#even though I personally didn’t like where the plot went after this death | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ktsumu · 1 year ago

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THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS

pairing: childe / tartaglia x f!reader wc: 4.4k

choosing to love him is choosing endless bloodshed; all of it is yours.

(alternatively — the metamorphosis of a god through the eyes of his keeper.)

warnings: suggestive / mentions of sex, nudity, profanity, angst, mentions of murder / death, ambiguous ending i think, almost canon compliant

note: 4.4k words and i don't think even this has a plot. WHO CARES dedicated to @shoyostar bc i never stop talking and @crysugu :3 here he is!

Before he was ever Tartaglia, eleventh of the Harbingers, he was a timid child.

He feared the simple things — speaking to neighbours, strangers, the mailman. He never went to the market alone, not without his parents, not without his older brother to hold his hand. Neighbourhood boys called him names and you called him sweeter things, bringing him in for hot chocolate because of his red eyes, holding his frozen hands in a lukewarm basin.

Your town was on the coast but he rarely saw the water; he was afraid of drowning and even more afraid of sinking, even though you could see the ice was six inches thick through the sides of the fishing holes scattered everywhere. Not even the men would crack it, fathers that ate at the head of the table, yet he thought he’d be the one. Nor did he trust anyone to save him.

Childe was Ajax before he was anything for anyone else, his name from myth. Eagle. He was born a Greek tragedy; hero, for most.

He was fourteen when he disappeared. Your mother said he’d come back home, kids get mad. Your father said a bear got to him, a weak thing like that — your whole neighbourhood looked for him after he vanished.

He was gone three days in the woods but he told you he’d been gone for months. He was underground; you asked if it was Hell but he said it was much more. When he crawled back up to Morepesok, he was a different person.

He looked you in the eye and told you he was finally ready to fight.

You didn’t believe he was lost for three months until you watched him hold a sword.

By the barrels on the fishing dock, boys fought with wooden blades. Girls would watch and sit on box crates, swaddled up to their ears, cheering on whichever one they liked that week. They’d watch as they hit each other, splinters snagging on coats, knuckles gone white from the cold and how tight they held their handles.

When Childe stepped up for the first time, they snickered at him. The boy who ran away from home, coming to join the sword fights. It was a joke and they laughed.

(You saw something in his eyes that day and it scared you. There is nothing more terrifying than a child with bloodlust.)

He beat the kid so badly that they put thirty stitches in his forehead, and you were left to do patchwork on the bomb.

Cutting coloured wires, you dabbed Childe’s red cheek with a warm cloth, wringing it out in the bowl of water that separates the two of you. He was calmer then, in front of you. Not that he wasn’t before; it was less of not being calm and more of craving victory, more of a test of his newfound gift.

“I told you to stop,” you mumbled, “hitting him, I mean.”

“I stop, he starts. I won.”

“What did you win? Where's your prize?”

Childe looked at you dumb, with his dumb childish eyes that no longer held hate. Maybe it was somewhere, hidden, beneath the water you drown in, but instead the surface held a glare of wonder. He was Ajax again, always hopeful.

He hissed when you dabbed his skin with something other than water, something that stung. “I—”

“No one wins in war, Ajax,” you scolded. “You’ll see someday.”

“I won’t be in a war.”

You scoffed, your hand gripping his jaw when he tried to run away. “We’ll see.”

You’re seventeen when he stumbles inside your house, the wooden door cracking against the wall as he slumps to the floor.

Your feet are cold when you step away from the wood stove in your living room, dropping to your knees, holding his face in your hands that are always so much warmer than his. They cradle his flushed cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead; he’s gripping at a pulse in his ribs.

“I’m fine,” he assures you, before you start to cry, “just tired. I’m just tired.”

He eases the door shut, his head tilting back against the wall. His hand rests on your knee, squeezing it like he’s grounding himself, counting on the fabric of your pants to do it for him. You touch the icy veins that run over his knuckles and he comes back to life.

“What happened to you?” you rush, your family asleep down the hallway. You turn the dial on the oil lamp beside you, watching the fire reflecting off of his dirty cheeks.

He laughs, pulling your wrist off when you smack your hand over his mouth with a lousy ‘alright, alright’ and a glance towards your parents’ bedroom. “Me?” he coughs out.

“You should see the other two.”

(You don’t know what told you first, but you remember going cold.)

“What do you mean?” you whisper. You can’t stop whispering, you can’t stop shaking. “Ajax, what did you do?”

Childe’s smile tilts itself crooked. “I killed them,” he says.

His voice is so quiet it cracks under the pressure to not be heard.

(He’s smiling, but he’s crying. It doesn’t look like he means to. He doesn’t know he is.)

You want to run. You notice the smear of blood on his jaw again—is that even his? His hand still clutches your knee but you only now notice the red his palm stains it with, the red on the side of his torso. You want to run.

(You should run.)

You don’t run. Because it’s Ajax, and he’s tired of running tonight. Why would you?

“It’s okay,” you say with a nod and a shiver, like shutters in a hurricane. You’re both crying, and he’s against your chest, and he’s still so fucking cold that it’s migrating to you. “Stand up. Ajax, stand up—”

“I can’t,” “You can, you need to get in the bath.”

“I’ll wake your—“

“If you were ever worried about that, you wouldn’t have come here, so Ajax would you please—“

He breathes out, muffling his groans as he staggers to his feet. You’re not of much help but at least your hands, your shaking hands, are telling him you’re there. And that’s enough.

“I love it when you say that,” he grimaces, shuffling towards the hallway. “My name.”

Childe misses your eighteenth birthday by ten minutes.

You ate dinner with your family at your favourite pub, his siblings wrote you cards and pulled your ears, you tied your hair loose and flirted with the pretty guy who fed the boat lines. You don’t like him all that much, but he looks nothing like your neighbour and for you, that is a fine enough reason to talk.

Stones hit your window at ten past midnight, and Childe stands in the snowy alley outside of your bedroom. He wields another pebble and tilts his head.

Your window’s too old for you to ignore me.

You pull on your coat and boots, scarf too because he talks too much, and head outside into the night, creeping out the back door. You cross your arms, walking over to where he stands just outside of the lamplight.

“Hiding?” you ask, stopping in front of him.

Childe laughs like nothing’s wrong, digging through his back pocket with his gloved hand, handing you a box. “Happy birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday."

“Belated.”

You glance between his rosy cheeks and the box before you take it, looking towards the end of the alley to avoid his stare. Because guys like Childe don’t look away — you know better than to look back.

“Thank you,” you murmur, tucking your hands back into the warmth of your pockets.

Childe nods; you don’t open gifts in front of him, you know better than to do that, too. He knows better than to think you would.

You look at his hands, eyebrows furrowing. “Leather gloves?”

“So you noticed?”

“How? You couldn’t afford long johns last year.”

Childe grins. “I got a job.”

“At the tank house,” you say, crossing your arms. “Which, you had last year.”

The look in his eyes tells you he’s in deep — he doesn’t seem to care about it as much as you do. “I’m a Harbinger, now.”

“You—”

“I’m the youngest—” “You’re the dumbest,” you grit, sticking a finger in between his ribs. “You're eighteen — what kind of achievement is that?”

He takes a deep breath, his lungs pushing your finger back until it falls defeated. “I didn’t expect you to be happy, believe me.”

“Why,” you whisper, “would I ever be happy to watch you sell yourself to killers?”

“You know I’m no better,”

“Oh, Ajax, if you think that’s what I know then you’re more stupid than I thought.”

There’s no real reason to excuse the blood on his hands other than the fact that they’re so gentle when they hold yours.

There’s a voice down the alley and two drunk men in hats and coats wave your way. You grimace, but Childe waves back.

“This is why you’re outside. You don’t want them to know where you live.”

“Or where you live.”

You grit your teeth. “Yes, because it’s great that your allies are a threat your family.”

“You’re not my family,” he says, “that’d make things weird.”

Your eyes well and you swallow, looking back at the men who stare at both of you. They murmur amongst themselves and you try to ignore them, but it’s hard when Childe won’t look away.

A breeze of snow from the rooftops drifts over you, and you look at him one more time. The last, you try to pledge to yourself. “Don’t leave with them.”

“It’s too late now and you know it.”

“How the fuck would I know it?”

“Don’t cry,” he tells you, much softer now that he knows you didn’t realize it yet, “I’ll come home, I’m not gone forever. If anything, I’ll come back richer. No one will sleep cold.”

“You’ll come back to spoil your family with blood money?”

“I’d spoil you, too,” he adds, “but I know better than to try that.”

There is a heavy silence between the two of you. It isn’t the weight of his gold or the weight of him not coming home; it is the weight of lead, of gunpowder. The weight of the bullets that his two new friends that wait in the street have loaded.

Childe takes your arms, tugging your hands from your pockets, frowning at your white fingertips and cracking knuckles.

“Take these—”

“I don’t want your dirty paws,”

“Well, I don’t want your dry hands. And when I come home, I’ll need them.”

Childe drives the knife deeper, twists it through your chest, and slips off his gloves. He places them in your hands and just snickers when you pocket them. “No worries, I’ll just get a new pair.”

“Great.”

He nods, starting down the alley. He knows you well enough to understand that you don’t want to say goodbye, not when you know you’re saying goodbye to how things were before. Instead, he just calls over his shoulder.

“See you at Christmas?”

“Why even come back?”

“Right,” he chuckles. “I wanna see your gift next time, though.”

Then he leaves, and he doesn’t look at you again. You suppose he’s been trained to do that, but then again, you can’t remember a time where he has looked back at you, anyway. He’s never looked back at anyone before the end.

He comes home every Christmas, just like he promised.

Each time he does, he drags you out to a cabin outside of town, one so hidden in the woods that you almost thought he built it, and he fucks you like he missed you before he was gone. Not enough to leave the Fatui, but enough to come home once in a while. And once in a while is all you're gonna get, so you don't let it go.

He comes home, tells his family all about his life as a businessman, a toy salesman you once heard, and then sneaks you out so you can love him as loud as you want. Then, you eat the fish you bring, he tells you how much he missed the sturgeon in Morepesok, and he's gone before the sun comes up.

Childe lets you go with a tired breath, watching the fire beat against your glistening skin as you sit on the edge of the bed. The warmth of him courses through you like a river current and you fix your hair with weak hands, biting the tie that was around your wrist. “I feel your eyes, you’re not subtle.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he says simply. “You’re beautiful. More beautiful now.”

“You said that last year.”

“Next year, too.”

You roll your eyes, back straightening when he looms behind you, his naked body against yours. His hand sneaks around your waist and his lips press against your shoulder blade, kissing until he gets to the juncture of your neck and collarbone.

“Ajax,”

“I know,” he says against your skin, “gotta eat.”

“You’d think they would feed you in the castle.”

“Hardly a castle, sweetheart."

“That belt says otherwise,” you mumble, standing, making him let go. You pick up your underwear from the floor, too hot to wear anything else. “It’s custom.”

He snorts, flopping back down on the bed. “Birthday gift.”

“From who?”

“Ooh, jealous?”

“Of someone who doesn’t know who you are? No.”

Childe hums a laugh, giving a look in agreement to the ceiling that you catch out of the corner of your eye. He rests a hand on his chest, watching you sweat in the heat of the fireplace, smiling at the life he has for the next four hours.

He clears his raspy throat. “You finally wore it. The gift.” He snickers, “I only waited two years.”

You look over your shoulder at him, pulling your cami over your head. “I wasn’t gonna let money rot.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“What?”

“The stone. Do you know what it is?”

You stare, face hot. You’re partially embarrassed to not know, never having left Snezhnaya and let alone your town, but you’re curious enough to shake your head. Childe smiles like he knows that you wish you knew enough to say yes.

(You hate that he’s travelled the world you used to tell him you dreamt about. The one you made him dream about, too.)

He scoots up to lean against the headboard, and you take the invitation to come back to the bed. You crawl onto the mattress again, sitting beside him as he moves the clasp of the necklace to the back of your neck, and the stone to the front.

“They call it Cor Lapis,” he says, “it’s in Liyue.”

“Oh.”

He lets go. “It’s not rare, but I like it.”

“You spend a lot of time in Liyue, it makes sense.”

“So you do read my letters,” he says with a grin, cocking his head and holding your hand. “What else do I say?”

“What about the necklace?”

“Huh?”

“If it’s not rare, why get a custom-made necklace?” you ask. “Expensive for such a simple stone.”

Childe’s eyes drop back down to the necklace, holding it out from your neck and in line with the light of the bedside table lamp. It glitters in his eyes and you’re sure it does in yours.

“Cor Lapis is dull,” he tells you. “It doesn’t actually glow until it’s cracked open.”

You look at the cut edges of the stone, framed in gold. It’s small, but it’s something that looks like Childe gave it to you. When your mother saw it, she said it was beautiful and asked when he was home last.

You focus on the fingers that hold it.

“I found it a lot like you,” he says, his voice lower, his eyes finally looking up to face you head-on. “Heart of gold.”

“I don’t need to be cracked open."

“You have been,” he corrects, “you are right now.”

He’s right. He’s so fucking right that it hurts your head to think about and hurts your chest to acknowledge.

Childe’s hand runs up and under your shirt, showing your skin. “And you’re glowing.”

You sit in the silence inside your open ribs and give him a small smile, standing up to shake his hand off of you.

“I’ll let you tell me that next winter, too.”

Next Christmas, you stay in bed. Childe cradles your necklace again but doesn’t tell you about Liyue because you don’t ask, too proud to ask twice.

Instead, you lay against his chest, littered with brand new scars you didn’t see last time. Some you watch, others you look away from because they run too deep for you to need to know how he got them. Year by year, you get more quiet.

Childe does, too. He hasn’t lost his boyish charm but it shares his body with something else now.

“Why don’t you come home before Christmas?” you ask. “Once, even. Teucer’s birthday?”

“It’s not that easy. If it was, I’d be there for every birthday. Yours, theirs.”

You purse your lips, rolling onto your back to stare aimlessly at the ceiling. “Right,” you whisper.

“Don’t do that,”

“Why do you say that like I’m fishing for empathy?” you ask casually, scoffing a laugh. “You used to have some, you know. Before you were a fucking hitman.”

“You have no problem fucking said hitman, so please, if you now raise any sudden changes of heart, I should probably know.”

You look at him coldly and he shakes his head. “It’s not like I want to hurt you.”

His arm gets heavier around you, weighing you down against his side. You fight it off when you sit up, turning to look down at him. Déjà vu washes over you both.

“Do you honestly think that I’m talking about me?” you say through laughs. “I’ve gotten used to your wounds, Ajax, it’s not about me.”

“I—”

“How about your family?” you say. It shakes the cabin walls, even though you weren’t loud at all. “You have younger siblings who idolize you and older ones who know better than what you tell them. Do you think they’re dumb?”

He stares at you. You ask, “You remember them, don’t you?”

“I remember my siblings, yes, thank you for aski—”

“Did you know Teucer made a sword?”

Childe’s next sentence fades into a sigh, and his lips purse as he shakes his head.

You cross your arms. “It looks just like yours.”

“Brotherly love, toys are harmless.”

“Who do you think will stitch his eyebrow? Or sneak him into the bathroom after he comes down from his first kill—”

“I never asked you to be my keeper,” Childe says, the grip on your hand tighter than it was before.

“And look how it turned out, anyway.”

Childe leans back against the bed frame and thin pillows he’s stacked up, looking anywhere but at you.

He’s older now and hardened into someone you can’t recognize, but he resembles a lot of the boy he was born as. He still doesn’t look you in the eye when he apologizes, not when he means it.

“Do you want me to leave?”

You stand, finding your clothes on the floor. You’re too hot, so you put on your underwear and shirt and leave it at that. “I brought fish. Rest while you can.”

It’s July, and Childe comes back to Morepesok in the middle of a blizzard.

Glasses rattle in behind the bar and you dry the ones from the sink, since the hot water ran out an hour ago. The pub’s empty but your shift still stands, even though no one dares to go outside when the storms are this bad, and it’s only you and a few stragglers left to pray the windows don’t shatter when the breeze hits you from the coast.

Every time you catch yourself in the counter’s reflection, you see your necklace, and you wonder what the beaches in Liyue are like. You can’t swim here without freezing to death and you can’t dream in relentless snow, so you let yourself think of him sometimes.

(Warm, swimming in streams. You wonder if he ever got over his fear of drowning when he realized he wouldn’t sink.)

Air whistles through old panels and teases the fire that burns in the seating area, and there’s a quiet hum of voices that dim the crackle of the logs you throw in every half-hour. A glass slides off the counter and breaks in the wind.

You gasp and jump, stepping back, stepping forward when you hit something — someone. You turn around and Childe stares back, snow on his eyelashes and his hair damp from hail and the sweat beneath his hat.

“Why are you here?”

“Oh, you’re so welcoming. Need help?”

You scoff, kneeling with a brush and pan, guiding the glass back into a pile. You don’t answer his question. “They don’t really mean it when they say 'Christmas in July,' you know.”

“You were the one who told me to visit more, right?”

You nod, standing again, dumping the glass into a bin. “Outside the bar, staff only."

Childe slowly raises his hands in surrender, stepping quietly out from the back and rounding to face you again. He leans on the freezing counters, looking around the room. “You work here?”

“A normal person job, yes.”

“So boring.”

“Why’d you come back?” you ask, going back to washing glasses. “When do you leave?”

Please, stay. Just for once, stay.

“Tomorrow.”

“Do they ever let you off your leash for more than a day? Or do you just hate snowstorms that much now?”

“They have gotten worse since I’ve been gone,”

“Or you’ve just been gone long enough to forget where you come from,” you suggest, glancing up at him again. “The Fatui do still operate here, right?”

“Lower your voice, eh?”

“Sorry. Forgot.”

Childe purses his lips, looking around again. He lowers his head. “The cabin’s open.”

“There’s no way we can make it through the trees blind.”

“I can get us there.”

“Do you remember you got lost in those woods once?”

He grins when you look up. “Well, you know you don’t learn without getting lost. I know them now.”

You crack a tiny smile back, one that probably gives him way too much hope. He watches you put glasses away, he relaxes when he sees the necklace you still wear; even if you started wearing it two years late.

You shake your head. “I’m not coming to the cabin.”

“Why’s that?”

“You should spend the day you have with your family.”

“You—”

“Don’t make things weird.”

The moment is bittersweet and Childe isn’t stupid enough to challenge it, so he just laughs. You try to but it comes out funny.

“So that’s it?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “It’s always been your decision, not mine.”

And nothing you have ever done has been anything I’ve wanted.

Childe nods, biting his cheek. He knows that people who live in the woods often die there, too. He never really made it out. “Show me out, then?”

You give in, walking him the short distance to the door. He rests with his hand on the knob, gently moving you away from the door so the breeze doesn’t freeze you in place. He tugs his hat on and notices the gloves he gave you years ago hang by your coat on the standing rack.

“When should I come back?”

He watches you breathe in, he watches you breathe out. “Come back when you’re coming home.”

Childe doesn’t try to reason or to ask what you mean, because he knows what you mean.

Don’t.

With a nod, he smiles. It shows with a weakness that no Harbinger should still have with them; you think this might be the death of it.

“I’ll see you around, then.” He opens the door.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Bye, Childe.”

The door shuts. You don’t hear the snow crunching beneath his feet until a few seconds later, and you keep your ear against the door until you don’t hear them anymore.

Before he was ever Tartaglia, Childe, eleventh of the Harbingers, his home was in the woods he got lost in. Not underground, but in a cabin, with strong windows and shutters the colour of your eyes.

