#even after experiencing someone so close to me dying death still doesn’t feel real

[fairycosmos]

i just can’t believe everyone ive ever met is going to die

[66553211]

1.24.23 8:53pm

Written on my new laptop that didn’t have the password to this account, in my room, on my bed. Copied here on 1.27.23 at 3:56pm from the studio.

Today, I was listening to a podcast about literature for teens/ kids. They were talking about "Looking for Alaska" which I've never read, but climaxes with the icon Alaska herself dying. I guess the two boys who were close to her start to question the circumstances of her death after finding something she wrote. Not like a suicide note, but like some small thing she wrote in the margins of a book she had. What she wrote makes them think that maybe the car crash she died in was not an accident, but her intention. They are obsessed with finding the "answer" to Alaska's death. One of the podcast hosts describing this posits that this not knowing has such control over them because they want to absolve themselves of their responsibility for her death. Ironically, they are hoping it is a suicide because that would mean it wasn't their fault that they let Alaska go and drive drunk that night. The other host wonders if the obsession is not over specifically what the actual answer is but the fact that there is the existence of a question at all. She says: "nuance in death is very hard...the not knowing." When she said that, it struck me on a scale larger than that of their podcast or the book or those specific characters. It struck me because is that nuance not the axis which the pain of death has always revolved around? Even in scenarios where the intention, or method, or moment of death is not mystery, doesn't that deep feeling of not knowing still exist? And is that not really the crux of our pain? That our loved one has experienced something completely foreign to us, that we will never know what they lived in that moment they died until it meets us? It is not the nuance of the specifics surrounding our death that will be hard when it comes to meet us, it will be the nuance of what death even is at all. How can we define death? How do you actualize that which is ether? All I can say confidently of what death is is what death is not. Everything else is just a nuanced guess.

 When we are living, we explore death through the ones that happen around us. That is really only the time we have to, I don't think the dead ponder the dead. But I also don't know for sure. I guess saying that only the living have the time to ponder may be true. I feel that time is something that only exists on this plane of existence. I don't think death, and whatever is happening before we are born, are linear. Life is linear, but death is forever. So once someone dies, we, the living, are left to contextualize them and their death and any meaning in it. And, as humans do, we usually fuck that up and make it all about us in ways it never was. We see their death through us. We see their death through the fear of our own, through how much it hurts us that they are gone, through all of the experiences we are sad we will not get to see them have. When Alaska dies in that book, the boys are objectively sad for her death because yes it means she is dead. But their real heartbreak is not knowing what her death says about them. What it says about them as people and friends, if it defines them as good or bad, how these questions will affect them for the rest of their lives. And I fucking hate that for Alaska. I hate that she dies at 16 or whatever and now for what would have been the rest of her natural life, all that will exist of her is other peoples' ideas about what she was and what she might have been. None of it actually being her. And this realization of mine, this realization that in death you surrender the meaning of your life. You entrust it to those who survive you, and then they will decide what it, and what you, meant. And I'm not ready for that. I'm not ready to relinquish creative control. I don't want other people to decide how to remember me. I haven't done enough good things yet. Good isn't the right word. I haven't done enough things outside of me. I want something to survive of me in this world. Something more. I will keep trying. I'm going to let this idea save me. I'm not going to be suicidal anymore. It's only been getting worse, but not anymore. I'm going to fucking fight for my life. I'm going to fucking win, too.

[sequinsmile-x]

Exhaustion

Part of the Full House series

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy and non-graphic descriptions of a traumatic birth

Read on A03 or under the cut

Let me know what you think!

There was something wrong with her. That was the only thought that was circling around her brain on repeat. Emily was exhausted. Bone deep exhaustion that she had never experienced before, not during all her years working at the BAU, or those early days with Ian Doyle when she thought she would be caught out any second. Even when she’d had Ivy, those endless early days of motherhood with her first ever baby, she hadn’t felt like this.

Aaon kept telling her it was normal, that a new baby combined with just how traumatic Audrey’s birth had been would make her recovery drawn out. That on top of that Ivy, who had always typically been a Daddy’s Girl, was suddenly obsessed with Emily, the jealousy of having a new sibling who took so much of her mother’s attention making her cling to her. Tears and tantrums ran high whenever Emily was out of her sight, all but glued to her side at every waking hour.

She knew he was right. She had been there too when the doctor explained that it would take her weeks, potentially months, to completely recover from the birth. It had only been three weeks, still so recent that she sometimes caught Aaron looking at her like she might disappear, like he might lose her.

Emily knows he almost did.

Knowing all of that didn’t help. It didn’t stop the feeling of shame that would crawl up her spine at the frustration she would feel at never having a second alone, despite her own hesitance to ever let the girls or Jack out of her sight. She knew her own anxieties were born out of having her baby ripped off her chest only seconds after she had been placed there, things getting hazier by the second.

She felt over touched. Every nerve on edge whenever tiny hands reached out for her skin. And she was so angry at herself for it.

There was something wrong with her,

Aaron had been hesitant to go back to work, his understanding of how she felt despite her never putting it into words as clear as ever. Emily had encouraged him, knowing that they would have to go back to normal as soon as they could. When he immediately got sent away on a case, one he was now finally on the way back home from a week later, she almost regretted it.

It had been a long week. Audrey had barely been sleeping and was cluster feeding throughout the night, and Ivy wanted to be with her at every possible second. Jack was a saint, helping Emily where he could in distracting Ivy and playing with his sister. He’d even brought Emily a cup of tea at one point a couple days ago when she must have looked particularly drained. He hadn’t done it since, spooked by the way she had almost immediately burst into tears despite her assurances that it was a lovely thing to do.

Jessica had popped round the day before, sympathy on her face and a casserole in hand. Emily knew that Aaron had asked her to check in, and she was grateful for it. Jack was with Jessica today, the boy excited to spend an evening with his aunt. She had offered to take Ivy too, but the way the little girl had gripped Emily’s shirt at the suggestion had made her decline, knowing ultimately it would be worse for everyone if she had accepted.

“Mama.”

Emily turns to look at Ivy. The toddler was sitting next to her on the couch as Audrey slept in the bouncer chair just to the left of them. It was the only place she could get the baby to drift off for any period of time during the day.

“Yes, sweetheart?” She smiles at her daughter, discreetly checking the clock on the wall behind her. Aaron would be home soon, and she was almost more excited to have someone, anyone, else here with the girls than she was to see him.

“Snowman?”

Emily has to stop herself from sighing. Frozen was Ivy’s favourite movie and she had already lost track of how many times she had watched it in the last week.

“Are you sure? We could watch something else.” Emily tries to reason, her usual rule of limiting screen time very much out of the window. She knows it was fruitless when Ivy furrows her brow at her in a way Aaron always insisted was all her.

Ivy shakes her head, her dark brown and unruly curls moving as she did. “Snowman.”

“Ok. Snowman.” She grabs the remote and turns on the tv, not even remembering the last time they had a different DVD in the player.

They get part way through, Emily plotting the death of Olaf in her head as she watches, before Audrey starts to gristle. Emily reaches down to get her, wincing at the sudden movement, still healing from giving birth, as she unbuckles her and pulls her into her arms.

“You’re ok, baby.” She whispers, kissing the top of Audreys head, her dark hair matching her sisters. The newborn almost immediately starts rooting at Emily’s chest and she adjusts her shirt so she can start to feed her.

As soon as Audrey is in her arms Ivy is up against her, standing on the couch as she tries to get as close to Emily as possible.

“Ivy, Mommy just needs a bit of room ok?” She smiles at her eldest daughter, trying to maintain the gentle approach she had always taken with her. “I can cuddle you after I’ve fed her.”

“No.” Ivy says, leaning into her side. “My Mama.”

She has to stop herself from flinching as Ivy’s little hand tangles in her hair.

There was something wrong with her. _______________________

He doesn’t think he has ever been so excited to get home. He had spoken to Emily as often as possible, quick phone calls and texts exchanged to check in on his family. The moment Penelope had told him that they had a case on his first day back after Audrey’s birth his heart had dropped to his stomach.

Emily was more than capable of looking after the kids alone, he knew that, but he was worried about her. He had been worried about her since the second he was left alone in a room holding his minutes old little girl as his wife was rushed away, an emergency taking over what should have been a joyous moment. He could tell something was off, that some part of her was doubting her abilities, but she wouldn’t talk about it, smiling wryly at him whenever he told her how fantastic a mother she was.

As Aaron walks into the living room he sees his wife sitting on the couch. Their three week old in her arms as she feeds her, their 3 year old standing on the couch cushion pressed up against Emily’s side, her tiny hand wrapped in her mother’s hair as she watches her baby sister eat.

Frozen, Ivy’s favourite movie, is playing on the TV, and Aaron winces as the song about summer floats around the room, making him briefly wonder to himself if the murder of a animated snowman would be considered justifable homicide, given that their toddler demanded they watch it on repeat.

Then Emily looks up and catches his eye, exhaustion rolling off of her in waves, and he pushes any other thoughts to the back of his head.

“Hi sweetheart.”

Her response is a trembling smile, and before she can speak Ivy turns, a wide smile on her face as she looks at him.

“Daddy!”

She doesn’t run to him like she would have only weeks ago, instead staying next to Emily. He scoops her up anyway, kissing the side of his daughter's head repeatedly as she giggles.

“Daddy, stop.”

He does, laughing as he leans down to kiss the top of Emily’s head. He frowns as she flinches, readjusting Audrey as she finishes eating.

“How are my girls?” He asks, settling Ivy on his hip. “I missed you.”

“Missed, Daddy.” Ivy says, eyes focused back on the tv.

‘Oh, Frozen. Mommy’s favourite.” Aaron says, any laugh from his own joke dying in his throat when he sees the very real glare Emily throws his way as she stands with Audrey against her chest, gently rubbing the little girl's back to burp her.

“I’m going to go change her.” She says, attempting to throw him a smile before she heads upstairs.

“Mommy seems grumpy.” Aaron says turning to Ivy, bouncing the little girl slightly to make her laugh, the concern on her own face too much for him to bear.

“Drey cry lots.” Ivy explains, her expression serious.

Aaron nods and kisses his daughter's forehead, settling her back down on the couch. “You stay here ok? I’ll be back in a minute.”

He heads upstairs, following the sound of his wife’s gentle words to their baby to their bedroom.

“Em?”

She turns to look at him briefly, tears shining in her eyes that set him on edge immediately, before she looks back at Audrey in her arms, the baby settling down. Emily flinches when he touches her shoulder, pulling herself away from him and the movement makes Audrey cry again, any progress Emily had made her to calm down gone in a second.

“Damn it.”

“Sweetheart?”

“I’m ok.” She says, sounding anything but. “I just need five minutes where someone isn’t touching me.” Emily says, desperation laced through her voice. He stops himself from walking towards her, from pulling her into his arms and providing the comfort he is itching to give her. “I’m either feeding Audrey, or Ivy is clinging to me like she’ll never see me again. I love them more than I can possibly explain but...” A sob escapes her and she wipes her cheeks. “I am so tired, Aaron. I just need five minutes.”

For a second Aaron isn’t sure what to do. His fingers twitch at his sides, his natural instinct to reach out for her almost overwhelming. Emily and Audrey both crying the only sound in the room.

“Pass her over.” He says eventually, hands reaching out towards her.

“Aaron-”

He smiles at her in an attempt to reassure her. “Come on, sweetheart. You need a break.”

“I can look after my own children.” She says, accusation in her voice.

“I know you can, love.” He steps towards her, careful not to reach out for her like he so desperately wanted to. “But you need some time to yourself, you need to get some rest.”

She nods, albeit reluctantly, passing the baby over as she does, kissing the top of her head as she lets go.

“You only just got home.” She says, wiping tears from her face now that her hands were free. “I didn’t even say hi.”

Aaron holds Audrey to his chest, smiling at his wife. “That’s ok. We’ll be downstairs.” He walks out the room, gently closing the door behind him. He looks at his youngest curled up on his chest and kisses the side of her head. “Let's go see what your sister is up to.” _______________________

When Ivy suggests putting Frozen back on almost as soon as it is finished he manages to distract her. He asks her what they could do instead with only a limited amount of time left before bedtime. Her eyes light up immediately, running off to the room that used to be their den but was now a playroom. The sound of her dragging her dress up box, almost entirely stocked by Penelope, into the living room wakes up Audrey. He picks her up from her bouncer before she can cry loudly enough to disturb Emily, hoping he could give her as much time as possible.

Ivy already has her Elsa wig on, and Aaron already knows where this is going when she pulls out the Anna wig.

“Daddy Anna.”

“I think my head is a bit big.”

Ivy, not put off by her father’s logic, places the wig on top of his head anyway before grabbing some reindeer antlers he had never seen before from the box. She goes to place them on Audrey’s head. He stops her, unable to suppress a smile when she frowns. Emily’s frown.

“Sweetie, no. Audrey can’t be Sven.”

“Drey play.”

“She’s too little.” He says, putting the antlers back down. “But we can play. Just you and me.”

She has Emily’s smile too. _________________

Emily wakes up, rubbing her eyes as she looks at the clock on the nightstand, seeing she’d had about an hour's sleep. That, combined with the time to herself and the quick shower she had managed to fit in had calmed her nerves somewhat. Nowhere near all the way repaired, but enough to settle her back down.

As she sits up in bed she feels an all too familiar ache in her breasts, a sign that Audrey would need feeding again soon, and she runs her hands over her face before she gets up in search of her family.

She can hear laughter floating up the stairs, her husbands mixed in with Ivy’s, her precious giggle warming Emily’s heart as much as it did the very first time she heard it. She pads down the stairs quietly, the socks she had stolen from Aaron dulling the sound of her footsteps. Love blooms in her chest, spreading through her body at the sight that greets her.

Aaron is sitting with a childs wig on his head, one she knows Penelope bought Ivy when she offhandedly mentioned one day how much her daughter loved Frozen. It looks absurd. Tiny in comparison to his size. His sleeves are rolled up and his tie is off, the top couple of buttons of his shirt undone and she can see his jacket folded over the armchair.

She observes him for a moment as he sits patiently listening to Ivy mostly babble to herself, interest in whatever she was saying all over his face. He had Audrey against his chest, the baby looking impossibly tiny up against him, only one hand securing her to him. He was a little thicker now than he was when they first got together, something Derek gently teased him for and called his ‘dad bod’.

Emily loved it and told him frequently. She loved that his embrace engulfed her. That it made her feel safe and secure whenever she was in his arms. She knows he does the same for their children. Has watched as he has soothed nightmares and scraped knees with the calming presence only their family are truly privy to.

She smiles as Ivy passes him a stuffed animal, a dog that she was obsessed with, that had reindeer antlers secured to its head. It’s almost bigger than Audrey, and as Emily watches him with a baby and a stuffed dog in his arms, their toddler excitedly talking at him, she doesn’t think she has ever loved him more. _______________________

They settle Ivy into her bed, both knowing she will likely make it into theirs at some point in the night, and eat dinner together.

Aaron has a quick shower as Emily feeds and rocks Audrey to sleep. She had just laid her into the bassinet on her side of the bed when the door to their ensuite opened, her husband making his way out already dressed in his pajamas. Emily yawns as she climbs into bed, him quickly following. He keeps his distance from her, space between them that they don’t usually allow and she smiles tiredly at him, her words from earlier clearly still on his mind.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” He asks, his concern for her clear.

“I’m ok, I promise.” She reaches out for his hand, linking their fingers between them. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

He squeezes her hand. “Em, you have nothing to apologise for.”

“I just…” She trails off, shaking her head at herself as tears fill her eyes. “I just don’t want you to think I don’t love them. That I don’t want this.”

“Baby, of course I don’t think that.” He says, his other hand cupping her cheek, thumbing away the tears that have escaped. “I know you love them. I’ve never doubted that for a single second.”

“I’m just so tired, Aaron.”

He finally pulls her into his arms, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding when she relaxes into his embrace, her face tucked into his neck.

“You’re being hard on yourself, my love.” He kisses the side of her head. “You had a baby 3 weeks ago. You almost died having her, remember?”

“I know.” She says, sniffing. “I know that. I was there.”

“Then give yourself a break.” He pulls back to tuck some hair behind her ear. He wants to say so much more, to assure her how good a mother she is, how much all of their kids love her, but he knows now isn’t the time. Knows her well enough to know she will assume he is simply just saying it. “We should get some sleep.” He kisses her softly. “She’ll be awake soon enough demanding your attention.” He says, tilting his head towards the bassinet.

They settle down, her facing the bassinet with her back to him. Aaron wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer so her back is pressed against his chest.

“You make a good Anna.” She quips as the image of him earlier with Ivy making her smile and it makes him laugh.

“Ivy gets more and more like you every day.” He says, pressing his lips to her temple. “I just hope she uses her attitude to run a company or something, and not a gang in prison.”

Emily reaches behind her to smack his shoulder in mock offence. “That’s rude.” She sniffs. “She’d run an excellent gang.”

She can feel herself falling asleep, the ever present exhaustion taking over.

“Em?”

She hums her response, turning her head just enough for his lips to land on her cheek.

“If you could kill Olaf how would you do it?”

She laughs. “I love you so much.”

The last thing she hears before she drifts off is him how much he loves her, how much he loves their family. _______________________

When she wakes the bed is empty, as is the bassinet and she immediately panics, fear lancing through her as she sits up quickly. She shakes off the lightheadedness caused by her sudden movement and takes a deep breath, logic taking over as she calms herself.

Emily pulls a robe on and walks downstairs, the light from the living room illuminating the hallway. She smiles when she sees Aaron sitting and holding Audrey in the crook of his arm, a bottle she had pumped earlier in the day in his hand as he fed her.

“Did I not get an invite to this party?” She asks quietly, not wanting to wake up Ivy upstairs.

Aaron turns to her and grins before looking back down at the baby. “Is Mommy allowed to join us?”

Audrey makes a small noise that makes them laugh and Emily walks over to join them on the couch.

“You could have woken me up.” She says, leaning forward to stroke a finger over Audrey’s dark hair.

“I know.” He leans forward to kiss her head. “You needed the sleep.” She opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by a door opening upstairs, and the sound of little feet down the hallway and stairs.

Emily groans slightly. “It’s like she has a radar for where I am.”

Aaron only has time to laugh in reply for Ivy is downstairs, climbing onto the couch with them and into Emily’s lap.

“What are you doing up, little miss?” Emily says, tapping the toddler on the nose, making her giggle. “You should be sleeping.”

“Snowman?”

Emily shakes her head. “No, Ivy. It’s too late to watch it now.” She pauses, and bites her lip as she suppresses a smirk. “Daddy said he’d watch it with you tomorrow though.”

The look Aaron throws at her over their daughter's head makes her laugh, and for the first time in over a week, probably since Audrey was born if she was honest with herself, she knows everything is going to be just fine.

[demonslayedher]

Dream Analysis of Mugen Ressha

Spoilers for the movie, while it does not depart from the plot of the manga, they made adaptational choices which I may refer to within.

While Enmu has control over what kind of dream his victims see, ultimately, he would have no way of knowing all of the details of his victims' lives, so we can assume that he is prompting his victims to fill in a lot of the details themselves. These are the worlds they surround themselves with consciously, but their untouchable unconscious spaces say just as much.

I've said some of this before, but these dream sequences give us so much to say about Inosuke, Zenitsu, Kyojuro, and Tanjiro.

Into the dream: Did that "Rengoku-aniki" thing really happen???? It's animated like a fever dream (or drawn like a typical Gotouge-being-Gotouge panel), but both the movie and the manga leave this inconclusive. It can be interpreted two ways: 1. The two other demons were there all along as decoys, set to appear only when Enmu's blood technique slowly started to take effect so that they'd let their guard down. In this way, we'd know that the boys had a true way of witnessing Kyojuro's prowess and a true bonding moment, thereby making his death hit all the harder later. This would also mean that one of the cars was totally unusable for passengers, and many of the passengers were already thoroughly spooked before falling into sleep. It would also imply that they were all super excited, thoroughly relieved, returned to their seats, and then just passed out.

2. The moment the tickets were clipped, Enmu's very, very, very realistic dreams took immediate effect, but he still needed time before it took effect enough that their guards would go down. If this is the case, then it implies the following: 1. Enmu's illusions can be shared 2. Everyone syncs extremely well together to have all been sucked in by the same illusion (it's possible it was only Tanjiro's, but since we get in everyone's heads a little in this part, I believe they all experienced the same thing). Reacting in ways so true to how they would in waking like, they learned as much about each other as truthfully as they would have if they were fighting while awake. 3. The "Rengoku-aniki" thing is the moment they're falling into a deeper stage of sleep, when any bizarre thing will make sense. They've lost any sense of holding back and are embracing the emotions as they hit them. Even if that was all a dream, the bond formed was very real. But then, as they fall deep, they fall into their own headspaces. Inosuke: I love how bombastic this dream is. It moves at a very fast pace, and everything revolves around Inosuke. He is physically much larger than Ponjiro, Chuuitsu, and Pyonko, who clearly follow him as their leader, the most powerful person in this cave exploring world full of wonder and excitement. True to life, these underlings can at times be frustrating or stupid, but there is no one else Inosuke would rather have at his side to take on a hugely impressive foe. It's a relatively simplistic world, what Inosuke really cares about is his place in it, and who is there.

Taking it a step deeper, he should not be able to manifest in his self-conscious space, but Gotouge attributes his and Zenitsu's ability to do this and protect their cores from intruders to their strong senses of self. What's telling is that his subconscious space is practically identical to his conscious dream space; like there is no breakage between one stage of reality and the next. In its Zen-like simplicity Inosuke's mind is never at odds with itself, its interpretation of reality is fluid and seamless. However, being at this deeper state brings us to a deeper state of self actualization, with Inosuke manifesting closer to the ideal beast he views himself as.

Now, with Inosuke being so fully invested in what he sees as reality, he's still got a carry-over effect from dream after waking up, which one could interpret as not having fully shaken the effects of Enmu's blood technique. After all, Zenitsu simply never broke out of it, Tanjiro had to kill himself in his dreams each time to fully snap out of it, and Kyojuro was the only one powerful enough to have broken through its effects through his own willpower. When Tanjiro says the train is a demon, he buzzes with "I was right!" (a conviction that only got stronger in his dream), and Inosuke's declarations of being the boss and Tanjiro being his underling are indignantly plentiful and he fully believes what he is saying every time he brings it up, even if he's aware that he's no longer in the cave exploring dream. But, given that Inosuke is so at peace with his own version of reality, it's also just as likely that his conviction of being The Boss was also only compounded by the dream, and all that dream did was give him a more fun setting in which to play around in. But, what was so fun about the dream, what made him sleep-giggle with pleasure, was that everyone else was finally getting with the program and recognizing him as the boss, as they should. Finally. It's so frustrating in real life that he has to keep reminding them to get it right. Get it, Santaro?? GOOD. Zenitsu: What I love here is the contrast between subconscious and conscious space. Both of them have the same theme melody, but played in very, very different ways. They also both play with the same core desire in very different ways as well. Is it so much to ask that he can just spend some time alone with the girl he loves?? If we jump straight to the pitch black unconscious space, he specifies to the intruder that only Nezuko is allowed there. Not just girls in general, not a close friend like Tanjiro, only the one girl he loves, and even then, you'd have to love someone a lot to invite them into the deepest, darkest corners of your soul. And it is a very, very, very, very dark corner. Zenitsu's spent most of his life building that dark, pessimistic personality, compounded by the treatment he's always received throughout his life and what he believes about himself at his core. He's ugly and depraved there, and very defensive. Because he holds himself in such darkness, that makes him desire the bright, happy, completely idealistic world of his conscious dream world. It's rich with detail and warm and he knows it well, that places is the first place he ever felt someone have hope for him; it's Jiichan's home, that sunny place with delicious peaches and full of clovers and lush greenery and a charming stream. Of course he'd want to show it all to Nezuko, she deserves to see such a happy, pretty place! And, while the world is idealized and happy, Nezuko is e-x-t-r-e-m-e-l-y cute and actually wants to hang out with him too. She's willing no hold his hand, none of the girls who dated (read: used) Zenitsu in the past were ever willing to hold his hand. He even gets to show her that he can be cool, and she likes it!! She looks him in the eyes and is totally honest about enjoying his company!!

