#i just had a thought and turned it tragic and angsty for the sake of it

[callsignbaphomet]

Random thought but (Skyrim) werewolves aren't immortal or conditionally immortal like vampires are.

So as the years pass by Loke is gonna see Jelani still looking like he did when he got bit at 17 but Jelani will see Loke get older and older and older until he won't get to see him anymore.

[warriorstale001]

Greetings!!! So... A thought... you know the OSD Stone Sleep au...

OSDiff Stone Sleep.

Dream in a weakened state in an au seeped in negitivity last time that happened he turned to stone. And this time... well he might not fight it. He can feel it and just lets it happen he's sick, scared and in pain... maybe being a statue isn't so bad after all.

Someone coming in to check on him. One of the boys for guard duty or Nightmare himself only to find Dream laying there nothing more then a statue... he looks... peaceful...

Well uh... Congratulations on finding what must be the one of the most depressing endings that OSDiff could possibly have... Because wow that is a sad idea you have come up with, my friend.

Of course I am very aware of the OSD Stone!Sleep AU by @calcium-cat but an OSDiff version?!

Where to begin...

First off... THE FACT DREAM JUST LETS IT HAPPEN??? Like WHOA that is so angsty and so dang sad... The idea Dream has just completely given up after what Nightmare has done so decides he's better off as a stone statue... YIKES!!! I will say tho that while OSDiff Dream is in a pretty poor state right now in the fanfic, I don't believe he has quite gotten to THIS level of despondence... He has some hope still (believe it or not) it's just buried underneath all the pain of what Nightmare just put him through. But for the sake of this AU, yes I am willing to accept that Dream is at the absolute lowest point he can go and thus decides he's better off as a statue.... The poor thing :/.

I still can't decide whether I'd prefer if its one of the boys who discovers Dream's statue or Nightmare himself. Because the boys discovering it first could lead to a scene where Nightmare is contemplating his actions from the Prologue in his office (think start of Chapter 1) and instead of Cross telling Nightmare he's sick, Dream is already a statue and Nightmare can do nothing but rush down to the dungeon to see for himself. So many emotions go through Nightmare's mind as he sees his statue there, confusion at first, denial and of course anger. This wasn't supposed to happen like this. He wasn't finished with Dream yet! He was still meant to be suffering, but instead he had chosen to turn back into a statue to avoid his wrath?! No... That wasn't fair to him! He had been planning this for so long, yet Dream had to go and ruin it just like that?! How could he do that to him?! Why did nothing ever work out the way he intended it too?! Now he'll never get his revenge on Dream... He'll never find peace or happiness. He stares at the statue for a while, lost in his own spiralling thoughts before he finally moves it to one of his tower rooms, locking the door behind him.

The most important thing to remember about this particular OSDiff Nightmare (and probably one of his most tragic traits) is that in this timeline, Dream's sudden change into a statue doesn't allow him to go through the character growth he would have gone through in the normal OSDiff timeline, meaning he is not yet at the point where he would want to mourn Dream or regret his actions despite what's happened. There is no connection, bonding or talking between brothers in this timeline, which leads this Nightmare to shove Dream to an almost untouched section of the hideout where Nightmare can simply attempt to forget about him. He's buried but still there, shoved to a section of the castle, just like the grief and loss shoved to the corner of his mind. Dream turning to stone is definitely a tragic aspect of this AU, but I also find Nightmare's lack of character growth and the fact he's never able to regret his actions just as tragic. He'd be lucky to ever feel true happiness again after Dream turns to stone in that timeline...

I swear I have so many ideas for this AU, especially because it has so much potential, but I just have no time to write them ugh :'(. If any of you wanna write your take on this scenario, though please feel free I would absolutely love to see that.

[sapphickittykatherine]

you ever think that maybe lancelot deliberately engineered situations through his choices? situations where he couldn't have what he wanted and situations where he could be angsty or heroic, even if the heroism lies in death?

like surely he must have known that becoming a knight through identity fraud wouldn't last. it would absolutely come back to bite him in the ass at some point or another. and yeah maybe he was just desperate to achieve his dream and saw no other option, and maybe he only agreed to it so quickly because the episodes are 40 minutes long, but maybe he agreed to it because he knew it wouldn't last. because he didn't think he deserved to be a knight, not really. he earned the respect of the crown prince and greatest knight of the kingdom he so admired, to the extent that said prince argued with the king for his sake, and he yielded. he gave up what he so desperately wanted just like that. because he's noble and he doesn't want to cause conflict, sure, but listen to what he says: "I must start again, far from here. Then maybe one day fate shall grant me another chance to prove myself a worthy knight of Camelot. ... I must prove it to myself." he never thought he was worthy. his actions only consolidated this to him. he set himself on a self-destructive path and when it sort of worked out he sent himself back to square one.

not to mention that he went on what was, as far as he knew, a suicide charge against the griffin. maybe he wanted that. he wanted an honourable death. and when he didn't die, he found a way to ruin his own life anyway lmao

bear in mind that this guy was a commoner no doubt with practical skills. when he left camelot, he could have gotten a job on a farm and honed his knightly skills on the side or something, but he became a cage fighter???? in DEATHMATCHES????? fighting to the death on the regular only ever ends one way. it's like he wanted to die. he wanted to simulate death through combat, like an honourable knight he so admired, or to disgrace himself by dying in a dirty cage surrounded by lowlifes who saw him as nothing more than entertainment. maybe both.

this guy had gwen. she was smitten, if not in love with him, and he left. he took one look at the possibility that another man, whom he admired, could love her, and he yielded. he stomped on his own chance of happiness to go wallow somewhere. and even if he thought it was for the best, he must have known that gwen would be crushed. she might get over it eventually, but her heart would be broken. maybe he wanted that. not to hurt her, but maybe he thought it was necessary to get her to resent him. maybe he thought he shouldn't be loved by anyone, and by hurting gwen he would stomp out whatever love she had for him, and maybe even replace it with the vitriol he felt he deserved. which, in turn, would only consolidate his self-hatred.

obviously, lancelot makes the ultimate sacrifice in the end. and people treat it as honourable, but there's escapism in death. through death, he can be a tragic figure. he doesn't have to face the world. he can exist in memory as the most favourable version of himself.

maybe he hated himself. maybe he saw tragedy and abstinence from happiness and one's own wants as heroic or even inherent to heroic figures. maybe his idea of heroism was inextricably tied to tragedy, or he felt he'd best fit the role of a tragic hero. i imagine him growing up on tales of great noble warriors putting their needs aside and dying honourably in combat, ascending to an immortal, god-like status by putting their own humanity aside, and wanting. even if that's inherently contradictory. a little selfish bubble of desire that he kept locked deep inside, the one thing he allowed himself, while convincing himself that giving everything else up to that end was selfless. that if no one knew that he wanted it, or if he denied it to himself, it wouldn't matter.

i just wish he was in the show more. generally, but also so we could see more of this. characters like him are so much fun to prod and put in situations, so it's a terrible shame.

[cursestothemoon]

A Cruel Favor

Regulus Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Request: Could I get and angsty and sad blurb with Regulus? Nothing specific in mind, Regulus’ entire life is pretty tragic already- just throwing some strained and kind of heartbreaking romance into that mix sorry i like pain this is how i cope

Summary: Your relationship with the youngest Black brother in the form of memories seen in a pensieve by Sirius Black.

Warnings: Death, sadness, crying, the dark mark, ghosts

Word Count: 3265

Author's Note: babe you asked for a blurb and i just did not listen i am so sorry, if you'd still like a blurb let me know and i'll whip up a little short piece but regardless i hope you enjoy this 😌

“You didn’t know him! You didn’t want to know him!” Your voice bellowed, trembling with the burning anger you held in your heart for the eldest Black brother.

It was true, back when the war was just ‘politics’ and the ‘Dark Lord’ a name whispered behind closed doors, Sirius Black had already made up his mind about his family- Regulus included.

“He was my brother.” Sirius spoke the statement as if just the mere fact of relation was supposed to trump that he hadn't even spoken to his brother in the months prior to his death.

You let out a bitter laugh, “Don’t lie for the sake of saving face, you never saw him as a brother; not then and certainly not now.”

Sirius seemed taken aback by your accusation, his words getting lost on his tongue for a moment before he quickly regained his fiery passion for argument.

“He betrayed me.”

“You were the one who betrayed him!” Your accusatory finger pointed at Sirius.

The eldest Black brother’s features went stoney, “The moment he decided to get that mark, was the moment he lost his name as my brother.”

Everything in the mangey old house seemed to still, a silence falling so powerful you could hear a pin drop. Your slow footsteps were exaggerated in the quiet, each creak ringing in both yours and Sirius’ ears. With a tired hand, you pushed a small pouch onto the surface of the dining room table, the vials inside clinking together softly.

“They’re numbered.” You breathed out. “There is so much you don’t know, Sirius.”

You walked through the door and onto the street hastily, not wasting any time to apparate back home.

Sirius sat down in the nearest chair with a huff, his knees spread as his shoulders slid down the back of the chair. He hadn’t remembered just how far up his brother’s ass you were.

Roughly, he rubbed his face with his palms before lazily reaching for the dark velvet pouch on the table. The emerald green reminded him not only of his brother, but of his entire family, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Sirius couldn’t help the groan that left his mouth at the memories of his family that seemed to plague his mind.

Fittingly, Sirius opened the pouch to reveal just that. The silvery, viscous tendrils that floated through each vial were immediately recognized by the pureblood. You had given him your memories...and a letter.

You deserve to know him.

Y/N L/N

Sirius’ curiosity regarding what secrets of his brother’s seemed to be swimming in the vials bubbled over, he was sure 12 Grimmauld Place was harbouring a pensieve somewhere within its walls, he’d just have to get up and find it.

17 October 1974

Barty Crouch Jr. was an insolent child, the type to collect bones and listen to them rattle. He had a nervous tick, his tongue slithering past his lips every so often in a manner that was so serpentine it made your skin prick.

“Come on then, L/N, be a good little girl and do as I say.”

You threw down your quill in frustration, “Bugger off, Crouch. I’ve said no.”

“Don't be like that,” Barty smirked, coming closer to where you were sitting. “It’s only some homework. You were going to do yours anyway, why not get some extra practice in by doing mine too?”

“I’d rather have unforgivables practiced on me than do anything you ask.”

His sickly sweet smile wasn’t one you were expecting, his voice low and threatening, “That can be arranged.”

Your blood ran cold as you watched his nimble fingers move toward his wand pocket in his robes. Truthfully, you should’ve known better. Being in the same house as Barty allowed you the luxury of hearing all the gossip surrounding him and his hobbies, dark magic and curses being at the top of that list.

“Barty.”

The cold baritone made the sandy-haired menace stop in his tracks, his face contorting into an expression of mild annoyance and frustration.

“There’s no need for you to be acting like a child. Quite humiliating asking someone else to do your work, isn’t it, Crouch? Are you too thick to get it done yourself?”

Barty turned to look at his friend, words jumbling as he tried to figure out how to get himself out of the hole he had dug.

“Reg-” The stone-like stare had Barty cowering and mouth snapping shut, the boy seemingly trying to fold in on himself.

With a simple nod of his head, Regulus directed the him to make himself useful elsewhere, but you were far too taken by the handsome boy in front of you to notice the stomping footsteps of Barty’s as he left. Of course you had known of Regulus Black, seen him from afar and even once had Transfiguration with him, but seeing him up close was an experience in and of itself. His skin was ghostly pale, hair dark and wavy as it fell just below his ears, and his cheekbones were high accentuating the slant of his nose. Regulus Black was beautiful, everything about him seemed to be placed just right and sculpted with the utmost care and attention.

He turned to you, your eyes meeting before he gave you an appraising look.

“Regulus.” His hand struck out, a rather rugged introduction.

Slowly, you took his hand in yours and proceeded to shake it. You couldn’t seem to rid yourself of the feeling that your hand was far too dirty, far too boring to be touching his, to even be near his.

“Y/n L/n, thank you- for that.” You were proud of yourself for not allowing your voice to shake.

“I’m sorry he was a bother.”

Regulus seemed to lack the ability of holding a conversation, he nodded- you assumed a goodbye- and got ready to make his way to the dorms.

“Wait,” Your voice came out before you could stop it. “You could stay, I’m almost done anyway. We could...talk.”

The suggestion had the boy's ears turning pink, his words coming out stuttered and jumbled, a stark contrast from the boy who had told off Barty so eloquently.

“If you- alright.”

You thought for a moment before speaking again, “You’re not very good at talking to people are you?”

“Excuse my blatant honesty, but you make me quite nervous.”

It was your turn to have your ears turn a soft hue of red, “I could say the same about you.”

5 April 1975

“Haven’t you got your own side of the blanket? Must you be so close to me?” You giggled, trying to roll away from Regulus while still avoiding the grass.

Regulus smiled, his eyes closing and nose scrunching in thought before he spoke, “I prefer to be close to you; making sure you won’t run out on me.”

Both of you began giggling, his head falling to nudge your shoulder. Ultimately, Regulus shuffled away from your side, allowing just about a foot of space in between your bodies. The wind rustled your hair as you turned your neck to look at the youngest Black as he sat up, his legs stretched and crossed at the ankles, arms propping himself up as his palms pressed flat against the floor.

It was no secret that Regulus was beautiful. His dark hair- now gently flowing in the cool breeze- stood out against his pale skin, freckles were dusted delicately over his aristocratic nose and sharp cheekbones. You could tell he’d never worked a day in his life with how handsome and soft his hands were. His fingers were long and slender, never dry or rough, and his nails perfectly trimmed and always clean.

Regulus Black was absolutely perfect and you were regretting ever complaining about his proximity.

You were quick to right your wrong, bashfully you raised yourself onto all fours and crawled over to your boyfriend. Regulus tried to hold in his smirk, avoiding turning to look at you directly but you could tell his resolve was breaking.

“Regulus…” You spoke his name with an innocent lilt, sitting back on your shins once you were close enough to have your knees touching his thigh.

He hummed, not giving you the satisfaction of having his full attention.

A huff of frustration fell past your lips at his stubbornness as you threw your leg over his thighs, straddling his legs just above his knees. His composure was thinning, a wide smile threatening to spread across his thin lips.

“You’re far too close,” he teased, his hand coming up as if trying to stop you from getting any closer. “I believe you are on my side of the blanket, L/n.”

“Don’t be so fickle, Black.”

Regulus’ pale blue eyes found yours, his delicate hand coming up to run across the delicate collar of your dress.

“It’s in my nature isn’t it?” His eyes held a certain sadness that you could not place, one you wouldn’t see again until a few years later.

Your lips parted to respond to him, only to be interrupted by a Hogwarts ghost floating nearby. It was a ghost neither you nor Regulus were familiar with and as she passed she mumbled something- rather spitefully- about young love. The event had your train of thought derailed, a quiet giggle erupting from your throat as the transparent, deceased woman floated on.

Regulus seemed to find the woman just as amusing as you did, his eyes crinkling with laughter as you two now looked at each other in fits of hysterics.

“Oh her poor soul!” You exclaimed, eyes looking off in the direction she had gone. “If you were a ghost, Reg, where would you haunt with your undead presence.”

His expression contorted into one of reminiscence, “Uncle Alphard’s cherry orchard just a few kilometers from Monts de Venasque. When we were little, Sirius and I would play in the trees. I could sit in those cherry trees for hours, everything just seemed to disappear. Alphard’s been burned off the tapestry since, but he’s left the property in my possession along with the small house on the land. I think if I were to choose one place to spend eternity, it would be there.”

You smiled softly at his answer.

“And you?” He asked, bringing you out of your lovesick haze.

“Me?” You chuckled. “I’d suppose my eternity would be well spent as long as I was somewhere with you.”