It’s the second Christmas you haven’t seen Childe or the woods. You haven’t checked if he’s stayed there and the stories Teucer tells you are old, but there’s a chance he’s still burning a fire and laying in bed, glowing with heat.

Either Childe hasn’t come back, or he just hasn’t told you he has. Either way, you don't make an effort to know.

Somewhere in Liyue, there’s an ore mine with your name carved above the entrance. The men talk about you when they wheel out carts of jade and ore, wondering how you reached so far up to tell them you were there.

In Mondstadt, an outpost sings a folk tune about a girl who heals wounded soldiers.

In Inazuma, a village calls a seashell by your name. It started with the kids, who said a man from a different place told them all about it. An expert on it, they said. They haven’t called it anything else since.

In Sumeru, your laugh runs through the river.

In Natlan, a painting hangs in a bar of a woman dressed in fire, a ribbon on her wrist and her hair everywhere else. When asked, the artist says he was inspired by a man who spoke of a girl with a heart of gold.

In Fontaine, they serve grilled sturgeon, only cooked by wooden stove.

Childe sits down in a town in Snezhnaya, far away from Morepesok, and he sits in front of five kids who look just like the ones back home. Freezing, and curious.

He lets them fawn over his attire, bug him for all he’s worth while they’re tucked inside of a barn to avoid the cold. He answers every question about his job selling toys with enthusiasm and without guilt, promising to someday come back with some for them. Then, they ask him to tell them a story — one they haven’t heard before.

Somewhere in Snezhnaya, far away from Morepesok, a tale is told about a girl who travelled the world.

#this was so random #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe angst #childe x reader angst #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #kit writes

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fan-goddess · 6 months ago

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MY ANALYSIS OF THE SCENE BELOW

Gif and photo credit goes to @barbieaemond

A/N: First of all! I want to say these are personal opinions and ideas I have come up with and discussed further on! None of the things I will say are confirmed! I am merely speculating and debating theories! The start is less on topic but it gets more focused the more I talk.

I didn’t want to bother users by directly tagging but there users are there and in some cases links to their posts are added in bold. I also bolded certain quotes.

Okay, first of all I want to discuss the words they had playing when they showed this scene before we look into the scene itself. When listening to the voiceover I couldn't tell who it was who was saying the quote, but after putting on the captions I found its Larys Strong which is interesting given his character is pretty much the master of whispers. He's the man who knows everything on everyone the man behind the curtains as shown in season 1 when he manipulated Alicent to make her believe she was responsible for Harrenhals fire and therefore make her guilty enough for her to feel the need to keep Larys in kingslanding where hes at his most powerful. Why go back to Harrenhal and trust his birdies to bring him the information while he sits back when he can do the dirty work himself? That is a key aspect of his character which is why it makes the quote so noteworthy.

The quote itself though is this: The enemy without may be fought with swords. The enemy within is more insidious. Even the use of camera shots which are placed while he's saying that have meaning, as when he says the enemy without its showing Rhaenyra who has lost her daughter, her son, her crown and her throne. And when he says may be fought with swords Aegon shows to be possibly mourning the loss of Jaehaerys, and it's known that after finding out about blood and cheese Aegon went on a rampage killing all ratcatchers in the city. This is showing the shots they’re showing in this line have meaning, meaning we need to take into consideration the scenes/words they show next.

The shot saying The enemy within shows Daemon walking down in a dimly torch lit tunnel somewhere underground with no real indication of where he is. Perhaps they'll play around with blood and cheese by having Daemon come with them to show them the tunnels needed to get to Helaenas chambers, but that would not make sense as it's been highly discussed how Dyana (A maid shown in season 1 who had been a victim of Aegon) would be a part of season 2 for a few episodes, so its much more likely she'll be the one guiding blood and cheese to Helaenas chambers. Though I must say I feel Dyana will most likely be punished and killed for this as she has affectively been part of a plot to kill the innocent son of Helaena. I suspect her guilt will show, and maybe Alicent or maybe even Aegon himself can see that she knows something and questions her, leading to Dyanas confession and death.

Though the scene with Aemond as Larys says is more insidious, that is what caught my eye and no doubt brought you here. We can still that the whole line as part of the reasoning for the use of that scene, as I have discussed with @/anjelicawrites and we have thought of the possibility on this being Aemond crumbling down from his usual, "Tis I the younger brother who studies history and philosophy, it is I who trains with the sword, who rides the largest dragon in the world. It is I who should be-" This is a new side of Aemond. A version of him which we beleive is him finally directly suffering for his actions in the war, AKA killing Luke and indirectly causing the death of Jaehaerys. He looks as though he is becoming something that even he said he would never become as he even says to Criston, as Anjelica mentioned to me, that the two of them were people with morals. It's honestly quite an interesting take as by having the usually stoic Aemond break down in front of this woman, the identity of whom I will talk further on later, shows even he is not safe and that no one is truly immune to the grief of war and that sacrifices must be made by all.

Now we do not know the setting in where the photo takes place but if this truly is a brothel then maybe Aemond went back to the place which truly psychologically hurt him in order to enact punishment on himself, as what punishment can really be done after what Aemond has had to go through. Torture is not an option especially since he's already had to suffer through the major damages of loosing an eye which has already permanently damaged not only Aemonds vision but his whole nervous system. There is a post where a lovely individual goes through the medical side of Aemonds injury which I shall link here for those who would like to take a further look. Going to the brothels as well could be a sign of him becoming what he hates most of all. Aegon. Aegon has always been Aemonds biggest jealousy as he has everything Aemond wants. Aegon has the title of first born son, two eyes, a valyrian wife, heirs, even an actual inheritance and yet he throws it all alway and very easily wanted to when Aegon tried to convince Aemond to allow him to board that boat to wherever he was planning to run off too (Probably Lys when you think about all the people there who have silver hair and the violet eyes.) To see Aemond slowly develop into Aegon would be almost strangely poetic to see as he becomes the epitome of what he hates and wanted most, especially when its just the worst side of Aegon he becomes and not the good parts.

Now onto the context of the scene! The way Aemond is laid on the women suggests intimacy, as he has his hair put down naturally, has his sapphire eye on pure display, and most noticeably of all is naked as the day he was born. He also has his back to the person, which to him especially given his lack of vision on his left side, means he trusts them enough to be vulnerable. People are heavily implying that Aemond is in a brothel, but when you think about how Aemond reacted to the brothel owner in the first season, who it turned out to be the woman who SA'd 10 year old him, I do not believe he would go back there willingly with that much sense of vulnerability around those sort of people. But when you think about the idea of him going back there to punish himself for his misdeeds then it cannot be ruled out as a possibility. Though someone mentioned it didn't seem right how Aemond was the one in the nude while the woman he is laying his head on is still fully dressed, which is certainly odd especially when you remember that when we got a first glimpse of the whores they pretty much walked around the room stark naked with very little clothing. Perhaps Aemond walked in with her naked and demanded she dress in clothing that was either laying about or even brought her clothes for her to wear (possibly Helaenas or even his mothers) we will not know until we watch the scene on screen.

When discussing the position Aemond is in with the woman too like I said earlier defenitely gives an idea on intimacy, possibly bordering on motherly. We know that when Aemond returns from storms end and tells his family of what he had done, 'Queen alicent went pale when she heard what he had done, crying "mother have mercy on us all." nor was ser otto pleased. "you only lost one eye" he is reported to have said. "how could you be so blind?" In the books it is said that since Aemond did kill Luke with intention to kill, he was expecting to revieve pretty much a heroes welcome. But since they changed that and make Lukes death accidently Aemond will no doubt go back to kingslanding feeling grief and regret, with maybe some happiness that he finally in his own way got revenge back for Luke taking his eye. Going back to the almost motherly seeming position he is in, I suggested that perhaps Aemond went to the brothel for a sort of motherly comfort for what he has done as Alicent almost certainly will not be giving it to him for what he has done. Perhaps he went there to get comfort from women but not in a sexual way but in an emotional way so he can feel less at fault for what he has done, even when the physical reminder haunts him daily.

Some people have suggested this to be Alicent who he is with, and whilst that makes sense given the intimacy of the position he's in it does not make much sense to me as why would he be naked with his mother. That to me is more of an Aegon move than an Aemond move. Though it was also brought up how she possibly came into his chambers at night whilst he sleeps nudes which very well could be a possibility so I've decided not to rule out that idea.

Another possible idea on who the woman is is the brothel lady from season 1 who I talked about earlier as being the one who SA’d Aemond when he was 10 years old. When looking at how other people have viewed the picture and came across a user named @/scaly-freaks who gave great insight on this topic which I shall leave a link for here. Firstly they mention how of course CSA is a sensitive topic, I want to mention that first. Though what they further talked about what how in some cases a victim can subconsciously find traits of their abusers in romantic partners (which thinking about it may be why he went for Alys given that she was a much older woman similarly to the brothel worker) or they can return to their abuser even at an older age. I won’t discuss these two points further as consideration for those who may feel triggered with this topic and so I will just say to click on the link for the post and read the rest there. Like I said about Alicent, I will not rule out this brothel woman as a possibility especially as it’s supposedly been confirm that she has filmed some nude scenes for season two. We do not know if she will be the woman in the scene, especially since in the picture the woman is seen wearing clothing, she may have filmed some general brothel scenes involving Aegon. I read another user @/lovelykhaleesiii theory about who the woman was and she said it was the brothel women and that it was her, as possibly Aegon may have taken him to the brothel to celebrate Luke’s death as we’re apparently getting scenes of Aegon at the whore house. This would make a lot of sense given the evidence shown and makes it a lot more believable as to why Aemond is in a brothel in the first place as like I had mentioned earlier it’s a more Aegon thing to do not really an Aemond act. Also a user named @/magnificentdelusionr has spoken out about how apparently the woman Aemond is with and the brothel lady share the same scar, so my belief in this being the woman has increased I’ll tell you that now. Though like I said, I will not rule her out as a possibility. The evidence for the brothel is bellow. I think this may be the most likely theory honestly given all the evidence that has been shown for her to be the one Aemond is with.

Now, this third possibility for who the woman is technically unknown as we do not know who she is. The actress from the scenes shown appears to be a dancer and the theory as it shows in the photo shown bellow is that she may have been sent by Mysaria as a distraction for Aemond. But looking at the scenes (pictures of which are shown in the twitter post down bellow) I don’t believe the scene in the top right is of Aemond and her, purely from the fact Aemond does not wear rings and the fact it looks very similar to Daemons ring. Furthermore the woman looks as though to be a younger Aemma purely from her face shape so that is why I’ve decided to rule out this theory. I will admit that it’s a high possibility that Aemond would be seduced by a dragonseed, as in my mind Aemond wants tradition of his culture. If he could’ve he would’ve married Helaena, as those are the ways of his people and the culture he cares for. He also, as was shown in the scene where Driftmarks inheritance was called into question, is seen to have a great admiration for Daemon who has married two women of Valyrian blood and has fathered technically 6 children (two of which did not survive past the womb). Aemond in my mind if the war never happened would’ve 100% been a sort of student under Daemons wing so in my mind it is not hard to imagine Aemond as wanting to mimic Daemon in his own way, that way being bedding a Valyrian woman. Yet even so when looking at the dragonseed people believe to be the woman Aemond was with I believe she plays a different part of season 2, my belief is that her role of season 2 is to be one of the dragonseeds team black or team green hunt down to try and recruit, as it was said team black went around Westeros finding anyone of dragon blood and offering them a chance of a dragon. So I do not think she is who Aemond is with.

Now the final idea on who the woman is is Alys Rivers. I have seen people freaking out over the idea of Alys changing her looks to seduce Daemon, and that is who we see in the scene shown at the top left of the twitter post screenshotted above. But that is not Alys style as there is honestly less of a chance she could get shit done with Daemon. What there is though is a chance she could use Aemond given he was younger, more naive and ultimately more emotional and needing an outlet she is happy to become to ensure her freedom. Though in context with the scene, when discussing the idea about Alys with @/anjelicawrites, she brought up the idea about Alys possibly visiting Aemond in a dream. This lead me to think about her doing this which would ultimately force Aemond to come to Harrenhal and fulfil his ‘duty’ of coming to Alys and giving her a son of pale hair. I spoke to her saying how I like the idea of Alys visiting Aemond in his dreams, as this would further the witch allegations. With the context of the scene though I believe she could put this image of a finally calm Aemond who is finally at peace with himself in his mind and make him crave that part of himself. This would ultimately force him to come to Harrenhal in the future. One thing I do want to bring up is this connection that was brought to my attention by user @/boundlessfantasy. They made the connection about Alys possibility being the woman holding Aemond in a dream since Ewan said in the interview with TGC where they discussed three scenes from season 1, that the process of killing Luke haunts his dreams possibly hinting at a dream aspect of the season. This may end up being just a sarcastic comment, but if this actually a hidden Easter egg then I must applaud Ewan for being so sneaky. There is a screenshot of the interview down bellow with the line also a link to the interview here.

We cannot see the woman’s face therefore we cannot be sure on this woman’s identity, but out of these four main theories on the woman’s identity I think this is most strongest in my opinion. Though us could very well be some random women we’ve never seen in the series before so I very much am not exoecting my theories or anyone else’s to be particularly right. I accept them all (pretty much) but am expecting pretty much for the unexpected.

Some other theories though I would like to take into consideration is the idea it’s Helaena in the picture. I do like that idea as it brings further this idea of Helaemond, a ship I do enjoy personally, especially as they hinted at the idea that Aemond was the father of Helaenas children. The clothing the woman is wearing by the looks of it does seem to be a similar shade of blue that Helaena is usually seen wearing, and there are seem similarities in the hands (this idea was brought to my attention by @/lady-phasma who has talked on this idea on their account) Though I do suggest you click on the photos bellow to see them much more up close as then it’ll be a clearer image. Helaena and Aemond have been shown to be close together so it’s no surprise if he’d want to break down and show weakness with her. It’s a very intimate position as his back is to her showing he in his own way trusts the woman, making it believable this woman could be Helaena. I haven’t made this a main theory as there are some more compelling evidence for the other cases but still I will say this theory is quite strong especially when looking at other theories like the idea the woman is Alicent.

And the final theory on who the person is which I would like to take into consideration is that the person Aemond is with is Aegon. Now I’m sorry to have to break it to the Aegmond shippers but I do believe out of all these 6 theories I’ve talked about this one is least likely. For one it’s clearly a woman who Aemond is with, given the way the body is shaped, even when we cannot see her breasts. I will admit I have seen people though speculating it’s Aegon which is why I’ve decided to mention it and discuss it. One user named @/cyeco13 has done some incredible art of what it would look like if Aegon was the person Aemond was with and I shall link it here for those who wish to go see it (I do recommend it!)

Okay, out of the six Ive decided to rank those that I believe are most believable to be the woman!

1) The brothel madam

2) Helaena + Alys (as I’m tied with these theories not gonna lie)

3) Alicent

4) The unnamed dancing dragonseed woman in the trailer

5) Aegon

This is all I really can say on the matter as there are constant new theories daily and sad to say I cannot directly talk about them all. Still send me your favourite theories I am interested in hearing and if people would like debating them with me.

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lemonwisp · 3 months ago

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Okay folks here is my honest review of season 4 of the umbrella academy (not that it matters but this is from a person who’s obsession runs so deep I started a meme page for this show, I started making edits because of this show, I found out how to label my sexuality because of this show, after season 1 I bought all the comics and then I also bought the you look like death comics when they came out, I have nearly every funko pop (rip hazel and cha cha when I get you and when I get young Ben my collection will be complete) I love this show more than words can describe)

I was expecting it to be bad, in the way that season 3 was bad, and it wasn’t bad in that way, however there was still some awful cgi (tua really shows me that shows can have wonderful and awful cgi at the same time)

I enjoyed the first episode and became hopeful when Klaus got the dog tags but then he doesn’t even put them on despite keeping them. I loved Klaus’s friendship with Claire, I liked Luther acting like a golden retriever. Blah blah blah. I liked Diego and the piñata and the fact they called their firstborn Grace was really sweet

However the continuity errors in this season really bothered me. At the end of season 3 Klaus still has the dog tags and temple tattoo, in the promotional picture Klaus has the temple tattoo, yet in the show it wasn’t there.

The plot hole of Sloane not being there (I know realistically when Allison told Reggie the timeline she wanted she was being selfish but still)

Also the thing about Lila and hating bracelets totally goes back on the fact that Diego got her one in season 2 and she wore it all the time.

THE FACT IT TOOK THEM SO LONG TO GET TO MAINE BUT WHEN PEOPLE JUST WALKED OFF THEY GOT BACK TO THEIR HOUSES AND STUFF SO FAST

The fact Ray leaving was mentioned only twice and we never got more information on that.

The fact that Klaus pulled the lovers card and Dave didn’t come back! The fact Klaus had time to try to summon Dave and just didn’t. Klaus writing STOP on their hand and then that just disappearing. Also Klaus’s PTSD just not being shown anymore.

I’m not even going to talk about the Lila and Five situation because I’m so unbelievably angry about it. I’m obviously angry about Dave not being mentioned at all.

Also I thought Klaus being a medium was clever but also then it just turned into them being used and idk I just want Klaus to be happy

Also Ben this season was funny, but I just miss brelly Ben so much.

And while they were in the subway station I was waiting for Brelly ben to show up because the scene in season 3 of Ben BEING ON A TRAIN! I was like oh that must be brelly ben, like that’s where he went after turning into swiss cheese and then they’d get him and have him face sparrow Ben or something.

And after all of the lead up to how Ben originally died and it just being that Reggie killed him. I feel like that wasn’t that big of a shock value because Reginald seems like the type to do that. I also feel like it was kind of boring. But I did appreciate the fact the young cast were in season 4

Also I’m not saying Jennifer should have died but they said only one of them needed to die and I know it’s selfish to want Ben to live and I felt bad for Jennifer it’s just I didn’t really grow attached to her

I understand why it ended the way it did but also am upset with the ending. I admit the marigolds at the end were cute, but even though I know it’s self indulgent to wish for this I just wanted them to be happy. Or even if the ending was just like a time loop and it restarted back to season 1 would have made me feel a bit more satisfied.

I don’t know, it’s just that I’ve grown up watching tua, I’ve spent five years of my life hyperfixating on this show, and it feels like the actors care about their characters and the writers do not.

However I’m so glad I got to be part of this journey with all the other TUA fans, I thank everyone who supported my meme page I have on Instagram, who makes fan art, fan fiction, and edits about the show and comics, everyone who cares about TUA, and I’m sorry that it ended the way that it did because frankly seeing the fans care more about the characters than the writers hurts. Knowing the injustices done to the characters hurts, but I’m glad I’m not alone when I say season four kinda fucking sucked.

EDIT: NOT TO EVEN MENTION IN SEASON 3 BEN KEPT DRAWING JENNIFER THEN THAT WAS NEVER MENTIONED IN SEASON 4 and CLAIRE KNEW KLAUS WAS IMMORTAL LIKE WHEN DID SHE FIND THAT OUT

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psychovigilantewrites · 10 months ago

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Sunshine's Shadow

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader, Dick Grayson/Reader Genre: Slow burn smut? Porn with plot? Like eventually??? Word Count: 7,600 Read on Ao3 Part 1 of 2. Summary: You had powers of darkness that made you feel unwanted your whole life. Jason Todd was the first person to convince you that your darkness was sunshine. After his death, you went to Dick for comfort and started a relationship with him. And then, Jason came back. A/N:

I'm practicing writing again to prepare myself for the last chapter of Red Who? I'm not too happy with how I wrote this, but I'm hoping to start improving again along the way as I write and learn all over again. Also, I am not familiar with Titans! I know Jason never really joined? I just winged it I'm so sorry. I also aged up Jason's death here. I think the timeline is a bit messy pls forgive me.

