#his death is tragic and he should be remembered for the man he was before the addictions took over

[xx-your-new-obsession-xx]

Just a friendly reminder that you never know what people are going through behind closed doors. It's been an emotional week for so many, to say the least and it's reminded me that showing kindness, caring and compassion for others, even when they might be doing things that you don't necessarily understand or agree with, is always a positive choice, especially when they are acting out of character and not like the person you've come to know.

🩷

People struggle in so many different ways and more times than not, they can get very good at hiding their pain, to the point where no one realizes how bad things have gotten until it's too late.

🩷

Don't hesitate to check on people if you're worried about them and let them know you care! It might not seem like much but to someone who is really going through it, it might just make all the difference in the world to them.

🩷

Choose love, choose hope and let people know you care and that you're there if they need you.

[seilon]

i usually dont comment on these kinds of things because they shouldnt be treated with the level of weird parasocial interest they tend to be on social media generally but. claire (lil tay) was so fucking young. it doesnt take knowing her personally to feel just how jarring and genuinely tragic her sudden death is. like shit. she was only 14. she didnt even get to live her own life. sorry if this is pointless and theres no call to action or anything here but. jesus.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

once again in my rickard and mortyanne era. if you couldn't tell

[streetlamp-amber]

blanket fort for the soul

dick grayson x batmom!reader

word count: 2.2k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: mention of death, family fluff <3 NOTES: dick grayson my little baby i love you so so much you deserve endless happiness and to be protected from all evil

You were just coming back from your lunch break with two of your coworkers when you received a call from Gotham Academy asking you to come pick up Dick as soon as possible. It didn’t take more than a minute after the call ended for you to inform your boss you were cutting your day of work short today, to grab your black trench coat and bag and to sit behind the wheel of your car, on your way to the private school.

Dick Grayson had entered your lives a month and a half ago, after Bruce took you on a date to Haley’s Circus where the young boy’s parents died tragically in front of your eyes. When you were informed that their child didn't have any family to care for him and would end up in the foster system, you didn't even have to try to convince your husband to begin the process to become his foster parents. It had been two weeks since Dick started living with you in the manor and though he was slowly warming up to Bruce, Alfred and you, he was still plagued with nightmares and a deep sadness about the loss of his family.

“What happened?” You asked the receptionist in a hurry once you arrived at the school. You didn't need to introduce yourself or mention to the woman behind the desk that you were Dick’s ward, perks of being married to Bruce Wayne.

“Ah, Mrs. Wayne!” The headmaster, a bald fifty-something white man with round glasses that you should probably try to remember his name, exclaimed as he appeared in the doorway leading to his office. “Please, follow me.”

You walked around the receptionist’s desk and entered the headmaster’s office, where a small boy with dark hair hung his head low. You could sense the sadness emanating from him the second you stepped in the room. You ignored the principal’s invitation to take a seat in the chair in front of his desk to instead crouch down in front of Dick.

“Dick, sweetie, are you okay?” You asked him worriedly. You rested your hands on his knees and lowered your head to try to catch his eyes.

The young boy shook his head ‘no’ before lunging onto you, wrapping his thin arms around your neck as he wept on your shoulder. You were surprised at first, Dick wasn’t comfortable enough with you and Bruce to do more than holding your hands when outside of the house, but you recovered from the shock in less than a second.

“Oh, bubs,” you whispered in a sigh, hugging him close to you and rubbing your right hand up and down his back in a comforting way as sobs shook his small body.

“He’s been like this since the beginning of the students’ lunch break,” the headmaster sympathetically informed you. “The lunch supervisors tried to comfort him but it was to no avail, so we called you.”

You turned your head to face the older man, noticing at the same time the plaque on his desk that read ‘Principal Richardson’. “You did the right thing,” you told him.

“Given the circumstances, it is more than alright if Mr. Grayson wants to go home for the afternoon,” Mr. Richardson offered.

“Do you want to go back to the manor?” You whispered the question in Dick’s ear and he nodded his head ‘yes’.

You rose up from your crouching position, Dick still hanging onto you tight like you were his lifeboat. Thank God he was a little frail since his parents’ death or you wouldn’t be able to carry the eight year old in your arms right now.

“Thank you, Mr. Richardson,” you thanked the principal and he accompanied you out of the school where one of the lunch supervisors waited at the door with Dick’s school bag and lunchbox.

You sat Dick down in his booster car seat – he was still a little too small to sit without one – and put his bags in the seat next to him before closing the door behind you.

“Please send our salutations to Mr. Wayne,” the principal told you and you shyly smiled, nodding your head one time as you sat down in the driver’s seat.

The ride back to the manor was quiet except for Dick’s sniffles as he continued crying. It broke your heart that you couldn’t just take all of his pain away. Both you and Bruce had lost your parents when you were kids, you understood the grief Dick was in just like you knew that only time will heal him.

Once you arrived home, Alfred came down the stairs to grab your bags while you carried Dick, who was back to latching onto you like a koala, in the house. You kicked off your high heels after walking through the front door and went straight to Dick’s room on the second floor.

“Let’s get you out of that uniform, how’s that sound bubs?” You softly asked him once in his bedroom.

“Okay,” Dick murmured, letting go of your neck to rub the tears away from his eyes and his cheeks.

You sat him down on his bed and turned to his drawer to pull out a pair of pyjamas. You then helped him change his clothes and once he was ready, with Zitka his elephant plushie tucked under his arm, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of his room.

“Can we make hot cocoa, please?” He looked up at you with his big blue eyes, the colour eerily the same as Bruce’s, and you simply couldn’t say no to them. Not before, not now and definitely not ever.

“Of course, bubs,” you said, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

You both made your way to the kitchen, where Alfred was doing an inventory of the dry food in the cupboards.

“Mrs. Y/N, Master Dick, can I help you with something?” He politely asked you.

“Pretend like we’re not here Alfred,” you told the butler as you helped Dick sit on the kitchen island. “We’re making hot cocoa. Do you want some?”

“You know I would never refuse a cup of your famous hot cocoa, Mrs. Y/N,” Alfred lightheartedly said and the two of you broke down in small chuckles.

“Should we also leave some for Bruce when he gets home?” You asked Dick who was now eye levelled with you from where he was perched on the kitchen island.

The little boy nodded his head ‘yes’ and you set up everything you needed to make the warm beverage, along with four coffee mugs. Dick helped you and in a matter of ten minutes, your drinks were ready.

“Come with me,” you whispered to Dick as you helped him get down from the kitchen island counter. “I have an idea of how to pass time while we wait for the hot cocoa to cool down a little.”

Dick held your hand as you made your way to the living room with the television and the comfy couches (because of course Wayne Manor had more than one living room, including ones that were more formal for the balls and galas you hosted).

“You wanna know what my brother and I used to do when one of us was feeling down?” You looked down at the small boy. He nodded his head for you to continue. “We built the biggest blanket forts that could ever be built. But I think with all the materials we have here, we can build an even bigger one. Are you in?”

You were slowly succeeding at making Dick feel better after the little episode at lunch. Grief comes and goes in waves, and his loss was still very recent. You just wanted to be there for him when the pain hits him.

Dick nodded his head, a little more excitedly this time, and the two of you set off to start building a giant blanket fort using the couch mattresses, throw pillows and blankets stored in the room. You were hanging a blanket that would be the roof while Dick held up the mattresses when Alfred brought your cups of hot cocoa to the living room, the drinks now topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. You thanked the butler and he smiled at you before he went back to the kitchen to complete his inventory, sipping his beverage along the way.

“Are you comfortable in there?” You asked Dick after a moment from the entrance of the blanket fort. He had been in charge of placing the pillows and blankets inside while you made sure the structure was stable.

“Mhm,” he positively hummed in response.

“Alright, I’m gonna give you our cups of hot cocoa then I’m gonna come in with the laptop and we can watch whatever you want,” you told him.

“Okay,” Dick said, his mood lighter.

Once the two of you were settled in the fort with your mugs, you opened the living room laptop (because of course you and Bruce had more than two laptops) and put it down between the two of you.

“So, what are we watching?” You looked at the dark haired boy to your right, waiting for his answer.

He shrugged his shoulders while drinking more of your hot cocoa. Yeah, he was gonna be a ball full of energy until way past his bedtime, but he deserved something fun and comforting. If anything, Bruce could train with him to tire him out once he was back home from work.

“Remember those songs we were listening to on the drive back from Bruce’s office last week?” You tried to jog his memory up to when you blasted Abba’s greatest hits after his first visit to Wayne Tower. You kept stealing glances in the rear view mirror the whole ride, smiling every time you saw Dick bopping his head along to the music.

The little boy nodded his head.

“Well, they made a movie where the characters are on a Greek island and sing the songs the whole time. Wanna watch that?”

Dick shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”

You grabbed the laptop and put it in your lap as you went on Netflix and searched for Mamma Mia!. Dick took the opportunity to scoot closer to you, his small body curling around your torso, and you smiled at the fact that he was more trusting and comfortable with you.

When Bruce arrived back home, he came to a stop in front of the living room with the television in it that he was only planning on passing by while he made his way towards the staircase to get to your shared bedroom. The room was disordered and more loud than it usually was at this time of the day, which is what got his attention away from his cellphone. He loosened his tie, feeling more relaxed now that his day of work as ‘Bruce Wayne, CEO’ was over, and approached the blanket fort in the middle of the room.

“What is going on in here?” He crouched down and peaked his head inside the fort.

“So when you’re near me darling, can’t you hear me? S.O.S.,” you sang instead of answering him, index finger pointing in your husband’s direction.

Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes. “You roped him into watching Mamma Mia?” He asked with a hint of a smile.

“I didn’t rope him in,” you scoffed over Pierce Brosnan’s horrible singing. “I suggested it and Dick agreed to watch it,” you sweetly grinned at Bruce.

Dick, who was still curled against you, one arm looped with yours while the other held tight onto his elephant plushie, nodded his head to back up your claim.

Bruce then noticed the two now empty mugs, clear traces of hot cocoa on them. “Did you make hot cocoa?” He perked up, now fully smiling.

“You got this little man to thank,” you pointed to Dick. “We made a cup for you, just heat it in the microwave then you can join us.”

“I’ll be right back,” Bruce said and jogged to the kitchen where a cup of your famous hot cocoa was indeed waiting for him. He was back in the living room two minutes later, shoes and blazer off, top buttons of his shirt undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, ready to relax with his family.

He handed you his cup of hot cocoa for you to hold while he made his way in the blanket fort and settled on your left since the laptop was still in your lap, hence putting you in the middle. Once next to you, Bruce pecked your lips to greet you and when Dick glanced up at him, the look in his eyes wondering if he would also receive some kind of greeting, your husband affectionately ruffled his dark hair before leaning over you to plant a kiss of the top of the little boy’s head.

Bruce then made himself comfortable, also cuddling onto you, and put his head on your shoulder, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he did so. You handed him his mug back and the three of you continued watching Mamma Mia!, much to your happiness.

Enveloped in the warmth of your two boys squishing you from both sides, you couldn’t fight off the smile that pulled on your lips. Laying under your blanket fort with your little family, it was moments like this one that made everything else worth it.

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training XIV (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You woke up to chaos.

The empty space beside you where Peter normally slept wasn’t even something you noticed at first, too preoccupied with the ache in your body. Memories of the previous night were only filled with Peter’s lips on yours and his hands on your frame. You’d felt halfway delirious with how many times you begged Peter to make you come and how many times he’d appeased you.

You remembered threading your fingers through his dark strands, trying so hard to distract yourself from your own thoughts.

…and when you remembered why, you sat up with a gasp.

You were the only one in the room, and light shone inside from the rising sun. It was a whole new day, and thoughts of the previous night reminded you of bright red hair and the shining moonlight. You blinked, trying to think if you’d made the whole thing up. After all, it had been the middle of the night and there was no telling what your mind had conjured up.

However, the noise coming from downstairs told you otherwise.

It was a wonder that you hadn’t noticed it before.

There was so much commotion…and yelling. There was lots of yelling. Slowing sliding out of bed, you made your way to the door, and the closer you got, the louder it got. You could hear a baby crying, it sounded like a little girl, and you surmised that it was little Sarah. So many voices were mingling together at once, but when you cracked the door open, one voice stood out above the rest.

“There’s no telling how far she’s gotten, Steve,” you heard Bucky sneer, and the venom in his tone had you stepping back a bit. “She’s not like the rest! She’s from here, she grew up here, and she knows this town just as well as we do.”

You thought you heard him hit something, and the sound of breaking glass only a few seconds later confirmed that. You pressed one hand to the doorjamb, struggling to swallow. The memory of watching Nat disappear into the night was burned in your brain, and you ignored the heavy feeling in your chest.

