

“Oh, what fun we had here, my angel.” The words were mocking: cruel whispers masquerading as affection while he leaned forward behind her. He leaned forward behind her, his breath caressing the shell of her ear. She trembled beneath his touch, reminding herself that the scene that was laid out before her had happened in the past and in another timeline. “All these emotions that we pretended to feel for each other here.

“But it’s time to stop pretending, dear Bia,” He continued. “I died at the reactor and you didn’t even shed a tear. Why is that? Why didn’t my death affect you?”

The cruelty in his voice cut through her. She turned her head slowly to look at him. She couldn’t breathe, as her breath seemed to be stolen from her now.

“Why?” Bianca closed her eyes, clenching them tightly shut. Her fingers clutched at the tablecloth. Her body shook. This man was part of her being — her other half — and here he was, staring at her with such madness within his eyes, such malice in his gaze.

But she remembered everything: every kiss, every embrace, and every heartfelt declaration. That was the price of being a temporal being. Every outcome shimmered before her mind’s eye, as if she were looking at it on the mortal plane.

“Is it not enough that you took everything from me?” Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked at him. Her breath now came out quicker in small, quick bursts: almost as if she were a dog stuck outside in the middle of a heatwave. Sweat dripped off of her chin face and down her chin onto the table that she had previously sat at. “Why show me the moments when I was so sure that we were in love?”

His cold eyes fixated on Bianca. Spreading across his flawless countenance, a smirk played upon his lips as he observed her. Her entire body pleaded for him to leave her and return her to the dreams’ illusions, as that was better than opposed to going about her life without him.

The cool seaside resort shifted instantly. Wooden buildings with pointed arches and mahogany framing greeted her, replacing the soft sound of waves lapping the shoreline and the women in tiny bikinis and men in board shorts. Each home’s alabaster plaster glimmered in the moonlight flowing down upon their bodies as the beam of light broke through the clouds high in the heavens above them.

Her eyes widened as their surrounding leapt in flames, the surrounding fires burnt brightly: the Nibelheim Incident. It painfully reminded her of her final experience with genuine love before everything was destroyed.

Her breath came in pants now, as she could not focus on him. The acrid smell of the wood burning saturated her surroundings. The burning scent of bodies overwhelmed her, as she felt as if she were going to be sick. Bile filled with her throat, threatening to burst out like a geyser. Despite the burning sensation, she swallowed it back. Her breath kept slamming within her throat, coming faster and faster as the flames circled around her and her surroundings burnt.

“Love, you say?” He spoke in a tone heavy with his enjoyment of her pain and suffering. “Such a pathetic sentiment. A concept you never truly understand, little angel.

“You think you loved this man?” As he leaned closer, his hair on her shoulder brushed against her cheek. “This hollow form of myself? You were a fool to believe that I ever loved you back.”

Their bodies glistened in the blazing light of the shared memories. With a relentless fury, the flames crept along the windows’ sills and frames, before suddenly springing to life on the roofs of the cottages.

As her body shook, the past consumed her. She could vividly remember the suffocating hopelessness she felt during that day, the profound failure of not being able to protect the townspeople from his rampage, and the excruciating grief that washed over her when he jumped from the reactor platform into the mako tanks.

“But it is amusing to watch how you flail about with your pathetic love.” Even though he crouched down to her level, he still towered over her.

Pathetic love? Something within Bianca snapped. She pushed down the sheer terror and misery that Sephiroth evoked in this moment. She stared at him, gazing deep into his feline-like eyes. A flutter raced in her chest: hope. It was tiny, but it was still there. She could feel Sephiroth beneath all the layers of corruption, influence, and madness.

2.

“That’s not true. We loved each other before you b-before you set our world aflame.” Bianca turned towards him now and cupped his cheek. Her demonic blood roared to life and fought his control over her. As she stared into his cyan eyes, she could still sense him — the man behind the One-Winged Angel and Son of Jenova—within their bond.

“You’re still in there.” Her hand still stroked his face, as she could feel the confusion seeping in through their bond. “I can feel you. Beneath the pain. Beneath the madness. Beneath the chaos. Like you, I too have a calling and destiny that I will answer it. I will free you from yourself and your mother.

Sephiroth took a step back and narrowed his brow at the feisty angel before him. Both of them knew that her demonic blood often dominated his and Jenova’s control, since her father was one of the original primordial demons, but he couldn’t comprehend the source of her immense power.

“It is true,” Bianca continued. “You may have changed, but in doing so, so have I. Our souls mirror each other. If there’s anyone who can save you from the chaos, it’s me: your angel.”

With a firm grip on his suspenders, she forcefully pulled him towards her, their lips meeting in a rebellious display of passion. Their kiss was a delicate balance of vulnerability and resistance, as their lips moved in a slow, tender dance.

The fires raged on around them, but her gentle touch on his cheek provided her a moment of solace. As the weight of the heat bore down on her skin, she found herself even more resolved in the conviction that she had to save him.

Her heartache lingered deep within, like a thick coating of molasses, but she refused to let it consume her, knowing that her mission to save Sephiroth required her full resolve. Yet, her heart clenched every time she laid eyes on him, making it nearly impossible to offer any help. He would have denied it, anyway. In death, he relentlessly refused to find rest or to join with the Planet. His anger and madness refused to let him rest.

“I cannot be killed,” she said, emphasizing her heritage as the daughter of Asmodeus and Seraphine. Strands of her saliva still clung to his lips, making them shimmer in the firelight. She stood. “And when you remain after the Meteor falls, I too will persist. I will spend eternity freeing you from your madness, if I must.”

Bianca now stalked towards him. She stared intensely into his eyes as her hips swayed as she walked deliberately while the flames of the fire flickered around them, making her seem as if she were a demon exiting hell.