Jason knocked on your door.

“Come in,” he heard your soft, muffled voice.

You were sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. You had soft instrumental music playing in your room. The table lamp was switched on on your bedside table, but the room was still dark.

“We’re getting ready for a spooky movie tonight,” Jason said, closing the door behind him and approaching you. “Care to join us this time?”

Your eyes darted from your phone to his, and you pursed your lips in hesitation.

“No thank you, I’m fine here,” you said and brought your attention back to your phone.

Jason sighed loudly and sat on the edge of your bed.

“Why don’t you ever join us?” he asked, “We’re the Teen Titans. We’re a team. You should join us for more team stuff besides official missions.”

You simply stared at Jason. He sensed that you had more to say but was hesitating opening up. So he got up and sat next to you. “You can tell me.”

“The room is dark, isn’t it?” you asked.

The question surprised Jason. “I mean, I guess? So what?”

“That’s me, Jason. You know how my powers work. This- this curse. The shadow I emit makes everything dark and gloomy, even if it’s a sunny day outside. And no one likes someone who brings darkness in a room,” you avoided his eyes and started picking at a hangnail on your finger.

“That’s why you won’t hang out with us?” he couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you hated us or something.”

“What?” you looked at him incredulously, “How could I? I was afraid that you all hate me for being so depressing.”

“Has anyone told you that before?” Jason asked. He didn’t know much about where you came from, but he knew that you went to a lot of different schools and orphanages. An outsider, not unlike himself.

“The kids were always scared of me,” you confessed quietly, “They refused to play with me. That was fine, but then soon after they would bully me. Make fun of me, push me down, kick me. Reminded me again and again that I was a freak.”

For some reason, Jason always had the urge to protect you, even though you were slightly older than he was. Now that urge was stronger and he wanted to hurt anyone who hurt you, to shield you from all that negativity.

“Well,” he began, “I don’t know about those assholes, but whenever I see you, I never saw darkness.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Really!” he insisted, “I see a girl who likes to read, and who likes music. I see you smile whenever Roy and Jackson bicker. And when Wally does that thing where he starts vibrating when he eats? And on the field? The way you protect everyone, the way we can all trust that you have our backs.”

Jason held your eyes. “I don’t see any darkness. In fact, I see sunshine! Because whenever you’re around, it makes us all feel warm and safe.”

He saw the way you were trying hard to not let the tears brimming your eyes fall. “You’re not lying.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

“Of course I’m not,” he confirmed. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“I guess not,” you sniffled, “I can tell when people lie. And you have never lied to me.”

“What do you mean you can tell when people lie?”

“I don’t know. It’s sort of always been a thing I could do,” you shrugged, “I don’t join in conversations, so I just observe people, and I can sort of tell what they’re thinking or when they’re lying.”

“Ah, I think I know a thing or two about that,” Jason smiled fondly.

“Thank you, Jason,” you expressed.

“No problem, Sunny,” he grinned, “I’ll call you that from now on. To remind you.”

Jason thought that he saw you blush in the dim light. “So what do you think? Wanna join us for spooky night? I mean, your shadow would even be helpful. It’ll create the spooky ambience we’re all looking for.”

“Is there popcorn?” you grinned.

***

You dumbass, you thought.

The rain had you soaked and shivering.

Jason Todd, you absolute asshole.

The smell of wet dirt was overpowering. Your team stood with you despite your shadow engulfing them in darkness. Roy had his hand on your shoulder.

The white petals stuck to the polished wooden casket as it was lowered into the ground. Your heart had already broke, and you had gone through the stages of breaking down, sobbing uncontrollably, not being able to sleep for a week after they told you the news. Right now, you felt nothing but emptiness.

The casket hit the ground with a dull thud, and you heard the wet footsteps of others leaving the grave. You looked up at the crowd. Dressed in black, you saw some familiar faces. Clark Kent and Diana Prince were with Bruce Wayne, standing in solidarity. A fiery red color caught your eyes, and you saw whom you knew as Starfire. Tall, confident, and radiating with a soft warm glow- everything that you wished you were. She was next to Dick Grayson, and your eyes made contact with blue ones, ones that reminded you of Jason.

Dick gave you a sad smile.

“I heard you’re not going to continue with the Titans anymore,” Dick broke the silence. The rain was still pouring, pounding on the glass window of the car. “Where do I drop you off?”

“East End, along Murphy Avenue,” you replied. You watched two droplets on the window fall down, racing against each other. “I have some boxes left in the Tower, but I don’t feel like seeing them today.”

“Are you going to be okay on your own? You’re not even 18 yet.”

“I’m turning 18 in three months,” you rolled your eyes. “And I already got a job.”

“Oh? That was quick. What job?”

“Private investigator,” you responded, “Lot’s of scandals in Gotham. It’s quite easy to get a job if you’re half decent.”

“Pay well?”

“Well enough.”

Silence again. Dick made a turn.

No word was said until he stopped in front of the apartment complex. Unknown to you, Dick made a mental note to check the apartment out.

“Thanks, Dick.” Something stopped you from leaving the car. Something warm. Ah, it was Dick’s hand on yours.

You looked over and stared into his bright blue eyes. “I’m here for you. Anytime of the day or night. Text me, call me, whatever. You’re not alone.”

It was his expression. The pain and grief and sincerity in his eyes. A hint of desperation, even. By now, your talent for reading people had developed, and you could tell more than just basic emotions. Dick didn’t want you to leave him alone.

Your pulse quickened.

“Would you… Like to come in?” you asked.

Dick was surprised. His eyes darted downwards in a look of… guilt? And then- “No, it’s alright. You said you wanted some alone time. Go settle down first, then maybe you can give me a house tour sometime.”

Then he gave you the grin. Dick Grayson’s charming, heart-stopping grin.

You left the car.

THREE MONTHS AFTER THE DEATH OF JASON TODD

You spent your birthday alone, ignoring the invitations from your ex team members. They all wished you happy birthday, and sent you voice notes of them singing. They said they wished you were there with them, and that they hoped you were well. You replied with a simple thank you.

The apartment you made yours was bare. The walls had no art, and the TV was unplugged. What was the point? Your darkness would have made the art on the walls difficult to see and it was not like you were planning to invite anyone over.

A couple of case files sat neatly on the dining room table, where you did your work. Your name had spread by word of mouth after your first client three months ago, and now you occasionally received texts from unknown numbers, asking for discretion and offering a few hundred dollars a day for a week of work.

Your phone buzzed. It wasn’t an unknown number this time.

Dick had sent you a text. Happy Birthday! Still waiting for that house tour.

You sent a quick thank you and ignored the rest of the message.

SIX MONTHS after the death of Jason Todd

You arrived late on purpose. “Sorry I’m late.”

You sat down in the booth seat opposite Dick and saw the way his eyes lit up when you announced your arrival.

“No worries,” he brushed it off. “Thanks for coming.”

“Yeah,” you grabbed the dirty menu from the table. Anything to fill up the awkwardness you were expecting. “What do you usually have here?”

“Waffles with ice cream.”

“For dinner?”

“Why not?”

Dick Grayson gave you his Dick Grayson Grin.

You told the aging waitress your order- “I’ll have what he’s having.”

“So how have you been doing? You seem quite busy now, since this dinner was postponed to two months later,” he teased.

“My work isn’t exactly nine to five, five days a week,” you replied curtly. You had avoided this dinner on purpose.

“No, no, I get it. Mine is the same,” he said. “It’s good that you have been getting lots of clients lately. You seem to be high in demand now.”

“Yeah, I am, actually,” you smiled softly to yourself, “I didn’t expect for business to move this fast. I’m mostly investigating cheating spouses and party daughters now, though. Hoping to move on to the more serious stuff.”

“Careful,” Dick warned you, frowning slightly, “Try not to get involved with the politics here. It’s messy, and dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself, Dick,” you assured him.

He paused. “Yeah, I noticed,” his expression quickly changed, “You’ve been controlling your shadow.”

Indeed, you have been working on pulling in your shadow while you were out in public, making it seem as normal as possible so you don’t engulf rooms with darkness, especially with your current state of mind.

Soon after Jason died, you found out that your shadow had grown larger and larger, directly linked to your moods. Then you noticed that it shrank when you were concentrating on your cases, leaving the room bright. So you meditated and practiced, day and night, to keep your shadow and your emotions in check. However, it was tiring to constantly shrink it for long periods of time.

“Practice makes perfect,” you replied bitterly.

“Jason used to talk about you all the time, you know?” he suddenly brought up.

This came as a surprise for you.

“Really?” you cocked your head to the side, “What about?”

“Lots of stuff,” Dick elaborated, “But mainly about how to make you feel more welcomed. How to get you to open up. What stuff to talk to you about. He considered you his best-friend.”

You had considered Jason the same. He was the first person you had truly bonded with, but you never knew that Jason had communicated with Dick about you. True enough, he always tried his best to make sure you never felt left out. You felt your throat tightened and gulped.

Your waffles arrived, and Dick immediately dug in.

“He said that he called you something,” he continued in between bites, “Sunny, right? Said it was short for Sunshine.”

You hadn’t heard that in six months.

Dick looked up at you and panic took over his face. “Shit- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your eyes this time. You quickly wiped them away and stabbed the waffle with your fork.

“No- no, it’s fine,” you insisted, “I just hadn’t heard that name in a while. And I didn’t know he talked to you about me.”

Dick looked at you with concern. “Pretty sure he had a crush on you, with the way he was always talking about you.”

You were pretty sure, too. You could read people well after all.

“What made you choose this diner?” you asked, changing the subject. “We used to come here all the time.”

“Yeah, I haven’t stepped in here since that day,” he avoided saying Jason’s name now.

For the first time since you sat down, you actually studied him, beyond the basic emotions that you instinctively saw in everyone. The slight frown, the dark circles under his eyes, the short chewed up nails, the five o’ clock shadow that was rare for Dick Grayson.

He was grieving alone.

“Whenever Jason faced a problem when he was with us, out in the field, or anything, he would always ask himself- ‘What would Dick Grayson do?’” you told him.

His eyes softened, and you could see tears start to well up too.

“He really looked up to you,” you went on, wanting to give Dick the same comfort he gave you. “His older brother. Though, he kept it quiet. He didn’t want people to notice how much he cared. You know, the whole tough guy act.”

Dick chuckled at that. “But you noticed, of course.”

“Of course,” you smiled fondly at the memory. When asked if his injuries hurt, Jason would always reply with Only when I laugh.

But he accepted the cold compresses and paracetamol you gave him.

12 MONTHS AFTER THE DEATH OF JASON TODD

The camera shutter clicked. You checked the quality of the photo on your digital SLR. Even from across the street and in the darkness of the night, your camera caught the couple entering the motel, hand-in-hand, perfectly. This would be sufficient evidence for your client. The classic case of Cheating Spouse was going to earn you a couple thousand dollars. Frankly, you had considered rejecting the case. You only went for high-profile scandals now. But the client was desperate, and offered a large sum of money for something so easy and simple. It was difficult to refuse.

You contemplated on whether you should go the extra mile to catch them in the act. Or maybe you should just stake out in your car and catch them coming out of the motel. You took pride in how detailed your reports always were, and that was how you managed to build your clientele.

You took a sip of the bad, black coffee, already gone cold.

Peering through the zoom lens, you angled the camera up to the rooms facing the street. The movement you caught, however, was not the lights of a room switching on. Instead, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow hanging about the fire-escape in the narrow alley next to the building. You zoomed in more, and saw a familiar blue and black spandex, white eyes, and a familiar grin.

“Fuck,” you swore to yourself. Of all the places to bump into him.

You had gotten close to him since that dinner. The both of you had been texting regularly, getting to know each other and sharing stories about Jason. It helped you with your grief, and you knew it helped him too. You found out that Dick Grayson was voluntarily very expressive with his emotions, unlike his late younger brother who always needed an extra nudge.

Despite all that, you had been trying your best to avoid Dick for the past few weeks and had been giving him the excuse that you were busy. The truth was, you were scared. You knew how close you were getting to him, and right now you were lonely. So lonely that you were afraid of doing something you would both regret.

Knock, knock, knock. The glass rapped three times.

You looked over at the passenger side and saw that grin. Sighing, you unlocked the door.

“What a nice surprise,” Dick greeted you as he shut the door. “Didn’t think I would see a beautiful lady when I left home tonight.”

You rolled your eyes at his usual flirting. “I’m on a job, Dick.”

“I can see that,” he shamelessly went through your case file that was sitting on the passenger seat before he entered. “I thought you don’t take these cases anymore?”

“The poor guy was desperate, and he offered a lot of money for a simple, menial task,” you explained. “I don’t get why he doesn’t ask someone cheaper. Literally anyone could do this.”

“But they can’t do it as well as you do,” Dick booped your nose with his gloved finger.

“What about you? What brings you to this side of town?”

“Tim needed help with some training. And patrol brings me everywhere, sweetheart,” he smirked.

You noticed that your body had subconsciously turned towards him. His eyes were not visible then, covered by the whites of his mask. He was slightly damp due to the drizzle outside.

You cleared your throat. “I’m going to stake out here until they come out. Note how long they were together.”

“That could be until the sun rises.”

“Yep.”

“Need company?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I thought you needed to patrol, and help Tim.”

“Ah, you’re right,” he sighed dramatically, “I’d much rather be in this steamy car with you, though.”

“Go and help your Robin, Dick,” you chuckled, unable to resist him. “Your mentee needs his mentor, Gotham needs its hero and you’re here cozying up with a PI.”

“How irresponsible of me,” he muttered. You hadn’t realized that both of you had moved closer.

You risked a quick glance to his slightly parted lips before tearing your eyes away. He was right, it had suddenly got steamy in the car.

“Text me when you’re back? It’s dangerous to be alone at this hour,” he said before stepping out and flying off in the most flamboyant, Dick Grayson way.

I can take care of myself.

You took deep breaths to calm down and slow your heartbeat.

Maybe you were scared that you were so lonely. But a part of you knew that starting something with Dick wouldn’t be too bad.

You were just scared of being judged by Dick’s dead, younger brother.

The next weekend, you found yourself on your balcony. It was 3 AM, and you were slightly tipsy from the cocktail you made yourself. You closed your eyes and listened to the sound of the wind, the cars, the occasional police siren. You made your decision.

Need you. you texted Dick, knowing he was out on patrol.

15 minutes. he replied.

Jason was dead. There was no one else who understood and accepted you almost as well as Dick did.

You waited out there in the cold for his arrival. When he did land straight on your balcony, his hair was a mess and he was panting slightly. You grabbed his face and kissed him roughly.

It didn’t matter anymore because Jason was dead.

SIX MONTHS AFTER THE ARRIVAL OF RED HOOD.

It was more difficult to control your shadow, but you tried your best. Moving in with Dick helped a bit more as compared to when you were alone, but you were constantly on edge.

He was alive, and what would he think of this? You and Dick? Would he see it as a betrayal?

Dick was having sleepless nights and was gone most of the time to help Bruce with Jason’s tantrum. Six months since Jason had appeared alive, and God knows how long before he crawled out of his grave, but he had not contacted you even once.

And you knew, you knew he was angry at you. That this whole villain arc had at least something to do with you. Even though it didn’t make sense, that you were never together, that you were nothing more than just best friends.

Somehow you felt that the rage and destruction was directed towards you.

For as long as you got together with Dick two years ago, and a whole year of playing cat and mouse with him ever since that kiss, you never had radio silence from him for this long. Two or three days was the maximum, and he would reassure you that everything was fine while you continued on with your PI business. A week long was unheard of.

Then, your phone buzzed.

I’m fine. He’s fine. Everyone’s fine.

You let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Is he back? you asked.

He’s gonna take some time off. Need to go. See you soon.

And so you didn’t sleep until Dick came back home the next morning.

“He’s so… broken,” Dick whispered above your head as he hugged you tightly.

You frowned. You didn’t like that word used to describe Jason. A person couldn’t be broken. People weren’t objects. You knew what Dick meant, that Jason was traumatized- but it didn’t mean that he was broken. Broken meant that you needed to be fixed before someone accepted you, that you needed to be functional or useful.

Broken meant that there was a state where people were whole, and you knew too well that there’s no such thing as a whole person. People just existed in different states, and each state was just as important as the other.

Jason told you all of that when you opened up to him about your past. One day many years ago, you fucked up during a mission. Your shadow had hurt someone a little too badly.

“I don’t even know how it works, Jay,” you had cried, “Sometimes it has a mind of its own and it just reacts outside of my control.”

“You saved me in the end,” Jason tried comforting you, putting his arm around your shoulder as you sat on the carpet of the empty living room.

“But I could have hurt you too,” you argued, “It could have attacked your shadow and killed you, the same way I killed my parents.”

You hadn’t told anyone about that. Only the Justice League knew.

“It was an accident,” Jason insisted.

“I’m just a broken person,” you choked. “No one should be near me.”

That was when he took his arm away and held your shoulders in both his hands, forcing you to face him, to stare into his piercing, fierce gaze.

“Don’t ever let me hear you say that about yourself ever again, got it?” he scolded you, “You are not broken. You’re like- like water. Or air. You exist in different states of matter, and each state you’re in is no less broken than the rest. You’re not broken, okay? You’re Sunny, you’re sunshine. You’re just sunshine…”

NINE MONTHS AFTER THE ARRIVAL OF RED HOOD

“Cheating spouse, undercover at Harvard, cheating spouse again…” you muttered to yourself as you browsed your cases in the living room, illuminated by a single warm light above your head. Dick would complain about the mess in the morning when he eats his cereal.

If he even comes back by tomorrow. you finished your own thought.

The blackmail material requests sounded interesting, but you always hesitated to accept the morally gray ones. You usually would go for missing or runaway children, the evidence of corruption, and the occasional journalist request for an inside scoop.

In fact, your eyes caught one such request. An anonymous journalist from the Gotham Gazelle. You received a text from a disposable two days ago, detailing a locker combination and an address. The contents of the locker were documents within a crisp and new light brown folder- a typical case file, along with a thousand dollars in cash and a promise of another two thousand after completion.

Journalists were not usually this cautious, but if they were investigating someone high profile, it was better to remain anonymous. Especially in Gotham.

You took a sip of your dark roast Arabica coffee, engrossed by what your anonymous client wanted you to get. It was already 11 PM.

Then, you heard the bell ring.

You frowned. Dick wouldn’t ring the bell to his own apartment.

Concentrating on pulling your shadow back, you walked barefoot to the door and looked through the peephole.

Your heartbeat quickened at who you saw standing on the other side of the door.

Calm down, calm down, calm down. Deep breaths.

The door clicked when you unlocked it, and creaked when you pulled it open.

You couldn’t remember when you had stopped counting the amount of days since you saw those piercing blue eyes that were so similar, yet so different from Dicks’. Now they were even more different from what you remembered. They were like battleworn armor standing in an enclosed case.

“There’s my sunshine,” Jason smiled weakly at you.

There was no chance of stopping your tears from falling down your face, so you didn’t even try. You let them flow freely as you speechlessly embraced him and felt his warm arms snake around you. The warmth of an embrace you thought you were never going to feel ever again.