“Sam’s coming down shortly,” you heard Steve respond, and the anger in his voice wasn’t hard to miss. “We’ll leave then. Search the woods, the town, anywhere she could be. She couldn’t have gotten far, not on foot.”

Disgust stirred in your gut at the way the blond reassured the other man, and you blinked, pushing back tears. Softly closing the door, you stumbled back and sat on the edge of the bed. You couldn’t quite make out how you were feeling, and you wrapped your arms around yourself.

On the one hand, you wanted Nat to make it out of this hellhole and to help. Of course, you wanted her to escape, even if she was the only one who managed to get out of here. This was no place for anyone to be, and you’d feel a whole lot better if even just one of you made it out.

On the other hand…

Nat getting help and exposing every man here for the rapists they were would separate you from Peter forever. You knew that’s what you should want. Peter had a hand in the death of your friends, and he was your very own captor and rapist. More than anything, you should want Peter arrested and put behind bars for the rest of his life, but there was a part of you—and that part was so much bigger than you wanted to accept—that would be devastated to see him go.

Your friends were long gone, and while there was some doubt that she ever would, there was a chance your mom was already mourning you, already accepting that you were lost to her forever. With Peter gone, what did you possibly have to return to? A voice in your head whispered to you that you would at least have a life and freedom…but what did that mean for you at this point?

You completely lost all rhyme or reason at the mere sight of blood, and those first few months here—and the complete lack of control you had over your body—were fresh in your mind. You were so far gone, so beyond broken, and who besides Peter would even put up with that? Who…who would even want you?

You leaned over, pressing your face into your hands as you fought back tears.

It was then that the door opened, and they spilled over just as you looked up. Peter’s hard gaze softened at the sight of you, and you watched his shoulders sag before making his way to you. He was quick to take you into his arms, holding you tight and pressing his lips into your hair. You didn’t quite understand why at first until he spoke.

“I just…I had to hold you,” Peter whispered. “I had to make sure you’re here.”

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around him too.

“Nat’s gone,” he finally whispered. “Snuck out some time last night or…this morning before day… I don’t know.”

Peter sounded exhausted and worried and angry all in one.

“Now, we have to find her,” he spat, pulling away.

You eyed him, eyed the anger on his face, and you looked down.

“I heard Bucky yelling,” you quietly said. “That’s what it sounded like, but I’d hoped…”

The rest of your words died in the air, stomach twisting as you fought to lie.

“After all this time…why would she do this now?” he said, moving by you to get to the closet. “I mean, you’re still adjusting…and Jane is pregnant.”

He disappeared into the closet, and you could hear him putting on clothes. You stared at the wall as he huffed, never having really witnessed Peter’s anger like that before. You didn’t know how to feel about it, and especially since it was due to a determined woman only wanting her freedom.

“She couldn’t have picked a worst time.”

You wanted to tell Peter that there was no such thing as a bad time when it came to someone simply wanting to escape the equivalent of a prison. You watched him exit the closet, and you wanted to talk to him, maybe make him understand Nat’s point of view. You hated how angry they were at her over something they had no right to be angry about. It made you think of what would happen to her if they caught her, and more tears spilled over.

Peter noticed.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, hurrying towards you and taking your face into his hands. “We’re going to find her.”

He held your gaze as he said this, sending you a reassuring smile, and you started to shake your head.

“She couldn’t have gotten far, and I’m one of the best trackers in the house…”

You stilled at that.

“With me, Steve, Bucky and Clint all tagging along…she doesn’t stand a chance.”

His words were meant to reassure you, settle your worries, but they only made you want to throw up. The way Peter talked about her…like she wasn’t even human…but instead some animal they had to drag back and lock in a cage.

You took a shuddering breath, vision blurry.

“What…what will you do to her if you find her?” you struggled to ask him, fearing the worst.

The way Peter’s face fell had your heart sinking, and he pressed his lips together, looking over your face before sighing.

“That’s not really up to me.”

There was a lot about his response that unnerved you. He spoke as if he had no inkling of what awaited her, but the drop in his expression told you differently. There was an apologetic look in his gaze that told you he knew exactly what she was in for, but most worrisome of all was that it was out of his hands.

It was in Bucky’s.

“What will Bucky do?” you murmured, and Peter looked away.

He swiped his tongue between his lips before taking a deep breath.

“There’s no telling…”

You struggled to breathe, throat tightening. All sorts of scenarios ran through your mind, but above all, all you could see was Margaret tied to that tree. All you could think about was one of the first days you’d been here and the full extent of Steve’s ire that Peter had made you privy to. Only this time, instead of Steve and Margaret…

It was Bucky and Nat.

The thought made you lightheaded, and you stumbled, collapsing on the edge of the bed. Peter reached for you, and you couldn’t stop crying. Maybe you should’ve stopped her somehow, ran after her maybe? Maybe they would’ve been nicer on her if they saw she changed her mind? Or maybe you should’ve told Peter? Peter wasn’t like Bucky or Steve…maybe Peter wouldn’t have punished her at all as he brought her back. Maybe you could’ve convinced him to let her off easy.

You suddenly reached out to him, pressing your fingers into his arms as you fixed him with a pleading gaze.

“You won’t hurt her, will you? If you find her…?”

Peter seemed to hesitate, and you let out a sob.

“Please, Peter, please, she-you don’t get it. You don’t understand,” you pleaded with him. “Please, don’t hurt her.”

Peter knelt before you, and your eyes followed him as he stared back at you with conflicting emotions flitting over his features.

“I have to bring her back…by any means necessary.”

You squeezed your eyes shut at that, and you felt Peter’s hands on your face, thumb’s brushing away your tears. You felt so exhausted all of a sudden, and you took a deep shuddering breath. You tiredly peeled your eyes open, begging Peter.

“Please, Peter…she’s my friend…and I don’t have many of those anymore,” you choked out, watching Peter sigh. “Promise me that you’ll try…and you’ll get them to try too.”

You watched him look away, deep in thought, chest rising and falling with another sigh. When he looked at you again, there was something in his eyes that looked…defeated. He gave you a small nod before leaning in and gently pressing his lips to yours. He then kissed your nose and forehead in that order as he stood.

“I promise,” he told you, lips pressed against your hair. “We’ll bring her back…and she’ll be safe.”

His hand lingered on your face before he finally turned to leave. You only looked away from the door when it closed completely, and conflicted with what you’d done, you turned over and pressed your face into the sheets.

“What was she thinking?”

Margaret’s worried tone reached your ears as you stirred the soup. Sarah was asleep on her hip, courtesy of Margaret’s nervous rocking. The woman hadn’t been still since you first saw her, and truthfully, you couldn’t fully blame her. Despite the obvious sentiment that it was perfectly understandable if things didn’t carry on as normal, almost none of you could force yourselves to remain still.

Margaret had been holding Sarah for hours, Christine had repotted every single plant in the whole house, and this was the fourth batch of soup you’d made. Of course, everyone else’s nervous ticks were not done for the same reason as yours, but it’s not like you could say that.

“I mean…it’s been years since she’s been here. What? Was she just…just biding her time?” Margaret wondered, breathless. “I thought…I thought she’d made peace with everything, I thought she was…happy.”

You could feel her eyes on you at that, and you slowly looked up. You could count the number of times on one hand that you’d seen Margaret something even akin to worried. With a husband like Steve, she just simply wasn’t allotted the same natural human emotions as everyone else. Steve wanted the happy picture-perfect family all the time.

Now, however, Margaret looked more worried than any of you.

“She seemed happy, didn’t she? Did she seem happy to you?”

There was some desperation in Margaret’s voice and gaze that made it easy to understand. After Margaret, Nat had been taken next, and when combined with how close Steve and Bucky seemed to be in comparison to all the rest, it had been easy to see that the two women had struck up a friendship and bond that had aged beyond all the others.

“Sometimes…yeah,” you eventually told her, and she frowned at that. “I mean, how happy could she really be…?”

Margaret didn’t reply right away at that, nodding in thought.

“…but…unhappy enough to run? She knows what they’ll do to her. She’s the only one to ever make it this far-they…”

Margaret tearfully looked away.

“They’re going to make an example out of her, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“If they find her,” you reminded her, and Margaret scoffed.

“They are going to catch her,” she sternly told you, holding your gaze. “Believe you me.”

The way she said it made it sound true, and even you felt your own doubts dwindling. Bucky’s angry voice from the morning was still burned into your brain, and even Peter looked far more upset than you were used to seeing him. Nat had made them all angry and determined, and such a combination was dangerous.

“I wish that she’d talked to me…told me…”

You looked up at her quiet voice, watching as she stared at the refrigerator.

“Does she not trust me…?”

You pushed away the memory of Nat disappearing into the night.

“I’m sure she just didn’t want to involve you…put you at risk too,” you assured her, and she looked at you. “I don’t doubt that she trusts you, but trusting you with something like this would be selfish, no?”

Margaret looked down.

“Think of the guilt, the worry, the way it would be eating away at you.”

You felt like you were speaking to yourself more than Margaret.

“Nat just wanted to risk herself.”

You ignored the fact that Nat thought she was pregnant before she left. While part of you wondered if the reveal of Bucky’s role in the death of your friends pushed her over the edge, part of you also wondered if that had anything to do with that. What if Nat confirmed she was pregnant somehow, and the thought of raising a child with him and in this place was just too much?

She’d said to you that she’d made peace with who Bucky was only for an even darker part of him to be revealed. It was very possible that Nat just couldn’t stomach raising a family with a killer, and who could blame her? It wasn’t something you wanted to mention for obvious reasons, but also because Margaret was raising a family with a killer too. Sharon as well. You didn’t want to point that out and bring up things Margaret was probably still working on making peace with.

You admired Nat, but you were nothing like her, and if Margaret had been like Nat some time in the past, that version of her was long gone. She still smiled at Steve and fussed over him and loved him all the while knowing what he did, and you were sure it was because she thought like you did. What choice did she have? She had a baby to look after and protect in addition to herself. Like you, she’d made her peace with the fact that she was never getting out of here.

That was much harder to reconcile with than it seemed, and you had no desire to make it harder on her.

The both of you fell into a comfortable silence as you finished cooking while she leaned against the counter with Sarah in her arms. Both Steve and Peter had been gone most of the day, and you’d started to ask her how this normally goes, if they come back for a break or if they only return once one of you has been caught, when you reminded yourself that this was not the norm.

Margaret had said that no one had ever gotten as far as Nat.

…and that because of that, they’d also make an example out of her.

You shuddered to think of what that all entailed, and again, you hoped they didn’t find her while that part of you hoped for the opposite. Even hours later, you still found yourself at war with yourself, unable to decide on what you wanted more despite what you knew you should want.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. They’ll find her,” the familiar voice said from next to you as you stared out of the living room window. “I know you two have gotten rather close lately. They’ll bring her back.”

You didn’t know how to respond to Stephen, unable to voice your true thoughts on the matter. Yes, it was true that you and Nat had grown closer, a different understanding between you, but you’d happily sacrifice that comradery if it meant that Nat had her freedom.

When bedtime came, you were reluctant to go. You knew that you’d have trouble sleeping and not just because Peter wasn’t there. The night before, when you’d decided to keep quiet about what you saw, it was easy to categorize it as a problem for tomorrow, but tomorrow was here and the hypothetical chaos that would ensue was already upon you.

You were in bed and staring at the window when you heard your door open, and you sat up in surprise.

Peter’s tired face greeted you when you rushed to turn on the lamp, and you blinked at him. Exhaustion aside, Peter looked horrible. Shallow grime and cuts littered his skin, and you found it hard to imagine that he’d been in the woods searching for Nat all day. So much effort and for what? To bring back someone who wasn’t Bucky’s to keep to begin with? You shuddered to think of the effort Peter would have put it if you had ever found the strength to run away.

“You’re back…?”

“For the night,” Peter said, reaching behind his head and pulling his shirt off. “Steve knows you can’t sleep without me…let me come back, and if they don’t find her tonight, I’ll be rejoining them in the morning.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, watching him get undressed while wrestling with your thoughts.

“I’ll be out in a little bit,” he softly told you, leaning over and touching your chin before disappearing into the bathroom.

You stared after him with your arms around your knees, wondering once again if you even wanted them to find her. Peter was such a permanent fixture in your everyday life now that you couldn’t see a future without him. As messed up as it was, it was true, and you knew without a doubt that you wouldn’t even be able to function without him.

You were fighting back tears when he finally emerged from the bathroom, freshly clean.

“Peter…”

He looked at you, expression inquiring.

“What’s going to happen if you don’t find her?”

His face changed almost immediately, and you almost regretted asking him that question. You watched him heave a heavy sigh, bare chest and shoulders rising and falling. He slowly sat down next to you, staring ahead before finally shaking his head.

“We will-.”