He just wants someone to want him back. He wants to belong in the sunshine too. So, even if he had it in him to wake up from Enmu's blood technique, who can blame him for staying there? (You know, besides Tanjiro, who has been desperately screaming for them all to wake up and help him protect the passengers. Zzzzz, five more minutes, Tanjiro, zzzzzzz----) Kyojuro: This... isn't really a happy dream. Kyojuro has accepted a lot of sad parts of his reality so wholeheartedly that he doesn't seek the comfort of a dream in which his mother is still alive, or a dream in which his father is proud of him. Instead, what Kyojuro was looking for was the chance to go back and say more to Senjuro. This implies that on the real day he knelt in that room, while his father faced away and read the book* while Kyojuro told him all about how he defeated Lower Moon Two and became a Pillar, and was met with his father's heartbreakingly unenthusiastic reply, he later went outside and...

...didn't say any words of comfort to Senjuro.

This regret, that he didn't do more for his brother whom he knew was hurting in his own silent ways this whole time, was what sat most bothersomely in Kyojuro's otherwise peacefully self-assured psyche (or fired-up psyche, if you go by his subconscious space) . It makes sense that in his dying wishes, the first thing he requests is that Tanjiro do this in his stead. *Speaking of that book, Kyojuro had forgotten about it until his memories pulled together to create the details of the dream, which was why he thought to mention it to Tanjiro later. This shows that Enmu is not an architect of people's dreams, he only sets them in motion. How believable they are depends on each victim. (Totally unrelated, I love the design of the Rengoku estate's garden??? It's primarily evergreen and unflowering trees, meaning it stays relatively steadfast throughout the year, a garden designed in samurai villa taste. Plus the details of the house also fit really well, I think??? Would need to review research of buke-yashiki architecture to say more.) Tanjiro: ...*deep breath* This boy really, really wants to go home. Like, the climax of the movie is amazing and all, but it's the scenes with Tanjiro's family that make me cry. Ugh, where do I start. Enmu probably just grabs on to whatever thread of a desire a person has, and then he just tugs on it and says "this way, let's go really far in this direction, show me where it goes, hmm, okay, nice, lovely. Have fun here, I've now seen enough to write my own angsty version for later." So... so I'm just going to work backwards a moment. Enmu screwed up here, thinking he could really read the depth of Tanjiro's family and his feelings for them. He thought he could make a convincing version of these "characters" cry and shove Tanjiro around and speak meanly to him and make him feel shame. And the cut to that dream, OH MY GOSH, truly horrific sound and color change. But Tanjiro's sees through it so fast that he wakes up immediately and uses that anger at how Enmu wrote them to cut off his "head." You screwed up, Enmu, you blew it, maybe other people would very so blown down by the shock that they wouldn't question how unreal that dream sequence is, but Tanjiro has honed his fighting spirit so much that it's been nagging him even throughout his happy dream. And he really, really, really wants to stay in that happy dream. Like, even though he's on guard at the beginning, so much so that he only focuses on the familiar feeling of a demon being around and does not notice the familiar landscape AT ALL. But the moment Hanako and Shigeru step in, convincingly made from Tanjiro's memories and unedited by Enmu, Tanjiro throws that all away in an instant. As he says when he's trying, after trying and trying and trying to rip himself away from the dream, he was never even supposed to had left this world. He was never supposed to had touched anything like a sword, they were all supposed to stay there together, living their simple life. If things hadn't gone wrong that one night. Tanjiro cares deeply about his mission, he's adopted his training deeply, he has serious desire to improve, which is why his subconsciously keeps trying to call himself back to reality, but it's so hard, because this is where he wants to be, and it's even harder because it feels so real. It's a little peeve of mine when families with lots of little siblings are written to be too angelic and idealistic, and there is some of that with the "let's make sembei, yaaaay" scene, but... but that's actually pretty true. I'm giving myself away with how close this hits to home, but it's a dynamic in a lot of large families, especially large families pretty happy to stay to themselves and people who live the same sort of conservative, traditional lifestyle, to foster in the older siblings some pride in taking care of the little ones and helping create that happy world for them, even if taking care of little kids can be rough. It's not to say that things are always happy and fluffy, they're not, and that's not to say even

happy kids don't resent being in a large family sometimes. But there's plenty of moments in daily life, especially in the presence of small children, that you get swept up into a sillier, happy, caretaker side of yourself, and since you all grow up with these silly moments together, you're going to naturally fall into into some silly, scripted-feeling moments of "then I'll be in charge of eating the sembei!" "no faaaaair!". So, I'll give the sembei scene a pass because that IS a moment that happens in years of moments with the same posse of kiddos around you all the time. But it's also so striking to me how each of Tanjiro's siblings, however idealized, has their own personality. The traits are so subtle but consistent and Tanjiro knows all of them. They pick up on things about each other, they grow realistically annoyed and surprised and concerned and scared like they would if they were real instead of only Tanjiro's memories of them. Those kids feel so real to me, even if they are annoyingly overidealized in some parts as Tanjiro is letting himself get swept away. And just when he's managing to part from it to go face reality, Enmu makes more attack: he brings in Nezuko, trying to make it feel like there's no point in Tanjiro running at all. She's fine. There's nothing left for him to fight for. Everything's fine. And all over again, Tanjiro just stops. He KNOWS it's not real, but he's hurting so much to hear her voice again that he just sto-o-o-o-ps. And his desire to stay with the others catches up to him all over again, and he's tempted all over again to stay, EVEN KNOWING IT'S NOT REAL and there are very, very, very pressing matters to attend to. Even if it was all a little happy and idealized, more than anything, it felt like life always did. It's telling that when Tanjiro finally, FINALLY pulls away from that that time, he doesn't look back, and the family stops chasing him. This is Tanjiro accepting reality, however much it hurts. He's already had a couple years to accept this, but it was all overwhelming to get such a vivid taste of it again.

Tanjiro wants to do well to his organization and honor Urokodaki's training and avenge the fallen and prevent anyone else from being hurt and see an end to Kibutsuji Muzan and make Nezuko human again, but more than anything, he wants that simple life. And it's so, so heartwarming that at the end of the manga, he gets it.

It's not the same. It'll never be the same.

He never wanted a life with a sword, but he's been working so hard at it anyway.

[furiousgoldfish]

I haven't been writing a lot lately because my recovery has been taking a wild turn and in lack of anyone to talk to or therapy, I'll be writing about it here! I'll put it under a cut. There are some descriptions of recovery going very wrong, and also explanations of things I was wrong about.

So since the pandemic started I've been deteriorating badly, first I've been processing trauma extensively, having intense breakdowns and gradually it turned into depression from lack of stimulation, I've been completely alone for months without speaking to, or seeing anyone. I thought it was the isolation getting to me, and decided I just need to endure that, indulge in whatever coping I could and wait for it to end. And then things got worse.

Even as normally I was seeing some very slow progress in recovery; now it was going backwards; I was having less and less ability to get anything done, I wasn't able to force myself to do my job for months, I kept getting stuck in bed for weeks, chronic pain got so bad I couldn't move on most days. And, it only kept going worse.

My breakdowns stared to be about the present instead of the past; I couldn't handle being in pain all the time. As in before I would recover from a breakdown within a day or two, now it took 4 days to a week, and the trauma episodes would last for hours, so intense I'd find myself hoping I would die during it.

And then, I started losing all mobility and this seriously freaked me out. Everything above I've already experienced before, without long term consequences, but now my body was losing function in a way that felt permanent; I could no longer move for more than few minutes, and without extensive pain. Sometimes I would try to get up and end up collapsing and screaming from how much it hurt, I would move my arm and my whole body would experience a shock of intense pain. I was scared, I no longer knew what was going on, I was suspecting something more than ptsd was wrong. I've forced myself into physical activity, trying to fight this, I tried stretching, exercising, running, punching, and every single one of these activities made it incredibly worse. I thought I had broken my body by laying down too much. I no longer felt anything but terror and dread, and kept spiralling into scenarios of my own death; it felt inevitable, I wasn't going to survive without ability to move, nobody would take care of me.

I tried out medicine that helps relaxing, it had minimal effect. Then, in desperation to check if this was all ptsd, I attempted self harm, to see if it erases the pain. It did. It lowered the pain significantly It was a big relief, even though I wasn't happy with resorting to that, at least I could move around for a while, and I was grateful for that. Times couldn't be more desperate, and the measure felt fitting. I was still in a very bad shape, and the pain was only somewhat lessened.

It was about that time someone sent me the Complex PTSD book; I had wanted it for a while and immediately went to read it. I felt some relief reading it, and I was struck with the realization that I have not felt any relief in more than a year. It also surprised me with some of the exact descriptions of my behaviour, that I didn't realize was a symptom. I thought it was necessary and smart of me to live in hiding, to avoid interaction and never connect to anyone; it kept me safe. It turns out it's a regular freeze response to trauma; I got very called out for it. It also explains that a freeze response is what people use when anything else doesn't work, and it's true! I had been fighting, fawning and perfecting myself desperately prior to realizing that absolutely nothing helps, and froze to survive. It also described that freeze types are capable of surviving prolonged isolation because their brains produce hormones that relax the body as if they're going thru a moment before death; also true for me, I've been aware my brain does that, only I get that way too often, and it only helps me marginally because I'm too used to it.

Another thing I was very wrong about was my concept of my inner critic; I thought I had already won that battle, because I did not allow any voice in my head to criticize me (my alters can drag me affectionately), and I generally didn't experience a lot of shame or guilt for what I was going thru. The book describes inner catastrophizer, which is an extention of the critic, and it causes you to spral into extremely negative scenarios of your own demise. Now that.. was happening to me every single day, I saw myself dead around every corner. But I always thought my fears about that were perfectly reasonable. I had been tortured into suicidal state as a kid and nobody cared, I barely escaped with my life from there, I was living illegally, in hiding, without a normal job or regular income, without close friends or any family, with ptsd i couldn't get diagnosed for, without ability to work due to ptsd, in a capitalistic society where being able to work is only thing between you and dying. I had, by that point, gained many skills of survival, but it still felt very reasonable to fear that I would die if I don't get better soon.

The book described people who had families, jobs, social circles, friends and community, who spiraled into deep fear of becoming homeless and dying on the street; somehow their spiraling was exactly the same as mine, and it made me realize that it was, in fact, a symptom, and not reflection of reality. Because I was spiraling even when laying in my bed or eating or sleeping, knowing I could still afford rent for months because I arranged my life to allow myself to lay down a lot. I kept fearing my parents were coming to end my life, even when I arranged my entire existence specifically to prevent this from happening. And even if I was sick and without a real job, I had in fact, survived for 5 years after running away, I wasn't getting worse at it. My spiraling into death scenarios was a symptom of being trapped within a flashback.

The book guided me to try to challenge these fears, I immediately went for it, had a breakdown, screamed "I can't" for like an hour, had additional few breakdowns afterwards, and miraculously, recovered from them in only few hours. And then, I woke up from my flashback.

I won't describe what the flashback was, because it's too gruesome and horiffic, but it was in fact, bad enough to warrant every single bit of that pain I was experiencing, and a very convoluted, complex trauma. I was waiting to be killed in that flashback. Whats concerning is, I've been trapped in that same flashbacks for more than a year. After I broke my way out of it, it felt like I woke up to being alive for the first time in years. I got out being frozen in bed.

For 5 amazing days, I was able to do whatever I wanted. Chronic pain? I didn't know her. It was absoluely exhilirating to get to move again, I was not getting tired either, I was out there making up for months of doing nothing and I was not collapsing at any point. I felt actual joy again, and hope, and being free from pain was so extremely good, that alone made me ecstatic. I was able to create, to be organized, to take care of myself, to follow a checklist, to focus, I was a Normal Person for those 5 days.

And then, predictably, I was getting back stuck in that flashbacks and my levels of terror and dread spiked again. I went to re-read the book, and it took me a few days to really figure it out again, I don't know exactly how the book works on me, I feel like it says just the right keywords to trigger me into realizations and causes breakdowns that set me free. I found myself able to stop some spiraling, but sometimes I can't, that flashback holds immense power over me and is actually mixed with 10 other near-death scenarios that are too extreme for me to process, so this will keep happening. I did break free again, and got to experience additional few days of movement and happiness; I also started working extensively with my child alter, who was until recently extremely suicidal and dangerous to work with.

I am still kinda lost in all of this, and unsure whats going on, but I do believe I wont get trapped in a flashback again for a whole year. I became so anxious and helpless due to isolation, I forgot how to fight trauma, I forgot I actually had to do it. I used to do it constantly in the beginning, but it had made me suicidal back then to face all this, so I tried to just let it heal naturally, which I believed would eventually happen; but it didn't, I got trapped and suffered without knowing how to get out. I also believed my own spiraling was a reflection of reality and not trauma, and that fueled it a lot.

It explains very eloqently in the book how inner catastrophizing comes from being massively neglected; children who are not looked after start to realize just how unprotected they are, so their own sense of danger becomes hypersensitive and starts to lock on possible dangers everywhere. This is then further aided by media that points out every possible bad thing that could happen to a person, and the child who isn't guided by adult who could actually make a reasonable distinction between real and unlikely danger, will clock it all as absolute possibilities and be on alert. It's also fueled by the line of disasters and dangers that happen to them in the context of their own home, and for me, the strongest factor was my parents constantly convincing me that I would die without them. Even though I proved this wrong, and understand they did it precisely because they knew there was a lot of survival ability in me and that's why they worked so hard to destroy it, the fact that it was brainwashed into me under circumstances of torture still makes it impossible for me to fight it.

Maybe one day I will be able to.

I'm writing this because writing things down helps to make sense of it all, and I need to find my way thru this. I also hope someone else will see themselves in what I'm describing and it will help them find a way forward. Complex ptsd is the only book I found that speaks from the point of view of a person who survived cptsd, healed from it, and had so much experience with other traumatized people they're able to draw parallels and create patterns and statistics out if it, it was that more than anything that convinced me of their words, and gave me hope. The book also warns many times of how essential it is to reduce inner critic and catastrophizer before getting other recovery work done, other therapy might only do further harm before this work is done. It was true for me.

If you wanna read this book, here's a post with the links!

[aprilsrant]

Happiness.

Harry Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: mentions of the war, mentions of death/dying (promise nothing too serious), kind of angsty but fluff in the end. Enemies to lovers (kind of). Loosely based on the song Compass by The Neighbourhood.

A/N: This is a gift for my amazing girl Val, @minty-malfoy, I hope you can enjoy this fic, it was really fun to write. Happy Holidays to everyone reading this and to all of my followers, I love and appreciate all of you so much!

English is not my first language. Pictures are not mine. Open for more quality.

“I'm lucky you've been keeping me around

You're the star I look for every night

When it's dark, you'll stick right by my side.”

                                      Compass, The Neighbourhood.

Harry had never been one to believe in luck or chances, but there was no denying that ever since he was born, his entire destiny had been written in stone by someone who wanted nothing more than to destroy him; there was no denying that it felt like years of bad luck and a curse strong enough to affect everyone around him had been placed on his shoulders even before he could walk. 

After years of fighting Voldemort and his followers, Harry had the tendency of thinking that the norms of normality didn’t apply to him. Every new term at Hogwarts meant a new danger, threatening his life, his friends and the rest of the Wizarding Community that wasn’t part of the elite group of blood supremacists. 

Therefore, finding someone never did the top of his list when the number one was surviving through it all. Finding someone meant, at least to him, a glimpse of ordinariness and a sense of home, things that he never remembered of experiencing outside of Hogwarts and the Burrow. That being said, not under any circumstances Harry had believed encountering her would have been possible. 

(Y/N) was someone he had ignored and bound in a cage of old prejudice because of an ancient — and unhealthy — rivalry, one started centuries before they set foot on the castle. Their relationship wasn’t one for the romance movies the Muggles loved, those where the protagonists fall in love the moment they see each other. Instead, Harry and (Y/N) loathed the other ever since the first Potion class in their sixth year. 

For a Slytherin, dreams and ambitions are what you hold closely to your heart and anyone trying to defy them, or achieve them first, is waving a battle flag right in front of you, too loud to dismiss — or perhaps, the receiver of the message is too proud to ignore —. For (Y/N), seeing Harry Potter get all of Slughorn’s attention and praise when she had been the best on the subject for the last five years, was a slap in the face interpreted as a sign to unleash the rabid dogs of war.

If anyone had told Harry that he would grow to love her, to adore every piece of her, he would have laughed while claiming the person was mental. But, what was once a feud quickly transformed into a weird, unpredictable friendship. After that, it was only a matter of time for feelings to blossom.

Neither of them wanted to admit it, but deep inside of their chests and hearts, both knew that the sweaty hands, the longing stares, the intimacy of their jokes and the tenderness of their touch wasn’t the part of the play that friends acted.

It was then that the idea of bad luck and cursed for life appeared on his head again. How could he be so selfish to let her into his life when a real war was coming for him and for everyone who dared to choose his side? How could he pretend that the claws of death weren’t reaching for him, that his life didn’t depend on the shaky and ancient hands holding the scissors? Harry knew pulling Hermione and Ron, and his whole family, into the mess was already bad enough, but doing it to the girl who had become an unexpected beacon of light would make him even more guilty. It wasn’t fair that he had to worry about whether being with her or not would endanger her life, but Harry hadn’t been born for normality.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Harry heard her voice from behind him, strong but trying to cover the anger and hurt. It was only the two of them in the corridor since most of the other students were still in class or using their free period to study. The distance separating them gave the sensation of facing an endless ocean, one you could never cross. “Did I do or say something upsetting? Is it because of your friends? I know Ron doesn’t particularly like me but I promise I’m trying.”

“It’s not that and I’m not ignoring you,” Harry responded shortly, not stopping his walk or daring to glance back at her, afraid of giving in with only seeing the expression plastered in her face. The cold words escaping from his mouth and his attitude, rising the fire in the pit of her stomach.

“What do you mean you are not ignoring me, Harry?,” she scoffed while the pace of her footsteps increased to chase after the boy,  “you can’t even look me in the eye and say it to my face.”

“I’m answering your questions, am I not? In what way is this ignoring you then?” (Y/N) had admired Harry’s tendencies to sarcasm or ironic responses ever since they became friends — and perhaps even before —, but now she wanted to slap him for acting so unfaced.

“Well, I don’t know, maybe because one day you look like you’re finally about to ask me on a date but the next one, you avoid me as if I were sick!”

Harry’s steps faltered, his chest tightened at the thought of (Y/N) reciprocating his feelings.

“Please, just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it,” she whispered, putting herself in front of the boy.

“You did nothing wrong.”

“Then why are you acting like this? Is it because I’m a Slytherin?,” (Y/N) insisted. Now, Harry could see the ache and a hungry desperation in her eyes to know the answers, only there because of him. “Just don’t leave me, I- I can’t bear it. We can go back to hating each other if it makes it easier, but don’t do this, don’t leave me like this.”

“I don’t hate you, (Y/N), but I can’t give you what you want,” Harry said watching as her hands took hold of his owns, making his heart skipped a beat, “I’m not someone that can live a normal life, not with Voldemort threatening me and everyone I’m close with.” Harry didn’t miss her efforts to not flinch at the mention of the Dark Lord.

One of her hands travelled all the way up to his right cheek, the feeling of Harry’s skin and the way the boy had leaned into the touch of her fingers, forgetting for just a second all the worries plaguing his mind, had (Y/N)’s stomach almost bursting. 

“I don’t want nor need a normal life, Harry. I want you, I couldn’t care less about the rest,” she confessed.

“But I care! I care about what’s going to happen to you!,” He yelled (?), “you can get hurt, you can die, (Y/N)!”

“And so can you! Let me remind you, you’ve been there a couple of times now, Harry.” She was glad of choosing the empty corridor to confront him, not having to endure the hushed whispers and the stares, pointing at her as if she wouldn’t notice. “If there’s a war coming then I prefer to spend this few minutes of peace with you.”

“But if you-”

“And if I die, then I got to be with you in the end,” (Y/N) interrupted him, “I’m not afraid of dying, Harry, but I would love to live a little before doing so.”

He closed his eyes, releasing a shaky breath before embracing her figure and resting his head against her shoulders, smelling the signature and familiar fragrance of her perfume. A small smile appeared on (Y/N)’s face while she let herself enjoy the feeling of being in his arms, guarded from the evils outside the castle and loved by the boy she once used to loathe.

“We all deserve some happiness, and maybe even a tad of normalcy, Harry,” she whispered in his ear before looking at his green eyes and closing the distance between their lips.

Taglist: @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @gcdric @shadowsinger11 @thisismynerdyself @cappsikle @idont-knowrn @theweasleysredhair @aesthetically-hailey @slytherinsunrise @bannerbubble @lilac-wrists @storyisnotover

[kill-your-authors]

I’ve been thinking about Booker again.

I know I’ve talked about my opinions on him before (and gotten hate for doing so) but I literally can’t let it go so here I am talking about it again.

I have a problem with how Booker’s character arc was handled in the movie. I whole-heartedly believe that the intention was for the audience to feel torn at the ending of the movie, after finding out that Booker betrayed them and that he was going to face a hundred years of exile and as an audience member I want to feel torn. I want to be asking myself, “But if I were in his shoes, can I honestly say I wouldn’t have done the same?” because writing that evokes that kind of emotion in the audience is exciting and it’s what fiction is for. 

But we’re not torn at the end. I think everyone who watched the movie and is currently in this fandom has taken a definitive “side” when there was never supposed to be sides. People either over-sympathize with Booker and have either forgiven him or outright excused him for the harm he did, or they have vilified him and think he deserved worse, or that he ought to never be forgiven. 

And as it stands, as the movie was written, I lean toward the side that believes, at the very least, he had it coming and deserves what he got. 

But I wish that wasn’t the case. I wish the movie had done a better job of revealing Booker’s POV of things. Firstly, that he had no idea they were going to be captured. He believed they were going to give up some DNA, some tissue samples, and believed in doing so, that millions of sick people would either become healthy, or that their quality of life would be vastly improved and as a bonus in the process they would discover a way for him to end his life. In his eyes, that was nothing less than a win-win, and one I could easily see the youngest and least experienced and most naïve member of The Guard believing was the right thing to do. 

Nile wasn’t part of his plan, Andy losing her immortality wasn’t part of his plan, Nicky and Joe being tortured wasn’t part of his plan. It wasn’t even part of Copley’s, so how could it have been part of Booker’s? Not only that, but Booker isn’t doing this just for himself. Booker gets called selfish a lot by this fandom, and gets called selfish in canon by Joe - but Booker really believed he was doing this for Andy too. He probably believed he was making the decision that Andy, the leader of their group, would never make because Andy knows she is the one the rest of them look up to to be strong and to cope with their immortality and to lead them on their righteous path of doing good and making the world a better place. 