He grew much taller than you. He was 16 when he died, and you were just turning 18. You had stopped growing a year or two before that, but boys kept on growing, didn’t they? He was the same height as you were the last time you saw him, but now he was at least a couple of feet taller. Did that mean he was back long before he started going as Red Hood? What did he do for two and a half years? Who-

“Don’t mean to be rude, but can I come in? I’m freezing my tits off out here,” he said. Even his voice was much, much deeper.

You chuckled and nodded, taking a step away to let him in.

You closed the door behind Jason and watched as he walked in slowly, looking around at Dick’s apartment. You noticed he paused at the dining table where you were working, and then strided to the sofa in the living room before taking a seat. You followed suit and sat next to him, not yet trusting your voice to make a sound.

“So,” he began, “You and Grayson, huh?”

Looking so intently, taking him all in, you almost missed the question.

“You’re bigger than him,” you blurted, before widening your eyes in horror at what you were implying.

Jason raised a scarred eyebrow.

“I mean- you- your build,” you quickly explained, “Your frame. Shoulders. Length. Big.”

“Length?” he smirked.

“Height!” you almost yelled.

Jason leaned closer to you and frowned. “Am I making you nervous?”

You couldn’t bear his piercing eyes, so you looked down at your hands.

“I thought maybe you never wanted to see me again,” you confessed, “I thought maybe you were angry at me, and hated me.”

“I was,” he simply stated.

You looked at him in question.

“Angry at you. For a bit,” he sighed and leaned back against the couch, “But I was angry at everyone. You were no exception. I was just mad everyone had forgotten me. Especially those I cared about.”

“I never forgot you, Jason,” you vowed, “How could I ever?”

“Then why did you-” he cut himself off, “Nevermind. I just wanted to say that I’m not mad anymore. I get it. I was dead, and everyone moved on.”

He crossed his arms and again, you noticed how large his arms were. His face was more mature, jawline more defined and square, eyes now more deep set with extra dark circles underneath them. As if your body had a mind of its own, you reached out to his face and caressed the scar across his cheek.

Jason jumped slightly in surprise at the sudden contact, but then closed his eyes and leaned into your touch.

“You have more scars now,” you pointed out, “What happened?”

You felt his breath down your wrist.

“Another story for another day,” he smiled and opened his eyes. You took your hand away, blushing at how intimate that must have seemed to an onlooker. “Where’s Boy Wonder?”

“No idea,” you shrugged. “You want something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“Aw, come on, Sunny!” he got up and walked to the kitchen, “It’s a Welcome Back, Jason party. Where are the fun drinks?”

He started opening your cabinets.

“Wow, make yourself at home, why don’t you?” you shook your head and went to join him.

“Mi casa es su casa,” he sang, “At least, that’s what Grayson told me when he gave me the address. Aha!”

He found the cabinet of liquors. “Wow, I’m quite impressed by his collection.”

“That’s my collection,” you corrected him, “Dick couldn’t tell the difference between tequila and rum even if his life depended on it. I have a variety. What do you feel like?”

“You’re the bartender,” he teased, “Surprise me.”

You nodded and proceeded to make him a drink. Jason sat down at the dining table and nosily looked through your files. That was one thing he and Dick had in common, at least.

You set down a whisky sour for him and yourself before clearing your paperwork to the side, giving him the side eye as you snatched a folder from his hands.

Taking a seat across from him, the both of you dinked glasses together and took a sip.

“Strong,” he commented, “That’s good.”

You accepted the compliment silently.

“So, you don’t know where Grayson’s at?” he inquired.

“Nope,” you replied, “I know he has missions sometimes. Helps out here and there. He’s gone for two or three days before he comes back home with a new bruise or cut. I don’t ask for details unless he starts to tell me about it.”

Your chest made an involuntary squeeze that you tried to hide. There were times when you had asked Dick, and he lied to you. You had arguments over where he was, and who he was with before.

Jason studied your poker face intently, and for a second, you felt as though he was interrogating you.

He took another sip.

“How’s business going?” he changed the subject, “I heard you never went back to the team.”

“I couldn’t,” you answered simply.

“Why not?”

“Everything reminded me of you. It hurt too much.”

A deafening silence. A look of guilt. A looming darkness that grew.

“Business is great, actually,” you went on. “And I enjoy the slower-paced nature of the work.”

“Ugh, even stake outs?” he made a face, not commenting on how your shadow became slightly bigger.

“Stake outs can be nice sometimes,” you argued, “Crank down the window, put the radio on, snack on some fries. Sometimes I read, as well. I’m used to spending long hours by myself.”

“Sounds like you haven’t changed much,” he smiled endearingly at you.

“Not even physically?” you pouted, “I’ve been going to the gym.”

He laughed at that. “Yes, I’ve noticed. You look much more… Mature?”

“Are you saying I look old, Todd?” you huffed.

“So fucking old. A hag.”

You stuck out your tongue at him and laughed together, as if nothing ever changed. As if he never died, as if you never grieved for him and longed for him.

“I’m kidding,” he conceded, “You look good. Really good. Dick’s a lucky guy.”

You frowned at the last comment. “It doesn’t bother you, does it? Me and Dick?”

Another pause. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Jason knew you well, so he knew how to answer you. His statement wasn’t a lie.

You heard the jingle of keys in the distance.

“Speak of the fucking devil,” Jason whispered into his drink before taking a big gulp.

“Honey, I’m ho- oh. Jason, I didn’t expect to find you here,” Dick stood in the doorway, stunned.

“Welcome back, babe,” you walked over and greeted your boyfriend with a kiss. For the first time, Dick looked slightly uncomfortable with your display of affection.

“You guys have been hanging out without me!” Dick whined, his child-like persona immediately taking over.

That was how Dick was. You noticed it after a few times with him, how he would mask his emotions or awkwardness with his happy, warm personality. He was a people person, charming his way anywhere and everywhere regardless of any situation.

Yet, you could see through it all. The grief, the aching fatigue, and the countless battle scars.

“Was just leaving,” Jason announced curtly.

“Ngaw, don’t be like that,” Dick tried to persuade him, “Stay a little while. We can catch up.”

“There’s nothing to catch up on,” Jason insisted, “Bye.”

He glanced once at you, and then left without saying a word.

There was a stark difference between the way he was with you and the way he was with Dick. In the short future, you would come to realize that it wasn’t that he was different with everyone else. Jason treated everyone else with the cold, rough demeanor you witnessed- but never you. You were the only one who knew him as though that Jason never died.

You saw Dick’s shoulders slump in disappointment. “How long was he here for?”

“About an hour?” you answered nonchalantly, going back to your case files.

“He has never spoken to me for more than 15 minutes,” Dick informed you, “Even then he would give non-committal answers.”

“Really?” you asked, frowning to yourself. It took just a little while for the both of you to go back to how things used to be. “Maybe he’s more upset at you since you’re his brother.”

“Nah, don’t think that’s it,” Dick came up behind you and nuzzled his face in your neck. “You smell good. Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you hummed, “How was… Your mission?”

“Tiring,” he complained, “You choose a case already?”

“Maybe,” you replied, “Who was there?”

You heard Dick gulp. “Donna. Kon. Wally.”

“And?”

“Kori.”

You felt your chest tighten again. “Okay. I’m tired too. I think I’ll go to bed now.”

“You just drank coffee,” he pointed out, “You’re going to sleep now?”

“Or just lie in bed,” you responded, “Seeing Jason was… emotional.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair.

“You coming?”

“I have to patrol,” he looked at you guiltily.

“But you just got back,” you argued.

“They can cover more ground when I’m around,” he explained. “Sorry. I’ll spend time with you tomorrow, okay?”

You smiled at him and reached a hand to press on his chest. He was so committed, and that’s what you loved about him. He really, truly cared.

“Just stay safe,” you gave him a deep kiss, tasting the cola chapstick he stole from you months ago.

“I’ll see you in the morning, darling,” he breathed.

That night you lay awake in bed, staring at darkness. You let your shadow go at night, allowing it to take over the room. A buzz came from your phone all of a sudden. Another unknown number.

You tapped it open.

This is my number if you need me. J.

It had been a while since you smiled whenever you lay alone, unable to sleep.

And how did you get mine?

You didn’t actually care. You were just so happy to be texting your best friend again.

I’m just a genius, Sunny. You staying up late to work?

You contemplated your answer.

No. Just couldn’t sleep. What do you do now, anyway? Do you patrol with the rest?

Sometimes. I mostly do my own thing now.

What thing?

Another story for another time, sunshine.

I’m glad you’re back, Jay. Thank you for seeing me today. Can we hang out soon?

We can hang out whenever you want.

You were typing a reply, but was interrupted by another message from him.

I missed you lots.

I missed you too, Jason. We have to get caught up with all the slumber parties we missed.

Don’t think Grayson would be too happy with that though.

My best friend is back from the dead. He can suck it up.

I’ll see you soon then?

You contemplated again.

What are you doing tomorrow? I got an interesting case. Wanna tag along?

***

Jason’s heart broke when he found out that you were with Dick. It was a large reason why he was so angry, and why he became so destructive. But he tried to stay angry at you, tried to hate you, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. The years without you were lonely, and he tried to fill up the emptiness with rage.

It took him so long after Bruce brought him back to his senses to finally see you because he was practicing. He knew he couldn’t bear to look at you and Dick while you were together, so he practiced controlling his emotions so he wouldn’t snap and scare you away.

But when you opened the door and he saw your face for the first time in years, everything dissipated. He didn’t need to control any anger because all he felt was longing. It didn’t matter if you were in love with Dick, all that mattered was that you were there next to him.

“Okay, so,” you began as you pulled the car to a stop in a street at Diamond District. “Rupert Thorne.”

“The guy who is running for mayor?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, browsing through the documents, “He allegedly backed Hill in the previous elections, but now he is running against Hill. My client wants me to find evidence of corruption and find out who his sponsors are.”

Jason saw the way your brows stitched together as you read through the file.

It was difficult to be in the same car as you. Even though he was in the passenger seat, he felt like it was a small closet, being suffocated by your demanding presence.

“Why doesn’t he sponsor himself? Isn’t he some sort of closeted crime lord too?” Jason asked.

“I guess that’s the mystery,” you hummed, “He must have been promised something, or he must have promised something- if he wins.”

You smelled like warm cinnamon and vanilla. All Jason wanted to do was to bury his face in your neck and breathe you in. The pull he felt towards you was almost physical. He needed to stop himself from touching you, from claiming you.

“So what’s the first step?” he tried to focus on the case.

“He works in that building there,” you looked outside across the street to the tall mirrored tower. “COO of Trident Shipping Company. He’s doing quite well in popularity lately… Articles say he is modest and humble, charming, thoughtful, charitable… The list goes on. Must have a great PR team.”

Jason smiled to himself. You were starting to think out loud, a habit of yours he noticed one night during a strategy meeting with the team. So many years ago.

“Anyway, we want to see where he goes, who he meets, what he does-”

“Oh no,” Jason groaned, “You scammed me into a stakeout!”

He really didn’t mind if it meant spending long hours with you in your cozy car.

“It’ll be fun!” you tried to convince him, “We can catch up in the meantime! Plus, I do also need to bug his phone. Might need your help with that. I also have some metka, so maybe we can pollinate some lead suspects once we narrow them down and-”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up,” Jason started chuckling in disbelief, “First of all- one step at a time, please. Let’s make a structured flowchart first before you start rambling off fifty-seven steps ahead. Second of all- metka, are you fucking with me right now? How did you get your hands on Soviet Cold War tech?”

Metka or spy dust- chemically known as nitrophenyl pentadienal or NPPD- was an old and outdated, yet still effective, Russian method of marking or tagging suspected CIA agents during the Cold War by the KGB. It was a discreet powder that stuck to everything. They would tag the agents at the airport, and then anything the agent touched would have traces of the dust. Including Russian assets- spies or informants working for the CIA. They would be able to identify the traitors.

“I’m a PI,” you said smugly, “I’m resourceful.”

Yes, you were. Jason beamed proudly at you. But he said, “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, how about the bug?”

“I have this-” you rummaged through your messenger bag and took out a small silver card the size of a hotel matchbox. It had the Bat sigil.

“So I assume you have Batman’s NFC card because you’re resourceful?” Jason teased. He knew the gadget well. The near field communication device allowed hijacking into another electronic device with NFC just by near contact. It could allow for cloning the device, or installing spyware.

You stuck your tongue at him childishly.

“I wonder what Batman would think of you stealing his gadgets for personal use,” Jason jested.

“Okay, I borrowed it from DIck, and it’s not like I’m using it for personal reasons. This is a highly professional operation,” you huffed, “Anyway, if you could let me finish telling you my plan. It says that Thorne is into French girls and he usually comes out for a smoke break around this time.”

“And?”

“I will be bumping into him. The NFC needs about 30 seconds of contact. I’ll slip the card in the pocket where he keeps his phone. But in case I can’t stick around to take it out, you will have to come walking behind me to pickpocket it from him.”

“Sounds good. What if he’s using his phone?”

“I’ll bump it out of his hand and apologize profusely,” you grinned. “Okay I need to get ready.”

You unbuttoned your weathered leather jacket to reveal a white top with a low neckline, giving Jason a good view of your cleavage.

“Uhhh,” he started awkwardly.

You ignored him and looked in the mirror, smearing lipstick on your lips and smacking them. Then, you ruffled your hair to give it more volume before turning to face him with a “How do I look?”

The red you chose for your lipstick matched your skin tone perfectly. And he never noticed you had a tiny cute mole on the top of your left breast. The way your hair was effortlessly messy made Jason imagine that was how you would look like in the mornings, or when he takes a handful of it while kissing you rough-

“G-great,” he complimented weakly.

If he hadn’t already died, then you were going to be the death of him.

“Oh shit, there he is,” you opened the car. “Quick, hang around a few feet behind me.”

Jason saw you strut as you approached Thorne. He was tall and handsome, and looked good for a man his age. Jason could tell that his suit was expensive. His coat was probably cashmere. He could see why Thorne was so popular. He definitely looked the part. He was talking on his phone, and he was now curious as to what you had in mind.

From down the block and in the crowd, Jason saw you pretend to talk on your phone in perfect French, rushing somewhere unknown. He didn’t notice the cup you were carrying before.

“Ah, putain! I am zo zorr’y, Monsieur!” you bumped hard into Thorne, spilling liquid all over his coat and yourself.

Thorne looked surprised, and then pocketed his phone in his coat. “It’s quite alright.”

“No, no, pleez. Let me ‘elp you,” you made a fuss. You took out a handkerchief from your bag and simultaneously shrugged off your jacket. Jason smirked to himself. No hot-blooded male would be able to resist the sight of you in a wet white low neckline t-shirt.

“Let me pay for your dry cleaning,” you worried, “Oh, putain it speeled down here too.”

You got on your knees and started dabbing the hem of his coat.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Thorne smiled and held your shoulder in a gesture to help you up.

“I am really zo zorr’y,” you looked up at him.

A flash of lust sparked Thornes’ eyes, and Jason knew you were batting your eyelashes at him from that angle. It made him want to punch Thorne square in the jaw.

“It’s really alright, madam,” he insisted, “It was my fault for standing in the middle of a busy pedestrian walkway.”

“I should ‘ave watched where I was walking,” you bit your lip and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Well, let’s just both move on from this. Please don’t worry, I can get my assistants to get me another coat,” he rested his hand on your lower back as he walked you towards the street. “Here is my business card. Feel free to contact me if you need any help navigating the city. I would love to show you all the fine restaurants in Gotham.”

“Monsieur, you are too kind,” you pouted.

“I should thank you for bumping into me,” he winked, “It’s not everyday I get to see a beautiful lady.”

You pretended to blush.

“I have to go now,” he announced, “Please give me a call.”

And with that, he entered the building.

You walked towards Jason with the look of a kid who scored his first goal.

But then, facing him now, Jason swore under his breath. No wonder you managed to bewitch Thorne so easily.

Your shirt was practically see through, and everyone was turning their heads at you. He could see your black lacy bra, and how your tits bounced as you jogged towards him.

“Hells to the yes!” you celebrated, “That was more than thirty seconds. I got the card back and- what are you doing?”

Jason had grabbed your jacket and forcefully put it over your shoulders. “Let’s hurry back to the car.”

Yeah, you were going to be the death of him.

#jason todd #dc comics #batman #red hood #dick grayson #jason todd/reader #dick grayson/reader

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jadecantcreate · 1 month ago

Text

as an avid stardust rhapsody and once upon a witchlight enjoyer, I was thinking about how the characters would handle/fit into the other campaign’s plot, and this little idea festered from there

might flesh this out into an au, or maybe not, but its fun to think about ! contains many significant spoilers for both campaigns in their entirety

OUAW Cast in SDR (space au)

Kremy Lecroux — in OUAW, his connection to Remy Garou plays a big role in the plot (if he wasn’t indebted to him, the krew wouldn’t have a reason to find jobs, so they would’ve never went to the witchlight carnival or the feywild). the closest thing (and its pretty close) to Garou in sdr is the Boss….so, possibly, Kremy would have been under the employment of the Boss at space station 777 and he would’ve played rex’s role and stolen those same files from the Boss’ safe — parellels: rex maxim (^), kavir (powerful magic, impossibly powerful patrons; death)

Gideon Coal — he was abducted by the saurons and forced to work on powering / building their ships. maybe he would’ve learned about the archon of destruction (dandy, who, in this au, never was the dandy we know), but only bits an pieces. gideon broke his chains and fled still, maybe by stealing an escape pod and crash landing on the nearest space station/planet, where he met Kremy. they traveled together for a long while on the Rhapsody, running scams or bounty hunting and such, before meeting the rest of the krew. — parallels: rett (engineering, personality), pyke (fire / light theme), leboosh (anger)

Gricko Grimgrin — instead of stealing hootsie from the witchlight carnival, gricko stole her from space station 777 (it’s on brand for them to mistreat/borderline abuse animals). while the Boss probably didn’t care, it still ties him to Torbek and Kremy a bit. he left his planet behind to try to become a space rockstar (tm) or something like that, one thing led to another and he started traveling the cosmos with Frost, learning about and helping beasties all over — parallels: dandy (love for nature, druidic magic), chuckles (positivity, humor)

Morning Frost — maybe his hometown / homeplanet was destroyed when he was a kid by the empire for being ‘corrupted’ (with the same ailment that torbek, to some extent, carries) and he was taken in by the psionic order after that. it’d be interesting if psionic order had loose ties to the empire and he didn’t know (even more ways to involve them in the larger plot yk?). other than that he’s the same i think — parallels: kavir (personality, magic), dandy (preciseness, intelligence)

Torbek — a victim and the sole survivor of the doctor’s experiments. when the party unknowingly accepts a bounty from the Boss (the doctor one), they find torbek in one of those same tanks and they recognize him (maybe he worked in 777, like Kremy but in a much lower position, and he had been known for his resilience, hence his kidnapping and victimization). after a grueling fight (replacing the battle with the giant rhino and lion things), they elect to bring torbek along. in this au, the experiments would be, too, in enhancing humanoid bodies, but through witchlight instead of whatever the doctor had going on. witchlight could be renamed to starlight also? (to fit the ~aesthetic~) — parallels: leboosh and chuckles (corruption), dandy (naivety, corruption)

SDR Cast in OUAW (feywild au)

Pyke — instead of being a former spaceship racer (no clue what its actually called) he could be a horse racer? i mean pyke is somewhat cowboy coded and grew up being rivals with the most cowboy coded character ever, so i guess it works questionmark — parallels: gideon (fire / light themes, combat style), kremy (smoking, dubious morals)

Rett — normal dwarf and cyborg but instead of aether it’s just good ol’ magic i guess (im doing too much with witchlight). still an adventurer / bounty hunter with pyke. no rhapsody though, just…idk. legs? — parallels: gideon (temper, engineering)

Dandy — made by the hourglass coven as a weapon of destruction, but somehow slipped out of their grasp and fell to Avantris with no recollection of knowledge or her past. she was taken in by rett and the others — parallels: gricko (love of nature, druidic magic), frost (intelligence), torbek (corruption, naivety)

Chuckles — more similar to OUAW / NPC chuckles; a regular ol’ clown. still a sorcerer and bard but not a discordant. works for the witchlight carnival and accidentally crossed the portal between the carnival and Prismeer. he was irreversibly changed somehow (witchlight idk), and returned with no memory of his past life. — parallels: gricko (humor, positivity), torbek (corruption, humor)

Kavir — pretty sure nekhbet is a desert-y continent so avantris kavir would be from there. traveling under the guidance of his patron, he (and leboosh) eventually came across the rest of the party and team up. since the hags are themed around time (past, present, future), maybe there’s some connection between his patron and them? — parallels: frost (demeanor / personality), kremy (magic, death)

Leboosh — oozoid that was taught by kavir to speak and such, but maybe he was made sentient by fey magics crossed over from the feywild in his home where the veil between the realms is thin? the corruption thing happens, very similar to torbek except maybe its hourglass coven magic too? idk — parallels: torbek (corruption), gideon (temper)

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verspia · 3 months ago

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Can you do a Angst Arda ff story where he has a bestfriend and a girlfriend but he only hangs out with his bestfriend and the reader starts to feel left out.