28 June 1976

It seemed the entirety of 12 Grimmauld Place shook with how hard Sirius had slammed the front door.

He was gone.

Completely and entirely gone.

And Regulus was completely and entirely alone now.

Regulus swiftly made his way up the stairs and to his room, just barely avoiding a collision with the poor house elf.

“Y/n’s room.” The words were spoken clearly and concisely as the floo powder fell from his shaky hands.

The time of night- 2:27 am- was of little importance to Regulus, he needed to see you.

You woke up with a jolt, the sound of someone stumbling into your room and panicked mumbling doing nothing to ease your nerves though the mop of dark curls had your heart calming down.

“Reg?”

He turned to look at you with heartbroken eyes, watery and bloodshot.

“He’s gone.” He choked out.

You kicked the blankets off yourself and stood up from your bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor.

Keeping a calm tone you slowly got closer to him, “Who’s gone, love?”

His pain was so evident, rolling off him in waves, “Sirius- he’s not coming back.”

“Oh,” You sighed, treading lightly. “I’m sur-”

“No!” He cried, “Burned off the tapestry, probably with the Potters- he’s gone an-and he left me with them.”

Regulus’ anguish, tear stained cheeks, had your own eyes welling with unshed tears. It was clear words would do nothing to calm him, instead you opted for pushing yourself into him and taking his crying form into your arms. His body seemed to give out as you held him, his tears soaking your shirt as he wailed into your neck.

Neither of you could tell how long you stood in the middle of your room seemingly holding him together, but his cries subsided into gentle whimpers and the occasional sniffle as his nose nudged the side of your neck.

His voice came out rough and strained, just barely above a whisper, “Please don’t- don’t leave me like Si- like he did.”

You could feel your heart shatter, “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

“I don’t know how I would’ve survived in this mess if I had never known you.”

Your breath came out ragged as you spoke the truest words you've ever dared to speak, “My heart beats for you, Regulus.”

30 December 1979

His forearm itched.

It seemed to always have an odd itch ever since he was sixteen.

Regulus watched your form get closer, bundled in a thick overcoat and a dark blue scarf- Christmas present from himself- wrapped neatly around your neck. You were the picture of beauty, like a living doll with your soft smile and adoring eyes.

“My love.” You greeted him, leaning in to place a soft kiss against his cold cheek.

His eyes seemed distant, your only greeting a tight lipped smile.

Your eyebrows knit together, “Everything alright?”

Regulus nodded, his eyes swimming with a sadness so familiar, “Just taking you in.”

He pulled off his leather gloves, stuffing them deep in his coat pocket before reaching his hand out to hold your jaw, his thumb running across your skin. The action was comforting and you couldn’t help but close your eyes to savour the feeling of his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

You let out a small gasp when you felt him take your lips in a slow kiss. It was passionate, loving, yet there was a certain finality to it that had a shiver run up your spine in the most unpleasant way.

“I have the cruelest favor to ask of you, and I can only hope you’ll forgive me once I do.”

Your stomach dropped, “What do you mean, Regulus? What- what favor?”

“Please, try to understand-”

“What favor?”

“I couldn’t-”

“Tell me what the favor is, Regulus.”

Your voice had an edge to it that made him compose himself almost instantly.

He took a breath before speaking, his eyes looking off somewhere behind you as he spoke, “He’s getting stronger.”

You didn’t need to ask who this ‘he’ was, the tone made it very clear.

“He has these… horcruxes. Incredibly dark magic, I don't know how many but I know of one. It’s hidden and I’ve found out the location, I can destroy it I know I can but-”

His tone was hushed and your heart rate had started to pick up speed.

“But you don’t know if you’ll live to tell the tale?” You asked with a humorless laugh.

The look in Regulus’ eyes had told you, you were right.

“I can’t let him continue. If this could stop him, weaken him even, it’s worth whatever the consequence to myself may be.” He argued.

You pushed yourself further from him, “I can’t- I won’t lose you. No, there’s no way.”

His expression shifted into one of sorrow and pleading, “I have to.”

And you knew there was no changing his mind.

You bit the side of your lip anxiously, looking at the ground before asking, “And this favor?”

The heartbreak was almost palpable, his voice going raw.

“I cannot be fully prepared to do anything that is necessary to destroy this horcrux if-”

He cut himself off with an intake of breath.

“If I know you’ll be waiting for my return, if I know what I have to leave behind I may be tempted to not go through with my plan.”

You couldn’t help but feel and look horrified, “What are you asking of me, Regulus?”

He seemed to flinch at the tone of your voice, a tone you’d never used before and one he couldn’t name.

“I need you to obliviate yourself from my memory.”

It felt as though your chest had collapsed in on itself, “I-I couldn-”

“You have to!” Regulus cried, his arms gripping the sides of your face as you couldn’t help but let a choked sob escape from your lips. “It’s the only way I’ll be able to go through with it, I can't know that there’s a possibility of leaving you.”

“Please, Regulus, you can’t ask this of me.” You choked out, searching his eyes for some sort of humor, something that told you it was all a cruel joke.

He pressed his lips against your forehead, both of your eyes closing as you two took in short, ragged breaths.

Everything seemed darker. The flowers in the Black garden were cold and dead, the snow wasn’t snow at all, instead dangerous sheets of ice. It was then you realized the war, the death eaters, everything had become so real.

“There is a letter on your bed at home, I’ve settled everything for you. I’m going to stand against the pillar, my back to you, and you are going to do it from behind the hedges so we won’t see each other after. You need to leave once it’s done alright?”

You nodded solemnly, knowing there was no use in fighting it. The cause was bigger than you, bigger than Regulus. Everyone made sacrifices, this just had to be yours.

“My heart beats for you, Y/n, whether I know it or not.”

“And mine for you, Regulus.” You smiled sadly, pulling his wrist up to your face and pulling back his sleeve to reveal his dark mark, pressing a kiss to the skin you spoke, “You aren’t them, you never were and you never will be.”

Regulus smiled but said nothing as he lowered his arms and put his gloves back on. With slow steps he walked to the pillar and looked back at you one last time.

“I’m just taking you in.” He whispered, before slowly turning.

You took your wand from your coat as you took even slower steps to stand just far enough for him not to notice you after it had been done. Regulus felt his resolve crumble with each crunch of your boots against the frozen ground, his eyes screwed shut- tears rolling down his face freely- as he prepared for what was coming.

With a shaky hand you raised your wand.

“Obliviate.”

Present

Sirius seemed to be thrown back from the pensieve, as if the memory had rejected him from viewing any longer, still sensitive. He felt an odd tickling sensation run down his cheek, his hand raising to brush away a stray tear as he fell into a nearby chair.

He never knew…

***

You pushed open the backdoor of your small home, the warm scent of cherry trees welcoming you. The sun was just barely starting to set as you looked off into the horizon of the vast field of trees, if you looked long enough you could make out the handsome silhouette of a boy you once knew sitting up in a cherry tree.

Only a few short months later, the lone figure would be joined by another… a brother.

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinruby003

@maybesandohnos

@onlyfreds

@tayyx

[queenmolina]

bobby was in the system 

i’m going into detail about how i imagine it just because that’s what anon asked me to do - if you think this might be upsetting then i advise you to stop reading here <3

i’m going to preempt this with some disclaimers

- i’m british so my pov of the system will be wrong, i’m not even going to try and translate it

- i’m not picking out sad/tragic things to be deliberately upsetting for the sake of an angsty backstory, this is just genuinely how i choose to imagine it happening 

- this is a compilation of my friend and i semi-projecting onto our shared comfort character. im more than happy to share this because i really like this take for bobby, but please be sensitive in any comments you might make in (more for other people’s sake - im comfortable to discuss any of the content)

bobby doesn’t remember his parents. he lived with them for a time and from what people have told him, they were a really happy family. his mom was a therapist and his dad was an author. there are photos of the two of them smiling happily at the camera - some even had a small, baby-faced bobby bouncing on their knee, though they called him robin. it’s on all of his certificates, all of the documents. his name is robin. it doesn’t feel right

when he’s three, bobby’s parents pass. he thinks it must have been some kind of accident - to take them both in one go - but he doesn’t get offered any explanation. he’s almost immediately fostered into a family but there’s so many kids there that it’s basically a foster home. he’s one of the youngest and is immediately babied by all of the older kids which is where he starts to be selective about physical affection/contact with other people

he stays there until he’s six. all of the kids there get moved about when their ‘parents’ (it’s what the kids were told to call them but it never really applied) decided they actually weren’t cut out to look after a dozen children and threw in the towel

six year olds are a bit middle of the range in terms of how quickly people foster/adopt them but bobby’s gained a bit of a reputation for being ‘tricky to manage’ because he’s so fussy - he’s not fussy, he just wants people to stop mollycoddling him and give him some peace and quiet. he stays in a foster home for a year until eventually a couple take him in. but it doesn’t last long - they say bobby acts out and all of a sudden he’s back on the front step with his shopping bag of possessions and they’re passing ‘robin’ back as though he’s a library book and not a child

from the ages of eight to twelve, he gets passed back and forth from one place to the next. some are better than others, obviously. there’s the malone’s where the only other kid is their 17 year old biological daughter who thankfully doesnt much care for ambushing bobby like some of the others had. there’s the harper’s where bobby’s surprised they even passed the social worker visit because the house is a tip - but the carers are nice and he has his own room. there’s the vegaro’s who he even allows himself to hug when he had to leave. the rest of them aren’t even worth remembering. they never lasts, even the nice ones always go wrong. he’s back in the foster home every time he begins to get settled

when he’s twelve, the rate at which he gets fostered slows again. he sidles along with the older kids who seem to have given up hope and spend their days causing trouble or sneaking out of the home just because they can. bobby doesn’t go with them for a few months - until he realises that it’s fine. no one will care if he disappears for a few hours. will they even care if he doesn’t come back at all?

on his thirteenth birthday, one of the carers helps him gather his stuff from his bunk and shove it all into a bag. he’s fed up of trying to find a real home so when a woman shows up to take him, he doesn’t even try for a smile

it’s his aunt. his biological family. she has the same soft features as his mother in the photos and the same dark, pin-straight hair. somehow it manages to hurt more when she wrinkles her nose at his attempts of a conversation

her husband is nice. jerry, his name is. a portly man with a receding hairline and a frequent habit for offering bobby a sip of his beer. he’s not related to bobby by blood but it’s nice to feel like someone’s on his side

his aunt hates him. she doesn’t say it out loud - not when bobby’s in the room - but he sees how she looks at him. he hears her arguing with jerry about him sometimes and saying nasty things about his mother too. she and jerry seem to fall out a lot

she leaves one day. and doesn’t come back.

for once, bobby doesn’t get sent back to the foster home. if anything, he feels more welcomed once his aunt had gone. he and jerry feel like family - a little strained but bobby thinks that must be how all families feel. they watch tv together and even share hobbies. jerry even bought him a guitar, something brand new and for bobby and not second hand. bobby was worried he would have to give it back when the time came for him to return to the home but that wasn’t something to worry about right now. he meets jerry’s friends and family and for once, bobby feel like he has a family of his own

this is also the longest he’s ever stayed at one school. he thinks he might be making friends (he can call them friends this time, they’re not allies. they’re friends)

when he’s fifteen, jerry passes. he hadn’t been very well, it had been getting worse. bobby had seen that it was coming and had half-packed a bag before it had even happened

his new friends from school come to the funeral and sit with him on the front row of pews. alex - who was a foot taller than the rest of them - cowers a little from all of the attention. luke pulls at his sleeves and collar, clearly uncomfortable in the fancy get up, but he offers a sad smile whenever bobby catches his eye. reggie isn’t sure what to make of the whole thing but he can see that bobby’s upset and their shoulders knock together whenever reggie wants to remind him he’s not alone. at one point, bobby even takes reggies hand in his. he would be embarrassed or uncomfortable at the contact except he’s lost his family and he’s probably going to lose his friends too

instead of going back to the group home, he’s asked to move in with jerry’s mother, althea

she has a pretty big house and a garage which she converts into a space for bobby to hang out. he’s still unused to having his own room so to have two feels a little overwhelming. he invites his friends over to fill the space and when luke asks to start a band, bobby allows him to convert the garage into a makeshift studio. althea doesn’t mind, in fact she encourages it.

bobby isn’t the best at putting his thoughts into words but he can put them into action so when the boys start having trouble at home, he makes one thing very clear: the studio is their home. the studio belongs to all of them and if they ever need a place to stay, they should stay here. this is their home, where they’re loved and looked after. bobby tells them this in fewer words but he hopes they understand

(he’s not sure why the boys are so upset about their home lives - bobby would do anything to be with his parents. that is until he sees alex stifling hot tears or luke choking up over his test results or reggie knocking on his bedroom window at two am, desperate to escape the noise. then he gets it)

luke moves in and bobby starts carting his dinners to the studio to eat. althea pretends not to notice that there’s another boys clothes in her laundry loads and just starts doubling bobby’s food portion to make sure they both get enough

then it goes wrong. and bobby loses another family.

althea teaches him things to keep him distracted. she shows him how to knit, teaches him more tagalog, more recipes. it does nothing to make him feel better but he could never tell her that. he’s grateful for every moment she spends with him. she didn’t owe him anything and yet she took him in. the least he could do is try to smile and forget about his boys for a moment. for her. 

she’s the one that encourages him to keep creating music, to make them a legacy they can be remembered by. it doesn’t work out that way in the end and she’s the only person that understands how the guilt weighs him down quite so much

years later, when he’s told that he’s going to be a father, his first thought is to run. he can barely cope with being responsible for himself, let alone another person. but it wasn’t his choice, she was going to have the baby. he was going to be a father

carrie is three when her mother leaves. it feels like another cruel twist of fate, like a knife in his gut. he always wondered when it would be his turn to go. he’s 29 and maybe he should’ve gone 26 years ago with his parents, or 14 years ago with jerry, or 12 years ago with his boys. but he would not let carrie have his struggles. so he cries to althea alone and puts on a brave face for his daughter

[echoghost1]

Ectober Day 08: Poison

A surprise part 2 to one of the angsty and darkest things I've ever written!

It was for Phic Phight!

Story Summary: After the tragic loss of her son, Maddie vows to bring him back.

No matter what.

Word Count (total): 5,763

Chapter 01 TW: Child Death, implied murder (for the sake of equivalent exchange)

Chapter 02 TW (which is the one I wrote for this prompt): childhood trauma, intrusive thoughts, sporadic graphic memories, panic attacks, and a general no good very bad time for Jazz.

P.S. I cried while writing this, so there's that too.

If I haven't scared you off, feel free to read it below!

Jazz had decided to humor her dad when he said they were going to her mom’s house for dinner that night. She hadn’t really wanted to go, but she figured she’d go for his sake.

She may have been able to understand her mother’s grief, and she forgave her for what had happened.

But just because you forgive someone doesn't mean you ever want to see them again.

Jazz tried not to let her own anger over the past cloud her judgment. If her parents wanted to reconnect that was up to them.

Besides, it was just dinner. It’s not like she’d have to move back into that house.

At least she really hoped it didn’t lead to that.

They were parked on the street just outside her old childhood home. The tall dark building loomed overhead. The house was just too big for one person, but of course, her mother wouldn’t leave.

She was too stuck in the past to ever move out.

Jazz didn’t want to live like that.

She liked the apartment she and her dad shared. Sure it was a lot smaller than this old house, but it felt more like a home than this place ever did.

“Jazz, before we go in there, I should tell you something.” Her dad said more to the steering wheel than to her.

She waited patiently for him to continue. She had a feeling her mom might not be… well she wasn’t sure what, but definitely not like how she was before.

With how she was when they left, well, it wasn’t great.

“You’re mom, she uh,” he hesitated again. “Well, she was able to do something that I didn’t think was possible. Or at least not something that I thought she would do.”