And I know I’ve made this argument before (and gotten hate for it) but I really think they fucked up when they had Booker say in the lab, “What do you know of the weight of all these years alone? You and Nicky always had each other.” I hate this line, because there is no way to interpret it other than that Booker did this because he’s lonely and not just lonely but romantically lonely which is indisputably selfish even if you consider that he’s doing it for Andy too, who had Quynh in her life for longer than Joe and Nicky have had each other, and who has had to live without her for 500 years. 

I really wish that at this critical point in the plot, they had Booker bring up his kids. He is the only one (that we know of) out of the entire guard who had children and we know that his grief over losing them is what has driven him to the point of being suicidal because of his conversation with Nile by the campfire. Booker’s backstory is a tragedy. Not only did he watch all three of his children die (and presumably a wife) but they all despised him, and more importantly despised him for his immortality. They blamed him for their deaths. They are the real reason he is so desperate to “end it,” and yet they made it sound like the only reason he doesn’t want to live is because he doesn’t have a romantic partner which in comparison, is nothing and is indisputably a selfish and pathetic (as Joe points out) reason for him to expose the Guard’s immortality to outsiders.

I also think they should have done this because unlike Andy, Joe and Nicky, who all have lost people too, and had to grieve people too - Booker’s memory of his family is fresh. Their loss is still an open wound. Andy says herself that she can’t remember her mother or sisters’ faces. Andy, Joe and Nicky are full of grief too, but their wounds aren’t fresh. 

(I also think this would have been good to highlight because it also explains why Nile was willing to let him off with an apology. I hate the implication that Nile wants to let him off with an apology because she hasn’t “learned” yet the way they suggest. I don’t think they’re giving Nile enough credit. Nile has just learned that she will never even speak to her mom and brother again, people she didn’t even get to say goodbye to. She has also just left all of her closest friends behind and the military, which was a vocation that was incredibly important to her due to her dad and she has just listened to Booker explain the toll this will take on her as time passes. When she suggests they let him off with an apology, it’s because she understands more than anybody else in that moment what the grief of losing your family can drive you to do. I know it is also because she is young, and has a good heart, and isn’t the type to hold a grudge, but to act as if that’s the only reason is just not giving Nile enough credit. She’s a marine who less than a week before believed that death was the end of it and here they all are now, alive and safe again, and she’s thinking, “No harm, no foul.”)

And also, Booker is like Nile. He’s “too new” still. Unlike Andy, Joe and Nicky who believe there’s at least a chance every time they die that they’re dying for real, Booker knows he’s got time. He knows he’s got centuries, maybe even millennia to endure yet. Millennia of wanting desperately to die and not being able to ahead of him. As someone who has been suicidal (and I know this makes me biased), who has believed the alternative to death was decades (not even centuries, let alone millennia!) of misery still ahead of me - I can tell you that when you’re thinking like that, death feels like such a gift, to be able to remind yourself, “at least I have the option to kill myself” when things get truly dark. Booker doesn’t have that option. He has to suffer indefinitely. 

I just really wish the movie had explored this and I think it’s really unfortunate that what Booker’s going through got boiled down to being romantically lonely. I think Booker’s arc misses it’s own point and therefore the ending in which he gets exiled for 100 years defeats the purpose. We aren’t torn. We aren’t asking ourselves what we would have done in his place, and we aren’t unsure of the answer anyway. For me, this was a make-or-break missed opportunity for this movie. It’s still one of my favorite movies, and these characters are very close to my heart now, but as a writer it missed its mark. 

[blitzturtles]

Title: Guilt

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders (set after Golden Wind, given Jolyne's age.)

Pairing(s): JotaKak, JoKa, (Platonic) Jotaro & Jolyne, (Platonic) Kakyoin & Jolyne

Summary: Kakyoin is in the middle of answering one of Jolyne's many questions when he feels something twist violently inside his abdomen. He tastes what he thinks might be bile at rist, but the metallic tinge registers, and,

Oh god, no. Not here. Please not here.

Notes: Involves emergency surgery, chronic pain, preteen!Jolyne, PTSD, disabled Kakyoin, and near death experiences.

-

Here's the thing: Jolyne hates him. It's not a secret, and it's definitely not something that she bothers to hide from him. Jotaro keeps swearing that she'll come around. Says she's just stubborn (like her father is, Kakyoin sometimes thinks with far too much affection for a man that regularly drives him up the wall). There's also the fact that she's a preteen, and kids are apparently just like that at her age.

Here's the thing: Kakyoin would hate him, too. If he were in her situation. He's petty on a good day, and a right bastard on any other. He can't imagine being in her situation. With divorced parents who, while amicable, are both ridiculously successful and constantly busy. And then waltzed in Kakyoin, right in the middle of it. Though 'waltz' is a bit of a stretch. He doesn't do anything like that with his plated spine and braced legs, but none of that matters. The real point is that he gets it.

He does his best to never push more than he has to. For the most part, he lets Jolyne do her own thing, because she's a Kujo and a Joestar. She's going to do what she wants anyways. His opinion be damned, though he does try to reason with her. Hell, he's given into bribing every once in a while. (Sometimes the means don't matter when father and daughter are both happy at the end of the day.)

In short: Jolyne hates him, and Kakyoin understands.

______

Here's the thing: Jolyne finds Kakyoin to be a nuisance. An interference. One more complication to an already complicated life, and she's only eleven. She wants her parents to get over their bullshit (language!) and figure out how to make things work. She wants Kakyoin to go away, but that doesn't mean she wants him dead. Or injured. Even if she did wish him off the end of a pier that one time. Still.

They've admittedly grown to be more friendly over time. She talks to him now, which is an improvement to the chronic cold shoulder she gave him before. Sometimes she even asks him for help, because her dad can be surprisingly useless when it comes to school work (weren't you in school when I was little?) He always seems happy to help, and he never gets as frustrated as her dad.

So maybe she doesn't hate him, but she definitely wants him to go away.

______

Kakyoin is in the middle of answering one of Jolyne's many questions when he feels something twist violently inside his abdomen. He tastes what he thinks might be bile at rist, but the metallic tinge registers, and,

Oh god, no. Not here. Please not here.

He doesn't need to know-- specifically-- what went wrong to know that he's dying. The moment the pain goes from barely tolerable to utterly agonizing is about when his brain lets him know that he's operating on borrowed time.

Kakyoin could have used that warning approximately five minutes ago. Before the pain. Before he found himself in front of Jolyne.

"I'm sorry," he tries to say, hopes the words come out audible enough for her to understand.

There are tears welling up in her eyes, and they fall soon enough. God, he's made Jolyne cry. She's so young. So unprepared. And she looks so much like Jotaro. With panic stricken eyes and fingers that grasp for something to do. Some way to fix this. It makes his chest ache beyond the twisting and shearing that his insides are already doing.

(She looks exactly like Jotaro, in the hospital after the Foundation managed to retrieve them. The way her hands fumble in the air is so much like how Jotaro had reached out desperately, trying to hold onto Kakyoin, in case those had been his last moments. Like father, like daughter, Kakyoin thinks without humor.)

His knees hit the ground first, and that shoots pain up his legs and along his hips. The rest of it ricochets and dies somewhere midway up his spine. It's a momentary distraction away from the agony that is his middle. He reaches with his fingers to press against his stomach, half expecting them to sink inward (into nothingness. There's nothing. Dio punched a hole right through him, and he's going to die.)

Jolyne is yelling. His name at first, then for her father. Again, he's reminded of the day he died. Maybe it's all been a dream. He's waking up now and the end is pressing down on him. The light will follow soon. He knows; he's seen it before.

"Please!" Jolyne begs him, "I'm sorry!"

He is, too. It's the last thing he thinks before his eyes slide shut and the darkness grabs at him greedily.

______

There's shouting and bright lights and something covering his face. He can't make out anything with his vision so blurry, but he thinks he hears Jotaro's angry voice booming what could be an entire room away.

"If you fucking put a finger on him that isn't necessary to keep him alive. I'll fuck-"

"Dad!"

Jotaro inhales sharply but nods to the surgeon one, final time, "His team is on their way. Not a goddamn finger."

______

The Speedwagon Foundation has several doctors that Kakyoin sees on a semi-regular basis. Each is a specialist in their own right, and they're the only reason Kakyoin ever made it home from Egypt. They're also the only ones that regularly work on updating all the augmented parts and maintaining the damaged remains of Kakyoin's organs. They know him inside and out. Quite literally.

The team makes it to the hospital long before Kakyoin comes out of emergency surgery, which means the whole process is extended significantly. The upside (if it could be called that) is that Kakyoin doesn't have to be put under again. The downside is that it means they'll be waiting awhile.

Jotaro does his best to be strong for Jolyne. It's his job as a parent to keep a calm façade and push his emotions to the side. She needs someone to be her reassurance.

He fails miserably.

______

The head of the Foundation team emerges some hours later, looking a little worse for wear. The stoicism past that does little for Jotaro's nerves. It tells him nothing of what to expect.

"Well?"

"He's stable," the doctor answers. "We had to take out several inches of colon this time. If I had to guess, he probably believed himself to be having a flare. He adjusted to the pain until he became necrotic." His expression shifts into an unpleased frown, "He also has two ulcers. Has he changed his diet? Or experienced any new stressors?"

Jolyne's lip quivered as she processed the doctor's words. She thought over every time she and Kakyoin had fought in recent history. Most of it being her yelling at him.

Jotaro's focus remains fixated on the doctor, "What the hell kind of pain is he still having?"

The doctor-- one Jotaro recognizes from previous visits but can't recall the name of-- sighs, "Kakyoin will only allow us to do so much to help manage his pain. I'm not his specialist in that regard, but it's at his request that he's kept on very little in terms of medication."

Jotaro knows that. He knows that Kakyoin doesn't like what stronger pain meds do to his head, but how out of control is his pain that he didn't notice that he was dying? That his body has been rotting from the inside out for an unknown amount of time?

Jolyne shifts further behind him, drawing his attention to her. It's the only thing that spares the doctor whatever response Jotaro might have otherwise formed. He turns to look at Jolyne and is startled by the tears already trailing down her round cheeks. Realization hits him then.

She's eleven, and he's an idiot.

"Hey, hey. Enough with that. He's going to be okay," Jotaro says quickly. He should have- called her mother or his mother or literally anyone. This isn't a conversation she needed to be privy to.

"It's me," Jolyne chokes the words out. Her thin arms wrap tight around her middle, and she looks close to collapsing on the ground.

Jotaro, admittedly, has no idea what she's talking about, "What's you?"

"The stress!" She practically wails.

Jotaro sighs and moves to wrap his arms around Jolyne. He tugs her in against his chest. "That- that's not the kind of stress the doctor is talking about," he glances over his shoulder to see that the man had already dismissed himself. Smart guy.

"I'm always mean to him!"

Jotaro wants to laugh. Not at all because he thinks her words-- or her suffering-- are funny, but because the whole situation feels unreal. He cards his fingers through her hair instead. It's all the comfort he feels like he can offer in a situation like this. With his own resolve teetering on the edge.

"Takes a lot more than that to take out Noriaki," he's lying through his teeth. The whole new family thing might damn well be enough stress, but he's never going to let Jolyne think this is her fault. It's not. Kakyoin is capable of making his own decisions, and being part of their family is one of them.

Jolyne crumbles against him despite the gentle words, so he scoops her up and holds her against his chest. Even at eleven, she's nothing compared to his size. He finds a nearby seat to settle into and lets her cry while he whispers promises he can't be sure he'll be able to keep. Eventually he tries distracting her with facts about dolphins, and that either has some effect, or she passes out from exhaustion. Either way, he's relieved when she snores against his neck.

______

Kakyoin comes to the waking world in a haze. His head aches and his middle feels a lot like it might have been ripped open again. He hopes that whatever happened had been a little more civil than that.

It doesn't take him long to place himself in the hospital. That's good. He isn't dead, and he's not immediately at risk of falling into enemy hands. The beeping to his left is annoying, and he can't see well enough to make anything out on the monitors around him. His vision tends to be the last thing to recover when he's been knocked out for a while. Still, he turns his head to continue to take in what he can make out.

He stops short when he sees two people in chairs on his right side, closer to the door. The familiar hat catches his attention immediately, not that he needs to be able to see at one hundred percent (or his version of it) to know that the man is none other than Jotaro. His size will always give him away before anything else.

Jotaro's head is bowed in a way that indicates he's likely asleep. He's undoubtedly been here awhile. Jolyne sits beside him with her head pressed against her father's bicep. Star Platinum is out and wrapped around both of them. He lifts his hand from Jotaro a moment to wave at him brightly, which is enough to disturb his user's sleep.

"Mm?" Jotaro grunts. He opens his eyes and sucks in a breath. He takes a moment to compose himself, which is fine. Kakyoin thinks he probably looks worse than he feels, thanks to the drugs. He would make a joke about it, but moving still hurts.

"Good to see you awake. How're you feeling?" Jotaro asks. He doesn't move from his spot, if only to avoid waking up Jolyne, but that intense gaze is evaluating all the same.

Kakyoin gives a noncommittal answer, and Jotaro snorts, "That's what I thought you'd say. Good thing we have this." He reaches for the little controller on the side of Kakyoin's bed. He presses the red button before Kakyoin can protest.

The glare he shoots Jotaro is relatively short-lived, and it's hard to be mad when Jotaro looks so damn triumphant, even if it's about something that Kakyoin has complicated feelings about. He decides to let him have this one, considering the fact that he's pretty sure he gave them all one nightmarish scare.

"I'm sorry," he says after a while, head lulling back against the pillows. His red hair spreads out all around. It's longer now than it ever has been, but he hasn't felt the need to cut it beyond a simple trim in years. It doesn't matter, but it gives himself something to focus on rather than the gnawing guilt.

"Don't be."

"I- god, I never meant-"

"Kakyoin."

"If I had known, I would have left the room or-"

"Kak-"

"She was so afraid. And she-"

"Noriaki," Jotaro snaps more than says the name, but his eyes are soft. "You aren't the only one that made her cry in the last few hours, so you're not special." That's not true. Kakyoin is incredibly special, but he needs to make some kind of light-hearted comment before he starts crying. Nobody needs to see that.

"Still," Kakyoin mumbles, but he doesn't continue.

Jotaro reaches out with Star, who clasps his large hand over one of Kakyoin's. He wants to lean forward himself, but he doesn't want to wake Jolyne up. Not yet.

Kakyoin turns his palm up to tangle his fingers together with Star's. He brushes his thumb over the stand's, knowing Jotaro can feel it reflected on his skin.

"I really thought it was a flare," he says after a while, because he feels like he owes some sort of explanation after everything.

"Nori, I really can't tell you how much I don't give a damn about that," Jotaro frowns at his own words, "No, I mean- I care, but- fuck." He scrubs his hand over his face a few times before trying again, "You don't have to feel guilty for this shit, okay? I should have noticed you were in pain."

Kakyoin shakes his head. He squeezes Star's hand to make sure Jotaro's listening when he speaks, "It's not your fault. I deal with this pain all the time. It just- at first it felt like a flare, but I guess I got used to it." And every time the pain worsened, he acclimated until it had nearly killed him.

Jotaro doesn’t get a chance to respond before Jolyne is rustling against him. She opens her eyes a crack and reaches up to wipe at them with her fists. “Dad?”

“Right here,” Jotaro grunts in response. He squeezes her shoulder gently, then retracts his arm to give her space to stretch out. “Kakyoin is awake.”

He watches the fog clear from her eyes. They widen as she processes his words, and her attention immediately turns to the redhead, who waves meekly at her.

“Jolyne, I’m- oof!”

Star quickly gets his hands around Jolyne’s waist, suspending her in the air enough to keep her weight from falling too heavily onto Kakyoin. He lets her down carefully, and the youngest Kujo looks sheepish for her overreaction.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright,” Kakyoin says, curling an arm around her loosely in return. He hadn’t expected to be nearly tackled upon awakening. That went doubly so when considering Jolyne as a factor. She’s never hugged him before. Trauma is funny in that way; something he knows from first hand experience.

Jotaro steps up behind her and offers a small smile to Kakyoin, “We’re glad you’re alright.”

“Yeah!” Jolyne echoes, “You scared the shit out of us!”

“Jolyne,” Jotaro’s voice is gruff. An attempt at a warning that falls short. The way his lips pull further upward is a dead giveaway that he isn’t particularly upset by her language usage.

“It’s true!”

“Good grief.”

Kakyoin snorts at the father-daughter duo, relieved to see the two smiling again. Already bickering as per usual. There’s too much snark trapped in the Joestar bloodline, and it always amplifies whenever there’s more than one of them in a room. He’d know, having been on the road with Joseph and Jotaro in the past.

Somehow the back and forth settles into Jolyne rambling about dolphins. She regurgitates facts that-- for the most part-- Kakyoin already knows, but he feigns shock and awe at all the right places to keep her spirit up. It’s more healing to watch her babble emphatically than it is lying around in a hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. It eases some of the guilt, makes him feel lighter.

Eventually, Jotaro whiskers her out the door. Kakyoin catches sight of Holly, which must mean that Marina is tied up. Holly doesn’t come in, likely at her son’s behest. The woman is a mother through and through, and she can be a bit overwhelming at times. Better to focus all that maternal energy on Jolyne for now.

“You look tired,” Jotaro says when the door clicks shut behind the two. He takes his spot back next to Kakyoin’s bed, pulling his chair as close as he can. His knees grind against the railing of the bed a bit, but the distance allows him to lean forward and get a good look at his partner.

“I could say the same about you,” Kakyoin points out with a raised brow. He still can’t pick up his head for more than a few seconds at a time, and his vision remains fuzzy around the edges; a likely side effect of being drugged to the gills, but he isn’t blind. He can see the bags collecting under Jotaro’s eyes. Exhaustion-- emotional as much as it is physical-- already weighing his shoulders down.

Jotaro snorts an unamused sound, “I’m not the one that just had emergency surgery.”

Kakyoin winces at the reminder. “I’m-”

“If you finish that statement, I’m going to give you a reason to be sorry,” he isn’t. Jotaro won’t hurt him, but the words make Kakyoin close his mouth anyways. For a second.

“Oh, and how are you going to do that?”

Jotaro stares him down for a solid thirty seconds, expecting him to back down. When he doesn’t, the man pushes himself to his feet with an exasperated sigh. “Good grief, c’mere,” his fingers hook under Kakyoin’s chin, and he leans down to press their lips together.

As far as life affirming kisses go, it’s one of Jotaro’s more gentle ones, but Kakyoin feels the thrill of it chasing down his spine anyways.

“I love you,” Kakyoin murmurs as they break apart. He wants to add an apology to the end, but he bites his lip and keeps it to himself for now. He’ll find a way to make it up to Jotaro and Jolyne later.

“Love you, too, Tenmei.”

[besanii]

Hi! Am rereading your shattered mirrors verse and I love it so much. Are we going to get the scene in which WWX explains everything that’s happened to him (with the poison) etc to LWJ after they meet wen yuan?? I’m dying for the angst but also fluff and comfort 🥺🥺🥺

@lurkingscientist asked:

I can’t wait to hear about all the sad things wwx experienced!!! :D my “stabby stabby stab stab stab” is feeling slightly neglected

Shattered Mirrors #61

“I haven’t told you everything.”

In the thirteen years Wei Wuxian had been gone, Lan Wangji searched desperately for every scrap of information he could get his hands on, from every channel he could access, in hopes of finding him. Or finding out what had happened to him. What he could find was piecemeal at best and unreliable at worst, often conflicting depending on the source. The result was him, driven mad by desperation and grief, chasing ghosts in the shadows until he could no longer tell what was real.

Even now, with Wei Wuxian back at his side these last two years, happy and content and safe, he still does not have a clear picture of what had happened during the war. If he’s being honest, he’s afraid to ask, and even more afraid to know. He tells himself it’s enough just to have Wei Wuxian by his side again. He doesn’t need to know, if Wei Wuxian does not want to share.

So Wei Wuxian’s confession punches the air from his lungs and he feels in its wake, his hands trembling where they’re entwined. Wei Wuxian watches him with the same care one would give to a startled animal ready to flee.

“That is,” he amends hesitantly, “if you wish to know.”

Lan Wangji inhales, and exhales again, with a shudder. Squares his shoulders. Looks him in the eye.

“Yes,” he says. “I do.”

It is Wei Wuxian’s turn to take a deep breath, the tentative little smile on his lips giving way to steely resolve. On his other side, Wen Yuan kneels by the bed, wordlessly offering his unwavering support. Despite all this, it takes Wei Wuxian some time to find the right words to convey the enormity of what he is about to disclose.

“I don’t know where to begin,” he admits with a shaky laugh, looking down at their joined hands. “I suppose you already know how Yunmeng fell.”

Lan Wangji nods. He has heard scattered details, enough to know that there had been a traitor in their midst, someone who had fed false information through their intelligence network while Wei Wuxian had been in Gusu. They had managed to secure Yunping, but sustained heavy losses that severely weakened their defences. The traitor had been found, but by then the Qishan Wen army was already at their doorstep, ten thousand strong, and they had no way out.

“We evacuated as many civilians as we could. Jiang Cheng, Jiang-wang and Yu-wanghou stayed behind to defend the city,” he says. His eyes and voice are distant, lost in his memories. “I took Shijie and we escaped via the lakes, with the rest of the civilians. Our priority was to get to Yunping, and then to Lanling. Shijie was engaged to Jin Zixuan, so they would definitely come to our aid—or at the very least, they would keep her safe while I gathered reinforcements.

“They were there,” he continues, still in that far-off voice. “Wen Chao and his men. They had split their forces to ambush us while we were defenceless. Our boats were burned, our people drowned—we in Yunmeng are strong swimmers, but even the strongest swimmers cannot survive when arrows rain down from the sky.”

He shivers with his next breath, but his voice is steady.

“I entrusted Shijie to my lieutenant, instructed them to use one of the overturned boats to cover their escape, while I distracted Wen Chao.” He smiles, but it’s stark and without humour. “We’ve had…altercations in the past, so I knew I would be an adequate distraction. I held him off for as long as I could, kept his attention on me. But I was only one person, and he had an army.”

The reports that had come out of Yunmeng around that time—the ones Lan Xichen had allowed him to read while recovering from his punishment, at least—had painted a picture so bleak, so devastating that he had wept. The lakes of Yunmeng, once teeming with colour and life, stained red with blood over the course of one night; and Lotus Pier, its seat of power, that had once risen from the depths of the lakes like a mirage, burned to ash. He had been back to the ruins of Lotus Pier in the intervening years as it was slowly rebuilt after the war—Gusu had offered aid wherever possible, in both money and manpower, as well as political support for the Yu family of Meishan, the maiden family of Queen Yu Ziyuan, who had been installed as stewards in the absence of the ruling family—but the shadows of war still haunts its streets and darkens its waters even now.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes fall closed and his fingers tighten around Lan Wangji’s.

“There’s a stronghold in Yiling,” he says. “Some call it the Burial Mounds, or the Mass Grave. Beneath the fortress, there’s an extensive network of cells that run beneath the mountains. That’s where they keep their highest security prisoners, the ones who get…special treatment.”