And it went on for about 2 months and the reader couldn’t hold it anymore because Arda barely spent time with her at her worst days and she leaves him at the end.

But there’s a plot twist.

She wanted to spend time with him because she was diagnosed with cancer but he obviously couldn’t so she left him with a goodbye letter where she confesses her feelings and he eventually feels guilty and regret.

WITH LOVE, • ARDA GÜLER

( pairing ) arda güler x reader

i actually love this request esp the best friend part because, real.

warnings - character death, maybe slight grammatical errors

Everyone had warned you about the girl best friend, that it was a world wide experience to most, if not all, girlfriends where they would be a third wheel in their own relationship.

You had been warned by everybody, a collection of stereotypes thrown at your way and your only way to refute them was, “well, the boyfriend wasn’t arda.”

You were so confident that Arda would never replace you, would never prioritise anyone else above you and at first, this confidence hadn’t been misplaced.

Arda made you feel like you were the moon in a sky full of stars. You were charmed by him, why wouldn’t you be?

Unfortunately you should’ve listened to your friends when they told you about the three month rule and the inevitable consequence of dating a man who had a girl best friend.

You should’ve listened when they said that a guy is only friends with a girl they find attractive.

You should’ve listened to them, when your dates became group hangouts, where your usual passenger princess seat was designated for Arda’s best friend because Arda had picked her up before he’d come to get you.

You should’ve heeded the warnings when you were left there blinking owlishly while Arda laughed himself off to an inside joke shared with another girl. With the best friend. With a girl that wasn’t you. He was laughing. At an inside joke. Something you couldn’t understand.

You had never felt more lonely, knowing that someone else had discovered the secret parts of Arda, your person, when you had only just began to scratch the surface.

You knew what he liked and what he didn’t, but she knew the stories behind his preferences, was there when he made these decisions. And it hurt, it felt like a knife twisting around your gut, because even though you were the one who held Arda’s hand, even though he was always there, he still managed to feel so far apart. Out of reach for you.

At first, it was easy to brush off the unease. They were best friends, after all, and you knew better than to be jealous. Arda was charming in his own right, with that effortless way of making everyone around him feel important. But as time went on, the charm began to wear thin, replaced by a growing ache in your chest that you couldn’t quite name.

It started with the little things, because it was always the little things, wasn’t it?

The way Arda’s eyes lit up when she walked into the room, a brightness in his eyes that you had noticed only rarely when he looked at you, a look that you had to work hard for that she so effortlessly attained.

The way he would talk about her, his best friend, and it was indisputable the way his voice would soften, laced with fondness and warmth that made your heart twist with something bitter.

You tried to ignore it, telling yourself it was nothing, that you were being paranoid, but the doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of your happiness.

You remember the first time you truly felt like a third wheel. The three of you were out for dinner, and it had scared you, how fast date night had turned into more than just you and Arda alone.

The conversation flowed easily between them, a rhythm you struggled to keep up with. You laughed at their jokes, nodded along to stories you weren’t a part of, but it was like watching a movie you weren’t cast in. Arda made some offhand comment, and her laughter rang out, loud and free, and the pride in Arda’s eyes at eliciting that very reaction made you want to claw out your own. You had tried to join in, but the moment had already passed, leaving you feeling awkward and out of place.

It escalated to the point where you felt like you were watching them from behind a glass wall, there but only barely. You were only an onlooker, watching but never part of the moment.

You began to wonder whether Arda even realised you were there.

It hurt, but you swallowed the pain, telling yourself it was just your imagination. But the cracks in your relationship widened, little fissures that deepened with every glance, every shared moment you weren’t a part of. You tried to bring it up once, tried to tell Arda how you felt, but he brushed it off, laughing softly as he assured you there was nothing to worry about.

“You’re being silly,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then it was back to her again.

The kiss had meant to be warm, but you only felt a deep bone chilling cold, freezing you in place.

The little kiss on your forehead, a gesture of comfort, had brought more pain to you in that moment than anything else.

The pain had begun to grow so egregious, it had begun to affect you physically, that when you began to cough up blood, you had felt at first that it was only your bleeding heart. It wasn’t long after that when you started to feel the changes in your body. The fatigue that wouldn’t go away, the bruises that appeared without reason, the weight loss you couldn’t explain. You tried to ignore it, chalking it up to stress or exhaustion, but deep down, you knew something was wrong. You could feel it, a quiet dread settling in the pit of your stomach, growing heavier with each passing day.

Arda had been so caught up with her, he never noticed.

Of course a visit to the Doctor, alone, confirmed that you had a diagnosis of terminal cancer, and not just a severely broken heart.

You had sat there, in the cold sterile room, resigned at your fate, the doctor’s words echoing inside your head.

“We found something,” he had said, his voice gentle but firm. The words that followed blurred together, a litany of medical terms and probabilities, but the meaning was clear enough. It was cancer—aggressive, late-stage, the kind that doesn’t leave much room for hope.

You decided that you would keep this to yourself. Finding that telling Arda to be something more difficult than the entire ordeal you had been subjected to.

All you felt was if, when, your presence would disappear from Arda’s life, would he miss you? And then you shook your head, how could he, because you had already disappeared from Arda’s life ages ago.

You came to the realization that though you had still a beating heart, you were a ghost now, haunting the edges of a relationship that no longer felt like yours.

You went home that day, walking through the door as if nothing had changed. Arda greeted you with a smile, asking how your day was, and you answered with a lie that came too easily, your voice had remained steady, betraying nothing. You sat with him on the couch, feeling their warmth beside you, but all you could think about was how much time you had left—how many more moments like this you’d get,

You felt selfish, knowing that you weren’t breaking up with him even if your relationship had come to an end ages ago. You wanted to delude yourself into thinking that Arda, some part of him atleast, still loved you.

And when the pain became too much, when your body started to betray you with weakness and exhaustion, you found excuses. You were tired from work, you said. You weren’t feeling well, maybe just a cold. Arda would look at you with concern, but he believed you—why wouldn’t he? He had no reason to doubt you, no reason to think that something so terrible could be lurking just beneath the surface.

The days blurred into weeks, and the cancer spread, a silent invader you couldn’t stop. You could feel it inside you, gnawing away at your strength, your hope, your future. The pain was constant now, a dull ache that radiated through your bones, but you bore it in silence, hiding the worst of it behind closed doors. You were familiar with heartache, what was a little more agony?

But Arda was perspective, at least somewhat. He noticed how you’d down a pill after every meal, the pallor of your skin, and your ghostly complexion. He noticed the bags under your eyes, and how frail you’d gotten, but it was too late.

You felt the day arrive, the day you knew that your life had reached its end, and it had took all your energy to muster up the strength to write everything you had wanted to say into a letter.

Dear Arda,

I don’t know how to begin this letter, and even if I did, I’m not sure it would be enough to say all that I need to say. But I’m running out of time, and I need you to hear this, even if it’s only in the words I leave behind. By the time you read this letter, you’ll know why I’ve written it.

First, I want you to know I’ve always admired you, Arda. From the moment we met, I knew there was something special about you—something warm and bright that drew people in, like a lighthouse in the dark. I’ve watched you bring so much joy to those around you, and it hurt me incredibly when I realised that I never did the same for you, rather it was your best friend, but now that I’m going, i’m happy that you have someone who makes you just as happy as you do with everyone else.

I have told you this, but i’ll say it again,I love you, Arda. Even though loving you hurt me more than anything, i’m grateful to have met you, and I wish nothing but the best for you, I wish you happiness for eternity.

I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark about what was happening to me, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you looking at me with pity, of you worrying about me when you already had so much on your shoulders. I didn’t want you to see me like this, broken and scared, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop it. You were always so strong, so solid, and I couldn’t bear to take that away from you.

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone, Cancer does that. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye in person, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold it together if I did. I wanted you to remember me as I was, not as I am now. I wanted you to keep that image of me in your mind, whole and happy, instead of the person I’ve become.

Anyway, I’m asking you to live your life, Arda. Don’t let my passing weigh on you. Don’t let it stop you from being the person you’re meant to be. I want you to be happy. I want you to find joy, even if it takes time. You deserve that. You deserve everything good in this world.

I loved you, Arda. I still do. And I’ll carry that love with me, wherever I’m going. Please don’t cry for me. Just remember me, and remember that I wanted you to live, really live, even after I’m gone.

With love,

You signed the letter and then, finally, you allowed yourself to cry.

Sobs wracked through your body, all the pain that you felt flowing out like a waterfall and that’s how you left, tear stained cheeks and curled up in bed.

It was pitiful, but it had been how you felt, Helpless.

When Arda came home that evening, he found the apartment eerily quiet. The air felt thick, heavy with something he couldn’t quite place. He called your name, but there was no answer. He knew you had been feeling off lately, more tired, more distant, but he never expected this. His heart pounded in his chest as he made his way through the apartment, a creeping dread settling in his stomach.

And then he saw you.

You were lying on the bed, your body still, too still. He rushed to your side, his breath catching in his throat as he called your name again, louder this time, but still no response. His hands shook as he reached out to touch you, his fingers trembling against your cold skin.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Please, wake up…”

But you were gone.

The realization hit him like a freight train, knocking the breath from his lungs. He collapsed beside you, his hands clutching at you desperately, as if he could somehow pull you back from the brink. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unrelenting, as the full weight of your loss crashed over him.

He found the letter on the nightstand beside the bed, your handwriting scrawled across the paper, shaky but familiar. With trembling hands, he unfolded it, his eyes scanning the words you had left behind for him. As he read, his tears fell harder, soaking the paper, smudging the ink.

The letter was like a knife to the heart. Every word was a reminder of how much you had suffered in silence, of how you had loved him, even as you were slipping away. He could barely breathe as he read your confession, and when he reached the end of the letter, regret consumed his being, enveloping and guilt drowned him.

He cried, his sobs wracking his body as he clutched the letter to his chest. He cried for you, for the time you didn’t have, for the things he never said. He cried for the feelings he hadn’t realized you felt, for the guilt that now gnawed at him, knowing you had kept this burden from him, from everyone. He cried because he couldn’t save you, because you were gone, and there was nothing he could do to bring you back.

But he cried most for his blindness, how couldn’t he have noticed how you had felt, how had he let you feel so unloved, so ignored.

Self loathing plagued him as he sat there, pondering whether he could have saved your life, only if he hadn’t been so stupid.

He wished for time to turn back, he wished to change the way he had treated you, but it was too late.

fin.

#fanfic #football #real madrid #turkiye #arda güler #arda güler x reader #arda guler #football wags #angst #character death #sad poem #love #romantic #turkish #heartbreak

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mirandasidefics · 5 months ago

Text

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 9 (Pt1)

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel X Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Chapter 9 Pt1 Summary: Reader returns to the townhouse to see that Lucien has gone to the Spring Court. Per Ruhn, he asked him to make sure that Reader is okay. The emotions of the day hit her in an unexpected way. A week later Reader, Lucien, and Mor go to Day Court. It quickly becomes apparent that the Inner Circle likes to meddle. Well, so does the High Lord of the Day Court.

Word Count: 5.4K

Warning(s): Nightmares

A/N: This chapter will be split into two sections, mainly due to the similar themes throughout, but it was becoming a bit of an overload. A very special thank you to @hardcoremarvelfan for her assistance with this chapter start to finish! And thank you to my team of beta readers! You guys are all amazing! There is a lot going on in this chapter, and I promise we are getting closer to actually moving some of the plot forward. But character and relationship development is also important for what I have instore.

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 8

Nyx had fallen asleep rather quickly after the start of your personal one-woman rendition of Frozen 2. After tucking him in and saying your goodbye to Feyre and Elain, you opted to walk on your own back to the town house. You’ve walked along this route a few times and it didn’t pass by any of the pubs, so you didn’t have to worry about possibly running into any drunk males. Even if you did, you had been seen walking along the route with various members of the “Inner Circle'' and even the High Lord himself on more than one occasion. Someone would have to have a death wish to mess with you knowing that you worked directly for the High Lord and Lady.

The walk was just the thing you needed to help clear your mind of the emotionally taxing day. This morning had started off much differently than where your day had ended. Your good humor from the surprise offering of that apple to Azriel had long since disappeared. As the day went on the positive energy had been slowly drained out of you. Instead, it was replaced with irritation, a hairpin trigger temper, and resurfacing memories you longed to be forgotten. Today felt like the longest day in existence as you slowly trudged back to the town house.

The cold breeze off the Sidra flitted over your skin, hurrying you along. The day’s events added up and you couldn’t wait to see Lucien to discuss everything that happened. Well, almost everything. You still had a promise to keep to Nesta, even though you were certain that the other females would be telling their mates about your little ability to walk through the Prison wards without issue. Once Cassian knew something, it meant that it wouldn’t be long before Rhysand knew as well.

In what felt like record time, you found yourself walking up the steps leading to the front door. Your heart sputtered with the thought of not being able to tell Lucien what you had discovered. So far, you shared practically everything with the Autumn Court male. While he didn’t know everything about you or your past, you had made sure to keep him apprised of the inner workings of your mind and any event that happened while he was not directly next to you. That was something the two of you had agreed upon since your fight prior to moving to Velaris.

The door had been unlocked, which was something that you felt you’d never quite get used to. The interior of the town house was warm, a fire dancing in the parlor’s fireplace. You poked your head into the room expecting to see the near crimson shade of Lucien’s long hair hanging over the armrest of the couch. However, you were instead greeted by the infectious smile and vivid blue eyes of Ruhn.

“Hey there sweetness,” He called out. You felt your shoulders slump ever so slightly and hesitated on whether to fully enter the room. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be around Ruhn, but all you really wanted to do was talk to Lucien. You needed to decompress with your best friend from this emotional rollercoaster that was today.

“Hey,” Your voice was softer than you intended. Maybe Lucien was already in your room waiting for you. A book in his lap as he leaned against the headboard of the bed you both practically shared.

“That’s all I get? A simple ‘Hey’.” Ruhn teased, standing up from the couch.

“Sorry,” You tried to hide your own smile by pressing your lips into a thin line. “But is Lucien here?

“Ah, about that,” Ruhn took a few steps across the room, and you tried your best not to tense your shoulders again. “He…wanted me to tell you that he was called away. He had to go…check in on those allies in the south.”

“Oh,” Your chest felt heavy. “Okay.” A part of you couldn’t help but wonder at the truth of the statement.

“Is there…” He paused, his hand outstretched. Ultimately it came to rest on your shoulder before that violet stare looked you over. You fidgeted in place, picking at your nails. It wasn’t exactly like Lucien not to tell you himself if he was leaving. Sure, he’d left the Night Court without warning before, but he had always left you a note. “Can I help with anything?”

You met Ruhn’s gaze and hesitated. He and the others from Midgard were perfectly aware of your ongoing issues. They had all been at the Moonstone Palace in those early days. And while Bryce and Hunt would occasionally stay in a room at the House of Wind, Ruhn stayed at the town house full time with you. He knew all too well that the occasional nights away from Lucien still led to difficulty sleeping. But you never asked for any help from him or anyone else before. Lucien was the only one and those nights had just become routine. He was your safe space. Though the guilt had been lessening, you didn’t want to be a burden to anyone else. It wouldn’t be fair to ask Ruhn to step in, even if you knew he would without question.

“I should be okay,” You forced a smile to your lips. Taking his hand off your shoulder, you gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you though.” With that you turned and headed up the stairs to your room.

Sure enough, you were greeted by a cold and empty room. Lucien would typically use his magic to light the fire in the small hearth and have it blazing before you fell asleep. Tonight, you would have to go without. You knew how to get one going on your own, but you didn’t have the tools readily available tonight. Closing the curtains, you changed into your night clothes and readied for bed. You prayed that your sleep tonic tonight would be enough to keep the darkness at bay.

Blackness. Deep and penetrating. The surrounding darkness filled your vision. The color was so dense it swallowed any light that dared linger. The dark was followed by a bitter cold that seeped into your bones. Your hands stretched out in front of you, trying to guide you through the depths. The tips of your fingers were numb, giving way to a minor sensation in your palms. What should have felt like frozen air was instead slippery and oily. Something slithered across your forearm.

You opened your mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Another unknown thing wound up your leg. Still no sound could be heard past your lips. Up and up your thigh the scaly creature traveled. You tried to brush it away, but another wrapped around your wrist, pulling it back. The silence of the space around you was deafening. You kicked against the creature, trying your best to shake it off. You could feel the frozen tears along your cheeks. The creature coiled its way up slowly, a trail of black oil in its wake staining your skin. You pulled at your restrained wrist and continued to kick. Finally breaking free, you began to run. Getting no more than a few feet, your steps slowed. The ground beneath you turned into thick molasses. The sticky and slimy substance reeked of festering meat. Gagging at the stench you pulled your hands up to your mouth, only for the reek to become stronger. Looking down you saw your hands were covered in the same unknown substance. Suddenly your movements stopped altogether.

The stinking black ooze fully covered your feet and was rapidly rising; filling up the space that you were in. Panic latched itself onto you. With each attempt to free your limbs the world around you seemed to slow. Not that you could see much beyond your own body. The silver glow it emitted was immediately swallowed by the darkness. A deep rumbling caused the light to flicker.

“No!” You cried, but again the sound died instantly. The ooze continued to rise. The creature from before had wound its way around your waist. Your wrists were bound a second time above your head. You tried to kick again, but the ooze was nearly at your hips. How did it get so high? A bright flash of blue nearly blinded you.

“No!” You tried to scream a second time. The ooze was now at your neck, and the tears streamed down faster. The creature around you constricted tighter and you felt that deep rumbling at your back. You opened your mouth again to scream, but air was quickly replaced with that reeking oily darkness. You were going to die.

“(Y/N)! WAKE UP!” Your eyes snapped open. Tears clung to your eyelashes and blurred your vision. You tried to move your arms, but something kept them pinned down at your sides. Taking large gulps of air, you blinked and whipped your head around, desperately trying to find why the blackness had suddenly disappeared. The rushing of your blood pounded against your ears. Slowly, the sound subsided, and the tears dried up. A blast of cold wind snapped along your front. It was a stark contrast to the dull warmth at your back. You turned your head to look behind you. Moonlight drenched panic was visible in Ruhn’s features. Slowly you turned around, his arms never leaving you.