“Oh?”

This conversation wasn’t quite going where she thought it would. That or her dad was very bad at explaining things. Which was also likely.

“It’s about your brother.”

“Isn’t it always with her?” she replied a little more harshly than she should have. “Sorry, dad.”

“Gosh, I really should have said something before we drove all the way over here.”

“It’s okay dad.” she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face him better, “Whatever it is I can handle it.”

He smiled and placed his hand on her cheek, “That’s my princess. So brave.”

She leaned into his touch, his hands were a little rough and callused from all the hard work he did, but she didn’t care. Just like she didn’t care if he still called her princess even though she was way too old for that sort of thing.

“Maybe it would just be easier to show you,” he decided before pulling her in for a quick kiss on the forehead and getting out of the car.

It was now or never.

They walked to the front of the house and Jazz tried not to think about how the dark red bricks of the house filled her with dread.

It was just a house.

They were just having dinner.

Her Dad knocked and she could just barely hear her mom call through the door inviting them inside.

Jazz took a deep breath and walked in after her father.

The house looked clean.

She ran a finger across the floor as she took off her shoes and found that it was clean.

She was not expecting a clean house.

Maybe her mom had gotten better? Maybe she had talked to someone after all?

Jazz really hoped she had.

“I’m in the kitchen finishing up this meatloaf. I’ll be out in just a minute. So feel free to make yourselves at home.” her mom called from somewhere in the kitchen.

A meatloaf? Wow, when was the last time she had a homemade Meatloaf?

At least it wasn’t a casserole. They had gotten so many “I’m sorry for your loss” casseroles she couldn’t even stand the sight of mac and cheese for two years.

She took her time walking into the house to refamiliarize herself with a place she didn’t think she’d ever come back to.

There were still family pictures on the mantle. Every single one of them had her brother in it. Some were just of him.

She wondered if his room was still the same. Still a little shrine.

She turned to walk into the kitchen to join her parents and nearly screamed.

He was right there.

Her little brother.

Standing there staring at her.

But he couldn’t be.

“Dad,” she called not daring to take her eyes off what had to be a hallucination. Or worse, a ghost.

“What’s up?” he started casually, apparently not noticing her worried tone.

Then he looked down to what she was staring at, “Oh, there you are.”

“What?!” she looked at her dad and wanted him to answer all of the questions flying around in her brain right now.

He knelt down and picked the little boy up, “Hey there bud, you remember Jazzy right?”

The little boy that shouldn’t exist nodded.

Then he looked at her.

He looked just like Danny.

But it couldn’t be.

Did her mom adopt some kid to replace the one she lost? But Dad had asked if he remembered her. An adopted kid wouldn’t remember her.

He was wearing Danny’s clothes.

“Allow me to reintroduce you,” her dad started with a nervous smile, “Danny, Jazz.” Then her dad locked eyes with her and she could tell just how much he wanted her to understand, “Jazz, it’s Danny. He’s back.”

That couldn’t be right.

That couldn’t be her little brother.

Because her baby brother was dead.

She’d been to his grave.

She went to his funeral.

She saw him die.

Her vision got blurry as she tried to hold back the tears.

She didn’t want to think about that again.

She didn’t want to see him like that ever again.

Broken and bleeding and dead.

Dead.

Dead!

“Jazz, honey, it’s okay.” She felt her dad’s arms wrap around her, holding her close, “You’re okay. I’m here.”

She buried her face into her dad’s shoulder and didn’t hold back as she cried.

“Jesus Christ, Jack! You did tell her before you got here, didn’t you?” her mom accused more than asked.

“I, well I tried. I didn’t know.” he held her a little tighter, “I’m sorry, I should have tried harder.” He gently rocked them back and forth just like he used to when she was little.

It felt so safe and familiar.

Jazz pulled back and wiped her eyes once she was able to calm herself down again. She hadn’t had a breakdown like that in a while.

“I’m okay. I,” she sniffed and wished she had a tissue, “I wasn’t expecting it is all.”

How exactly do you prepare for being assaulted by the violent images of the tragic death of your sibling when they happen to walk into the room alive?

Was he even alive? Was that really her brother?

She stayed close to her dad and carefully looked over to see her mom holding her brother.

He looked exactly the same.

But how?

How was he still six years old?

What the hell was going on?

The little boy tapped her mom’s shoulder and then started to sign.

Could he not speak?

It must be hard to speak with a broken neck and a mouth full of blood.

She shook her head in a vain attempt to shake that dark thought away.

“Remember how I told you, that you had an accident?” her mother asked the little boy in her arms.

He nodded but still looked confused.

“Well, Jazz was there. She saw you get hurt. It was scary.”

He looked back at her still confused. And signed something else to her mother.

Their mother?

“Well, you were asleep for a long while. That’s why she’s bigger.”

But if he had just been asleep, he would be older too.

He’d be 14 now.

If he had lived.

Wait, she said asleep. Did he not know?

Oh no. He didn’t, did he?

“Dad?” she hoped he could convey that question without saying it.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Oh darn, she was going to have to actually say it, wasn’t she?

“Does he not remember what happened?”

“No.” Her mother said curtly.

Said in a way that meant she didn’t want him to know either.

Not that Jazz was going to tell him. He was just a little kid.

Maybe?

“I’m gonna go wash up for dinner,” she said and hoped that would give her enough time to gather her thoughts.

Once she was safe inside the bathroom she took the deepest breath she could muster before washing her face.

She had been expecting her mother to be a disheveled mess, not to be one herself.

“You can do this Jazz. It’s just dinner with your father, your estranged mother, and your somehow not dead baby brother. It’s only the weirdest and improbable outcome for the evening, but it’s fine.”

Gosh, this wasn’t fine at all, was it?

This was the opposite of fine.

Why were her parents okay with this?

How were they not freaking out?

Well, it was probably her mother’s fault, so that made sense. But what about her dad?

There’s no way he wasn’t at least surprised when he first found out. She’d have to ask him.

Alone.

She went about making herself presentable and returned to the living room.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about earlier,” her dad apologized once she entered the room.

Luckily they were alone, but she had to be sure.

“Where is he?”

“Helping your mother in the kitchen. He still seems a little confused about the age difference, I think.”

She nodded and sat down next to her dad, “So this is weird right? Like he was, you know? And now he’s back?”

“Yeah. I was pretty freaked out at first too.”

“At first? What changed?”

“I,” her dad looked up in thought before he just gazed at nothing, “I’m not really sure.” He blinked and looked at her, “I guess I just needed to hold him again.”

Hold him? Yeah, she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that.

She was having a hard enough time being in the same room, let alone looking at him. Holding him might be a little while off.

They sat there in comfortable silence before it was broken by a small clap.

Standing in the doorway wearing his “mommy’s little helper” apron was Danny. He smiled and gestured into the kitchen.

“Dinner time?” dad asked.

He nodded before running over and barely stopped in time as he gently crashed into dad’s knees. He patted his knees and looked up expectantly.

“You want up?”

He nodded even more.

“Okay, well let me get up first, okay sport?”

Danny took a couple of steps backward and waited as patiently as a six-year-old could. Which of course meant wiggling in place.

She wanted to be happy. She wanted to enjoy this.

But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t look at him without seeing his corpse.

Was she a bad person for thinking like this?

Was she a bad sister for wanting him to be dead again?

NO!

She wasn’t her thoughts. She wasn’t her thoughts. She wasn’t her thoughts.

She learned that a long time ago.

Just because you had a bad thought it didn’t make you a bad person.

This was just a lot to process.

Something touched her and she jumped up off of the couch in surprise.

He had touched her.

“No. No. No. No. No. No. No!” She backed up even farther.

She had to get away.

She shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t be here!

“Daddy I wanna go home!”

“Baby, just breathe,” Dad said as he slowly came over to comfort her.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” She sobbed as she clung onto her father for dear life.

She felt horrible for reacting like this, but she couldn’t help it. This wasn’t right.

He died. He was dead.

Dead things weren’t supposed to come back.

It wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.

“Jasmine Nightingale Fenton!”

She popped up at the sound of her name. It had been a long time since her mom had pulled the full name card.

“Calm down this instant! You’re upsetting your brother.”

She was upsetting him?

What about her?

He had certainly done a number on her. First scars her for life by dying and then comes back from the dead as if nothing happened!

As if all the years of therapy as a child weren’t enough?

She was so going to need to schedule an appointment when she got home.

She hugged her dad tighter. “Please Dad, I just want to go home.”

“Okay, princess. But do you think you could apologize to him? He just doesn't understand.”

She guessed he had a point.

Danny wasn’t doing this to her. He was just a little kid.

She turned to face Danny, who was currently holding onto mom like a little koala.

“I’m sorry Danny. I don’t think I can have dinner tonight.”

He gave her the saddest little look before turning to mom and signing something.

Mom nodded and set him down and he went to the nearby drawer and got a pad of paper and a pen.

It was odd to see him write with his left hand when she remembered him being right-handed before.

Then again, he had broken nearly every bone in his right arm when he fell out of that tree.

Right before he broke his neck.

Once he had finished writing he toddled over and held out the page for her.

It read, “Did I do something bad?”

“No, Danny you didn’t do anything wrong.” She thought for a moment about how she would explain feelings of mental anguish to a six-year-old, “I just don’t feel good.”

He set the paper and pen aside and held out his arms to her, offering a hug.

She already felt bad for freaking out in front of him twice now, but she still felt weird around him. Even though she really didn’t want to, she sighed. Might as well get it over with.

She held out her own arms with a small nod and braced herself for his embrace.

Oh?

That was unexpected.

This felt fine.

Better than fine.

It felt right.

Just like a hug should feel.

“Wow Danny, you are really good at hugs.”

He perked up and waited for her to continue.

“I think I feel better now.” She carefully picked him up and rested him on her hip like she had seen her mother do countless times before. “We should probably eat before dinner gets cold.”

[nancywheelxr]

For Sokka/Zuko prompt (2/?): Sokka saving Zuko after miscalculation how long he can hold his breath during the North Pole Siege

anon, like i said before, you are an angel and I hope you like this

*

Sokka is going to kill Aang.

No, seriously, he means it, the next time he sees the kid, he’s going to murder him because this is all his fault. It has to be, because there is no other explanation for this except Aang beginning to rub off on him. There really, really isn’t.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he murmurs, dragging Zuko out of the freezing water and away from the cracking ice. Honestly, the guy is heavier than he looks and Sokka bets it must be the crushing weight of all those issues. “Should’ve let you drown, asshole.”

And you know what? He stands by that. The little voice at the back of his head that sounds annoyingly like Aang be damned, Sokka should have taken one look at the jerk, incandescent hands slamming against the thick ice, too cold in the freezing water to properly melt the frozen floor, wide eyes blinking sluggishly, and, and– okay, fine. Maybe Sokka couldn’t look the other way and pretend he didn’t see him.

Still. He resents Aang for not being there to convince him to save the guy and let Sokka advocate for the drowning. You know, for argument’s sake, just ‘cause Zuko’s the freaking Fire Nation prince that’s been chasing them all the way since the South Pole and they should at least make an effort to look like they’re doing this under duress.

“Come on, we can’t stay here, wake up, jerk,” well. Sokka can’t stay here, he has a duty and also, the place will be crawling with soldiers soon, but if he leaves Zuko here, there’s no telling if he’ll make it. Do Firebenders get hypothermia? The guy looks hypothermic enough, at least.

Something explodes nearby.

Staying here any longer would be crazy. Sokka eyes Zuko consideringly. “I did my best,” he says, frowning because it sounds weak even to himself and he already knows what he’s going to do, “truly, it’s tragic. I dragged him out of the water, but there was nothing I could do. Too many Fire Nation soldiers around,” he grumbles, heaving one of Zuko’s arms around his shoulder and getting only a faint mumbling in response, “I had to leave him there.”

Just to be clear, though, Sokka is only doing this– he’s only dragging Zuko across the town in the middle of a Fire Nation invasion because he’s gone through all this trouble already to keep the asshole alive, it would be a waste to leave him for dead now. Hey, he didn’t spend five minutes slamming at the ice with his boomerang for nothing, okay?

“What were you thinking anyway?” He asks him, because the only thing worse than be dragging your nemesis around is to be dragging your nemesis around in silence. “Stupid firebender swimming around. At night! Were you trying to die?”

Another mumble. At least that’s better than the wheezing sound from when he first came out of the water, he figures.

“And I mean, it’s pretty clear this whole thing isn’t your doing,” he continues, ducking under a bridge to avoid the worst of the fight, “it’s way too organized, and honestly? Last time we checked, you didn’t have an entire fleet with you.”

And, not the Sokka would say it aloud, but it just doesn’t seem like something Zuko would do. From what they’ve seen of the guy so far, he’s less about conquering and invading, and more like capture the Avatar, restore my honor, blah, blah, blah. Which makes bringing him straight to Aang probably a very stupid thing. 

Damn.

He groans. What’s he supposed to do now? Zuko’s a dead weight at his side and he has no idea where Yue and the others went, even though he’s supposed to be protecting Yue. And Katara. And Aang. 

Instead, here he is, shuffling into another alley. “This is all your fault,” he glares at the still unconscious moron prince. “Yours and Aang’s. There’s a blizzard outside, did you know?! What, you were just going to get Aang and walk out on the snowstorm?!”

Zuko still doesn’t answer him. He does begin to shiver, though, so that’s something? Better than hypothermia, that’s for sure. Still, Zuko’s shivering and looking sad in his wet clothes, and this is something, at least, that Sokka can help. He can take his own fur coat and drape across him.

“Yeah, you didn’t really think this one through, did you?” He sighs, letting his head thump lightly against the wall behind him. “Me neither, buddy. I’m supposed to be looking after the princess, but I’ve got no idea where they went. I guess I’m looking after you instead, huh? I’m not happy about it either, trust me.”

If only he had some sort of rope– Sokka groans. How does he keep getting in these situations? He levels Zuko with a resentful look. “Why is it always you?” Looking at Zuko now, though, it’s pretty hard to muster much anger. He doesn’t look very intimidating like this– his hair is falling out of his ponytail and his face is paler than usual, his scar stark against the white. Actually, he looks a lot younger like this. Aang had called him a teenager when they met him, but Sokka thinks this might be the first time he’s ever thought of him like that. It’s pretty messed up. Zuko can’t be much older than Sokka– a year? Maybe less? Oddly, it makes him wonder how did he end up here, like this, hunting Aang in a banged up warship and only his Uncle along. Shouldn’t a prince have like, more back up?

Not that Sokka is complaining, it could be a lot worse than Zuko, it could’ve been someone like freaking Zhao. He doesn’t think Zhao would have kept his promise not to destroy his village back in the South Pole. Actually, the guy would’ve probably started with the destroying and left the questions for later.

A hoarse shout shakes off that line of thinking pretty quick.

Zuko wakes up all at once– one second he’s lying motionless on the ice, chest rising and falling steadily faint, pale and pitiful wrapped in Sokka’s furs, and the next he’s fumbling with the cloth, tangling himself further with frantic movements. His eye zeroes in on Sokka, widening as far as they go for a split moment, and managing only a flickering flame with his trembling hands, probably too busy heating up to do any proper firebending.

“Oh, goody, you’re alive,” Sokka says, choosing to let the sarcasm bleed on his voice and quietly grip his boomerang a little tighter, just in case. 

“What,” Zuko coughs up, and the shivering is back, and Sokka doesn’t think he means to be furrowing further into the coat like that. “Where– you. What have you done to me?”

Yeah, Sokka should probably have seen that one coming. Still, “hey! I saved your life! You did all the drowning yourself, buddy!”