“…but what if you don’t?”

“We will!”

You jumped as his voice rang around the room, eyes wide and focused on Peter as he pinched the bridge of his nose. You could see then how stressful this was for him, and you wondered if he’d thought the same as you, if he’d been trying to ignore such thoughts only for you to bring them to his attention again.

“Don’t say that,” he slowly said. “We will find her.”

“…but Peter-.”

“Y/N.”

“If you don’t…what’s going to happen to you? Us.”

He gave you his full attention at that, a slight furrow between his brows as he studied you.

“I mean she’ll…she’ll find help, won’t she? She’ll come back with people who’ll arrest you?”

Peter thought for a short while before nodding.

“More than likely. Nat isn’t the type to only look out for herself,” he admitted.

You blinked back tears, fighting with yourself as your gaze fell to the sheets.

“What if we run…?” you slowly asked him.

You could feel his eyes on you, and the silence was loud, and you pulled your lip between your teeth,

“I mean, if it starts to look like you won’t find her…what if we run?” you looked at him now. “What if you and I just took off? Go into hiding somewhere and they never find you?”

You couldn’t describe how Peter was looking at you, and you didn’t know if you liked it. He stared at you for what felt like too long before exhaling through his nose before gently taking your arms. His dark hair was damp, a few droplets crawling down his face.

“I won’t abandon my brothers,” he firmly told you. “Do you understand me?”

You licked your lips, tears spilling over.

“…but what about me…?”

“Y/N-.”

“I can’t function without you,” you tearfully admitted. “I’m a mess, and you know it. Everyone in this house knows it.”

Peter’s jaw ticked as he listened to you.

“I’m the crazy one,” you cried.

“Don’t say that,” he argued, moving closer.

“I fly off the handle at a little bit of blood,” you spat. “I cry all the time, I…I pee on myself, Peter. They don’t even let me around the kids!”

Peter took your face into his hands, and you frantically shook your head.

“I’m the basket case,” you whispered. “I am…the way I am…because of you.”

You frowned at him.

“…and you’re telling me…that you won’t even choose me over them?”

Peter shook his head, making a noise of disagreement.

“It’s not that simple,” he told you. “We are a family. All of us. We don’t abandon one another-.”

“Who are they to me?” you screamed. “Why should I care about them?”

“…because they’re your family too! This affects all of us-.”

“No, this affects Bucky,” you sneered, and Peter froze. “Nat is his wife, right? Not yours, not mine, and this is a Bucky problem. You don’t have to make it yours…or mine. Peter, we can leave.”

You reached for him.

“It’ll just be us. You don’t have to go down with them, with him. You don’t, and especially not because he lost someone who was never his to begin with. Who cares if Nat ran away?” you cried.

Peter stared at you, eyes stricken and lips pressed together.

“He took her! What right does he have to drag ger back-?”

You swallowed the rest of your words when Peter’s fingers pinched into your jaw. His hand was tight on your face, and you winced in pain at the ache that began to stir in your bone. You reached up, grabbing his wrist, and Peter’s brown eyes appeared so much darker, so much colder as he regarded you. You realized that you’d said too much, revealed too much of your thought process as of late, and your lips trembled.

Peter blinked at you.

“Do not say that ever again.”

His other hand gripped your upper arm, and you winced.

“Do you understand?” he spat, shaking your head slightly. “Don’t you ever repeat that.”

“Peter-.”

“He has every right just as I have every right,” he lowly told you. “If you ever ran away, I would stop at nothing to have you in my arms again…and that is my right.”

A few tears skipped down your cheeks, and Peter took a calming breath.

“Do you understand?” he repeated.

You licked your lips, frantically blinking.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Do you know what would happen if anybody else heard you say that? That…that Bucky has no right to bring her back? That Nat was basically right to run away?”

You couldn’t stop your tears, and when he let your face go, your head dropped.

“You’ve been here long enough to know that isn’t a welcome thought,” he coldly told you. “I thought you were further along than that. That’s disappointing.”

You jerked your head up at that, eyes wide as you looked at him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, I… I’m just so confused.”

That couldn’t be any truer, and if only Peter knew just how confused you were. After all, if Peter and the rest of them thought you all were a family, that Nat’s transgression was a transgression against the whole family, that Bucky had all the rights in the world to drag her back… What did that mean for your own transgression? What did that mean for you if it ever came out that you saw her leave…and said nothing?

“Come here, pretty girl,” Peter whispered, and you slid closer, fitting into his awaiting arms.

He pressed his lips to yours, and you reluctantly kissed him back. One of his hands rested on the back of your neck, the other snaking around your waist as he held you to him. The kiss was gentle at first, and you relaxed, but it wasn’t long before his hands tightened on you, and he bit your lip…hard.

You jerked away from him, the taste of blood on your tongue when you licked your lips.

Peter’s face was the most serious you’d ever seen, and you watched him reach up to roughly swipe his thumb along your lip. It hurt a bit, and Peter harshly rested his hand on the side of your face.

“Those words will never come out of your mouth again. Okay?”

“…okay,” you whispered.

He didn’t look pleased, but he did look satisfied for the time being, and he leaned in to gently kiss the corner of your lips.

“Let’s get some rest,” he softly told you. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

Peter laid down, pulling you with him, and you fought to ignore the possibility of a tumultuous future for you as he wrapped his arm around you, holding you against him.

You were repolishing a vase when Nat returned.

You hadn’t slept the best for multiple reasons, and you were kind of thankful that much wasn’t expected of you because you found yourself cleaning the same tables or same decorations two maybe even three times in a row. This whole ordeal was sickening, and several times now you’d had to fight the urge to vomit everywhere.

Either outcome was enough to send you into a spiral, but it wasn’t until Nat was walked through the door did you realize what outcome you’d really hoped for above the other. You were in the living room, so you were the first to realize they’d finally found her. You hadn’t thought much when the door opened, but the sounds of several pairs of footsteps had you looking up.

You almost dropped your vase at the sight of her.

Nat had looked better, that was for sure, but that wasn’t what you cared about. The relief that filled you almost knocked you over, and you hated yourself for feeling that way. Nat wasn’t fighting, but the even defiance on her face spoke volumes. Bucky had one arm while Steve had the other, and the malice you saw in her husband’s blue eyes had you shuddering.

It was then that her eyes met yours as she walked by, and they softened ever so slightly. If you hadn’t been familiar with her expressions by now, you probably never would’ve noticed. She held your gaze for a few seconds, and when she looked away, you felt tears kiss your eyes.

You mourned the brief bout of freedom that Nat had claimed, and you mourned the lifetime of freedom that was robbed from her yet again. You mourned your own possibility of a different future…but in the same breath…you were so relieved. The relief made your knees weak, and God did you hate yourself for it. Sure, there was some part of you that was sort of happy to have your friend back, but mostly…

You were just happy you wouldn’t be separated from Peter.

…and that did make you cry…because that was awful.

You slowly stumbled after them, peeking around Sam’s shoulder as Steve and Bucky led her down the hall. With a start, you realized they were taking her to the basement, and it took everything to swallow down your gasp. You pressed your hand to the wall, the other squeezing the polishing rag so tight it was a wonder it didn’t rip.

You jumped when a familiar hand touched your lower back, and you slowly glanced at Peter. His brown eyes were as kind as they normally were, no remnants of last night lingering, and he gently rubbed your back.

“She’s gonna be okay,” he whispered.

You looked down the hall again just as Bucky closed and locked the basement door. It looked like he struggled to do so, and you didn’t know if it was because of his anger or because of the supposed love he felt for her. He said something to Steve, and all three of them walked back down the hall. You avoided all of their eyes, only lifting your gaze to the basement door again when they were behind you.

You could feel Peter tenderly pulling on your dress, and you wiped your face.

You couldn’t stop staring at that door, wondering how long they planned to keep her down there, wondering just what they had in store for her. The urge to try and get her out was strong. After all, what had Nat done other than seek her own freedom? Why was that so wrong? Why was that befitting of a punishment?

“What?” you heard Buckly harshly ask. “You wanna join her?”

You turned around just as Peter spoke.

“Bucky,” Peter gruffly snapped at him, pulling you closer.

The two brunettes stared at one another, and you looked between them.

“I’m sorry,” the older of the two reluctantly relented. “I’m just… You don’t even understand how angry I am.”

His blue eyes met yours then.

“Don’t weep for her,” he told you. “She made her bed.”

You blinked when Bucky turned away, and you moved closer to Peter. It was hard to settle your heart, and Peter took your hand, trying to pull you along. Your eyes met Steve’s, and you didn’t like the way they narrowed at you. You were forced to look away when Peter touched your face, his gaze sympathetic.

“She’s gonna be okay…okay…?”

You gave him a slow reluctant nod, allowing him to lead you away. You could still feel Steve’s gaze on you, and you didn’t know what would be more suspicious: meeting it head on or avoiding it altogether. As Peter pulled you upstairs, you realized that the hardest part of this whole ordeal had only just begun…

…and it wasn’t just reserved for Nat.

[veturiusofserra]

when you know, you know | s. r.

𑁤 synopsis: in an interview she opens up about how easy it is to be loved by Spencer, sharing the story of how they met and how his love inspired her music.

𑁤 pairing: spencer reid x singer!reader

𑁤 words: 1.090

𑁤 disclaimer: This was 100% inspired by something my bf said a while ago, and I love the song. I hope you will enjoy it too <3

“As we reach the close of our conversation, one thing’s bugging me. In your song “Margaret,” there’s this line ‘when you know, you know.’ Like, how do you just know someone’s the one? I’ve been through my share of relationships, yet I haven’t experienced that kind of thing you sing about. In your song, it’s all so clear-cut, like you can predict the future. It reminds me of a kid believing in the tooth fairy – sweet idea, maybe not quite real. But that’s probably what makes the song so good. It talks about this perfect love where everything just clicks, and all your worries disappear. Maybe that’s what I’m still looking for, or maybe it’s just for some lucky people. Either way, your song paints such a strong picture of love that it makes me wonder if I’ll ever have a ‘Margaret’ of my own.”

“It’s funny, right? The answer everyone gives is so simple: “you’ll just know.” Like love hits you like a lightning bolt, destiny calls, happily ever after guaranteed. But maybe that’s the problem. We get this picture-perfect idea of love from movies and books, and then we miss the real thing when it’s right under our noses. We set these high expectations, these checklists of what “the one” should be like. And if someone doesn’t tick every box, we write them off. It’s like searching for a flawless diamond, forgetting that even the most beautiful gems have tiny imperfections. Because guess what? We all mess up. You make mistakes, I make mistakes, everyone does. Maybe that’s what makes a real connection so special – accepting someone, flaws and all. Speaking of which, there’s this story I wanted to share with you.”

“We're all ears!”, the interviewer and the crew smile with waiting faces.  

“For the longest time, I believed I was destined to give love, but never receive it.  Maybe because... well, let’s be honest, I can be a bit self-absorbed, lost in my own head and neglecting others. But even with the no love life mantra, there was always this yearning for a family, a deep desire for children I could call my own. The ‘what ifs’ terrified me, though. Would I be a good parent? Would they be happy? Could I provide for them? Eventually, I resigned myself to a life of music, making people happy through my art, having a few friends, maybe a tragically young death – you know, the artist’s curse. 

Then, I found him. We both know Penny, but run in different circles. He’s in law, I’m an artist – about as different as you get, except for maybe a shared love of fancy vocabulary. We met at Penny’s birthday party, and while he claims it was love at first sight for him, I just thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. But that was it. He was too shy to introduce himself, and I was sworn off men at the time. Funny how fate works, right?  We never crossed paths before, but after that night, it seemed like everywhere I turned, there he was. That’s when I decided to take a chance, and boy, I was so scared!

All those stories about soulmates and butterflies? They weren’t for me. Anxiety had been my constant companion for as long as I could remember. Butterflies just meant another battle brewing in my head. What I craved was peace, a steady hand to anchor me until I was ready to set sail. So, I built a friendship with him. We shared secrets, dreams, and vulnerabilities. He turned out to be a brilliant mind, a walking encyclopedia with an IQ of 187. Yet, he never made me feel inferior. He found humor in my quirks, and we seemed to complement each other perfectly. The more time we spent together, the more his words resonated: “We were designed for one another.”

And then, it hit me. Love. Deep, unexpected, and all-encompassing. It felt effortless, a perfect fit. But fear gnawed at me. It was all so new, so unfamiliar. Just as I was drowning in uncertainty, Penny, our mutual friend, reached out. She had something to show me – “Margaret.”

“She wrote it?” she asked, intrigued.