“R-Ruhn?” Your throat burned, hoarse from the screams you let out in your sleep. The male stood before you now, one arm wrapped around your middle while the other cradled your face. His thumb brushed at a tear that slipped down your cheek. You looked around, finally taking in your surroundings. You were on the roof of the town house. The Night Court sky, black speckled in deep blues and purples, twinkled with starlight. A nearly full moon hung low on the western horizon. Ruhn’s thumb continued to stroke along your cheek. The movement allowed you to slowly reorient yourself in your body.

“How…” You looked back at the male.

“You were sleepwalking,” His touch was so gentle, and his voice held the slightest tremble.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized. Ruhn chuckled.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby,” He pulled you towards his chest. Your feet stumbled as they came off the ledge. The stone of the building felt like ice under your bare feet. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

You nodded along and he guided you back to the roof entrance. You had only been up here a few times, so you were surprised that you found the door on your own. Especially since you had been asleep. Sleepwalking. You had never sleep walked before, and you could feel your body shake with the thought of what would have happened had Ruhn not been in the town house with you. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that you were already at your bedroom door.

“Did you take your tonic tonight?” Ruhn asked, leading you into the room.

��Yes,” You whispered, staring at your empty bed. The dark sheets were crumpled and half hanging off the side. Almost as if you had been in the fight of your life within the silk fabric.

“Then you’re not sleeping alone,” His tone was resolute. And if you hadn’t been in near shock, you may have fought against him. You watched in silence at the foot of the bed as he tucked the corners of the bottom sheet underneath the mattress. Once it was all set, he motioned for you to climb back in. You complied wordlessly, pulling the blankets back over yourself. He then sat in the armchair next to the bed and spread out the copper throw blanket over his legs.

“Take the rest of your tonic,” He instructed, “I’ll let the others know that you need the morning off.” His smile was gentle, and you genuinely felt safe. You again did as he instructed, and slumber claimed you again as soon as your head hit the pillow.

If you could only use a single word to sum up the Day Court, it was brilliant. The sun itself almost seemed to shine brighter than within the Night Court skies. The air certainly held a warmer quality that wasn’t solely because it was further south on the large island. No, the air almost reminded you of your own home in the fall. Just like the warm breeze flowing across your skin now, you didn’t get the crisp and cool Autumn winds in your hometown. A slight pang of nostalgia flooded through you.

The Autumn based holidays were always important to your family. You made a mental note to ask Lucien when the Autumn Equinox was set to occur. You could then use that as a base to count down the days to Samhain. Maybe this year you could celebrate the Wheel of Year in your own way. If you were going to be stuck here, you may as well continue your personal practice. You had been able to gather that Prythian followed a solar calendar and celebrated many similar holidays to your own Celtic roots. Maybe if everything worked out in your visit with Helion, you’d be able to study some of their holidays and mythology. You always loved reading about that in your own world.

You wondered if the libraries held the same level of grandeur as the High Lord’s palace. The hall that you found yourself walking along with Mor, who had firmly planted herself between you and Lucien, was nothing short of opulent. Large stone columns lined the hall, holding the ceiling aloft. To your best guess it would have been at least 20 feet high. Your eyes darted from pillar to pillar, each filled with various images. It reminded you of the temples and other sacred sites in ancient Egypt.

The hall eventually ended, sectioning off into two open air walkways that surrounded an open courtyard oasis. A large reflection pool with deep teal water took up half of the expansive space. An occasional floating lily pad was the only disruption to the smooth surface. The other half was walled off by a luscious garden. Your eyes lit up at the vivid greens ranging from deep emerald to olive to dusty sage in plants of all sizes. The few flowering plants all held buds and blossoms of a white hue. You could recognize only a scant few on sight. Roses, Calla Lilies, and Magnolia. It was breath-taking to say the least. You would have loved to lounge on one of the cushioned benches that were scattered throughout the area. A good book in one hand and a margarita in the other.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Morrigan walked up to your side. You hadn’t even realized that you had stopped to stare at the beautiful garden. She gently pulled your elbow encouraging you to continue moving. Rubbing the top of your left ear you followed suit. Rhysand requested that Lucien place a glamor on your ears to give them a pointed appearance. Mor gently clasped your wrist and pulled your hand away.

You weren’t entirely sure why Rhysand had insisted that she tag along on this journey. Really, you only needed one babysitter. So, having two seemed a bit overkill. But as much as Rhysand tried to pretend that you were more than just a thorn in his side, you knew that the only reason you even required an entourage was because he didn’t trust you to be alone with anyone outside of the Night Court.

You had nothing against Mor being here, and she was certainly a better option than some of the other members of the Inner Circle. For the most part you got along with her, but you also didn’t spend much time together to be more than cordial in each other’s presence. She often traveled to and from the continent for some reason or other. You weren’t privy to that information, nor did you really care. The internal workings of the Night Court held no real interest of yours.

You just wanted the opportunity to figure out a way home. The sooner you could do that, the sooner you could leave and return to the place where you knew you were wanted. Something deep in your gut told you that the longer you spent in this strange world the more likely you would get caught up in drama or events that frankly you’d rather not have to deal with. You had been perfectly comfortable with your life back home and you were eager to return before too much time had passed. You still had so many things you wished to accomplish.

Your mind was brought out of its wandering when Mor looped her arm with yours. She began to chatter about the marble sculptures that lined the walkway your group had taken on its way to wherever Helion was waiting. The Fae male escorting your group took you down another hallway, this one leading to a veranda. Nervously you reached towards your ear again, but Mor stopped you.

Helion sat on an ornately carved pine chaise with cream upholstery. Before him was a table lined with various meats, cheeses, fruits, and bread. A carafe filled with pale wine was in his hands. He had just finished filling a glass with the liquid when he looked up to see his visitors.

“Ah-ha!” His deep voice reverberated off the white marble walls. “I was beginning to think that you had gotten lost.” The High Lord set down the wine glass and stood. His arms outstretched as Mor’s arm slipped from where it encircled yours. The two embraced like the old friends they were.

Just as his home was an aesthetic vision of whites, so was the High Lord himself. The robe he wore hung from one shoulder and draped across his broad and toned chest, tucking into a golden belt. The rest of the fabric cascaded to the floor. Your eyes roved over his form. His golden-brown skin was perfectly sun-kissed, half of his thick black hair swept and pinned up accentuating his sharp jawline. The male was nothing short of godlike in appearance.

Next to you Lucien cleared his throat, before placing his index finger under your chin and closing your mouth for you.

“What?” You swatted his hand away.

“Really?” He leveled you with a look that was halfway between amused and exasperated. Heat flared on your cheeks. You hadn’t meant to gawk at the High Lord, but honestly no one should have expected any different. You opened your mouth to try and save your pride at having been caught so blatantly when Helion called out to Lucien.

“How are you?” The two males clasped their forearms together in greeting. “I’m thrilled that you were able to make it. I hear you and that brother of yours have been working tirelessly to help maintain…boundaries as of late. Hopefully this isn’t the only break Rhysand has given you?”

“I can safely say that this is a much-welcomed change of pace,” Lucien smiled. “Shall I introduce you to (Y/N)? Rhys and Mor’s cousin from the continent.” You tucked a strand of (h/c) hair behind your ear, a shy smile forming on your lips. You had nearly forgotten the cover story that had been provided to Helion. It struck you as ironic that Rhysand had come up with the idea, especially when he gave no indication of knowing how close to the truth it was.

“It’s very nice to meet you um…” You still weren’t certain of the best way to address him.

“Helion,” He smiled, and it seemed as if the room brightened along with it. “No need for formalities for such an informal situation wouldn’t you agree?” He took your hand and brought the back of your knuckles to his lips. You nodded in agreement, the ability to speak completely vacating your mind. You felt like a middle schooler again trying to talk to the dashingly handsome teacher. While you had been warned of the High Lord’s flirtatious nature, you didn’t fully realize how dangerous his looks would be on their own. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Lucien’s own mismatched eyes roll.

The High Lord stepped away and returned his attention to Mor, who had made herself comfortable on one of the plush chairs surrounding what was certainly to be your lunch. Lucien playfully poked you in the ribs. Suppressing a giggle, you pushed his hands away only for him to keep one on your waist.

“I’ve had my people prepare two rooms for you,” Helion began. “Per your request Lucien, you and-”

“Only two rooms?” Mor questioned, casually sipping from her wine glass. “Not that I mind sharing a room with my cousin.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. You felt Lucien tense as you continued towards the table. You had been under the impression that you and Lucien would share a room per your routine. Was that not the case? Had the concern of the time you and Lucien spent together spread beyond just Azriel and Nesta?

“Not exactly,” Helion’s smile almost seemed forced. You glanced at Lucien out of the corner of your eye. He appeared just as hesitant and uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going as you.

“So, a third room will be prepared as well then?” She picked a strawberry and brought it to her lips. Your heartrate kicked up. Would you really be forced to sleep by yourself for your short stay here? You had had nightmares all week, even after taking your tonic and Ruhn staying with you as promised. You had your tonic, but you were not prepared to be alone. From the looks on Lucien and Helion’s faces neither had they.

“No, Mor,” Helion stated simply. The High Lord motioned for you and Lucien to take your seats on the small couch. “Lucien and (Y/N) will share a room as I have discussed with him.”

“Even though he’s mated to another female?” You couldn’t suppress the surprise on your features fast enough. “His High Lady’s sister to be exact.” You half expected a satisfied smirk or even feigned concern on Elain’s behalf given her tone, but her expression gave nothing away. It suddenly clicked that this was the reason that Mor was present. She was to run interference between Lucien and you. To keep you separated, regardless of what that meant for you.

Her statement only confirmed your recent anxieties. Those outside of your bedroom believe your friendship with Lucien was crossing into a questionable realm. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Surly Morrigan, whose power was somehow related to seeing the truth, would know that your relationship with Lucien was strictly platonic. Your friendship was the only thing that kept you stable. Did they all really expect you to have completely healed by now?

That must be the case, since it appeared everyone around you believed it was high time that you learned to manage your issues on your own. It didn’t matter that others had been given the time and resources and social support they all ultimately needed to heal. You had been granted time and Lu was your support. So…maybe they were right. Despite Lucien saying that everything was fine, maybe you depended on him too much. And if an effort to separate you was being made, maybe you had inadvertently prevented Elain from seeking out her mate. Maybe-

“It seems that there is a misunderstanding regarding my relationship with (Y/N),” Lucien cut in, his hand finding its way to the small of your back. “I help her with her nightmares, which have recently escalated to include sleepwalking. She nearly-” You looked at him. Did Ruhn tell him about that first night he was away? About how you nearly walked off the rooftop.

“Then maybe we should seek the assistance of Thesan regarding a stronger tonic to help her get the restful sleep she needs,” Mor’s interjection was quick. This discussion had the potential to quickly get out of hand.

“Helion,” Your voice was soft, and again you played with your ear. “Perhaps, if its not too much trouble, a separate room for myself would be best.” The warmth supporting your back vanished as you looked to the High Lord. For a split second you could have sworn that sadness flickered in his eyes. The male held your gaze for a moment, before slowly nodding. Helion called over one of the males that stood by the entrance to the veranda instructing him to advise that a third room would be needed.

“Given the concerns of your sleepwalking,” He looked to Lucien briefly before returning his gaze to you. “I will personally see to it that the appropriate wards are set so that you can rest easy and walk about the room without getting hurt.” Lucien’s hand returned to your lower back as you took a deep breath.

“Thank you.” You dipped your chin in acknowledgement and apology. The remainder of the afternoon passed quickly. The conversation switched to various topics, most of which your brain couldn’t seem to focus on. You answered questions that Helion directed towards you, but you kept your responses short.

When the room was prepared, the High Lord himself showed you the way, setting up the wards as promised. He allowed you to have some time alone before reuniting for dinner. You didn’t have the heart to tell him or any of your companions that all you could manage to do while alone was stare out the doorless entrance to the balcony overlooking the large palace grounds. Instead, you lied, claiming to have taken a nap.

At dinner, Mor insisted on sitting between you and Lucien. Her reasoning was that it would allow you to focus on a conversation with Helion. Again, your focus on the conversation was strained. By the time you returned to your designated room you felt like a zombie just going through the motions. You bathed and changed into a set of night clothes you reserved for warmer weather. Holding one of the four bottles of the sleep tonic that you brought with you, you sat on the foot of the massive bed. You had been so lost in your dissociation that you had yet to take in its splendor. You stared at the bottle, debating on drinking half or the entire thing. Even with the shields in place you didn’t want to risk your body having the energy to physically get up. So, popping the cork you downed the entire contents. Within seconds your vision faded, and the world went black.

A couple days had passed since you, Lucien, and Morrigan arrived in the Day Court. Throughout that time, Mor had rarely left your side and it was grating on your nerves. You had hoped that you would have the opportunity to talk with Lucien regarding everything that had happened since the day you went to the Prison. Unfortunately, that opportunity was thwarted at every turn. Her presence made you feel on edge.

You had terrible dreams that first night here, the sleeping tonic proving to be of no real use. You wondered if your body was starting to become more tolerant of whatever ingredients went into making it, or if you were being given something else entirely. While insomnia wasn’t new to you, it certainly was much more irritating to deal with when you had no access to the heavy drugs of Western medicine. So, instead of continuing to drink shit that did nothing you decided that you just weren’t going to sleep. By your count, you had foregone sleep for nearly 40 hours now. The longer you stayed in your room, the more the shadows started to play tricks on you. Which is why you found yourself wandering the halls of Helion’s palace just before dawn.

“I do not make my decision lightly Morrigan,” Your body jumped in surprise as Helion’s deep voice rumbled through hall. “Had you not been so preoccupied with your…companion that night, I’m certain that you would have heard her screams. The rest of my estate certainly did.”

You scurried behind one of the large pillars as their voices grew. You could hear Mor respond, but the words themselves were difficult for your human ears to pick up on. Your face flushed at the realization that he was talking about you. You had screamed yourself hoars in those early morning hours after your first night. Lucien had practically broken down the door to get to you, Helion hot on his heels. As soon as you managed to stop crying you apologized profusely to the pair. Lucien offered to stay with you after that, but you knew that with Mor around it wouldn’t be wise. So begrudgingly he left you to get ready for the day.

“This is not a slight against you,” He reassured the female as they came into view. You pressed yourself as close to the pillar as possible.

“It certainly feels as such since you are asking only me to leave,” She quipped. “Helion, what am I supposed to tell my cousin when I return alone?”

“If you must give him an answer then tell Rhysand this,” Helion smiled at Morrigan. “I cannot come to trust her when she does not feel comfortable around certain members of his court.” The pair halted, stopping before an insanely large looking glass.

“Let me talk to her without his ever-watchful eyes and ears,” You watched as Helion set his hand on her shoulder. “That means take the Shadowsinger back with you.” His final sentence was delivered with a coldness you had not anticipated hearing.

It took a few seconds for your brain to process what he said. Azriel was also here and lurking around. Your eyes did not play any tricks on you last night after all. Those were Azriel’s shadows peeking out behind the curtains of your room. From the reflection in the hallway mirror, you saw Mor’s eyes widen slightly before that perfected Night Court façade slipped in place.

“Lucien and Azriel can return-”

“Lucien is the only one she is comfortable with; therefore, he will remain here in his emissary capacity,” A shiver shot down your spine at the level of authority held within the High Lord of

Day’s voice. “I’m not trying to steal (Y/N) away after all.”

“But he’s mated-”

“And has that bond been accepted?” He challenged. “He’s a grown male and she’s a grown woman. They do not need your nor Rhysand’s interference in their lives and how they wish to live them.” You wished that you were able to see the look on Helion’s face. He didn’t even know you and yet he was fighting with Mor, someone he knew well, on your behalf.

“You saw through her glamor,” Mor kept her air of indifference.

“No,” Helion laughed. “She keeps touching the tops of her ears. I don’t know of any High Fae that touch their ears the way she has been. I merely guessed at her being human, so thank you for the confirmation.” So much for your disguise. It wasn’t your fault that the magic felt like the top of your ears had lost circulation. That pins and needles sensation was unsettling.

“It is interesting to watch them though, is it not? How when in the same space they are so unconsciously aware of each other. One shifts as the other does.” His deep voice sounded further away, as if he was remembering something.

“Then you understand the concern,” Mor pressed.

“I do not,” Helion resumed their walk. “Those in the Night Court have been blessed with finding their mates and happiness of being with them. While many place these bonds above all else, you and I both know from personal experience that finding your mate doesn’t guarantee a happy life.” Mor sighed as she followed him.

“You’re right,” She linked her arm through his. “They do have a unique relationship that the others don’t want to acknowledge.” The two walked in silence for a while, their voices growing soft in the distance.

“Has his mate made any comment?” You could barely make out his last question, and you couldn’t even hear Mor’s response. Their conversation sent your mind reeling. So many questions swarmed to the surface. Had your friendship with Lucien really crossed some unknown social taboo? If that was the case, then you certainly had a lot to think about.

Next: Chapter 9 Part 2-Coming Soon

General TAG List: @loving-and-dreaming

BHIN TAG LIST: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie @fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion @randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine @jpgtae @cheneyq

Crossed out names wouldn't let me tag you, or tag the correct blog.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #lucien x reader #crescent city x reader #bhinfic #lucien vanserra x reader #azriel x plus size reader #lucien vanserra x plus size reader #ruhn x reader #ruhn danaan x reader #ruhn danaan x plus size reader

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paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 1 year ago

Text

close to home | chapter sixteen

plot: the reader is on the mend when the governor attacks the prison, leaving her found family scattered

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,742 Warnings: violence, blood, loss A/N: thanks for reading!

Daryl was sitting on the floor of your quarantine cell block when you started to stir. It had been about eight hours since the medicine was administrated into your veins, and he hadn’t left your side during that time, save for when Rick had told him that he’d banished Carol after murdering Karen and David.

He swallowed his anger and went for a walk but ended up at your cell. He grabbed a few of your personal items, like the book you always said you were reading but never seemed to finish, your water bottle, and even double-backed to grab your bow and arrow because it would make you laugh when you woke up. Then he returned to your quarantine cell and waited for you to wake.

When he noticed you were starting to wake up, he grabbed the metal chair Hershel had left and sat down next to the cot. Slowly your eyes opened, and he watched you look around before focusing on him.

“That would’ve been one hell of a way to die,” You croaked out. Your voice was hoarse and full of exhaustion.

But your first words were a joke, and Daryl shook his head in relief. “Nah, wouldn’ have been cool at all,”

You sighed heavily and tried to look around. “How is everybody?”

“They’re fine… you?” He asked.

You shrugged your shoulders and pulled the scratchy blanket up. “Tired, but okay.”

“You should sleep some ‘ore. You nearly died last night.” Daryl said, chewing on his thumbnail. The image of you choking to death was still fresh on his mind, and even though he had tried to clean the blood off your face, it still lingered.

“Normally, I would argue, but I’m so tired,” You said. “Where’s Tora?”

“With Carl in the office building. He got her, don’ you worry.”

You smiled up at Daryl tiredly, “I wasn’t worried,” You took a tired glance around the room and tried to laugh when you saw the bow and arrow in the corner, but it came out in coughs. “You brought my bow,”

“Figured you might miss seein’ it around since you never use it anyway,”

But you were too far gone to respond, and Daryl watched as you started to fall back asleep. Your hand unclenched around the blanket, and your mouth parted, breaths deepening. You were asleep. He sighed happily. Sleeping meant you were healing. Soon you’d be out of the cell block and back home in yours, and things would be okay again. He would make sure something like this never happened again.