 Zuko frowns. Hysterically, Sokka kind of wants to smooth that out, go back to the young look from before. The frown is a very angsty one, though, and full of suspicion, which is fair, all things considered, but he still takes offense. They’re the good guys, after all, they’re not the ones doing the invading.

Spirits, the invasion. Sokka doesn’t have time for this, he needs to find Katara and Aang, he needs to find Yue, he needs– 

“Why?”

He blinks. “Why what?”

“You said you saved me,” Zuko is still sounding worse for wear, rough and cracking at the edges, but there’s some color returning to his cheeks, the shivering finally dying down.

And isn’t that the question? Well, not really. It’s what Aang would have done and that’s usually a pretty good moral compass. Sokka shrugs, “it was the right thing to do. You’re a jerk, but even you didn’t deserve to die like that.”

Zuko doesn’t seem to know what to do with that information, faint steam wafting off his now dry clothes, and Sokka has half a mind to ask for his coat back, a weird tightness on his chest the only thing holding him back– the same odd feeling that sort of made the Aang excuse taste a tiny bit like a lie.

No time to dwell on that, though. Before Zuko could brood some more or throw any other wild accusation, a shadow falls over the both of them, Zuko’s weird uncle pausing at the start of the alley and taking in the scene. His face kind of does a complicated thing where he looks like he wants to bundle Zuko on his arms in the tightest hug in the country but knows Zuko would probably like, throw a fit and then die of dramatic indignation, and Sokka feels like maybe he shouldn’t be witnessing this, especially because the angry jerk is looking like he maybe wouldn’t go so far as dying if hugs were to be involved.

“Nephew,” the old man says, and the relief is his voice is palpable, “you are alive– I feared–”

“I’m fine, Uncle,” Zuko cuts in, getting up in wobbly legs and giving Sokka a wide berth as he inches his way along the wall.

“I owe you a great debt, young man,” he continues, now turning to Sokka with such a grateful face, it’s really hard to remember he’d been doing some chasing the Avatar just weeks ago. He looks so normal. “You saved him when most would not and for that, I can never thank you enough.”

“Uncle!”

“Erm, you’re welcome?” Sokka clears his throat, loosening his rip on the boomerang, suddenly awkward.

“Have you thanked him yet, Prince Zuko?”

“I–”

Iroh�� well, Sokka thinks that his name, at least– doesn’t glare, but his eyebrows do a very disappointed move and Zuko seems to cave like a sullen teenager. It’s kind of great. And very surreal, honestly, Sokka is kinda just rolling with it at this point. “Thank you,” Zuko bows, making a very fire nation-y sign with his hands, adds softer, “Sokka.”

“Huh, you do know my name.”

A loud explosion interrupts whatever retort Zuko had been planning, and Iroh grimaces. “I’m afraid we are running out of time,” the grave expression seems foreign in his face and Sokka feels a terrible dread in the pit of his stomach, “Zhao plans on doing the unthinkable– he is going to kill the moon spirit.”

Well, it’s official, then. Zuko’s just been demoted from the worst to pass on the title to Zhao. “Is that even– I mean, how?”

“The Avatar,” Zuko says, but it’s a weak complaint, even he knows stopping the murder of an ancient spirit ranks a bit higher, like immediate catastrophe higher. “Fine,” he snaps, hands curling into fists, “but Zhao is mine.”

Okay, because that sounds like it’s not going to blow up on their faces at all. Not that it matters, because Sokka knows that it’s a done deal now. There’s something urgent in the air, pressing down on them, almost buzzing with the expectations of a tragedy. They’ll need all the help they can get if they mean to stop Zhao’s idiotic plan.

Sokka looks at Iroh, at Zuko. He’s still wearing the fur coat, stretched across his shoulders, sleeves too short at his wrists. 

“You guys,” he feels the need to say, “are the worst. But we should probably hurry up, then.”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 32

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Carapace wanted everything to pass.

He wanted whatever feud that Ladybug and Chat had going on to pass, he wanted Hawkmoth to pass away of old age already, he wanted to pass his miraculous onto someone else…

And he REALLY wanted to pass this fucking class.

Listen, juggling a miraculous and a full course load was difficult. It was like having a job and going to school at the same time, except his supervisor and the customers seemed very determined not to listen to his schedule --.

Well, actually, no, it was just like having a job and going to school.

… anyways, it sucked. He had no idea how he was going to manage to pass all his midterms, which was kind of depressing considering he had been co-valedictorian back in high school.

Thank the kwamis he didn’t need to think about it for long.

The door to his room burst open and he turned away from his kwami-forsaken statistics homework to see Chat.

Chat… had pimples and his hair had been dyed neon green. The hair was… a statement and Carapace might have thought that he was just trying something out while he was away from his father but the pimples? No way that was intentional.

“... looking good, buddy,” said Carapace carefully, because Chat looked like he was going to snap.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“What would you like me to say? You look like an angsty teen that’s constantly on the verge of a breakdown?”

“Yes! … no! I don’t know!” Chat huffed a little. “For the record, she’s behind this. I didn’t just decide to have a phase all of a sudden.”

He snickered a little. “I know. You nearly had a breakdown when you saw a single pimple. Under your mask. Obviously you’re going to get a pimple there.”

“I’ll have you know I haven’t gotten a single pimple since!” He argued, and then he bit his lip. “… outside of today but today doesn’t count!”

Carapace was torn between asking for his skincare routine, assuring him that it didn’t count when he was sabotaged, and teasing him.

He never got to make the decision, because Chat started over for cuddles.

Carapace stopped him with a hand. “Sorry, I can’t take sides in this.”

Chat frowned. “But…”

“Dude, I can’t afford to have Ladybug on my ass right now. I NEED to pass this class, and I won’t be able to concentrate if I’m constantly worrying about being murdered.”

His friend groaned and practically melted in how fluidly he slid to the ground.

He raised an eyebrow at the puddle that used to be his friend, unimpressed (by the pouting, the whole melting thing was actually kind of cool).

“Please… everyone’s scared of Ladybug so I haven’t been able to talk to anyone in days.”

Chat gave his best puppy-dog eyes. (It wasn’t fair that they were so good, he was a CAT.)

Carapace hesitated. “Do you have anyone as a civilian?”

“... what part of ‘homeschooled and isolated my entire life’ did you not get?”

“Damn. I forgot about your tragic backstory,” teased Carapace lightly. He reached out and ruffled Chat’s hair and tried not to think too much about how eagerly he leaned into the touch. “But, really, even Chloe is scared of Ladybug? I find that one hard to believe.”

“Nah, everyone knows that Ladybug’s got a soft spot for her, but Chloe’s on her side, so...” Chat shrugged helplessly. “Not getting any affection from her anytime soon.”

He sighed and shook his head slightly. That did make a little more sense. He thought it over for a few moments before sending Wayzz to close and lock the door and opened his arms for him. Chat beamed and came to sit on his lap, curling up and resting his head in his neck.

Chat tensed slightly when Carapace shifted a bit in his chair and only relaxed when he realized he was just struggling to fit both him and the laptop on his lap.

The two of them were quiet for a few moments.

“Hey, I don’t think Ladybug’s dealing with it right… at all… but what you did wasn’t great, either,” said Carapace carefully.

“Yeah, I messed up.”

“I’m assuming you don’t need to be told you need to apologize.”

“No, I know. I’ll do it when she’s done.”

He nodded and they lapsed into silence...

Carapace hesitated. A question had been on the back of his mind for a while now, but… was he really close enough to him to ask?

He didn’t really think so. He’d only had a few proper conversations with him, and even then they had to hold out a lot of information because of the whole ‘secret identities’ thing that Master Fu was making them keep up.

But, hey, this was a kid who’d apparently had very few -- if any -- friends throughout his life. Maybe he’d be more open than people usually were. Carapace was pretty sure he’d heard something like that before.

So he asked:

“... did you do it on purpose?”

Because, while Chat maybe wasn’t the smartest person in the house, he was definitely not stupid. He’d managed to keep his miraculous for longer than anyone on the team, hadn’t been akumatized yet (to his knowledge), and had found a way to mostly stay out of the media despite all his time as a hero.

So, yeah, there was no way his friend had thought that poking a sleeping bear with a stick -- despite being told only two days prior that she was already on shaky ground -- was ever going to go well.

His reaction gave him away. Chat winced and his hands began to feel like claws in his shirt and he could feel the slight tremor of his body against his.

He reached up a hand and carded his fingers through his hair, trying to get him to relax.

“I… yes, I knew.”

Carapace nodded as much as he could with the head in his neck limiting his movements. “Then why’d you do it?”

There was a long silence. Long enough that Carapace was beginning to think that Chat was just not going to answer and that he would just have to go back to doing work. But then...

“I figured the house could use a distraction.”

He closed his eyes tightly, mulling over the words. It was true, everyone was on edge from a traitor scare and then Master Fu came over and told them exactly why he had made them all live together and the akumitzation of one of them had been pretty much imminent. Now, though, they were all distracted. Ladybug was planning, Chat was experiencing, and everyone else was watching with bated breath to see what happened next.

So, yeah, the attempt was successful, but...

“She’s got years of not getting akumatized so you’ve gotta know she’s pent up, AND she’d already been kinda hesitant around you. You’re going to get seriously hurt.”

“That’s fine,” said Chat softly.

He shook his head slightly and moved the laptop off his lap to properly hold him.

“It’s not. You keep getting hurt and it’s not okay.”

Chat curled into him and he swore he felt something wet dripping onto his neck, but he didn’t acknowledge this. Instead, he kept his gaze up (partially to give him some semblance of privacy and partially to keep watch for akumas).

“... as long as everyone else is happy, it’s fine.”

He swore his heart would snap at that admission. Carapace wasn’t even sure if this was from being a hero for so long or whether it was because of Chat’s terrible parents.

… he decided it didn’t matter. Whatever the reason, the idea was completely wrong and he needed to make sure he knew it:

“That’s not true. You deserve to be happy, just like anyone else,” he said, pulling the face out of his neck to look him in the eyes.

He didn’t respond, just sniffled a little and bit his lip.

He didn’t believe him.

… fine.

“Well, I have a dilemma for you: what if my happiness depends on others?”

There was a beat before Chat mumbled a “What?”

“If my friends aren’t happy, then I’m not. It’s a miraculous thing, I think, kwami of protection and all. So, what happens now?”

Chat gave him a skeptical look and Carapace forced his face to remain neutral.

“How about… you be happy for me so I can be happy for you?”

Was it blatant manipulation? Yes. Was it maybe kinda working if the thoughtful tip of Chat’s head meant anything? Also yes.

“... okay.”

“Okay?” Repeated Carapace, trying to keep the smile off his face. Sure, it wasn’t as good as trying to be happy for his own sake, but it was a start.

“Okay,” said Chat, a little more confidently.

He beamed, leaning forward to wrap him in a tight hug.

(And, if Chat noticed the dull thud of Carapace throwing a pencil Ladybug had once summoned for him to snipe an akuma out of the air, he didn’t say anything.)

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write @trippingovermyfeet @melicmusicmagic @meimei3841 @roseliali

[skullhaver]

It's 2021, and I'm watching Buffy for the first time.

The Virgil on my Buffy journey is my long-distance girlfriend, who has loved the show for years. We just finished season 4, and I wanted to write about my favorite episodes so far. I suspect some of my faves are beloved by most fans, but others are weird, personal picks. Buffy fandom, please don't come for me.

I thought this post would be short but I was wrong.

Hono(u)rable Mentions: "Band Candy" S3E6 and "Halloween" S2E6

Both these episodes have fun premises where the Scoobies run around Sunnydale after it was upended by zany, chaotic dark forces. "Band Candy" is fun for devil-may-care teen Giles. "Halloween" is fun for 18th-century-ditz Buffy. These are both very good, and are the sorts of episode I can imagine happily rewatching in the future. I just have more to pontificate upon for the other episodes on this list.

10. "Ted" S2E11

I can’t say I enjoyed this episode, but it did take me for a wild ride. Probably nobody else has strong feelings about this weird story where Buffy's mom dates a stereotypical cheesy family man, who turns out to be a controlling abuser, who turns out to be a robot. I remember shouting at the screen, "Did Buffy just kill a human man?? Is it okay in the moral logic of this show for Buffy to kill a human if he's a direct physical threat to her??" I knew Buffy would have deeper stories than the monster of the week formula we'd seen so far, but this early in season 2, I had no idea when or how that would happen. This was the episode that finally taught me that Buffy is largely not interested in moral ambiguity, or in exploring what it means to be good or bad. Except for season-defining exceptions like Faith and Angel, evil characters are simplistically, essentially evil. But it was wild to believe for a moment that Buffy murdered her mom's abusive boyfriend and would have to live with the consequences.

9. "Helpless" S3E12

When Buffy tries to be genuinely scary, it succeeds with aplomb. The premise of this episode is dumb and contrived ("Giles has to remove Buffy's powers without her knowledge for a seeeecret test by the Watcher's Council") but the chase and fight in this episode are some of the most tense and spooky scenes of the whole series so far. Buffy's vulnerability makes the stakes feel real in a way few other episodes manage. And Buffy's victory is all the more satisfying because she can't punch her way out of this problem, she has to be smart and creative. The fridge horror, of course, is that Giles would endanger her like this in the first place, but that gets sorted out over the emotional arc of the next few episodes.

8. "I Only Have Eyes For You." S2E19

Another spooky episode, this one a classic ghost story of forbidden love ending in murder - but with the twist that the ghosts possess people's bodies to have them reenact their final moments. I love stories about breaking a doomed-to-repeat cycle. I love weird shit like the snakes manifesting in the cafeteria. And I really loved the choice to have Buffy and Angel come to understand their feelings about their own relationship by embodying these ghosts - especially how they embodied different genders than their own to better fit the "roles" of the haunting story, thus subverting the expected pattern. I found this episode clever, poignant, and effective.

7. "Who Are You?" S4E16

"Faith and Buffy switch bodies" is a wild premise, but the real joy of "Who Are You?" is watching Sarah Michelle Geller being an extremely talented actress for 45 minutes, portraying a totally different character. Watching Faith confronted by kindness and love from Buffy's mom, Riley, and her friends, then getting launched into an existential crisis over it is so great. Also, I just dig a good church fight.

6. "Hush" S4E10

As stated above, love an episode that reminds me that these people are talented actors! Featuring demons that render all of Sunnydale unable to talk, we get to watch great physical comedy right next to tense, silent fight scenes. The visual creepiness of the Gentleman and their straight-jacketed weird little helpers is hard to beat. "Hush" is such a clever episode that it ascends monster of the week status to become almost Twilight Zone-esque. Also, for the first time, Buffy sees Riley doing his Initiative thing, and Riley sees Buffy being the Slayer, but they can't talk about it?? That's good shit.

5. "The Wish" S3E9

Both "Something Blue" and "The Wish" feel like the writers decided to use fanfic premises on their own show... so obviously I like them a lot. But getting to watch a dark timeline AU with interesting world-building and attention to detail, a hilarious and horrifying Cordelia POV, AND a smirking kinky vampire Willow? Hello?? And the fact that the Wishverse comes up again in "Doppelgänger" (another truly fun episode) only improves my opinion. I imagine this is the kind of episode fans simply love coming back to.

4. "Restless" S4E22

This David Lynch-ass dream sequence was a weird choice for a season finale, but an extremely ambitious and cool episode. I should say up front that I love David Lynch-ass dream shit. There were creative and well-executed scene transitions as characters moved seamlessly from one dream room into another. Several memorably neat shots - Willow running between endless curtains as she tries to get onstage, Buffy alone in a vast desert with a weirdly high camera angle. And I got myself all excited thinking that the First Slayer would maybe become a different kind of antagonist - maybe not even fully revealed in this episode, or maybe an Id-like aspect of Buffy herself. But I forgot Whedon gonna Whedon, so the First Slayer had to be someone Buffy could punch in the end. And the First Slayer is sadly yet another primitive-themed, emotionally-stunted character of color for this show. Most of her lines in this episode are literally voiced by a white woman speaking for her, and of all the dumb quips to make, Buffy had a line about her hair being unprofessional? Also, I'm a lesbian, so the fact that the most explicit act of intimacy between Willow and Tara this show has allowed us to see occurs in Xander's horny dream sequence... it’s unforgivable, Joss. This episode was one of my favorites ever, deeply marred by some bad writing choices.