There is no need to ask what ‘special’ means, so Lan Wangji stays silent. His blood, however, runs cold—as cold as Wei Wuxian’s voice as he continues his narrative, detached.

“Wen Chao had a special—” that word again, spoken with such venom that it curdles in Lan Wangji’s stomach and burns his throat, “cell prepared. More a cage, really. Every second shichen, it would be submerged in water up to the neck, and stay there for another shichen until it was raised again. In the interim, the prisoner would be left soaking wet in the cold, damp cell.”

The memory of Wei Wuxian at the water’s edge, the frantic terror on his face as he struggles to breathe despite not having come into contact with it, the frailty, the susceptibility to cold and illness—it is all starting to fall into place, one horrifying piece at a time. But Wei Wuxian is not finished.

“There were beatings, of course.” A sudden, fierce anger wraps around Lan Wangji’s heart at the matter-of-fact way in which he says it. “Wen Chao always did have a sadistic streak. He liked to hang people up by the arms and have them whipped, or burned, or flogged. Sometimes he’d leave them there for more than a day, weighed down at the ankles, blindfolded, while they tortured others around them.”

A hand extricates itself from Lan Wangji’s death grip and peels back the edge of a sleeve to reveal the scars along his arms. Dozens of them, some longer and thicker, others as thin and fine as thread, criss-cross along the pale flesh. As he traces quivering fingers along the skin, Lan Wangji feels each cut, each slice, on his heart. Then Wei Wuxian turns his hand over, revealing a large, pale scar on the inside of his wrist, and a matching on on the other, too precise to be self-inflicted. He inhales sharply in realisation.

“Your hands—” he chokes, eyes wide as he stares at the scars. “He didn’t—”

Wei Wuxian lets the sleeves fall back down to cover the scars.

“If you fight back,” he explains woodenly, “they cut the tendons in your wrists and ankles. They’ll send a doctor to look over your injuries, of course. There is no benefit, no value, in a dead prisoner of war. That’s how I met Wen Qing and her brother, Wen Ning.”

“My aunt and uncle,” Wen Yuan, who has been silent until now, explains. Lan Wangji had almost forgotten his presence. He smiles sadly. “They were taken by my great-uncle as hostages to ensure our branch of the family supported the war effort, and served as doctors on the front lines.”

Wei Wuxian’s lips curl into a smile—not the harsh, bitter ones from before, but softer, tinged with grief.

“They took care of me,” he says. “Wen Qing was the best doctor in all of Qishan. There was no illness she could not cure, no injury she could not fix. And Wen Ning…Wen Ning was the kindest person I have ever met. Too kind, too gentle for war. They did their best to help me—slipped me medicines and food whenever they could, diverted Wen Chao’s attentions away from me when it got too much.”

His voice wavers and breaks.

“They died trying to get me out,” he says hoarsely. “First Wen Ning, then Wen Qing. And I couldn’t—I couldn’t do anything to save them—”

Lan Wangji gathers him into his arms, crushes him against his chest as he cries out in anguish, his body wracked with sobs. His own eyes are hot, and he sees Wen Yuan’s are also bright with unshed tears when their gazes meet over Wei Wuxian’s head. They stay like this until he quietens, curled in Lan Wangji’s embrace, eyes hollow and wrung out. Lan Wangji is about to suggest that they continue this another day when Wei Wuxian rouses himself with a shaky breath, and continues.

“They killed Wen Ning in front of me,” he says. “And then they forced Wen Qing to take the same deadly poison they had been using to experiment with on us—”

“Qianji poison,” Lan Wangji says before he can stop himself. Both Wen Yuan and Wei Wuxian turn to him in shock. He lowers his eyes. “You fell ill after your performance at Caiyun Pavilion,” he tells Wei Wuxian. “I had a physician brought in to see you.”

He is careful to leave out Mo Xuanyu and Madam Zhang’s involvement, but Wei Wuxian is not fooled. But rather than get angry, as they had feared, he only shakes his head and laughs.

“I should have guessed,” he says. “They always liked to make a fuss.”

“They care about you,” Lan Wangji chides him gently. “And I am glad they told me, so I was better prepared to take care of you like I promised.”

This time when Wei Wuxian turns into the cradle of his arms, it is out of exhaustion, as if a great weight has been lifted from his chest, and his eyes drift closed as Lan Wangji strokes his hair with gentle motions. There is still more to the story, Lan Wangji knows—and there are questions burning in his mind. But he feels the sag of Wei Wuxian’s body against his, the heaviness of his breath, and cannot bring himself to press him further. They have time. After a moment of silence, when Lan Wangji thinks him asleep, he stirs.

“I’m tired,” he murmurs. “So tired.”

“You’ve done well, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji reminds him. “Get some rest.”

Wen Yuan excuses himself as Wei Wuxian hums and nestles deeper into his arms. Lan Wangji nods at him gratefully and watches him leave, keeping his movements quiet so as to not disturb Wei Wuxian’s rest.

“I think I’ll close my eyes for a while,” Wei Wuxian agrees, his words already starting to slur. “I just need…a little break.”

Lan Wangji presses a light kiss on his forehead.

“Take all the time you need,” he says. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

--

master post in sidebar!

--

buy me a ko-fi: ko-fi.com/besanii

[flooffybits]

Brave Face

Idol: Ha Sooyoung (Loona)

Actions always had consequences. You were just lucky that you were both ready and willing to accept the price for both your actions.

Sequel to Two Faced! I hope you like it!

Warning: blood, extreme violence, character death, torture, guns and knives

"Ma'am, I'm afraid you can't be here." The man stated calmly, but Sooyoung has had about enough of having to come back to your so called business and then going back home with nothing.

The day she came back after fully healing, she was more than surprised to find every trace of you gone from your shared home. And while it wasn't exactly a big one, she felt completely alone.

The furniture was fixed and everything was clean, almost as though her kidnapping had never happened and almost as though you never lived there. It was like you never came into her life and it drove her mad.

"I don't care what the hell Y/n told you. I am going to talk to her, so move out of the way." She said with a huff, attempting yet again to move past the man who was three times her size, only to be blocked off.

"I'm sorry, but we were given strict orders not to permit you anywhere-"

"If you think I am going to sit around and deal with this bullshit, then think again, buddy. I won't hesitate to drive my foot up your-"

"I don't think it's appropriate for you to be threatening my guards." The sound of your voice had stopped Sooyoung from her threat and her eyes immediately move over the man's shoulder to see you standing at the entrance of the estate, your arm in a sling, a reminder of the day you were shot trying to rescue her, and her anger diminishes for a split second before her glare comes back in full force when she attempts to push past the guard again, only to be held back.

The man glances at you for instructions and you raise a hand to release your girlfriend, though it wasn't clear if you really were still together.

"Kyungsan, let her go. It's fine."

As soon as she was released, Sooyoung marched right at your face, staring at you as though it could emit all the anger, confusion, pain, and frustration she's been feeling for the past days.

Her hand shoots up, connecting firmly with your cheek before someone was grabbing her arms, forcing them behind her back, and it's then that she realizes the presence of the woman who was standing a foot away from you.

"Ryujin, stand down." You quickly prevent her from doing any further harm to the other and she hesitantly releases Sooyoung before moving back to her place behind you while your girlfriend eyed her, another emotion flaring up inside of her.

But before she could open her mouth to say anything, you had cut her off.

"I think this should be discussed in private. Please, come in."

Honestly, she would rather not with all the bullshit that you've put her through, but she watches as your eyes glance around the place and that was all it took for her to agree to your request and follow you inside the large looking mansion.

While it did look clean and grand from the outside, stepping inside was a completely different story.

Guards littered the place, guns or even knives hidden under their clothes while others had them on full display, slung across their shoulders and ready to shoot if necessary and Sooyoung felt so small as she watched them. Plus all the expensive looking paintings and decorations that were put on display added to the entire house’s intimidating aura.

You lead the woman to what appeared to be an office with shelves lining the walls, all filled with different kinds of books. A desk was set directly in front of the door, a lamp on one side and papers stacked on another and on top of it sat another gun, presumably yours.

The whole place would have scared Sooyoung if she hadn’t experienced what she did a week or so prior, then she would have turned and left without looking back.

But things were different and she needed answers.

With a wave of your hand, Ryujin and the other people that were previously in the room silently exited the office, leaving the two of you alone as you leaned against the desk, giving Sooyoung your whole attention as she finally took you in.

Dressed in a white button up and black dress pants - simple as always. But the thing that keeps her attention is your arm. She remembers you getting shot, your blood staining the car she was in when you were all being brought here. You had passed out just a little before she did and she remembers the panic and helplessness she felt that day.

Sooyoung could hear the person who got you in the car shouting orders at the driver and at someone on the phone. Who they were, she had no clue because all she could think of was you as you tried to assure her that you would both be okay.

While you didn’t vocalize it, the way you were holding on and stared at her was enough for her to know.

“We’re close to the mansion, boss. Yuki has everything prepared and is waiting for you to be brought in.” The man reported and Sooyoung could see as you rested your head against the chair, the color gradually leaving your face with the more blood you were losing. “Just be sure to have her there in time.”

You were struggling, that much she could tell. Your eyes were begging to close and your hands had just fallen to your lap, no longer having the strength to keep your wound from bleeding out. And while she may have been exhausted from everything she’s been through, she felt her heart stop as she saw the way your head suddenly dropped, your eyes shut.

“Y/n.” She called weakly, but you didn’t respond nor did you move if it wasn’t for the car’s movements. “Please…” She wheezed out, her hand reaching for you, but she’s out just before her hand could touch your arm, merely grazing against it before her vision went black.

When she had come to, she was laying in an unfamiliar room, her wounds treated and covered before she saw you laying on another bed, still passed out with your side wrapped up. She was too weak and tired to move from the bed, but she remembers, clear as day, how tears managed to come out of her eyes when she didn’t know if you would be waking up or not.

No one came in to check when she was awake and you had apparently left the room some time after waking up, leaving her in the room, alone. She never saw you after that, and even when she was finally let out and driven to your shared house, she never caught even just a glimpse of you. When she asked where you were, no one replied to her and simply left her in front of your house.

Now she was back and in demand of answers.

“It’s good to see that you aren’t dead.” She starts off and you shrug lightly in reply. “There’s still some things I need to finish before letting the devil drag me to hell.” Your nonchalance unnerves her and it doesn’t help how you don’t seem to care about dying, either.

“I want to know who the hell that was and why I was dragged into this mess.” She finally says as you watch her. “Was everything he told me, real? Was I really just some pastime for you?” She spat out, hating how she even had to ask you this because she was afraid of the answer and how it would break her heart.

She remembers how you would look at her, how you would hold her. There was no way she was imagining all of that.

But you were already lying about so much to her. You lying about how you felt about her couldn’t be too far fetched.

She saw as your expression hardened and you pushed yourself off the desk to stand at your full height. “Not everything Hanjin told you was true. Did I hide my real identity and occupation, yes. But everything else I did with you was nothing but real.” While your tone remained even, there was more to your expression; hurt.

As brief as it was, Sooyoung saw it before you turned away from her.

“Maybe I denied it at first, but when Minseok said how you had been interfering with procedures and put your life in danger, I drew the line and realized that denying how I felt for you would only end up with me losing you much more than I had hoped.” You finally admit while taking a seat and rubbing your forehead. “In my line of work, it’s kill or be killed. And Hanjin was right, a lot of people want me dead and they’ll do absolutely everything and anything to make that happen, which was why I tried to keep you away as much as possible.”

“When were you planning to tell me? Did you even think of telling me?” She demanded and you purse your lips before shaking your head. “I didn’t want to tell you. I thought that I would hold on to my delusions much longer… but that proved to be a mistake.”

Sooyoung could see just how much you were struggling with all of this, and she could understand why. You were leading such a dangerous group, emotions would only get in the way, and that seemed to have been Minseok’s mindset as well as he tried to get rid of her just to remind you of where you belonged.

But she didn’t want that.

She didn’t want you to let you be consumed by only darkness. There was so much you could do without trying to be a lifeless robot.

“Didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?” She asked quietly before you looked back up at her, defeat clear on your features as you breathed out. “Would you have stayed or believed me if I did?” You retort and her mouth screws shut.

She wouldn’t have.

If she knew just who you were when you first met, she wouldn’t have thought twice about running away or declining your offer after the first night she spent with you. If she knew, she would never have approached you at the club or went home with you.

But that wasn’t the case anymore and even if she tried, there was no changing the fact that Sooyoung did love you.

“Do you mean it?”

Caught off guard by her question, you raise a brow before she bit her lip and then sucked in a deep breath. “Did you mean it… what you felt about me?” You stand properly, assessing the woman in front of you as she stared at you with an almost desperate look swimming in her eyes as she waited for your answer.

You stay silent as tears begin pooling at her eyes and she takes a step forward, narrowing the gap between you and her. “Tell me the truth. If you don’t want to see me anymore, then I’ll go. But I deserve to at least know this.”

But the truth was you didn’t want her to go. You wanted her to stay in your life and maybe, just maybe you could leave this life behind just to settle down with her and live a normal life like your parents.

Without all the weapons, the illegal business, and the secrets, you could see yourself happily living with the woman that stood in front of you without having to constantly look over your shoulder.

Taking a step closer, Sooyoung looks up at you as you use your fixed hand to reach up and cup her cheek. “I’ve done a lot of shitty things and I have lied to you about my life but the moment you told me you loved me, I could never say it back in fear that you would assume that I lied about that, too, in the event that you did know the truth.”

“Yes…” She breathed out while shutting her eyes as she gripped your hand against her cheek. “Or no. Just tell me.” Her voice fell into a hushed whisper and your expression softened when you leaned down to press your forehead against hers.

“I love you, Sooyoung, and I don’t want you to go.”

That was all she needed to hear before she placed her free hand to the back of your neck and tugged you closer, drawing your lips against her own into a much needed and passionate kiss that you eagerly reciprocated, your arm moving to wrap around her waist and pull her closer as she melted into you like she had always done before.

Was she really taking this risk just to be with you? Yes. Would she be regretting it anytime soon? She highly doubts it. Because based on your rescue alone, Sooyoung knows that you would be there for her no matter what happens and she’ll do her best to remind you that you were still human even with all the blood on your hands.

..

“Is this necessary?” Sooyoung panted while staring up at the ceiling, sweat covering her skin as she looked at you with a pout and you smiled lightly in reply. “It’s self defense, babe. While I do trust you, I would rather you can properly fend for yourself when I’m not around.”

Ever since the day she had been kidnapped, you absolutely refused to let the same thing happen again. The image of her bruised and bloody figure constantly flashes in your head, reminding you of what you had failed to protect, so you used it to further motivate you that you had a purpose to keep going this time around.

“But I’m exhausted.” She groaned when you moved to help her back on her feet. “I know, but just a few more minutes and we’ll be done for today.” She whines while getting into position. “But you said that ten minutes ago!” She complains before you let out a laugh. “Correction, I said that thirty-two minutes ago. It seems you were too focused to realize.”

A huff escapes her lips before you adjust her stance and then move in front of her. “Last one. I promise.”

Ever since Sooyoung decided to give your relationship another shot, without the secrets, she began to see more of the you that you kept hidden from her. She saw you when you worked, stoic and stone cold toward rookies who couldn’t pick after themselves and barking orders when something important came up.

The perfect partner she believed to be real was washed away from her mind and she was left seeing a real partner instead. While you were still gentle in her presence, there were times where you had to keep your guard up in front of those you didn’t trust.

But after what happened with Minseok, everyone knew that breaking your trust should be the last thing on their list unless they wanted to die early.

And another thing people started to learn was that no one messed with your girlfriend. Definitely not when it was in front of you or anywhere near your closest guards.

It just so happened that rookies never knew their place.

“That’s the boss’ bitch?” A scrawny looking male whistled towards one of his fellow rookies, who did his best to look away in respect when he saw you stop talking to Ryujin. Sooyoung stood next to you, listening to the conversation of where Hanjin could possibly be.

“Damn, how much do you think she pays?” The same boy smirked and the other shook his head with a hiss. “You should really keep your mouth shut.” He warned and the former rolled his eyes in reply. “Oh, come on. It’s not like the boss cares. They have the money to buy whoever they want, anyway.”

Your attention had shifted to the pair when you heard their conversation and Sooyoung could already see the way your shoulders tensed and she placed a hand on your forearm. Glancing at your girlfriend, you grunt before facing the rookie once more.

“You, the one with the blue shirt, what’s your name?” You call out and the boy turns to you in surprise before he raises his nose to the sky with a proud grin. “Shin Kyungwan.” You narrow your eyes before beckoning him closer.

He doesn’t think twice as he walks over. The unimpressed look on your face unsettles him, but he doesn’t show it when he keeps the stupid arrogant smirk on his face as he unashamedly stared at your girlfriend.

“Kyungwan, you’re aware of who this woman is, do you not?” You question while gesturing to your girlfriend and the male blinks before slowly nodding his head, suddenly feeling his bout of courage depleting the more your eyes pierced into him and Sooyoung sighed softly with a shake of her head.

“I see you must be a complete imbecile then.” You muttered before rising to your feet and then standing behind the male. “Tell me, what did you say a while ago about her?” The boy gulped as he stared at Sooyoung, now more terrified with the predicament he’d put himself in. “I-”

“That’s an order.” You cut whatever excuse he had off and he paled before repeating his earlier words slowly and quietly, earning a nod from you. He isn’t sure what that had meant, but when you dusted yourself off, he had assumed that he was good to head back to the side.

The sound of a loud bang echoed in the room as everyone present watched the boy’s head collide with the table in front of you, your hand on his hair before you yanked him back and let him land on his rear while he gripped his, most likely, broken nose.

“The next time any of you decide to talk shit about her, you’re getting more than a broken nose.” You growled before Taemin moved to pull the groaning boy out of the room. “Someone better clean this mess up. And Seokjin, make sure the next person you recruit has some common sense.” You order before finally exiting the room, Sooyoung follows after you to your room to finally relax after how many hours of planning.

When you arrive, your girlfriend shuts the door behind her as you grab your medicine from the nightstand and take the sling off. “You didn’t have to be that harsh.” She tells you as she plucked the ointment from your hand and gestured for you to lift your shirt.

“And let him get away for disrespecting you? You must be insane if you think I’ll allow that.” You grunt while tossing the shirt away and Sooyoung smiles when she stands behind you to apply the medicine on your wound. “You could have picked a less violent way.”

“I lead a gang, Sooyoung, I’m pretty sure nothing doesn’t involve violence here.” You mutter when her hands gently run over your skin, soothing the slight pain that comes from your injury. “You have to stop using that excuse.”

You rolled your eyes in reply before she went to grab you a loose shirt and helped put it on you. “I'm just saying that you didn't have to break the poor boy's nose." You scoff before turning to your girlfriend. "Whether you admit it or not, you liked it." And she didn't have to verbally confirm your suspicions when she rolled her own eyes and gave you a quick kiss on the lips before entering the bathroom to change her own clothes.

.. 

The sound of a loud bang woke Sooyoung from her sleep and when she turned around, reaching for you, all she grabbed was nothing but air. Immediately, she sat up and looked around the dark room, her hand reaching for the drawer next to the bed when she got up. "Y/n?"

She turned the desk lamp on to have some source of light only for her heart to jump in her throat when she saw the blood splattered on the bed and floor. "Did I wake you?" A familiar deep voice greeted her ears and Sooyoung quickly turned around, gun in hand as she came face to face with Hanjin.

The fear she once had when she was stuck in that damn warehouse whenever he would pick up a random object or ask a question sent a chill down her spine when memories resurfaced. But she saw the smoke coming from the barrel of his gun and her stomach sank when she still couldn’t find you anywhere.

“Looking for Y/n? Don’t worry.” Hanjin grinned at her as he pointed the gun at her. “You’ll see her very, very soon.” The sharp pain doesn’t register until her body meets the floor and a foot lands on her back. With a grunt, Sooyoung tried to lift her head, a hand pressed to her stomach as she gasped for air. But when her eyes reopened, she felt her heart stop at the sight in front of her as tears blurred her vision.

“Y/n…”

Staring lifelessly back at her, Sooyoung was met with your bloodied face. The bruise around your neck showed how Hanjin had strangled you and the blood that pooled around your head was enough to tell her on how he had finished you off.

And there was the helplessness again.

It gripped at her throat as she choked on her sobs, pleading, crying, for you to move, to get up and do something. But she knew you were gone, and the more pressure applied on her back and the cool metal pressing to the back of her head told her that she wouldn’t be too far behind.

“Sooyoung!”

Bolting up, Sooyoung felt sweat drip down her forehead and the taste of salt on her lips made her snap out of the images she had just seen.

Turning to her right, your girlfriend quickly found you staring at her with concern written over your face and she doesn’t think twice as her body collides with yours, forcing you to lay back down as the petite woman whimpered, cowering from the nightmare that looked far too real for her liking.

“It’s okay, it was just a dream.” She hears you whisper, your voice as gentle and soothing as ever when you run your fingers through her hair. “I’m right here. I’ll protect you.” You tell her and Sooyoung does her best to calm down with your help.

She might have seemed okay, but you knew better. A situation where she could have died was something traumatic, life changing, even. So you were patient in helping her get through everything and aiding her from the trauma you had partially induced on her from involving her into your life.

But by morning, she always assures you that it wasn’t your fault, either and that she was here to stay.

..

Sooyoung looked in confusion as you began to give out orders as though you were heading to war. The mansion had been busier than it usually was since she’s been living there and she was still curious about the newest things she’s seen. Ryujin had talked to her about the usual routine, but there were still various protocols she had yet to cover that Sooyoung found herself lost in certain situations until you or your right hand came to fetch her.

“Y/n, what’s happening?” Your girlfriend managed to catch your arm when you loaded your gun and holstered it. A knife was hidden under your jacket, the same knife you used to kill Minseok.

Your hard expression turned to her, lips pursed together before you shook your head. “We found Hanjin and I’m going to deal with that bastard, once and for all.” Hearing that caused her spine to straighten, the nightmare resurfacing, and she was talking before she could even think. “I want to come.”

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. She’s never brought the nightmare up with you. You knew she needed time to recuperate, so you didn’t pry and she was thankful for that. But she needed closure, and if seeing Hanjin finally get what he deserved was the means of getting that, then so be it.

“Are you sure?” You ask carefully and your girlfriend fixes you with a steely stare after a deep breath. “I am. Now, let’s go.” She mutters and you stare at her for a few more seconds before taking her hand, giving her one of your guns and staring right at her.

“Keep this and stay close to me.” You instruct and she nods before you both set out to finally meet the man who had been terrorizing the two of you since the day he took Sooyoung away.

You kept a hand on your girlfriend’s leg all the way to one of the houses you were told Hanjin was brought. It turns out that Taemin and his group were able to trace his whereabouts due to a slip up when he tried to smuggle some drugs in Incheon. Thanks to that, they were able to find him and tracked his routine until they were certain about where he would be next.

Getting off the van, you handed Sooyoung a gas mask before putting one on yourself. “Ryujin, have people surround the perimeter. Once every exit is secured, smoke him out.” Nodding, the blonde spoke into her comms and approached the main entrance first, making sure to keep you and Sooyoung covered as all of the people who arrived with you followed your orders in securing the area.

Once positions were confirmed, Ryujin gave the signal before smoke bombs were thrown into the windows and the first team started to enter the house. You took Sooyoung’s hand and kept her behind you before entering.