Daryl slowly reached out to you, running his fingers along the curve of your cheek. He had no idea how someone he’s only known for a few months managed to creep her way into his heart. He cared about you deeply; you were his best friend. He honestly didn’t know how much he cared about you. He knew it ran deep, and he didn’t have the words to explain it.

“Daryl,”

He jumped at the sound of his name and turned back to see Rick. With flushed cheeks, he followed Rick out of the cell block. They had plans to tell Tyreese about what happened with Carol and how Rick had handled it. Daryl was a bit nervous about how it would go--especially after the last time that they had any type of discussion.

But when they reached Tyreese, they followed him into the tombs, and he showed them a rabbit pinned to a board and picked apart. Daryl was still trying to understand what happened when a loud explosion happened, and the prison shook.

***

You didn’t wake up when the first explosion sounded. You were too far gone in your slumber to notice that at all. It wasn’t until your shoulder shook ferociously that you were pulled from sleep and your eyes shot open.

You could smell the fire in the air, gunshots echoing outside, and the sound of people screaming. You felt like you were in a nightmare.

“(Y/N), wake up!”

When you came to, Lizzie was standing above you. Her eyes were frightful, and she was a few seconds away from crying. “What’s going on?” You asked.

“Someone attacked us. We have to go now.” She said.

The young girl helped you to your feet, and you looked around the room, grabbing your weapons and layering on them. You paused at the bow and arrow before stringing it over your shoulders. Your hands were shaking as you tried to think where your family was. But with the chaos, they could be anywhere.

Lizzie grabbed your hand and helped you walk the few steps it took you to balance out, and despite the lingering sickness, you were steady. You led the way out of the cell block and into the courtyard, where a full-on warzone was taking place.

“Over there!” Lizzie yelled suddenly, pointing to where Mika and a few other children were running. “We followed the plan but I went back for you.”

You wanted to cry with relief when you saw one of the kids carrying Tora, who looked absolutely frightened. She had been with Judith in the office buildings, and of course, the kids wouldn’t have left them behind.

“Okay, let’s go,” You said, ushering the young girl forward. You took a second to look around, but you couldn’t see anyone. You could hear gunshots, though. They were close. You told the kids to stay where they were and followed the gunshots, watching as a few people cornered Tyreese. You were just about to launch your attack when Lizzie stepped before you, pulling the trigger and killing the people.

You and Tyreese stared at each other momentarily before Lizzie took off.

“They have Judith. We need to get them out of here,” You said, looking around. “Have you seen Maggie or Beth? Uncle Hershel?”

Tyreese shook his head, and you didn’t need to exchange other words. You both turned back to where Lizzie and the other kids were, but only Lizzie and Mika were. Both Tora and Judith were still there. You scooped up your cat and shoved her into Lizzie’s arms, taking her gun while Tyreese grabbed the baby.

“Daryl? Did Daryl get out?” You asked as you and Tyreese led the girls to the other side of the courtyard.

“We were shooting at them,” Tyreese said, checking back to ensure the girls followed. “I got cornered, and that’s when you came up. I don’t know. Did you see Sasha?”

You shook your head and ran through the broken fence. You weren’t sure how it was broken on this side, but you didn’t question it. You had to get them out of here, and you had to protect them.

***

The four of you had been walking for what seemed like hours when you finally stopped. With barely any supplies, you knew you needed to regroup. They had managed to grab Judith’s go bag, and at least they didn’t have to worry about her. But it was everyone else you had to worry about.

Dusk was nearly settled, and it would be dark soon. You were thankful it was still summer, and you wouldn’t have to worry about cold temperatures.

Lizzie and Mika were exhausted and collapsed as soon as you found a spot to settle in. Tyreese laid out Judith and worked on starting a fire. You checked the area to make sure it was okay and finally took a deep breath.

“I’m going to go out a little bit. Try and see what I can see,” You told Tyreese, fiddling with the string of your bow. “We barely got any weapons and I wanna see if I can catch us something to eat.”

Tyreese looked at the girls and then you, “Don’t go far. Shouting distance.”

You nodded and then set out, whistling for Tora. You could use her senses in the dark, and hopefully, she’d be able to catch something for you.

***

An hour later, you were sitting by the fire, eating the last few bites of an owl you managed to bring down. Tora sat between your legs, purring loudly while munching on a few bites. Both the girls were eating with tired eyes, and Tyreese was feeding Judith.

The fire was getting low, and you both decided to let it die. After having dinner and boiling some water you found at a nearby creak, there was no other use.

Another twenty minutes later, the girls seemed to have fallen asleep, and you were leaning against a fallen tree, holding a sleeping baby. Tyreese was discarding the animal bones and checking around again.

You sat in the dark, silent, and watched the last remaining fire embers go out. When they finally did, your breath shook, and you felt tears prick your eyes. You couldn’t stop them from falling, and you bit down on your free hand to keep yourself from sobbing.

Tyreese came into view and hesitated when he saw you crying. But he walked over and sat down, taking Judith from your arms and bringing you under an arm. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay,” He told you quietly.

That only made you cry harder, and you hid by his side, trying not to wake the girls as you mourned everything you lost. Your mind raced with images of your family, of your friends, and of your precious life. Maggie, Beth, and Uncle Hershel were all lost. You had no idea how even to begin looking for them. The prison was so overrun that you couldn’t look for a roaming body. And Carl, Rick, and Michonne… Carol and Sasha. They were all gone.

But somehow, Daryl’s face was the one that kept reappearing in your mind, and it made an unfathomable amount of pain and panic rise in your chest until it bubbled over and strangled the breath out of you. You didn’t know if he was alive or not, and you would never know. You could barely remember the feverish conversation you had with him this morning, and your last memory of them was that look of panic when he realized you were sick.

Tyreese gripped your shoulder and held you tightly, offering comfort in a way that you so desperately needed. You tried your hardest to stay quiet for the girls. Not that it mattered; too soon, walkers could be heard, and you woke the girls, scooped up Tora, and were on the run again.

#daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #twd #daryl twd #daryl x you

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sublimetragedychopshop · 1 year ago

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BABE PLS PLS PLS BRING BACK PLAYER YAN X READER

Player Yandere Part 2 (sorry it’s not long like last time)

This is for everyone that wanted a part two cuz I didn’t even know where to go off of after the first part The story sets with our dear Bitch Yandere who finally figured it out that they have feelings for you right? That YOU are the one making THEM feel all these feelings that they thought they were INCAPABLE of. It was quite the shock. But getting over that their goal changes just ever so slightly.

Plan:

1. Make you fall head over heels for them.

2. Use you

3. Toss you away in the most humiliating way possible

Yeah then it became this:

1. Make you fall in love with them

2. LOVE YOU FOREVER AND EVER AND NEVER LET YOU GO

3. Have a happy life and even death because I swear they are planning to bury y’all in the same coffin.

Yeah, not too much of a change. Though just when they finally realized that they are in love with you, they start small. First, deleting any other person in their phone; cuz having other people in their phone would be cheating right? Bye, past hookups. Bye, friends with benefits. Bye, dumbass dorks that thought they had a chance.

Next was the stalking information gathering! When they were playing and bothering you before; they never really dived deep into you. Sure they used to take a glance or too at your social medias (or lack thereof). But now they seemed to make it a habit of learning ALL THEY CAN. What do you like to do outside of school? Which subject is your favorite? What’s your favorite food and why? Do you love them? Ever had a childhood pet? What is your favorite memory? Do you think about them as they do you? Ever had any girlfriends or boyfriends? (Careful with this one; your answer will result in the possible death of someone) it seemed they liked to keep information about you in their phone-that they filled with you, you, YOU- in flash drives, computers, notebooks. Even though they don’t seem like the studious type, they would EXCEL in the study of YOU.

Third, was getting their new found feelings across to you. People SNAP their necks at the 180 degree turn of their personality now. It seems like a totally different person has taken over their body. Do they have a twin or something? Because (yan) would never talk like that or do those things in a MILLION years. Their usual flirty, easy going personality switched to a regular and reserved one. No more unnecessary touching, sweet words or crude gestures. No, that side of them is ONLY reserved for you now. They HAVE to let you know how serious they are about you. How much they are willing to change just for you to look at them even for a moment more. Open and sexy clothes that they used to wear? Oh yeah, they only wear modest clothing now. Why? Because that’s basically disrespecting you! Why should other people get to see them like that when they are all yours?!

Surprisingly- or not— everyone catches wind of this. News is spreading like wildfire everywhere. From their little posse of gossipy Rich kids to even the nobodies of the school know now that the schools “Player” changed and fell in love. Of course everyone is coming up with their own story.

“I heard that they are being blackmailed by (y/n)- something like their parents are secretly SUPER RICH and they have some dirt on them-“

“No- (y/n) DEFINITELY did some type of hypnosis on them.” “Alex told me that (yan) got SOLD by their parents to (y/n) so that they wouldn’t go bankrupt. Like, one direction wattpad plot who?”

It was very annoying for you. Coming back to school expecting for everything to be normal, only to come back to your usual pest (yan) acting weird and even MORE annoying than usual, news that your in a relationship they you didn’t even know about, rumors of how your blackmailing, trafficking,brainwashing someone that you would LOVE to get rid of.

With a sigh, you got up to leave the classroom. Lecture time went by as you tried so hard to focus on the teacher, but to the pin prick feeling that you got from peoples stares made it a little hard to concentrate. Even walking through the campus, people felt the need to LITERALLY, VERY OBVIOUSLY stare and whisper in your direction. Let’s see how you react to this situation now..

(Sorry babe, life has been kinda busy lately. Thanks sooooo much for requesting a part 2 tho! 💖its nice to know people really like my schmuck of a yandere. If anyone has any ideas, comments or anything my inbox is open !! 💖)

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere shitpost #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere ramblings #yandere scenarios #yande.re #yandere player!#yandere oc #sorry it took me forever I was getting my ass beat by school

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arbitrarycategories · 6 months ago

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Hey would you mind sharing what the real point of jekyll and hyde is that Hollywood missed? I have never read the book

You just made my night actually THANK YOU

Long so it’s under a cut :)

(you should totally read the book, it’s not super long and it’s actually really good)

okay tw murder and suicide and like. Violence I guess. It’s a psychological thriller from the Victorian era idk what y’all expect

Alright here’s the part where I admit I’ve never seen a Jekyll and Hyde movie but I HAVE seen various iterations of him in pop culture monster movies where he’s some quirky background character yknow?? The pop culture idea of this guy is kind of wild

First things first!!! Pop culture would have you believe that Dr. Jekyll has a wife or a girlfriend or some shit that Mr. Hyde wants to ravage or cheat on or whatever!! This is false because the only female characters in the entire book are a little girl who gets trampled to establish how Evil Hyde Is and a woman who calls the cops after witnessing a murder as she took a smoke break on a balcony. Neither one of them even has a name :) this is a book with NO BITCHES okay??? There’s barely even any men

Important Character round up!

Mr. Utterson the Lawyer (most of the book is from his viewpoint)

Dr. Lanyon (a friend to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Utterson)

Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde (respected Chemist/criminal)

Poole the butler <3

And that’s IT.

Okay there’s also some parliament guy who gets murdered but like whatever. He’s just there to get killed. Bye.

So a very basic plot synopsis is that Mr. Utterson is the guy in charge of Dr. Jekyll’s Will. Because of this he happens to be sort-of-friends with Jekyll because neither of them really have many friends. They’re also both friends with Dr. Lanyon.

Mr. Utterson first becomes aware of Mr. Hyde as a person who exists when a friend (unimportant) of his tells him about this guy who trampled a little girl. Obviously this is fucked up, but the friend has more to the story. Bystanders didn’t let this guy just trample a little girl, they demanded compensation so that she could pay a doctor to help her. Hyde went to a door (which the friend points out bc he and Utterson are on a walk) and makes out a check under the name of Jekyll. And so Utterson is like. Huh what

He goes home and looks at Jekyll’s Will, and Hyde is the guy set to get all his stuff if Jekyll disappears!! And so Utterson is like well that doesn’t make sense for MY friend the Extremely Respected Chemist. So naturally he’s curious and goes poking in that polite Victorian way.

It turns out Hyde lives in Soho but is a FREQUENT visitor to Jekyll’s house, has a key and all the servants know him etc. nobody knows how he and Jekyll met and they’re all a little afraid to ask.

And then there’s a year long timeskip actually. Utterson asked and Jekyll said “yeah don’t worry about it :)” and then we just skip a year.

We come back because Mr parliament gets MURDERED in what seems to be a crime of passion by a certain Mr. Hyde. Like the fact that the guy killed was in parliament was a complete coincidence. I keep meaning to look up the guys name to see if he was a real guy who was just really hated or something but I never get around to it. Anyway. Hyde beats him to death with his cane.

OH YEAH. Break hang on.

HERES THE OTHER THING HOLLYWOOD FUCKS UP THAT I ALMOST FORGOT!!! Hyde is not Hulk!!! He’s not big he has no muscles he’s literally an itty bitty guy!! He’s described as “particularly small”, “little man”, “of small stature”. He’s tiny!!! Truly exemplifying that short people are closer to the devil etc whatever he’s itty bitty and super fucking mean like the worlds worst chihuahua given human form.

Alright back to PLOT

The police recognize Hyde pretty much from the witness description of him, and Utterson is like “well that’s easy I Know Where He Lives” but they can’t find him even though his neighbors all sell him out and they literally go to his place in Soho.

So Utterson goes to ask his good friend Jekyll, who he knows is close with Hyde, where the fuck his buddy is!!! And Jekyll is having like a full on nervous breakdown at this point. Jekyll swears that he’s “done with” Hyde and “he will never more be heard of”. He’s sweating and shaking and generally looking like he’s on drugs or something.

Hyde conveniently left a letter to Jekyll (wow!!) that basically said he had fled the country and thanks for being his friend this whole time :) Utterson has a lil convo with Jekyll where he becomes convinced that since all of Jekyll’s stuff went to Hyde if he disappeared that Hyde was planning to murder Jekyll but the heat from killing a member of parliament had scared him off so Jekyll is safe now. If what Utterson thought was happening was what was ACTUALLY happening this would probably be where the story ends. But NO. First bc Utterson hired a guy to analyze the handwriting on the letter from Hyde to Jekyll and the guy (literally named Mr. Guest) was like “yeah this is Jekyll writing with a different slant idk who he’s fooling” and so Utterson is now convinced that Jekyll is covering for Hyde for some reason

And SECOND because jekyll starts acting like a crazy person. Poole the butler shows up at Utterson’s house one day like “hey my boss is freaking me out and also his voice changed?? I think Hyde is living in his room and pretending to be jekyll”

So naturally they bust into his locked room with an axe. Like you do. It’s not his bedroom it’s like his chemistry room idk they just call it his cabinet but it’s Clearly Some Kind of Lab. Anyway they find Hyde’s dead body on the floor <3 he has pretty explicitly killed himself with cyanide.

They also find a couple letters, which make up the rest of the book.

The first one is from Dr. Lanyon (remember Lanyon?). Lanyon writes all about how Jekyll started acting like a crazy person and had him deliver a drawer (like, pulled out of a dresser and full of chemicals) from Jekyll’s cabinet to Hyde, who Lanyon has never met. The description is this part is actually really good, you can tell it’s Hyde who shows up to meet Lanyon even though it never says his name. This is the part where he mixes the chemicals like the worlds worst smoothie and then fucking Shapeshifts back into Jekyll right in front of Lanyon :) why did he Do this. At this point in the story we are hearing this from Lanyon’s letter instead of Lanyon himself because Lanyon fucking Died when it was still Uttersons pov and didn’t tell anyone what he had learned?? He thought nobody would believe him ig but he tells Utterson he has had a shock and will die within a few weeks and then he literally Does. Like what the fuck man.

The next letter is from Jekyll!! It is a confession of how exactly Hyde came to be AND WHY.

Look me in the eyes. THIS IS THE PART POP CULTURE GETS COMPLETELY WRONG!!!!!!

Jekyll, being a well respected Member of Society, wanted to expunge himself of all evil desires by splitting himself into two people, one who is good and one who is evil. He manages to make a chemical potion of some kind that lets him shift between two bodies. Here’s where the text will get you: Jekyll is an unreliable narrator.

IT DOESNT WORK!!!!! He claims that Hyde immediately felt more evil but was shocked when he switched back to Jekyll and didn’t feel any different than before. Jekyll is still just as good and JUST AS EVIL as before he downed his magic shapeshifting potion!! Jekyll didn’t invent a second, more evil form, he invented a mask he could hide behind that let him escape all accountability for his actions.

And you know the most damning proof?? The switch has started happening without him drinking the potion. He will go to sleep as Jekyll and wake up as Hyde, and it’s taking more and more doses to turn back into Jekyll. At the time he writes the letter, he is permanently stuck as Hyde, but the letter is from JEKYLL and laments the guilt he feels for actions done as Hyde. He condemns Hyde as if that IS a separate person!! But Hyde has the same mind and should that Jekyll does, just a different face, and Jekyll is lying to himself.

Anyway that’s what happens in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It’s all about this lawyer dealing with the most Batshit series of events a client has ever made him deal with <3

#jekyll and hyde #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #arbitrary speaks #thanks anon!

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historicallyaccuratecheese · 11 months ago

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I’m now halfway through The Magnus Archives’ 1st season, so I thought it would be cool to just post my thoughts on each episode so far :). (Spoilers, I like all of them, and this podcast is going to be all I care about for a while.) Also NO SPOILERS PLEASE!!!

Link to Masterpost (contains all of these thought posts)

- Episode 1, Anglerfish 🚬

Statement of Nathan Watts, regarding an encounter on Old Fishmarket Close, Edinburgh.

Really strong start, not the scariest episode so far but definitely unnerving, and it gives a good first impression and layer of intrigue. While the story is simple in comparison to the later ones, it was still enjoyable, and I was just appreciating the atmosphere and framing device of the episode as well.

- Episode 2, Do Not Open ⚰️

Statement of Joshua Gillespie, regarding his time in the possession of an apparently empty wooden casket.

This is still one of my favorites. The whole time I was on edge, and this was the first episode that really kept me up at night. I went from wanting to know what was inside the coffin desperately, to wanting to stay away from it as much as possible. Joshua’s insuring dread and creative solution to his problems was fantastic, and it ends with some intriguing plot threads being set up.

- Episode 3, Across The Street 📓

Statement of Amy Patel, regarding the alleged disappearance of her acquaintance Graham Folger.

I think I share a common sentiment when I say that Amy stalking Graham was almost as creepy as the actual horror lmao. Overall I don’t have that much to say about this one, but it was very enjoyable, and I feel really bad for Graham in retrospect :(.

- Episode 4, Pageturner 📕

Statement of Dominic Swain, regarding a book briefly in his possession in the winter of 2012.

I…feel like I should hold off on talking about this one for now. While it was definitely well written and creepy, it just seems to be so full of setup for future plot lines that I almost don’t feel like I can form a concise opinion on it until I really get what’s going on. Honestly, my only complaint with this episode is that maybe it’s setting up TOO much in one go, but I still had a good time with it overall.

- Episode 5, Thrown Away 🗑️

Statement of Kieran Woodward, regarding items recovered from the refuse of 93 Lancaster Road, Walthamstowe.

This one actually did a pretty good job at getting me to think about waste disposal workers lmao, I never really thought about them like that before. This one was just really creepy, but also kind of fun in a weird twisted way. It did a great job keeping me on edge as well.