3. "Lovers Walk" S3E8

Spike, perhaps the best non-Willow character in this show, is back in Sunnydale, a hilariously heartbroken mess of a man, hell-bent on getting his former girlfriend Drusilla back. (Drusilla left him for a fungus demon.) So Spike breaks into a magic shop to get ingredients for a love spell, where he runs into Willow, who is getting ingredients for a de-lusting spell, because she is worried she and Xander will be too thirsty to behave appropriately in public with their actual partners, Oz and Cordelia. This is a hilarious moment just to exist. This is all the episode needed to do to satisfy me. But the fact that Spike then kidnaps Willow, and it ends with tragic stakes of everyone's relationships coming apart, not to mention me genuinely thinking Cordelia was dead for a minute there - wow. Chef’s kiss. The episode is balanced shockingly well between Spike being an ominous villain, and being the sort of lovable semi-evil (more gremlin-like) side character he'll become in season 4. What a wild ride.

2. "Graduation Day" S3E21-22

I'm counting this two part season finale as one because it's my list and I'll do what I want. "Graduation Day" feels like a quintessential Buffy episode executed to perfection. It has Buffy reaffirming her position as a moral heroine, sacrificing her own blood to save Angel's life even when she thought she had to kill Faith to save him. It has Buffy and Faith (or Buffy/Faith, as I prefer to think of them) getting to square off in a dramatic, tough fight. It has a lot of Mayor Wilkins, a character I truly adore for some reason. Nothing like a public administrator who plays mini golf in his office, wants you to chew with your mouth closed, and will kill a graduating class of high schoolers to gain immortality. The catharsis of the whole school getting to fight back against evil, instead of just Buffy against the world - a real joy. This episode misses the top spot for two reasons. "A special vampire poison and the only cure is the blood of a Slayer" is too contrived for me to let slide, and also I had to see Cordelia and Wesley kiss.

1. "Becoming" S2E21-22

Buffy’s season finales really do have good stories and satisfying payoff. First off, Buffy starts this episode by punching a cop and fleeing from the law. Later, Spike also punches a cop. A.k.a., Buffy said blue lives don't matter. Second - I haven't gotten a chance to comment on this yet, but all throughout season 2, evil Angel is such a joy to watch. As regular Angel, David Boreanaz makes exactly one face ("I am a kicked, angsty puppy") and bless his heart, it gets so tiresome. As evil Angel, he is so expressive, dynamic and terrifyingly creative in his badness. And I love his weird threesome energy with Spike and Drusilla. But also, it's so hard to watch Buffy suffer as she deals with her evil boyfriend doing evil things. Her ultimate choice in this episode, to kill Angel even as Willow's spell restores his soul, gave me some real big feels! Also, this episode marks the first moment of Willow doing big, plot-shifting magic on her own, solidifying her transformation from computer nerd to witch! 

Also, shout-out to the many good smaller moments in this episode: Spike making awkward small talk with Buffy's mom, Buffy constantly dunking on Principle Snyder, and Giles being tortured by visions of Miss Calendar (RIP Miss Calendar, I was your biggest fan.)

"Becoming" is an excellent season finale and the kind of Buffy episode I imagine I will want to re-watch in the future just for nostalgia's sake.

[krreader]

a tragic tale.

pairing: jung hoseok x reader fandom: bts warnings: no happy ending genre: angst word count: 1.7k+

summary: every story should have a happy ending, but your life was, unfortunately, no fairy tale.

a/n: you say make it really really angsty, so this is your own fault babe lol

“Hyung.. why are you still doing this,” Jimin sighed heavily as he walked into the bedroom only to find Hoseok putting a letter into an envelope, “It's been five years.. she's not reading them.”

“They help.. me,” whatever selfish reasons Hoseok might pretend they were, he still tentatively wrote out each letter of your name on the envelope, before letting his eyes scan it, as if he was trying to determine whether or not it looked nice enough for you.

He wanted it to look pretty for you.

And once again, Jimin let out a heavy sigh.

What happened between you and him had left Hoseok scarred. He wasn't the same goofy and happy person he once was, at least not in private. In front of fans and media, he still acted as if everything was fine, but the reality was an entirely different one. The reality, however, he only allowed the people closest to him to see. And those who did see this side of him, hated you for how much you’ve hurt him.

And that's not a feeling that anyone in Bangtan ever thought they'd feel towards you, not after you’ve cared not only for Hoseok during your relationship, but for all the other members as well.

Things were fine between you two, more than that actually. You were happy, have been for over two years and if it had been up to Hoseok, he would have taken the relationship to the next level eventually.

But it hadn't been up to Hoseok.

Because one day, you just up and left without another word. 

No explanation, no goodbye, no apologies.

You just.. walked away.

Hoseok had tried to reach you for months afterward, was afraid that something might have happened to you, an accident perhaps, but he never got an answer to any of his messages or calls.

Until one day, a letter arrived.

“I don't know how to start this letter, especially because I never thought I would write these next lines. I also don't think I should begin with asking how you are, because from the amount of messages you leave me, I'd say not good. I wish I could explain my reasoning for leaving, Hoseok, but this situation is more complicated than you know. It also involves people around you that you love and cherish and I am not going to be the one to expose these people, despite wanting nothing more because of what they did to us. Yes, it was me who walked away, but believe me when I say it was not voluntarily. It was because I had no choice. Now this probably sounds like I got kidnapped, but I am okay, Hobi. I am trying to find my footing in this world again and I'm going to start by moving away. That is also why I'm sending you this letter. This is the goodbye that you never got. The goodbye that I hope will bring you peace. Please don't look for me, promise me that you'll find happiness again and that you'll forget about me. It'll be easier in the long run if you could. I'm sorry for everything, Hoseok, I truly am. All the hurt and confusion I caused you, all the questions you probably have, I am sorry. But please believe me when I say I never wanted it to end this way.”

It was supposed to be an end, but for Hoseok, it was simply the beginning. Your words made it sound like you had to leave and it had something to do with someone close to him.

Long story short, it ended in a witch hunt. A witch hunt that almost cost him his career because it ate him up from the inside. He stopped respecting his superiors because suddenly everything and anything they did seemed shady and one thing these people do not appreciate is being disrespected, especially by someone that they 'made'.

It took months, more likely even a full year until Namjoon and the others could finally convince Hoseok to stop this chase. That it would be no use, because what would he get out of it anyway?

You were gone and you had said it yourself, you didn’t want him to find you. If he got to the bottom of this, he might find answers that he didn't want to find.

It would be better if he just buried everything in the back of his mind. You, your memories and the hopes and dreams he had that involved you.

For a while that worked well.. at least that's what Bangtan thought.

But Hoseok couldn't let go, he simply couldn't, not when he didn’t think your story was over yet.

Jin was the one that found out about it when he saw a message from your best friend on his phone one day: “I can't tell you where she went, as much as I’d like to.. but I promise I'll send her the letter.”

And that's the only form of contact he now had with you.

Letters.

Every month, you got one.

Sometimes, he told you about recent events, concerts, interviews, other times he told you about just how much he missed you, and yet again other times he used these letters as an outlet for his feelings, hopes, and dreams.

He never got an answer to these letters and at this point, he didn't even know if you were still receiving them, because he long lost contact with your best friend. But he hoped she kept her promise and still forwarded these letters to you, because writing these words to you was the one thing that kept him going and that always made him look forward to the future.

��(Y/N) is gone, hyung,” Jimin tried a more straightforward approach this time as he sat down next to him, “She's been gone for years and it's time you realized that. It’s time that you move on just like she did.”

“She didn't want to leave. I know she'd not do that to me, not after everything we’ve been through.”

“What she said in that letter was probably just an excuse for her to leave you. Do you really think anyone from the company would force her to end things with you? They're not like that!”

“Are you sure?” and finally Hoseok turned his head to look at the younger member, “Are you one hundred percent sure that they wouldn’t do anything in their power to keep this group going, Jimin, no matter the cost?”

And when Jimin's mouth opened and then closed again, Hoseok had his answer.

“...it's not easy, life without you. No matter where I go, I always see you standing there at the other side of the street with a smile, and then when I blink, you're gone. It's like I'm trapped in this nightmare that has a tiny moment of happiness. And that happiness is you. I just hope that one day, I will be able to see you again, so that these moments turn into forever. I'm not losing hope, that's not me.. not when it comes to you, at least,” you finished the letter with a sad smile, your fingertips brushing over the words and finally, over his name at the bottom of it.

On one hand you were so happy that he still thought about you and that his love for you hadn't withered, but on the other hand you wished he would finally move on from you. Because even though he didn't ever say it in his letters, it destroyed him, this.. one-sided thing that you and he had going on.

He probably didn’t even know for sure that you were still receiving them, not after your best friend had moved away too. But you hoped he knew, somewhere deep in his heart. And it was selfish of you to think so.

You read and kept every single one of them and read them almost every night, wishing that things had ended differently and that you could finally explain to him why you did what you did.

He probably thought you did it for your own sake, but.. it was never about you, it was always about him. Or rather.. his career.

Because see, BigHit didn’t really like the idea that one of their idols might turn their back on them.

So they had left you with a choice.

Leave and never come back, or watch them ruin Hoseok’s career, because if he’s not giving 100%, they don’t need him anymore.

“I hope he finds the person he loves,” your daughter's words made you look up from his name, the smile now spreading on your face.

“I'm sure he finds them. Stories always have a happy ending, remember?”

The corner of her mouth curled into a smile, then she asked: “Can you sing me a song, mommy?”

“Uh, sure,” you wiped at the corners of your eyes, then put the letter away, before returning your attention to her, “What would you like me to sing?”

“Your favorite song,” she beamed with excitement.

“Hmm, let's see,” you pulled the blanket higher until it reached her chin, then you gently started singing: “Wishing on a sky, wishing on a scar, if there's the sun, I'd want to dream, wishing on a sky, wishing on a scar, if there's the moonlight, I wouldn't want to wake up..”

You only sang that little part that meant so much to you, because you were right there when he had written it. You were right by his side when it got released. You were the one that held him when he got so stressed about it and he started crying. You were the one encouraging him when he didn’t think he could continue. You were the one that he dedicated this entire album to after it was done.

And it all came flooding back in that moment, the memories of him that were always there, but that you tried to shut out of your mind for good.

“It’s a pretty song,” your daughter whispered after you were done.

“Yeah,” you smiled sadly, “My favorite.”

[meridiansdominoes]

Brothers

OK I WAS IN AN ANGSTY MOOD AND I STARTED WROTE SOMETHING SHORT ABOUT JESSE AND MAUL SO HERE

I don't know if we'll find out why Maul let Jesse live in an upcoming episode, or if it'll turn out that it literally means nothing, but I kept seeing posts on tumblr about why Maul didn't just kill him and decided to write something

or I guess you could read it on ao3 too: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23902564

Warnings for mind-torture! 

Maul tears through his mind like a rancor through flimsi, smashing aside Jesse’s weak protests with terrifying ease. His presence burns. Like someone’s set a white-hot coal on the top of his head and is just letting it burn its way down, deeper and deeper into his brain. It’s a bright, piercing agony that Jesse can’t get away from, no matter how much he struggles against the Mandalorian forcing his arms behind his back. 

The Sith wrenches his mind wide open and starts picking away at Jesse’s memories. Jesse cries out, because every time Maul grabs at something, it sends a fresh lightning bolt of pain through his entire nervous system and leaves him shuddering, gasping for air and jerking to try and throw himself backwards, distance himself from torture. They don’t let him move. 

His memories of Commander Tano, of the child she was and the warrior that she’s become, are laid out for the Zabrak to see. There is a moment where Jesse, in one last desperate attempt to protect her, rallies what remains of his fragile mind and grabs onto a memory at random, struggling to pull it away from Maul: Commander Tano, sparring fiercely against General Skywalker in the Resolute’s hanger as Torrent Company cheers and calls out commentary—Jesse shoves out mentally, teeth clenched so hard that his jaw hurts, and somehow manages to slow the Sith’s invading will. It doesn’t do much, but for an instant, Maul pauses.

“Be still,” he says softly—gently, like he’s trying to sooth Jesse into compliance. The tone sends a shiver down Jesse’s spine.

And then Maul’s mind slams into Jesse’s with the force of a falling meteorite, and Jesse howls as mental blades tear the rest of his willpower to shreds.

He loses track of things after that. Maul denies him any semblance of control, and it burns, it hurts and Jesse can’t get away. 

He stops trying to fight, after a while. It doesn’t do any good, just makes the pain shift from glaring red to white-hot and he can’t stop little helpless whimpers from falling from his lips. If it goes on for hours or mere seconds he can’t say, because Maul takes his mind apart and pulls out what he needs, memory fragments sending shards of fire through Jesse’s brain as they’re misplaced and every sensation of time is lost.  

It’s nothing short of violation. Jesse feels used, like everything that Maul touches in his mind is suddenly contaminated, covered in dark sludge that dull the light of fond memories. 

He barely even notices when Maul stops because his head is throbbing, too full of pain and sharp edges for him to even see two feet in front of him. No one is holding him anymore—they don’t need to, he can’t even move. The trembles racing down his spine make him hurt enough as it is, he doesn’t dare rise from where he’s slumped on his knees.  

 His temples ache. He can’t even bring himself to react when a pistol is shoved up against his chin, only groans in agony, eyes rolling back in his head.

“Sir,” the Mandalorian says, waiting for the order to kill him, and Jesse knows he’s about to die. Know it with such certainty that it shuts him down, and he lets his weight sag, head bowing in resignation regardless of the gun underneath him. 

He closes his eyes and tries to think of something better. Tries to think of Kix (gone, disappeared off the face of the galaxy and no one cares enough to search, no one knows where he is—), of Rex, of Vaughn, of Sterling, of his brothers, because he had wanted to go out surrounded by them instead of here, on his knees in front of a kriffing Sith with enemies all around him—

“Wait.”

Maul’s voice sends cold terror through Jesse’s body. He cracks his eyes open to peer at the red-black blur in front of him and moans when an invisible force approaches his mind again. Jesse pants desperately for air, panicking as it looms closer. He can’t. He won’t survive this again. He can’t he can’t it hurts—   

“N-no, stop—!”

Jesse writhes, fingers scrabbling across the smooth metal beneath him, seeking purchase even though there’s none to be found. It does no good. Maul forces his way into Jesse’s mind again without resistance. Jesse goes limp, shivering helplessly on the floor and wishing for death. He can’t stop it, can’t fight. Maul’s presence still burns, but the sensation is a little more subdued this time.

What more could Maul possibly want? He already has Jesse’s memories of Commander Tano. There’s nothing more for him to take.

Maul’s presence gives off a vague sense of curiosity that makes Jesse let out a horrified groan. The Sith reaches for memories again. Jesse jerks as they flash in front of his eyes—

Umbara, drowning in horror as he stands to be executed and Kix points a rifle at him. 79’s, downing shots with the rest of Torrent, laughing too hard, surrounded by brothers and safety. Ringo Vinda, awful and numb as Tup guns down a Jedi. Saleucami, joking with Rex as they’re reunited after the Captain’s brief excursion. Umbara again, mind screaming in denial as Hardcase orders them to leave, dragging the explosives with him and Jesse knows that it’s a one-way trip and Hardcase is going to die—

Maul’s presence recoils slightly at the last one. A groan is torn from Jesse’s throat as Maul retracts, too fast too forceful Force it’s like someone’s pulling nails from his head. Jesse gets a brief flash of an image that he’s never seen before—of a Zabrak, not Maul, eyes flashing, tattoos gold where Maul’s are red and—what—?