With her head tilted up and her wings spread wide, she finally stood before him, exuding confidence and grace. Amidst the dying flames of Nibelheim, her feathers, a mix of purple and black, gleamed with an otherworldly beauty. As she emerged from the flames, she masked her true feelings, burying them deep inside. She concealed her pain of losing him five years ago beneath a stoic expression, making it invisible to his eyes. As she wrested her dream-scape from him, her eyes glinted with determination, and a powerful sense of empowerment overcame her.

Once more, the landscape shifted, revealing a breathtaking panorama of rolling hills and vibrant wildflowers. Behind the evergreen forest, a majestic mountain rose behind them, casting a shadow that made her feel small. This was the original home to the Biblical Nephilim: a race of ice giants that lived beyond the mountain range. In the forest, the sound of the cherubs’ fluttering wings accompanied the mesmerizing sight of their iridescent light, as Bianca stood firmly planted her feet.

Sephiroth’s eyes widened further as the fiery hell-scape of the Nibelheim Incident faded away, promptly replaced by the ethereal beauty of the Celestial Realm. His feet remained planted, but a deep frown creased his forehead. Their shared soul-bond revealed a cacophony of thoughts: a blend of bewilderment, rebellion, and, above all, seething rage.

“You are right, Sephiroth, though,” Bianca declared, quietly. Her voice may have been soft and husky, but there was a power to it. “You love to say how this and the Reunion are homecomings. It right here and now is. It’s your homecoming. While my concern for humanity and the Planet is significant, it is the harm done to your soul that weighs heavily on my mind. But fear not.

“I will save you, the Chosen One, the Son of Jenova,” Bianca’s voice resonated with conviction as she made her declaration. Her hand pressed firmly against her chest, feeling the rapid thumping of her heart, as it still clenched from sorrow.

How could she promise to save him? Five years prior, she had experienced failure. He had chosen Jenova, forsaking their love in favor of fulfilling his destiny. She couldn’t let him see the vulnerability that lingered in her eyes, a result of the impact his choice had on her. With a burst of black and purple smoke, Sephiroth vanished, leaving behind an eerie silence. Despite the immense sorrow of her soul, she found herself in a quiet recreation of her homeland. The night air was cool and crisp, providing a much-needed respite from the fiery and acrid atmosphere that lingered after the hell-scape he had conjured of the Nibelheim Incident.

The occasional hoot of an owl and the gentle rustling of leaves filled with a serene silence, interrupted only the dream-scape.

The last black feather gently descended from the Heavens, and Bianca sank to her knees, feeling the coolness of the moss and grass beneath her. Her hands trembling, she gently pressed them against her cheeks, muffling the sound of her sobs. With her palms pressed against the moss, grass, and feather, she hunched over and wept in silence. Every inch of her body shuddered and trembled, as if she had reached the brink of despair, but a glimmer of hope pulsed in her heart, as if it was her only chance to rescue him. His scent and feather provided her with a fleeting sense of comfort, although she remained unaware of the unfamiliar presence.

3.

With the world holding its breath, the air stood completely still as his black feather gracefully descended to the ground, resting on the cool moss beside her. But there, beneath the silence, a faint whisper lingered, barely audible, like a gentle breeze. A flicker of emotion crossed her face - a mix of regret, pain, and something unspoken.

Only a being as divine as her and Bianca herself could hear the ethereal whispers that resonated deep within her soul. In a spectral manifestation, Sephiroth materialized, his figure ghostly and translucent, extending his hand to gently wipe away a stray tear from her cheek. As she looked into his eyes, she was struck by the profound warmth that radiated from them, a stark contrast to Sephiroth’s previously menacing gaze. The moment he got close, she realized something was off. The aroma coming from him was completely unlike the Sephiroth who had just left her, but it matched the scent of the man who had fallen into the mako and left her in deep sorrow, confirming that he was not Sephiroth — or the Sephiroth that had fallen to Jenova and madness.

“Are you a dream? A vision of the past?” As she looked up, her eyes widened in recognition and joy when she saw her SOLDIER, a familiar smile on his face. Although he appeared identical to moments ago, a subtle radiance emanated from his eyes and his demeanor exuded an air of lightness. He existed in a liminal space between the detached SOLDIER and the sinister One-Winged Angel, an enigma that became intertwined with her soul.

As he bent down and brushed her cheek, she shivered from the warm connection: his touch was divine. Tears still coursed down her face, dripping off of her chin as she held onto the One-Winged Angel’s black feather.

“I am a fragment of a memory,” Sephiroth whispered to her. “A whisper of a soul. A fate that was once promised, but was cruelly snatched away.”

Her eyes, full of emotion, remained fixed on him as she continued to watch. Sephiroth’s ethereal form gracefully knelt before her, his long silver hair cascading down his shoulders and back. As she looked into his cyan eyes, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of gentleness and sadness emanating from them. Once again, he tenderly brushed his fingers against her cheek, feeling the wet trails of tears on her skin, as if he wanted to remember every contour.

“But I am what was meant to be.” He continued to brush the tears away. “And yet, not what I am. I am a shadow of the man you once loved, but I am still him. And I will always come for you when you need me.”

[idle-soliloquy]

Blows u and ur friend a kiss ur comments made my DAY!!!

No... No, I am not ok.. still reeling. I cried myself to sleep listening to Sun Bleached Flies by Ether Cain and thinking about them, especially Gale in the last chapter...

Oh, hell.

@angelfruittree bless her for providing emotional support, by the end of chapter 8 I was physically unwell. Ordered sushi, and I kid you not it tasted like cardboard. Brain fried.

Here are the highlights of my mental breakdown:

I'm fine, is the truth!

Bless you for giving us this story. I will be there every week, waiting for updates like a dog for its next meal.