“Well, she started it,” I clarify. “Inspired by him, she penned the first lines that night after the birthday party. She couldn't shake the image of his longing gaze, a sight she’d never witnessed before. It felt sacred, a raw glimpse into his heart. The initial draft, rough around the edges, went something like this: ‘just writing for a friend. My shirt's inside out, and penmanship is messy. He met her on the rooftop, and she wore white. He said, ‘I think I’m in trouble.’ He saw flashes of the future.” A gentle smile graces your lips. 

“Seriously, that’s adorable.”

I nod, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Right? Her words sparked inspiration within me. I wrote the rest, my mind consumed by-”

“By him.” she prompted, leaning in.

“He made love feel simple. Loving me was effortless for him, a stark contrast to the struggle I’d always imagined. It was like breathing, a natural and easy rhythm. He helped me discover the light that had been hiding within me all along.”

“There’s a saying,” the interviewer began, “to be loved is to be changed.”

I smiled. “I prefer a different one: to be loved is to be known. Because maybe, just maybe, he saw the affection within me all along, the part I couldn’t quite see myself.”

“You are indeed full of affection,” she said warmly. “Thank you for sharing this story with us.”

“Thank you for listening. I know it's a cliché, but there truly is someone out there for everyone. You never know what tomorrow holds, but deep down, a tiny spark ignites within us, guiding us towards that love. Trust it.”

“That wraps it up for our interview with the lovely Y/n! But before we say goodbye, there's one more message for her. Can we play it, Jonah?” A nod later, the studio fills with the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hey there, love. Just wanted to say congratulations on the album! You poured your heart and soul into it, and I’m incredibly proud. But hey, can you come home soon? Two days feels like an eternity without you. Miss my other half. Love you tons, sweetheart. And everyone listening, stream Ocean Boulevard! Dex says hi to mom, too.” A meow erupts in the background, eliciting a laugh from you and the studio crew.

thoughts? or prayers idk

[sophiethewitch1]

In Death's Embrace Pt. 2

Jason Todd x Death!Reader

Part one!

Jason shoots up in bed, his hand stretched out. He’s sweating, drenched in his own panic in fear. His hand falls into his lap, still twitching. He doesn’t remember what he was dreaming about, doesn’t remember what he was trying to grasp.

He knows he failed. He knows it slipped through his fingers like sand. He doesn’t think there’s anything more tragic in the world. He doesn't know why.

“Once again, you amaze me. Breaking the rules of the universe, not once, but twice.”

His hand is wrapped around his gun before you even finish the sentence. It’s pointed between your eyes once you do. To your credit, whoever just broke into his apartment without triggering any of his alarms, you don’t even flinch. No, you just fold your hands behind your back and give him an odd look.

You tilt your head, eyes moving over the scars on his face and catching on the lock of white hair he sports. Then, your face breaks into a smile, and something in Jason’s heart jumps. There’s a knowing in your eyes that he doesn’t like. An understanding.

You see through him, somehow. He doesn’t like it. He’ll shoot you for the offence.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Jason demands, assessing you like you assess him. You don’t look like a combatant, in long dark flowing fabrics. Still, he knows not to underestimate someone based on their appearance.

That damned clown never looked like a threat. And now he was standing here, with someone who seemed just as crazy in his bedroom. Only someone that crazy would break into his home.

“Are you going to shoot me?” your words are teasing, eyes fond. Maybe you’re crazier, then. You don’t believe he’ll do it. He will.

He should have already. It’s base curiosity that holds his trigger finger. That’s what he thinks it is, at least.

“I might,” he finally says, “Again, who the fuck are you?”

“It’s interesting talking to you like this. You knew who I was straight away last time, but this time you turn your weapon to me,” you continue, ignoring his threat. A muscle jumps in his cheek, annoyed at your presence, at your blatant disregard for him.

“Last time?”

Your smile turns into a bright grin. He’s momentarily stunned by it.

“So, you really haven’t won just yet. That gives me a small measure of pride,” you say, walking over to the window with your hands still behind your back, “Maybe enough to spare you from my anger.”

You look over at him again. Purse your lips.

“Maybe not.”

“I think you forget who is holding the gun,” Jason reminds you, clicking his teeth at the way you just shrug.

You go quiet. No more teasing words or ominous warnings. Jason should shoot, shoot now. He’d hate the cleanup, hate the mess, hate all the effort, but it was necessary. You were dangerous. That much was obvious.

Instead, he opens his big dumb mouth and asks, “What do you want?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Is it terrible I don’t know? Rules are rules after all, but this situation is… complicated. You’re not another Sisyphus, you don’t even want to be here.”

“You broke into my home and started threatening me. That doesn’t sound complicated,” Jason insists. This is such a fucking weird conversation. And Sisyphus? Jason had done his homework, he knew about the mythical man who cheated death. He thinks he’s actually quite a lot like Sisyphus.

He still doesn’t appreciate the comparison.

“Yes well, I don’t want to be here either, de-” your voice cuts off, eyes widen in surprise, and then narrow on him like he caused some great offence. Inside him, he feels his dead little heart wither even further at the sight. Like you being upset with him was one of the worst mistakes of his life.

Once again, you broke into his house. All he’d done was tell you to get lost. Oh, and maybe threaten to shoot you, but who cares about that. He soothes the momentary panic, insisting you obviously hadn’t.

Which is dumb. He’s being an idiot. Jason Todd is being an absolute moron right now, and he just needs to shoot you.

Instead of paying attention to the gun trained on you, you stare out his window, at the streets of Gotham’s Hill district below. The sun is rising, rays bursting through the fog. The people are just getting up with it. It’s one of the few times the city is anything close to quiet. Most are still sleeping, and so is crime.

Warm sunlight catches on your cheek, and again, something inside Jason cries out at the sight. It’s worrying.

“I think I want you dead, again,” you confess.

Jason’s breath whooshes out of his lips, and his gun arm twitches for a second. Well, fuck him, that’s certainly a statement. And again, why hadn’t he shot you?

He still doesn’t do it. He must be crazy, too.

“I’m being greedy. I always have been, of course. It’s what I am… But especially this time, I think I’m being too greedy,” you sound sad, your fingers trailing across the wooden window frame, “I think I shouldn’t be here, but it’s the ones like you who make it hard.”

You rub dust against your fingers, and Jason feels embarrassed for the state of his home. He realises a second later what a stupid thought that is, you broke in. He wonders how many times he’ll have to repeat it to remember it. He feels uncomfortable and off-kilter, and he knows it’s because of you.

He needs to get you out.

“I’ve always hated the special ones, you know. The smart ones. You’re too good at pulling me, manipulating me, tugging on my strings like a puppet. You make me human,” you turn back to him, crossing your arms and resting against the sill. You’re comfortable in his home, more so than he usually is. Calm, relaxed, like the world is at peace, and worries are something of the past.

He wonders what that must be like. Fucking delightful, he bets.

“Are you not human?”

You raise an eyebrow in response.

Shit. Ah, fuck it. His finger tightens, and the recoil jerks his arm. The silencer keeps the early apartment quiet. Quiet, if not for the sound of the bullet clattering to the ground.

You both glance down at the crumpled piece of metal sitting pathetically on the floor. You lean over, pick the piece up, and then lift it to your eye, watching that same sunlight reflecting the early morning in the steel. A small rainbow flitters across your skin. You close your fist, and you stroll over to Jason.

It takes him a moment to remember to be wary of you, and by that time, you already have his hand cradled between yours.

You place the remnants of the bullet in his scarred palm.

“I expect an apology for that later,” your voice is soft, sweet. Loving, even after he shot you in the chest. Not like it did anything. Your fingers curl around his, tracing every crack and crevice. You do it with concentration, with precision, like you were made just to touch him, to comfort him.

A memory, gone in a flash. He feels it’s loss like a toothache.

He swallows, “I’m sorry.”

You laugh, and the sun’s not outside, it’s in his bedroom and it’s smiling and it’s everything and it’s here in his grasp and he knows it’ll be okay again. It has to be okay again. You said it’d be okay, didn’t you? He can’t remember. His head’s swirling, spinning, falling right into you. Right back into you.

“Or now, that’s fine too,” you sound delighted. He’s glad.

You let go of him, and move back to the window, drawn by the view outside. Jason's hand clasp and unclasp. The street obviously fascinates you, your eyes flicking back and forth and tracking the movement of every soul outside. He wants your gaze back on him.

Jason clears his throat. You glance back at him, then pointedly, his right hand.

He can feel his face flush, embarrassingly. He’s still holding the gun. He turns the safety off and tucks it back under his pillow.

He clears his throat again. He wants something from you, expects it, really. But he can’t tell what it is. He thinks you know, though. That you’re withholding it, for some reason. He’s irrationally irritated at that. You said you were greedy, but nothing could compare to his greed.

Even if you wanted him dead. He was starting to put together the pieces, but he couldn’t seem to feel alarmed. No, it simply wasn’t necessary, with you here.

Still, it’s not quite enough. He wants more. He wants to know more. So he waits for you to speak again.

“I’ve thought about doing this so many times over the years. It would’ve been selfish, and more than that, outside of my duty. You’re not one of mine anymore. For a little while, at least.”

He wants to be. He wants to be yours. He wants it more than he can breathe. If he’s yours, maybe you can be his.

You glance to the side, thinking out loud, “But then you went and started remembering. I’ve worked very hard to make sure that’s impossible, you know. That the memories from my realm stay there.”

You turn a disapproving glance his way.

“Of course, far be it for me to get in the way of a Wayne and his decision to break the world. You lot do that far too much, give me too much work,” you mutter that last part, hand moving to your brow. Like you’re massaging away a headache. He should be doing that for you.

“But you did it. And you’re here. And now I am, too. And I have to go soon.”

You drift closer to him, and Jason’s breath catches. He’s still. He doesn’t make a single movement, scared he’ll scare you away. He realises that’s stupid. That you caught a bullet to the chest. That you’re stronger than anything he could imagine.

He still thinks he could startle you if he’s not careful. That you’re like the mist outside, incorporeal. But Jason can do anything if he puts his mind to it. He knows how to catch the wind, how to gather steam on the underside of glass, how to cup sand and water and feathers and everything that would ever want to be outside of his reach.

You’re out of his reach. He has to let you step into it.

You stop a foot away from him. He grinds his teeth, and again, you raise a brow at him. He doesn’t move, despite his muscles screaming at him too. You give him a nod and take another step closer. He still doesn’t move, and you give him a satisfied look.

“So, what should we do, Jason?”

“How do you know my name?”

“What? Did dying strip you of any brains?”

The banter is familiar. He doesn’t mean to ruin it.

“Do you have to leave?” again, a voice in his mind whispers. You look sad, again. Again, again, again. All of this is an again.

“Eventually. Sooner rather than later,” you sigh, “You can keep a secret, can’t you, Jason?”

“Not if you leave.”

It’s a bold move. You take a step back, and he winces. Back and forth, back and forth… Still, he doesn’t take the words back. He can’t, because it’s the truth, and now that you’re here, there’s no going back. He’ll do anything to keep you with him, and if you go too far for him to reach, he’ll follow you.

“I think that’s an unfair request,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“It’s fair. You don’t have to stay forever, just a while.” Now that, that is a lie. You seem to know it, too.

You look out the window again. Jason, after a moment's hesitation, moves over beside you. You don’t flee, your attention is on the people below. He opens the window for you, and you give him another smile. He collects them like the rare treasures they are. You lean out into the air, and he freaks, then realises you’d shrugged off a bullet. He stays close, vigilant, anyway.

“I’m curious, I have to admit. What’s this place like?” you ask, resting elbows on the wood. The streets are foggy, as they usually are in the morning. The Hill isn’t the nicest place, not the cleanest either, but you look at it like it’s heaven incarnate. He can see his neighbour down at the local grocer, the old woman who hoards cats seeing her grandson off to school, and one of his guys hanging out on the street, keeping the space safe.

Under his orders. The Hill wasn’t the nicest place, but he liked to keep it as nice as possible.

...Peaceful, he wanted the people here to have their peace. He was obsessed with it, really.

“It sucks.”

You laugh again, music to his ears, “Not the best advertising.”

“I take it back, it’s the best place on earth,” he replies, barely paying attention to his words. He’s seeing how close he can get to you. How many inches he can claim. His face is almost in your neck by the time you lean back, and he curses under his breath.

“It doesn’t need to be,” you say, pushing away from the sill and turning to wander around his room. You take in everything about the space. From the general mess, to the Jane Austen books crammed into his bookshelf, to the mask he’s left half-hazard on his bedstand.

You watch it all, just as fascinated with the world outside as the one inside. He wants to believe that means he’s special to you. And if it doesn’t, that just means he needs to work a little harder.

Finally, you turn to him. You take in every facet of him, once again. Your all-knowing gaze finds his hair again. You seem especially fascinated by that. You lift your hands, and he’s in them before he realises he’s moved.