The gun was gripped tightly in her hands, her fingers trembling as her eyes looked around the smoke filled house. You walked through the halls with practice, your footsteps barely audible that Sooyoung would have thought you weren’t there if she wasn’t looking at you.

“He’s in here.” Ryujin spoke up while pointing at the opened door, grunts and coughing coming from inside and you nod your head before looking at your girlfriend. “You can-”

“I’m going.” She said firmly despite her shaking hands and you let out a sigh before nodding your head. “Alright.” Turning back to Ryujin, you told her to stay at the door to keep watch before you and Sooyoung headed inside, finding the male being tied down to a chair with blood dripping down his chin after a heavy punch was delivered to his stomach.

Seeing you before him, the man scowled while he felt his restraints tightening. “Tsk, I really shouldn’t have underestimated you.” He muttered before you took off your mask when the smoke had cleared up a bit. “Long time no see, hm?” You retort before walking over, giving the man a quick once over before letting the back of your hand connect with his cheek.

“You’re going to pay for what you did.” You growl before taking your knife out of your pocket and stabbing his hand on the seat, making the male yell out in pain before you held him in place as you threw another punch to his jaw.

At the side, Sooyoung could only watch as you gave every punch, slap, stab, and scratch on the male, giving him a much worse and torturous experience than the one he had given her. You didn’t grant him the mercy of taking him out as soon as you saw him, you made sure to make it hurt and wish he was dead.

When Hanjin saw the look on Sooyoung’s face and spat before smirking at her. “You see? This is what the person you’re dating is actually like. She’s holding you here against your will, isn’t she?” He mocked before you smacked him across the face again, your knuckles bruising from the amount of time you’d hit him, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy your anger.

“You really think you can talk your way out of this, you piece of shit?” You growled before Sooyoung gently tugged at your arm, forcing you away from the male. “What? Your lap dog calls the shots now?” Hanjin laughed despite the pain that shot up his body. “You’re just another pathetic little girl; weak and useless without people relying on you.”

Sooyoung could feel your anger radiating from you as she held your tense shoulders but she made sure to keep you calm, pressing a kiss to your temple as she ran her fingers through your hair. “It’s alright, just take a deep breath.” She whispered into your ear and you follow, sucking in a deep breath when you shut your eyes before feeling your girlfriend step away.

When you open your eyes, you’re thoroughly surprised when she was already facing Hanjin and shooting his left leg. “Son of a bitch!” The man yelled as he tried to get up, but Minwo and Jongin held him in place to keep him from moving further.

“I’m not the same girl you managed to snatch from my old life. I know better now and while I never pictured myself with this ever happening, you should be thankful.” She doesn’t flinch the second time she pulls the trigger, effectively shooting his other knee and then pressing the barrel of her gun against the stab wound you had left on his shoulder.

“I’m not as harsh as Y/n.” She stated before pulling the trigger one more time and you watch her in awe and disbelief when she uses the butt of the gun to hit the side of Hanjin’s head, knocking him out with the force of the hit before she nodded to the two men.

When she turns to you, there’s a light smile on her face before she takes your hand, gently running her thumb over your bruised knuckles before she pressed a kiss to each one. “Let’s go home. I have some work to do with you.” She says and you chuckle breathlessly before nodding your head.

“Clean this up for me. Make sure nothing comes back.” You ordered and the men nodded their heads before getting to work, spreading gasoline all over the place as you exited the house.

As soon as you entered the van to head back, you watched as the house blew up in flames before driving away and Sooyoung felt much lighter than she had ever been since she first found out about the darker side of your life.

While you made your way back to the mansion, Sooyoung was able to understand you better after what she had done. And when she realized that she really did shoot a man and helped aid in his murder, she wasn’t freaking out. It brought an odd sense of comfort to her, knowing that she was capable of doing more than she thought she ever could.

She wasn’t so scared with closing her eyes at night. With your arms around her and a gun within arm’s reach, she didn’t see why nightmares should be fazing her this time around.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (51) || atz

You don’t know what to do anymore.

Everything is falling apart to pieces, the world around you, the people at your side, you yourself, crumbling into ruins. Yunho is suffering from poison, having been stabbed in the side by his dearly beloved brother himself, who is cooperating with Commander Kang, Vice-Commander of the Royal Navy’s Red Rose fleet.

He also happens to be Yeosang’s estranged father and the man with the antidote to Yunho’s poison. He wants your captain to give up his magical knot, the nautical maps, you, and Yeosang in exchange for pardons for the whole crew… and Yunho’s antidote.

Wooyoung is avoiding you like you’re down with the plague, refusing to look you in the eye and cutting short all your feeble attempts at conversation with curt, uninterested replies. He’s become like some sort of wraith, gone more times than he is present, and the immense loneliness that clenches deep in you doesn’t help at all with the pains that have started to emerge in your chest.

You’re terrified. Terrified about exactly what exactly is happening to you.

And then the Kraken…

The Kraken is dead.

Jongho had reported the incident to your captain the moment the four of you had returned to the vessel, him being more worried about the Royal Navy ship present in the waters as compared to the death of the Kraken, but you had barely reacted to his worried questions, unable to comprehend what you had just seen.

The ancient Kraken is… dead.

You sit against the mast in empty silence, watching the stars blankly as the ship sails beneath them on a sea reflecting the galaxies in the night sky, lost in the majestic wonder of the sight and in your thoughts. Tonight, the air is freezing, and instinctively your hand reaches out next to you, seeking for the usual warmth that is always present by your side.

Then your fingers falter, halting hesitantly in mid air when they find nothing but cold, empty space.

Despair wells up in you and your hand falls back to your side, limp. Your head falls forwards as you try to hold back the sudden, warm tears that threaten to slip from your eyes. It hurts, deep in your chest, as real and raw as the sporadic pains you’ve been experiencing since leaving the Grand Iguana, and perhaps if you’re honest with yourself, even more so.

When you close your eyes and wish hard enough, with all of your might, you can see Wooyoung’s content smile as he lounges on the deck next to you, eyes fixated on the stars overhead. Wish a little more and you can feel the comforting weight of his head resting on your shoulder, the warmth of your intertwined hands in the lining of his pocket. Even if it was all a lie, even if he had never really cared about you, even if you were nothing more than a game to him, you just want to stay in that single moment forever, trapped in your knitted cocoon of comforting lies.

But you don’t have time to be worrying about those things, you think as you aggressively wipe the tears from your eyes. Because there are so many more problems that you need to focus on, bigger ones that are looming over you in spite of your own troubles.

Yunho is still dying.

And San doesn’t have a cure.

“I don’t know how to create the antidote.”

You don’t know what you should do, to be honest. There are all manner of emotions rushing through you right now – fear – despair – hopelessness – anger; directed at yourself or someone else, you don’t know, but all that matters is that Yunho is dying.

And that neither you nor San can do anything to stop it.

Slumping against the mast once more, you let out another exhausted sigh. You’re tired, completely worn out, battered from the constant strain and worries on your mind. All you want to do is lie down and sleep, but you can’t bring yourself to go to bed in front of your master, who is still burning midnight oil night after night as he and Yeosang search fruitlessly for an antidote.

You can’t bear to see the haggard, gaunt expression on his face as he rifles through the same books yet again, knowing full well in his heart that they don’t have the answers he needs, that only powerful magic could hope to have any sort of effect on the poison. You can’t continue to hear your master sob quietly to himself every night from under your covers as his worry for Yunho and the sheer weight of his failure takes its toll on him, the candlelight flickering across his face only making the tear tracks on his cheeks all the more pronounced.

And in the morning, when he wears a bright, falsely cheerful grin, telling you that everything will be alright, guilt eats away at you like a starving man when you know that he is the one who needs your comfort instead.

You bury your head in your hands with a soundless scream. Your sanity feels like it’s ripping apart at the seams, unraveling and crumbling to ash. There are too many worries and burdens stifling you from within, choking you like poisonous ivies, the thorns digging into your lungs and suffocating you of the air that you so desperately need. You want to spill everything in your chest to someone else, to relieve the burden from your shoulders, but who would be able to lend you a listening ear at this time of the night?

You glance about the deck instinctively. All your crewmates are sleeping below decks, San and Yeosang are tirelessly researching into the night for a cure, Wooyoung still won’t speak to you, and your captain… he…

Actually, why don’t you speak to your captain?

Leaping to your feet, you nearly trip over empty air in your haste as you scramble to the captain’s cabin. To your immense relief, you can see the faint flicker of candlelight coming through the glass windows, signifying that your captain is not yet asleep. You raise a trembling hand, and after a moment of hesitation, rap on the heavy wooden door with your knuckles.

Knock, knock, knock.

You’re left hanging for a moment when there’s a brief moment of silence, but before your hand can fall to the side in disappointment, a soft, raspy voice comes from behind the closed door.

“Come in.”

Relief floods through you and you pull open the door, stepping into the dimly lit interior of your captain’s cabin. Knowing that he usually sleeps in the hammock in the corner, your eyes flit there at first glance, but you’re surprised to find it empty. Instead, you finally see him at the glass window overlooking the sea, lounging on a chair there as he stares unblinkingly at the scene outside. He’s in a state of casual undress, signature red jacket slung over his shoulder and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up to the elbows as his fingers dance absentmindedly on a sheaf of thick parchment paper on his lap.

Then the smell of alcohol hits you like a punch to the gut.

In his other hand is a bottle of liquor, and from the pungent scent it’s a strong, powerful one. For a moment, you’re actually worried; is your captain too unable to cope with the pain and fear of losing his friend? Taking a hesitant step forward, you call out to your captain softly.

“Captain? Are you alright?”

If Hongjoong is surprised that you’ve come to search for him in the wee hours of morning, he doesn’t show it, subtly sliding the bottle of alcohol behind a curtain before he begins to tidy the papers on his lap as if he hasn’t heard your question in the least. When he’s satisfied with the state they’re in, he finally turns to glance at you.

“Ahh, Chin Hae, what do you need from me?”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Because your captain, Kim Hongjoong, is not wearing his eyepatch.

You’ve never actually thought about what was under that slip of black cloth. As the eyepatch has just… always been there, in some way you’ve forgotten that beneath your captain’s eyepatch, there are the scars of your captain’s childhood. You remember that your captain had told you once how his father had abandoned him on an island and shot him in the head, causing him to lose his eye in what must have surely been a traumatic accident for any child.

But the alcohol must have addled with your captain’s mind a lot more than you’d thought, because he doesn’t seem to be aware of the fact that he’s not wearing his eyepatch, instead cocking his head curiously to the side as he awaits for your response.

Your own eyes trace his face, lingering on his right eye as much as you try to tear your gaze away in polite courtesy. The eyepatch is such a big part of his wardrobe, even more significant than his red jacket itself, that you feel like he’s bared a part of himself to you without intending to.

You’re not going to lie. The scar is ugly, shallow ridges of scar tissue joining his skin of to his cheek, slightly fainter in colour than the smooth, unblemished skin around it. It mars what you would have almost called a flawless face, an unsightly stain upon what was once a perfect, white canvas.

You can almost imagine the sight happening before your eyes. Your captain as a young, innocent child, still with both soft green eyes and not yet exposed to the horrors of the world, scrambling backwards desperately in the sand, terror sending his body into sheer mind numbing panic as the one person who was supposed to protect him raises a musket to his head.

And it’s the last thing he’ll ever see out of that eye.

Your captain’s other eye, the healthy, working one, is a hazy green, dulled by the alcohol and pain. It takes him more than a second to realise what you’re looking at, his mind fogged over with liquor, but when he does, you’re terrified, yanking your eyes back to the ground as you can.

But it’s already too late.

“Get out!” Hongjoong roars, every syllable trembling with rage, rising to his feet in one explosive action. The papers on his lap slide to the ground and scatter everywhere, but they’re the least of your troubles right now. At the moment, you’re a lot more concerned about how your captain is practically looming over you, handsome face twisted in fury, warm breath hitting your cheeks. Your eyes are drawn back to his eye once more, almost instinctively, and Hongjoong clamps one hand over the scar, so hard that his fingers turn white, turning away from you so you can’t see it any longer, shoulders wound tight with tension.

Your heart breaks.

“Captain-”

“I said, get out.” He seethes, making to move across the room to his table, where his eyepatch lies. But the alcohol must have affected him a lot more than you thought, because he only manages five steps before his knees give out beneath him and he crumples to ground in a limp heap with a cry of pain. A yelp of horror leaves your mouth and you rush to help him, but he merely waves you off, one hand still pressed tight over his eye.

The message is clear. He doesn’t want you seeing his eye.

“Get me my eyepatch.” Hongjoong manages through gritted teeth and you scramble to obey, feeling the rough cloth beneath your fingers as you pluck it from the tabletop. Your captain practically snatches it from your hands when you return with it, yanking it over his eye as fast as he can.

The two of you remain there for a moment, your captain trying to get his breathing under control as you merely stay still before him, afraid to move. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, and it’s only now that you notice his sallow cheeks, the old rum stains on his shirt. He’s been drowning all his fears and sorrows in liquor, and your heart only shatters more when you recall the brave front he’s been putting on in front of you and all the crew.

“I’m… I apologise.” Hongjoong finally rasps and your eyes dart to his face. His fingers still linger at his eyepatch, as if subconsciously trying to hide his scarred eye, his expression almost unreadable, forlorn, defeated. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. You should go.”

Part of you does want to leave, terrified of what might happen if you stay here any longer. But even more than that, you’re worried about your captain. He’s clearly completely drunk on both alcohol and his emotions, and you can’t just leave him on the floor like that. So, mustering your courage, you put an arm around him and yank him to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in your chest when you do so, pulling him to Yeosang’s bed.

All the fight has clearly evaporated from your captain, because he merely goes along with what you’re trying to do, a complete turn from earlier when he’d been shouting at you to leave, albeit on unsteady feet. When Hongjoong reaches the bed, he simply topples over onto the mattress with a soft groan, eye shut as you sit next to him on the edge of the bed, a hundred and one questions running through your mind with nowhere to begin.

“Why?” You manage to whisper, the question soft to even your own ears. Exhaustion and alcohol must have loosened your captain’s tongue, because he actually answers you, voice so forlorn it almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I…I couldn’t help it... I felt like such a useless captain.” Hongjoong breathes into the silent room, voice laced with pain and depression and guilt. “Yunho got stabbed because I was too slow. Yeosang and you are wanted because I failed to protect the two of you. Now, we have no cure to save Yunho, but I… I just can’t give either of you up to that bastard. I don’t want to make a choice, so I’m trying to forget, but it just isn’t working.”

Everyone on board of this ship, Yeosang himself included, have reassured you that your captain would never give any of you up, but to hear it for yourself, with your own two ears, means so much more to you. Some sort of relief settles in you, but it doesn’t last long.

Your captain lets out a self deprecating chuckle. “I’m such a selfish man, aren’t I?”

You don’t know what your captain is talking about. What does he mean that he’s selfish? Kim Hongjoong is one of the most kind hearted people you’ve met, willing to go to any extent for his friends and crew, you included. But when you open your mouth to refute, your captain speaks once more, voice slurring ever so slightly over his words.

“Hey, Chin Hae... I’m terrified.”

The pained whimper that breaks forth from him is the final blow to your heart as you feel it shatter into teeny tiny pieces. You have this urge to comfort him, to reassure him in any way that he’ll be alright, but then Hongjoong is sitting up on the bed once more, green eye clouded with desperation as he grabs you tight by the shoulders.

“You can’t die, Chin Hae.” Hongjoong’s voice is shaking with some sort of deep rooted fear as his gaze searches yours. “Please… no, that’s an order. I order you not to die, Chin Hae. I… no… I won’t be able to bear it if any of you die so please…” His voice breaks at the last word and a single tear rolls down your cheek at the sheer anguish in his words. “Please… please don’t die.”

He’s begging you.

“I’ll take all the danger, all the pain, everything. Please, don’t do anything dangerous.” He continues rambling weakly, head bowed before you in supplication as he pleads with you. He’s drunk. Too much so, you think blankly, your heart ripping itself to shreds at his words. “Getting tortured… even dying would be a better fate than losing any of you, so please…”

You’re frozen, unable to move an inch at the sheer wretchedness of his pleas. Your captain, your stupid, foolish and utterly selfless captain, doesn’t care for anything else except the safety of his crew. Your captain, who is always a pillar of support to all of you, perhaps doesn’t realise that he too, needs comfort as well.

Hongjoong is still mumbling ‘please’ brokenly under his breath, tears actually streaming down his cheeks as he begs you to stay alive and safe. You don’t know what to do, one hand coming up to grip the fabric above your chest, right where your heart is.

How? How are you ever going to tell Hongjoong about how your life might just be ending soon?

At this point, you don’t even know how to worry about yourself. Instead, you’re more concerned about what will happen to your captain if you do die, because how can you bring yourself to worry about you when your captain cares for your life more than his own?

The answer is simple, really.

You can’t.

This isn’t like that time from so long ago, when the biggest secrets you’d been keeping from the crew was the fact that you were a woman. Your captain is already tearing himself apart from the inside over all the problems he has to face now, what would happen to him if you told him you were dying and there was likely no way he could fix it?

He’d go insane.

So, as you hold back the tears that are desperately trying to escape your eyes, you pull him close in a hug and he clings to you, as if he’s drowning and you’re a lifeline. You press your nose into his shoulder and pat him, rubbing soothing circles into his back much like San used to do for you.

“I won’t die.” You lie through your teeth, and your heart clenches painfully, seemingly aware of your fibs. But Hongjoong nods desperately, trembling uncontrollably against you, your legs tangled in the blankets.

“You promise?” His voice is so weak, so afraid, that the tears spill over your lashes and onto your cheeks, soaking into his shoulder. You attempt a reassuring smile, but even to you, it’s forced and brittle, like flaking clay that has been left out in the sun too long.

Your reply is nothing but a sweet lie, one that you know you cannot possibly keep.

“I promise.”

[wingsofhcpe]

whumptober day 2- choking

fandom: shadow & bone

pairing: fivan [ivan x fedyor kaminsky]

rating: T+

additional warnings: blood, injury, gore

you can also read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34208404/chapters/85175464#workskin

[tagging @camilleisback upon request <3]

He makes it out of the Fold by the skin of his teeth. He uses everything that he has at his disposal; his powers, his experience, even the little bit of faith to the Saints he has retained over the years. It’s enough to get him out in the end, but not enough to make sure he does so unscathed.

Ivan crawls the last few meters away from the outer reaches of the Shadow Fold, tendrils of darkness still clinging to his clothes -or whatever has remained of them, anyway- as if they’re trying to pull him back into the hell he just barely escaped. He knows it’s all in his mind; the Fold isn’t sentient, although it houses sentient forms of life. Still, if there’s even the slightest possibility that something, be it the darkness or its monstrous inhabitants, may appear out of nowhere and drag him back inside, he knows with mortifying certainty he’ll be unable to get away a second time. All of his strength, his willpower, the force of his very life, is spent. It’s quite literally bleeding out of him as he collapses for good between the abandoned ruins of Novokribirsk’s outer reaches, the thick red liquid soaking into the barren ground. Within the haze of pain and exhaustion that muddles his thoughts, Ivan realises what poetic justice means; he helped cause this disaster. He helped drain all life out of this ground. Now, he’s giving it all back with his own blood. That’s alright, he thinks. It’s the circle of life, after all; when someone dies, their essence returns to the Making at the Heart of the World. Their life force seeps back into the heartbeat that makes the earth turn, that moves the waters, feeds the animals, drives the Grisha. They must all return to it when they’re ready.

And Ivan is ready. He really is. He is content to be sacrificing himself for General Kirigan’s righteous purpose, for the good of all the Grisha, for the safety of everyone in Ravka. He’s content to be reunited with his deceased brothers, his father, his uncle. And he would have been content to leave this cold, cruel world behind, if it wasn’t for one thing. One mere little thing that’s still holding him back. That is making him think he’s not yet ready to leave this plane of existence.

He doesn’t want to leave Fedyor behind.

It’s foolish, really. They’re soldiers, and the knowledge that one or both of them will most likely meet an untimely death, far out of reach from the other, has been ever-present in their relationship even before they made their feelings known. It had all been a silly little fantasy, a comforting but naïve dream, thinking that they may get the chance to grow old together, to die in bed held in each other’s arms after living to see Ravka in peace. Ivan had always believed himself to be a pragmatist, if not a pessimist- but this dream, this hope… Fedyor had almost made him believe they would get their happy ending. And now… it hurt. It hurt to think that he would leave Fedyor behind. That his death would extinguish his beloved’s warm, bright smile. That it would break his heart.

What Ivan wouldn’t have given to be able to speak to Fedyor one last time. To say all the things he may have kept to himself all those years. ‘I love you’. ‘You’re the light of my life’. ‘There is nothing more important to me than you are’. Fedyor knows already, and Ivan is aware. But still- he has been frugal with words of affection. Fedyor deserved so much more than his silent. Sometimes actions may speak louder than words, but others, you need to hear those words from someone’s lips. Words are comfort; words are a promise. Ivan didn’t realise until now. But now it’s too late, far too late.

Ivan closes his eyes as the sun sets below the horizon, somewhere to his left. Part of him mourns its descent; he already misses the warmth, the light. The sun… Fedyor is his sun. The Starkov girl, the traitor, may be the Sun Summoner, but nothing she does will ever come close to the warmth radiance that Fedyor emits just by existing.

“F-Fedya…” Ivan chokes on his own blood, sputtering and coughing until his lungs feel like they’re on fire. He knows he’s alone, and that Fedyor can’t hear him. But he wants to speak his beloved’s name just once more. A prayer, a goodbye.

Darkness seems to ebb out of the Fold and engulf the world around him, but it is just the night. Simply the natural order of things. Ivan gradually begins to shiver, his temperature dropping by the minute due to blood loss as well as the lack of a proper heating source. He groans softly; the little spasms that run through his body make the pain worse, make his wounds feel as if they’re being torn anew over and over again. But soon even those weak sounds fade, his strength nowhere nearly enough even for that. It’s barely enough to keep him breathing. To keep his heart beating.

The hours pass, or at least he thinks so; he cannot be sure. When he hears the distant sound of hoofbeats on the ground, he initially dismisses it as a hallucination, or perhaps even Death itself riding on its black steed to come claim his soul. But then something else tugs at the corners of his senses; a sound as familiar as breath, as life itself. A heartbeat he would be able to recognise even if he was already dead.

Ivan wants to stand. He wants to shout, to draw the attention of the one person that’s still keeping him tied to this world, that is making life worth living. But he cannot move- he cannot even speak. He can only lay in silence and pray with all of his might to whatever Saint is still watching over him, that Fedyor will detect his heartbeat just as Ivan detected his. That he won’t just ride right past him, leaving him to die alone, and cold, and in so much pain.

Don’t leave me. Fedya, please, don’t leave me.

Call it a miracle, call it divine intervention, or just luck. But the sounds that have stirred Ivan from his dying slumber draw closer and closer, until there’s no further doubt- it’s not a hallucination. It is real. This is real. He’s not alone.

A voice, a familiar and adored voice, calls his name. Fedyor is suddenly kneeling on the ground next to him, the flickering light of a traveling lantern illuminating his face. His eyes are brimming with tears, and all he repeats, over and over, is Ivan’s name.

“Vanya, my Vanya. It’s alright. I’m here now. You’ll be okay my love, I promise.”