- Episode 6, Squirm 🪱

Statement of Timothy Hodge, regarding his sexual encounter with Harriet Lee and her subsequent death.

I am simultaneously horrified, and unfortunately aroused by what happened here.

- Episode 7, The Piper 🔫

Statement of Staff Sgt. Clarence Berry, regarding his time serving with Wilfred Owen in the Great War.

Having an episode set nearly 100 years ago is a really fun idea, and it’s executed perfectly here. It was interesting how it also featured a real person, and I liked how the paranormal activity felt more metaphorical here, it really did feel like it was showcasing the horror of war.

- Episode 8, Burned Out 🌳

Statement of Ivo Lensik, regarding his experiences during the construction of a house on Hill Top Road, Oxford.

I found this one to be very nerve-wracking, since not only was the whole scenario with the tree just, like…three creepy things happening at once, but the fact that the statement was given by someone with schizophrenia did a good job making me question it’s validity, even though I’m certain it’s true after listening to a later statement. I also hope that I get to see how the history of the house is unveiled in the future.

- Episode 9, A Father’s Love 💡

Statement of Julia Montauk, regarding the actions and motivations of her father, the serial killer Robert Montauk.

This one made me feel really sad :(. I really felt Julia’s despair in this one (Jonathan Sims does such great voice acting for every statement btw, both the character and the actual person), and I was even more saddened by the implications of why Robert did what he did. If my assumptions are correct, then…SCREW THE MOTHER! It was also the first one that got me thinking about where exactly all of the paranormal stuff comes from, and later episodes only add to my theory that it’s all due to demons/cults/higher powers.

- Episode 10, Vampire Killer 🧛🏻

Statement of Trevor Herbert, regarding his life as a self-proclaimed vampire hunter.

Much like Episode 8, this one did a really good job at making me question the validity of the statement, although I became more sure of its truth a bit earlier. I also just love how nonchalant Trevor comes off as, compared to all of the other traumatized horror victims. (Also, I’m guessing that the name Trevor and the episode title are meant to be a Castlevania reference?) While vampires aren’t the most creative thing for an episode, at least in comparison to everything else, the beast-like execution here more than made up for it in my opinion.

- Episode 11, Dreamer 💭

Statement of Antonio Blake, regarding his recent dreams about Gertrude Robinson, previous Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute.

Yeah…Gertrude Robinson did not die a normal death. My guess is that she was caught by ✨the horrors✨, but I’ll wait and see. This was another very tense episode, with the prophetic dream world being really, REALLY creepy. I do hope we get to see more of “Antonio” in the future, as I think he could be quite important. (I also hope he gets punched for DUMPING GRAHAM IN HIS TIME OF NEED-)

- Episode 12, First Aid 🏥

Statement of Lesere Saraki, regarding a recent night-shift at St. Thomas Hospital, London.

OMG GERARD KEAY HI HI HI HI HOW ARE YOU!!! Yeah I audibly gasped when he showed up again, it was such a cool moment. Anyways, hospitals already creep me the fuck out so this was pretty effective. Definitely some great setup here, and it helped to make a bit more sense of Pageturner, now that I have a better idea of what Gerard’s whole deal is. It also added some good fuel to the whole cult idea, and my god this poor nurse. Having to deal with all of this in a single night sounds like hell.

- Episode 13, Alone 🌫️

Statement of Naomi Herne, regarding the events following the funeral of her fiancé, Evan Lukas. Statement taken direct from subject.

Having a new voice in this episode was really cool, and Katie Davison did an excellent job as Naomi! It was also cool to see how Jon interacts with other people, he was…nicer than expected. This episode honestly felt like it was calling me out, as I am also someone who’s confident in my independence, but if I was in Naomi’s place I would also probably be scared shitless. I really hope she’ll get a happy ending :(. Also, The Lukas family is quite intriguing, especially since we now know they have a connection to The Institute…

- Episode 14, Piecemeal 👆

Statement of Lee Rentoul, regarding the murder of his associate Paul Noriega.

Firstly, this is probably my favorite of Jon’s vocal deliveries. His performance of Lee Rentoul just feels perfect. (Once again, this applies to both the writer and the character, I’m genuinely convinced the latter is an ex-theatre kid.) Outside of that, THIS ONE CREEPED ME OUT. The body horror was very effective, with the only thing holding it back being the fact that Lee isn’t the most likable protagonist in the podcast, but if this happened to someone else I’d be even more upset. Still though, it was a very creative concept, and the whole vibe and execution of the episode made it great.

- Episode 15, Lost Johns’ Cave 🕯️

Statement of Laura Popham, regarding her experience exploring the Three Counties System of caves with her sister Alena Sanderson.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fu-

- Episode 16, Arachnophobia 🕷️

Statement of Carlos Vittery, regarding his arachnophobia and its manifestations.

The way they tackled the concept in the title was really well done. Arachnophobia is seen as an irrational fear by a lot of people, so having it portrayed as an effect of childhood trauma was a good call. And as someone who is not arachnophobic, this episode got me close to feeling that way. What ever force was making Carlos relive his trauma is a sick fuck. Also the cat was a real one, glad he survived the whole situation. (Also THE WORMS, HOLY SHIT IT’S THE SEX WORMS!!!)

- Episode 17, The Boneturner’s Tale 🦴

Statement of Sebastian Adekoya, regarding a new acquisition at Chiswick Library.

This episode really compelled me to get out the rubber bands connecting images lmao. I really liked all of the connections to past statements here, like the presence of another book from the library of Jurgen Leitner, to the mention of Micheal Crew. The body horror here was once again very creepy, (outside of the flat rat, that was morbidly funny), but my favorite part of the episode was the introduction of Elias, which was a humorous, but also very intriguing scene. Also, the themes of books containing power was great as well. Great stuff all around.

- Episode 18, The Man Upstairs 🥩

Statement of Christof Rudenko, regarding his interactions with a first floor resident of Welbeck House, Wandsworth.

…ew. Ok in all seriousness, this is probably my least favorite episode so far. Still very far from bad, but after all of the extremely interesting themes and plot threads, having an episode where the idea was just “What if a guy had a house covered in meat? Wouldn’t that be fucked up?”, felt just a little bit underwhelming. Which like, the fact that my least favorite episode’s biggest problem is that I find it slightly pales in comparison to previous ones is just a testament to how much I’ve been enjoying the podcast. Still though, there were definitely a few things I really liked. The reveal of the room was creepy (especially considering the meat that seemed…alive…), and as someone who has had to deal with upstairs neighbors making noise for hours during construction, this episode definitely scared me.

- Episode 19, Confession, and Episode 20, Desecrated Host ✝️

Statement of Father Edwin Burroughs, regarding his claimed demonic possession.

This, alongside Lost Johns’ Cave, was one (or I guess, two…) of those episodes that seriously fucked me up. While I am not religious, I have always had fears of how religion can negatively affect me and the people around me, despite the good that it seems to do for so many people. So seeing Edwin be charged for every “sin” he committed by a higher power that wishes to steal its faith, and then not get judged by it, but by the people around him for his one true sin, was absolutely haunting, and I hope he turns out ok in the end. Outside of the horror, the episodes were fantastic. Listening to the events of Episode 8 from Edwin’s perspective, and seeing how Ivo’s actions saved him, was really cool, and solidifies in my mind that Ivo’s experience was real. The connections to demonic magic and Latin script thickened, and it was overall just a great mid-season finale. In conclusion, I hope that Martin feels better soon, and if he isn’t actually sick and is being plagued by ✨the horrors✨, well then I hope he survives :).

Thank you for reading my silly little thoughts if you’ve made it this far, it really means a lot to me :). I’ll probably update this every time I finish half of a season, so hopefully my thoughts on episodes 21-40 will be here in the Reblogs soon. :)

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #Gertrude Robinson #elias bouchard #joshua gillespie #gerard keay #jurgen leitner #Ivo lensik #Edwin Burroughs #naomi herne #Julia Montauk #Robert Montauk

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dazaispinkietoe · 8 months ago

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Belphie Analysis!!!!

JUST MY OPINION!! NOT EXCUSING HIS ACTIONS OR ANYTHING

Starting with introductions, Belphegor is the last brother we meet. He’s implied in the introduction, with the video having lines of him pleading for help and all, but never specifically stated. All we know is that he’s “In the human world,” according to his brothers. Only Beelzebub seems to be upset by this, while the others accept that they can’t do anything about it because it’s what Lucifer wants. They don’t agree with him, but they know what he says is basically law. They don’t wanna be strung up on the fan by him again (OKAY BUT THAT'S ACTUALLY A SUPER CREATIVE PUNISHMENT?? LIKE??)

Eventually, we got up to the attic. Lucifer tried to keep MC out, but they’re a little shit so of course they get in. When we meet him, he says he’s been locked up. Despite him lying about being human, this is true. Now, we don’t actually know how long the exchange program has been going on. Solomon seems to already have been here a while, as well as the angels. Time doesn’t have as much meaning for them, and they can say with less harm, so I’d assume they’ve already been there for a couple of years. The brothers haven’t spoken to Belphegor since then, and we don’t know if Lucifer even spoke to Belphegor or tried to suck up his pride and explain his actions. Not that Belphegor would forgive him, but it doesn’t seem like Lucifer even went up there to check in on him often. So at this point, he’s desperate. He wants to get out, and likely isn’t thinking clearly from the isolation. When you’re isolated, you’re at greater risk of cognitive decline, depression, and anxiety. All of those can affect your ways of thinking, as well as how you handle situations.

Eventually, he gets exposed for his lie when Beelzebub reveals what he looks like to MC. When he is confronted about this, he doesn’t try to keep up the lie, realizing it’s pointless. He admits to the MC who he really is. At this point, he leaves it up to them on whether or not they trust him. They have the option not to, and he doesn’t seem to expect them to. So when they come back, he’s surprised. Obviously, Belphegor hates humans. We don’t know that yet in the story, but he blames them for his sister’s death. When he was in Celestia, he introduced his sister to humans. She fell in love with one and when he got sick, she used forbidden methods to save him. This started a war between God himself and the siblings, and ended with Lilith dying in his arms before they fell to the Devildom. When you go through grief, you’re likely to try and find ways to escape from it, blame an outside source, yourself, or to just completely shut down. Because Belphegor is so stable, he did all of those. Even though he used to love humans, he tried hating them because he didn’t want to blame himself. This didn’t work though, because subconsciously he still turned to them for comfort. In lesson 16 on hard mode, we get a story featuring him and his perspective. He imagines life in the human world, seemingly as a form of escapism. He uses escapism as a coping mechanism often, and it’s one of the reasons he sleeps so much. I’m a firm believer that their sins are how the brothers coped with the trauma, but even without that theory, in the anime when he is upset he goes to bed and dreams of a world where what made him upset was different.

Moving on, he tells MC to make pacts with all of the brothers to get him out of the attic. He tells them to start with Beelzebub first, knowing that he’d be easier to win over. I don’t think that he actually thought that MC could be a danger here, because even though he planned to kill them, he started with the person he cared about most. Even if Beelzebub could be easier to win over than the others, I couldn’t imagine Belphegor putting him in possible danger just because of that. Then, after a lot of plot development, he is let out of the attic. It is not MC that let him out though. Beelzebub and Belphegor take MC to stay with the angels, and I want to note that Belphegor does not attack MC. You could argue he didn’t want to do it in front of Beelzebub, but the second time he doesn’t care if any of the brothers are watching him, so I don’t think that was it. He’s fine with existing in the same room as them, and even talks to them from time to time, before being arrested by Diavolo. (I hate Diavolo for this because I get it, I do, but he did NOT say anything???? Leave him alone?) Then it is revealed that he hates humans. So, Beelzebub and MC go back to The House of Lamentation. There, they confront Lucifer. Here we find out that the argument that led up to him being locked up was about the exchange program.

Belphegor tries explaining to Lucifer why he didn’t agree with it. Obviously, he didn’t think it was safe, especially because he was still recovering from his sister’s death. But instead of trying to find a common ground with him, Lucifer just says that he wants whatever Diavolo wants. Upset now, Belphegor asks if Lucifer even cares about the brothers or remembers Lilith. Lucifer says no, and Belphegor (obviously not thinking clearly at this point) says that if the program happens, he’ll kill everyone in the human world. At this point he is thrown into the attic and locked away, before the program even started. After talking it through with the brothers, once they hear this information, they decide to go to Diavolo to get Belphegor back. Diavolo agrees, but only if MC can figure out how exactly Belphegor escaped in the first place. When MC finds Belphegor, he’s talking in his sleep. He says Liltih’s name, so I can assume he’s having a nightmare. This is when Belphegor tries to kill MC. But what stands out to me here is that he apologizes. This could be mocking, but this is where something else I had the joy of witnessing comes in. In his UR card, in the A Nightmare, there’s a story called Hide and Seek. The cover of this card is literally him crying, by the way. In this story Belphegor is dreaming, and is playing hide and seek with Lilith. Eventually he cannot find her, and begins questioning if it’s because he’s a bad older brother. Just as he’s about to find her, Lucifer comes in and tells him that she’s dead and Belphegor shouldn’t be looking for her. While we’re on this part of the dream, I’d like to note that this shows how Belphegor views Lucifer as an authoritative figure. As someone who controls and disciplines him, telling him things he doesn’t want to hear. It was not always this way though.

In another card I have, the brothers are playing a game. In the game, Belphegor is constantly seen complimenting Lucifer, and they seem to have an adorable relationship. Asmodeus is even jealous of Belphegor for it, but then the scene cuts into current Belphegor, locked up and talking to MC. He says he hates Lucifer. I feel like after he was locked up, understandably, his trust was shattered. It’s implied his greatest fear is being alone, and Lucifer practically forced that fear onto him. Now, back to the Hide and Seek card, after Belphegor wakes up from this dream, he starts sobbing. MC finds him like this, and tries to comfort him. At this point, Belphegor can’t really hide his emotions or intentions, but isn’t mean to the MC. He asks them to stay with him, and even says he wants to see them and his brothers once he gets out. He seems to genuinely care for the MC. So when he was apologizing, I think he knew that what he was doing was wrong, but couldn’t bring himself to not do it. He’s forced himself to hate humans and lied to himself enough that even though he knows what he’s doing isn’t okay, and people can’t help their species, he hates them enough to try and stick to his beliefs. It’s also mentioned that Belphegor is an extremely proactive person, so once he saw that MC had come into his brothers’ home, he likely wanted to protect them.

Lilith brings MC back to life, telling them to help her brothers. Once they confront Belphegor, they reveal that they are Liltih’s very distant relative (btw this wouldn’t be incest, in Celestia no one is actually related by blood, they are simply created, and Lilith had been dead for hundreds of years b ty then.) While all the brothers rejoice, Belphegor starts breaking down. He talks about how everything is all his fault, and how he feels useless. He lets go of his human grudges, and is seen in the same lesson talking to the MC like normal again. He even sends them a text later, saying that he felt jealous of the time the brothers had with MC, and how he had missed out on it. Belphegor isn’t the type to apologize with words, but apologizes with actions instead, giving himself to the MC as a gift. This is likely because of how his trust was betrayed by Lucifer, but also to ensure MC that he isn’t trying to manipulate them anymore, and instead of forcing himself on them letting them decide what to think.

After MC becomes okay with him, he becomes attached. He asks MC for help often, and tries to assure them that even if they weren’t related to Lilith he would still feel the same as he does now. He expresses jealousy often, uses excuses to hang out with them, etc. But he still holds a bit of resentment. In his special guest dialog, he doesn’t seem to be totally honest with his feelings. He makes it seem like everything MC does is for themselves, and he doesn’t enjoy it, even though his face gives it away. He doesn’t seem to be comfortable with a lot of interactions, which is probably a mix of the isolation and having to change his opinions so suddenly. It’s obvious he tries though, and for how long he’s been like this, he made progress fast.

When the time comes for MC to leave, Belphegor holds true to the jealousy I mentioned in the paragraph before this. He says he wants to get to know MC more intimately than anyone else, and that if they cannot come to the Devildom themselves, he will have to go to the human world for them. Once again, a big step with the whole human thing. He complains when the rest of the brothers join him in the attic, and when MC leaves to go check in on Lucifer he tells them to be right back. The fact that he was in the attic says a lot about his relationship with the MC too. Because of the time he has spent in there, even though it has unpleasant memories, he finds comfort in the attic and is seen retreating to it when presented with negative emotions. It’s likely that he went up there and napped because he didn’t want to think about MC leaving him. Once they do leave though, he tells MC that he loves them. He’s actually the first person to say this to the MC so far, with everyone else just implying it instead of just saying it bluntly. When Belphegor isn’t trying to get his way, he seems to just say things as he sees them. He doesn’t like fake people. This, besides the controlling Lucifer thing and acting without thinking, is probably the main reason he dislikes Diavolo. Diavolo has a tendency to act kind to everyone, even if he might not like them, like Belphegor. Belphegor probably sees this as a threat or something to notice about him.

Moving more outside the story though, Belphegor’s fear of the MC leaving him is one of the most noticeable things about him. People seem to think that this makes him ‘yandere’ or whatever they want to call it, but that’s just…not how it is? In multiple events, he mentions that he wants to combine with the MC or have all of them, and in songs he talks about never wanting to let go of MC, one of the lines literally being that. (I think that was in the Christmas song? I pointed it out when I first listened to it.) He’s also seen actively wanting to care for MC. In a card where MC gets sick, he cares for them, neglecting his own care, only to end up getting sick himself. But he doesn’t try to push anything onto the MC, or force them to be with him, like other people think he does. Another thing I noticed was that in the anime, his brothers treat him like a child, but also like a ticking time bomb. In the episodes he’s in, he’s shown being treated like a baby, which is understandable because he’s the youngest, but even after Lucifer puts him in charge, the brothers still dismiss him. They also treat him more carefully than Satan, who is literally the avatar of wrath. In both the canon story and anime, they treat him awkwardly when MC is not around. This leads to him breaking down and talking about how he can’t understand them, and how he knows they can’t understand him, but they should just say it. This makes me believe that a part of the reason Belphegor doesn’t engage in conversation much is because he finds it hard to understand others and therefore doesn’t know how to reply, or not being able to understand them makes him upset at himself.

Belphegor is also seen getting irritated often. Mostly at others. In an event he states that he doesn’t actually think he’s smart, and that anyone could do the things he does. He’s pretty insecure about this fact too. So I think that when people don’t come to a solution right away, he gets frustrated. There’s a possibility he also does this with himself, or holds himself to a high standard. In a chat with him talking about something with Beelzebub, he seems to feel guilty easily, and tries to make it right. This probably goes along with the fact that he doesn’t think demons should make mistakes often, he doesn’t allow himself room to make errors, but also lacks the motivation to try. He’s a lazy perfectionist, and while it actually works out for him, all the stress he puts on himself doesn’t exactly help him. He also doesn’t know how to deal with his own emotions, having frequent outbursts and locking himself away when presented with negative ones. It reminded me of how when Satan would get angry, they would chain him to his bed. Understandable based on how he would be aggression wise, but the brothers could have taught him how to deal with his emotions better. I think something similar happened with Belphegor, not being taught what to do with his emotions. And when he did express anger to someone else (Lucifer) he was locked away, so he probably thinks that isolation is the right, if not only thing he can do.

That’s all I’ve got for now though!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BELPHEGOR I LOVE YOU SO MUCH HEHEHEHEHEHE

Toodles >_<

#obey me belphegor #om! belphegor #obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #om! belphie

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