You map his features with your hands, and he makes a little sound in the back of his throat. Ignoring that, you wipe the bags under his eyes. He feels his sanity slip away under your touch. You trace the scar on his chin, the one above his left brow. The stubble along his jaw. The bump in his nose. The edge of his lips. He wonders at the smirk you give when he groans. And finally, you come to that strand of hair.

You tug on it. A memory fizzles again, and to his frustration, he can’t quite grab it. Can’t quite take it, claim it. It’s not his, not yet.

You haven’t given him permission to remember. He wants it, he wants it, he needs it.

“I think I can stay, maybe. Just for a little, just a little. You want that, right?” your hands cup his face, and he knows, somehow, that you’ve done this a thousand times. And if this is the thousand-and-first time you’ve held him like this, he’s glad. To be back in your embrace is the sweetest pleasure. The greatest relief.

“Yes. Yes, yes… yes, I do,” he’s nodding, he’s begging, he’s pleading with you. Just for a moment more, just a second more. Just a little bit more, before you let him go again. He leans down and presses his forehead to you, sighing in your scent, the wheat reeds in the wind, the warm sun on skin.

He wonders what he has to do to make sure you never let go again. He wonders if you’ll let him do it.

You shake your head, giving him a rueful smile, “You really are too cute, darling.”

That nickname. The key to his heart, his mind. Every single barrier keeping him from you is gone, crumbled by your will. He is thankful you’ve given them back. He is thankful for every moment you ever had with him. And he’ll make a thousand more.

He presses his lips to yours, arms holding you close. When you melt into him, sigh into the kiss, he feels a euphoria he didn’t know could be true. He feels a relief he didn’t know even in his days under, even when you only held him.

He feels alive with it.

“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers against you, and he can feel that familiar, that damning smile spread.

“You left me. I had to hunt you down myself, Jason dear.”

Maybe he couldn’t have his peaceful death. But he had a loving one, and that was all he needed.

[tritoch]

I wish people were willing to have a slightly broader or more expansive understanding of FFXIV's women because I think there's so much there in terms of easily-unearthed subtext that no one really thinks about! And I don't mean this in a "people need to re-evaluate their response to the women of Stormblood" way (though I do think that's largely true), I mean I think fandom's understanding even of the women it mostly likes is pretty weak. And you can say that's because the women are underwritten, and I won't argue that they couldn't use more attention from the writing, but that doesn't prevent you from analyzing them the way you can any character in fiction.

Like everyone's always like, oh, Y'shtola and Krile are like your snarky wine aunts, haha. But...Sharlayan is a pretty ossified and patriarchal society from what we see of it in Endwalker and places like the AST quests. Can we open ourselves to the possibility that it means something that almost every young Sharlayan woman we meet, almost all young women in academia, tends to be a little sharp and quick on the retort? The arch and snarky ways in which those two carry themselves reflect in some sense the facts that Krile is almost literally a nepo baby woman in STEM who is barely older than her students, while Y'shtola learned her behaviors from her much older female mentor, a woman who hated Sharlayan academic culture so much she literally abandoned it to go live in a cave.

Or like, Alisaie! Fan jokes and meta frequently buy into her tendency to characterize the dynamic between her and Alphinaud as a jock/nerd, street savvy extrovert vs book smart introvert thing. Except, tragically, Alphinaud's highest stat is 100% Charisma and he absolutely pulled in his student days. All his greatest achievements are diplomatic, and he very easily develops strong friendships with people in every culture you learn about. Alisaie is the determined, sensitive genius who revolutionizes Eorzea by proving the tempered can be healed. She's just permanently carrying a chip on her shoulder that while she and her brother are remembered as the youngest students in Studium history, actually he got in six months before her, a fact pretty much no one else ever brings up once. She's constantly fuming over the fact that he was marginally better than her in certain specific ways in high school, and looking to differentiate them in ways that actually fail to credit her own obvious strengths and accomplishments. I think that's so fun! It's so juicy, and it's equally good for comedy or serious character studies.

Venat is a genuinely benevolent hero who has no compunction sacrificing lives for the greater good. Minfilia is kind and compassionate and clearly on some level actually buys into the narrative of her own unique moral authority. Ysayle is a revolutionary firebrand with almost no concern for the common man, whose death reflects her Javert-like inability to reconcile her own romantic belief in justice with the tragic ways her blinkered worldview (born largely of trauma) let her be easily co-opted by a violent system. But even people who like these characters rarely move past surface-level reads (people who think Venat is just an all-loving mommy figure make me want to fucking die). The fandom is allergic to drawing connections the game doesn't draw, and fails to recognize that FFXIV is a game where characters voice understandings of themselves and others that are wrong about as often as they're right.

You can already see the ways that women like Wuk Lamat and Cahciua and Sphene are getting flattened or losing their shading in fan reception and it's boring. Like I'm not even saying this because you should take female characters more seriously or something (though you should), I'm literally just bored to tears sometimes and if you guys turn Wuk Lamat into another Hot Dumb Jock Lady, I will combust.

[zafulz]

Regarding SotE's ending.

Spoilers ahead, rant.

I'm a dissappointed on the fandom always wanting to take sides for the most nuanced narratives ever written in games, sometimes it feels like we play different games at all. They want to excuse other demigods and put the blame on the ones who wanted to changed the status quo, when we all should realize how the Greater Will and the Outer Gods had influence and have been the ones to actually be playing chess with their tragic fates. Radahn and Morgott wanted to keep and perpetuate Marika's / Golden Order rule, Miquella, Ranni and Rykard wanted to get rid of all the Gods (using the Stars/Moon, destroying gods or becoming God themselves), and Mogh, Malenia and Godwyn had their fates taken by Outer Gods/Plots. They were all played and incited by the horrors of Marika, under the Greater Will. Remember that Marika shattered the Elden Ring to rebel against the Greater Will due to all the grief and most recently Godwyn's death, so we can guess she realized too late.

Then, it surprises me how easy we are to label Miquella as a villain without taking all that into the equation. The game changers, following up Ranni's statements, were only Miquella, Malenia (as she was almost ready to become a goddess even before Miquella), and her. Ranni, probably the one who knew all of Marika's record and was already done with the situation of her family and the Lands Between, started this first with killing Godwyn. Miquella just could not keep at delaying the facts during the time he tried to revive his brother and revert his twin curse, leading to despising the Greater Will and deciding to ascend having learned the horrors of the Lands of Shadow and the current state of the Lands Between. The actions taken by them can't be honestly judged at certain human moral standpoint, since we are talking of literal demigods, SOME of them supporting the current status quote where Omens, Demi Humans, Albinaurics, Giants where OBLITERATED to keep the Golden Order's rule. The DLC covers the process in which Miquella decided to walk the same path as Marika, probably for similar "better world" goals, but Marika just followed the Greater Will. Miquella decided to become a god and strip himself from all essence, without any guidance. Is not a mending rune to keep the Elden Ring somehow. The story trailer show us how Marika called the Greater Will, now dried up after thousands of sacrifices, Miquella becomes a God by stripping himself of what attaches him to the world (reminds me of Tales of Symphonia, where Colette is loosing all senses to become an angel or the Avatar State) St. Trina asks us to kill him, because she understood this path will only create another Greater Will-like God, no feelings, just cold stare and control, a caged god.

Now, somethings that aren't clear is how the affection compelling powers works. Miquella shattered his own rune knowing this would remove his "charm" from others. Why he did that? What's the vow Radahn and Miquella made? The cutscene crystal clear shows Miquella is afraid of becoming a god, but taking that decision on this vow.

Probably a fight with Malenia before becoming Lord. Whispered this part on his ear like normal.

A LOT of information is missing, but the point was that there are no " villains" in this game, BUT THE GODS. It is a Man vs God narrative that is very nuanced. Thanks for your time.

Ps. Did you notice this?

Grace and the Gods influence reflect in the eyes. Messmer is final proof of it when he breaks his Grace and Serpent appears isntead, or Miquella showing up with eyes shut, becoming a God himself. Ranni Melina I wish we could have more dialog options and reactions from what we did in this DLC :')

[niftykin]

The blood of the innocent ones

Starring: Silver | Twisted wonderland

Sypnosis: You died while defeating malleus, trapped in the thorns that finally took your life away, leaving Silver with no time to tell you how strong his feelings were for you

Prompts:"I still think about you, day in, day out" "I still miss you" "And I… I still love you, even after all of this time"

A/N: Reader is portrayed to be Yuu/Magicless

Warnings: No happy ending, major death, angst, mentions of blood.

The blood of the innocent will always be thrown, will always stain the hands of everyone that stands on the way; its a shame the only reason they are remembered is by their tragic endings and the tears that spread on their graves will never be seen for anyone else; The pain and the sorrow will be something you wont face, the rest and the peace is something they pray and beg to anyone for you to have finally.

Green thorns adorned the head of the grave that described your name, reminding of the ending you had to face for yourself; When no one could hear you, help you or think of you, where you were unnoticed and unprotected. He should have known.

You helped everyone you could. You were weak, He admired how strongly you could stand for anyone even if they didnt really liked you. So stupid; He let that happen. He loved you; he admired your determination, your resiliance, your kindness, but most of all he loved you for who you were, not for what you did to others, it wasn't important. He knew that he didn't have to lose you when Lilia said he was going to leave, "I still miss you" Silver knew that he had to say what he felt before it was too late; Ink splashed into the room, thunders could be heard outside the palace, and the green fog made everyone sleep.

He slept while you suffered, and woke up too late to accompany you.

Silver was always loyal, even when his heart sinked when he looked into the green eyes of the man who some day he said was his friend, seeing your reflection in them, completely covered in ink, green thorns and an almost unoticable fog; "I still think about you, day in, day out" Green was the color he despised the most, black was second, it reminded him of how he found you on the ground, how he bled with the thorns while he tried so desperately to remove them. He reminded him how fragile you were… How fragile you two were.

His person made its way to the ramshackle dorm, on the egoistical hope that your spirit one day will appear to be trapped there; to acompany him, the only straw left for his sanity to keep him on track was to think that you finally could be back at your own world, that your death here was the portal that made you go where you yearned and that was the reason why Crowley couldnt find your way home. Was it his fault? Malleus fault?, was it anyones fault to be honest?, when you deal with lost the way he did it was to blame others, but was there a culprit itself?

The dreams, the sleeping, the things he liked the most after you were the ones reminding him of his sins; He lost everything now, and he didnt care, even if the only time he got to see you again was in his nightmares he was going to face them, after all your memory was the only string that bringed him back to his sanity. He hoped that in any place you could ever be, happiness and joy surrounded you.

Taglist: @miriamladyvoid @caspirino

© Niftykin 2023, all rights reserved ONLY ON TUMBLR

[peachyloveswriting]

I just loved your writing! So get ready for the highs to come! how Vash, Knives and Wolfwood would react to a reader who is immortal, like Kenny from south park, the reader keeps dying in tragic and horrible ways or even weirdly funny ways in front of them, but for some strange reason, the next day you're alive,as if nothing had happened the day before.

sIf you want to approach it in a somewhat comical way, because in the south park cartoon kenny is cursed by immortality, because his parents went to a satanic ritual because there was free beer. If you want to tackle that part of the story, that's fine with me.

Actually, this is kind of funny. Kenny is my favorite South Park character at this point I know him inside out. Lol. This ought to be interesting. Thanks for the request. I'm actually really excited to write for knives finally! Let me know what you think.

YOU'RE IMMORTAL!? --- Vash, Knives, & Wolfwood

SUMMARY: For years you've wondered where your immortality comes from, your parents never told you so you kept it to yourself. Until the day came that someone remembered.

WARNINGS: Major angst, death, death description, death mentions, trauma. Please continue at your own discretion. I warned you.

NOTES: Vash's part is before he runs into Meryl and Roberto because I'm too lazy to write the other characters reactions as well. Wolfwood's part is short because I spent all my energy on Vash and Knives. I think Knives is my favorite part, I'm cherishing it.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Vash

"Sleepy head. C'mon wake up." You shake Vash's shoulder to wake him up. He groans before his eyes crack open. At first seeing you he mumbles a greeting before turning over to ignore you. It was right when he was going to turn away that the realization hit him like a freight train. His eyes suddenly open wide, pain swims inside of them as he looks up at you.

There was no way this was possible. Just the night before you had died right in front of him. Your head was blown into bits by some piece of shit bounty hunter. You had nothing to do with this. There was no reason for it to happen and it was all because you got involved with him. He was just starting to accept what happened and now here you are shaking him awake.

"I must be crazy." He mumbles to himself. Tears pool in his eyes and he sits up, bringing his hands to cover his face. "It's not real."