Strong arms lift him slowly, as carefully as possible, and Ivan hears his own voice distantly as he cries out. Saints, the pain- it’s unlike anything he has ever experienced before. He feels his insides may drop out of his body from the gaping wounds across his chest and stomach, and he’s not certain whether or not his right arm is still properly attached to his body. It surely doesn’t feel like it is. But Fedyor whispers words of comfort to him, even as Ivan chokes and coughs up more blood. He cannot reply, although he dearly wants to; he wants to thank Fedyor, he wants to ask him not to leave him, to be gentle because oh, it all hurts so bad. And even though he’s unable to talk, and can only stare at his beloved pleadingly through blurry eyes, Fedyor understands. Fedyor has always understood, and now it’s no exception. He presses a soft kiss on Ivan’s blood-streaked brow, and sets himself to work.

Ivan flashes in and out of conscience while Fedyor and his Grisha companions clean and bandage his wounds. Even amidst unconsciousness, however, Ivan can feel his partner’s steady, unwavering and comforting presence. And he knows, now, that everything will be okay.

The next time Ivan comes properly around, the pain has subsided. Someone has lit a fire between the ruins that have offered shelter to the group, and there’s something soft and warm enveloping him. It takes him a moment to realise it’s Fedyor’s kefta, having replaced his own torn and ruined clothes. Fedyor himself is holding him in his arms, humming a soft Fjerdan lullaby- one that Ivan had sung to him during a particularly bad injury, while the Healers at the Little Palace had been patching Fedyor up. Despite himself, despite everything, Ivan’s lips twitch into a small smile. Fedyor smiles back, and leans down to gently bump their noses together.

“I’m here, lapushka.” He says reassuringly, as if he knows it’s just what Ivan needs to hear. The latter sucks in a wobbly breath, but Fedyor immediately shakes his head.

“No, don’t try to talk now. Just rest. I’ll stay with you.”

There’s no need for words between them, as there has never been. But Ivan silently promises, both to Fedyor and himself, that as soon as he regains his ability to speak, he’s going to tell Fedyor every day how much he loves him, how much he means to him, how thankful he is that Fedyor didn’t abandon him out here in the darkness and the cold.

Before sleep overtakes him, he swears he won’t ever again leave those words unspoken.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

A Place To Call Home: TJ’s Talk

Summary: TJ’s father, Rick, comes into town to have a talk with his son, Jensen and the reader after TJ’s revelation that he still isn’t getting along with his dad. Rick has a very different idea of parenting than Jensen though and things bewteen the Hanovers and Ackles get heated fast...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 8,200ish

Warnings: language, angst, fluff

A/N: This part takes place after the Dark Roads timestamp. Enjoy! 

______

“Babe, relax,” you said, rubbing TJ’s shoulders in your kitchen. He let out a deep breath and you caught your dad raising an eyebrow from his seat at the counter. “You boys are just gonna talk.”

“I want you to stay,” said TJ. You glanced over to your dad and he shrugged.

“I’m fine with that. Just be prepared for things to get a little rough,” said your dad. 

“Nothing’s gonna be worse than the time I…” you trailed off, both of them looking at you. You waved them off and went over to the fridge to get a drink.

“Something from foster care?” asked TJ. You paused with the door open, nodding your head once and grabbing a beer. You popped the tab open and took a long drink, both of them still watching you. “Something I don’t know about?”

“It doesn’t matter. I can handle rough is all I was trying to say,” you said, hopping up to sit on the counter. TJ went back to pacing around the island, your dad cocking his head at you. “This is about, TJ, not me.”

“Okay, little miss defensive,” he said.

“Dad. It’s nothing you don’t already know.”

“We’re talking about this later,” he said. You rolled your eyes as the three of you heard a car door out front. A few moments later, the doorbell rang and TJ left to answer it.

“Hey, Rick. How was the drive?” asked your dad, getting up when TJ’s dad walked in the kitchen with him.

“Not bad. Still not quite sure what this guy weekend or whatever is all about. How’re you doing from the accident?” he asked.

“Oh it was three months ago. Y/N and I are all good,” said your dad. You forced a smile and Rick returned it, TJ rolling his eyes behind his father’s back. “The accident is kind of what got this weekend together actually.”

“Why’s Y/N here if it’s supposed to be guys?” asked Rick.

“TJ asked me to be here,” you said, jumping off the counter. “Would you like a drink?”

“I’ll take an old fashioned,” he said.

“How about a beer?” you said, taking one out of the fridge. You walked it over and he scowled. “Rick. Take the beer.”

“I asked for an old fashioned.”

“See that thing over there? That’s a kitchen. You want one, make it yourself,” you said. You plopped the beer down on the counter and took a seat on the couch, Rick looking at TJ. 

“What exactly is her problem? It your time of the month?”

“Rick,” said your dad. “Let’s just have everybody take a seat and start over, hm?”

“She offered a drink, not me,” he said as he sat on the other side of the wrap around couch. TJ looked ready to pop already and you gave him a look, watching him calm down after a minute. He took the beer for himself and found some whiskey for his dad, carrying it over before he took a seat next to you. “Was that so hard?”

“Rick, maybe let’s cool it. The kids aren’t too happy with you and frankly, neither am I,” said your dad as he sat down nearby. Rick blinked slowly and held up a hand. 

“What the Hell did I do? Are they still upset over the spanking thing? That was months ago.”

“You ever lay a hand on our children, I’ll kick your ass,” you said with a smile. “But no, that’s not what this is about.”

“TJ, you hang around with the little rich bitch and her pretty douchebag fake dad that you know there was something going on there and this is what you turn into. I told you this girl would be the worst thing in the world for you,” said his dad. 

“I don’t even know where to begin with that sentence,” said your dad, getting to his feet. Rick popped up and you quickly jumped between the two of them. 

“Dad. Sit down,” you said. He glared at Rick and you shoved him back to the couch. “You had a high grade concussion. You got cleared to drive a week ago. Sit your ass down.”

“She wear the pants for all you boys? Or just the ones you play around with,” said Rick. You balked and turned your attention on him, already feeling both your dad and TJ up behind you.

“I’d be very careful about what you say next, Rick, because I feel like punches are about to be thrown and I’d really like to avoid that. I think we all would. Now I know we’ve never really gotten along but you made your son and I love him. He is my best friend and he fixes broken things in me. So I’m going to give you a chance to sit down and talk. All of us are. These two men behind me are my safe place. I was a mess before either of them, Rick. Don’t confuse love with-”

“He’s not a toy for you to play with when you get bored,” said Rick. “He-”

“Sit down!” shouted TJ. You jumped back into your dad, both of you taking a seat. Rick slowly sat, watching his son. “You’re unbelievable. The way you talk to my wife. To my father-in-law, the guy I think of as my actual dad. You’re disgusting. I’m done. Get out of my life.”

“TJ,” you said as he stood and headed straight for the front door. You heard the car going outside and he drove off, leaving you standing there sighing. 

“What did I do?” asked Rick.

“You called his wife a bitch for starters,” said your dad, throwing a pillow at him. “You treat her like a maid to beckon on you. I’ve seen it a million times. Oh, let’s not forget about the implying I sleep with my daughter because that’s not fifty kinds of fucked up. Then you make him feel like piece of shit that-”

“This is your fault,” said Rick as he stood up and stood in front of where your dad sat. “You weird hollywood guys are all emotional or whatever and I get that that’s your thing but he is a man and he needs to learn to not be so sensitive. Ever since he met-”

“You are a fucking asshole,” you laughed. “Like, it’s amazing how big an asshole you are.”

“I never liked him mixing up with you,” he said as you walked back over and tried to keep your dad seated. “He was supposed to be a police officer. He was supposed-”

“He likes architecture,” you grit out, clenching your fists. “You’re supposed to not be a dick but we don’t all get what we want, hm?”

“Watch yourself,” he said, grabbing your arm. “You spoiled rotten brat. You-”

“Let go of her or I’m going to join her in the ass kicking,” said your dad, grabbing Rick’s arm. He unclamped his arm and you saw him think about throwing a punch before you stepped between them again.

“All your son wants is for you to love him. He doesn’t want to be afraid of you anymore and hurting us isn’t going to get you anywhere,” you said. He stared at you blankly and sat down, your dad easing down when you took a seat beside him.

“What do you mean my son is afraid of me?”

“She means...TJ’s never felt like he could talk to you about anything of importance, anything he knows you would disapprove of, like his architecture. A month ago, it hit TJ that we both almost died and it upset him. What upset us was that he was afraid that if we really had died, you would be angry with him for crying over the loss,” said your dad. His dad sat back in his seat, suddenly leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Your wife dying, that’s…” he said, glancing at you. You turned your chin up and he sighed to himself as he rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s different. I get crying for that.”

“What about me?” asked your dad. “I love him. He loves me. If I died, is he allowed to cry for that?”

“I should have said crying at a death is different,” said Rick.

“When’s the last time you cried, Rick,” you said. He stared at you and you shrugged. “When?”

“How about you first.”

“Easy. Three months ago. I watched my father slowly die in front of me while suffering from an array of injuries and second stage hypothermia. Oh yes, I forgot about the part where I had to shove my hand in his open wound to keep him alive all while putting him in excruciating pain. That was different than the time I was ten and I watched strapped in the backseat as my mom died from a punctured lung and my dad bled out from a piece of metal impaling his skull. Oh, then the car caught on fire and I had to crawl out past them with a severe head injury. That’s just the tip of my shit storm of a life. You want to talk about what’s tough and what’s manly? Take a walk in my life for a while. Feelings are meant to be felt, no matter what’s between your legs. Until you’ve experienced pain, real pain, don’t you dare insinuate when and when not it’s appropriate to cry you pathetic little man.”

He was frozen solid, just staring at you. Your dad shifted beside you and sat up, resting his arms on his knees.

“She’s got a bigger set than you could ever realize. Trust me, Rick. You don’t want to piss this one off.”

“You’re talking about physical pain,” he said when he finally could speak again. You rolled your eyes and slumped down into the couch, your dad chuckling. “What?”

“No, she’s not. Physical pain hurts but it goes away. Shit like watching someone you love die like that? That leaves marks. Her entire foster upbringing? It leaves marks. You can’t seem them but they’re there. Your son makes her forget they exist. He makes that ache less inside of her. He makes it less for me. I don’t worry as much as I would if he weren’t with her. I have a close relationship with my daughter, Rick. I’m fortunate to have one so close. But we fought for it. She didn’t want me and now, now she’ll stand up to an asshole because you called her dad names. TJ just wants to see a glimmer of what we have with you. He wants to know you love him that much.”

“Of course I love him.”

“When’s the last time you gave him a hug?” you asked. He shrugged and you threw up your hands.

“I’ll give him more hugs then,” he said, your dad shaking his head.

“If it’s not genuine, he’ll know. I’m not saying you have to get to the point Y/N and I am at. But you need to show your son that if he needs to feel things, he can do that in front of you. I know it’s not how you were raised. It’s not really how I was raised either. But somehow, our generation figured out that it’s okay for boys to cry and that guys should be gentlemen and best friends and lovers and protectors. You did something right with that boy. Do something right for yourself or I promise, I promise, he will never forgive you for how you treated us here today,” said your dad as he got up. “I need another beer.”

“Same,” you groaned.

“You really raise your son to talk about his feelings?” asked Rick.

“Seems to be working out so far,” said your dad. “Case and point, he’s starting to discover things about his body. We had a very open conversation about it. I talk to my daughters about puberty. I talk to this one about lots of shit. If your kids feel like they can talk to you, they’ll talk to you.”

“I do talk to my son,” he said. You dad sighed as he got out another beer for himself and you. He handed yours over the back of the couch before he leaned over the back of it.

“When’s the last time your son asked a question about marriage, kids, love, intimacy-”

“Guys don’t talk about that shit without their girl around and you know it.”

“What a sad little life you live, Rick,” said your dad, taking a sip. “I love gushing to my buddies about my wife and bragging about my kids. Last week between football and cars, we talked about how much we love our partners. You ever done that? You ever even sat down with your wife and tell her how you feel about her and not do it because you want sex?”

“I love my wife and my son. Don’t tell me I don’t.”

“I didn’t say you don’t. I’m saying, don’t assume they can read your mind. Your son wants to know that he can talk to you and you’ll respect him, no matter the conversation. That’s all,” said your dad.

“I do. Obviously I should be talking to him and not the two of you,” he said. He stood up and you sighed, Rick shooting you a look. “Just because you’ve had crap, doesn’t give you an excuse to be a stuck up bitch.”

“Rick, I think it’s a good idea if you headed back to your hotel. Maybe TJ will want to talk to you, maybe not but right now, we‘re done,” you said. He slammed the door on the way out, your dad fuming on the couch still. “Cool it.”

“Don’t talk to me like a child,” he said. He started to head for the front door but you jumped in front of him, the sound of a car taking off in the background. “He deserves to get his ass kicked.”

“Do you think I’ve never been called a bitch before? Never been accused of...you know,” you said, your dad shaking his head. “The second you adopted me the internet-”

“I told you not to read internet comments,” he said.

“This isn’t about us. It’s about TJ. We barely ever have to see Rick. TJ can decide on his own what he wants his relationship with his father to be,” you said. You wandered back into the family room to grab your beer before you went into the kitchen. He followed you and you took a deep breath. “What?”

“I told you not to read internet comments.”

“You told me to get in the damn car and I didn’t listen then. Guess what. I was right,” you said, scowling at him. “You don’t know everything.”

“You almost died,” he said, his jaw clenched. “You had stage two hypothermia while you were in shock and-”

“Big fucking deal. I wasn’t gushing blood out of my stomach.”

“You were as injured as I was. You-”

“Funny. I seem to have been given the all clear by doctors months ago.”

“Don’t start this shit again,” he said. 

“Don’t start your shit again,” you said. “I made a choice. Fucking live with it.”

“I can’t!” he shouted. You stared at him and he shut his eyes. He plopped down onto the floor and you sat beside him, taking hold of his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t...I don’t mean like that.”

“I know, dad,” you said, rubbing his hand. 

“I can’t protect you from an accident. I can’t protect you from your asshole father-in-law,” he said. He crossed his legs and you bumped your shoulder into his before resting your head on it.

“You could totally kick his ass,” you said. He chuckled and nodded, resting his head on top of yours. “You gonna be this grumpy when you’re like, old and need real help?”

“Probably,” he laughed. “I know, kiddo. I know. I don’t like feeling weak is all.”

“This guy, like this really old guy, told me something once,” you said, already halfway to getting an noogie. “Needing help isn’t weakness. It just means you need help.”

“Rick just really pushed my buttons,” he said. “He is so not like TJ.”

“His dad worked a lot. I’m pretty sure his mom raised him for the most part,” you said.

“You think he’s jealous of me?”

“Yes,” you said. “But he doesn’t get to be rude to you just because you get along with his son better.”

“You reminded me of when they almost took you away that day, the way you stood up to the social worker. You protected yourself. You protected us. I forget you’ve always been this way,” he said.

“I lost one set of parents. I’m not losing another,” you said. He ruffled your hair and you leaned back against the cabinets, your dad doing the same. “Why doesn’t he like me? Rick.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s concerned because of who we are that his son would lose anonymity or be subjected to some stereotypical Hollywood bullshit. I don’t know. He’s always talked down to you. Mom and I kept our mouths shut because you asked us to but that’s not gonna cut it anymore, Y/N.”

“I don’t want any more fighting is all,” you said. 

“You’re not mad at me for setting this up?”

“Dad, you wanted to help TJ. I’ll never be mad at you for wanting to do that. It makes me really happy actually,” you said. 

“He’s alright,” he said with a smile. “You want to go try and find him?”

“I know where he is,” you said. He cocked his head and you got up, helping him to his feet. “He’s at the gym. He goes there to work out when he gets pissed or stressed. He’ll be home when he’s ready. I’ll give him a few hours before I go looking.”

“Well, you want to go have dinner with the kiddos?” he asked.

“Allie and Colin are sleeping over a friend’s tonight,” you said. 

“I know. Come on. No use in sitting in this house overthinking everything,” he said. “Mom made veggie lasagna again.”

“Gross. Burgers?” you asked.

“Burgers,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m sure the crew would love to get some one on one time with big sis.”

“Hey, Y/N,” asked JJ as you finished making up four sundaes for you and your siblings after dinner. You hummed as you got them on a tray to bring up to the TV room. She walked around the island, standing next to you. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said with a smile.

“You’re really not,” she said.

“I’m fine,” you said.

“You’re really not,” said another voice. You spun around, catching TJ walk in from the front door. “JJ was worried so she texted me and that made me cool right off.”

“You text him?” you asked.

“He’s kinda been like my brother since forever, doofus,” she said, rolling her eyes. 

“Give us a minute, JJ,” asked TJ. He handed her the tray of sundaes and she headed up to the TV room, TJ resting his hands on your hips and his forehead against yours. “I’m so incredibly sorry for the way my father treated you and Jensen today. I...I don’t understand him. He’s been calling and texting, saying he wants to talk but-”

“Then let’s talk,” you said.

“Y/N.”

“TJ. Your dad loves you. He just…” you trailed off as you spotted your dad slip in from the back porch.

“Let’s give Rick another shot,” he said.

“Really?” asked TJ.

“Yeah,” you said. “I have an inkling of what’s going on if you guys are willing to let me talk to Rick on my own for a bit.”

“I’m not thrilled with the idea but alright,” said your dad.

“Y/N, I don’t know. He was-“

“TJ. I know the difference between a good and bad dad. Trust me?” you asked.

“One hour,” he said.

“That’s all I need.”

“Thanks for meeting me,” you said half an hour later. Rick nodded as he stepped inside the empty finished house.

“You and your old man gonna bury me out in the back of this place?” he asked.

“Nah. We’d do that at the brewery,” you said with a smile. “I was wondering what you thought of this house.”

“It’s a great house. Are you thinking of buying it?”

“Rick. This is an example. I know it’s a great house. What makes it great to you?” you asked. 

“Kid,” he sighed.

“Entertain me for calling me a bitch and a slut,” you said.

“I didn’t call you a slut.”

“You heavily implied that I’ve slept with-“

“I know what I said. I was out of line,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s a start. Now tell me what makes this house great to you?” you asked.

“I don’t know. It’s big.”

“What else?”

“The kitchen is nice.”

“What’s nice about the kitchen?”

“The beams are nice,” he said. “The windows are a good size.”

“What else?”

“Why are we doing this?” he asked.

“Because your son designed this house from scratch. It’s assessed at 3.2 million dollars. TJ doesn’t know this yet but his manager submitted this home to Architectural Digest for consideration on a story. He also doesn’t know that he not only got a story, he got the cover. He’s the youngest at his firm to ever do that. He has incredible talent.”

“He built this?” he asked.

“He designed each room and the home and then worked with an engineer to have the home built. It wasn’t for a client. It was his first original house he did. It sold for 4 million. His idea did that. It is hard to sell a house for that much when it’s not for a buyer already. Rick, your son is extremely talented and that’s just his job. It’s a fraction of who he is.”

“I get that his job is harder than I give him credit for,” he said. “I worked my ass off, twelve hour days, for years. He makes more money in a year than I do in four. That’s just him. That’s not counting what you make which I’m sure is right up there. It’s like you kids got handed everything and-”

“Rick. TJ worked his ass off in school and college and at his job to get to where he is. He wasn’t handed that. You sacrificed things I’m sure for him but that’s our jobs as parents. I’ve been working at the brewery since I was a teenager. You want to know my first job? I cleaned up the tables, the outdoor area, the bathrooms. I did the garbage and helped keep the brewing room clean. My parents have money but they didn’t just hand me a business. I moved up through it and that is why I have the job I do now. I don’t even own it. They do and you know how my dad got money to build it? Twelve hour days, working his ass off for years.”

“He acts.”

“Yeah. He also made jack shit his first two years of his show. He earned more the more responsibility got put on him. Him doing his job employed so many people and he had that pressure on him constantly. He barely got to breathe just like I’m sure you did. He’s not what you think he is and neither am I. We didn’t ask to talk for a fight. All of us love Thomas and we want to know that if something horrible happened, he could fall apart and you will be there with no judgement. It’s all we wanted.”

Rick took a deep breath and wandered around the house for a moment before he went over to the patio door. You walked out with him, watching him lean against the railing for a moment before sitting down on the step out there. You took one beside him, Rick rubbing his hand over his mouth.

“Why is it so hard to talk about this? It’s just me here,” you said. 

“Because you don’t…” he said, closing his eyes. “Guys don’t talk about feelings and crap.”

“Yes they do. The ones that don’t are scared of being open which is understandable. But I’m not telling anyone. I have a lot of secrets. I can keep more.”

“Your parents died. I get it,” he said.

“TJ doesn’t talk about his grandparents much. Your parents,” you said.

“They died when he was a baby. Lung cancer and a heart attack,” he said. 

“Your dad ever hit you with a belt?” you asked. “Spanking?”

“Yeah, cause that’s how it was done back then.”

“He ever beat you with it?”

“Excuse me?”

“There’s a difference between a hit and a beat. Something about you feels like you really didn’t care for your parents.”

“Yeah, they were assholes. I was actually happy when my dad died so there,” he said.

“One of my foster parents had a kind of stressful job. They were fosters for the benefits. You know, they got money for us that was supposed to go to stuff for us but it was always for them. He used to come home in a bad mood a lot. He took turns beating on our backs. I was about twelve. One night he went too far. I was black and blue and it started bleeding. Blood got on the sheets so he got even more upset. He took me down to the basement and wailed on my back until I passed out. I missed a week of school while I recovered. I still have a thin little line on my back from it. Looks like a birthmark. TJ knows about that night. It’s why he got so angry with you over you and Allie.”

“I hit him a few times with one,” he said. “Thomas. I shouldn’t...it was different when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, it was. But you’re not happy your dad died unless he used to do some fucked up shit to you.”

He turned his head and you shrugged.

“I had plenty of bad foster dads, Rick. I can understand and I get that you don’t talk about stuff because it’s easier. You don’t have to talk at all. Just listen to your son.”

“What’s the worst thing that one of them ever did?” he asked.

“Don’t try to compare my shitty childhood to yours. It’s not a competition.”

“What’s the best thing one ever did then?”

“I ran away the night I turned 17 because I thought I was fucking up their perfect family. He found me, brought me home and warmed me up. I kept pushing them away so he took me outside and we talked. Told me adults have feelings and that if I left again, he would come after me again and bring me home to my family. I hated Jensen when I first met him, Rick. Hated everything about him. That night I realized, on our own, it wasn’t bullshit. He cared and there was nothing I could ever do to make him not. Don’t judge us for having a close relationship. It wasn’t always that way and I needed it to get to where I am today.”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked quietly. You furrowed your brow and he stared blankly at you. “What do you want me to do, Y/N? I doubt my son even wants to speak to me again.”

“Tell him about yourself.”

“He knows me.”

“Does he know that your parents weren’t all that great?”

“No. I could never tell him that,” he said. “I’m his father.”

“It’s not pity. It’s understanding. It explains some of your behavior earlier today.”

“I can’t.”

“Are you afraid he’ll judge you? Think you’re weak?” 

“Yes. Yes,” he said, shooting you a hard look. “All I have is being the tough guy.”