Maul leaves him. Jesse is shaking. He curls himself up on the floor and tries to make himself as small as he can, fingers clutching helplessly at his skull in a futile attempt to protect it. He chokes for air, each breath dragging audibly against his lungs. The sound is painfully loud in the silence of the tunnel.          

“Just kill me already,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “Just kill me. What else do you want?”

A hand settles at the back of his skull. Not for the purpose of comfort, just… there. Jesse freezes.

“Tragic,” Maul says softly. “So loyal, so fierce. And yet… the time fast approaches when it will be used against you.”

Jesse imagines twisting and sinking his teeth into the Sith’s hand. The idea is tempting, but he still hurts too much to try. 

“I had brothers once,” Maul says. Jesse swallows, trying to decide if he’s imagining the fragile grief echoing through those words. Maul lets go of him, steps back. Jesse waits for a lightsaber to slash through him, for the Mandalorians to finally finish the job, but no one moves. 

“Get him up. He will accompany me to the throne room,” Maul announces. 

“Sir,” a Mandalorian acknowledges. Jesse pants through his teeth and struggles to stay conscious as they tug him to his knees again, too kriffing fast his head swims and his vision blurs. Kriff.   

Later, when Jesse has collected his wits a little more, when he’s shoved to kneel next to an ornate throne, when there are binders tight around his wrists, he struggles to comprehend what he’d heard. 

I had brothers once. 

Commander Tano shows up, with Bo-Katan and Rex in tow. Jesse thinks that surely, now he’ll die. But Maul releases him. Jesse is broken, barely able to stand by himself, a painful drumbeat pounding through his head, and he half expects to get cut down before Rex can reach him—Rex, whose face goes terrifyingly blank when he sees Jesse, eyes dark like he’s already expecting Jesse to die and mentally preparing himself to lose someone else.

“There you go, back to your brothers,” Maul croons, and for an instant, Jesse gets it. 

I had brothers once. 

He stumbles into Rex’s arms and grunts out an apology to the Commander, who’s eyes narrow as she looks him over. 

“Rex, get him out of here,” she orders, turning back to the Sith. Rex doesn’t need to be told twice. Jesse can feel the Captain’s hands trembling on his shoulders. They make their way through hallways in silence save Jesse’s labored breathing. Once they’re a good distance away, Rex guides Jesse to sit down, back against the wall, and runs his hands over Jesse’s body, checking him over for injuries. He won’t find anything but bruises. Jesse isn’t injured in the way they usually see. 

“Force, Jesse,” Rex mutters shakily. “Kriffing—I thought—”

He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. Jesse knows what he would have thought. Jesse himself has thought it many times, and it normally doesn’t end like this. He offers Rex a weak grin. 

“Takes more than a kriffing horn-head to get rid of me, sir,” he rasps, and Rex fakes an eye roll, pulling Jesse in for a hug. Jesse is one of the last surviving members of the original Torrent Company, and he can’t help but think that it would have destroyed Rex had Jesse died at Maul’s hand. 

They’ve lost far too many brothers in this war. Jesse thinks of Maul again, shuffling through the memories of Jesse’s brothers curiously and then—

I had brothers once. 

Jesse doesn’t know how to interpret that, exactly. Maul has killed clones before. The sudden bout of empathy doesn’t make of lick of sense, but Jesse is alive anyway, holding on tight to Rex, his brother, and he’s so relieved that he almost forgets his pain. 

It’s an odd thing, to be grateful towards your torturer. Jesse feels it more for Rex’s sake than his own. 

An explosion rocks the building. Rex lets go of Jesse, expression hardening. 

“We’re getting you to medical, and then I’ve got to get out there,” he states, looking Jesse over again. “You alright?”

Jesse almost laughs. It’s hard to even think right now. But he’ll be alright. He has to be alright, because there’s no place for broken soldiers in this army. 

“Yeah,” he says, and does not think of Maul, does not think of the gold-black Zabrak in Maul’s head or the way he’d placed a gentle hand on Jesse’s neck and whispered of twisted loyalty. “Yeah, I’ll be alright.”

[sparrowwritesforop]

Hello 😊 I have a resquest for you, could you write something (scenario or headcanons) about Doflamingo's wife who considers to leave him for someone else who is less powerful and less impressive than Doflamingo, Thank you so much !

That would hrut his ego for sure! I see you´re in for an angsty/jealousy ride!

Love that, dear! ❤

Note: I changed a few things for the sake of the Scenario. Corazon betrayed Doffy after he was King of Dressrosa already. I know this wouldn´t make sense for Cora´s mission, but bare with me guys!

Doffy´s wife leaving him for a man less impressive than him

He would never understand.

So much you knew.

He was clear about what he wanted, he always was.

 You always knew he'd chase his dreams, he would chase anybody who'd dare to take what he claimed for himself. But never in a million years would you have thought that it would be you that he was hunting down one day.

It started almost innocent...or as innocent at it could be with him.

.He was a King, of Royal heritage, a man of status.

When you met him, you were mesmerized.

The King of Dressrosa radiated pure energy, he was confident, smart and charming, but also dangerous. So much was obvious.You were a lot younger back then, more naive.

You weren´t blind, nor dense. Of course you saw what he was capable of, knew that he was trouble, but maybe that was what drew you to him in first place.

Doflamingo Donquixote was different, almost the forbidden fruit you craved so much.

He was the ticket out of your determined life.

You craved adventure, craved diversity in your life...all these things were reachable for a member of 'the family'.

But...When did things go bad? When did Destiny decide to turn around and bite you in the ass?

The big, bad turning point was the day of the betrayal.

Doflamingo was always prepared. He was a genius, so much was clear, but even if he made sure that betrayal was impossible, he let his guards down around the person he trusted the most: his own brother.

You´ve seen it all. Torn between understanding Coras actions and feeling Doffy´s pain. 

Doffy was a danger to the world, you always knew, but you ignored it. When even his own brother turned against the King you started to realize.

Realize what you already knew deep down. 

But this wasn´t the only thing that changed.

His brother´s betrayal left deep marks on Doflamingo, he started to become wary...

Especially when it came to his wife, not only his love, but also his brothers dearest friend.

He treated you different now, more cruel.

 Your husband locked you in the castle, made sure that he knew about every step you took.

At first he was more subtle. Hiding his true intentions behind a lie.

“Dear, I only want to keep you safe, fufufu”

Telling yourself it was the truth, you believed him.

The Castle turned into your cage. A luxurious cage, but still a prison.

Over time Doflamingo stopped hiding behind his lie, his anger over his Brother´s Betrayal taking over as well as his own fear. 

The fear of losing another person he considered dear. 

The Kings endured many things, being tortured as a child being one thing. But what scarred him the most was his loved ones leaving.

His mother passing away, his father harming his and his brothers life by being too weak, his brother betraying him. 

Now, loosing his wife would be something he just would never allow!

He loved you, always did, always will, but the once so genuine love turned to an obsession.

He no longer enjoyed seeing you be a free-willed, happy woman. 

The King yearned to see you fixed on him only, giving him your loyality as well as your mind.

The moment came.

You couldn´t endure it much longer.

Being imprisoned by your own Husband was too much to endure! 

You would´ve been close to insanity if it weren´t for this guard, Ben

He stood in front of your door, keeping you inside and you despised him...at first.

But he showed you compassion, a thing nobody did after Cora left.

Not your Husband, not the other family members, no one at court.

But he did. A simple guard. 

Your relationship formed slowly but steady, since he was the only person to keep you company when your husband was busy.

He went against his King´s orders for you,taking you out into the garden at night, letting you enjoy fresh air, out of compassion.

He was different from Doffy.

Your husband had courted you as soon as you met, knowing that he wanted you as his, but Ben never followed such motives.

His pity, his compassion...the only things that made you hope.

The guard became you dearest friend during your imprisionment and as it usually does...friendship turned to love.

Of course you made sure to hide it from Doffy, for your new loves safety.

Even if this new-found love eased your life in some parts...it made it difficult in others.

Your heart bled, when you layed next to your husband, thinking of another man.

Because you loved Doffy, but it was also clear that you could only live with so much.

It was kinda tragic, Doffys efforts to keep you from leaving were the exact thing that drew you into another mans arms.

During one of these nights your decision was made.

You would find a way. Out of respect towards yourself and your love for your new companion.

It wasn´t easy. That was clear from the start, but eventually you made it.

Ben and you left this island, left Doflamingos clutches. Although it was a close call.

This Victory was bitter-sweet to you. 

Simply because you got him, got Doffy.

You got his pain, you got his reasoning. It was always clear to you why he did what he did. One of the reasons he fell for you has been your ability to see beneath his walls, beneath his fake grin.

But the same ability made you realize that something happened to man you loved and no one- not even you- could prevent it from happening. The darkness that always resided inside him took over. It was irreparable 

You´d always love a part of him, but you also fell in love with Ben´s compassion, his desire to bring safety to the world and now also you.

Your absence from the palace was noted early and you didn´t miss the wanted posters all over the islands. 

He was searching for you.

Forced to live secluded, you and Ben made the best out of it, but you couldn´t help, but wonder about Doflamingo.

Still felt a sting everytime you read his name in the newspaper. It hurt when you saw his proud persona crumbling, you shed tears for him, when you read about his last downfall. The photo of him in chains, being captured by the marine broke your heart.

Ben knew, but he never dared to doubt your loyality to him now. 

He supported you throughout the whole process of letting go of Doflamingo and he waited for you. Waited til you were ready to love him and let yourself be loved by him.

Your love grew stronger and stronger and Ben was with you, always.

I hope this suits you...your ask really took me out of my hiatus hahahah ❤💕

[sweetmemories2606]

Be My Forever (MesCana Day)

Hey everyone! Here I bring you my second MesCana fic because today is officially their day! :)) 

I am dedicating it to the lovely Daphne (@tobethefairybest​), who created this amazing ship. 

While I know it is a rather unthought of pairing which most people are unfamiliar with, I hope that by reading this story and its sequel, Forget, you might fall in love with Mest and Cana's relationship just as I did. 

Here's the info: 

Title: Be My Forever

Summary: Mest was falling in love, but there was too much holding him back from telling her. It had only been a year since he had completed his mission and they were still adjusting to being in each other's life again. The timing wasn't right, but would it ever be? 

Timeline: Avatar/Alvarez Arcs

Warnings: This is pretty angsty and there is a funeral scene which might be too much. 

Happy reading! 

                             ---------------------

                              October X792

"Are you sure you're ready?" Cana asked, surprised and honestly a little worried. "I am," Mest replied, glancing at the letter in his hands. "It's time I tell everyone the truth." "I wonder how they will take it." She wondered, frowning. He lowered his head, a wistful look upon his face. "I hope they'll forgive me." "They'll understand," Cana reassured, putting a hand on his shoulder. He tensed, but tried not to let it show, putting on a smile instead. "Thank you. Having you by my side gives me the courage to finally come clean." She watched him for a moment, searching, also settling for a smile. "I'm glad. You know I'm always here for you."

                            ---------------------                              Nearly a year ago "I'm so sorry," Cana said, taking his hand. They were at the cemetery in ERA, where the Magic Council used to reside before they had all been murdered. After such a tragic event, the townspeople had organised a funeral which was taking place. Mest had returned to bury Lahar, who had been his closest friend and the person who had helped him get through the 7 years when Fairy Tail was gone. Mest hadn't yet fully comprehended that his friend was gone, but the memory of holding Lahar's body and begging him to wake was etched on his mind. Feeling Cana squeeze his hand, he tightened his grip. "Thank you," Glancing at her, he tried to convey how much he appreciated her coming with him. "For being here." She offered a sorrowful smile. "Of course." They had to silence once the ceremony began. It was long, exhausting and heartbreaking. Many people gave speeches about the deceased council members. Some expressed despair and sorrow, others anger and a few hope for a better future. Mest tried to encompass all these emotions. Being the only survivor, he spoke about the sacrifices that had been made, his anger at being unable to stop Jackal and how he hoped these deaths wouldn't be in vain. Once the funeral was over and most people had left, he decided to take a moment to say goodbye to Lahar. Cana gave him some space, but he could feel her presence nearby. It comforted him, knowing that even though he had lost so much, she was still there. Mest returned to her side after burying Lahar's broken glasses close to the grave. Somehow, once his eyes met hers, he burst into tears, falling to his knees. She held him against her chest and rubbed circles against his back, letting him cry all he needed. Between sobs, he thanked her and she gave one simple response. "You don't have to thank me. I'm always here for you."

                            ---------------------

The memory nearly brought tears to his eyes, but Mest composed himself. "Thank you." There was silence; awkward and uncomfortable. Cana quickly removed her hand, returning it to her side. He wasn't sure what this meant, but tried not to think about it. About to tell her they should start packing, but then she asked.  "Are you going to tell them everything?" "I have to," Mest replied, determined. "They need to know how serious the situation is." Cana nodded before letting out a sigh, concerned again. "And have you really not heard anything from Master?" He shook his head. "No. I'm honestly scared he's..." He couldn't finish the thought. "No," Cana denied it immediately. "I know he's still alive." He sighed deeply. "Let's hope so." Glancing at the letter again, he told her. "We should start packing if we want to make it to Magnolia in time." "Okay," She offered another small smile. "Should we leave for the station in 2 hours?" Mest nodded in agreement. "That's fine with me." Watching her turn around and walk back towards her bedroom, he sighed again. It was hard being so close to her without telling her how he felt, but he knew it was best. It had only been a year since he had completed his mission and they were still adjusting to being in each other's life again.

                            ---------------------

                               One year ago “Mest Gryder, your mission is complete.” He stared at Makarov in utter shock. Then his eyes caught the Fairy Tail mark which suddenly appeared on his shoulder. "What the hell is this?" He started freaking out. "Start talking!" Makarov explained things calmly. How Mest had always had this emblem because he had been a member of Fairy Tail. How his devotion to the guild had been so great that he'd been willing to erase his own memories and identity.   Mest didn't want to believe it at first, but suddenly the pieces started to come in. Flashback by flashback, he began to remember his life and the mission he had risked so much for. Makarov watched him quietly, a sympathetic look upon his face, letting the young man figure things out himself. Then his eyes wandered to someone behind Mest, making the latter turn around. She was standing closeby, eyes widened, clearly shocked. There was no doubt she had heard what they had said and for a moment Mest worried about what she would do. Then he remembered. His own eyes widened once memories of all the moments they had shared returned full force. They had been childhood friends just like Gray, Erza and Natsu. Always so close and always there for each other. Until Mest had left for his mission, breaking her heart. Recalling the moment he had left her, his own heart ached. "Cana...." She sniffled, seemingly fighting against tears. "Mest?" Makarov glanced between them with sadness. "I can only imagine how much you two must've missed each other. I'm sorry it had to be like this." "I..." Cana struggled with words. "You...We were..." "You remember?" Mest asked and she nodded, tears streaming down her face. He couldn't stop himself from crying too. It was finally over. At last he was home again with her.