"Vash?" His babbling is confusing. He wouldn't know about you dying would he. No one else seemed to realize, so why would he? His sobs make this almost clear as day. Lifting a hand you rest it on his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. "What's wrong?" He continues sobbing into his hands and saying things you can't understand. It breaks your heart to see him like this, he's never cried in front of you before he's always been so happy and lucky. What happened?

Sliding your hand across his back and pulling him close, you hug him tightly. With your other hand pressed to the back of his head you tuck it safely under your chin where his teas soak your skin. Quietly you hush him, rubbing soft patterns along his back and whispering soft reassurances until he's reduced to nothing but harsh breathing.

Suddenly he speaks. "You're not real." He claims. Lifting his head to pull away from the hug he securely grabs your biceps. "You've got to be a ghost."

Now it's clear, exactly what's going on. Lifting your hands to cup his face you hush him once more. "It's me Vash. It's really me. I'm still here."

He shakes his head and his bottom lip trembles. "But I watched you die. I even buried you!" He cries.

Frowning, you pull him back into a secure hug. That night is as clear as ever in your head. You were laying flat on your back struggling against a man that pressed his gun to your head. You weren't strong enough to push him away and he pulled the trigger before Vash could stop him. You still remember hearing Vash calling out to you right before you died. He shouldn't have remembered in the slightest. That should have been the only time you'd ever have to see him in a bad mental state over your death. Yet he sat in your arms mentally destroyed by the sight of you.

How would you explain everything to him? Even worse, how could you put him through something like that and expect him to not be upset at you? This is the first time you've ever had to consider these things, it's never happened before. How were you supposed to deal with this?

Vash lifts his head once more to look you in the eyes. "You're not playing tricks on me right?" He asks in a broken voice. The tip of his node is red now and his eyes are puffy too. He even trembles in your touch. Why did it have to be him?

"Vash, I need to tell you something." His eyes don't show any hint of what might come next and that scares you. Anything could happen, the possibilities are endless and not all of them are good. You take a deep breath to quell your frayed nerves. It doesn't work but you try to carry on the calmest you can.

"What I'm about to tell you might make you mad or even make you think I'm crazy but I swear to you what you saw that night and what you're seeing right now is absolutely true. I did die." My hands can no longer hold onto him any more, they shake so hard I can't occupy them at all. Vash suddenly intertwines our fingers together to calm my shaking. I offer a brief smile before continuing.

"I can't die. I'm immortal." Those words are the hardest to say. Now that it's done it feels so easy but I know I might not be able to deal with causing this kind of trauma again.

Vash's hands loosen from mine. "Oh thank goodness!" I'm tackled into a hug. He has me pinned to the ground from his enormous weight and his head is tucked away against my neck. "I thought I really lost you." He lifts his head to look down at me. "You have no idea how happy I am." Tears still flow freely down his face as he gives me that stupid smile of his. It still makes my stomach do flips just looking at it.

"I could kiss you right now!" He doesn't move to do anything even though he's already announced it. He stares at me quietly in anticipation for my response. With wide eyes and a red hot face I nod. He's eager to kiss me right away as his hands find my face in no time at all. Surprisingly he's a lot more gentle than I expected. His lips are so warm and soft against mine. Quick to start but in no time to stop, Vash deepens the kiss for just a brief moment before he pulls away.

"Oh my god I have so much to tell you. I love you so much. I was so worried when it happened, gosh I wish all humans were immortal."

You chuckle at his excitement. "You can tell me all about it whenever you want. I've got all the time in the world."

"Hey. I do too." Vash beams down at you. Your eyes widen and your stomach does somersaults. "Wait, what!?"

Allowing you to sit up, Vash nervously scratches the back of his neck. "I guess I have something to tell you too."

Millions Knives

You woke up in your bed slightly out of it. The events from the day before are ever present in your mind. The little girl the doctor had been escorting everywhere had killed you. It was accidental on the Doctor's behalf but that girl had every intention of filling you with nails. Waking up the next day completely okay isn't out of the ordinary, it's happened before. It's still shocking to die and wake up completely okay it never seems to entirely become a nonchalant process.

You left your room and passed by the very doctor who watched you die. Just like every other morning he gives you a wave as you pass by which you return happily. He doesn't remember which is a good thing. No one has ever remembered you dying before, at least it's yet to come into fruition. You're glad that day hasn't come yet, you're still unsure of what to do when it does.

"Oh, Doc?" You turn to face him. He does the same. "Where's Naï?"

The doctor frowns. "He's been in his room since yesterday." That's strange, Knives doesn't need sleep, so why would he be in his room?

"Thanks." You offer a parting wave as you turn to walk off towards knives room. Knives or Naï, as he lets you call him, lets you stay here in the tower with him. He often enjoys your company throughout the night, everyone finds it bizarre that you won him over. It's obvious that mostly everyone except for the Doc and Naï hates you. Each one of them respects you in the presence of Knives but away from him, they make it known.

The reason why Naï favors you is unknown. He never speaks about it and he always acts like he wants to keep you at arms distance, but it's so much more than that. He's played songs for you on his piano and claims he made them for you himself. He makes sure your needs are met, he gives you food, a bed to sleep in, and keeps you happy. Naï protects you. There have been times where you've needed saving from someone within the building, mostly the ones who hate you. You call his name and he's by your side immediately, it's amazing. Sometimes you wake up to Naï sitting at the end of your bed watching the door, other times you find him tracing parts of your skin with his metal attachments.

You're not scared of him but everyone else is. Even as you step up to his door and lift your hand to knock, you're not scared. Just after your first knock, a scream comes from inside. Wooden shards break apart from the door as his metal tendrils snap through. You scream and drop to the floor with your arms covering your head.

Knives has always seen himself as a being who's incapable of truly caring for another, especially humans. Humans are the very thing he has worked his whole life to get rid of and yet at this moment in time he finds himself scared. The scream that had come from the other side of the door sounded like you, but how? You had died hours before, surely it was someone else.

"Go away!" He warns. His tendrils recede from the door and back inside of him where they seeth with unrest.

Seeing his blades recede you slowly rise to full height, your legs shaking underneath you. "Naï, it's me" Your hand shakes profusely as you rest it along the threshold to keep your balance.

Inside the room, Knives can feel his anger boil. "You dare impersonate them. I'll kill you!" In anger he stands from his bed and extends his tendrils once again. They break through the door, pulling back to rip it away inside the room. He steps forward, releasing his blades from the holes within the broken door to slice his visitor into pieces. For the first time, he feels time slow to a stop. His heart is pounding in his ears and his chest burns hot.

It's not possible. Humans don't have the ability to sustain injuries like the ones he saw from you and walk away unharmed. Humans definitely can't come back to life. He knows it, so why are you cowering in his doorway shaking with fear? Why can he hear you telling him to stop? Why is he scared?

Your arms cover your view again, you know it's a futile effort. He could kill you any time he pleased yet you tried to block it anyway. Surely you were already dead, you'd wake up again in your bed and return back to normal. Instead, rapid footsteps race towards you. Fear consumes you. This nightmare was really still going.

Naï screams your name as he tackles you. His strong arms scooping you into his grasp and sweep you from the floor. Gasping in surprise you open your eyes to find him looking at you in fear. Falling to his knees he releases you onto your knees.

"You died how are you still alive?" His breathing is hard and rapid as his hands raise to cup your face. He's so soft when he touches your skin like he's afraid he might break you if he presses too hard. "I didn't hurt you just now did I?" Panic fills him when you don't respond, his chest begins to ache and his eyes begin to sting.

"Please, speak. I'm so scared right now." This is the first time you've ever heard him beg. He's never sounded so scared before or alone.

"Naï." You wrap your arms around him pulling him into a hug. He can feel you shaking hard against him as small whimpers fall from your lips. He's never known a feeling stronger than the one he feels now. The way his heart tugs at the sound of your cries when he securely wraps his arms around you in fear of this all being fake.

Feeling his arms wrap around you, releases the tension in your body. Suddenly the fear you held onto at the beginning melts away and his smell calms your nerves. His breathing stutters against your neck before he lifts his head to cup your face again. Tears now soak his face and shine with the lights in the room. His hands tremble against you as they hold you.

"I'm so sorry, I scared you." Closing his eyes in disdain, he shakes his head and presses his forehead to yours. "I didn't think it was you- I thought you died."

Your heart aches as you grab his shaking wrist. "Don't worry about that Naï. I'm here. It's ok."

Opening his wet eyes he pulls his head away and grabs your hands. "How are you here? I saw the video. She killed you, I saw your body myself. I swear you... I was so scared. First Vash... But you too."

Pulling your hands from his you raise them to wipe the tears from his face. "Breathe Naï, I haven't left you. I can't even die."

His eyes grow wide as his breath hitches in this throat. "I'm immortal, Naï."

For a moment he stares at you, unsure of whether he can believe your words or not. You're living proof, touching him and talking to him right now. Even when he saw you dead that was real too he was sure of it. Was that really the truth? Could you really not die? Even with his doubt, relief filled him from top to bottom. The corners of his mouth began to twitch upwards into a smile, what he could only describe as joy warmed him.

"My flower..." He coos. "You can stay with me forever?"

You nod. "Yes. Naï. I can stay."

Breaking free of your hands, he pulls you into another hug. The only being he's felt this way towards is you and if he had to say what love is he'd tell someone about you. The joy you bring him is immeasurable to everything else in this stupid world. He'd kill an empire of people just for you and you alone. You are the ultimate being, the one that's just perfect for him.

"I don't know if this is right but I love you." He pulls away.

Heat blooms in your cheeks. Did he really say that? The most powerful being, could snap you like a twig and yet he presses a soft delicate kiss to your forehead.

"Oh Naï. I love you too."

Wolfwood

This was the first time during Wolfwood's contract that he let Vash leave his eyesight. Never before had he experienced enough grief to make him walk away from something like this. Maybe you were just the last straw. For sure he would retire after this. He had something with you and just like that it's gone. He would never feel something like that again, it's just not possible.

Sitting alone in the desert he was sure you called his name somewhere in the distance, for some reason he felt hope before it fell and shattered to the ground. You were gone, there's no reason for his mind to be playing tricks on him like this. He couldn't subject himself to this kind of torture and live on. No. But then it came again and it was closer this time. You called out to him from somewhere in the distance. You begged for him to come back, but he knew it was just a hallucination. Knowing that, he still turned around to see your figure wading through the darkness towards him.

Seeing him turn around, you jogged forward with worry. "Nick! You can't just leave like that. Do you know how worried I was. I've been searching for you since this morning. I thought something horrible happened."

He turned around and didn't say anything. If god was real he was surely laughing at him from hell right now. Just as he thought your memory had left your hands slid around his chest and you pressed against his back. He watched you lay your head on his shoulder with a sigh of relief. Was it even possible to go this crazy?

"You're dead. So stop following me." He grumbles.

Hearing those words fall from his mouth leaves you frozen against him. "You remember?" You stammer.

Suddenly he breaks free of your grasp and stands to face you. "Of course I remember you dying. Did you really have to remind me, you damn trick."

This has never happened before, it would have happened eventually for sure but why did it have to be with him?

"No one's ever remembered me dying before." You mutter.

His eyes widen and he backs away from you, anger laced on his face. Turning away he grabs his cross and settles it on his back. "Stop talking crazy!" With his back turned he begins to walk away. Your heart drops as you rush forward to stop him.

"Nick. Wait!" You trip against the sand. Gritting your teeth, you push yourself to your feet. "I can't die. I'm immortal!" Grabbing his shoulder, you force him to face you. "Feel me! I'm alive and well right in front of you! And maybe I should have said something sooner but I didn't think I'd have to. Nick please just believe me." Tears pool in your eyes. "Please."

Nick's gaze doesn't leave the sand at your feet. The crushed cigarette in his lips falls to the wayside and he sets the cross down. You died, yet you stood in front of him. He could hear you, touch you, it had to be you. How would he know otherwise? Even if it wasn't real what could it hurt to indulge himself just a little bit. So, he drops his facade and reaches forward to capture you in his arms.

You're hard, your skin is squishy and warm. You're not soaked with blood. This is real, it's real. It has to be. "I swear if this isn't real..." He trails off.

Wrapping your arms around him and sighing into his chest, you speak. "I swear it's real. Nick... I'm sorry."

Feeling his legs grow weak, Nick falls to his knees and pulls you down with him. Against you he begins to shake and his breath grows ragged. "You scared me baby." He cries.

You raise and hand to the back of his head and stroke his hair. "I'm so sorry."

[therealvinelle]

Would Carlisle/Alphard work? (Platonic or romantic)

... curse tumblr for I had drafted my reply to you. ALAS.

No.

Carlisle is not for Alphard

Alphard is an extremely cynical person who admires Tom Riddle for his strength and infallibility. Tom is the most extraordinary person in the room at any given time, and always true to himself. As far as Alphard is concerned Tom is a demigod among men, the sort of natural force who doesn't live by the same rules the rest of us do and wanting him to change is the last thing on Alphard's mind.