“No. It’s all you’ve let yourself be. TJ helps my father, who is the grumpiest man in the world when he’s hurt, he’s helped him get around ever since the accident. He’s driven him to doctors appointments. They went to therapy together. I know you’re jealous of them and my dad never intended to make you feel that way. It’s always...it means a lot to me to see him love the man I love. If you want to be pissed at anyone for it, be pissed at me.”

“Jensen was right. You are tougher than you look,” he said. He rested his hands in his lap, staring down to the patio area. “I really don’t want to tell my son.”

“You hurt him today. It is not an easy fix. You need to be vulnerable and hope he does not hurt you back. That’s what a family is. You do it enough, you realize you never had to be afraid of them hurting you in the first place.”

“Why aren’t you livid with me?”

“I understand wanting to keep it all inside. I was that way until the actor guy forced it out of me and I’m really glad he did. I won’t be angry at someone who is willing to try. I know it’s not easy, I’ve been there. But you gotta try.”

“Jensen want to kick my ass still?”

“He’ll let it go for TJ. I think we both want an apology though.”

“Understood. Before you send TJ over here, can I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“Do you think I have a chance with him?”

“Your son is one of the kindest human beings I’ve ever known. He is good down to his soul. If you mean it, you have a chance,” you said.

“Hey kid,” he said as you stood up. “I never disliked you because you were bad for him. I didn’t like you because it was obvious how much more he liked your family.”

“You can be part of the family too, Rick. No one ever said you couldn’t be.”

He nodded and you turned to head back inside.

“There’s a cooler with drinks in the kitchen. I’ll send TJ so you two can talk.”

“How do you know he’ll come?”

“Because I’m gonna ask him to. Oh and give him a hug. He likes hugs.”

“Thanks, kid.”

“How you think it’s going?” asked your dad late that night as you lay in bed with him and your mom.

“Good. I hope,” you said. “Why is your bed comfier than mine?”

“Cause it’s your parents bed. Parents beds always feel better,” said your mom.

“Valid point,” you said, trying to go back to watching your movie.

“Jensen, you have something you want to tell Y/N, didn’t you?” she said. 

“Nope,” he said.

“Dad. Come on. Gimmie that tea,” you said making grabby hands. Your mom laughed and you giggled but he barely cracked. “Is it serious?”

“Tell her Jay or I will. You said you would,” she said. 

“Dad?” you asked. He sat up and smiled.

“Mom and I talked a bit after the accident and we decided that we’d like to put you as our power of attorney along with each other. In an emergency, you can make a decision for us if you can’t reach mom or you can’t reach me. The way it is now, only if we’re both incapable would you be it but...you made the right call before. We know you would never do anything but make the choice you think should be made so we want to do that now that you’re a little older,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. You sat up and used part of his weighted blanket on yourself. “I told Rick a little about what happened in foster care. One of the bad things.”

“You feeling okay?” asked your mom. 

“Yeah. Earlier you said you wanted to talk, dad, about the rough thing.”

“You made it sound like something that wasn’t in your file.”

“Cause it’s not. I know the roughest thing I’ve ever done,” you said. “You do too. You were there.”

He nodded and smiled to himself before you curled up against your mom. You felt him behind you and she moved to hold onto the both of you as best as possible. 

“Dad says he yelled at you pretty bad on that road,” she said. You hummed and she bumped the top of your head. “Did that scare you?”

“I didn’t like him yelling at me but no, I haven’t been scared of dad in an incredibly long time,” you said. “Your husband can be kind of an idiot is all.”

“I heard that,” he mumbled, a small rumble in his chest though where he tried to hide his laugh.

“The both of you can be idiots but you’re mine,” she said, kissing your forehead. “Dad was a bit worried you got upset with him earlier.”

“Dad,” you said, turning your head back.

“Thanks for that, De,” he said, closing his eyes. “You’re having a long day. I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

“We’re good,” you said. “I just hope it goes okay with TJ.”

“Us too,” said your mom. 

“Well how come I didn’t know we were having a sleepover?” said TJ from the doorway. You sat up and got out of bed, TJ smiling. “We’ll be back.”

“How’d it go?” you asked, taking a seat on the couch with him. He took your hand and tilted his head at you.

“We’re gonna talk more, do a weekly phone call. He’s gonna cut back at work and spend more time with my mom or so he says,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. He wants to be a happier person he said cause he’s actually a very unhappy person apparently,” he said. You scooted closer and gave him a hug, TJ pulling you into his lap. “He told me a lot of stuff Y/N. I understand him a bit better. He still owes you and Jensen an apology but it’d mean a lot if you guys gave him a second chance. I’m still mad at him but it’s a start.”

“Of course, honey,” you said. “Your dad doesn’t have to be like mine. I just need to know that you have support from him if you ever need it.”

“I know I will. He told me I’m lucky to have you. He said it’s very apparent to him now just how much you love me.”

“A part of me has loved you since I was eighteen years old, Thomas. You were a normal boy and I wanted you to be with a normal girl and not one who got nightmares and had a history like mine. It’s why I was always trying to set you up with someone else and that night when I was alone and you came over...I finally admitted I wanted you for me. I wanted my best friend to be mine and maybe you wouldn’t mind if I wasn’t normal. You’d already put up with me for two years at that point.”

“I wanted you for me the whole time. I just thought she’s not into me, she keeps trying to set me up with her friends,” he said with a big smile. “Then she held my hand when I was walking her back to her car one night. She said she was scared. But we were the only ones around. So I thought maybe she changed her mind, maybe there’s something more. Maybe she fell too. But I was a chicken shit that night and didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything for months. Until she texted me one night and wanted to talk cause she was home alone and I knew she was scared. I wasn’t being an idiot twice. The look of relief on your face when I showed up at that front door over there was...it’s how I feel when I see you every day. Loved and special and yours. I didn’t want to be with a normal girl. I wanted to be with you and you wanted me too and it worked. I’m more than the luckiest guy on the planet. I get you and Allie and Colin and these crazy people that are our family. If I have to have a dad that was a bit crappy for part of that, I will pay that price for it.”

“I’m a sucker for boys that talk about love,” you said. You gave him a big kiss, TJ chuckling as he returned it. He hugged you tight and you bumped noses, giggling quietly to yourselves. “Babe. If your dad is jealous of the time you spend with mine-”

“That’s his problem. He is more than welcome to come visit more. They don’t live that far away. I’m not changing my relationship with Jensen. Tomorrow, he’s going to apologize to you both he said and we can all go from there.”

“Okay,” you said, kissing his nose. “You want to go home or hang here?”

“We can stay here,” he said.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I still feel kind of bad about what happened today. Your parents are pretty good at making me feel better. Not that you aren’t. I-”

“I know babe,” you said. “Let’s go on up to the TV room, see if we can get them out of that comfy bed.”

“Hey,” said your dad as you walked out of his room. “TJ, you got a sec?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Let’s go take a walk,” said your dad. “I won’t keep him long, just around the block.”

“Alright. Be safe.”

Jensen’s POV

“What are we doing?” asked TJ when we got to the end of the driveway. 

“Taking a walk,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets. He took a deep breath but followed as we headed down the street. “You doing okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Kiddo.”

���I feel shitty,” he said. I nodded and we walked quietly until we got to the end of the driveway of a home for sale. I walked over to the front porch and took a seat, TJ slowly coming over on his own.

“Seems to be a lot of that going around today,” I said. TJ kept his head down and I bumped his arm. “Why did you lie to Y/N?”

“What?”

“You got in a pretty big fight with your dad tonight. Maybe you didn’t lie but you left that part out.”

“How-“

“Cause I know you and I know I saw you force that smile on your face for her.”

“Y/N had a shitty childhood, worse than him, and you don’t see her being an asshole,” he said. “He wants me to spend less time with you and more with him.”

“What do you want?” I asked, planting my hands behind me and leaning back.

“I told him I wouldn’t do that and he didn’t like that,” said TJ. He shrugged and started to pick at a weed in the pavers, ripping it apart in his hands. 

“Are you gonna have your talks?” he asked. He lifted his head up and I smiled. “We were listening at the door. Sue us.”

“Yeah. But he thinks our relationship would improve if I spent less time with you.”

“TJ, I’m not your dad,” I said. He nodded and glanced down. “I’m not Y/N’s dad either. I didn’t make her. I’ve known her a year and a half longer than you is all.”

“But you’re her dad.”

“Yeah. I’m your dad too. Who you come from and your blood is important but it’s not the only thing. It doesn’t have to be anything. I want you to have a relationship with your dad. I’d love for you to have a great one with him. If you want to spend less time with me, I’ll do it. I won’t like it, but I’ll do it.”

“I think he’ll always be jealous, no matter what. Not unless I cut you off or started to really distance myself from you. I love him but I don’t understand why he’d ask me to do something like that.”

“He’s probably afraid of losing you.”

“I don’t understand him,” said TJ. I sat up and he fiddled with his hands. “I just don’t get why he’d ask me that. You’re willing to let me go, something that would hurt you, if I wanted it. All he does is ask me to do things that hurt people.”

“TJ-”

“No. Fuck him. If he’s gonna act like that then fuck him. Stay the fuck away from my family. If he had hit Allie, I swear to God, I could have killed him. That’s my fucking daughter,” he said. He ran his hands through his hair and I rubbed his back, TJ taking a few deep breaths. “Do you ever stop being terrified of something hurting them?”

“No,” I said. “It changes though and the problems change. If they wind up with someone good, you worry a smidge less knowing someone else loves them as much as you do. TJ, you’ll never be your father. I see you with Allie and Colin. You don’t treat them differently because one’s a girl and one’s a boy. If you keep loving them the way you do, they’ll turn out just fine.”

“You’re gonna tell me to give him a real chance, aren’t you.”

“TJ, start small. Try the weekly phone calls, see how it goes. It’s not gonna be overnight. Don’t worry about me or Y/N or the rest of us. Just try talking to your dad first,” I said. 

“He’s gonna come by our house in the morning and apologize to you and Y/N he said. I don’t know how genuine it’ll be.”

“Give him more credit than that.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. I bumped his shoulder and he sighed before I threw my arm over it. “My dad barely hugged me.”

“Yeah, but I like cuddles,” I said, getting a laugh out of him. I wrapped my arms around him and he took a shaky breath. “If you need a hug and Y/N or the kids aren’t around, come find me, alright?”

“Okay,” he said. He rested his chin on my shoulder and turned his head away.

“Thomas. Look at me,” I said. He turned it towards me and I smiled. “I love you kiddo.”

“I love you too,” he said, turning away.

“Try that again,” I said. “What’d I tell you before about being embarrassed?”

“I love you too,” he said, a little bashful looking but he kept his head up that time. 

“That’s my dork,” I said. He rolled his eyes and I stood up. He got up to his feet and glanced down again. “TJ, we’re beyond the shy stage. What is it?”

“Your parents did a really good job with you is all,” he said.

“They were okay,” I chuckled. “De changed me too. My friends did. My kids did. You did.”

“I did?”

“Of course you did. I got a buddy to help protect someone very important to me. But he didn’t just do it for her. He did it for her brother and sisters, did it for her mom. He even did it for her father because he ended up caring about all of them too at some point. We love you. You love us. It’ll work out, TJ. It takes time is all,” I said. 

“Thanks,” he said, giving me a smile as we watched a police cruiser pull into the driveway. He glanced at me and I shrugged. Two officers got out and turned on their flashlights, hitting us both in the face.

“What are you gentlemen up to this evening?” asked the first officer.

“My son-in-law and I were taking a walk and needed to have a sort of big conversation so we took a seat on the front porch here. No one lives here so-”

“How do you know no one lives there?” asked the second officer.

“I live just down the street there and my son-in-law is just around the corner from me. We’ve seen the house vacant for some time,” I said. The officers shared a look and I saw TJ glancing over at me. “Is there a problem?”

“We received a report of two men at this residence who were trespassing and possibly looking to attempt robbery. If we can see some ID’s and confirm your residence’s, you two can be on your way,” said the first officer. 

“I don’t have my wallet,” said TJ.

“Neither do I,” I said. “We just went on a walk. Literally my house is-”

“Hands behind your back, gentlemen,” said the second officer. Fuck. I sighed but nodded, TJ, swallowing. “Now.”

“It’s fine,” I said, turning around and feeling my hands get tugged together behind me. “I’ll call the lawyer and they’ll settle-”

“Jensen Ross Ackles and Thomas James Hanover. What are you two doing at the Maxwell’s old place?” I heard behind us. I spun around and saw Mrs. Hendrickson in her pajamas at the end of the driveway across the street.

“Mrs. Hendrickson. Mind telling these officers we live here?” I asked, holding up my hands.

Five minutes later they were gone and we were walking back home, TJ checking over his shoulder as the police cruiser drove off.

“Let’s not tell the girls about that. They’ll worry,” I said. 

“Agreed. At least our response time in the neighborhood is good,” he said.

“Yeah, you got a point there. You feel any better? I know we got interrupted back there,” I said.

“I’m okay. I think I’ll grab Y/N and we’ll head home.”

“Alright,” I said. “You’re always welcome to stay.”

When we walked inside though, there was a round of laughs from the kitchen, TJ smiling to himself.

“Maybe we’ll stay the night.”

“What do you need right now?” I asked.

“Lay in bed saying nothing with her,” he said.

“Go home then. There’s plenty of other nights you can stay over. Let her take care of you.”

“You sure?”

“It’s not about me tonight. It’s about you. Now grab your girl and go home before I drag you there myself,” I said. He nodded and I ruffled his hair. “Tomorrow’s a new day. It’ll get better. Just try for me, TJ.”

“I will, Jensen. Promise.”

_____

A/N: Read the Adoption Day timestamp here!

[tosikoarts]

SFW Alphabet | Ogata Hyakunosuke

Writing Ogata is a mental gymnastics and I have weak ankles. You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) 

As a person who hasn’t experienced love (without any exaggeration) in his whole life, Ogata is the worst of all in showing affection, and he will mercilessly tease anyone who will try to do it without manipulative ulterior motive. It is easier for him to comprehend desire for power or use than pure love, so prepare yourself for endless battle with destructive defense mechanisms.

He watches person of interest whenever they do, either openly, brazenly staring or subtly following them with peripheral vision. Ogata doesn’t know why he does it but his eyes are always fixed on their presence. Once some time passed, Ogata actively seeks their attention, he is almost excited to meet their gaze, but only thing they will get of it is a faint crooked smile and awareness of being monitored.

Like in childhood, Ogata continues to hunt but now he has one more purpose. The purpose is to share food with this one specific person. In a big groups, Ogata as always sits away from the group but he moves just a little bit closer to them. Enough to get closer but not enough for others to notice.

Asks what they want. Yes, Ogata straightforwardly asks them if they want anything and if they do what it is. He condescends to putting mind games away and considering their opinion. At least, sometimes. Rarely. But he does it!

And the last one. Ogata tolerates physical affection and later gets adjust to it. Teasing isn’t going away any time soon, but he learns to relax around them without loosing soldier’s alertness. It is a slow process, it takes years for Ogata to learn something so simple, but the results are amazing.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

That friend that got too many sins to ever judge you. Quote “If you tell me you killed a man, I will help you to hide the body” is literal. Ogata laughs loudly after hearing the most cringe-worthy or outright scary stories but won’t ever shame his best friend.

He is the one to offer to go astray together, make problems together, and be petty together. Hardly ever Ogata needs to be bailed out of troubles, but he enjoys living on a knife blade and pulls others along. He lives by the rule “Enemy of my friend is my enemy” and can, without a twinge of conscience, offer to kill someone.

Nicknames and name-calling are common, intentions behind the names are never clear. Is he really trying to insult you or was it a joke? Who knows. Ogata takes pleasure in screwing with other’s people minds.

His best friend has to deal with absence of relationship’s boundaries. Today they are friends, next day Ogata decides to mess around and kiss them, and the day after he is nowhere to be found. Oh, he is definitely the one to suggest to be friends with benefits.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

It is hard to call what he does cuddling but this is what happens when Ogata’s feline side comes into action. As dusk approaches and there is not a single soul around, he gets closer from behind and unceremoniously lays down his head on their shoulder. Sometimes he even lets them sit between his legs so Ogata can press their back into his chest and curl up together. Not a word falls from his lips. If they drop a taunt on how cute or romantic he is, Ogata will immediately move over and frown (early in relationship) or pretend he didn't hear anything (later in relationship). If in a bad mood and his loved one begs for cuddle, he will act all teasingly bitchy just to leave them touched-starved after.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Ogata doesn't really believe that he will live up to the age when normal people want to settle down. His chances to end up in prison or in shallow grave are higher than ever and he is totally okay with it so thought of home comfort never popped up in his head. If his partner brings up this idea, Ogata will deliberately resist it, calling his loved one silly goose that doesn’t know what they are talking about. Good cook and can clean properly if he wants to.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It can go so many different ways depending on his mood and general perception of the person.

In the later stages of relationship as well as if his loved one is the sweetest angel, Ogata would disappear in the thin air. He doesn’t explain reasoning in any of the options but in this one this wildcat tries not to hurt their feelings much. All traces of his presence are erased, and Ogata tries to get away from them as far as possible.

You have to make it hurt to push them away, right? For active and cheerful personalities Ogata has a strategy that provides the worst relationship experiences, small things like avoidance, detachment, feeling of slowly dying passion. When they are about to give up, Ogata himself breaks up with them smiling venomously, as if to say “did you expect anything else in the first place?”

If they are patient and assertive, Ogata will be the pettiest. Strong personality calls for exquisite torture, so prepare yourself for setups, cheatings, direct insults, and smug smirks as he burns down everything they built together.  

If there is no other way out, Ogata will shoot them. It may completely ruin whatever left of his humaneness but he will do it.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He gives the dirtiest look when being questioned about marriage. First of all, idea of commitment disturbs him for a multiple reasons. It brings nothing but an official status, it does not oblige couple to happy ever after, and Ogata is a living proof of this axiom. It is unlikely that he will ever change his mind. Remains faithful in a relationship though, he just does not like the concept of being bound by the vows.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Nowhere close to being gentle. Hasn’t been touched emotionally, and physical gentleness is foreign to him too. The only embrace he knows is holding a sniper rifle at cold night so you can imagine how hard it is for him to be in loving relationship. Ogata asks himself “why are they act so kindly?” almost everyday, he expects misdemeanor, he tensely waits for it, and sighs in both relief and disappointment when nothing happens. When it comes to being physical, from unobtrusive hands-holding to make-out sessions, Ogata tenses up to the point when his whole body turns in the taut string. It is a damn mental work to ease off and he needs a lot of practice.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

What is the hug? What is its purpose? Why would they hug him? What the hell? Yes, Ogata is the worst. When his loved one puts their hands around him, Ogata just… stands here with eyes empty and head up. He does not move a bit, doesn’t flinch, he lets them do the thing but does not participate in the process whatsoever. After few weeks, Ogata hugs them back for the first time, putting his hands higher on their back instead of waist, and holding breath like he is going underwater. He is still awkward, but slowly gets used to their warmness and gentle touch. Sometimes you can hear dull low sound like a sigh escaping his lips when Ogata relaxes enough to close his eyes and gives up to soothing caress.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

If we talk about the time frame, I would say, around 2-3 years, but time is not the most important factor in whole confession. Ogata could never say three magic words in his usual emotionally constrained state so he needs a real kick in the ass to squeeze out more than apathetic “you’re good, whatever”. Near-death experience may be an option but getting absolutely wasted, shitfaced, hammered is way more likely. After consuming ungodly amount of sake, getting in fist fight with Katarou (no worries, no Kantarous were harmed), and falling right in front of his loved one, Ogata claims he needs to tell his loved one something special. Few leading questions and he wistfully admits that he never told them he loves them. Then he passes out. Thanks God, he remembers nothing from that night, so there is another day to confess with a clear head and well thought out text.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

If some careless admirer is hitting on his loved one, Ogata expects his partner to instantly push another person away and explain that they are taken. If pour soul is persistent, Ogata will warn them once and shoot them in the leg if they do not take a hint right away.  

And if his loved one goes around shamelessly flirting with whoever? Ogata will be so pissed, oh boy, you will see how mad he can be. Nobody fucks with him like that, nobody. If they think they are the center of his universe, Ogata will quickly bring them down to earth, ignoring them completely, putting them in danger on purpose, abruptly jumping up as soon as they come for the kiss or hug. He’ll knock this vanity crap out of them with sticks since he doesn’t know how to put carrots to work.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses feel like there is no tomorrow, they are greedy and rough. Ogata, like a natural predator, slowly drives his partner into a corner, squeezes them in the arms, and does not let go even when salty blood oozes from under his teeth. Feral to the fingertips. His partner has to wrap a scarf around the neck since he likes to cover it in small bruises. If we talk about where Ogata likes to be kissed, worth mentioning that he will bite anyone’s fingers off if they try to kiss his empty eye socket. It hurts like hell and bleeds easily, for god’s sake. However, he likes his fingertips kissed, knuckle kisses, and lip kisses. All types of hand kisses give him strange feeling of superiority and dominion.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

No. Just no. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near kids and flatly refuses to have any of his own. Babies, toddlers, or teenagers – they are all the same to Ogata, small versions of adults that require too many resources and for what? To grow up in someone like him? At the same time, he is mediocre in babysitting and can take care of baby, changing diapers or lulling to sleep, but teaching older ones high morals and emotional intelligence is not his forte.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Fortunately or unfortunately, Ogata is difficult to catch in the morning since he wakes up with the first cocks and leaves home quickly for the hunting. Upon awakening his mood is pretty grumpy but it changes to calmly benevolent as he cooks breakfast and thinks about upcoming businesses. It is important for Ogata to put his swarming thoughts in order before greeting his loved one with a peck on the cheek: he does not want to burden them more than usual with talks about the endless nightmares and causes of these bad dreams. After meal, he is ready to get his portion of love or spoil his partner with exclusive attention. Cats are very selective creatures but they are generous with gestures of trust too.  

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Evening is a time of solitude, there is no place for strangers in it. During the day, Ogata overdoses on people so in the evening he wants to stay in the company of a loved one and only them. It doesn’t matter if they drag him to the empty night downtown under the bright light of lanterns or hide him like a favorite toy under the weight of the blanket, he cherishes every second. Evening walk in the garden is his favorite pastime. During cherry blossom season, when gardens turn into a solid pink ocean, Ogata pulls his loved one to sit on his lap so they can both engage in hanami. These short ten days bring peace to his soul and give him belief in a better future with the best person by the side.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Ogata has no problems in opening up, actually. Of course, he knows some people are slick sleuths preying on facts to use in their manipulations but he also understands people do have conversations and exchange information about themselves as ordinary social ritual. Probably, avoids topics like his family and feelings but other that this Ogata can be pretty forthright. He prefers to take it slowly, without much zeal.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Well, sniper has to be patient, but it is unclear if Ogata fits this description. You never know if you have crossed the line (and if you did – when did it happen?) because he knows nothing better than smiling mysteriously and planning your demise in silence. Next thing you know there is a bullet piercing your body, blood is spilled everywhere, and Ogata is far gone because Type 30 rifle is so “excellent for sniping and sharpshooting”. In everyday domestic life, Ogata is quite patient and restrained, never rises his voice, and tries to refrain from direct conflict.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

It varies. On good days, Ogata pays more attention to his partner and what they are doing. If they are having deep conversation, he pulls as much information as possible and immediately thinks where it can be applied it in the future. On the contrary, when in a bad mood, Ogata turns a deaf ear even to words spoken directly to him. It's hard to predict weather he will listen to you or not, so it is not uncommon to hear him repeating your words when you thought Ogata was his usual cold distant self.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Anything that has to deal with emotions, feelings, and confessions because all those things make him both nervous and excited. Actually, first time he confronted them about their feelings and behavior and got confirmation that it wasn’t a dream. Ogata was too tired to provoke them so he sat quietly and listened to whatever they’ve chosen to say in their annoyingly sincere voice. Rational and irrational, critical and non-critical, rude and affectionate. He noticed weird tight sensation in his chest when they murmured something about caring about his stupid cat ass but decided to ignore it. Ogata has little capability of accepting their love and it is not going to change with a wave of a magic wand but he… considers it may be true. It sounds too good to be true though, but he will crawl to them and lie down confused and intrigued.  