                            ---------------------

Unfortunately, home had ceased to exist that same night. Fairy Tail was disbanded and Mest knew why, but still hated that he couldn't be reunited with his friends after so long. Each took a different path, some never to be seen again until a year later. Mest was completely lost at what to do, but Cana helped him. She let him stay at her apartment for a while and invited him to come along on her search for her father. They spent months travelling together, taking on jobs like they used to and getting to know each other. He told her everything about his life in the Council and during the seven years they were apart. She told him about reconnecting with her father before he had disappeared again. During that time, feelings developed. Mest wasn't sure exactly why, but he started seeing her in a different light. When they would joke about never being able to get rid of the other, he'd note that the mere thought of being apart from her again was heartbreaking. When she'd flirt with other men or reminisce about her brief fling with Bacchus from the Quatro Cerberus Guild, Mest would feel jealous. It had never happened before, but now it was too frequent to ignore. He reflected about their relationship and wondered if perhaps it could become something else. It was strange, having romantic thoughts about Cana. Even though he was aware that sometimes close friendships like theirs could be the foundation of a long-lasting romance, Mest had never considered it before. In fact, he had barely even considered romance before. During his time at Fairy Tail their friendship had been more than enough and while he was working for the Council, his job had taken sole focus. Only during those seven years had he considered a relationship after much persuasion from Lahar, but Mest had been so broken then. He still was. There were too many wounds that needed to be healed and traumas which held him back. He still needed to fully move on from the horrible events of the war against Tartaros and Lahar's death. Furthermore, there was also the fact he had no idea whether Cana felt the same. She never gave clear signals that her feelings had changed which could be frustrating at times. For the sake of their friendship, Mest decided not to tell her that he was falling in love. A decision which at times could be very hard to keep.

                            ---------------------                                 3 months ago "What do you think?" Cana glanced at him, curious. "It's a nice apartment." Mest took another look around the living room, which was decently sized. There was a red couch with a rectangular table in front, two orange chairs and a fireplace. "Quite cozy." "I agree." She nodded, smiling brightly. "I think it's the perfect place for us to settle for now." "And are you sure that you want to settle?" He questioned. Cana frowned for a moment and he guessed she was wondering if this was the right choice. It had been a few weeks since she had suggested that they search for a place to stay in Oak Town, which was closest from their latest camping site. "I don't know…" She bit her lip. "I want to keep searching for my father, but it's clear he doesn't want to be found." "Maybe it's best to wait until he contacts you," Mest suggested. She looked down sadly. "You mean 'if' he contacts me." Sensing her distress, he closed the distance between them, bringing her in for a tight hug. "He will. You just have give him more time." She sighed, letting her head rest against his chest. It felt so right to hold her like this. He couldn't stop his mind from wandering or his feelings from surfacing. "You always know what to say, don't you?" Cana looked up, eyes shiny with unshed tears. "That's not true," Mest disagreed, feeling his heartbeat speeding up once her hand gently touched his cheek. "It is." She smiled, but the tears started falling. "I'm so glad you're here with me." He was tempted to wipe them away, but restrained himself. "I'm happy to be here." Her arms tightened around his torso before her head returned to his chest. He felt his shirt becoming damp as she continued to cry. Mest held her close, letting her be, while attempting to calm his racing hard and suppress his emotions. A few minutes later, she pulled away, removing herself from his embrace and taking a step back. While wiping the remaining tears, she gave him a grateful look. "Thank you. For everything." He offered a genuine smile. "Of course." At that moment, he wanted to tell her the truth so badly. Then he remembered why he shouldn't. Instead, Mest decided to say something which was also true, but did not reveal his growing feelings. "I'm always here for you."

                            ---------------------

"Mest? Why are you still standing there?" Cana's voice broke him out of his thoughts. She stood by her bedroom door, staring at him in concern. Mest realised that he remained by the red couch. Putting Lucy's letter into his pocket, he apologised. "Sorry. I was just lost in thought." Cana watched him for a moment. "Are you okay?" He put on another tense, fake smile. "Yeah. I'm fine." Her expression conveyed disbelief. "Are you sure? Because if you want to talk..." "No." Mest disagreed a little too strongly. "I have to start packing." He left before she could press him any further and walked back to his room, knowing that if he had stayed the truth might slip out. It wasn't the right time. Or at least, that's what he told himself. It was his mantra and he held onto it every time he came close to telling her. Would it ever be, he wondered? Would he ever be ready to cross this line? Mest wasn't sure, but there was so much going on at the moment. The meeting with Fairy Tail, the situation with Makarov, the shaky alliance between Fiore and Alvarez which might soon break and lead to an devastating war. He shouldn't focus on his feelings when there was so much at stake and neither could he risk ruining their friendship when he needed her most. That was why, contrary to what he wanted, Mest decided to keep pretending for just a little longer.

[camillemontespan]

intoxicated thoughts [drake x camille] [one shot]

LAST FIC OF THE WEEKEND! 

I got caught up writing Drake and Camille angst. I felt inspired. This is so angsty. I hope it has some humour? And I hope I captured Drake’s POV. This follows similar fics I’ve done in relation to his dreams, you can find them on my master list. 

Warnings: Just a lot of swearing because it’s Drunk Drake. 

@moonlightgem7​ @burnsoslow​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​ @ibldw-main​  @emichelle​ @rainbowsinthestorm​

@jovialyouthmusic​ @saivilo​ @loveellamae​ @mskaneko​  @katedrakeohd​ @sirbeepsalot​ @dcbbw​ @gardeningourmet​ @pug-bitch​ @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld​ @drakesensworld​   @walkerswhiskeygirl​   ***********************************************************************

You woke me up again. 

That’s the fifth night in a row now. This is getting ridiculous. 

The fifth night in a row where I wake up in a tangle of sheets soaked with my sweat, my heart pounding and the other side of the bed empty. I wake up alone, as always. But the image of you is clear in my mind’s eye.

What happened this time? Ah yeah. We were in this garden that had cherry blossom trees  growing and the sun was shining. I was sat down on a deckchair with a bottle of beer in my hand and I was watching you play with this little girl on the grass. 

The little girl’s face wasn’t clear; hell, she could have been pixelated. I don’t remember what she looked like. But I remember you perfectly. You were wearing a red sundress with spaghetti straps. Your skin glimmered in the sunlight. You were laughing and twirling the little girl around. 

You turned to where I was sitting and asked the little girl, ‘Shall we ask daddy to play with us?’

That was when I woke up.

That’s how this works, you see. Every night, I go to bed and fall asleep. You appear in my dreams, we do cute things like get married, have kids, typical cutesy things, and that’s when I bolt up from my slumber. Every night, I wake and every night I clamber out of bed to pour myself a glass of whiskey. 

Whiskey helps.  Whiskey clouds my thoughts and soon makes me sleepy again. My head hits the pillow and I surrender to a dreamless state, one devoid of thoughts of you.

That’s how this works.

So, I’m pouring myself whiskey now. A good double measure, that will help. I swear to God, my alcohol intake has quadrupled since I met you. 

*********************************************************************

I work hard to not think of you during the day and I gotta admit, I’ve become pretty good at it. It’s easy after a while. As soon as I think of you, I pinch myself hard and that reminds me to think of something else. It’s at night time that my mind betrays me and the image of you runs rampant. 

Whenever I see you in the day, I’m.. indifferent. I act like I tolerate your company, which is for your own good. Really, it is. But sometimes, you make me laugh. And smile. And you make me more talkative which is fucking annoying because I hate talking. 

You always seem to want me around which doesn’t make sense. Why would you want me around you? I’m Drake Walker. I’m nobody. The only friend I have is Liam while the other courtiers act like I don’t exist. When people start acting like you barely make an impact, you start to believe it. 

But you make an effort to talk to me. You ask me to sit beside you at dinner, when you could just sit with Liam or Maxwell. Maybe it’s because you know I’ll be sat near the end of the table, talking to no one, while trying to work out which fork is the correct one to use. You pity me, that’s it.

Question: why are there so many forks?!

This whiskey tastes good. You know my dad always drank whiskey? That’s why I drink it. I guess it makes me feel sorta close to him if I drink his favourite tipple. Is that tragic? Whatever, I don’t care..

I’m thinking about you again, acting like you’re here. Why do I do this to myself? Why prolong the angsty torture? 

Sometimes, I think I should just fuck a random girl and that’ll put aside any feelings I have for you. Kiara always seems keen, she flirts a lot, but I couldn’t bear the idea of leading her on. I may not have a lot of emotion but I’m not an asshole. I was raised right by my mom and I have a sister. I treat women with respect.

The thing is, no other woman really compares to you. You shine. You bring a little sparkle with you wherever you go and you just get on with it. You haven’t let this suitor competition intimidate you. Never played polo before? Fuck it, you’ll learn how. Never danced the Cordonian Waltz? Fuck it, you’ll constantly rehearse the steps until you get it right.

Which brings me to my next thing.

You’re trying so hard to be good at this competition which means you want to win. You want to win so you will marry Liam. 

That’s the harsh reality I have to drill into my thick skull. 

Fuck, I need another whiskey. There we go. Double measure, nice, nice, nice. 

But we’ve shared moments together! We shared fucking whiskey in Olivia’s cellar. Now that was good fucking whiskey. We drank and talked and joked. For one time, my walls were down and you saw the real Drake Walker. You seemed to like me. 

Then another other time, we went out for dinner! To an Italian restaurant! Like a date! Whyyyy? Why did I invite you out? It was like Lady and the Tramp. Except we’re not dogs and there was no accordion playing waiter or singing and we didn’t have the last string of spaghetti and I didn’t give you a meatball, but still, it was close. It was weirdly intimate.  

Have you ever seen Lady and the Tramp? Those Siamese cats are fucking terrifying. Anyway… more whiskey please. It doesn’t seem to be working right now, why are you still in my fucking head? Get out of my head. Just once, I want you out of my head so I can get some sleep. 

*************************************************

The whiskey is not working. I tried to sleep again but no, you keep running around in my head. All I see is you. Your smile. Your brown eyes with gold flecks. Your ass when you wear those jeans that shape you perfectly. 

Damn, your ass.

I’m reaching for that whiskey bottle again. Another measure will do it; it’ll help me sleep. It burns my throat as I swallow, fiery medicine. The room is spinning a little which is a good sign because it means I’ll soon be close to blacking out. Every little helps.

Do you know I like you? I don’t think you do. I think I confuse you. One minute, I’m sarcastic and the next, I’m making a joke. Fucks sake, I call you by your last name all the time which you will definitely see as a slight. I don’t mean it; it’s the only way to keep you at arms length. If I say your name to your face, it means I’ve let you in. But I got no issue with saying your name right now.

Camille. Camille. Camille.

It sounds delicious on my tongue. 

Drake and Camille. 

No, stop it. This is the equivalent of writing your name paired with my last name on the back of a notebook like a school girl. And I, Drake Jackson Walker, am not a school girl. I am a 28 year old grown ass man with a potential drinking problem. 

Camille Walker.

Jesus, I need more whiskey. 

*************************************************************

Okay, so I’ll tell you about the dream I had last night. We were in bed together - no, not having sex - just in bed. Innocent. You were snuggled up into the crook of my arm and reading aloud from your book to me. I think it was a book of love poems. I can’t remember which poem it was, though I don’t actually know any poems so why am I wasting time trying to work out which poem you read out for me?

It was a cosy dream. It was a boring dream, yes, but it showed a snapshot of a life I guess I wouldn’t mind having? That make sense? That’s what I think these dreams are - they’re my subconscious showing me things I actually want but will never have. 

So I guess you could call them nightmares. 

***********************************************************

The whiskey is finally working. My eyes are struggling to stay open and my body feels heavy. I’m definitely gonna be hungover tomorrow. Fuck, what excruciating event has the palace planned for tomorrow? 

Applewood.

Fuck, we’re visiting Applewood tomorrow. Fuck. 

The mere thought of that makes me want to drink more. I hate having to travel to fancy manor houses with the rest of court. There’s rarely time to steal for yourself. You have to be social. You can’t hide. You have to engage in small talk and ignore every barbed comment, every tiny dig and act like nothing bothers you. 

You’ve defended me to Olivia. I’ll never forget that. It was at Lythikos and Olivia was in a particularly bitchy mood. She brought up my sister and I walked out into the snow, not caring that it was rude. She went too far. 

I heard you tell her that if she didn’t wipe the smirk off her face then you would smack it off for her. You then followed me out, bundled up in a scarf and coat. For thirty minutes, we talked. We lay on our backs in the snow, looking up at the meteor shower, and talked. 

It would have been seen as a romantic moment for anyone. It was romantic. That was the beginning of my feelings you see; that was when I began to think that maybe, somehow, you cared for me. You even took my hand when we walked back to the lodge, saying it was for ‘safety.’

So why are you tryin’ so hard to win this contest? I can’t work you out. 

All I want is to tell you that I like you. Like really like you. But I can’t afford to be vulnerable because no doubt you will be chosen by Liam and you will marry him. You don’t need to know my feelings. I wouldn’t burden you with them.

Fuck I’m not usually this angsty. 

This is why I don’t talk to people or open up. Opening up is like opening Pandora’s box. I’d rather keep to myself, have no ties, no disappointment. Because, Camille, in the end, you will marry my best friend and I will have to deal with that. I’ll probably be best man at your wedding. I’ll have to say a speech about how good it is to see Liam in love. I’ll have to give some ‘funny’ anecdotes and then comment on how you’re too good for him but then I’ll laugh and say I’m kidding when really I fucking mean it.

Nah, I don’t mean that.

Fuck it, I do.

Whiskey. One more measure. 

****************************************************************

If we got married, it would be in Texas. I’d take you back to the ranch and we would exchange vows on the jetty by the lake. It would be a small affair; like, thirty people maximum? We would have guests choose from whiskey or wine - no champagne, I hate the fucking stuff - and we’d play rock and roll music. I can totally see you getting down to Elvis.

We can’t go on together with suspicious minds and we can't build our dreams on suspicious minds…

My mom loves Polk Salad Annie. You could dance with her to that song and sing along.  Then everyone would leave and it would just be us, dancing slowly by the lake. I dunno what our song would be. Maybe we would dance without music? Just listen to the sound of the crickets. Maybe I’d sing for you?

Fuck, I’m drunk. I never sing. 

But then we would kiss and the kiss would turn into something more. I would help you out of your wedding dress, careful not to rip it, and I would take you in my arms and I’d make love to you right there by the water.

Jesus, that thought’s got me really hard. 

***********************************************************

I needed that release. 

It’s 3am now. I need to sleep. I need to just stop thinking about you. I need to stop drinking whiskey. I need to stop jerking myself off as I imagine you naked under me. Right, bed time. I’m gonna just close my eyes, count some sheep and I’ll be asleep before I know it.

*********************************************************

Can’t sleep. What a shocker.

Another measure of whiskey. Just keep em’ comin’ invisible bartender.

You know, your room is just down the hall. I could just go to your door, knock and tell you how I feel. 

Yeah! Let’s fucking do it. Let’s tell you how I feel! Then I can come back here and get to sleep. And if you don’t feel the same, it’s cool because I can just say I was hammered (which I am FYI) and laugh it off. 

Yeah, I’m going to your room. We gotta talk.

***********************************************************

Camille woke up to slow knocking on her door. Groaning, she rubbed her bleary eyes and checked the alarm clock on the bedside table.

3.30am. Who was at her door at this time? If it was Maxwell again coming to tell her his new book idea, he would have another thing coming. 

She stumbled through the dark and unlocked her door to find Drake standing at the threshold.

Standing being a loose term. ‘Swaying’ seemed more apt. His eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed. His hair was ruffled and he was wearing a white t-shirt with check pyjama bottoms. He looked like he hadn’t had much sleep. He stank of whiskey. 

‘Drake?’

He pushed past her and practically fell into the room. He nearly knocked over the bedside lamp and cursed as he managed to catch it. ‘Fuck, sorry..’

His voice was slurred. He turned to face her and Camille waited to see what he was going to say. Like, why was he here?

‘We gotta talk,’ he said, his voice thick. ‘Bout ‘portant stuff.’

Camille frowned. ‘Important stuff?’

Drake nodded furiously. ‘Very important stuff.’