Would he admit this to Tom's face, never, Tom has enough of an ego. Alphard will call him a lunatic and ridiculous, and mean every syllable. Did he fall in love with a violent lunatic with impure blood who was beating up not just Alphard, but his closest relatives and all his friends in school, also yes.

It's the whole package of Tom that makes him appeal to Alphard, from the physical beauty to the uncompromising personality, to the way he can't ever be fully predicted, and the tragically romantic backstory. Being in love with him is just a point of fact for Alphard at this point.

Even becoming Lord Voldemort is something Tom never claims is anything but what it is, and while Alphard is horrified and heartbroken Tom remains the person he always was. Readers of The Man Who Would Be King will remember Alphard lasted one week before being married to Tom again.

Carlisle, by contrast, while unbelievably beautiful and just as extraordinary, is a man who has made self-delusion a cornerstone of his life. He loves his family and wants them to care about human life as much as he does, so he'll give them little nudges like going to their victims' funerals or have family votes where thankfully the majority voted against killing an innocent girl, and not think about what it says about Edward that he killed people for pleasure for four years because- well, he came back.

And he walks around talking about how great, how humane, how wonderful his family and their way of life is. While living among humans, thereby risking the deaths of innocents for no reason other than "it's our lifestyle!" (and the even worse, underlying reason of "if they don't live with humans they might forget humans aren't food...")

Loss of control isn't even a hypothetical, this happens to the Cullens semi-frequently.

Alphard would think he's a fool and a killer by proxy, and despise and pity him. To him, Carlisle is easily worse than Voldemort.

Alphard is not for Carlisle

The trouble with Alphard is that he is what Caius would be if Caius was worse. He's mean, he's judgmental, and he's cynical, all qualities Caius shares only Alphard is somehow worse. He's just so mean.

More troubling yet, he is very principled and harsh on himself but lives cease to matter to him where his loved ones are concerned. Had Aro said "Here is my Horcrux, it's a fifteen-year-old Aro who must be fed a soul to gain a body" Carlisle would have pressured him to either repair his soul, and left when Aro didn't do so. Alphard, by contrast, "Ope, guess we're finding him a soul then."

Alphard is a very ruthless person, he may be principled but should his line of reasoning lead him to murder being the solution to a problem a loved one is having then murder it is.

Alphard also reacts to Tom becoming Voldemort much the same way he would infidelity, as it's not really the suffering Tom inflicted that bothers him but the betrayal of his own character as Alphard knew it (and he'd have had a much harder time getting past actual infidelity. That would have been a crisis). His faith is restored because he sees enough of the goodness he fell in love with. His niece Bellatrix is much the same, of sure she's done bad things, Alphard is intellectually aware of this fact. It's getting hard to deny that she probably has tortured and killed people, and delights in it. Well, have you considered the fact that she's precious and perfect?

Andromeda's marriage to Ted is on par with Tom and Bellatrix's life choices in that Alphard's not thrilled with it, but he can look past it because he loves her that much.

To Carlisle this man is genuinely insane and terrifying. Carlisle can move past his friends killing to live because it's what they've always known and he sees the good in them in spite of that. Alphard would frighten him, there is plenty good in him but Carlisle would correctly put together that the man is one line of reasoning away from killing anybody at all.

Carlisle stays as far out of his way as he can, and warns others to keep their distance from this one.

Can these two even be in a room together?

I think if they meet in the library and only talk about books, they'll have a grand time. Just don't let them talk about anything personal, at all.

[madcatlad]

Aaron Needs Friends

Having him be aloof and mysterious was cool for the first few adventures, but for the amount of time that Aaron was traveling with Aph he should have been making SOME sort of relationship with her squad. This man was present since BEFORE Garroth was lost to the Irene Dimension. Yet all anyone had to say about him was "I didn't know much about him" "he was a good man". The group didn't even need to know him all that well, or be super close. He didn't need to expose all his secrets or be particularly socialable. But you're telling me that during the span of time that Aaron was around the same people, all the time, risking their lives...and he didn't interact with them on a more personal level? He ONLY interacts with Aphmau. That just isn't human nature.

I vaguely remember multiple characters getting shamed or dismissed for being concerned about his intentions. But looking back that is completely valid! From Aph's perspective, Aaron is a good guy who had proved himself, and doesn't need to explain himself ever. From everyone else's perspective, he is a complete stranger, with vague intentions and questionable goals, who they have know for at least a year in close proximity but goes out of his way (quite literally every single time) to interact with NO ONE but Aphmau.

Suspicious Behavior. That or he seems rude. But their distrust of that kind of put out is not unbased. Especially when his past comes to light, yet he is still no more than a stranger, and shown to be purposefully secretive. Suspicious Behavior. But the cast is supposed to ignore all that because...? "He's a good guy" how would anyone else know that?

I mean he doesn't have to open up to them in great lengths and cry about his tragic life, but by time he died he should have had a surface level relationship with the main gang. More than never knowing jack about him as a person. Training/mentoring with Laurence, amicable acknowledgement with Garroth, maybe teasing flusterable Katelyn. A joke or two outside of Aphmau. Just any amount of relationship outside of Aphmau. Please.

Otherwise his mysteriousness becomes an archetype instead of characterization. And it became more of a hindrance to the story, especially later on.

Having Aaron never build relationships with anyone BUT Aphmau sets him aside in a way that is very odd. Aaron is essentially NOT a character, but a plot point. He only exists to advance the plot, add suspense, or subvert the plot. But he himself had no character- other than grief.

And it especially took away from the significance of his DEATH! When he died the only person really grieving HIM was Aphmau. Everyone was sad for HER. It made so Aph could be sad but - "oh nobody else understands my grief". While Aph was grieving nobody could really grieve with her. It isolated her in a way so jarring and disconnected from the story it felt more like a plot diversion than a plot point. And everyone just continued with their respective plots, yet the STORY had to come to a screeching HALT after Aaron's death because aph was mouring and she is quite literally OUR EYES.

There in lies the problem. NOBODY could mourn for Aaron, because he was a stranger. But HE DIED! He died without ever getting to grow or build new relationships as his story was clearly building up to do. HE DIED with no mourners! What kind of depressing precedent is that?!? "You don't need to grow past your grief, and build new relationships after great lost! You just need to be HOT and (somehow impregnate) the main character! Plot 😃".

What a Lackluster death for a character!! A main character!!! To be mourned by no one. It should have been Aaron's death that brought the story to a halt, the fact that they had lost HIM. Not that Aphmau had lost him.

Aaron's death should have affected the entire cast, or at least the main one who had traveled with him so long! Yet everyone else is allow to move on as they would because essentially they lost nothing.

Yeah, we were all sad when Aaron died as kids. Because Aphmau was sad (that scream was something else). And, yes, Aaron's death was sad. But imagine how devastating it would be if EVERYBODY knew him- to some capacity- if everyone mourned his passing. Imagine how much more significance it would bring to his SACRIFICE.

Aaron was a man with nothing to lose from DAY ONE. BUT HE STAYED THAT WAY! He never grew! What kind of sacrifice is it for a man with nothing to live for, no mortal ties, to sacrifice his life.

It dumbs down his death to in essence, achieve his ONLY goal in life: revenge, and make his girlfriend-not-girlfriend happy.

He A STRANGER. Not because HE necessarily wanted Garroth back, but because Aphmau wanted Garroth back. It doesn't work well. Aaron should have sacrificed himself for Garroth because HE wanted to, because HE cared for Garroth.

It objectified him in a sense. His decisions- his world revolves around Aphmau, and only her? (And Zane strangely enough). He has free will but his choices like agency, desire, depth. He's a means to and end, hardly a character. He experienced no growth, no change, no discomfort.

He only experienced pain and Aphmau. Tragic.

[homicidal-sheep]

I will defend Eurylochus to my dying breath because what the fuck yall, he is not the malicious monster people are making him out to be?? Like these characters are so morally grey its not even funny.

I love Ody with all my heart but the man did fuck up. He is human, and a plaything of the Gods, which is a very dangerous position to be in at the best of times.

I've seen people saying Eury has no moral high ground on the Scylla thing because he wanted to leave all the men at Circe's. Now firstly, I highly doubt a simple scouting mission would include all the men (see Cyclops saga, when only a fraction went). So they would be running to save what men remained, not ditching the entire army. Secondly, what exactly did you want them to do when facing Circe? They didn't know Hermes was there. All they knew was there was a magic lady who could turn people into pigs. So what, were they gonna ask really really nicely? Somehow I highly doubt that would work. Without the Gods intervention, I just don't see them winning. Eury was cutting their losses because from his POV, there was quite literally nothing they could do for the men. Best case scenario they snuck the men/pigs out and, idk, kept them as pets??

As for the wind bag, yeah it was a really dumb decision. But Ody is the one who decided not to trust his men, especially Eury. Ody has already given up on the crew, and they likely feel that distrust. Why should they put their blind faith in a man who refuses to clue them in? Why should they believe that he has whats best for them in their hearts? Ody's own guilt caused him to embrace an ideology that got a bunch of them killed. (remember when he said the only one who's lines he hasn't crossed were his own?) And we can see some of this growing resentment in Perimedes cut song. We as viewers have context the men simply do not.

Sidenote, people say Eury would have gotten them lotus'd. Yeah maybe. or maybe Ody would have recognized the fruit before they ate it, like he did with Polites. We cannot know.

The other point I keep seeing, that I find absolutely baffling is "well they deserved to die for mutinying, they should have listened to their king and captain" I'm sorry when did we all become monarchists. Kings and captains can absolutely make bad decisions? We should not blindly trust authority?? Yeah Eury kept questioning the captain. He was second in command and the voice of the crew, not only is he voicing their discontent, I'd argue that a good king should have someone who is willing to disagree with them. While Ody is right, that in the middle of a dire situation isn't great, and it would have been better to address those issues in private, they are very legitimate worries. If your captain has admitted he would burn the world to see his son and wife, I think being a little worried is absolutely fair.

The Gods keep appearing and helping Ody but they are also incredibly dangerous beings who constantly play with the lives of mortals.

On to the cow thing. Ya it was fucking dumb. But I can understand why. The man is fucking tired. They don't see a way out and at that point, starving to death slowly, so desperately afraid, probably sounded like a terrifying fate. Better to get it over with.

And he still cares! Ody is his literal brother in law. They bandaged his wounds when they could have idk, sacrificed him to Posideon or something. What Ody did to them was 100% betrayal and I understand why they mutinied, with what information they had. For petes sake he kept singing "I need to get home", I, not we.

Again, I love Ody, but good lord, the man is the definition of an unreliable narrator. Let them all be complicated, tragic characters without labeling them as cookie cutter good guys and bad guys.

[goodqueenaly]

Revisiting Catelyn's chapter, and I've been finding the way that she reflects on her childhood in Riverrun (and while *at* Riverrun, watching over her dying father) rather interesting, in particular her relationship with Brandon. When Jaime speaks to her about his death, and she begins to tell him of how Brandon was on his way to Riverrun when he heard about Lyanna, she notes that "telling it still made her throat grow tight, after all these years." And later, after Jeyne comes to her for advice, we have this passage -- “Tell me what I should do. Catelyn might have asked the same, if her father had been well enough to ask. But Lord Hoster was gone, or near enough. Her Ned as well. Bran and Rickon too, and Mother, and Brandon so long ago. Only Robb remained to her, Robb and the fading hope of her daughters” -- where she counts Brandon as one of the people lost to her, along her mother, and children, and Ned.

What level of depth of feeling, of emotion do you think there was between Brandon and Catelyn during their betrothal (speaking from Catelyn's end of things)? I find these passages a bit curious and they seem to hint to me love, though her POVs also don't quite give us glimpses of any sort of emotional or physical intimacy between them (by physical I mean even something at the level of the kissing games she played with Lysa and Petyr)?

Thank you for taking the time to share your insights with us!

Catelyn was betrothed to Brandon for around five or six years during a significant portion of her young life. As the dutiful daughter of a House whose devotion to duty is literally reflected in its dynastic motto, Catelyn was raised even at 12 to “[thank] him [i.e. her father Hoster] for making her such a splendid match” when this betrothal occurred. While I doubt Catelyn and Brandon met very frequently during their betrothal period, his apparent companionship with Jeffory Mallister may suggest that Brandon traveled in the Riverlands in the years before his death, and consequently spent some time with his fiancée during this time; I doubt Brandon and Catelyn would have been left unchaperoned or allowed to engage in any remotely indecorous conduct, to be sure but these may have been opportunities for the two of them to exchange some courtly pleasantries. Brandon was also personally good-looking, wild in both rage and mirth in a way the young Catelyn clearly found attractive. 