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Expects his partner to protect themself in the moment of danger. He is far from knight in white armor trope so do not expect help from above. Ogata refuses to take on the nanny role so his loved one must know basic self-defense or be smart enough to avoid unpleasant situations. In only one case, Ogata can step down from his pedestal and lend a hand: if they are cornered and there is no way out, they will either die or get captured, Ogata will shoot attacker down. After that, he coolly threatens that next time he won't be around to help. Oh, and yes, he has no plans to train them. As the saying goes, help yourself.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Acts like he owes nothing and does minimum because Ogata wants to be asked for nice things. He likes to hear his partner talk to him in pleading voice and see them making puppy eyes, bating eyelashes, even pouting. This is the kind of game that Ogata has mastered so he knows when to stop and act nicely. He has random outbursts of generosity which promise the partner quaint presents and spoiling. Sadly, they do not always coincide with anniversaries: on important dates wildcat is on his best behavior but you can’t be sure prepared surprises will be pleasing. I mean, being with him is as predictable as Russian roulette. Decent in everyday tasks but doesn’t put all of his effort into it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Instability is his second name. Ogata has never had a purpose in the life, finding ainu gold is his first and last goal and there is not a hint on what will happen after that. It doesn’t cause any discomfort to him and Ogata likes it better this way, so for someone who has a prepared plan of action for next few years his company can be pretty unnerving.

Ogata's views on world are also not to everyone's taste. With a dismissive look at human life, he is reputed to be a cynic, he can go into nihilism headlong and completely reject the remaining moral standards. If his partner is principled and proper, Ogata will attempt to corrupt them and bring down to his own level.

It is not a bad habit, but people hate him. Dozen of cutthroat soldiers want to see Ogata dead so his partner may be a potential target of ill-wishers.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Apparently, he is only concerned about the hair being perfectly slicked back. His clothes are more or less clean but not spotless, shoes are never shiny, but Ogata is indifferent. Scars do not bother him either, and Ogata completely forgets about their existence but the loss of eye had some toll on his ego. Just a little bit. Sometimes it seems that people focus their attention precisely on the missing eye, on bandages, and it both makes him bitter and satisfied: Ogata knows what he is capable of even without half of sight but visible human pity gets on his nerves quite a bit.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

If they decided to break up in the beginning of the relationship, Ogata doesn’t care at all. He may make one or two venomous remarks and that’s all. But if it was much later, after he got intoxicating taste of love? Wow, that’s an explosive mix of feelings we’ve got there. Ogata falls on slippery slope of denial because he had to be one to leave, he had to be in control, not them. He is infuriated, his ego is hurt, and, worst of all, people are aware of it. All that remains for Ogata is revenge in any imaginable form, from distancing to pulling off show how he feels himself even with them not being by his side. His behavior is pretty identical to that listed in Ending paragraph.

If they were killed… Um. Surely, he feels unexplained self-pity but it is better than feeling nothing at all. Ogata is lost. He can’t comprehend what's going on in his soul. From outside it seems like wildcat is the same independent cynical bastard but inside days of numbness alternate with weeks when he is boiling with anger. This malice spills on anyone who tries to get closer and it may pushe him to self-destruction.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

We have already seen Ogata in the company of two geishas (though, I’m thinking, they were yujos), he never slept with one and actually despises the idea of it. Despite the scene with Yuusaku and “brother should have fun together” said, Ogata wouldn’t touch a woman of the same profession as his mother was. He could hate her, or pity, or scorn, but thought of becoming the same as his father makes Ogata sick to the guts. So that scene was an idle play to corrupt the perfect Second Lieutenant, a game that was lost in advance.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Ogata isn’t used to a minimum amount of positive attention so both clinginess and neediness will push him away. It creeps him out if another person wants to be with him 24/7, and constant questions like where he has been and with whom are simply annoying.

Manipulations are okay with him until it comes to hysterias. Load, teary and pointlessly pushy, they make Ogata sick. If you want to manipulate this man, be elegant, be smart. He won’t fall for headlong approach, it will only disgust him.

Dogs. It won’t surprise me if Ogata poisoned a few back in the childhood. They seem stupid and gross in their inexhaustible love for man.  

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Ogata is light sleeper and has problem with people sleeping right next to him. This feature is due to both the profession and personal reasons: there are enough people in the world who would happily break Ogata’s neck while he sees his third dream. Loud snoring in the room is fraught with consequences.

For the same reasons he can’t fall asleep without rifle lying next to him. It became an extension of his hand so Ogata feels kind of defective when it is not around. No, he is not Hijikata, he won’t give his baby to anyone to shoot bottles or some shit.

Extreme amount of dreams is a usual thing for him. Ogata has a ton of nightmares too, but most of the dreams are colorful nonsense about events that happened the day before. Obviously, Yuusaku is a frequent night visitor and his sweet innocent smile forces Ogata jump up in his bed drenched in a cold sweat. He never leaves, he never will.

[imagineitup]

rumors : theseus scamander x reader

request: Could you write an angst to fluff Theseus Scamander x reader imagine please? Thank you!

a/n: enemies to friends!au ok so this was a lot better in my head ajdlksjk but i hope u enjoy bb 

- - 

Working as an auror meant you were bound to experience surprising moments, but never in your life had you expected Theseus Scamander to decide that it was time to include you in the list of people he’d protect to the death.  Theseus seemed to glow with kindness and warmth, almost like he had a never-ending supply of it, but for the longest time, he’d hated you.  And while maybe hate was a strong word, the two of you were not on good terms.  At least, not until you’d impulsively pushed him out the way of the cruciatus curse, taking the hit for him.

For some reason, the Ministry of Magic believed that pairing the two of their best aurors together would be a good idea, despite the glaring fact that these two-said aurors wouldn’t trust each other and seemed incapable of talking to each other peacefully.  But the Ministry did what it did best, and that is not listen, which is why you and Theseus now find yourselves holed together in one hotel room, his eyes settling to rest concernedly on your form.

“Are you feeling alright?” Theseus says after a while, regarding you with a strange look.  

He’s got a nasty scar running across his nose.  It’s split, but Theseus doesn’t fix it, and you haven’t made a move to say anything.  Despite hating him for the longest time, you know exactly why he hasn’t performed a healing spell; it would be obvious to anyone who spent even a little time with him.  Theseus feels guilty.

“I’m fine,” you say, but it immediately sounds like a lie.  You don’t want it to, but your throat feels raw.  Simple talking is too much, and you hate how your body responds to everything.

The cruciatus curse really shouldn’t have affected you like this, but it did.  Apparently it’s from your rheumatoid arthritis, according to the Ministry’s undercover healer.  Apparently, your arthritis decided to take a flare up when the curse overloaded your nerves.  So now pain flashes back in phantoms, and when you move, everything hurts.  Sometimes it even hurts to breathe.

“You’re not fine.”  Theseus says matter-of-factly, standing up to start pacing around the room.  “I could’ve taken it, you know?  It would’ve only been for a few minutes and then,” he sighs, his shoulders slumping, “and you wouldn’t be in pain.”

You crack the faintest smile, angling your head to stare up at Theseus with sleepy eyes.  “I told you, Scamander.  You can’t control impulsive actions.”

Theseus stares at you for a moment.  It’s strange to see a careful smile pull at the sides of his  lips, and it makes some part of you secretly flush.  Yet underlying everything is utter terror that you’ll do something to slip up, and then Theseus will go right back to hating you.  You’re dreading the moment this mission ends, because that means things will revert right back to normal, and Theseus won’t have to spend anymore time with you.

You’re jolted out of your thoughts when Theseus clears his throat.  “You do know that you don’t have to protect me, right?”

You’re startled.  “I’m your partner.  Of course I’m supposed to protect you.  Why else would the Ministry send us both here?”

Theseus shakes his head, frustrated.  “I’m not talking about that.  (Y/N), I’m talking about sacrificing yourself.  You don’t need to do that.”

“Sacrificing?”

“Yes,” Theseus grimaces, and he pauses in his pace to kneel beside you, his elbows leaning on the mattress to prop his head up.  “There was no way of knowing what spell that was.  It could’ve been the killing curse, for all we knew.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“Yes, but it could’ve been!  And if you died,” he lets out a strangled breath.  

“It wasn’t the killing curse, Theseus.”

“But I’ve been absolutely terrible to you.”  Theseus sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.  He looks tired, for the first time you’re noticing the circles underneath his eyes and the way he’s trying to blink away sleep.  “Look, we support each other.  And ... I know about what happened before.  That wasn’t your fault.”

The confusion must show on your face, because Theseus seems to choose his next words very carefully.  His voice softens when he meets your stunned expression.  “I’m not him, (Y/N).  And what went down that day won’t happen again, okay?  I promise you, I won’t let it.”

You swallow, even more confused than before.  You’re struggling to talk with the familiar ache at the back of your throat, and you blink quickly.  “You’ve known about that for years.  I don’t understand what this has to do with anything.”

“I knew rumors.  But I never knew what really happened.”  His next words are reluctant.  “The Ministry told me the truth when we were assigned together.  It’s in your file.”

So he knew about it, then.  Anger rushes through you, white and hot, but it fades just as quickly.  While you’re furious that something so heavy could be reduced to a few concise words on a classified file, you don’t have the strength to move or even be angry anymore.  If anything, you just feel sad.  Drained.

Theseus’s hand drops to rest a centimeter against yours.  It’s almost like he wants to take your hand, but he’s not sure what the two of you are.  “You’re upset.”

It isn’t phrased like a question.  Normally this type of thing made you mad.  It was one of the reasons you preferred to work alone.  But Theseus’s voice is soft and gentle, and it does things to your heart that you don’t want to think about just yet.

“He was my best friend.”

Theseus’s brow furrows.  “What?”

You’re biting back tears, half from pain and the other from thinking about this again.  “I never wanted him to go on that mission with me.  I didn’t want him to get hurt.”  As soon as you start talking, it seems you can’t stop.  You haven’t talked about this in years, and the words spill from your mouth as you suck in a breath.  “I was distracted because I was so focused on protecting him.”  

Theseus stares at you with horror, his eyes pained.

A sob escapes your lips, and you shut your eyes, trying to choke it down.  “I wasn’t focused on myself, and that’s why he died.  He pushed me out of the way of the killing curse.”

“I had no idea you were friends.”  Agony etches itself across Theseus’s face.  “If I’d known I never would have --”

“People don’t normally look for details when they’ve decided to hate someone.”

Surprisingly Theseus’s hand edges closer, his thumb moving to carefully draw circles on the side of your palm.  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and it shouldn’t feel real, but it feels like the most genuine thing he’s ever said to you.  Like he’s really, really sorry.

“You don’t have to worry.  I’m not letting anyone else die on my watch,” you sniffle.  “Especially not you.”

“No one’s dying,” Theseus says firmly.

“I might,” you say ruefully.  “Although that won’t be terrible for the team, and I probably deserve it.  They’ve got you, and Yeji, and Glenys --”

“How can you say that?” Theseus whispers, going rigid.  “It’d be terrible for the team!  (Y/N), it’d be terrible for me.”

“Theseus, you hate me!”

“Not anymore.”

“What do you mean, not anymore?  Just because I did something decent and saved you from a hit?  That doesn’t make any sense!  I’ve done stuff like that before!”

“I didn’t know what happened until a few weeks ago.”

Realization quickly dawns on you.  Oh.

“He was my friend, too.  Some part of me thought you threw the mission because you didn’t want to work with him.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, you feel the biggest betrayal you’ve ever experienced.  Your mouth goes wide, and you stammer for words, shocked.  “You thought I would do that?” Your eyes start to tear up.  “You actually thought --”

Theseus panics, hands rushing forward to hold you, cradle you, but he stops them mid-motion, and something like anguish falls over his features.  “It was terrible of me.  Can you forgive me?”

“I hate you for thinking that.” You’re shaking, unable to stop.  “I would never, ever do anything like that.”

Theseus lowers his head, ashamed.  “I know you wouldn’t.  You’re kind, (Y/N).  And selfless.  I know that, now.”  He lets out a sigh, his shoulders lowering.  “I’m sorry.”

You look up at Theseus, still tear-stricken and wince as a wrack of pain runs down your spine.  Your hand seizes up and grips Theseus’s tightly.

Theseus lets out a strangled sort of sound, but you doubt it’s from your hand.  He inches closer to you, his eyes roaming all over your face.  “I wish you didn’t take that curse.  I want to help you, but I don’t know what to do.” His voice breaks off, and the strength seems to leave his body.

“Can you just hold me?” You whisper, closing your eyes.  “I’m so tired, and I can’t fall asleep.”

Theseus nods, slowly.  He gets up, his footsteps padding across the floor, and there’s a click as the lights flicker off, leaving the two of you in darkness.  A few seconds later there’s a dip in the mattress, and Theseus’s arm gently wraps around your waist.  You turn toward him, finding comfort in his embrace.  You’re so exhausted, and Theseus is warm, so warm.

“I don’t hate you,” you whisper after a while.  “It just really hurt.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

“I couldn’t.”

Theseus brushes a wisp of hair from your face.  “We can talk tomorrow.  Try to get some sleep.”

You nod, resting your head against Theseus’s chest.  And for the first time in a while, sleep comes.

[letsperaltiago]

ok time to break my silence caused by the fact that i spent all day making this lol too many feels 

so.. palm springs thoughts !! and there are manyyyy so buckle up and feeel free to hit me up with either matching or contradicting thoughts or whateveer!! i would LOVE to nerd out about this movie with someone:’)

here comes thoughts and pictures!! 

we basically start off with a mr. samberg sex-scene okAYYYYY the mood is set. we love the view

nyles aka. mr. samberg is the most gorgeous man alive and it was a true pleasure to admire him for 90 minutes straight 

CURLS!!????! THEY ARE UNREAL. i shall dedicate an entire post to them

Cristin Milioti is perfect for her role. her acting? *chef’s kiss* I love that she’s not the stereotypical female rom-com lead.

Her chemistry with Andy? Gosh.. Can’t believe Nyles x Sarah is my new main movie-ship!! They play off of each other SO. WELL. Their characters are equally stone cold and bitter, but then again not really, and they both portray it so well!!

“You don’t ned a leg up.” *moans* “Hold my leg up!” i SCREAMED

“Don’t you kiss me.” “Don’t you tell me what to do.” hoW DARE THEY!

Ok ur basically on love already stop it

The fact that they were just gonna fuck on a blanket on top OF ROCKS?!

but then again in this movie’s already insane universe it’s prob pretty normal:)

The overall dark, existential humor?? This is what I live and breathe for on a daily basis. Basiaclly both main characters are a BIG MOOD

Nyles not giving a shit vs. Sarah severely freaking out in the beginning is an iconic dynamic

“I am the antichrist” and then the rock falling? For a hot sec I literally thought the movie was gonna take a turn with Nyles being some magical/scientific creature that’d created the timeloop or something idkkk ahhha

Nyles in the suit... ridiculous(ly hot)

The torture methods Roy uses on Nyles and the fact that he’s not mentally scarred?? How?? 

On that note I love that Nyles and Sarah keep their memories even if the day starts over. Would’ve been a completely different concept if they had to “meet each other for the first time” every day and it wouldn’t’ve allowed their relationship arc to evolve as it did 

Darla is the fucking shit 

Nyles in the baseball cap, amirite?

THE BARTENDER TALKING ABOUT HITTING A GUY WITH THE CAR SHE’S CURRENTLY GIVING NYLES A HANDJOB IN IS COMEDIC GOLD 

“You fucked Jerry Schlieffen?” “Well he fucked me.” Yes SIR. Andy Samberg’s characters are all bottoms and we’re here for it

Sarah’s tongue click and “nice try” when Nyles asks her about her sex life?? 

IDK WHY BUT SO GOD

Randy is hella annoying. That’s it. That’s the tweet.

THIS ENTIRE SCENE:

the fact that they both start waking up smiling because now at least they have each other 🥺😭🤯

uhm i love a good ship that’s like... best friends to lovers and the montage of them basically becoming besties killed me 

this outfit Y E S: 

sarah falling off the car and nyles laughing it off is relationship goals

the crashing plane I LOL’ED

okay so... big moment... the DANCING AND MATCHING OUTFITS? THEY ARE MY DREAM TEAM. Also how excited they are running away from the bar 🥺

IM POSITIVE THIS IS THE MOMENT NYLES KNOWS! LIKE HE DOESN’T ADMIT IT TO HIMSELF COMPLETELY BUT HE KNOWS 

the bomb in the cake and french pirate-skit? so fucking random but i lovee it because it’s so them

*DRUM ROLL* PERHAPS MY FAVORITE MOMENT IN THE ENTIRE MOVIE: 

STORYLINE WISE AND VISUALLY A++++

the deep talks by the fire were SO well written. they were actually deep and genuine, allowing the characters to grow and opening up to us as viewers but also remained fun and witty

sarah trying to get nyles to admit he cares for her and him joking it off??? the flirtinggg

really wish we’d gotten to know more about what nyles meant with “it drifts away: just like they all do.” because it really seemed to trigger something within him. Like WHO “They”???

the dinosaurs lmao no comment but at least they got a cute cuddly moment

from the very first millisecond inside the tent you can CLEARLY tell Sarah is just dying to do something about them!!!

 the disbelief on nyles’ face when sarah says “lets just get it over with” because she’d clearly stated he didn’t want to and even though he obviously did he’s respected it and not done anything further about it oh babey

we love some good making out:’))) 

NYLES HALTING TO TAKE IN THE MOMENT EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO SCREAM INTO THE VOID 

i will die for a post-sexy timez cuddle and how sarah is trying to staying awake to be besides him is just *explosion* 

this has to be *the moment* she realises 

and they’re both sooooo fucking happy when they wake up after damn love me like that pls

THE GROOM BOOO FUCK OFF CAN’T EVEN BE BOTHERED TO REMEMBER HIS NAME CHEATING SCUM 

THIS FACE:

Baby is trying so hard and is so cute and nervous about it. SARAH LISTEN TO HIM HE LOVES YOU.

HE FELT GOOD WAKING UP BECAUSE OF YOUUUU, GIRL. DO NOT CALL IT “FUN”, SARAH 

“Going to bed maybe just got a little better” 😭😭😭😭

The entire cop scene is just pure insanity, very Lonely Island and I’m here for it even though I just want Sarah to rEALLY LISTEN TO WHAT NYLES IS TRYING TO SAY 

“Pain is real” oh babey that means SO MANY THINGS 🥺💔

“I followed you into that cave because I liked you!” like jake would say: don’t love how we got here but we’re going where i want

“pretentious sad boy” me

not shocked that they’ve hooked up before because c h e m i s t r y but don’t like how it got out :)))

why is nyles’ one sleeve shirt rolled up? im triggered

drinking pure vodka? oh babey its gonna be okay 

WE LOVE A SMART BOI WHO RECOGNIZES HIS GIRL’S PERFUME 

Sarah’s parents singing:)) i would cry too, nyles

"I love her.” “I see... That’s interesting” lmao savage

I actually really love Roy’s character. It turns out to be very humble actually and he has some insightful and lowkey poetic that lines i love. Besides that he’s hilarious. 

SO the whole time i was wondering how they’d get out of the whole “same day forever”-thing, if they were to. and I LOVE LOVE LOVE that they had such a logical way out of it: science. Not anything cheesy like “a true love’s kiss” or “you learned your lesson”. Pure logic and Sarah’s hard work to get there. Huge fan of this. 

I will never get over how good Nyles looks waking up and Sarah is xtra pretty in that scene:’) 

Nyles just wants to stay in a loop forever because it means for sure that he gets to stay with Sarah forever and I’m lowkey into it but also like lowkey LISTEN TO HER AND GO WITH HER PLAN, NYLES

“I wanna stay with you” *sniffles*

“I love you. How about that?” PRETTY FUCKING GOOD 

I love Nyles’ character development. He started off so nonchalant and cold, closed off and by this point he’s the softest, smiliest in love fool I’ve ever seen and Andy does it so good. SAMBERG HEART EYES!!

“Nothing is real in here” YES SARAH UR LOVE IS

I’m taking Sarah’s asking Nyles to believe in her and leave with her as her first “I love you” because it’s very clear that she wants to leave with him rather than without. 

just- this entire scene i ugh <3 <3 <3 <3

BREAKING. UP. WITH. MISTY ! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

glass of wine filled to the brim? sarah’s my type of gal

the speech was really beautiful and sweet without being too cheesy and kudos to cristin for really delivering it like a pro! especially her “abe, don’t fuck this up” like yes girl kill him, chop him to pieces with your eyes!!! also camila is such really pretty bride

nyles looks like a cockatoo here :

nyles taking the shot and smashing the glass into the ground got me 🤭😵😏🥵

“I’m your son” I SCREAM

GIVE THE MAN A WHITE HORSE DAMNIT

Gotta admit Sarah looks like a bomb (lol nu pun intended) ass super hero in her bridesmaid dress and C4-gettup 

The sentence ending up being total grammatical gibberish but Nyles trying so. damn. hard is the sweetest thing ever and should and will go down in rom-com history. It’s super romantic but also well-balanced by humor and I just.. so good. This is the kind of characters and relationships I love and wanna write myself 

“you’re my favorite person that i’ve ever met” 🥺🥺🥺

“i’d rather die with you than live in this world without you” WHY AM I SO SINGLE SOMEONE LOVEE ME LIKE THIS 

okay so idk but “what if we get sick of each other?” “we’re already sick of each other. it’s the best.” is so so so soft, the way nyles says it like it doesn’t matter and is honestly another key moment for me: they’ve experienced basically everything imaginable during their time in the box/loop. they’ve liked, disliked, loved, hated each other and still: he loves her. the fact that nyles knows no matter what happens it won’t stop that because it’s them?? ouch my heart. 

this chaotic mess of a pairing?MESSY BOMB BRIDESMAID AND CURLY-HAIR HAWAII SHIRT-BOI!! MY OTp

Them dissing Nyles’ mom on their way into potential death? that’s love, baby 

the fUCKING KISSSSSSS MANNNNNNNNNN!!!! SO ICONIC AND THE EXPLOSION IN THE BACKGROUND AND JUST WE DESERVE THIS THEY DESERVE THIS EVERYONE DESERVES THISSSS!!! 

NEVER OVEER THIS EVER FOREVER NEVER

Ok so I was SURE that when it faded to black that it was done and I grew super ficking frustrated because it would leave us with this “the ending is up to whatever you chose”-kinda thing kinda a la Celeste and Jesse where it just feels unresolved and I WASN’T OKAY WITH THAT. So I’m so happy we got to know that it worked and the bebes will live happuilly ever after with Nyles’ shaggy dog:’) 

Their hands on each other’s knee >>>>>

all in all 100000/10