Camille wrung her hands together. ‘You’ve been drinking,’ she said softly. ‘Maybe go to sleep? We can talk in the morning-’

‘NO WE TALK NOW!’ Drake hollered, exasperation flooding his voice. ‘Now! It’s important.’

Camille sighed. ‘Okay. What do you want to talk about?’

Drake looked like he was bracing himself. He raised a finger in the air, swaying like a palm tree in the breeze, and was about to speak when his face suddenly turned green and he dry heaved.

Camille was alert instantly. ‘Drake? You okay?’

Drake shook his head, clapping his hand to his mouth. ‘Gonna be sick..’

Camille opened the door to the en-suite and pulled Drake inside. He fell to his knees and positioned himself over the toilet bowl, emptying the contents of his stomach. His fingers clenched the toilet rim as he threw up. 

Camille grabbed a flannel and poured it under the cold tap. Gently, she crouched down beside him and placed the flannel on his forehead that was beaded with sweat. ‘Shh Drake, it’s okay,’ she whispered, rubbing his back. She could feel his muscles tense as he heaved. 

‘Oh god, this is embarrassing,’ Drake groaned, before vomiting again. Camille smiled despite herself and continued to rub his back. 

‘We’ve all been there, Walker,’ she told him. ‘You’re human like the rest of us.’

Drake responded by throwing up again.

As she watched him, she felt that familiar sense of protectiveness for him. This was the Drake nobody else but her got to see. Granted, he was vomiting right now, but he was vulnerable. Why had he drank so much tonight? Why had he turned up at her door? What did he want to talk about? 

Was it about their friendship, to give it a loose name?

Or did he know she liked him? Like, really liked him?

Did he know she thought about him all the time and wanted to quit the competition?

Or maybe he had just found a really good bottle of whiskey and had wanted to tell her.

Drake stopped throwing up and wiped his mouth with the flannel.

‘Sorry..’ he muttered.

‘It’s okay. Can you stand?’

Drake nodded and pulled himself up. He promptly fell against the sink, making Camille reach out to grab him.  

‘Let’s get you to bed,’ she said, taking him by the arm. He leaned on her as she led him to her bed. 

‘No no, not your bed!’ he protested. ‘No-’

‘I’m not sending you back to your room where you may vomit in your sleep,’ Camille interrupted. ‘You’re staying with me tonight and that’s final.’

Drake wrinkled his nose. ‘Jesus, Montespan, you’re bossy.’

*************************************************************************

Camille curled up on her side and closed her eyes. She felt Drake roll over and his arm went around her body, pulling her in close. The gesture was intimate and very un-Drakelike. Confused, Camille turned to ask him if he was feeling alright. 

But he was asleep. 

He looked content and untroubled and for that reason, Camille didn’t wake him. She rolled back over and let him spoon her, eventually falling asleep herself.

[atinyan]

Sweet as Sugar

the anon on @cosmicmingi ‘s blog inspired this 👀 also I made this with a fluffier ending because I had Inspo for an angsty Seonghwa sugar daddy au and I didn't want too much angst for my sake LMAO

Member : kang yeosang

Pairing : Yeosang x reader, high school!au, sugar daddy!yeosang

Genre : Smut, Angst, Fluff

Summary : Yeosang is the perfect, rich boy of the school. He has perfect grades, perfect attendance, perfect record, perfect face,,, anyone can fall for him. You were one of those people. Luckily for you, he had taken in interest in your face and before you know it, you were on your knees as he face fucked you, and instead of making sure you were okay afterwards, he had something else in mind. Was this the start of something beautiful or something tragic?

It was a regular, boring tuesday when the school’s treasure, Kang Yeosang, gave you a note telling you to meet him after school near the art wing. To say you were curious was an understatement. Why would the oh so perfect class president be asking to see you? Had you done something wrong? Did he want your help with a school wide project? Your heart was pounding at the chance to talk to him, but you didn't want to flatter yourself. Since almost every boy and girl in the school had heart eyes for Yeosang.

The last class of the day had just ended, you gathered your things and nervously walked to the art wing, something not feeling too right as your heartbeat quickens. You get to the art wing and can't find Yeosang, looking around the different art classrooms, you sigh and give up. Did he stand me up? Have more important things to do? Just as you turn around, Yeosang is walking towards you. You’re taken aback and stare at him. ‘God he looks perfect,’ you thought. ‘His eyebrows, eyes, nose, lips, everything. There was no way he was human.’ You’re snapped out of your thoughts when he's only a few inches from your face, smirking down at you. 

“Do you know why I asked you to come here?” He said, sweet tone is his voice. You shook your head, he chuckled. “Cute,” he brings his hand up to your cheek and strokes gently. “So cute..” 

He grabs your hand and pulls you into one of the art classrooms. Surprised, you let a squeak which causes him to put a finger to your mouth. “You're going to be quiet, I know how to make sure of it.” He smirks as he locks the door. “Do I have your consent, sweetheart?” You nod your head slowly and before you know it, his lips are on yours. It starts off passionate and quickly he becomes rough. His tongue dances in your mouth, as his hands roam your body. Your sides, thighs, ass are all being grabbed by him roughly yet gentle. His hand goes to your left breast, massaging and grasping, causing you to moan in the kiss. He grunts at your moan and attaches his lips to your neck. He spends a few minutes, taking his time to suck and kiss on your neck. All the while you’re a moaning mess, mind still not processing the quick pace of everything he’s doing.

“Knees, now” His voice was commanding, you find yourself doing what he says without even thinking about it. You look up at him with innocence sparkled in your eyes, as he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants. Your eyes widen when his extremely hard dick bounces free. He chuckles at the sight. “You’ve always caught my attention,” he taps your cheek to make you open. “Because of you I got an 89% on my AP Chem test. Tsk tsk.” He grabs your hair and shoves his dick in your mouth roughly, making you gag. “I couldn’t focus during the review. All I could think of how pretty you looked during history. So prett- AH MM” He grunts out as he face fucks you, making you deepthroat his dick. Part of you is relieved because he doesn’t seem to shut up. He goes harder and harder, making you choke and struggle for your breath. You let him do as he wanted, clearly he was frustrated and needed help. You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy this, though it feels too much like a dream. ‘How many people get to say Yeosang deep throated them? Not many, Mr Perfect had standards, which is why you were still questioning, why you? He thinks you’re pretty?’ You find yourself blushing at your thoughts despite being roughly face fucked. Deep grunts come from him as he continues roughly. Soon enough, he cums in your mouth.

Just as he’s about to apologize for not giving a warning, you attempt to swallow it all, making him stare at you licking his lips. “Wow baby girl.” He starts to pull up his pants, not helping you get up. Instead he went on his phone and passed it to you. “Put your number in here.” he says firmly. He buckles his belt and you quickly type your number, not really knowing why he wants it. He reached in his pocket and took out hundreds of dollars. You almost choke, again, firstly wondering why he brings so much to school. He hands you money… exactly $500. You stare at the money in his hand with wide eyes and confusion, not even clear on what the hell just happened before. “You’ve caught my eye, love. I can’t ever focus when you're around. I want to spoil you and fuck you at the same time. God you make me crazy” He puts his lips on yours and kisses you much more softly than before, caressing your cheek at the same time. He pulls away and looks at you with a soft expression. “So that's exactly what I’m going to do. Fuck and spoil you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, puts the money in your hand and walks out the door.

What the fuck just happened?

~

Weeks passed and Yeosang did exactly what he said. You’ve gone on an expensive shopping spree with him, spent nights at his beautiful mansion, made thousands of dollars, of course only after letting him have his way with you. You were unclear on your relationship with him. You felt like you shouldn’t catch feelings, but you did. When he wasn’t fucking you, he was being sweet as hell. Sent you cute messages, had nice conversations with you, cuddled with you, and more. People at school knew not to mess with you, he would walk you to class, and kiss your head before walking to his own. He had you sit with him and his friend Seonghwa at lunch, keeping an arm around you. But he never said you were in a relationship, so you didn’t exactly know what to name it. Maybe he didn’t like commitment? But you weren’t complaining, you were living a life you only saw in movies, and amount of girls and boys who envied you was something you weren’t used to. But none of them even dared to think badly of you, as they all knew Yeosang wouldn’t be too happy about it.

You wake up the next morning and check your phone:

Yeosang : Good morning beautiful! <3

Yeosang : See you in history class my love~

Your heart warms and you lay there in bed, smiling at the ceiling. You love it when he calls you cute pet names. You get ready for your day, with a fluffy feeling in your chest and walk to class. History was one of your only classes that you shared with Yeosang, and it was your first class.

You walk to the classroom and stop when you spot Yeosang talking to another girl. At first everything was fine as it was just talking, but then he brings his hand up to her hair and pushes a strand to the side with a smile on his face. You feel your heart break at the sight before you. You just knew you shouldn’t catch feelings, you just knew it. It was too good to be true from the start of when he asked to meet up with you. You quietly walk to your seat, tears filling your eyes. You look down to the floor as you sit, not wanting anyone, especially Yeosang to see you break down over him. Your planned failed though, because Yeosang did notice. As he was about to leave the girl and approach you with a worried expression on his face, and a thousand questions running through his head, a kid named Mingi approached you first. “Hey y/n, are you okay? Did someone bully you? If so, its okay, I get bullied a lot too. You can sit with me at lunch today!” His smile was bright and warm, and you didn’t want to tell him your sugar daddy broke your heart, so you just went along with some girls were making fun of you. Yeosang heard your innocent lie to Mingi, getting angry at the thought of people being mean to you. The girl he was talking to walked away upset because he was staring at you and ignoring her as soon as you came into the class. Mingi was rambling to you his life story, and you never realized how much the math nerd was actually bullied. But you felt bad as your thoughts just couldn’t stop thinking about Yeosang and what you were going to do about him, even with Mingi’s rambling. Yeosang on the other hand was getting tired of just sitting back and watching as you cried quietly, and pretending to listen to Minigi, who was excited to make another friend. Yeosang walked up to you and pushed Mingi aside. “Who the hell was being mean to you?!” He says sternly, anger filling him more and more. Who dares hurts his precious (sugar) baby? Mingi rubs his arm where Yeosang pushed him, and cowardly walks away, not wanting to cause any trouble with him. “Can we talk about it after school?” You say softly, not wanting to further the conversation now. “Sure, meet me by my car.” He said with worried eyes. He gives your hand a little squeeze and walks to his seat.

The whole day you couldn’t stop thinking about what to say to him, and Yeosang couldn’t stop thinking about you. You knew he would probably drop you after hearing you caught feelings, but it's better that than to play yourself thinking he is in love with you.

After school you walk to his car with your head down, and patiently wait for him. Within 2 minutes, he’s walking towards you. Your eyes start to water once more. “Hey..” he nearly whispered as he put your face in his hands. “Who was mean to you sweetheart??” He said with a worried tone still in his voice. “You..” His eyes widen and he looks confused. “What do you mean? I would never-” You looked in his sparkling soft eyes. “There wasn’t a group of girls that was mean to me. I said that to not hurt Mingi’s feelings, since he seemed so happy to maybe make a friend who was bullied like him.” You sighed, ashamed at the confession you were about to make. “But when I walked in the class, you were talking to some girl which I don’t care about that, it was just when you stroked her hair, my heart broke.. Cause I like you a lot.. And I guess for some reason I thought maybe there was something between us but I gues-ss I wa-was wrong” You were choking on your words and looking down at your feet, too ashamed and scared for his reaction. He started laughing and pulled you closer to his chest. “I wish I would’ve confessed before” he smiled at you. “I always sent you cute text messages in the morning and at night hoping you would say something to confess first. Stupid I know but I was afraid maybe you didn’t want an official relationship. I don’t know, I know you’re not that type of girl to just care about money but I couldn’t help it. I was flirting with that girl when you didn’t reply to my text message this morning, I don’t know… I worry too much” He ends his words with a reassuring smile. You giggled at him, “I didn’t reply because I was too awestruck at your words, it made my morning happy” You smile back at him. His eyes go brighter than before, if that’s even possible. “I’m so dumb oh my god” He gives you the biggest hug he’s ever given, squeezing your shoulders. “I know you usually walk home, but do you want to go on an official date, maybe some boba?” He says, his tone much more normal and softer than what you’ve ever heard from him before. You agree and walk to the passenger seat of his matte black Rolls Royce, the drive to his house was a comfortable silence, one of his hands on the steering wheel and the other holding your hand on your thigh. Yeosang has always been as sweet as sugar, but after today things will get even sweeter between the two of you.

[hyperionswrath--archived]

1. What makes you the most emotional about your muse? / 8. Do you enjoy putting your muse through angst? What do you think would break their heart the most?

questions for the mun, regarding the muse. -- accepting

What makes you the most emotional about your muse?

The way his life took a turn for the worst at every possible point. (I’ll be referencing the canon here, as this part largely also bleeds into the KG verse). To me, Seifer has never been just the villain™ who is just an asshole for the sake of being one. It’s not that simple with him. Sure, he is no good guy at the end of the day and he definitely plays an antagonistic role to the T but there is much more going on behind the scenes than the storytelling lets on if you do not pay close attention. (as we both talked about already) I have a lot of thoughts and opinions on the guy and it would be too much to write everything down here now, so I’ll just leave it at the core:

He was a mere teenager of 19 years when his rashness and overblown ego caused him to make a bad decision (likely one he made to actually do something good), which led to him facing certain death by execution. He would have been actually tried and executed if it wasn’t for Ultimicia’s offer. A teenager of 19 years, his whole life still ahead of him. His only way of surviving was to switch to the enemy’s side. From there on my personal interpretation is that Ultimicia royally fucked with his head, psyche and mind, twisting him in just the right spots to make him believe he was fighting for the right cause (among other stuff, again, too much to write down here). He was a teenager of 19 years when he had to leave his entire life and his best friends behind (albeit, they followed him but still). He was a teenager of 19 years when he was made to lead an entire army, killing people left and right. Don’t tell me this doesn’t traumatize you. Don’t tell me a teenager of 19 years is so evil in the core of his being (while nothing ever hinted at that, he was merely problematic on many levels, but never evil) that he’d do what Seifer did with a clear mind and no conscience. There was a huge fucking cocktail of troubled past, failure, panic in the face of death, manipulation and false promises going on to make him what he became. And that’s just fucking tragic.

Okay, I’m done rambling but yeah as you can see, this stuff makes me VERY emotional :’D

8. Do you enjoy putting your muse through angst? What do you think would break their heart the most?

(Switching to the KG verse here) Listen, as much as his past and all that makes me emotional, I am such a sucker for angst and everything that comes with it?? It’s such a wonderful way to elaborate on a character, to make him go through the motions, see how he does or doesn’t react to certain triggers, or what he acts like if he behaves in a way that maybe even shocks himself in hindsight. There is so much potential as well. I recently received an ask that had me elaborate on a moment he’d like to relive, or something like fond memories, and honestly I didn’t come up with much. Seifer sure is nothing like a super depressed character, he rather tries to forget by distracting himself in a myriad of ways, but in the end, his past is so tragic it leaves open a million ways to play out angsty plots.

As for what would break their hearts most... I think for one, he still has a spark of hope that he might one day somehow be able to redeem himself, he just doesn’t know how. But given the chance I am fairly sure he’d try and take it and somehow make up for his past mistakes and crimes. He just isn’t the type to walk around and be good hearted about it. Seeing as he has tried that before multiple times though, and failing, I think it would break his heart to fail once again. And that is not about his ego getting a blow, but the realization of not being able to do anything right.

Also, if it would ever come to a circumstance where he actually gets seriously involved with someone and they would leave him? I think that would tear open wounds completely unexpected for him, with his mother giving him up for adoption and people leaving him in the past. Not sure how that would play out though in detail.