Given all that, I’m not surprised that Catelyn would have developed some level of romantic feelings toward Brandon, and would have held onto those feelings for the rest of her life. Brandon had been her politico-dynastic destiny from the age of 12 until roughly about the age of 17 or 18, a man she had been encouraged to love as her future lord husband. Moreover, to Catelyn, Brandon may have seemed quite the catch - the handsome, dashing young knight or de facto knight, heir to a great castle and title, who dueled in her name for the honor of her hand. With Brandon dying young and tragically from Aerys II’s tyranny, Catelyn never had the chance to become disillusioned with Brandon’s infidelity (and almost certainly never knew of his sexual relationship with Barbrey or his potential bastards), or to have to manage his emotionality day to day; Brandon could remain idealized in Catelyn's mind as her first fiancé and love. 

Which is not to say, of course, that Catelyn never loved Ned. If neither Catelyn nor Ned had been raised to anticipate marrying the other, both understood the politico-military necessity of doing so during Robert’s Rebellion; more importantly, each also came to understand, appreciate, and ultimately love the other on a deeply personal level. Catelyn might have always remembered Brandon, but Ned was "her Ned", her husband, "the man I loved, the father of my children".

[blissfullyapillow]

┃It’s always you

₊˚⊹♡Jing Yuan x gn reader

₊˚⊹♡‎wc: 2,357~

₊˚⊹♡warnings: suicide (reader), angst with a happy ending, death & rebirth, soulmate au type beat 

₊˚⊹♡notes: I’ve been obsessing over Blade lately but Jing Yuan remains to be the OG lmao. On a serious note: I rediscovered the song Back 2 You by Selena Gomez during a time of emotional turmoil and.. voila.  I originally wasn’t going to upload this. I was gonna scrap it or just keep it for me, for personal use, but I decided to post it after I revised it. I wrote this for personal reasons I will not delve into, but I hope this helps someone else as much as it helped me. You’re loved, and there’s always someone out there who will listen, understand, and love you. I promise. ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

₊˚⊹♡Main Masterlist

Jing Yuan’s experienced many relationships before, ranging from platonic to romantic in nature.

Yet the end of said relationships failed to pierce his heart as deeply as his heartbreak for you.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

He still remembers that day vividly.

Your slumped figure sitting in a pool of your own blood, with a letter loosely held in your cold hands.

The rest of the scene became a blur, as his vision became clouded with tears.

a rare occurrence for a man like Jing Yuan.

He partly blamed himself, even though he knew your actions weren’t a reflection or a result of his own actions or feelings.

his heart lurched as a broken sob racked his trembling form. Still, he gently removed the beautiful parchment from your lifeless hand to scour your last words.

your written declaration of love and gratitude, for him, brought a self-deprecating smile to his lips. Your words are so powerful and moving, yet your body lay lifeless before him.

He takes a shuddering breath as his eyes slowly trail up your slumped figure. his fingers curl around your letter as his heart stops.

The sight of a dagger plunged deeply into your chest, directly into your heart, is all it takes for his soul to cry in agony.

His throat constricts, and his lungs fail to adequately exchange oxygen, yet…

He refuses to look away; he does not dare to tear his eyes away from the love of his life, even in her demise.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Jing Yuan never hid from the public eye. Even with the tragic, countless losses his heart continued to endure, he never resided in solitude for long.

…

Your death was the first time he remained in seclusion.

He knows you belong to the Vidyadhara, a humanoid race, so your body will be repaired.

but..

Your memories of him, of the time you two spent together, will not remain.

He doesn’t even know if he’ll encounter you again in his lifetime, but the possibility is high.

So, he waits.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

After Jing Yuan’s long period of seclusion following your death, he resumed work.

On a particularly slow day Fu Xuan stopped by to see the general of the Luofu. She knew of your fate, and although she was loath to admit it she was concerned for the general.

When she saw that lazy smile on his lips, she almost chided herself for being worried.

That is, until she realized his smile didn't meet his eyes.

She entertained small talk with the general as contemplated how to broach her concerns with the grief-stricken general. As the conversation slowly trailed off, she steeled herself. 

The Master Diviner braced herself for backlash as she gave the general unsolicited advice… albeit from the goodness of her heart; the general is a sloth at times, much to her annoyance, but she truly did wish him well. 

So, with that in mind, she cautioned him that if he were to meet your reincarnation he should not engage and move on.

Even as his lazy smile morphed into a deep rooted frown, she continued on. She informed him that there’s no guarantee your fate will differ from your past life, even if you two reunite.

Although Fu Xuan’s words struck a nerve, he knew she was coming from a good place.

After a brief farewell he watched her retreating figure. He considered her advice despite his reluctance. 

Though it pained him to admit it, her words were not ill advised. 

Maybe.. he should try to move on.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

He tried to heed Fu Xuan’s warning.. in his own way. 

He attempted another relationship, but shortly broke it off.

He deemed it a fruitless endeavor since his thoughts were filled with you as he was lying beside someone else. He’d hate to be inauthentic, so he did what was best for him and his brief companion.

It feels like millennia pass by as he moves through the motions. His duties as general serve as a welcome distraction for his desolate heart. 

Now, his droopy eyes rove over words that seemingly blur together as he reaches the end of the document. Once his signature is elegantly signed on the bottom of the document, he leans back in his seat to indulge in a brief moment of rest.

His sleep addled brain immediately thinks of you, as it usually does.

He reminisces about his very first encounter with you. 

He had made a visit to a bookstore with hopes of finding an engaging book that could be a much needed distraction from work.

Preferably, a book about cats.

He took his time to scan the vast array of books the store had to offer. His eyes lit up with unbridled joy as he found what he was looking for. 

He reached for the book, but before he could grasp it someone bumped into him from behind. When he turned around, there you were.

Your eyes were glazed over. It was obvious you were daydreaming about something and your mind was elsewhere. It took a few moments, but your eyes came into focus. 

As your anxious orbs stared into his eyes, he winked at you.  

He laughed at your flustered reaction; you began to apologize profusely as you tried to look anywhere but at him.

He didn’t know it at the time, but he would grow fond of your clumsy actions. 

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Subconsciously, a smile forms on his lips as he remembers the adorable smile you graced him with when he dismissed your apologies. 

In contrast to his smile, a pained sigh leaves his lips. He’s struggling to recall the name of the bookstore.

After you died he avoided going anywhere near that bookstore. He physically couldn’t handle walking down that path, that same path you used to always accompany him on.

To those close to him, it was fairly obvious that your death impacted him greatly. Unfortunately they could only do so much to alleviate their general’s heartache.

Jing Yuan hated Yanqing’s blatant concern when he purposely took the long way back to his office. Even so, Jing Yuan continued to avoid the route all together, for many years. 

He evades it to this day.

He forces his heavy eyes to open, staring at nothing as he tries to snuff his beautiful memories of you.

…

….

He slowly puts the signed document down with a despondent groan. 

It’s no use.

For some reason, he can’t stop thinking about that bookstore.

…it feels like he’s forgetting something important.

His mind reels as he desperately tries to recall the name of the bookstore. His eyebrows crease in concentration once the name of the bookstore is on the tip of his tongue. 

Come on Jing Yuan, it shouldn’t take you this long to- 

Ah, he remembers now.

Jing Yuan looks down at the paper as he mindlessly fiddles with it. He doesn’t know why, but he feels compelled to visit the bookstore once more after so many years. However, with every fiber of his being, he tries to quell the urge. His finger taps against his knee as his leg bounces. 

He detests how easily he wants to give in. 

He’s avoided the store for years, so why does he-

…

Wait. 

He shoots up from his seat.

He’s quick to scan the document he signed until he finds the date. Once his eyes land on their target, he feels the air leave his lungs like someone punched him. 

Ah.

It’s the day you…

He takes a sharp intake of breath. His knee resumes bouncing as his heart pounds against his chest.

He moves abruptly, heading for the door. 

Some papers flutter off his desk due to his erratic movements. He pays no mind to the wayward documents as he swiftly leaves his office.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Jing Yuan finds himself walking down a road he hasn’t set eyes on in years. The esteemed man admires laughing children and busy salespeople as he walks down the familiar path.

It feels like a weight is lifted from his chest as he continues to walk. A tentative smile reaches his lips as he draws closer to the bookstore.

His heart threatens to burst from his chest as the sign comes into view so he stops walking to take a deep breath. 

He closes his eyes and centers himself. 

He focuses on the sounds of life around him; His trained ears pick up the sound of laughter, of footsteps that rush past him, of a baby babbling… 

Once he’s composed himself he completes his journey to the bookstore.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Honestly, he’s fond of this bookstore. It is where he first met you after all.

He leisurely peruses the books in stock as he smiles at the seller. They gaze at him curiously with a tentative smile in silent reply. They’re obviously surprised that the General of the Cloud Knights is here to pay a visit to their bookstore. 

He scans the selection one more time. When he doesn’t find anything of interest, he says his farewell to the shop owner. 

He did what he came here to do. He’s proud of himself for walking down this route after so much time has passed. He feels the best he ever has in years.

This was a healing experience for him. 

He turns around, ready to return to the many documents that await his approval and revision. He unwittingly bumps into someone during his haste, and blood rushes to his cheeks as he quickly apologizes.

The person stumbles backwards, but he’s quick to reach out and steady them. His eyes quickly scan the figure as he opens his mouth to apologize once again, and..

Oh.

Oh my.

The words die in his throat.

His heart leaps out of his chest and into the hands of the beautiful person in front of him.

You.

 He knows it’s you; your pretty features are permanently engraved in his memory.

Your expression is one of surprise, yet a subconscious smile, reminiscent of a past life, graces your beautiful lips.

His mouth parts in shock as his skin runs cold. He releases you to subtly wipe his clammy hands on his pants.

He regrets letting go of you immediately.

Your head tilts as you stare at him, and an ethereal smile presents itself on your lips.

The same lips he dreams about every night. 

The same lips he achingly yearns to kiss once more. 

He instinctively tilts his body in your direction. 

“General!? It’s a pleasure to meet you! Am I in your way? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

His Adam's Apple bops as he tunes out the rest of your words. His eyes remain zeroed in on your lips. They only look up when your lips stop moving. 

Golden eyes blatantly admire the sparkle of amusement in your gorgeous orbs.

He longs to pull you into his arms; he’s missed you so much. He was uncertain if he’d ever meet you again, and he didn’t know he’d do if he did.

He hopes you aren’t facing the same struggles you previously were. If you are, he won't hesitate to do everything in his power, and more, to prevent the same outcome from occurring. 

“I.. I missed-“ 

His voice… it’s..

Strained. 

Hoarse. 

In desperate need of water.

He coughs into his fist as an embarrassed blush graces his cheeks. In his urgency to reconnect with you, he forgot that you won’t remember him. You don’t know him since you’ve clearly molted, and everyone knows the memories of the Vidyadhara unfortunately don’t carry over.

But oh he hopes you’ll spend this lifetime you have with him.

All of it.

So he settles for an elated smile. His heart flounders in your hands when you visibly become flustered; you look down as a shy smile manifests itself on your divine lips.

He falls in love with you all over again. 

Oh, how he loves you.

“Don’t worry that pretty head of yours over it, I’d hate to see a frown mar those ravishing lips. The fault lies with me. ..As a way for me to amend my mistake, why don’t you accompany me on a walk?” His velvety voice makes you swoon, and you fail to hide how giddy you feel. 

With a knowing smirk he offers his arm to you, but you hesitate to accept his offer. 

“Are you sure, General? I may not own anything of interest, but I’m sure I can-“ “Oh, but you do. Please, indulge me.” His eyes bore into yours, and you see a glint of… something.. within them. You aren’t sure what it is.

Although his words leave you confused, you oblige. Your arm wraps itself snugly in his and your body moves closer to his own. 

His eyes water with unshed tears as he fails to mask his euphoria. His wobbly smile is the last thing you see before he hides his face from your view.

You remain none the wiser to the tear that managed to escape.

As you both walk up the road he’s avoided for years, his gaze trails back to you once more. He chuckles at the flagrant jubilation on your enchanting face. You were always bad at masking your emotions around him.

He initiates a conversation with you, and it isn’t long before he’s blessed with your melodious laugh.

He hopes that he’ll be able to revive the object of interest that you own.

His heart.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

As the years go by you grow close to Jing Yuan once more. You successfully revive his previously shattered heart, and you make him the happiest man in the universe when you agree to marry him. You remain by each other’s side for eternity, and in this lifetime of yours he’s proud to say he was able to grow old with you.

P.S: He always reunites with you after you molt, and you two continuously fall in love with each other in every life that you have.

There’s no one else he’d rather spend his immortality with than you.